The cavern stretched on, its walls lined with glowing moss and veins of minerals that sparkled faintly. Liang Feng followed Ziyan in silence, his steps careful as he took in the tranquil surroundings, grateful for the rare reprieve from danger.
Ziyan's wings folded neatly against her back as she paced ahead, her movements smooth and deliberate. She cast the occasional glance over her shoulder to ensure Liang kept up, though she said nothing. The silence between them was not uncomfortable; it was the kind of quiet that allowed thoughts to settle and take shape. Liang found himself strangely at ease in this forgotten corner of the world.
The path opened into a wider chamber where a crystal-clear pool of water reflected the faint light of the moss above. The air grew cooler, the gentle sound of flowing water filling the space. Liang paused at the edge of the pool, gazing down at its still surface. His own reflection stared back at him, but the faint flicker of the cursed flame in his palm distorted his image, its crimson light dancing like a restless spirit.
Ziyan stepped to his side, her keen eyes scanning the pool. "This is a sacred spring," she said quietly. "Its waters have flowed through these caverns for centuries, untouched by the corruption outside. It is said they reflect the true nature of those who gaze into them."
Liang's brow furrowed. "The true nature?" he repeated, his voice tinged with unease.
Ziyan inclined her head. "What do you see, Liang Feng?"
He hesitated, staring into the water again. His reflection shifted with the faint ripples of the pool, the cursed flame in his palm a glaring contrast to the serene surroundings. For a moment, it seemed to flare brighter, consuming the image of his face. He clenched his fist, extinguishing the flame, and the distorted image faded.
"I see… something I don't understand," Liang admitted, his voice low. "I've spent so long trying to control this flame, to push it down and keep it from hurting anyone. But the more I try to suppress it, the stronger it seems to fight back."
Ziyan's gaze softened, her feathers glowing faintly. "The flame is part of you," she said. "You cannot simply force it into submission. To master it, you must first accept it. Only then can you shape its power to your will."
Liang's jaw tightened, but he nodded, absorbing her words. He crouched by the pool and dipped his hand into the cool water, letting it wash over his skin. The sensation was soothing, a sharp contrast to the ever-present heat of the flame. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, and for the first time, he didn't try to suppress the flame. Instead, he let it linger, its warmth mingling with the chill of the water.
"Better," Ziyan said, her tone approving. "You are learning."
They remained by the spring for a while, the silence broken only by the soft trickle of water. Liang felt a rare sense of peace, as though the spring's calm had seeped into his very soul. He glanced at Ziyan, who stood nearby, her gaze distant as though lost in thought.
"Do you ever rest?" he asked, breaking the quiet.
Ziyan turned to him, arching a feathered brow. "Rest is a luxury I cannot often afford," she replied. "But this place… it reminds me of the sanctuaries my clan once held. Perhaps I will indulge, if only for a moment."
She settled beside him, folding her wings neatly and gazing at the water. Liang watched her for a moment, struck by the contrast between her regal bearing and the quiet vulnerability she allowed herself in this moment of stillness.
"Thank you," he said suddenly, his voice soft. "For everything. For guiding me, even when I've made things harder than they needed to be."
Ziyan glanced at him, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Do not misunderstand," she said. "My guidance is not born of kindness. You carry the shard and the flame. Both are tied to the fate of what remains of my clan. My duty is to see that you do not squander them."
Liang chuckled, though there was no bitterness in his tone. "That still sounds like gratitude is in order."
Ziyan huffed, the faintest hint of amusement flickering across her face. "You are insufferable," she said, though her tone lacked its usual sharpness.
The two lapsed into silence once more, the moment stretching out in quiet companionship. Liang let his gaze drift across the cavern, taking in the serene beauty of the spring and the soft glow of the moss. For the first time in what felt like years, he allowed himself to simply exist without the weight of expectation or fear pressing down on him.
After a time, Ziyan rose gracefully to her feet, her feathers shimmering as she stretched her wings. "We should continue," she said. "This peace is fleeting, and the path ahead will not wait for us to gather our strength."
Liang nodded, pushing himself to his feet. The soreness in his limbs was still there, but it felt distant now, muted by the calm he had found at the spring. He cast one last glance at the water, the faint reflection of his face now steady and unmarred by flame.
"Let's go," he said, his voice steady.
Ziyan led the way, her azure glow lighting the path as they ventured deeper into the cavern. The sound of the spring faded behind them, replaced by the soft echo of their footsteps and the faint hum of energy in the air. Liang's hand brushed against the satchel at his side, where the shard rested. For the first time, it felt less like a burden and more like a part of him—a part he was beginning to understand.