Chapter Text
Shen Yuan’s lungs screamed.
It was pitch black. A coarse cloth covered his eyes, and his wrists were restrained. A sharp, iron-rich scent assaulted his nose. He felt his body being dragged across a damp, cold floor, but no matter how much he struggled, he couldn’t break free.
“Stop! Help!” He pleaded, the skin of his wrists surely raw enough to bleed. He kicked his legs; he kicked his feet, but all that did was delay his journey. “Mom! Dad! Help me!”
He shouted, he yelled, he cried with all of his might, but it was useless. It was as if no one could hear him.
The cloth covering his eyes shifted with his movement, slightly falling to the side. Through wet eyes, Shen Yuan could see the gentle warmth of candlelight, but it did nothing to soothe his soul.
The candles were arranged in a circle. Surrounding them were a number of black-robed figures. Their hoods were drawn low and their backs were hunched. Were they even human at all?
Shen Yuan couldn’t think. The robed figures were the least of his concerns, because in the centre of the circle was a red pattern. A circular pattern and a star. It was uncertain what it was for, but Shen Yuan’s young mind assumed it wasn't anything good. His breath hitched when he noticed the corpses piled to the side.
“No! Please!” Shen Yuan’s voice trembled. A new burst of strength empowered his body, and he fought like a small wild animal caught in a trap. A sob tore through his body. “Help!”
Suddenly everything was still, but Shen Yuan felt as cold as ice.
The scruff of his shirt was roughly tugged, and Shen Yuan found himself dangling in the air. The collar closed in around his throat, and his airways were strangled. His feet thrashed; one of his shoes fell off. His eyes bulged in his head and his ears buzzed, dampening the sound of the voices around him.
“This is him?” An aged voice croaked like a dying frog. One of the black hooded figures appeared in front of Shen Yuan. The person was almost bent over double, and it seemed only a stick kept them upright.
“Yes. This is our offering to our Lord.”
Even through the loud humming of white noise, Shen Yuan recognised that voice.
Dad? Dad! Help! Please help!
Shen Yuan’s prayers were trapped in his stricken throat. His vision had started to darken, the thrashing of his legs calming like a tide ebbing.
“Hmmm.” The elderly voice hummed; the wooden stick tapped against the floor twice. “Yes. He’ll do.”
Gravity pulled Shen Yuan to the floor. Sprawled out, his restricted hands reached for his aching throat. Warm liquid splattered on the floor with the force of his coughs and dry heaving.
“Put him in the middle.” The gravelly voice commanded.
Before Shen Yuan had recovered, his limp body was drawn into the centre of what could only be called a ritual array. His fragile, fourteen-year-old frame looked small against the large circle of red. He gasped, his quiet pleas draining the last of his strength. A low, monotonous chant rang out. The rhythm was slow and ominous, seeping directly into Shen Yuan’s bones like cancer.
The leader of the black-hooded group stepped forward; this time he was holding a long sword, its tip screeching as it was dragged across the floor. The blade was wavy before sharpening to a point. The hilt was elaborate and ornate, gilded silver with dragon-like patterns. The man pressed forward slowly, his chanting deeper and louder than the others.
Shen Yuan’s hooded eyes were half uncovered. They were glazed and dazed, their lashes twitching. His body trembled, a whimper escaping through his teeth. He tried to roll over; he tried to run, but his body wouldn’t listen to him.
The man raised the sword with two hands. His hold was surprisingly steady in comparison to his voice. His strength was evident as he brought the blade down.
Shen Yuan closed his eyes.
And then there was nothing.
Shen Yuan’s mind was blank. He had braced himself for excruciating pain. He had anticipated his last breath. He thought there would be no more tomorrows.
But there was nothing.
Silence.
The air shifted. The weight pressing down on Shen Yuan’s broken body lifted like the clouds making way for the silver moon. A magnetic voice rang out. It entered his ears like a steady lullaby. It calmed his rampaging heart.
“This is the one they sacrified as my bride?”