Snow swept over the mountain pass like silent feathers, drifting down in sheets of silver and frost. The team had barely reached the upper sanctum when Jun Mo Xie halted, eyes turned toward the wind.
"Do you hear that?" he asked.
Yue Ling paused, her hand tightening around the hilt of her blade. "Hear what?"
Fei Yan tilted her head. "...Breathing."
It was faint at first, like wind through hollow bone. But slowly, steadily, the sound thickened. It wasn't natural. It was measured. Rhythmic. A long inhale. A longer exhale.
"The mountain…" Lan Xue whispered. "It's breathing."
Calisynth turned sharply. Her usually serene expression had twisted into something tight and sharp. "No. Not the mountain. The Choir. It should be dormant."
Mei Yun stepped forward, scanning the white sky with narrowed eyes. "Something followed us out."
"No," Calisynth said. "Something awakened because of us."
---
They returned to the outer sanctuary where the snow had shifted strangely. Circular impressions had formed in the snow, too large for any living creature. The sky above swirled with whispers—fragments of unfinished lullabies, conversations cut mid-word, dreams spoken aloud.
Jun Mo Xie reached for the Ember. It pulsed—but the warmth was muted, hesitant.
"Whatever it is," he said, "it's not trying to kill us. Not yet."
Fei Yan gestured to the horizon. "Then maybe we should leave before it changes its mind."
Yue Ling nodded. "We've done what we came for. Let's go."
Calisynth remained still. "You may leave. I must stay. My duty is to guard the Echo. But know this: the Choir does not forget. And now, neither does the world."
Jun Mo Xie hesitated. "You'll be safe?"
She gave a thin smile. "Safe is a song without end. I'll hold the silence as long as I can."
---
Their descent from the mountain took two days. On the second night, they made camp in a forest where frost clung to pine needles like cobwebs.
That's when it came.
The first dream.
---
Jun Mo Xie was standing on a mirror.
Not water. Not glass. A perfect mirror made of memory.
Above him was the sky—but not the one he knew. It twisted with veins of crimson light, like roots searching for something.
And below the mirror… was him.
Not a reflection. A second self. Younger. Blood-stained. Eyes burning.
"Why do you sleep?" the other Mo Xie asked.
Jun said nothing.
"Why do you bind the scream? It wants to sing. Let it sing."
"I saw what happens when it sings."
"And you think you can keep it silent forever?"
"I can try."
The other Mo Xie smiled. "Then try harder."
And struck.
---
He awoke gasping.
Lan Xue was at his side instantly. "What happened?"
"A dream," he said.
Yue Ling stirred from across the fire. "The sky changed while we slept."
Above them, the stars had twisted subtly—constellations warped, shifted into patterns that hadn't existed the night before.
Fei Yan cursed. "It's spreading."
Mei Yun stood and stretched. "We're not in the same world we left."
Jun Mo Xie stayed quiet, gazing at the night sky. He felt as though the stars themselves were watching him now. Not passively, but as participants, as if the firmament had taken interest in his fate.
He walked beyond the firelight and held out the Ember. Its light flickered faintly, then grew warm in his hand. Not in warning—but in recognition. Something beyond the Choir had seen him.
---
By the time they reached the foot of the mountain, they were greeted by strange news.
Villagers from the northern ridges spoke of "songs coming from wells." Animals had begun howling in harmony. Children recited lullabies they had never been taught.
One elder wept at Jun Mo Xie's presence. "You brought it," she said. "The Breath. The Breath that remembers."
Lan Xue tried to calm her, but the woman continued. "You stole its silence. Now it wants to sing through us!"
Fei Yan muttered, "Great. We unleashed a cosmic choir ghost."
Others came to him too—travelers, merchants, even monks. Some carried instruments they no longer knew how to play. Others reported hearing voices when they touched sacred objects. The whole region was beginning to pulse with unseen sound.
One child, no older than six, grasped Mo Xie's hand and whispered, "The Choir isn't angry. It's lonely."
---
They took shelter in a large city two days south—Jingrui, a stronghold near the convergence of trade roads. Its walls were high, its markets full, but something had shifted even here.
Scribes claimed their ink whispered back at night. Monks sang in silence. And worst of all, a crystal had begun to grow in the center of the city square—pulsing like a heartbeat.
Jun Mo Xie approached the crystal alone.
It shimmered.
Then whispered, in his own voice, "Ashes aren't silent. They're waiting."
The townsfolk surrounded the square but dared not cross the glowing perimeter. Some were drawn to it in their sleep, standing like statues for hours.
Lan Xue scanned the growing crowd. "We can't let this continue. If it spreads..."
Mei Yun nodded. "Containment first. Understanding second."
Fei Yan already had scouts combing the alleys for any signs of secondary resonance—stones that hummed, mirrors that reflected the wrong stars.
That night, the crystal pulsed. People began to scream in their sleep. Some never woke. Others woke changed—speaking forgotten tongues, remembering things that never happened.
Lan Xue rushed between the afflicted, trying to stabilize their minds. Mei Yun created a stormwall around the central square to contain the crystal's influence.
Jun Mo Xie stood within it, facing the crystal.
"You want a song?" he asked.
The crystal throbbed.
He summoned the Ember. Flames flickered, but again, not in resistance—in resonance.
Jun Mo Xie inhaled.
And sang.
---
Not words. Not even melody. Just a note. Low. Firm. Constant.
The crystal cracked.
A wail erupted—but this time, not one of pain. A child's giggle. A father's sigh. The sound of rain on paper.
The crystal shattered.
The silence returned.
Lan Xue fell to her knees. "You're not just singing to it, are you?"
Jun Mo Xie nodded. "I'm listening."
---
The next morning, they left Jingrui with heavy hearts. The people were safe—for now. But word spread.
The Choir had awoken.
People called it many names: The Echo Plague. The Breath of Ice. The Whispering Fire.
Jun Mo Xie called it what it was.
The Preludes.
Because he knew what came next.
When the Choir breathes…
The world begins to hum.
And far beyond the horizon, where the lands broke into endless sky, something began to hum back.
---
*To be continued...*