Lin had been staring intently at the woman’s back for close to an hour as they walked the mountain pass, still unable to decide where best to thrust her sword. The rope bridge spanning the cliffside was like a great snake beneath them, tilting and swaying underfoot, in places its weather-bitten rope was worn near completely through. Nonetheless, she tried her best to pay it no heed, for she knew well enough that any mistake could end very badly indeed. Her grip tightened around the cracked wooden handle, frustration swelled in her heart until she could no longer bear it, and finally, she poised herself to strike.
“I didn’t give you that sword expecting you to run me through with it,” remarked Sio, her voice as soft as the jade silk that clothed her. As she turned, the lavish golden trims of her dress gleamed in the harsh sunlight. Her eyes of emerald fire met the girl’s murky gaze. “Standing there won’t do you any good. Finish what you’ve started.”
Slick beads of sweat laced Lin’s forehead and the stray black strands of her poorly tied hair stuck uncomfortably to her face. Her linen blouse was warm and stuffy in the midday heat. She loosened the damp bandages around her neck with her free hand and dove forward. The blade cut through the air toward the woman’s throat. She’s completely open.
With a single wave of her hand, Sio batted the sword aside and snatched it from Lin’s grasp before driving home a sharp blow with her elbow. It connected to the sound of a sickening crack. Lin’s vision flashed with dazzling lights as a surge of pain whirled in the back of her nose. She stumbled backwards, tears welling in her eyes.
Sio raised an eyebrow, “When will you learn to look after your things?” She allowed the sword’s handle to slide between her fingers and into the granite chasm below. There was a long silence before its steel echo returned to them. “That weapon was meant for your own protection, not for the cold-blooded murder of your only travel companion.”
“Like I care,” Lin sniffed, then immediately choked on the blood leaking from her nose. She cursed. “You’re the one that dragged me out here, and I’m sure you’ve just broken my nose. Don’t act like you’re doing me any favours.”
“Are your hands or feet bound? You’re free to leave if that’s what you want,” Sio shrugged before continuing across the bridge. Lin clenched her jaw furiously, accidentally biting the inside of her cheek. The taste of metal mixed with humiliation in her mouth; she spat with indignance. Lin knew within herself there was nowhere else for her to go even if she had managed to kill the woman. And so, drowning in reluctance, she trailed wearily after her bright-eyed guide.
A thin earthen path lay at the end of the rope bridge, obscured by clumps of bracken and creeping moss. Low-hanging branches smeared with sickly pale lichen curled upward at Sio’s touch and the way ahead was made clear. Clouds had melted away like snow in the sun’s heat, leaving only an open sky of pure blue at the other side.
A gust of wind smeared Lin’s bloodied nose as they broke from the foliage. She looked onward with tired eyes. The far-spanning view reminded her how staggeringly high they had truly climbed, though she hadn’t the slightest idea of how far they still had yet to go.
Over a hundred peaks in all, the Hangu Mountains were a formidable monument of nature that split the continent almost completely in half, from the blistering heat and suffocating humidity of the northern state of Won, to the wildly erratic whirlpool of storm-ridden summers and snow-swept winters of Han to the east.
Turning her attention from the busy gorge, Lin realised she’d been left alone on the dusty mountain path.
“Leaving already?” she called after Sio, who had almost disappeared around the cliffside. The woman stopped to wait.
“You’re old enough to walk without my help,” she shouted back. “Didn’t you tell me to stop acting as your mother?”
Lin hurried to catch up. “You said it yourself back in Yangwa, you aren’t my mother. You stole me from my home so you could raise me however you pleased. I’m not a clay figure for you to mould.”
“I wanted to give you a chance at life. There’s nothing more important to me than you, Lin Ko. You’ll always be my responsibility,” replied Sio, her tone earnest. Lin paused at that, though only for a moment.
“I don’t understand you. How can you carry on as if everything is perfectly fine? After all you’ve said and done, it all just feels insulting.”
“I’m not going to try to calm you down. You’ve every right to be angry and confused. I’ll give you all the answers you want when the time comes.”
