All The Gods We Can Touch - Book : Under this Iron Sky

一 Over Fear and Into Freedom

It was a festive night.

Cold snowflakes tumbled from the dark skies, shimmering like stars as they blessed the people dancing under the lantern lights. Crimson banners fluttered in the breeze, adorned with blessings of prosperity and good fortune. The rhythm of drums and flutes sang in the streets as colourful robes swirled in the wind like paint strokes on a canvas. Pedestrians weaved through the throngs of people, their voices merging into a symphony of laughter and chatter. The delicious sticky smell of skewers and yóutiáo grilling at the vendors' stalls made them salivate and indulge.

The bustling streets were alive with energy, vibrant under the soft glow of the city. Some children ran around with handheld fireworks, dodging adult legs and screaming in delight, their laughter ringing like bells.

A commotion broke. Whispers erupted and the crowd parted. Their eyes strayed, heavy and shining with curiosity.

The pudgy hand of a merchant was wrapped around a struggling child's arm, roughly shaking him and spitting in his face. The young one stuffed his cheeks full of the steaming dumpling he was holding, mindless of the burning pain. His hazel eyes were blown wide and afraid. "You filthy rat!" Belowed the man.

Grabbing the child's bulging cheeks in one large palm, he gripped tightly in an effort to open the full mouth. "Spit that out!" The kid immediately swallowed around the food, before repetitively hitting his chest to help the large morsel go down his throat. His eyes burned, both from the scalding heat and the adult shaking him violently.

A vein popped in the man's eye and he straightened up, grabbing the kid by his long unkempt hair and dragging him out to a guardpost.

As they left, the small crowd previously gathered around them disinterested themselves and turned back to their songs.

The child clawed at the hand holding him as the soldiers and the furious vendor argued. Little white puffs of scared breaths were breaking off his body and yet, he said nothing to defend himself.

The arguments stopped, and the man handed him to the guards. They took out some thin ropes and tied his hands together, before dragging him away in the direction of a dark alley. As the child protestingly dragged his naked feet against the ground, he could hear the vendor's laughter. His gut twisted, and a wet feeling started to clog his lungs.

They passed by a crowd of dancers, and the spectator's cheers stabbed him in the heart. The snow was cold on his skin, soothing somewhat his bleeding heels.

His lips shivered, and as a sob tore its way past his lips, he stopped struggling, slumping between the two men.

As they reached an impasse in the back alley, the two men stopped their route.

The lad felt tugging on his bound hands and looked back up at one of the guards holding him, who painfully tightened a string around the base of his pinkie, causing him to cry out as it cut off the blood circulation. The kid immediately camped his feet back on the ground, renewing his efforts to break free. He was however too light to do much but chafe his skin further on the pavements, and quickly resorted to kicking the guards' shin. He was promptly hoisted up by his tied hands, shoulders straining uncomfortably and ripping a grunt from his burned throat. One of the two men clicked his tongue: "We take no pleasure from this, child. But this is the law, we must abide by it."

Tears pearled up in the youth's eyes, cascading down his cheeks and washing away months-old grime on its path down his face.

At the mouth of the shadowed alley, a lone figure walked by. Cloaked in a flowing hooded robe, the stranger's silhouette was backlit by the glow of festival bonfires and swaying lanterns, leaving their features shrouded in shadow.