The girl slept in the corner of the inn room, her breathing shallow but steady. Moonlight spilled through the open window, pooling silver on the floorboards.
Mo Lianyin sat at the table, sharpening his sword with slow, deliberate strokes. The steady rasp of steel on stone was the only sound—until Qingxue spoke.
"When were you going to tell me?"
Her voice was low, but it cut deeper than any blade.
---
He didn't look up. "Tell you what?"
"That you've been using it again."
His hand stilled. "You don't understand."
"I understand exactly what it is," she said, stepping into the moonlight. "The Eighth Forbidden Art doesn't just take from your enemies—it takes from you. Every time you use it, I see it pulling you further away from who you were."
---
He set the whetstone down. "If I hadn't used it, that girl would be dead."
"And if you keep using it," Qingxue shot back, "there won't be anything left of you to save anyone."
Her gaze was fierce, but he saw the grief beneath it. "Lianyin, you swore you'd never touch the Eighth Art again. You swore on your master's grave."
"Do you think my master would want me to stand by and let people die because of an oath?" His voice rose, sharp and bitter. "Oaths don't save lives. Power does."
---
Silence.
The girl stirred in her sleep, murmuring something incoherent, and the room felt suddenly smaller—crowded with things unsaid.
Qingxue stepped closer. "It's not just the enemies you kill, is it? You… enjoy it."
Lianyin's jaw tightened. "If I did, would that make me a monster?"
"It would make you dangerous."
---
The word hung between them like a blade suspended by a thread.
He forced a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Then maybe you should leave before I become too dangerous."
Something flickered in her expression—hurt, fear, perhaps both—but she didn't look away. "I'm not leaving. Not until I know the man I've fought beside all these years is still in there."
She turned toward the door, pausing only once before leaving. "But if you keep walking this path… you'll lose more than your soul."
---
The door closed softly.
And in the silence that followed, the voice inside him whispered like a lover at his ear:
> She's already decided. When the time comes, she'll be the one to draw her sword against you. Better you choose when… and how.
Lianyin's hand curled into a fist. For the first time, he wondered if the voice was right.