(1)

As my trembling hand reached out into the abyss of darkness, grasping for something, anything to anchor me in this chaos. My mother's silent command, her finger pressed against her lip as we sought refuge in the closet. Blood pumped into my veins in an erratic pace, my heart echoing a silent plea to grasp onto hope admist the suffocating terror.

My fingers clung onto the sleeve of my younger brother, a lifeline in the looming uncertainty. "Take care of your younger brother, alright?" I repeated the words my father whispered into my ear before tightly closing the closet door shut.

The house reverberated with a terrifying symphony of terror: screams, crashes, the heavy thud of something falling. Each sound was a dagger to my heart, piecing together a nightmare I dared not acknowledge. Tears welled in my eyes at the mere thought.

My younger brother and I huddled together in the cramped and hot closet, the air thick with fear and sweat. I glanced at my brother, his small form curled like a fetus, hugging his knees. The silence was loud and eerie. Was it over?

My breath hitched at the faintest sound of footsteps, each step a harbinger of impending doom. I pressed my hand tightly against my mouth, pressing my other onto my brother's mouth, willing the world to silence.

The haunting footsteps roamed around the corridors of our home. The door of the room next to ours exploded with a deafening bang, the footsteps pausing for a moment before resuming their advance. In the heartbeat of silence, dread hung heavy in the air. A tangible presence that suffocated us. With bated breath we braced ourselves for the inevitable intrusion.

____

"Excuse me?"

The words pierced the air, sharp and accusatory, drawing my attention like a moth to a flame and snapping me back into the present. My breath hitched, my eyelashes fluttering to meet the glare of an angry customer.

"I.. I apologize." I stammered, my voice quivered, with trembling hands I glanced at the register, silently praying for reprieve. "The total is 1,448.24 yuan." I managed to articulate, each word weighed down by the weight of impending consequences.

My mind recounted the number of times my manager called me into his office to complain about my performance at work.

A chill swept through me as I stole a glance at my manager, whose disapproving gaze bore into my very soul. The gravity of the situation settled upon me like a suffocating blanket. My eyes shifted onto my customer, realizing he was one of the regulars.

With a sigh, I accepted the inevitable. "I'll just get this over with. Tsk." He mumbled. My fingers trembled as I processed the payment and bid farewell to the departing figure, as they stormed out, their words of dissatisfaction echoed in my ears.

In the end, I returned home jobless.

I knocked thrice on the wooden oak door, with a creak the door swung open, "Welcome home." The warm embrace of my younger brother, Finn, held back the tide of unshed tears.

A decade passed since that tragic night---The WMAA (World Martial Arts Association) lent me and my younger brother a helping hand. Thanks to them, I was spared the burden of Finn's school fees. As for me, school has long lost its allure.

For now, I have to accumulate money due to this lingering suspicion that the WMMA played a part in the murder of my family.

"Lius!" Finn's voice broke through the haze of my thoughts, snapping me back to the present. I met his gaze, a weary sigh escaping my lips at the awful nickname.

"Didn't I tell you to stop calling me that?" I chided, annoyed however a flicker of amusement danced in my eyes.

He chuckled, the sound a balm to my troubled soul and teased, "Why, don't like it?"

"Of course, fish." I retorted, the corner of my lip curling as his face contorted into a comical expression of disbelief. "That's not fair!"

As we settled at the table, I found myself unable to muster an appetite, exhaustion weighing heavily upon me like an anchor dragging me into the depths. I pushed my untouched plate towards Finn, "Eat it, i'm going to bed."

I tucked myself in my sheets, covering my face with a pillow. I sought refuge from the cacophony of my thoughts. As I dozed off, my eyes jolted awake by the weight of a memory.

I glanced at the necklace wrapped around my neck, It was given to me by my deceased older brother, tonight, I felt curious. I felt compelled to investigate it and so I did.

I wear this necklace everyday and so seeing these familiar symbols engraved on the surface of the necklace was a daily day to day occurrence. I never questioned the meaning behind the symbols, yet right now, I couldn't help but wonder.

The memory of this necklace brought about a rush of pain and bitterness, yet sweet memories. As I was caught in a haze, the words---  "Festum Anima." intrude my mind. 

With sudden clarity, I rushed towards the heirlooms I kept hidden in a box.

It's stunning and unbelievable that I forgot something so damn important--- Our legacy, steeped in our tradition and heritage passed down through generations, Festum Anima. The exclusive martial art of our lineage.

Driven by desperation and purpose, the burden of my family and our lineage made me rummage through the heirlooms my deceased brother, father and mother entrusted to me on that tragic night 10 years ago.