The cave smelled of burnt stone and faint lotus sweetness. The chaos of the fight had faded, leaving only quiet cracks in the walls and the soft glow of the array beneath their feet.
Bright kicked a chunk of venom-eaten rock, grumbling. "Great. Now we gotta fix the whole cave. Who knew snake tails were such good wrecking balls?" He dug into a pouch at his waist, pulling out a crumpled dried mango. "At least I saved these. Priority one: eat. Priority two: not let the roof fall on us."
Nam rolled her eyes, but she was already gathering broken vines. "Priority one should be tying up that loser." She nodded at Tong, still passed out in the corner, his shoulder bandaged with lotus-leaf cloth. "What if he wakes up and tries to bite someone? He's got the brain of an angry gecko."
Tan Kai knelt by the array, running his fingers over the glowing patterns. The light warmed his palm—faint, but steady, just like Master Tai Chu's presence. Yara sat beside him, her elbow brushing his. When she moved, he caught a glimpse of her arm: the lotus-serpent mark glowed softly, no longer a painful wound, but a quiet bond.
"Master's still here," Yara said, as if reading his thoughts. Her voice was soft, like she didn't want to break the calm.
Tan Kai nodded. He pressed his palm harder against the array. A faint, glowing figure flickered to life—Master Tai Chu, his form wispy but smiling.
"Good work, all of you," he said. His voice echoed gently, not loud, but clear. "The array's stable now. For a while, at least."
Bright perked up, waving a dried mango. "Hey, Master! You hungry? I've got mango—your favorite!"
Master's phantom chuckled. "Not quite yet, Bright. But hold onto those. I'll have one when I'm back." He turned to Tong, his expression softening. "Leave him be. The venom's gone, but Nagasith's mark lingers. He'll lead us to the Serpent King, if we need him."
Nam huffed, but she set down the rope she'd been twisting. "Fine. But if he drools on my herb bag, I'm shoving a mango pit in his mouth."
The rest of the morning slipped by in quiet work. Yara dipped a lotus leaf into the dew jar, sprinkling it over the blackened vines—they perked up slightly, tiny green shoots peeking through the charred edges. Nam kneaded mud with lotus powder, pressing it into the cracks; Bright "helped" by flicking mango pits at Tong's feet—one bounced off his ankle, and he snickered. Nam smacked his wrist with a dried herb stalk, muttering, "If you wake him, I'm making you carry him later."
Tan Kai and Yara stayed by the array. Every so often, their hands brushed as they adjusted the glowing patterns. Each time, the lotus-serpent marks on their skin lit up, faint and warm, like a silent heartbeat.
"Remember when you pushed me out of the way of Tong's venom?" Tan Kai said, suddenly. He didn't look at her, just stared at the array's light. "I thought… I thought I'd lose you."
Yara's cheeks warmed. She traced the mark on her arm, her finger brushing the serpent's scales. "We're bound, right? You can't lose me. Not when we're tied like this." She glanced at him, her eyes bright. "And I'd do it again. In a heartbeat."
Tan Kai's throat felt tight. He reached out, his hand hovering over hers—their lotus-serpent marks glowed faintly, as if pulling them together. When she laced her fingers through his, the marks blazed brighter, syncing with the array's slow pulse. Master's phantom smiled, but he said nothing—just let them have the moment.
By noon, the cave felt like home again. The vines were greening up, the air smelled less of venom, and even Tong had stopped snoring (though Bright insisted it was because he'd "glared him quiet").
Tan Kai pulled the half-wooden pendant from his chest. It had been burning faintly all morning, like a tiny flame against his skin. He held it out to Master.
"What is this?" he asked.
Master's spectral form drifted closer, his hand passing through the air like smoke—yet when his fingertips brushed the pendant, it warmed. Faint carvings bloomed across its surface: a boy and a girl, standing side by side under a lotus tree. And three characters, worn but legible: Lotus Heart Valley.
"Two hundred years ago," Master began, his voice softer now, "I had a student. His name was Tan Agus." He nodded at the pendant. "That's him. The girl—her name was Lina. She had Naga blood, bright as the moon."
Tan Kai's breath caught. Tan Agus. The name felt familiar, like a memory he'd never had.
"Lina was kind," Master said, his eyes distant. "Gentle, but strong. Agus loved her more than anything. And I… I loved them both, like my own children."
"What happened?" Yara asked. Her hand tightened around Tan Kai's, their marks glowing in tandem.
