While they were going away, the captain heard a slight sound of a voice coming from a direction not far from them...
The sound had been faint... barely a whisper on the wind. But to a man like the Captain, it might as well have been a scream.
He halted mid-step, eyes narrowing. Around him, the dying breath of the afternoon clung to the slopes of the mountain. Clouds like scattered ash drifted in the amber sky, casting long, stretched shadows across the ruined town below. The air was heavy with the sharp, metallic scent of dried blood and smoke, and beneath that, something else.. something quieter, like a breath trying not to be heard.
A voice. Brief. Fragile.
He turned his head slowly, his dark grey eyes sweeping across the battered earth. Crushed leaves stirred gently under his boots as he moved, each step calm, silent, his cloak trailing behind him like spilled ink. The other soldiers remained behind, their chatter dimming as they watched him vanish in the distance...
His stride led him to an underground wooden structure at the far end of the ruined village, where broken beams leaned against each other like weary old men. Blood had soaked into the splintered wood around it, dark and flaking, and at the center of it all was a small, square hatch... an underground door, its edges caked in dried gore.
The Captain knelt beside it. His fingers hovered over the latch for a breath, then pulled it open.
A stale gust rose to greet him, thick with the scent of rot and old fear.
Inside, two forms lay tangled together. One was small, the kind of small that hadn't known ten winters yet. The other was older.. still a child, but barely. She was curled tightly around the boy like a shield that had weathered too many battles. Her light red robe, though once vibrant, was soaked dark with blood. Strands of her black hair clung to her cheeks in twisted knots, except for a patch of silver at the right side, which shimmered faintly under the dying light. Her eyes.. those bright green eyes, fluttered open slowly, hesitantly, like waking petals after a storm.
They didn't widen or plead. They simply stared.
Careful. Weary. Prepared to break if necessary.
"Wu Pang," the Captain said, his voice cutting clean through the stillness.
The younger soldier stepped forward, his boots grinding softly against the dirt.
"Yes, Captain?"
"Check the children. If they're infected…" the Captain's voice didn't change, didn't waver, "you know what to do."
Without another word, he turned and walked away. The wooden hatch creaked shut behind him.
Wu Pang lowered himself beside the structure, pulling from his belt a small pouch of white powder. He loosened its mouth, then gently blew into the entrance. A thin stream of dust spread through the space like a whisper, and the two children slumped into sleep, their breathing slowing as their small bodies relaxed in forced peace.
Two more soldiers emerged from behind the trees, their faces masked and gloves pulled high as they lifted the children, placing them onto stretchers fashioned from spare robes and broken spears. Wu Pang followed closely behind, eyes focused on the girl's face as though expecting it to shatter at any moment.
"No signs of the plague," one soldier said quietly.
Wu Pang nodded once. "Then we take them. Before night comes."
And so they left the mountain, the bodies of the children swaying gently with each step of the soldiers.
****
Zolli's eyes flinched open like shutters dragged from years of sleep. Her breath hitched in her throat as she blinked against the dim, dusty light trickling in through the slits of the wooden box.
The air was musty, thick like damp wool pressed against her face. Her fingers twitched, but they didn't move freely. A sharp tug reminded her of the rusty chains biting into her wrists and ankles. Her legs were drawn tight together, iron biting into skin, and her arms could do little more than shift inches before rattling uselessly against the wooden walls that caged her.
She was confined. A box.. small, wooden, barely large enough to sit in. Her knees were tucked up to her chest, shoulders hunched, back pressed to the stiff wood behind her. The interior reeked of mold and old wood. Something above creaked now and then, as if the world outside was moving without her.
Her heart didn't race. Not exactly. No, it beat slow and steady, like a drum wrapped in thick cloth.
Zolli didn't cry out. Didn't scream.
She just breathed.
Then came the panic.. not for herself. Never for herself.
Her head shot up, hitting the low ceiling with a dull thunk. She hissed and shrank back, clutching her head, then pressed her ear to the wall beside her.
"Yai Lu?" Her voice cracked like dry paper.
Silence answered her.
"Yai Lu.. " she tried again, louder this time, but her voice bounced back to her in cold echoes.
She kicked.
Once.
Twice.
Again and again. Her bare feet slammed into the box's walls with more defiance than strength. But the wood barely budged. No sound came back. No one came running.
The hours bled together.
Her legs ached. Her arms throbbed from the strain. Her throat grew dry. But her eyes remained wide, searching the cracks in the wood for something... anything. Her thoughts spun like a wheel caught in mud, over and over, stuck on the same word:
Junior Brother.
Where was he?
Is he okay?
Did they take him somewhere safer? Somewhere worse?
Did he wake up? Was he scared?
And most of all...
Was he alone?
The longer she sat, the more the panic ebbed, not because it faded, but because it settled. Like dirt in water. It didn't disappear. It just became part of her.
Zolli rested her head back against the box, green eyes staring blankly at the ceiling she could almost touch with her forehead. Her breath was shallow. Her lips barely moved as she whispered, "Just be okay… be okay…"
She wasn't afraid for herself.
No.
She'd accepted that she couldn't fight this.
Not like this.
Not right now.
She was helpless. Chained. Alone. Shut in a coffin of wood that moved without her knowing where it led.
And yet, something in her wouldn't crack.
Not until she saw him again.
Somehow, she would. She had to. That was enough.
That was everything.
Click!
The world jolted.
The box trembled.
Zolli's body tensed instantly, her back snapping straight. The shaking stopped just as suddenly.
No sound.
No wind.
No voices.
Nothing.
She sat up straighter, not fully because of the confined space, eyes narrowing at the stillness.
They had stopped moving.
And somewhere outside this wooden prison, the unseen waited...