Lian arrived at a monastery built into the cliffside, the monks there had sworn to silence but not to secrecy. One elder led him to a vault deep within the mountain.
Inside, there was a painting across a stone wall, it was a mural:
Two figures stood back to back beneath a bleeding moon. One had mist-blue hair and green eyes, marked by stars. The other knelt beside him, branded with the wolf sigil of old royalty.
It was them.
Beneath the mural, an inscription:
Even if the world forgets, the bond will burn brighter than fate.
Lian turned to the monk. "Who painted this?"
The monk smiled. "You did. A lifetime ago."
Lian's knees buckled.
The past wasn't just returning—it was his.