The mud was cold against his cheek.
"Get up, you little beast."
Shen Jie didn't move. His body hurt too much. His ribs screamed every time he breathed. What was the point of getting up? They'd just knock him down again.
"I said get up!"
A boot slammed into his ribs. He gasped, curling into himself. The pain was sharp, blinding. He pressed his forehead into the mud and squeezed his eyes shut.
"You deaf, boy? I told you to get up!"
He opened his eyes. Rain dripped into them. He blinked, trying to see through the water and blood.
"I heard you," he whispered.
The boot paused. Shen Fang — his cousin, he thought, or maybe just someone who hated him — looked down with a confused frown.
"What?"
Shen Jie pushed himself up. His arms were shaking. His whole body was shaking. He managed to get to his knees before his strength gave out.
"I heard you," he said again. Louder this time. "I just... I didn't want to."
Shen Fang stared at him. Then his face twisted into something ugly.
"You didn't want to?" He grabbed Shen Jie's collar, yanking him up. "You think you get to choose? You think you have a choice in anything, you little demon?"
Shen Jie's feet barely touched the ground. He was so small. So light. Shen Fang could probably break him in half without trying.
"I know I don't have a choice," Shen Jie said. His voice cracked. "I never have a choice. That's why I didn't want to get up. What's the point?"
Shen Fang's grip loosened for just a moment. Confusion flickered across his face.
"He's not worth getting angry over."
The second man spoke. Shen Wei. Taller, colder. He looked at Shen Jie like he was looking at a piece of garbage.
"Elder Shen said to throw him beyond the wall. So throw him. Let the beasts handle it."
Shen Fang tightened his grip again. "At least say something, you little freak. Beg. Cry. Do something."
Shen Jie looked at him. Really looked. Shen Fang was scared. Not of him — of what? Of being seen? Of feeling something?
"What do you want me to say?" he asked quietly. "Please don't hurt me? You're going to hurt me anyway. Please let me live? You already decided I'm going to die."
He laughed. It was a small, broken sound.
"I don't even know how to beg. No one ever taught me."
Shen Fang's face went through three expressions in rapid succession. Confusion. Anger. And then something that looked almost like guilt.
It passed quickly.
"You think you're clever?"
"No." Shen Jie shook his head. "I think I'm tired. Can you just... can you just do it? The waiting is worse than the hitting."
Shen Fang's jaw clenched. He yanked Shen Jie forward, dragging him through the mud. His grip was painful, fingers digging into Shen Jie's arm hard enough to leave bruises.
"You want to talk? Fine. Talk. What's your big plan, huh? You think someone's going to save you? Your father? He's the one who ordered this."
Shen Jie's feet dragged. His ankle twisted on a rock. He bit his lip to keep from crying out.
"I know," he said.
"Your mother's dead. No one in the clan wants you. The whole world wants you dead. So what's the plan? What are you going to do out there in the forest? Talk the wolves to death?"
Shen Jie didn't answer for a moment. His ankle was throbbing. His head was spinning.
"I don't know," he finally said. "I'll figure something out."
Shen Fang stopped walking.
He turned, crouched down, and grabbed Shen Jie's face. His fingers pressed into Shen Jie's cheeks, forcing their eyes to meet.
"You're not going to figure anything out. You're going to die out there. Alone. Scared. And no one is going to remember your name. Do you understand me? No one."
Shen Jie's eyes were wet. Rain, or maybe something else.
"You're probably right," he whispered. "No one will remember me."
Shen Fang shoved him away. Shen Jie hit the ground hard, his head cracking against a rock. Blood dripped into his eye.
"Get the gate," Shen Fang growled.
Shen Wei moved to the service gate. It creaked open, revealing the dark forest beyond. The trees looked like teeth. The darkness between them looked like a throat.
Shen Fang grabbed Shen Jie's robes and hauled him to his feet.
"Any last words?" he demanded.
Shen Jie looked past him, into the forest. A bird called somewhere in the darkness. An insect buzzed. The forest was alive, and he was about to be thrown into it.
He looked back at Shen Fang.
"What's my name?"
Shen Fang blinked. "What?"
"My name. What is it?"
Shen Fang opened his mouth. Closed it. His brow furrowed.
"You know what it is."
"I know. But do you?"
Shen Fang's face went blank. For a moment, just a moment, his eyes were empty. Searching.
Then anger replaced confusion.
"You think you're clever with your word games—"
"It's Shen Jie," Shen Jie said quietly. "My mother named me. She died giving birth to me. I don't know what the name means. No one ever told me."
He stepped toward the gate.
