The night still smelled of incense and rain.
Ren drifted between sleep and waking, Li Wei's last words echoing like a soft promise—"I'll never let the world take you from me again."
But the world had already begun to stir against them.
A sudden crack of light split through the quiet. The window glass shimmered, rippling as if the air itself had been cut open. Ren sat up with a gasp. His serpent mark burned—white-hot, alive.
"Li Wei—" he breathed, clutching his shoulder.
The air bent. A shadow stepped through the tear—tall, cloaked, the gleam of a blade reflecting the moonlight.
Etched across its edge were glowing sigils, divine and merciless.
"Found you," the stranger said, voice like iron dragged across stone.
Li Wei appeared between heartbeats, the space around Ren distorting with his arrival. His golden eyes flashed with fury. "You dare cross the boundary of my realm again, hunter?"
The man's lips curved faintly. "Realm? You walk among mortals, serpent. You've forgotten what you are." His gaze slid toward Ren. "And that is your weakness."
Ren's pulse stumbled. "Who are you?"
"I am what your lover once was," the hunter said. "His own divine order sent me. The one who was supposed to destroy him when he fell."
Li Wei's jaw tightened. "You still think I serve them."
"You serve no one," the hunter said coldly, lifting his blade. "But he"—he nodded toward Ren—"is the anchor. The mortal chain keeping you from descending fully. Kill him, and the serpent dies with his desire."
"Touch him," Li Wei hissed, "and you'll regret that you ever drew breath."
The hunter lunged.
Light clashed with shadow—blade against aura, gold against white. The force of it rattled the walls. Ren stumbled back as the mark on his shoulder pulsed, reacting to the divine energy. The pain was sharp, slicing through his body like fire.
"Stay behind me!" Li Wei shouted, scales flashing across his arms as his restraint began to slip. The hiss that escaped him wasn't human—it carried the sound of an ancient thing reawakening.
The hunter's blade came down, but Li Wei caught it with his bare hand, divine steel hissing against serpent skin. "You've made your mistake," he said lowly.
The air shook. Golden eyes flared brighter than lightning. The hunter staggered back, shield cracking under the force of Li Wei's unleashed energy.
But before Li Wei could strike again, the hunter vanished in a surge of light—leaving behind only the faint smell of ozone and a warning that burned in the air: "The bond will consume him."
Ren collapsed to his knees, trembling. The mark on his shoulder throbbed, the pain spreading through his chest.
Li Wei turned, kneeling beside him. "Ren. Look at me."
"It burns," Ren gasped, clutching at his shirt. "It's—inside me."
Li Wei's eyes darkened. The glow from the mark began to seep through the fabric, staining his fingertips red.
"Damn it," Li Wei whispered, pulling him close. "He left a curse behind."
Ren's vision blurred—Li Wei's voice fading into the rush of blood in his ears.
And as the serpent's aura coiled around him protectively, the mark began to bleed.