Chapter 97
The main council hall filled quickly with many in attendance: Shen Mingzhao at the center, Xu Yunlian at his right, Elder Suyin and Elder Qiao, Minghua and Mingjun, several ward-keepers, two shrine Guardians who smelled faintly of foxfire and earth, and Lysandra.
She was sitting sideways in a chair, eating dried mango with absolutely no sense of urgency. She perked up when they entered.
“Oh! It’s happening now, isn’t it?” she asked.
Mingxi ignored her and guided Poppy straight to the center of the hall. The murmurs died instantly.
Mingzhao stood. “What happened?”
Mingxi’s voice was clipped and cold. “The leyline is disturbed. The fragment is active.”
A collective intake of breath.
Elder Qiao frowned. “Fragments do not become active without fuel.”
Poppy swallowed. “They… they can sense magic, right? High levels? Ancient levels?”
“They respond to power,” Suyin corrected. “Indiscriminately. They do not seek individual signatures.”
Lysandra snorted loudly. “Welp. That’s out the window.”
Mingxi shot her a look that could have melted steel.
“Explain,” Mingzhao ordered.
Poppy stepped forward. “It didn’t react to Mingxi. It didn’t react to the warriors. It reacted to me.”
“You?” Elder Qiao blinked. “Why would a fragment recognize you?”
Poppy pressed her hand over her chest, unsure how to articulate it.
“When I touched the moonwell… something changed. I didn’t just bind it… I touched the magic inside it. And it touched back. I think the fragment recognized that.”
Xu Yunlian paled. “You carry moonwell resonance.”
Poppy nodded.
“And it reached for you?” Mingzhao asked grimly.
“Yes.”
“Did it touch your qi directly?”
“No. But it tried.”
Mingxi’s voice dropped to a protective growl. “And it will try again.”
The hall erupted with heated murmurs—elders theorizing, Guardians debating, Minghua whispering, “Oh no, oh no, oh no.”
Lysandra froze. Her mango dropped to the floor. Her pupils dilated—one bright, one dark—and her voice split into a low, echoing dual tone.
“Two lights, twined beneath the ribs, one ancient, one new. The fragment calls the first, but the second wakes too soon.”
Silence slammed into the hall.
Poppy blinked. “Mingxi… what does that mean?”
But Mingxi had gone utterly still. Not breathing. Not blinking. Frozen.
“Two lights…” Elder Suyin whispered. “Twined?”
Mingxi inhaled sharply, breath shaking. “No.”
He turned to Poppy. Slowly. Afraid the world would tilt beneath his feet.
“Poppy,” he whispered, “your qi… has felt different for days. I thought it was moonwell echo.”
“It is,” she said quickly. “Isn’t it?”
Xu Yunlian stepped forward like she was walking through a dream.
“Child,” she whispered, voice soft with dawning realization, “may I… may I examine your pulse?”
Poppy hesitated. “What is everyone—”
Mingxi cupped her cheeks with trembling hands. “Yueguāng,” he breathed, “there is a new light inside you.”
Her heart stuttered. “What are you talking abo—”
Lysandra snapped back to herself, blinking rapidly.
Then she pointed at Poppy’s stomach and yelled at full volume, “Oh, my gods, I figured it out. She’s pregnant!”
The hall exploded.
Minghua screamed so loudly half the foxfire lanterns flickered. Mingjun choked on nothing. Xu Yunlian clapped both hands over her mouth. Elder Qiao dropped his staff. A shrine maiden fainted. Mingzhao seemed to forget how to stand and sat back down abruptly.
Poppy stared at Lysandra, pale as moonlight. “What?”
Mingxi made a noise between a gasp and a dying kettle. “Poppy—”
“I… what!”
Lysandra beamed. “I mean, yeah! It’s tiny! Like a spark! A bean spark! But ohhhh, it is bright.”
Poppy’s hands flew to her abdomen.
Mingxi’s ears flattened. His tails fanned in pure, trembling shock. “Yueguāng…” he whispered, voice breaking, “Are you?”
“I didn’t know!” she squeaked.
Yunlian hurried forward, gently taking Poppy’s wrist. Her fingers pressed to Poppy’s pulse.
Xu Yunlian gasped. “Oh.” Her eyes filled with tears. “Oh, Poppy. Yes. There is a second light. Very small. Very new. But absolutely there.”
Mingxi staggered a step backward, hand over his mouth. “Oh, gods,” he whispered. “Oh, gods.”
Poppy grabbed his sleeve. “Mingxi—”
He pulled her into his arms so suddenly she squeaked, hugging her desperately, knowing he might fall apart if he let go.
“You’re carrying—” His voice cracked entirely. “Our…”
She buried her face in his chest. “Mingxi, I didn’t know.”
He kissed the top of her head, shaking. “It’s not your fault. It’s not… I just… I never thought.”
Lysandra clapped excitedly as she shrieked, “The timing is terrible, but the vibe is excellent.”
Mingxi whipped around, still holding Poppy protectively. “Lysandra,” he hissed, “if you speak at full volume one more—”
“Hey! I’m thrilled for you!” She leaned in and whispered loudly, “And Poppy’s already glowing. Like literally. Her qi halo is doing a little sparkle thing—”
Mingjun elbowed Lysandra, who responded with a quick and high-pitched, “Ow!”
Mingzhao finally stood, regaining some composure.
“Enough,” he said firmly, voice steadying the room. “There is time for celebration later.” He looked at Poppy with the stern, protective softness only a clan leader could carry. “For now… this changes everything.”
