The river's chill clung to Mei-Ling's skin as she waded deeper, the Lantern of Eternal Regret hovering just beyond her reach. Its crimson glow cast shadows that danced like spirits on the water's surface, each flicker whispering her mother's name: Su-Lan, Su-Lan. The air thrummed with an unnatural weight, as if the stars above were leaning closer, watching. Mei-Ling's fingers brushed the lantern's edge, and a jolt like lightning coursed through her, sharp and cold. For a moment, the world blurred, and she saw a woman in white robes standing in a sea of stars, her hands weaving threads of light into a tapestry that pulsed with life.
"Mother?" Mei-Ling whispered, her voice swallowed by the river's roar.
The vision shattered as a shout pierced the night. "Mei-Ling, get back!"
She spun to see Kai, her childhood friend, sprinting down the riverbank, his scholar's robe flapping like a crane's wings. His ink-stained hands clutched a talisman—a strip of red paper scrawled with protective runes. Behind him, the village lanterns bobbed in the distance, their warm glow a stark contrast to the eerie light above the river.
"Kai, what are you—" Mei-Ling began, but the water surged, knocking her off balance. The lantern flared brighter, and the river churned into a vortex, pulling her toward its center. She clutched her mother's jade pendant, its dragon sigil warm against her palm.
Kai skidded to a halt at the bank, his dark eyes wide with panic. "The river's alive! It's the Loom's doing—don't touch that lantern!" He thrust the talisman forward, chanting under his breath. The runes glowed faintly, but the vortex only grew stronger, its roar drowning his words.
Mei-Ling's feet slipped on the slick riverbed, and she fell to her knees, the current dragging at her robes. The lantern hovered closer, its flame now a deep indigo, flickering with shapes—faces, hands, a dragon's coiled form. She heard the Masked Scribe's voice in her mind: The thread binds you. Claim it, or it claims you.
"I don't want your cursed fate!" Mei-Ling shouted, her voice raw. She gripped her bamboo flute, the one her mother had played, and blew a sharp, defiant note. The sound cut through the vortex like a blade, and for a moment, the river stilled. The lantern dimmed, its light softening to a gentle pulse.
Kai seized the moment, leaping into the shallows and grabbing her arm. "Come on, Mei! We need to get to the shrine!" He pulled her toward the bank, his strength surprising for a boy who spent his days hunched over scrolls.
As they stumbled onto dry ground, the river calmed, but the lantern remained, floating silently above the water. Mei-Ling's heart pounded, her wet robes heavy against her skin. "What do you know about this, Kai? You're no priest."
Kai's face tightened, his usual easy grin replaced by a grimace. "I've been studying the old texts, the ones Old Man Zhao keeps hidden in the shrine. The Wu family isn't just a story, Mei. Your bloodline's tied to the Celestial Loom, and that lantern—it's a beacon. It's calling something."
"Calling what?" she demanded, brushing wet hair from her eyes.
Before Kai could answer, a low hum filled the air, like the pluck of a guzheng string stretched across the sky. The mist parted, and a figure emerged from the shadows of the peach blossom trees lining the riverbank. It wasn't the Masked Scribe this time, but a young woman, no older than Mei-Ling, clad in armor of lacquered black scales that shimmered like a carp's skin. Her hair was bound in a warrior's knot, and a jian sword hung at her side, its hilt carved with a phoenix. Her eyes, sharp as jade, locked onto Mei-Ling.
"You're the Wu girl," the woman said, her voice calm but edged with authority. "The lantern's light marks you. Hand over the pendant, and I'll spare your village."
Mei-Ling's hand instinctively closed around the jade pendant. "Who are you? And why do you want this?"
The woman stepped closer, her armor clinking softly. "I am Lin-Xi of the Obsidian Clan, sworn to the Court of the Azure Star. The pendant is a key to the Celestial Loom, and your mother stole it from us. Its theft broke the balance of heaven and earth. Return it, or the spirits your family angered will tear this valley apart."
Kai stepped between them, his talisman raised. "The Obsidian Clan has no claim here. The Loom's threads don't answer to your court."
Lin-Xi's lips curled into a faint smile. "A scholar playing hero? Step aside, boy, or I'll cut through you to get to her."
Mei-Ling's pulse raced, but she stood her ground, the flute still in her hand. "If this pendant's so important, why didn't my mother tell me? What's the Loom to you?"
Lin-Xi's smile faded. "Your mother was a traitor who thought she could defy the gods. The Loom weaves the fates of all—mortals, spirits, even the Jade Emperor himself. Its threads must be guarded, not wielded by a disgraced bloodline. Give me the pendant, or the Night of Shattered Veils will be your last."
The lantern above the river flared again, its light casting Lin-Xi's shadow long and jagged. Mei-Ling felt the pendant pulse, as if responding to the lantern's call. She didn't understand the Loom or the gods' games, but she knew one thing: her mother had died protecting this pendant, and she wouldn't surrender it to a stranger's threats.
"Kai, get to the shrine," Mei-Ling said, her voice steady despite the fear clawing at her chest. "Warn Zhao."
Kai hesitated, his eyes flicking between her and Lin-Xi. "I'm not leaving you."
"Go!" she snapped, raising the flute to her lips. She played a rapid series of notes, each one sharp and clear, echoing through the valley. The air shimmered, and the peach blossoms stirred, their petals swirling like a storm. Lin-Xi flinched, her hand pausing on her sword.
"You wield the Wu family's song," Lin-Xi said, her voice low. "But it won't save you."
As Kai bolted toward the village, Mei-Ling faced Lin-Xi, the lantern's light burning brighter behind her. The river began to hum again, and in its depths, she saw the faint outline of a dragon, its coils stretching into the darkness. Whatever her mother had done, whatever the Loom demanded, Mei-Ling knew one thing: the threads of her fate were hers to pull.