The dawn came reluctantly, its pale light stretching across the peaks as though afraid to pierce the shadows lurking in the valleys.
Liana had not slept. Her body rested, but her soul remained tangled in the prophecy. The words—Bride or Key—echoed like a bell that would never stop ringing. Even the mountain winds seemed to whisper them when they brushed against her ears.
Han Jian stood near the cliff edge, his black robes snapping in the breeze. His sword leaned against his shoulder, gleaming faintly with the aura of someone unwilling to bow before destiny. He didn't look at her, but she could feel his awareness wrapping around her like an invisible shield.
Qing Feng, by contrast, sat cross-legged by the altar, eyes closed, meditating. A faint golden glow circled him like threads of light, weaving patterns of celestial runes across his skin. His calmness was infuriating.
Liana clutched her knees, staring at her reflection in a small pool near the rocks. "Bride or Key… Amara or Liana… freedom or sacrifice. Why can't fate ever allow happiness without tearing something away?"
Her reflection shimmered, and for a fleeting second, it wasn't her face she saw—but Amara's. Same eyes, same lips, but different weight in the gaze. Amara's eyes carried centuries of sorrow.
"Why me?" Liana whispered, her voice trembling.
Han Jian heard. He turned sharply, his boots crunching on the frost-bitten ground. "Because fate is a liar." His voice was cold steel. "Don't let it trick you, Liana. You are not bound by what some old stones whisper."
Qing Feng opened his eyes, golden irises glowing faintly in the dawn. "It is not about fate deceiving her. It is about truth buried too deep for mortals to grasp. The choice is real, Han Jian. And the cost will come, whether she accepts it or not."
"Then I'll pay it!" Han Jian snapped, stepping forward, his aura crackling with suppressed rage. "She doesn't have to!"
The tension between them thickened like storm clouds. Liana rose quickly, placing herself between the two men before sparks could ignite into fire. Her hands pressed against their chests—one on Han Jian's steady heartbeat, the other on Qing Feng's calm pulse.
"Stop." Her voice wavered but carried authority neither man could deny. "I… I don't know what I'll choose. But I do know this—I won't let the two of you tear each other apart before I even make the decision."
Han Jian's jaw tightened, but he pulled back a fraction. Qing Feng inclined his head slightly, conceding to her plea.
Yet the silence that followed was worse than their argument.
Suddenly, a low rumble rolled through the mountains. The ground shuddered beneath their feet, sending pebbles tumbling down the cliffside. Birds burst from the trees below, scattering into the gray sky.
Qing Feng's face paled. "The seal… it weakens again."
The altar flared to life, runes burning brighter than before. A crack split across its surface, jagged and raw, like lightning carved into stone. From within the crack seeped a thin thread of black mist, curling upward like smoke.
Liana staggered back, covering her mouth. The mist smelled of rot, despair, and something worse—emptiness.
Han Jian's sword was in his hand instantly, his body taut like a drawn bow. "Stay behind me."
But the mist wasn't attacking. It hovered, coiling like a serpent, before forming into a vague figure. Its voice slithered across the wind—deep, echoing, filled with mockery.
"Bride or Key… both paths lead to me."
Liana froze. The voice wasn't just heard—it pressed into her mind, dragging at her thoughts like claws scraping against glass.
Han Jian swung his sword, unleashing a wave of spiritual energy that shattered the mist's form. But the echo of the voice lingered in Liana's skull.
She clutched her temples, falling to her knees. Images flashed—Amara kneeling in blood, chains binding her wrists, a man with eyes like galaxies watching her with both love and sorrow. Then fire. Endless fire.
Her scream tore through the morning air.
Han Jian dropped beside her, pulling her into his arms. His voice, usually sharp as a blade, softened as he whispered, "I've got you. You're safe. Look at me, Liana. Just me."
But her eyes, glazed with visions, stared past him.
Qing Feng placed his palm gently on her forehead, murmuring an incantation. Golden light spilled from his hand, pushing back the remnants of the mist's intrusion. Slowly, her trembling eased, though her skin remained pale as snow.
When she finally found her voice, it came out cracked. "I saw him. The Immortal King… Amara's… my…" She choked on the words. "He was watching me."
Han Jian stiffened. "What did he look like?"
