The warning bells began at midnight.
A deep, rolling sound that cut through the mountain air like the pulse of a war drum.
Lianyin was on her feet before the second toll, the lotus in her palm flaring hot against her skin. From the Seal chamber balcony, she saw torches winding up the cliffside path in serpentine lines — dozens, maybe hundreds of figures moving fast despite the sheer drop on either side.
The Crimson Lotus Court had found them.
Bootsteps pounded in the hall outside. Zevian burst in, sword already drawn, eyes sharp. "Inner Sanctum breach in under twenty minutes," he said. "They've brought warlocks."
"Then the wards won't hold," Lianyin replied, already strapping on her vambraces.
Zevian caught her wrist briefly. "Stay with me. No—listen—if they get the Seal, all this—"
"I know," she cut him off. "You don't have to tell me what's at stake."
He released her, but his jaw was tight. "Then don't let it take you before they do."
They moved quickly, their steps echoing down the winding corridor to the outer gates. Rain slicked the stone underfoot, and the distant roar of the swollen river was almost as loud as the bells.
---
The first clash came at the northern archway.
The enemy moved like shadows, masked and robed, weapons glinting faintly in the moonlight.
Lianyin didn't wait. Her blade slid free in one smooth motion, catching the first strike aimed for Zevian's unguarded side. He turned with the counter, his own sword flashing in a clean arc that dropped another attacker.
Then they were surrounded.
Back-to-back, they moved as one. Zevian's style was sharp, efficient — every motion designed to cut down an enemy in as few strikes as possible. Lianyin's was fluid, almost dance-like, the arcs of her sword weaving through the gaps in his defense without thought.
But the numbers pressed in, and the warlocks were already at work. Dark energy rippled along the stone, trying to split the wards from beneath.
Too slow, the lotus hissed. Let me quicken you.
Her grip tightened. She felt the pull, the intoxicating rush of speed and precision waiting for her. She could hold it back… but only for so long.
A warlock raised his hand, crimson threads of magic snaking toward Zevian's spine.
Without thinking, she called on the lotus.
The world shifted. The attackers' movements slowed to something she could read like script, every angle of every strike visible before it landed. She spun, her blade severing the crimson threads and cutting the warlock down in one breath.
Zevian glanced at her — just a flicker — but in that heartbeat she saw it: the recognition that she had crossed the line.
There was no time for words.
---
The enemy pressed harder. Lianyin moved faster than the eye could follow, the lotus's power turning her into something both beautiful and terrible. Steel rang on steel, and where her blade struck, blood bloomed like red petals in the rain.
Zevian matched her pace as best he could, but she knew the gap was widening. He was still human-speed. She was… not.
Another wave fell. The torches thinned. The warlocks retreated under the weight of their dead. But the wards were gone.
"They'll try again," Zevian said, breathless but steady. "With more."
"They won't get the chance," she answered, voice low. The lotus's warmth had settled into a steady thrum beneath her skin, not letting go.
Zevian studied her for a long moment. "You're bleeding."
She looked down, surprised to see the slice across her forearm. She hadn't felt it.
"That's what I mean," he said quietly. "You didn't even notice."
She wiped the blood on her sleeve. "I noticed the fight. That's all that matters."
His gaze was shadowed, unreadable. "One day, you won't be able to tell the difference."
---
That night, as the Sect reinforced the gates, Lianyin stood alone under the eaves, watching the torches fade into the dark valley below.
The lotus whispered like a lover in her mind. You saved him because of me. You will save them all because of me. And still, he doubts.
She closed her eyes. Somewhere behind her, she could feel Zevian's presence, unspoken but constant.
Neither of them said a word.
But the gap between them had grown — and the next battle might make it unbridgeable.