The night was thick with mist as the trio trekked forward through the dense forest. The air had grown colder, biting with an unnatural chill that seemed to come not from the mountains around them, but from something deep within the earth. Li Wei's boots crunched against the frozen ground as he led the way, his senses sharpened, eyes darting side to side. Mei Ling walked beside him, her talisman glowing faintly in the dark, while Bo Qian brought up the rear, his broadsword sheathed across his back but ready to be drawn in a heartbeat.
It had been three days since they left the Fire Temple of Wanshou Peak, and the journey had not been easy. Whispers in the wind, unnatural shadows in the trees, and unseen presences had haunted their every step. Yet none of it deterred them—they were warriors, seekers of truth, and destiny had begun to weave them into something more.
"I hate this place," Bo Qian muttered. "Even the animals don't make a sound. That's never a good sign."
Mei Ling nodded solemnly. "This forest was cursed during the Celestial War. Entire villages vanished overnight. They say the spirits of those who died here still linger, unable to pass on."
Li Wei didn't reply. He didn't need to. His eyes were focused on the mountain ridge just beyond the trees. The maps called it the Crescent Spine. Ancient texts called it the Tomb of Stars. And nestled within its heart was the fabled Crescent City—once the bastion of moon-born warriors, now a crumbling ruin, veiled in silence and forgotten by time.
"The air is thicker," Mei Ling whispered, her brows furrowing. "We're close."
Li Wei nodded, gripping the Blade of Aether more tightly. He could feel something tugging at his core, as though a presence far older and more powerful than he could comprehend was watching, waiting.
When they crested the ridge, the trees fell away, revealing a vast basin. The Crescent City stretched out before them—ruins of majestic towers, half-submerged plazas, and shattered moonstone statues. The buildings bore signs of celestial architecture, glistening faintly even in ruin. Domes pierced the mist like forgotten monuments to a divine past, while winding canals lay dry and cracked like veins drained of lifeblood.
They descended slowly, cautiously, stepping into the city. The silence was maddening. Even their footsteps seemed swallowed by the oppressive stillness.
"This place…" Bo Qian muttered, lowering his voice. "It reeks of something ancient. And wrong."
"Not wrong," came a voice from the shadows, silken and clear. "Tested. Judged."
They spun around. A figure stepped out from a collapsed temple doorway. Tall and draped in silver-threaded robes, the stranger's face was concealed behind a moon-veiled mask. From behind the mask shone two pale eyes, colder than ice and deeper than memory.
"I am the Guardian of the Crescent," the figure intoned. "You tread on sacred ground. The dead here do not rest. They wait."
Li Wei stepped forward. "We seek the Crescent Blade. We seek truth."
The Guardian tilted their head. "Then truth you shall have… if you survive."
In an instant, the earth split. Symbols etched into the stones around them lit up with a searing glow. A massive sigil flared beneath their feet—concentric circles of light inscribed with runes from a forgotten age. Darkness erupted outward, and from the depths of the earth came the Night-Bound.
Once noble warriors of the Crescent, they now moved with inhuman grace. Their forms were wrapped in tattered moonlight armor, their faces pale and twisted, eyes burning with spectral fire. Their swords shimmered like mist, cutting the air with each step.
"They are cursed," Mei Ling whispered. "Bound to guard the blade until a worthy bearer rises."
Li Wei unsheathed the Blade of Aether, and its radiant light pushed back the gloom. Bo Qian roared as he charged, his broadsword blazing with inner qi, while Mei Ling drew a formation in the air with her talismans, summoning a protective barrier.
The clash was immediate.
Blade met blade. Qi flared. The Night-Bound fought with the precision of long-dead masters, coordinated and brutal. Yet Li Wei's resolve had never been stronger. Each movement of the Blade of Aether lit the battlefield with silvery light, unraveling the shadows that clung to the city.
Bo Qian fought like a beast unleashed—his strength cleaving through even the sturdiest foes. He shouted defiance with each strike, drawing their attention so Mei Ling could channel her spells uninterrupted. Arcs of celestial flame spun from her talismans, incinerating the spirits that dared approach.
But the numbers kept growing.
Dozens became hundreds.
"We can't keep this up!" Mei Ling shouted, sweat pouring from her brow as she sealed another wave of spirits. "They're endless!"
"No," Li Wei said. "They're testing us."
He felt it again—the pull at his core. Not just the Blade of Aether, but something beneath the city. A power, ancient and dormant. It called to him.
"The blade is beneath us," he said. "Guarded by the trial of remembrance."
Then, the ground opened beneath his feet.
He fell.
Darkness consumed him.
---
Li Wei landed on cold marble. He was alone now. No Mei Ling. No Bo Qian. Only the silence and a massive, floating mirror suspended in a chamber of stars.
The mirror shimmered, and his reflection twisted. Before him stood a younger Li Wei, eyes full of doubt, holding a broken wooden sword.
"You abandoned them," the reflection said.
"No," Li Wei whispered. "I did what I had to."
"You let your master die. You failed to protect your village. You were too weak."
The images changed—flames engulfing homes, cries of the innocent, his master's lifeless body in his arms.
Tears welled in his eyes, but he clenched his fists.
"I was weak," he said. "But I've grown. And I will not let the past define me."
The reflection shattered.
The stars pulsed.
And from the heart of the chamber rose a pedestal, upon which lay the Crescent Blade.
It was beautiful—crafted of silver crystal and glowing with the light of two moons. It thrummed with latent power, resonating with his soul.
When he reached out and touched it, the blade sang.
---
Above, in the ruined city, the Night-Bound froze. The Guardian stepped forward, tilting their head as the sky above shifted.
"He has been chosen."
From the pit of the earth rose a pillar of light, and from it emerged Li Wei—floating upward, the Crescent Blade in his hand, its glow pushing back the curse like the dawn banishing night.
Bo Qian stared in awe. "He… did it."
Mei Ling's voice trembled. "He passed the trial."
The Guardian knelt. "Bearer of the Crescent Blade, welcome to your destiny."
But even as the city glowed with renewed light, a distant rumble echoed in the sky. The clouds above began to churn, and from the horizon came a darkness deeper than shadow.
Someone—or something—had felt the awakening.
And it was coming.
---
End of Chapter 8