Scions of the Undead

A full moon hung high in the night sky, gently caressed by wispy gray clouds, as if adorned with a mysterious veil. Beneath the moon, a towering spire seemed to pierce the black firmament. A strange and mournful eagle's cry rent the air, and a dark silhouette appeared atop the spire. "The bone eagle has returned. The child has escaped again." An ethereal voice echoed through the great hall, calm and unwavering, as if merely stating a well-known fact. At the foot of the steps, a figure shrouded in a black cloak immediately fell to its knees. The trembling of its body betrayed the fear within. "Your Majesty, I beg you for one last chance." "With a mere mortal body, you wield the God-given Republic, commanding millions. What more chances do you seek?" The ethereal voice suddenly became as tangible as authority itself. The cloaked figure shook even more violently, prostrating itself on the ground. "All that I am stems from Your Majesty. I am willing to die for you." A deathly silence fell over the hall. After what seemed an eternity, the ethereal voice spoke again: "The imprisoned darkness shall be released. Our revelry approaches. Do not let this become a mere illusion. Go, find him, kill him." "Yes, Your Majesty. I shall not fail you." The prostrate figure rose, seemingly drained of all energy. He gazed reverently into the darkness above the steps. From the shadows, two piercing, intimidating eyes suddenly appeared. Yet he seemed to have anticipated this, slowly extending his arm to reveal slightly withered skin. Silently, a strange bird, smooth and featherless, jet-black in color, glided out of the darkness, locking its talon-like claws around his arm. The bird's eyes gleamed with greed and excitement. It suddenly let out two shrill cries of joy, revealing saw-like teeth, and in the next moment, viciously bit into the protruding vein on the withered arm. In mere moments, its smooth, featherless skin began to swell. The figure in the black cloak let out a muffled groan, as if suppressing endless pain. Only when the strange bird emitted a satisfied screech and vanished back into the darkness did he slowly withdraw his arm. He bowed humbly once more to the darkness, his voice both devout and resolute: "I will bring you the child's head, Your Majesty." No further sound came from the black hall. He backed out, bowing deeply. The heavy doors slowly closed. The veil of clouds dispersed. He looked up at the bright, clear moon, his pale face devoid of color. "That child... where could he be?" The southeastern region of the God-given Republic, an extension of the Yin Mountains, lies close to the northern frontier of the Human Empire. Here, amidst the overlapping mountain ranges and humid climate, countless unnamed southern tribes dwell. The Senate of the God-given Republic collectively refers to these tribes as the "Southern Tribes," and they serve as crucial grain-producing areas for the Republic. At this moment, near a small tribe of less than a thousand people, a young boy was walking along a clear stream towards the village. "The little beggar is back! Everyone, come beat him!" Instantly, a barrage of hard stones, tiles, and rotten fruits flew through the air, all landing on a boy who appeared to be seven or eight years old. "Haha, look at his stupid face!" A group of children, big and small, laughed as they surrounded him. Their leader, a chubby boy, dragged a wooden stick, swaggering as he mockingly gazed at the dirt-covered boy. The boy called "little beggar" wiped away the debris from his head, his fists clenched tightly, eyes fixed on the chubby boy as if he might lunge into a fight at any moment. However, he ultimately didn't, slowly unclenching his fists instead. Suddenly, a fist struck his nose bridge hard, followed by a kick to his stomach. The boy, who had already given up resisting, fell heavily by the stream. "Beat him!" At the chubby boy's command, as if harboring a deep grudge, a dozen boys began punching and kicking. They were so excited they lost themselves, the thrill of violence quickly overtaking their senses. Soon, the boy's washed-out clothes were covered in footprints, his body twitching with each heavy blow. The leader suddenly grabbed the boy's collar, snarling, "Little beggar, you'd better stay away from our tribe, stay away from Xiao Qin, and that wild ghost of a foster father of yours should all get lost. We don't welcome you here." Hearing the chubby boy insult his foster father, the boy painfully opened his eyes, a hint of mockery at the corner of his mouth, and suddenly spat in the chubby boy's face. The chubby boy's face suddenly turned vicious, his eyes filled with a frenzied red. He grabbed a sharp-edged stone the size of a fist and was about to smash it down on the boy's head. If this blow landed, it could potentially be fatal. "Huzi, stop!" A crisp voice called out loudly. The chubby boy looked up, seeing a little girl running towards them. His face paled, and he quickly hid the stone behind his back, secretly throwing it into the stream. No one noticed that in that instant, the beaten boy had already turned a sharp ice shard in his palm, burying it deep in the mud beneath him. This ice shard had originally been aimed at the chubby boy's heart; if the stone had truly come down, this ice shard would have pierced the other's heart first. The chubby boy, unaware of his brush with death, slowly stood up. "Xiao Qin, why are you here?" The chubby boy said sheepishly. "Huzi, how dare you bully Aheng behind my back!" Xiao Qin said coldly. "He's just a little beggar, a shameless little beggar. So what if we beat him?" The chubby boy said loudly, his face tense and neck red. The girl called Xiao Qin ignored him, going straight to the boy's side. Seeing his bruised face, her heart ached inexplicably. She glared at the chubby boy, "Get lost!" Father was right, Huzi was just like his mother, both snobbish. The chubby boy's