“And when will that be?” Lin asked exasperatedly. “I need to know who I am, Sio.”
A gentle hand guided her by the shoulder to face the mouth of the gorge. She bristled at the touch.
“We’re headed for a shrine just past the forest of Mogu to the west, it’s halfway up the side of Mount Hema. It’ll take a day or two to reach it, but you’ll have your answers once we’re there. I promise that I’ll explain everything that I can.” Sio followed the river with a finger from where its current ran down the ravine and into the heart of the great forest that reached out over the western horizon. Sturdy wooden masts rose just above the canopy of cathaya trees with metal and wire intertwined upon their heads.
“Can you see the pylons of Mosun Shi? It’s one of the three powered cities on this side of the Hangu Mountains. There are a handful of forts and villages connected to the city’s network, though like the rest of the continent, many aren’t so welcoming to the prospect of electricity. Now, if you follow the power lines there…” she trailed off, hovering her finger over each pylon until it landed upon a mast beside the river. There were a small number of buildings scattered across each side of the water, with the remains of several more collapsed upon the riverbank. The village was surrounded by a half-finished wall of crumbling light clay.
“...You’ll find the lovely village of Yizhou. We’ll stay there tonight,” Sio pointed out.
Lin was mortified. Sweeping the hand from her shoulder, she looked her companion in the eye, watching for any sign of a smirk or snicker. This had to be a joke. After a few seconds more however, the woman only tilted her head in bemusement.
“Someone stole their wall!” Lin burst out suddenly. “Half the village has already started sinking into the river, that place looks like we’d either wake up penniless or half a mile downstream!”
“Or both. It’d speed up the journey.”
“There’s no way I’m sleeping there.”
“Tell me, do you see anywhere else? We need to rest before venturing into Mogu Forest, and I’d rather not explore it at night. Whatever you find in there will be far more dangerous than the nice villagers living by the river.”
Her face growing paler by the second, Lin sputtered through protest after protest until her voice grew faint and her head hung defeatedly.
“Cheer up. It’s a lovely day,” Sio grinned. From her sleeve slipped a sleek dagger of finely crafted steel. The finish was as smooth as a mirror, the edge looked as though it could have sliced through even the thickest stone. “For you. I trust you won’t try to murder me with this one.”
“Are you sure?
“Sure as the sun rises. Once a gift to me, it’s now a gift to you.”
“Thank you,” Lin said awkwardly. “I’ll keep it safe.”
“You can do as you like with it, so long as it doesn’t find its way into my back,” Sio shrugged, and Lin snorted back her laughter.
The unrelenting buzz of late season cicadas was almost deafening as the travellers descended to the bottom of the mountain path. Odd tufts of dry weeds were strewn along either side, hiding grasshoppers that leapt into tall grass to avoid the intruders’ approach. What a delicacy, Lin thought, if only I could have them fried, so crispy and crunchy. The vacant pit of her stomach growled loudly in reply. Nothing more than a fond memory remained of her early morning meal, those sweet dumplings, the last of their rice had been steamed and rolled with syrup in the leaves of reeds. It wasn’t something Lin was used to- the alarming lack of savoury flavouring had almost put her off of eating such foods for good, but once she had gotten a taste for the addictive sweetness of the rice dumplings there was no end to her hunger. There was nothing to eat, they hadn’t passed even a single bush of the wild goji berries Sio seemed to love so dearly. Nothing except grasshoppers. Tasty, tasty grasshoppers.
“That’s a scary look on your face,” Sio remarked with feigned shock, “They’ll have food at the village, you know. There’s no need to be drooling over insects.”
Lin smirked sheepishly, “It might be safer to eat the insects.” However, the closer they came to Yizhou, the less Lin’s comment seemed like a joke. Thick layers of black mould spotted the white clay walls of the houses, their wooden beams peeled away with rot and damp and left deep holes where grubs and lice had settled. There was a foul stench that had seeped into the village, heavy and musty, every breath became caught in the lungs and pressed against the chest. Lin pinched her nose in disgust. Sio crossed her arms and glanced around uneasily. Down by the river, fishermen lounged back in their folding chairs with lines cast; balding heads were topped with wide hats of straw that blocked out the early evening sun.
