Chapter Text
Hurried footsteps, two pairs, one frantic and labored, the other trained and swift. A small, bald, form bearing light burns across his body, usings tattered strips of cloth wrapped around his body as clothing, fled from an adult in a black uniform. The boy, no more than thirteen, yelped as he tripped over a root jutting out of the ground. Swiftly, for his age, he recovered and continued his marathon through the dense woodland. He couldn’t stop, fear fueled him. He’d been running for as long as he could remember and, to his terror, that had been since the dawn of this day.
He’d woken in a cave. One thick with the smell of blood. Confused and alarmed, he rose to his feet. Something that wasn’t as easy as it should be. Pain littered his small body. He was coated in red, of both burns and blood. Of which wasn’t his. That much he could tell, because it was from those that lay butchered around him. A frightened gasp came from him as he scrambled away from one staring blankly at him. It’s lower half, separated crudely from its upper. Parts that shouldn’t be visible were left exposed. That wasn’t the only grotesque sight that treated his eyes. The others were in similar condition, parts were all over, separated from the main form. Or what was left of it.
Bile rose in his throat, and he convulsed but his stomach seemed to be barren. This left him gagging as he wildly tried to pull himself to his feet. One of which felt tender from a burn.
What had happened? Why was he here? Who was he?
So many questions flooded his mind, but he was given no answers. The only meager solace his mind could come up with was, at least he was alive.
Eventually, after the sight of death around him dulled to only mild horror, he pulled himself up and staggered over to a body. He needed clothing, being naked only made him feel smaller and more vulnerable than he already was. The adults were too big though. There was a knife on the body, he could use that to cut the robe to better fit him. Hesitantly he reached out for the weapon. Even with the person clearly dead, torn in two one couldn’t be deader, he hesitated. It felt- wrong. After a good mental push, his hand latched onto the knife then immediately drew back to his person. His breath hitched to a brief panic then settled, feeling safer with the implement.
Cutting up the robe was a messy process, not helped by his fidgety shaky hands, or the fact he didn’t know how to best go about this. After a lot of struggling, he adorned himself with the strips of fabric he cut off from the body. He’d gotten himself a few cuts on his hands as well, but at least he wasn’t as exposed anymore. Though the fabric did little to keep him warm, the fact it was on him was a vague comfort.
“Did you do this?”
The sudden accented voice caused him to snap his head up. His moment of accomplishment interrupted. There, at the mouth of the cave was a living adult. He couldn’t make out his face, it was covered in a hard face mask and shadowed by a hood. He cowered back, the figure was imposing. He glanced about, again at the bodies, their vacant stares now accusing. Had he done this? Surely a lone child couldn’t kill this many adults on his own. But then, why was he alive and they weren’t?
A footstep turned his attention back to the man. He drew back further.
“Answer me.” he said firmly.
Could he even talk?
The man seemed to pick up on this, “Can you speak? Do you understand me?”
His words were slower, more clearly spoken, albeit muffled by the mask. Hesitantly, he nodded to the man, uncertain if he should communicate with him at all.
“Good. Now, answer me, did you do this?” He questioned again, now with a gesture to the mutilated corpses.
He looked around, the dead eyes on him and only him. A rock formed in his throat, one that was rough to swallow. Slowly, he shook his head. The knife held close to his chest. Warily he looked back up to the man. He could tell his eyes were on him, though he could just barely make them out in the shadow of his hood. It was a piercing feeling, he felt exposed again, small.
“You don’t look so certain.” The man stated. There was something in his tone he didn’t like. He wasn’t sure what it was. It didn’t sound friendly. Was this man related to the bodies in some way? Was he angry?
The possible revelation left him stunned, frightened. Should he run? Could he run? He was left stunned, shaking where he was, staring at the man. He was moving closer towards him. His mind screamed for him to run but his body wouldn’t listen, because another part of him told him that would be a bad idea. Before he knew it the man stood over him, seeming impossibly tall as he cowered. The man reached down for him. His eyes went wide, fearful of the possibilities that would result. He didn’t know what would happen and that’s what scared him the most.
