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Chapter 3 - A Halo of Ash and Gold

 

Ash drifted on the breeze like gray snowflakes as Dawnlight disciples gathered before the cave mouth Mo Lianyin and Soren had abandoned minutes earlier. Lantern-light painted their white-and-gold robes in molten hues, but nothing burned brighter than the resolve in Asha Kellen's eyes.

"Two signatures," she confirmed, consulting the spirit-compass floating above her palm. Twin needles pulsed: one a deep obsidian glow, the other faint silver. "The demon vessel and an unknown resonance tethered to it. Alive. Moving deeper."

Junior-Elder Liang frowned. "You're certain this cave system connects to the ravine? Landslides sealed most passages decades ago."

"If rocks could hinder corruption, Grandmaster Solas would sleep soundly." Asha flicked her wrist; the compass collapsed into a sigil that sank beneath her sleeve. "Form triads. Keep cleansing talismans active. I will take point."

At nineteen, she was still technically a "disciple," yet even elders deferred to the blade that hung across her back—Seraphine, a spirit-forged jian designed to drink demonic qi. Tonight, it thirsted.

Forgive me, Yinyin, she thought, the childhood nickname surfacing unbidden. Then she steeled herself. The girl she'd once laughed with over stolen dumplings had died the moment a Demon King claimed her soul. All Asha could offer now was swift deliverance.

She stepped into the tunnel, haloed by the soft gold radiating from her sword-spirit. Behind her, talismans flared to life, bathing the entrance in sanctified fire.

Below, in the Vein-Caves

The passage sloped downward so steeply that Lianyin and Soren were forced to slide on their heels, one hand braced against slick stone. Bioluminescent lichen painted the walls in sickly greens, just bright enough to keep them from stumbling into bottomless vents.

"How deep do these caves run?" Soren whispered.

"Farther than fear," Lianyin muttered, repeating Kareth's cryptic guidance. Her breath still shook from the healing she'd woven—a technique that had not existed in any righteous manual. Borrowed pain, she had called it, but the ache in her own ribs warned there was always a price.

Slowing won't save you, the Demon King murmured. Your pursuers carry holy light. You must shroud your presence completely.

"And how do I do that?" she hissed under her breath.

Feed the shadows. Give them what they crave.

That answer chilled her more than the underground wind.

Their narrow ledge ended on a cavern balcony so vast it could swallow the Dawnlight temple twice over. A fathomless drop yawned beyond, the abyss filled with pale pinpoints—swarms of carrion bats roosting upside-down. A single noise too sharp, a single torch too bright, and the colony would explode into lethal frenzy.

"Quiet," she mouthed.

They tiptoed along an uneven ridge. Halfway across, stone flaked under Soren's boot. Pebbles rattled down the chasm, knocking into wings and brittle bones below.

An ocean of screeches answered.

"Run," Lianyin whispered—then yanked him forward just as the first black tide erupted from the darkness.

She thrust her palm outward. Shadow sprayed like ink, weaving a dome around them. Talons scraped harmlessly against the barrier, but each impact sent a jolt of fatigue racing through her limbs. Too many. Too fast.

Soren drew his broken blade despite the manacle's drain. "Drop it on three," he said, positioning himself back-to-back with her. "We make for that pillar."

"One—two—three!" The shield unraveled; bats flooded in. Soren's truncated sword became a whirl of silver arcs, striking wings and snouts. Lianyin darted ahead, shadows flaring from her fingertips to blind and misdirect.

By the time they slammed behind the pillar, aching and breathless, the swarm had already resettled across the abyss, ruffled but sated. Lianyin slumped against the stone, chest heaving.

"Your shadows," Soren said between gasps, "respond to thought?"

"More like emotion." She wiped sweat from her brow. "Terror is… potent fuel."

Soren offered a weary grin. "Lucky we have that in surplus."

She tried to smile but her gaze drifted to the shackle glowing at his wrist. "I need to sever that soon."

"One problem at a time." He pointed toward a narrow crevice behind the pillar. Faint daylight trickled through it. "If that's an exit, we should hurry. I doubt your friends in white will wait politely for the bats to resettle."

