Mae Rim stood at the village edge, watching Tan Kai and Yara Yu go—her gnarled hand clutching the edge of her woven shawl, the tiny lotus boat she'd made for them already tucked safely in Tan Kai pocket. "The forest won't be kind," she called after them, her voice carrying on the afternoon breeze. "Keep the lotus close. And if you see Tong's men—run. Don't fight."
Tan Kai nodded, the golden lotus hovering softly above his palm. Its warm light glinted off the pouch of dried palm leaves Mae Rim had pressed into his hand, the ones meant to ward off cursed blooms. "We will. Thank you, Mae Rim."
Yara Yu waved, her hair tied back with that frayed lotus-fiber string, no veil to hide her face now. "We'll come back. With answers."
They turned and walked away, the village huts shrinking behind them, the dirt path stretching toward the Ironwood Forest. The sun was already dipping low, painting the sky in streaks of orange and pink—like someone had spilled melted gold over cotton. Tan Kai boots crunched over dry rice stalks, and Yara Yu hummed a soft tune under her breath, one Li Na had taught her years ago, about lotus blooms and river winds.
They'd walked for maybe an hour when the first scream cut through the air.
It was high, ragged, full of fear. Tan Kai froze, hand flying to the knife at his waist; Yara Yu humming stopped, her body tensing beside him. The golden lotus in his palm flickered—dimmed for a heartbeat, then flared bright, warm light seeping into his wrist like a warning. Danger.
"Stay back," Tan Kai whispered, pulling Yara Yu behind a thick mango tree. He peeked around the trunk—and felt his stomach drop.
Up ahead, by a small fire pit, three men in black cloth short coats stood over a hunched figure. One of them had his boot pressed into the man's wrist, the man's face mashed into the dirt, tears mixing with mud. The fire pit crackled, smoke curling up to stain the pink sky, and Tan Kai could smell it—burned cloth, smoke, and the faint, sickly sweet tang of the poison Tong's men used.
"Where is it?" the man with the boot snapped, his voice rough as gravel. He kicked the man's ribs, and another scream tore out. "The golden lotus. The boy who carries it. You saw him—tell us!"
The villager sobbed, his hands clutching at the dirt. "I didn't! I swear! I just sell fruit by the path—I've never seen a golden lotus! Please—let me go! My kids are waiting at home!"
Tan Kai jaw tightened. Tong's men. They were looking for him. For the lotus. He glanced at Yara Yu—her face pale, her hands balled into fists—and felt his own fists clench until his knuckles hurt. He wanted to run out there, yank that boot off the villager's wrist, use the lotus's light to push those men back. But Mae Rim's words echoed in his head: Don't fight. Run.
Yara Yu touched his arm, her fingers cold. "We can't help him," she whispered, her voice tight. "If we go out there, they'll see the lotus. They'll kill us. And then we'll never find Master Tai Chu . Never save your mom."
Tan Kai bit his lip so hard he tasted blood. He looked back—at the villager's shaking shoulders, at the man in black raising a fist to hit him again—and closed his eyes for a second. It felt like betrayal, walking away. Like letting the darkness win. But Yara Yu was right. They had a mission. A mother to save.
He grabbed Yara Yu' hand and pulled her back, away from the fire, away from the screams. They ran, their shoes pounding the dirt, until the sound of the men's shouts faded into the distance—until all they could hear was their own ragged breathing and the wind rustling through the mango trees.
When they finally stopped, Tan Kai leaned against a tree, chest heaving. The golden lotus was dimmer now, like it too was drained by the fear and the running. Yara Yu pressed her back to the same tree, her eyes closed.
"The sun's almost gone," she said, nodding at the sky. The pink and orange had faded to gray, and the first stars were pricking through the dark. "We can't go into the forest tonight. Not with Tong's men out here. Not when we're tired."
Tan Kai looked toward the Ironwood—its trees already dark silhouettes against the sky, mysterious and dangerous. "Where do we stay, then?"
Yara Yu opened her eyes, a faint glint of hope in them. "I know someone. A man named Lung Phu Pha. Li Na told me about him, years ago. He's a hermit, lives in a bamboo hut not far from here. Used to be a warrior—had all kinds of skills, could fight off a dozen men with just a wooden staff. When the Heavenly Soldiers came to take Li Na, he tried to save Tan Agus. Got hurt bad—stabbed in the side with a celestial sword. Never fought again after that. Just keeps to himself, grows herbs and tends a small lotus pond."
Tan Kai straightened. "He'll let us stay?"
Yara Yu shrugged, but there was a small smile on her face. "Li Na said he's gruff, but soft underneath. He owes her a favor—she healed his wound once, when the celestial poison wouldn't go away. He'll help us."