Her lips quivered. "Beautiful. Terrifying. Lonely."
Qing Feng's gaze darkened, his jaw set with grim understanding. "So the cycle awakens. The one who waits beyond the gate… has seen you."
Liana's heart thundered. If Amara's past was her inheritance, then the Immortal King's gaze wasn't just on Amara. It was on her.
---
The silence after Liana's words was heavier than any roar of thunder.
Han Jian's hand lingered protectively on her shoulder, his eyes sharp, searching her face for cracks he could guard against. Yet for the first time since she'd met him, there was something else in his gaze—fear. Not for himself, but for her.
Qing Feng rose slowly, the light around him dimming, replaced by a solemn gravity. "If the Immortal King has turned his eyes toward her, then every shadow, every whisper, every path… will converge here."
Liana wiped her trembling lips with the back of her hand. "But why? Why me? I'm not Amara. I never asked for her memories, her curse, her destiny. I just wanted—" Her voice cracked as tears welled. "I just wanted a life that was mine."
Han Jian reached for her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. "Listen to me. You are Liana. Not Amara. Not anyone's bride, not anyone's key—just you. And I will cut down gods themselves if they try to claim otherwise."
The conviction in his voice sent a shiver through her, both warming and frightening her. Because she could feel the truth of it—Han Jian would fight the world for her. But would the world let him win?
Qing Feng stepped closer, his expression softer now, almost pitying. "Han Jian, your words are fire, but fire cannot unmake the ocean. The Immortal King is not a shadow you can simply cut down. He is the one who waited. The one who loved Amara enough to burn eternity itself."
Liana's breath hitched. "Loved… her?"
"Yes," Qing Feng said quietly, his golden gaze flickering. "But love that waits too long curdles into obsession. If he sees Liana as Amara reborn, he will not stop until she is his—whether as bride or key."
The air between them grew colder, heavy with the weight of an unseen presence.
Han Jian clenched his sword, fury igniting in his aura. "Then he'll have to take her from my dead hands."
The ground rumbled again, as if the mountains themselves answered his defiance. Cracks spread further across the altar, golden light spilling out like veins of molten fire. The mist returned, thicker now, curling into shapes that twisted like broken bodies. Faces appeared in the smoke—screaming, weeping, begging.
Liana stumbled back, her heart pounding. The whispers clawed at her again, but this time she didn't collapse. Instead, she raised her hand, and to her shock, the mist recoiled. A faint glow shimmered around her fingers—the same golden runes that danced on Qing Feng's skin.
He inhaled sharply. "The altar recognizes her."
"What does that mean?" Han Jian demanded.
"That she can command the seal," Qing Feng replied grimly. "But it will demand its price."
Liana's breath came in shallow gasps. She felt it too—a pull in her blood, like invisible chains dragging her toward the altar. Her veins thrummed, her pulse syncing with the rhythm of the glowing runes.
A choice. The words flared in her mind, undeniable now.
Bride or Key.
She could feel it: if she offered herself as Bride, the Immortal King's power would pour through her, binding the shadows, but chaining her soul to his. If she became the Key, she could open the gate—at the cost of unleashing him into the world.
Either way, she would lose herself.
Her knees buckled, and Han Jian caught her before she fell. "No," he whispered, voice raw with desperation. "Don't listen to it. Don't let it choose for you."
She looked at him, her tears blurring his fierce features. "But what if it's already chosen?"
His arms tightened around her, as though by sheer force he could hold back destiny. "Then I'll break it. Whatever fate says, whatever gods decree, I'll tear it apart. You're not theirs, Liana. You're mine."
For a heartbeat, the world seemed to pause—his vow hanging in the air like a blade poised to strike.
But then, faint and mocking, the Immortal King's voice drifted from the mist again, curling into her ears like silk.
"We shall see, little mortal. In the end, all flames burn out. But eternity… eternity always wins."
The mist dissolved, leaving only silence, but the chill of his presence remained.
Liana clutched Han Jian's sleeve, trembling. She wanted to believe him, wanted to cling to his fire. But in her chest, the runes still pulsed, whispering of a choice that could not be denied.
---
❓️❓️❓️❓️
If you were in Liana's place, which would you choose—becoming the Bride to bind the Immortal King but lose your freedom, or becoming the Key to unleash him and risk the world?