Fan Yumei looked up at him—at the mighty eagle, her first companion, the one who used to mock her clumsy summoning rituals and now stood like a dark winged sentinel.
"We're going to find her," she said, firm again. "And we're going to survive this. Rift-map or no rift-map."
Maxius nodded once. Then twice.
"…But we're going to have words with that orange-cloaked vendor when we get back," he muttered.
Fan Yumei cracked a tired smile. "Put it on the list."
⸻
Then she secured the scroll, rolled her shoulders, and headed deeper into the broken ruins, Maxius soaring just overhead—watching the horizon, every muscle in his wings tuned to the faintest whisper of thunder.
The air stank—ash, moisture, rotten vine spores. She inhaled carefully. Too thick to trust.
Everything was quiet. Too quiet.
Maxius had been tossed a few minutes after her. He blinked wildly in a chaotic flicker of shadow-light. He was dizzy—barely balanced. His illusion fur wasn't even forming right.
Her family ring was dim, but her armor was intact.
Her hand found it out of instinct.
Still attached. Still there. Just… quiet.
"Mystic?" she whispered.
Nothing.
"Lufei?"
Only silence.
Panic crept up her spine—but she pushed it back down.
"I was the one who said survive," she reminded herself under her breath. "So I will."
She unlatched a heating orb from her space bracelet and activated it. Steam curled out—a little warmth. Something familiar.
Her boots squelched slightly as she stepped forward.
The ruins around her were eerily still—shattered temples, half-sunken roadways, and an unsettling arch of blue light pulsing far in the distance.
She activated her comm rune. "Yumei to team. Status check."
Silence.
No answer. No ping.
Maxius clambered onto her shoulder with a tired grunt, then chirped—his usual confident tone gone. Still, he flicked his ears and scanned the surroundings.
They moved cautiously. The city wasn't just ruins—it was breathing. Sounds echoed weirdly. Wind didn't blow right. And something was definitely watching.
Then Maxius perked.
"What?" Fan Yumei followed his gaze—and he bolted into a cracked wall.
"Maxius!"
She scrambled after him, slipping through a narrow tunnel of broken stone.
They fell—literally.
Fan Yumei dropped down a sloped slab and landed in a dusty underground chamber. She coughed. "Maxius, if I break my ankle following you…"
The room was dim but lined with shelves and cabinets, half-collapsed. A strange lamp burned with qi-fire in the corner. Dozens of ancient veterinary manuals, beast-bond scrolls, and healing tomes filled the space. Records, too—clan logs, beast health charts, ritual documents.
"Looks like an old healer's archive," she muttered, sifting through them. She scanned the pages, hoping for context—something about the city or the realm.
Nothing helpful.
Most of it was either outdated or unrelated. One scroll was just a chart of common beast parasites—Maxius sniffed it and gagged. She set it on fire.
"Ugh, disgusting," she muttered. "Next."
Maxius pointed his tail at a lockbox wedged behind a fallen shelf. They dragged it out and found a sealed potion case—three golden tinctures, one cracked.
"Finally. Something worth keeping."
She packed the books anyway. Her space bracelet shimmered as she stored them carefully.
They resurfaced, the wind shifting.
Fan Yumei and Maxius climbed back up—only to freeze at the sound of footsteps.
Big ones.
Around the next bend, a giant six-eyed fox made of liquid fire prowled beside a crystal-scaled badger the size of a jeep.
Fan Yumei didn't blink. She turned.
"Run."
Maxius squeaked. They ran.
A pack of laughing thunder-furred lemurs chased them halfway through a broken market. At one point, Fan Yumei dove through a half-open arch while Maxius flung a fruit cart behind them.
The lemurs tripped, flipped, and howled.
Fan Yumei wheezed out, "Did you just—weaponize produce?"
Maxius flared his wings proudly. "I fight dirty."
They kept moving.
Fan Yumei led them through a half-collapsed plaza choked with vine-cracked statues and blackened fountains. Something about the echoes here rang wrong—too stretched, too slow, as if the realm itself hadn't settled on what time should feel like.
Then she heard it.
A clang. A sharp metallic bang followed by muffled shouting.
Fan Yumei motioned for Maxius to hold position and crept toward the sound.
Around the corner, two students—uniforms dusty and torn—stood near a partially buried jade chest glowing faintly in the ruins. One of them wore the stylized dark-gray field uniform of North Flame Institute, his voice hoarse with urgency. The other had on the pale silver-blue of Starveil Academy, a crest half-torn across his chest plate.
The North Flame student, taller and bloodied along his jawline, growled, "I told you this chest is keyed to an energy trap."
The Starveil student, clearly exhausted and favoring a shoulder gash, snapped back, "We don't have a choice, Liang Bo. This might be the only salvageable kit in the quadrant."
"I don't care," Liang Bo hissed. "This entire ruin's unstable. We open this wrong, we're dust."
"I'm not dying here empty-handed, Tao Renjie."
Fan Yumei froze in place. Her breath caught.
They were still debating when the box gave a warning hiss. Tao Renjie flinched but didn't stop moving.
The seal cracked.
Fan Yumei raised her hand instinctively and cast a fast barrier rune.
Too late.
The chest detonated—raw qi bursting outward with a hollow boom. It wasn't fire or ice—it was compression, pure unstable force. A short-range detonation spell, shrouded beneath a camouflage lock.
Dust and pressure rolled through the hallway.
Fan Yumei's shield held, barely, but Maxius let out a sharp cry behind her.
When the smoke cleared, both boys lay still, limbs curled unnaturally.
Liang Bo was twisted half over the chest, eyes wide but empty. Tao Renjie had shielded him partially—but the blast had reached both of them.
She walked forward slowly.
Maxius hovered in silence.
Fan Yumei knelt beside them.
They were gone.
She reached down and brushed the dust from their faces.
Then she whispered, quietly, reverently, "Tao Renjie of Starveil. Liang Bo of North Flame. May your next life be gentler."
She didn't rush.
Instead, she removed two light-wrap cloths from her belt storage—standard Federation issue—and wrapped both students with care. No ceremony, no glowing runes. Just hands steady with practice and grief. She set a short prayer rune at the base of their feet. It flickered once—honoring the dead. Then she sealed them in a quarantine-safe section of her bracelet space, away from her food, water, and weapon storage.
Not tucked aside.
Not forgotten.
Just… preserved.
Maxius finally stepped forward, voice low.
"They didn't feel like enemies."
Fan Yumei looked down, then up.
"They weren't."
They pushed onward.
Past scorched murals, broken sky-bridges, and cracked tiles humming faintly with spirit residue. She found a few more traces of life—old boot tracks, a discarded blade, and what might've been a warded cooking pit long since blown out.
Under flickering ruin-lights, her voice carried into the emptiness:
"Lufei might still be near. I'll find you and mystic."
Maxius chirped softly beside her. A little steadier now.
Fan Yumei whispered, "We do this—for each other."
They didn't stop walking.
And the realm, somewhere deep around them, watched—and shifted again.