Game of Souls

Chapter Two

The Li clan was well-known in the magical community. A powerful family of sorcerers, with both a great collection of magical artifacts and extensive knowledge of the mystical arts, it would be difficult not to recognize the influence they wielded. They were known to keep mostly to themselves, however, and rarely intervened on matters that did not directly affect them. A sensible bunch, dangerous if crossed, but not unreasonable to deal with, as it were. With a name like Li, one of the most common surnames, they blended into the rest of the land effectively enough, and it was possible for sorcerers to pass through Hong Kong without coming across one of them at all.

The necromancers, as other sorcerers tended to call them, had worried about the Li clan's reaction when they first came to Hong Kong about a year ago. Their magic did not actually involve the dead, but they were unsettling in other ways, and the clan would not hesitate to get rid of them. So the Yang brothers kept low, keeping watch on the Li clan, refraining from using magic to avoid detection. It was just as well, for the soul arts had far-reaching consequences for the castor and the subject, and necromancers were inclined to refrain from utilizing them anyway. If the Li clan ever suspected their presence, they showed no sign of it.

Considering Li Syaoran's constant presence at the library, Le rather doubted the clan was even aware.

"How does a runt from the Li clan wind up being one of us?" He exclaimed, too eager to rant to pay much attention to the mug of hot chocolate between his hands.

"The same way any of us are what we are."

"But the Li clan is as Yang as they come."

Heben arched an eyebrow.

"What if they find out?"

The elder Yang leaned against the counter. "I doubt they will. There is no chance for him to break through. If he never breaks through, they would never know."

"But what if he does break through somehow?" Le pushed the mug away. "You don't have to have another show you in order to break through."

"He went through some ordeal in Japan involving a deck of magical cards, which from what I heard, caused a lot of ruckus. If he hadn't broken through for that, I think he's pretty safe."

"The Clow Cards are soft," Le grimaced, "The damage they cause is the equivalent of a toddler spilling milk all over the place. Hardly worthy of a breakthrough."

"He went to a foreign country by himself for two years."

"Honestly? That's probably less of an ordeal, given where he's coming from."

Neither brother was surprised by the idea of Li Yelan being a tough mother. She was that famous descendant of Clow Reed, and while Clow Reed had quite a few direct descendants, Li Yelan probably topped all of them in terms of authority and breeding. She was a good woman, it was known; compassionate and wise, if a bit intimidating to approach, and it was mostly her presence that influenced the Li clan into being as reclusive and unobtrusive as they were. Those who sought the help of Li Yelan were rarely turned away, provided their reasons were noble and true. She was a good ally, a good friend, but she also looked like she would be strict and difficult to live with. A woman of such solid principles, who adhered to such a strict code of conduct, would doubtless be ruthlessly inflexible with her children.

"He's a great kid," Le sighed, "What's he, eleven years old? He said he's in sixth grade now so…six, seven, eight, nine in fourth grade, eleven. But he's so quiet, and he reads these crazy books, like Applied Combinatorics, whatever that is, and this biography of Emperor Taizong. I swear he's a child prodigy."

"Combinatorics?" Heben's disbelief penetrated his tone. "Does he even understand what he's reading? How is he still in sixth grade if he's reading things like that?"

"I don't know. Maybe he's not allowed to race ahead. Common schooling is necessary but not a priority for the Li clan. If all of his attentions were on school, he wouldn't be able to work on his 'hobbies'. The point is, though, he's a great kid, very mature, not much of a talker and a bit socially awkward but…he's a great kid, and with a mother like that, I'm not sure the Li clan wouldn't just disown him if he had a breakthrough."

Le was actually afraid the Li clan might do worse. The world was becoming more enlightened as time passed, but necromancy was a bit much. Even if other sorcerers knew what it really was, he doubted they would be comforted.

"If he has a breakthrough, and the clan proves less than accommodating," His brother said after a moment, "There is no reason we should not intervene to protect our own. However, we do not even know if he would ever have a breakthrough, so I recommend you stay put. If you must go to the library to be with this child, remember to be discreet. Until he does break through, he is a regular Yang sorcerer, and is not our friend."

Le was only interested in the first part of his brother's answer. "Will do, Captain. He doesn't even know I have magic, still tries to explain away Japan as a 'family issue'. I guess he wasn't really lying, given Clow Reed was his ancestor and all, but the poor kid," He allowed himself a laugh, "Man, if I didn't know what was up, I'd…I actually don't know any likely alternative reasons for sending a nine-year-old out of the country all by himself. Except maybe to kill him."

