Xiao Ning'er woke hours later, surrounded by the faint warmth of a fire—true fire, built from scavenged bone and broken cages. Shen Liun sat nearby, sharpening a spearhead with a piece of obsidian.
Her eyes fluttered, unfocused. "You're still here."
"You're still breathing," he replied.
She sat up slowly, wincing. The slave seal was gone, but the wounds remained—internal and otherwise. Her body trembled, unused to freedom. "You're not from the Abyss."
"No," Liun said. "I was thrown here. Like garbage."
Ning'er's eyes sharpened. "A fallen cultivator?"
He nodded.
She studied him, as if trying to place something familiar in his expression. "You risked your life to free me. Why?"
He didn't answer immediately. His fingers tightened around the obsidian blade.
"I hate chains," he finally said. "Too many wore them in silence before me."
Her eyes softened. "Then you're a fool. But a rare one."
She wrapped herself in a discarded robe, torn but cleaner. "I was sold to the Void Sect by my uncle. They tested seals on me—tried to turn me into a living key. But I was flawed. So they threw me away."
A heavy silence passed between them.
"How long have you been here?" he asked.
"I stopped counting after the first year."
Liun stared at the fire. "Do you want revenge?"
She smiled, bitter and fierce. "More than I want to breathe."
> "Two flames," Aoshen murmured. "Twinned in ruin."
Liun stood. "Then you can come with me. Or stay here and wait to die."
Ning'er rose shakily. "I've been waiting too long."
As they packed, she pointed at the symbol he'd carved into the cave wall earlier. "That's not a clan mark."
"No," he said. "It's my name."
"Your name?"
Liun touched the symbol. Three slashes, one crossing them.
"Ash. That's what they left me as."
Ning'er's voice was soft. "And now?"
"Now," he said, turning away, "I burn back."
Together, they vanished into the tunnels, shadows swallowing their figures.
Above them, the world turned without notice.
But deep below, the flame had begun to rise.