"Wait!" I shouted.
I had been trying to catch up to this monster of a friend of mine for several minutes now. He walked far too fast for someone who claimed we weren't in a hurry.
"Flynn, you're slow!" he called back, laughing.
My blood began to boil at his mocking tone.
Oh—right. I should probably introduce myself.
My name is Lazarine Flynn, and the person enjoying my suffering was Matt, my best friend. He had dragged me out of town today because he claimed he wanted to show me something—but only outside the city. According to him, it was too dangerous to show me inside New Taiping.
That alone should have been a warning.
New Taiping is massive. The wealthy live at the center, where tall buildings block out the sun and guards patrol day and night. People like us live near the outskirts. My father is a carpenter. My mother sells fish at the market. I usually help her—Father's work leaves him tired and silent most evenings.
Matt slowed down when we reached the dirt path leading out of town.
He was tall—much taller than me. I'm about 5'6", which my parents insist is already too tall for my age. Matt, on the other hand, stands at 6'1". Walking beside him always makes me feel like a child.
Earlier that morning, Matt had shown up at my house, breathless and excited.
"I went to the church," he said. "To pray."
That alone was unusual.
He told me he'd seen a canon speaking to a cloaked man behind the chapel. The man had worn a ring—golden, engraved with strange symbols.
"And it looked valuable," Matt had added.
He stole it.
I remember staring at him in disbelief.
"You stole from a canon?"
"I just borrowed it," he said quickly. "I'll return it. I just wanted to show you."
When I asked how he managed to steal it, he only grinned.
"A thief's secret."
Now, standing outside the city, I regretted not stopping him earlier.
"This place again?" I said. "You know we used to play here as kids."
"Exactly," Matt replied. "No one comes here anymore."
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a grey handkerchief, carefully unfolding it.
Inside lay the ring.
It was gold, dull with age, engraved with symbols that didn't belong to any language I knew. The moment I looked at it, a chill crept down my spine.
It didn't feel like treasure.
It felt wrong.
"You stole from the church," I said quietly. "That's bad, Matt."
"Relax," he replied. "I'll put it back. Just let me look at it a little longer."
I swallowed.
"I don't like it. It feels… old. Dangerous."
Matt frowned.
"I risked my neck to show you this. Don't start acting scared now."
I said nothing. Pushing him further would only make things worse.
He lifted the ring from the cloth and slipped it onto his left ring finger.
I laughed before I could stop myself.
He glanced at me. "What?"
"You planning to get married?"
He froze—then burst out laughing.
"Oh—damn. Wrong finger."
The laughter died instantly.
The air changed.
Matt's smile vanished, replaced by pure terror.
"Ouch—Flynn… it hurts."
He clutched his hand as his body began to shake. "Matt?" I stepped toward him. "What's wrong?"
His skin blistered. The flesh around the ring peeled as though burned from the inside.
"Matt!" I grabbed his arm. It was scorching hot.
My mother fries fish for a living. I've handled hot iron and boiling oil before—but this was different.
I yanked the ring off his finger and dropped it to the ground. The ring wasn't hot.
Matt collapsed, gasping for breath.
"I—I thought I was going to die," he whispered.
I exhaled sharply.
"I warned you."
"I'm sorry," he said. His voice cracked.
The ring lay harmlessly on the soil.
I bent to wrap it back in the cloth—
—and the world spun.
A voice whispered into my mind.
Put it on.
It was soft. Feminine. Familiar.
I clutched my head. Matt was talking, shouting—but I couldn't hear him.
Thoughts crashed into me.
If it did that to him…
Why isn't it burning me?
Throw it away.
I couldn't.
Something pushed me toward it.
To silence the noise, I slid the ring onto my finger.
It adjusted instantly—perfectly.
Warmth spread through me. Calm. Peace.
As if it had always been mine.
My thoughts cleared.
Matt stared at me, tears streaming down his face.
"I'm sorry," he sobbed. "I shouldn't have stolen it."
I placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Hey. No one died. Don't cry."
"I'll protect you," I added softly. "Nothing bad will happen to you. You have me."
I always said that when he was afraid.
He looked at me like I was his last hope.
The ring rested quietly on my finger.
No pain.
Only silence.
"You're okay?" Matt asked. "It didn't hurt you?"
"I'm fine."
He shook his head slowly.
"I can't touch that thing again. You hold it."
I removed the ring and wrapped it carefully.
"I'll return it," I said—though fear gnawed at my chest.
We headed home in silence.
We barely spoke until we reached our separate homes. Matt lived two blocks away from mine—not far at all. On a normal day, the walk felt like nothing.
Tonight, it felt heavier.
I stopped at our entrance, took a deep breath, and pushed the door open.
Father and Mother were eating.
"Where did you go?" Mother asked.
Her voice echoed through the living room. I understood immediately—she had been worried. I had left without telling either of them. Father said nothing, as expected. He had his own way of dealing with things.
"I… I went out with Matt," I said.
I stammered, which was unusual for me, but my mother's presence always carried a certain fear.
"Next time, let me know where you're going," she said, watching me closely, as though waiting for more.
"Taiping is dangerous these days."
She stood up with her empty plate and walked into the kitchen.
Relief washed over me.
I went to my room.
I sleep on a mat. Only Father owns a bamboo bed. A proper bed is expensive in this city. At least I have a mat.
Matt sleeps on the floor.
I remind myself of that whenever I think too much about our financial struggles.
Inside my room, my eyes scanned the space. Rats had eaten through some of my papers. Paper is expensive—and the city rats don't care.
I couldn't eat. My appetite was gone.
I lay on my mat, staring at the ceiling.
Before I realized it, I had fallen asleep.
---
Noise woke me.
Murmuring.
Crying.
Why is everyone so loud?
Wait.
Crying?
I jumped up and ran out of my room barefoot.
Morning light filled the house.
Father and Mother weren't in their room. They weren't in the living room either.
I opened the front door.
Granny Fei was outside, crying.
Why would an old woman be crying this early?
What happened?
Why was everyone gathering at Matt's house?
My thoughts spiraled out of control.
"Gran," I called. That's what I always called her. "What's happening?"
She lifted her head slowly.
Her eyes told the story before her mouth could—pain, regret, sorrow.
Something was wrong.
"It's Matt," she said, her voice trembling.
My body moved before my mind could react.
I ran.
Everything felt slow—yet I knew it wasn't.
Tears streamed down my face before I even understood why.
A few meters ahead lay a boy.
Tall—6'1". Dark-skinned. Curly hair.
Handsome.
His clothes were torn. His body was bruised. Blood stained his head, hands, and feet. The injuries looked far too brutal for a single human body.
His skin was pale.
I stepped closer.
How could I not recognize him?
My only friend.
My partner in crime.
The one I swore to protect.
The one I gave hope to.
How could I not recognize Matt?
---