Play Speak
Recap:
This article is just my personal imagination and has nothing to do with reality.
Any similarity is purely coincidental.
*
Pledged child:
The sky gradually darkened, and leaden clouds rolled in like ink, completely engulfing the pale sun.
The wind howled mournfully in the valley, like the wails of countless wronged souls, passing through the ruins of the ancient altar.
The altar stands tall on the top of a barren hill outside the tribal settlement, surrounded by overgrown grass. When the strong wind blows, the grass waves rise and fall like a sobbing lament, extending to the gloomy black forest in the distance.
The altar was built with huge rough stones. Due to years of erosion, the stone surface was covered with moss and mysterious marks. Now it was illuminated by torches with uncertain brightness, adding a bit of eerie ghostliness.
The girl chosen for sacrifice was no more than eight or nine years old, with disheveled hair, and the coarse cloth clothes she wore were torn in many places and stained with mud, and her body was huddled together.
Her eyes were filled with tears, her tender face was full of fear, her tears were crystal clear and filled with fear and confusion, and her cheeks still had dirty marks from the tears.
She mumbled something, but her cries for help were drowned out by the depressing atmosphere.
Priests dressed in coarse black linen robes and wearing hideous animal bone masks gathered under the altar, dancing wildly and chaotically, with the corners of their robes fluttering in the wind.
The bells in his hands jingled and he muttered to himself, chanting an ancient spell that no one could decipher.
Behind them was a group of villagers with numb expressions and empty eyes, holding torches.
The flickering firelight illuminated their faces, but it could not warm the bone-chilling night festival.
The girl was dragged to the center of the altar, where a stone table had already been set up, engraved with runes and filled with dark, dried blood stains in the grooves.
The sturdy man in black robe who was waiting on the side pressed the girl on the stone table. She struggled desperately, holding the edge of the stone table with her small hands. Her nails cracked and blood oozed out, splashing on the steps and being absorbed by the dust in an instant.
The priests gathered around and poured bowls of pungent herbal juice on the girl. The juice flowed down her hair and cheeks, soaking her clothes, like countless cold hands caressing her, making her tremble even more violently.
As the pitch of the witch's spell reached its highest point, a man held up a sharp bronze dagger. The blade flashed coldly, reflecting the girl's desperate and pale face.
In an instant, the world seemed to be still, with only the sounds of the wind, the curse, and the girl's heartbeat interweaving like a drum.
The dagger suddenly stabbed down, and a bright red spot appeared on the girl's neck. Blood gushed out like a fountain, flowing over the stone table and winding along the rune grooves, as if to activate the dormant "magic" of the altar.
The villagers below the stage all knelt on the ground, kowtowed, and prayed to God and their ancestors for protection and not to bring disaster, completely ignoring the little life that was disappearing before their eyes.
The blood danced hideously under the firelight, dyeing a corner of the night sky red and lingering for a long time.
*
Night, thick as ink.
Feng Chenning suddenly broke free from the chaos. She was breathing heavily, her hair was soaked with sweat and stuck to her neck and cheeks in a mess. Her chest heaved violently, as if she was still trapped in the quagmire of that horrible nightmare.
The blood and despair in the dream were seeping into reality bit by bit, eroding her reason and courage.
In her dream, she was imprisoned on a cold altar, with torches burning brightly all around, reflecting a group of indifferent faces. The priests in black robes were muttering something, which was a prayer, but sounded like a fatal curse.
They approached step by step, grabbing her slender arms with their rough hands, and the cold light of the blade flashed. The sharp tip was against her throat, and the chill was like an ice snake, drilling into her heart along the texture of her skin.
She struggled and screamed in fear, but her voice was swallowed up by the fanatical prayer. Then her neck felt cold, and the severe pain and endless fear dragged her into the abyss. Blood splattered everywhere, just like the flower of evil blooming on the altar...
At this moment, Feng Chenning looked around the familiar and warm boudoir. The brocade quilt was piled messily aside because of her struggle, and the carved bed exuded a faint sandalwood scent.
In the past, this fragrance could calm the mind and help sleep, but now it can't dispel the fear that fills my heart.
