The Heart of the Mountain breathed slow. The green pool's glow dimmed to a soft throb, mango vines draping over stone pillars like lazy fingers. For the first time in weeks, there was no horn, no frost, no crash of steel—only the quiet rustle of leaves and Bright's occasional mumble about lost mangoes.
Tan Kai knelt beside the pool, his rough hand skimming the surface. The jade in his palm pulsed with the same rhythm as the water—and he froze. The ache behind his left eye, hidden beneath a strip of faded blue cloth, began to grow, crawling up toward his temple.
"The corruption's stirring again," he murmured. He didn't look up—he didn't have to. He knew Yara was already beside him. "Heaven's not just chasing us anymore. They're digging for the Core."
Yara leaned close, her shoulder brushing his. She saw his thumb rub the cracked jade token at his waist. Her own left cheek tingled—the flame-shaped birthmark there faintly glowed, reacting to his tension.
"The Core under the valley?" she asked quietly. Her right wrist brushed against an old burn scar—the one she'd gotten as a child, when Tan Kai grabbed her hand to stop the fire. The memory softened her tone. "The one holding the corruption back?"
He nodded, lifting the jade toward the light. Its glow flickered, uncertain. "It's weakening. If Heaven reaches it first… the valley burns."
Bright appeared, mango juice sticky on his chin. He held up a half-eaten fruit and sighed before tossing it aside. "So we're running again? No mango break? My feet are still mad about that last tunnel."
Lina tucked a strand of silver-green hair behind her ear, smiling. "The Core's beneath the old temple—under the lotus tree. But the roads are crawling with soldiers. We'll cut through the mangrove swamps. They hate mud."
Tong glanced toward Lila, who was gently twisting mangoes free from a vine. He moved closer, ready to catch her if she slipped.
"I know their patrols," Tong said. "Heaven's soldiers stay on the dry paths. The swamp's our best shot."
Nam knelt by a patch of red flowers, plucking them carefully and tucking them into her pouch. "Fireblooms. Mix them with mango leaves—the smoke will blind their scouts."
Yara turned to Tan Kai. His left hand was pressed to his temple again. She didn't say anything—just reached out, fingers brushing his wrist. The light touch steadied him.
"You'll come?" she asked. It wasn't really a question.
He met her eyes. The jade in his hand pulsed with a warm glow, like it agreed. "I'll come. The jade needs both of us. And…" he hesitated, a little embarrassed, "I don't want you tripping in the mud alone."
Yara's lips twitched. She punched his arm lightly. "I don't trip. You're the one who stepped in that puddle last month."
He huffed a laugh—and the pain in his eye eased.
⸻
They left at dawn. The bond stone in Lina's hand cast a soft path of light through the tunnel. Bright sang off-key about mangoes and mud, his voice echoing off the rock. Tong helped Lila over loose stones, while Nam's herb pouch rustled with every step.
Tan Kai and Yara walked last. Their shoulders brushed occasionally, falling into a quiet rhythm. He kept glancing at her—at the way her ponytail bounced with each step, at the faint shimmer of the flame-shaped birthmark on her cheek. When she stumbled over a root, he caught her elbow before she could fall.
"Careful," he said.
She rolled her eyes but didn't pull away. "I was fine."
He knew she wasn't. Her wrist trembled—she'd practiced fire magic too long the night before. Without a word, he pulled out a small jade hand warmer, smooth and warm from his pocket, and pressed it into her hand.
"For your wrist," he said.
She hesitated, then tucked it into her pocket, ears tinged pink. "Thanks."
Ahead, Bright yelled, "Swamp's here! And—hey! Mango vines! Can we stop? Just for a second? I'll share, promise!"
Yara laughed, her eyes crinkling. "Later, Bright. Core first. Then mangoes."
⸻
The mangrove swamp smelled of damp earth and ripe fruit. Roots knotted together like giant fingers, drinking from dark water streaked with gold sunlight.
Lila ran ahead, her boots sinking into mud. Tong chased after her, laughing when she turned to splash him. Nam crouched by the water, gathering more fireblooms. Bright wandered off, nose in the air, hunting mangoes.
Tan Kai moved slower. The blue cloth over his left eye had slipped; sunlight stabbed at the socket beneath. Yara noticed and stepped closer, using her body to block the light.
"Does it hurt?" she asked.
He shook his head, but she saw the tension in his jaw. Gently, she reached up and retied the cloth. Her fingers brushed his cheek, lingering for a heartbeat.
"Better?"
He nodded. "Yeah."
Then—the horn sounded.
Heaven's horn.
