Poppy looked down at her hands. Her glow pulsed softly, as if agreeing.
“Like what?” she asked.
Mingxi swallowed.
“The moonwell amplifies not only strength,” he said. “But truth. Intention. Will. If you unleash this carelessly, the entity will feel you like a thunderclap. It will know exactly what you are.”
She lifted her chin, fearless. “Good.”
“Poppy—”
“I want it to feel me,” she said, the words sharp as steel. “I want it to know I’m coming for Lysandra. I want it to fear me.”
Her glow flared, but she did not lose control. Instead, it was steady, pure, moon-sovereign.
“Your eyes,” Mingxi whispered. “Look at me.”
She did.
His breath left him in an audible rush. “They’re silver,” he said softly. “Rings of it. Luminous. Whole. Like someone filled and crowned by moonlight.”
She held up her hands again as two threads of light rose like obedient snakes. She twisted them into a double helix and then snapped her fingers. The helix dissolved into a shower of tiny moons. Soft, delicate, controlled. Poppy stared at her glowing fingertips.
“I’m not afraid anymore,” she said quietly.
Mingxi stepped closer until the silver on her skin reflected off his eyes.
“You should be,” he whispered. “Because now the entity will come.”
She reached out and took his hand—glowing fingers covering his warm ones.
“That’s the point.”
He let out a slow breath. “Let me see you shape one more,” he murmured.
“Why?”
“I want to know,” he said, voice low, “what you look like when you’re ready to fight for someone you love.”
Moonlight rose around her again at the word love—soft, fierce, luminous. Poppy raised both hands. This time, she didn’t shape ribbons or orbs. She shaped a barrier, a dome of moonlight that unfolded around them like a blossom—thin, elegant, impenetrable.
Mingxi stepped inside it with her.
The dome brightened.
Her glow brightened.
And the two of them stood at its center, bathed in sacred silver.
Poppy looked up at him. “I’m ready.”
He nodded once, slowly, reverently.
“Yes,” he whispered. “You are.”
The valley looked different. Moonrise had awakened something ancient in the air—everything shimmered faintly, as if dusted in silver. The moss beneath Poppy’s feet felt warm, humming with subtle energy. Even the shadows had shifted, lengthened, softened, like the valley itself held its breath.
Poppy stood at the moonwell’s edge, still glowing from her bath. Not wildly, not burning like a flare—just steadily, like a lantern wrapped in silk. Her magic was quiet, but it was awake.
