The village was a bruised thumb pressed into the ribs of the mountain. For the forty souls living there, peace wasn't a gift; it was something they bartered for with aching joints and cracked skin. Even the children spent their days hauling bundles that made their spines curve like old bows.
Friction was the only thing that came easy. A missing copper, a sneer—the typical grit of people living too close for too long. But the village always found a way back to a weary equilibrium.
"Aaggh!"
Lei Ze was seven. His hands looked twice that age. A strip of stained indigo cloth was knotted around his forehead, soaked through. He leaned forward, the rough hemp of a massive sack biting into his shoulders.
Every step was a calculation of balance and pain. This was the only way to pay for the bitter tinctures Lán, his mother, needed to keep her lungs from seizing.
"What do you even have in here? Lead?" He wheezed at the heels of the merchant.
The man didn't look back. He kept a steady, indifferent pace.
"Seriously... it's like I'm carrying the ground itself."
They stopped at a low stone house. The man grunted, helping ease the burden off the boy's back. The sudden absence of weight made Lei Ze feel light enough to float.
"Good lad." The man peeled a few copper notes from his belt.
Lei Ze took them. His fingers had a slight tremor as he tucked them away. It wasn't a fortune, but it was another week of medicine.
"Appreciate it, Elder. I'm usually by the square. If you've got more to move, ask for me."
The man gave a curt nod—a professional ghost of a smile and waved him off.
As the sun dipped behind the peaks, painting the sky like a fresh bruise, Lei Ze gathered his ropes. He tapped his pocket, running the math.
"One... two... five... fifteen..."
The numbers were a shield against the exhaustion. He was so focused on the tally that he didn't see the four shadows on the dirt path until he nearly walked into them.
"Look at the rat. He's got paper."
Lei Ze's heart did a slow roll. He shoved the notes deeper and took a half-step back. His heel hit a loose stone. It was Mo Hán and his pack.
"Mo Hán, please. Not today," Lei Ze said. He didn't sound scared. He sounded tired. "My mother is sick. I need to get back."
Mo Hán barked a sharp, ugly laugh.
"You think I give a damn about your mother?"
Lei Ze swallowed. His throat was dry as bone. He looked for a gap, but they were closing in.
"Just let me go. I'll give you a cut later. After I get the medicine. I promise."
"Aww, the little waste wants to play hero," Mo Hán mocked, stepping into his space. "Your worthless mother is halfway in the ground anyway. Why bother?"
The word worthless hit Lei Ze like a physical strike. Something in his chest detonated.
The caution that had kept him safe for years evaporated. Without a word, he lunged.
His fist connected with Mo Hán's nose with a sickening crunch.
Lei Ze didn't wait. He tackled the older boy, pinning him into the dirt and raining down blows with a frantic, uncoordinated fury.
When the others grabbed his tunic, he twisted away, his knuckles splitting against Mo Hán's teeth.
"Never call her that!" Lei Ze roared, his voice raw. "Say what you want to me! But stay away from her!"
Mo Hán's eyes went wide. The arrogance was gone, replaced by the shock of a predator realizing its prey has gone mad.
The weight of the three other boys eventually bore Lei Ze down. They dragged him off and threw him into the grit. Mo Hán stood up slowly, blood leaking from his nose. His face was a mask of vibrating rage.
"You son of a snake," Mo Hán hissed. "You actually touched me."
He charged. Lei Ze braced himself, but he was too slow. The counter-blow caught him square in the face, a dull thud that sent sparks dancing across his vision.
"How's that feel?" Mo Hán spat over him.
"I'm going to make sure you remember this every time you look in a mirror."
Lei Ze tried to scramble backward, his fingers digging into the dirt, but the circle closed tight.
The beating was methodical. By the time they left, Lei Ze could barely see out of one eye. He staggered through the darkening village, breath coming in shallow hitches, until he reached the leaning door of his home. Lán was there, her face etched with worry.
