Chapter Text
Nie Huaisang hadn’t slept since his brother died.
Each night, sleep eluded him, replaced by suffocating nightmares and the unbearable weight of guilt. If he closed his eyes, all he saw was Nie Mingjue—his unwavering, indomitable brother—falling, blood pooling at his feet, his once-commanding presence reduced to cold, lifeless flesh.
So instead, Huaisang read.
He scoured every ancient text he could get his hands on, poring over brittle, yellowed pages by candlelight until his eyes burned. Scriptures on forbidden arts, records of lost rituals, even scraps of Wei Wuxian’s old notes—anything that so much as whispered of resurrection. But no matter how desperately he searched, how many sleepless nights he spent unraveling every inked word, hope continued to slip through his fingers like sand.
With a strangled cry of frustration, he hurled the last book away, its spine cracking as it struck the far wall and slid to the floor in a heap of discarded knowledge. Nothing. There was nothing.
Defeat settled over him, pressing into his bones. He pushed himself up, but the moment he stood, the room tilted violently. His vision swam, dark spots creeping into the edges of his sight. He gripped the nearest table for support, his breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps.
Right. He hadn’t eaten today.
It didn’t matter.
It never mattered.
His body was a shell—an empty, meaningless vessel without his brother.
Straightening, Huaisang forced himself to move. His legs trembled beneath him, but he ignored the way his limbs ached, the way his stomach twisted in protest. Stepping out of his study, past the towering stacks of books that now meant nothing, he made his way toward the forest.
The night air was thick with the scent of damp earth and pine, but there was something else beneath it—something cold, something unnatural.
Danger lurked in the darkness, coiled in the trees, slithering through the rustling leaves. And yet, Huaisang carried no weapon. He hardly cared if the night swallowed him whole.
The wind howled as he reached a clearing, stirring his long, dark hair, whispering around him like unseen hands grasping at his robes. He stood there, staring at the sky, at the endless black void stretching overhead, and felt nothing but the weight of his loss pressing into his chest, suffocating him.
Mingjue.
His fingers curled around the edge of his fan, his grip tightening until the polished wood bit into his palm.
It should have been me. I was the useless one. The burden. The coward. So why? Why was I left behind?
A sob tore from his throat, raw and broken, and was stolen away by the wind.
"You wish for him back?"
The voice was soft—softer than the wind, yet it cut through the air like the sharp edge of a blade.
Huaisang’s breath caught. He stiffened, his gaze snapping toward the trees, eyes scanning the dense shadows between the branches.
Nothing.
"You wish for him back?"
Louder this time. Closer.
A sickening chill curled down his spine. His exhaustion blurred the lines between reality and hallucination, but somehow, he knew—this was real.
"Yes," he whispered.
The voice purred in response, smooth and hungry.
"Interesting… I wonder… how far are you willing to go?"
"Anything," Huaisang said, without hesitation.
"Anything?" The voice was far too pleased, curling around him like smoke.
"Even if it cost you your life?"
"Yes."
His answer was instant. The wind whipped violently around him, the fabric of his robes flaring like dark wings, but he did not waver.
"What if I told you there was a way?"
His pulse pounded in his ears.
"Please!" His voice was desperate now, cracking with the sheer force of his grief. "Tell me!"
"But—" The voice dragged the word out, savoring his anguish.
"There is a sacrifice."
"Anything!" Huaisang surged forward, a feverish gleam in his amber eyes. "Take my life in exchange for his!"
A chuckle echoed from the shadows, low and taunting.
"Your life?" A pause, deliberate. Then— "What about your golden core?"
Huaisang stilled.
His breath faltered.
"...What?"
"Your golden core in exchange for your brother."
A tremor ran through his body.
"Yes!" His voice shook, but his resolve did not. "Take it!"
His hands clawed at his chest as if he could rip it out himself, as if it would somehow make this faster, more certain.
But the voice only laughed, a delighted, sickening sound.
"Oh no, not me."
Dark amusement dripped from every word.
"You must dig up your brother’s body… and place your golden core inside him."
The breath in his lungs turned to ice. A grave. He would have to… desecrate his brother’s grave.
