Far beyond the main palace grounds where the ocean met jagged black stone and waves crashed endlessly against the cliffs, the volcanic region of the Azure Dragon clan stood alive.
Heat bled into the rain-soaked air, steam rising in ghostly veils as molten life pulsed beneath the earth. And through it, Ningyan walked up the long, engraved stone steps carved into the mountain's side, rain soaking through his robes, his hair clinging damply to his back.
The storm had not eased. If anything, it pressed heavier.
For days now… he had done nothing but spiral.
The crystal within burned relentlessly. A dull ache one moment, sharp enough to steal his breath....
And still, he hadn't gone back to the palace. He hadn't faced any of them.
He honestly... Didn't want to.
He knew Meishan would wake up. And when he did, it wouldn't be simple.
And Ningyan… Ningyan didn't trust himself either.
