The village street lies in ruins. Smoke rises from burning huts, and somewhere a child screams. Yaoming runs as if demons themselves nip at his heels, his friends gasping behind him.
"We have to get Liyen out!" His breath comes in jagged bursts, words shattering between heartbeats.
Yan stumbles over a splintered wooden beam. "But the cell—if we break in, we make ourselves accomplices!"
Yaoming stops. Turns. His eyes are black holes in an ashen face.
"Use your pig-skull, Yan! Do you honestly think Liyen could kill someone?"
"I didn't mean—I wasn't saying she—" Yan's voice breaks. He stares at the cobblestones.
Yaoming snorts. "The whole city burns! And you want to leave her in there?"
"Maybe she's safer there than out here?" Zuo barely dares speak the words. He cannot look at Yaoming.
"Really?" Yaoming's laughter sounds like shattered glass. "While we flee, she sits alone in the darkness, and that's supposed to be safe?"
Zuo falls silent. His gaze drifts to the flickering shadows between houses.
"Cowards." Yaoming's voice drops to a whisper, but the word strikes like a blow. "Then I'll go alone."
"No!" Zuo grabs Yaoming's arm. "That's not what I meant. We're coming."
Yan nods frantically. "Yes. All together. I promise."
The stockade reeks of old stone and fear. Liyen presses her back against the damp wall of her cell and stares at the bars. Footsteps in the corridor outside—not the heavy boots of guards. Something else. Something that moves like flowing mist.
A figure materializes from the darkness. Female. Beautiful in a way that turns the stomach.
"Well, pretty thing." The voice sounds like honey over knives. A Noctusborn offspring circles the cell, her fingers gliding across the iron bars like strings. "Baitenger flesh. So juicy. So sweet."
Liyen clenches her teeth.
"Pity the meat isn't meant for me." The creature licks her lips. "But the blood—that I may have. Every. Single. Drop."
The claw shoots through the bars, misses Liyen's face by a hand's breadth. Liyen springs back, collides with the rear wall. The Noctusborn offspring laughs, a sound like tinkling ice.
She scratches and tears at the bars, which groan under the strain but hold. "Cursed Baitenger steel!"
Liyen's gaze darts to the key board on the opposite wall. Ten keys hang there. Ten. For two cells.
The Noctusborn offspring freezes. Then turns, slowly, deliciously slowly.
"Oh. Keys."
She drifts to the board. Her claws clink against the metal.
"So many pretty little keys." She glances over her shoulder. "You wouldn't happen to know which?"
Liyen's heart hammers against her ribs. The fourth from the left. Or was it the fifth?
"Of course I know," she says, and her voice does not tremble. "I watched them lock me in."
"Then tell me!"
"Tell a bitch from hell?"
The Noctusborn offspring turns fully around. Her smile grows.
"Not nice." The index finger swings back and forth. "Tsk, tsk. But no matter. No one will come, little swallow. No one will come to save you."
"If you tell me which key—I promise: quick and painless." She tilts her head as if sharing a secret. "Otherwise it takes long. Very long."
"Rot, you stupid cow!"
"Ten keys." The Noctusborn offspring studies the board. "Two cells. What waste."
"For cases like this," Liyen forces out. "When someone wants to break out. Or in."
"Let's see if you're still so cheeky when I open the door."
The third key from the right. The Noctusborn offspring lets it dance between her fingers as she glides toward the cell. Step. By. Step.
Liyen's pulse roars in her ears. Please. Please no.
The key slides into the lock. Turns. Sticks.
Wrong.
Liyen breathes out without realizing.
"Annoying." The Noctusborn offspring tosses the key aside. Grabs the second from the left. Again that terrible march. Again the lock. Again the click.
Wrong again.
This time she curses. But then—a new smile. She no longer moves normally. She glides, mist instead of bone, and suddenly stands before the board.
"The first from the left," she whispers. "That'll be it."
She's so fast at the cell that Liyen flinches. The key bends under her strength but refuses service.
Silence.
Then her hand moves over the remaining keys. Slowly. Touching. Her eyes—red shimmering holes—fix on Liyen's face.
"Your gaze wanders to the door, little swallow." The laughter is now a purr. "Expecting your Yaoming?"
Liyen freezes.
"How—how do you know—"
"We see everything Father sees." The voice becomes a chorus, a thousand whispers in one. "We hear everything Father hears. Feel everything Father feels."
She presses her hand against the bars, and Liyen suddenly feels it—a tugging in her chest, as if invisible threads pull at her thoughts.
"And Father sees everything we see. Hears everything we hear. Feels everything we feel."
"Our souls are red threads in the mycelium of the Dark King. Our thoughts—no longer our own."
The Noctusborn offspring's finger sinks. Pauses. At the fifth key from the right.
"There. Your pupils grow larger." She laughs, a ringing like breaking glass. "Any last words?"
Liyen closes her eyes. Holy Qi-flames, if you exist—
The door explodes inward.
Wood splinters, metal screams, and something heavy—something human—crashes into the Noctusborn offspring. She falls, motionless, without a sound.
Yan stumbles into the room. His shoulder bleeds where he scraped against the doorframe.
"Oh." He stares at the figure on the ground. "Oh no. I didn't mean to. Wake up, beautiful woman, I—"
"Yan!" Liyen's voice tears through the air. "That's a Noctusborn! Don't wake her!"