"Oh, gods! Lei!" She rushed to catch him.
She guided him to the narrow wooden couch, her touch light and frantic.
She returned with a basin of water. As she pressed a damp cloth to the jagged cut on his cheek, Lei Ze didn't make a sound. He just stared at the ceiling.
"Son, I know why you do this. I know you're killing yourself for my sake," she said softly. Her voice was thick with guilt. "It breaks me. I'm so sorry." She let out a long, ragged sigh.
"Ever since your father left... it's all been on you. It shouldn't be."
Lei Ze reached up, his small hand covering his heart. "Mom, stop. I'm doing this for us. I'm not going anywhere."
She managed a weak smile and pressed a kiss to his forehead. "You were born of the lightning, my love. I only hope you find out who you really are one day." She whispered it like a prayer, then slipped outside to the porch to catch her breath in the cooling air.
That night, the sky turned to charcoal. A freezing rain began to pelt the thatch. High on the peaks, a mass of violet smoke began to churn. It wasn't mist; it was something hungry. Within the vapor, three skull-like shapes flickered as the entity began its slow, silent descent.
The smoke didn't drift; it hunted. It slithered through cracks in windows and under heavy doors. It entered a home, the whispers of the dead filling the air, and seconds later, it dragged the inhabitants into the mud—limp, pale, and emptied.
Blood mixed with the rainwater, turning the paths into rivers of rust.
Lei Ze's eyes snapped open. He sat bolt upright in the dark, his skin clammy.
"What is it, Lei?" Lán asked from her pallet.
Lei Ze's heart was drumming against his ribs.
"Mom... Mom, we have to go. Right now!"
Lán sat up, brow furrowed. "Go? In this storm? Where?"
"I don't know! I just saw... I saw everyone. Gone. You too. We have to move!"
A scream ripped through the night outside—a high, jagged sound that ended with a wet gurgle. Lei Ze didn't wait. He lunged for the door, slamming the wooden bolt home and dragging the heavy grain chest in front of it.
"Lei, talk to me! What are you doing?"
He turned to her, his small frame shaking.
"It's here."
"What is?"
"The shadow. The thing from the mountain. It's killing them all."
"You're having a fit, darling. It's just a nightmare."
An explosion rocked the house, followed by the roar of "Fire!" from a neighbor.
Lei Ze's eyes went cold. The dream was leaking. "Why... why tonight?"
Lán's face hardened. She wasn't thinking of shadows; she was thinking of her neighbors. She rushed to the door, her hands grappling with the grain chest.
"They need us, Lei! We can't stay here while the village burns!"
"No!" Lei Ze grabbed her sleeve, his fingers locking. "Don't open it!"
She shoved him back, her eyes flashing with a rare anger. "We aren't cowards!"
She threw the door open.
She didn't meet the rain. She met a void.
Lei Ze watched, frozen, as his mother's body went rigid. A dark, circular hole appeared in the center of her chest, as if a piece of her had simply ceased to exist. Blood bloomed across her white nightclothes like a sudden, horrific flower. Through the gap in her body, Lei Ze could see the rain falling on the porch.
"No..." he breathed. The tears came then, hot and stinging. "Mom!"
He caught her as she slumped, the heat leaving her body. He pulled her into his lap, his hands frantically trying to cover the wound that couldn't be closed.
"Stay... please, just stay..."
He shook with a rhythmic tremor as her hand went limp. Outside, the world was a cacophony of dying screams and the hiss of rain on embers, but inside, it was silent.
Lei Ze knelt in the blood and the dust, the grief hollowing him out until there was nothing left but a shell.
"Don't leave me."
"What am I supposed to do?"
"I need you..."
A flash of lightning turned the room white, illuminating the scene. The devil-shadow had finished its harvest. Every heartbeat in the village had been silenced, leaving only the boy and the cooling body of his mother.
The smoke turned. It felt the last ember of life. It began to drift toward the doorway, its malevolent whispers filling the room, coming for the very last soul.