Echoes That remember

***

The palace had settled into midnight silence.

Soft candlelight flickered behind closed doors. The guards had rotated. The wind outside whispered against the tiled roofs like it, too, was trying not to be heard.

But inside the east wing of the palace, two figures moved through the shadows like they belonged there.

Because they did.

"She didn't tell us everything," Mo Yao whispered as they passed under an arch draped in silk banners.

"She told us just enough to scare us," Yín Shū murmured beside her. "That's not the same as truth."

Mo Yao sighed.

"I believe that there is more to this"

They walked without servants, without guards — without permission.

The Hall of Stars welcomed them back with its strange blue flames and ancient stone.

Mo yao stepped forward and pressed her palm against the smooth wall panel. The carved lotus flower shimmered, then parted — revealing the spiral staircase again.

They looked at each other once.

Then they descended.

**

The Echo Chamber greeted them with silence.

And something else.

"Do you feel that?" Yín Shu asked.

"Yes," Mo yao said. "It's watching us."

The ancient carvings on the walls had not changed — not physically — but the air hummed differently now. The carved twin moons above the gate glowed softly as the twins entered, casting a silver-and-ink shimmer across the stone floor.

Their footsteps echoed faintly, even though the room was silent.

And then, without warning, the carved Gate of Echoes pulsed — once, twice — like a heartbeat.

The world tilted.

The light faded.

The floor vanished.

Stone melted into mist, and the air turned cold.

The twins were no longer standing in the chamber.

They were.... somewhere else.

---

They stood atop a ruined mountain, beneath a sky split in two — one side burning with a red sun, the other frozen under a dark moon.

In the distance, a giant stone gate stood half open, surrounded by cracks in the very fabric of reality.

The wind screamed.

And then, through the howling wind, a woman stepped forward.

She was younger than they remembered — but her face was familiar.

"Mother?" Yín Shū whispered. She was surprised.

It was Queen jingfei — but years younger, her ceremonial robes torn and soaked in ash and blood.

In her arms were two infants, wrapped in cloth.

One glowed faintly — not with fire, but with a soft, silver light.

The other was silent, her eyes wide open — shadows dancing behind her lashes.

---

Then, from the mouth of the half-open gate, he appeared.

Tall. Cloaked in flowing black. No face — only a mask of ink and bone that shifted with every glance.

The Hollow Dreamer.

"You sealed it once," he said, his voice layered like distant echoes, each word bouncing off unseen walls.

"But you brought the key with you."

Jingfei's voice shook.

"They are mine. They will not be yours."

"They were never yours," the Hollow Dreamer replied. "They were born of the choice you made. One will open. One will seal. But neither will escape."

The wind howled louder.

The gate cracked further.

Black vines spilled from its mouth — covered in eyes, each blinking at a different speed, watching the world with old memories.

A scream echoed through the air — not from jingfei, not from the twins, but from the world itself.

The sky shattered like glass.

"Yao!" Yín Shū's voice cut through the storm.

The Echo Chamber snapped back into place.

Stone. Stillness. Cold air.

Yín Shu was on her knees, panting heavily, shocked at what she had just seen.

Mo Yao gripped the wall, her hands shaking.

The Gate carving on the wall still pulsed faintly, but now — etched around it — was a glowing sigil: the eight-petaled flower they had both seen before.

"That was real," Mò Yáo whispered. "That was her."

"That was mother"

"That was the future," Yín Shū said. "Or the past. Or both."

They were silent for a moment.

Then Mò Yáo spoke the words neither wanted to say:

"We're not just part of the prophecy. We're... part of the Gate." Her voice trembled slightly

Yín Shu slowly turned toward her.

"And something is trying to open it."

"But what is it?"

Mo Yao sighed deeply.

"There might be more we don't know" Mo Yao said.

"Maybe we should ask mother" Yin Shū suggested.

"No... Even if we ask her mother won't tell us and she must not know we come to this place again" Mo Yao said sharply

...

They turned to leave — but didn't notice the faint ink trickling from the carving, curling toward the floor like veins.

And far beneath the palace, a long-sleeping memory smiled... and blinked.