Winds Before the Surge
The scent of brine and blooming root fills the wind.
Feng Xian stands atop a crag of serpentine stone, the pale green canopy of the Serpent Root Grove far below. Beside him, Luo Fen grips her spear as though sensing something just beyond sight. The horizon — once tranquil — now heaves, as clouds gather low and fast.
"The air's too heavy," she says. "The Grove's wards are stirring."
A hawk-beast circles above — not in grace, but in panic.
Below, Lan'Fei emerges from the tree line, her robes damp with sea dew, a wolf-finned beast trotting close behind her. Its scales twitch with unease.
"Something stirs beneath the tide," she murmurs. "I heard it in the beasts' cries last night. Their dreams were filled with... singing. Not ours."
Feng Xian closes his eyes.
The splinter of the Rotspire, still buried deep within his soul-sea, flickers — not in pain, but in warning. A pressure, like a weightless scream, begins to form behind his ribs.
"The Drowned Choir..."
The words escape his lips though he's never heard them spoken.
Luo Fen's eyes narrow. "You know what that is?"
He shakes his head. "No. But I think... the sea remembers."
Scene II — The Oracle Wakes
In a cove veiled by hanging moss and moonstone coral, the Ancient Serpent Oracle awakens.
Its body, a coiled mix of flesh, memory, and vine, unfurls slowly from beneath the Grove's Elder Pool. Eyes the color of stillborn stars open one by one.
"He bears the ember crown... and the Hollow wake follows. The Pact is breaking."
It gazes into a ripple-pool, where three faces shimmer — Feng Xian, Lan'Fei, and Luo Fen — drawn together by threads the Oracle cannot unwind.
A fourth face begins to appear — a burning mask, a hand of bone.
"Too soon," the Oracle hisses. "But the Isles must choose. Or drown."
Scene III — The Serpent root Kin Prepare
Throughout the Grove, the Serpent root Kin prepare.
Elders chant beneath the great Coil Trees, feeding their roots with moon-washed oils and memory seeds.
"You bring outsiders into our sacred Grove," she accuses, as drums begin to rise in the distance.
"Will you die with them, or defend what's left?"
Luo Fen doesn't answer — only turns to look at Feng Xian.
And at the sea, now pulsing with bioluminescent storms far, far off the coast.
Scene IV — The Crown Trembles
That night, Feng Xian dreams of water and fire entwined.
He stands atop a throne of coral, wrapped in flame that does not burn. Before him, the seven fragments of the Crown of Ember veil glow, save for one — the Seventh, flickering madly.
It speaks not in voice but sensation:
"He comes."
"You must choose: awaken me, or lose the Isles."