They lay together on the bed—one forged for them alone, shaped by shadow and flame, wide enough to hold gods.
Cecillia's fingers traced idle circles on Ren's chest, her eyes half-lidded but sharp.
"You sent Emperor Shadow back, didn't you?" she murmured. "I can tell. Why do you restrain him in your domain?"
Ren smiled faintly, his gaze fixed on the ceiling where constellations flickered and faded.
"That's such a silly question, mother-in-law," he said softly. "You know why. I can't let him out all the time. If I did, the world would unravel. He is me. We are one. When we merge, we become our true selves. But that truth is too wild. Too chaotic."
He paused, voice growing quieter.
"I thought about Liáng Xu and Fei Yan. They were once calm. Kind. But they changed. They became something no one recognised. And they didn't care to change back."
Cecillia turned her head, watching him closely.
"That's what my master, Fairy Jin, told me," Ren continued. "Lady Yueh doesn't speak of it much. She's ashamed. She had been connected to them since they were babies. She protected them as if they were her children. And she couldn't stop what they became."
Silence settled between them—not heavy, but sacred. The kind of silence that only comes after truth is spoken aloud.
Cecillia's voice broke the quiet. Soft. Unassuming. But sharp enough to draw blood.
"Do you love your master… as a woman?"
Ren's voice was low, almost rough.
"I don't take every woman I see. You know that."
Cecillia's smile deepened, not mocking—just quietly amused.
"Sometimes," she said, teasing, "you make it sound like restraint is your greatest cultivation technique."
Ren turned toward her, eyes steady.
"It might be," he said. "When you carry Emperor Shadow inside you, restraint isn't just virtue. It's survival."
Cecillia's fingers brushed his wrist, deliberate.
"And what about desire?"
Ren hesitated. Then, softly:
"Desire is the one thing I don't cultivate. I let it come. Or not."
Cecillia leaned in, her breath warm against his cheek.
"Then let it come."
Her voice dropped to a whisper, but it carried the weight of centuries.
"Before… you didn't care about that stuff. You just did what you wanted. No hesitation. No guilt. You moved through the world like it owed you nothing—and you owed it even less."
Ren didn't speak. His eyes flickered, but he remained still.
"You didn't care about good or bad," she continued.
"Because in the end, it all becomes opinion. And opinion—Ren—is the strongest force in this world. Someone sees a thing and calls it evil. Another sees the same thing and calls it divine."
She turned toward him, gaze soft but unrelenting.
"So in your mind… what does it matter what you do? You can't be perfect, even though the mortals saw you as perfect. Even though the ones who truly knew you never saw perfection. But you never did, did you?"
Her hand brushed his cheek, reverent.
"My lovely Ren. You never saw yourself at all."
Ren's voice trembled—not with weakness, but with memory too heavy to bear.
"It was a promise," he said. "To my big sister. You remember, Cecillia. Before she died—frail, curled up in that bed—she looked at me and smiled. She chose mortal life. That's what she wanted."
He paused, eyes distant.
"I watched her grow old. Watched her hair turn silver, her hands tremble. And I stayed the same. Eighteen years old. Unchanged. She used to laugh at my face—said I looked like a painting that refused to age."
Cecillia reached for his hand, but he didn't move.
"I had to watch my whole family die in front of me," he whispered.
"One by one. And I couldn't follow them. Not even to heaven, the Christians believed in. The one I helped create. With God. So long ago."
Silence fell, thick with sorrow and divinity.
"Because I chose true immortality… I could die if I wanted. I could have gone to be with them. But I made a choice. To stay as I am."
Ren's voice was steady, but his eyes shimmered with regret.
"She was fine with that. My sister. She understood. She said she could wait—because eventually, we'd meet again."
He paused, the memory pressing against his chest.
"But I saw it. The sadness in her eyes. She knew I'd still be here on Earth. Watching people who didn't want my gift… die. Over and over again."
