Neither would Penelope “Poppy” Sinclair.
Chapter 67
Moonrise came softly, slipping its pale glow through the branches above the clearing. The world hushed. Even the air felt sacred.
Poppy stood at the edge of the moonwell, her boots already off, her bare feet sinking into cool silver moss that seemed to pulse faintly with each beat of her heart. The pool before her glowed brighter—a wide mirror of moonlight, its surface luminous and unnervingly still.
Mingxi stood a respectful distance behind her, hands clasped lightly in front of him, tails lowered in a posture of quiet vigilance. He had not taken his eyes off her once.
Moonrise slid into the clearing like a held breath, washing the trees in pale light. The pool glowed brighter now, a mirror of liquid silver at the world’s center.
Poppy stood at the edge of the moonwell, barefoot on silver moss that pulsed faintly beneath her toes. The water shimmered with soft luminescence—still, waiting, expectant. Poppy felt his presence behind her, steady and unmoving.
“You are certain?” he asked quietly.
“No,” she said, looking back at him. “But I’m willing.”
His expression shifted—equal parts admiration and fear—but he inclined his head. Poppy stepped into the water. Cold light wrapped around her ankles and then her calves, sliding up her legs like moonlit silk. The water didn’t ripple. It adhered, clinging with gentle insistence. Her skin prickled as if a thousand stars brushed across it.
“Oh, gods,” she whispered, lifting one glowing foot. “This feels weird.”
“It is evaluating you,” Mingxi said solemnly. “The moonwell reads your essence.”
“That doesn’t help!”
He almost smiled. “I did not expect it would.”
Her second step plunged her deeper. The water rose to her thighs, her waist, her ribs—each inch sending a cool flare up her spine. The mark beneath her ribs thrummed in answer.
By the time she reached the center, her legs were shaking.
“Mingxi,” she said, voice wobbly, “I can’t feel… anything below the knees.”
“That is normal.”
“It is absolutely not normal.”
“It is normal here.”
She sighed dramatically. “Fox logic.”
His mouth twitched. “You say that as though it is an insult.”
“It is,” she muttered and then yelped as another wave of cold luminescence wrapped around her hips. “This place is alive.”
“It is a sacred nexus,” Mingxi said gently. “A living pool of moonlight. It recognizes your bloodline—your resonance. You do not need to fear it.”
“I don’t fear it,” she said. “I fear my noodles-for-legs.”
He exhaled very softly—laughter, disguised. Then the moon rose fully. The moonwell inhaled. Light surged upward from the depths, spiraling around her in ribbons of silver. It wrapped her arms, crawled along her spine, and pooled beneath her collarbones. Her skin glowed brighter, her breath catching as magic raced through her veins.
“Oh.” Poppy gasped, back arching. “Ohhhh, that’s—”
Mingxi stepped forward instantly. “Breathe. Let it pass through you.”
“It… it feels like… like someone poured bubbling spring water into my body.”
“An elegant description.”