Disinterested, Heben left Le to enjoy his hot chocolate in the kitchen.

True to form, Yelan wanted Syaoran home directly after school from now on. He could go to the library to take out books if he really needed to, but he was not to study there.

"This was just one time," Syaoran protested, for the first time daring to talk back to his mother, "I've been in school for months and I've always gotten home just fine. It's just the weather caught us by surprise. Next time I'll carry an umbrella. I'll carry one every day, so I won't have to bother Eldest."

Yelan's eyes grew sharp. "Why do you want to stay at the library so much? Is it someone there? What kind of people have you been with, Xiaolang?"

Syaoran resisted the urge to sigh in frustration. "I'm just use to studying there now."

"Of course you are," His mother frowned, "You were studying there for a while, but sometimes circumstances change and you must learn to adapt. Surely you learned this, having adapted to another country."

Right, well why can't you see that I have adapted enough to know how to determine my own life?

"This is not up for discussion. I want you home as soon as possible after school, not fooling around with the other children for hours. They are not like you. They have no magic. They only see part of the world that you must live in."

"But—"

His mother's aura grew dark. "You have grown insolent in your time away, my son."

I've been home for months. Why would his mother blame his reaction on Japan? And you sent me there. It was not like Syaoran had begged to go to Japan all by himself. Once the Clow Cards were released, the clan had assembled to make arrangements for him. Syaoran never had much say.

"Have you finished your assignments for the day?"

"Yes, Mother."

"Alright." Yelan looked at him for a moment. "I know all of this is frustrating for you. You are young. There are things you cannot possibly consider at your age."

Like how to live on my own. Like how to fail a legacy in one night. Like how to fall in love and have something important to me that isn't in the clan.

"Go." His mother's voice was softer now.

Syaoran left hesitantly, but not because he wanted to stay. He felt a deep fatigue, as if it had taken all of his strength just to bear his mother's verdict.

As he left, he suddenly felt a well of self-loathing, and loathing for this family and how they had raised him; he thought of Sakura and her easy happiness with her father, Yamazaki and his casual security with his mother, the way the children would get together to play, rather than train, and were allowed to throw a fit once in a while just to get the restlessness out of their systems without being reprimanded. What good did his upbringing every do? It only made him unlikeable, which required two years in Tomoeda to smooth even a little. He was socially awkward, reliant on the generosity of others to form friendships. He trained all his life for something that was already predetermined for someone else. Granted, 'all his life' was quite short, but what did he have left now that everything had been wiped to begin from scratch? He had no charisma, he had no talents that brought him joy, and the only friends he had were a thousand miles away, and they hardly needed him as much as he needed them. He was frankly surprised Sakura cared enough about him to make him that stuffed teddy bear. If Eriol were not actually a much older sorcerer, he probably was a better fit for Sakura. Why should Sakura suffer to be with someone so ill-equipped as Syaoran, magically and socially inferior? And it was all because the Li clan had traditions, and his mother was the fancy descendant of Clow Reed and everyone had to listen to her or else. Even if she was stifling Syaoran.

Her priority was to ensure Syaoran was competent, and yet everything she did was keeping Syaoran from fulfilling his potential.

Perhaps Syaoran never had much potential to begin with.

Dear Sakura…

He never knew what to say in his letters to Sakura. She always seemed so cheerful, despite claiming she missed him. She would relate how everyone said hi, the various escapades involving her friends, the evolving relationship between Yue and Touya, and Tomoyo's fashion designs. She never failed to lift his spirits in person, and her letters always eased his loneliness, at least for a while, but while he adored Sakura, she was never quite the person he felt comfortable confiding in.

He had no doubt she would understand; there was no one Syaoran knew who was more compassionate than Sakura, but he never knew how to start, how to tell this dear friend, this special person who was so happy and so carefree and clearly expected him to be the same, that he was actually miserable now, that he felt completely inadequate, that he wished he were a different person, had a different family with a different upbringing, and it seemed like no matter what he did or what he chose, the future held no joy for him. Writing such things felt abhorrent, besides. It made him sound like he was one of those depressed people, which he most definitely was not, and no one liked whiners. Writing would be whining, really, and he was already doing that with Yang Le…or he had been, anyway. With library privileges taken away, he supposed he really could start practicing keeping his problems to himself.

