"I'd rather not talk about it," Spark said slowly, his words carrying a heaviness that seemed to weigh down the night air.

Raven's interest piqued - who would be reluctant to discuss their mother, especially one as distinguished as the Empress of the Inferno Wolves? She studied Spark's profile in the moonlight, knowing she needed to approach this delicately.

"Oh," she softened her expression to one of sympathy. "Is it because she's strict with you?"

Spark shook his head, his golden eyes glazed slightly from the wine. "She doesn't concern herself with me at all."

"Oh," Raven laughed, "isn't it better when they don't care? My father's always imposing annoying rules - no dating, no staying out late, no spending my allowance on jewelry. So tiresome."

She continued with a light-hearted tone, "He even wanted me to learn his jewel-cutting craft. But I hate such meticulous work - let his apprentice learn it instead."

Spark ran his fingers through his hair, hesitating. "The Inferno Wolves require a female ruler. I'm Mother Empress's third son." He paused, the words seemingly stuck in his throat. "After three sons and no daughters... Mother Empress wished I had been born female instead. She... she doesn't like me."

Raven listened quietly, her mind calculating. If Inferno Wolves passes power through the female line, then Spark wouldn't inherit much. And with so many brothers... even if he marries, his share would be minimal.

But a broken wolf prince might be even more appealing. She hadn't given up on seducing Spark - she'd just adjusted her strategy from playing the long game to a shorter conquest.

"Oh, what a tragic childhood," Raven maintained her sympathetic expression as her fingers found their way to Spark's temple, brushing against his hair. Her touch was gentle, almost motherly - if mothers typically had ulterior motives.

Spark roughly wiped the wine from his lips. "Ah... it wasn't... entirely tragic."

"My eldest brother, Azure, he was good to me." Spark's golden eyes narrowed, either from contemplation or the wine's effect. "He taught me noble etiquette. Later, he was the one who arranged for me to study at the Celestial Sword Sect. Otherwise..."

He hesitated, taking a deep breath before continuing: "I would have probably ended up like my second brother - married off to an older female wolf as a consort."

Around the corner, Flint listened silently. While the image of a proud wolf prince being married off as a consort almost made her smile, she could clearly feel Spark's deep sadness seeping through the crack in her mental barrier.

"Though," Spark continued, and Flint sensed a flutter of something lighter - a tentative joy rising from beneath the melancholy. "Mother Empress did praise me once, when I tested for Transcendent Light spirit root. She said, 'At least you've managed to be useful in some way.'"

The words themselves were hardly warm, but Flint could sense how even that faint acknowledgment had meant everything to a young Spark desperate for his mother's approval. Through their emotional connection, she felt the complex tangle of pride and pain that single memory still evoked in him.

Raven's eyes shone with a calculated sympathy - mostly performative, with just a hint of genuine feeling. "Oh, I truly understand... I once had a friend just like you..." She trailed off, unable to maintain the fabrication, and decided to switch tactics.

Her eyes suddenly brightened with a dangerous gleam. "You're already so powerful - why not cultivate further, return home, and take the Inferno Wolves for yourself? Be their king?"

"How dare you suggest such a thing!" Spark snapped, immediately incensed.

His chest rose and fell with anger, but as the cool night air filled his lungs, an unbidden image floated through his mind: himself wearing Mother Empress's crown, with Flint standing faithfully by his side... He shook his head violently, desperately trying to banish such treacherous thoughts.

Why is there a hint of... excitement mixed in with his anger? Flint noted this discordant note in Spark's emotions like a single off-key note in a melody.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, I'm sorry! I was just talking nonsense..." Raven backpedaled frantically, seeing Spark's intense reaction. "I just felt upset on your behalf... I'm sorry... Spark..." She smacked her own cheek, leaving a faint red mark.

Damn, hit too hard, Raven cursed internally.

Spark stared in surprise as Raven struck herself. "Ah... it's alright. You probably don't understand how Inferno Wolves works... I've heard human kingdoms are usually inherited by males..."

Seeing Spark making excuses for her, Raven nodded eagerly, even adding a sniffle for effect. "Yes, I'm so sorry… Spark… I really didn't understand..."

Raven guided Spark's right hand to her reddened cheek, cradling it with both hands as she leaned into his palm. She was sitting beside him on the eastern steps of the Cultivation Assessment Hall, their shoulders nearly touching.

