The day began with bells.
It ended without them.
At first, it was just another morning on Cloudrest Peak.
The air was cold enough to bite but smelled clean, like rain and pine needles. Disciples hurried across the courtyards, robes fluttering white against the mist.
From my window, I could see the outer cliffs wrapped in silver fog. The mountain looked peaceful.
It always did before something broke.
I poured tea, arranged the papers on my desk, and tried not to think about Heaven's last message:
Further verification will arrive shortly.
Verification. Heaven's polite word for trouble.
By mid-morning, the wind changed.
It carried the sharp scent of lightning even though the sky was clear.
When the first bell rang, everyone looked up.
When the second rang, everyone stopped moving.
I stepped into the courtyard.
High above, streaks of gold light cut through the clouds like threads being pulled across the sky. A bright mark blazed into view — Heaven's seal.
Another inspector was descending.
Heaven never sent two at once.
It was like having two suns in the same sky — one always burned the other.
The golden trail touched down at the edge of the main terrace. Disciples knelt automatically. The air trembled; the clouds parted; the newcomer appeared.
She was dressed in gray trimmed with white, her hair bound high with a single silver pin. Young, maybe twenty, but her expression could have belonged to someone carved out of marble.
"Envoy Yue," someone whispered. "The Bureau's Eye."
I bowed with the others. My knees felt like water.
Rui Yan stepped forward. "Envoy Yue," he said formally. "I did not request additional oversight."
Her tone was calm, almost kind. "Heaven requested you."
Then her gaze slid to Shen Qianhe. "Sect Master of Cloudrest. You have my respect."
"Cloudrest returns it," he said evenly. "Though the mountain was not informed of this visit."
"Heaven does not always inform mountains," she said.
Some disciples actually flinched.
That was the thing about Heaven — even their compliments sounded like warnings.
I kept my head bowed and my breathing slow.
Envoy Yue's eyes swept the courtyard like sunlight through glass — bright, searching, absolute.
When they passed over me, my heartbeat stuttered.
For a second, the air around me pulsed faintly gold, then faded. She didn't stop. Didn't even seem to notice.
But I noticed.
The relic in the meditation chamber had stirred. Just once, faint and restless, as if calling my name.
The meeting ended quickly. Orders were given, courtyards cleared. The Envoy would "review all findings" before evening.
Rui Yan looked like he'd swallowed a lemon dipped in lightning.
Heaven was watching Heaven now — and nobody enjoys that.
By noon, I found myself summoned to the main hall.
Shen Qianhe sat at the long table, letters spread before him. His calm felt sharper today, like the stillness before a blade moves.
"Envoy Yue has asked for every document we've submitted to Heaven," he said.
"All of them?" I asked. "Including the ones Heaven already ignored?"
"Yes. Apparently they wish to confirm consistency."
"That sounds… thorough."
"It sounds like distrust," he said quietly.
I hesitated. "Do you think they suspect—"
He looked at me. "Do you?"
I forced a small smile. "I suspect everything, Sect Master. It saves time."
Something in his expression softened. "And yet you still work for Heaven."
"I like paperwork," I said.
He almost smiled. "Deliver the files by sunset."
"Yes, Sect Master."
I turned to leave.
"Assistant Lin."
"Yes?"
He didn't look up from the letters when he said, "If Heaven asks questions you cannot answer, stay silent. Silence is harder to twist than truth."
Outside, the air felt heavier, as if even the mist didn't want to breathe.
Heaven's banners fluttered over the courtyard like the wings of something too big to land.
I carried the sealed scrolls toward the inspection tents.
Each step sounded too loud.
At the edge of the courtyard, Envoy Yue stood watching the clouds drift past the cliffs. Her robe moved faintly in the wind.
When I bowed, she turned.
"You are Lin Xue," she said.
"Yes, Envoy."
"You prepared the previous reports."
"Yes."
Her eyes were pale gray, almost colorless, but they saw everything.
"You write efficiently."
"Thank you."