Eyes of the village followed the travellers as they passed through the quiet street. It was no surprise to Lin, Sio’s dress of jade silk and gold trim glowed with an aura of wealth that the people of Yizhou wouldn’t see after even a lifetime of work. Her soft slippers added nothing to her height, yet she still stood taller than at least half of the men they had passed on their journey. Her unusual hair, wild and tinted emerald, had captured the eye of more than one of the onlookers.
Lin felt herself shrinking to a size even smaller than she already was. Even at sixteen years of age, her head only reached Sio’s shoulders when upon her tiptoes. Her linen weave and sandals were finely made, though the beige colouring blended into monotony against the patchwork clothing of the villagers. No different was the colour of her bedraggled hair or sharp eyes, both tinged with an aspect of rosewood. There was only one aspect of her appearance that drew any attention from the sleepy residents of Yizhou- the bandages she wore beneath. From the neck to her elbows and lower thighs, her body was bound in gauze that hid away the countless scars left behind by an accident from before her memory. Sio had always fallen silent upon any mention of the incident, oftentimes from even the sight of the few faint marks that lined her calves and forearms.
Ahead of them, a poorly-dressed man stepped out from an inn. It was a family establishment in appearance, and had clearly once been the great pride of Yizhou’s heritage by measure of its almost passable condition. Even still, there was nothing that could escape the apparent curse of decay that loomed over the area- several black kawara tiles lay broken around the entrance and the cold ash in the lanterns beside the doorway had long since burned out.
“Filth carries on the wind,” the man spoke with a rough voice of the countryside. His face was hidden behind a fishing hat and a messily-trimmed beard. A thin, grey scarf was wrapped around his head, covering his left eye.
Lin shuffled out from behind Sio, “You should bathe once in a while. It works wonders.” Sio raised her eyebrows, but a slight smile spread across the man’s lips.
“Perhaps. The air of that damned forest seems to leave a putrid mark on everything in this place. My name is Shōren. Do you plan to stay in Yizhou long?”
“Only for the night,” Sio answered, “We’ll leave for Mogu before dawn breaks.”
The man shook his head. “You may find that a problem. The mists are playing with the minds of these people. In their eyes, visitors and invaders are becoming one and the same.”
“What do you mean?” asked Sio.
“Can you not taste it in the air? There’s something dying, deep within the forest, and it’s been drawing the villagers beyond the trees. Rot has set into their homes. Their bodies shall be its next host. As it always turns out in these situations with nobody to blame, who else can take the fall for it other than outsiders?”
“A problem indeed.” Sio’s voice seemed a little more strained than before. “Night will fall before long, I’ll have to try to find a room regardless. If that fails, I don’t suppose you could tell me the shortest route through Mogu?”
“The shortest?” he echoed and rubbed the back of his neck. “No, I’m just passing through myself. That being said, I did overhear some indecent talk of an isolated teahouse downstream. Whether it’s among the overgrown remains of Old Yizhou or somewhere deeper within, all the way out there, a place like that is sure to have some way of protecting itself. Perhaps it would be safest to follow the river?”
“We’ll see,” replied Sio, who then turned to Lin with a pensive look on her face. “Be a dear and meet with the innkeep for me, won’t you? I’d like to put a few more questions to our friend here.” Lin agreed wordlessly.
The inn’s interior, though a little worse for wear, was far cleaner than anything she had seen outside. Even still, a sour smell wafted from deeper within. Crumpled receipts and circles of ryō littered a vacant counter at the end of the room. Beside them sat an ornamental maneki cat that invited her over with its beckoning paw.
Lin met its glazed stare. “Cute.” In the quiet emptiness of the foyer, the dull drone of a fluorescent light was all that could be heard. She rang the brass bell on the counter with a flick of her finger to which the sound of unhurried footsteps arrived. A sharp-faced boy rounded the corner wearing a navy blue yukata and an expression of dull interest. His hair was short and uneven, as if he had cut it himself. He was slightly younger than Lin, only by a year or two, and spoke in a voice of rehearsed confidence.
