The descent into the Chasm was like walking into the mouth of a sleeping beast—its breath slow, but suffocating. The deeper Mo Lianyin and Qingxue went, the more the cold seemed to seep under their skin, curling around their bones.
No sound of wind, no crunch of boots on ice. Only the slow drip… drip… drip from somewhere far below.
When the last sliver of light from above disappeared, Lianyin lit a wisp of abyssal flame in his palm. Its pale light cast long, distorted shadows across the jagged walls.
The path narrowed, forcing them to walk single file. The deeper they went, the more the walls seemed to pulse—like veins under a thin layer of skin.
---
Suddenly, Qingxue stopped. "Do you hear that?"
Lianyin strained his ears. Faintly, over the steady dripping, came a melody. A woman's voice, low and mournful, humming a tune he knew.
His blood turned to ice. "That song… my sister used to sing it."
Qingxue's eyes widened. "But… she—"
"She's dead," Lianyin said flatly. "I buried her myself."
The humming grew louder.
---
They turned a corner and entered a cavern so vast the flame barely touched its edges. In the center stood a frozen lake, its surface perfectly smooth and black.
On that surface stood a lone figure.
She wore white robes that fluttered without wind. Her long hair was silver, her face pale and beautiful.
"Lianyin," she said softly.
He staggered forward before catching himself. "…Yueyin?"
His sister smiled faintly. "You came back."
---
Qingxue grabbed his arm. "Don't. That's not her."
Lianyin's heart was pounding, but he pulled away. "I have to be sure."
He stepped onto the frozen lake. No cracks formed under his weight. The air grew warmer, scented faintly with plum blossoms—the scent of his childhood.
She reached for him. "Do you remember the winter before the war? You promised you'd never leave me behind."
"I remember," Lianyin said, voice shaking. "But I failed."
Her hand brushed his cheek, and for a heartbeat, it felt real.
---
Then her touch burned.
The warmth twisted into searing heat, and her eyes bled into black voids. "You did fail, brother. And now… you will join me."
Her figure dissolved into a swarm of black tendrils, wrapping around his arms, his throat.
---
Qingxue ran forward, but the ice surged up, forming jagged walls between them. "Lianyin!"
The tendrils squeezed, and his vision blurred. He could feel something pulling—not at his body, but at his spirit.
The whispers returned.
Give in.
You don't deserve to leave.
Stay here with me forever.
---
Lianyin closed his eyes. His mind was filled with flashes—his sister's laughter, the night she died, the vow he made at her grave.
He drew in a slow breath. "You are not her. She would never ask me to stop fighting."
The tendrils writhed angrily, sinking deeper into his flesh. Blood dripped onto the ice.
---
In the depths of his dantian, the Veins of the Abyss pulsed. This time, the energy didn't feel like a weapon—it felt like a tether, pulling him back to himself.
With a roar, he unleashed it. Abyssal light flared, burning the tendrils away. The false sister shrieked, her voice warping into something inhuman before shattering into shards of black ice.
The cavern fell silent.
---
Qingxue broke through the ice barrier and rushed to him. "You're bleeding again."
He wiped the blood from his mouth. "This place feeds on what we can't let go. If I hadn't… I'd be gone."
Her expression was tight, but she nodded. "Then we move quickly."
---
As they stepped off the frozen lake, the ice cracked behind them. From the fissures seeped a faint, steady glow—pale silver, like moonlight trapped beneath the surface.
Lianyin stopped. "That's it. The Fifth Forbidden Art."
Qingxue frowned. "And the thing guarding it?"
He glanced back at the lake. "We just killed it… for now."
They moved toward the glow, unaware that far above, the shadows of the canyon were knitting themselves back together, whispering in voices they thought silenced.