“Why don’t you-” A gasp cut off the man’s words.
He’d cut him with the knife. It took even him a moment to realize what he’d done, and he was horrified of his own, fear driven, action. If the man hadn’t been upset about the dead bodies, then he was certainly angry at him now. Run, his mind told him and this time, his body agreed. Like a frightened hare, he scrambled to his feet, ducking underneath the man’s grabbing hand and ran for the cave entrance.
“Hey! Get back here!”
The man’s yell urged him to run faster. The pain of his burned foot and other burns seemed to have vanished. Adrenaline fueled his body to push onward. A hand grabbed his shoulder in a firm grip, eliciting a sharp gasp from his lungs. The touch caused him to freeze up, his mind screaming for him to escape and now. His focus fogged over while his mind chanted for him to escape.
A sound of confusion caused him to blink. The hand...it, wasn’t on his shoulder anymore. Bewildered, he glanced around, he was at the cave entrance now. How? He looked over his shoulder, the man was staring at him. Then his eyes narrowed with an intense focus which sent a new surge of fear rushing through him.
That was how he ended up running from the man and how he was still running from the man. Several times, the man had attempted to trap him, by tossing some sort of rope with things at the end or a net. Every time, he thought he was caught but, somehow, he’d...phase out of it? He wasn’t sure how it happened, but he was glad it did. Even when the man tackled him to the ground, he somehow slipped free. Unfortunately, this didn’t deter his pursuer. He continued to chase him, and he didn’t seem to be tiring.
The sun had long since set and it was the dead of night. The cold was making his lungs burn as he forced his body to keep running. The burn on his foot was now cut from the roughness of the ground and his other foot didn’t feel to be doing much better. He was getting tired so, so tired. Chest heaving, he caught himself from running into a tree with his arm. He swayed as he leaned against it, tears streaming down his face. Why was he being chased? How had he ended up here? Had he done something to deserve this? No, time to contemplate these hounding questions, just keep running.
He used the tree trunk to push himself forward. He knew the man was still pursuing him, he didn’t need to look or hear him to know it. The man was deathly quiet, and his garb made it near impossible to see him in the darkness. Few times he did think he lost him was when the man attempted to catch him. So, he didn’t know how long he’d need to keep running, or if he’d ever stop running.
Tumbling through the brush, he nearly stumbled to the ground, catching himself, he pushed himself forward still, though his body begged him to stop. Blindly running, he nearly crashed right into a rock wall. Alarmed, he yelped and backpaddled. Now he was met with a monumental obstacle, a sheer rock wall cutting off his route. Frantic he looked around, maybe he could go around? No luck, the obstacle seemed to stretch off into the darkness to the left and right. Who knew how long it went on for. The brush of the foliage behind him sent a bristle of alarm through his small body. It sounded like a larger form. Without checking, he threw himself upward as far as his sore legs could take him. His fingers clutched onto what little hand hold he could grab.
Keep going, he told himself. He had to, he had to keep moving. And so, he did. His muscles strained to pull his body upward. The rock wall went upward at a sheer angle, making this task all the tougher. He could feel his strength draining fast, with each little bit of progress he made. He pulled himself up higher, then brought his feet up. His breathing was getting heavier, sweat made his grip slipper, but still he pushed on. Slowly, a perch came into view. If he could get up there, then maybe he’d be out of reach. Yes, now he had a goal within sight. He just had to make it up there.
His foot slipped.
Things seemed to slow down for him. First, he felt his foot slip, his other desperately trying to compensate before it gave out. He was left hanging. His nails dug into the uncaring rock. Frantic, his feet scrambled to try and find their purchase again. His finger trembled, the last of his strength quickly fading away until finally- giving out. A hoarse yell shot from his worn lungs as he fell, landing painfully on his shoulder. His lips quivered, eyes clenched shut, as tears welled up. Whimpers bubbling forth he rocked himself onto his stomach. Through bleary eyes he tried to pull himself up, but his arms couldn’t manage to even lift his own weight. The effort in vain, he collapsed back onto the cool grass. It was soothing almost, the prickly grass cool against his sore and hurt body.