"You're going to forget it. By dinner, you won't remember. You won't remember my face either. You won't remember this conversation. You'll just remember that you threw something away today. Something worthless."
He walked through the gate. His bare feet touched wet grass. Cold wind bit through his thin robes.
"But I'm not worthless," he said, so quietly that only he could hear. "I'm not."
The gate slammed shut behind him.
---
He stood alone in the darkness for a long time.
The rain kept falling. The wind kept blowing. His body hurt everywhere. His head was bleeding. His ankle was swelling. His ribs burned with every breath.
He sat down in the wet grass.
"It hurts," he said to no one.
The forest didn't answer.
"It hurts a lot."
He pulled his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around them.
"I don't want to die out here."
His voice was small. Small and scared and very, very young.
"I don't want to die alone."
He pressed his face into his knees and let himself cry. Just for a minute. Just because no one was watching.
Then he stopped.
He wiped his face with his sleeve. His sleeve was wet. Everything was wet.
"Crying doesn't help," he told himself. "Crying doesn't fix anything."
He looked at the wall. The stones were tall and gray and completely indifferent.
"Dad always said I was a demon. A curse. Something that shouldn't exist."
He looked at his hands. Small. Pale. Bruised.
"But I do exist. So there must be a reason."
He didn't know if he believed that. But saying it out loud made him feel a little less scared.
He found a hollow beneath a tree — a small cave of roots and dirt, just big enough for his body. He crawled inside and curled up.
"I'll figure something out tomorrow," he whispered. "I always figure something out."
---
He dreamed of his mother.
He didn't know what she looked like. He'd never seen her face. But in the dream, she was warm. She held him. She told him everything would be okay.
He woke up cold and alone.
The morning light filtered through the moss covering his hollow. He lay still for a moment, listening. Birds. Insects. The rustle of leaves.
"I'm still alive," he said. His voice was hoarse.
He crawled out.
His body screamed at him. His ankle wouldn't hold his weight. His ribs felt like knives. His head throbbed.
But he was alive.
"Okay," he said. "Okay. First thing. Water."
He found a stream twenty minutes later. He had to crawl the last part. His ankle wouldn't let him walk anymore.
He lay on his belly and drank. The water was cold. It tasted like dirt and leaves and something clean underneath.
He drank until his stomach hurt, then rolled onto his back and stared at the sky.
"What now?" he asked the clouds.
The clouds didn't answer.
"Food, I guess. If I can find something to eat. Something that won't kill me."
He closed his eyes.
"I don't know how to find food. I don't know what's safe. I don't know anything."
He was quiet for a long moment.
"Mom would know. If she was here. She'd know what to do."
He opened his eyes.
"But she's not here. So I have to figure it out myself."
---
He heard the whimpering before he saw the wolf.
He froze behind a bush, heart pounding. Wolves were dangerous. Wolves killed people. Wolves—
He saw the trap.
The wolf was caught in an iron trap, its leg crushed between rusted jaws. Blood pooled beneath it. The animal's sides heaved with every labored breath.
Shen Jie stared.
"You're dying," he said.
The wolf's head lifted. Yellow eyes met his. There was fear in them. Pain. Desperation.
"I'm dying too," Shen Jie said. "Or I was. Last night. I almost died."
He sat down a few feet away from the wolf. Not too close. But not far enough to be safe.
"My family threw me out. They said I was a demon. A curse. Something that shouldn't exist."
The wolf's ears twitched. It watched him.
"Do you think I'm a demon?" he asked.
The wolf didn't answer. Of course it didn't answer. It was a wolf.
"You're just hungry," Shen Jie said. "That's all you care about. Food. Survival. I understand that."
He looked at the trap. At the blood. At the wolf's failing body.
"You're going to die soon. In an hour, maybe. And then your life is just... gone. Wasted."
He felt something stir in his chest. A hunger. Not for food. Something else. Something that had always been there, waiting.
"I have something inside me," he said quietly. "Something that eats. I've always had it. It's why they called me a demon."
He moved closer. The wolf snarled weakly.
"I know you're scared. I'm scared too. I've been scared my whole life."
He reached out. His hand hovered above the wolf's flank.
"But I don't want to be scared anymore. And I don't want to be hungry anymore. And I don't want to be worthless."
His palm touched the wolf's fur.
"I just want to live."
The hunger exploded.
He gasped. His hand locked onto the wolf's fur. He tried to pull away, but his body wouldn't listen.
"No—" he choked. "Stop—"
The wolf convulsed. Its fur grayed. Crumbled. Its muscles withered.
"Please—"
And then it was over.