They walked on, slower now, the sky darkening by the minute. Fireflies started to flicker in the grass, tiny green sparks that hovered just above the dirt. The air cooled, and Tan Kai pulled his jacket tighter—the golden lotus hovered closer, its warmth seeping through the fabric, like it was trying to keep him from shivering.
Lung Phu Pha's hut was hidden in a grove of bamboo, its roof thatched with palm leaves, a small garden of herbs growing around the door. A single oil lamp glowed in the window, casting a warm yellow circle on the ground. Tan Kai knocked softly on the bamboo door, his heart thudding.
The door creaked open a crack, and a pair of bright eyes peered out—old, but sharp, like they could see straight through him. A voice, rough as sandpaper, spoke: "Who's there? And don't lie—I can smell Tong's smoke on your clothes."
Yara Yu stepped forward, her voice steady. "We're friends of Li Na. I'm YaraYu. This is Tan Kai. We need a place to stay for the night. Just one night."
The door opened wider. Standing there was an old man—tall, even with a slight hunch, his hair and beard white as snow, tied back with a leather cord. He wore a simple gray tunic, and there was a faint scar along his left side, visible where the fabric pulled tight when he moved. His eyes fell on the golden lotus, and his eyebrows lifted.
"Li Na's boy," he said, not a question. He looked at Yara Yu, then back at Tan Kai. "Come in. But if you touch my herbs, I'll throw you out. And don't ask about the past—I don't talk about it."
The hut was small, but cozy. Bamboo walls lined with shelves of dried herbs, a clay stove in the corner, a wooden table with two stools, and a pile of straw mats in the corner for sleeping. Lung Phu Pha walked to the stove, stoked the embers, and set a pot of water to boil. "You look hungry," he said, opening a bamboo basket and pulling out a loaf of flatbread. He broke it into two pieces and handed them over. "Eat. It's not much, but it'll keep you full."
Tan Kai took the bread—still warm, with a hint of coconut—and bit into it. The golden lotus hovered above his hand, its light glinting off the bread's crumbs. Lung Phu Pha's eyes stayed on it for a second, then he looked away, stirring the water in the pot.
"Tong's men are out in force," he said, his voice low. "Looking for a boy with a golden lotus. You're him, aren't you?"
Tan Kai nodded, swallowing. "I am. I need to find Master Tai Chu . To learn to use the lotus's power. My mom—Li Na—is trapped. In the Soul-Binding Pagoda."
Lung Phu Pha's hands tightened around the spoon. For a second, Tan Kai saw something flash in his eyes—grief, anger, regret. "Li Na. I tried to save her. Tried to save Tan Agus, too. But the Heavenly Soldiers were too strong. My sword broke. My side…." He touched the scar, then shook his head. "Master Tai Chu won't be easy to convince. He's been angry for five hundred years. Angry at the Heavens. Angry at himself."
Yara Yu leaned forward, her elbows on the table. "You know him?"
"I met him once. Years ago. Before I stopped fighting. He's a good man, under all that anger. He'll help you—if you prove you're not just here for revenge. Prove you're here for family."
The water boiled, and Lung Phu Pha poured it into two chipped clay cups, adding a handful of dried mint from his shelves. "Drink. It'll help you sleep. The mats in the corner are clean. I'll wake you at dawn—before the sun comes up. Tong's men don't patrol this early, and the forest's quieter then."
Tan Kai took the cup, the mint's cool scent curling up to his nose. The golden lotus settled on the table between him and Yara Yu, its warm light softening the harsh lines of the bamboo walls. "Thank you," he said. "For letting us stay. For… telling us about Tai Chu."
Lung Phu Pha grunted, sitting down on one of the stools. He stared into his own cup, his face shadowed by the lamp's light. "Just don't make the same mistakes I did. Don't let anger break you. Don't let the Heavens win."
Later, when they lay on the straw mats, Tan Kai stared up at the bamboo ceiling, listening to Lung Phu Pha's soft snoring from the other side of the hut. The golden lotus hovered above him, its light warm on his face. Yara Yu was already asleep, her breathing slow and steady.
He thought of the villager, back by the fire pit. Of his mom, trapped in the pagoda. Of Tan Agus, waiting in Jingxin Temple. Of Lung Phu Pha, and all the things he'd lost.
Tomorrow, they'd reach the Ironwood Forest. Tomorrow, they'd find Master Tai Chu . Tomorrow, he'd take the first step toward saving his mom.
He closed his eyes, the golden lotus's light lulling him to sleep. For the first time in weeks, he didn't dream of darkness. He dreamed of lotus blooms—bright, golden, endless—and his mom's smile, waiting for him at the end of the path.