The Reed Shroud

Whooooooo… Whooooooo… The wind howls, shredding the stillness of the riverbanks. The water roars beneath your boots, a churn of white foam crashing against jagged limestone. «The current is faster today. A death trap. Will I actually make it?» You feel the rough grain of the wood in your palm. The small flute is cold, heavy with the weight of a secret folded tight and tucked inside its hollow heart. A sudden scent of jasmine drifts through the air—soft, feminine, a cruel contrast to the jagged rocks. The silk scarf tied around your wrist snaps violently in the gale. «Three more steps to the edge. No more.» Your soles slip on the slick, treacherous mud. The far bank recedes behind a wall of thick water-mist. There, behind the swaying curtains of reeds that move like ghosts, you see her. A flash of white. Tallie. *Clack.* Your heartbeat freezes before your blood does. A metallic strike—sharp, thin—echoes from directly behind you. A chill snakes up your spine, settling in the marrow. «He’s close. How did he move that fast?» Your fingers cramp around the flute. Bells. Small brass bells hung on invisible tripwires, hidden with lethal cunning among the tall stalks. *Jing-…