Pov Anna
Morning did not arrive gently.
It crept in through the tall windows in thin bands of silver, cutting across the stone floor and brushing my closed eyes like a quiet reminder that the world had not paused just because I wished it would. I lay still for a long moment, listening—to the distant wind, to the faint crackle of wards embedded in the walls, to my own heartbeat, slower than it had been the night before.
Too aware.
I turned my head slightly.
Shou Feng was already awake.
He sat near the window, bare feet against the cold stone, his back to me as he fastened the clasps of his outer robe. The early light traced the sharp lines of his shoulders, the familiar strength in his posture—composed, controlled, as if the night had not shifted something fundamental between us.
But it had.
I knew it had, because I felt different. Quieter inside. As though something fragile had settled into place and was now waiting to be tested.
I pushed myself up, the sheets whispering softly. He paused, just for a second, then turned.
Our eyes met.
There was no smile. No teasing curve of his lips. Only a depth I hadn't seen before—dark, searching, careful. Like he was measuring something invisible between us and deciding how to protect it.
"Morning," I said, my voice steadier than I felt.
"Morning, little storm," he replied.
The name landed differently now. He didn't say it lightly. There was intention in it, weight. Claim—but not possession. Recognition.
I wrapped the sheet tighter around myself, more out of instinct than modesty, and swung my legs over the edge of the bed. The stone was cold under my feet, grounding.
Neither of us spoke for a while.
Silence wasn't awkward between us—it never had been. But this silence was new. Charged. Full of things that hadn't yet found words.
"You should eat," he said finally. "You barely did yesterday."
I nodded. "You sound like you're about to give me an order."
His lips curved, just slightly. "No. A suggestion."
I stood, reaching for the clothes folded neatly on the chair beside the bed. That, too, made my chest tighten—how careful he had been. Always careful, even when the world around us was burning.
As I dressed, I felt his presence behind me, not watching in a way that made me feel exposed, but aware—like a silent vow.
We broke fast in the smaller council chamber. No attendants. No guards inside the room, though I knew they lingered beyond the doors. The food was simple. Warm. Real.
Too normal.
That was when I knew something was wrong.
Shou Feng was tense—not outwardly, not in any way others would notice—but I knew him well enough now. His gaze kept drifting to the far wall where the sigil-map shimmered faintly, tracking movements across realms.
"Say it," I said quietly.
He looked at me. "Say what?"
"You've been holding something back since you woke up."
A pause.
Then he stood and crossed the room, stopping in front of the map. With a flick of his fingers, the runes shifted—lines of light reconfiguring.
One point pulsed red.
My stomach dropped.
"That marker," I whispered. "That's—"
"Yes."
My homeland.
Or what remained of it.
"The wards shouldn't be reacting," he said. "They were reinforced after the last breach."
"But they are," I finished.
"They were tripped at dawn."
I moved closer, staring at the pulsing light. It wasn't a full breach signal—but it wasn't nothing either. It was the kind of disturbance that came before disaster.
"Who?" I asked.
Shou Feng's jaw tightened. "I don't know. Yet."
A chill slid down my spine. Too many enemies knew my name now. Too many knew what I meant to him.
And then—
The map flickered.
The red point split into two.
One stayed where it was.
The other began to move.
Toward us.
The chamber lights dimmed as the castle wards responded, a low hum vibrating through the floor. I felt it then—something cold brushing the edges of my awareness, like fingers testing a lock.
Not an attack.
A message.
The air in the room shifted, pressure building until it felt hard to breathe. A voice echoed—not aloud, but inside my head.
Anna.
I staggered back, clutching the edge of the table.
Shou Feng was at my side instantly. "Anna—look at me."
"I know that voice," I whispered.
His eyes darkened. "From where?"
"From before everything broke," I said. "From the night I thought I was alone."
The sigil-map flared violently.
A symbol burned itself into the air above it—ancient, forbidden, and unmistakably personal.
A mark only one person had the right to use.
I looked up at Shou Feng, fear and realization colliding in my chest.
