Chapter 1
Prologue: The Resonance of Souls and the Silver Fur
In an era when magic was as natural as breath to certain creatureswhere the heartbeat of a lover could cause forests to bloom with trees scaling mountains, their fruits shining like stars in the celestial sky, fragrant as the sweetest whispers of imagination—our story begins.
A car crawled along a winding, dust-laden path, swaying like a body too frail to carry its own weight. It groaned beneath the harshness of the road, like a patient drawing their last breaths upon a deathbed, stirring a thick veil of dust that bore witness to the immense length of its journey. The mountain trail was rugged, cutting through a barren desert where not a single tree or tiny plant could be seen.
Inside the vehicle sat two young children. The little girl slept upon her brother’s lap, seeking tranquility and relief from the exhaustion of travel. The boy gently patted his sister’s shoulder, singing to her in a trembling voice woven with profound sorrow: “I am a star shining in the sky, I am a sun that bestows warmth, and I cleanse the hearts of all living beings.” He repeated it over and over, gasping between the verses, yet remaining strong for his sister’s sake. A suffocating silence hung over the horizon, broken only by Ian’s shaky, weeping voice and the monotonous hum of the car engine. The windows were tightly shut to keep the choking dust outside, yet the smoke and grit still leaked inward, causing Natly to cough from time to time.
Soon, the road smoothed out ahead, ending at the edge of a lush, verdant forest. To the right stood a small wooden cottage. Its entrance was crafted from ancient sandalwood, intricately engraved with wondrous illustrations: dancing dragons, soaring phoenixes, and blossoms of peach and sakura, with butterflies weaving around the petals in a spectacular display. Gazing from afar, one would truly believe the phoenixes were in flight, the dragons were dancing, and the butterflies were fluttering around the splendid flowers.
There stood the grandmother, her heart aching like a wounded bird, yet her lips bore a welcoming smile to meet her young grandchildren. The wind had carried their scent to her, so she stepped out by the door, waiting.
The car came to a halt before that mystical gate. The driver stepped out, helped Ian unload the bags, and carried them to where the grandmother stood. He nodded his head in silent greeting to the grandmother and Ian, then promptly departed. Reaching the grandmother, Ian threw himself into her tender, comforting embrace; she helped him with the luggage, and they entered the house.
Meanwhile, Natly stepped down with heavy, hesitant steps. She had been asleep, urged by her uncle to wake and leave the car so he could return swiftly before the darkness devoured the treacherous mountain road. The uncle’s bond with them was never strong; the father had long since severed the threads of affection with his family. Thus, their encounter was cold and dry, like someone performing a burdensome chore they had no desire to fulfill.
Natly stood looking around her, her eyes bewildered. The scent of wood and trees filled the air with perfume, while a profound silence wrapped the horizon. The rustling of leaves was the only music the forest played as the sun began to sink.
Suddenly, a sound shattered the stillness
a howl, a cry, the whimpering of a suffering child. Natly looked around, but saw nothing. Yet, there it was: a howl born of pure agony.
She took a step forward, listening intently to discover where the sound originated. Scents mingled with ancient, deep-seated memories, as though her very soul yearned to meet a long-lost beloved. A mysterious force urged her, moved her, and pushed her steps forward: Go on, step forward.
At the very edge of the forest stood an ancient Sakura tree, its blossoms blanketing the muddy earth beneath it, its sprawling roots resembling the prominent veins on the hands of an elderly woman. Underneath its canopy lay a silver fox. The fading sunlight fell upon him, making him appear like droplets of morning dew resting on a cotton cloud, intermingled with the crimson blood that stained his beautiful, soft fur. Deep wounds were scattered across his frail, exhausted body.
Natly took a step forward, then hesitated and stepped back. It was not fear of the fox that gripped her, but a rushing, overwhelming wave of nostalgia that moved her hand. She extended her small hands to embrace him. He did not flee; instead, he rested submissively within her arms. Her soul embraced him long before her tiny hands did.
He howled and howled a cry of eternal longing that tore at both of their hearts. One teardrop fell, followed by another, like a downpour descending from the heavens. Natly’s tears flowed in rapid succession, like a pearl necklace whose thread had snapped and unraveled, like rain on a stormy winter night. Her heart pounded, its rhythm racing. Her tiny fingers brushed against his heart, which beat like a raging storm within his chest. Their tears mingled hot, searing, and heavy with the longing of thousands of years, uniting the two spirits as one.
Natly’s eyes were closed, shrouded by the torrent of her tears, which fell like a sky that had opened its floodgates. As her tears washed over his torn flesh, the bleeding ceased. The fractured bones knit back together, mending what was once shattered. New flesh bloomed over them, covered by a smooth, unblemished skin, and his beautiful silver fur was restored, no longer torn as before. His eyes, once slit with pain, opened to perceive the light once more.
He opened his crimson eyes, which mirrored the sky at the hour of a red twilight. He looked at her, his eyelids growing heavy. He rested his head against her chest, clutching her clothes with his claws, placing his head directly over her heart
which played a cosmic symphony that none could hear but the fox.
The wounds visible to the eye were fully healed, yet those buried deep within the heart still tore at his soul with agonizing pain. Every time her heart beat, the fox felt a wave of warmth and solace, his pain dissolving with her steady pulse. And the more comfort the fox found, the more her weeping subsided.
The grandmother and Ian came out searching for her, looking right and left in anxious desperation. Ian found her walking alongside the perimeter wall, her steps heavy and exhausted. Ian wished to carry the fox, but the creature clung tightly to her, refusing to leave her embrace, still whimpering softly from the lingering ache.
They all entered the cottage together. The grandmother’s eyes widened in shock upon seeing the fox, then narrowed in profound tenderness and grief, as though she had glimpsed the ghost of her beloved ones. Looking into his pained eyes, her shoulders trembled, and her steps froze for a fleeting moment. She closed her eyes as a blissful memory flashed through her heart, accompanied by other memories she wished she could forever forget.
Opening her eyes, the grandmother looked at the silver fox and said:
“You shall remain here until your wounds are completely healed. Consider this my gratitude to a vanished past.
