Poppy stirred faintly in Mingxi’s hold, murmuring, “Lysa… I’m here.”
Lysandra’s lips quivered into the faintest smile, but then her eyes drifted past Poppy. Slow. Dragging. As if pulled. They locked on Mingxi, and her entire demeanor changed. She didn’t grow rigid—she was too weak for that. She simply… focused.
Sharp.
Knowing.
Terrified.
Chapter 75
Mingxi’s tails tightened around Poppy in instinctive protection, but Lysandra didn’t look at Poppy anymore, looking only at him instead.
“You,” she whispered.
Mingxi didn’t respond. He angled Poppy slightly closer, shielding her.
Lysandra’s voice trembled, not with anger but exhaustion and fear sharpened to a blade, “You hold her like she’s fragile,” she breathed. “But you stay so quiet she’ll think she’s the reason.”
Poppy’s breath hitched.
Lysandra continued, still whispering, her chin sinking slightly against Caelan’s arm, “She’ll break in the silence, quietly.” A small exhale. “So quietly no one notices until it’s done.”
Mingxi’s fingers tightened subtly on Poppy’s hip.
“And you—” Lysandra’s voice barely carried. “You don’t mean to hurt her. I know that. I can feel it. But you will. Not with cruelty. With restraint.”
She swallowed, the sound weak. “Withholding… is how she learned she wasn’t wanted.”
Poppy inhaled sharply, and Mingxi went utterly still.
Lysandra pressed on, her voice worsening, fraying, “She will take every tiny silence from you and make it her fault. Every hesitation… every held breath… every unspoken word.”
Her eyes fluttered half shut and then reopened with heartbreaking determination.
“She deserves someone who steps forward. Not someone who stands still.” Her head dipped, heavier against Caelan. Finally, her last whisper cracked, “Don’t let your quiet break her.”
Suddenly, her body jolted. Her eyes snapped open again, pupils dilating, focus narrowing on Poppy so intensely it seemed to cut the air.
“Poppy,” she whispered sharply. “Listen to me. Just this part. Before it slips.”
Mingxi stiffened, and Caelan leaned in.
Lysandra reached forward, fingers trembling violently, as if to brush Poppy’s cheek with the back of her hand.
Her voice steadied—just for a moment—with the strange, terrible calm of a true oracle, “Something is following you.”
Poppy’s breath caught, and Mingxi’s hand tightened around her waist.
Lysandra continued, breath shuddering, “Not a person. Not the Devouring One. Something else. Something made of what scattered.”
The words landed like a blade in the clearing. Caelan went rigid behind her, fingers tightening involuntarily around her arms.
Mingxi’s breath didn’t catch—it halted, cut clean, as if the very act of hearing that name struck him motionless. Even the fire dimmed, flames bowing low as though the air recoiled.
Poppy felt the shift before she understood it. A cold prickle climbed her spine. Mingxi’s heart hammered once—hard—beneath her cheek.
Her voice was a thin whisper. “What… what does that mean?”
