Jin Hao plummeted through the forest canopy.
"Argh!"
Rocks and branches snapped apart as he hit the ground. He didn't want to die here, not when he was so close.
Not when the Tomb of Khan was within reach.
'Just a little further. It has to be here somewhere.'
But Jin Hao was out of his depth here.
At twelve years old, he was too young for this, too inexperienced to be navigating the hunting grounds of apex predators alone, and certainly too young to be doing it in secret.
*Hiss* A purple cloud steamed out of the spirit beast's maw. The bloodfang python was closing in behind him.
The red, scaly beast stretched and squeezed over the dark brown earth, crushing any rocks it passed over. Yellowed slits narrowed within its eyes, and it pushed of the ground quicker, and then, when it was within reach, it lashed out!
Jin Hao vaulted, his lean frame soaring over the rocky outcrop. *Dunn* Jin Hao's foot caught the edge of the boulder he'd leapt over, forcing gravel to spray beneath him as he stumbled.
The beast hissed some more, its scales flashing like polished jade under the dim light. Jin Hao tracked it with his qi sense, too wise to look back.
The beast was getting closer.
But Jin Hao pushed harder, legs burning. He couldn't cry for help. Not now. The King, finding out his son was on a chase to find a tomb long forgotten even by their own ancestors, would find him locked back in the palace—His father's gilded cage.
Just the thought alone drove him.
The forest thinned, giving way to sharp boulders and narrow ledges, and Jin Hao neared the mountain he was looking for, praying its maze of stone would shake the serpent.
Through his qi sense, Jin Hao was beginning to believe otherwise. Hot, rotten breath cursed the back of his neck as he ran, getting hotter the farther he went.
His heart raced. He'd have to shake it soon, or…Jin Hao shivered, shaking the thought from his head.
But, even a small shiver was draining enough to allow a spirit beast like the blood fanged python to strike.
Fangs grazed Jin Hao's thigh in a blur of fury. "Ummphh!!" Jin Hao tried to ignore the pain as he dodged again.
"Damned reptile!" Jin Hao spat through shut teeth. "I'll make sure to have Father wipe out your kind for this!"
The python hissed, splitting the air.
It's venom misted as it lunged anew. Ahead, Jin Hao glimpsed the cave from the map, and it fit the description—less dense qi, smoothed edges, the shape of the chasm that surrounded it.
This was the place.
He was almost there.
The chasm yawned between him and safety, the snake a breath away.
He glanced up and saw a narrow ledge jutting out from the mountain —he had to make it.
His breath caught, chest tight as a drum. One slip, one misplaced step, and the abyss would claim him.
He leaped…
And the snake arced after him, its bulk hurtling through the air like an arrow.
Just as Jin Hao was about to reach the mountain edge, A gust of wind hit him, the kind of wind that were normal around spirit geodes like this. "Curses!"
His ribs screamed as they dragged across the mountainside, the spurs raking over each rib.
But Jin Hao did not prepare so much just to die here, with a burst of qi, he pushed himself of to the side, slowing his momentum enough to grab a jutted rock from the mountainside.
The snake, which had lunged after him, caught onto his arm with its fangs, searing his flesh with venom.
"Not today," Jin Hao snarled, fumbling a talisman from his pouch. In the same motion, he let go of the ledge.
Turning as much as he could in mid-air, he shoved the talisman down the mouth of the spirit beast.
It was his last, a fragile shard etched with qi runes he'd pilfered from the palace armory.
Pushing himself away as he flung it. He dove, twisting further in mid-air, as the snake struck again, fighting for something it could attach to.
The talisman flared, a fireball erupting in the python's maw, its scales blackening as the blast roared, erupting like a fiery cloud.
Jin Hao quickly took his flying sword out of his storage space and flew towards the cave inside the mountain.
But the wave of force from the explosion crashed into his back, sending him tumbling to the side, into the face of the mountain.
He crashed through it.
Tumbling into a hidden cave.
His heart pounded, the acrid sting of smoke singed his throat.
He sprawled on the cave's cold floor, breath ragged. The spirit animal roared hoarsely through burnt vocal muscles as it flailed, descending into the chasm. A faint smile crept onto Jin Hao's lips.
He looked around, not realizing he had been blown off course through all that smoke and fire, "This is it," relief flooded his heaving body. The scars and wounds he had gotten steamed with dark air while he forced the venom out.
He'd wagered everything on that one line he'd found in the scroll—The Great Ancestor, Khan's secrets had better be worth it. Finally, after years of rifling through his father's chambers and evading death's jaws, he'd arrived.
Jin Hao had spent too many years spent chasing The Falcon Imperial, Khan's legend. Creeping through palace archives, stitching together charred scrolls—Failure was not an option.
His pulse thrummed, blood pounding through his body like a disordered army.
If his ancestors'—Emperor Khan's wisdom wasn't here, then what would he do? What could he do?
"This has to be the place." He murmured.
'It has to be.'
Emperor Khan had clawed an empire from nothing—a falcon rising from barren cliffs. Jin Hao had hoped that there would be a spark to rekindle the Kingdom of Andoria-Dahges in his tomb.
He'd traversed swamps and predator dens to stand here, and at 12, he was far too young for this.
