The Mad Ҡìղց

The Shadows Within

It had been two months since the soul-binding ritual, and in all that time, Wang hadn't found a single answer—only more questions. His steps echoed through the room as he paced, his fingers constantly fidgeting with the ring Zhan had given him. It had become a ritual of its own, this endless back-and-forth march, as though he could somehow walk himself into a solution. But the solution was as elusive as Zhan himself.

Zhan's absence weighed on Wang's chest like a heavy stone, pressing down harder with each passing day. It wasn't just the physical separation—it was the silence, the void where Zhan's voice should be. Every fiber of Wang's being longed to hear that voice again, to see his face, even if only for a moment. He closed his eyes, trying to conjure up the sound of Zhan's laughter, the way his eyes would crinkle at the corners when he smiled.

But Zhan was unreachable. No matter how far Wang stretched, no matter how deeply he probed the magic that bound them. It was as though some invisible wall had been erected between them during the ritual, a wall neither magic nor love could break through. And with every day that passed, that wall seemed to grow higher.

Fengmian had taken every precaution to protect Wang's identity and location. Since the ritual, they had all been in hiding. Fengmian made sure that no servants laid eyes on Wang, carefully masking his presence with magic and concealment spells. Trust had become a fragile thing. Ever since that fateful day, they could no longer be sure who was a friend and who might be an enemy in disguise.

Duan Dan had adjusted quickly to the new life they were living. She had always been resourceful, but now, with her magic, she managed the household tasks with a quiet efficiency that surprised even her. Cleaning the house had once been a chore, but with the flick of her hand and a muttered incantation, she could clear an entire room of dust and grime. When she wasn't busy maintaining the house, she and Chang would take turns cooking. Strange as it seemed, she found peace in these small, domestic rituals. It was something she could control when everything else felt like it was spiraling out of reach.

"I never thought I'd enjoy this," Duan Dan had said one evening, stirring a pot of soup while Chang cleaned vegetables beside her.

"It's the simple things that keep us sane," Chang had replied with a knowing smile.

But while Duan Dan and Chang had found some small solace in the routine, Wang was restless. His soul ached for Zhan, and his mind churned with endless questions. None of them had any answers, and the weight of that ignorance was growing unbearable. The only person who talked to him about Zhan and how he is faring, Nie Ming Jue, was late for his visit today. This was unusual for him—Nie Ming Jue was a man of precision, rarely deviating from his commitments. He had visited every two days without fail. His absence gnawed at Wang's already fraying nerves.

"He's never late," Wang muttered to himself. He paused mid-step and glanced toward the door. Anxiety pulsed through his veins. "Something must be wrong."

Chang looked up from her place at the window, concern creasing her brow. "He'll come. He's probably just been delayed."

But just as he spoke, there was a knock at the door. Fengmian immediately rose, his hand instinctively brushing the hilt of the dagger at his waist as he approached the door. He opened it cautiously, revealing Nie Ming Jue standing on the threshold, his broad figure filling the doorway. But it wasn't his presence that drew the room's attention—it was the small creature cradled in his arms.

"A baby unicorn."

Everyone in the room froze, staring at the unicorn with a mixture of awe and disbelief. It was no ordinary sight.