The Immortal Realm did not greet Ling Yue with ceremony.
There were no trumpets.
No gathered figures waiting in judgment.
There was only space — vast, luminous, and impossibly still.
She walked across pale stone that reflected the sky like water, each step echoing softly as if the realm itself were listening. The air was clean in a way she had never experienced before — not fresh, but unburdened.
She inhaled and felt something inside her chest ease… then ache.
This place did not feel unfamiliar.
It felt remembered.
---
The robed figure from before led her through a wide archway into a hall that seemed to stretch without end. Pillars rose like frozen light, etched with symbols she could not read — and yet, her eyes followed them instinctively, tracing paths she didn't know she knew.
"You walk as if you have been here before," the figure said mildly.
Ling Yue stopped. "I haven't."
The figure regarded her in silence. "Memory is not the only way a place can recognize you."
Her fingers tightened around the lotus bud.
"Where am I?" she asked.
"The Immortal Realm," came the simple reply. "Specifically, the Outer Heavens."
The words should have frightened her.
They didn't.
---
As they continued, Ling Yue became aware of it — the gazes.
Not hostile.
Not curious.
Measured.
Immortals passed at a distance, their expressions composed, their attention drifting toward her for the briefest moments before sliding away again.
She felt… weighed.
Not judged — considered.
One of them paused longer than the others.
An immortal woman with silver hair and eyes like still water studied Ling Yue openly.
"…Interesting," the woman murmured.
Ling Yue met her gaze without thinking.
The woman's expression shifted — not surprise, but recognition.
Before Ling Yue could speak, the woman inclined her head slightly and moved on.
Her heart began to race.
---
They stopped at a quiet terrace overlooking a sea of clouds.
"You will remain here for now," the robed figure said. "Until it is decided what is to be done with you."
"What is there to decide?" Ling Yue asked.
The figure's gaze flicked briefly — just briefly — to the lotus bud.
"That," they said, "depends on what you awaken."
The words settled heavily.
---
Left alone, Ling Yue stepped closer to the edge of the terrace.
The clouds below shifted slowly, endlessly. Somewhere far beneath them, a familiar ache tugged at her chest — the same ache she felt whenever she thought of him.
She pressed a hand to her sternum.
"Ye," she whispered.
This time, something answered.
Not a voice.
A pull.
So faint she almost missed it.
Her breath caught.
She looked down at the lotus bud.
Its surface glowed softly now, veins of moonlight tracing patterns that mirrored the clouds below.
"You're not gone," she whispered. "Are you?"
The bud did not bloom.
But it warmed.
---
Far away, beyond sight and sense, something stirred — not alive, not dead.
A presence folded inward, gathering itself.
Waiting.