Rowan drifted in and out of consciousness. He had been sick before but never like this. The throbbing in his head sounded with more resonance than emergency gong back at home— amidst all the pain he still had time to think about his family. Maybe the pain was what made him think about his family— the warm soup that would always burn his tongue cause he’d drink it too quickly, the slightly overcooked meat cause that’s the way his mother preferred it, and even his old boss, Master Shi. He couldn’t feel his own elevated temperature; that gland was going haywire like any regular mortal when faced when a bad cold.

“His fever’s not breaking.” Hui Fan murmured. The hands checking his pulse were callused but gentle. He hovered over Rowan and replaced the towel on his forehead.

“There’s a village ahead!” Song called from out front. “A kilometer north.”

Uncle Chen was watching the entire time. He couldn’t be too careful of this young martial artist.

Hui Fan looked up at Chen as he “I’ll watch over him.” Hui Fan

Uncle Chen nodded, despite wearing a clear look of disapproval.

The world tilted as Rowan was lifted. He found himself cradled against a familiar chest, which really was quite convenient for monitoring cardiovascular responses to altitude and void exposure. It took his mind off of reminiscing.

----------------------------------------

Rowan surfaced briefly when they entered the village. His blurred vision caught glimpses of strange symbols carved into doorways, glowing faintly with familiar energy patterns. "Those markings... they're using void energy as a protective barrier—"

"Young master," Uncle Chen sighed, "please stop trying to study while dying."

"Not dying," Rowan corrected. "Just collecting data—" Another coughing fit cut him off.

The villagers who emerged from their homes were wrapped in thick furs, their faces marked with swirling patterns that made Rowan's scholar brain itch with recognition. Their whispers followed the group as Hui Fan carried him toward what appeared to be the village healer's house.

"The Fan clan's heir," one voice hissed. "Here?"

"Careful," another answered. "The mountain has ears."

Rowan felt Hui Fan tense. He wanted to ask about the Fan clan, about the whispers, about the fascinating void-energy cultivation techniques clearly being practiced here. But the world was growing fuzzy again. The village healer was an elderly woman with eyes like storm clouds. She took one look at Rowan and clicked her tongue. "Void sickness. And you brought him through the Howling Pass? Foolish."

"We had no choice," Hui Fan said quietly. "The lower paths were watched."

The healer's eyes narrowed. "The Fan clan always has a choice." She turned away, gathering herbs that made Rowan's academic curiosity spike even through the fever. "Put him there. And you—" She pointed at Hui Fan. "You know what the proximity of your energy will do to his condition."

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"I'm not leaving him."

"Stubbornness runs in your blood, young Fan." She began grinding herbs with practiced movements. "Very well. But remember – the mountain remembers your family's debt."

As the healer worked, the villagers whispered among themselves.

"The void spreads," one elder muttered. "Like the tales of the Great Darkening."

"The ice weakens," a mother clutched her child closer. "The old ones say the void will consume everything, like in the time before the frost."

Rowan wanted to ask about a dozen questions, starting with the herbs' molecular composition and ending with Hui Fan's family history. But unconsciousness was pulling at him again. The last thing he felt was Hui Fan's hand clasping his own, a steady anchor in the void-touched darkness. This time, Hui Fan closed his eyes beside Rowan.

Hui Fan’s family heirloom – a black jade pendant marked with ancient script – felt heavy against his chest. Its prophecy haunted his dreams:

He stood in his family's burning courtyard, reliving the moment that changed everything. Young Hui Fan huddled in the secret room, watching through wall gaps as masked assassins moved through their home. His mother fell. His father fought to reach the study where ancient scrolls lay scattered.

The black jade pendant around his neck pulsed with familiar darkness. He remembered finding it that night, drawn to its gleam among his father's ashes. It had called to him, somehow untouched by the flames that consumed everything else. His child's mind had seen it as a sign – the only piece of his family he could save.

From the pendant emerged a figure wearing his father's face, void energy leaking from its eyes and mouth.

"My son," it said in his father's voice. "You chose well that night."

"Father's last words," Hui Fan said. "He tried to tell me something about an artifact..."

"Look closer," the shadow commanded, freezing the burning scene.

Hui Fan watched his dying father's lips move: "The artifact..." But the rest was lost to flames and screams. Had there been more? A warning perhaps? But the memory slipped away like smoke, just as it had when he was a child, too focused on the pendant's alluring glow in the ashes.

"You were drawn to this pendant for a reason," the shadow-father said. "Even then, you knew it would lead you to power." The figure gestured, and the scene shifted to a cave high in the mountains. Ice walls glowed with trapped void energy, pulsing around a sealed door.

"This is what they feared," it whispered. "Why they burned our home. Why they slaughtered our family. The artifact's power could make them pay."

"But father's words..." Hui Fan tried to grasp the fading memory, even as the pendant's cold touch made his thoughts sluggish.

"Were a command to reclaim our birthright," the shadow said firmly. It wore his mother's face now. "The villagers know the way. They've guarded the path for generations. Find it. Take it. Fulfill your father's dying wish."

In the pendant's surface, Hui Fan saw visions of vengeance – the assassination clan's fortress crumbling, their masked leaders kneeling before him. Just as he had seen visions of the pendant that night, guiding his small hands through the ashes to claim it.

Hui Fan woke gasping. The pendant pulsed against his chest, as it had every night since he pulled it from the ruins of his childhood. Back then, its whispers had been his only comfort. Now they promised something more – power, revenge, and perhaps for these nightmares to stop.

Rowan’s hand which had somehow found its way on top of Hui Fan was pushed to the side. Hui Fan checked that Rowan was still asleep and sighed. He calmed himself and rose up, cutting his rest short as per usual.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, a child still huddled in a burning room was straining to hear his father's final warning. But that voice grew fainter with each passing night, drowned out by the void's seductive promises of vengeance. The same promises had drawn him to the pendant in the first place.