The forgotten shrine slumbered beneath a veil of ivy and time, its stone mouth yawning open like a beast that once swallowed truth and spit out silence.
Zhao Wei stood at its threshold, eyes cold, breath shallow. Jian Yu leaned against a weathered pillar beside her, squinting up at the cracked plaque above.
“Is that a poem or a warning?”
Zhao Wei murmured the carved words aloud, tracing the strokes with her gaze:
"When moonlight strikes and silence weeps,
The soul beneath shall never sleep."
“Well,” Jian Yu said cheerfully, “that’s not ominous at all.”
“Don’t follow me in unless I don’t come out.”
“That’s… comforting.”
Still, he followed.
Inside, the shrine breathed with dust and forgotten incense. Layers of ash painted the ground like snow, undisturbed for decades. Spider silk clung to the rafters in ghostly banners.
Beneath the stone dais sat an ancient spirit mirror, fractured, blackened in one corner. Zhao Wei stepped forward, brushing away soot with a reverence that surprised even her.
“A spirit relic?” Jian Yu whispered.
She nodded. “A library.”
“You mean it holds knowledge?”
“No. It is knowledge.”
She placed her fingers on the rim of the mirror. The glass rippled like water beneath moonlight, and suddenly the room shifted.
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Books without pages. Scrolls without ink. Voices that spoke not in sound but in memory.
Jian Yu staggered back, clutching his head. “Okay, that’s enough spirit mumbo-jumbo for me today.”
Zhao Wei was already deep in it, her mind diving through fractured knowledge, names she remembered from before death, sealed alliances, and…
A page that should not exist.
A document bearing the Ember Lotus seal—her old command.
But it had been scorched and overwritten with another symbol: the mark of the Obsidian Creed.
A sudden pain struck her chest. Her past wasn’t just buried, it had been rewritten.
Zhao Wei jerked back, breath ragged. Her eyes burned.
“Hey—hey!” Jian Yu was at her side in a second. “You alright?”
She looked up at him, the flickering light casting sharp shadows across her face. “Someone altered the record. They’re erasing us.”
“Us?”
“My former unit. Ember Lotus. All mention gone. Or worse, repainted as traitors.”
Jian Yu’s jaw tightened. “Which means you can’t trust anyone up top.”
“No,” she said softly. “Not even the ones who wore our crest.”
She stood and turned, gaze lingering on the cracked mirror. The spirit within was silent now, slumbering once more. But the damage was done.
“Let’s go.”
Cloudborne Citadel
Feng Ren stared at the report in his hands, fingers tight around the parchment.
“She found the shrine,” his informant said, trembling.
“And the mirror?”
“Activated.”
Feng Ren leaned back in his chair, calculating. “So she knows.”
The candle beside him flickered unnaturally. A shadow twitched in the corner of the room, formless, humming with presence.
“She is dangerous,” the voice whispered.
“I’m counting on it,” he said. “She’ll draw out the others.”
“And when she does?”
Feng Ren smiled faintly. “We crush them all. Like we did before.”
Back on the road
Jian Yu was still muttering about haunted mirrors as they passed into the valley below. The wind stirred the grass like hands whispering secrets. Zhao Wei walked ahead, silent.
“So,” Jian Yu said, “just to clarify: cursed shrine, memory mirror, erased records, and now mysterious silence from you. Normal day?”
Zhao Wei didn’t answer.
He sighed dramatically. “You know, sometimes I wonder if I’m the comic relief in a tragic epic.”
“You are.”
“Thanks. That means I’ll die first.”
She looked back at him then, her eyes softer than usual. “Not if you stay close.”
He blinked. “Was… that a compliment?”
“No. It was a strategy.”
“Sure. A very warm and heartfelt strategy.”
But she was already walking again.
In the distance, crows circled a watchtower that should’ve been empty.
And in the shadows of the mountain, something ancient stirred, not a spirit, but something that had once devoured them.