The lingering fear of that nightmare still haunted her like a maggot attached to her bones, making her tremble.
Outside the window, the moonlight tried its best to penetrate the rain curtain, casting a few rays of light, hazy and powerless, as if trying to gently calm her panic, but it was in vain, unable to dispel the remaining fear in her eyes.
Feng Chenning took a deep breath, clenched his fists, and his nails unconsciously dug into his flesh, trying to use the pain to confirm the reality of the moment.
After a long pause, she finally moved her stiff body, slipped on her embroidered shoes, walked to the window, and took a deep breath of the cool night air, trying to squeeze the bloody and rotten stench in the dream out of her lungs.
Tears silently slid down and wet the windowsill, for the "self" who died in the dream, and also for this awakening after surviving a disaster.
She knew very well that the nightmare from those years ago concealed past secrets and family shadows.
Now that she is alive again, she will definitely get to the bottom of it.
In the originally quiet night sky, dark clouds gathered at some point, piling up layer upon layer, pressing heavily over the mansion.
Suddenly, a strong wind brought with it cold rain, which poured down like dense drum beats madly against the window frames, or like the mournful cries of evil spirits, adding a bit of eeriness to the dead silent night.
While Feng Chenning was lost in thought, his eyes inadvertently glanced towards the corner of the courtyard, a place that should have been completely engulfed by darkness.
But at this moment, with the faint moonlight, a blurry figure stood quietly at the edge of the rain curtain like a sudden shadow.
The rain fell in strings along the eaves, and the splashing water blurred her vision, but could not conceal the presence of that figure.
Feng Chenning's heart was instantly in suspense again, like a string stretched to its limit, "Who?"
She blurted out, and although she tried to remain calm, her voice still trembled a little, and was torn into pieces in this stormy night.
The figure did not respond, but Feng Chenning clearly felt a gaze, like a real sharp arrow, piercing through the rain curtain and window frame and piercing her directly.
Fear was like a vine entwining her heart. Feng Chenning clutched the hem of her skirt tightly. Her palms were filled with cold sweat, soaking the brocade.
Pushing open the door, the wind and rain blew in her face, the cold instantly seeping into her bones. Feng Chenning shuddered, but gritted her teeth and stepped into the rain.
The rain quickly soaked her clothes, her hair stuck to her face, and her vision was blocked, but she still walked towards the figure without looking away.
As I walked a few steps closer, the figure's outline became clearer. It was a tall man, dressed in a black robe that blended into the night. The corners of his clothes fluttered eerily in the wind and rain. His hood swallowed up most of his face, leaving only his stern chin exposed.
It is like a lonely and cold rock in the cold night, exuding a strange atmosphere that is both repelling and intriguing.
"Who are you? Why are you spying on me?"
Feng Chenning asked with forced calmness, raising his voice in an attempt to drown out the noise of the wind and rain.
The man in black was silent for a moment, then slowly raised his head. His deep eyes flashed faintly in the darkness, as if he knew everything.
"I'm here to help you."
He spoke in a deep, mellow voice with a hint of mystery, "You know that what happened in your dream is not an illusion. If you want to survive and find out the truth, you must follow me."
Feng Chenning looked up at him, her face full of astonishment and suspicion, raindrops sliding down her cheeks, and she couldn't tell whether it was rain or cold sweat.
She looked at the strange man in front of her, feeling confused.
Seeing Feng Chenning's hesitation, the man in black frowned slightly, a hint of anxiety flashed in his eyes, and the mysterious silver light in his dark blue eyes seemed to jump a few times.
He took a step forward, his posture upright yet revealing a sense of mysterious oppression.
"I know it's hard for you to believe me right now, but the scene in your dream was bloody and cruel, and you were able to come back to life. It's definitely not a coincidence."
"What do you know?" Feng Chenning asked coldly.
When she was ten years old, she was taken away for sacrifice, and when she woke up, everyone in the village was dead.
He was lying in the middle of the altar, covered in blood.
It is absolutely unheard of that someone can come back to life after having his throat cut by a sharp knife.
Everyone who knew about what happened back then is already dead, so how did this man in black know all that?
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