The heavens were never meant to crack.
Not physically.Not spiritually.Not visibly.
And yet, somewhere near the edge of the Mirror Moon Lake, as Lian Qiao stood tracing the threads of her reflection with bare toes pressed to damp stone, the sky above her quivered.
Only for a second. A flicker.
But it happened.
And something… watched.
The breeze around her shifted.
No colder.No darker.Just… wrong.
Like a hand brushing the back of her neck with fingers that didn't belong to wind or weather.
She turned sharply.
No one was there.
But the water rippled in perfect rings, even though her feet had not moved.
She bent slowly, hand grazing the surface—
And her fingers met not cool water, but warmth.
Heat. Rising.
Simultaneously — the Eastern Sky
Mo Yujin sat in still meditation before the ancient altar of the Storm Court — a structure he had not approached in a thousand years.
But tonight, something itched beneath his skin.
A divine itch. A memory pulsing from a source that should not exist.
Then—
Snap.
He opened his eyes.
The realm's boundary thread — the one he had placed on Lian Qiao to track her location after her fall — twitched.
Hard.
Unnaturally.
His blade, Frostbane, which had laid silent on the altar beside him, gave off a sudden shiver of ice.
It didn't hum.It didn't warn.It answered.
"She's in danger."
Back at the Lake
Qiao jerked her hand back.
The lake glowed faintly red now, just at its center — like a single ember beneath the glassy surface.
Then came the voice.
Low. Whispered. Barely there.
"Little flame... you woke too early..."
She froze.
It was not her voice.
It was not even in a language she recognized — and yet, her soul understood it.
"You are not whole. He is not whole. But I am waking... and I remember your fire..."
A shadow stirred beneath the lake — not form, but feeling.
Then came the pulse.
Not energy. Not magic.
Instinct.
Like something long-buried stretching after an eternal sleep — one eye still closed, the other opening beneath the water.
"You are the reason the seal broke..."
Qiao stumbled back.
Her hands were glowing. The Flamebinder, still strapped to her back, hummed hotly against her spine — not threatening, but alert.
The water churned.
Just once.
And a shape — too dark, too wide, too ancient — rose for a breath before sinking again, unseen but unmistakably awake.
In the Celestial Archives
An elder archivist dropped his scroll.
The ancient divination orb beside him flashed.
Crackling red and gold.
"The Seal of the Under Realms has... shifted."
He stared, stunned.
Then whispered: "It's begun again."
Back at the Sect
By the time Qiao returned, her robes soaked, her breath uneven, Master Bai was already waiting at the top of the stone path.
"You saw it," he said, not a question.
"I... felt it."
"What was it?"
"I don't know." Her voice was soft. "But it... remembered me."
He looked at her. Really looked.
Then sighed, and said words she never thought she'd hear from his lips:
"It's time we speak of what sleeps beneath the heavens.And why you were never meant to wake it."