Upon the quiet earth they rested, Lian and his sister, the fair Meilin, beneath arching boughs where leaves acted as gentle guardians protecting them from sun and storm—a roof of memories woven by hours full of tenderness and innocent dreams, before the burden of stupidity and stubbornness arrived like an unfriendly storm, destroying the world they knew.
The daylight faded, and the majestic Sun withdrew, like a proud king surrendering his crown to the call of unavoidable fate. The night ascended not with a gentle whisper, but firm in mourning attire, wrapping in black silence all promises that once shone bright. The strange moon, cold and pale, rose to its lonely silver throne, offering no comfort in its beams, only a cold witness keeping watch over wounds long carved in the heart, yet not forgotten.
The sky stretched around them like a starry script of judgment, and every trembling light became an eye viewing the past, and every glimmer carried a name once loved, now lost in sorrow. Each spark of light was a memory: of faith silently betrayed, of footsteps leaving the silent earth, of oaths broken like crystal crushed under weary feet. The constellations trembled as if holding a map of grief, to guide the wanderer back home.
And in the silence of midnight grew the seed of vengeance—not raging instantly, but slow like winter poison, a creeping vine of bitterness winding around the soul, teaching patient vigilance, counting, like an ancient clock, every breath as a measure of fate, every second ripe for judgment. Pain was honed into discipline, and wrath, once wild and flaming, was forged into iron... Cold, awaiting its season.
Yet vengeance is not a hand that strikes alone, but a deeper justice: the restoration of lost balance, a mirror held up to the mocker, where insulting laughter echoes back in a lower tone, where shadows, once a shelter for sinners, rise like spirits haunting them with the darkness they once inflicted upon gentle souls. Such is the art of true wrath, raising the glass before them until the truth, unveiled, forces them to look without masks or arrogance.
The solemnity of the night spoke in a language the day could never accept; with measured breath, it whispered plans of a stern and patient duty, not born of mere spite, but stitched from threads of worthy honor. The wind, once gentle in offering comfort, carried a different song that night; no pleas for mercy were whispered, only cold determination and clarity; and time, a kind guardian, stood by the wounded heart, letting every fragile lie unravel thread by thread in the shadows.
But heed this, wounded soul, vengeance is not a guiding lantern; it is a torch that burns while lighting your path. Those who light it may find the fire leaping back upon their bodies, and in the dance of anger, lose the form they once possessed. Thus the heart, in solemn contemplation, must choose wisely in the dark: to burn with grief until consumed, or to forge that grief into a shield—a firm sacred boundary, a courage hard yet gentle, that says: "No more shall cruelty steal my future."
As the stars stood firm and silent in the night's final watch, a whisper, soft yet mighty, rose like a prayer in the silence: "Strike, if you must, but know the power you awaken. For there is noble vengeance, which lifts the weary soul, making it firm, dignified, immune to whispered lies; and there is dark, hollow vengeance, which devours its bearer until he becomes the shadow of the enemy he once wept over." Choose wisely, while the choice remains.
And when the silver moon bowed low, caressing the wounds of earth and sky, one truth remained, like dew settling on branches lit by dawn. Darkness gives the courage to stare at everything unsoftened, even the deepest chambers of unfiltered grief within oneself. So let the night teach you: be firm, unbowing, cold yet honest; learn to repay wounds not merely with equal blows, but with an impenetrable line, a fortress forged in wisdom, so that the days to come may walk in peace, no longer disturbed by the wounds of the past.
Lian lay on the earth while glancing at his sister; just like before, Meilin remained silent with a blank stare. Lian didn't hope too much that his sister would recover for now; he thought the massacre must have been excruciatingly painful for her. Lian knew that; he felt it too. But of course, Lian was seventeen years old; his experience and mindset were far more mature than Meilin, who was only ten. Meilin might still be in shock from the event.
"Hah..." Lian let out a long sigh, shifting his gaze toward the dark blue canvas filled with sparkling stars. Although the Harmonious Alba forest was very dense and full of trees, it wasn't impossible to see the stars in the sky; if one looked for the right spot, one could surely see them.
"Look, Meilin!" Lian pointed to the horizon. Even though part of his view was filled with leaves, Lian could still see the horizon through the gaps. "There is a star shining much brighter than the others. Do you remember what Mother said? 'If you see a star shining brighter than the others, it means the Ancestor of Mother Earth is watching her children from the far reaches of the universe.'"
The Ancestor of Mother Earth was a mysterious entity worshiped by Lian's family. They often shortened Her name to simply "Ancestor." His mother once said that the Ancestor of Mother Earth was the figure who "gave birth" to the earth. In the beliefs of Lian's family, the Ancestor of Mother Earth was known as the Goddess of Birth, Life, and Death; they believed that the Ancestor was the one who cultivated fertility, breathed life into living creatures, and maintained the balance of nature. Every time rain fell, every time a seed cracked and became a sprout, Lian's family believed that was a form of blessing and a gentle greeting from the Ancestor.
