The night was still within the hearts of our heroes—so still that even the air felt afraid to move.
Even the moon hung suspended in the sky, waiting for a heartbeat, as if it refused to continue its orbit before the matters of these hearts were settled.
Huo Feng stood at the edge of the stone steps, gazing at the courtyard where the shadows slept quietly.
She thought she was alone—until she heard footsteps behind her.
Soft… slow…
Like someone trying not to wake what lay inside his chest before waking the ground beneath him.
It was him...Wu Xin.
He stopped beside her, saying nothing at first. Then his voice finally reached her—low, quiet, meant only for her soul:
"You're going… no matter what I say, aren't you?"
She did not turn to him, but her shoulders answered yes.
Her eyes, however, confessed I'm afraid to say it out loud.
He smiled. A quiet, defeated smile—like a man who had lived with pain so long it had become an old companion.
"I knew from the moment I opened my eyes to you…
Fear shapes decisions no one can stop."
She turned toward him slowly, her eyes holding a fire learning how to breathe.
"I'm not afraid of death, Wu Xin.
I'm afraid that death might reach the ones I love before I do."
He didn't move, but something deep within him trembled.
He stepped closer—not touching her—simply standing beside her as an equal.
"Then… let me go with you."
She shook her head, a shy smile flickering briefly.
"You can't. You're injured."
He answered with calm certainty:
"I can walk. I can fight. I can die.
What I cannot do… is let you go alone."
Just then, the door behind them opened.
Teacher Li stepped out—not shining with his usual gentle light.
He looked like autumn had conquered his spirit.
He spoke without command and without plea:
"The path will open at dawn.
Once you leave… you cannot return soon.
Prepare yourselves."
Wu Xin said nothing.
Huo Feng closed her eyes briefly—just a moment.
But in that moment, stillness became noise.
When she opened her eyes, she was ready.
Not as a warrior—but as someone who had accepted a fate long in motion.
The three of them walked in a silence too false for such a journey.
Suddenly, Huo Feng stopped—
as if a spark had streaked through her spirit.
She turned to Teacher Li, eyes widening like a child discovering a secret door:
"I found it!"
Teacher… what if I turn you into a hairpin?"
The air froze.
Wu Xin stared at her in instant disbelief.
Wind lifted the edge of her robes as though blessing the idea.
Huo Feng continued, her tone unexpectedly serious:
"This way, your enemy won't detect your presence.
You'll be with us… unseen.
A silent watcher from above."
Teacher Li smiled—softly—gently…
with a tenderness he had never shown before.
"A brilliant idea."
Those words should have passed quietly—
But Wu Xin's voice emerged carrying something else entirely:
Jealousy.
He spoke with a tone meant to sound amused—
but it failed.
"But…
isn't it a bit shameful…
for a winged dragon, a master of the Shadow Lineage…
to become just a hairpin?"
He went on, searching for forms more fitting:
"Perhaps a sword?
A spear?
Or… an arrow—"
But his voice betrayed him.
Everything in him betrayed him.
The blow he did not expect came from Teacher Li himself.
He turned to Huo Feng—ignoring Wu Xin as though the world around him had thinned—and said, with quiet meaning:
"I do not mind becoming a hairpin…
as long as I remain close to you.
Even if it costs me what I value most."
He meant his pride—as a dragon.
But Huo Feng did not let the meaning slip past.
She smiled—a smile like moonlight crossing water:
"But I already have what you value most.
Your wings… don't I?"
The silence that followed was a blade.
Wu Xin took a single step forward—
a step of a man whose heart almost gasped—
Before anything could ignite, Huo Feng lifted her hand gently and whispered:
"Do not worry."
She extended her hand toward Teacher Li.
Light bent.
Sound softened.
He transformed into a jade hairpin—shaped like a dragon coiled around a small pearl, pulsing like a heartbeat.
Huo Feng lifted him as though lifting something precious,
and placed him in her hair—carefully, reverently—
with something that felt like loyalty.
She tapped the hairpin lightly, a whisper only he could hear:
"Do not fear.
I will protect you."
The words were simple…
But they changed everything.
Wu Xin did not speak.
Because speaking, in that moment,
would have sounded like surrender.
When Dawn Opened Its First Eye, There Was No Light.
There was only a gate.
A gate made not of wood nor stone,
but of shadow crossing shadow—
as if the night itself had left a narrow tear
for those who dare to pass.
Huo Feng stepped forward first.
At once, she noticed the scent of the world change.
The air was no longer the air of land nor sky.
It was heavier—slower—learning how to breathe from within.
Then the world appeared.
A gray land…
not the neutral gray of stone,
but the gray of dreams burned and not entirely gone.
Beneath their feet, the ground was not sand—
but grains of ancient memory,
moving in slow tides that could swallow the hesitant…
or the afraid.
Above that ash-colored earth,
a deep violet sky stretched—
the color of a wound too old to bleed
and too alive to heal.
There was no sun.
No moon.
Even the stars refused to adorn it.
Only in the far horizon burned a silent sacred fire.
It illuminated the sky the way an old memory lights a troubled heart—
not guiding the path,
but revealing who you are rather than where you are.
In that moment,
a voice whispered—
but only Huo Feng heard it.
The jade hairpin spoke.
Or rather—Teacher Li did.
His voice settled in her mind like breath upon still water:
"This is a realm where no sun rises,
for the sun means beginning and end…
and here, there is neither.
Shadows do not die.
Imprints do not fade.
Every step you take…
you tread upon someone's memory."
Huo Feng trembled—
not out of fear,
but reverence.
She asked, without moving her lips:
"Can a memory swallow the one who walks on it?"
He answered:
"Only if their heart is unprepared to be honest."
She heard him clearly—
as clearly as water meeting stone.
But Wu Xin heard nothing.
The parasite gnawing at him no longer hid.
It crept along the edges of his spirit
like a quiet fire slowly consuming paper—
not fast… but certain.
His steps grew slower.
He tried to straighten his back.
To show a strength his body no longer held.
But not all truths can be hidden.
Huo Feng saw the change,
yet she said nothing.
Because words, in that moment,
would have broken something larger than pain.
Wu Xin turned his face slightly, as if to say:
"I'm fine… go on."
But his shadow spoke before he could.
It did not say what his voice attempted—
it told the real, sorrowful truth:
He was collapsing.
Slowly.
And he did not want anyone to see.
He forced his breath.
He clenched the pain between his teeth.
And still—
he walked.
For a heart that has chosen its path
does not retreat
until it has burned itself to the end.