Cape Town's Table Mountain loomed over the Dusk Pyre lab, a fortified bunker carved into coastal cliffs, its steel gates glinting under a storm-slashed sky. Ruoxi crouched in a gully, sea spray stinging her face, her side and ribs scarred but steady beneath her tactical gear. The phoenix tattoo pulsed—heart-driven, balanced, as the pact demanded—but Kyoto's strain lingered, her fire dimmed by Mei's spark and Xingxing's blood. The book's golden script burned in her mind—"choice, sacrifice, heart to bind"—a vow against Liang Tao, the traitor's calm voice now their final hunt. Mei's small hand gripped hers, her faint tattoo glowing, a sister's courage fueling her own.