Chapter 2 overture

Greasy black plumes of smoke hung in the bitter air, and the ashes of the victims drifted on the wind, spreading over those who thought they had saved countless souls.Tongues of fire stretched out, licking around the smoldering ruins, searching greedily, but only found a pile of charred remains.The flames extinguished and died after a crackle, black smoke coiled in the sky, covering the dilapidated village, and the sun cast a black shadow like a shroud. The crowd dispersed, and many made signs of the sign of the cross, trying to expel evil curses or other curses still floating in the foul air.The pastor pretended to be sacrosanct and muttered "stinky witch" in a low voice, but he began to pray for forgiveness and eternal rest for the remains of the dead, although he was not sure whether the object of his prayer was really God.

Two identically dressed figures nestled in a rat-ridden alley, both wearing black hooded gowns with the brims of the caps pulled down to cover their heads.One of the older men was leaning on a finely carved wooden staff decorated with nine strange symbols; his back was bent, his hands were rough and wrinkled, but even so he could hold the stick. His companion, who was much younger by comparison, stood erect even though his shoulders were drooping and his head bowed in grief; The strong smell produced actually did not want the old man to know that he had cried. Unseen by others because they did not want to be seen, the two stood and watched in silence until the last ashes of their loved one fell on the cracked flagstones of the street, the old man Then he let out a long sigh.

"Is that all you can do?" the young man hissed, choking with grief. "Sigh? You should have let me—" His hands frantically waved in the air. "You should let me—" The old man reached out and took the young man's arm. "No, doing that will only make the situation worse for us. She is powerful enough to save herself, but chooses to keep our secret. Even though they destroyed and burned her body, can you say she failed?" "Why did they do this? Why did they do this to us?" The young man screamed miserably, trying to wipe away the sad tears on his face with his slender and elegant hands. "We did nothing wrong! We just wanted to help..."

The old man's face grew serious, and his voice was as hoarse as the crackling of a burning fire. "Ignorance leads to fear, and fear leads to destruction. People like them have been like this since ancient times." The old man sighed again and shook his head. "But it's getting worse, and a new age is coming when we're no more, and they're dragging us out of our homes one by one, and throwing us into a raging fire; they're going to hunt and destroy everything we've made, slaughter our family—" "So we can only stand here, silently watching death come." The young man interjected bitterly.

"No!" The old man grabbed his arm tightly. "Never!" The old man's voice made the young man feel hopeful and excited, but the fear that followed made him tremble, and he turned to face the old man. "No, we will not let this happen! I have considered this matter for a long time, weighing all possible dangers and other options, and I have eliminated all doubts, knowing that we have no other options. We must leave." "Leave?" The young man replied softly in shock. "But where can we go? No place is safe. Our brothers tell us that wherever the sun rises there is persecution..."

As if fulfilling the words of the young man, the sun poked its head out from the gray and black clouds. In the cold winter, the empty and pale sun trembled with the cold, and the heat it emitted was not even as hot as the charred corpse that was still warm. The old man looked at the sun and sneered. "Where the sun rises? Yes, you're absolutely right." "So--" "There are other suns in other time and space, child." The old man said meaningfully, his eyes wandered to the sky, and his hands stroked the patterns carved on the cane. "Other suns..."