Awake

Lan sat beside Caixia, the fire casting flickering shadows across their faces. Around them, the others went about their tasks—Ailin giggling as she twirled Qinglong through the air, the dragon-boy glowing faintly with every loop.

The peaceful silence didn't last.

Without a word, Lan rose and stepped in front of Caixia. Her voice dropped to a whisper, edged with suspicion.

"How do you know all that? My powers... the way they work. You don't talk like someone from this world."

Caixia didn't flinch. She smiled, slow and sly, then shook her head in amusement.

"Oh? Sharp eyes, little flame."

She leaned in just a bit, crimson pupils glinting like dying embers.

"But it's far too early for you to know the answer."

With that, she rose from the barrel in one graceful motion, her gaze drifting toward the forest, the firelight now dancing across her back like wings of ash. Her voice softened, almost like it wasn't meant for Lan—or anyone.

"Go rest… or make friends, if you still remember how. Tomorrow," she said, eyes locked on the shadows between the trees, "we end the debate this world has been avoiding."

Caixia vanished into the shadows of the forest, her silhouette swallowed by the night without a sound.

Lan turned away, walking back toward the fire's gentle glow. Ailin sat cross-legged beside it, giggling as Qinglong fluttered above her palms like a firefly. His glow lit up her face in flashes of green.

Lan lowered herself beside them, a faint smile tugging at her lips.

"Enjoying your time with our new friend, Azure?" she murmured, her voice light.

Qinglong nodded enthusiastically, wings shimmering with each movement.

But Ailin's laughter faded. She turned to Lan, expression shifting into something more serious—quiet, but direct.

"Hey," she said softly. "Your surname... Zhao. That's the king's name, isn't it?"

Lan didn't answer right away. She pulled her knees close, wrapping her arms around them and resting her chin there. Her gaze drifted toward the fire, then back to Ailin and Qinglong.

A pause.

Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, she replied:

"It's nothing. I'm not related to him."

She hesitated again. A sigh slipped through her lips before she continued.

"Where I come from… my grandmother's family name was Zhao. People started calling me by that name, and it just stuck. That's all."

Her words trailed off into the crackling of the fire, and though she smiled faintly, something in her eyes didn't quite match.

Ailin reached out and gently placed a hand on Lan's back. Her voice was soft, steady.

"Irritated? That's okay," she said with a gentle smile. "But if you share what's bothering you… Maybe I can help."

She leaned in slightly, her silver-grey hair spilling over her shoulder like moonlight. Tilting her head, she peered at Lan's face with calm, patient eyes.

"Is it your family?" she asked softly. "Or... is it this world?"

Lan didn't move from her curled-up position. Her eyes stared ahead—unblinking—before a small, humorless laugh escaped her.

"Hah… No, it's not that," she muttered. "The thing that bothers me… is that I'm still human."

She turned her head slightly, voice tightening.

"And according to Caixia, I'm destined to fight the entire Celestia… and its Seven Shadows."

Ailin giggled, the sound like a soft ripple in still water. But when she looked back at Lan, her expression was steady—serious.

"That's all?" she whispered. "That's nothing to worry about. She'll always be on your side."

Her gaze drifted to Qinglong, who hovered near the firelight like a gentle wisp. Ailin reached up and patted his head with care.

"Caixia might seem mysterious," she said, "but I don't think she's someone to fear. Sure, no one knows where she came from, or who she is… but I believe in her kindness. She won't leave you alone."

Lan smiled faintly, her posture finally relaxing. She stood and brushed the dirt from her legs.

"Thanks, Ailin. Really."

She turned, taking a few steps toward the tents before calling over her shoulder.

"Azure, I'm going to sleep. Come with me if you want. But if you'd rather stay and play with your new best friend, go ahead."

Qinglong floated in the air for a moment, then whispered in his cheerful tone,

"Ailin's way more fun than you."

Lan froze mid-step and slowly turned, her glare smoldering.

"Excuse me?! Did you just insult the person who created you?"

Qinglong let out a nervous giggle and darted behind Ailin, peeking out with wide eyes.

Lan sighed dramatically and shook her head, muttering under her breath.

"Ungrateful little gremlin…"

Without another word, she made her way to the camp, disappearing into the shadows beyond the firelight.

