I woke up groggy, something pressed against my face. I pushed it off with a grunt, and a mumbled protest followed.

  Wei Lin.

  We were both sprawled out on the floor of his home. At some point in the night, his leg had ended up across my head.

  “Move it,” I muttered, my voice rattling in my skull.

  He mumbled something incoherent and rolled over, snoring softly.

  We must’ve drunk too much.

  I pushed myself up onto my elbows and took a deep breath. My head throbbed. My stomach churned like it was trying to escape. I hadn’t felt this bad in years.

  Not since Mum’s funeral.

  That thought cut deeper than the hangover. For a moment, I just sat there, eyes half-closed, picturing her fingers brushing through my hair when I was small. Telling me stories about the old days—before the rifts, before the endless fighting, before everything changed.

  I sighed and shook my head.

  I couldn’t help but think what that would have been like.

  The image of her—long dark hair, kind blue eyes—faded like mist, leaving a sharp ache in its place.

  I stepped outside into the morning light and made my way to the well. Drew a bucket and splashed cold water on my face. It helped, but only a little. My stomach still rolled with warning.

  I took a few steady breaths.

  What the hell happened last night?

  All I remembered was the hunters leaving. The healer, too. Then it was just me, Wei Lin, and the girls. And a lot of wine. In short we got plastered.

  The sound of coughing snapped me out of my reminiscing.

  I walked back inside. To see if everything was alright.

  Wei Lin was still flat on the floor, arms sprawled wide like he’d tried to fight off the morning and lost. He was snoring like our old American bulldog used to. Which was.. let’s just say loud.

  I kicked him.

  “Get up. You’re ma needs you.”

  He didn’t stir.

  I kicked him harder.

  Still nothing but a grunt.

  The coughing came again—harsher now. Prolonged. It echoed behind the curtain that split the house. The one I never crossed, out of respect.

  I knew Wei Lin didn’t want me back there. He would always close it as soon as he got behind there so I couldn’t see in. But I wasn’t going to sit there while someone choked to death.

  So I moved.

  Pushing the curtain aside, I stepped in.

  She lay on a thin mat in the far corner, barely more than a shape beneath the blankets. Her frame looked fragile—skin pale and stretched too tight over her bones. Her limbs trembled with each breath. The left side of her face had collapsed slightly, like a stroke had taken something from her, and never given it back. Her mouth hung open between coughs. One eye was swollen shut. The other flicked between the walls like she wasn’t sure where she was anymore.

  I moved to the small table beside her and found a bowl of medical paste—lukewarm, left from the night before. I remembered watching Wei Lin mixing it together.

  I dipped a rag into it and pressed it gently to her lips.

  She coughed again, then swallowed in small, choking sips.

  I whispered, “Easy. Just a little.”

  She didn’t seem to hear me.

  I kept giving her more. Her cough disappeared and she relaxed back into her mat. If I was telling the truth, she looked like he didn’t belong in this world anymore. And I knew all too well the pain of loosing a mother to sickness. I grimaced and turned to leave.

  But , suddenly, her hand shot out.

  Thin fingers like claws wrapped around my wrist with surprising strength.

  Her eye locked on mine clear as day and she yanked me closer with impossible strength.

  “F—Fire, you…you demon.”

  The words rasped out of her like wind through dead leaves on a dark night.

  “They come… they come for us all, Otherworlder.”

  I froze.

  “What?”

  Her grip tightened.

  “Earth… it burns. Don’t let him… don’t let them break it. It’s conn—”

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  Her grip loosened and her eyes fluttered shut.

  My chest went cold and my breath left my body. Goose bums ran down my spine.

  “What did you say?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

  I leaned in. “Who? What do you mean? Wake up. What did you say?”

  Footsteps pounded the floor behind me just before I tried to shake her awake.

  The curtain was ripped back.

  Wei Lin stood there, still in yesterday’s clothes, eyes wide and bloodshot.

  “What are you doing?” His shouted before pushing me away from her.

  I stood quickly. “She was choking. I just gave her her medicine—”

  “You weren’t supposed to go back there.” knelt beside her, checking her pulse, brushing her hair back. “She doesn’t like strangers. You’re not allowed back here.”

  “She grabbed me,” I said. “She said something. Something weird.”

  “She says a lot of things,” he snapped, voice sharp. “None of it means anything.”

  I hesitated. “She said something to do with my home. I need to know what she was saying!” My voice unintentionally rose as I continued.

  He looked up at me, just for a second. Eyes unreadable. Then he looked away. “You misheard. She’s just an old sick lady”

  I wanted to argue.

  But the way he touched her hand, how carefully he tucked the blanket around her shoulders, how tight his jaw was clenched—I let it go.

  “I’m sorry,” I said.

  Wei Lin didn’t respond.

  I stepped out and let the curtain fall behind me.

  Outside, the morning wind cut through my shirt like a knife.

  But it wasn’t the cold that shook me.

  It was the look in her eyes. My heart hardened. She said something about earth. About it breaking. Like fuck I would let that happen. Not when my sister was still there.

  I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

  The sky above Fallen Mist was pale, streaked with thin clouds. The rice fields glistened faintly in the morning light. Everything looked the same.

  But everything felt different.

  Her voice still echoed in my head.

  I wanted to write it off—blame it on the sickness—but she’d called me an Otherworlder.

  When Wei Lin finally stepped outside, he looked calmer. More composed. But there was a weight in his eyes.

  He joined me by the well without a word.

  We stood there for a minute. Maybe more.

  “You alright?” I asked.

