The darkness inside the inner sanctum wasn't empty—it was dense. A pressure like deep ocean water clung to Mo Lianyin's skin, making each breath feel heavier, slower. The air carried the faint scent of lotus petals left too long in stagnant water.
Zevian entered behind her, his steps echoing strangely in the black. "Stay alert," he said. "There are wards here I've never seen."
Lianyin could feel them too—not with her eyes, but through the lotus on her palm. Each pulse from the mark was like a ripple through the space, mapping the invisible currents of power.
Something moved in the dark. Not an assassin, not a beast—a presence.
A voice whispered directly into her mind: You have fed me well. I can feed you in return.
Her throat tightened. "Who are you?"
I am what you carry. I am the seed you watered with blood. The voice was neither male nor female, but impossibly smooth, like silk sliding over steel. I can open the path you want. But I require a sacrifice.
"Lianyin." Zevian's voice was tense. "Don't answer it."
She glanced at him, but the lotus's voice purred, He doesn't understand. Without me, you'll die before you even reach the Seal.
Her heart pounded, the whisper winding deeper. One life. Willingly given. That is all.
She wanted to say no. She should say no. But she felt the wards ahead—thick, ancient, made to repel even the greatest cultivators. Without more strength, they would never pass in time.
And then, a flicker of motion.
From the far edge of the chamber, someone stumbled into view—white robes torn, a thin line of blood down his cheek. It was Kairo, one of the sect's junior disciples. He looked relieved at the sight of her.
"Senior Mo!" His voice trembled. "Thank the heavens. I was caught when the Court attacked. I've been hiding in the sanctum since—"
The lotus's whisper sliced through his words like a blade: Perfect.
Her fingers curled involuntarily. Kairo was weak, terrified, and… willing. If she asked, he would give her anything. Even his life.
Zevian's hand landed on her shoulder. "Don't even think about it."
She looked at him, and for a moment she wasn't sure which of them was speaking inside her head—herself, or the lotus. This is the only way.
Kairo took a step closer. "Senior? You… look pale. Are you hurt?"
Her voice was calm, almost gentle. "I need your help, Kairo. But it will be dangerous. You must trust me."
"I trust you," he said instantly.
The lotus bloomed. She could feel his trust—warm, bright—and she could feel how easily she could twist it into surrender.
"Close your eyes," she whispered.
Zevian moved in front of her. "Lianyin—stop. If you take him, you can't come back from it."
The lotus's purr became a growl: He's in your way.
Before she even thought, her blade moved. Zevian caught it, steel ringing against steel. Sparks leapt between them.
His eyes were hard, searching hers. "This isn't you."
But maybe it was.
The lotus surged, and she felt herself slip—not losing control exactly, but sharing it. Her voice came out softer, darker. "Move, Zevian."
He didn't.
Her palm burned. Power flared outward, wrapping Zevian in spectral lotus petals, pinning his limbs just long enough. She stepped around him, reached Kairo, and pressed her palm to his chest.
He gasped—more in confusion than pain. Then the lotus pulled.
Warmth flooded into her, stronger than any cultivation she'd ever touched. Kairo's heartbeat merged with hers for an instant before fading entirely. When she let go, he crumpled soundlessly to the floor.
The lotus's mark was darker now, almost crimson at the edges.
Zevian tore free of the binding petals. His expression was… not anger. Not exactly. Something colder. "You chose the easy path."
She wanted to defend herself, to say it was necessary. But the words felt hollow. Because somewhere inside, she knew—she hadn't done it just for necessity.
She had done it because the lotus was right. It felt good.
The wards ahead began to dissolve, the sanctum opening before them. The lotus's voice was soft again, satisfied: Now, my flower, we can bloom.
They walked forward in silence, but the sound of Kairo's body hitting the floor followed her like an echo she would never be rid of.