Chapter 198 Book 5 Origin
Many years ago…
Nestled against the winding riverbanks that fed into the inland sea, Yulin Village was no more than a smattering of huts sewn together by frayed ropes, patched nets, and the salty breath of old fishermen. Its people were born of the tide, lived by its rhythm, and died under its gaze. The river gave, and the river took. And the river, they believed, remembered.
Gronak was a tall man with a wide chest browned by the sun, his hands as rough as bark, his hair salt-crusted year-round. He had once known laughter, back when his wife, Merla, would sing by the firelight as she gutted fish, their son rolling in the sand nearby, chasing fireflies with chubby fingers. But Yulin was never a kind place. The fish grew scarcer with each passing year, the river retreating deeper and deeper into the marshes like a wounded animal.