Spark felt a foggy sense of alarm - when had they gotten so intimate? He tried to pull his hand away, but his wine-addled muscles wouldn't cooperate.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

Maybe Raven isn't so bad after all... The thought bubbled up like the hiccup that followed, bringing with it a whiff of wine. He turned his head away, covering his mouth with his left hand in what looked like embarrassment.

Around the corner, Flint felt her heart sink. Why did this feel like betrayal? She hesitated, wanting to confront Spark, but realizing she had no right to do so.

This Raven - I don't trust her intentions, Flint thought darkly.

"Hey, can you show me your wolf ears?" Raven stroked Spark's right hand, her rings cool against his skin.

Ears? Spark touched his hair with his free hand. Suddenly, a memory struck him like lightning: "Why don't you show your wolf ears?" - Flint's words from before.

Flint asked me that too... she said my ears were cute... A sudden unease gripped Spark's heart, and he yanked his right hand forcefully from Raven's grasp.

And during that dual cultivation session, hadn't he even asked Flint to touch his ears? Spark's face flushed, though whether from the memory or the wine was unclear.

"Better not," Spark said flatly, despite his alcohol-induced haze.

The ears must be significant to Inferno Wolves - no rush, Raven rationalized. It's only our first day, after all.

Raven was just part of the Mystic Enigma Pavilion's maintenance team, here for only a week, but she felt confident she could bed Spark in that time. She'd never been with a wolf before! A wolf!

"Spark, you're drunk. Let me take you back. Where do you stay?" Raven wrapped her arm around Spark's right arm, pressing her chest against him.

"Ah, no need." Spark tried to pull his arm free, but Raven had practically draped her entire weight on it, making escape nearly impossible.

Spark stood up from the steps, his head spinning slightly. Raven's added weight almost made him stumble, but she quickly steadied him with her support.

"See? You're drunk. Let me walk you back," Raven pressed her advantage.

I probably wouldn't have almost fallen if you weren't hanging on me, Spark thought irritably.

Spark glanced around, noting the area seemed deserted. Ugh, if this woman won't leave me alone until she sees me home, I suppose it wouldn't hurt to let her...

"Hey, Spark, what a coincidence." The soft voice exploded in Spark's mind like a thunderclap. His vision focused on the one person he least wanted to see right now.

Flint offered an awkward greeting, figuring she might as well reveal herself since they would have crossed paths anyway. Besides, she had questions for Raven.

When Flint's gaze shifted to Raven, the latter arched her eyebrows delicately in the moonlight. "Raven Cipher."

"Flint Winter. Hello, Raven." Flint gave a stiff wave.

Spark felt suddenly, painfully sober. The weight of Raven on his arm, which had been merely annoying before, now felt like a burning brand. He tried again to extract himself, but Raven's grip remained firm.

"Raven, could I ask you about your Crystal Panel?" Flint asked, trying to keep her voice neutral despite her churning thoughts.

Crystal Panel? The panel I was playing 'Flying Raven' on? She was here that early, just hiding and listening? A complicated mix of emotions washed over Spark - disappointment, anger, and a strange flutter of both fear and... excitement that Flint had heard his confessions.

Flint could feel Spark's emotions crashing like waves against her consciousness, but she forced herself to focus on the task at hand.

Raven's eyes sparkled with interest as she studied Flint. "Oh? Are you interested in playing Flying Raven too?"

While gaming was the last thing on Flint's mind, she decided a compliment might help smooth the conversation. "The game did look quite impressive when I saw it earlier."

"But I'm more interested in... what created it. Perhaps the Runic Language?" Flint ventured carefully.

"Runic Language? Impossible!" Raven burst out laughing. "Such a primitive language could never create something this sophisticated."

Flint stood frozen, her confidence wavering. The single book on runes she'd found in the Celestial Sword Sect's library had been her only reference point.

Spark attempted once again to free his arm, but even while conversing with Flint, Raven maintained her vice-like grip. The shock of Flint's appearance had sobered him considerably, though his head still felt fuzzy. Her lack of questioning about his situation with Raven left him with conflicted feelings - both relieved and oddly disappointed.

Seeing Flint's bewildered expression, Raven's satisfaction grew. "This was created with Soulweaver Language, developed exclusively by our Mystic Enigma Pavilion. We named it after our founding master, Aldrich Soulweaver."

