Their parents had pretended not to hear, but Penelope had never forgotten.
A single tear slid down Penelope’s face as she closed her eyes. It dangled precariously, suspended on the edge of grief, and then dropped.
The tear struck the floor with the softness of a raindrop, but the effect was anything but soft. Penelope flinched as something seemed to pulse outward, like a pressure releasing from within herself.
Painted lilies fluttered on the canvas as if caught in a faint breeze. The sigils hidden beneath the Grimoire’s cloth cover flickered in response. Penelope noticed but did not react. Grief muffled everything around her, thick as cotton, heavy as stone. She braced one hand against the wall, swallowing the ache in her chest.
Chapter 2
The dragon vein was rippling with magic.
It shouldn’t have been. It had been sealed for a century, silent, dormant, but that night it throbbed like a heartbeat in the earth.
Mingxi stepped closer, tails flaring with unease, and then he saw her.
A woman stood precisely over the shimmering dragon vein, her skirts stirring as if caught in an unseen tide. One half of her face was ethereal, radiant chestnut curls, luminous skin, bright-blue eyes.
The other half…
Black veins spider-webbed across her cheek, down her throat, and beneath her collarbone, delicate, like cracked porcelain held together by shadow.
She turned toward him, slow and serene. “Fox spirit,” she murmured. “You’re early.”
A chill swept down Mingxi’s spine.
Her gaze drifted through him, toward the distant horizon.
“She’s not here yet,” she said softly. “But she will be.”
“Who?” Mingxi asked.
A small, aching smile curved the uncorrupted side of her lips.
“My Poppet.”
The words were tender. Possessive.
Mingxi stiffened. “Is that a title? A name?”
The woman tilted her head, as though hearing a melody only she could decipher.
“She will shine soon,” she whispered. “Moonlight trapped too long cannot help but break free.”
The ground trembled beneath them.
The corrupted veins across her cheek pulsed once, like something inside her exhaled.
“You shouldn’t be here,” Mingxi said.
Her eyes, one bright, one shadowed, met his. A soft, almost broken laugh escaped her. Beautiful. Painful.
“I know.” She paused, steadying herself. “It doesn’t feel like a choice when fate has already decided.”
A shiver ran along the dragon vein. The air rippled.
“She cries,” the woman whispered suddenly. “And the moon stirs.”
Mingxi’s heart clenched.
