The stars were still out.
But they didn't blink.
Didn't shift.
Didn't shimmer.
They simply watched — as if they, too, were afraid of the name about to be spoken again.
Master Bai's study was aglow with floating lanterns, some upside down, some swirling in lazy spirals above tea cups and spirit maps. But this time, his usual antics were gone.
He poured wine in silence. Not into his gourd — but into a second cup.
That alone told Lian Qiao how serious it was.
He passed it to her without a word.
She sat, knees folded beneath her, Flamebinder resting against the wall nearby. It hadn't stopped vibrating softly since she returned from the lake.
"You said it knew me," she said at last. "The thing beneath the lake."
Bai nodded. "It did."
"And it remembered my fire."
He nodded again.
"Then what was it?"
Now he met her eyes.
And said, with no riddles and no wine-fueled metaphors:
"It was what your fire once sealed."
Ten Thousand Years Ago — The Lost Pact
There had been a time before the Heavenly Council.
Before the Jade Thrones.
When the skies were divided between five great forces:
The Flame of Creation
The Storm of Judgment
The Ice of Preservation
The Wind of Change
And the Void That Hungered
The first four gave birth to the immortal sects.
But the last?
It gave birth to nothing.
It only devoured.
The Void was not evil.
It simply existed without purpose.
Until one day, it found emotion.
And it liked it.
That was when the first cracks appeared in the heavens — as the Void began to feed on fear, desire, grief, obsession.
"And that," Master Bai said now, "is what you were born to stop."
Lian Qiao sat frozen.
"You're saying the thing in the lake… is the Void?"
"No," Bai replied. "I'm saying what's in the lake is the piece of the Void that tried to bond with you."
She blinked. "...What?"
He exhaled. "It's not just prophecy, Qiao'er. You weren't just Flame. You were the anchor. The only one whose fire could seal the crack when the Void tried to reach through. You did it by sacrificing your soul — binding a part of the Void inside the seal."
"And now that I've returned…" her voice cracked, "so has it."
Bai nodded slowly. "Your death sealed it. Your rebirth weakened it."
Elsewhere — The Eastern Sky
Mo Yujin stood in his private chamber, staring at a wall of divine maps. Constellation threads pulsed with strange interference. One section — near Mirror Moon Lake — blinked out entirely.
Frostbane hummed beside him.
"She's part of it," he whispered.
Then, aloud: "She wasn't just reborn… she wasn't supposed to return at all."
Back at the Sect
Qiao gripped the edge of the table.
"If I sealed it once… I can do it again."
Bai shook his head. "Not without cost. Your soul isn't pure flame anymore. It's tethered. To him."
Mo Yujin.
"If you seal it again, Qiao'er… you'll take him with you."
She went still.
Not from fear.
But from something deeper.
A quiet, sick ache in her chest.
"He doesn't know," she whispered.
"No," Bai said. "He only remembers the part where you died in his arms. Not why."
Outside, the rain began again.
Silver, slow.
And in the lake below, something smiled without a face, and whispered:
"This time, I will not be sealed.
This time… you will love me back."