"Will it work?"
"Of course, Sect Leader," the voice crooned. "I give you my word."
Huaisang swallowed hard.
"Who are you?"
The voice still echoed in his mind, its whispers curling through his thoughts like poison. Huaisang's breath was shallow, ragged, as his feet carried him back to the safety of the manor, but the promise of resurrection hung in the air, impossible to ignore.
"Your saviour."
As he stepped through the door, the flickering candlelight from the hallway did nothing to soothe the darkness coiling around him. His vision wavered, but he didn’t care. His mind was elsewhere, consumed by the chilling words of that voice in the woods. Your golden core for your brother.
The thought repeated endlessly, drowning out everything else.
He stumbled toward the sitting room, where his advisors awaited, their presence a faint, distant hum in his ears. They all looked up as he entered, and the usual concern in their eyes only heightened the pit of unease in his stomach. They could see the state he was in—pale, exhausted, eyes wide and filled with desperation.
"You cannot, Young Master," one of them, an older man with graying hair and a solemn face, spoke with quiet insistence.
Huaisang’s fingers twitched at his sides, his body straining to hold back the storm of fury that threatened to explode. His mind screamed for action, but his advisors’ words, filled with caution and concern, were the last tether keeping him from unraveling.
"Try and stop me," he hissed, his voice rough with the weight of sleepless nights and crippling grief. The sharpness of his words sliced through the silence like a blade.
The advisors exchanged looks, clearly torn. They had served him and his brother for years, watched them grow, shared in the victories and losses. But this… this was beyond them. They had seen their Sect Leader in moments of weakness before, but nothing like this.
"You must let the past go," the same advisor said, stepping forward with an imploring look. "You cannot undo what has been done. Your brother would not want this—"
"You know nothing of what Mingjue would have wanted!" Huaisang snapped, his voice rising. He took a step forward, his eyes gleaming with unyielding determination. "I will do anything for him, even if it costs me everything. Everything!"
One of the younger advisors shifted uncomfortably, but said nothing. His silence only fueled Huaisang's madness.
"Young Master, listen to reason. This will destroy you, body and soul," the older man persisted. "There are consequences to tampering with the natural order. Even if the voice spoke true, you cannot—"
Huaisang raised his hand, and the room fell into a tense silence. His fan snapped open, a metallic click cutting through the air, his trembling hands holding it in a death grip. His knuckles were white, his body on the verge of collapse.
"You don’t understand," Huaisang murmured, the softness of his voice a stark contrast to the venom in his gaze.
"I would rather die with him than live without him. I have nothing left. Nothing." He closed his eyes briefly, as though to gather the remnants of his resolve. "I’ll bring him back. I’ll do whatever it takes."
The older advisor seemed to hesitate, his face a picture of sorrow and frustration, but Huaisang wasn’t waiting for his approval anymore. He had made his decision. Nothing they said would change his mind.
"Don’t stop me," he warned softly, his voice tinged with a terrifying calm. "I’m going to dig up Mingjue’s grave. I’ll tear apart everything, if it means I can have him back."
And with that, he turned on his heel, heading back toward the door. His advisors’ protests followed him, but they were nothing more than echoes in the empty space between them. His mind was already far away, already back in the forest, standing in that clearing where the voice had promised him a chance.
He could feel the weight of his golden core inside him, pulsing like a heartbeat, tempting him, driving him forward. But he couldn’t stop now. Not when he was so close.
"Please, Mingjue… wait for me," he whispered to the empty room, his breath shaky and uneven.
The night awaited.
A knock at the door interrupted whatever argument was about to erupt. Huaisang took a slow breath, forcing the anger down, smoothing his expression into something softer, something acceptable.
He pulled open the door.
"Wei Wuxian." His voice was lighter, the ghost of a smile touching his lips. "It is good to see you."
Wei Wuxian grinned, mischief flickering in his eyes as he bowed. "Likewise. Though…" His expression darkened. "I’m sorry about your brother."
Huaisang’s smile vanished. His shoulders sank under the weight of those words.
"That is why I called you here," he murmured. "Please… follow me."
