The figure stood in the dead plain, a solitary silhouette against the endless black. It waved again, a slow, graceful motion that was both an invitation and a promise. The golden light at its feet pulsed like a gentle heart, a warm and lonely beacon in the oppressive dark.
To Yingluo, it was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.
"It's a person," she said, the words a prayer. Hope, wild and reckless, bloomed in her chest, pushing back the cold dread that had taken root there. They weren't alone. Another soul had survived.
"Or it's wearing the skin of one," Gao Lian countered, her voice a low warning. She didn't take her eyes off the distant figure. "Think, Yingluo. Use the head Li Xun gave you. Why is it standing there? How is it making that light? Nothing in this place is free. That light is a price. What do you think it wants us to pay with?"
