A Song for The Ages

The first light of dawn broke over Pine Village, casting its soft glow upon a place that had once been filled with warmth and quiet laughter. Now, the air was thick with the stench of blood and ash. The aftermath of battle was painted across the village in broken walls, scorched earth, and lifeless bodies, both of the fallen militia and the black-clothed invaders.

Cai Feng stood in the middle of it all, his broad shoulders stiff as he surveyed the battlefield with cold, calculating eyes. His blade dripped with the blood of the enemies he had slain, his body bearing fresh wounds from the brutal battle, but he paid them no mind. The remnants of the enemy forces had fled, leaving only corpses behind.

At first, there had been relief. They had fought back. They had survived. But something was off.

A strange, sickening unease settled over the village like a dense fog. It wasn't until the roll call began that they understood why.

"Where's my baby?! Where is he?!"

A mother's wail shattered the morning stillness. Silence followed. Then another, and another.

One by one, the villagers began calling out names, searching, pleading, running from house to house. The realization struck like a blade to the gut. The children, both babies and teens, were missing. Every single one.

Cai Feng's breath caught in his throat, his heart hammering in his chest as he turned sharply, scanning the remains of the village with new urgency.

"Feiyin," he rasped, his voice barely a whisper.

He strode toward his home, steps heavy, dread curling in his stomach like a venomous serpent. The door was open.

No sign of a struggle. No blood. But no Feiyin either.

The ground beneath him felt like it was tilting. His wife's scream pierced through the village like a knife.

"FEIYIN!"

Cai Feng spun, eyes wide, just as Mei Liao came running toward him, her long black hair disheveled, her usually poised and graceful form trembling with unrestrained panic. Her amethyst eyes, always so sharp, so full of warmth and wisdom, were wild with desperation and grief.

She shoved past him, stumbling into their home as if by sheer force of will she could make Feiyin appear. She tore through the rooms, her hands trembling as she upended pillows, searched corners, flung open doors.

Nothing.

"FEIYIN!" she screamed again, her voice cracking.

Cai Feng clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white.

He knew. Even before she collapsed to the floor, shaking, sobbing, hands clutching her face, he knew.

His son was gone.

A sharp, piercing rage clawed at his insides, blinding and consuming. His breath came in ragged gasps, his entire body trembling as his nails dug into his palm, drawing blood.

The enemy hadn't come to simply kill. They had come to take. The realization sent a tremor through him, through the militia, through the entire village. The children were gone.

They had stolen their sons and daughters in the dead of night, while the men fought and bled to defend them. A guttural roar of fury erupted from a father as he fell to his knees, clutching the empty bedding where his daughter had slept.

"Those bastards! Where did they take them?! WHERE?!" His voice cracked, hoarse and broken.

Another mother wept uncontrollably, clutching the sleeve of a militia member. "Find them! Please! Bring them back!"

"We have to chase after them!"

"How do we even track them? They're already gone!"

"NO! There has to be a way! We can't, " A villager collapsed to the ground, sobbing.

The desperation, the rage, the grief, it thickened the air, suffocating and unbearable.

Cai Feng forced himself to breathe. He couldn't afford to lose himself now. He turned to Jiang Hu, who stood among the militia, his face unusually pale, his lips pressed into a thin line.

"We need to track them," Cai Feng said, his voice deadly calm.

Jiang Hu met his gaze, eyes flickering with barely contained fury. "They covered their tracks well. We need time."

"We don't have time."

"We don't even know where they went, "

"They took my son!" Mei Liao's voice cut through the air like a whip.

The entire village turned toward her. She stood at the doorway of their home, her slender hands clenched so tightly that her fingernails had dug into her palms, drawing thin trails of blood. Her breathing was ragged, her usually elegant face twisted in anguish.

"Feiyin... they took Feiyin..." she whispered, her voice cracking.

She swayed, as if her body couldn't bear the weight of her grief. Cai Feng stepped toward her instinctively, his hands reaching out, but she fell to her knees before he could reach her.

Her shoulders shook.

"I should have sensed it," she choked out. "I should have... I should have been there!"

Cai Feng knelt beside her, his hands shaking as he placed them on her shoulders. "Liao..."

Her body trembled violently beneath his grip.

She turned to him, her amethyst eyes glassy with unshed tears. "He's all alone, Feng... our baby... we don't even know where he is, what they're doing to him, "

Cai Feng's own throat closed up.

His wife, so strong, so capable, was breaking.

And he had no words to fix it. No power to make it right.

Only blood. Only fury.

Only failure.

His jaw clenched so tightly it hurt. His nails bit into his palm, the pain grounding him, but it wasn't enough. It would never be enough. The enemy had taken their son. And he hadn't been strong enough to stop them.

A heavy silence fell over the village as the weight of their loss finally settled in full. Fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters, left behind. Empty homes. Silent cradles. Rooms devoid of laughter. The bloodstained victory felt hollow.

Jiang Hu knelt next to them, his voice low, tight. "We'll find them. We have to."

Cai Feng didn't respond for a long time. Finally, he exhaled sharply, his breath shaky. He pulled Mei Liao into his chest, his arms tightening around her trembling form, and in the quiet of the broken village, he made a vow.

"We will find him." His voice was steel. "I don't care what it takes."

Mei Liao clutched his robes, her body shaking with silent sobs. The sun had fully risen now, its golden light washing over the village.

But there was no warmth in its glow.

Not anymore.