Shen Jie fell backward. He landed hard, chest heaving, heart pounding. His hands were shaking.
He looked at the empty trap. The iron jaws closed on nothing. A few scraps of gray fur drifted in the breeze.
"What was that?" he whispered.
He looked at his hands. They were clean. Pale. Stronger. His ankle didn't hurt anymore. His ribs didn't hurt. The cut on his head had stopped bleeding.
He touched his face. The bruises were gone.
"I... I feel better."
He sat up. His body felt different. Lighter. Stronger. Like he had eaten a feast.
He looked at the empty trap again.
"You were going to die anyway," he said. "At least... at least something good came from it. Right?"
He didn't know if that was true. He didn't know if any of this was right or wrong.
All he knew was that he wasn't hungry anymore.
And for the first time in his life, he wasn't afraid.
---
He heard voices an hour later.
"...tracked the beast this far. It's wounded. Should be easy prey."
Shen Jie ducked behind a fallen log. Through the leaves, he saw two men. Cultivators. Their robes were blue with silver clouds.
One was young, maybe twenty. The other was older, harder, with a sword at his hip.
"The trap is here," the older one said. "But there's no wolf."
"Maybe it got free?"
The older man picked up a scrap of gray fur. It crumbled between his fingers.
"This did not get free."
Shen Jie pressed himself against the log. His heart was pounding so loud he was sure they could hear it.
Don't move. Don't breathe. Don't—
"Something's wrong here," the older man murmured. "The qi feels... depleted. Like something drained it."
The younger man frowned. "Drained? What could drain qi like that?"
"I don't know."
The older man's eyes swept the forest. They passed over Shen Jie's hiding spot. Paused. Moved on.
He didn't see me. He didn't—
"Wait."
The older man's hand went to his sword.
"Someone's here."
Shen Jie closed his eyes.
I'm going to die. I'm going to die here.
"Show yourself," the older man commanded. "Now."
Shen Jie's body moved before his mind caught up. He stood. He stepped out from behind the log.
He was small. Barefoot. Robes torn and muddy. Blood dried on his face. He looked exactly like what he was: a scared, starving child.
"I'm here," he said. His voice was shaking.
The two men stared at him.
"A child?" the younger one said.
"In the forest? Alone?" The older man's grip on his sword didn't loosen. "What are you doing here, boy?"
Shen Jie's throat was dry. His hands were shaking. He felt like he was going to throw up.
"I... they threw me out. My family. They said I was a curse and they threw me out."
The younger man's expression softened. "Threw you out? A child?"
"What did you do?" the older man demanded. "Clans don't throw out children for nothing."
Shen Jie looked at the ground. His voice was barely a whisper.
"I don't know. I never did anything. They just... they always hated me. Since I was born. Because of what I am."
The older man's eyes narrowed. "What are you?"
Shen Jie didn't answer.
"Boy. I asked you a question."
"I'm hungry," Shen Jie said. "I'm always hungry. That's what they said. That I'm always hungry. That I eat things I shouldn't eat."
He looked up. His eyes were wet.
"I didn't mean to hurt anyone. I just... I was hungry. That's all."
The younger man's hand dropped from his sword. "He's just a kid, Senior Brother. Look at him. He's terrified."
"He's not just a kid," the older man said slowly. "He's the Shen boy. The one they talk about. The devourer."
The younger man's face went pale. "The demon child?"
"I'm not a demon," Shen Jie said. His voice cracked. "I'm just... I'm just me. I didn't ask to be born like this. I didn't ask for any of it."
He wiped his eyes with his sleeve.
"I just want to live. Is that so wrong? To want to live?"
The silence stretched.
The older man stared at him for a long, long moment. Then, slowly, his hand left his sword.
"No," he said quietly. "It's not wrong to want to live."
He turned away.
"Come. We leave."
The younger man stared. "We're just... leaving him?"
"He's not our problem."
"But the sect master said—"
"The sect master said to report demonic cultivators. He did not say to execute children."
The older man walked away. His footsteps faded into the trees.
The younger man hesitated. He looked at Shen Jie, then at his senior's retreating back.
"You should run," he said quietly. "When he reports this, they will come for you."
Shen Jie nodded slowly. "I know."
The man t
urned and hurried after his companion.
Shen Jie stood alone in the clearing.
He looked at the empty trap. The scraps of fur. The fading footprints.
Then he looked at his hands.
"They're going to come for me," he said. His voice was steady now. Not shaking anymore.
He closed his fingers into fists.
"Let them come."
He turned and walked deeper into the forest.
"I'm not running anymore."
---
End of Chapter 1