Necro's breath returned to calm, the rhythm of the Lotus syncing with the world around him. The air of Sacred Azure Sect was thick with dawn qi, and with every breath, he felt it, tasted it—sweet and sharp like the promise of rain on dry earth.
He stood and stepped away from the terrace, each motion purposeful, unhurried, his spirit still humming with the remnants of that void, that tree, that promise.
But deep within, past the layers of petals, past the careful seals now restored by the future version of himself, lay a single image—a black stone gate beneath a sky of falling ash, a voice that called his name in the silence between heartbeats.
He could not forget.
He would not.
…
The days became weeks.