“The inn is full,” he said bluntly.
“Who said I wanted to stay here?”
This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
“Well, why else would you enter an inn? If you’re wanting something to eat, we don’t serve food or drink anymore, you’ll have to find somewhere else- though it’ll be quite the trail.”
“I don’t want your food. This whole village- if you can call it that- is rotting around you. How can you even think of eating in a place as filthy as this?”
“I’ve about as much attachment to Yizhou as that drifter who just left.”
“Doesn’t this inn belong to you? Your parents, maybe?”
“No.” The boy took a moment of consideration, then pointed lazily behind him. “It probably belonged to them.”
Following his finger, Lin peered past the cluttered counter and through an open doorway into the unlit living space further back. For a short time she struggled to make sense of the slumping shapes that lay in the shadows, identifying only a folding screen and bundles of unfolded clothes. Leaning forward however, she soon realised that whatever lay upon that floor was far more grim than a simple pile of clothes. To the left of the folding screen was a woman and a younger boy no older than twelve, both motionless and sprawled messily across the tatami matting. A lump swelled in Lin’s throat like a plum.
“Did you... kill them?” she asked cautiously.
“That would imply they’re dead, which is only true for one of them,” he pointed out.
“Then did you kill one of them?”
“No,” the boy said once more, though this time no further explanation followed.
“So what happened here? Shouldn’t we help them if one is still breathing?”
“What does that have to do with me?” he asked, retrieving a handful of crackers from beneath the counter and slipping a few into his mouth.
“You’re the innkeep, aren’t you?”
“No,” he repeated.
“Then why are you acting like you own the place? There are people lying unconscious in the back room and you’re here playing innkeep!”
“That I am. We’re full,” the boy smirked, gesturing toward the slips of paper on the counter. Only a few of the dates were visible glancing down but it was clear that most of the reservations had long since expired.
“Listen here-” Lin lunged to swat the crackers from the boy’s hand, but he was faster, grabbing her wrist and twisting it against the counter.
“Well, you want a room, right? I’ll fight you for it,” he proposed with a devilish glare. “You can stay the night if you win, and if you lose I’ll have you answer a few questions. How does that sound?”
An opportunity had appeared for her to wash away the last month of stress and anxiety, and she seized it with a smile. “I’ll fight you, but not on those terms. Like hell I’m going to sleep in a place like this!”
Adrenaline-charged energy spread out across her body, granting a strength more than enough to wrench her wrist away from the boy’s solid grip. Using the pull’s momentum, she brought her spare fist around in an arc and drove it into his jaw. His head reeled and his eyes spun without focus, but only for a moment. The boy’s fingers were quick to fasten around her arm as it retracted. He yanked her toward him and simultaneously propelled his head forward. A horrid crack sounded as his forehead crashed into Lin’s broken nose. Blood rushed through her nostrils and into the back of her throat and mouth; the sensation was a pain unlike anything she had ever felt before. Indeed, if she had been told that only a gaping pit remained in place of her nose, she wouldn’t have been hard-pressed to believe it. Her eyelids brimming with tears, Lin produced a dagger from her within her robe. The boy’s brows lifted a little.
“I didn’t think you had it in you,” he remarked.
“I don’t need your opinion,” Lin spat, her lips wet with blood.
“Of course you do. Without me, there’d be no one else here but you, and we’re not made to be alone. That would be much too dull.”
“No company’s better than yours.”
“Thank you,” he smiled, then pointed at the dagger in Lin’s hand. “Are you going to kill me with that?”
“That depends. Are you going to die if I catch you with it?”
“I might.”
Lin grinned, bearing rows of red-stained teeth. “Then you’d better not get hit.”
