.
Jin Mu did not lead Su Lin back into the compound's cold corridors.
Instead, he guided her around the east walls, following a narrow path into the pine woods.
She asked no questions as they walked.
She only kept her gaze fixed ahead, her hand clenched lightly in the folds of her tunic, where the last warmth of her awakening still flickered.
When they reached the clearing—a circle of frostbitten grass encircled by leaning pines—he stopped.
"This place will serve."
He swept a boot across the frozen ground, brushing away a thin crust of snow to reveal the dark earth.
Then he turned to face her fully.
"Sit," he said.
She obeyed, settling cross-legged at the center of the clearing.
He remained standing a moment longer, watching her eyes—alert now, but still shadowed by grief and exhaustion.
"You are not ready for vengeance," he said quietly. "Or for judgment."
A faint flush rose in her cheeks.
"But you are ready to learn."
He crouched beside her, drawing a slow breath.
"Listen carefully, Su Lin. What I am about to tell you is not shared freely—even among those born to power."
She raised her chin a fraction, meeting his gaze unflinching.
He nodded approval.
"The Pathways are not one road, but many. You have heard them called 'Sequences,' yes?"
She hesitated, then nodded.
"Whispers," she admitted. "Nothing clear."
"Then I will make it clear," he said.
He used the tip of his dagger to draw a spiral in the earth—one smooth line coiling inward toward a single dark point.
"Every Sequence is a narrowing spiral. The further you descend, the fewer survive the descent."
She watched the spiral grow, her brow furrowing.
"But each Sequence is itself only a thread in a larger weave. A Pathway."
He drew two more spirals, set close together, their outer rings touching.
"Most call them Aspects or Sub-Paths. Each has its own temperament, its own temptations. Each grants power differently."
She studied the symbols, biting her lip.
"And…which is mine?"
He met her gaze.
"You have awakened the Hidden Flame."
Her breath caught.
"I don't…know what that is."
He gestured to the coiled lines.
"Your Pathway is known in old records as the Ember's Vein. It branches from the line that scholars call the Ashen Court—a family of Sequences rooted in suppression, combustion, and the hunger for freedom."
He traced the spiral nearest her.
"The Hidden Flame is its rarest Sub-Path. It grants power to burn restraints—whether they be metal, memory, or fate itself."
Su Lin swallowed.
"And what does that mean?"
"It means," he said, "that you were never meant to remain a slave."
For a moment, she said nothing.
Then her shoulders straightened, just slightly.
He rose and stepped back.
"You must learn to cultivate the ember you have kindled. If you neglect it, it will gutter out—or consume you from within."
She nodded, her jaw tense.
He motioned her to close her eyes.
"First, you must feel it."
She obeyed.
Her breathing slowed.
The tension in her shoulders eased by small degrees.
"Where is it strongest?" he asked.
"Around my heart," she whispered. "And behind my eyes."
"Good."
He drew a slow breath.
"Now, you must learn the First Cycle."
He settled to his knees behind her, his voice calm, low.
"The Cycles are not like the rigid Sequences of other Paths," he explained.
"They are living tides of force, shaped by intent and discipline."
He closed his eyes, remembering the first time he had felt the current beneath his ribs—how it had terrified him.
"To begin the First Cycle," he continued, "you must invite the ember to expand."
He rested two fingers lightly between her shoulder blades.
"Breathe in."
She did.
"Breathe out—and will the flame to flow through your limbs."
Her breath left her in a shudder.
"Again."
He felt the faintest ripple against his touch—a soft warmth, like a coal stirring in an ash bed.
"Do not force it," he said. "Only allow."
Her face pinched with concentration.
He counted the beats of her pulse in silence.
Then, slowly, the warmth grew—a living heat spreading through her veins.
A faint corona of red-gold shimmered across her skin.
She gasped, but did not break the cycle.
"You must anchor it," he instructed.
She clenched her fists.
"How?"
"With memory," he said.
She drew a ragged breath.
"Remember your brother."
Her eyes flew open, wet with sudden tears.
"Remember his face. Remember what was stolen."
The light around her flared, pulsing like a heartbeat.
"Now—seal it to your will."
Her lips moved. He could not hear the words, but he felt the ripple of her resolve.
The glow contracted, sinking inward.
When she opened her eyes, they gleamed with embers.
"You did well," he said softly.
He shifted to face her fully.
"From this day," he continued, "you must return to the Cycle each dawn. If you fail to nourish it, the flame will die."
She nodded, wiping her eyes with the back of her wrist.
"And when it grows?"
"You will progress," he said simply.
She frowned.
"Progress…how?"
He traced a single line through the spiral he had drawn.
"The Hidden Flame has five primary Cycles. Each unlocks a deeper communion with your power."
He tapped the outer ring.
"The First Cycle: Ignition. You have accomplished this today."
He moved inward.
"The Second: Tempering. You will learn to shape the flame as a tool."
"The Third: Rebirth. It will consume your old limits."
"The Fourth: Apotheosis. Few reach it."
"And the Fifth?" she asked softly.
He hesitated.
"The Fifth Cycle is called the Conflagration. It is said to burn through the boundary between mortality and something greater."
She stared at the spiral, her expression caught between awe and fear.
"Will you teach me?"
His answer came without hesitation.
"Yes."
They sat in quiet for a time, the wind sifting through the pines.
At last, when she had recovered her composure, he spoke again.
"Su Lin…you knew the men who held you."
Her jaw tightened.
"The slavers," he pressed. "Who commanded them?"
She looked away, her gaze distant.
"I don't know his true name," she whispered. "They called him the Collector."
He felt a chill move down his spine.
"The Collector," he repeated.
"Yes." Her voice was brittle. "He buys children. Sells them to the Houses…or to the Pale Courts."
Jin Mu's thoughts churned.
The Pale Courts were not supposed to operate openly in this region—yet he had found their markings near the mutilated bodies of the two other victims he had investigated.
And now this girl, this witness, tied it all together.
The Collector.
The Pale Courts.
The hidden war for power that had left so many in unmarked graves.
He rose, offering her his hand again.
"This is not only about your pain," he said quietly.
"It is about everything rotting beneath the surface."
Her fingers closed around his.
"Then let us burn it away," she said softly.
And though her voice was small, the ember behind it glowed fierce as any sun.