The snow had thinned into mist, and the skies turned a pale silver. Lan Xueyi flew in silence atop her frost-imbued sword, leaving the jagged cliffs of Frostveil behind. Emberheart waited ahead—its volcanic ridges already visible through the thinning clouds, glowing faintly like a slow pulse beneath the earth.
Her robes fluttered, the cold no longer biting. Not because it had warmed—but because she no longer felt it.
Her thoughts burned hotter.
"You serve him too well."Elder Taixu's words echoed in her mind.
And what stung wasn't the accusation.
It was the truth in it.
She had served Shen Li—at first, out of duty. Then out of curiosity. Then because she believed in what she saw behind his eyes: restraint battling rage, kindness wrapped in silence.
And now, she carried a prophecy that placed her at the crossroads of fate.
Only one born of two pacts—fire and frost—may temper the coming blaze…
She closed her eyes against the wind. The ice pendant pulsed softly at her chest. If she chose to use it, she could open the Ice Gate beneath Emberheart, and bring the full force of Frostveil into Shen Li's heartland.
If.
But that would mean war. That would mean betraying the one person who had ever looked at her not as a political envoy or sacred heir—but as her.
"You must choose balance over bond."Taixu's words again.
He had trained her in discipline, in the sword, in truth. And yet… not once had he asked what she wanted.
What did she want?
Peace? Balance? Power?
No. She wanted Shen Li to live—not just survive the weight of inheritance, but live outside of it. Free.
But wanting that made her dangerous to both sects.
If I stand between fire and frost… then neither side may claim me.
As she descended into Emberheart's outer sanctum, the air grew warmer. The scent of burning incense and mineral ash filled her lungs. Distant flames rippled from the sect's great forges.
A disciple bowed to her as she passed. "Envoy Lan. The heir awaits in the Mirror Hall."
The Mirror again.
It watched them all, she realized now—not just Shen Li. It remembered more than any living elder.
She paused before crossing the threshold.
If I enter now, I do so not as a peacekeeper, but as a traitor to one side—or both.
Lan Xueyi took a breath. Her grip tightened on the pendant beneath her robes.
Then she stepped forward.
Not as envoy.
Not as Frostveil's blade.
But as Lan Xueyi—a woman walking the edge of prophecy, loyalty, and love.