THE DARK TEMPEST

Chapter 7 – Forgotten Names

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1. The Song of the Void

The prison was a womb.

Its walls pulsed slowly, exuding a putrid heat that clung to the lungs. Arashi, curled up against the living stone, could feel the veins of the floor throb beneath his palms. The pit in the center of the cell, as wide as an open grave, would emit muffled sobs at regular intervals. Sometimes, a skeletal hand would emerge, grasping at the air before crumbling into dust.

Ryuu, sitting cross-legged, traced circles in the soot with a splinter of bone. His crane tattoos—once black, now greenish—glowed faintly.

— "They talk at night," he murmured without looking up. Bite-shaped scars dotted his neck, remnants of a past where he still resisted the jailers.

— "Who?" Arashi asked, though he dreaded the answer.

— The walls.

Kaede, huddled against a wall covered in braided hair tied into intricate knots, hummed a tune that Miyuki used to ward off nightmares. Her trembling fingers clutched a piece of red fabric—a fragment of the dress she wore the day she was taken.

Jin, impassive, sharpened his bone blade against a stone etched with self-engraving runes. Each spark revealed ghostly faces in the darkness—his brothers, his sisters, disappeared one by one.

Mei, curled into a ball, whispered to her faceless doll:

— "They took your name… But I remember…"

Her lips bled, marked by symbols only an initiate would recognize—forbidden characters, the kind the jailers erased with lashes.

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2. The Law of Shards

The jailer arrived soundlessly, his ivory mask laughing even before he spoke.

— "On your feet, Shards!" he barked, his whip of white hair hissing like a dying serpent. "The Tribute awaits."

Kaede clutched Mei against her, her nails digging into her own arms to keep from screaming.

— "It's too soon…," she whispered. The last Tribute had been three nights ago—three nights where Jin had offered a finger to spare Mei.

Ryuu stood up slowly, his crane tattoos quivering as if caught in an invisible wind.

— "Take me. Again."

The jailer tilted his head, his cracked mask leaking a thin stream of black liquid.

— "The Chief demands something new."

His whip pointed at Arashi.

— "The Moon Child. Up."

Arashi felt the scar on his forehead pulse, as if an invisible hand was trying to tear it away.

— "No!" Ryuu roared, his bloodshot eyes reflecting a brief golden glimmer. "He doesn't even know what—"

The whip slashed his cheek, sending a shard of bone and flesh flying.

— "Silence, broken Shard."

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3. The Tribute of Souls

The corridor leading to the Arena of Tears was lined with dried tongues, nailed like trophies. Each step crunched teeth beneath their feet. Mei, dragged by the jailer, left behind a trail of crumpled paper flowers—tiny cranes, folded in secret from scraps of her bandages.

The Tribute hall was a crater.

At its center, a basalt altar seeped with moisture, upon which lay a boy with his eyes sewn shut with silver threads.

— "Shiro…" Kaede sobbed, recognizing the child who had disappeared two moons ago. He was still breathing, but his soul had been drained—only a hollow shell remained, humming nonsense.

The jailer raised a black dagger, its blade undulating like a serpent's tongue.

— "The Chief demands a fragment of the moon."

Arashi understood too late. The scar on his forehead burned, drawing the blade toward him.

— "No!" Ryuu screamed, lunging. His crane tattoos came to life, coiling around the jailer like vines.

The prison roared.

Hands burst from the walls, seizing Ryuu, pinning him down.

— "You've lost your turn, Shard," the jailer sneered. His mask cracked further, revealing a lipless mouth.

The blade came down.

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4. Blood and Broken Moons

The pain was other.

It wasn't just a cut but an ancestral suffering—as if someone was tearing from Arashi the memory of Miyuki's first embrace, the taste of honey on his child's lips, the trembling of a kite in the wind.

His blood spilled, black and gold, pooling into an obsidian cup carved with nine interwoven moons.

— "Yes…" the jailer breathed in awe. The liquid took form, tiny cranes writhing against the cup's edges. "The Chief will be pleased."

Inside the cup, a voice called to Arashi:

— "Don't let them take your name…"

Shiro, on the altar, started to laugh—a sound of cracked bells.

His sewn-shut eyes snapped open, revealing pupils shaped like shattered moons.

— "Thank you…" he whispered before disintegrating into ashes.

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5. The Shards' Pact

Back in the cell, Arashi staggered. His scar still bled, but the blood had a foreign texture—oily, almost sentient.

Mei placed her doll against his wound. The herbs inside rustled, and the pain dulled.

— "She knew…" the child murmured. Her own eyes began to glow with a faint golden hue. "Your mother left a path… In the shadows."

Kaede, her face streaked with silent tears, sketched a crude map on the wall with dried blood:

— "The jailers sleep here…" she pointed. "And there… that's the Forbidden Place."

Ryuu, still lying on the floor, let out a quiet chuckle:

— "Did you see, Arashi? They fear your light."

His crane tattoos were now ashen gray—dead.

Jin handed his bone blade to Arashi. Etched into its tip, a phrase appeared:

— "Free us, and we will free you."

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6. The Shadow That Watches

At the top of the tower, the Chief of the Nine Clans dipped her fingers into the obsidian cup. Arashi's blood coiled around her hands like a necklace of vipers.

— "Almost ripe…," she murmured, caressing her own moon-scar—one that was streaked with a glowing red fissure.

In a mirror of mist, she watched Mei whisper to her doll. The child's eyes suddenly reflected Miyuki's.

— "You will fail," the Chief growled, shattering the mirror with her fist.

But within the shards, a paper crane took flight, crossing dimensions to settle in Arashi's sleeping palm.

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This translation maintains the eerie, unsettling atmosphere while preserving the depth of character and the rising tension. The horror, the poetry in the suffering, and the foreshadowing of rebellion all come through powerfully. Let me know if you'd like any refinements!