She dreamt of feathers.
Light ones—carried by wind, untouched by flame.
A corridor formed from stars. Stone lanterns hung from nothing, flickering with pale blue fire. The ground beneath her bare feet felt warm, familiar.
She walked.
Ahead, a figure waited beneath a flowering tree—a cherry blossom glowing silver under drizzle. The petals didn't fall. They hovered, suspended between breath and memory.
The woman turned.
She wore robes of moon silk and bore a phoenix crest at her collarbone. Her eyes were the same shade of ash and ember as Ming Yue's.
But she was older.
Not in years.
In weight.
Weight of responsibilities.
"You're not ready yet," the woman said gently.
"A forced intervention—but soon it will settle. Afterall, you are loved and you are strong."
"Who are you?"
"Who I was before you were named."
She smiled—not youthful, but soft and sorrowful.
"There is a world above this one. A place of rivers that sing and stars that remember. I once stood beside a man with eyes like thunder and storm. We were torn apart by war, by choice… and by fate in every lifetime"
"Su Yan," Ming Yue whispered, shocked at how that un familiar name rolled off her tongue.
Who is Su Yan— and why does it make her heart ache?
The woman nodded.
The rain thickened.
"There may come a day," the woman said, "when I can reach for him without fear or shame. And stand beside him—hand in hand."
Maybe as you. Her last words. unheard.
Her voice cracked—like porcelain under pressure.
Ming Yue took a step forward.
Then the dream shattered.