The lantern led them through the fading mist until stone gave way to sand—fine, crimson grains that stretched far beyond the horizon.
They had entered the Crimson Veil Desert.
A realm scorched by twin suns, once the seat of a fallen fire deity. Now, only ruins remained—buried beneath dunes and silence.
Qianyu shaded her eyes as heat shimmered before them. "It feels... heavy."
"The sand here remembers blood," Fenghua said. "Wars that ended in fire. Oaths broken in smoke."
Rong Xianzhi stepped ahead, scanning the landscape. "Shard energy is faint here. But it's scattered—like it doesn't want to be found."
Fenghua's expression darkened. "That's because the Crimson Veil has trials."
"Trials?" Qianyu asked.
Xianzhi nodded. "The desert doesn't give freely. It demands truths. Even from those who don't wish to remember them."
They walked in silence for hours, the heat warping time itself. Qianyu's robes clung to her skin, her lips dry. The lantern floated ahead, dimming slightly with each step.
Suddenly—
A mirage shimmered before them. Not a trick of the light—but something more deliberate.
A city appeared—gleaming towers of gold and crimson flame, bustling streets filled with voices Qianyu could almost recognize.
"It's an illusion," Fenghua warned.
"No," Qianyu whispered. "It's a memory."
They stepped through its gates.
The city felt real. Too real. People passed them without seeing. Merchants called out. Laughter echoed.
Then—Qianyu saw herself.
Dressed in royal red, seated on a dais. Beside her stood a man cloaked in obsidian, holding her hand.
Not Fenghua. Not Xianzhi.
A third man—his face shadowed.
"What is this?" she asked.
"A fragment of the past," said a voice behind her.
Mo Lianxue stood in the mirage's light, arms crossed.
"You're not real," Qianyu said, eyes narrowing.
"Maybe not here," Lianxue replied. "But I've walked this dream before. This desert shows you not just what was, but what might have been."
Xianzhi stepped forward. "Why are you here?"
Lianxue gave a crooked smile. "Maybe I'm your trial. Or maybe this is mine."
She pointed at the man beside Qianyu's illusion-self.
"That man… was once promised to her. Before the fall. Before the betrayal."
The mirage flickered.
The city burned.
Flames erupted without warning, devouring the image. Screams filled the air. The red-robed Qianyu tried to run—but the shadowed man vanished, his hand slipping from hers.
And then—silence.
Only ash remained.
The shard's pulse returned—this time, strong, just beneath the scorched earth.
Qianyu knelt and brushed away the ashes.
There, hidden in a cracked tile, lay the third shard.
Burning, but not consumed.
She picked it up—and the heat didn't burn her.
Instead, it felt like acceptance.
"This trial is over," she whispered.
Xianzhi watched her carefully. "There's more to what we saw."
"I know," she said. "But right now, we move forward."
Lianxue faded with the mirage, her final words echoing in the wind.
"Be careful, little star. The next truth you face… might be your own."
The desert wind howled behind them as they stepped beyond the ashes—three shards in hand, and only darker paths ahead.