The mango grove thinned as Lin Chen walked north, the sun dipping lower—painting the sky in streaks of orange and pink, like someone had spilled fruit juice across the clouds. His bare feet still ached, but the sticky rice in the banana leaf had given him a little strength; he'd eaten half of it, saving the rest for later, the sweet coconut flavor lingering on his tongue.
The ivory lotus pendant around his neck stayed cold, pressing against his collarbone—until he passed a cluster of bamboo.
A rustle. Lin Chen froze, hand flying to the pendant. He'd thought the Black Scorpions wouldn't chase him, but fear coiled in his stomach anyway. He ducked behind a thick bamboo stalk, peeking out.
Two men in floral shirts walked past, machetes hanging from their belts. They were talking loud, complaining about Scar Kun's burnt arm and the "crazy veiled woman."
"Boss said we shouldn't go after the kid—said her magic was weird," one said, kicking a stone.
The other grunted. "Good. That kid's not worth getting burned for. Let him die in the woods."
Lin Chen held his breath till they were gone, his heart thudding. He looked down at the pendant, and for a split second, he swore he felt it warm—just a tiny, faint heat, like holding a cup of lukewarm tea. He rubbed it with his thumb, the smooth ivory and carved lotus pressing into his skin.
"Mom… was this you?" he whispered. No answer, of course. But the tingle didn't go away—not fully.
He kept walking, the land growing rockier. The scent of jasmine faded, replaced by the sharp, earthy smell of damp stone. Then he saw it: the old temple, half-hidden behind a wall of vines. Its roof was broken in places, tiles missing, and the wooden doors hung off their hinges. But it looked empty—safe.
Lin Chen approached slowly, pushing a vine out of the way. Inside, sunlight filtered through the broken roof, dust motes dancing in the air. There was a stone altar in the center, covered in leaves, and a few wooden benches pushed to the sides. He walked to the altar, setting the remaining sticky rice on a clean spot of stone.
He sat down on a bench, leaning back against the wall. His legs felt like lead, and his eyes started to droop—exhaustion pulling at him. But before he could fall asleep, the pendant warmed again.
This time, it was stronger. Not hot—just a gentle heat that spread from his chest to his hands. He sat up, staring at it. The carved lotus seemed to glow, faintly—so faint he almost thought it was a trick of the light.
What is this? he wondered. The village elders had said his mother was a fairy, but he'd never believed the stories—not really. Fairies didn't leave their kids to starve. Fairies didn't let their husbands become monks. But the veiled woman, the pendant's heat, the way she'd known about his mother…
Maybe the stories were true.
Lin Chen pulled the pendant off his neck, holding it in his palm. It was small—about the size of his thumb—carved with tiny, perfect lotus petals. He'd rubbed those petals a thousand times, when he was scared or hungry or lonely. But he'd never felt it warm before. Never seen it glow.
"Is this… part of you?" he asked, voice soft. "The 'Sacred Lotus' thing? Whatever that is?"
The heat faded, the glow vanishing. The pendant went back to being cold, ordinary ivory. Lin Chen sighed, putting it back around his neck. He didn't have answers—not yet. But the veiled woman had said "soon." Maybe soon, he'd understand.
He lay down on the bench, pulling his tattered jacket over himself. The temple was quiet, except for the wind rustling the vines outside and the distant hoot of an owl. For the first time in days, he didn't feel like he was waiting to die. He felt like he was waiting for something—something good.
He closed his eyes, the taste of coconut rice still in his mouth, the pendant cold against his chest. Tonight, he would fall asleep quickly… To be continued.