The dream had not made sense.

Nothing did, lately.

Perhaps it was a sign her brother’s suspicions were right—that Heaven truly was angry. Rìhé did not know if the recent spectacle had been a tipping point or not, and the thought plagued her mind. She herself was angry at everyone, herself included. At her brother, most of all, for allowing such scrutiny—such possibility of punishment upon himself. At her husband, for treating her so lowly, as if she were nothing more than something to be directed. At Shēnléi, for allowing and creating a mess. Even Yue, who she looked up to, admired, even fawned over, left a bitter taste for now.

It was them that visited her mind when the dream quieted, and it was them that drew her toward her option. The third door. She did not know why, but something about it, something insistent and loud, urged her forward.

The air shifted the moment she stepped through, pressing into her lungs until breathing felt labored, stolen. Her ears flattened as the low, pained hum of the chamber settled into her bones, something alive beneath the stone, something suffering.

She saw the Bound one almost immediately. The chains wrapped around him so tightly they etched into his very skin, his flesh. His suffering was loud, and she couldn’t hide the way her face twisted with her own pain. It was horrible to see, to hear, to even know someone had done this and left him for so long. No one deserved this.

A shudder ripped through her, but before could fully process what she saw, out of the corner of her, there was a flash of persimmon and orange blossom fur, of gold eyes. Lian. Oh no. Oh no. Why? Why was she here?

Rìhé’s attention snapped toward the girl, and without thinking she rushed to her side, pressing close, protective without question. What are you doing here? she breathed, her voice tight, eyes wide as they flicked over her cousin, searching for injury, for harm—

But there was no time to linger, no time to wait for an answer, and her gaze was dragged back to the chained, tortured wolf, at the horror etched into his broken, fractured spirit. The chamber trembled as he moved, the chains screaming in protest, the world itself threatening to split beneath his grief. Surely she had to help him? To free him. Were the Heavens sending a sign? They had to be.

Her jaw set, blue eyes hardening, and with a shuddering breath, ivory teeth found purchase against one of the chains beside Lian, biting down against metal that burned, something unnatural searing along her gums as she tore at it anyway. Her paws followed shakily, claws scraping, pulling, ripping at whatever would give.

They had to free him.

The choice of portals—of paths to walk, of what to save, of what to risk—did not matter to Yuèzhuō. He would give all of himself or none of himself, or anything between, as he cared not for any result in particular. What he did care for though, was Rìhé. The man’s actions relied solely on his twin, following suit without question or even a shadow of hesitation.

He wished for door one. Safe, easy, simple. It would be best for his sister to avoid the fray. But Yuèzhuō knew she wasn’t one to stand by as others risked it all, afterall, it was a reason he revered her so highly.

Yuèzhuō stood rigid, Roman-blue eyes flicking between the magical windows, gaze narrowed as he anticipated a reveal of her location. So many wolves poured into each area, but he eventually found her—he always did.

Portal three. Of course. Why would she have ever chosen anything less than the most dangerous?

He charged in, racing to her side as he took note of Shēnléi’s daughter, Lian. She was already earning more favor in his eyes than his cousin ever had.

As Yuèzhuō stood side by side with his lighter half, he too grasped the searing chains and pulled with all he could.

Kexin’s face flashed in his mind. The little comet. Tòuyǐng. His empress. His sister. The ones that called this new land home, the ones that he wished to see again when all was said and done. How could he do anything other than succeed, when it came to them?