Chapter 2- Embers Beneath the Mask

They ask: Have you heard the story of the girl who died by betrayal?

Not many dare to answer. For some, she was a warning. For others—a promise scorched into time.

She was called Joan.

A name. A legend. A lesson carved into history's reluctant conscience. Burned not for her sins, but for her defiance. Loved by none, remembered by all. Some say she transcended her death, split across timelines and destinies—one version giving mercy, the other vengeance.

They whisper of her other self. Dark Joan.

If fate had offered her another page, another breath, maybe history would have known her differently: not as a martyr, but a firestorm. Not as a saint, but a reckoning. The one who burned as punishment. And burned back—as passage.

In Ashbourne, the air always smelled faintly of iron and forgotten promises. Beneath its glittering skyline, the Gu Corporation tower loomed like a mausoleum for morality—its empire held up by trafficking, deceit, and secrets sealed behind polished glass.

Tonight, the skies over Gravemont wept silver. Not rain, but the tension that precedes karmic storms.

A figure paced furiously, slamming a fist on the mahogany desk that glared under sterile lights.

Gu Huojin's scowl deepened. The cargo had vanished. No trace. No breach. Only silence—and a symbol.

Dark Phoenix had sent its report. A single red stone bird, resting atop a crate that should have held counterfeit medicine, pulsed once and dimmed.

He muttered the name under his breath:

"Joan."

The phone rang—mechanical, hollow.

"Mr. Gu," the voice was digitally distorted. Calm. Unapologetic. "The debt remains. The red bird has flown. Your luck has burned."

Beep… Beep…

Gu Huojin's jaw clenched so tightly his molars ached.

"Joan," he growled. The name now echoed through the underworld with mythic dread—no one knew if Joan was one person or many. A face never seen. An age never confirmed. Yet, every time she struck, orphanages received donations, crime syndicates crumbled, and a single red stone bird was found—glowing faintly, pulsing like rage buried beneath silk.

A modern phoenix.

Moments later, Shen Minxi, Huojin's head secretary, entered briskly, heels clicking with confidence. Her usual coy demeanor dissolved when she saw his stormy expression.

"President Gu," she said cautiously, "the funds we allocated for recovery... have been wiped. Cybersecurity confirmed a breach."

Huojin froze, his expression unreadable.

Then: fury.

Shen Minxi bit her lip, knowing what came next. Not punishment—history. The emergence of Dark Joan, the era that haunted every backroom deal, every hushed transaction. She wasn't merely a thief. She was prophecy incarnate.

Far across oceans, in the celestial calm of Xianyue, where moonlight wove through temple bells and cherry blossom petals held centuries of whispered prophecy...

Qi Ming Yue sipped rose tea on the terrace, her gaze flickering toward the horizon where fate waited. The wind was soft here, curious—almost reverent.

"Uncle Li," she said, placing the red stone bird beside her saucer, "has the university confirmed my transfer?"

"Yes, young miss," Wang Li replied, bowing. "Tianlei University welcomes you with full honors. Your application was—unexpectedly—already pre-approved."

Ming Yue tilted her head, puzzled but pleased. She didn't remember applying early.

Or maybe... someone remembered for her.

She hummed softly.

"Oh, heed the heavens cry…

…as the phoenix soars in the moonless sky…"

Wang Li paused, watching the red stone glow briefly again.

"That melody," he whispered, "it's ancient."

Ming Yue smiled. "Feels like something I used to sing… before I remembered how."

The words seemed to sing themselves, pulled not from memory but something deeper—something older. Her fingertips tingled against the cup's warm curve. A pulse—not in the porcelain, but beneath her skin. Her collarbone buzzed faintly, as if a buried ember stirred.

Qi Ming Yue smiled—a curve so effortless it seemed sculpted from dawn light.

"Thank you, Uncle Li. After lunch with my parents tomorrow, we leave."

Wang Li bowed, but lingered. His gaze once again drifted to the small red stone bird resting beside the teacup.

"You still carry it?"

Ming Yue's fingers closed around the stone gently. "It's pretty," she said simply. "And strange… it feels familiar. Like a promise waiting to be kept."

She looked up—eyes reflecting the empty sky.

Sky Palace – Heavenly Realm

Commander Su stood alone beneath the sacred waterfall, watching its shimmer part like memories. He'd heard whispers from the mortal realm. Rumours of red birds, coded thefts, vengeance disguised as justice.

The phoenix stirred again.

He clenched his fists, knuckles whitening.

"She should not remember," he murmured.

Roan approached quietly. "And yet… she always does. In every life, every cycle. Flame finds her."

Su closed his eyes. The vision returned—the field of daisies, her laughter flaring like wildflowers in a storm. "If the cycle truly turns… she will burn again. But this time, she won't burn alone."