Her chest tightened.
“This,” she whispered. “It has to be this.”
Mingxi passed her a small quartz charm. She tied the ribbon around it. The quartz pulsed faintly, not with magic but with emotion.
“Lysandra will feel this,” Mingxi said softly. “It is enough.”
Poppy drew a careful breath. “It has to be.”
They sat together on a wide patch of silver moss, the moonwell glowing behind them. Poppy bit into an apricot bun, shaking moonwater droplets from her wrist. Mingxi didn’t eat. He simply watched the valley, then her, and then the sky, calculating the distance to zenith.
“How long until the moon is overhead?” Poppy asked.
“Three hours.”
Her stomach fluttered. “And Lysandra?”
Mingxi’s posture shifted—sharp as a drawn blade.
“She is walking the dragon vein. The entity cannot enter this valley by magic. It must come on foot.”
“So we have some time.”
“Some,” he echoed quietly. “Not much.”
A cold wind slid through the clearing. Poppy felt it like a whisper along her spine.
She exhaled slowly. “She’s coming.”
“She is.”
Poppy stood, flexing her fingers. Moonlight rose instantly—obedient, calm.
“Let me try something,” she said.
“Carefully,” Mingxi reminded.
She lifted one hand. A soft ribbon of moonlight formed, drifting upward like illuminated silk. Another curled around her wrist. A third unfurled along her shoulder. She shaped them without strain. A loop. A spiral. A thin crescent blade of light that hovered above her palm.
“You see?” she said. “It listens.”
Mingxi’s eyes widened, breath catching. “Poppy… that level of control—”
“I’m amazed too.”
She flicked her fingers. The crescent snapped outward, slicing the air. There was a soft crack. A quartz stone ten feet away split cleanly in half. Poppy froze.
“Oops.”
Mingxi inhaled sharply. “You just cut stone.”
“It was a very sharp crescent.”
“Poppy.”
“I’ll aim at leaves next time!”
His voice softened. “You must be cautious. You may be… unstoppable at zenith.”
