Elder Wei waited until Xiao‑lan's brush strokes no longer wobbled even after hours of work before calling her to the top floor.
The third level of the Archive was less storage, more shrine.
Here, the oldest contracts lay under layered seals: pacts between sects, treaties with beast clans, oaths of fealty sworn by ancient kings.
Dust lay thick.
So did power.
Wei lit a lantern with a brush of qi.
"Sit," he said.
She did, heart thudding.
He lowered himself onto his cushion with a sigh.
"Tell me your path," he said.
She blinked.
"You're the one teaching it," she said. "Shouldn't you know?"
He snorted.
"I know the art," he said. "Not your version. Sword brats chase glory. Alchemists chase pills. Herb fools chase leaves. Name‑Binders…chase what?"
She hesitated.
"Balance," she said slowly. "Making sure the scales don't break. Tying words to actions so the world stops wobbling."
"Big ambition for small hands," he said. "Good."
He pointed the brush at her.
"You stand on three roads," he said. "Your father's divination. The river's flow. This world's Script. If you do not choose which leads, you will be pulled apart. So: what will you call your way?"
"My…way?" she echoed.
"Names have power," he said. "Even for paths. Once you call it, the Dao nudges you along. Choose poorly, you become what you hate. Choose well…" He shrugged. "You might live long enough to regret it."
Her System hummed.
PATH NAME REQUESTED.
Choose Title for Combined Name‑Weaving / Oath‑Tide / Cross‑World Role.
Options Suggested (non‑exhaustive):
– Knot‑Severing Judge
– Ledger‑Bearer
– World‑Notary
– Thread‑Bridge Keeper
World‑Notary made her snort.
"Too boring," she muttered.
Knot‑Severing Judge sounded…heavy.
She imagined walking around hitting people with verdicts all day.
Ledger‑Bearer appealed to her petty side.
But Thread‑Bridge Keeper…
Two worlds.
One girl.
Bridges of names.
"No," she said suddenly. "Not keeper. That sounds like I protect the bridges. Sometimes they need to be cut."
Wei watched, silent.
"Thread‑Cutter?" she mused. "No. That's just a knife. I'm not only slicing. I'm also tying new."
Her mind flashed with images:
—Binding Li Kai and Jun's fates for one basket.
—Tying Jiang's sweet‑oath.
—Catching Ajani's ritual.
—Looping the Debt‑Chain around Han's lateness.
"Teller," she whispered. "No, that's coins."
"Think of what you do," Wei prompted.
"Catch names that go where they shouldn't," she said. "Redirect debts. Close mouths that open wrong. Open ones that were shut unfairly."
"Gate‑something," he said. "Door‑maiden of Law."
She grimaced.
"'Maiden' makes me sound like a shy tea girl," she said.
He snorted.
"Then make it sharp," he said.
Her System patiently waited.
She stared at her palm.
Hunger.
River.
Spiral.
Knot.
Bridges between bowls, the goddess had called them.
"What if…" she said slowly, "I am not the bridge. I am the one who writes who can cross, how, and when. The clerk at the door. The…Registrar."
Wei blinked.
"'Registrar of Gates'," he mused. "Long. But accurate."
Her System flashed.
PATH NAME PROPOSED:
"Registrar of Broken Gates"
– Focus: Catalog and regulate all cracks between law systems (worlds, sects, oaths).
– Tone: Darkly Bureaucratic.
Darkly bureaucratic.
She grinned.
"I like it," she said.
Wei rolled his eyes.
"Of course you do," he muttered. "You're Law Hall's child in all but blood."
He raised his brush.
"Then say it," he instructed. "Out loud. To the shelves. To the fools who wrote before you. Let the Dao hear."
She swallowed.
The weight of the moment pressed.
If she spoke it, it would stick.
Registrar of Broken Gates, she thought.
One who watched cracks.
Who decided what passed.
Who logged every trespass, every debt.
Who, one day, might slam the biggest Gate of all in a hunger's face and make it sign for its losses.
She took a breath.
"I," she said quietly, voice echoing among the shelves, "am Ifabola, Lin Xiao‑lan. Child of river and thunder. Student of Oath‑Tide. When people tear holes between laws, I will be there. To count. To bind. To cut. To write. I will be…"
She smiled.
"…Registrar of Broken Gates."
The words hung.
The Archive shivered.
Dust motes danced in sudden currents.
Her System exploded with text.
PATH NAME CONFIRMED.
Registries Adjusting…
Unique Class: [Registrar of Broken Gates]
Base Perks:
– [Ledger Sight]: See basic "debts" attached to individuals (minor).
– [Gateway Sense]: Increased sensitivity to law cracks / anchors.
– [Filing Cabinet] (Locked): Meta‑storage for captured Name‑Fragments.
Pending…
Wei shielded his eyes as a faint halo—not of light, but of script—spun briefly around Xiao‑lan's head: tiny characters for "gate," "debt," "record," "cut," weaving around one another before sinking into her bones.
He sat back, whistling softly.
"Well," he said. "You did say you wanted a sharp name."
"Do I get a hat?" she asked, dizzy.
He choked.
"No hat," he said. "You get work."
He gestured broadly.
"All these," he said, indicating the endless shelves, "are now your problem. Every bad oath, every cracked contract, every lazy promise a sect elder made and forgot—if it touches gates, if it touches hunger, if it touches worlds—you will eventually have to read, understand, and decide if it lives or dies."
Her eyes shone.
"Good," she said.
He rubbed his forehead.
"Shen owes me for this," he muttered. "Hua too. We just made a little Law‑cultivator with more ambition than backbone. The Dao will be entertained."
The Dao, if it listened, said nothing.
But somewhere in its deepest code, a new entry winked on:
Node: EXTERNAL REGISTRAR
Status: Activated (Juvenile).
Observation Priority: High.
Far away, the hunger paused mid‑devour.
It felt…paper.
Faint, but annoying.
It imagined, briefly, a little girl with ink‑stained fingers shoving a form in front of its dripping maw, saying, "Sign here before eating."
It laughed.
Let her come, it thought. I have eaten scribes before.
But its laughter was not as easy as before.
Somewhere, a bead hung between two skies, pulsing.
Somewhere, a river hummed.
Somewhere, in two worlds at once, a girl with too many names sharpened her brush and quietly began to rewrite the rules.