Chapter Six: The Hollow Vow
The moon had climbed halfway up the sky by the time Master Yan and I returned to the old burial ground—where the first coffin had stirred and the river's crimson tide whispered of blood debt. Decomposed lanterns lay trampled among cracked headstones, and an acrid tang of spilled oil hung heavy in the air.
I carried the broken jade figurine in one palm and my father's nameplate—Wei Zheng—in the other. Master Yan surveyed the scene, brow furrowed. "The binding was broken at its weakest point," he said, voice low. "Somebody came here after we sealed the grove."
A sudden breeze stirred the willow branches, and I thought I heard a soft laugh—childlike, yet hollow.
We moved quickly. Master Yan drew a circle in the dirt with powdered yellow earth, inscribing glowing runes. Four earthenware bowls of salt water were placed at the circle's cardinal points—north, south, east, west.
"Stand inside," he instructed, handing me the jade shard. "This charm must be returned to its wholeness first."
Inside the circle, I pressed the jade to the ground. The crack pulsed red, as if alive.
Master Yan began chanting, his voice stronger than before:
> "Heed the vow once spoken—heart sealed true, spirit broken. Let Ying and Yang reunite, bind the fractured soul this night."
Suddenly, behind us, the ground trembled. From the shadows emerged the spirit boy—ten years old, translucent as mist, funeral garb stained with old blood. His hollow eyes fixed on me.
"Brother…" he whispered, voice echoing like a distant call.
Tears stung my eyes. "I'm sorry," I choked. "I didn't finish the rites."
He drifted into the circle. "Vow your heart," he said, "and restore what you broke."
I placed the jade shard into his small palms. It mended with a flash of green light, sealing itself whole. The boy's form brightened, a gentle smile touching his lips.
But relief turned to alarm—the salt bowls shattered at each point, their water splashing with unnatural force. The runes flickered, and unseen claws scraped the earth beyond our circle.
Master Yan raised his copper rod, its tip humming with power. "They're coming," he warned. "Darkness stirred by betrayal."
The spirit boy knelt, head bowed. "Release me," he whispered.
Master Yan stepped forward and swept the runes away. The bowl fragments hissed, their salt evaporating into mist.
The boy dissolved into petals—white chrysanthemums swirling into the night wind.
Silence fell.
I stood trembling, chest heaving. Master Yan placed a firm hand on my shoulder. "You've fulfilled your promise. But there's more undone."
I noticed a small slip of yellow paper fluttering at the base of a nearby headstone—a talisman I didn't recognize, etched with a symbol neither Master Yan nor I could place.
He bent to examine it. "This… originates from the Valley of Broken Whispers," he muttered. "Far beyond these hills."
My heart pounded. "What waits there?"
He looked up, eyes gleaming with worry and resolve. "A vow unkept. A darkness that even I have not faced."
Thunder rumbled across the sky.
I tucked the restored jade figurine into my pocket and held the mysterious talisman in my hand.
"Tomorrow," he said quietly, "we leave for the Valley."
I nodded, uncertain but determined.
As we walked away, the ancient graveyard behind us sighed—an echo promising that some debts cannot be buried.