Tong yanked Lila behind a tree. Nam stuffed the fireblooms into her pouch. Bright sprinted back, wide-eyed.
"They're here," Yara hissed. Her hand flared green—venom magic alive under her skin. Her wrist trembled, but she held steady.
Tan Kai grabbed her hand, pressing the jade to her palm. "Feel that?" he whispered. The stone vibrated faintly. "Soldiers. Ten of them. Heading this way."
She closed her eyes, focusing. Yes—she could sense their steps, the dull thud of armor in the mud. But the rhythm wasn't moving toward them. It was heading for the swamp's center, where the mud bubbled thick and dark.
"The Core isn't under the temple," Yara breathed. "It's here. In the swamp."
Tan Kai's good eye widened. "Heaven's digging in the wrong place. We still have time."
Then a voice shattered the air—cold, familiar.
The Judge.
"Dig!" he roared. "Dig until your hands bleed! The corruption wakes today—and the valley will burn with it!"
Soldiers thrust their shovels into the mud. The bubbling grew violent. Black mist rose from the earth—corruption, thick and rancid.
Lila whimpered and clung to Tong. He drew his blade, shielding her.
"We need to stop them," Tong said.
Nam nodded, scattering fireblooms into her palm. "Smoke first. Then we strike."
Bright tightened his grip on his staff. "Let's go. If I die, tell the mango vines I loved them."
Yara's hand found Tan Kai's shoulder. "Together?"
He smiled faintly, their joined hands warming around the jade. "Always."
Nam threw the fireblooms. They burst against the mud—bright orange smoke curling up, blinding the soldiers.
Yara charged first, fire wrapping around her dagger like a living thing. She slashed through armor; metal hissed where flame met steel. Pain shot up her wrist, but she didn't stop.
Tan Kai followed, holding the jade aloft. Golden light flared out, cutting through the black mist. His eye burned, agony lancing behind the cloth, but he kept moving.
A soldier swung his sword at Yara's back. Tan Kai shoved her aside. The blade struck his waist—right where the cracked jade token hung.
The sound rang like thunder. The token shattered, shards scattering across the mud.
Tan Kai staggered, breath catching. The blow had hit deep, but the token had taken most of it.
Yara turned, eyes wide. "Tan Kai—are you—"
"I'm fine," he lied. The pain pulsed hot through his ribs. "The token took it."
There was no time to argue. The Judge strode through the smoke, scars glinting under silver light, his great blade humming with Heaven's power.
"You," he snarled. "You'll pay for this."
He lunged—his sword aimed straight for Yara's heart.
Yara didn't flinch. Flame surged from her palm, meeting Tan Kai's light. Their hands touched—her fire, his jade—melding gold and orange. The energy exploded forward, striking the Judge's blade and sending sparks raining. He screamed, his hand blistering under the heat.
"Run!" Tan Kai shouted.
They ran—through mud, through smoke, past soldiers blinded and coughing. The Judge's roar echoed behind them, but they didn't look back.
⸻
At last, they reached the temple. Tan Kai shoved open the heavy stone doors. Inside, the air was cool, echoing with carvings—lotuses, Naga, figures holding jade.
In the center stood a stone pedestal. Empty.
"The Core was here," Tan Kai muttered. "But it's gone."
Yara brushed her hand over a carving. Her flame birthmark flared softly. "Heaven's been here. They took it."
Then Lila gasped, pointing at the floor—faint green light seeped from the cracks, and mango vines began to grow, coiling around the pedestal.
"The Core's not gone," she said. "It's beneath us."
Tan Kai knelt, pressing the jade to the ground. The vines shimmered; the pedestal split open. Inside, a small green stone pulsed like a heartbeat—the Core.
He lifted it. The jade in his hand glowed bright, merging with the Core's light. Gold and green swirled together—and the pain in his eye vanished.
Outside, the Judge's horn sounded again, closer.
"We need to get back to the Heart," Lina said. "The Core has to be protected."
Yara took Tan Kai's hand. The jade and Core pulsed between them. Her wrist no longer trembled.
"Let's go," she said.
They ran from the temple, the swamp still thick with mist. Bright groaned about losing another mango, and Lila laughed when he tripped over a root.
Tan Kai glanced at Yara. Her hair was messy, her cheeks flushed, her birthmark now a soft rose hue.
He smiled.
She raised an eyebrow. "What?"
"Nothing," he said, his voice low. "Next time, we find the mangoes first."
She laughed, squeezing his hand. "Next time. Mangoes first."
They ran toward the tunnel, the Core glowing between their palms. Heaven still hunted. The corruption still waited.
But for now—they had each other.
And for now, that was enough.