The Immortal Realm had not changed.
Ling Yue noticed this immediately — and felt unsettled by it.
The same pale stone stretched beneath her feet, unmarked by time. The same layered sky shimmered above, distant and vast. Immortals passed with composed expressions, their movements unhurried, untouched by urgency.
Only she felt out of place.
Her steps slowed as she walked, a strange heaviness pressing against her chest. It wasn't grief — not exactly. It felt more like standing in a room where a conversation had just ended.
And she had missed it.
---
She paused beneath an archway etched with celestial script.
The symbols tugged at something inside her — not memory, but recognition. Her fingers twitched, as if they knew how to trace the lines even when her mind did not.
"That's strange," she murmured.
She lowered her hand before she could touch them.
---
Voices drifted toward her — hushed, careful.
"…the exile was necessary."
"…he was becoming unstable."
"…too much discretion for someone like him."
Ling Yue stopped.
Her breath caught.
She did not know who they were talking about.
She knew exactly who they were talking about.
---
She turned a corner and nearly collided with an immortal official.
"Careful," the official said absently — then froze when they saw her face.
"…You," they said.
Ling Yue straightened instinctively. "Yes?"
The official hesitated, eyes flicking briefly to the lotus bud at her side before they masked their expression.
"You've returned sooner than expected."
"I didn't know I was expected at all," Ling Yue replied honestly.
The official studied her for a long moment.
"Do you remember why you were summoned?"
Ling Yue opened her mouth.
Nothing came out.
She frowned. "I remember… leaving. And then—"
Silence.
The official's gaze softened — just a fraction.
"That will be all," they said quietly. "You may go."
Ling Yue bowed automatically and walked on, unease curling deeper in her chest.
---
She found herself drawn to a familiar terrace without knowing why.
The clouds below shifted slowly, endlessly. The view should have felt peaceful.
It didn't.
Her fingers brushed the edge of the lotus bud resting against her hip.
Warm.
Steady.
"You don't belong here," she whispered — to herself, to the realm, to the ache she couldn't name.
The air responded.
Not with sound.
With pressure.
A presence just beyond reach.
Ling Yue inhaled sharply.
"Ye," she said before she could stop herself.
The name felt old.
And dangerous.
Nothing answered.
But the pressure remained.
---
Behind her, footsteps approached.
She turned.
An immortal woman stood a short distance away — silver hair, eyes like still water. The same one who had studied her upon arrival.
"You feel it too," the woman said calmly.
Ling Yue swallowed. "Feel what?"
"The absence," the woman replied. "And the reason for it."
Ling Yue's hands tightened around the lotus bud.
"Who was he?" she asked quietly.
The immortal woman did not answer at once.
Instead, she asked, "Do you want the truth — or do you want peace?"
Ling Yue did not hesitate.
"The truth."
A pause.
Then the woman said softly, "Then you should prepare to be blamed."
---
The wind shifted.
Far above, unseen threads trembled.
And somewhere beyond the Immortal Realm, something that had once fallen began — imperceptibly — to stir.