926 years earlier.
The year is 1100 CE.
The village was behind him. The grave was behind him. The heads of his parents were in the ground beside his grandfather. Three bodies. One grave. He had sat until the sun went down. Then he stood and began walking. Too numb to care for he is just a 5 years old kid.
He did not know where he was going.
The road ended. He kept walking. The fields ended. He kept walking. The trees began. Small at first. Then taller. Then so tall they blocked the sky. The light changed. The air changed. The sound of the world changed. Birds. Wind. The creaking of branches. Nothing human.
He walked into the forest.
Something was calling him.
He did not know what it was. It was not a voice. It was not a sound. It was something in his chest. Something in his blood. Something that had been there since his grandfather held his wrist to his mouth. Since his parents spoke quiet words from the execution ground. Since he buried what he could carry and walked away.
It pulled him. Not hard. Not fast. Like water finding its level. Like a seed finding the dark. He followed.
The forest grew thicker. The path he was not following grew narrower. The light grew dimmer. He did not stop.
He walked until he could not remember what the sun looked like. The trees were so tall now they held the darkness in their branches. The ground was soft. The air was still.
Something was waiting.
He felt it before he saw it. A heaviness in the air. A pressure behind his eyes. The thing in his chest—the thing that had been calling him—pulled harder now. Not pulling. Pushing. Pressing. Demanding.
He stepped into a clearing.
The clearing was round. The trees stood around it like guards. The ground was bare. No leaves. No grass. Just earth. Dark earth. Old earth.
In the center of the clearing, something rested.
It was not a stone. It was not a tree. It was not anything he had a name for. It was dark and light at the same time. It was hard and soft. It was the size of his fist. It was the size of the world.
It called to him.
He walked to it. He knelt. He reached out his hand.
The thing in his chest—the thing that had been calling him since he left the grave—reached back.
His fingers touched the thing in the clearing.
And the world opened.
He saw everything.
He saw his grandfather in the village. The rich man. The rice. The leg breaking. The knife. The wrist held to his mouth. His grandfather's blood. His own throat swallowing.
He saw his parents in the county town. The prison. The guards. The judge. The crowd. The executioners. Their quiet words. His own face watching.
He saw the grave. Three bodies. One grave. Himself sitting until the sun went down. Himself standing. Himself walking.
He saw the forest. The clearing. The thing waiting.
He saw himself kneeling. Reaching. Touching.
And then he saw what was waiting inside the thing.
A brain. A heart. Not human. Not animal. Something older than both. Something that had been floating above heaven since Pangu split the sky. Something that had been waiting since the beginning of the world.
It reached for him. Without another thought,he reached for it.
They merged.The pains coming. Hit hard more than anything that five years old can hold on
The boy's body convulsed. His back arched. His mouth opened but no sound came out. The thing—the brain, the heart, the thing that had been waiting since the beginning—poured into him. Through his fingers. Through his chest. Through the blood his grandfather had given him. It filled him. It was too much. He was too small. He was only a child.
The world split.
The ground beneath him cracked. Not a crack in the earth. A crack in something deeper. A crack in the fabric of the world itself. Light poured out from below. Light from no sun. Light from no moon. Light from somewhere else.
The trees around the clearing bent away. Not broken. Pushed. The force of the thing entering the boy pushed the world back. The sky above the clearing was not the sky anymore. It was something else. A wound. A door. A mouth opening.
The boy's body was lifted. Not by hands. By the force of what was happening to him. He hung in the air for a moment. His arms loose. His head back. His eyes open but seeing nothing.
Then the crack swallowed him.
It pulled him down. Not falling. Being taken. The light from below wrapped around him. It pulled him into the crack. Into the place between worlds. Into the place where the thing had been waiting.
The crack closed.
The trees straightened. The ground healed. The sky returned to what it had been before. The clearing was empty. The thing was gone. The boy was gone.
Only dark earth remained. Old earth. Waiting.
---
In the First Court of Hell, two souls arrived.
They came together, though the courts did not know what to do with two who arrived at the same time. They were a man and a woman. Their hands were reaching for each other. Their faces were pale. They were afraid.
The woman looked at the King. She said: Where are we?
The King said: You are dead. This is the First Court of Hell.
The man said: Dead?
The King said: You were executed. The sentence was carried out. You are here now for judgment.
The woman began to cry. She did not make a sound. The tears ran down her face. She said: Our son. Where is our son?
The King said: The living are not recorded here. Only the dead.
The man said: He is alone. He has no one.
The woman said: Please. Let us go to him. Let us protect him.
The King said: The dead do not return to the living. It is not permitted.
He reviewed their case. The ink was fresh. The characters were clear.
Arrested for reporting corruption. Sentenced to death. Executed. Son buried their heads. Son walked away. Document does not record where.
The King looked at the woman. He looked at the man. He said: You reported corruption. The rich man controlled the grain. He took rice from the government stores. He sold half. He kept the rest. You reported him. You were arrested. You were sentenced to death. The law was followed.
The woman said: The law?
The man said: We reported a crime. We were killed for it. That is the law?
The King said nothing.
The woman said: Our son. what will happen to him?
The King said: The dead do not return. I cannot give what is not mine to give.
He assigned them to the Fourth Court for judgment. They did not understand what judgment meant. They did not know they could refuse. They were ordinary people. They did not know the rules of hell.
They went to the Fourth Court. They were judged. They accepted the judgment because they did not know there was another way.
When the judgment was complete, they asked again: Can we see our son now? Can we go to him?
They were told: No. The dead do not return.
They asked again. They asked the judges. They asked the guards. They asked anyone who would listen. Their son was alone. He buried them. He was five years old. He had no one.
The Fourth Court sent them to the Fifth Court. The Fifth Court handles requests, they were told. The Fifth Court will hear you.
They went to the Fifth Court.
The throne was empty.
The hall was silent. The documents on the desk were undisturbed. A sealed letter sat on the seat of the throne. No one was there.
The woman said: Where is the king?
No one answered.
The man smiled bitterly "So this is hell? As corrupt as the mortal court."
No one answered.
They waited. No one came.
The parents kept asking.
The case was passed upward. The kings of the Ten Courts could not resolve it.
The case reached heaven.
It passed through the Heavenly Censor's office. It passed through the Ministry of Justice. It passed through the Department of Appeals. Each level added their notes. Each level passed it upward.
The case was new. The ink was fresh. The parents would not stop asking. The Fifth Court was empty. The king was gone.
The request reached the Lingxiao Treasure Hall.
The Jade Emperor sat on his throne. The ministers stood in their places. The Heavenly Censor presented the case.
He said: There is a request from the Ten Courts. The souls of a man and a woman ask to return to the living world. They wish to find their son.
The Jade Emperor said : Let me see it.
He took the document. He read it himself.
Arrested for reporting corruption. Sentenced to death. Executed. Son buried their heads.
He turned the page. There was more.
The grandfather. Died feeding the grandson his own blood. Sentenced to hell. Because of theft.
He read the document again. The grandfather. The parents. The grandson. Three bodies in one grave. No rites. No tablet. No one to call the souls home.
He read the numbers. Three souls in the grave. The grandfather in hell. The parents before him. The grandson somewhere in the world.
He whispered, very quietly: Nine souls in one grave. Damn, this is bad.
The hall was silent. No one moved. The light did not return.