The night wind carried whispers.
Ruo Han sat in the small mountain inn's attic room, knees drawn up, watching the paper lantern sway in the dark. Every flicker of the flame seemed to tug at something deep inside his chest — a strange warmth that had only grown since the second moon appeared.
The Heaven's Vein.
He didn't need the sect scrolls to know it was inside him now. It thrummed like a hidden river beneath his skin, a pulse that wasn't entirely his own.
But it came with other things, too.
Dreams where silver roots tore through the sky. Visions of hands reaching for him — some to protect, most to claim.
He could feel them drawing closer.
Scarlet Sun's fire. Azure Wing's winds. Frostpeak's ice. White Jade's familiar, suffocating calm. All circling. All waiting.
And among them… two presences burned brightest.
One, a steady flame — fierce, stubborn, impossible to extinguish.
The other, a blade of heat and charm, dangerous in its beauty.
Lan Xiyue. Feng Lian.
The thought of either finding him first made his heart twist — for reasons he didn't dare untangle.
Outside, a floorboard creaked. Too light for an innkeeper. Too sure for a drunk traveler.
Ruo Han's hand went to the dagger under his pillow, his breath stilling.
They were here.