Mist clung to the Liuchuan riverbanks as morning broke across the jade roofs of the House of Flow. Children in ceremonial robes gathered beneath the Whispering Arch, where the River of Echoes shimmered beneath veiled sunlight. The morning air carried a hush of reverence—the kind that settled deep in one's bones.
Today was the Day of Mandates—a ceremony older than the seven known laws, older than written history. For those born to noble blood, it marked the moment their name could be etched into the threads of the world.
Tian Qiren stood among the gathered, twelve years old and still small for his age. His ceremonial robes were a shade too long in the sleeves and a little too heavy on his frame. He adjusted them awkwardly, trying to mimic the perfect posture of his elder sister, Tian Qingyue, who stood several paces ahead with her fellow sect elites. The weight of the moment pressed on him—heavier than the cloth.
He glanced beside him. Ren Shun, son of a senior steward and his only true companion in the sect, leaned toward him with a crooked smile.
"You'll get yours today," Shun whispered under his breath. "I feel it. A golden thread. Maybe even something rare—a lightning Mandate."
Qiren allowed himself a small smile. He appreciated the attempt. Shun always tried. Always believed.But deep in his chest, Qiren felt nothing. No hum, no flutter of anticipation. Only cold.
The Whispering Arch towered over the courtyard. A massive structure carved from soulstone, etched with the history of the seven Mandates: Flame, Flow, Stone, Wind, Dream, Root, and Veil. Each child here would step forward. Each would be marked by the light of their destined path.
And those who weren't…
He shook the thought. He wouldn't be Threadless.He couldn't.
✴︎
High Patriarch Tian Renshu stepped forward, long sleeves of black silk trailing like shadows behind him. His presence silenced even the birds.
Beside him stood Qiren's mother, Lady Yueyin. Dressed in red and silver, her expression was unreadable—like the still surface of a deep river.Ahead, his elder sister Qingyue radiated serenity, her mandala glinting faintly on her brow—proof of her Flow affinity, one of the youngest to ever receive the mark.
Next to her, Tian Yuling, the second daughter, barely restrained the fire that burned within her. Unlike Qingyue's graceful perfection, Yuling was all fury and instinct. The Flame Mandate pulsed in her even when she stood still.
The ceremony began.
One by one, the children stepped forward. The River responded with silken lights—threads of color weaving down into their chests. Water hummed. Elders nodded in quiet approval.
"Mandate of Stone."
"Mandate of Dream."
"Mandate of Flow."
Then—his name.
"Tian Qiren."
He walked slowly to the water's edge. All eyes turned to him. He swallowed the dry lump in his throat and stepped into the shallows.
The water did not stir.
He waited. A minute passed. Then two.Still, nothing. No ripple. No thread. The River Spirit did not descend.
The courtyard held its breath.
"Threadless," someone whispered.
The word rippled like a stone dropped in still water.
Some younger disciples looked confused. The elders remained silent. The High Patriarch's expression did not change—worse than anger was indifference.
Qingyue stared toward the horizon. She would not look at him.Yuling clenched her fists, knuckles white.His mother... said nothing.
Qiren stepped back, trembling.
The world had spoken.
He was unmarked.
✴︎
The elders convened quickly—words exchanged behind fluttering fans and spiritual veils.
Then came the decree:Tian Qiren would undergo a Second Flowing.
A rite rarely used. A final chance, they claimed. But everyone knew its true name—Purification.
Qiren didn't understand.
Shun did.
That evening, while the feast carried on without him, Shun slipped into his chambers with a bowl of spiced rice and honeyed roots.
"You didn't fail," Shun said, pressing the bowl into his hands. "They just don't understand. What if you're... something new? Something beyond the seven?"
Qiren stared at the food.
"Second Flowing isn't just a test," Shun added. "I heard my brother talking. If it fails... they seal your core forever."
Qiren's breath hitched.
"You won't even be able to hold qi. Not ever."
To be Threadless was one thing.But to be sealed? No different than being dead.
Later that night, his door opened again.
Lady Yueyin stepped inside, silent as moonlight. In her hand, a small black charm, warm and smooth like obsidian.
"This is a flame seal," she whispered. "Not one bound to the Flame Mandate. Older. Raw."
She pressed it into his palm.
"It will not awaken unless you are pushed beyond death. But it will remember you when others forget."
He looked up at her, eyes wet.
"Why me?"
She finally met his gaze.
"Because you were not born of the seven.""The threads reject you because you do not flow. You burn."
Her hand touched his cheek.
"And the world is not ready for your kind."
She left without another word.
✴︎
The next morning, Qiren was dressed in plain gray robes—ritual attire for the condemned.Qingyue walked ahead, robes flowing like mist. She did not look back.Yuling was absent. Shun was nowhere to be found.
He was flanked by two ritual guards, faces unreadable.
As he walked the long, winding path to the Ritual Hall, spirit lanterns pulsed dimly. Whispers followed.
Threadless.Cursed.Shadow-born.
Each step grew heavier.
At the final archway, he paused.
The Ritual Hall loomed—etched in ancient runes, sealed by generations. Inside, he would be submerged in the River's Heart. If no thread formed... he would be bound. Sealed. Forgotten.
As he stepped through the threshold, the charm in his hand burned hot, then went cold.
He didn't know it yet.
But far away, in the forbidden depths of the House of Flow, an ancient seal cracked. One that had not stirred in ten thousand years.And the River of Echoes shivered upstream.
Because something new had entered the world.
Something not written in the Book of Mandates.
Tian Qiren.
The Threadless Child.