The alley reeked of stale refuse and despair, a stench that had become as familiar to Wei Feng as the gnawing emptiness in his stomach. He huddled deeper into the shadows, the thin fabric of rags offering little defense against the biting chill of the night. Lands End was a harsh town, a gateway carved into the foothills of the Iron Mountains, and its poverty was as rugged as the miners who picked at the earth for precious ores. The cold seeped into Wei Feng's bones, a constant reminder of his desperation. He watched the dim light filtering from the back windows of The Respite’s Hearth, a place shrouded in whispers and dark rumors. It was said that children who went in never came out again. They simply disappeared, swallowed by the tavern's. For Wei Feng, that was both terrifying and a desperate hope – a chance, however slim and dangerous, for a new life.
Four years. Four long, brutal winters he had survived on these unforgiving streets. He was orphaned at ten, his parents murdered in a blaze that still haunted his nightmares. He remembered his father, a scholar and teacher, his voice resonant as educated the towns children. He recalled his mother, his father's devoted aide, her hands quick and nimble as she copied scrolls and prepared lessons. They had lived above the schoolhouse, the scent of ink and paper always in the air. He remembered the eager faces of students, young and old, the quiet rustle of pages, the gentle rhythm of his father's instruction. All of that was gone, reduced to smoke and embers. A group of martial artists, their faces hidden behind red devil masks, had descended upon their home and school at the dead of night, leaving nothing but ashes and the chilling echo of their laughter.
Since that night, Lands End had become his battleground. He had tried everything. Scavenging, petty theft—always with a heavy heart—even begging, each attempt met with equal measures of indifference and hostility. The miners, hardened by their labor and the town's perpetual struggle, had little to spare for a street urchin. His strength was failing, his luck had run dry, and the gnawing hunger was turning into a constant, debilitating ache. He wouldn't survive the next winter. He couldn't go on like this. He needed a change, even if that change meant risking oblivion.
He had heard the tales, whispered in hushed tones in the darkest corners of the town. Children, like him, desperate and lost, had sought refuge within The Respite’s Hearth. They went in through the back door, it was said, and were never seen again. Some said they were put to work, others claimed they were sold, and darker rumors spoke of fates too terrible to name. But one thing was certain: they vanished. The idea chilled him, a cold dread that settled deep in his gut, yet it also held a strange allure. To disappear from this life, to escape the hunger and the cold, the memories and the fear… it was a dangerous gamble, but one he felt increasingly compelled to take. He would offer his service. He would earn a new place. He had to. His parents, who had valued knowledge and learning above all else, would want him to survive, to find a better life, not to wither away in the shadows of this harsh town. He carried their legacy within him, a spark of intellect and a thirst for understanding that refused to be extinguished.
Taking a deep breath, he pushed himself to his feet. His legs trembled, and his head swam with dizziness, but he forced himself forward, each step a painful reminder of his weakness. He made his way around the side of the building, avoiding the brightly lit front, and found the narrow, shadowed back alley. The tavern's rear entrance was a plain, unadorned door, unlike the ornate front. It looked less inviting, more secretive, almost sinister. Each step felt heavier than the last, as if some unseen force were trying to pull him back into the darkness. He remembered the quiet evenings spent with his parents, discussing philosophy and history, the world of ideas a safe haven from the harsh realities of Lands End. That sanctuary was gone, replaced by a gnawing uncertainty. He paused, his hand hovering over the smooth weathered wood. The unknown loomed before him, a dark abyss that might swallow him whole. He imagined the door as a gateway to another world, a world that could either save him or destroy him. Nervousness coiled in his stomach, a tight knot of apprehension, but he refused to let it turn into paralyzing fear. He was not a child to be scared away by shadows. He had survived worse. He had survived the flames that stole his family, the cold nights that stole his warmth, the hunger that stole his strength. He hoped he would survive this. He steeled himself, preparing to meet the Master, to ask for a place, preparing to serve. He would offer his service, whatever he had to give. He would not let his parents’ memory be tarnished by his failure.
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The walk to the back door felt like an eternity. Each step echoed in the stillness of the alley, amplifying his fear. He could hear the muffled sounds of conversation and music from within the tavern, a stark contrast to his own grim determination. The smells of food wafted out, a tantalizing aroma that only served to intensify his hunger. He imagined the warmth inside, the camaraderie, the sense of belonging, all things he had been denied for so long. He clenched his fists, the rough skin of his palms a small comfort.
He rapped sharply on the door, the sound echoing in the stillness of the night. It was a firm rap, a declaration of his intent. A moment of silence, heavy with anticipation, then the heavy door creaked open, revealing a figure shrouded in shadow. "Yes?" a gruff voice demanded.
Wei Feng swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. It was now or never. He gathered all his courage, all his resolve, all the fragments of hope that still flickered within him. "I wish to speak with the Master," he said, his voice firm, despite the tremor he felt within. "I have come to offer my service."
The figure studied him for a long moment, his gaze sharp and assessing. Wei Feng held the man's gaze, refusing to flinch. He met the scrutiny head-on, his eyes burning with a desperate intensity. "The Master is not easily disturbed," the figure finally said, his voice laced with wariness.
"Then I will wait," Wei Feng replied, his voice unwavering. "I will not be turned away." He had walked a longer road than this alley, a road paved with loss and hardship. He would not be deterred yet his his stomach threaten to rebel. Bile rose from the back of his throat.
The figure remained silent for another long moment, then with a sigh, he stepped aside. "Wait here.". As he passed the threshold of the doorway, the door clicked shut with a dreadful finality.
Wei Feng stood in the dimly lit entryway, his heart pounding in his chest. The air was thick with the smell of smoke, spices and something else, something strange and unsettling. He watched as the figure disappeared into the depths of the tavern, the sounds of muffled revelry drifting from within. He was alone, trapped in a liminal space between the familiar squalor of the streets of Lands End and the unknown mysteries of The Respite’s Hearth – a place where children disappeared.
Minutes stretched into an eternity. Wei Feng stood ramrod straight, refusing to show his growing anxiety. He was about to question if he’d been forgotten when the figure returned, his expression unreadable. "The Master will see you," he said, his voice flat. "Follow me."
Wei Feng followed the figure, his steps seem to glide along the hardwood floors, through a maze of dimly lit corridors, the air growing heavier and more oppressive with each step. The sounds of the tavern faded behind them, replaced by an unsettling silence. He caught glimpses of shadowed figures lurking in the corners, their eyes gleaming in the darkness. He felt a growing sense of unease, as if he were entering a world that was not meant for him. Yet he would not be deterred.
They stopped before a heavy wooden door, its surface carved with intricate symbols,that Wei Feng did not recognise. He felt a strange sensation emanating from each line, each symbol and shivered. The figure knocked softly, then stepped aside.
A deep yet musical voice echoed from within. "Enter."
Wei Feng took a deep breath, steeling himself. This was it. He would not be scared. He would not beg. He would offer his service, and he would find his place. He reached for the door handle, ready to face whatever lay beyond. His future, began on the other side of that door.
