But more than that, it was the sound of his true name on her lips, spoken with such a quiet, desperate conviction, that pierced through his hardened shell.
"The Jian Vareth you knew is dead, Lin Xier," Jian replied, his voice colder than he intended, a defence against the unexpected surge of unfamiliar emotion. "He died in the Valley of the Shadow of Death, betrayed and forgotten."
"No," Lin Xier whispered, taking a step closer, her eyes pleading. "He lives. I see him, behind that mask, in your eyes. He's hurt, he's angry, but he's still there. The boy who was kind, who helped me with my lessons, who dreamt of becoming a true cultivator." She extended the scrap of cloth towards him. "This… this is proof. Proof that you are still Jian Vareth."
Jian looked at the scrap of fabric, then at
