The world was silent.
Burned cities lay in ruin, the air heavy with smoke and ash. The ground was cracked and scarred, littered with the remnants of battles that had raged for years without end. Leng Xueyin stood at the heart of it all, her body trembling under the weight of exhaustion.
The flames she commanded sputtered into dying embers. The ice she summoned melted into nothing. The lightning that once roared at her fingertips flickered faintly before vanishing. She had carried the burden of survival for so long, wielding the power of all elements, but now her body and soul had reached their limit.
Her knees buckled, and she collapsed onto the scorched earth. The silence around her was deafening. No voices. No footsteps. No heartbeat but her own.
There was no one left to fight for.
Her lips curved into the faintest smile, filled with resignation and the faintest trace of relief. Her vision blurred, the ruined world around her growing hazy. So this is it, she thought. So this is the end.
Her mind drifted back to a time before the apocalypse, when she had been nothing but a lonely orphan girl wandering the streets. The memory was faint, fragile, but it burned brighter than the destruction around her: a stray snow-white cat nestled in her thin arms, purring softly, its fur warm against her chilled skin. That soft warmth had been the only comfort she had known, the only family she had ever had.
Even after the world ended, even as she clawed her way through despair and death, she had never forgotten that warmth. She carried it with her through every battle, through every sleepless night, until her very last breath.
Her chest rose and fell heavily as she exhaled, the sound almost like a sigh of release. The years of loneliness, of watching lives vanish one after another, pressed down on her shoulders until her body finally surrendered.
If there's another chance… she whispered in her heart. I don't want to be strong anymore. I just want warmth. I want… family.
Then, as her consciousness slipped, a shimmer appeared at the edge of her vision. A streak of silver fur—soft, radiant, familiar—darted across the darkness. A phantom cat leapt gracefully into her fading sight, its snow-white body glowing as if spun from moonlight. It curled beside her, pressed its warmth against her, and for a fleeting moment, she felt that long-lost comfort once again.
Darkness swallowed her whole.
But when her eyes opened again—
There was no ruin. No blood. No silence.
Instead, the world was filled with light and warmth. She felt soft silk beneath her and the steady rhythm of a heartbeat near her ear. The sharp scent of smoke and blood had been replaced by the fragrance of incense and the faint sweetness of medicinal herbs. She blinked slowly, her vision hazy but alive with color.
Voices surrounded her—gentle, trembling, and filled with emotion. Laughter and joy mingled with disbelief, echoing in the air like music. She could not yet understand their words, but the warmth in their tones wrapped around her like a blanket.
She was no longer standing alone in a dead world. She was a newborn, fragile and small, but embraced by love. In that moment, she realized—her wish had been granted. She had been given another chance.
The child who had perished in silence was reborn into a world of voices, a world where she was not alone.