The path was broken stone, overgrown with red moss and whispering weeds.
Mingyao and Yanshi walked in silence beneath the shadow of dead trees. The air here felt older—not just in years, but in weight, as if the ground itself remembered too much.
They had crossed the Wailing River two nights ago. Yanshi hadn't spoken much since. Not after the burning village. Not after the child they couldn't save. Her silence was like armor: cracked, but still impenetrable.
Now they stood before a set of ancient stone steps, worn and half-swallowed by earth.
The temple above was in ruin.
Pillars had fallen. Statues lay headless in the grass. Vines curled around broken walls, swallowing murals faded by time and fire.
"Is this it?" Mingyao asked.
Yanshi nodded slowly. "The Temple of the Fallen Star. I heard of it in my father's war logs. No gods claim it. No demons dare come here."
He looked up at the central arch, where a shattered relief still clung to the stone—a figure with wings of shadow and flame, face half-human, half-masked.
Mingyao frowned. "Why does it feel like it's watching me?"
Yanshi said nothing. She had drawn her blade.
---
Inside the temple, the air was cold and sharp. Dust coated everything, but the markings on the floor had been preserved: ancient sigils arranged in circular formations, as though sealing something beneath.
Torches along the walls flickered to life as they entered, unlit for centuries yet eager now.
As if something knew they had arrived.
Yanshi ran her fingers along a cracked mural.
"It's the story of the Fallen Star God," she said. "One of the old rebels. Said to be half-demon, half-divine. Banished from Heaven and Hell both."
"Why?"
"Because he tried to unite them."
Mingyao raised an eyebrow. "Isn't that what they fear I might be?"
She didn't answer. Her eyes were locked on the next mural.
There, the figure of the Fallen Star God stood over a battlefield—holding a child wrapped in fire and light. Behind him, two suns eclipsed one another.
Below, divine armies clashed with monstrous ones, and the sky cracked open.
Words were etched at the base in forgotten script, glowing faintly now as Mingyao approached.
He didn't know the language—but somehow, he understood.
> "When the Child of Both Suns awakens, Heaven shall tremble. The stars shall scream. And choice shall carve the world in two."
He stepped back, dizzy.
The air pulsed.
Then the voices came.
---
At first, whispers.
Faint echoes, like wind in a canyon.
Then louder.
Clearer.
"Awaken, Scion of Flame."
"He is not ready. Bind him."
"Let him burn."
"Let him choose."
Mingyao clutched his head. "Stop…!"
His legs gave out. He collapsed to his knees, the pendant at his chest glowing bright red.
"Mingyao!" Yanshi dropped beside him.
He didn't hear her. His mind was on fire.
---
In the void, he stood before a mirror that was not a mirror.
It shimmered with starlight, reflecting not his face—but versions of him.
One wore golden robes, crown on his head, surrounded by kneeling gods.
Another stood barefoot atop a mountain of bones, eyes black with madness.
Another knelt in chains, crying over corpses while winged shadows circled above.
The final one looked just like him now—young, lost, torn between two halves. His eyes flickered green and crimson.
The mirror shattered.
And a voice boomed from the heavens.
"You are the child of fire and sky. Of betrayal and mercy. Of storm and shadow."
"You will choose whether the heavens rise or fall."
"You will decide who dies first."
---
He gasped awake, drenched in sweat.
The pendant had cracked slightly. Smoke rose from its edges.
Yanshi stared at him, her eyes wide with something between fear and awe.
"You… your eyes were glowing. Both red and white."
He sat up slowly, breathing hard. "I heard voices. They showed me… futures. Or lies. I don't know."
She helped him stand.
"Then the stories were true," she said. "The Fallen Star's prophecy wasn't just madness."
She turned toward the back of the chamber, where a sealed altar sat in silence.
"Come."
---
The altar was black stone, surrounded by jagged sigils that pulsed when Mingyao approached.
On its face was another inscription, this one written in both divine and infernal script:
> "To the one born of light and ash, within you burns the gate. To open it is to bleed. To refuse it is to fade."
Yanshi looked at him. "It's a warning. Or an invitation."
"Maybe both," he said.
His hand hovered over the altar.
Then rested on it.
The sigils flared.
The floor shook.
Stone cracked.
And from beneath the altar, a sealed compartment opened—revealing a shard of metal no larger than a dagger, forged of black glass and flickering blue light.
Mingyao reached out. The moment he touched it, something clicked in his chest.
The shard wasn't just a relic.
It was a key.
And something had just been unlocked.
---
That night, they didn't speak much.
They camped outside the temple under a rusted sky. Mingyao sat by the fire, the shard resting beside him.
He could still hear faint echoes in the wind.
But now, one voice stood out among the rest.
A woman's voice.
"My son."
He turned quickly—but saw no one.
"Did you hear that?" he asked.
Yanshi looked up. "Hear what?"
He swallowed. "Never mind."
She threw another log on the fire. "So what now? The gods are hunting you. The demons want to use you. And this… shard…?"
He looked at it.
"It's a gate," he said. "To something my mother sealed. I don't know what yet. But… I think she meant for me to find it."
"Do you trust her?" Yanshi asked.
"I never met her," he said quietly. "But her blood's in me. That has to mean something."
Yanshi stared at the flames. "I think you'll have to choose soon. Between who they want you to be… and who you really are."
He nodded slowly. "I just hope I survive long enough to figure out the difference."
---
Far above them, in the fractured remnants of the Seventh Heaven, Nüxi stood before a map of the realm.
The echo of the prophecy had reached even here.
Her hand trembled as she traced the constellation once known as the "Twin Suns."
Then clenched her fist.
"Begin the purge," she said. "No more waiting."
And in the shadow of the stars, the chains of something ancient began to loosen.
The Child of Both Suns had awakened.
And the heavens would never be the same.
---