Jayan knelt on the blood-soaked ground, her arms trembling as she tried to steady herself. The weight of her broken body was nothing compared to the weight pressing down on her mind—an inescapable torrent of memories that she had buried deep, now clawing their way back to the surface.
Her silver-streaked hair clung to her face, matted with sweat and blood, as she stared at the figure before her—Lucavion. His dark eyes seemed to pierce through her very soul, stripping away every layer of strength and pride she had carefully built over the years. Her hands curled into fists, pressing against the cold, wet stone beneath her.
‘How… how did it come to this?’
Jayan had not been born into privilege. The dusty streets of Thornridge had been her cradle, its biting winds her lullaby. Her family—her parents, her two younger siblings—had lived in a crumbling shack on the city’s outskirts. Her father had been a laborer, her mother a seamstress, but no matter how hard they worked, there had never been enough.
She could still remember the pangs of hunger that had gnawed at her tiny frame, the days when a crust of bread was all they had to share. Jayan, though only a child, had been forced to work as well—fetching water, running errands, anything to earn a few coppers. Life had been cruel and unrelenting, and for a time, she believed that was all the world had to offer.
But then they came.
Jayan’s eyes glimmered faintly as she remembered that day, even now in the face of despair. The robed figures of the Azure Blossom Sect had arrived in Thornridge, their presence like a gust of wind that stirred the stagnant air of her hopeless life.
She had watched them with wide eyes, her curiosity piqued as they spoke to townsfolk, their flowing robes and calm, otherworldly aura setting them apart from anyone she had ever seen. But she hadn’t expected them to see her.
One of them—a kind-looking elder—had approached her family as she worked tirelessly in a small courtyard. He had noticed something, something she had not understood at the time.
“Your daughter has a rare gift,” he had said. “A natural aptitude for cultivation.”
The words had changed her life. She had not known what cultivation was, but when the elder explained—when he said she could become an Awakened, that her family would be provided for—Jayan had felt hope for the first time. Real, tangible hope.
Her parents had wept with relief, clinging to her as though she were salvation itself.
“Be strong, my little Jayan,” her father had said, his voice hoarse. “You’ll change our lives. You’ll make us proud.”
Jayan’s introduction to the Azure Blossom Sect had been overwhelming. She had arrived at the gates with nothing but a threadbare dress and wide, frightened eyes. But within those ancient walls, she had found a new home—a place where she belonged.
Her aptitude for cultivation had been remarkable, her growth unparalleled among the other disciples. She had risen quickly, praised for her focus, her determination. But what had truly set her apart was her physique. A unique constitution that made her mana flow stronger, more vibrant.
The day she met her—the Lady Vitaliara—was seared into her mind forever. The guardian beast of the Azure Blossom Sect, an ethereal being of immense power and beauty, had seen Jayan’s potential before anyone else. Her radiant form had appeared to Jayan during her cultivation, a presence both awe-inspiring and gentle.
“You are different,” Vitaliara had said, her voice resonant, like the hum of a celestial bell. “I will teach you.”
Lady Vitaliara had become Jayan’s master, her guide, her everything. Under the guardian beast’s watchful eye, Jayan had grown stronger, faster, more capable than she could have ever imagined. The techniques Vitaliara taught her were unlike anything the sect had ever seen—graceful, deadly, and imbued with power beyond measure. The Blooming Petal Slash, a technique that symbolized beauty and destruction in harmony, had become her pride.
In those years, Jayan had believed she was destined for greatness. She had trusted Vitaliara with all her heart, convinced that her place within the Azure Blossom Sect was unshakable.
But destiny was not kind.
When the Crimson Serpent Sect came with their offers of power and promises of glory, Jayan had hesitated. The Azure Blossom Sect had grown complacent, its traditions holding it back while others sought strength without restraint. The whispers of betrayal had crept into her mind like poison.
“Why remain loyal to a dying sect?” they had asked her. “Why cling to weakness when you can thrive?”
The words had struck her like a dagger.
Vitaliara. Her master. The one who had lifted her from the dust and shown her what it meant to dream, to rise above the life she had been born into.
Jayan had stared at the emissary from the Crimson Serpent Sect, disbelief coiling tightly around her chest like a vice. “You want me to betray her?”
