Inside the Crucible, reality no longer obeyed reason.
Wang Chung stumbled forward, blood trailing behind him from Long Tian's blade. Yet the wound no longer bled red—it bled memories. Fading images of battles, laughter, pain, love… They spilled onto the shifting ground like echoes that could no longer find a home.
And ahead—beneath a pale, silver tree that pulsed with threads of forgotten time—she stood.
Yu Meilan.
Not whole.
Not alive.
A memory fragment caught within the Crucible's dying breath. She stood barefoot in white robes, beneath the Heart Tree, a massive construct whose branches were woven from regrets and final words. Its leaves shimmered with lost possibilities.
Wang Chung fell to his knees the moment he saw her.
> "Meilan…"
She turned slowly, and her eyes—gods, her eyes—still held that infinite gentleness. But behind it was sorrow. Deep, knowing sorrow.
> "Chung," she whispered. "He's using me."
The words were a blade sharper than any forged in war.
> "I don't understand," Wang Chung said, voice shaking. "You were gone. I… I buried you in the Hall of Light."
She stepped forward, her feet not touching the ground. This Meilan was not physical—her presence wavered like candlelight in wind.
> "He didn't take my body," she said. "He took what I was. My love for you… my belief in you… He turned it into an anchor. That's what feeds the Crucible."
She placed her hand over her chest. A soft glow pulsed.
> "I'm its heart now."
Wang Chung's throat constricted. "Then I'll rip the Crucible apart. I'll find your soul and—"
But she shook her head slowly.
> "If you destroy the Crucible… I disappear. Not just my body. Not just my soul. All of me."
> "I'll be erased from the Weave entirely. Even your memory of me will turn to mist."
He staggered back like he'd been struck.
> "No."
> "Yes," she said, gently. "But if you don't… the Crucible's influence will spread. The multiverse will collapse. Every realm, every soul, every chance—you'll lose them all."
Wang Chung stood still.
His hands trembled.
He had survived battles against gods. He had walked through storms of fire and silence. He had bled, broken, and rebuilt himself more times than he could count.
But this…
This choice—
> "Meilan… I can't lose you again."
She smiled through the pain, and it was the most human thing he'd ever seen.
> "You won't."
She stepped closer. A single tear fell from her eye—but it vanished before touching the ground, consumed by the Crucible.
> "If you choose the world… I'll become part of it. Not as me. But as something… good. A song. A breeze. A reason to keep going when it hurts too much."
She leaned forward, and though her fingers passed through his cheek, he swore he could feel the warmth.
> "But you have to let me go."
He closed his eyes.
All the power in creation, and this—this was where he was weakest.
A silence fell over the world. Even the Heart Tree paused its shimmer.
Then—softly, barely audible—he spoke:
> "I remember the first time I saw you. You smiled at me like I wasn't broken."
Meilan's voice shook. "You never were. Just… waiting to become."
They stood there—one fading, one falling apart—beneath the Heart Tree, surrounded by the echoes of lives they had touched.
And as her image began to flicker faster, she whispered:
> "Choose."
> "This world…"
> "Or me."
Wang Chung opened his eyes.
And the world held its breath.