The glow of the red stone pendant dimmed, pulsing no brighter than candlelight.
Ming Yue lay still, her body no longer writhing, no longer convulsing. The Phoenix alchemists hovered nearby, their hands layered in aura, their chants now soft hums instead of battle hymns.
At last, one of them spoke.
"She's stabilized."
Qi Longwei slumped back into the wall; breath held for too many nights.
"She remains unconscious?" he asked.
The head alchemist nodded. "The awakening has ceased attacking her nerves. Her pulse is regulated. Her aura no longer lashes out."
"But?" Longwei pressed.
"But she is exhausted. Her spirit retreated deep into herself. She's no longer burning... she's recovering."
Later that night, when everyone had gone and the lanterns burned low, Qian Fei sat by Ming Yue's bedside with nothing but a glass of eggnog cradled in trembling hands.
She didn't speak for a long time.
The room pulsed faintly with protection runes. Ming Yue's chest rose and fell—softly, peacefully.
At last, Qian Fei brushed a strand of hair from her daughter's forehead.
"You always liked this," she said quietly, placing the eggnog down. "Even as a child. You used to sip it late—one tiny slurp at a time, like it was moonlight you weren't allowed to drink."
She smiled, faint and fractured.
"You don't know how much I wanted you to be born. How much I feared you might not."
"I dreamt of twins. Stars and laughter in pairs. But every kick felt like fate chasing you. Prophecy breathing down your spine before you were even named."
She looked away, toward the glowing ward sigils.
"And then you came. You didn't cry. You didn't laugh. You just... looked at me. Like you already knew."
A long silence.
"I should've told you more. My name wasn't always Fei. I was the heir to the Qian family... the Forest of Willows. My father can bless nature—health, luck, balance."
"But I gave it up. For Longwei. For love. I thought I could keep you safe without telling you. I thought silence was strength."
She gripped Ming Yue's hand.
"When you wake up, I'll take you there. He'll bless you. He'll make sure the scars feel less heavy."
The pendant flared faintly—just for a moment.
Qian Fei blinked tears free, leaned closer, and whispered:
"Please wake up, baby girl. These days… even eggnog feels cold and tasteless without you."