That awful, hulking silhouette. The curved stinger, the bristled legs, the low hum of dark energy vibrating in the air like a storm just under the skin.
The black scorpion.
The same one I saw the first time I woke in this world—half-conscious, terrified, stumbling into a cave I didn't recognize and into a nightmare. The one that blasted Wei Wuxian across the stone floor like a rag doll. The one that cracked Lan Wangji's barrier like it was made of paper.
The one that lunged for me—claws open, stinger arched—and triggered something in my chest I didn't understand. The one that made light erupt from me, bursting from my hands and driving it back, even though I hadn't known who I was, what I was, or how I got here.
This was the same one.
Wei Wuxian let out an exasperated breath. "Not this one again!"
Ming Yu turned sharply, sword already angled. "You fought it before?"
Wei Wuxian didn't look away from the enemy. "Yeah. It blasted me last time like I was nothing."
Lan Wangji's expression shifted, concerns flickering in his eyes—because he remembered too. We all did. That day in the cave, when this same scorpion shattered Lan Wangji's barrier and nearly killed Wei Wuxian, it left a mark none of us had forgotten.
I swallowed, still clinging to Shen Kexian's back. "Last time… it touched me, and it disappeared but I was not going to try my luck again."
Shen Kexian's head turned slightly, his voice low, measured. "You fought this thing too?" I nodded. "Not really fought. I flailed, it lunged, and then I kind of exploded with light. It wasn't exactly a strategy, but it worked."
"Last time it was two against one," Wei Wuxian said, tightening his grip on his flute. "This time, it's four against one. Maybe we'll actually have a chance." Then, without waiting for consensus, he lunged forward—reckless, like he still had a score to settle. It was clear he hadn't forgiven the scorpion for sending him flying into a wall.
Lan Wangji followed a heartbeat later, blade flashing, posture taut with precision.
Ming Yu lingered just a breath longer, turning to Shen Kexian—and to me, still clinging to his back like some spiritual sidepack. His expression said exactly what he thought of the setup: he hated it.
But all he said was, "Keep her safe," before turning and vanishing into the fight, dual blades already slicing through the thickening black smoke.
Shen Kexian turned his head slightly, just enough for me to catch the edge of his smirk. "Are you ready?" he asked, voice calm despite the chaos unfolding ahead of us. "We're not getting close—not yet. We'll stay back and lend support from a distance."
His posture shifted as he adjusted his grip on his fan, snapping it open with a flick that sent a shimmer of light and dust scattering through the air—far too theatrical for a battlefield, but so very him. "Hang tight, I'd rather not drop you, my little monkey."
My face went hot instantly. I was already clinging to him like an undignified koala mid-battle, and now he named it?
I muttered something completely unheroic under my breath and buried my face against his shoulder just long enough to pretend I hadn't blushed at all.
Shen Kexian stepped closer to the fight, just far enough to avoid drawing direct attention but close enough that I could feel his body tense beneath me. His power surged—familiar now, steady—and I let it course through me. The water responded instantly.
A barrier erupted around us, then snapped outward in sharp, needled streams, dozens of them slicing through the air toward the scorpion. They struck with speed and precision—but the creature barely flinched. Its armor absorbed the impact with a sickening metallic hiss, leaving only faint cracks across its carapace. I gritted my teeth. We'd hit it—but not hard enough.
Still, our side didn't slow. Wei Wuxian drove the chaos, weaving dark smoke through the battlefield like a living storm. Lan Wangji's sword cut in sweeping silver arcs, each strike as measured as it was unstoppable. Ming Yu's twin blades moved with surgical precision, deflecting and striking in a rhythm only he seemed to hear—fluid, fast, and merciless. None of them backed down.
My inner focus was split, pulled in different directions as I tried to stay in sync with Shen Kexian's power. I let it flow through me—let his strength become my own, adjusted to the rhythm of his energy as if we were two currents merging in a single stream.
I reached for that familiar flicker of warmth again, grounded myself in it, and focused hard on the only thing I could hold onto in the middle of this madness: my love for Ming Yu. My need to protect him. To not be the distraction that cost him everything.
The water responded, surged outward again in a blast of sharp, pulsing force—but the scorpion barely staggered. Its hide was too thick, too old, too prepared. It wouldn't go down easily.
Just then, it slashed down—Ming Yu twisted out of the way in time, his robe snapping behind him—but the blow missed by a breath. Wei Wuxian, likely fed up or still chasing old revenge, lunged forward with that wild gleam in his eyes. But the scorpion pivoted—fast, wrong, aware—and redirected its claw, slashing straight toward him. He managed to dodge, just barely, earning only a long gash across his sleeve.
Lan Wangji shouted, "Wei Ying!" and reached for him, eyes sharp with concern. "I'm okay," Wei Wuxian said, panting. "Not hurt—just annoyed!" But in that instant—we all hesitated. For just one second, the attention shifted. And the scorpion took it. Black smoke hissed from its mouth, curling low and fast in a direct line toward us—toward me and Shen Kexian.
The black smoke slammed into our water barrier with a force that rippled through me like a bell being struck from the inside. I wasn't hurt—not physically—but I felt something twist deep in my chest, sharp and wrong. Shen Kexian took a step back, his breath catching as a flicker of pain surged through him, and I tightened my grip on his shoulders.
