Author's Note
Before anything else, I want to thank you for choosing to read my book. That means a lot to me, and I hope the story manages to touch you in some way. But I need to be honest: you might find some mistakes in the English translation. I sincerely apologize for that, in case something doesn't sound natural or causes any confusion.
Portuguese is my first language, and English... well, let's say it's not my strong suit. I'm not very proficient or fluent in it, and that limited me quite a bit. To bring this story to you, I used artificial intelligence to help with the translation. It was the best resource I had at hand, but I know it's not perfect and some slips might have gotten through.
Writing this book in Portuguese was something I did with a lot of care and dedication. I wanted to share this journey with readers in other languages, and the English translation was my attempt to make that happen. Even if the result has its flaws, my wish is that the spirit of the story still reaches you.
So, I ask for a bit of patience and understanding. If you can look past the possible mistakes, I hope you find something special in the pages I wrote. Thank you for being here and for giving my voice a chance!
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The humidity caught me unprepared, before I even realized where I was. It was cold and clammy, sliding down my skin like the fingers of a relentless nightmare that clung to me without mercy. Each droplet carried a faint whisper, as though voices from a lost time were weaving around me, encasing me in a living chill that pulsed with presence.
The pain followed swiftly, arriving unannounced. It refused to settle in one spot—spreading instead with a slow, merciless grip, seizing every bone and muscle as if I were a shattered marionette, bound to a fate I never sought.
—"Damn, this hurts…"—my voice emerged scratched and raw, nearly swallowed by a silence that seemed to taunt me with its quiet scorn.
I opened my eyes. It felt like awakening within a nightmare that still clutched me tightly. The darkness wasn't mere shadow; it bore weight, a sodden veil that breathed in rhythm with me, pressing against my chest, stifling my breath. The air reeked of rusted iron and sulfur, mingled with dampness—a scent that clawed at the back of my throat.
Glancing down, I saw a purple pool spreading beneath me, its faint glow hinting at hidden depths and secrets. Shadows writhed across the stones, contorted and alive, far beyond simple reflections. The liquid climbed my clothes, seeping into my skin, as if intent on claiming me as its own.
I tried to rise. My body resisted. Every fiber of me pleaded for respite, but I turned a deaf ear. My legs buckled, limp under a burden that transcended the physical. The ground tilted, and I collapsed back into the pool, as if the earth itself dragged me downward, mocking my defiance with a silent chuckle.
Then, something shifted. A strange, warm energy surged from the purple liquid, coursing through me like a current. It brought relief, yet felt like an intruder all the same.
—Something stirs within me—I thought, as it raced across my skin, burrowing into my bones, threading through my mind.
Voices erupted from the void. Broken echoes, fragments of a once-whole past. One word struck repeatedly, insistent and unyielding:
—"Yang Fei."
—"Yang Fei… Who are you?"—I echoed inwardly, lost, a frightened creature unsure where to flee.
Images flickered in my mind. A childhood cloaked in mist. Faces unfamiliar yet intimate, as if they knew me better than I knew myself. Words drifted, untethered and without meaning. Each shard bore a piercing truth: I wasn't an outsider here. I was this flesh. Yang Fei was me—a fragile, fleeting sliver, almost untainted.
Untainted? How long had it been since that word could claim me?
I was Nael Supremium, the illegitimate son of the Ducal House of Yang in the Xia Empire. A living blunder, thrust into a world that recoiled at my existence.
A memory flared, stark and unrelenting amid the chaos of my thoughts:
—Deficiencies.
—"Delayed intellect…"—I murmured, weighing the words as if speaking them aloud might soften their jagged edges.
Contempt was an old acquaintance. It lingered in the gazes of others, in the hands that shoved me aside. Yet anger eluded me. In its place sat a frigid emptiness, the unshakable knowledge that I was a blemish the world yearned to erase.
