Chapter 5: The Echo of Fate and the Buffering Prophecy
Rain whispered softly across the sweeping palace roofs again, a gentle, hypnotic percussion.
The familiar sound instantly yanked Lin Xue back to that first terrifying, electric night she'd fallen from the heavens—or maybe from the corporate server cloud, depending on how one defined "realm."
She hadn't slept a wink.
Every time she managed to close her eyes, sharp flashes of bright light would ripple behind her eyelids, accompanied by fragments of ancient memory that absolutely weren't hers: an impossibly vast, crumbling stone battlefield; a powerful woman in serene white robes standing calmly amid thunder; and a voice, utterly calm but filled with sorrow: "The dynasty must be rewritten."
When the faint, silvery light of dawn finally arrived, she was already sitting wide awake on the cold terrace, her hair damp with the lingering mist, staring intently at her constantly glowing jade pendant.
"Don't tell me you're downloading catastrophic destiny updates again," she muttered, rubbing the jade between her fingers.
"I haven't even had coffee yet."
Prince Han Jinhai found her sitting there just after sunrise.
For once, he was dressed simply, the usual severe silver of his robe softened by a pleasing, deep shade of blue.
His eyes, though, were the same—sharp, incredibly calculating, and far too observant for Lin Xue's comfort.
"You're awake early," he noted, his voice smooth and steady.
"Technically, I never successfully achieved sleep," she corrected him with a weary shrug.
"Too many sudden, dramatic visions; significantly too few naps."
He frowned, his expression growing serious. "Visions? What kind?"
She held up the glowing pendant.
"I think it's trying to buffer destiny, Your Highness.
It's got a very slow download speed."
He blinked once, slowly.
"…Buffering?"
"Never mind.
Tech term for 'lagging,'" she sighed.
She paused, then, trusting him implicitly despite his frosty nature, she added, "It showed me something specific.
A woman wrapped in pure lightning.
She looked exactly like me—but older, much calmer.
And incredibly sad."
Jinhai's entire gaze immediately shifted to the glowing pendant in her hand.
"Show me," he commanded softly.
She handed the jade to him carefully.
The moment his cool fingers brushed the stone, a faint, undeniable spark—electric and warm—flickered between their hands. The pendant pulsed—once, twice—then, suddenly, a brilliant, shared memory unfolded in light right before their eyes.
They were suddenly standing, seemingly, inside a vast, unfamiliar stone chamber, surrounded by countless floating, glowing runes.
At the very center of the chamber knelt the same serene woman from Lin Xue's vision.
Her face was peaceful, and her hands were pressed together in a final, quiet prayer. Above her, an ornate imperial throne floated within a terrifying, swirling storm.
"She's sealing something away," Lin Xue whispered, utterly mesmerized.
Jinhai's voice was low, heavy with ancient knowledge.
"Or, perhaps, someone."
The vision shifted quickly—the woman raised her head, and her eyes glowed with pure, concentrated lightning.
She spoke several words neither of them fully understood, but one phrase echoed, clear and agonizingly potent:
"To protect the future, the light must fall again."
Then, as suddenly as it had begun, the vision shattered like fragile glass, throwing them both violently back into the misty present.
They stumbled back against the terrace rail, panting from the shock of the energy.
"Okay," Lin Xue wheezed, rubbing her head. "My official diagnosis is that the pendant is completely and utterly haunted."
Jinhai stared at the jade, still glowing faintly in her palm, his mind clearly racing.
"That was the First Protector of the Dynasty. She was the one who was said to have bound the entire imperial line to the heavens itself through sacrifice."
"And now her magical, prophecy-laden jewelry is somehow stuck with me," Lin Xue said, forcing a nervous, slightly high-pitched laugh.
"Lucky me."
Jinhai didn't smile.
His expression was grim.
"If that ancient prophecy was true—if 'the light must fall again'—then your chaotic arrival here was not a mere coincidence, Lady Lin."
"Yeah, I'm starting to get that depressing picture.
But why me? I was just trying to write code and make strong coffee."
He didn't understand the modern reference, but her voice trembled enough that his tone softened, a rare, gentle sound.
"Perhaps the heavens have a peculiar preference for their heroes to be completely and utterly unprepared."
She looked at him, genuinely surprised by the unexpected kindness.
"Wow.
That almost sounded… comforting, Your Highness."
"It wasn't meant to be," he replied instantly, professionally pulling the frost back into his voice.
They both turned as a palace servant hurried toward them, bowing quickly and deeply.
"Your Highness! Urgent summons—the Imperial Astronomers require Lady Lin Xue's presence immediately.
The stars have shifted alignment overnight."
Jinhai's eyes narrowed dangerously.
