The air in Yunhe hummed with the festival of Returning Light. Lanterns bobbed like trapped fireflies, casting a warm, golden glow as children in painted masks darted through the alleys. Under a vast canopy of plum blossoms, the rhythmic beat of drums vibrated through the ground. It was a night for honoring ancient spirits and whispering prayers for harmony between worlds.
Mei Lin, newly sixteen, felt a familiar, sharp ache of loneliness. She stood beneath the square's largest plum tree, her fingers nervously worrying the red silk of her sash. No spirit companion for her. Not even a whisper from the winds, no faint flicker of Qi beneath her skin.
Everyone else her age had "awakened." Even Jia, the baker's daughter, had bonded with a tiny flame sprite just last summer. But Mei Lin, an orphan with no name of importance, felt utterly untouched by the spirits.
"Still waiting for the heavens to notice you?" Jin's voice, light with teasing, cut through the joyful din like a well-honed blade.
She turned to find him leaning against the tree trunk, arms casually crossed. Moonlight glinted off the silver trim of his Dragon Kingdom training armor. At seventeen, he'd already passed the warrior trials. Whispers said he'd be riding his own spirit-dragon by winter.
"I'm not waiting," she retorted, brushing imaginary dust from her sleeve. "I'm merely... observing."
He smirked, pulling a small paper lantern from his cloak. "Then observe this." He murmured a few words, and a warm ember of Qi pulsed from his palm, igniting the candle within.
Mei Lin blinked. "Show-off."
"Tradition," he countered, holding it out to her. "Write a wish, let it fly, and maybe the heavens will finally see you."
She took it with a half-sarcastic, half-grateful smile, dipping her brush into the ink. One symbol. One word: Truth.
The lantern drifted gracefully into the night sky, joining hundreds of others in their silent dance toward the stars.
Then, the drums stopped.
The silence that followed wasn't natural. It descended like a suffocating blanket, swallowing every sound. Not a child's giggle, not a dog's bark. Even the wind held its breath.
Mei Lin's heart hammered against her ribs. She felt it now something stirring beneath her skin. A presence. Heavy and ancient.
From the crushing darkness beyond the village gates came the first sound: a chilling shriek. Definitely not human.
"Stay back!" cried the elder priest, rushing forward, a charm scroll clutched in his trembling hand.
Too late.
The gates exploded inward. Black creatures poured into the village like a tidal wave. Hulking beasts with glowing red eyes and twisted, smoky forms nightspawn.
Panic erupted. Screams tore through the air. Flames licked at rooftops as villagers scattered in desperate terror.
Mei Lin stumbled backward as one lunged, its claw-like hand reaching for her. She instinctively threw up her arms.
A shockwave of raw power ripped through her chest.
The world seemed to slow.
She felt something warm, ancient, and furiously alive erupt from within her. A blinding blue-white light burst from her palms, hurling the Nightspawn backward. It shattered into wisps of smoke before it even hit the ground.
Jin stared at her, wide-eyed. "You ....What was that?!"
"I don't know!" she gasped, trembling.
The earth beneath her feet trembled. More beasts surged forward.
Then, a voice.
Not of this world, yet echoing profoundly within her mind: "Child of forgotten blood, the veil has thinned. Awaken your truth."
Mei Lin dropped to her knees, clutching her head, the voice a storm in her skull. Visions flashed—an ancient city floating among clouds, a jade pendant glowing with an inner light, a man with silver eyes and a voice like distant thunder.
"Mei Lin!" Jin's shout cut through the chaos. "We have to go!"
But she couldn't move. The power surging through her was wild, untamed, almost overwhelming.
Then she saw it, floating beside her—a glowing fox spirit with six tails and a sly, knowing smile. It bowed its head, as if recognizing an old friend.
"You're… mine?" she whispered, a fragile hope blooming amidst the terror.
The fox nodded, its presence radiating immense, ancient power. "And you, little one, are no mere mortal."