"They're not coming for you," I said.
He didn't look away. "They're coming for you."
And for the first time since the war began, I wasn't sure the castle would be enough to keep her away.
POV AUTHOR:-
The castle beyond the black plains was silent, but it was not at peace.
Its walls had been built for war—thick stone carved with runes meant to repel gods and monsters alike. Yet even they could not muffle the tension that lingered in the great chamber where Tomika stood, arms folded, staring at the vast emptiness beyond the window.
He was alive.
That fact alone annoyed him.
Behind him, Renji sat at the obsidian table, watching Tomika with thinly veiled curiosity.
"I am surprised," Renji said at last, breaking the silence, "that you survived Shou Feng."
Tomika did not turn. "So am I."
Renji tilted his head. "Lord Feng does not spare enemies. Especially those who challenge him openly."
"He didn't spare me," Tomika replied coolly. "He simply wasn't looking at me."
Renji raised a brow. "Meaning?"
"His eyes were only on Anna," Tomika said. "Every strike, every breath—his focus never left her."
A pause.
"I thought it was an advantage," Tomika continued. "A distraction I could exploit."
Renji leaned back slightly. "And now?"
Tomika turned, his gaze sharp. "Now I see it for what it is. She isn't his strength. She's his weakness."
Renji's lips curved faintly. "Harsh."
"She's nothing special," Tomika went on. "No ancient bloodline. No hidden power. Just a simple girl who makes him hesitate."
Renji considered that. "And hesitation gets kings killed."
"Exactly," Tomika said. "When she's threatened, he loses control. When she's near, he holds back. Love has made him predictable."
Before Renji could reply, the heavy doors creaked open.
William—known among certain circles as **Wataru**—entered the chamber.
His presence shifted the air instantly. Calm. Calculated. Dangerous in the quiet way that made even seasoned strategists wary.
"I see you're both alive," William said mildly.
Renji stood. "You don't come here without reason."
William walked forward, stopping beside the table. "I've confirmed something."
Tomika's eyes narrowed. "About her?"
"Yes."
Renji's voice sharpened. "Speak."
William folded his hands behind his back. "Anna does not belong to this world."
Silence fell.
Tomika scoffed. "She bleeds. She fears. She loves. She's human."
"I didn't say she wasn't," William replied. "I said she's not from here ."
Renji frowned. "Explain."
"She crossed over by accident," William continued. "A tear, a weak point between worlds. She wasn't summoned. She wasn't chosen. She simply fell through."
Tomika studied him. "So she's ordinary."
"Painfully so," William agreed. "That's what makes this effective."
Renji's gaze darkened. "If she doesn't belong here… she can be sent back."
"Yes."
Tomika's mouth curved slowly. "And Shou Feng?"
William's eyes sharpened. "Is in love with her."
Renji exhaled. "That's dangerous."
"It's useful," William corrected. "This is his first time loving anyone. He doesn't know how to protect it without destroying himself."
Tomika laughed softly. "So we take her away."
"No," William said calmly. "We make the world do it."
Renji looked intrigued. "How?"
"We spread the truth," William said. "Not lies. Just facts. She's not from here. Her presence disrupts boundaries. Small things first—unstable portals, weakened wards."
Tomika nodded slowly. "And they'll blame her."
"Not because she's powerful," William continued. "But because she's foreign. Different. Unexplainable."
Renji crossed his arms. "And Shou Feng?"
"He'll be forced to choose," William said. "Her… or the world he protects."
Tomika turned back to the window. "If he chooses her, he loses everything."
"And if he doesn't," Renji said quietly, "he loses her."
William stepped away from the table. "Either way, he breaks."
The wind outside howled louder, thunder rolling in the distance.
Tomika's reflection stared back at him in the glass—alive, patient, waiting.
"She doesn't need to be special," he murmured. "She just needs to matter to him."
And far away, in a castle built to keep enemies out, a simple girl stood unknowingly at the center of a plan that had nothing to do with destiny—
And everything to do with love.
To be continued..