The reed-woven coracle skimmed across glass-dark water, each paddle stroke sending ripples of blue bioluminescence fanning outward like ghost-flowers. Ahead, mist drifted low and heavy, turning the Gloaming Marches into a world of half-shapes and whispers. Behind, faint red flickers still bled through the fog Elder Meihua's workshop burning itself to ash so Dawnlight eyes would turn to flame and not to fugitives.
Mo Lianyin's throat tightened. Every creak of the wicker hull sounded like a farewell she hadn't earned.
Focus, little lotus, Lord Kareth murmured. Guilt is a luxury for safer nights.
She pressed fingers to her sternum. The spirit-lotus Meihua had forged sat cool and steady beneath her skin; Kareth's presence, though still vast, felt a deliberate step back as if the demon king now watched from a balcony rather than occupying the same breath.
"Your pulse slowed," Soren noted, paddling at the stern. Fresh qi shimmered along his meridians, pale and promising. "Seed working?"
"It's holding him." She exhaled mist. "For now."
Thorne crouched between them, tail twitching. The panther's ears flicked toward every splash in the darkness keen radar in a land where lies floated as easily as lily pads.
A sudden hiss of steam curled up ahead. What at first looked like distant torches resolved into flares globs of emerald fire drifting across the marsh surface. They left oily trails that sizzled on contact with water, then erupted into columns of green flame.
Soren swore softly. "Marsh-fire. Natural gas pockets ignite when air shifts."
Kareth's voice sharpened. Not natural this time. Smell the incense? Dawnlight alchemists seed the pools, then herd prey into the blaze.
As if in answer, a horn blared far behind them three clear notes that bounced through fog like iron bells. Lianyin's stomach tightened. "Scouts."
"Row, then run," Soren decided.
They dug paddles deep. The coracle shot forward, weaving between rising fire columns. Heat licked their faces; smoke smelled of bitter myrrh and sulfur. Thorne's fur bristled, but the cub made no sound.
A fresh roar flared to starboard the reed mat beneath Lianyin's feet steamed. A moment later, the woven hull crackled; pitch-sap used to waterproof the reeds ignited.
"Out!" Lianyin vaulted, shadows hardening beneath her soles into a floating platform. Soren scooped Thorne under one arm and sprang after; the coracle collapsed into cinders behind them.
Ink stairs unrolled in staggered segments as Lianyin sprinted across open water, each step dissolving once Thorne leapt clear. Soren followed, ice forming at his boots to keep balance. They reached a mossy hummock moments before the platform vanished.
"We can't run on shadow forever," Lianyin gasped. She could feel the lotus seed tether reeling darkness back in overuse would yank Kareth's gates wide.
Soren scanned the mist. "High ground there see that dead cypress? If we reach trunk-root, flames can't jump."
Thunderous splashes answered him four Dawnlight skiffs bursting from fog, lanterns blazing white-gold. Their prows bore glyphs that repelled darkness; hulls cut through marsh-fire without burning. At the lead stood a familiar silhouette, cloak haloed by embers: Disciple Asha Kellen.
"Yinyin!" Her voice rolled like a judge's gavel. "Stand down. You are surrounded and exhausted. No more blood tonight."
Lianyin's spine chilled at the tenderness laced beneath the command. "Turn back, Asha. Meihua gave her life for our escape."
"And I would spare yours!" Asha gestured; her skiff lurched forward. "Lower your shadows and come. Grandmaster Solas promises a painless purge if you yield before the blood moon."
Soren barked a laugh. "That 'purge' ends with her corpse and Kareth extracted in chains."
Asha's eyes flicked toward him, sorrow-sharpened. "Prince Aldir, you of all people know what unchecked demon power does. Remember Ashmark."
"I remember holy fire, not demon claws," he shot back.
While they argued, Lianyin's mind raced. Four skiffs, each with two disciples. Glyph-lined hulls repel shadow; holy iron weapons sear Qi. Terrain favors them. Need misdirection… or devour the fire itself.
Kareth purred. Shadow eats light; why not flame? Shape your void to drink it.
"Too risky," she muttered.
Asha advanced another ten paces. "Last offer, Yinyin."
"Lotus can't bloom in cages," Lianyin answered and raised both hands.
Instead of forming tendrils, she inhaled. Shadows at her feet plunged into her body; the air pressure dipped. Nearby flames curved inward, drawn as if by a vortex. Emerald fire twisted into ribbons, spiraling toward her palms, shrinking and darkening until they vanished like embers sucked into a furnace.