Xu Yunlian wiped her eyes, pulling herself together as well.
“The fragment is not just reacting to moonwell magic anymore,” she said quietly. “It is reacting to the new life inside her.”
Poppy’s breath hitched audibly.
“No,” Mingxi said instantly.
No! The word thundered through him. He stepped in front of Poppy, shielding her with all seven tails.
“You will not touch her. You will not come near her. No fragment, no shard, no entity… nothing will lay a hand on them.”
His voice shook with a fury so raw the foxfire lanterns flared white hot.
Mingzhao nodded once. “Then we must act quickly.” He looked at every elder in the hall. “Protect the mother. Protect the child. And find out what the fragment wants, before it calls again.”
The room vibrated with urgency.
Poppy reached for Mingxi’s hand. “We’ll face it together,” she whispered.
He dropped to his knees before her, pressing his forehead to her stomach like a man in prayer. “You are not alone,” he murmured. “Neither of you ever will be.”
He needed her to know he’d never leave her, or their baby.
Somewhere deep beneath Huǒyáo Jìng…the fragment pulsed once. Calling. Calling again. Calling louder.
Council Hall emptied in organized chaos. Warriors sprinted for the outer shrine. Healers raced for warding scrolls. The elders snapped orders with the sharpness of steel.
Only Mingxi didn’t move.
He was still kneeling at Poppy’s feet, forehead pressed gently to her abdomen, breathing. The entire world had narrowed to the space beneath his hands.
Poppy stroked his hair. “Mingxi… we have to let them help.”
“I know,” he whispered.
He didn’t move.
“Mingxi?”
He exhaled once—pained, reluctant—and then rose shakily, still holding one of her hands, fearing she might vanish.
Xu Yunlian stepped forward with a trembling smile. “Come,” she said softly. “Let me properly examine her.”
Mingxi tensed. “You may examine her qi,” he said carefully. “Not her body. Not directly. And I will be standing right here.”
Yunlian nodded. “I would expect nothing less.”
They guided Poppy to a cushion in a quieter side chamber. The walls shimmered faintly with foxfire light, protective sigils etched across the stone. Yunlian knelt opposite Poppy, and Mingxi clasped his hand in hers.
“Relax your breath,” Yunlian murmured.
Poppy inhaled slowly. Exhaled.
Yunlian placed two fingers lightly on Poppy’s wrist. Warmth flowed out of her in a soft golden wave. Then, her eyes widened.
“Oh…” she whispered. “Oh, this is… beautiful.”
Poppy blinked. “Is that good?”
Mingxi leaned forward sharply. “What do you sense?”
Xu Yunlian took a steady, reverent breath. “Two signatures,” she murmured. “Woven together. Yours and the baby’s.”
Poppy swallowed. “You can already sense the baby?”
“Yes.” Xu Yunlian’s voice was thick with emotion. “But there is more.”
Mingxi froze. “More?”
Yunlian nodded, her gaze drifting upward. “There is moonwell qi wrapped around both mother and child. Protective. Resonant. Like silver threads curled around a new spark.”
Poppy’s breath hitched. “The moonwell… touched the child?”
“Not directly,” Yunlian said. “It touched you. And what touched you… touches the baby.”
Mingxi’s grip on Poppy’s hand tightened. “Is it dangerous?”
“No.” Yunlian smiled gently. “It’s miraculous.”
But her smile faded just as quickly. “There is something else.”
Mingxi’s tail tips bristled. “What?”
Yunlian inhaled. “The fragment recognized that spark.”
Poppy’s stomach tightened. “Recognized… how?”
“Like a predator recognizing prey,” Yunlian whispered. “Or a starving creature recognizing a feast.”
Mingxi stepped directly between Poppy and the leyline beneath the floor.
“If it wants a taste,” he said in a dead-calm voice, “it can choke on my remains.”
The moment he said it—
The ward-lines on the chamber floor flared blue. A tremor ran through Huǒyáo Jìng. Lanterns flickered. Foxfire sputtered. Somewhere in the valley, a shrine bell rang sharply as if struck by invisible hands.
Yunlian gasped. “It’s pulsing again.”
Mingxi pulled Poppy to her feet, shielding her with all seven tails. “No. Not again. Not tonight.”
But the tremor ran through the air like a breath… and Poppy clutched Mingxi’s forearm, and he knew she felt the tug. Deeper. Harder. More deliberate.
“Mingxi… it’s stronger.”
He snarled. “It’s testing the wards.”
Lysandra barreled into the chamber like she’d been launched. “I heard the bell… wait… wait… I’m feeling a thing. Oh, gods, not again.”
She slapped her palm on the floor. Her pupils dilated— one bright, one dark—and her voice deepened into a layered, primal resonance.
“A spark unborn stirs fear in old hunger… for the child bears the opposite light—a brightness the Devourer cannot consume.”
The temperature dropped.
Xu Yunlian whispered, horrified, “The child… threatens the fragment?”
Lysandra shuddered, panting. “Not on purpose. Just by existing.”
Mingxi’s heart stopped. “The fragment sees the child as an enemy.”
Lysandra nodded weakly and added, “Yep.”
Mingxi tried to keep his rage silent, but he felt a cold, lethal fury that made every foxfire lantern flare white hot. He turned to Mingzhao, who had just arrived at the chamber doorway.
“Father,” Mingxi said, voice low and shaking with contained violence. “I don’t care what protocol we break. We ward the entire valley. We seal the leylines. We put guards at every entrance. And I do not move from her side.”
Mingzhao nodded solemnly. “You won’t have to.”