The snow came late to Haishen that year.
It drifted down through the skylights of the university's northern court, soft enough to hide the cracks in the marble, quiet enough to remind the scholars that history still breathed under their feet.
Jin Lian watched the flakes spiral past her ink-stained fingers.
Her brush hovered above a scroll titled Pre-Architect Epoch: Oral Reconstructions, but her mind was on the rumors spreading through the port—whispers of glass trees humming in the mountains and of stones that glowed when touched.
[Local Archive Notice #442]
"Artifacts resembling ancient Sky Seeds confirmed near Crystal Forest perimeter. Collection teams departing within fortnight."
She rolled up the notice and tucked it into her satchel.
Her professor, Master Huo, would call it superstition.
But Lian had felt the hum in her dreams for months—the sound of something remembering her.
That evening she slipped into the restricted wing of the Haishen University Archives.
The air smelled of dust and lightning.
Shelves curved like ribs around a single glass case.
Inside lay a pendant of pale jade, cracked through the middle, its surface faintly pulsing beneath the lanternlight.
She knew it before she touched it.
Every historian knew the myth: the Jade of Lin Tou—the relic said to house the last breath of the Shadow Emperor.
Her hand trembled as she lifted the case lid.
The jade was cold at first, then warm—as if it exhaled.
And then she heard it: A voice, quiet, distant, like an echo from beneath centuries.
"Who wakes me… from memory?"
She froze. "Who are you?"
"…Forgotten."
The lanterns flickered. Scrolls rustled though there was no wind.
When she opened her eyes again, she stood not in the archive but in a vast hall of stone.
Banners of gold and black hung torn from the ceiling.
The air smelled of ash and salt.
A man sat upon a broken throne, head bowed, a ring of light circling him like a dying sun.
He raised his gaze—sharp, human, weary.
"Another dreamer," he murmured. "How many ages has it been?"
Jin Lian took a step forward. "This can't be real."
"Reality remembers more than you think."
He studied her, the shadow of a smile crossing his face. "Tell me—does the world still fear my name?"
"I don't even know your name."
"Good," he said softly. "Then I succeeded."
[Cognitive Link Established — Residual Entity 'Lin Tou (Shadow Echo)' Connected]
Stability: 12%
Risk: Memory Bleed possible upon awakening.
The hall trembled.
The jade at her chest flared, and the world folded back into darkness.
Jin Lian awoke on the archive floor, surrounded by shattered glass.
The jade pendant rested against her palm, its crack sealed with a faint line of gold.
Footsteps echoed down the corridor—Master Huo's voice, sharp with alarm.
"Lian! The detectors went mad—what have you done?"
She hid the pendant beneath her sleeve. "Nothing. Just—dust fell from the ceiling."
He eyed her, suspicion narrowing his gaze, but said nothing.
As he turned away, the voice whispered again, faint, intimate.
"The world is remembering. And so must you."
She pressed a hand to her heart.
Outside, snow continued to fall—each flake humming faintly as it touched the ground.