Lan stepped quietly into the camp, her eyes immediately narrowing at the sight in front of her.

There, sprawled out across the blanket she'd claimed earlier, was Hao—snoring softly with one leg flung over the spot where she'd kicked him earlier.

With a sharp exhale through her nose, Lan marched over, nudged his side with her foot, and muttered,

"Hey. Move. That's my spot."

Hao jerked awake like he'd been struck by lightning. Rubbing the back of his head with a confused groan, he blinked up at her.

"Huh? What—what happened? Did you just kick me again?"

Lan stared him down with a glare that could've withered crops.

"You're sleeping on my spot."

Hao sat up slowly, eyebrows furrowing. He pointed at the blanket and huffed.

"Says who? This is my spot. Everyone knows it. Ask anyone."

Lan crossed her arms, lowering her chin just slightly as if daring him to keep going.

"You dragged me here. That makes it my spot now. Move."

Hao scoffed and stood up with dramatic flair, waving a hand as if surrendering to the heavens.

"Fine, fine. Geez… You're seriously the most difficult person I've ever met."

He stormed out of the tent, muttering under his breath,

"She's gonna be the death of me. Tch… annoying as hell."

Lan ignored him. She calmly sat down, pulled the blanket over herself, and curled up in silence. After a beat, she whispered toward the entrance, knowing he'd probably still hear her,

"Yeah, I'm annoying. Don't forget it... not even in hell."

And just like that, her eyes drifted shut—and the fire outside crackled gently as the camp fell into quiet.

Lan was sleeping soundly inside the camp, her breath slow and even.

Outside, Ailin sat beside Qinglong, giggling softly as they whispered to each other under the starry sky. Then, Qinglong's gaze shifted—his smile faded. He blinked, eyes narrowing at a flicker in the distance.

"Hey, Ailin…" he whispered, his voice low. "What's that thing… coming toward us? It feels like… fire."

Ailin's smile vanished. She followed his gaze upward—and the moment her eyes locked onto the burning streak in the sky, her expression turned to horror.

She shot up, shouting, "Captain! Incoming attack!"

Her voice rang like an alarm bell.

Zhiyu, who had been stacking firewood nearby, dropped the bundle instantly. He spun around, his eyes scanning the sky. As he caught sight of the incoming blaze, a grim smile curved across his lips—a smile laced with pressure.

Without wasting a second, he rushed toward the center of the camp.

Planting his feet firmly on the ground, Zhiyu brought his hands together, fingers splaying to form a square between his palms. A complex pattern of glowing symbols formed inside the frame.

Then—he thrust his hands toward the heavens.

With a sharp pulse of energy, a transparent shield, like a dome of shimmering glass, burst from his palms and expanded upward—blanketing the entire village in a protective barrier.

But the fire—blazing and wild—struck fast.

It crashed against the barrier with a thunderous roar, light blinding, heat pulsing through the air. Cracks webbed across the surface of the shield… and then—

BOOM.

The barrier shattered like splintered crystal. Flames tore through, smashing into the ground with a deafening impact, lighting the night in orange and gold.

—

Lan jolted upright in her bed, gasping for air, sweat clinging to her skin. Her chest rose and fell rapidly as she looked around, disoriented.

Was it… just a dream?

Frantically, she ran her hands along her arms, her torso—searching for burns, blood, anything. But her skin was untouched. Her clothes were clean. No smoke, no pain.

"I'm still… okay?" she whispered, trying to convince herself.

But her voice trembled.

She threw the blanket off and sat on the edge of her bed. Her fingers gripped the edge of her mattress as she murmured to the empty room:

"But then… who was that… in the fire?"

She picked up her phone from the bedside table and tapped the screen.

06:18 AM.

The world outside the window was still and gray, the faint glow of sunrise barely creeping in.

A chill passed through her.

"It's morning," she whispered. "So I guess… I'll have to wait till night to find out the truth."

Her gaze drifted to the window, to the horizon slowly lighting up.

"I just hope… everyone else is okay."

But even as she said it, a strange sensation pulsed in her chest—like a warning.

A memory.

Or maybe… a presence.

And somewhere, just faintly—like an echo scorched into her mind—she saw it again:

Eyes inside the fire. Watching. Waiting.

°°°