“Are you done now?”
The man stood beside him now, sounding unamused by his effort. Weakly he looked up at him. Throughout all of this, he still had the knife clutched in his hand. Though, with how tired he was, the weapon was all but useless. He just stared up at him, resigning himself to whatever the stranger had in store. The masked man seemed to pick up on this, bent down, and picked him up under his arm. After, taking the knife from his hand. Clearly, despite his look of defeat, the man wasn’t about to chance him trying to take a stab at him.
As they walked off, somewhere into the dark woods, how tired he was started to weigh on him. His eyelids heavy, he didn’t fight to keep them open. Now no longer running, he didn’t resist as sleep took him.
~~~
He shivered. It was cold in this small plane. The man, who called himself Black Fox, had given him clothes but they weren’t much better than what he’d made prior. He found it strange that the man had child-sized clothing on him at all. He didn’t bother to ask why. He’d overheard him talk to someone at a place they’d stayed, a reclusive shed-like place, that he’d “scouted him”. He was a scout, of some sort? Scouting for kids to take to some sort of home, his home. He had explained that much to him, though it hadn't much and still left him- confused.
“I’ll be taking you to my home, the Lin Kuei. Understand? Not that you have a choice, you have no home here.”
The thought made him wince. Though, sadly, as far as he knew, it was true. If he had any they were probably dead back in that cave.
At the very least, Black Fox, fed him, but by no means was the man gentle with him. He made him follow at his pace, which was quicker than his legs could manage over long distances. He did as Black Fox did and when he did it. They slept, ate, and bathed when he dictated. Sleeping was in short supply, at least it felt like it. Seemingly he’d fall asleep only to be woken moments later before the sun even rose. While the plane was cold, at least his sore feet finally got a moment’s reprieve. He’d be asleep too, if the plane wasn’t freezing and loud. He was haggardly tired. He rubbed his hands on his arms, a pleasant heat flowing through his skin. Somewhat more comfortable, he glanced at the small circular window beside him. His eyes widened, there was a sea of clouds flowing beneath them. Fixated, he watched the scenery go by, only pausing to wipe the fog off.
“Keep up.” Black Fox ordered. The plane had just landed, in a forest somewhere. The trees looked different here, he didn’t know what kind it was, but it was warmer than where he’d been in the cave. Just how far had they flown? With no memory to fall back on, it could’ve been a world away for all he knew.
Hurrying after him, the man already trudging off into the surrounding tropical forest. Thankfully, he had some plain shoes now and his burns had been bandaged by Black Fox. He was able to keep up better, for a time. Once more they kept walking and walking, with no end in sight. Even as he began to pant and had to catch-up in spurts, there was no breaking. Even the warmer temperature didn’t last for long. Gradually, their trek began to climb an upward slope, the thicket thinned and showed him that they were heading up a mountain. One that reached up high enough that he couldn’t see its top through the clouds and fog. Surely, they couldn’t be heading there. Yet they were.
Alarmed, it took him a moment to force himself to continue forward. He couldn’t turn back now. Not because he wanted to continue, but because the plane had left shortly after they’d entered the jungle. There was no going back. Black Fox was the only thing he was familiar with now.
The mountain quickly welcomed him with a cold whipping wind. It’s harsh gales rushing past him with touch so cold it burned. Just as swiftly, he began to shudder. To the point he didn't think that he’d be able to stop if he tried. He perked when he saw Black Fox pull a cloak from the pack on his back, it had thick fur on the inside and along the rim of the hood. Without another thought, he picked up the pass, jogging to catch up with the man. Through the thin shoes, the packed snow crunched and bit at his soles. Enticed with the hope of something to warm himself, he paid no mind, and the snow quickly stole the sensation from his feet. Small, already red with cold, fingers tugged at the deep blue, nearly black, cloak. Black Fox looked down at him and his hopeful eyes- with a look of annoyance. The look was one of silent reprimand, blatant enough that it took him aback a moment, reminding him of who he was dealing with.
