The damp, mildewed air of the cabin pressed close, thick with the groans of the *Mist Weaver*'s ancient timbers and the rhythmic slosh of the river against the hull. Nian sat cross-legged on the swaying deck, the Starfall fragment a warm, steady weight in her palms. Its light, muted to a soft ember in the gloom, pulsed in time with the junk's laborious heartbeat. Captain Renshu's warning echoed: *Sandbar Point. The dragon's teeth.*
The fragment's projected image – stone towers, Imperial banners, the choking fog of concentrated hostile Qi – burned in her mind. This wasn't the wilderness ambush of Rockbreakers or the silent hunt of the Shadow-Silk. This was the Empire's mailed fist, clenched across the river. Detection meant capture, the shard caged, its harmony shattered by force.
Mei Lin paced the cramped space, a caged predator. "Blockade. Inspections. They'll search holds, question passengers. That bulletin…" She didn't need to finish. Grandma Xiu lay on the narrow bunk, eyes closed but alert, her breathing a shallow rasp. "Renshu's reputation might get us *to* the inspection, not through it. Especially if they have a Qi-sensitive among them."
Nian focused on the shard, pouring her fear, her resolve, into the connection. *We must pass unseen. Not by hiding… but by belonging. Make us part of the river's song.*
The fragment pulsed warmly, radiating understanding. It projected the sensation of the Azure Serpent itself – the immense, patient flow, the complex symphony of currents, eddies, life, and sediment. *Harmony. Not absence, but integration.* It wasn't about invisibility; it was about resonating so perfectly with the environment that their presence became indistinguishable from the background hum of the world.
The deck tilted sharply. Shouts came from above, muffled but urgent. They were changing course, angling towards the bank. Nian felt it – the oppressive weight of the blockade Qi intensifying, a cold, metallic discord scraping against her senses. Sandbar Point.
"Up," Mei Lin ordered, her voice tight. "See what we face."
They crept up the companionway, staying low in the shadow of the deckhouse. The scene before them stole Nian's breath.
The river narrowed dramatically at Sandbar Point, funneled between sheer cliffs topped by imposing stone watchtowers. Massive iron chains, thick as a man's thigh, spanned the water between them, currently lowered to allow passage but ready to be raised. Imperial war junks, sleek and menacing with rows of archers visible on their decks, patrolled the approaches. Smaller inspection skiffs darted like water beetles between the slower merchant traffic being funneled into a single, slow-moving queue. Flags snapped in the breeze – the snarling dragon of the local garrison and the ubiquitous Eye-and-Flames of the Ministry of Celestial Phenomena. The air crackled with tension and the sharp tang of fear from the waiting vessels.
Captain Renshu stood impassively at the helm, his straw hat pulled low, guiding the *Mist Weaver* into the queue behind a broad rice barge. His weathered face showed no concern, only a deep, focused calm. He glanced down, his blue eye meeting Nian's for a fleeting moment. *Be the reed,* his gaze seemed to say.
An inspection skiff, rowed by four armored soldiers and commanded by a sharp-faced lieutenant bearing the Ministry insignia, pulled alongside. "Hail, *Mist Weaver*! Prepare for inspection! Manifest and passenger list!"
Renshu tossed down a damp, rolled parchment without a word. The lieutenant scanned it, his eyes narrow. "Three passengers? Purpose of travel?"
"Grandmother to family downriver. Niece and hired guard accompanying," Renshu rumbled, his voice flat. "Healer in Liangshui said damp air might ease her lung rot." He gestured vaguely towards the deckhouse where Grandma, Mei Lin, and Nian stood.
The lieutenant's gaze swept over them. Nian felt it like a physical touch – cold, probing, amplified by the Ministry sigil on his breastplate. He was Qi-sensitive, trained to detect anomalies, artifacts, illicit power. His eyes lingered on Nian, a flicker of suspicion in them. The fragment's resonance, though deeply dampened, was still a potent source of harmony. Could he feel its *depth*? Its profound difference from the chaotic Qi of the world?
Nian didn't hesitate. She reached out with her Whisper, not to the lieutenant, but to the *shard*, becoming a conduit for its intent. She poured her will into the fragment's core directive: *Harmony. Belong.* She amplified its resonance, not outward, but *inward*, weaving it seamlessly into the dense, complex Qi field surrounding them – the groaning timbers of the *Mist Weaver*, the churn of the river water, the sigh of the wind in the patched sails, the weary resignation of the crew, the pervasive smell of fish and damp. She made the shard's presence not a beacon, but a perfectly integrated note in the junk's own discordant song.
