Morning light spilled over the ruins of Cloudveil Village, washing the ashes in pale gold. Smoke still curled upward from the charred remains, thin and ghostlike, as if the mountain itself mourned what had been lost.
Among the rubble, a boy stirred.
Li Tianlan's eyes fluttered open, dry and heavy. For a moment, he didn't remember where he was—only the distant ache that lived in his chest. Then memory returned like a blade drawn across the mind: the fire, the light, Lin Xue's fading smile… and the orb.
He tried to rise. Pain bloomed through every limb, but it wasn't ordinary pain—it throbbed in rhythm with his heartbeat, a strange warmth pulsing beneath his ribs.
His fingers brushed the ground—cold, brittle, coated in ash. The smell of smoke filled his lungs. When he finally stood, the silence pressed against his ears. The once-lively village was gone, replaced by stillness so complete it felt alive.
He called out, voice cracking:
"Yun-jie! Mei-jie!"
No answer came. Only the soft sigh of wind through broken beams.
The ruins stretched before him—skeletal houses, cracked wells, and blackened trees bowing under their own weight. He staggered toward the old square, his boots crunching through soot. At the center lay the mark of impact—a crater faintly glowing with silver residue.
He stared, heart pounding. Here… it all began.
A faint hum stirred in his chest, as if answering his thoughts. The warmth flared—gentle but insistent.
"What are you?" he whispered, pressing a trembling hand to his sternum.
The air shimmered. For a heartbeat, the world wavered—light rippling like water disturbed by wind. Then, from somewhere not of sound but of thought, a voice drifted into his mind.
"...Tianlan..."
He spun around.
No one was there. Only the broken skeletons of homes and the pale morning light.
The voice came again—tender this time, carrying the weight of sorrow and warmth, as though spoken by someone who had once known his heart.
"...Tianlan... you must... leave..."
It wasn't a sound that came from the air.
It bloomed gently inside him—in the space between heartbeat and breath.
The tone was faint, like the echo of a lullaby half-remembered, threaded with care so deep it almost hurt to hear.
Tianlan's lips parted. His chest tightened.
"Who's there?" he whispered, voice trembling.
The warmth in his chest stirred, a slow pulse spreading through his veins. Then the world around him seemed to dissolve—smoke, ruin, and sky blending into mist.
Before him appeared a vision—faint as moonlight on still water.
A vast, shrouded realm stretched before his eyes, where floating mountains drifted through rivers of light.
And there, standing amidst the glow, was a woman draped in white.
Her presence was serene—neither ghost nor goddess, but something in between.
Her eyes shimmered with gentle sorrow, yet when she looked at him, there was no fear, only a boundless, aching kindness.
Her voice came again—not loud, not commanding, but soft as falling snow.
"The veil is broken... he will come... run, Tianlan... please..."
Each word carried a touch that seemed to brush his soul, like warm hands upon a trembling heart.
It was the kind of voice that could make even despair weep.
Then the vision rippled—the light fractured—and she was gone.
Tianlan gasped, collapsing forward. Sweat clung to his skin. The glow beneath his chest dimmed again, leaving only a faint tremor of warmth.
He stared at the ground, trembling. "Who… was she? And what's coming?"
A gust swept through the ruins, scattering ashes like snow. The mountain wind carried no birdsong, no life—only the faint, rhythmic hum beneath the soil.
He rose unsteadily, his gaze drifting toward the northern cliffs—the only path out of the valley. Beyond those peaks lay a world he'd never seen, and perhaps, the answers he needed.
Still, he hesitated. Everything he had loved lay buried behind him. The charm he had given Lin Xue—the red string with the tiny feather—caught his eye amid the debris. He picked it up, brushed away the soot, and tied it around his wrist.
"I'll find out what happened," he whispered. "And I'll protect what's left of you."
The wind shifted—soft, almost like a sigh of approval.
Then, a metallic clang echoed from the forest's edge.
He froze.
No one should have been alive here.
Crouching low, Tianlan crept toward the sound, moving between the broken walls. The noise came again—clang... clang—followed by a guttural growl.
When he reached the treeline, he saw it: a massive black wolf crouched over something half-buried in dirt. Its fur shimmered faintly with veins of silver light—the same hue that pulsed from the orb.
Tianlan's breath hitched.
The beast's eyes opened—dull silver orbs burning faintly in the shadows.
It turned toward him, lips peeling back to reveal jagged fangs.
He stumbled back, hand fumbling for his knife. The blade looked pitiful in his trembling grip.
The wolf growled low and lunged.
Tianlan barely rolled aside as claws tore into the earth where he'd stood. He slashed blindly, cutting across its flank. The blade sparked—it was like striking stone.
The beast snarled, tail whipping. It slammed into him, hurling him against a broken wall. The impact stole his breath; his knife flew from his hand.
He saw the creature crouch to pounce again—and something inside him snapped.
The warmth in his chest erupted.
A burst of silver light exploded from his body, flooding the ruins with brilliance. The world slowed—every motion stretching into stillness.
He thrust his palm forward.
From his hand shot a beam of radiant light, slicing clean through the wolf's chest.
The beast froze mid-leap, its eyes widening before its body dissolved into black smoke.
The light faded.
Silence returned.
Tianlan stared at his trembling hands, faint threads of silver still glowing beneath the skin. His heart thundered.
"What… was that?"
The warmth in his chest pulsed once more—calmer now, steady.
Then, faint and distant, the same voice whispered again:
"Your path begins now... beyond the veil."
He stood there a long time, breathing hard, the morning sun breaking through the mist.
At last, he turned toward the northern pass. His steps were slow, but his gaze held something new—not only grief, but resolve.
Behind him, the ashes of Cloudveil Village stirred in the wind. Deep beneath the mountain, the hum of the earth answered—faint, but alive.
And on the highest peak of the Silent Mountain, silver eyes opened once more, watching him go.
"So," murmured the unseen figure, "the boy has awakened."
A faint smile curved beneath the hood. Then the figure vanished into the mist.
And thus, the first ripple of fate began to stir.