The sky bled.
Crimson Ridge roared beneath it—lava fog rising in plumes around the furnace pit, where traitors were cast without names, without prayers.
Xiluo stood at the edge.
Arms bound behind her.
Moonlight painted her skin silver-blue, but the fire below stained her in red.
A priest raised a torch. “Let her be forgotten."
Another voice chanted, “Purge the curse. End the silence."
Chains rattled as the final rope was prepared.
A step closer—
She didn't flinch.
The fire flickered.
And far, far below, molten light surged like a mouth opening wide.
Then
##“XILUO!"
Her head snapped up.
His voice.
Distant.
But real.
“ETHAN!" she screamed, voice raw, shaking the cliffs.
The priests recoiled. “She speaks—!"
From the ridgeline above, a dire wolf leapt into view, armor-clad
