Water, icy water that pierced to the bone.
The sensation was so real, as if a current were still coiling around her ankles. Water surged from an endless, despairingly dark place and flowed over her exhausted body. This river, if it could even be called a river, seemed to have flowed since time immemorial through this absolute emptiness and silence, soundlessly, until tonight, when it swallowed her whole, as though gulping down an insignificant speck of dust. Miao Yeyou lay soundlessly on the cold, shallow bank, half her body immersed in viscous darkness, eyes tightly shut. Her right hand alone clutched the Miao saber beside her, taller than she was, “Youye.” The blade was plain and dull, save for the patterns on its guard, worn smooth by time and the palm that had held it. In her hazy, fading consciousness, they burned with the last, searing warmth of her father's palm.
The starry sky was false.
She knew it even without opening her eyes.