“Right. Same goes for you,” the boy replied. His smile dropped suddenly, and a hand slipped into his yukata before extending outward with incredible speed. A flash of razorlike metal cut through the air where Lin’s head had been a split-second ago. It was a long knife, almost a short sword, and it did not come away from her face unstained. A gash burned like scalding water upon the top of her ear. She roared and thrust forward with her dagger, but the boy was well-prepared for the attack and it struck empty space. She stabbed again and again at thin air, weaving between her opponent’s retaliating strikes in a flurry of blades that met over a cluttered counter’s top. Steel met steel, their sparks bringing a small brightness to the dim interior for but a moment.
This can’t continue, Lin realised, there’s no way I can keep this up. Each successive slash and thrust came closer to piercing something important. His dexterous control of the knife allowed no chance for magical intervention nor even a retreat, and he vaulted effortlessly over the counter the instant Lin tried to back away. There was only one way out: a final stab at misdirection.
Amid a flurry of deadly swipes, Lin took a deep breath and a step forward. The boy hesitated. It was all Lin needed. A blur between her fingers, she twirled the dagger in a whirlwind of sharpened steel. She deftly moved to pass its handle into her right hand, but it was a show, a flashy display serving only to draw attention. Stepping forward once more, her right hand rose as if to bring the dagger down from above, and in the moment that the boy moved to counter she revealed her empty palm. He noticed the feint far too late. His arms could only stiffen in place as she brought the dagger around from the left for a finishing strike. The blade’s tip sank into the skin of the boy’s face mere millimetres below his eyelid, stopping just short of bone.
“You can move but it’ll cost you that eye. Drop the knife, please,” Lin asked as calmly as her unsteady breath would allow.
“I couldn’t ignore such a polite request.” He lifted his hand and allowed the weapon to roll onto the polished wooden boards beneath their feet. It hit the ground with a dull thud. “So, what now?”
“Now you’ll answer my questions, like a quickfire back-and-forth quiz. Play it well and I might just let you keep your sight.”
“How gracious.”
“Thank you. First question: who are you? What’s your name?”
“Who am I? You really are asking to be lied to,” he pointed out, then strained to see the dagger pressed against his face. “Luckily, I’m not too hard to convince, and that fierce duel with a ruthless femme fatale was something I enjoyed more than I should’ve.”
Lin’s lips spread thin as she pressed them together, “Are you going to get to the answer?”
“Yes. Starting with your second first question, you can call me Kana,” he said, then shrugged slightly. “Of course, it isn’t my real name, but it’ll serve just the same. To answer the first of your first questions, I am a student, and a seeker of information. That’s why I came to this forsaken cesspit, and it’s why I’m talking to you.”
“You don’t even know me. What could I possibly know that would benefit you?”
Kana raised a finger, “I don’t know you, no, but I know who you travel with. Lady Sio, a host of Heaven, responsible for more miserable catastrophe and bloodshed than any other. Whyever you’re following her, and wherever she’s taking you, it can only end in tragedy. That woman is a walking terror.”
“You’re talking about the wrong person,” Lin interrupted. Her patience would only go so far.
“Am I?”
“Sio raised me alone and cared for me for as long as I can remember. She’s been good to me.”
“Then you’re in more denial than most. There is only one Sio Ko, and she commands authority enough to corral even an emperor,” Kana interrupted in a voice far harsher than before, but then immediately reverted to a softer tone. “Great powers are converging in the region and I’d very much like to know why. There’s no doubt in my mind the reappearance of your dearest mother has something to do with it.”
“I haven’t the slightest idea what’s going on. We’re headed for Mount Hema, but I don’t even know where it is, just that it’s through that forest.”
“Then she’s planning to use that mountain for a summit.”
Lin scoffed, “A mountain summit? Is that right?”
“Yes, it is. Don’t be there.” There was no humour in the boy’s words.
“You’re acting awfully concerned for a person that has you at knifepoint.”
“It’s a position of my own making. I can’t condemn you for winning the fight I started.”
His answer was almost enough to make Lin lower the weapon, though the tension in his body made it clear that it was exactly what he was hoping for.
“What about those villagers in the corridor back there? What happened to them?” she asked, glancing over his shoulder.
