“She is mine. She was promised. She—” The voice fractured, splintering, fighting itself, as if something inside the entity clawed for control.
Poppy’s knees buckled. Mingxi caught her before she hit the ground, and then—
BOOM
A shockwave slammed through the safe house. The lantern nearest the door shattered. Plaster drifted from the ceiling. Distant screams echoed from the western district, and then the door burst open.
Three Guardians rushed inside—white-faced, breathless, weapons drawn.
“Councilor Shen!”
“Lady Penelope!”
“Are you harmed?”
One stopped short at the revenant ash.
Another stared at the faint shimmer of moonlight still haunting Poppy’s skin.
The eldest Guardian swallowed. “We felt something tear through the wards—something vast. And… there’s been an attack.”
Mingxi’s grip tightened around Poppy. “Where?”
“At the Outpost,” the Guardian whispered.
“No survivors. The bodies are… wrong. Shadow burned and frozen.”
Poppy’s breath hitched.
“It retaliated,” Mingxi murmured, fury simmering beneath his voice. “For her awakening.”
Another roar—distant, enraged—shook the windowpanes.
The youngest Guardian trembled. “My lord… what do we do now?”
Mingxi straightened, drawing Poppy closer as she swayed. Even injured, even exhausted, he stood between her and the door, wanting to be a wall of calm, controlled violence.
“We leave,” he said. “Before it strikes again.”
A Guardian stammered, “Leave? Where?”
Mingxi didn’t answer immediately. He looked down at Poppy—moonlight still clinging to her lashes, her breath soft, her pulse unsteady. She seemed to trust him completely, even half conscious and terrified.
His expression softened—only for her—and his voice dropped to something intimate and unshakably certain. “I will take her somewhere the entity cannot reach.”
He brushed a stray curl from her cheek.
Poppy’s fingers curled weakly into his coat.
Mingxi leaned in, letting only her hear the truth. “I will take you home.”
Her lips parted, a faint whisper, “Mingxi…”
He held her tighter, protective and resolute. “My clan,” he murmured. “My hearth. My land. My protection.” He knew his eyes burned gold. “I will take you home, Poppy.”
No one moved. The Guardians’ stillness told him enough. They understood. This was not a statement, not a command, but rather a vow sealed in foxfire and moonlight.
The carriage thundered through the streets, spectral horses blazing silver against the darkened passages. Poppy drifted in and out of consciousness in Mingxi’s arms, her forehead pressed weakly to his collarbone.
