The night after the battle fell calm, though the battlefield still carried the scent of smoke and blood. The fires had burned out, leaving only scattered light from the moon that hung full above the pale dunes.
Our tents stood quietly near the ridge. The wounded slept, and even the winds seemed unwilling to disturb the weariness that clung to everyone. Lian Xueyin sat at a distance, her gaze fixed on the horizon, the frost around her dim and soft.
I sat outside my own tent, polishing the Snowfire Blade. Its glow had dimmed to small pulses of blue-red, almost breathing in rhythm with me. Yue Xiang stood nearby, her silver robe glimmering faintly in the moonlight.
"You still haven't learned to rest," she said quietly. Her voice was soft and musical yet carried a warmth that touched the air like calm water.
I smiled faintly. "Rest is for hearts that stop fighting. Mine hasn't yet."
She sighed, stepping closer, her hair catching stray moonlight. "You carried divine flame and shadow in the same breath today. That power was never meant for a mortal body. You could've burned yourself into light and vanished."
"Would that have been so bad?" I asked lightly, though I already knew the answer from the silence that followed.
She looked at me for a long moment, then sat down, folding her hands neatly in her lap. "You remind me of someone," she said finally.
"Who?"
"Myself," Yue Xiang whispered. "Before everything ended."
Her tone drew me in. "Arina said every summon carries a story that shapes their heart," I said. "What was yours?"
She exhaled slowly, as if the memory itself weighed on her. The air around her shimmered faintly as she spoke.
"I was born under the light of the twin moons, far beyond this world," she began. "My clan was called the Lunaris. We thrived in peace, drawing our strength from the tides and silence of the night. Our elders said we were the bridge between light and sea—guardians of balance."
Her eyes glowed faintly like silver wells. "But when the gods waged war, they turned to us for our songs—the Tidebound Requiem. Our melody could calm divine rage itself. We were the last hope of preventing destruction."
Her tone darkened slightly. "So we sang. For days. For moons. Until the heavens quieted—but silence comes at a cost. One by one, our voices faded until only I remained."
I stared at her, speechless, for a while. "You gave everything?"
"I tried to hold the tide alone," she murmured, eyes glistening. "The gods heard me, but the darkness below answered louder. They took everything, and I fell into the Abyss. I wandered its echoes until your call pulled me back."
There was a fragile smile on her face then—gentle, the kind that hides heartbreak. "And when I heard your voice, I thought I was dreaming another saviour's lie. But then I saw you—broken, yes, but refusing to fall. You carry what all gods lost: will."
I looked away, discomfort curling in my chest. "I don't deserve to carry anyone's hope. I'm still learning how to survive my own."
"You underestimate the small kind of courage," she said softly. "The courage to keep walking even when the world calls you cursed."
Without thinking, I met her gaze again—and for the first time, I felt her energy hum faintly in sync with mine, not through power, but through quiet understanding.
Arina's voice echoed faintly in my thoughts, observant but tender.
"Favorability increased to 75%. Emotional link forming—steady and gentle."
Yue Xiang stood slowly. "If you fall again into the Abyss within yourself, I'll sing you back. No gods or systems should decide who you become."
"Then maybe you've already started to," I said quietly.
For a moment, her eyes softened too much for words. But before either of us could speak again, a small crash echoed from behind—the faint sound of frost breaking.
Lian Xueyin stood in the shadow near the trees, her silhouette framed in silver moonlight. Her expression was calm, but her eyes were not. There was no anger, no jealousy—just something heavier.
"I see she's shared her melody," Lian said lightly, stepping out. "The second companion of the Goddess System… You always find those marked by sorrow, don't you?"
Her tone wasn't cruel—it was knowing. She looked at Yue Xiang, then back at me. For a heartbeat, the frost around her deepened, faint mist curling through the air before melting again into calm.
Yue Xiang bowed her head slightly. "Lady Lian," she greeted gently. "You've fought beside him far longer. I didn't mean to intrude."
Lian's lips twitched into a small, cold smile. "You didn't. It's his destiny that does that."
Their eyes met for only a moment before Lian turned away, looking toward the wounded encampments. "We leave at first light," she said. "The rebellion grows too fast. We need movement, not sentiment."
Her voice was firm, but I caught the faint tremor that broke her last word.
When she was gone, Yue Xiang sighed quietly. "She's strong, but I can feel the storms she hides. You shouldn't let her walk that much pain alone."
I smiled weakly. "I think she'd freeze the storm before I could reach her."
Yue Xiang's silver eyes glinted like water under moonlight. "Then melt it slowly. That's what fire's for."
The camp fell into quiet again. The soldiers shifted restlessly in their sleep. Above us, the stars looked colder than they should, as if they watched our fragile world with pity.
Arina's voice finally returned, softer than a whisper.
"Host, understand this—every bond you form strengthens balance but also complicates it. The Goddess System thrives on emotion, yet emotion is what makes divinity break. Be careful which hearts you tie to yours."
I looked at the two women—one walking away into the shadows, the other standing beside me under the moon.
Maybe Arina was right.
Maybe balance wasn't something you found—it was something you hurt to keep.