Minghua gasped.
Mingzhao’s gaze sharpened.
Mingjun straightened, all humor gone.
Xu Yunlian’s eyes filled with quiet heartbreak.
“She’s been dead for nineteen years,” Poppy continued softly. “Nineteen years and eighteen days.”
Elder Huailin leaned forward. “How do you know the exact day?”
Poppy’s eyes glazed, and then she began to speak, not with emotion, but with terrifying calm. “My parents awakened me,” she said. “They dragged me into the ballroom. There were sigils. A circle. Beeswax candles.”
Her voice stayed quiet as she continued, “Father pushed me inside the circle. Hard. I screamed.”
Mingxi’s hand hovered near her back, steady and protective.
“Lysandra heard me,” Poppy whispered. “She ran in wearing her nightgown. She shouted at them. Tried to stop them.” A tear slid down her cheek. “They didn’t listen.” Her breath shook. “The magic reached for me. Lysandra saw it. She leapt in front of me.”
The ink on the portrait seemed to tremble.
“The blast hit her instead,” Poppy whispered. “I watched her scream, silently. I watched her body disintegrate.”
Her knees buckled, but Mingxi caught her instantly.
The elders exchanged horrified looks.
Elder Yaojin murmured, “A vessel exchange ritual. Incomplete. Interfered with.”
Elder Shenwu’s voice carried dread older than the mountain itself. “A corruption like this bears the mark of one being.”
Poppy blinked. “What being?”
Elder Lan’s voice dropped to a whisper. “One who interferes with fate. With rituals. With bloodlines.”
Elder Yaojin said the name. “The Traveler.”
Foxfire dimmed. No one breathed.
“The Traveler,” Elder Shenwu repeated, “twists destinies. If he touched your family’s ritual, your sister was not destroyed. She was taken.”
Poppy swayed again.
Mingxi held her firmly, his voice low and fierce. “She protected you.” His eyes locked on hers. “Now we protect her.”
She met his gaze, shaken and raw, but grounded by him. For the first time since she was ten, she wasn’t facing the memory alone. Mingxi eased her backward, slow and steady, guiding her out of the storm without ever touching her. The Council doors closed behind them with a soft, echoing thud.
Poppy finally let out the breath she’d been holding. It escaped her in fragments.
Mingxi kept one hand lightly at her elbow, steady and anchoring, but not confining. Just there. They walked until a shaded alcove opened beside the inner garden, drifting with foxfire motes.
Poppy braced a hand against the wall, breath hitching.
“Poppy, sit,” Mingxi said softly. “Just for a moment.”
She shook her head, arms wrapped tight around her stomach. “It feels like my chest is caving in. I don’t… I can’t…”
He lowered himself onto one knee, bringing his height level with hers. No touch. No pressure. Just a quiet presence.
