The wind howled through the high passes of the LuomenMountains, threading through cragged stone and twisted pine like a living thing. Snow hadn't yet come to the peaks, but the chill in the air whispered of its approach.
SongLianadjusted the scarf around her neck, her sharp gaze scanning the narrow trail ahead. Behind her, YunZhenfollowed with sure steps, a hand resting lightly on the hilt of his sword.
They had left Xingzhao under the pretense of a supply run. Only a handful knew the truth of their journey: to find the ruined shrine where the BlackHall had once gathered, buried deep within the most forgotten corner of the empire.
Each night since the sigil's appearance, Song Lian had dreamt of shadows curling around that mountain shrine—of blood seeping through the stones, of a whisper calling her name in a language she did not recognize. Dreams sent not by imagination, but by something watching.
The trail wound ever upward, clinging to the side of the cliffs like a silver thread. Sparse trees dotted the slopes, their roots curling into stone, their trunks bent by years of wind and solitude.
They traveled in silence, save for the crunch of boots on rock and the distant cry of mountain hawks. It was Yun Zhen who broke the quiet first.
"The last time I came to these mountains, I was only a child."
Song Lian turned to glance at him.
"My tutor brought me here to study the ancient shrines. He believed the empire's past had been carved into the land itself. Every ruin was a warning, he said." He looked up toward the peaks. "I didn't believe him then. I thought they were just stories."
"And now?" Song Lian asked.
He smiled faintly. "Now I wonder if the stories were mercy."
It was near dusk when they found it. Tucked within a narrow valley surrounded by jagged peaks, the ShrineofEchoingDust sat half-collapsed, buried beneath centuries of moss, vines, and stone. Time had forgotten it, but evil had not.
A strange stillness hung in the air. No birds sang. Even the wind refused to speak.
The entrance was shaped like a dragon's mouth, the stone fangs cracked but still sharp. Carvings of ancient scripts lined the wall,s and some from the current empire, others from older tongues that had long vanished from common use.
Song Lian stepped carefully into the shadow of the shrine, fingers brushing the carved symbols. "This place is older than the Yun Empire."
Yun Zhen lit a small lantern, its warm glow chasing back the gloom. The interior was a maze of halls and altars, some sunken, others scorched by flame. Bones lay scattered in forgotten corners, belonging to some humans or some beast. And at the far end, beneath a collapsed ceiling, they found it.
A chamber lined with obsidian. In the center stood a circular altar etched with the BlackBladesigil, and it was the same design they had seen carved into the village wall. Only here, it pulsed faintly with a cold, unnatural light.
As Song Lian stepped forward, her vision blurred. A whisper filled her ears—not sound, but thought. Not language, but intention.
"You are not from here."
Her breath caught. She staggered back, hand gripping the hilt of the dagger Yun Zhen had gifted her.
"You are the key that does not belong."
Her knees nearly buckled.
"Xiao Lian!" Yun Zhen was suddenly beside her, his arm firm around her shoulder, grounding her. The whispers faded like smoke. His worry made him not notice the way he called Song Lian.
She blinked, chest heaving. "It spoke to me."
His grip tightened. "What did it say?"
"That I don't belong," she whispered. "That I'm a… key."
They both looked back at the altar, its sigil now dark.
"Then this is more than just a cult," Yun Zhen said. "This is something ancient. Something that sees beyond this world."
Song Lian stared at the obsidian, the realization chilling her. They knew.
They camped just outside the shrine, near a small outcrop that shielded them from the wind. Yun Zhen built the fire while Song Lian remained quiet, her fingers absently tracing patterns in the dirt. When he finally sat beside her, silence lingered before he spoke.
"You don't have to carry this alone."
She didn't respond at first. Then, slowly, she said, "I've always been alone. Even before this world."
He looked at her and not just at her face, but into her. "And now?"
She turned toward him, her voice quiet. "Now… I'm trying not to be."
The fire flickered between them, casting gold and shadow across their faces. For a moment, neither spoke. Then Yun Zhen reached out, brushing a strand of wind-tossed hair from her cheek. "You're not just the key, Song Lian. You're the anchor. You hold us together."
Her heart trembled. But she didn't look away.
That night, while Yun Zhen slept beside the fire, Song Lian sat watch beneath the stars.
She thought of the shrine, of the words she could barely understand, of the sense that something far beyond her grasp was moving pieces on a board she couldn't see.
And then, just beyond the edge of the light, she saw it. A figure. No face. No breath.
Just a silhouette cloaked in black, watching.
She stood, drawing her dagger. But it didn't move. It simply stared.
A soft breeze blew past, and in that moment, the figure vanished, leaving behind only a single sigil burned into the rock.
Thehunthadbegun…