Dear Sakura…

Yet if he did not talk about any of this, what was there to talk about? There was nothing exciting in his life. He had no real friends. He had mentioned a little bit about Yang Le before, but he knew so little about the teen, and Sakura had mustered only mild enthusiasm for this complete stranger who, from her perspective, did not play a significant role in Syaoran's life. Without knowing Syaoran's unhappiness, she could not possibly perceive how Syaoran depended on Yang for support. To her, he was just some library study buddy.

Dear Sakura:

Glad to hear you are doing well. Tell the others I said hi. Nothing really new in Hong Kong, just going by the day.

I miss all of you too.

Syaoran

It was two weeks later before Syaoran went back to the library in order to check out books and head straight home, as his mother ordered. Before he left, however, he went to the window, wondering if Yang was still keeping vigil at that seat.

A couple of teenagers were sitting there, but neither of them were Yang. A boy and a girl, leaning over toward each other, both with grins on their faces while staring into each other's eyes. Yang was nowhere to be seen.

Heart sinking a little, Syaoran turned away. Obviously, another stage in his life was over.

Winter in Hong Kong was never cold enough to snow, but it could still get cold, and Syaoran shivered in his sweater as he made his way home from school. The sun was bright, casting the world in a golden glow. There were birds on the street, pecking at scattered crumbs someone had dropped. They chattered amongst themselves, some fighting, feathered wings beating in a frenzy as they asserted their stations.

He paused to watch them for a while, studying the dynamics between the creatures. The sight was soothing somehow, for all the excitement of the subjects themselves, and he stared and stared and stared…

He should get going. He had work to do. His mother would expect him home by a certain time, even given the time to go to the library. He could watch birds at any time; they were not uncommon, after all, and really, they might interest a four-year-old, but he had seen them so many times before, they were hardly a curiosity now. There was no reason for him to be so intrigued.

He still ended up staring for a while longer. Syaoran had no idea birds could be so hypnotizing.

Why should I go home so early anyway?

Suddenly, Yelan's wrath seemed minor. It was the first time Syaoran thought of his mother and decided he did not care if she became angry with him. He could face the consequences when they came. People adapt. He wanted to enjoy the day, even if it was by himself. In Tomoeda, he would have stayed out in this weather, perhaps done some reading in the park, or gone with Sakura's friends to the mall, bought ice cream or hot chocolate if it was too cold, looked through various shops and just talked. He could not remember the things they talked about anymore; it all seemed very trivial, but it created such a sense of bonding.

Yes, he would do that. He would face his mother later. She was never pleased, ever, so he might as well delay facing that displeasure. A little displeased, very displeased, what difference did it make? Yang's words returned to him; "…you need to play a little more…" and while Syaoran did not know how to play, did not have friends to play with, he could enjoy the day somehow. He always finished his homework early anyway, and of course, training would have to be postponed, probably canceled, because of this stunt, but one day would not hurt.

Not in the way that would matter to him.

The market was filled with people. They had cleaned up the place a little, but some areas still smelled potently of fish, and there were areas with live chickens being slaughtered. Syaoran waded with the current of bodies, looking around for something interesting to look at. Most of the stores were stocked with food, roasted ducks hanging by their necks at the window, but there were some arts and crafts stores, and other stores with little figurines.

Along the way, his phone rang. Syaoran glanced at it, noting it was from his mother.

He pressed the end-call button and turned the phone off.

There was an old bookstore, and having spent so much time in a library, Syaoran could not help but feel drawn to the familiar shelves. He went inside and breathed a sigh of relief at the relative warmth. Heat is a good thing.

The place was a bit cramped, and though the room was furnished well and kept in good condition, there was a subtle age to the place, which was strangely comforting. Syaoran passed the shelves littered with cookbooks and other how-to's in favor of the volumes toward the back. There were some Japanese manga, and he glanced briefly at those, feeling a flare of nostalgia for Tomoeda, before looking away.

Romance novels, a few translations of Western literature, autobiographies…nothing he could not get at a library.

He turned and nearly walked straight into someone.

This man was taller than Touya, and bigger. He was white, with blonde hair and high cheekbones. Syaoran managed an apology, but then felt something touch his aura. He started, adrenaline washing out the floating mood he was in.