The marsh fell suddenly dark only Dawnlight lanterns remained.
Gasps erupted from the skiffs. Even Kareth sounded intrigued. Consuming fire… inventive.
But Lianyin's knees buckled under scorching energy now burning inside her veins. The anchor-lotus flared, containing the heat but not the ache.
Soren lunged, steadying her. "Enough. You'll burn your channels."
She nodded, teeth clenched. "Just needed a path."
The void she'd opened in the flame left pockets of cool darkness upon the water. Soren froze them into floes; Thorne bounded ahead, marking each safe slab with a swipe of tail.
They darted across the icicle stepping-stones toward the dead cypress. Asha reacted instantly. "After them Formation Three!"
Two skiffs veered wide, attempting to flank. The third rammed forward; disciples hurled sanctified bolas that ignited mid-air. One tangled Soren's ankle holy iron hissed where it touched bare skin. He stumbled; the ice floe cracked.
Lianyin slashed a ribbon of shadow, severing the bola cords. But that moment's pause let the fourth skiff cut off their escape, lanterns glaring.
Asha jumped to the trunk-root first, Seraphine glowing. "Stop. Please."
Lianyin met her childhood friend's gaze across ten paces of rotten wood. "Go home, Asha."
"I can't." Pain whispered through the paladin's tone. "But I can kneel beside your cell, pray until the purge ends, and make sure no novice botches the ritual. Let me do that small mercy."
Kareth scoffed in Lianyin's mind. Mercy draped in chains is still bondage.
"Not your prisoner," Lianyin said aloud. She tried to step forward fire inside her meridians flared; legs trembled. The consumed marsh-flame demanded release.
Asha saw it. "You're bleeding power. You need us before it cooks you alive."
Soren planted himself between them despite his burn. "She has me. That's enough."
Thorne growled, shadow swallowing the cub's outline until only violet eyes floated.
Asha raised Seraphine in high guard. Lantern light traced tears down her cheeks. "I won't let the Demon King devour what's left of the girl who once shared dumplings with me."
Lianyin closed her eyes. Memory orb: winter afternoon, a younger Asha sneaking sesame buns to street-rat Yinyin. Laughter, warmth. If I die here, she thought, those moments die too.
She breathed out and guided the searing energy downward. Shadow pooled beneath her soles, mixing with fire, forming magma-black tar. She whispered a new command: "Bloom."
The tar blossomed into an obsidian lotus whose petals radiated molten veins. Heatwaves rose; skiffs rocked back. Even Asha shielded her eyes.
In that blinding heartbeat, Soren grabbed Lianyin's waist; Thorne leapt atop the blooming platform. The lotus lurched then launched upward on a geyser of steam, vaulting them over the skiffs toward open marsh beyond.
They landed hard on a distant islet, petals shattering into cooling shards. Lianyin collapsed, coughing smoke. The lotus anchor inside her flickered but held.
Behind, Asha stared across a widening gulf of fog and flame. Seraphine dimmed as her resolve cracked. For the first time, she did not give chase. "Yinyin," she whispered to the night, "don't make me choose between faith and you."
Lanterns dwindled. The horn sounded again this time desperate, summoning reinforcements rather than victory.
Mist-Hidden Hollow
Hours later, amid tangled mangrove roots, Soren tended Lianyin by fireless alchemy lamp faint blue light that could not betray them. He smeared cooling paste over her fevered veins; Thorne curled across her lap, anchoring her to here and now.
"Drink," he urged, lifting a gourd of lotus-sap tonic Elder Meihua had packed. The potion tasted of burnt sugar and tears, but relief washed through her channels, dousing leftover flame.
"I can't keep pushing gates," she croaked. "Even new tricks cost me."
"We'll find rest," Soren promised. "And tutors who aren't ghosts."
She allowed a weary smile. "You were brilliant with the ice."
He shrugged, hiding pride. "I'm a prince of winter valleys. Water listens."
Silence settled broken only by distant bullfrog songs and the slow drip of marsh dew. Lianyin watched steam rising off obsidian petal shards. Fire and shadow can bloom together, she mused. What else can I weave?
Kareth stirred, voice softer than usual. Your creativity eclipses old war arts. I wonder if given freedom what new nightflowers you'd grow.
She almost answered, but exhaustion pulled her into dreams where forests of black lotus floated beneath red moons no hunters, no purges, only stars mirrored in quiet water.
Tomorrow the march would test them again. Tonight, amid cool mist and faint frog lullabies, ink-lotus and winter prince breathed in time unbroken, undead, and unabandoned.