Zhen Hu hadn't slept.
The stars above the Dawnyu Sect flickered like dying embers. The wind whispered nonsense through the leaves. Something in the night had shifted.
Something inside him.
He sat cross-legged in the training grove, far from the others. His body trembled—not from exhaustion, but from the presence stirring within.
"You are not ready," Aelira's voice murmured.
But she was already there.
Her essence coiled through his veins like liquid frost. He could feel her thoughts brushing against his own, invasive yet familiar. Each breath became harder. The air around him warped—thin threads of black mist coiling upward from his shoulders.
Zhen Hu bit down on his lip hard enough to draw blood.
"I didn't call you," he hissed into the night.
"You never had to."
And then she was inside.
Not just whispering.
But moving him.
At the heart of the Dawnyu Sect, Veyrith stood alone beneath the sacred flame monument. His eyes, closed, flicked open in an instant.
Something had changed.
His gaze turned northeast, toward the old grove where a subtle pull had begun to emerge. Ancient. Familiar. Dangerous.
"I warned them," he muttered.
His steps left shallow craters in the earth as he moved—slow, unhurried, but final.
Back in the grove, Zhen Hu rose to his feet.
Except—they weren't entirely his.
His body straightened, unnaturally elegant. His steps, fluid as water, left streaks of Nytherion-tinged frost across the grass. His heartbeat thundered in his ears, but Aelira's calm drowned it out.
"Do not resist. You are me now."
He raised his hand.
Black sigils shimmered across his fingers. Marks he did not recognize but somehow knew.
The sky above the grove dimmed—not from clouds, but from something pulling the light away, devouring it at the edge of reality.
Aelira's possession wasn't violent.
It was intimate.
Like fingers curling inside his mind, turning pages in a book only she could read.
Zhen Hu gasped. He saw flashes—her memories. A world before his, dying in flame. Bodies of gods, broken and hollow-eyed. Power that could split souls like paper.
Then—footsteps.
Veyrith entered the grove.
Silence fell.
The Transcendent envoy stopped a few paces from Zhen Hu.
His expression unreadable.
"I see you now," Veyrith said softly.
Zhen Hu tried to speak—but his lips didn't move.
Aelira did instead.
"You should not have come, Keeper."
Veyrith's brow twitched. "Aelira. The Sleepless Flame. You live."
"I endure," she said through Zhen Hu's mouth, her voice overlapping his like a ghost's echo. "But not yet fully."
The wind exploded outward from Veyrith's feet, flattening the grass in a wide ring.
Zhen Hu stumbled back, clutching his chest. Blood dripped from his nose. Aelira's grip faltered—then snapped back, stronger.
He was a conduit. Nothing more.
"You have no right to use this vessel," Veyrith said, his voice cold.
"And yet I do," Aelira answered. "He welcomed me long before you noticed him."
Zhen Hu's hands moved without his command. He struck the ground. Black roots of Nytherion burst forth, lashing toward Veyrith like skeletal serpents.
With a flick of his sleeve, the envoy incinerated them.
"I won't kill him," he said. "But I will rip you from him if I must."
Zhen Hu screamed—not in pain, but in resistance. He fought her from within. His mind burned with fear and fury.
"Not like this!" he cried. "I didn't want this!"
And something shifted.
Aelira's grip loosened—just enough.
Their bodies convulsed.
Veyrith stepped forward, his hand glowing with pale energy. "Enough."
Zhen Hu rose again—half-controlled, half-free, eyes wide with conflicting light. The sigils on his arms flared as Aelira's presence poured into his limbs.
They both spoke—one voice overlaying the other.
"Then take me, Veyrith. If you can."
The night cracked with power.
And the grove erupted into silence so total it shattered sound.
To Be Continued in Chapter 16
Let me know if you'd like Chapter 16 to open mid-battle or cut to a perspective shift—perhaps Zhen Xun and the elders reacting to the spiritual quake—and whether Mie Xian gets involved.
Zhen Hu hadn't slept.
The stars above the Dawnyu Sect flickered like dying embers. The wind whispered nonsense through the leaves. Something in the night had shifted.
Something inside him.
He sat cross-legged in the training grove, far from the others. His body trembled—not from exhaustion, but from the presence stirring within.
"You are not ready," Aelira's voice murmured.
But she was already there.
Her essence coiled through his veins like liquid frost. He could feel her thoughts brushing against his own, invasive yet familiar. Each breath became harder. The air around him warped—thin threads of black mist coiling upward from his shoulders.
Zhen Hu bit down on his lip hard enough to draw blood.
"I didn't call you," he hissed into the night.
"You never had to."
And then she was inside.
Not just whispering.
But moving him.
---
At the heart of the Dawnyu Sect, Veyrith stood alone beneath the sacred flame monument. His eyes, closed, flicked open in an instant.
Something had changed.
His gaze turned northeast, toward the old grove where a subtle pull had begun to emerge. Ancient. Familiar. Dangerous.
"I warned them," he muttered.
His steps left shallow craters in the earth as he moved—slow, unhurried, but final.
---
Back in the grove, Zhen Hu rose to his feet.
Except—they weren't entirely his.
His body straightened, unnaturally elegant. His steps, fluid as water, left streaks of Nytherion-tinged frost across the grass. His heartbeat thundered in his ears, but Aelira's calm drowned it out.
"Do not resist. You are me now."
He raised his hand.
Black sigils shimmered across his fingers. Marks he did not recognize but somehow knew.
The sky above the grove dimmed—not from clouds, but from something pulling the light away, devouring it at the edge of reality.
Aelira's possession wasn't violent.
It was intimate.
Like fingers curling inside his mind, turning pages in a book only she could read.
Zhen Hu gasped. He saw flashes—her memories. A world before his, dying in flame. Bodies of gods, broken and hollow-eyed. Power that could split souls like paper.
Then—footsteps.
Veyrith entered the grove.
---
Silence fell.
The Transcendent envoy stopped a few paces from Zhen Hu.
His expression unreadable.
"I see you now," Veyrith said softly.
Zhen Hu tried to speak—but his lips didn't move.
Aelira did instead.
"You should not have come, Keeper."
Veyrith's brow twitched. "Aelira. The Sleepless Flame. You live."
"I endure," she said through Zhen Hu's mouth, her voice overlapping his like a ghost's echo. "But not yet fully."
The wind exploded outward from Veyrith's feet, flattening the grass in a wide ring.
Zhen Hu stumbled back, clutching his chest. Blood dripped from his nose. Aelira's grip faltered—then snapped back, stronger.
He was a conduit. Nothing more.
"You have no right to use this vessel," Veyrith said, his voice cold.
"And yet I do," Aelira answered. "He welcomed me long before you noticed him."
Zhen Hu's hands moved without his command. He struck the ground. Black roots of Nytherion burst forth, lashing toward Veyrith like skeletal serpents.
With a flick of his sleeve, the envoy incinerated them.
"I won't kill him," he said. "But I will rip you from him if I must."
Zhen Hu screamed—not in pain, but in resistance. He fought her from within. His mind burned with fear and fury.
"Not like this!" he cried. "I didn't want this!"
And something shifted.
Aelira's grip loosened—just enough.
Their bodies convulsed.
Veyrith stepped forward, his hand glowing with pale energy. "Enough."
Zhen Hu rose again—half-controlled, half-free, eyes wide with conflicting light. The sigils on his arms flared as Aelira's presence poured into his limbs.
They both spoke—one voice overlaying the other.
"Then take me, Veyrith. If you can."
The night cracked with power.
And the grove erupted into silence so total it shattered sound.
---