"What kind of alignment are they speaking of?"
The servant swallowed hard.
"The constellation of the Azure Dragon has reappeared after centuries… and it perfectly mirrors the seal mark on Lady Lin's pendant."
Lin Xue blinked, looking up at the gray sky. "Great.
Now space is officially stalking me."
Jinhai rose decisively, all trace of personal tension gone, replaced by royal purpose. "We are going now."
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The Astronomer's Hall smelled strongly of thick incense and thousands of years of old paper.
Spheres of shimmering light hung magically in midair, representing the heavens' complex rotation.
Elder Wu, the Chief Astronomer, a man whose clothes looked less crisp than the paper he handled, bowed low as they entered.
"Your Highness.
Lady Lin Xue.
The heavens have spoken again, and the message is clear."
He waved his sleeve, and the celestial projection above them shifted dramatically.
A powerful, winding dragon woven from stars coiled protectively around a vibrant phoenix of flame.
Between them, a single human figure—small, yet radiating pure, bright light—held a glowing, fragile thread that bound the two powerful creatures together.
Elder Wu's voice quavered with reverence. "This precise configuration last appeared centuries ago, during the founding of our entire dynasty.
The figure of light was then known as the Mediator of Heaven."
Jinhai's unwavering gaze slid from the starry pattern directly to Lin Xue's face.
Lin Xue looked up at the overwhelming, ancient pattern of the stars and whispered, almost to herself, "Mediator, huh? That sounds like a really fancy, old-school word for 'IT tech support.'"
Elder Wu blinked, utterly confused.
"I beg your pardon?"
"She means she fully comprehends the gravity of the position," Jinhai cut in smoothly, seamlessly translating the modern jargon into royal speak.
"Excellent," the old man said, unfazed. "Then you must know, Lady Lin—the heavens are actively preparing a new trial for the realm."
Lin Xue's humor faded instantly, replaced by cold dread.
"Trial? As in… pop quiz or final exam?"
"The last time these stars aligned," the Astronomer finished solemnly, "the entire empire faced collapse and ruin.
Only the Mediator's sacrifice restored the divine balance.
If history repeats, one must bear that terrible burden again."
A profound, heavy silence stretched between the three of them.
Even the usually composed Jinhai looked deeply uneasy.
Lin Xue finally broke the silence, her voice surprisingly steady.
"You're telling me the entire cosmos just officially tagged me for a sacrificial role? That's just fantastic.
Couldn't they have at least sent a polite, slightly less fatal email notification instead?"
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When they left the stifling observatory, the sky was a deep, ominous gray.
Storm clouds were gathering rapidly—restless, electric, and heavy with moisture.
Lin Xue stopped under the sheltered eaves, hugging her arms for comfort.
"He said 'sacrifice' like it was a completely casual career recommendation."
"Prophecies rarely state the cost in clear terms," Jinhai replied, standing beside her.
She looked up at him, her eyes searching his.
"You believe all this? The stars, the Mediator, the sacrifice?"
He hesitated, and the hesitation felt honest. "I believe you have fundamentally changed something vital in this realm.
Whether that change is for the better or the complete ruin of us all… remains to be seen."
Her smile was faint but absolutely genuine. "You know, for a Crown Prince, you're really not very reassuring."
"For someone who appears destined to anger all of heaven, you are remarkably calm."
"Fake it till you make it," she said simply.
He stared.
"What does that mean, precisely?"
"It means I'll figure out how to stop the apocalypse before I die trying to debug it."
Silence returned, but this time it was comfortable—charged with understanding, perhaps even anticipation.
A faint, shared spark passed between them, and the storm above answered instantly with a low, rumbling thunder.
Jinhai broke eye contact first, turning to face the path.
"Get some proper rest, Lady Lin.
Tomorrow, we begin the difficult work of deciphering the Azure Concord prophecy."
"Yes, boss," she acquiesced easily.
"And stop calling me that."
"No promises, Your Highness."
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That night, Lin Xue slept deeply, but she dreamt again.
The ancient battlefield returned—only this time, she stood confidently in the First Protector's place.
Raw lightning poured through her veins as thousands of loyal soldiers knelt behind her.
Before her stood a powerful figure cloaked entirely in swirling frost—it was Jinhai's face, handsome, calm, and distant with the weight of responsibility.
To protect the future, the light must fall again.
The prophetic voice echoed louder now, and the jade pendant burned against her chest, hot and heavy.
When she finally jolted awake, drenched in a light sweat, sharp thunder was rolling loudly right outside the window.
And on her bedside table, inexplicably drawn in faint, shimmering trails of silver light, were words she definitely hadn't written, glowing softly on the dark wood:
Courage proven.
Love approaches.