Lianyin nodded. Yet as they squeezed into the tunnel, she risked one last glance back—half expecting to see a golden halo cresting the balcony. Nothing. Only darkness and the echo of a single pebble making its endless descent.

The Ravine of Silent Rains

They emerged at dawn onto a cliff ledge overlooking a mist-shrouded ravine. Rain fell in hushed curtains, beading on strange, waxy leaves of jet-black foliage. Amidst them sprouted delicate gold-veined flowers—Lachrymal Lotuses, Kareth supplied, petals that caught raindrops like tears.

"Ashiwood valley," Soren murmured, recognition lighting his pale eyes. "My tutors said exile monks once grew healing herbs here."

"If monks liked cliffs," Lianyin said, surveying the sheer drop. "Path?"

Soren pointed to an ancient rope-bridge hugging the cliffside, slats missing, moss-slick. A gust sent the ropes creaking like dying violins.

"Lovely." Lianyin tugged her damp robe tighter. "After you, Your Highness."

He stepped onto the bridge without hesitation—pride or fatalism she couldn't tell. When the planks bowed under her lighter weight, she swallowed panic. Feed the shadows, Kareth had advised, but here the sun began piercing morning clouds; dawnlight diluted her ink-borne comfort.

At midpoint, a plank snapped beneath Soren. The prince hauled on the ropes, but the manacle pulsed, draining strength. He slipped halfway through the gap.

"Hold on!" She lunged, shadow-binding her hand to the rope and grabbing his forearm. The bridge shuddered under their combined weight.

Emotion fuels power, she remembered—and let panic surge. Darkness shot from her palm, weaving splints across the fractured plank, fusing fiber to fiber until the board re-formed from congealed shadow.

Soren crawled onto the repaired span, eyes wide. "You just rebuilt wood."

"It will unravel in sunlight," she warned. "Move."

They reached the opposite cliff as the first true rays of dawn broke, dissolving the makeshift plank behind them into swirling motes. Soren collapsed on his back, laughing shakily. Lianyin joined him, staring at a sky blushing pink through dissipating storm clouds.

For a heartbeat, they were just two exhausted fugitives basking in surviving another hour.

Confessions at a Ruined Shrine

A toppled pagoda lay further along the cliff path, its once-white walls charred black. Inside, an altar still cradled a cracked stone brazier. Rainwater filled its basin, reflecting the sky like liquid silver.

Soren scooped a handful to rinse his face, then offered her the rest. She drank greedily. "Thank you."

"I should be the one thanking you," he said. "You saved me twice in one night."

Lianyin shrugged. "Debt settled. Now we're even."

A comfortable silence bloomed—then Soren broke it, voice low. "When my family sheltered demon-blooded refugees, Dawnlight called it treason. Yet you, a demon vessel, risked your life for a stranger. That irony may be the only thing keeping me sane."

Lianyin traced a finger along the brazier's rim. "I'm not sure what I am anymore. Demon king's heir? Orphan girl? Murderer?"

"Survivor," he corrected gently. "And if our lives are really bound, I'd like to keep surviving together."

Before she could respond, the silver filament between their chests pulsed—this time warm, comforting. She nodded. "Together, then."

Footsteps of Gold

Back in the cave system, Asha's squad found the abandoned camp-fire, the bloody rags, the lone footprint marked by bat guano.

"Prince Soren lives," Elder Liang breathed, lifting a fragment of silver-embroidered silk. "If the court learns"

"The court is gone," Asha said, examining the silver residue of a soul-thread. Nyla forged a bond. She sheathed her glowing sword. "We press on."

She stepped to the balcony edge. Bats rustled but did not rise; her holy aura soothed them. She spotted the distant rope-bridge through a fissure in the cliff wall—its center missing a plank now woven from unraveling shadows.

Ink-lotus, you're learning, she thought with a pang that felt too much like pride. But I cannot let the world pay for our shared past.

Halo blazing brighter, Asha Kellen followed the trail into the dawn.

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