The rain had stopped sometime in the night but the scent of it still clung to the marble halls.
Mo Yao sat alone in the moon balcony, a curved ledge that overlooked the eastern courtyard and was never visited by anyone this early. Birds sang far away, the sky hadn't made up its mind about being cloudy or clear.
Her ink stone was warm from the sun.
She dipped her brush, but her hand didn't move to write. Not yet.
She felt.... Strange.
Since Yin shū's mirror incident two days ago, everything had changed. Her sister has laughed it off — said it was just a one time thing, said it was probably the prism reacting to the moonlight. But Mo Yao knew better.
The moment that light has wrapped around her sister, something inside Mo Yao has tightened — not out of jealousy, but something older. Instinctive. As if her own blood whispered: you are next
She exhaled slowly. Picked up the brush and started to draw.
She didn't choose what her hand made. It's just... happened.
A figure — tall, curved horns like a deer's. A body made of ink strands. Long arm, claws,
and no face at all. Just a hollow space. Like a mirror that showed nothing.
It's head tilted on the page
Curious.
She blinked.
The brush trembled in her hand. The ink shimmered. Not wet. Not dry.. but — alive.
And the world broke.
It began as a ripple.
A soft shh sound beneath her. Her shadow twitched.
She stared down — and it moved without her.
Mo Yao was Startled
It curled away from her feet like smoke, crawling towards the drawing. The ink on the page bubbled. The horned creature she'd drawn turned its head.
No. No No No.
She dropped the brush and stepped back, but the shadow followed, now rising like smoke around her calves, soft and cold and heavy.
Her breathing quickened.
" I didn't mean to" she whispered "I didn't call you —"
" But we came anyway "
The voice wasn't loud.
It was inside her.
Soft. Many. Familiar. Terrifying.
The shadow bloomed. It wasn't just a copy of her anymore. It grew arms. long and sharp. Eyes opened within it – not glowing, not blinking. Just .... Watching.
The journal lifted on its own.
Pages flipped. Drawing blurred and melted — the shadow reaching through them like tunnels, pulling pieces of shape into itself.
Mo Yao backed into the wall, eye wide.
This was the first time she was feeling... Scared...afraid... Her heart was racing, sweats drops where visible on her face.
"STOP!"
Her voice cracked like a whip.
The shadow paused.
Then it bent — bowed, even — and snapped back into place. Her own reflection again. Obedient.
For now.
She collapsed to her knees, breathing hard. Sweat dripped from her brow.
The pages of the journal where now completely blank — except one,
A single symbol remained, drawn in perfect black, a flower with eight petals, each one resembling a closed eye.
Footsteps echoed behind her.
"Yao?"
Yin shū's voice.
Mo Yao scrambled to shut the book and shove it under her robe before her sister saw it. She stood just as the younger twin appeared around the stone column, eyes wide.
"Why are you out here alone? You didn't come to breakfast " Yin Shu asked worried.
" I wasn't hungry " Mo Yao replied
"You look pale" yin Shu said noticing the pale look on Mo yao's face.
"I'm fine" mo Yao replied sharply.
Yin Shu frowned, stepping closer. "You are shaking"
Mo Yao looked away "I said I'm fine!" Mo Yao snapped.
A beat of silence.
Then yin Shu gently slipped her fingers into her sister's hand. Warm. Steady. Familiar.
"Okay" she whispered. "Then we are fine together"
Mo Yao didn't answer, but her hand squeezed back.
Inside her sleeve, the journal pulsed once – like a second heartbeat.
And in a nearby corridor, a candle guttered and died without wind.