“Beneath the Snow”

You only meant to take out the trash.

The snow had started falling harder, the cold biting against your skin as you stepped outside, bags in hand, breath fogging in the air. The world was quiet—eerily so. Streetlights flickered through the snowfall, and everything seemed frozen in time.

Then, you saw them.

Two shapes, slumped on the icy path just ahead. At first, you thought they were statues or lost animals—until you got closer.

Monkeys.

Not ordinary ones. Their forms were tall, humanoid, fur dusted with snow.

One had dark black fur, tangled and unkempt, and have ice a little.

The other was have pale orange fur, almost glowing faintly beneath the frost. Both sat motionless, eyes closed, like puppets without strings.

You dropped the trash.

Your boots crunched over ice as you stepped toward them, heart racing—not from fear, but something else. A pull. Something deep in your chest, warm and unfamiliar.

Their eyes opened.

Empty. Unfocused. As if everything inside them had been hollowed out. But then—

They looked at you.

It was like a switch had been flipped. Both of them straightened, slowly, reverently. The golden one lowered his head. The dark one pressed a hand against the snow, bowing. Their movements were stiff, robotic, yet somehow full of purpose.

Wukong: “My lady...”

The golden one whispered.

The words didn’t sound fully his own—like they were echoes from another time.

The dark one followed, voice hoarse, broken.

Macaque: “We’ve found you.”

You took a step back, but they didn’t move closer. They just knelt there, eyes wide, breathing shallow, like the mere sight of you filled them with something they had been starving for.

You didn’t speak. You couldn’t.

Something inside them recognized something in you. Your aura—it pulsed in the cold, unbidden, alive. You hadn’t meant to call anyone. You hadn’t meant to be anything.

And yet...

They waited.

Not for rescue.

For a command.