Chapter 68
Poppy woke to Mingxi watching her with a vigilance that wasn’t fear but something deeper—preparation, reverence, and sharpened awareness.
“We should start,” he said quietly. “The sun climbs, and we have much to prepare.”
Poppy nodded, rolling her shoulders. The moonlight essence on her skin shimmered. “Tell me what we need.”
Mingxi knelt at the well, dipping a shallow stone bowl into the glowing water. When he tipped it, the liquid didn’t behave like normal water—it clung, luminous and heavy with purpose.
“The moonwell boundary,” Mingxi said, “must be drawn before anything else.”
He poured a thin line of moonwater in a slow arc. It spread across the moss in a perfect, unbroken glow. The line did not soak into the earth. It shone where it lay, humming softly.
“This circle protects you,” he said. “The entity cannot cross it.”
Poppy peered over his shoulder, squinting. “Got it. Don’t ruin the glowing circle.”
A faint twitch pulled at the corner of his mouth. “Correct.”
Two pale quartz pillars stood half shrouded in moss at the clearing’s edge, taller than Poppy and carved with faint fox-script sigils. They pulsed faintly, responding to her moonlit presence.
Mingxi brushed the moss aside.
“These will amplify what you call,” he explained. “One behind you. One behind the Grimoire.”
She gave a low whistle. “Those things humming because of me?”
“Because the moonwell recognizes you,” he corrected. “Your resonance is… direct.”
“That sounds like a polite way of saying alarming.”
“I would never insult you,” he said, voice dry. “Even unintentionally.”
Mingxi unsheathed his blade. Foxfire flickered along the metal—not a flame, but a thin gold aura that made the edges shimmer. He pressed the blade flat against the Grimoire. The book pulsed once, sharply, before settling.
“This seal prevents the entity from attacking prematurely,” Mingxi said. “Or sending revenants to retrieve the Grimoire.”
Poppy’s eyebrows shot up. “Good thinking.”
Mingxi’s gaze shifted to her satchel.
“The cleansing requires an anchor,” he said quietly. “Not magic. Not blood. Something personal. Something willingly given.”
Poppy hesitated before reaching into her satchel. Her fingers closed around something small, soft, and frayed. A pale blue ribbon. Once tied around a doll’s wrist. Once looped around Poppy’s own when she was five. Once knotted carefully by Lysandra because Poppy had cried when it unraveled.
Her chest tightened.
“This,” she whispered. “It has to be this.”
Mingxi passed her a small quartz charm. She tied the ribbon around it. The quartz pulsed faintly, not with magic but with emotion.
“Lysandra will feel this,” Mingxi said softly. “It is enough.”
Poppy drew a careful breath. “It has to be.”
They sat together on a wide patch of silver moss, the moonwell glowing behind them. Poppy bit into an apricot bun, shaking moonwater droplets from her wrist. Mingxi didn’t eat. He simply watched the valley, then her, and then the sky, calculating the distance to zenith.
“How long until the moon is overhead?” Poppy asked.
“Three hours.”
Her stomach fluttered. “And Lysandra?”
Mingxi’s posture shifted—sharp as a drawn blade.
“She is walking the dragon vein. The entity cannot enter this valley by magic. It must come on foot.”
“So we have some time.”
“Some,” he echoed quietly. “Not much.”
A cold wind slid through the clearing. Poppy felt it like a whisper along her spine.
She exhaled slowly. “She’s coming.”
“She is.”
Poppy stood, flexing her fingers. Moonlight rose instantly—obedient, calm.
“Let me try something,” she said.
“Carefully,” Mingxi reminded.
She lifted one hand. A soft ribbon of moonlight formed, drifting upward like illuminated silk. Another curled around her wrist. A third unfurled along her shoulder. She shaped them without strain. A loop. A spiral. A thin crescent blade of light that hovered above her palm.
“You see?” she said. “It listens.”
Mingxi’s eyes widened, breath catching. “Poppy… that level of control—”
“I’m amazed too.”
She flicked her fingers. The crescent snapped outward, slicing the air. There was a soft crack. A quartz stone ten feet away split cleanly in half. Poppy froze.
“Oops.”
Mingxi inhaled sharply. “You just cut stone.”
“It was a very sharp crescent.”
“Poppy.”
“I’ll aim at leaves next time!”
His voice softened. “You must be cautious. You may be… unstoppable at zenith.”
She looked at her hands—glowing, steady, sure.
“No,” she said quietly. “Not unstoppable. Just ready.”
Mingxi stepped closer, his voice low and tender. “You shine like the moon herself.”
She didn’t blush.
She lifted her chin and said, “Good.”
Because as the moon climbed higher, as her glow strengthened, as the valley hummed with ancient lunar power, a strange, heavy silence fell. The moss stilled. The foxfire in Mingxi’s blade flickered. The moonwell rippled once, sharply. Mingxi turned toward the far path leading out of the valley.
His voice dropped. “They’re close.”
Poppy felt it too.
A pressure at the edge of the valley. A pull on the mark beneath her ribs. A wrongness moving steadily closer.
Lysandra was coming.