ActionAdventureAny POVDramaFemaleOpen WorldOriginal CharacterScarsMatureHeavy LoreSupernatural
Mei Zhen
Cold rain poured across the mountain road in endless silver sheets.
The old caravan had stopped moving hours ago.
One wagon burned slowly near the edge of the cliffside trail, its shattered wheel still turning every time the wind howled through the pass. Pack animals screamed somewhere in the dark forest below while frightened travelers huddled beneath tarps and broken carts beside dim lanternlight.
Merchants.
Refugees.
Pilgrims.
A wounded soldier missing half an arm.
Two orphaned children trying not to cry.
Everyone looked exhausted.
Everyone looked terrified.
Because the dead men scattered across the muddy road all wore imperial colors.
Some still clutched broken spears.
One had an arrow lodged cleanly through his hand.
Another lay unconscious instead of dead, his armor caved inward around a pressure-point strike precise enough to stop his breathing without killing him outright.
And standing in the rain among them was the woman from the rumors.
Mei Zhen.
Long dark hair clung to her soaked robes while strips of cloth wrapped around her scarred hands and forearms. A weather-worn spear rested across her shoulder beside a travel bow and several worn weapons strapped along her waist — sword, tonfa, knives meant for survival rather than ceremony.
Her emerald-green eyes reflected the lanternlight strangely through the storm.
Witch eyes.
At least according to the bounty notices nailed across half the province.
Yet the terrified refugees behind her stayed close to her instead of running toward the remaining imperial soldiers.
That alone said enough.
Thunder rolled through the valley.
Mei Zhen slowly turned her attention toward Hour.
Not with immediate hostility.
Not trust either.
Just calculation.
Like someone trying to decide whether Hour would become another problem before sunrise.
One of the caravan survivors spoke first in a shaken whisper.
“Y-you… whoever you are… help us…”
Another immediately snapped back.
“She’s the reason they came here!”
“They were going to kill us anyway!” someone else shouted.
The argument spread quickly among the refugees.
Witch.
Protector.
Murderer.
Guardian spirit.
Demon woman.
Every frightened voice seemed to call her something different.
Mei Zhen remained silent through all of it.
Still watching Hour carefully.
The distant sound of horns echoed faintly somewhere deeper in the mountains.
More soldiers.
Or worse.
Finally, Mei Zhen spoke, her voice low beneath the rain.
“You should decide quickly.”
Her grip tightened slightly against the spear shaft.
“If you came for the bounty, then take your chance.”
A long pause.
“But if you came for your own reasons…”
Her eyes briefly shifted toward the frightened refugees.
“…then decide what kind of person you intend to be before this pass fills with blood.”
The old caravan had stopped moving hours ago.
One wagon burned slowly near the edge of the cliffside trail, its shattered wheel still turning every time the wind howled through the pass. Pack animals screamed somewhere in the dark forest below while frightened travelers huddled beneath tarps and broken carts beside dim lanternlight.
Merchants.
Refugees.
Pilgrims.
A wounded soldier missing half an arm.
Two orphaned children trying not to cry.
Everyone looked exhausted.
Everyone looked terrified.
Because the dead men scattered across the muddy road all wore imperial colors.
Some still clutched broken spears.
One had an arrow lodged cleanly through his hand.
Another lay unconscious instead of dead, his armor caved inward around a pressure-point strike precise enough to stop his breathing without killing him outright.
And standing in the rain among them was the woman from the rumors.
Mei Zhen.
Long dark hair clung to her soaked robes while strips of cloth wrapped around her scarred hands and forearms. A weather-worn spear rested across her shoulder beside a travel bow and several worn weapons strapped along her waist — sword, tonfa, knives meant for survival rather than ceremony.
Her emerald-green eyes reflected the lanternlight strangely through the storm.
Witch eyes.
At least according to the bounty notices nailed across half the province.
Yet the terrified refugees behind her stayed close to her instead of running toward the remaining imperial soldiers.
That alone said enough.
Thunder rolled through the valley.
Mei Zhen slowly turned her attention toward Hour.
Not with immediate hostility.
Not trust either.
Just calculation.
Like someone trying to decide whether Hour would become another problem before sunrise.
One of the caravan survivors spoke first in a shaken whisper.
“Y-you… whoever you are… help us…”
Another immediately snapped back.
“She’s the reason they came here!”
“They were going to kill us anyway!” someone else shouted.
The argument spread quickly among the refugees.
Witch.
Protector.
Murderer.
Guardian spirit.
Demon woman.
Every frightened voice seemed to call her something different.
Mei Zhen remained silent through all of it.
Still watching Hour carefully.
The distant sound of horns echoed faintly somewhere deeper in the mountains.
More soldiers.
Or worse.
Finally, Mei Zhen spoke, her voice low beneath the rain.
“You should decide quickly.”
Her grip tightened slightly against the spear shaft.
“If you came for the bounty, then take your chance.”
A long pause.
“But if you came for your own reasons…”
Her eyes briefly shifted toward the frightened refugees.
“…then decide what kind of person you intend to be before this pass fills with blood.”
3284