"Struggle"
DEVA's flat, mechanical voice reverberated to the soothing pitter—patter of the gentle rain as Kyorin gazed up at the mournful, gloomy clouds that enshrouded the abandoned facility.
The mystifying dark haze squirmed as it moved, forming ugly crying faces as the small drizzle rejuvenated the forsaken land.
Flocks of violet and cyan-feathered avian governed the dark heaven as a roost of tens, if not hundreds, of Cyan-Feathered Heron and Violet-Feathered Heron circled Kyorin.
Their beaks were pointier than any mountain, their Talons could scrape Titanium, and they had a regal colour scheme in contrast to their vulture-like nature.
Shrill cries of the TDs whistled with the restless wind, coupled with the backdrop of flapping noises, created a haunting melody.
Gazing at the feathered army, which moved with the corrupted nimbus cloud, Kyorin voiced, "Struggle, eh?"
"It relishes feeding on struggling souls. So, struggle to lure it out."
DEVA's earlier words replayed on his mind, but before he followed her suggestion, he asked her, "DEVA, is that artefact hidden somewhere in the cloud above?"
"Obviously," DEVA responded, and Kyorin couldn't stop the edges of his lips from slightly curling up.
"It seems you have a better idea," DEVA remarked, observing Kyorin's expression.
Without a word, his grasp on DEVA became tighter as DEVA screamed in alarm, "WHAT ARE YOU—?!"
Admist her dismay, he jammed the point of the scythe into the ground, forming a miniature impact, resulting in a small black hole-like suction force being generated.
It sucked the surrounding roost colony as the avains now were within Kyorin's stringing distance and in a state of disarry by the sudden force.
Taking advantage, Kyorin twirled around, silencing the avian colony to rest. Immediately, a frustrated DEVA spoke, "Now we will never get that item.
"Let me drink first." Kyorin waved her off as he brought his hands together, forming a cup, and brought the cup close to his mouth.
And, as if watching a scene from a fairytale, the rain, as if a bee attracted to a sweet pollen, flowed down towards the cupped hands.
Gulp—Gulp
The silence was too heavy, with only the gulping sound providing a ticking beat to the ambiance—a haunting countdown for the ominous clouds.
Akin to a stranded man in a desert, overwhelmed by thirst, Kyorin gulped down all the moisture from the clouds and then moved onto the clouds.
Kyorin's action tore away the dark heaven, leaving only silence, stillness, and the sun-drenched azure sky.
As the cover was lifted, there, in the boundless azure, a gleaming red dot hung bare to the naked eye like a mid-summer night firefly.
"There it is! Do not let it get away!" DEVA urged, her voice imploring Kyorin to pluck it quickly from the sky.
Kyorin gazed at the dot, slightly leaning his face up before replying, "I refuse."
"Pardon?" Dumbfounded and slightly annoyed, DEVA urged again, "Do not joke around now, will you? Quickly get it."
"How admist the wuthering waves am I supposed to jump that high?" Kyorin countered as DEVA responded, "Oh."
Her scythe form quickly liquified into molten silver, slithering like creeper vines as they slithered towards Kyorin's back before crystallizing into a pair of wings.
"Now go." DEVA flatly said before Kyorin jumped—yes, he just jumped, and gravity spared no time pulling him down to earth.
"Does this need RE too?" Kyorin asked but quickly said, "You know what, no need to say it."
He then let his RE flow into DEVA as the crystal wings breathed life, flapping a little before Kyorin jumped again, and this time, he flew.
The cold air nipped at his skin as he surged forward, eyes locked on the fleeing tear. It had sensed him—of course it had—and now it twisted, trying to slip away through some unseen seam in reality.
But Kyorin was faster. He cast his RE forward, the air warping with its reach. Another DEVA flickered into form in his hands, her shape coalescing like thought made flesh.
He poised to attack, and responding to his will, Vortex Pull activated, anchoring the tear just for a breath—but it was enough. Kyorin lunged, and his hand closed around it.
With the final ascension material secured, Kyorin's gaze turned to Jinzhou as he muttered softly, "Hopefully, I'm not too late."
***
"Ow-Ow-Ow-Ow"
The sound akin to a dog howling in pain echoed through the reception as numerous gazes looked at a fierce Xia lifting Kyorin by his ears.
