The chamber below the Tide woven Pavilion is silent.
Except for the pulse of fire.
Lan'Fei steadies Feng Xian. His hand is trembling — not from fear, but from resonance.
"It's choosing you again," Luo Fen murmurs.
The ink reveals a hidden passage:
"One born of broken fire shall awaken the Depths and their Fear."
"The Crown knows the Song that undoes Leviathans."
Behind them, the Leviathan Spine trembles — distant, but groaning. Kai'ren senses it too. A soft chant escapes her lips, unbidden — the cadence of ancient warnings.
🏔️ Scene II: Ember song Sanctum — The Watcher's Rise
Far to the north, amid Shishapangma's haunted slopes, a cloaked figure kneels before a brazier that burns without fuel. This is Venerant Ayaka, last voice of the Ember Song Sanctum, keeper of Nian'Zhu's legacy.
Her eyes are glazed, soul locked in vision.
"He walks again… but the fire is fractured. Not hers. Not whole."
Behind her, the Soot-Walkers prepare.
Not a war host — but scholars, fire binders, and dream-guides.
The Ember song will not act rashly — but they will watch.
And if the flame tilts toward the path that shattered the world once?
"Then we must choose between silence… and a second Severing."
A quiet emissary is dispatched — cloaked in saffron ash, carrying a bell that rings only when fire lies. Their destination: The Pavilion.
🌌 Scene III: Beneath Tshepo's Grief
In the caverns of memory — that submerged dream where no stars' shine — Feng Xian's soul floats again.
Tshepo appears once more.
A great serpent of drowned light, eyes dim, voice weighed in ages. This time, it doesn't ask. It shows.
Memories.
A fire-woman, tall and crowned, walking into the Deep — not to conquer, but to weep.
Her flame did not burn the Leviathan. It tried to heal it. But the world misunderstood — and struck her instead.
And in her fall, fire recoiled. The rot moved in where flame was meant to cauterize.
"You bear what she lost," Tshepo says.
"But not all. You are not whole — and if your flame turns bitter, you will become our doom."
The vision shatters.
🧩 Final Intercut: The Pieces Stir
In the Pavilion, Lan'Fei places her palm to Feng Xian's back. His aura has shifted. The beasts nearby tremble — not in fear, but recognition.
Luo Fen looks to the reef waters. Shapes move in unnatural ways — watchers drawn to fire.
In the north, the Ember song emissary takes their first step onto the snow path, a bell at their hip silent.
Below, in caverns the world forgot, Tshepo coils slowly — around something deeper.
A seed. Not flame. Not void.
But the memory of an origin.