"It's a rather irresponsible oversight," Jin Hao mused, "I might have to tell Father to tighten palace security."
'Or did Father already know?'
Had the King let him go? Leave him to quench his thirst for knowledge? Let his errant child out to learn a lesson?
The thought churned in his mind—equal parts hope and fear.
So, after sneaking into his father's chambers and "borrowing" the map, Jin Hao set out, braving swamps and predator haunts to reach this precipice—his life's work.
He got up from his position. Gradually coming to his feet.
It was there. Right in front of him.
A set of doors.
But they represented more than that. They meant that he hadn't done all this in vain.
He couldn't help but exhale. He had his breath taken away, looking at the doors. His chest slowly coming to a steady rhythm.
There, right in front of him, they stood. Heavy. The bottoms of the doors sank into the ground. The walls of the cave where the hinges were attached had small black cracks like spiderwebs running through them. It looked like embroidery, all of it coming to a halt in the middle, where they formed a falcon.
Jin Hao stepped back.
It looked alive. There was something about its eyes that appeared as if to follow him.
But now was not the time for cowardice.
Jin Hao edged closer and shoved, but the doors stood firm, resolute as the king's guard.
Hours passed, and he kept pushing, shoving, kicking, whatever he could do.
His fifth-stage cultivation couldn't move them. He even tried bargaining. In frustration, he slammed the door in an area he hadn't before, right next to the large knockers.
A jagged, piercing object sprang out, faster than even he, a fifth-stage cultivator, could see, and injected his hand, and blood splashed on the doors.
"Aaaaaaaaah," he cried, gripping his wound.
'How did I not notice?' He thought, but the blood vanished, swallowed by the stone.
Then, a voice boomed, deep as a war drum: "Step forth, blood of my blood, Scion of The Falcon's line, your entry is granted.
The kingdom—his kingdom– teetered on the edge of implosion. The villagers starved, while officials treated the kingdom like personal property. Outside the palace, rebellion cried in the howls of the wind.
Even though they'd tried to hide the kingdom's fall from him, he'd seen it.
Like flashes of fire in a hot pan…The little children running around like scavengers when they saw a dead dog. The haunted eyes as they lay beside empty wells.
The doors swung without sound. Jin Hao took a step, cautious, and crossed the threshold.
'It's perfect.'
The room was in perfect condition. He had known of the first Patriarch's exploits. How he had come from nowhere…branded his name on the skins of history.
But this was too much!
It had been millennia since the founding emperor's rule. No matter what technology you used, to keep such a space maintained for so long…even with so many runeways lost. There shouldn't be anything like this. He was sure of that.
Jin Hao slowly placed his sweaty palm on the cold cave walls. Brushing against the smoothness of it all.
'What type of stone was this?'
It was nothing like the rock the mountain itself was made of.
He walked on, the walls guiding him to the centre of the cave—if it could even be called that.
Jin Hao took a deep breath. The air caressed his nostrils as he inhaled.
'It was laced with qi!'
The whole place was dense with qi. He looked behind at the doors, fearing to let out the qi-rich air.
But they were closed.
This was the second time he hadn't noticed something.
He was now at the center; it looked like this whole room was built for just that.
A raised pyramid, green and made of the highest quality jade, sat at the center.
Again, filled with markings he did not know what to make of.
But what really caught his attention was the book that sat atop the small pyramid.
A tome, bound like one of the books used in the learning centers.
One large leaf, folded in half, with a strong spine, black as midnight.
Drinking in the light around it. On the front of the tome, a few lines were written in a language he could recognize, but the script was different.
'Runes!' They were written in runes. 'Who writes in runes?'
They were barely even words.
The runic language shone white-gold against the darkness of the tome.
Like the sun in a sea of black nothingness.
There was only one thing he could read there. "Khan."
'Is this really it?'
His fingers shook as they neared it—Khan, the emperor, his father, and his fathers before him revered.
The one whose dominion once spanned the seven dins.
Jin Hao hesitated.
What would he find in these pages? Could he really find in them a strategy that would save his kingdom?
Then, just before he touched it, while his fingers hovered above the papers, the tome exhaled—a soft sigh that smelled of ash and ancient blood. This was not just a record.
His trembling fingers brushed the cover, the black leather cold as midnight, white-gold runes pulsing with a faint qi hum —like a falcon's call echoing through time. The air thrummed, heavy with archaic intent.
Jin Hao's breath hitched as he lifted the cover, pages rustling like wings, ink shimmering with secrets long buried.
Awakening the past.
A voice, weathered by eons, rolled forth, and Jin Hao felt the weight of a dynasty on his shoulders.
And then it spoke...
Growling from the pages, old as dust, dragging Jin Hao into a world from long ago—Khan's world.
"This is the record of the life of Khan."
"If you hold this celestial record, my legacy endures. Learn from my victories and failures, my descendant. Do not repeat my mistakes."
"My words meld with an ancient will, preserving truth. Once my silent counsel, it now aids you, my kin, through the trials of kingship.
May the prince have kept my story secret from prying eyes, for this is a story of sacrifice, and of blood, and the costs of power."
The voice spoke on...
And as the words spilled from the ancient tome, Jin Hao vanished.
Swallowed by ink and memory, he fell into Khan's story—his life, his loss, his rise…