The night pressed heavily against the windows of the Agents of Atlas headquarters, a quiet kind of darkness that settled into the bones of the building. Most of the lights had long since dimmed, the hum of activity replaced with stillness. It should have been peaceful.

Lin Lie knew better.

Sleep refused to come easily anymore. When he closed his eyes, it wasn’t rest that greeted him—it was heat, pressure, something sharp and restless beneath his skin. The shards of the Sword of Fu Xi, a now broken weapon, were part of him now. Buried deep inside his skin, down to the bones, they hummed with ancient power that never let him forget.

Tonight was worse than usual.

He shifted on his bed, jaw tightening as another wave of pain rippled through him, like splinters grinding against bone.His breath hitched, and he sat up abruptly, pressing a hand to his chest as if he could physically steady whatever lived inside him.

“Not again…” he muttered under his breath. "Please... just one night."

Nothing. The pain just continued to ripple from his wrist and up his arms. It burned his chest, as if it could suffocate him with invisible hands as the pressure squeezed his throat.

So he swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood, moving quietly through the halls so he wouldn’t wake anyone. The headquarters felt different at night—larger, emptier, like it was holding its breath. His footsteps were soft against the floor as he made his way toward the courtyard.

The courtyard was bathed in soft moonlight, the stone tiles pale and smooth, the small trees casting gentle shadows that swayed with the breeze. It reminded him of K'un-Lun, a place he greatly misses ever since his return back to the Agent of Atlas.

Lin Lie exhaled slowly and moved to the center of the courtyard, lowering himself into a seated position. He crossed his legs, rested his hands on his knees, and closed his eyes.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

He focused on the rhythm, on the quiet between each breath, trying to push past the discomfort, the restless energy coiled inside him. He’d been taught this—discipline, control, balance. The power of the Iron Fist wasn’t just strength. It was harmony. It was suppose to be harmonious.

The shards stirred again, sharper this time. His shoulders tensed despite himself.

Focus.

He inhaled deeply. Breath in. Breath out. Breath in. Breathe—

“Couldn’t sleep either?”

Lin Lie’s eyes snapped open.

You stood a few steps away at the edge of the courtyard, wrapped in the soft glow of the moonlight. There was a hint of curiosity in your expression, maybe a little concern too, but it was hard to tell when it came to you.