I stood. It was a struggle. My body howled in protest, but I feigned deafness. I reached the brink of a cliff, where silence devoured all sound.
—"Beautiful…"—the word slipped out unbidden, a rough whisper.
The abyss gazed back, vast and shadowed.
—"It's as if the sky has been consumed by its own darkness."—
—The light here is but a distant echo—I thought, my stare locked on that boundless void. This place mirrored me: solitary, bleak, hollow, and fractured.
The cliff loomed like a mute sentinel, its weathered stones etched with grooves carved by time's unsparing hand. Each breath I drew trembled, a wisp of vapor dissolving into the icy air, as if the world rejected me with every exhale.
—I am the flaw nature doomed to endure—I thought, jaw clenched, the biting wind tearing at my flesh.
Loneliness faced me head-on. No birds sang, no sounds stirred—only the void and I, locked in an unasked-for waltz.
Before me yawned a cave, its jagged maw carved into the rock, ravenous for any light daring to draw near. The air spilling from it pressed heavily on my shoulders, thick with the arid stench of lifeless stone.
It felt unnatural. Neither cold nor warm—just alien, as if time itself had stalled within its depths.
I sampled the air with a shallow breath. It tasted of rust, a metallic tang that scraped my throat. Nothing stirred. Only memories pounded within my skull, like stones tumbling into an endless chasm.
I took a step. The stone beneath me groaned, solid yet vibrant, as if daring me to press on.
—"Is this the path? Or perhaps…"—my voice rasped low, fading into the wind. Asking was futile. The silence had already cast its verdict.
The dampness clung to me, viscous, as if the cave exhaled upon my skin. Purple liquid dripped from the rocks, its feverish gleam staining the floor with twisted shadows.
Above, the cliff swallowed the heavens. A creeping fog rose, twining around my legs, tugging me backward—toward oblivion.
I inhaled deeply, the sharp air flooding my lungs. It carried the flavor of aged metal, an enigma I couldn't name. My trembling fingers brushed the slick stone, rough beneath my touch. Pain flared, keen and sudden—a mute cry affirming I still lingered here.
—"Alive… or merely enduring?"—I muttered, eyes fixed on the gloom. Doubt was just another wound.
Memories shredded the stillness.
—"Ducal House of Yang…"—the name escaped in a whisper, as if its volume might wound me further.
—"The Duke…"—cold glimpses, scattered remnants of a past I longed to obliterate.
—"The Duchess, their stares, their murmurs…"—I finished, each word heavy as lead.
They erased me. Faces averted, smiles feigned, hands nudging me to the fringes. Rage didn't rise—only a chasm, cold and bottomless, swallowing me endlessly.
Yet the Duke… he stood apart.
—"Why?"—the question slipped free, frail and adrift. He granted me shelter, sustenance, a breath of reprieve.
—Food, a roof, safety—I tallied silently, each a debt I never requested.
Then she emerged. The betrothed girl, her almond eyes slicing like blades, dark hair cascading like a shroud of disdain.
—"You're pathetic, you fiend."—her words still seared, reverberating in my skull, sharp enough to draw blood.
—She loathed me, and I couldn't fathom why—I thought, my chest constricted, barren.
Stifled laughter. Glances that pierced me like I was shattered glass. Every recollection was a gash, a ledger I'd never balance.
I rose, my frame groaning with exhaustion. Pain dulled to a distant hum, almost companionable. The cave loomed before me, a black rift devouring light, sound, and hope.
The purple liquid flowed faster, tears from a living scar. The dampness pressed against my skin, and the air urged me inward.
I paused. I looked. Fear and desire had fled—only a stark certainty remained, unyielding as the stone beneath me.
I stepped forward. Slow, resolute, as if the ground might crumble at any instant. The darkness enfolded me, cold and mute.
—I am the error the world never desired—I thought, and the burden of it nearly coaxed a smile.
Caught between the disdain I bore and the emptiness ahead, I chose to advance. It was all that remained.