Chapter Text
Darkness. Thick and impenetrable.
A sudden shift—a creak of fabric, the faint scrape of a sword hilt against wood, and the sharp intake of breath. The silence is broken by another gasp, then another. Breathing quickens, hushed voices rise in confusion, and a palpable tension fills the air, as if the very space around them is holding its breath.
Then, a click.
White light bursts into the room, sudden and blinding.
Seventeen pairs of eyes blink rapidly, adjusting to the brightness, as startled voices shatter the silence.
“Where are we?”
“What in the heavens...?”
Jiang Fengmian is the first to stand, his calm demeanor unwavering, his sharp eyes sweeping the room. Beside him, Madam Yu’s hand instinctively moves to her whip, while Jiang Cheng’s stance is already defensive, prepared to fight. Jiang Yanli, wide-eyed and uncertain, stands close behind.
Lan Qiren furrows his brows, immediately moving to check on Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji, both appearing composed, though the wariness in their expressions is undeniable.
Wen Xu’s hand hovers near his blade, his posture tense. Wen Chao backs into a corner, his face pale, clearly rattled by the unexpected turn of events. Wen Ruohan stands tall, his gaze cold and calculating, analyzing the room as though it were a battlefield.
Jin Guangshan scoffs, a sneer curling his lip. “What is the meaning of this?” he demands, his voice harsh and commanding.
Madam Jin moves protectively in front of Jin Zixuan, who stands silently, his expression unreadable.
Nie Mingjue clenches his fists, looking as if he’s ready to tear the walls down. Nie Huaisang clutches his fan, eyes wide and trembling, unsure of what to make of the situation.
The room is circular, sterile, with a high ceiling and no windows—only a single glowing crystal orb hanging overhead. There are no doors, no exits. The air feels thick, pressing in on them, and still, there are no answers.
The room hums, an unsettling sound that seems to reverberate through the walls. As confusion ripples through the group, Nie Mingjue strides forward, his voice low and commanding.
“Lan Qiren—do you know what this is?” he demands, reaching out to grab the elder’s arm.
But his hand passes right through him, like trying to catch mist.
A stunned silence follows. He tries again, and again, but there is nothing—no resistance, no warmth.
Gasps of shock fill the room. Others, one by one, reach out, attempting to touch someone, only to find their hands meet empty air. Jiang Cheng’s fingers slip through his sister’s sleeve as if she’s a figment of his imagination. Lan Wangji reaches for his brother, his fingers brushing past him as though he were no more than a wisp.
“We can’t touch each other,” Lan Xichen says quietly, his voice too calm, as though he’s still trying to process the strangeness of it all. “It’s like we’re... not really here.”
“What kind of trick is this?” Madam Yu snaps, her face twisted in anger. She moves forward, trying to seize Jiang Fengmian’s wrist, but her hand slips right through him, like she’s grasping at shadows.
“We’re... illusions?” Nie Huaisang whispers, his voice tremulous as he hides behind his fan.
“No,” Wen Ruohan mutters, eyes narrowing as he surveys the room. “We’re real. But... something’s keeping us apart. It’s as if we’re in separate realms.”
The orb above them pulses, its glow steady and slow, like the beat of a distant heart.
Jin Zixuan lifts his hand, studying it as if testing the air itself. “We can see each other,” he murmurs, “but it’s like we’re not really here. Not completely.”
Lan Qiren, his patience fraying, takes a step forward. “Then what are we supposed to do?” he demands, frustration creeping into his voice.
The voice that follows is cold, omnipresent, its tone reverberating from the very orb that hangs overhead.
“We watch.”
The room stills, all eyes turning toward the orb, every head turning in unison as a chill settles over the group.
“We watch the consequences of your choices.”
The words hang in the air, heavy and commanding, thick with an undeniable weight.
“I am giving you the chance of a lifetime,” the voice continues, its tone deep and unwavering. “Watch the future unfold. Watch the people you wronged suffer and realize your mistakes.”
The lights flicker once more, and instinctively, everyone takes a step back, their eyes darting about, searching for the source of the voice. Their hearts race, and panic ripples through the group—but still, they cannot move any closer to one another. No one can bridge the growing distance.
“Or else,” the voice warns, its tone now dark, “you risk losing everything once again. Forever.”
The orb pulses ominously, its glow intensifying. A cold shiver runs through the room, settling like a weight in their chests.
The once confident and powerful leaders now stand still, trapped in confusion.
Wen Ruohan’s gaze darkens as he surveys the group. His eyes linger on the others, each frozen in place, unable to touch, unable to connect.
“We need to face it,” Lan Wangji says at last, his voice soft but resolute, his composure unwavering amidst the tension. “If this is a chance to correct our future wrongs, we must take it.”
“But what will it cost?” Lan Qiren asks, suspicion lining his voice.
“Everything,” the voice replies simply, its tone cold and final.
The orb pulses brighter, the air crackling with a sudden intensity.
“Watch,” the voice says, its cold echo filling the space. “Understand. The future is yet to come. You must decide—correct it, or lose everything.”
An illusion flickers before them.