The temple lay north, carved into the jagged cliffs beyond the Bloodwood Pass.
A two-day journey on foot.
Three if it rained.
But Li Yun had only one night left in the manor before he would leave behind everything he knew — his name, his home, and the only woman who had ever dared protect him.
Lady Shen.
He told himself it was a mission.
That the letter from the Order of the Third Flame was the reason for the tremor in his chest.
But deep down, he knew it wasn't the mission he feared.
It was saying goodbye to her.
The evening air was cool when he stepped into her courtyard.
No guards. No lights.
Only the lantern by her window still burned.
She stood there, half-illuminated, combing her hair with long, steady strokes. As though nothing was ending. As though tomorrow wouldn't tear their fragile world apart.
He didn't knock.
She turned when he entered, her expression unreadable.
"You should be resting," she said quietly.
"I couldn't," he replied. "Not before seeing you."
She set the comb down. Her fingers lingered on it for a moment too long.
"You've decided, then?"
He nodded. "At dawn."
She looked down.
Then she crossed the room and poured him tea.
He didn't drink it.
He watched her.
The way her hands trembled slightly.
The way she avoided his gaze.
"Lihua," he said.
It was the first time he had spoken her name without title or formality.
Her breath caught.
He stepped closer.
"You've never lied to me," he said. "Not when it mattered."
"I tried," she whispered. "But I couldn't."
He swallowed hard.
"I have questions. So many questions. But none of them matter if I don't come back."
Now her eyes met his.
And for the first time, she looked afraid.
Truly afraid.
Not for herself.
But for him.
He reached for her hand.
She didn't pull away.
His voice dropped.
"Tell me I matter to you. Not as your ward. Not as a son of this cursed clan. Just… as me."
She took a shaky breath.
"Do you really need me to say it?"
"I need to hear it."
Her lips parted, but no words came.
Instead, she stepped forward.
So close, he could smell the faintest trace of sandalwood in her hair.
Then she raised a hand and brushed his cheek with trembling fingers.
"You matter more than you should," she whispered.
"And every day I try to forget that."
His hand closed over hers.
He leaned in slowly, afraid to move too fast.
Afraid it would break the fragile space between them.
Their foreheads touched.
Breath shared.
Heartbeats staggered.
Her fingers curled lightly at the base of his neck.
Then she pressed her lips gently to his forehead.
Not rushed.
Not forced.
But aching.
A goodbye wrapped in something neither of them dared name.
When she pulled away, her eyes shimmered with something unsaid.
"Come back to me, Yun."
"I will," he said. "Because you're the only one waiting."
He lingered a moment longer.
Not kissing her.
But remembering her face in this moment—burning it into his memory in case he never saw it again.
Then he left, closing the door without looking back.
By morning, he was gone.
The manor was still asleep when he slipped through the west gate, his sword tied across his back, the pendant glowing faintly against his chest.
The road to the Temple of Hollow Sky waited like a wound in the landscape.
And in his chest, the sigil stirred.
Not in rage.
But in longing.
Miles behind him, Lady Shen sat alone in the garden pavilion.
Her fingers still trembled where they had touched his face.
She had crossed the line.
Just once.
But once was enough.
For everything to change.
Forever.