The man's eyes narrowed. Syaoran drew back, fists tightening, ready to defend himself—

The world abruptly greyed out around them.

"Well well," The man drawled, "This is unexpected."

Syaoran looked around in alarm. The other people in the bookstore were frozen, as if time were standing still…except this was not like the Time Card. The grey tint to everything seemed like a filter of some sort, as if they were seeing their surroundings through a fog.

What spell is this?

"What's a little cub like you doing out all alone?" The man inquired, a harsh light in his eyes.

Hong Kong is not as safe as Tomoeda. Syaoran grimaced. "What makes you think I am alone?"

"Spare me the attempts, child. You cannot fool me." The man approached, and Syaoran pulled on his magic—only to find it stuck, as if caught on something. He backed away in panic.

"Don't come any closer!"

The man ignored him. "You have not broken through. Interesting!" He made a motion with his hand, and suddenly something exploded from Syaoran—a web of lights, like glowing silk threads, each a different shade of green, woven in numerous patterns.

"I think I'll take you before someone else does," The man reached out, and when Syaoran tried to draw back, he found he was frozen, immobile.

"Hey!" A familiar voice yelled, and the world suddenly rippled back to color and the green lights winked out of man whipped his head around, startled.

Yang Le folded his arms behind the man. His face was cold, in a way Syaoran had never seen.

There was a moment of silence.

"Yang-sinsaang," The man inclined his head.

"Mister Landon," Yang replied in English, "I had no idea you were in town."

"Ah, here on business, as it were. You are well, I trust?"

Yang's smile was the most unpleasant Syaoran had ever seen.

"As are you, I see."

He then looked at Syaoran and switched to Cantonese. "Hey kid, I finished looking around, we should probably head out before my brother comes looking for us."

Knowing an escape route was at hand, Syaoran nodded quickly.

"Want to head out so Eldest doesn't freak out? I'll join you later."

He nodded again, slipping away immediately. The cold blasted him as he opened the door, and he stepped out, looking for Heben. The elder Yang was nowhere to be seen, however.

Yang Le emerged moments later. "Come on," He told Syaoran.

Syaoran followed.

"Haven't seen you around for a while."

Syaoran had no money on him, so Yang had to pay for both of their hot chocolates. The two of them sat by the wall, away from the window, while the café music played in the background. Heben, as it turned out, was nowhere near the market; Yang Le had just been bluffing to ensure Landon behaved himself.

Syaoran stared into his cup, too anxious to drink it. For the first time, chocolate tasted like cardboard.

"You have magic," He said suddenly.

He had no idea what had happened. He had no idea what kind of magic it was, but he knew it was magic because it certainly was not anything natural, and Yang had broken through when everyone else in the bookstore had frozen. The two also seemed to know each other, and whatever that man tried to do to Syaoran, he did not appear to have attempted on Yang.

"So do you," Said Yang, sipping from his own cup with pronounced carelessness.

Syaoran thought quickly about how to respond.

"What do you mean?" He opted to ask.

"Li clan, going to Tomoeda for the Clow Card fiasco," Yang leaned back, "Good effort if I didn't already know, but I always knew. Perks of having magic, you know. People who have magic are occasionally aware of other people having magic."

Unsettled, Syaoran glared. "I never sensed any magic from you."

"You didn't sense any from Landon either." Yang took another sip. "Thing about different types of magic. Sometimes you don't sense a certain kind."

Syaoran looked away, feeling strangely betrayed.

"Look, I'm sorry," Yang leaned forward at this, "I wasn't keeping things from you just for chuckles, alright? There are different layers to things. You keep magic away from non-magical folk, we keep our magic away from your type of folk. It's not great but there's not much we can do about it."

"What kind of magic?" Syaoran demanded.

Yang looked reluctant to divulge. "Yin magic."

Syaoran felt like the world greyed out again. He did not know much about Yin magic, other than that it was rare and powerful and…evil.

"Look, kid," Yang began, but Syaoran's aura was already flaring in response to his terror. He cringed back in his seat; he would have dashed to the door, but even with the panic clamping on his mind, he knew that would do little good.

Yang swore. "Look look look look look—just—just calm down around? Let me explain. Look, we're in a café, nothing's going on, you and I have sat across from each other for months—come on man!"

He was right; Yang had plenty of opportunities to do what Landon did, but that did not mean Syaoran was ready to relax and trust him.

