“You let me burn,” her sister whispered.
Poppy’s scream tore open her throat. She shot upright in bed, gasping, hands clawing at her hair. Moonlight bloomed along her skin, tiny droplets welling under her eyes, glowing silver, rolling down her cheeks like liquid stars.
The room vibrated. Her magic surged wild and uncontrolled, bursting outward in a trembling shockwave. Three foxfire lanterns flickered violently. The wooden beams groaned. The air crackled.
Poppy sobbed, choking on guilt and terror. “I should have known… should have known. Lysandra. I should have saved her.”
Moonlight tears splattered onto her sheets, each drop sizzling before fading. She curled in on herself, shaking uncontrollably, and that was when the door exploded open.
Mingxi hadn’t been asleep. Hadn’t been anywhere near sleep. He’d been lying awake, listening to the night silence, trying not to think about the way Poppy’s voice had broken in the garden. When her magic ignited, he felt it like a strike to the chest.
He moved instantly, faster than instinct. Barefoot. Door already sliding open. Then, he ran into the corridor. He didn’t knock. He didn’t hesitate. He shoved her door aside with a force that startled even him.
“Poppy!”
Silver light poured off her in trembling waves. She was curled in her bed, hair plastered to her damp cheeks, gasping as if the air itself had turned too heavy to breathe. Her hands trembled violently. Her eyes were wide and unfocused, drowning in moonlight.
“M-Mingxi—” she managed, voice cracking on his name.
He crossed the room in three long strides.
“Poppy, I’m here,” he said, kneeling beside her bed. “You’re safe. Look at me.”
She did, and then she broke. She flung herself forward with a choked sob, fingers fisting in his nightshirt, collapsing against his chest in one shattering movement.
He wrapped his arms around her instantly, instinctively, protectively.
Her sobs were raw, violent, and grief heavy, years of guilt she’d forced down erupting like a dam burst.
“I should have known,” she sobbed into his shoulder. “I should have known she was alive. I should have… rescued her.”
“Poppy—”
“I left her! I left her, and she died for me. I left her…”
Mingxi pulled her tighter against him, one hand splayed across her back, the other cradling the back of her head with aching gentleness.
“You were ten,” he murmured fiercely into her hair. “Only ten years old. A child.”
She shook her head violently, still crying, still clutching him like he was the only thing keeping her from falling through the world.
“You could not have fought corrupted magic,” he said softly but with iron certainty. “You could not have stopped a ritual twisted by the Traveler. You could not have saved her. Not then.”
Her sobs softened but deepened, becoming the helpless, exhausted cries of someone who had held herself together too long.
“And now,” he whispered, turning his head slightly so his cheek brushed her temple, “you are not alone in finding her.”
She shuddered against him.
Moonlight still trickled down her cheeks, dampening his shoulder.
“Mingxi… don’t leave,” she whispered brokenly.
“I won’t,” he said immediately, without hesitation, without even needing to think. “Not tonight. Not ever.”
She slowly slid down into his embrace, her fingers loosening their death grip, her cheek resting against his chest. Her breath slowly steadied. Her body relaxed. And finally—she slept.
He didn’t move.
