Qin Shui's steps echoed unevenly over the shattered stones of an ancient temple, long abandoned and swallowed by time. The city had grown around this relic of the past—a forgotten sanctuary where magic had once flourished in its purest form, before technology had claimed dominion.
Most avoided this place, fearing the wild stories of spirits and curses. But Qin Shui was drawn here by an unspoken need, a hunger he could neither name nor quiet.
The air was thick with dust and silence. His eyes adjusted to the dim glow emanating from the ruin's heart—an orb resting atop a stone pedestal, humming softly with a rhythm that seemed to echo his own breath.
Tentatively, he reached out and touched it.
A vortex of light spiraled through his fingertips, cracking the night's stillness.
A voice — clear, yet impossible to place—angered the quiet. It spoke not aloud but inside his mind.
"You have been chosen, Qin Shui."
His breath caught.
"Chosen by what? Who… are you?" His voice wavered as he demanded answers from the void.
The orb pulsed, glowing darker, then brighter.
"I am the Echo. I am the Keeper of the Path. You stand at the crossroads."
Qin Shui's heart hammered, unsure whether to flee or surrender. His voice was barely a whisper.
"Which path? What do you want from me?"
The orb's glow dimmed, releasing a single truth.
"There is power beyond your world. But power comes with price — and the price is not always paid in blood. It's paid in hope, sacrifice, and countless choices."
His mind reeled, questions tumbling through his thoughts like falling leaves, but the Echo offered no further answers.
Only a choice: to accept the unknown and walk into the storm or retreat into the shadows forever.
For Qin Shui, the decision was inseparable from survival.
The city sleeps, but the night has only just begun.