The frost market flickered with lantern light, shadows hiding the pain of its wanderers. Yi stood by a burned stall, her frost-tipped fingers tracing ash. Her village had burned for a shard, the Azure Flame Sect's flames leaving only her alive. "They'll pay," she whispered, her frost threads weaving a vow in the air.
Ren leaned against a wall, his dagger spinning, eyes scanning the crowd. His brother had vanished in the sect's arrays, lost to their greed for fragments. "I'll find you," he muttered, his blade catching the light. He'd joined Qin Mo's path not for loyalty, but for answers.
Lian notched an arrow, her gaze sharp. Her family's name was stolen by the Silent Tax, their honor buried in frost. "I'll take it back," she said, her bow steady. Qin Mo's fight was her chance.
Their paths converged in the market, drawn by bells and betrayal. Qin Mo's shadow passed, the shard's heat calling them. They followed, bound by their own debts.