"You're a necromancer."

"God, that's so not—that's a terrible name and it doesn't even describe us right. We don't fiddle around with dead people and corpses, alright? The correct term is soul arts…and…alright I guess that's pretty scary too, but seriously! What do you think premonitions are? That's like baby soul arts, and you Yang sorcerers are totally fine with that!"

Syaoran had no idea what he was talking about and he had no interest in learning. Standing up, he pushed the chocolate aside.

"Thanks for your help," He said quietly, "I won't tell anyone, I promise."

"Get real. If you walk out there by yourself, he's just going to come after you again."

Syaoran froze.

Yang sighed. "Sit down. You're part of this whether you like it or not. You're not going to like it."

"I already don't like it," But Syaoran sat down. "Why did Landon attack me? Was it because I am a Yang sorcerer?"

Yang snorted. "We don't really care about Yang sorcerers. Well, the bad ones do care, and Landon's not a good one, but that's not the reason—you—oh man," He paused, "This is not going to be pretty."

"Get to the point." Syaoran was nervous enough as it was.

"He's after you because of you."

"Son of Li Yelan of the Li clan?"

"No. No one cares about the Li clan or Li Yelan. Well, I guess that's not true, but they matter less to our kind than to your kind—well I guess they're not really your kind." Yang frowned. "He's after you because you're one of us too, but you haven't broken through to your true powers."

'You have not broken through. Interesting!'

"That makes no sense." It made so little sense, Syaoran could not even react. This was too ludicrous. "My clan are all Yang sorcerers. How am I one of you?"

"Yin magic is just like Yang magic. Once in a while, it pops up sporadically. Trust me, you blew my mind too, when Eldest told me what you were. I didn't know at first, you know. That wasn't the why I came over to your seat." Yang scowled. "I thought you were a regular Yang sorcerer."

"Why did you come over?"

"I—" Yang blinked. "I mean, you were this weird kid, you came every day and you stay for hours, and you sit by yourself and you don't talk to anyone. I thought you were really weird."

"You came over because you thought I was weird."

"In a good way! I mean, I saw you and I instantly liked you." A pause. "Alright, it's not as creepy as I just made it sound. But I sensed we had a yuanfen—that our destinies are meant to cross somehow. That's not a pure Yin thing, even non-magical folk get it."

Syaoran did not know what to say.

"Anyway, that's not the point. The point is you're a Yin sorcerer that hasn't broken through, and normally that's fine, but with Landon around…I don't even know what he's doing here—what business? But he's a bad sort, and maybe that's why the two of us met, because there's nothing like a Yin practitioner who hasn't broken through. You have potential, but you have no defense. That's perfect for him to link your fate to him."

"What do you mean?" Syaoran asked, dread curling in his gut.

"Soul arts," Yang hesitated, "It's not necromancy the way you probably understand it. We don't deal with dead people and ghosts. Those don't really matter to us. We do deal with fate, however. We manipulate people's destinies. Soul arts are all about directing and modifying the path that soul is supposed to take in a lifetime, so in the real world it translates into setting people's futures. That's why premonitions are actually a Yin art. Can't really manipulate a future you can't see. You need to break through, first, though. I mean, usually we all have a little bit of Yang magic—quite a bit of Yang magic, actually, just like Yang sorcerers can have premonitions, and Yang magic is the surface level and usually suffices for things, you know? It gets things done, and you never need to reach deeper for the Yin magic, so it just lies dormant indefinitely. You need to be either shown how to break through, or you need to be forced into breaking through—under extreme duress, or the like. Until then, you're just a regular Yang sorcerer, and you're as vulnerable as any other Yang sorcerer or non-sorcerer to Yin magic. There are levels, you see. Non-sorcerers are vulnerable to Yang magic, Yang sorcerers are vulnerable to Yin magic, and if you want to resist Yin magic you need to know how to use it first, but you need to break through in order to do that."

Syaoran was quiet for a time, absorbing all of this—or trying to.

"I still don't understand why he attacked me."

"You know how to force a Yin sorcerer to slavery?" Yang's voice was low. "You catch him before he breaks through, then you pull his fate to link with yours in lifelong servitude; you do this by cursing him, something like…breaking into hives if he ever disobeys you, or having him personally killing a loved one if he ever disobeys you, or making him destroying his whole country if he ever disobeys you. You then set a breakthrough timepoint, where on this day and this time this person will break through, since that's what Yin sorcery is all about—and once that timepoint is reached, you now have one of the most powerful slaves in existence doing your bidding."

