Liang's POV
The morning mist clung to the blackened earth like a shroud. Smoke curled faintly from the charred ruins, and the once-lively village lay in ruin—silenced, gutted, dead. Only the wind whispered through the broken beams and scorched trees, mourning the lost.
I stood at the edge of what was once my home.
Now it was nothing but ashes and blood. The outline of our house still lingered in the haze—its roof had collapsed, the wooden pillars burned to twisted stumps. That was the place where I took my first steps, where my mother sang by the window, where my father… laughed.
My legs buckled. I fell to my knees, the rain-softened soil staining the hem of my robe. My hands shook as I sifted through the debris, not knowing what I was searching for—maybe warmth, maybe a miracle.
What I found was a bone.
A forearm bone, still whole, bleached with ash. Tied around it was a faded red string—a prayer bracelet my father used to wear, once bright, now nearly gray.
I lifted it with trembling hands. My breath caught. My chest tightened as if the earth itself had caved in.
"Liang Shen…"
The voice was faint. Hollow.
It didn't come from behind me. It didn't come from my mind.
It came from the bone.
I froze. The air thickened around me. Even the wind seemed to stop.
The bone pulsed in my hand—faintly warm, as if life still clung to it.
"Liang Shen…"
This time, it was clearer. Hoarse. Familiar.
"A… Father?" My whisper vanished into the mist.
"Find me… at the Well of Death."
---
I wandered forward, almost dreamlike. Each step sunk into the wet earth, dragging my body as if the weight of grief had become a second skeleton. My ears rang with the echo of that voice. My father's voice.
He couldn't be alive.
But the bone was calling me—and I had nothing left but that call.
I crossed the path where lanterns used to glow during the festival of spirits, now covered in ash. The wildflowers were gone, replaced by cracked soil. I walked past the remains of neighbors' homes, past broken gates and the burnt husks of childhood memories.
The forest loomed at the edge of the village, its trees tall and silent. The fog deepened as I stepped beneath their branches.
And then I saw him.
Yue Feng.
He emerged from the mist like a ghost—cloaked in shadows, his armor torn and bloodstained, his blade sheathed across his back. His long black hair was soaked with rain, clinging to his bruised face.
My breath caught in my throat.
He was still alive.
Part of me wanted to run to him. Part of me wanted to strike him.
"Liang Shen," he called my name, softly, as if unsure he deserved to.
I turned away.
"I came back… for you."
I laughed bitterly. "After everything's burned?"
He took a step closer. His movements were slow, careful, like he was approaching something wounded. "I was imprisoned. By my own clan. They saw me as a traitor—for protecting you."
"Where were you," I hissed, "when my father was slaughtered? When my home was burned?"
He stopped just a step away. His storm-gray eyes locked with mine. "Too late," he said. "I was too late. But I'm here now."
"That doesn't matter anymore."
When I turned to leave, his hand caught mine.
His grip was firm—but gentle. Like he knew he was holding something already broken.
"Don't walk away," he whispered. "Let me walk with you."
I stared at the bone in my other hand.
"It spoke to me," I said quietly. "My father's bone."
His eyes widened. "What did it say?"
I hesitated, then answered, "It told me to find the Well of Death."
Yue Feng's face paled.
"That well… it's not a place for the living," he said. "It's a gate."
"A gate to where?"
He looked away. "A gate to where secrets don't die… they decay."
---
We sat beneath a cherry tree—burnt and bare—where we once carved our names as children. The moon hung low behind the clouds. Around us, silence pressed in like a forgotten prayer.
Yue Feng's hand found mine again. This time, I didn't pull away.
"I never stopped loving you," he said.
My breath hitched.
"Even when I vanished. Even when I couldn't be there the night your mother died. Even when I left you to face this world alone. I wanted to come back. Every day. But I was bound—by a blood oath I couldn't break."
"And now I'm supposed to forgive you?"
"No," he said softly. "I only ask… let me make it right. With my life, if I must."
I turned to him. "This is no longer just about us, Yue Feng. This is about blood. About voices that live inside bones. About my father… and the darkness that still clings to him."
He wrapped his arms around me. His warmth—his pain—wrapped around me like a memory I never truly let go.
"I'll walk with you to the well," he said into my ear. "No matter what waits."
---
Our journey began that same night.
The forest deepened into silence. Not even the owls stirred. The trees stretched above like twisted bones, and the mist thickened with each step. I clutched the bone tightly. It felt… heavier now.
Yue Feng walked beside me, his hand never leaving the hilt of his sword. His presence was a shield—quiet, steady. But even he couldn't protect me from what was inside.
From the voice that whispered when no one else could hear.
After hours of walking, we reached the forbidden stone plain.
At its center stood the well.
It was ancient, covered in moss and roots. Its edges were cracked, but the darkness inside was whole. Endless.
I stepped forward. The bone in my hand pulsed again—like a heartbeat.
Yue Feng reached for me. "You don't have to go alone."
I looked at him.
"What if I descend… and I never return?"
"Then I'll follow you. I'll search the heavens and hells for you. Even if my soul is shattered."
Our lips were a breath apart. A heartbeat away from touching.
The bone began to glow in my hand—faint, cold.
And from within the well… came a voice.
Not my father's.
Not human.
Something older. Deeper.
Something that had waited in silence for too long.