***

  The faint echoes of water droplets filled the cavernous passage, punctuating the silence with an eerie rhythm. Each drop seemed to reverberate through the stone walls, creating a hollow melody that only the forgotten could hear.

  Huànxiàng trudged along clumsily, struggling to find footing even on solid ground. How did he know how to walk on his hind feet? He never saw that before, so was it instinctive?

  Gravel crunched below his sandals as he swayed from side to side.

  The water dripping around him in all his senses brought him comfort—that pitter-patter was his lullaby, that coldness was his cradle, that loneliness was his mother’s love. It was so beautiful, and peaceful. Yǚchén muttered and cussed under his breath, breaking that pristine silence with his gripes.

  “I’m not in a cave, I’m in a tomb- my tomb.”

  Huànxiàng turned his head slightly but said nothing, continuing forward.

  ***

  Yǚchén sat on the back of Huànxiàng, gritting his teeth and clenching his fists, trying to focus on the path ahead. The cold gnawed at his skin, and he couldn’t stop his body from shivering. Each breath sent a sharp pang through his chest. Between his shivers, he questioned the strange boy.

  “It’s too quiet, and it’s too cold. How do you stand it?”

  “I live here. It’s quiet here.”

  Yǚchén snapped.

  “How do you like silence? It’s horrible. It means nothing’s alive anymore! How can you—”

  He stopped himself, shaking his head. His hand brushed his back, where his spear should have been. Tears welled up in his eyes as he bit his lip so hard it bled. He purged the air from his lungs and took deep breaths, shivering with each one.

  Huànxiàng glanced back at him.

  “Are you cold?”

  “Shut up.”

  He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping to block out his pain. He had to survive, no matter what it took, or what sacrifices he’d have to make. He couldn’t afford to die.

  He opened his eyes suddenly, being sat on a stone by Huànxiàng. The boy began to untie the bandages wrapped around Yǚchén’s waist. Yǚchén yelled, his shriek reverberating throughout the cave.

  “What are you doing!?”

  “I’m wrapping medical bandages.”

  Yǚchén leaned back, stopping his questioning as Huànxiàng unwrapped the last of his bandages to put on new ones.

  Why am I acting like this to my only ally?

  “...Sorry, the pain’s getting to my head. Please just… just do what you were going to do.”

  “Mask.”

  From the enigmatic boy’s face erupted two bandages, swimming through the air like moray eels out of a coral reef, looking for their next prey to bloody the ocean floor with. Yǚchén’s shaky breaths quickened at the monstrous sight, as if he had been carried by a demon all along.

  He tried to move his hand.

  It did not respond.

  He couldn’t do anything to resist, paralyzed in fear and pain. He squeezed his eyes right enough for a tear to drip down his cheek.

  Brother…

  The sound of linen wrapping around linen filled his ears. Yǚchén opened one eye, and saw that his stomach was perfectly wrapped in new bandaging. He looked up at his strange ally in bewilderment.

  “What are you?”

  Huànxiàng looked up at Yǚchén, a vast ocean of sadness held in his chestnut eyes.

  “I don’t know.”

  —

  They walked for what felt like hours until the passage widened into a cavernous junction. Five dark entrances loomed ahead, each one identical to the next, as if they were in the belly of a hydra.

  Huànxiàng paused, his head tilting as though he could sense something that Yǚchén could not.

  Seemingly spellbound, he stepped toward the far-left tunnel, his foot drawn forward each step as though they were pulled by puppet strings. Yǚchén tapped him on the head, perplexed at his strange movements.

  “Wait, what’s down there? Where are we heading?”

  Cold words drew themselves from Huànxiàng’s lips beneath his mask.

  “I’m going deeper.”

  Yǚchén sighed, exasperated.

  “Do you know what’s at the end of this passage?”

  Huànxiàng scratched his chin.

  “I don’t know. It’s well?”

  Yǚchén clenched his jaw.

  “It’s well?” What is that supposed to mean? He seems adamant on taking this path for whatever reason.

  He glanced at the other tunnels, the oppressive darkness within them seeming to breathe. The gash in his stomach burned with every step his escort took.

  I either get left behind again and die or I hedge my bets on his intuition.

  Yǚchén muttered shyly, clinging onto Huànxiàng’s neck with his arms.

  “...Fine.”

