The valley ahead was quiet—too quiet.
Wuyin's hand rested near her blade as she scanned the winding path below. They had left the cliffs of the northern range behind, descending toward a lowland basin scattered with ruins swallowed by moss and time. Once, perhaps, this place had held a sect. Now it was home to crows and crumbled stones.
"Still no sign of the hunter?" Yujin asked as she stepped beside her, her sleeves damp from the morning dew.
"No," Wuyin replied. "But she wasn't chasing us. She came to warn me."
"About the girl you now inhabit," Yujin said softly.
Wuyin nodded.
There was a pause between them. Then, Yujin's voice came again, quieter. "Do you remember what it felt like? When you took over her body?"
Wuyin turned, surprised by the gentleness in Yujin's tone. She expected curiosity. Not… concern.
"It wasn't like waking from sleep," Wuyin murmured, eyes distant. "It was more like… drowning. Her memories came like waves. Some things I kept. Others I let sink."
They found a flat stone beneath a leaning tree. Wuyin sat first. Yujin hesitated, then lowered herself beside her, close enough that their shoulders nearly touched.
"She spoke to me before she faded," Wuyin continued. "Not with words. Not really. Just… a feeling. Like her will passed into me. She wanted me to find the truth. About why she died. Why she was abandoned."
Yujin's gaze lingered on Wuyin's profile.
"You said she died in the forest," she said. "And you were… reborn?"
Wuyin's fingers brushed the hilt of her sword. The wind stirred the grass at their feet.
"I wasn't from here," Wuyin said at last. "Before I came to this world, I was something else. Someone else."
The confession wasn't planned. It simply slipped out, caught between the hush of the trees and Yujin's steady breath beside her.
"I was an assassin," Wuyin said. "A blade for hire. No name. No face. I killed nobles, warlords, corrupt masters. Sometimes innocents, if the coin was right."
Yujin didn't speak.
Wuyin didn't expect her to.
"I was caught in a trap. Betrayed. Tortured for months. When I died, I thought that was it. But then… I woke up. In a child's body. Three years old. Alone in a forest."
A beat.
"I thought it was a curse at first. But then… I found her."
"The Silent Monarch," Yujin whispered.
Wuyin nodded. "Or what remained of her. A cave. Bones wrapped in robes of silk and ash. Her will lingered. It taught me. Shaped me. But it never belonged to me."
Yujin leaned forward, her hands folded in her lap.
"Thank you," she said quietly. "For telling me."
"You're not afraid?"
"No," Yujin said, glancing at her with the faintest of smiles. "I think… you're more human than anyone I've ever met."
They sat in silence for a moment.
Then Wuyin said, "When I first met you, I thought you were just another spoiled noble's daughter."
"And now?"
"I think you're trouble," Wuyin said with a dry smile. "But the kind I'll keep chasing."
Yujin rolled her eyes and stood, hiding the way her ears turned pink.
"Let's move. We still need to cross the basin before nightfall."
As they continued down the overgrown path, neither spoke of what had just been said. But the silence was softer now. Comfortable.
Like something had shifted.
Deeper understanding. Or something warmer.
Perhaps both.
—
That night, they made camp near a hollow stream, just beyond the basin.
Yujin sorted herbs beside the fire while Wuyin stood on watch, scanning the horizon.
Suddenly, Wuyin tensed.
Yujin noticed.
"What is it?"
"Qi signatures," Wuyin said. "Three. No—four. Fast."
A moment later, four figures stepped from the dark. Cloaked, masked, and armed. Their uniforms bore a silver-threaded insignia — one Wuyin recognized.
"The Pale Hound Mercenaries," she muttered. "They take contracts from the southern warlords."
One of the figures stepped forward.
"We come for Bai Yujin," he announced. "Return her, and the blade-bearer may live."
Yujin exhaled. "So my father has finally started sending dogs."
Wuyin didn't hesitate.
She stepped between them.
"You'll leave," she said. "Or you won't return at all."
The mercenary snorted and signaled an attack.
Blades clashed. Steel sparked.
But Wuyin moved like smoke — her footwork honed by two lifetimes, her sword tracing arcs too swift for the eye.
Within three breaths, two mercenaries lay unconscious. One groaned, clutching a broken wrist.
The last tried to flee.
Wuyin didn't chase. Instead, she turned to Yujin.
"You alright?"
"I've been worse," Yujin replied. "But that was reckless."
Wuyin sheathed her sword. "You're important to me."
It came out before she could stop it.
Yujin blinked, lips parting.
Then, slowly, she smiled.
"I know," she whispered.
And in the firelight, between the ruins and the memories, something began to bloom.