"It allows for abstract programming and simulation," Raven continued, stealing glances at Spark, hoping to see impressed recognition in his eyes. But he remained lost in his own emotional turbulence. "The runic patterns can be calculated and miniaturized for practical applications."

"Would you like to learn it?" Raven asked, her smile carrying a tinge of malice as she studied Flint.

Flint, still processing the revelations about runic programming, was jolted from her thoughts. She nodded eagerly before fully considering the implications.

"Do you have at least a Gifted level Stasis Spirit Root?" Raven's tone dripped with condescension.

Flint almost blurted out that all her spirit roots were Deficient, but something stopped her. The traditional spirit root classifications didn't quite apply to her unique situation. Rather than attempt to explain, she opted for simplicity: "Yes."

Aren't all her spirit roots Deficient? The thought crossed Spark's mind, but he kept his silence, choosing not to expose her deception.

"Oh, not bad," Raven raised an eyebrow, her rings catching the moonlight as she absently stroked Spark's arm. "However..."

She pulled an exaggerated pout, her eyes glinting with barely concealed mockery. "The secrets of our Mystic Enigma Pavilion aren't something we can just share with anyone. Besides, about the crystal panel," she gave Flint a smile full of malice, "you don't even have a Mystic Terminal. They're exclusive to our sect members."

The term 'Mystic Terminal' rolled off her tongue with deliberate emphasis, as if wielding the words themselves as a barrier between Flint and the knowledge she sought.

"Spark, let's head back," Raven tugged on Spark's arm with smug satisfaction, nearly causing him to stumble.

Spark frowned, his gaze shifting between Raven and Flint. But Flint remained lost in thought, seemingly indifferent to his predicament. His heart sank. She doesn't care about me at all - just that stupid 'Mystic Terminal.'

"Flint..." The name formed on his lips, but no sound emerged.

Just like earlier today, when I needed her to define what we are to each other, she chose silence.

How did I not realize sooner? Her silence was never about sparing my feelings...

A sharp pain twisted in Spark's stomach - whether from the wine or this sudden realization, he couldn't tell.

"Flint, I'm leaving. With Raven." He injected the words with deliberate coldness, emphasizing those final two words with bitter precision.

Through her mental barrier's crack, Flint could sense the turmoil in his emotions - hurt, anger, and something deeper that felt like betrayal. But she remained focused on the revelation about the Mystic Terminal. If she could just get access to one...

Raven's triumphant smile widened as she steered Spark away, her rings glinting in the moonlight. Behind them, Flint stood motionless, torn between her curiosity about the technology and an inexplicable ache in her chest as she watched them disappear into the darkness.

Flint sank down onto the steps where Spark had sat moments before, the stone still holding a trace of warmth. The night air carried the lingering scent of wine.

"Spark's free to make his own choices," she murmured, but the words felt hollow. Through the crack in her mental barrier, she could still feel echoes of his turbulent emotions fading into the distance.

Her fingers brushed against something - a forgotten bag leaning against the steps. Raven's, from the jingling sound of metal components inside. "Raven! Spark!" she called out, but their footsteps had already faded beyond earshot.

Flint stood motionless in the moonlight, watching as Spark and Raven's figures grew smaller in the distance. Her mind whirled with competing thoughts and emotions.

"It's Spark's choice," she told herself quietly. Even though she knew Spark liked her, she wasn’t ready to respond to Spark’s feelings.

The name "Bamboo Sovereign" drifted through her consciousness, bringing its usual mix of inexplicable joy and profound sorrow. She let the feeling wash over her, adding it to the growing collection of emotional fragments from her past life.

But these personal matters felt almost trivial compared to the troubling spread of Soul Leech among the disciples. The forbidden technique's sudden emergence couldn't be coincidence. How had so many learned it? Who was teaching them? And why?

The questions expanded outward: Why had she returned to this world at all? What drove her constant search for lost memories? It felt like following a trail of clues left by either herself or Obsidian, leading toward some crucial truth she couldn't yet grasp.

Lost in thought, Flint finally sank down onto the steps where Spark had been sitting. Her hand brushed against something - a bag, forgotten in the shadows. The subtle jingling of metal components inside identified it as Raven's.

"Raven! Spark!" she called out, but they had already disappeared into the darkness of the sect grounds.

Flint looked down at the bag, her fingers hovering over its closure. Inside might be the very technology she'd been curious about...