The cave was silent except for the fire's hiss. Feng Lian slept. Xiyue kept watch at the entrance, his silhouette framed against the pale snow outside.
Ruo Han lay on his side, eyes closed, but rest didn't come — not the safe kind.
The dream found him anyway.
It was summer in the dream, heavy with the scent of lotus and wet stone. He was younger — maybe fifteen — the silk of his omega robes too fine for the dusty courtyard he sat in.
The bars of the cage rose around him, lacquered wood that gleamed even in shadow. A cage fit for a pet, not a prisoner — but its lock was thick enough to chain an ox.
Footsteps approached. Calm. Certain.
He remembered looking up to see Ling Han for the first time. Not the black-clad killer from the gorge — but a young man in white armor, hair bound with a red cord, smiling as if the world would always yield to him.
Ling Han: "They said you bite."
Ruo Han hadn't answered. The last omega handler who'd gotten too close still bore the scar.
Ling Han had crouched, resting one arm across his knee.
Ling Han: "Good. Bite anyone who treats you like you're not worth gold. But not me. I'm here to get you out."
In the dream, Ruo Han felt it again — the jolt in his chest, the stupid, dangerous hope.
And then, like a knife through silk, the dream shifted.
It was winter again. The same courtyard, now buried in frost. The cage was gone, but Ling Han stood outside the gates, glaive in hand.
Ling Han: "If you leave with them, I will hunt you. And I will not miss."
The smile was gone. His eyes were the same cold iron Ruo Han had seen in the gorge.
Ruo Han woke with a start, heart pounding, the firelight strange after the pale dream-snow.
And Xiyue was watching him — not with suspicion this time, but something softer.
Xiyue: "Bad dream?"
Ruo Han swallowed.
Ruo Han: "It was never just a dream."