face changed at her words, his chest heaving with anger. But he didn't dare approach, only shouting, "Wait till my father comes back from the war, you'll see!" With that, he led the group of boys away. "These bastards, how could they hurt you like this?" Xiao Qin held Aheng's head, seeing his bright eyes swollen to slits and his nose bridge red and swollen. The boy called Aheng shrugged, smiling with the corner of his mouth. He got up from the ground nonchalantly, walked to the stream, scooped up some clear water, and scrubbed his face vigorously. "Aheng, why didn't you fight back? I can't protect you all the time," the little girl said, both pitying and complaining. "It's like being bitten by a group of ants, do I need to bite back? They're just a bunch of kids, I won't stoop to their level," Ah Heng said disdainfully, his tone so grand as if he wasn't the one who had just been bullied. "You're just boasting," Xiao Qin chuckled. Aheng smiled slightly, offering no explanation. When he stood up from the stream again, the horrible wounds on his face had completely disappeared. Fair skin, bright and slightly mischievous big eyes, a high nose bridge - a handsome and unruly little boy appeared in the sunlight. If not for the footprints all over his body and his messy hair, no one could connect him with the weak, bullied boy from earlier. Seeing Aheng's sudden transformation, Xiao Qin's eyes lit up, but she didn't show much surprise, as if she was already accustomed to such magical tricks. She pointed to a tall pile of rice in the distance. The boy nodded, took the girl's hand, and together they climbed onto the golden rice pile, sitting quietly in the sunset. They gazed at the gold-rimmed clouds hanging over the undulating mountains in the distance, their eyes full of imagination about the world beyond. "I don't like autumn. The autumn on the ice plains has nothing - no beautiful flowers, no green grass, no colorful butterflies," the little girl pouted, sitting barefoot on the rice pile, kicking the boy beside her. Don't like it? Aheng pursed his lips, smiling as he spread his arms towards the fiery sunset. What a beautiful scene. The golden rice piled up like small mountains, another bumper harvest this year. The surplus grain could be made into many pastries. At the thought of sweet rice cakes, his beautiful eyes almost turned into the shape of rice cakes. "Close your eyes," Aheng suddenly smiled, saying mysteriously. "Why?" The little girl asked curiously, but still obediently closed her eyes. She wondered: what was Aheng going to do? "Okay, you can open your eyes now," Ah Heng said loudly. The little girl slowly opened her eyes and saw the most beautiful sight of her life. A pair of crystal-clear, lifelike butterflies with spread wings appeared before her eyes. The sunlight shone on the butterflies, refracting into colorful light, like the most beautiful rainbow on the horizon. She looked at the boy's flushed face and asked uncertainly, "Is this for me?" "Mm-hmm, for you," Aheng nodded heavily. "Thank you, Aheng." The little girl carefully took them, the cold sensation spreading throughout her body through her palms, but her heart was warm. She suddenly moved close to the boy, puckered her lips, and gently kissed his cheek. "I want to name them. This butterfly will be called 'Beautiful Xiao Qin', and this one will be 'Silly AHeng', okay?" The little girl's eyes sparkled with excitement and mischief. Aheng nodded, suddenly smiling shyly, then asked hopefully, "Xiao Qin, can you ask your father to make more rice cakes this year? I really want to eat his rice cakes." "I knew you were a big glutton. But Father said there's a war in the west this year, and the grain collectors might take away a lot of grain. But don't worry, I'll beg Father. At most, I won't eat my rice cakes and give them all to you." The little girl's father was the best rice cake maker in the tribe, and also the chief of this small ice plain tribe. "Oh no, the butterflies are starting to melt! Look, they're turning into water," the little girl suddenly said in a tearful voice. "It's okay, I can make more for you whenever you want." The little boy shaped his hands like a pair of butterfly wings. Suddenly, countless water vapors appeared in the transparent air, swirling around his fingertips, gradually condensing into crystal-clear ice. A pair of ice butterflies, wings poised for flight, appeared before the little girl. "Wow, it's real! Aheng, you..." The little girl was too surprised to speak. "Are you from the divine race?" "Divine race?" "This is divine magic. Only the divine race knows divine magic. Aheng, you must be from the divine race!" The little girl became more certain. She suddenly became very excited, "I can't believe I've met someone from the divine race! Father said the divine race all live in their own temples, and ordinary people can never see them. But our tribes south of the Yin Mountains don't have temples, only the northern tribes have their own temples." "Then what kind of god am I? The Ice God?" The little boy giggled, "I only recently discovered I had this ability." As he spoke, another ice shard formed in his palm. "I don't know what kinds of divine races there are, maybe Father knows. But Aheng, now that you know you're from the divine race, will you go back to your temple? Then I'll never see you again." "I don't want to be part of any divine race, so don't tell your father, okay? This is our secret, we won't tell anyone. This way, we won't have to separate!" "Mm-hmm," the little girl nodded heavily. "Alright, I have to go back now, or my foster father will scold me." The little boy jumped down from the rice pile, waving to the girl. "I'll wait for you here tomorrow," the little girl called out loudly. The boy named Aheng slowly walked back along the mountain stream. Two autumns ago, he had come to this remote small tribe with his foster father, following this very stream.