Wu Haoyu's POV:
The shack's dirt was soaked with blood, but it was Meilin's eyes—her own again, not void, broken like Yue's, her star-dagger dead—that hit me harder than the crestless voices outside, cold, hissing, "truth's keepers." Yanyan lay in my arms, her star-etched dagger dead, Yue's scratched seal dark, a Huang seal that bled her dry to end the vault's memory—Huang vows, peace, wars, crests shattered—its hum silent now, a trap that took everything. My fists trembled, arm, thigh, and chest bleeding, pain roaring, but I held her, ready to break Meilin, those crestless freaks, anyone, to keep my fire, my heart, Huang Yanyan, breathing.
