Once, long ago, there had been a sky of fire.
It was not a myth, nor a metaphor.
It was real — a kingdom suspended in the heavens, forever bathed in warm golden light, with clouds tinged red like the aftermath of dusk.
It had been called the Southern Sky, the realm of passion, of creation, of warmth. Its immortals were flame-born, fierce and vibrant, their powers rooted in emotion — unrestrained, unrepentant, unafraid.
It no longer existed.
All that remained of it were ashes, scattered across the realms and hidden in forbidden scrolls.
And in a girl who had once burned brighter than the gods dared allow.
Lian Qiao sat beside the stone well now, knees tucked to her chest, her expression unreadable as she listened to Mo Yujin's voice.
He spoke sparingly — but when he did, it was with the weight of someone who had watched empires rise and fall, someone who had seen beauty turned to ruin.
"You were not born," he said, his voice like frost on old stone. "You ignited."
Qiao's brows knit. "Was I… dangerous?"
"To them?" He nodded. "Yes. Because you loved without rules. And you loved me."
She looked up at him — not the fearsome god of cold silence, but the man who had once fallen in love with fire.
"I wasn't afraid?" she asked.
"No," he said quietly. "But I was."
She blinked. "You?"
He stared into the broken well.
"I was built to uphold the heavens," he said. "To protect balance. You… you wanted to rewrite it. You said the system was flawed. That the Celestial Order treated mortals like insects and immortals like prisoners."
"And was I wrong?"
He didn't answer immediately.
But the look in his eyes — regretful, knowing — said everything.
Lian Qiao slowly reached toward the moss-covered rim, where the phrase he once carved still glowed faintly.
Love, burning snow.
The stone flared under her fingers.
She flinched back — not from pain, but from memory.
Images flashed across her mind:
Her hand glowing with flame as she healed a child's soul.
Her laughter echoing through the Southern Sky palace halls.
Mo Yujin — younger, unscarred — pressing a kiss to her forehead in secret, hidden behind a veil of red blossoms.
Her blood staining the Divine Council floor, her body breaking open with divine light as she screamed for him not to kneel.
She gasped, falling to her knees.
Her palms glowed.
Red. Gold. Flame.
Mo Yujin dropped to her side immediately, his hand covering hers.
"Don't fight it," he said, voice low. "Let it come."
Tears slipped down her cheeks — not from pain, but from grief so old it had no name.
"I remember," she whispered.
And the temple began to hum.
🌌 Elsewhere — Peach Blossom Sect
Master Bai stood at the edge of the outer ring of the sect, watching the horizon darken unnaturally.
Clouds swirled with red and gold. The wind carried whispers not meant for mortal ears.
Beside him, Elder Mei appeared, materializing out of moonlight.
"She's remembering," Bai said grimly.
Mei frowned. "And her flames are returning."
"She's not ready."
"She may not have a choice."
🌠 In the Eastern Sky
The broken temple had begun to shift.
Stone lifted, dust trembled, the old well vibrated with energy.
Lian Qiao, still breathing heavily, looked up at Mo Yujin. Her cheeks were wet. Her hands were glowing. Her voice cracked.
"I was ready to die for you."
"And I did everything I could not to let you," he said softly.
"But you couldn't stop it."
"No."
She met his eyes — this time without fear, without confusion.
Just knowing.
"Then don't stop me now."
He held her gaze.
The well pulsed once.
And a flame unfurled from her chest — no longer angry, no longer hidden.
It was her.