The skies above the Land of the Three Valleys were still basking in the morning light from the east, while heavy clouds from the west were crawling closer and closer, heading towards the terraced fields. Between the clouds, hidden away, a dark shape moved forward, its massive wings cutting through the cotton-like dark mist, carefully avoiding human detection. If looked at it closely, the creature’s wings spanned wider than the sails of the largest windmill in the town below the gathering clouds. At the same time, its feathers were as black as obsidian, with flashes of violet running along their edges as light sometimes caught reflecting from its surface. Upon its back sat a woman, her eyes surveying the view from above as she watched it get closer, the bird beginning to descend out of view, away from civilization.

  Of course, it was Elder Yan.

  When her spirit companion folded its wings, the air buckled at once, but she remained upright, not even her hair's stillness changing as her companion circled once over the cliffs, then dropped like a meteor into the valley. Right before it would hit the ground, it spread its wings again, its landing ending in a single sweeping current of air, touching down without a sound.

  "Thank you, my dear," Elder Yan stepped lightly off the raven’s back, patting its body.

  She turned to look at it with a smile, brushing the bird’s feathers as it croaked low in its throat, showing how content it was with the compliment, before simply transforming into black mist, disappearing. When the bird was gone from the edge of the empty field, a figure emerged from the trees. It was the same young woman who alerted Elder Yan of her discovery, now dressed in plain traveler’s garb, her black hair bound in a loose braid. She bowed low as she approached, eyes lowered in utter respect.

  “Master.”

  “Kyrae,” Elder Yan said, smiling faintly. “I have to say, regular clothes look great on you, ahaha~!”

  "Please, Master..." Kyrae straightened her back, her lips twitching with a hint of humor. “They feel like I am wearing sacks that are made for hauling potatoes, not for covering human skin. Itchy... Plus... This land is lagging behind not only everyone else, but time itself! Ugh... Anyway... Shall we begin?”

  "Yes, and I should change clothes, too, hm?" Elder Yan glanced at the distant rooftops that were made of crooked wood, some having smoke coming out from uneven chimneys made of mud and dirt. With a snap of her fingers, her garbs folded in on themselves, changing their appearance to mimic Kyrae's rough, grey, and brown traveling clothes, patched and dirty, exactly where they needed to be. “Let’s see where the boy’s story began and what we would discover. I can't help but be curious.”

  "This way, Master." Her disciple nodded, leading the way for both of them.

  They entered the closest village through the narrow road that twisted between waterwheels and small shrines, built for the Gods. The air smelled... Depleted. For someone in Elder Yan's stage, at her level, one breath with her technique allowed her to determine not only the concentration of energy in the air but also the quality of the land she was trodding through. When the world was abundant with resources, of essence, it felt wonderful to take a deep breath... Here? The air she smelled was dry and almost devoid of anything. This place was the worst land for a cultivator and a place where only mortals would live, spending their short years in poverty, without ever realizing the dead zone they occupy. As the two walked, a few villagers stared openly at them, but most stepped aside, not wanting to get involved with outsiders. Kyrae did her best as she smiled at each of them with effortless charm, slipping into the role she had been masquerading as, being just another traveler, curious but harmless. In the end, the first person they spoke to was an old woman squatting by the roadside, sorting the caught fish into different baskets. Noticing the silent command from her Master, Kyrae crouched beside her and smiled.

  “Excuse me, Auntie,” she said, using the polite local address, mimicking the regional dialect perfectly. “We’re looking for someone who once lived here. A boy named Siu. Do you know him, perchance? I was told he was originating from somewhere here...”

  "Hm?" The woman squinted up at her. “Siu?” Her hands didn’t stop moving while scrutinizing her face. “There are many Sius; it isn't exactly a unique name, you know. You’ll have to be clearer.”

  “He would be about... a teenager now,” Kyrae said after thinking for just a second. “He was born here, taken by one of the sects when he was small.”

  "..." There was a change, and both of them caught how the old woman’s fingers hesitated for a moment, then resumed the sorting of the fish. “Ah… the Clown.” Her tone stiffened. “Yes, I remember him. Most of us do... Quiet boy. His mother used to sell clay pots in the market... Haah, even if the boy was a fake... Poor family.”

  “What happened to them?” Kyrae asked, realizing they were on the correct trail. At least, it felt like it.

  “They died,” the woman said simply. “It was years ago, I would tell you where they were buried, except they weren't. Nothing remained of them, you see, not after that fire. Some say that shame took the father first, chasing him into madness, and then the mother followed not long after, and they... set everything ablaze."

  "Would they really do it?" Kyrae asked, making the old woman fall silent, then to look around, whispering.

  "Some said the sect cursed them.” She shook her head, throwing up a weird sign before her chest. “Drop it... You’re not from around here. Best not to ask too much! The Three don’t like people prying into old stories they want us to forget!”

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  "I see." Kyrae thanked her with a solid silver coin and stood up, while Elder Yan had said nothing the whole time. Glancing at the village roads, the meadow nearby, her eyes were distant, unfocused, listening, yes, but not with her ears.

  “Master?” Kyrae asked quietly as they walked on, waiting until her Master's eyes refocused again.

  “He left his mark in here,” Yan murmured. “It’s hidden, just as his true emotions... but I caught his spirit-mark. He indeed lived here. If not for testing him myself at the entrance ceremony, I wouldn't know but... We are indeed in the right place.”

  "Master, if you are this interested in him, should I also keep an eye on him after I get back to the Sect? I am getting curious about my future little brother." She giggled, making Yan smile, glancing at her disciple.

  "Only from afar. Let him bloom by himself, Kyrae. We don't want to ruin a talent now... do we?"

