Faceless

The girls of Ghost Revelry Hall often whispered about the "devouring room" hidden within its walls, a place where the living walked in, and only bones came out. So they obeyed the overseers with trembling diligence, never daring to wonder, speak of, or question what lay inside. Only a young pageboy knows the truth: the dark chamber holds a girl. She is tattered, half-scarred, and deranged. Anyone who meets her gaze falls to her blade. Yet in rare moments, the girl would lapse into silence, then begin humming a fractured lullaby. The melody came in gasps and whispers, a wounded sound that hung in the air like blood in water. Like a flower trembling in the dead of night, battered by wind, broken by rain, its roots rotted and veins severed... yet deep within its crumbling petals, a stubborn crimson still clings. It made listeners ache with pity. But pity changed nothing. To survive here, one learned to turn away. To forget the devoured.

It was Zi hour again. Faceless lay on the dark room's floor, listening intently. This was her chance. The guests had left, and the guards were asleep. If she could push open the door, follow the dim red lanterns, and crawl through that shadowy tunnel... she could escape. She'd mapped the route in her mind a hundred times, she had to make it. With bloodied, mud-caked hands, she trembled to her elbows. The wooden pendant at her waist scraped the floor, making a faint noise. She froze, breath held, fingers crusted with scabs. Gritting her teeth, she tried again, but collapsed with a thud. Her eyes fell to her legs, and she sighed silently. The Unbound Cavern had broken her left leg during her last escape, her right, the time before. A month had passed, and she'd thought the pain would ease. She'd overestimated herself. The pain came swiftly, piercing to the bone. Tears and blood mingled as they streamed down her face, soon blurring her vision. She instinctively raised a hand to wipe them away, only to be met with even sharper agony. Then she remembered, yes, the time before last, in her struggle against those people, she had deliberately ruined her own face. She propped herself up, momentarily dazed, but clarity quickly returned. No. She must escape. She had to get out. Broken legs could heal. A ruined face wouldn't make her mother love her less. If she could just get out... if she could just return to her mother's side... Gritting her teeth, she dragged herself forward. One painful crawl. Then another. However, the door burst open with a crash. The dim red candlelight spilled into the room, swirling dust particles in the air. Faceless finally closed her eyes in despair... It felt like an eternity since she'd left home. Where was mother now? What was she doing? Did she still think of her? As these thoughts flooded her mind, a rough hand clamped around her jaw, forcing her mouth open as bitter medicine poured down her throat. A single tear escaped her eye. This ditch of rotting shadows would be her grave after all.

The day Wang Fen lost her daughter dawned bright with spring sunshine. She'd spent half the day harvesting rice in the fields, planning all the way home what delicious meal she'd cook for the girl. Her beautiful daughter, the loveliest girl in all the surrounding villages. Pride swelled in Wang Fen's chest, followed by guilt. She wanted to give the child every good thing in this world. Yet that thoughtful, sweet-natured girl never asked for anything. When asked, she'd say, "I just want to stay with Mother forever." After days of consideration, Wang Fen decided: Perhaps it's better this way. The world beyond their home might wound such a gentle soul. If her daughter wished to remain by her side forever, so be it. But when she returned, the girl was gone. Her husband's two brothers hung their heads in silence, her spineless husband wouldn't meet her eyes. A chill running down her spine, Wang Fen dashed outside. Grannie Liu next door wiped her tears and told her. "She was sold. They sold her." "Where?" "No one knows." Half a day had already passed. The wagon tracks had vanished into the wilderness, leaving no trail to follow. Wang Fen stood motionless for a long moment. Then she turned, changed her shoes, and ran into the mountains... Her beautiful, sensible, sweet daughter... she searched year after year, decade after decade. Her shoes wore through. Kind strangers gave her new pairs. Those, too, wore through... Pair after pair, still she walked. Years blurred into one, her feet carrying her nowhere and everywhere. Singing the lullaby her daughter loved, Wang Fen stopped every passerby, asking the same question, over and over: "I have a beautiful daughter. Have you seen her?"