Syaoran shrank back, horror clenching in his chest. "What—why would he want—"

"Because Yin sorcery takes energy," Said Yang, "And it's easier to have a horde of sorcerers carrying out your command. In fact, it takes no effort to have a horde of sorcerers carrying out your command, as opposed to doing things yourself."

The door to the café opened.

"Syaoran."

Syaoran jerked around at the familiar voice. Fuutie stood at the door, so stern that everyone in the café turned to look at her in mild alarm.

Syaoran was not sure if he was calm or just too numb with dread to feel it. He took his backpack and pulled the straps onto his shoulder.

"Thanks for the hot chocolate," He said to Yang quietly.

Yang was looking between the two siblings with wide eyes. Syaoran did not give him a chance to respond. He slid over to his disapproving sister, who said nothing as she held the door open for the two of them to leave.

"Landon," Le told Heben, "It was strange. A month of no show, and suddenly he's wandering around the market all by himself, and just when Landon was there too. If I hadn't shown up, the kid would have been toast."

Heben frowned as he pulled a drawer out to retrieve a phonebook. "Any hint of why Landon is in Hong Kong?"

"No. I pretended you were around. Better to be safe than sorry with that guy."

"I will call Liding, see if he heard anything about this."

"Second is in France, what's he going to know about an American?"

"Worth a try." Heben flipped through the pages. "What about the child?"

Le hesitated. "I told him. I didn't get a chance to really go into detail, because he was really scared, and then his sister showed up and took him home. She seemed really upset. I don't think this market trip was planned."

"How much have you told him?"

Le related.

"We will have to keep an eye on the boy," Heben frowned, "I am charging you with watching him tomorrow. I do not want Landon getting his hands on him."

"Yes, captain," Le saluted playfully, but his eyes were serious. "We might…need to prepare to bring him here."

"We will cross that bridge when we get to it," Heben promised, picking up the phone.

Yelan set the phone down on the table with deceptive gentleness.

"Xiaolang," She began, "Do you wish to continue living in this house?"

I am a Yin sorcerer. Syaoran was so overwhelmed, all he could manage was a blank expression.

"If you do not want to live by the rules under this roof," Yelan continued, "You can take yourself out. Live without funds from the Li clan. You can work for yourself, try to earn your own money, find your own place, get your own food. I will not stop you."

That's just it. You never seem to care enough to stop me if I ever do choose to leave.

"Mother," Fuutie spoke up, "This isn't like Syaoran. He's always been good. Maybe he's just had a really bad day."

Yelan was silent for so long that Syaoran almost could not stand it.

At length, the woman sighed.

"Why did you disobey me, my son?" She demanded softly, "Why did you refuse to answer my call? Why did you turn the phone off, so that there is no way for any of us to contact you?"

This was his chance. He could explain himself. His mother was allowing him to explain himself.

But how could he make her understand?

"It was a beautiful day," He said at last. "And besides, you found me." Through magic, he supposed.

"You disobeyed Mother because it was a beautiful day?" Fuutie was incredulous.

A heavy silence fell, so heavy it was suffocating. Syaoran had to break it.

"Usually when the weather is this nice," He looked down, "I would go to Penguin Park and sit for a while, or take a walk with Sakura and her friends. I'd leave homework for after dinner, when the sun already set and there isn't anything outside to do."

He had a feeling he had just completely baffled his listeners, but he really did not know what else to say.

After another silence, his mother murmured, "Do you have homework due tomorrow, Xiaolang?"

He nodded. "Yes, Mother."

She stared at him, clearly uncertain what to make of him. "Go take care of that, then."

He did not need to be told twice. It took all of his willpower not to simply race out of the room.

"The Yang brothers are in Hong Kong."

"All three?"

"At least the first and the youngest. There's a little Yin sorcerer who hasn't broken through, however."

This inspired intense interest. "Just how close is this child to breaking through?"

A chuckle. "He hasn't even started. The Yang brothers might be problematic though. One showed up to the little one's defense."

"We have not much time."

"There are more of us than the Yang brothers, surely we can get to the child, no matter their efforts, as long as we act fast."

"Do you know the identity of the boy?"

"No," Landon smirked, "But I intend to find out, and I intend to make him ours."