Sarah's Point of View
The night air was gentle.
It wrapped around Sarah's robes like a lover's touch — cool, perfumed with the breath of plum blossoms and rain-soaked soil. She walked side by side with Ren Tai beneath the silver canopy of stars, their footsteps soft on the temple stone.
They had done this many nights before. No words needed. Just the silence between them — quiet and complete. The world was cruel beyond the courtyard walls, but here, beneath the moon and blossoms, it was almost kind.
She glanced at him.
He looked as he always did — like moonlight shaped into a man. Pale, sharp-boned, ethereal. His gray eyes held storms behind them, yet his lips never seemed to know how to speak of the thunder.
So beautiful, she thought. And yet, so far away.
There were always rumors. That he was cursed. That his father had conspired against the sect. That he should've died alongside him. But Sarah had never listened to the whispers. She had fallen for his silence. For the way he endured everything without complaint. For the time he gave her his only healing pellet when she had sprained her ankle during training, and never asked for thanks.
Tonight, he handed her something again.
A simple wooden token. A crescent moon carved into its surface, with her name beneath it in shaky strokes. Not elegant. Not perfect. But hers.
"I carved it when I couldn't sleep," he said softly.
Sarah held it in her palm, her chest tightening. "It's beautiful."
Ren Tai only nodded.
She wanted to tell him what was coming. That she had been promoted to Core Disciple. That a delegation from the ThunderPeak Sect was arriving. That her father had summoned her privately, and everything was about to change.
But the silence felt too perfect to break.
So she said nothing.
Days Later — The Storm Arrives
The ThunderPeak sect delegation arrived with fanfare and fire.
Valthor, son of their patriarch, strode through the Mirror Moon Sect like it already belonged to him. Tall, broad-shouldered, wrapped in sun-gold robes, with eyes that sparked like embers — he was everything Ren Tai was not.
Loud, where Ren was quiet. Brazen, where Ren was gentle. And powerful. You could feel it in the air around him: the sharp scent of lightning waiting to strike.
Sarah hated how her father looked at him — with admiration, and calculation.
She hated more how Valthor looked at her.
Like she was already his.
That night, Sect Master Liang summoned her.
"Sarah," he began, his voice calm but with iron beneath his words. "You've done well. A Core Disciple at eighteen. Your name already reaches beyond our walls."
"Thank you, Father," she replied.
"But the Mirror Moon Sect is small. Fragile. One storm, and we shatter."
He rose, walking to the window to gaze over the distant peaks. "Valthor is taken with you."
"I noticed."
"He's heir to a high-tier sect. If you aligned yourself with him… our future would be secured."
Sarah clenched her fists beneath her sleeves. "What about Ren Tai?"
Sect Master Liang turned. His expression was unreadable. "The son of a traitor."
"You said once that his father was falsely accused."
"Does it matter now? Even if true, the stain remains. Ren Tai is — at best — a ghost in our halls. At worst, a threat to your future."
"But —"
"You're young. You think love will save you. But love cannot protect a sect from war or decline. Legacy is not built on sentiment."
She left the room trembling. Angry. Confused.
And somewhere in her soul… convinced.
The Banquet Night
Sarah stood on the pavilion, violet robes draped over her form like royalty. The newly sewn insignia of Core Disciple rested proudly on her chest. Laughter rang around her. Wine flowed. Lanterns danced.
Valthor stood at her side, whispering sweet visions of their shared future. She smiled. She laughed. She lied.
She almost forgot he was coming — until she saw him.
Ren Tai. Hair windswept, robes modest, eyes tired but soft. He walked to her and offered the silk bundle like it was the last thing he had to give.
"I made something for you," he said.
Her breath caught.
She remembered every moonlit walk. The token still hidden in her sleeve. The night he sat with her while she cried over a failed breakthrough. The way he never asked for anything — not even her.
And yet —
"You shouldn't be here, Ren," she whispered.
"I know."
"Things have changed. He… he's from a top-tier sect. This alliance could raise our entire future."
He looked at her with pain behind his eyes that nearly shattered her resolve.
"So I'm the cost?"
"You have nothing to offer," she said. Gently. Guiltily. Cruelly. "We're not part of the same world anymore."
She turned and walked away.
And didn't look back.
The Trial
Three days later, Valthor struck.
He claimed Ren Tai had attempted to assault Sarah out of jealousy. The accusation spread like wildfire.
Sarah said nothing.
She knew the truth.
She knew Ren Tai would never harm her. That his silence was not guilt, but heartbreak.
But she also knew Valthor's power. His father's reach. Her father's expectations.
When Ren Tai was dragged before the elders — hands bound, eyes hollow — she stood with the others. She didn't speak when they shattered his dantian. Didn't weep when they ruptured his meridians.
Didn't blink when they cast him into the Screaming Abyss.
He looked at her once.
Eyes full of betrayal and questions.
She lowered her gaze.
After
They returned to celebration.
Sarah returned to her room and sat beside the brazier.
In her hand was the wooden token with her name — burnt into moonlight.
It didn't burn when she tossed it into the flame.
But something inside her did.