She whispered to the abyss, pleaded to be taken to the underworld, to be swallowed whole by oblivion. But the abyss did not answer. Even if it did Xiang Yu would hunt her soul down.
Then, the mirror appeared. Suspended in the air, framed in obsidian and bound by divine law, it pulsed with a cold light. Her soul, ragged and screaming, was pulled into its surface, not with force, but inevitability. Chains of shadow wrapped around her limbs, dragging her into the prison of reflection.
Inside, time did not exist. Only torment.
Her head hung low, the chains biting into her spirit. When she finally raised her gaze, she saw him, her father. Pale and hollow with patches of his soul missing, his eyes dim with years of suffering. He did not speak. He did not blink. He simply suffered the torment.
And beside him was the woman Peng Xiu had never met. It was their mother.
