Title: "Soul of the Dynasty: "
At fifteen, Shizui sets foot in Aaru, a prestigious academy for mages. Unlike others, a shadow of a forgotten past clouds his present. A recurring dream, a powerful connection he can't explain, and a deep, unspoken gui...
BEFORE WE BEGIN DEAR READER, PLEASE NOTE THE CHAPTER "FIELDS OF HAIKU" COMES AFTER THE CHAPTERS "STUCK IN A ROUTINE SCHEDULE" AND BEFORE "REVELATION" FOR SOME REASON THE SHUFFLE REFLECTS IN MY LAPTOP VERSION OF WATTPAD BUT NOT IN THE MOBILE VERSION IN CASE YOU HAVE ANY TIPS I AM ALL EARS
"Stay awake!" Kenzo's voice, usually smooth as velvet, cracked with concern. "Stay awake, Hashira!"
Hashira's eyelids, heavy as tombstones, cracked open a sliver, revealing a sliver of the world around him. Darkness, thick and suffocating, pressed against his senses, a heavy cloak threatening to smother him whole. His vision swam, slowly resolving into the crude interior of a deserted cabin. Rain lashed against the roof in a relentless assault, each drops a drumbeat against the oppressive silence. The rhythmic drumming seemed to vibrate through his very bones, a counterpoint to the thrumming agony in his chest.
Hashira struggled for consciousness, a searing pain lancing up his spine. He took a shaky breath, composing himself enough to see Kenzo concentrating his Qi*, forcing the tainted blood from his chest. A hacking cough erupted, blood splattering on the rough floorboards.
Kenzo's touch lingered on his back, a grounding presence. His voice was laced with genuine compassion. "Do you feel better, Hashira?"
Hashira shook his head weakly, pushing Kenzo away. "No more," he rasped. "Please, leave. Get out of here! I'm the only one who deserves this."
Kenzo met his gaze with a chilling intensity, the golden flecks in his eyes glinting like chips of ice. Unfazed by Hashira's pleas, he ripped a piece from his flowing black robe and pressed it against the gaping wound on Hashira's chest. With a determined set to his jaw, Kenzo turned his back and bit his thumb. He extended his right arm, palm down, chanting an ancient incantation for the healing circle*. The archaic power hummed in each syllable. Beads of blood seeped from his thumb, staining the floorboards a deeper red. Then, like a magical symphony, crimson sparks erupted from his fingertips, weaving intricate patterns in the air. Within the dimly lit chamber, the circle materialized, pulsating with raw energy.
"Kenzo, please," Hashira signed, desperation etched on his face. "I can never forgive myself."
Kenzo continued chanting, his focus unwavering. In a desperate act, Hashira unsheathed his dagger. With a swift, fluid motion, he drew it across his throat before Kenzo could react. The world blurred, the edges darkening. Yet, through the fading light, he felt Kenzo's hands engulf him, a shocking warmth against the encroaching chill. Blood spilt like a crimson river, and as Hashira's consciousness slipped away, a chilling question echoed in his mind: was there any atonement to be found in the darkness that awaited?
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* A healing circle is drawn by dropping a bit of the performer's blood on the floor followed by an incantation
* Qi- It is a spiritual energy that resides within every person.
AUTHOR'S NOTE
PLEASE COMMENT AND VOTE, THIS IS A FANTASY NOVEL, AND IN THIS BOOK THERE ARE NOT MANY TOXIC BEHAVIOURS OR TOXIC PLOTS, SO ENJOY READING THEM
