The Dubai safehouse perched atop a desert dune, its glass walls reflecting a star-strewn sky, the city's distant glow a faint pulse against the vast silence. Ruoxi sat on a cushioned divan, the phoenix blood book open before her, its golden script humming softly, a testament to the pact—"choice, sacrifice, heart to bind". Her side bore a faint scar from Elena's claw, healed by rest, but her heart ached for Lan's sacrifice, Xingxing's fall, and Bin's fragile recovery in Kyoto. The phoenix tattoo glowed steadily—balanced, heart-driven—its fire renewed by Mei's spark and the pact's victory, though the weight of hunters lingered, their reach global, undeterred.