Something had entered the valley.
A low, bone-deep rumble threaded through the trees. Shadows thickened—pulled inward—like the forest itself was recoiling, and then the revenants emerged. Dozens. They lurched between the pines in an uneven tide—jerking, twisted things with necromantic sigils crawling beneath pale, stretched skin. Jawbones clicked. Fingers twitched. Eyes fixed on nothing and everything.
But they didn’t attack. They parted. Because someone walked between them. Lysandra. Chestnut hair in soft waves. Left eye bright, terrified blue. Left cheek flushed with life.
But the entire right side of her body looked like shattered porcelain. Black branching veins cracked across her skin from temple to collarbone to wrist and ribs. The fractures glowed faintly under the moonlight, as though ink and shadow pulsed beneath them. Her right eye flickered…
Blue.
Black.
Blue.
Black.
Her corrupted half moved a fraction of a beat behind her, smooth and unsettling, like a puppet copying a girl.
Poppy’s throat closed. “Lysandra?”
Only the left half of her mouth reacted. “Poppy,” Lysandra whispered—her voice trembling.
The right side of her face smiled. A deeper voice slid beneath hers, layered, echoing, “Moonborn.”
Mingxi stepped in front of Poppy, blade drawn, foxfire erupting up his arms. “Stay behind me.”
The revenants responded instantly—torsos stiffening, heads snapping toward him in a grotesque synchrony. But they didn’t move. They hesitated, awaiting her.
Lysandra’s left eye brimmed with tears. Her right eye turned fully black.
Her voice split again, “Run—”
Followed by, “Come closer.”
Poppy shook her head hard. “Lysandra, fight it… please!”
Her left hand spasmed toward Poppy, fingers shaking. Her right hand lifted in a smooth, eerie arc, palm open toward her.
Two wills.
One body.
The revenants surged, and Mingxi moved like a lightning strike. He cut the first revenant down, foxfire trailing behind his blade in a brilliant silver arc. The corpse collapsed into ash before the pieces hit the ground. Another rushed him. And another. He fought like he had one goal: keep them away from Poppy.
But there were too many.
Claws raked at his arms. Sigils flared sickly green. A revenant grabbed his shoulder, pulling him off balance.
“Mingxi!” Poppy cried.
“I’m fine—stay back!”
He wasn’t fine. The largest revenant—the bone-wolf, stitched from ribs and skulls—slammed into him from the side. He lost his footing, hit the ground hard, sword skidding out of reach.
The beast lunged for his throat. Silver fire tore through the air. His human body collapsed inward, and a massive fox burst outward. Huge and radiant, with five silver tails flaring behind him like banners of living moonlight.
He slammed into the bone-wolf, jaws locking on its throat. Bones cracked. Foxfire flared, but revenants swarmed him instantly, clawing at his legs, dragging his tails, pinning him under dead weight.
His roar shook the valley.