In that time, Black Fox began to move on again. A strong wind shoved its way between them, buffeting him back while the adult stoutly continued upward. Snow blurred his vision as it was whipped up and was brought down from the dark skies. He didn’t recall the clouds being so dark, but he had little time to think of that as he saw something else. Along the side of the path, was a thin-faced deer. All but the top of its head and part of its antlers were buried beneath the snow. Immediately, he knew it was dead. He recognized that empty-eyed gaze from the corpses in the cave, the look that saw everything and nothing at the same time. If he didn’t keep moving, he’d end up like that deer. Left behind and buried.
Sucking in frigid air that stole the warmth from his mouth, he pushed through the wall of wind, arms wrapped tightly around himself. Palms pressed to his tanned, bandaged, and snow encrusted skin, he did what little he could to keep what warmth his body had. Eyes squinted, trying to shield as much of the sleet from his vision as possible. He could still see the dark visage of Black Fox, still trailing along the path. Using boulders, not yet buried by white, he pulled himself forward. The snow going up to his shins, continually threatening to swallow him whole.
Moreso to regain feeling, he rubbed his hands feverishly up and down his arms like he had on the plane. Warmth quickly bloomed beneath his palms, radiating across his skin like a blanket. It wasn’t enough to overpower the sheer cold, but it kept him going.
As a long yawn had abated, the wind gradually died down, and snow merely lazily drifted down from the sky. Feeling the chilling speck on his bare head, he wiped it off, leaving traces of warmth on his scalp. To his surprise, Black Fox was waiting for him at a leveled section of the path up the mountain beside a pile of frost covered stones. His eyes were again trained on him. He didn’t know why, but he lowered his head, uncertain if it was bad or merely neutral. Instead of continuing ahead, this time, Black Fox waited for him to catch up. Once he did, they continued their unwavering pace up the mountain side. It was faint, but he took some small measure of comfort of the adult being beside him. He still wasn’t given any further protection against the unrelenting cold, but at least Black Fox was there.
Up they continued, through a sea of cold white, dotted with grey stone that was no less cold or unfeeling. The wind would howl at them, as if demanding they leave, but Black Fox paid no mind to this and so neither could he. He couldn’t be left behind, or alone, he didn’t want to end up like that deer and he wouldn’t. So long as he continued.
Eventually, even rubbing himself warm didn’t seem to do much, as he tired. His hands felt tender and sore, looking at them they were beat red, but he couldn’t deny himself what provided him with comforting warmth. He held himself, wishing the heat to be encapsulated within himself. At his center he felt it collected there. He focused on it as he pushed onward, his arms a shield protecting it, keeping it there.
He didn’t know how long they kept walking, but it felt like years. He could barely feel anything aside from the wind hissing past his numbed face. His legs wobbled beneath him, trying to follow the on-going instruction of keep moving forward. He tried to take another step, but his knee buckled out from under him. With no strength to even catch himself, he fell face first into the chilling padding of snow beneath him. Somehow, the snow that impacted his body felt even colder than he already was. This had been what he’d been trying to avoid, but he just- couldn't keep moving. His legs felt like they weren’t even there anymore, consumed by the cold that already enveloped him. His thoughts even began to haze over.
Then, he felt Black Fox pick him up, slinging him along his back like he was a goat or sheep to be carried. He thought he heard him say something, but he couldn’t tell if it were words or merely a grunt. Tired, he paid it no mind. At least he had left him to be buried beneath the stone. He closed his eyes and again focused on the warmth at his center.
“Breaks over.” Black Fox grunted as they came to a stop.
By then, while still cold to his very bones, he’d regained some feeling to his limbs. That being raw soreness, but it was some sort of sensation. His soles stung as they met the snow covered stone beneath them. It was like he’d stepped on fine needles. He cringed, murmuring discomfort. He distracted himself, yet again, rubbing warmth into his arms. He could see his breath leave his numbed lips, like wafts of his spirit leaking out.
