Yukong lay sprawled across the rumpled sheets, the silken fabric of her nightgown clinging to her as if reluctant to release her from the cocoon of sleep. Her dark green hair cascaded wildly around her, a chaotic tumble that framed her pale face, hinting at the restless night she had endured. Shadows danced in the dim light, illuminating the violet-silver of her eyes, which fluttered open only to reveal a hint of confusion, quickly morphing into sheer terror as a dark silhouette emerged from the gloom.

The figure took shape, revealing itself to be General Feixiao, her friend, though not the sturdy warrior Yukong remembered. Feixiao’s breath came in ragged gasps, her eyes burning with a wild intensity that spoke of the Moon Rage, the affliction that twisted her into a frenzied state. The atmosphere thickened with an unspoken dread as Yukong scrambled to her feet, her heart pounding in fear and concern. – “Feixiao!” – she called, her voice tremulous yet determined, – “What happened to you?” – the air crackled with tension, a silent pact formed in that moment of uncertainty, as darkness loomed ever closer.