  The tunnel opened like a flytrap’s maw, beckoning them with the ichor of possible survival. The stomach of the beast they walked into appeared to be a vast clearing unlike anything that either of them had ever seen.

  A decrepit city stretched out before them, its skeletal buildings illuminated by lampstands with cracked glass panes. Bioluminescent moss spilled from each spire of light, dyeing the city in the ethereal azure that the two met in. This lifeblood of the city dripped between bricks and spread like veins across the petrified floor.

  The houses brimmed with both life and death, contradictorily yet not so simultaneously. Plants thrived in every crevice, and insects scuttled across the walls and ceiling, yet there were no humans in a city clearly constructed by them. Not even a corpse. Nothing.

  Strangely, splinters were strewn about, broken out from sockets where doors and windows used to be. The largest amount of shattered wood was concentrated near what could only be assumed to be the ruins of once-tall buildings. It felt like life was ripped out of this city from its roots, and what lived now only existed to fill the vacuum left behind.

  Huànxiàng stopped abruptly, his eyes narrowing and his body crouching like a beast backed into a corner. Yǚchén couldn’t see Huànxiàng’s facial expressions beneath his blank mask, but the injured boy could feel his transport quaking, from not only shivers, but growls.

  He felt the same- his instincts were screaming at him to run. It felt as if they were a pair of wolves surrounded by the crackling of an inferno that they couldn’t see. Yǚchén whispered forcefully into Huànxiàng’s ear.

  “We need to run. Now.”

  Yet, his transport stood still as a monolith, monitoring the eerie landscape. Yǚchén couldn’t even blame him. They were both petrified in terror. Through the sounds of his gritted teeth, Huànxiàng growled.

  “Huànxiàng.”

  Yǚchén’s stomach dropped within his stomach. It was difficult to breathe beneath the crushing hand of the colossus known by the name of Fear.

  Phantoms.

  “Where?”

  “Everywhere.”

  That new, spritely voice startled them both, causing Huànxiàng to spin his whole body around with a now disoriented Yǚchén on his back. Yǚchén bonked him on the head with his fist.

  “I’m on your back, knucklehead!”

  In front of them was a boy no greater than 12 years old, with a gap in between his teeth and a large farmer’s hat made of an unrecognizable material. He wore a dark green shirt, which seemed fuzzy in make. His skin was so pale that it nearly perfectly reflected the light of the moss above, making him look like he glowed. He looked up at them through a hole in the top, his hazel eyes turning an earthy-grey hue in the blue light, smiling cheekily and speaking in a strange dialect.

  “You’re being loud enough to stir up the ghosts, knucklehead.”

  Yǚchén bit his lip.

  The boy’s grin widened as he tipped his hat back, letting his dilated eyes lock with Yǚchén’s. He spoke, his voice high and steady. He held up a small copper coin, engraved with the word “Return” on it.

  “Name’s Zhéguī. City 3 Research Division.”

  Yǚchén furrowed his brow, his body tense on Huànxiàng’s back from instinctive fear. Yǚchén spoke to the boy through clenched teeth.

  “What do you want with us?”

  Zhéguī rocked back on his heels with his hands behind his head, then started walking to them.

  “Nothin’, ya grumpy fart. I just figure you don’t like hanging on your buddy’s back and wrapping your stomach in bandages for fun.”

  Before Yǚchén could respond, Huànxiàng tilted his head and spoke.

  “City?”

  Zhéguī’s smile softened, as if he were explaining something to a curious child.

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  “Yeah, a city. Probly the biggest one, too.”

  The boy glanced up and down at Yǚchén, smirking a bit.

  “I can take you back over to the medical wing in my city. Looks like you won’t last long without it.”

  Yǚchén narrowed his eyes, sighing to regulate his breath.

  “And why would you help us? We have nothing to offer.”

  Zhéguī shrugged, the playful glint returning to his eye.

  “Simple. I wanna know where you’re from. I wouldn't be in the Research Division if I weren't curious about everything!”

  Huànxiàng nodded faintly, tilting his head to Yǚchén.

  “We go onward?”

  Yǚchén sighed, the cold in his chest sinking deeper.

  “I’m from the capital city Yǐng of the state of Chǔ.”

  Zhéguī’s facial expression suddenly changed, his eyes widening suddenly before calming himself.