"No." Wei Wuxian’s voice was sharp, more cutting than Huaisang had anticipated. It carried a weight of something raw and dangerous, laced with fear that he couldn’t hide, no matter how much he tried to mask it with defiance. "You cannot do this."
The tremor in his voice, the barely-contained panic, struck Huaisang like a blow to the chest. It was odd to hear that from him. Wei Wuxian, who had faced death without flinching, who had laughed in the face of chaos—him, of all people, trembling? It unsettled him more than he could put into words.
Wei Wuxian’s eyes, dark with concern, fixed on him, and Huaisang could see the storm of emotions swirling in them, but the words he spoke next only seemed to distance himself further from the man standing before him.
"I will not help you." His tone was firm, but there was something almost too controlled about it—like a thread stretched too tight, ready to snap. "Come with me to the Cloud Recesses. We can help you. You don't have to do this."
A flash of anger, bitter and raw, surged through Huaisang, and before he knew it, his voice exploded in a crack of pure pain. "I’m not crazy!" His breath came in sharp, ragged bursts as he slammed his hands onto the table, the force of it startling even him.
"Tell me, Wei Wuxian, is it true? Can I save my brother?" His words were guttural, stripped bare of any pretense, his grief spilling out in front of the only person he thought he could turn to.
Wei Wuxian flinched as if Huaisang’s words had physically struck him, his eyes narrowing with a mix of guilt and helplessness. That brief reaction, the twitch of his body, was all Huaisang needed to know.
"You knew?" The question came out as a rasp, like he couldn’t breathe through the sheer weight of it. "And you didn’t tell me?" His voice cracked, trembling with the hurt he had buried deep for so long. The betrayal cut through him like a jagged blade, twisting his insides, and the sting of it left him feeling hollow and cold.
"Huaisang…" Wei Wuxian’s voice was barely above a whisper now, the words so soft they felt like an apology, an admission of some deep, unresolved regret. "This nearly killed me."
"I don’t care if it kills me." Huaisang’s chest tightened painfully, the air feeling too thin as he fought to steady his breath. "My brother is dead. I—I need him back."
"Please," Huaisang whispered, his own voice shaking with a desperation that threatened to unravel him. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, and though he wished for composure, it was too much. "I was never meant to lead. I am a terrible sect leader. My brother is dead, and I—I failed him."
The silence between them stretched, thick and suffocating, like the very air had stopped moving. Huaisang’s heart was a storm, crashing against the walls he had built around it.
"I need your help," Huaisang pleaded, his voice a broken thing now, raw with desperation. "But you know… if you don’t help me, if you won’t help me, I will do it myself." The words hung in the air like a final promise—a vow of destruction, of irreversible loss.
Wei Wuxian’s stomach twisted in on itself at the sight of Huaisang—this Huaisang—so far from the carefree, mischievous person he had known. He had seen this look before—on himself, in another time, another tragedy. He knew the pain in those eyes, the exhaustion that came from fighting demons that never let go.
His throat tightened, as if the words were stuck there, caught in the crushing weight of the fear he couldn’t show. The thought of losing Huaisang—of watching him slip away, just like he had almost lost himself once—was unbearable. It felt like his heart was being slowly crushed under the weight of that truth.
"I can’t lose you," he whispered, the words slipping from his mouth before he could stop them. His voice was barely audible, a broken confession in the silence that followed.
Huaisang’s gaze softened, his expression shifting just slightly, enough to show the vulnerability that had been hiding beneath the facade of cold rage.
"Then help me," he whispered, his words as fragile as glass, as though his entire existence was balanced on the edge of this moment.
Wei Wuxian exhaled shakily, the breath he had been holding slipping from him in a rush. His instincts screamed at him to stop this madness, to keep Huaisang from going down this path, but the guilt in his chest—sharp and insistent like a snake coiling around his heart—told him he couldn’t turn back. He couldn’t leave his friend to drown alone in this.
He nodded, a single movement, and it felt like both a surrender and a promise. Guilt clawed at him, slithering through his chest like a viper, but he couldn’t say no. Not to Huaisang. Not now.