Chapter 109
It ripped out of the moonwell like a star being dragged from the sky, spinning upward in a razor-edged spiral of shadowlight.
The basin exploded with force. Water shot upward in a geyser of silver and black. Cracks split the earth. The air went blindingly white, and Mingxi threw himself around Poppy, foxfire consuming the blast, protecting her with every ounce of celestial strength he possessed.
Caelan’s knees buckled. Lirrane roared against the pressure. Yunlian’s light held even as the ground cracked under her feet. The shard hovered above the basin—glowing, shaking, destabilized—finally free.
Poppy collapsed to her knees, panting, trembling, barely conscious.
Mingxi knelt with her, arms tight around her, voice breaking. “I’ve got you,” he whispered into her hair. “I’ve got you.”
Behind them, the moonwell flickered—dim, exhausted—on the edge of collapse, and the shard, trembling violently above the basin, began to crack.
The shard hung in the air above the basin like a broken star, shuddering, flickering, radiating a cold so sharp it hurt to breathe.
Cracks spidered across its twisting form.
With every tremor, a ripple of corrupted energy rolled through the valley, making the trees tremble like they were bowing under a storm.
Caelan lifted his hands again, water rising in a tight spiral around him. “It’s destabilizing—this is our chance!”
Lirrane’s eyes narrowed. “Chance to do what? That thing is ready to explode!”
Yunlian stepped forward, golden light flaring from her palms. “It must be destroyed before it anchors to something else.”
Mingxi pulled Poppy closer, shielding her with his body. “Then stand back.”
The ground shuddered beneath them. The shard screeched, its sound a jagged psychic vibration that made Poppy’s vision blur.
She blinked up at Mingxi and saw his expression change.
Soft, protective Mingxi was gone. In his place stood the celestial fox prince, eyes burning bright silver, foxfire spiraling like living flame across his skin.
“Stay behind me,” he murmured to Poppy, his voice like starlight on steel.
Then he stepped forward, and Poppy reached weakly for him.
“Mingxi.”
He looked back at her—just once with a soft smile. An entire world in his eyes.
“I promised,” he said, “I’d burn anything that tried to take you.”
Then he turned toward the shard and ignited.
Foxfire roared across the basin, white-blue and impossibly bright, spiraling upward in a column of pure celestial flame. The heat was intense, and Caelan stumbled back, shielding his face. Lirrane swore and braced herself. Even Yunlian’s glow flickered.
Still, Mingxi burned hotter.
The shard shrieked, twisting violently as cracks split it open. Shadowlight poured free, writhing in tendrils.
Caelan shouted, “It’s resisting!”
“It can try to resist,” Mingxi growled, foxfire sweeping upward in another wave. “But it won’t win.”
The shard lashed out with a final desperate strike—a whip of shadowlight snapping straight toward Poppy.
She gasped, but Yunlian was there in an instant, golden light bursting like a shield between Poppy and the attack.
“Not this child!” Yunlian snapped, her voice ringing like a temple bell.
The shard recoiled, and Mingxi struck. He hurled his foxfire directly into the shard’s core, white-hot flame cutting through the cracks like a blade through frost. The shard’s form fractured—shattered—and collapsed inward in a burst of light so bright the basin went briefly white.
When the glow faded, nothing remained. No shadow. No residue. No corruption. Just the faint shimmer of foxfire dying gently along Mingxi’s arms.
Poppy let out a shaking breath.
The shard was gone, but the moonwell was failing.
The water collapsed inward with a painful, hollow groan. Cracks widened across the basin. The glow dimmed to a faint throb, barely visible.
“No, no, no,” Poppy whispered, struggling to her feet, her heart aching.
The moonwell pulsed weakly, like a dying heartbeat.
Yunlian’s face went pale. “Its core is collapsing.”
Caelan stared in horror. “Without the shard’s false structure, there’s nothing holding it together.”
Lirrane turned sharply. “Someone, stabilize it!”
“I will,” Mingxi said immediately.
“No.” Poppy’s voice cut clean through the chaos. She stepped forward, stumbling but determined. “It chose me,” she whispered. “Let me answer.”
Her hands flared with silver light. The moonwell flickered as if sensing her approach, and Poppy knelt at its edge.
She placed her hand on its trembling surface. “Come back,” she whispered, voice shaking. “You’re not alone.”
The moonwell’s faint glow pulsed under her palm. Weak… but responding.
Behind her, Mingxi knelt as well, placing his hand over hers without a word.
Their magic met—gold and silver, fire and light—and the moonwell’s light steadied. Barely. But enough.
As Mingxi held her, the moonwell glowed again—this time softer, gentler—and a single pulse of silver drifted upward like a sigh of relief.
The light brushed against Poppy’s abdomen—not probing, not alarming—simply… acknowledging. Poppy inhaled softly, her hand drifting there instinctively.
Mingxi’s arms tightened around her, protective even in the calm. “Is it hurting you?”
“No,” she whispered. “It’s warm. Like…” She swallowed, emotion swelling thick in her throat. “Like a blessing.”
Mingxi looked at the moonwell as if seeing it with new eyes. “It recognizes our child.”
The surface rippled once—slow, serene—the way a great lake greets the moon.
Poppy leaned back against Mingxi’s chest, exhausted and glowing faintly. “We saved it,” she murmured.
“And it… it’s welcoming us back.”
“Yes,” Mingxi said softly, kissing her temple. “It’s welcoming our family.”
She closed her eyes, letting herself sink into his warmth as the moonwell’s light dimmed to a peaceful, steady glow. Behind them, the valley was quiet—peacefully quiet—for the first moment since the night of the first battle.
Yunlian exhaled shakily.
Caelan bowed in deep respect.
Lirrane wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and muttered, “About time.”
Poppy whispered, barely audible, “It’s healed.”
Mingxi held her closer.