chapter 14;;The Dream of Death
The forest's mist curled around Lee Kung like ghostly fingers as he woke. He lay on a bed of moss and leaves, chest tight, mind blurred. A few moments passed before he recognized the familiar, yet distorted, place: the pine grove at the village's edge. Something was terribly off.
He rose, senses trembling. Overhead, broken branches framed pale light; beneath his feet, damp earth gave cold comfort. No birdsong. No breeze. Only the soft, ominous hush of something unseen watching—and waiting.
Lee Kung's red armor, tattered and bloodstained from the last confrontation, still clung to him. But the wound in his side, deep and deadly in reality, was gone. His obsidian sword lay nearby, its glow dimmed. He grasped the hilt—steady, alive, yet hollow.
He followed the winding path toward the village's center. Each step sounded too loud. Too deliberate.
Huts lined the clearing, their simple shapes worn from memory. He expected movement—smoke curling from fire, children laughing at chase. Instead, he saw a gathering in the square: villagers, lined in rows, silent.
Their backs turned, faces hidden. But as he approached, they pivoted.
Eyes cold. Faces rigid.
Lee Kung froze. He knew every one—Elder Maris, the baker Jun, little Tala who sold flowers by the gate. All looked at him as though he were poison.
"Mia?" His voice cracked the silence like glass.
A woman stepped forward. It was Mia—but not the woman he knew. Her bright eyes were dull, her mouth thin, a dagger raised and glinting.
He backed away, hands open. "Please… I can explain."
She didn't answer. She swung. The blade cut across his shoulder. Pain flared—iron sweet and immediate.
"That's… why?" he gasped.
She pressed forward. "You lied to us."
He dropped his sword, took a step back. "Look—let's talk!"
But more villagers drew weapons. An axe fell across his ribs. He stumbled against a tree.
A shriek pierced the moment. Lee Kung turned.
Sio Jun fell from the sky, full wolf form, muscles coiled, eyes burning silver. With one brutal swipe, she slashed across his back. Fire bloomed beneath the skin. He fell to one knee.
Then he heard the sound of wings.
He dared to raise his head. Half-human, half-dark, his twin hovered above on jagged black wings, blade drawn.
"Brother…" Lee Kung whispered.
Lee Kang landed among the villagers. His eyes glowed—one deep red, the other inky black.
"Your mercy makes you weak," he said quietly, blade plunging into Lee Kung's gut. "I will save you—from yourself."
He twisted the sword and Lee Kung crumpled.
Mia lunged. Lee Kung slid sideways, agony and betrayal slicing sharper together. Mia's blade scratched his arm. He fell to the ground, every breath a battle.
Then an all-too-familiar voice spoke his name.
"Lee Kung."
A staff tapped against stones.
Master Po stepped forward, robes dark as night, face sorrowful.
"No..." Lee Kung managed.
"With your blood, the ritual completes," Po said softly. His staff raised.
Lee Kung's gaze shifted beyond the villagers, to a throne of gnarled roots and scorched wood.
Dehaska sat there: limbs purple, horns curling, eyes black holes into some deep abyss.
The crowd bowed.
Mia knelt, hands held wide.
Sio Jun fell to her fists.
Master Po knelt and whispered: "I'm sorry."
Blood pooled beneath Lee Kung, red as sunset sky. He reached for his sword—only to behold its blade dull, lifeless, broken.
His vision blurred. He saw again Dehaska's throne, saw himself as a sacrifice, seen them all bow. The realization narrowed into a single point.
He'd been chosen.
A scream fought in his lungs—but he could not cry it out.
Darkness closed around him.
Lee Kung gasped awake. The trees were gone. Only a simple wooden ceiling, the stillness of night, and a single flicker of lantern light.
His heart thundered. Sweat wet at his brow. Pain flared—as if a knife had been thrust into his side again.
Mia knelt beside him. Her eyes were red—tired, frightened.
"You're awake," she whispered, voice small as a candle.
Lee Kung tried to speak. Tried to tell her. But his tongue felt gone. Heavy. Foreign.
He tried again. Nothing.
She froze at his failure, gentle panic spreading. One hand hovered near his lips, then slid to his wrist—cold, brittle.
"He was poisoned—by something on the ship," Mia said softly. "We didn't realize until morning. We tried… we still are."
He blinked. The arrows of fear and relief pierced equally.
He opened his mouth to say, The dream—
No sound.
He closed his eyes.
Another breath.
Another failed attempt.
Mia took his hand then, holding both warm and soft.
"It was a nightmare," she said. "I was with you. You tossed, and I thought you were gasping… but it wasn't the fever. It was the—"
She swallowed.
"He stabbed you. We saved you…"
Lee Kung squeezed her fingers. He needed to say something.
It wouldn't come out.
Mia's eyes locked on his.
"But listen," she said, voice steadier. "What you saw… it… it's connected to Dehaska—they're trying to break you. Through dreams."
Lee Kung's vision swam. He saw the throne once more, heard the collapsed hush of bows.
His lips moved again—"At—thor...?"
She frowned softly.
"Tell me what you remember."
He shivered—memory sprang like shards:
The forest.
The eyes of Mia's blade.
Claws on his back.
Darkness creeping over Lee Kang.
Master Po's solemn staff.
Dehaska's throne.
He made a slurred motion across his forehead.
Mia squeezed his hand.
"It was a vision. A warning. A trap."
The wolf howl of wind from outside made the lantern flicker. The room dimmed.
He tried to roll over. His muscles refused. Paralysis crept through him.
"Poison," Mia said, voice ragged. "It's spreading. The deeper the venom, the thinner the toxicity… they said it was called nightshade mist—used in Shadow Realm warfare. One drop can kill an entire regiment."
Lee Kung's vision clouded.
Mia's scroll lay open on the bedside table. The rune-inscribed words glowed faintly:
The weight in his chest tightened.
Mia rested her head on his shoulder. "I will find them. Save them. Save us."
Lee Kung saw Dehaska in his mind:
Mia's promise clashed with Dehaska's whisper.
In the dark, he tried one last time.
He thought of Mia—her laughter, her bell-like voice.
He imagined her smile.
He willed the words silently—but with all the power he could summon:
"Thank you."
It was enough.
Mia squeezed harder. Tears traced silver lines down her cheek.
Night deepened outside, the moon bleak silver through shattered windows.
Lee Kung lay still but alive. Mia gathered her cloak, planning.
"We leave at first light," she said. "We go for the First Healer. They can purify Shadow poisons. And I will find the scroll's next three."
Sio Jun appeared at the door—her silver hair pallid in the moonlight.
Lee Kung locked eyes with her.
She lowered her gaze.
"We'll need you," Mia said to both.
And with that, they left him to rest—thin hope in a night filled with nightmares