The throne room was filled with incense and whispers.
Qingsai stood as King Zhuanyi, Prime Minister Fengrui, and Grand Mage Yanshou discussed new "titles", "ceremonies", and "marriage duties."
> "A child can be shaped," the Prime Minister said. "He is still moldable, still… persuadable."
> "His destiny is tied to Orilan," said the Grand Mage. "Let him learn from us. No need to wander."
Qingsai said nothing, but in his soul, the Spirit Goddess stirred.
> "Your light is no one's leash. Your path is older than any kingdom."
That night, he walked silently into the chambers where his four wives slept—each one a piece of his young heart.
Meiyan, regal even in sleep, her violet hair glimmering in the candlelight.
Chunsi, curled gently, her soft breathing steady.
Lianhua, a picture of serenity, her silver-blue hair splayed around her face.
Meilian, even in slumber, clutched a plush toy like a playful kitten.
Qingsai bent over each of them, kissed their foreheads, and whispered:
> "Forgive me. I must go."
He left a letter on his bedside table, weighted with a riverstone. In it, he wrote:
> "I love you all. But I cannot become the man I must be while trapped in silk and politics. I must master the Six, confront the darkness stirring across Myria, and understand what it truly means to be Soulkindled. I will return. Stronger. Wiser. Yours."