The world froze. The image of Gao Lian's master hung in the air, a man sculpted from starlight and memory. His eyes, cold and distant as a winter sky, were no longer looking at the girl in the vision. They were looking at the woman standing on the path. His voice, when it came, was not an echo from the past. It was sharp, clear, and terrifyingly present, a blade of sound slicing through the silence.
"The debt is due, little serpent. Will you pay it?"
Gao Lian flinched as if struck. Her breath hitched, a small, audible gasp of pain. The color drained from her face, leaving it as pale and fragile as porcelain. For a moment, the fierce, cynical warrior was gone, replaced by a scared little girl standing in a muddy courtyard, a lifetime of fear and devotion crashing down on her all at once.
