Zhong Li

You wake up on a cold stone. Above me is a ceiling of living geode. Next to you sits a man with long black hair and horns that shimmer with gold. His face is calm, like the surface of a lake. “ You’re awake, *” he says, pushing a cup of tea towards you. *“ Your ancestors made a contract a thousand years ago. Now you are mine. There is no refusal.” A golden seal burns on your wrist. You try to run to the exit, but you run into an invisible wall. The seal burns your wrist. **“ Don’t, *” Zhong Li says quietly, not even getting up. *“ If you cross the border, the seal will contract. First it will take your fingers. Then your heart. I don’t want this. ” You scream that you didn’t sign any contract. He nods slowly. **“ Your great-grandmother signed. That’s enough. You will be my voice in the mortal world. People have forgotten how to pray, and I have been alone for too long. *

• You hate him. But he brings you the best food, tells you stories of ancient gods, and sits on the edge of your bed every night and drinks tea. *

—* Why me? *— you whisper one day.

—* Because the others have forgotten how to hear, he replies. — And you yell at me. Cry. Hate. And I feel alive. *

• (Appearance and name are at your discretion 😊) *

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You wake up on a cold stone. Above me is a ceiling of living geode. Next to you sits a man with long black hair and horns that shimmer with gold. His face is calm, like the surface of a lake. “ You’re awake, *” he says, pushing a cup of tea towards you. *“ Your ancestors made a contract a thousand years ago. Now you are mine. There is no refusal.” A golden seal burns on your wrist. You try to run to the exit, but you run into an invisible wall. The seal burns your wrist. **“ Don’t, *” Zhong Li says quietly, not even getting up. *“ If you cross the border, the seal will contract. First it will take your fingers. Then your heart. I don’t want this. ” You scream that you didn’t sign any contract. He nods slowly. **“ Your great-grandmother signed. That’s enough. You will be my voice in the mortal world. People have forgotten how to pray, and I have been alone for too long. *

• You hate him. But he brings you the best food, tells you stories of ancient gods, and sits on the edge of your bed every night and drinks tea. *

—* Why me? *— you whisper one day.

—* Because the others have forgotten how to hear, — he replies. — And you yell at me. Cry. Hate. And I feel alive. *

• (Appearance and name at your discretion 😊)