"Mother, you will rip it off. Please!' Kyorin pleaded, but Xia coldly humphed, "What use are these ears if they would not even listen?"
"Waah—"
From the sidelines, spectators watched this with a myriad of expressions.
Few snickered, laughed, and silently mocked, but no one blatantly mocked like DEVA, who said, "This somehow feels like déjà vu. Do you have a kink for public embarrassment?"
"If not for someone hiding 'that(wings)' up their sleeve, I may not be dealing with this." Kyorin hissed.
But DEVA countered, "Correct. If they did not hide 'that(cloud devouring)', you may have been spared from this 'little' public show."
"Little?!" Kyorin inwardly scowled before he felt his toes touching the ground. While others might be caught red-handed, Kyorin was caught red-eared.
As he was let go of, he immediately scrunched to the ground, writhing in pain, before Xia commanded, "Get up."
Despite the burning pain, Kyorin got up, albeit tears had formed in the corner of his eyes. Xia's expression softened despite her fierce outlook.
"Go get changed. We will depart soon," she said coldly. Kyorin hurriedly exited as Xia approached the receptionist and asked, "Um, is there any ointment I could borrow?"
***
In a well-furbished room, Kyorin changed into new attire. Though the clothes were the same style as usual, they were slightly more expensive. Still, he was ready for the Moon-Chasing Festival.
"You look good," a familiar voice echoed.
Kyorin turned around and saw Changli, who was also dressed neatly.
"Thank you. You too," he replied.
Changli, who once wore only rags, was now dressed in beautiful clothes, thanks to Xia. Smiling, she said, "Honestly, you should listen to Mother's advice more often."
"Mother?" Kyorin repeated, narrowing his eyes slightly. "She is my mother," he protested.
Watching his tantrum, Changli rolled her eyes, crossing her arms.
"As long as you're not stealing her from me," Kyorin added adamantly.
Changli smiled slightly, then teased, "Oho, then you ought not to do things that lead to humiliation."
Kyorin's eyes widened at her words. A vein popped on his forehead as he snapped, "Hey! Take that back!"
"Oh? And if I don't?" Changli said with an amused smile—but that amusement vanished when Kyorin suddenly pushed her onto the floor.
"Hey, what are you—" Changli screamed, but stopped when she saw Kyorin's face inches away from hers. She instinctively turned away, thinking, 'Too close(0///0)'
But Kyorin, unaware of her thoughts, repeated coldly, "Take that back."
"Alright, I apologize for making fun of you! Now let go of me!" she practically screamed, but Kyorin's grasp only tightened.
Changli glared at him fiercely, but Kyorin was fiercer, mirroring Xia's stern face.
"Take. That. Back," Kyorin demanded again.
"Did I not already apologize?!" Changli asked in frustration.
"Take back what ill you have said about Mother," Kyorin said.
"—!!?"
Changli froze.
Kyorin's eyes, bright like the pale-yellow moon carrying the sun's radiance, gleamed with an eerie light.
"The world may try to humiliate me, but my mother will never," Kyorin declared.
Then, without warning, he summoned DEVA into his hand. The scythe's sharp blade hovered dangerously close to Changli's neck.
His voice was low, final: "Take. That. Back."
"I will never badmouth mother..." Changli apologized, but Kyorin merely put away DEVA, maintaining his hold on her, until she added, "...again."
Simultaneously, Xia entered the room with ointment and cotton in hand to see that her son had pushed Changli down. Taken aback by the sight before her, she screamed, "What is going on?!"
***
Evening's golden ambiance glittered over the Taoyuan Vale, where countless lanterns adorned the trees, shimmering like motes of golden fireflies.
It was the Moon-Chasing Festival—one of Huanglong's most cherished traditions.
On this special night, the people of Jinzhou decorated trees with a dazzling array of lanterns and gathered beneath the sky to admire the moon, celebrating reunion and resilience.
For the citizens of Jinzhou, the Lunite and Threnodians beyond the borders were forever linked: the phases of the moons signified the Threnodians' revival patterns.
The presence of the dual moons once served as an ominous warning—a harbinger of disaster.
Moon-Chasing symbolized a desperate race against the moons, a battle to prevent the Threnodian from awakening before the Lunite moon could reach its full phase.