  While talking, they followed the dirt road until it opened onto a low bank where the river bent sharply around the village. Children were skipping stones across the water, their laughter freely echoing through the valley, as Yan closed her eyes and reached out with her spirit.

  "Leave you, clown! You shamed us all!"

  There was one single sentiment that kept lingering around there, making Elder Yan frown, before they arrived at their next stop, which was the inn. It was a squat, black building with many gross-looking walls, as the smoke constantly coming from its chimneys stained the building. And the other part of the stain came from when stuff was thrown out of the windows, without care. Inside, the air was thick just the same as around it, while a few men sat at low-placed tables, playing dice with flat stones, smoking pipes. Then the two entered, they glanced up at the newcomers but quickly lost interest, thanks to Elder Yan's mind forcing them only to see two... nobodies. Without stopping, Kyrae approached the innkeeper, who was a broad man with a scar across his cheek.

  “Excuse me,” she said, sliding a coin across the counter. “We’re tracing a relative’s son. His name was Siu, and as far as we know, he joined a sect when he was little, around here.”

  "Hm?" The man took the coin, turned it over once, and pocketed it. “That story again? Thought it died with the family.”

  “You knew them?”

  “Knew of them.” He poured something akin to cheap ale into two cups and gestured for them to sit. “The family was a potter, with a decent enough man at the helm. All I know is that the sect people came one spring morning, said the boy had talent, and because they discovered it, they were taking him in. They were proud and threw a feast for the whole village! Honestly, back then, everyone was proud of them. A cultivator? From our place? But... Then, a few years later, the sect threw the boy out and said he was a fraud and that he shamed the name of cultivators. You can guess the rest, because everyone turned their backs on the family."

  "You too?" Kyrae asked with a sly smile, but the man just shrugged.

  "It’s how things go. It is either swim or sink out here, Missy.”

  “No, no, I get it. What did they say he did?” She asked, waving a hand.

  “Couldn’t cultivate? I think. I don't know much. Some folks said he was cursed, so the kids began avoiding him after his return. Others said his parents had bribed the testers, but in the end, no one wanted to know. The family name was contagious... So everyone refused to utter their names.” He took a sip of one of the mugs, seeing that the girls weren't touching them. “The mother hanged herself. The father drowned in the river a month later. The boy never came back.”

  "Weren't they burnt in a fire?"

  "Fire?" The innkeeper asked, pursing his lips, "No, no. There wasn't a fire."

  "..." Elder Yan’s fingers suddenly flinched, though her expression remained calm. Yet, it was the first time she spoke up, looking directly at the man, piercing his gaze. “Do you know which sect took him?”

  "It was a long time ago..." The man frowned, suddenly his voice becoming distant... foggy. And... It was as if he was fighting with something... Something that began hurting him until Elder Yan broke eye contact. “Azure something." He said, breaking out of the weirdness he fell into, his eyes blinking away the sudden tears in his eyes, "All I know is that all three are the same! They preach about wisdom and serenity while they steal half the valley’s harvest.” He chuckled bitterly. “If you’re looking for justice, lady, you’re a decade too late.”

  "I'm just looking for a lost relative," Kyrae smiled as she thanked him with another coin before they left.

  Walking outside, the sound of the river felt sharper now, less like water and more like knives being dragged along a grinding stone... before hitting flesh. Elder Yan stood still for a long time, her gaze tracing the waters before moving towards the cliffside. Their edges climbed the narrow path that wound up toward the terraces. At the border of the ridge stood a shrine half-collapsed under moss, its wooden beams carved with faded serpent patterns. The paint had peeled, but she recognized the style and function as the place had once been an outpost, but was then abandoned.

  “Kyrae,” she said, running a hand along her hair. “What do you see?”

  “Faint residues." She answered, crossing her arms, thinking about what to say, "Primitive cultivation patterns, going by the sense I am getting from the remnants left in the air. But there's... a faint trace of a somewhat stronger spell. I wouldn't say powerful, but strong for a place like this.”

  “Mhm." Elder Yan nodded, "The conflicting memories of the incident regarding his parents are a clear telltale sign that whatever happened, the mortals' memories were affected or even manipulated. The deaths were of cultivator hands, that is for sure."

  "Why would they care about that? I mean, the memories of the locals?"

  "Easy," Elder Yan smiled, looking around, "The cultivators of this place are still intertwined with the mortals. Someone needs to make their food, no? Losing control over them could be fatal... This just shows how primitive these... Sects are. A blemish on the name, really."

  "I see," Kyrae watched her master’s expression shift. “You found something, Master.”

  “An echo,” Yan said softly, nodding. “A melody without an instrument... A sad one... With an encore of rage.”

  "Does this mean the boy is dangerous?" Kyrae asked, furrowing her brow.

  "Not to us." Elder Yan smiled, "But whoever made him endure everything will have a lot to deal with after he matures. We should go."

  "Master?" Kyrae asked, gawking, "Go? Shouldn't we head out and check the Sects, to find out more?!"

  "No." She spoke softly, breathing out, and from her mouth a lullaby-like melody began emerging, something that was more than just a whistle, enveloping the village, removing their presence from the people's minds, making them forget they ever talked to them. "This is Siu's place to clean up... If we rob him of this, he will get stuck. Never mention it to anyone inside the sect either, understood?"

  "Of course, Master!" Kyrae nodded, her eyes twinkling, "I can't wait to see it happen..."

  "It will be interesting." Her master chuckled while the spirit of her massive raven appeared next to them, and the girls climbed aboard its back, "I wonder... what will he do with them...? Will there be mercy... or none at all?"