At the end of the hall stood towering wooden doors carved with nine fox tails encircling a crescent moon.
Shen Mingzhao waited before them, arms folded.
“Good,” he said. “You’re on time.”
Minghua nudged Poppy. “It’s almost impressive. Dà ge is never on time for anything.”
Mingxi exhaled through his nose.
Mingjun smirked.
Mingzhao ignored all of them and stepped aside as the doors began to open on their own.
“Inside,” he said. “They await you.”
Poppy’s pulse hammered in her throat.
Mingxi leaned in, his voice low and steady. “You are not alone.”
The doors parted fully. The circular chamber glowed with suspended foxfire. Elders sat in a ring, robed, ageless, watchful, and each introduced themselves as Poppy observed.
Elder Shenwu, moon-marked and severe.
Elder Lan, sharp and perceptive.
Elder Huailin, calm as a still lake.
Elder Yaojin, surrounded by scrolls.
Elder Zhenhai, all storm and steel.
Xu Yunlian stood just behind the circle, serene but worried.
Minghua slipped in behind her parents, wide-eyed, while Mingjun leaned against a pillar near the wall, arms folded, eyes sharp. Mingxi guided Poppy to the moon seal in the center of the floor.
Elder Shenwu tapped his staff. “Let us begin.”
A hush settled.
“Shen Mingxi,” Elder Lan said. “Describe the woman who breached the Normandy sealed vein.”
Mingxi straightened, his voice controlled but edged. “She appeared without warning. One half of her face was human. Chestnut curls, pale skin, gentle features, sad eyes.”
Elder Yaojin spread blank parchment before him. Foxfire gathered above it. Ink began to move.
“And the other half?” Elder Lan asked.
Mingxi’s voice darkened. “Corrupted. Black veins beneath the skin, moving. The flesh cracked. Wrong.”
Ink splintered across the page like lightning, forming the corrupted half. A few strokes later, two eyes stared up, one bright, one shadowed. Elder Yaojin lifted the finished portrait and turned it toward the room and then toward Poppy.
The room went silent.
Poppy’s lips parted, but her voice emerged flat, detached, distant. “It can’t be her.”
Mingxi turned to her instantly. “Poppy… who?”
“That picture,” she whispered. “That’s my sister. That’s Lysandra.”