Just as he questioned why they’d come up into this warmth forsaken place, he heard the crunch of Black Fox continue their march through this wasteland. Reflexively, he continued after him. As he did, he suddenly stopped, something ahead of them- it just wasn’t more of the same snowcapped stone or withered trees. He saw a structure. Built into the mountain was a formidable fortress reminiscent of a palace. A great, wooden gate had stripes of studded spikes lining the front with huge doorknockers on each side. As they neared, him left in silent awe, the saw that dragons baring their teeth held onto the knobs of the knockers. Eyes stuck on the doors, he stared up their tops, it stretched up so far that he could look straight up and just make out where it met the frame of its gate. Surely, it was four or five stories tall. Had this door been made by just stripping full-grown trees of their barks?
Black Fox stopped in front of the door, seemingly waiting. For what couldn’t be discerned, nobody could be seen. There were small slats in the wall, but from where they stood it was just darkness.
Without warning, there was a loud turn of a lock. It disrupted the sanctity of the frozen wasteland with such force he jumped back. From the huge, solid rock wall, along the frame of the sky blocking gate, a hidden door opened. He hadn’t even seen its outline amongst the rock. From the doorway, stepped another adult, in a similar garb to Black Fox but this one was a slate grey. He said something in a language he couldn’t understand, but, judging by the motion of his arm, Black Fox was gestured to enter. He looked to said adult and followed just behind as they were led inside the wall.
It was, thankfully, warmer inside vs the winter outside, but not enough to be a huge relief. Still, he welcomed it. Along the walls, there were torches, crackling with warmth giving fire, which seemed to struggle to stave off the cold. The fire fitfully burning in their places. It was almost amazing to see the fire in such a place.
The sound of Black Fox talking to the one who’d let them in caught his attention. He looked to them, and saw that the other man seemed to be inquiring about him? At least, that’s what could be gleamed by the occasional glance at him. Whatever they were talking about, the discussion was short. Black Fox continued down a narrow hall that led further into the wall, barking, “Come.”
With a hurry in his step, he followed, eyes glancing curiously about. At the end of the hall, made of cold stone that seemed very similar to that which comprised the mountain, was a slate-blue banner with and white emblem of some kind. There was a downward pointed triangle at the center with some sort of- stylized bird built into it? Or maybe it was a claw of some sort.
He didn’t have much time to look for long as Black Fox continued, set on a destination. With how familiar he was with this place, not hesitating to take a turn, and the fact they were let in, he realized where they must be: was this his home? The lee-que? What was it he’d said? He couldn’t recall clearly. After nearly passing out in the snow, his memory was rather hazy with how dog-tired he was.
Along the way, they passed more men in uniforms, the exact same as the one that’d let them in. Seemed that was the norm, Black Fox seemed to at least of a certain rank compared to the others. Was it because he scouted him?
Unfortunately, they eventually left the relative warmth of the wall. A baneful gust of snow laden wind greeted them as they stepped out through a more obvious door. He shuddered off as much of the chill before he managed to force his eyes open again. He was met with a large courtyard, the center of which was that emblem again, this made of a pearly white stone in contrast to the rest of the darker grey rock. At the center was a monumental temple-like building that lorded over the area. Its presence was greater than the wall that guarded it, in due thanks to the careful detail that comprised it. The touch of weather wearing on the edges of the wood and stone only seemed to add to its grandeur instead of detracting from it. Overall, it looked like it’d stood in this place for generations and could stand for many more to come.
As they walked up the steps to the entrance, he looked over the railings that lined it and the patio, the crafting was simple, yet masterfully done. His fingers traced the rail as he followed behind Black Fox. He felt like he was touching something...regal, and yet, he warily looked to Black Fox and others, dressed in the same grey garb, that milled about, there was an oppressive pressure in the air. Being led into the center of this compound, he was being led into a den of wolves, and he didn’t know what they wanted from him. A cold wind blew against his back, reminding him that he had nowhere else to go.
Large fire pits on pedestals washed away the cold that clung stubbornly to him as they entered the main hall. Unlike outside, the flooring on the inside was a rich cherry wood that looked newer than the exterior. The fire pits, on the other hand, looked older than what they sat upon. A dragon was coiled around the base, the eyes made of sapphires, claws and fangs made of gold, whilst the body appeared to be made from white jade. A similar motif was carried out onto the columns that held up the ceilings. Great blue-eyed dragons looked ready to spring to life to defend their homes. Unlike the minor drakes that coiled the firepits these stone beasts' maws were pointed towards the entrance, daring any who entered the hall to defy the temple’s owners.
