The next day, Lucen brought Qingsai into a crystal chamber below the keep.
Veins of luminous quartz pulsed in the walls. The space was sacred, infused with the ancient Yuncao bloodline.
"Here," Lucen said. "We focus."
He handed Qingsai a small black orb—a Shadowseed, harvested from a corrupted spirit.
"See through it," Lucen instructed. "Not with your eyes. With your will."
Qingsai inhaled slowly.
He thought of the bandits. The Veilborn. His imprisonment. His father's betrayal. The wedding. The throne. The chains. The lies.
And then… the quiet voice of Lianhua, the steel in Meiyan's gaze, the kindness in Chunsi's eyes.
His soul centered.
Suddenly, the orb began to crack—light shining through its seams.
> The first spark of Lucentia answered him.
It floated from his palm like a petal caught in the sun. Small. Imperfect. But real.
Lucen smiled faintly. "You've touched it."
Qingsai breathed deeply.
"I saw through the darkness."
"You always could," Lucen replied. "You just didn't know it yet."