Chapter 35
The cave corridors felt older than anything Poppy had ever stepped through, smooth stone worn by generations, foxfire lanterns floating ahead like captured stars. The air was cool and faintly sweet, tinged with incense and something ancient beneath it.
Mingxi walked at her side, lengthening his stride by half an inch whenever she slowed. Not touching, never presuming, but present enough that she felt him the way one felt gravity. Minghua trotted beside Poppy, practically vibrating with barely contained energy.
“Okay, okay, okay,” she whispered, “you’ve never been in a Clan Council meeting before, right?”
“No,” Poppy murmured.
“Right. So don’t panic.”
“Minghua,” Mingxi said, his voice a warning in itself.
“What? It’s good advice!”
Minghua leaned closer to Poppy. “The elders are very old, very serious, and very dramatic. They sit in a circle and stare at you like you’re an unsolved riddle. But they’re not mean. Just… intense,” Minghua whispered behind her hand.
Mingjun followed a few steps behind them, hands tucked into his sleeves.
“Except Elder Shenwu,” he said casually. “He’ll glare at you until you question your own existence. That’s just his general disposition.”
Minghua nodded vigorously. “Oldest fox in the mountain and the grumpiest. Ignore him.”
“Minghua,” Mingxi repeated.
“What? It’s true!”
Poppy let out a shaky laugh she hadn’t expected to make. The sound startled her as much as anyone. Mingxi glanced at her, subtle and soft, and she caught the flicker of relief in his eyes.
They turned into a sloping passage etched with swirling fox sigils. Silver light pulsed along the walls in steady rhythms.
“What’s that?” Poppy asked.
“The leyline strain monitor,” Mingxi said. “It reacts to fluctuations in magic.”
“It’ll glow brighter when you enter,” Minghua added cheerfully. “You awakened recently, so… don’t freak out.”
“Please stop telling her not to freak out,” Mingxi muttered.
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 gē 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.”
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.
“You don’t have to know anything today,” he murmured. “You only have to breathe.”
Her breath trembled into a broken exhale. She covered her mouth to hide the sound. Mingxi’s fingers pressed into his own knees, knuckles whitening, and she knew that his instinct to hold her was straining against the discipline he had honed since childhood. But he stayed still. A silent offering.
“Mingxi…?” she whispered.
“Yes.”
“I need, just for a little while… can I be alone?”
Something flickered behind his eyes, pain sharp and quickly buried. So fast she almost missed it, but he did not hesitate.
“Of course.” His voice remained gentle.
She searched his face, almost pleading. “You’re not upset?”
“No.” Softer. “You have full control of your space. Always.”
Her shoulders loosened. “Thank you.”
Mingxi stepped back with discipline, with care, and with clear reluctance buried beneath a controlled bow. “I’ll be close. If you need anything.”
She nodded and slipped down the garden path, disappearing beneath the plum branches.