An owner who awaited Black Fox at the end of the hall. It was a man in more regal garb than any who’d been seen thus far. It was a long flowing gown with a depiction of a silver and blue dragon that wrapped around his shoulder, breathing a plume of smoke from its fanged jaws, its backdrop seemed to be a rendition of the frozen mountains outside. Long strands of black hair fell along the sides of his face and a pointed beard on his chin. Atop his head was a long, loose topknot that was held up by a crown-like silver bind. Most eye-catching, however, was the silver-blue medallion that sat atop his chest. It shone with a gleam that seemed to be alive in the light of the flames.
Flanking the regally dressed, older man was four other men dressed in red and black cloaks, whose face was mostly concealed by a black veil, their nose down to their chins was all that was visible. Even with their eyes covered, he could feel their unseen eyes on him, examining every movement he made. It made him avert his gaze, suddenly feeling ashamed with all the eyes on him.
Suddenly, Black Fox roughly grabbed his shoulder and pushed him down to his knees. Alarmed he let a yelp out like a kicked pup. Head forced down afterwards, he was aware of Black Fox’s presence, knelt, beside him. His body began to bear a tremble again, not from the cold but intimidation as the adults began to speak to each other in a language he couldn’t understand. But he was well aware of the fact it had to be about him.
“This is the child you claim has special powers?” Questioned the Lin-Kuei Grandmaster as he eyed the child beside his warrior. He didn’t appear to be much. Thin, bandaged all over, from burns as he recalled in the report, and pitifully afraid.
“Yes, Grandmaster Oniro.” Black Fox confirmed, head bowed. “I discovered the boy in the cave where my targets were slaughtered all around him.”
Oniro scoffed dully, “I hardly believe that this whelp would even dare such a thing.”
“An average child, no.” Black Fox admitted. He gestured to the subject at hand, “But, as I said in my report, this one possesses abnormal abilities.” Subtly, he pulled out the knife he’d taken from the boy. “Observe.”
Without warning, he swung the dagger out at the child. The boy’s yellow eyes went wide, body seizing up. It appeared like he was about to be stabbed in the neck, when his form vanished into a cloud of smoke. Black Fox’s strike went harmlessly through the cloud. Whisps moved with his motion before reforming back into the solid shape of the child. The boy was on his feet now, taken aback, eyes still wide and his breathing panicked. Fidgety, his eyes turned to the cloaked figures that now murmured invigorated to each other.
Oniro, thoroughly intrigued, entertained long crow-like fingers together, “Well now. That is very interesting indeed. You’ve done the Lin Kuei well to bring him to us.”
Black Fox bowed his head reverently, “I live to serve.” While the child continued to stare in fright, he continued, “I’ve also observed that he’s able to generate an abnormal amount of heat within himself. He used to it to keep himself from freezing in the mountain cold and made it more than half-way up on his own.”
“Do you believe he can produce flames?” Oniro questioned, a pointed finger stroking his beard.
Black Fox shook his head. “Not that I’m aware, grandmaster.”
Oniro hummed thoughtfully, he then flicked his wrist dismissively. “It doesn’t matter. If he can we’ll find out soon enough. One way or another.” He turned his gaze squarely to the boy, “What’s his name?”
“I’m not certain. He seems mute.” Black Fox answered. “Whatever the cult did to him may have left him with not only these abilities, but silent. Had he not been beforehand.”
The grandmaster seemed to mull this over for a moment. Ultimately, it was seemingly deemed inconsequential as well as he questioned it no further. “He is alone then. Without a place to call home.” Black Fox nodded his bowed head. Something resembling a smirk perked the edges of his thin lips, “Perfect.” He looked at one of the ones that flanked him out of the corner of his narrow eyes, “Bring me my youngest son. I’ll be taking this one under my care.”