Darkness swallowed everything.
Lan fell endlessly through his own spirit sea—weightless, breathless, lost. The rage of the storm had consumed his will, his mind, and even the forming core within his chest. The sea had rebelled, a rebellion without malice, just pain. It had cried out through the chaos, and Lan could no longer tell where the sea ended and he began.
He was drowning in himself.
He reached for breath.
For light.
Anything.
But none came.
Until—
Warmth.
A single thread of golden Qi pierced the blackness, like a sunbeam falling into a bottomless abyss. It was divine.
Lan's eyes widened.
It pulsed once… then again. It wasn't harsh or intrusive. It was gentle. Reassuring. It called to him not as a master commands, but as a friend offers their hand. He recognize it. It wasn't from within him. It came from outside. From the waking world.
