On the morning of departure, the sky was pale, weighed down by a stubborn mist. Five disciples, chosen for the mission, stood ready at the foot of the trail: Hei Tian, Lin Mo (an arrogant boy from an influential family), the gentle Yun Lue, and two others with uncertain gazes.
Old Chen had come, silent as ever, to hand them small vials of protective essence. To Hei Tian, he offered a small bundle of leaves wrapped in cloth.
— For burns and bites, he said. And to remind you that even fragile steps leave a trace.
Hei Tian nodded in thanks. He didn't dare say what he was feeling—a strange mix of calm, tension, and… expectation.
They disappeared into the mountain paths before the sun could pierce the fog.
---
The road was long. The thick forests, laced with strange currents of air, seemed to watch them pass.
Yun Lue walked beside Hei Tian. She was one of the few who hadn't judged him since his arrival. Sometimes, she looked at him as if waiting for something—without knowing what.
— Aren't you afraid? she asked softly.
— Afraid of what?
— Of what we might find up there. These mountains aren't as quiet as people say.
He turned his head toward her.
— Fear often comes from what we don't understand. But if we listen… sometimes it says useful things.
She smiled, surprised.
— You listen to fear?
— I do. I observe it. It speaks more clearly than the village gossip.
---
At nightfall, they set up camp. The fire crackled gently. Lin Mo was mocking Hei Tian in a half-voiced sneer, tossing jabs under the guise of humor. Hei Tian didn't answer.
But later, while the others slept, a strange sound echoed in the distance.
A breath. Then a crack. Then… a whisper.
Hei Tian stood silently and slipped away from the camp.
He followed the sound. It led him to a small clearing. There, under the cold moonlight, stood a black stone—cracked, marked with lines he couldn't read.
He stepped closer. The wind seemed to stop around it. Silence pressed in from all sides.
And as he laid his hand on the stone, he felt something. Not a voice. Not a vision. Rather… a presence. Vast. Distant. And… tired.
A dull pain climbed into his skull. He pulled back sharply.
Behind him, a rustle.
He turned. Lin Mo.
— You're a strange one… always sneaking off alone.
His tone was mocking, but his eyes were wary. He had seen Hei Tian tremble.
— What were you doing here? he asked.
Hei Tian hesitated.
— Listening.
— Listening to what? A rock?
Lin Mo snorted. But something in his gaze said he wasn't at ease.
— This place… isn't natural, Hei Tian added. We should mark it. Inform the village.
— Trying to scare people, is that it? Make yourself look important?
Hei Tian stayed calm. He had no desire to convince him. He knew what he had felt. And that was enough.
---
At dawn, one of the disciples was found injured, farther down the path. Clawed. Broken. Still breathing—but unconscious.
The whispers returned.
Something… was roaming the Mountain.
---