With a flask of wine in hand, Hye continued drinking as he walked along the most haunted street in Nue-Li City. The street, and the entire area, was known by locals as the Haunted Land, a place where ancient tales of the dead were whispered from one generation to the next. The area had been abandoned long ago, and over time, the once-sturdy houses of wood and mud were left to nature. Now, the structures stood as silent, skeletal remains, their roofs caved in and their windows gaping black holes. Vines snaked through crumbling doorways, and wild grasses choked the pathways, all of it reclaimed by the quiet, creeping forces of the earth.
The dilapidated streets, with their houses stretching for more than twenty blocks, had long been abandoned, left to the relentless erosion of time. Above, the moonlight illuminated the night sky like a solitary lantern, casting a ghostly glow. As he approached, the shadows of the houses slowly crept from the surrounding darkness, long and twisted, as if the buildings themselves were reaching out to him.
Yet, despite the creeping shadows and the hollow winds that raged, Hye felt no fear. He knew exactly where he was going, and to him, the lurking darkness that most people feared was nothing compared to the true evil humans displayed. Others feared the unknown and the supernatural, but he feared what he had seen firsthand: the cruelty and malice that lurked within the human heart. It was this deep, grim understanding of humanity that set him apart from most people.
Still clutching the wine jug, Hye continued across the dilapidated stone bridge, its surface thick with moss and mold. He walked two more blocks until he reached his destination, the manor he once called home. He ascended the worn stone steps and pushed open the half-broken door, which clicked with a resounding "clank." In the otherwise still night, the groaning, squeezing sound of the revolving door was as resonant as the pleas and screams of the people that day, the day his world was turned upside down.
He stepped into the empty courtyard, the moonlight casting a hazy shadow over everything. It was as if time had frozen in place, preserving every detail from the day the city fell. From the tilted chair to the broken table, everything remained exactly as it had been, a still-life of chaos and a silent testament to the violence that had taken place.
He wandered the cobwebbed hallways, the soft thud of his boots the only sound. As he continued to wander, he found himself standing in front of the small woodshed, the place where his nightmare began. He stared inside the empty room, filled with a dark energy that seemed to hang in the air. As he stared, the screams from Nabi clearly sounded in his ears, a tormenting memory that was as vivid as the pain he had felt that day.
He sighed, took a deep breath, and stepped into the empty room. He walked to the far right corner, sinking to the floor with his back against the cold stone wall. Still clutching the flask, he continued drinking his pain away as his eyes filled with tears, a silent, unending cascade down his cheeks. The wine did little to numb the agony as he was left with only the ghosts of his memories, the very ones he had desperately tried to forget.
He leaned his head back against the cold stone wall and looked up at the night sky, where the moon shone down on him through the half-broken roof. He chuckled, a sound that held no humor, and then sighed. As if speaking to the silent witness in the sky, he began to recite a poem, his voice a low, mournful murmur.
"The world outside keeps turning, a callous, vibrant blur,
While I am caught in a silence that knows only her.
The sun feels like a stranger, the moon a silver lie,
A witness to the quiet grief beneath a tearless eye.
I search for you in memories, a ghost in every room,
A fragrance on a pillow, a whisper in the gloom.
This sorrow is a heavy cloak, a constant, bitter guest,
And all that's left of you is this aching in my chest."
He finished, and a smile of pain came to his lips. He raised the jar in his hand towards the moon, its pale light glinting off the flask. "I toast to you, as you remain the same no matter how time flies," he said, his words a final, heartbreaking tribute to a love that would forever haunt him.
Standing not far from the old wooden shed, Khunbish turned to Chinua, a look of concern on his face. He gestured towards Hye, who was sitting alone in the dark. "Should we take him back?" he asked, his voice low.
Chinua shook her head. She understood that this was where Hye's pain began, in the very place where his world had been shattered. She knew that if Hye was ever to get better, he would have to find the cure himself. No one could walk this path for him; he had to face his ghosts alone.
"Leaving him here isn't safe. After all, the people here think he's one of us," Khenbish said, his voice laced with concern.
Chinua stood firm, her gaze fixed on the lone figure in the distance. She addressed her two guards without turning. "He's safer here than anywhere else right now. Physically and emotionally, he will come out of this and find a solution to his pain. I'm sure he can. After all, he's always come out a champion no matter how hard the situation." Her words were a testament to her unwavering trust in Hye, and a silent command to her men to respect his need for solitude.
Chinua and her two guards began walking away from the abandoned manor and into the open street. Chinua looked at the side of the road and couldn't help but think to herself, this place must have been beautiful in the past, filled with laughter and color. How sad that a once lively place was left to be ruined by time and nature.
"Do any of you know why this place was left like this?" Chinua asked.
"This is an execution ground, according to the soldiers," Khenbish said.
"Execution ground? How so?" Chinua asked, her voice quiet as she took in the grim history of the place.
Khenbish sighed, the sound heavy with the weight of the past. "This is where the captured Ginmiao soldiers were executed," he said. He pointed to his right. "Over that street, it used to be the old training ground for the Ginmiao soldiers. It's also the final resting place of many Ginmiao soldiers and civilians." The simple words transformed the desolate street from a forgotten ruin into a mass grave.
Hye's words about the atrocities committed by the Northern military hung heavily in Chinua's heart. The cruel image of boiling children was something her mind could not, and would not, conjure. She stopped and looked to Khenbish's right, where the ruined buildings blocked her view of the place where she knew true evil ground existed.
"No wonder he had me make such a promise to him," Chinua murmured, a dawning realization in her eyes. The knowledge of the horrors committed here settled over her like a shroud. "It makes me wonder how many people who came out of this dark abyss are truly sane."
"I'll have a few soldiers patrol here and make sure that he is safe," Khunbish said.
"You said, no one lives here, right?" Chinua asked, a different thought taking hold.
"Yes," Khenbish replied, "it's rumored to be a haunted ground."
Chinua scoffed, a short, sharp sound of disbelief. "Alright, then I'll claim this part of the city as my own then," she said.
Khenbish and Khunbish were taken aback, exchanging a quick glance. "But Chinua," Khunbish said, "no soldiers will want to live here. It's an execution ground."
Chinua looked at Khunbish with a soft smile. "You have no idea how many people are willing to live among ghosts rather than a walking devil in human skin," she said, her voice laced with a quiet certainty. She turned and started walking toward the stone bridge, her two guards trailing closely behind her, leaving the haunted land and its secrets behind.
After crossing the stone bridge, Chinua stood in the middle of the street for a moment, the moonlight illuminating her determined expression. She looked at Khenbish and asked, "Khenbish, where is the prison?"
Khenbish's eyes widened. "You want to visit the prison at this hour? Why?"
Chinua's gaze drifted to the heavens, her expression thoughtful. "Having a people surrender wholeheartedly without bloodshed is the most honorable victory," she said, her voice soft but firm. "Besides, I've already written to the royal father of this proposal." She looked down at her feet and then at the moon again. "I owe too much to Hye, and this time, he didn't ask for too much, so I'll do my best to ensure his only wish is granted."
"I'll take you," Khenbish said, his voice firm, and he quickly pulled Chinua back towards him.
The move came just in time, as an arrow flew straight past her into the night, a silent warning. With that, the sound of swords drawing from their scabbards sliced through the quiet night, and shiny blades emerged from the dark alley of the houses, their polished surfaces reflecting the distant moonlight.