The road narrowed as Ling Yue walked.
At first, it was familiar — packed earth, scattered stones, the faint imprint of many footsteps that had come before her. But with every step forward, the marks faded, until the path became little more than a suggestion.
The air changed.
Not colder.
Not warmer.
Thinner.
She slowed, instinct prickling beneath her skin.
"This is far enough," she whispered — though she didn't know to whom.
The lotus bud in her hands warmed again, stronger this time. Not urgent. Not commanding.
Certain.
Ling Yue took one more step.
The ground vanished.
---
She did not fall.
The sensation was closer to letting go — like stepping into deep water and trusting it to hold you. Light wrapped around her, soft and blinding, and for a moment she felt suspended between breaths.
Images flickered at the edge of her mind.
A vast hall of white stone.
Wind chimes singing without wind.
A voice calling her name — not aloud, but from somewhere inside her chest.
She gasped.
The light receded.
---
Ling Yue stood on stone that did not feel like stone.
It was smooth beneath her feet, warm and steady, as if it had always been waiting for her weight. The sky above was not blue — it shimmered, layered with hues she had no names for.
Silence pressed close.
Not empty silence.
Watching silence.
Her heart hammered as she looked around.
"This place…" she murmured. "I've never been here."
And yet — something inside her whispered otherwise.
---
A presence brushed against her senses.
Not a touch.
Not a voice.
A recognition.
Ling Yue's breath caught painfully as her chest tightened — the same ache she had felt by the river, magnified a hundredfold.
"Ye," she whispered.
There was no answer.
But the silence did not feel cruel.
It felt… restrained.
As though something stood just beyond reach, unable to cross with her.
---
She looked down.
The lotus bud rested in her palms, its petals still tightly closed — but now, faint veins of light traced its surface, pulsing in time with her heartbeat.
"Are you supposed to come with me?" she asked softly.
The bud remained closed.
Understanding settled slowly, painfully.
This was not the place where he returned.
This was the place where she continued.
---
Footsteps echoed.
Ling Yue turned sharply.
A figure approached from the far end of the platform — robed in pale hues, expression unreadable, eyes ancient and calm.
"You have crossed the boundary," the figure said. "Do you know what that means?"
Ling Yue swallowed. "That I can't go back."
"Yes."
She nodded. "Then it's fine."
The figure studied her carefully. "You bring something that does not belong here."
Ling Yue tightened her hold on the lotus bud. "Then I'll keep it with me."
A pause.
Then — something like approval.
"So be it," the figure said. "The mortal world has released you."
As the figure turned away, Ling Yue followed — one step at a time — into a realm that felt both foreign and achingly familiar.
Behind her, unseen, the road dissolved completely.
---
Far below, the willow tree shed a single leaf.
Far above, a thread of fate drew taut.
And somewhere between worlds, something that had been waiting far longer than it should have finally shifted — not awake, not whole…
But no longer gone.