  “Alright, I’ll take you back to City 3. But, I have some more questions for you when you’re back on your feet.”

  “Only if I can ask you some, too.”

  The boy grinned.

  “Naturally.”

  Zhéguī guided them to an alternative path carved into the walls of the cave, overlooking the city. Zhéguī hummed a tune under his breath. The sharpness in his gaze, however, betrayed his casual demeanor. He cast glances at every shadow and every movement. Zhéguī spoke suddenly, turning his head toward them.

  “Y’know, it’s common courtesy to introduce yourself after someone else introduces themselves.”

  “Huànxiàng.”

  “...Yǚchén.”

  Zhéguī beamed at Huànxiàng.

  “Don't you have a fancy name, ghost boy? Maybe you’re a good luck charm with them!”

  The boy looked Yǚchén up and down.

  “Well, at least you don’t look like the moss has gotten to you, with how much you’re moving on Ghostie's back.”

  Huànxiàng blinked and tilted his head, confused.

  “Moss?”

  “The glowing stuff. If you get too close—around two spears’ lengths—it spreads. First it paralyzes you, then it kills you by sleep time. Spreads between people, too.”

  Huànxiàng opened his mouth to answer, but Yǚchén cut him off.

  “We’ve stayed far enough away from it.”

  Zhéguī nodded slowly, a flicker of suspicion crossing his face.

  “Good. Lucky for you, we’ve got medicine that makes you resistant. But even that doesn’t mean you can touch it.”

  Yǚchén’s stomach churned.

  How am I alive and able to move? I practically fell into the stuff when I met Huànxiàng.

  The boy seemed to sense his unease but said nothing, instead continuing his small talk.

  “This place—”

  Zhéguī gestured at the crumbling ruins below them.

  “—was built by the first generation. We’re the seventh generation. Every city we build is built by our generation’s best, for their whole lives. It’s our history, written in stone.”

  “Seems like a lot of work just for history. Why not just make something else?”

  Zhéguī looked at Yǚchén as if he said something alien, but changed to a smile.

  “To live in! Is there anything else to do with a city?”

  “And what do you make your cities out of?”

  The boy in the hat was again perplexed by Yǚchén’s strange questions.

  “Same as everyone else. Stone, mushroom stems, bones, you know the deal.”

  Why were the houses in City 1 constructed with wood then?

  Huànxiàng piped up in curiosity.

  “Why are you here?”

  Zhéguī replied excitedly, gesturing to the city.

  “Scouting! Had to see if the area was clear. We tossed some salt in a while back. Seems it worked, so I was on my way back to report it.”

  “Salt?”

  Yǚchén asked inquisitively.

  “How did you get access to it?”

  “Yeah, salt. Ghosts hate the stuff. We've got some in storage in City 3, and can always get more by trading with City 5, since they have a salt quarry.”

  “Ah, alright.”

  Yǚchén thought for a moment, and it struck him.

  Has he never seen the outside world?

  He glanced at the figure of their guide. The boy’s skin was even paler than his own, completely clear of any moles which could develop in sunlight. His eyes beneath his hat were dilated to such an extent that it looked like they had never seen the light of day. His hat and clothing were all made of materials that he could not immediately recognize. Everything about him was strange from the beginning.

  Then why did he not ask any questions about my introduction?

  Yǚchén gripped Huànxiàng’s shoulder, causing Huànxiàng to look up at the passenger on his back.

  “You in pain?”

  “...No, I’m fine.”

  Does he suspect that we’re spies from some other city? Still, I don’t have any other rope to Heaven than this.

  The conversation faltered after that, each step pulling them deeper toward the beckons of the cavern. When they finally reached the City 3, Yǚchén’s breath caught.

  Unlike City 1 behind them, this place thrived. Street lamps with glass enclosures held the glowing moss, casting a soft light over the bustling streets. Children ran barefoot, laughing as they darted over the cobbled roads and through alleys between buildings. Elders played xiangqi on wooden boards, their hands steady despite their age. Women sold herbs and trinkets from carts, calling out to passersby.

  Yǚchén tightened his grip on Huànxiàng’s shoulder as they were led through the streets, the raucous crowd paying them no heed.

  Why does not a single person here bat an eye at someone who is critically injured?

  He whispered in his ear.

