The storm had passed, but the silence it left behind was worse than any battle cry.
Snow blanketed the gorge, turning the bodies into faceless mounds. The blood that had run so freely only hours before was now frozen into black veins on the ice.
Mo Lianyin stood alone at the edge of the battlefield, his breath misting in the cold air. The heat in his veins had finally dulled, leaving only the ache of exhaustion.
And guilt.
---
Qingxue was packing their supplies by the campfire, movements sharp and deliberate. She didn't look at him.
He had faced demons, assassins, and the wrath of heaven itself, yet somehow, the sight of her avoiding his eyes made his chest feel hollow.
"Qingxue," he said quietly.
She didn't answer.
---
He stepped closer. "Say something."
Her hands paused mid-fold, but she still didn't meet his gaze. "What do you want me to say? That it's fine? That I understand?"
He swallowed. "I… lost control. It won't happen again."
She gave a bitter laugh. "That's what scares me, Lianyin. You believe that."
---
Her words landed heavier than any blow he'd taken today.
"You think I wanted to—"
"I know you didn't want to," she cut in, turning to face him at last. Her eyes were red, though whether from the cold or from tears, he couldn't tell. "But that doesn't matter. The result is the same. Thirty men. Dozens of shadow-creatures. And not one of them died clean."
---
He clenched his fists, searching for words that didn't sound like excuses. "If I hadn't—"
"If you hadn't," she said, "maybe they wouldn't all be dead. Maybe some could have surrendered. Maybe…" She shook her head. "You used to care about that."
Her voice broke on the last word, and he hated himself for hearing it.
---
"I'm trying to keep us alive," he said finally, his own voice rough. "The powers I'm using—they change me. But I can control it."
"No," she whispered, "you think you can. That's not the same."
---
They stared at each other across the snow.
Once, the space between them had been warm—full of banter, trust, unspoken promises. Now it was just cold air and broken understanding.
---
At last, she turned back to the campfire. "I'll travel with you until the next city. After that…"
The pause was deliberate, heavy, final.
"…I think I need to be somewhere else."
---
It was a knife he hadn't expected. For a heartbeat, he almost begged her to take it back. But pride, fear, and something darker held his tongue.
He simply said, "If that's what you want."
---
They packed in silence.
As the wind picked up, he caught her looking at him once—her eyes full of the same grief he felt. But she looked away before he could read it fully.
And for the first time since they met, Mo Lianyin felt like the battle he had truly lost wasn't on the battlefield at all.
--