"Kexian!" I shouted, my voice cutting through the chaos. "Are you okay?" He turned his head slightly, face strained, and asked instead, "Are you hurt?" "No," I said quickly, eyes burning. "But you are. I can feel it." The pain wasn't mine, but it threaded through the bond between us, heavy and sharp, like a warning.
Across the battlefield, Ming Yu froze. His eyes locked on me, color draining from his face as he started toward us. "I'm okay!" I shouted before he could make it halfway, shaking my head. "Don't—I'm fine!" He hesitated just a second longer, torn, but then he saw it—the urgency in my face, the trap this could become—and pivoted back into the fight. I exhaled, heart racing. We couldn't afford another distraction. Not now. Not again.
Suddenly, my arms—still wrapped tightly around Shen Kexian's shoulders—began to tingle. Not lightly. Not faintly. But with that same electric, nerve-deep sensation I'd felt the night I lost control and grabbed his sleeve like I was being pulled.
My muscles tightened before I could stop them, arms locking tighter around him as if my body had decided to betray me again. Shen Kexian froze beneath me. I cursed under my breath. Oh god, not now. Not here.
The connection between us shifted in an instant—his energy halted mid-flow, no longer just moving through me, but searching. "Mei Lin," he said, voice low, tense. "What's—" "I don't know!" I cut in, breath catching. Because it was true. I didn't. I couldn't feel my fingers and arms anymore. I couldn't control the way I was clinging to him. And worse—so much worse—the flicker inside me, that warm thread I always hold onto, changed.
It shifted into something I wasn't guiding. Something that swelled with a sudden ache: Worry. Vulnerability. Pleading. Soothing. Emotions that weren't mine. Or maybe… maybe they were. But not from me. Not completely. "Lianshui," I whispered, heart lurching. Because I could feel it now. It was hers.
Oh no. No no no—
She was taking control again.
Why now?
Of all times—now?
Was it because he was hurting? Was that what triggered her? Last time, it was the same. When Lan Wangji struck him during training, when pain lanced through him and I panicked—that's when she surfaced.
Now here we were, mid-battle, surrounded, and my body—my body—was reacting on its own. Clinging to Shen Kexian like I was trying to hold his soul together with my bare hands.
"Mei Lin," he said again, voice tighter, urgent. "What's going on?"
"I don't know," I whispered, hating how unsteady it sounded.
But before I could try to explain the impossible, another blast of black smoke hurled toward us—too fast, too close.
Shen Kexian moved, instincts overriding hesitation. He twisted hard, lunging out of the smoke's path just in time, the ground cracking where we'd stood moments before.
My heart was pounding. My arms were still locked around him. My whole being felt like it was splitting in half.
That's when it hit me.
If we don't pull it together, we're all going to die here.
I didn't have the luxury to figure out what was happening inside me—not now. Not in this fight. "Focus!" I shouted against his shoulder. Shen Kexian jolted—just slightly—but I felt the shift in him. He snapped out of it.
Then, without another word, he poured his power into me again—fast, strong, and full.
I grabbed onto Lianshui's feelings and dove into them—no resistance, no hesitation. If she was going to take up space inside me, I was going to use it and it was exactly what I'd suspected. Love. For Shen Kexian. A soft, cooling ache that radiated through my chest. Warm and cool at the same time, soothing and yearning, like sunlight through water. I let it swell, let it wrap around his rage and temper it, balance it—not with mine, but hers.
And he felt it. I knew he did.
Because the energy between us shifted, surged. Amplified.
Without a word, Shen Kexian channeled all of it—all of that tethered power—into a single, focused point. The water formed midair, whirling fast into a sharp, polished spear. It glowed faintly at the edges, like it was humming with everything we were holding.
Then he launched it.
The spear flew—cutting through the smoke, the sound, the tension—and hit. The scorpion shrieked, the sound high and shattering. It staggered, and in that single heartbeat of opening, Ming Yu was already there.
His twin blades flashed in opposite arcs—one sweeping low to sever the front leg cleanly, the other slicing across to drive the creature off balance. The massive body crashed to the ground on one side, dust and chitin flying.
Wei Wuxian didn't miss a beat.
He caught the rhythm shift and changed the tempo of his flute mid-breath, fingers flying. The black smoke around the scorpion surged forward, thickened—pinned it, dragging its limbs against the stone like the shadows themselves were binding it in place.
And then—Lan Wangji stepped forward, calm as ever, his fingers brushing across the strings of his guqin with one single, clean stroke.
The sound split the air like a blade. And the scorpion—already pinned, already torn—split clean in half.
The array shattered with a sound like glass cracking underwater, and suddenly we were back—no wind, no fog, no floating stone, just solid ground beneath us and the familiar dimness of the shrine.
Four bodies lay motionless on the floor—masked men, now unmasked in death. The air was still thick with power, but the danger had passed.
I slid down from Shen Kexian's back, legs shaking as I touched the ground, the pressure between us dissolving with the fading of the array.
My arms had stopped tingling. Carefully, I flexed my fingers—once, twice. They moved at my will. I let out a shaky breath. I was back.
Ming Yu rushed over, worry etched across his face as he knelt beside me. "Are you alright?" he asked, his voice low, eyes scanning me like I might fall apart at any second. I nodded, still catching my breath. "Yeah," I said softly. "I'm okay."
But I wasn't.
Not really.
My body was fine. But inside? I was still shaking. Still trying to understand what part of that power was mine and what part belonged to someone who wasn't even supposed to be here anymore. And the worst part? A small, quiet fear that next time… I might not get control back.