  “Don’t tell anyone anything without me telling you to.”

  His escort nodded eagerly.

  They reached a large stone hall at the city’s center. Zhéguī pushed the doors open with a flourish, revealing a room filled with incense smoke and the glow of moss lamps. At the far end sat an elderly man, his eyes sharp despite his frail frame. Zhéguī bowed before the elder, and Huànxiàng followed suit after Yǚchén bonked him on the back of the head.

  “Grand Elder. I found these two near the old city. One’s injured, so I would like to take them to the medical wing.”

  The elderly man regarded Yǚchén and Huànxiàng with piercing eyes, his hands folded over his lap. The faint crackle of a nearby lamp and the skitters from cave crickets moving on the ceiling of the cavern punctuated the tense silence. Despite the elder’s frailty, his thin, age-spotted hands trembling slightly, his mere presence held the weight of a crown.

  “Interesting. Do you have business in City 3?”

  The air in the chamber was damp and heavy, carrying the faint, earthy scent of moss mingled with a metallic tang. Why ask a bleeding patient that sort of question?

  Yǚchén shifted uneasily, the faint rustle of his bandages loud in the quiet room.

  “We’re just trying to survive. That’s all.”

  The leader nodded slowly, his gaze lingering on Yǚchén’s wounds, which peeked through the fresh bandages like shadows beneath snow.

  “You’ve learned well, then, even if you are not a citizen of City 3.”

  He leaned back with a soft creak of his chair, the motion stirring a faint draft that rustled the edges of an intricate glowing tapestry behind him. Zhéguī, standing nearby, shifted his weight, his hat brushing against his shoulder with a faint hiss. The leader continued.

  “We don’t offer kindness without purpose.”

  His eyes seemed to pierce straight through Yǚchén, as though weighing his worth.

  “Your wounds will be tended, but in return, you will contribute. Your strength, your skills, your loyalty—these are the price of our aid. Do you accept?”

  Yǚchén hesitated, his wound’s pain numb from the cold. His gaze flickered to Huànxiàng, who stood motionless, the low light casting long, sharp shadows across his blank mask. The silence stretched, the leader’s expectation hanging like a blade over their heads. Finally, Yǚchén nodded, his voice rough.

  “We accept.”

  The old man smiled faintly, though the expression did not reach his eyes.

  “Then welcome, children, to City 3.”

  ***

  The carriage rocked violently over uneven ground, each jolt sending pain lancing through Mèi’s wrists where the shackles bit into her skin. The air was thick, stifling, reeking of sweat and damp straw. Every breath felt like breathing in rot.

  She turned to the boy beside her. He hadn’t moved since she woke up. His head remained bowed, dark strands of hair obscuring his face. He was alive—his shallow breaths proved that much—but he may as well have been dead for all the awareness in his posture.

  Mei swallowed the dryness in her throat. Her voice came out hoarse.

  “Hey.”

  The boy didn't react. She nudged him with her knee.

  “I know you can hear me.”

  A slow inhale. His shackles clinked as he shifted slightly, but his gaze remained fixed downward.

  Mèi's pulse quickened. She didn't have time for this.

  “We need to escape before we reach that auction. Once we’re there, we might never get another chance.”

  Silence.

  Mèi clenched her teeth.

  “Do you want to be sold?”

  Still, nothing.

  Her frustration mounted, but she forced herself to stay calm.

  “Listen. I know a way out. I need your help.”

  The boy finally spoke, his voice barely above a whisper.

  “Do you even know how long you were out?”

  Mèi stared at him, searching his face for something—anger, determination, anything—but all she saw was resignation. A deep, hollow void where hope should have been.

  A part of her wanted to shake him, to force him to care. Instead, she exhaled sharply and focused on what she could control.

  “I can work with splinters. If the wood is weak, I can carve something thin enough to pick the locks. We just need time.”

  The boy let out a bitter laugh.

  “They’ll kill us before we even get close.”

  Mèi narrowed her eyes.

  “Then we don’t get caught.”

  The carriage lurched, nearly throwing them both forward. Outside, voices called out. The horses slowed.

  Her stomach twisted. No. It was too soon.

  A loud creak split the air as the carriage door swung open. Lantern light flooded the cramped space. Rough hands grabbed her arm, yanking her forward.

  The auction had begun.