The cell reeks of mold and terror-sweat. Liyen sits on damp straw, knees drawn to her chest, staring at the wavering flame of the oil lamp. Light throws dancing shadows across cold stone walls—and with every flicker, something inside her cracks open. Memories. Fragments. Words she tried to bury.
"You must search for the old Alchemist and our village blacksmith. The creature of darkness asked about them."
She presses her palms against her temples. Why does she only remember this now? Mara, the stranger, the warning—everything blurs into a nightmare of ash and lies.
The heavy oak door crashes open. Watchmaster Hu storms in, boots ringing against stone. Behind him, three guards jostle for position, their faces flushed with excitement or perhaps simple cruelty.
"Still making up stories?" Hu snorts. He stops before her, arms crossed, chin thrust forward like a rooster defending its territory. "Your creature of darkness. Very dramatic, little Li. Almost too dramatic."
Liyen rises. Her legs tremble, but her voice holds steady: "The creature was inside Mara's body. It possessed her."
Hu throws his head back and laughs—a rough, mocking sound. "Possessed! Do you hear that? The village girls have been reading too many ghost stories!" The guards chuckle. One snorts into his fist.
"Why would Mara want to warn us?" Hu continues, bending down to her level. His breath smells of pickled cabbage and old rage. "Warn us about herself? That makes no sense, girl. Unless..." He crafts an elaborate pause, lets his gaze slide over her. "Unless you murdered her. For revenge. Because she humiliated you before everyone."
Liyen feels her face burn. The marketplace. The laughter. Mara's voice cutting through the crowd: "Just a joke, Liyen. Did you really think I was that naive?"
"At that moment, the creature wasn't inside her yet," she forces out. "Only after. When she... when he claimed it had all been a joke!"
Hu straightens and clicks his tongue. "Ah, so the creature also took the foreign woman's voice? How convenient." He turns half-away, studying her from the corner of his eye. "I know you, Liyen. Since you were a child. And I'll tell you one thing: You're lying. You're lying to save your neck."
"I swear by the Ancestors—I did not murder Mara."
"Then explain this." Hu whirls back toward her, boots squealing on stone. "If your creature truly came to our village—how? How does something like that go unnoticed? Are the watchmen blind? Deaf?" His voice rises to a roar. "Or are they working with the thing?"
The guards fall silent. One clears his throat uncertainly.
"I never said—"
"But that's what you mean!" Hu slams his palm against the bars. Metal rings like a church bell. "You accuse them of incompetence. Treason. Perhaps even murder!" He spins around, jabs a shaking finger at his subordinates. "What do you say to that, boys? Shall we all let the creature of darkness drain us dry?"
Nervous giggles break out. Then a second. Soon they're all laughing, loud and too loud, voices overlapping in hysterical celebration.
"ENOUGH!" Hu's voice cleaves through the noise like an axe. The guards fall quiet, embarrassed, gazes lowered. Silence stretches, heavy as wet wool.
Liyen breathes deep. Her fingers claw into the straw. "Fine," she says quietly. "Don't believe me. But what does it cost you to search for the Alchemist and Ganghuo?"
Hu snorts. "My time. My patience."
"You have nothing to lose." Liyen stands, slowly, legs still unsteady, but her gaze fixed. "I'm innocent until proven otherwise. The law applies to me too." She steps closer until she feels the bars, cold against her forehead. "I officially file a missing persons report. For the old Alchemist. For Ganghuo. You're obligated to search for them."
A moment of silence. Hu's jaw works. Then—a dry laugh.
"Very clever." He claps twice, slow, mocking. "Really, very cleverly played, Liyen. The village girl knows her rights. Fine, suppose you could actually be right." He turns away, studies his men. Then points at the youngest, a boy with freckles and a too-large uniform. "You. Search for the Alchemist and the blacksmith. If you find them—bring them here."
The boy shifts awkwardly. "To the garrison, Watchmaster? At this hour?"
Hu rolls his eyes. "No, you fool. Check if they're even still alive. And hurry."
The boy's boots retreat, echoing. Liyen listens as they fade down the corridor. Time stretches. Each heartbeat a year. Each breath an eternity.
Then—footsteps. Fast. Too fast.
The boy bursts through the door, cheeks flushed, eyes wide. "Not... not locatable, Watchmaster. Neither in the laboratory nor at the forge. The neighbors haven't seen them."
Liyen's stomach turns. "The creature," she whispers. Her voice breaks. "It's already found them."
"THAT'S ENOUGH!" Hu's fist crashes against the wall. Plaster crumbles down. His voice shakes with suppressed rage—or is it fear? "Two more problems, Liyen. Two missing. And you're the only one who knows anything. That doesn't look good for you."
"I don't know where they are!"
"Then invent it!" Hu presses his face against the bars, so close she can see the capillary veins in his eyes. "Tell me where they're hidden, little Li. Or else..."
"You know I'm telling the truth." Liyen's voice is barely a breath. "Master Hu. Look at me. I'm afraid. So afraid I can barely breathe." Her hands shake visibly. "The creature was terrifying. Not human. Not alive. We must act before—"
The door flies open.
A man staggers in. "My neighbor," he gasps. "Vanished. Her children are alone. She was always home with them at this hour. Always. She would never leave her children alone."
Before Hu can respond, a woman pushes past him, hair wild, voice a howl. "My neighbor! He's gone! His farm is empty, the animals unfed!"
Then a boy, perhaps ten, eyes red from weeping. "My mother. She's not in the garden. Not in the house. She's... she's just gone."
And another: "My sister!"
And a woman: "My two daughters!"
The garrison transforms into a vortex of panic. Villagers flood through the gates, a torrent of twisted faces and torn voices. Everyone screams. Everyone misses someone. The guards are pushed back, pressed against walls, overwhelmed by the mass.
Liyen presses against the bars. Outside, in the flickering torchlight, she sees them.
White figures. Among the people. Behind the guards. Men and women with pale faces—faces she doesn't recognize. Citizens of Glutheim. Dead who walk.
One of them, a tall man with empty eye sockets, bends over a woman. His lips touch her neck. She convulses, freezes, then collapses like an empty sack.
"Mara warned us," Liyen screams. Her voice cuts through the wailing of the crowd. "She warned us exactly about this!"
Hu turns to her. His face is ashen. The bravado has fled, replaced by something else. He knows. He sees it too.
"You stay here," he says, but his voice trembles. "The village judge will rule on you. And if you're innocent..." He swallows hard. "Then you're safer here than out there."
"My mother!" Liyen rattles the bars until her wrists bleed. "She's alone! Who will protect her?!"
Hu hesitates. A long, agonizing moment. Then: "I'll check on her."
He turns to his men, who by now look as pale as the creatures outside. "We spread out. Each man searches his quarter. Anyone sees a suspect—scream. Scream loud."
The guards nod, mute, throats too dry for speech.
"Master Hu!" Liyen's voice sounds like a whimper. "Let me out. Please. I can help. I know what they look like. I—"
But he's already gone. The door falls shut. The sound of the key turns like a death sentence.
Liyen sinks back onto the straw. Outside, footsteps echo, calls, screams. And beneath it all, almost too quiet to hear, a sucking sound. Like hunger. Like greed.
The Noctusborn offspring have reached Yulong.
And no one is safe now.