The emissary, a man with serpentine eyes and an unsettling calm, only smiled. “It is not betrayal, Jayan. It is evolution. The Guardian Beast’s blood holds a strength beyond mortal comprehension—a strength that can break the chains binding you to mediocrity.”
Chains. That word lingered.
Jayan looked at her hands, at the callouses from countless hours of cultivation. She thought of the Azure Blossom Sect’s walls—walls she had once seen as shelter, as salvation, but which now seemed more like a cage. The matriarch’s voice echoed in her mind: “Patience. Strength comes to those who wait.”
But Jayan no longer wanted to wait.
‘They’re holding me back.’
It was not an easy truth to accept. It felt like betrayal to even think it, but the seed had been planted. The elders lacked ambition. They clung to their traditions with a desperate, choking grip, content to let the world pass them by. And what of Jayan? Would she remain within those walls, shackled by their complacency, forever waiting for a destiny they did not have the will to claim?
‘No.’
And yet…
Her mind turned to Vitaliara, her radiant form appearing in her memories as clear as starlight. The master who had believed in her when no one else had. Who had nurtured her talents, had given her everything.
Jayan felt her throat tighten, guilt rising like bile. How could I even consider it?
“Your hesitation is admirable,” the emissary said, his voice smooth, measured, as though he could hear the war raging in her thoughts. “It shows loyalty, which is an honorable trait. But what has loyalty earned you, Jayan? Have they made you their leader? Have they shared their secrets? No. They have only used your talents to uphold a dying name.”
She flinched.
Used. That word stung more than it should have. Had she not proven herself time and again? Had she not bled for the Azure Blossom Sect, pushed herself to the brink, only to be met with kind smiles and empty promises of “one day?”
One day was not enough.
“Do you know why they do not teach you everything?” the emissary pressed, stepping closer, his voice a hushed whisper like venom in her ear. “Because they fear you. You outshine them all, and they know it. Even your precious master… especially your precious master.”
Jayan’s eyes snapped up, anger flaring despite herself. “Lies.”
“Are they?” he countered smoothly. “Think about it, Jayan. Why would she not share her full power with you? Why would she keep you in the shadows of her greatness? Because Vitaliara knows the truth—that with her blood, you would surpass even her. You would ascend beyond her reach, and she cannot allow that.”
The words rattled in her mind like broken glass.
Master Vitaliara… fears me?
No, it couldn’t be true. Vitaliara had been kind, patient. But hadn’t there always been moments, brief as they were, when her master’s gaze had lingered on her with something unreadable? Something… wary? Hadn’t there been times when Vitaliara had withheld teachings, claiming Jayan was “not yet ready?”
Jayan gritted her teeth, her hands trembling at her sides. “What you’re asking of me—”
“Is not easy,” the emissary finished, tilting his head. “But nothing worthwhile ever is. You desire strength. You desire freedom. This is the price. The blood of the Guardian Beast of Life is a small sacrifice for what you could become.”
Jayan turned away, her breath coming hard and fast. Her heart pounded, her mind a whirl of conflicting voices. Loyalty. Gratitude. Pride. Ambition. They all screamed at her, clawing for dominance.
She thought of Thornridge, of the empty bellies and desperate eyes of her family. She thought of the Azure Blossom Sect, its walls tall and unyielding, its leaders blind to the future. And she thought of herself, standing alone beneath the weight of her dreams—dreams that would never come true if she remained shackled.
Her voice was quiet when she spoke, but it carried the weight of a decision she could feel splintering her soul.
“What… what must I do?”
The emissary smiled, a serpentine curve of satisfaction. “You must do what is necessary, Jayan. Bring us her blood, and we will give you the world.”
And in that moment, as those words sank into her bones, Jayan felt something inside her fracture. She closed her eyes, seeing Vitaliara’s face—her kind eyes, her steady voice—and she tried to silence the growing whisper in her mind:
The sect is holding me back.
Master Vitaliara is holding me back.
Her hands curled into fists.
“Then I will do what is necessary.”
The emissary stepped back, bowing deeply. “You will not regret this.”
Yet as she now looked at the stage before her eyes….
‘Ah…’