The earth ended in silence.
Li Shenhai stood at the jagged edge of the world, where rock turned to ash and breath to ice. The Mouth of the Forgotten yawned before him—an ancient ravine so deep the light fled from its depths. No map held this place. No story told of what lay below. Only whispers. Only dreams.
The wind did not blow here. Time held its breath.
Behind him, Yun'er waited just beyond the circle of shattered bone that marked the threshold. She had followed him through the stone forest, through the valley of glass bones, through every impossible omen. But here, she could go no further.
Not because she lacked courage.
Because the Mouth did not allow followers.
"You don't have to—"
"Yes," he said, not looking back. "I do."
He stepped forward.
The earth swallowed him.
There was no falling. No motion. Only… absence. Like being erased slowly, memory by memory. Shenhai reached for Wuji but found his body no longer solid. He was thought, shadow, the echo of a man.
Still, the sword remained. Its outline shimmered in the void beside him, whispering louder than ever.
Not sealed. Not yet awakened. Choose. Choose.
Remember.
Then came the heartbeat—deep, ancient, and slow. It rattled everything that had ever been named.
He opened his eyes.
He stood beneath a blood-colored sky, where mountains moved like waves and stars wept black rain. At the center of this terrible realm stood a throne of flesh, vines, and bone. Empty.
But she was there.
The Bloodmother.
She was not woman. She was not beast. She was not god.
She was origin.
Her voice did not come as sound—it bled into him.
"Welcome, child of betrayal. Born of storm. Bred by sorrow."
She approached, not walking but unfolding—tall, elegant, terrible. Her face was dozens of faces, shifting with every breath. Some were familiar. One of them looked like his mother.
"You carry my seed. My mark. My echo."
Shenhai held still. "Why?"
"Because your father defied me. Because he sealed the truth. Because you, my broken heir, must choose what he refused."
"What did he refuse?"
"To become what he was meant to be. To let me in. To give Wuji back to me."
The sword quivered at Shenhai's side.
"Wuji was yours?"
"No. Wuji was me."
She reached out.
"It was forged from the rib of the first titan I devoured. Its hilt bears the runes of my first name. Your father stole it to bind me. To cut me off from myself."
Shenhai took a step back. "Then I'll never give it back."
The Bloodmother's mouths smiled.
"You misunderstand. I do not want it returned. I want it opened. Fully. And only you can do it."
The sky cracked above him. A vision forced its way into his mind.
Li Zhen—his father—stood atop the Wailing Stone Plateau, his body half-consumed in stormlight. The final battle. The moment he vanished.
Shenhai watched him drive Wuji into the heart of a great beast—one that screamed with a thousand voices. A maw of red and gold, its body a river of memories.
The Bloodmother.
But in that moment, Li Zhen looked up. His eyes met Shenhai's—across time.
"If you're seeing this… then the seal is weakening," Li Zhen said.
"I hoped you would never have to finish this."
"But I left you more than a sword. I left you choice."
"She will offer power. She will offer truth. But she cannot offer peace. Only you can choose who you are without her."
The vision ended.
The Bloodmother laughed, her voice a cathedral of grief.
"He lied. Even now, he lies. I am not your enemy. I am the memory of what the world forgot—the mother of what was denied."
Shenhai breathed deeply.
He looked at Wuji.
"You are made of her. But you were used to bind her."
"You're not just a weapon. You're a decision."
And in that moment, Wuji shifted.
Its rust fell away like dead skin.
Beneath it gleamed not steel, but stormlight and sorrow—etched with script that moved like waves. The blade whispered:
What you name me… I become.
Shenhai looked into the Bloodmother's eyes—all of them.
"Then I name you Truth, but not my Master."
"I name this sword not Regret. Not Curse. I name it Memory."
The earth trembled.
Wuji howled.
The Bloodmother staggered.
"So be it," she hissed. "Then remember this—your name will outlive gods. But it will never escape me."
And with that, the world collapsed.
Shenhai awoke at the edge of the Mouth, surrounded by lightning-scorched stone.
Yun'er knelt beside him. Her face pale with worry.
"You were gone three days."
"I was gone longer than that," he said quietly.
She looked at his blade.
No longer rusted. No longer sealed.
Alive.
"What did you see?" she asked.
He looked toward the distant horizon.
"The beginning of everything."