Poppy shivered as a final tremor ran through the ground. The wards glowed faintly, and Mingxi inhaled sharply, senses sharpening.
“What do you feel?” she whispered.
His voice dropped to a whisper. “A presence.”
“Where?”
He turned slowly toward the floor, toward the leyline pulsing somewhere deep, deep beneath Huoyáo Jìng.
“It’s not just a fragment,” he said quietly. “It’s a memory.”
Poppy frowned. “A memory of what?”
Mingxi met her eyes. “The Devouring One’s original form.”
The chamber went utterly silent.
“What does it want?” she whispered.
Mingxi’s seven tails curved protectively around her. “To finish what it started.”
Poppy pressed herself against him. “And what is that?”
“To consume the moon’s chosen line,” Mingxi said. “And destroy whatever rises from it.”
Poppy’s breath caught, and she instinctively grabbed her abdomen. “You mean… the baby.”
“I mean you,” he said as his embrace tightened around her like a shield. He kissed her temple, trembling. “And they will have neither.”
“Everyone, move!” he commanded. “We relocate Poppy to the Inner Sanctuary. Now.”
The Guardians surged into motion. Two sprinted toward the northern shrine. Three more raced to activate the inner ward stones. Minghua ran in chaotic circles until Mingjun grabbed her by the hood and physically redirected her down the hall.
Mingxi didn’t move. He simply lifted Poppy into his arms, and she knew it wasn’t because she couldn’t walk but because he needed her close.
“Mingxi,” she began gently.
“Please,” he whispered. “Let me.”
There was no argument that could win against that voice. She wound her arms around his neck, holding on.
Mingxi shared some history with her, and she learned that hidden in the heart of Huoyáo Jìng, beneath the ancestral tree whose roots glowed faintly with foxfire veins, the Inner Sanctuary breathed like something alive. Its walls were grown, not carved. Its air shimmered with moonwell-silver.
Only heirs, elders, and the clan’s most sacred wards could enter. Tonight, they’d made an exception. The moment they crossed the threshold, three ward-keepers fell to their knees and activated the inner sigils—rings of light blooming outward from the floor like ripples on a pond.
Mingxi tightened his hold on Poppy. “Nothing passes these wards,” he told her softly. “Not spirit, not shard, not dream.”
Xu Yunlian gave Mingxi a pointed look. “Except the moonwell itself.”
He swallowed. “Yes. Except that.”
He didn’t set Poppy down until they reached the sanctuary bed—a raised platform of polished wood and fox-silk. Even then, he stayed pressed against her side, seven tails wrapping around her like a second blanket.
“You need rest,” Xu Yunlian said to him.
“So does she,” Mingxi snapped.
“I’m fine,” Poppy insisted.
