Yue-liang came to an abrupt halt in the middle of the dirt road. Behind him, quite far away, but still visible, was the line of the trees – the vast forest. The powerful wind tousled his dark hair and tattered rags, creating a buzzing sound in his ears and momentarily rendering him deaf. However, the gusts also brought a welcome relief from the scorching heat generated by his exertion during the long march and the relentless rays of the sun.

"This is as far as I go! If you don't start teaching me about this power, then you lied!" he shouted, frustration boiling over. „How many days have passed? And you haven't told me anything! This is not what you promised!”

He carried the feeling for a while, letting it boil inside his heart, but now it was ready to explode.

"You are so impatient. Did I not tell you that the place I'm leading you to holds all the answers? There, you will learn everything," the old man, standing before the boy, turned to face him. He pushed back his hood, revealing a glistening sheen of sweat on his skin.

"No! I've lost my family, and now they've taken my friend! I won't leave until you prove what you said is true! I've had enough of people telling me what to do! You're all liars! And I'm a fool for believing you time and time again!" Yue-liang raged on, his frustration pouring out.

His fingers were tightly clenched in fists, only further underlining his state.

"Patience! Have patience, and you shall receive the answers," the mysterious old man spoke calmly before donning his hood once again and resuming his stride.

Yue-liang stood his ground, watching the old man grow smaller and smaller as he moved away. A tense moment passed before gritting his teeth, the boy decided to take action. He turned on his heel and began heading back into the forest.

"Wait!" a surprisingly strong voice called out, halting his steps. When he glanced over his shoulder, he saw the old man gazing at him. "I will show you."

A fleeting smile touched Yue-liang's lips, quickly concealed by a serious expression. He turned back around and closed the distance to the enigmatic figure. Moments later, they reunited.

"I won't teach you much, and what I do teach you may be of no use, but I will grant you what you desire. However, I must warn you, you won't like it. After I do, you will come with me. Is that a deal?" the old man proposed, removing his hood once more.

"Yes," Yue-Liang responded curtly.

"Good. Now, aim your hand with the mark somewhere away from me and close your eyes," the old man instructed.

The boy did as he was told, extending his hand to the side of the dirt road, aiming at seemingly nothing but an overgrown field of weeds.

"Now, delve deep into your memories. Choose the worst one you can recall. Embrace it, and feel the pain once more. Explore it, let it consume you," the old man continued.

For Yue-liang, the choice was clear. Though he hadn't witnessed his mother's death firsthand, the moment he learned of it shattered his heart. There was also a more recent memory, the moment he saw Yura crumble to the ground, screaming for him to flee, the arrow sticking out of her leg.

He remembered the fear, the overwhelming desire to escape, and the agonizing decision that left him feeling utterly wretched. Once again, he was abandoning someone he loved so deeply.

The emotions overwhelmed him, memories flooding his mind as tears streamed down his face. He felt the tightening grip on his heart, the pressure on his lungs making it difficult to breathe.

A quiet wail escaped his mouth, quickly turning into gasps. Then, another sensation surged through him. It started in the hand with the mark, a sharp jolt of pain, as if a dagger had pierced his very bone. The searing agony spread like wildfire, racing up his arm, reaching his elbow, and continuing toward his shoulder.

Suddenly, his entire arm felt as though it was engulfed in flames. He couldn’t help but open his eyes, realizing that the limb looked normal, except for a faint glow coming from his palm.

"ARGH!" a scream tore from his throat, muffled by clenched teeth.

The pain was excruciating, making his vision blurry. When he finally was able to focus, screaming even louder, he witnessed a blinding radiance that suddenly exploded from his hand: "AAAAAA!"

The mark emitted a dazzling glow, as if a thousand stars burned intensely within, all concentrated in a single place—his arm. Then, just as abruptly as it had begun, the sensation subsided, and a burst of blinding white energy erupted from his palm, obliterating everything in its path. Vegetation evaporated, and the soil melted beneath its fiery touch.

In an instant, it was over, although it had felt like an eternity. Yue-liang fell to his knees, cradling his still-burning hand against his chest, retching onto the dirt. He puked. His strength rapidly waned, causing him to collapse on his side, narrowly avoiding smearing his head in the vomit, as he roled on his back to avoid this.

The mysterious old man approached and stood over him, gazing down at the boy's face. Yue-liang's vision flickered, fading in and out like the sketches of an ancient tale drawn in some old book.

"I warned you that you wouldn't like it, and I warned you it would be of no use. Yet, you desired it," the stranger remarked, sighing heavily. "This is precisely why I wanted you to receive teachings from the enlightened ones, not from me."

Having spoken his piece, he grasped the boy's leg and pulled him off the road, while Yue-liang mumbled an inaudible response before succumbing to complete unconsciousness.

The old man tended to him, gathering twigs and dry grass to set up a small camp. He even caught a few lizards for sustenance. As night descended upon the eventful day, he sat down and watched as the boy writhed in pain, perspiring profusely, haunted by the lingering horrors of his experience.

Thus, the night arrived, with the star-filled sky becoming their only shelter.

Emerging from behind one of the many trees, Whurel caught sight of the grisly scene ahead—a mere glimpse of the carnage that unfolded. "Fuck," escaped his lips as he stood frozen, the weight of impending danger sinking in. "He is going to kill me!" he added, his words fueled by fear. But determination surged through him, propelling him forward to discover more.

The clearing lay bathed in heavy sunlight, its rays casting a harsh glow that illuminated the remnants of bloodstains, drying upon the ground. Pieces of human flesh scattered across the once-verdant meadow, a macabre aftermath left behind. The buzzing of bugs and horrible stench filled the air.

The once-massive roots, thick and now completely blackened, bore the scars of fire. Soot clung to every surface, even the chunks of earth that lay strewn haphazardly around.

As Whurel reached the clearing, he noticed the first telltale signs of those responsible for this devastating sight—the unmistakable elements of dark armor he had grown familiar with.

"Fucking Imperials," he growled, his teeth clenched in anger. "Thyme! Yue-liang! Yura!" he shouted, scanning the area, but only the birds perched in the treetops responded to his call.

He embarked on a cautious exploration, his gaze unveiling more of the desecrated bodies. Limbs lay strewn about, partially buried in the dirt or entwined with the abnormally grown plant life, now completely charred, that sprouted amidst the chaos.

Deciding to investigate the cave, he found little within, except for the traces of heavy boots marking the entrance—a clear indication that some of the intruders had ventured inside. Whurel emerged, his eyes finally coming to rest on the cocoon of roots safeguarding a precious treasure—the lifeless body of the old man Thyme.

Leaning partially against the protective walls, Thyme's vacant eyes stared at the ravaged ground below. An arrow jutted from his neck, a grim testament to the brutality he had endured.

"Fucking bastards!" Whurel growled, fury surging through him.

In his seething rage, he took a few steps toward the obvious point of entry for the enemy forces but then froze mid-stride. "No... I need to inform Heb instead. Fuck! Fuck! FUCK!" he screamed, releasing some of his anger. With a rapid glance toward the path he had traveled, he gritted his teeth, redirecting his purpose.

But he stopped after only a single step, and returned to first pull out the old man’s corpse from the cocoon, then made himself busy with digging out a shallow grave. Without a shovel, he was forced to use his faithful axe, but soon Thyme was resting in the embrace of the earth.

Then Whurel’s footsteps filled with determination and the echoes of frustration propelled him back along the same path he had come from.