The mountain had been bleeding golden light for three straight hours.
Di Yan stared at it from the balcony of their guest quarters, arms crossed, silver hair tousled by high- altitude winds that didn't seem to follow the laws of nature anymore. The mountain's glow pulsed like a living thing— like a countdown.
Yueli stepped up beside him, their daughter balanced on her hip, gnawing on what used to be a divine scroll.
" She keeps eating the sacred stuff,"
Yueli muttered. " This morning it was a cloud compass. Before that, the Oracle's ceremonial pen."
" I think she's collecting flavors of fate,"
Di Yan deadpanned.
The baby sneezed. The scroll disintegrated into sparkles and exploded into a tiny thunderclap.
From the corner, a squirrel spirit coughed dramatically and fainted.
Yueli sighed. " She's going to be one in two days, Di Yan."
" I know."
" She just zapped a tree into giving her a snack without asking."
" Bold. Powerful. Slightly concerning."
" And she whispered something last night in her sleep."
Di Yan turned, alert. " What was it?"
Yueli hesitated. " She said: ' The Crown returns where the fire was lost.' Then she giggled. And farted lightning."
There was a pause.
" Right," Di Yan said slowly. "So… we're officially living in a prophecy with snacks and sparkles."
Later that day…
The arena had shifted again — now transformed into a Garden of Trials,
where champions were tested not by battle, but by harmony. A test for those chosen to raise, guide, or protect beings of celestial significance.
" I can't believe we're doing a harmony trial,"
Yueli grumbled, looking down at a blank canvas in front of her.
" Paint what brings you peace," the instructor said serenely.
" I'm a warrior," Yueli muttered. " Peace is suspicious."
Di Yan's station was next to hers. His canvas was already covered in bold silver strokes— mountains, stars, a silhouette of Yueli with her sword drawn, their baby floating above them all like a mini sun.
Yueli squinted. " Is that… me? On a cliff? Dramatic hair?"
" I painted my peace."
" And our daughter's exploding?"
" She's glowing."
" She's biting my ankle in that corner."
" She's… glowing violently."
Their baby hovered behind them,
occasionally smearing clouds on the sky or stealing brushes.
The crowd was spellbound— not just by the scene, but by the subtle magic flowing from the baby without effort. Flowers bloomed in their footsteps. Wind patterns changed around her yawns. A priest passed out when she waved.
By evening, the paint turned to gold and the trial ended in quiet reverence. No one announced a win. It was obvious.
Yueli won with a single brushstroke: a small fire within a teacup.
Because peace, for her, was a quiet moment where no one tried to kill them— and their daughter didn't sneeze thunderstorms into their rice.
That night…
The stars flickered oddly. Like they were blinking.
Yueli lay awake, watching the sky through the round crystal dome of their room, the baby nestled between her and Di Yan.
" She's changing," Yueli whispered.
Di Yan tucked an arm under her head.
" So are we."
" Do you think we're ready?"
He turned toward her. " Doesn't matter.
We'll rise to meet it. We always do."
Their daughter stirred and mumbled something in her sleep.
Yueli leaned in closer. " Did she just say… cake?"
Di Yan blinked. " she's dreaming about her birthday."
The stars pulsed again— three times this time. Then one exploded.
No one else noticed. Except the baby.
Her eyes opened slowly. Glowed softly.
And she smiled.
Meanwhile…
Across the celestial sea, in a realm untouched by light, shadows coiled and whispered.
A hooded figure stepped forward,
clutching a cracked hourglass. " She's almost one."
The air shimmered. Another shadow leaned in. " When the clock turns… we strike."
" And if she awakens?"
The first figure smiled. " Then we'll finally see what a star-born tantrum can do."
Back at the arena…
Morning came with a thousand birds singing in unknown tongues. Banners unfurled. A festival began.
Tomorrow, the child would turn one.
But today… was the calm before a storm disguised in confetti and cake preparations.
Yueli stood in the mirror, adjusting her robe, brow furrowed. " There's something in the air."
Di Yan slid behind her, kissing her neck.
" It's probably sugar. They've baked 300 celestial cupcakes."
" No," she murmured. " It's like… the realms are holding their breath."
Their baby flew past them riding a cloud shaped like a watermelon slice.
Di Yan watched her go. " If this is the calm, I'm terrified of the chaos."
Yueli smiled faintly, her fingers tracing her daughter's floating path.
Then her reflection shimmered.
For a split second, it wasn't her face.
It was the flame-eyed version from the mirror realm. Older. Fiercer.
And behind that reflection… a throne wrapped in starlight.
Yueli's breath caught.
Her baby turned one tomorrow.
And when she did— everything would ignite.
As laughter rang across the arena and sugar-sparked petals rained from the sky, Yueli stepped outside and looked toward the mountain once more.
In its place… a gate.
Old. Silent. Waiting.
And somewhere, the Oracle whispered:
" When she blows the candle… time will burn."