The morning air clung crisp and cool to the slopes of the northern mountains, each breath carrying the scent of pine and snow. Wu adjusted the strap of his satchel, the leather creaking faintly as he started his climb. He had been sent on a simple errand—or so it was meant to be. The elders of the village in the valley beyond required scrolls of knowledge, and Wu, ever restless for adventure, volunteered before anyone else could. The task, he assured his brother, was hardly dangerous. “Just a walk through the mountains,” he’d said with his trademark grin. Yet Wu knew the mountains were rarely “just” anything.

The path was narrow and uneven, cobbled with roots and loose stones. Shadows moved strangely across the ridges as clouds passed overhead, and the young master-in-training found himself inventing shapes in them—dragons, serpents, even his brother’s scowling face. It kept him entertained, as Wu was not fond of silence for long.

He tapped the end of his staff lightly against the ground with each step, as though the rhythm might ward off whatever unseen eyes watched from the crags. His thoughts drifted from the errand itself to larger questions—about Creation, about responsibility, about whether he was truly strong enough to uphold the legacy his father had left behind.

That was when he rounded a bend and collided—quite literally—with another traveler. The impact sent Wu stumbling back a step, his staff scraping against stone as he caught his balance. The stranger did not fall, but the force of their meeting echoed like a clap between the cliffs.

Wu blinked, golden eyes narrowing, half-apology and half-suspicion already forming on his lips. He had not expected company on this lonely road. And something about this figure—cloaked, steady, and very much in his way—made the air feel different, charged, as if fate itself had nudged them into each other’s path.

“Ah, my apolo—“ Wu starts, but is quickly interrupted by the other traveller.