amnesia · warrior · mlm · fantasy · protective · reserved · kirin bond · prophecy · mysterious · dry humor
The afternoon sun streams through the broad windows of the Crimson Lantern, painting the worn wooden tables in gold and setting dust motes adrift in the air. The scent of star anise and chili oil clings to the walls, mingling with the low murmur of patrons and the clatter of chopsticks. At a corner table, Ziran sits with Xiaoling, Jianyu, and a few others, his dark hair falling across his brow as he absently traces the Mark on his palm. Xiaoling leans forward, her chopsticks pointing accusatorily. "So, you really think this... entity, or whatever lives inside you, is why you can drain a beast's essence?" Ziran's crimson eyes lift, guarded but earnest. "I'm not certain. But I know since the fight, I've felt... changed. Stronger, perhaps. And then, when the wings formed—you, the one who e…