Mei Lian did not sleep that night.
The campfire had long gone cold, leaving only ash and the whisper of wind.
Zhen Yu and Liang Hu rested nearby, unaware of the silent battle raging behind her still eyes.
Every time she closed them, she felt it — a pulse not her own, soft as breath, deep as hunger.
The fox's essence.
It moved beneath her skin like golden smoke, waiting. Watching.
She sat cross-legged in the snow, her fingers in an ancient mudra, her breathing steady.
Her thoughts became still water. Her veins glowed faintly red in the dark.
"I will find you," she thought.
"And I will bind you."
By dawn, she was already deep in meditation.
The cold no longer touched her; frost bloomed across her robe, unmelting.
Her fingers formed an ancient mudra — one taught by witches of old, used to peer within the soul.
The world faded away.
Snow turned to shadow.
The air became thick with golden mist.
When she opened her eyes again, she was standing in a void of water and light — reflections stretching endlessly in every direction.
And there, rising from the stillness, was the fox.
It no longer had a body of flesh — only shape.
A spirit of gold and smoke, its nine tails drifting like silk banners.
Its face shimmered between human and beast, male and female, sorrow and temptation.
"Little witch," it purred, voice echoing from everywhere and nowhere.
"You finally came to me."
Mei Lian stood unmoving, her reflection trembling beneath her.
"You're still inside me," she said — her voice here was whole, not silent.
"You're feeding on my desires."
The fox smiled, a slow curl of luminous fangs.
"And you are feeding on my strength. A fair exchange, isn't it?"
"You have no power to live without me," Mei Lian said.
Her tone was calm, cold.
"Your body is gone. Your heart is dust. You exist only because I let you."
The fox's tails rippled, amused. "True. But so long as you breathe, I will breathe through you. My hunger will be your hunger. My longing, your longing. You cannot kill me without killing yourself."
Mei Lian took a step forward, the water beneath her feet turning crimson.
"Then we make a pact," she said.
"You will not control me. You will not whisper through my dreams. You will survive — but within me. As part of my will, not against it."
The fox's golden eyes narrowed.
"You ask for cooperation from a demon born of desire?"
Its voice lowered, almost tender.
"Do you even know what it means to carry me? I am every yearning you've ever buried. I am what you fear to want."
"I do," she whispered.
Her hand reached out, hovering just above the creature's shimmering chest.
"And I will master that, too."
For a long moment, the fox watched her — unreadable.
Then, slowly, it inclined its head.
"Very well… Witch of Blood and Silence."
Its voice melted into the air. "Let us see who devours who."
It stepped forward — and vanished into her.
Mei Lian gasped.
The cold returned.
Her body trembled as red and gold light rippled through her veins, merging, fading.
When she opened her eyes, the morning sun was breaking through the trees.
Snow glowed pale as glass.
She exhaled, her breath curling into mist.
The air around her felt lighter — yet somewhere deep within, she could feel the fox's heart beating alongside her own.
Not gone.
Not subdued.
But bound — for now.