"What? But she's so—"
"The key!" Liyen points with trembling finger at the floor, where the key gleams in the dust. "There! It lies right beside her!"
Yaoming storms in, Zuo close behind. Yaoming sees nothing but the key, the cell, her. He rams the key into the lock, rattles, the door springs open.
Liyen falls into his arms. Her whole weight, her whole fear, her whole life.
"You came." Her voice breaks. "Even though I snapped at you. I'm so sorry, I—"
"Of course I came." Yaoming's hands tremble on her back. "I love you, little Li. Above all. Forever."
Behind them, Yan clears his throat. Zuo stares at the ceiling.
Liyen does not let go. Holds tighter.
"We have to get out of here," Yaoming says, but his voice is soft as water. "The village falls apart. We must get to your mother. Then you must flee from here."
"And you?" Liyen looks up. Her eyes are wet, but sharp. "What about you?"
"I have a plan. To buy you time. But first your Ma—she could be in danger. No time to explain."
Liyen nods. She knows this tone. This look. Arguing is useless.
They run.
The stockade stinks of smoke and old blood. Liyen trips over something soft, looks down—and freezes.
A sack, half open from her accidental kick? Mara's face.
She lies curled beside the cell door, as if she lay down to sleep. But her eyes are open. Glassy. Empty.
"Wait." Liyen's voice sounds foreign in her own ears. "We must take her with us."
"What?" Zuo whirls around, eyes wide with fear. "Liyen, we have no time, the—"
"She lies right beside my cell." Liyen kneels, strokes Mara's matted hair from her face, closes her eyes and closes the sack again. "Just a few steps."
"Leave her here." Zuo tugs at Liyen's shoulder. "Please. The Noctusborn are everywhere, we must—"
"No." Liyen holds his hand. Her voice does not tremble. "She deserves at least that. A burial. Not... not like this."
Silence. Then—footsteps. Yaoming kneels beside her, without a word. Yan and Zuo look at each other, look at Liyen's face, and then they too bend down.
They carry Mara out into the flickering daylight. The horse whinnies impatiently, nostrils flared wide with fear. They strap the corpse across the saddle.
"Hold on," Yaoming says quietly.
Liyen nods. She reaches for the sack, presses it one last time before mounting.
Then they ride. Fast. Faster.
Mara's head knocks softly against the horse's flank, a rhythmic tapping like a second heart trying to keep beating.
They ride swiftly.
Mother Lan's hut still stands, but the door hangs crooked. Liyen bursts inside, collides with an overturned chair.
"Ma? MA!"
Silence. Then—a rustling under the bed. Mother Lan crawls forth, pale, alive.
"Little Li?" Her voice is a whisper.
"Yes! I'm here!" Liyen falls to her knees, embraces her mother, and now she weeps, finally, everything at once. "You're alive. You're still alive."
"Aunt Yu was here." Mother Lan's words come in bursts. "But she was already—she was no longer—" She cannot continue.
Yaoming kneels beside them. His hand lies heavy on Mother Lan's shoulder.
"We must get you out. East, to Longteng. You'll be safe there."
"I won't leave you again!" Liyen clings to Yaoming's arm.
"Your Ma needs you." He speaks quietly, but each word strikes. "Get her to safety. That takes priority."
"Hey!" Mother Lan straightens. Her eyes flash. "I'm old, not helpless. I can fight!"
"We will defend the village together!" Liyen's voice trembles with determination.
"No." Yaoming's tone leaves no room. "You have no chance. Flee. Only thus will you survive."
"I won't leave you alone. I love you." Liyen's words are a cry and a whisper at once. "So much. You can't just—"
"I love you too." Yaoming interrupts her not gently, but necessarily. "But you must be strong. For your mother. Do you understand?"
He turns to Yan and Zuo. "Watch over her. Both. I'm counting on you."
"Don't worry, little Li. We won't leave Yaoming alone," Yan says. His voice is calm, finally. "We'll take good care of him. I promise."
Zuo nods. "Exactly, you can count on us, little swallow!" Yaoming presses with both hands on Yan's and Zuo's shoulders. Yan embraces Yaoming. Then the brothers embrace each other.
"Brothers forever," Zuo whispers.
"Brothers forever," comes a shared cry. Yaoming lays his hands on Yan's and Zuo's shoulders. And Yan and Zuo likewise lay their hands on each other. Three heads, leaned together.
"Sorry," Liyen says quietly. "But he belongs to me now."
She breaks the embrace. Pulls Yaoming to her. Kisses him—not gentle, not tender, but with all the fear and all the love burning within her. A kiss like a brand, like a promise, like a farewell.
Yaoming helps Mother Lan onto the horse, where Mara's corpse already lies—motionless, like a heavy secret. Then he lifts Liyen up, and their hands find each other a moment too long.
Liyen turns around as the horse gallops. Once. Twice. Yaoming grows smaller, smaller, a shadow between smoke and flames.
"We have no time!" Yaoming's cry tears his friends from their paralysis. "The Noctusborn must be distracted so the other villagers can flee!"
"How?" Yan's voice is hoarse.
Yaoming swings his sword. His smile is grim.
"They smell fear. So we laugh." He sheathes his sword. "We laugh until we die." He throws a glance back, where Liyen's horse disappears between the trees, "I have a plan, but I don't know if you'll like it. Let's get reinforcements."