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Revival Scroll
墨書 Inktalez
Rain, yet another damned rainy day.
Working late into the night, the city’s neon lights were blurred by the rain, creating a dampness that made it hard to breathe.
I quickened my pace, eager to slip into that empty rental apartment.
“Brother.”
A thin voice reached my ears.
I stopped, feeling a surge of irritation as I looked down.
A small girl stood there, soaked to the skin, gazing up at me.
The streetlight was too dim for me to see her expression clearly, but her eyes shone unnaturally bright in the darkness.
My annoying habit of observing people’s micro-expressions flared up again, but all I wanted was for her to go away quickly.
“Is there something you need?” My voice came out raspier than I expected.
She didn’t respond; instead, she held out something tightly clutched in her hands.
A photograph.
The corners were damp from the rain, but the image in the center remained clear.
My breath caught sharply in my throat.
In the photo was Zhou Yu.
My sister.
She smiled radiantly, with a carousel from an amusement park in the background, holding a misshapen clay figure that she had insisted I win for her after an afternoon of playing games.
I remembered how she laughed until her eyes squinted that day, whispering in my ear, “Brother, this clay figure is really ugly, but since you tried so hard, I’ll reluctantly accept it!”
The mischievous tone and uncontainable joy in her voice pierced my heart like a needle at that moment.
This was taken on her birthday last year; she said it was the happiest day of her life.
She had… passed away some time ago.
My heart felt as if it were gripped by a cold hand, blood rushing to my head only to recede quickly, leaving behind a nauseating dizziness.
“Where did you get this photo?” I heard my own voice tremble as I tried to read something from the girl’s face, but her small features were indistinct in the rain, exuding an almost numbing calmness.
She didn’t answer; instead, she stared at me with those eerily bright eyes and slowly raised another hand to point behind me.
I stiffly turned my head inch by inch.
The rain fell harder now, obscuring my vision further.
The streetlight’s glow twisted and warped through the falling droplets.
Then I saw it.
A figure stood just beyond the shadowy entrance of an alleyway not far away.
About my height, wearing… wearing Zhou Yu’s favorite light blue dress.
Impossible.
I must be dreaming.
Overwhelmed by grief and working late for too long must have caused me to hallucinate.
Yes, that must be it.
There are no such things as ghosts; it’s all nonsense—I’ve always believed that.
The rain blurred my vision further or perhaps… it was something else entirely.
The figure moved.
She slowly emerged from the shadows, stepping into the dim glow of the streetlamp.
My pupils dilated in shock.
It was Zhou Yu.
It really was Zhou Yu.
Her face was as pale as paper, her hair damp and clinging to her cheeks, her eyes vacant.
Then I saw it.
From those once starry eyes, two streams of... black blood were slowly flowing down.
Thick and viscous.
They traced down her colorless cheeks, dripping onto her soaked dress, creating a deeper stain that spread out like a dark shadow.
I opened my mouth, but no sound came out.
My mind went blank, all knowledge and understanding shattered in that instant.
This was impossible.
This was absolutely not happening!
I must be going insane.
Yes, I was mad; this was a product of my grief and stress, an incredibly vivid nightmare.
An indescribable sense of absurdity and extreme fear enveloped me, nearly suffocating me.
I could even smell a hint of rust mingling with the rainwater.
My hand instinctively reached for my backpack.
Inside lay something.
A book I had carried with me since my amnesia, its cover made of dark leather, old and worn.
The last page had been torn away roughly, leaving jagged edges behind.
I had never known what it was; it exuded an inexplicable strangeness and foreboding.
The Book of Resurrection.
Those three characters were faintly visible on the cover, but I had never delved deeper into it.
At that moment, just as I saw Zhou Yu’s eyes flowing with black blood, I distinctly felt the book in my backpack... move slightly.
No, not in a physical sense.
It was a... cold resonance.
I even felt that through the fabric of the backpack, the patterns on that leather cover seemed to protrude more than usual, more... chillingly pronounced.
This feeling was fleeting yet sent chills down my spine.
"Little sister..." I suddenly turned back, wanting to catch the girl who had given me the photo, wanting to ask her what was happening, wanting to confirm if everything before me was real or at least find someone to share this damned hallucination with.
The alleyway was empty.
Aside from a few leaves swirling in the wind, there was nothing else.
The rain continued to pour relentlessly onto the ground, as if that little girl and the photo of Zhou Yu she held were merely figments of my imagination.
How did she disappear?
I hadn’t even heard any footsteps.
A chill shot up from my soles straight to the crown of my head.
Am I… am I really not dreaming? Or has my mind completely shattered? Just as this thought was about to engulf me, I suddenly felt an intense, almost searing cold radiating from my backpack, as if it were about to burn through my back!
It was that old book!
The "Book of Resurrection"!
I yanked the backpack off with a jolt, my fingers trembling with fear, making it difficult to pull the dark leather-bound book from the bag. Under the dim glow of the streetlight, I stared at it intently.
The three characters on the cover—"Book of Resurrection"—which had once been blurry, now seemed freshly stamped, their edges glowing faintly with an ominous dark red light.
I rubbed my eyes, but the glow remained. Not only that, but the intricate patterns swirling around the text… they seemed to be moving on their own!
It wasn’t just my imagination; those fine lines were indeed changing shape in an extremely slow yet undeniable manner, like countless tiny insects crawling beneath the leather.
Suddenly, something within those writhing patterns appeared to be emerging—a silhouette!
A… my scalp prickled; it was unmistakably the outline of a pair of eyes! Hollow, enormous, resembling those of Zhou Yu, which had been flowing with black liquid… almost identical!
“Uh…” A suppressed groan escaped my throat as I instinctively wanted to throw this cursed thing away, but my hand felt paralyzed and unable to move. The cover of the book was icy to the touch, and a faint yet distinct odor—an unsettling mix of rust and decay—wafted into my nostrils.
The outline of the eyes lingered for less than a second before quickly vanishing back into the twisted patterns, and the dark red glow faded away, returning everything to its original worn and ancient appearance.
Yet every detail of what had just happened was burned into my retina. This wasn’t an illusion! Absolutely not!
This "Book of Resurrection"… it’s problematic! It must be connected to Zhou Yu, to the little girl, and to all these damned events tonight!
I gripped the cold book tightly, my heart racing. I must… I must understand what is going on! I need to find a way to prove what I saw or… prove that I’m not insane!
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