Cecillia listened, silent, reverent.
"It's not all bad," Ren said softly. "It's just… I haven't visited them yet. And I feel bad for that."
He looked up, as if searching for stars that no longer answered.
"I built heavens. I shaped realms. But I haven't walked through the one I made for them. Not yet."
Ren smiled faintly, the kind of smile that carried centuries.
"I could still visit them. Even now. Immortal or not… I'm not barred. It's just…"
He glanced at Cecillia, eyes soft.
"Well, you understand. We're always doing so much. Conquering lands. Governing them."
He exhaled slowly.
"But in the end… I still like to take my time with things. I never liked to rush. It's a bad habit, I guess."
Cecillia brushed her fingers against his, voice quiet.
"It's not a bad habit," she said. "It's just you."
Ren looked at her, and for a moment, the stars above seemed to pause.
"I'll go," he whispered. "Soon. I want to be ready."
Ren's voice was low, threaded with memory.
"Like I said… it was a promise. To my sister."
He exhaled slowly, as if the words cost him something.
"She told me herself—hold back. Don't chase power for power's sake. Don't lose yourself in the storm."
He paused, eyes distant.
"Me and her… we were never alike. She was steady. I was reckless. But she never gave up on me. Not once."
His voice cracked, just slightly.
"Even when I failed her. Even when I didn't understand her, she still believed in me."
Cecillia said nothing, letting the silence stretch.
"After our parents died, she took everything on. The mantle, the burdens, the legacy. She carried it all. And I—I helped, but only a little."
He looked up, eyes clear now.
"She never asked for anything. Except this. Restraint. So I hold back. Not because I'm afraid. But because she believed I could."
"I'm still not perfect. But I've made peace with that."
Ren's voice was low, almost distant.
"I remember talking to Sakura… About the time my restraint broke. I went wild. I attacked without hesitation. No holding back. Every enemy who came at me—I crushed them."
His jaw tightened.
"They thought Venya was helping them. But she wasn't. She twisted them. Manipulated their fear, their hope… To entertain me. To make me hurry up. To push me toward conquering Earth."
He looked down at his hands, as if they still remembered the heat.
"I told Sakura—I didn't want to hold back anymore. I wanted to let loose. I'd forgotten how good it felt. To be wild. To let instinct take control."
His voice dropped, darker now.
"To be Emperor. Just like Emperor Shadow said, I was meant to be."
She kissed him again, slower this time.
"I love you, Ren. I don't care what choice you make. I'm always with you."
Her voice trembled, but her gaze was unwavering.
"People think I'm an evil bitch. That I killed my three ex-husbands. Let them think it. I never loved them. We used each other. It was survival. But with you… I can't do that. And you can't either."
She touched his chest, just above the heart.
"That's why I know you're my soulmate, even if you're my best friend's son. Even if you're married to my three daughters."
She laughed softly, a mix of bitterness and warmth.
"I don't care. I can wait. After Yuki… after all of them…"
Her voice dropped to a whisper.
"You better marry me next, you greedy boy."
She smiled, wicked and tender.
"You're lucky. You have all the power in the world. So you get away with having so many women. Especially ones who only have eyes for you."
She leaned in, lips brushing his ear.
"Lucky man. Lucky we don't take other men too."
Ren laughed, low and warm.
"Stella said something almost exactly like that, you know. I'm a stupid lucky man to have you all. You put up with me… but then again, I've got to put up with all of you, too."
He smirked, eyes gleaming.
"It's a job I can handle. By myself."
Cecillia leaned in, her voice velvet and steel.
"You better."
Ren simply looked at her—his eyes unreadable, vast as the void before creation.
Then he smiled, soft and quiet, and kissed her again.
No words.
No declarations.
Just presence.
And in that silence, they curled into each other,
two immortals wrapped in warmth,
shadow,
and flame.
Not gods.
Not rulers.
Just lovers—
resting in the stillness between worlds.