The wind grew heavier the farther they walked north. It wasn't the natural kind that carried snow and ice—it was laden with murmurs. The air itself seemed to breathe, sighing with voices that had no bodies.
Frostgale Pass narrowed into a jagged corridor of black ice. Every footstep echoed far too loudly, and shadows shifted against the walls though no light touched them.
Qingxue pulled her fur cloak tighter. "Something's wrong. We're being… watched."
Mo Lianyin's grip on his sword tightened. "We've entered the Chasm's mouth. It's alive. Keep your mind steady, or it will take you before you realize it."
---
The corridor widened into a canyon, its floor split by a deep fissure. From that abyss came the whispers, carrying words that were sometimes in ancient tongues, sometimes in Lianyin's own voice.
You failed her.
You will fail again.
She waits for you in the dark.
He forced the words out of his head. "Don't listen," he warned Qingxue.
But as he spoke, the shadows around them thickened, forming vague shapes—figures in tattered armor, faces pale and eyeless. They moved slowly, like they were walking underwater.
---
One stepped forward and Lianyin froze—not because it was an enemy, but because it wore his face.
The shadow version of him lifted its head. "Why are you still breathing?" it asked, voice brittle as cracking ice.
Qingxue's breath hitched, but Lianyin didn't back away. "You're not real."
The shadow smiled faintly. "Then why does your heart ache like it knows me?"
It lunged. Lianyin parried, steel meeting something colder than metal. Each clash sent ripples through the air, distorting the canyon around them.
---
Qingxue tried to reach him, but a wall of black frost rose between them, trapping her in her own battle. From the frost emerged a woman in robes of pale blue, her beauty ethereal—yet her eyes were pools of sorrow.
Qingxue recognized her instantly, though she had never met her. Lianyin's sister…
But that was impossible. She was supposed to be dead.
---
Lianyin's shadow doubled its speed, its strikes sharper, each one aimed for the heart. "You couldn't save me then," it hissed. "You won't save her now."
"I will," Lianyin said through clenched teeth. "Even if I have to kill every shadow in this cursed abyss."
The shadow laughed—and in that sound, Lianyin heard the echo of the person he had once been, before the seals, before the betrayals.
---
With a roar, he channeled the Veins of the Abyss, his blade erupting in black-and-silver light. The fissure in the canyon widened, swallowing both shadows and whispers.
The world shuddered. The frost walls crumbled, freeing Qingxue, who ran to him.
"You're bleeding," she said.
Lianyin looked at his hand—blood ran down from a wound that hadn't been struck by any visible blade. It was as if the fight had cut into his soul itself.
"This place doesn't just test our strength," he murmured. "It's trying to rewrite who we are."
---
Far ahead, the canyon sloped downward into complete darkness. The whispers were quieter there, but heavier—like they had sunk into the bones of the earth itself.
"That's where the Fifth Forbidden Art lies," Lianyin said. "And that's where the real trial begins."
As they stepped toward it, Qingxue hesitated. "What happens if you fail?"
Lianyin didn't look back. "Then I won't leave this place alive."