The storm broke at dusk.
From the cliffside balcony outside the Seal chamber, Lianyin could see the clouds rolling back, a pale, fractured moon casting silver across the soaked mountains.
Below, the river roared, swollen from days of rain. The scent of wet pine rose with the mist. It should have been peaceful. Instead, it felt like a blade pressed to her neck.
Zevian stepped out beside her, silent for a moment. He leaned on the railing as though they were simply two weary disciples taking in the view.
"You've been avoiding me," he said at last.
She didn't look at him. "I've been avoiding questions."
"And why is that?"
Lianyin's fingers brushed the lotus mark on her palm. It pulsed faintly, warm in the cool air. Because he wouldn't understand.
She forced her voice level. "Because I'm tired of justifying what keeps us alive."
Zevian gave a short, quiet laugh. "Alive? You call this alive?"
She turned her head then, meeting his gaze. "I call this surviving until the Seal is secure."
He didn't flinch, but the muscles in his jaw tightened. "I've seen men survive worse than this. I've also seen what's left of them when the thing keeping them breathing is no longer human."
The lotus's voice was velvet in her mind. He fears you. That fear will make him betray you.
She swallowed hard. "You're suggesting I stop using it."
"I'm telling you that every time you do, I see less of you and more of it."
Her lips curved in something between a smile and a snarl. "And yet you're still here."
Zevian's eyes narrowed. "Maybe because I think I can still pull you back."
For a heartbeat, the world seemed to tilt. No rain, no moonlight—just his voice and the quiet ache of something she didn't have a name for.
Then the lotus surged. Pull you back? No, he will pull you down. Remove him, and there will be no one left to chain you.
Lianyin's pulse quickened. She stepped away from the railing. "If you think I'm chained, Zevian, you haven't been watching closely."
He straightened, his voice dropping. "I've been watching closely enough to know that you've already chosen the lotus over me."
The words hit harder than they should have. She wanted to deny it—yet the silence that followed was answer enough.
---
They didn't speak again until they reached the training hall.
The floor was slick with rainwater blown in through the open shutters. Their footsteps echoed as they moved to opposite ends of the space.
Zevian drew his blade. "If you're going to keep using it, prove to me you can still fight without losing yourself."
She raised a brow. "You want a duel now?"
"No." His eyes were cold steel. "I want to see if there's anything of you left."
The lotus stirred with anticipation. Break him.
Lianyin's hand went to her own sword. The first clash rang like a bell, steel biting steel. Zevian pressed her hard, his strikes precise, calculated, forcing her to defend without calling on the lotus.
For a while, she managed. Step, parry, pivot—each movement hers alone. But then he feinted, blade skimming her shoulder, and the sharp bite of pain triggered the lotus's response. Power surged up her arm, flooding her veins with a heat that turned her vision sharp and red-edged.
She moved faster. Too fast. Each blow carried more force than necessary, her blade cutting through his defenses with inhuman precision.
Zevian blocked one strike, then another, but she could see the strain in his arms, the way his footing faltered.
Now, the lotus urged. One more strike and he will never question you again.
Her sword arced toward his throat.
At the last instant, Zevian stepped in, closing the distance so the blade stopped at his collar. His free hand caught her wrist. His eyes—dark, unflinching—locked on hers.
"There," he said quietly. "That's the look. That's what will kill you."
The lotus seethed. Weakness.
Lianyin's breath was ragged. She wrenched her hand free, sheathing her sword. "This isn't weakness, Zevian. This is strength you're too afraid to take."
"Strength without control is just destruction," he replied. "And destruction doesn't care who it swallows."
She turned away, unwilling to let him see the flicker of doubt his words left behind.
---
That night, she sat alone in the Seal chamber, staring at the disc's silver lines as they shifted in the dark.
Zevian was wrong, she told herself. She wasn't losing herself. She was adapting. Becoming what the fight required.
The lotus whispered, warm and certain. And when the fight is over, we will still be here. He will not.
Somewhere deep down, she wasn't sure if that was a promise… or a threat