Shen walked home quietly, his steps slow and thoughtful. His house—a modest shelter crafted from clay, palm leaves, and dried reeds—stood at the edge of the forest, nestled in solitude. Though familiar, it now felt distant, like a memory from a life he no longer truly belonged to.
Inside, silence greeted him like an old companion. Shen sat down, his eyes drawn to the mirror hanging crookedly on the wall. Reflected in its cracked surface was the faintly glowing mark on his forehead. The symbol pulsed with quiet energy. It no longer hurt, but it stirred something deep within him—something ancient, something unknown.
He stared at it for a long time.
What is this mark? Why did it appear? What truly awakened beneath that stone?
Outside, night had fallen. The moon hung low, casting silver light through the gaps in the thatched roof. Just then, a soft knock echoed from the door.
Knock knock knock…
Shen rose and opened it.
Swing Er stood there, her eyes wide with relief. "Shen! I heard you got home safely. I was so worried. Are you… really okay?"
Shen hesitated, then nodded. "Yes. I'm okay."
But the truth was buried. He didn't talk about the fall, the cave, or the mark. Not yet. The most mysterious part was that only he could see the glowing symbol on his forehead.
They stepped outside together, the cool night air brushing against their skin. Crickets sang in the distance, and the stars blinked silently above.
After a moment, Swing Er spoke again, her voice softer now. "Shen… you remember, right? Tomorrow is your parents' memorial day."
Shen looked up at the sky, his eyes reflecting the moonlight.
"I remember," he said quietly.
And in that silence, beneath the stars, the weight of the past settled once again.
"Then… are you going tomorrow?" Swing Er asked, her voice soft but curious.
"Yes," Shen replied. "I've decided to go early in the morning." His words carried quiet determination. He had long wished to visit the resting place of his parents, and now, more than ever, the desire burned within him.
"Shen… would it be alright if I came with you?" Swing Er asked, her eyes hopeful. She too held a quiet reverence for Shen's parents, and the thought of honoring them alongside him brought comfort.
Shen nodded simply. "Sure. You can come."
Swing Er smiled warmly. "Then I'll see you tomorrow."
With that, she turned and walked away, leaving Shen standing beneath the moonlight. He stepped back inside, the mark on his forehead still faintly glowing, and lay down to rest.
The next morning, Shen awoke to the sound of knocking.
Knock knock knock…
"Shen, are you ready?" Swing Er's voice called from outside.
Shen sat up quickly, rubbing sleep from his eyes. "Just a moment—I'll be right there," he called back, already moving to get dressed.
He opened the door to find Swing Er standing with a gentle smile. "Good morning, Shen."
"Good morning, Swing Er," he replied, still shaking off the last traces of sleep.
And together, beneath the pale morning sky, they set off.
Shen and Swing Er arrived at the quiet hill where his parents were buried. The air was still, the morning sun casting long shadows across the moss-covered stones. They knelt together, placing the flowers they had brought gently beside the twin graves. The scent of wild jasmine mingled with the earthy breeze.
After a moment, Swing Er stood and stepped back, giving Shen space to be alone with his thoughts.
Shen remained kneeling, his gaze fixed on the names carved into the stone. He reached out, brushing his fingers across the weathered surface.
"Mother… Father…" he whispered. "One day, I will avenge your deaths. I will restore your honor. I promise."
His voice trembled, but his resolve was firm.
He bowed low, forehead touching the ground, sealing his vow in silence.
Then, slowly, he rose and joined Swing Er. Together, they turned and began the walk back toward their village.
The path led them through a dense forest, where tall reeds and twisted vines formed a canopy overhead. The air grew cooler, and the light dimmed beneath the thick foliage. Birds chirped faintly in the distance, and the rustling of leaves accompanied their steps.
Suddenly, a strange sound echoed through the trees.
Shen and Swing Er froze.
They scanned the surroundings carefully, eyes narrowing as they tried to locate the source. The forest had gone unnaturally quiet.
Then, without warning, a beast lunged from behind.
Its roar shattered the silence as it charged toward them—fangs bared, claws slicing through the air.
Shen reacted instantly, pushing Swing Er aside just as the creature's strike landed. The force of the blow sent both of them flying backward, crashing into the underbrush.
Dazed but determined, Shen scrambled to his feet. He positioned himself between the beast and Swing Er, fists clenched, heart pounding.
He attacked.
Once. Twice. Again.
But the creature was fast—too fast. Shen's strikes barely grazed its hide, and each counterattack pushed him further back.
Swing Er tried to rise, but her leg was injured. Shen glanced at her, desperation rising.
Then, just as the beast prepared to pounce again, a voice rang out.
"Enough."
A figure stepped into the clearing—an old man, cloaked in faded robes, his eyes sharp and steady. With a single motion, he raised his hand, and a wave of force surged forward, striking the beast mid-charge.
The creature howled and stumbled, retreating into the shadows.
Shen stared, breathless.
The old man turned toward them, his expression unreadable.
And thus, the forest fell silent once more.