  He didn’t answer right away. Then he said, “You weren’t supposed to see her like that.”

  “I know.”

  “She used to be strong. Ran the whole farm herself when I was little. Carried me on her back during the flood that took half the village. She wasn’t supposed to end up like this.”

  I stayed quiet.

  “I keep thinking,” he continued, “if I was stronger—if I’d joined a sect like I dreamed of, if I’d managed to cultivate—maybe I could’ve gotten her real help. Proper help.”

  He exhaled slowly, like he was letting go of something he didn’t want to admit he’d been carrying.

  “I want her to get better, Fang Wu. More than anything. But she’s slipping. And now she’s scaring you with talk about gods and other rubbish.”

  “She said things she shouldn’t know,” I said softly. “I need clarification.”

  He didn’t respond.

  “I think she’s connected to my past. Somehow.”

  “She’s sick.”

  “Maybe,” I said. “But still—”

  “Just drop it,” he cut in, his voice flat and tired. “I don’t want you seeing her again.”

  He looked away. “I’m going into town later. Gonna see if Madam Shen has any spirit-root left. I can’t keep saving for the pill. She needs more medicine now.”

  I nodded. “I’ll come with you.”

  He hesitated. “I—I want some time alone. If that’s okay.”

  I looked at him. Then gave a slow nod. “Sure. I’ll see you later.”

  He offered a small, weary smile. “Alright.”

  We both knew this was about more than medicine now.

  Something was stirring—inside Fallen Mist, inside Wei Lin’s home… even out in the forest. I just needed to figure it all out.

  Once Wei Lin left, the thought of barging in and demanding answers consumed me. So much so that I nearly did it—three times. But every time I pulled the curtain back, she was asleep. And I couldn’t bring myself to do it.

  It would’ve felt like betrayal.

  So instead, I grabbed my sabre and stepped out into the light.

  The fields were already swaying in the breeze, the rice stalks catching the morning sun like strands of gold. I walked out to the edge, where the grass gave way to packed earth, and took my stance.

  Same as we’d practiced.

  Legs shoulder-width apart. Blade angled low. Elbows loose.

  Then I began.

  The motion was awkward at first. The sabre still felt heavier than it should. But as I moved through the forms—thrust, arc, pivot, cut—I started to feel it click.

  I didn’t stop after the first round of drills.

  Something in me itched—too much noise in my head. So I ran the forms again, correcting my footwork, adjusting how I shifted my weight between each swing. The blade no longer felt like a stranger in my hands.

  Thrust. Turn. Parry. Step.

  The sequence moved through me like an old rhythm I’d half-forgotten.

  Then it came back.

  A voice—stern, calm—echoing through a room full of metal and sweat.

  “Again,” said Instructor Mallory. “From the top. You don’t just swing a weapon. You build it into your bones.”

  Back at the Hunter’s Academy. First year. I’d been barely eighteen. Still hopeful. The entire class had stood in rows, practice blades in hand, repeating the same movement until our shoulders burned and our legs gave out.

  I fell into it now like I never left.

  I used to love sword drills. Back then, I thought I had a future in it. But everything changed when I ranked D. Mana blades were expensive. Any mana weapon was expensive. Too expensive for someone like me—especially after Mum passed and left me with Elise.

  My only saving grace was my father’s old dagger. That was how I survived. How I kept food on the table. Without it… I didn’t want to think about that.

  I shook my head and gripped the hilt tighter.

  Low guard. Step forward. Elbow tight. Twist the hips.

  I pictured Mallory walking past, correcting me with a slap to the arm. “Too wide. You’ll leave your whole side open.”

  I adjusted.

  Cut upward. Block. Step back.

  The sun climbed higher. Sweat soaked through my robes, dripping from my chin, matting hair to my forehead. The ache in my limbs drowned out the hangover. My breath found rhythm. My body settled into the flow.

  I trained until my fingers blistered, until the sabre felt like it weighed double what it had that morning.

  When I finally stopped, my chest rose and fell like bellows. My hair clung to my neck. My arms trembled. But my head was clear.

  The fog was gone.

  I sheathed the sabre and walked to the edge of the paddies. The cool water soaked through my boots, and I sat, letting my legs sink into the shallow water. The wind brushed my cheeks, soft and cool. The sky above was sharp and blue—cloudless and clear.

  I stared across the fields.

  And thought.

  About the rift. The system. The fights. The beasts.

  Wei Lin. His mother.

  Earth.

  My sister.

  A dull weight settled in my chest at the thought of her—my last blood. I wondered what she was doing now. If she thought I was dead. If she was alone.

  If the world was still safe without me there to protect her.

  I closed my eyes and leaned back on my palms.

  Tried not to think. Just breathe.

  But it was hard. I’d always been meant to protect her. I’d promised.

  The world fell into a quiet hum.

  The rustle of rice stalks. The chirp of insects. The occasional splash of frogs deeper in the fields.

  I don’t know how long I stayed like that.

  Minutes, maybe hours.

  The sun dipped lower. The breeze cooled.

  And when I opened my eyes—

  The light had changed.

  The sky had slipped into evening, gold and soft purple painting the horizon. But more than that… there were specks of light floating around me. Tiny flecks of gold. They shimmered in the air, drifting slow and lazy before sinking into my skin.

  Qi.

  I sat up straighter, eyes wide.

  The specks spiraled inward, drawn to me.

  What the hell is going on?

  As soon as thoughts re entered my mind, the wisps disappeared, falling back into the earth.

  Then a chime rang through my mind.

  Qi absorbed.

  System sync in progress…