The air inside the vault shifted as if the chamber itself inhaled. Dust danced like spirits remembering their names. Zhao Wei stood before the thirteen sealed caskets, their chains still rattling faintly from her touch. Each of the Pactborn slept in stasis—rebels so old that time had forgotten their cause, their names lost to myth and ash.

  And now, she needed them.

  Not just as soldiers.

  But as a truth.

  Li Zephyr stood beside her, brow furrowed, eyes scanning the ancient sigils glowing faintly across the black-stone pillars that framed the circle of coffins. “You’re sure they’ll awaken?” he asked under his breath.

  “No,” Zhao Wei answered honestly. “But if they don’t, then I’ll carve their names into the sky myself.”

  She knelt before the center casket. This one was different—its chain etched with red, not silver. A symbol of defiance. Of a pact unfulfilled.

  “This one,” she murmured. “Her name was Ji Anli. The first Pactborn. She was the one who taught me how to kill without honor… and how to live without fear.”

  Bai swallowed hard. “Sounds like a lovely mentor.”

  Zhao Wei ignored him. She pressed her palm to the seal, letting her spirit surge. Heat radiated from her veins, the memory of her shattered bond—her unbound soul—answering the ancient language etched in blood.

  A whisper unfurled across the chamber.

  “…Unforgotten…”

  The chains screamed.

  The vault trembled.

  And then—a crack.

  The seal split down the center, light pouring from the wound. Ji Anli’s casket opened with a sound like a dying god exhaling.

  From within, a woman slowly rose.

  Her skin was the pale gray of smoke; her eyes solid silver. She wore armor that fused bone and blackened steel, her lips drawn into a sharp, cruel smile.

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  “You’re late,” she said.

  Zhao Wei’s heart nearly stopped. “You remember me?”

  Ji Anli snorted. “I trained you to never die properly. Of course I remember.”

  Behind her, the other caskets began to stir.

  One by one, the Pactborn rose.

  A masked man cloaked in raven feathers who once spoke only in riddles—Su Ren, the Ghostblade.

  A girl with no mouth, only eyes, her words echoing directly in one’s mind—Lian, the Silent Flame.

  Twins fused at the shoulder, one with claws of obsidian, the other with wings of ash—The Yao, known as the Skyborn Curse.

  They stepped into the chamber slowly, like warriors waking from war that had never truly ended. Not all were human anymore. Some had merged too deeply with spirit beasts, others twisted by time and soul decay. But all of them, upon seeing Zhao Wei, froze with a flash of recognition.

  It was Ji Anli who spoke first.

  “You’ve been remade.”

  Zhao Wei nodded. “I died. I came back. I need you again.”

  “You always need us,” muttered Su Ren.

  Zhao Wei smiled grimly. “You owe me.”

  Ji Anli cocked her head. “For what?”

  “For letting you sleep while the world burned.”

  That earned a low chuckle from Lian, whose laugh echoed in their minds like bells tolling underwater.

  An Hour Later — In the War Circle

  They sat in a rough circle around a fire conjured from soulflame and old bones. Maps were unrolled. Plans unfurled. Zephyr laid down everything they knew of the Creed’s latest movements, including the recent corruption spreading through the Spirit Shrines—holy sites now warped and sealed off.

  “They’re hunting something,” Zephyr said. “But not us. Not directly.”

  “They’re looking for the Blade of the Void,” Zhao Wei said quietly.

  Ji Anli stiffened.

  “You’re sure?”

  Zhao Wei nodded. “It was shown to me in the Chamber of Memory. A shard of it was buried in my chest when I was reborn. They think if they can find the whole weapon… they can stop me.”

  Su Ren tilted his head. “Or control you.”

  Lian’s voice echoed through their skulls: The Blade is alive.

  Zhao Wei met her gaze. “I know.”

  She turned to her old generals.

  “I’m not just here to stop the Creed anymore. I’m here to finish it. Burn it from root to bone. And I need the Pactborn to do it.”

  The fire flickered violently, reacting to her words.

  Ji Anli leaned forward. “You’re not asking for soldiers. You’re calling for war.”

  “I am.”

  Silence.

  Then Su Ren stood. “Then let it be war.”

  One by one, the Pactborn rose.

  Outside the Vault — Nightfall

  As Zhao Wei stood at the stone threshold once more, watching the cursed forest breathe around them, Zephyr came to stand beside her.

  “Are you ready for what comes next?” he asked.

  “No,” she said. “But I don’t need to be.”

  He glanced at her, surprised.

  “I have people who remember me,” she said softly. “That’s more than I had when I woke up in this life.”

  Zephyr’s expression softened. “You still carry it well, you know. The weight of it.”

  Zhao Wei didn’t answer. Her eyes were on the stars.

  Somewhere above, the Creed stirred. Somewhere far away, someone whispered her name into a pool of blood.

  She would meet them soon.

  And this time—she would not return alone.