In the vast emptiness of the void, where stars dared not linger and time itself seemed frozen, Vera stood alone on the edge of a shifting platform. Her breath came in shallow puffs, her strength nearly spent. The steel plates before her moved with unpredictable rhythm, like the heartbeat of a god in slumber. Plate 135 shimmered and danced with chromatic light, never settling in one place for long, while Plate 246, in stark contrast, remained anchored in the void—unchanging, unyielding, dependable.
Vera had observed their behavior countless times. 135, unstable but rhythmic. 246, constant like the northern star. She had mapped their sequence, counted the beats between their shifts. She knew it in her mind.
And yet… her feet faltered.
Even as her thoughts followed the pattern perfectly, her body bareley followed her. Muscle memory failed her, or perhaps it was too much exhaustion, or doubt—or fear. For so long, she had been adrift, wandering between shattered realms and cursed dimensions, chasing a whisper of a path back. Her celestial power was nearly gone after the long journey, and she was already burned out from trials too heavy to name. But this—this was the final trial.
She had no choice.
Breaking the rules was inevitable now, she must break the rule even though she knows what i means to break the celestial raw. She has no fear to suffer, even it can bring her to see her dearest master Jin Xiu.
Vera took a trembling breath. With defiant eyes, she summoned the remnants of her magic. No longer the proud, overflowing light of a divine protector—no, this was raw, ancient power pulled from the very bones of her being. Forbidden magic. A violation of the sacred law that barred entry to the divine plane through unnatural means.
But she no longer cared.
She wove the sequence into her soul—135, leap, adjust, pause, 246, land, hold. Over and over, she looped the rhythm, engraving it into her nerves, into her very breath.
When she moved again, she did not think—she remembered.
She danced between the plates, feet tapping against glowing surfaces that threatened to blink out beneath her, timing her momentum with impossible precision. Sparks flew behind her heels as she pushed off one final platform—135 fading behind her—and launched herself onto the stable presence of 246.
The moment she landed, a searing crack split the air.
The void exploded with lightning.
Thunder howled like a divine wail, and a blinding bolt descended from above, striking Vera square in the chest. Her body arched, muscles convulsing, as divine punishment surged through her veins. The pain was indescribable—not merely physical, but spiritual, like being torn from existence and reassembled by wrath itself.
A punishment from the heavens. The price of breaking the divine law.
Yet Vera did not scream. Her lips parted, but she made no sound. She had borne worse. She would bear this too.
Far away, in a sanctuary sculpted from light and time, Master Jin Xiu stirred from deep meditation. The incense in his chamber dimmed, the lotus flames trembled. His eyes opened slowly. His senses tingled—something had broken the veil between worlds.
And he knew.
"Vera…"
He rose without hesitation, robes flowing behind him like celestial waves. He moved toward the restored Prism Mirror, a relic shattered long ago in the war that tore them apart. He had spent decades rebuilding it—not with tools, but with devotion, with every relic, talisman, and divine blessing he could beg, barter, or steal.
He touched the cool edge of the mirror. The surface shimmered—not with reflection, but with a sky bursting in color. Clouds twisted in vibrant hues—indigo, rose-gold, opaline mist. A sky from a world above worlds.
He remembered her voice—clear and spirited—from long ago:
"Master! I saw a Rainbow Bird in the mortal realm! Everyone feared it because it was too bright, too different. They thought it was a bad omen. But it told me it was a sign of miracles. Reunion. Hope. It said I'd find the one I cherish again."
"I painted it. Over and over. Rainbow Birds flying across pages of light. I even sold them! Can you believe it? Master, one day, I want you to say, 'That's my proudest disciple.'"
Jin Xiu smiled softly, pain tightening at the corners of his eyes. The smile of someone who has known too much silence. Too much waiting.
Thunder rumbled again—this time closer, more personal. His heart clenched.
"Let that lightning not fall upon her again. Not like before…"
He exhaled.
"Vera… I miss you."
His voice cracked as he said her name.
Then—a warmth. A touch.
Soft fingers landed on his shoulder, familiar in a way no vision or memory could replicate. He froze, breath caught.
"Master," came the voice, playful, but gentle, like morning sunlight breaking through a storm. "If you miss me so much, why not say it louder?"
He turned. Time seemed to halt.
She stood there, real—not an echo, not a dream. Her robes were torn, her skin marked with the lingering burn of divine lightning, but her eyes were bright. Alive. Laughing through exhaustion.
"Master," she whispered, "I finally made it. I'm sorry it took so long."
Emotion surged through him. He said nothing at first. Simply removed his outer robe—woven from divine threads—and wrapped it around her shoulders. Then, slowly, reverently, he pulled her into his arms.
"You're back," he whispered, voice shaking. "You're really back."
"Did… did you suffer much?"
She closed her eyes, letting his scent, his presence, his embrace surround her.
"The only suffering would have been… never seeing you again," she replied, voice thick with emotion. "But now that I have, nothing else matters."
Jin Xiu exhaled a soft laugh, a sound both joyful and pained.
"So I'm your painkiller now?" he teased, his hand brushing her hair. "That's quite the upgrade."
She smiled into his shoulder. He pulled back just enough to look into her face.
"You didn't break the divine law again… did you?"
She blinked. Then looked away.
Didn't speak.
Didn't have to.
He understood.
Still Vera. Still wild. Still fearless.Still my disciple.