"Efficiency hides fear," she said, voice calm. "But fear can also be useful."
I didn't answer. Because I couldn't tell if she was warning me, testing me, or simply making conversation.
Finally, she said, "The Bureau appreciates loyalty."
"Of course," I said.
"Keep it simple," she added. "The last assistant who complicated loyalty no longer works under Heaven."
I bowed again. "Understood."
She nodded once, then looked past me toward the mountain.
"You have beautiful clouds," she said softly.
"Yes, Envoy."
"Let us hope they do not cover anything important."
When I returned to my quarters, my hands were shaking.
The relic was awake now — I could feel its pulse like a heartbeat under the mountain. The candle flame trembled in sympathy.
I whispered, "Quiet. Please. Just one more day."
The light dimmed. For a moment, I thought it had obeyed.
Then the bell rang.
Once. Twice. Three times.
And stopped.
No echoes. No answering chimes from the other towers.
Just silence.
The sound of a mountain holding its breath.
I ran into the corridor. Disciples were looking around, whispering.
"What's happening?" someone asked.
"The bells stopped," another said. "They never stop."
Elder Mei appeared from the inner hall, her face pale. "They cut the line to the tower. Heaven has seized the signal stones."
The signal stones connected Cloudrest to the rest of the province — messages, warnings, everything.
Cutting them meant isolation.
Heaven had turned the mountain into a cage.
By nightfall, the entire sect gathered in the main square.
Envoy Yue stood at the front beside Rui Yan. Behind them, Shen Qianhe watched, silent.
"The Bureau thanks Cloudrest Peak for its cooperation," Yue said, her voice clear and calm enough to make the mist shiver. "We have verified the relic incident. Our conclusion is simple: the artifact was not stolen. It was moved."
Murmurs rippled through the crowd.
"Moved?" someone whispered. "By who?"
The Envoy raised a hand. The noise stopped like someone had pressed silence into the air.
"Until the responsible party is identified," she said, "the mountain will remain under Heavenly supervision."
Her eyes swept across the gathered faces — and lingered on me.
Then she smiled. It was small, elegant, and terrifying.
After the assembly, I waited until the courtyard emptied.
Lanterns flickered weakly in the mist. The bells still refused to ring.
I slipped through the side corridors toward the meditation chamber. Every sound felt too loud — my steps, the rustle of my robe, the whisper of the wind.
Inside, the candle I'd left was out. The box sat where I'd placed it, but the lid had shifted slightly open.
Light spilled through the crack — soft, gold, alive.
I lifted the lid.
The Heartmirror Fragment pulsed once, sending a faint ripple through the air. A shimmer of reflection caught my face — and another beside mine.
Not mine.
A faint outline, as if someone else's reflection was standing next to me.
Watching.
I froze.
"Who's there?" I whispered.
No answer.
Only the echo of the relic's heartbeat and the distant sound of footsteps outside the door.
I blew out the light, closed the box, and backed into the shadows.
The door slid open.
Envoy Yue stood there, framed in moonlight.
"Assistant Lin," she said softly. "You shouldn't be here."
"I was checking the wards," I said, bowing quickly. "Inspector's request."
Her gaze drifted to the table. To the candle. To the box.
For a long moment, she said nothing.
Then she smiled again — the kind that could mean I believe you or you just dug your own grave.
"Understood," she said. "Be sure the wards stay intact."
She turned and left. The door slid shut. Her footsteps faded down the hall.
I stayed in the dark until my legs stopped shaking.
When I finally stepped outside, the moon was out. Clouds drifted apart like torn silk. The mountain gleamed silver.
And in the distance, I saw Shen Qianhe standing at the highest terrace, looking up at the sky where the bells had once rung.
For the first time since I'd met him, he looked almost… human.
Tired. Alone.
He turned slightly, as if sensing me watching, but said nothing.
I wanted to say something — anything — to fill the silence that Heaven had left behind.
Instead, I whispered to myself,
"When the bells fall silent, even lies sound loud."