The cave is silent except for breathing.
Ragged. Uneven.
Feng Lihan lies against the stone wall, wings folded wrong, several feathers burned down to blackened shafts. His chest rises shallowly, each breath dragging pain through broken channels.
Across from him, Mo Shan is coiled protectively despite his injuries—scales cracked, blood dark against the rock. His human form flickers in and out, unstable from overexertion.
The war noise feels impossibly far away.
Here, there is only aftermath.
Lin Yue kneels between them.
His hands are shaking.
"Why didn't either of you listen," he whispers, voice breaking. "Why do you always decide to be heroes alone…"
No answer.
Feng Lihan doesn't wake.
Mo Shan's eyes are half-lidded, unfocused, his usual calm fractured.
Lin Yue presses his palms to Feng Lihan's arm, then Mo Shan's shoulder, desperate, helpless. The healers had done what they could—but Four-Star injuries inflicted by a Seven-Star are not easily mended.
His vision blurs.
"I'm here," Lin Yue chokes. "I'm right here… please don't leave me."
Tears spill free—hot, unstoppable—falling onto Feng Lihan's scorched feathers.
Then onto Mo Shan's bloodied scales.
The moment the tears touch them—
The cave responds.
A soft golden light blooms beneath Lin Yue's hands, gentle at first, like dawn slipping through closed eyes. It spreads instinctively, threading through fractures, seeping into torn meridians and cracked star channels.
Feng Lihan gasps.
His wings twitch sharply, feathers shuddering as the blackened shafts begin to flake away—new red feathers pushing through, glowing faintly gold at the edges.
Mo Shan inhales deeply, sharply. His scales knit together with a quiet, crystalline sound, venom channels stabilizing as ancient serpent sigils flare and then calm.
Lin Yue freezes.
"What—?"
The light intensifies, wrapping both of them in warmth—not burning, not overwhelming.
Protective.
Alive.
Lin Yue feels it then.
Not draining him.
Not costing him.
It flows through him.
From deeper.
From somewhere sacred.
A third heartbeat answers.
Feng Lihan's eyes snap open.
Mo Shan's pupils contract to slits.
They both stare at Lin Yue.
And at the golden radiance pouring from his hands.
"Lin… Yue…" Feng Lihan breathes, voice hoarse. "Stop—your body—"
"I'm not doing it," Lin Yue whispers, terrified. "I don't know how."
Mo Shan slowly sits up, stunned, placing a hand over his own chest. "This isn't Hawk fire," he murmurs. "And it isn't Serpent earth."
The light fades as gently as it came.
Silence returns.
Feng Lihan flexes his wings experimentally—no tearing pain. Just soreness. Healing.
Mo Shan steadies fully, strength returning far faster than should be possible.
They look at Lin Yue.
Then at his abdomen.
Understanding settles heavily between them.
Mo Shan speaks first, reverent. "Light magic."
Feng Lihan's breath catches. "That bloodline vanished after the first era."
Lin Yue's hands curl unconsciously over his stomach. "So it's… because of the child?"
Mo Shan nods slowly. "Not just because."
Feng Lihan moves carefully, kneeling in front of Lin Yue despite his injuries. He cups Lin Yue's face, thumbs brushing away tear tracks that still glow faintly gold.
"You awakened it," he says softly. "Love-triggered light. Healing without sacrifice."
Lin Yue breaks.
"I thought I was useless," he sobs. "I can't fight like you. I can't protect—"
Feng Lihan presses his forehead to Lin Yue's. "You just saved us both."
Mo Shan rests a steady hand over Lin Yue's, grounding him. "The Demon Lord wants purity to ascend," he says quietly. "But purity doesn't only destroy."
He glances meaningfully at the faint light still pulsing beneath Lin Yue's skin.
"It also restores."
Lin Yue exhales shakily, tears slowing. "Then he'll come again."
"Yes," Feng Lihan says. His gaze hardens—but not with fear. "And next time, he won't expect this."
The cave hums softly, ancient runes responding to the presence within.
Above them, the wind no longer howls.
It listens.
And for the first time since the war began, hope takes form—not as a weapon.
But as light.