The blood moon still held its vanity high in the firmament. Pitch-black crags slipped beneath the horses' hooves, devouring the narrow mountain path.
Three cloaked riders, like fleeting wraiths, galloped through the heart of the darkness. As they drew near the mouth of a cave that yawned amidst the rocks, the steeds suddenly drew to a halt. The lead horse reared on its hind legs in a frenzy of terror; the beasts shrieked with an unnatural intensity, their eyes bulging as if they had caught the scent of something from leagues away.
One of the riders, straining with all his might against the reins of his trembling mount, bellowed: "This is the domain of the Sacred Stone! We shall tether the beasts here; the rest of the journey must be made on foot." They dismounted. At the threshold of the entrance, all three paused and cast aside their face-coverings. The cold moonlight unveiled their identities: Liángwáng (良王), the governor of the North; his loyal attendant; and the Grand Seer, Shīyí (诗仪), whose countenance was ashen and whose mind was besieged by unanswered questions.
The Seer spoke, her voice quavering and lost to the wind: "From this point forth, I go alone." Liángwáng gave a heavy, hesitant nod, and the Seer vanished into the dark maw of the cave, which bore an eerie resemblance to the throat of a slumbering leviathan.
Inside the cave, the air was dead, reeking of antiquity and decay. Stone steps descended like a passage into the very gullet of the earth. In the deepest reaches lay the Sacred Stone; yet it lacked its mythic grandeur. Only a faint, jade shimmer pulsed from it—faltering and moribund, like the final heartbeat of a dying creature. The Seer was struck with shock upon beholding it from afar, then approached with trepidation, gently placing her trembling hands upon the cold, rough surface of the stone. She closed her eyes to commune with it, but before the connection could be forged, the sepulchral silence of the cavern was suddenly shattered by a ghastly sound—the din of heavy, rusted chains being dragged across stone. In the furthest corner of the cave, a black shadow emerged—a mass of thick, sentient darkness. Horror gripped the Seer's soul. She recoiled a step, staring at the blackness, and gasped:
"Stay back...!"
She turned to flee, but her robes snagged upon a jagged edge of rock. With a struggle and the sound of rending fabric, she broke free. The dark mass closed the distance with impossible haste. An invisible force seemed to constrict her throat as if unseen hands were tightening around it, suspending her between earth and air. Her fingernails clawed fruitlessly at the steps. Her legs were dragged into the black abyss of the cave, and in absolute silence—whilst the moonlight at the cave's mouth grew ever more distant and diminished—she was being swallowed into the maw of darkness…
The following morning, the sun rose over the capital, yet the city knew no peace. Soldiers thrust through the frantic throngs gathered around grand Marshal residence, shouting, "Make way!"
The Crown Prince, his features contorted with grim resolve, passed through the thicket of spears and entered the quarters. In the bedchamber, a scene awaited him that would make even the most battle-hardened soldier shudder. The corpse of grand Marshal lay amidst a sea of clotted blood. Portions of his skull and brain had been sprayed across the adjacent wall.
Huìwén (惠文) asked, his voice trembling with a mixture of fury and grief:
"With what was he slain?"
A soldier replied with a wavering voice: "Your Highness... it appears he was dispatched by the blow of the same spiked iron mace." The Crown Prince closed his eyes in profound sorrow and inclined his head in a gesture of regret.
As he exited the chamber, he glimpsed a his younger brother standing with its back to him. Hēiláng (黑狼), with his messy black hair veiling half his face, stood immersed in silent contemplation. Upon hearing the Prince's footfalls, Hēiláng turned and rendered a formal zuòyī bow (作揖) with cold dignity. He then held out a blood-tipped falcon feather toward Huiwen.
Huiwen's eyes flickered at the sight of the feather:
"That group again...!"
At that moment, a soldier rushed in breathlessly, crying out: "Your Highness! The Emperor has summoned you for an urgent council immediately." Huiwen, as if a crushing weight had been settled upon his shoulders, placed a hand on Hēiláng's shoulder, bowed his head, and made haste toward the palace.