The surface of the lake sealed overhead with an eerie smoothness, cutting off the pale light from above. In the heavy darkness that followed, the black lotus on Mo Lianyin's palm pulsed once—slow, deliberate—like the heartbeat of some vast creature far below the earth.
Her chest felt strange. Not just stronger or heavier—occupied.
She turned to Zevian, whose blade was now sheathed but whose stance still carried a warrior's tension. His gaze swept over her, lingering on the lotus mark.
"What did you trade?" he asked quietly.
Lianyin's voice was steady, but it sounded to her own ears like it came from someone else. "Myself."
Zevian's lips tightened. "Be careful you don't find you were worth more than you realized."
They started walking toward the narrow archway that led deeper into the sanctum. The chamber beyond was a low hall, carved entirely of black stone, its walls lined with narrow canals where water trickled silently past. The air smelled faintly of iron.
The Severance whispered in her mind, urging her to keep moving, to seek the next challenge. The first blood was sweet. There is more to drink.
She forced herself to push the voice aside, focusing on the sound of their footsteps. But then she noticed something odd—the bodies from the battle weren't lying where they'd fallen.
She stopped. "Zevian… the Court assassins—"
"—are gone," he finished grimly, scanning the shadows.
The faint trickle of water seemed suddenly louder. She realized why—the black canals were running red.
From the darkness at the far end of the hall, a figure stepped forward. His robes were deep crimson, but the color didn't come from fabric—it was soaked in fresh blood. In his right hand, he carried a spear tipped with a black crystal blade. His mask was smooth and white, without features, and yet she could feel his gaze fixed entirely on her.
"You've taken the anchor," the masked man said, voice low and resonant. "That means you're mine."
Lianyin's grip on her sword tightened. "I belong to no one."
The man tilted his head slightly, as though amused. "Then prove it."
He moved faster than her eyes could track—one instant across the hall, the next a blur of crimson at her side. Her blade came up on instinct, but his spear was already past it, grazing the lotus mark on her palm.
The touch was enough. Pain exploded up her arm, but beneath it was something far worse—a pull. The lotus flared, and she felt the anchor trying to pour itself into the man's weapon.
Zevian moved in, his sword flashing between them, forcing the man back a step. "He's a binder," Zevian barked. "He'll steal your anchor if you let him touch it again."
The Severance hissed in her mind, furious: No one takes what's ours.
Her vision warped, shadows deepening, the edges of the world sharpening into dangerous clarity. She could feel the water in the canals, could taste the man's heartbeat in the air. She didn't think—she moved.
One stride, one cut. The blade slipped between his ribs as easily as a brushstroke on silk. She felt his life spill into the lotus, the mark drinking deep, heat flooding her veins.
The man staggered back, his white mask cracking down the center. Behind it, his eyes were wide with shock—then the light left them entirely, and he fell.
The hall was utterly silent.
Zevian didn't speak for several breaths. When he did, it was soft, almost too soft. "You enjoyed that."
She wanted to deny it, to say she'd had no choice—but the lotus pulsed again, and her mouth was dry with the truth she didn't want to face.
"I… didn't hate it."
Zevian's eyes narrowed, but whatever he wanted to say, he swallowed it down. "We need to move. The Court will have felt his death."
They walked on, but Lianyin couldn't stop staring at her palm. The black petals of the lotus seemed deeper now, almost wet-looking. She could feel something alive inside it—alive, and watching her.
When they reached the sanctum's inner gate, a great obsidian door carved with moon and lotus motifs, she stopped. "If I open this," she said slowly, "there's no going back. Once the Moon's Shadow Seal is unbound, the war won't be avoidable."
Zevian didn't meet her eyes. "The war's already here. The only question is who will survive it."
The Severance purred at the thought, wrapping around her mind like silk. And we will. We always will.
Her fingers closed over the door's seal, the lotus blooming in her palm one final time before she pushed.
The door opened, and the darkness beyond was absolute.