By midday, word had spread through the village.
The girls were royalty, and Qingsai was now whispered about not just as strange, but spirit-touched.
Some villagers treated them with kindness. Others avoided them. A few elders offered offerings of salt and incense, wary of the flame that now stirred beneath Qingsai's skin.
At the spirit spring, Meiyan knelt in silent prayer.
Qingsai approached, unsure. "You okay?"
She didn't look up. "When I was little, I used to read stories about the Soulkindled. They always sounded… larger than life."
"And now?"
"You're not larger than life," she said softly. "You're just… you. And somehow, that's even scarier."
Meanwhile, Chunsi sat under the Spirit Tree with village children, who listened eagerly as she recounted their rescue—with blushes and stammers, always painting Qingsai as brave and radiant.
One girl giggled. "Are you in love with him?"
Chunsi turned crimson. "N-no! I-I just—he's… nice…"
Qingsai watched from afar and felt something he didn't understand stir in his chest.
But that peace would not last.
Far beyond the trees, deep in a crumbling Veil temple, a creature made of smoke and teeth awoke.
> "Flame calls," it hissed. "Flame dies."