The afternoon sun hung low over Mechanic City, painting the smokestacks in sickly orange light as Lin Che fled toward the outer districts. His ribs throbbed where Zhao Kun's pipe had hit him, and his wrist—still glowing faintly with the Star Marrow's silver light—tingled like a live wire. He'd lost his hood in the chaos of the workshop, so he kept his head down, weaving through crowds of factory workers and street vendors, afraid the Zhao family's thugs would spot him.
A vendor's shout made him jump: "Fresh synthetic noodles! Hot off the grill!" Lin Che's stomach growled—he hadn't eaten since dawn—but he didn't stop. Su Qing's scream echoed in his ears, sharp and raw. She's in trouble. I have to get to Black Stone Forest. I have to find help.
The city's outer districts grew grittier the farther he ran. The factories gave way to dilapidated shanties, their walls covered in graffiti. The air smelled of rot and burnt plastic, and the only sounds were the creak of rusted awnings and the distant wail of a city patrol siren. Lin Che's boots crunched on broken glass as he ducked into an alley—one he'd played in as a kid, back when his parents were still alive.
He paused to catch his breath, leaning against a moldy wall. His wrist flared again, and a memory flickered—Su Qing's hands, gentle as she wrapped a bandage around his scraped knee, her voice soft: "Black Stone Forest isn't safe. The trees move. The mist tricks you." He'd thought she was just trying to scare him then. Now, he hoped she'd been wrong.
A clatter from the alley mouth made him freeze. Two men in the Zhao family's brass-badged jackets stepped into view, their eyes scanning the shadows. "He went this way!" one shouted, holding up a crumpled poster—Lin Che's face stared back at him, printed in blurry ink, with "WANTED: FOR THEFT OF ARCANE PROPERTY" scrawled across the top.
Lin Che's heart raced. He scrambled to the back of the alley, where a loose board covered a drainage pipe. He pried it off with his fingers—his nails breaking, blood oozing—and squeezed inside. The pipe was narrow, filled with slime and the stench of sewage, but he didn't care. He crawled forward, the sound of the thugs' boots growing fainter behind him.
The pipe emptied into a culvert on the edge of the city. Lin Che climbed out, gasping for air, and collapsed onto a patch of dry grass. Ahead, Black Stone Forest rose like a dark wall—its trees twisted and gnarled, their bark black as coal, their branches reaching toward the sky like skeletal fingers. Even from here, he could feel a strange energy in the air—cold, and sharp, like the edge of a blade.
He stood slowly, brushing sewage from his clothes, and started toward the forest. The ground grew softer underfoot, the city's noise fading into silence. The trees closed in around him, blocking out the sun, and the air grew cool. A faint mist curled around his ankles, making his skin prickle.
Su Qing said the mist tricks you, he thought. He kept his eyes fixed on the path, but the trees seemed to shift when he wasn't looking—one moment, a gnarled oak stood to his left; the next, it was a twisted pine. His heart hammered. Was he lost already?
A low growl made him stop.
He turned slowly. A wolf stood ten feet away, its fur black as the forest's bark, its eyes glowing yellow. It bared its teeth, saliva dripping from its jaws. Lin Che's hand drifted to his belt—he'd lost his wrench in the workshop, his only weapon gone.
The wolf lunged.
Lin Che dove to the side, rolling in the dirt. The wolf crashed into a tree, shaking its head. Lin Che scrambled to his feet, backing away. His wrist burned—hotter this time—and a memory surged forward, clear and vivid: Ling An's hands, arranging dry herbs on a stone, her voice firm: "Vineweed. When crushed, it releases a scent that scares off wolves. Look for the purple flowers."
It was the Star Marrow—unlocking Ling An's memory, the Spirit Plant Guardian from his first life. Lin Che dropped to his knees, scanning the ground. There—growing at the base of a tree, small purple flowers blooming—vineweed. He grabbed a handful, crushing the leaves between his palms. A sharp, earthy scent filled the air.
The wolf growled again, stepping forward—but then it froze, its nose twitching. It backed away, ears flattened, and turned, vanishing into the mist.
Lin Che collapsed onto the ground, his chest heaving. He stared at his hands—the crushed vineweed still in his fingers, the Star Marrow's glow fading to a soft shimmer. It worked, he thought. Ling An's memory… it saved me.
He stood, brushing off his knees, and looked ahead. Through the mist, he saw it—a stone arch, half-buried in moss, its surface carved with faint symbols. Su Qing's words echoed again: "Meet me at the old stone arch."
He ran toward it, his legs aching, his heart filled with hope. When he reached the arch, he stopped, breathless. The symbols on the stone glowed faintly, matching the Star Marrow's light.
"Su Qing?" he called, his voice echoing through the forest. "Su Qing, are you here?"
No answer. Only the mist, curling around the arch, and the distant hoot of an owl.
Lin Che's hope faded. Had he been too late? Had the Zhao family found her first?
He reached out, touching the arch's stone. It was cold, and smooth. The symbols glowed brighter, and his wrist tingled. A faint whisper seemed to float on the mist—"Not yet… wait…"
He stepped back, frowning. Was it his imagination? Or was the arch trying to tell him something?
A twig snapped behind him.
Lin Che spun around, his hands raised. But it wasn't a thug, or a wolf. A girl stood there, her hair matted with dirt, her clothes torn, a small bundle of herbs in her hands. She couldn't have been more than twelve, with wide, scared eyes—and a faint green glow in her palms.
"Who are you?" she asked, her voice trembling. "Are you… looking for someone?"
Lin Che lowered his hands, his heart softening. "I'm Lin Che. I'm looking for my friend—Su Qing. She said she'd be here, at the stone arch."
The girl's eyes widened. "Su Qing? The Arcane healer? I saw her. She was with the Zhao family's men—they took her deeper into the forest. Toward the old ruins."
Lin Che's blood ran cold. "The ruins? Where?"
The girl pointed into the mist, toward the heart of the forest. "Follow the path. But be careful—the ruins are guarded. By something worse than wolves."
Lin Che nodded, gratitude swelling in his chest. "Thank you. What's your name?"
"Xiao Ya," she said. "I… I can help you. I can talk to the plants. They'll show us the safest way."
Lin Che looked at her—small, scared, but brave—and then at the mist-shrouded path ahead. He couldn't do this alone. Not against the Zhao family. Not against whatever guarded the ruins.
"Okay," he said. "Let's go."
Xiao Ya smiled, small and shy, and started down the path. Lin Che followed, his wrist glowing faintly, Ling An's memory still fresh in his mind. The forest was dangerous. The Zhao family was close. But for the first time since he'd fled the workshop, he didn't feel alone.
He had Xiao Ya. He had the Star Marrow. And he had a chance to save Su Qing.
He just hoped it was enough.