With a huff of impatience, Kana waved a hand toward their crumpled bodies. “Are you really still asking about them? I’ve told you, I didn’t kill either of them, they were like that when I got here. The child probably died from disease, it’s not unlikely in a place where the air is so thick with mould. If you want to know anything else, you’ll have to inspect them yourself.”
“What, and let you go? It’s not going to be that-” Lin began, just as Kana whirled out of her control. A palm struck her elbow, another hand snatched the dagger easily from her grip.
“That easy?” Kana leapt onto the counter and tossed her back the weapon, “I was gentle, your arm should be fine.”
“Won’t you worry about yourself for once?” The hairs upon Lin’s arms stood on end as the air crackled with energy. No longer restricted by Kana’s persistent attacks, there was nothing holding her back from using Sio’s technique. “This is spectral reach,” she announced in a tone as cold as southern winds. The skin of her hand peeled away, revealing blackened bones and a vortex of dust. Kana watched with great interest as she swung her fist at the empty space in front of her, then was sent reeling a moment later as her disembodied knuckles collided with his cheek. He tried steadying himself against the paper folding screen only to tear through its fragile body as he fell with the dignity of a drunkard. Lin hoisted herself over the receipt-laden counter in pursuit.
“One surprise after another. You’re a woman of many talents,” Kana groaned, clawing his way out of the screen’s wreckage.
“It keeps things interesting, doesn’t it?” Lin replied. She stalked through the corridor with feline agility, stopping only at the bodies of the innkeeper and her son. On noticing the slight movements of her chest, Kana’s claims were vindicated. One was alive, the other long since dead. Looking over the cold, blue-skinned corpse of the younger boy wrapped tightly in his mother’s arms, she saw his face was pocked with sores that had opened like sickening spring flowers and had become breeding grounds for carrion flies. Pale maggots squirmed and writhed, revelling in the hollow craters of festering meat. From his nostrils sprouted the foul grey tubes of a spreading fungus. Lin broke her gaze and covered her mouth before the rising sensation of nausea could reach her throat. Kana was already gone.
Lin’s thoughts drifted back to Sio as she wandered through the building’s unlit rooms and stepped out through its rear entrance. Her bubbling anger had simmered away to little more than irritation, yet still she couldn’t bring herself to face her mother. Sio had betrayed her trust at every turn, and for that she couldn’t be forgiven. It was difficult to believe all of what she had been told by Kana, who couldn’t even afford her his real name, but she held enough caution to know that blindly following the woman wasn’t a sound idea. My wellbeing was never a factor in her plans, Lin knew, nor were the things I wanted for myself. Perhaps this little scare will show her just what it’s like to lose the things you care for.
Her bold manner shrank at the diseased mouth of the forest. Discoloured moss and fungi littered the ground like a mouldering carpet of tiny umbrellas hiding in the shadows of the overarching trees. A misty shroud hung in the distance that obscured whatever lay ahead, and though the way seemed clear of any threats, Lin couldn’t bring herself to take the first step. Staring into the murky gloom, she wanted nothing more than to abandon her chase and run into the comfort of Sio’s embrace, her sole anchor to the world she had once known. It was that same thought, however, that drove her onward into the shaded unknown.
Even without the autumn sun, Mogu’s earthy air held a curious warmth, and an uncomfortable humidity wrapped itself around the skin. Each step forward seemed to disturb a vile assortment of bugs and insects. Centipedes scuttled between mushrooms and earthworms wriggled further into the damp waste, their squirming shapes turning Lin’s empty stomach. A lonesome silence stalked her deep into the forest; the dagger in her hand offered little reassurance. Her head swivelled in all directions as she watched carefully for danger, the thick tree trunks and bubbling dirt mounds threatened to hide any number of devilish ghouls with long teeth and sharp claws that could pass through skin like paste. Not that she would let them- Lin had proudly decided on the killer move she would use on any fiends or demons that came her way: by blinding her opponent with a handful of mud, a quick sweep of the leg would leave them completely defenceless against her next attack. Although, as she woefully looked down at the sludgy mire attaching itself to her sandals, the plan was swiftly dismissed. There were no monsters here. For the first time in her life, the girl was alone, and wandered fearfully in the quiet dark.
