Chapter 77
Mist clung to the valley floor as they entered the narrow stone passage.
Towering cliffs swallowed the sky, leaving only a thin ribbon of pale morning light overhead.
The air was damp, cool, and full of strange echoes that bounced back half a second too late, as if the stone itself struggled to keep up with reality.
Poppy leaned gently against Mingxi as they walked—awake but drained, her steps careful. His six tails hovered behind him, less flared than before but alert, restless, attuned to every flicker of magic in the gorge.
Lysandra, draped loosely over Caelan’s back, hummed under her breath. Not a melody. Not language. Just static.
Mingxi’s ears pinned flat. His shoulders tightened.
“We’re close,” he murmured. “Just past this gorge lies Huǒyáo Jìng.”
Caelan nodded. “Then let’s—”
A sound cut him off. A soft footstep echoed.
But none of them had stepped.
Poppy stiffened, breath hitching. “Mingxi… something’s—”
The echo came again. Not ahead of them. Not behind. Above. Then, another step, a third, and a fourth. Each one was crooked and delayed, as though time itself lagged behind the creature making them.
Lysandra’s head snapped up so violently Caelan almost dropped her.
“Oh,” she whispered with eerie clarity. “It followed.”
Caelan froze. “What did?”
Her pupils dilated. Her voice split—half hers, half something cold. “The piece that touched her.”
Poppy’s heartbeat stumbled, and Mingxi pulled her behind him instantly, tails flaring in a protective arc.
“Show yourself.” He demanded.
Silence. Then a shape peeled itself out of the stone wall. Not stepped. Not crawled. Unfolded. Tall. Thin. Limbs too long.
A silhouette shaped like Poppy but distorted, stretched, lit from within by black-edged moonlight. Her shadow on the ground bent toward it, dragged like a chain.
Lysandra’s voice cracked. “It wants her place.”
The Shadowling tilted its head with a jerky, puppet-like motion.
When it spoke, it used Poppy’s voice, soft, muffled, wrong. “Let me in… Penelope.”
Poppy recoiled. “No! Stay back!”
The creature reached toward her, fingers tapering like dripping ink, movements mimicking hers a half-second late.
Mingxi stepped forward, foxfire flaring along his hands. “Stay behind me.”
The Shadowling’s head twitched toward him. “Ming…xi…” it whispered, stretching the name like a tear in fabric.
Then it lunged. Mingxi met it midair, foxfire bursting in a wash of silver-blue light. His sixth tail flared brightest, instinctively shielding Poppy from the shockwave.
Caelan slammed his trident down. Water surged up from the canyon floor, sharp as a blade in the confined space. It sliced the Shadowling cleanly—only for the wound to fold shut again.
“Not physical!” Caelan shouted. “It’s made of—”
“Magic!” Lysandra cried. “Broken magic!”
The Shadowling shrieked—a sound like static ripping—and darted for Poppy. She raised her hands, moonlight sparking weakly between her palms. The light shot forward and passed straight through it.
Poppy paled. “Why didn’t it—?”
“Because it is you!” Lysandra yelled. “You can’t burn your own reflection!”
The Shadowling reached her, but Mingxi slammed into it, pinning it to the stone. Its body dissolved and re-formed around his grip, slipping through cracks of light. It reappeared behind Poppy.
Mingxi spun—too slow.
Caelan moved first.
A column of water burst upward, encasing Poppy in a shimmering barrier. The Shadowling struck it and screamed as foxfire residues sparked along the water’s surface.
“Hold your breath!” Caelan shouted.
She did.
Mingxi pressed his palms to the water, and moonlight flared from Poppy’s chest, raw and instinctive. Their energies fused, vibrating through the barrier.
The Shadowling staggered.
Lysandra pointed to the ground, voice sharp. “The tether! Cut the tether!”
A thin ribbon of shadow stretched from Poppy’s feet to the Shadowling’s.
“There!” Lysandra screamed.
Mingxi didn’t hesitate. Foxfire met moonlight as he slashed through the shadow-thread. It snapped with a crack like breaking bone. The Shadowling shrieked, folded inward, collapsed, turned to mist, and then vanished.
Silence fell, heavy and ringing.
The water shield dissolved. Poppy stumbled; Mingxi caught her, hands steady at her shoulders.
“You’re safe,” he whispered.
Poppy’s voice trembled. “What… was that?”
Caelan shook out his wet sleeves. “A parasite born from the shattering of the Grimoire. One that latched onto you.”
Lysandra sighed dramatically. “That was only a piece. A fun-sized horror.”
The gorge suddenly felt colder. Mingxi wrapped his tails protectively around Poppy, drawing her close.
“Come. Huǒyáo Jìng is ahead.”
Together—shaken, exhausted, but alive—they left the gorge and stepped toward the heart of fox territory.