Chapter 107
Yunlian’s eyes flashed gold. “Good. Again.”
Poppy reached deeper, and the ritual began in truth. The moment Poppy reached deeper, the shard reacted. Not with another tug, but with a strike.
A column of force shot upward from the heart of the moonwell, exploding through the surface like a jet of icy light. The shockwave slammed into the ritual circle with enough strength to send chalk dust flying.
Caelan threw both arms forward, water-qi spiraling in a brilliant arc as he reinforced the boundary. “Hold!”
Lirrane snarled, “I am! Stop yelling.”
Another pulse hit—faster, sharper. The moonwell’s surface rippled like liquid glass. The shard was no longer hiding. It was fighting.
Poppy staggered, but she didn’t fall—Mingxi’s arms locked around her from behind, his foxfire blazing so bright it cast double shadows across the basin.
“Back off,” he hissed at the black pulse rising from the water. “She isn’t yours.”
The shard slammed the circle again. This time, the impact hit Poppy directly, pressure crashing into her chest like a cold fist. She gasped and instinctively reached for the nearest anchor—Mingxi. He caught her hands, folding himself around her, forming a shield of living flame.
“I’m right here,” he whispered fiercely. “I have you.”
The shard recoiled, hissing, almost sentient.
Yunlian’s voice cut through the chaos. “Poppy, focus on the moonwell. Ignore the shard.”
“I’m trying,” Poppy’s breath hitched. “It’s pulling so hard…”
“It pulls because it fears you,” Yunlian said. “Fear is a weakness.”
Poppy closed her eyes.
The shard slammed the circle again, harder than before. A crack burst across the ground, and Caelan swore, shoving his magic into the fracture before it spread.
“Pressure’s rising—this thing is furious!” he shouted.
Lirrane bared her teeth. “Good. Let it be!”
Mingxi pressed his forehead to the back of Poppy’s head, voice low and steady. “Reach past it, beloved. Past all of it. Find the moonwell.”
She exhaled shakily. Her bracelet warmed again—a soft chime of recognition—and beneath the shard’s rage, she felt it: a flicker, a heartbeat, a memory of silver water and gentle currents. There. Weak, but there.
“I feel you,” she whispered.
The moonwell pulsed in answer—a faint ripple of light that pushed against the shard, however briefly.
Mingxi tightened his hold around her. “That’s it. Again.”
She reached deeper, and the shard struck again, harder, desperate. Mingxi snarled, foxfire erupting high enough to scorch the air. The flames clashed with the shard’s pressure, the two forces grinding like opposing tides.
For a moment—just a moment—the moonwell glowed brighter.
Caelan’s eyes widened. “It’s responding!”
Yunlian’s voice rang out. “Everyone… synchronize!”
Lirrane slammed her palms into the earth.
Caelan raised both hands, water spiraling upward.
Yunlian’s light deepened into a steady luminous gold.
Mingxi’s foxfire rose in a brilliant flare.
Poppy felt everything converge at once—water, tide, healing, fire, and her own connection, trembling but unbroken. The circle ignited—a ring of blinding silver-blue light snapping outward—and the moonwell answered with a sound like a breath finally drawn after too long underwater.
The shard reeled back. Not defeated. Not weakened.
But startled. For the first time, it seemed to feel Poppy reach the moonwell and the moonwell reaching back.
The surge of synchronized magic tore through the basin like a living tide.
For a heartbeat, everything stilled—the pressure, the cracking earth, even the shard’s cold pulse.
Then the moonwell responded. The water brightened from within, a soft radiance pushing against the cracks along the surface. The trembling eased, not healed, but steadied—like a dying ember refusing to extinguish.
Yunlian inhaled sharply. “It heard her.”
Lirrane braced herself. Poppy saw it in the way her shoulders set, in the sharp draw of breath like someone stepping into cold water.
Lirrane warned, “Hold on… because it’s about to get messy.”
The water bulged inward, like something beneath was trying to rise.
Caelan stepped closer to the edge, hands sweeping upward. “I see it. The core’s shifting—”
A sudden flare of black-blue corruption streaked across the surface.
Mingxi growled, foxfire roaring higher. “It’s fighting back.”
“No,” Poppy whispered, breath catching. “The moonwell… it’s opening.”
The water parted—not outward like a splash, but inward—forming a deepening spiral of pale light. At the very center of that spiral, suspended like a hooked star, lay the shard.
It looked nothing like she expected. Not a stone. Not a fragment. Not any physical thing at all. It was a tear in the world. A jagged vein of shadow-light, twisting like smoke trapped inside crystal. It pulsed with a rhythm that did not belong to this realm—too slow, too cold, too hollow.
Poppy’s stomach clenched. “I’ve seen that… before.”
Mingxi tightened his hold. “In your dream.”
“No.” Her voice trembled. “At the moonwell… on the night of the battle.”
Caelan swore under his breath. “It’s rooted deep. If we misalign the pull—”
“It will rip the well apart,” Lirrane finished bluntly.
Yunlian’s tone sharpened. “Poppy. Look at me.”
Poppy forced her gaze away from the shard.
“The moonwell is giving you its heart,” Yunlian said gently. “But the shard will strike again. When it does, you must not pull back.”
Poppy swallowed. “I won’t.”
Mingxi shifted to stand just behind her, hands on her arms, his breath warm along her temple.
“You are not alone,” he whispered. “I’ll hold you through every moment.”
Poppy nodded once. She extended her hand over the glowing water, and the shard reacted instantly. A spike of shadow shot upward, stabbing toward her like a spear. Mingxi’s foxfire slammed into it—flames meeting shadow in a violent eruption of heat and cold.
The blast cracked the ground beneath them.
Caelan yelled, “Pressure spike!”
Lirrane gritted her teeth. “Councilor Shen, if you burn my eyebrows off—”
“Not now!” Caelan snapped.
The shard pulled again—harder than before—trying to latch onto Poppy’s qi. She felt the cold curl around her chest, like fingers trying to drag her into the spiral.
Her breath hitched. “Mingxi—”
He didn’t hesitate. Didn't waver. His arms closed around her, anchoring her to the circle, to him, to the living world.
“I’m here,” he whispered against her hair. “I’m here, Poppy. Feel me. Stay with me.”
The moonwell pulsed in answer. Weak—but clear.
Yunlian raised her voice. “Poppy. Reach. Now.”
Poppy inhaled—and reached toward the moonwell’s faint cold glow, not with her hand, but with the thread of magic inside her chest.
The moonwell reached back.