Navigating became impossible after nightfall. Lin, already lost, stumbled forward on a path lit only by the slight shafts of pale moonlight that broke through the canopy. Her foot snagged on things unseen, and she came crashing into the rotten sludge of the forest floor time and time again. Spores rushed into the back of her nose and throat, carrying a burning tang that smothered her lungs and a painful sting brought tears to her eyes. She couldn’t see herself between her blurred vision and low light, but the heaviness of her clothes gave some hint of how filthy she had already become. The handle of her dagger was already smeared with grime and she could hardly bear to hold it. Yet, if she were to meet anything even half as powerful as the demon that had attacked Yangwa, there would be nothing at all that she could do to stop it from gnawing upon her bones.
A breath of wind swept through the trees. Is Kana here? Lin pointed her weapon into the nothingness ahead. She felt an urge to call out a cautious greeting, but her trembling jaw would not loosen. The situation she had cast herself into was foolish enough to make her laugh. Spurred by stubbornness, the girl had blindly strode into deadly territory where even her own senses betrayed her. It was laughable, pathetic, and entirely her fault.
For longer and longer Lin wandered without sight nor direction through that hostile blackness. She choked on spores and flaking rot and whatever other debris inhabited Mogu’s humid atmosphere. Every step forward was a struggle for balance in the consuming quagmire of the forest floor, her arms were constantly outstretched for both a sense of steadiness and the shallow comfort of a brandished weapon. Eventually, her flailing hands landed upon an unexpected surface- carved wood. A cautious probing revealed the splintered frame of a window, though it seemed unusually low to the ground. She ran her hand along the building’s clay wall, collecting a revolting grease upon her fingers from its rough surface, and found that the door too was partially buried in the marshy ground. These must be the remains of Old Yizhou. At least I haven’t been completely lost to the wilds. It wouldn’t be easy to find shelter in the sunken house, at the very least she needed a place with a functioning door, and so set out again into the pitch darkness with her hands held outstretched. Her every breath was stifled for the fear that some freakish prowler would stumble upon her with claws like flesh-splitting knives. She was at the complete mercy of Mogu’s ghastly alcoves.
Something snagged Lin’s foot. It had to be expected, treading blindly over fungal pods and creeping roots, but no fungus or root she had heard of had ever evolved the ability to speak.
It might have once been human, that rasping croak that sounded from below, “Heee… ere wanders ano… nother.”
Like a rabbit under the gaze of a predator, Lin stood unmoving, frozen in terror. Her cheeks were already wet with tears.
“Whuuuu- why doesn’t it say anythuu… thing? Does it f-fear being alone?” Five fingerlike spines pressed deeper into her ankle. The transition from paralysing fear to a primal state of retaliation was instantaneous. Lin’s screech was unintelligible as she slashed at whatever aberration lay below and threw herself backwards. She collapsed on her rear atop an uneven mound of limp, bony limbs. Deep within the pile, something began to stir.
Lin was on her feet again in an instant, rushing through a slough of hellish anomalies, reaching up from the filth with writhing hands and gaping mouths
“What is this?” she cried out to an audience of monsters, “What the hell are you?!”
Her inhuman company spoke again through the darkness, “We are trillions… uuuuu... u-unified within one branching uhnn… nexus. The… thuuuuuu.. first and... the last. Wuh-uuu… we will crawl out from the decomposing ruuuuh… remains of the huu-heavenly dead.”
“Get away from me!”
“Our bodies buuu-urn, oh, but it’s cold here. We cannot see… there is no light. We cannot breathe, thuuuu… the air is black and… and rotten. Suuu… suffer alongside us.”
A dark shape lunged at Lin from the mounds of freakish appendages. She moved to defend herself, but her efforts were far too slow. Rows of pointed, misshapen teeth bit through the girl’s bandages and sank into her shoulder like a ripe peach. Shrieks broke the silence of the night.