Ling Yue brushed past them. She did not deserve a glare from her master. The mermaid wouldn't have gotten hurt anyway. She didn't want them to see her sulk. Absently, she hopped over the gaping hole in the floor and led them in tense silence until they reached a fork in the tunnel. She raised a hand, signaling them to stop, then took a deep breath to steel herself. Turning around to her companions, she said, unnervingly serious, "Alright, here we are. This is where I stopped exploring."
"What do you mean? Did the heroine get scared?" The mermaid teased.
The heroine bit her tongue, refusing to take the bait. She didn't want another glare from her master, so she turned her attention to the tunnels instead. She shrugged nonchalantly, her eyes flicking between the two paths. The faint scent of antidote herbs lingered in the air, mingling with a hint of zest.
The left path was swallowed by shadows, its jagged walls looming like silent sentinels. A cold breeze howled through, carrying the scent of saltwater and damp moss.
The right path glowed faintly with an eerie light, pulsing softly from an unseen source. The breeze from that tunnel was different, carrying the distant, soothing sound of a trickling stream.
Both paths felt unnerving. In this ancient place, nothing was ever as it seemed.
"Got distracted," she admitted. "But now that we're here, Master, please decide which way to go."
Her master's eyes softened as he tapped his nose—a silent apology. A smile tugged at her lips. She knew he regretted being harsh with her. He took a deep breath, observing the two paths ahead. He rubbed his chin, lost in thought.
The mermaid let out a sigh. "I say we go right," she said.
"Left seems more obvious. Shadows and all that. The right path looks suspicious. Something might be hiding there. I say we go left." The guardian stepped toward the left tunnel, her eyebrow raised. "Or are you afraid of the dark?"
"No, I'm not," the princess retorted, her voice holding a competitive edge. "Besides, I think the right path seems safer. At least we can see where we're going."
Her master watched them with a bemused expression. "We should go together. One of you needs to concede." His eyes flicked between them. "Both paths are probably equally dangerous."
"That's the fun of it. But I'm telling you, left is the way to go. It's practically calling to me."
Shui Yi crossed her arms, waiting in silence.
A heavy silence descended on the group as they continued their journey. The slightest sound seemed amplified, their footsteps echoing off the walls, heightening the tension. Without further discussion, the fearless one took a step toward the left, while the princess boldly moved toward the right, both determined to prove their point.
Long Fei paused at the fork, glancing between the two women. His brow furrowed. "If you refuse to go together, I can only follow one of you," he said, his voice tinged with underlying tension. "I can't be in two places at once."
The two women stopped in their tracks and turned toward him.
"Master, choose," the guardian said with a smirk, her eyes gleaming.
The princess gave him a sharp look, her hands clenched.
Suddenly, pebbles and dust trickled from the ceiling, and a faint, mechanical hum echoed as the floor trembled. The guardian's senses went on high alert.
The ground rumbled again. Ling Yue whipped around, eyes wide. Trapdoors creaked open, revealing yawning pits below. The darkness below seemed endless, its jagged edges lined with sharp rocks, ready to swallow anyone foolish enough to fall in.
"What the—" she hissed, her feet slipping as the ground trembled beneath her. Before she could steady herself, a thorned vine shot from the shadows, coiling around her ankle; its rough, barbed edges sank into her skin, sending a searing jolt of pain up her leg. She gasped, her hands scrambling to escape, but the vine tightened, pulling her closer to the edge.
Her body lurched forward, her heart pounding as she teetered on the brink of the abyss. The darkness below stretched endlessly, its gaping maw eager to swallow her. The sharp sting of the thorns embedded deeper into her flesh, burning with each passing second. She tried to regain her footing, but the vine was relentless—she was losing her grip on the edge.
At that moment, her world crumbled. She gasped, struggling as the vine's cruel grip tightened with each pull. Her mind raced, but her body was paralyzed, pinned in place by the vine's hold.
She locked eyes with Long Fei, her gaze a silent plea for help.
***
Long Fei's gaze snapped to his guardian. Instantly he lunged forward, his arm shooting out as he dived toward her. His hand locked onto her wrists as the vine yanked her off the edge.
With a forceful tug, he pulled her back, his muscles straining against the vine's relentless grip. Using his qi to propel them away, the vine snapped under his strength, freeing her from its hold. They skidded back, her breath ragged, her chest rising and falling rapidly as he steadied her. He hushed her gently and whispered, "It's okay now. I've got you."
"Thanks," she muttered, her voice unexpectedly soft. There was an unfamiliar vulnerability in her tone that she quickly masked with a huff. "I thought I was done for."
He searched her eyes for a moment; he could see through her defenses, and she slowly met his gaze. Without a word, his eyes asked if she was feeling better, and she responded with a smile, an unspoken understanding passing between them.
Ling Yue's gaze turned sharp again, her usual self-assuredness slowly returning, though there was an edge of uncertainty beneath it. "Let's forget that ever happened," she laughed nervously.
"Be careful," Long Fei said firmly, his voice laced with quiet authority. "Both of you."
He glanced between them, his mind racing. Neither woman had been unscathed by the traps, but it was surprisingly Ling Yue who had come closest to the abyss. The princess had leaped backward just in time, narrowly avoiding the trapdoor that had opened beneath her, she stumbled but managed to regain her balance.
Now, facing the aftermath, he had a dilemma: his responsibility was to both of them, but he couldn't be in two places at once. They both needed to get along, or the journey would be an agonizing one.
Shui Yi, on the other hand, was more composed than ever; her unusual calmness was disconcerting. She stepped forward, unflinching in the face of danger. This was the same mermaid who once clung to him, seemingly afraid of her own shadow.
"Ling Yue needs you now more than I do," Shui Yi said firmly. "I'll be fine. Go with her."
After the mermaid spoke her mind, she returned to her chosen tunnel. He rose to urge her to join them, but she didn't give him a second glance. Her sudden distance perplexed him. He thought she understood the situation they were in. He reached the fork, and the tunnels rumbled again.
Long Fei hesitated, his eyes flicking between them. Although the princess remained calm, he couldn't help but be concerned; he had promised the King of Merfolks that he would protect her. His guardian was still his responsibility; she was his only family left. But as his mind whirled between the two, the earth groaned beneath them again. A metallic screech echoed as more trapdoors slammed open, and his companions fell into separate pits.
His heart raced, and his mind screamed. He could only save one!