The lieutenant frowned, his probing senses meeting… nothing unusual. Just a decrepit vessel, a sick old woman, a weary-looking niece, and a hard-faced guard. The faint hum he might have brushed against felt like the natural vibration of stressed wood or flowing water. He glanced back at his manifest. "Lung rot, eh? Nasty business. Move along. Keep clear of the chains." He waved dismissively, already turning his attention to the next vessel, a sleek merchant junk that looked far more promising for hidden contraband.
Relief, cold and sharp, washed over Nian. She sagged slightly against the deckhouse. Mei Lin's knuckles were white where she gripped the rail. Grandma let out a soft sigh.
Captain Renshu nudged the tiller. The *Mist Weaver* creaked forward, slipping past the watchful war junks and beneath the shadow of the cliff-top towers. The oppressive weight of the blockade Qi receded as they emerged into the wider river beyond Sandbar Point. The immediate danger had passed, woven away by celestial harmony.
They sailed through the afternoon, the river landscape unfolding – terraced hills giving way to broader floodplains, villages clinging to the banks, the air growing warmer. Nian sat on the deck near the bow, the fragment cradled in her lap. It pulsed with quiet satisfaction, projecting images of the river's journey: sunlight on brown water, fish breaking the surface, cranes stalking the reeds. It felt… content. Observant. Learning.
As dusk painted the sky in fiery hues, the fragment's mood shifted. The calm observation sharpened into intense focus. A powerful image flooded Nian's mind, clearer and more urgent than any before:
A solitary mountain, not jagged like the Cloudcrags, but rising in graceful, forested tiers like a giant's staircase. At its summit, nestled amidst ancient pines, stood a monastery. Not Imperial grandeur, but simple, elegant structures of dark wood and pale stone, curved roofs sweeping towards the sky like wings in flight. Pagodas pierced the canopy. The air around it shimmered with profound, serene Qi, a powerful wellspring of natural harmony. And emanating from its heart, resonating perfectly with the Starfall fragment in Nian's hands, was a deep, rhythmic *pulse* – a slow, steady beat like a celestial drum. *Homecoming. Purpose.*
The image was accompanied by a powerful pull, a magnetic yearning that resonated deep in Nian's bones. It wasn't just a place; it was the shard's *destination*. The reason for its fall? The source of its harmony?
*"There,"* the shard's consciousness resonated, a feeling of profound certainty washing over Nian. *"The Silent Tree Monastery. The Heartbeat. We must go."*
Nian gasped, the vision searing her mind. "Captain!" she called out, scrambling to her feet, pointing southeast towards the darkening horizon where the silhouette of a tiered mountain was just visible. "That mountain! The monastery! Do you know it?"
Renshu turned from the tiller, his blue eye fixing on the distant peak. A flicker of surprise, then deep recognition, crossed his face. "Aye," he said, his gravelly voice low. "The Silent Tree. Place of old power. Quiet monks. Quieter stones." He studied Nian, his gaze lingering on the fragment she unconsciously clutched. "The mended light seeks its cradle? The journey there…" He looked downstream, then back at the mountain, calculating. "We can put ashore near Willowfoot Village by dawn. The mountain path starts there. But the way is watched. Not just Empire. Other things stir near the Silent Tree since the Starfall."
Before Nian could respond, the fragment pulsed a sudden, icy warning. Not ahead, but *behind*. Back downriver, from the direction of Sandbar Point. Cold. Sharp. Moving with impossible speed *over* the water, not through it. *Shadow-Silk.*
Nian spun. On the darkening river, under the first stars, a figure glided. No boat. It stood *on* the water, a silhouette of purest night, feet barely disturbing the surface. It moved with silent, terrifying swiftness, closing the distance between them with each passing second. The fractured moonlight eyes glowed coldly, fixed unerringly on the *Mist Weaver*. On Nian. On the shard.
It hadn't needed a boat. It had found another way. The void-cold hunter had crossed the blockade and was now skimming the river like a nightmare, drawn by the shard's unmasked purpose. The respite was over. The Silent Tree beckoned, but the Shadow-Silk's blade was honed for the final, desperate stretch of their journey. The mended star's light had found its true path, but the darkest shadow yet raced across the water to extinguish it before it could reach its celestial cradle.