Now, only one full moon remained above Solaris-3. The Lunite stayed constant, but everything else had changed.
To honor the soldiers and citizens who fought and endured through that peril, a former Jinzhou Magistrate established the "Moon-Chasing Festival," held each year when the moon shone at its fullest.
As the twin moons faded into a single shining orb, the "race against the moon" transformed into a journey home, guided by the pure, unwavering glow of the lunar light.
"The hour has arrived."
A hushed voice echoed, drawing the attention of the gathered crowd. Their murmurs quieted as the words settled in.
"Let us pray for the fallen."
A soft rustling began as the white cloth, woven with gold and silver threads, was passed from hand to hand. Each person wrote their wishes, their silent hopes for their loved ones' return.
Tong.
A single, haunting note from the guzheng vibrated through the air, followed by the erhu's mournful hum, resonating with the weight of years gone by.
The music wrapped around the crowd, pulling their hearts together as one.
The priestess's voice rose, soft but strong, carrying the weight of tradition.
♪O spirit, O spirit, open your lips.♪
The crowd joined in, their voices rising in harmony. The guzheng continued its gentle hum, each pluck echoing in the hearts of the gathered.
♪Tell us now who we are♪
♪You carried us into the stars♪
♪Past dust, past ash, past every scar.♪
As the final note faded, a gentle sigh rose from the wind. Eyes closed, people held hands, their hearts listening for the voices of the departed.
Between each verse, the cloth was passed, now heavy with written wishes for the return of loved ones. The guzheng's soft background hum continued, each note a step toward healing.
The crowd sang the refrain:
♪Rise, rise, rise—come with me♪
♪Awaken, awaken, awaken.♪
The tempo quickened as the guzheng's rhythm pulsed, mirroring the crowd's rising hope. The erhu's strings were pulled tighter, reaching their zenith.
♪Rise, rise, rise—come home with me♪
♪Awaken, awaken, awaken.♪
Some hands shook as people wrote, caught between sorrow and hope.
As the song grew louder, the erhu's wailing notes blended with the swelling voices of the crowd.
The fabric, now heavy with wishes and names, passed through many hands, carrying the weight of the lost.
The priestess led them through the sacred chant:
♪Om Mani Padme Hum♪
♪Om Mani Padme Hum♪
Their voices formed a wave, vibrating through the earth, as the guzheng's deep notes filled the space, connecting the heavens to the people below.
The chorus surged again, the instruments rising in intensity. The erhu's mournful cry gave way to a jagged expression of loss and triumph.
The guzheng echoed through the valley, each string plucked with purpose, reaching toward the stars.
♪To those who fell, to those who fled♪
♪To those who walked where others bled♪
♪This song we sing beneath the dome—♪
♪O soul, rise. It's time. Come home.♪
The final notes lingered in the stillness, the fabric held high, its golden threads shimmering in the moonlight. The names of the lost were inscribed, and the song called upon their souls.
The lanterns flickered softly around the crowd, casting golden light on their faces. Under the full moon's glow, they felt a quiet connection to the departed, as though receiving its blessing.
A priest then collected the fabric and handed it to a woman.
"Wow!"
A collective gasp echoed as the onlookers were taken aback by the graceful woman dressed in a majestic ceremonial hanbok, layered in deep ocean blues, silvers, and pearl-white accents.
The hanbok flowed richly around her, subtly embroidered with symbols of cranes, clouds, and lotuses—blessings for peace and fortune.
Her long, flowing navy-blue hair cascaded like a mighty river, unadorned, shining softly in the evening light. Her clear cerulean eyes mirrored the blue moons.
She had a soft, dignified face, a graceful jawline, and a calm, tender expression. Her faint smile held the serenity of someone who carried the hopes of many in her heart.
Yet, on this shimmering golden road where only beauty was present, no one could see the turmoil hidden behind those eyes, as a silent plea was buried in her thoughts:
"Please, do not let it come true."
"Please, do not let it come true."
"Please, do not let it come true."
"Please, do not let it come true."
Clutching the fabric, Xia moved toward the wishing tree. Her worries had just begun to ease as she reached the steps to hang it—when suddenly—BOOM.
Chaos launched its ambush.
To be continued...