To pray to Her, Lian's family simply recited prayers in their hearts. Simultaneously, they formed a symbol of a circle on their chests using their fingertips.
The circle symbolized eternity and the cycle of life: birth, growth, death, and then rebirth.
Lian shifted his gaze back to Meilin, who was still staring into the void.
"Ah," Lian exhaled deeply, "Ancestor, if 'She' is watching her child, the earth, why didn't 'She' save our family? Why didn't 'She' remove those sheep from our world? Why didn't 'She' act to save our family... Was what Father said true? That in the lowest moments of his life, he still trusted the heavens, but why did Father sound disappointed? Why did Father sound like he was crying? Why was Father... Why was Father angry at the heavens? To whom did Father actually pray, and by whom did Father feel betrayed?
"Then, what exactly is the 'sky'? Is the sky merely a high horizon stretching without answers, just an endless empty space where human hopes vanish without an echo? Or perhaps... the sky is just a river where we project our own despair, hoping there is something up there that cares... When in reality, there is only cold, faceless silence...
"Meilin, is Big Brother wrong for saying that?" Lian's eyes misted over again as a thick liquid flowed from his nose. Lian wiped his nose with his arm and sniffled. "Hah, forgive Brother, Meilin! It seems Brother is sick... I'll move away a bit so I don't pass it on to you."
Lian shifted two steps away from his sister, then tilted his body, facing Meilin.
"Good night, Meilin!"
.....
Two days later. The canvas that was initially bright had now turned dark; clouds that were once white had become gloomy, accompanied by the rumble of thunder that roared as if tearing the sky apart.
Lian was now inside a cave. Fortunately, he managed to find it. Honestly, Lian was lost; he didn't know where he was. The trail marks carved on the trees were no longer visible. Lian was confused; how could he forget the way? Was it because of his mental exhaustion? Since it looked like it was going to rain that day, he chose to take shelter in a cave he accidentally found. To be honest, Lian had never seen a cave before.
The cave he occupied had a wide mouth; its entrance resembled an open mouth covered by thick vines that seemed to strangle it. Inside, the cave was dim, perhaps because sunlight was blocked by the trees outside or because the sun seemed shy to show itself that day due to the black clouds. The air felt damp, and scattered around were animal bones, already browned and almost blending with the cave floor. It seemed they belonged to animals trapped there a long time ago.
Lian lit a fire. He planned to use it to roast the rabbit meat he hunted yesterday, as well as to light up the cave.
Just as he was about to cook the rabbit meat, his eyes glanced at his younger sister, who looked pale with trembling lips. Worried, Lian rushed over and touched her forehead.
Her body temperature... was very cold, like snow. Lian felt her skin as cold as ice in winter. He quickly took off his shirt and draped it over his sister, hoping to warm her. Now he was only wearing trousers. The weather was indeed cold, but it was nothing compared to winter; he could withstand it.
Just as he was about to leave, the weak voice of a girl reached his ears.
"Brother..."
Lian slowly turned his head, tears almost filling his eyes. He saw his sister's eyelids fluttering, her gaze fixed on him. He rushed to her side.
"What is it, Meilin? Are you okay?" Lian gently stroked her hair, which was white as snow.
"Brother..." Meilin spoke slowly and weakly. "Meilin's body... is very cold."
Hearing those words from her lips, Lian quickly held her hands.
Cold... What should I do? If only Mother were here... No, if only I hadn't done that stupid thing... Then none of this would have happened... Guilt seized Lian as he looked into his sister's eyes.
No, Lian, don't think about that now. I remember seeing a Hathin plant when entering the cave earlier. About a hundred steps away, quite close. Lian held his sister's hand tightly and whispered softly.
"Wait here, Meilin! Brother will make medicine for you..." With his bow and arrows still strapped to his back, he stood up and climbed the slightly sloping cave floor to leave.
He ran toward the plant and immediately found the dark blue leaves, shaped like hexagons.
He picked ten leaves.
But just as he turned to go back, a loud roar echoed through Harmonious Alba. Birds suddenly flew in a scatter, scrambling to find a safer place.
Lian swallowed hard and readied his bow. His eyes scanned the surroundings, looking for the source of the sound.
Suddenly, the ground trembled with heavy stomps. Lian threw his gaze toward the source of the sound.
His body trembled, sweat dripping onto the earth beneath him. His eyes widened, lips quivered, and he swallowed with difficulty.
There, in front of him, stood the creature he had dreamed of... The beast he had always yearned to hunt. A giant animal with thick brown fur now stood before him.