Master's spectral form flickered, as if the memory weighed on him. "Heaven didn't approve. They said Lina's blood was 'a danger,' 'something unholy.' They sent soldiers—Erlang Shen's kind—to take her away." His voice hardened. "I tried to protect them. I used the same array, back then. But it wasn't enough. The soldiers were too many. And Nagasith—he wanted Lina's blood for himself. He offered her power, if she'd join him. Agus refused. And then…"
He trailed off. The pendant's light dimmed, as if grieving.
"Then what?" Bright asked, quiet for once. Even Nam had stopped sorting herbs, leaning in to listen, her earlier irritation gone.
Master shook his head. "Not yet. Some truths are too heavy to carry all at once. But this pendant—there's another half. It belonged to Lina. Find it, and find Lotus Heart Valley. That's where the rest of the story lives. That's where I'll find my way back to you."
Tan Kai closed his hand around the pendant. It was warm, like it was holding Master's words.
"We'll find it," he said. He looked at Yara, then at Bright and Nam. "We'll find the valley. We'll find the other half. And we'll bring you back."
Bright pumped his fist. "Hell yeah! Road trip! With mangoes! And probably snakes! But mostly mangoes!"
Nam rolled her eyes, but she was smiling as she tucked a bundle of herbs into her bag. "We'll need more supplies. Water, salves, sturdy sticks—for hitting snakes. And Tong. We can't leave him here alone to get eaten by something."
Yara squeezed Tan Kai's hand. "I'm with you. Wherever you go."
Night fell soft and quiet. They'd dragged Tong to a corner, tying him to a stone pillar with vine rope—Bright had "accidentally" knotted it too tight, and Nam had smacked him again. Now Bright lay asleep against the wall, a half-eaten mango in his hand, while Nam curled up beside him, her herb bag tucked under her head like a pillow.
Tan Kai and Yara sat by the array, the pendant between them. The lotus-serpent marks on their arms glowed in time with the array's light, like two halves of the same song.
"Two hundred years," Yara whispered. "Agus and Lina. It feels like a story, but… it's real."
Tan Kai nodded. "And we're gonna finish it. For them. For Master."
He traced the carvings on the pendant—the boy and girl, the lotus tree. Suddenly, the pendant seared his palm—hot as a live coal, so intense he hissed, nearly dropping it. The carvings blazed silver-green, bright enough to cast eerie shadows on the cave wall, matching Nagasith's venom.
Yara gasped. "What's happening?"
Before Tan Kai could answer, a cry cut through the night—an eagle's shriek, sharp as a blade, making his ears ring. He ran to the cave entrance, peering out into the dark.
High above the trees, a faint golden light flickered—like a single eye opening in the black, gone before he could blink. But Tan Kai knew. It was Erlang Shen's third eye, watching, waiting.
They were being hunted.
Master's phantom materialized beside him, his usually soft eyes sharp. He glanced at the sky, then back at Tan Kai, his voice lower: "The pendant's calling. It knows where the other half is. But it's also shouting our location—to Nagasith, to the Heavenly Soldiers."
Tan Kai gripped the pendant, the heat fading but the silver-green glow lingering, faint and steady.
"So what do we do?" he asked.
Master smiled, a faint, determined curve of light. "We go. Before they find us first. Lotus Heart Valley is our next step. Our only step."
Yara joined him at the entrance, her hand in his. The night air was cool, but their marks glowed warm against their skin.
Bright stirred, rubbing his eyes, mango juice still on his chin. "Did I hear… road trip? Can we leave after breakfast? I want mango sticky rice."
Nam groaned, but she was already sitting up, grabbing her herb bag and slinging it over her shoulder. "Breakfast first. Then we go. And if you complain about walking, I'm making you carry Tong and the mango supply."
Tan Kai looked at his friends—Bright grinning, Nam pretending to be annoyed, Yara's hand warm in his—and then at the glowing pendant in his palm.
The storm had passed. But a new journey was beginning.
He didn't know what awaited them beyond the forest, but for the first time in a long while, he wasn't afraid.
He took a deep breath, the scent of lotus and night air filling his lungs.
"Breakfast," he said, smiling. "Then we go."
Outside, the stars shone bright. Somewhere in the dark, a serpent hissed, low and hungry. Somewhere higher, an eagle cried, sharp and watchful.
For now, they had mangoes. They had each other. And ahead lay a path—toward the heart of the past, and a promise of return.
The journey ahead would be hard. Dangerous. But as Yara squeezed his hand, and Bright started singing off-key about mangoes and "beating snake guys," Tan Kai knew they'd be okay.
Together. Always together.