The Phoenix Empire's inner palace was never silent, but tonight the stillness was suffocating. Layers of wards shimmered faintly in the air, hiding the grand hall from both mortal eyes and celestial scrying. Every torch burned with a steady golden flame, yet the air was heavy with the smell of incense and something older—something Liu Shen recognized at once.
Blood offerings… mixed with soul incense.
He stood at the threshold, his Abyssal cloak billowing like a shadow against the gilded walls. Yu Meixing and Lei Qing flanked him, their gazes sharp, but it was the oppressive, almost reverent stillness within that made their steps measured.
Upon the dais sat the Phoenix Empress, her crimson robes trailing down like streams of molten gold. Behind her, the great ceremonial brazier burned with fire that was neither natural nor spiritual—it was memory flame, capable of carrying the will of the dead across eras.
"Demon Sovereign," the Empress said softly, her eyes bright but weighed with unspoken things. "You've come sooner than I expected."
Liu Shen's gaze swept the chamber, lingering on the runic pillars etched with phoenix feathers. The power humming through them was not merely defensive—it was gathering, funneling toward the brazier. "You've been speaking to someone through the flames," he said, voice low, "and not someone of this world."
Her lips curved, though her fingers tightened on the armrest. "I have been… remembering. The Phoenix clan does not forget its debts."
Yu Meixing's brows drew together. "Debts? To him?" She glanced at Liu Shen, confusion in her eyes.
The Empress rose, her long sleeves whispering against the polished jade steps. "Three hundred years ago, before you were betrayed, Sovereign… there was a war in the southern skies. The heavens moved against us as well, but we could not defy them openly. A single envoy came to our aid—a shadow on a battlefield of light. He burned the heavenly banners, and in return, he asked for nothing."
Liu Shen said nothing, though fragments of that night began surfacing—flashes of golden wings scorched black, the metallic taste of divine ichor.
The Empress's gaze locked with his. "That was you, was it not?"
He did not deny it.
Her voice softened. "Then know this—the Phoenix Empire has not forgotten. But our flames… remember more than kindness. They remember chains, Sovereign. The heavens did not only betray you—they branded my clan's fire to burn at their command. This," she gestured to the brazier, "is their mark. I intend to break it."
Liu Shen stepped forward, his eyes narrowing. The memory flames were dangerous; tampering with them could awaken heavenly punishment instantly. "And you expect me to help you shatter a binding written into the origin flame of your people?"
"I expect," she said, "that you want the same thing I do—freedom from their yoke."
Lei Qing shifted uneasily. "This could be a trap."
"It is," Liu Shen murmured, his lips curving in a faint, cold smile. "But not for me."
With a flick of his sleeve, strands of Abyssal darkness seeped into the brazier, curling among the golden fire. The flames hissed, resisting, yet the shadows clung stubbornly, weaving into the heat like cracks forming in ancient glass. The air thickened, the wards trembling.
The Empress didn't move. "Do you know what you're doing?"
"Yes," Liu Shen replied, his gaze fixed on the brazier. "I'm teaching your flames how to remember differently."
The golden fire began to change—shades of crimson and black blooming within it, the pure heavenly mark corroding as if something older, more primal, was awakening. Faint echoes whispered through the chamber—voices of Phoenix ancestors, freed from the chains in their memory.
The Empress's eyes widened, her breath catching. "You… you've unsealed them."
The brazier roared suddenly, and for a heartbeat, a colossal shadow of a phoenix formed above it—wings spanning the chamber, eyes burning with a ferocity not seen in centuries. Its gaze locked on Liu Shen, and instead of hostility, it dipped its head in recognition.
Then the flames collapsed back into the brazier, their hue now deep crimson streaked with black.
Liu Shen turned to the Empress. "Your flames remember me now. When the heavens come for you… they will burn in my name."
She stared at him, torn between awe and fear, before a slow smile spread across her face. "Then the Phoenix Empire is yours to command, Sovereign."
He didn't respond. His gaze had shifted past her, toward the far end of the hall—where faint golden threads were retreating into nothingness. Somewhere above the clouds, a heavenly scribe had just erased another record from their archives.
Too late, Liu Shen thought, his eyes narrowing. The flames remember—and the heavens cannot burn that away.