Echoes of the Hollow Domain

The tribunal circle closed again on the third day after the summons scroll arrived.

It was time.

The beginning of the questioning.

Shen Jin was instructed to cease all contact with the Seal's deeper channels.

He sealed the mark himself—kept it close—but allowed no one else to touch it.

Luo Qinghan surrendered her mirror core. It was taken for review by the Greylands' oath scribes.

The old man offered no comment. Only one sentence: "Let the rites carry the weight."

That night, the Silent Scribe stepped to the west stairs of the circle.

By the law of grey oaths, he raised his voice and spoke two questions.

"Has the Seal received by the Keybearer been tainted by a foreign will?"

"Has the mirror-witness who entered the dream hollow carried back a piece of something that should not return?"

His tone was even.

Almost gentle.

But the words were a knife pressed flat.

Luo Qinghan's expression tightened.

But Shen Jin didn't flinch.

"You're questioning me?"

The Scribe shook his head.

"I'm not questioning you."

"I'm questioning the Seal."

A pause.

Then:

"You are only a vessel. A path."

"But if that path now leads into something else—into another will, another god—can you still claim to carry the seal?"

Silence.

The old man did not appear.

But Luo Qinghan stepped forward. Her voice was calm.

"You believe the Hollow changed me?"

The Scribe turned to her. His words are low. Precise.

"A mirror bears witness. It does not engage."

"You entered the Hollow. The mirror cracked. You did not retreat."

"I question not your choices—but the mirror's record."

The Seal grew warm in Shen Jin's hand.

He looked at it.

Then up again.

"You don't trust me. I can live with that."

"But the Seal is mine."

He stepped forward.

"I'll face the hearing."

"Three days from now. On the ashflame's edge. I will stand and speak for it."

The Scribe gave no reply. Only nodded.

And walked away.

Nothing in the circle moved.

But something had begun to shift—

A fracture between man and the Seal.

He did not own the Seal.

But now, for the first time, he would speak for it.

—

Three days passed.

The fire remained cold.

But the circle opened again.

Shen Jin stood alone on the oath platform.

The Seal lay dormant in his hand.

He wore the Plain Vestments of the Greylands: no sigils, no glyphs, no hidden tools.

Luo Qinghan stood nearby. No mirror. Only a scroll-pen for recordkeeping.

Calm, but unflinching.

Four seats.

The Silent Scribe presided.

Three other judges flanked him—Grey Oath Scribes, appointed by the old man.

None declared allegiance. Only the law.

Here, the vow must be his own.

Shen Jin raised his eyes. His voice was low, but steady.

"I carry the Seal. Not as a servant to the gods."

"If my will has been breached, let the Seal break in my hand."

"If my will remains intact, let the Seal unveil its second seal—

proof that its bearer is still whole."

A twin-vow.

One to destroy.

One to reveal.

Luo Qinghan turned slightly toward him.

Her gaze unreadable.

The Scribe gave a small nod.

"The vow is heard.

Release the Seal."

Shen Jin lifted his hand. The Seal rose—just an inch—and cracked.

Not broken. Not harmed. Just opened.

Like black ink swirling in clear water.

A moment.

Then, the Seal sang.

Softly.

And instead of bursting outward, its lines grew calmer.

Tighter.

Refined.

Then, a new image surfaced.

A spiral.

Neither word nor diagram.

Both.

And from its heart, a line of ancient seal-script glowed:

"Second seal accepted. Bearer's will intact. Core remains unbroken."

The circle stirred.

This was no mere reaction.

This was the mark judging itself by the vow it heard.

A thing so rare. Some said it had never happened.

Shen Jin lowered his hand.

"I have spoken."

The Scribe watched him. Then asked:

"Do you know why it showed that glyph?"

Shen Jin gave a small smile.

"It doesn't call me its master."

"But it admits—I haven't broken."

The Scribe said nothing.

He turned and left the seat.

The platform emptied.

The air returned to stillness.

From the shadows, the old man stepped forward.

He looked at Shen Jin for a long time.

Then spoke:

"You've walked faster

than I expected."

Shen Jin looked away.

"Faster than I expected, too."

—

The Greylands closed its roads that day.

All steps sealed.

All watchers dismissed.

The old man himself opened the flame ring—

and raised the tribunal into its highest form:

The Court of Reflected Law.

A tri-seal circle. Only summoned when outside authority demands to witness an inner oath.

The seats filled.

East: the Greylands scribes.

West: Ningyuan's envoy—Yin Suiyan, clad in black silk, eyes sharp, expression unreadable.

North and south: two empty thrones. Seats reserved for the Five Orders and Eight Sects.

They had come.

But not yet shown themselves.

Shen Jin stood at the center.

The stele floated before him. Calm. Still.

Luo Qinghan waited below the dais. Quill in hand.

Yin Suiyan spoke:

"This is not a trial of guilt."

"We question the Seal, not the bearer."

"If the mark remains clear, no crime is named."

"But if it is tainted—the origin lies in the hand that holds it."

The air shifted.

The Seal reacted. Revealed its second seal once more:

"Will remains intact."

The envoy did not blink.

But he turned to Luo Qinghan.

"You, the mirror-witness. You did not retreat. Your mirror fractured.

Speak.

Were you touched by something that is not of this world?"

Her voice was clear:

"The mirror broke after I entered. Not before."

"The dream began while I held it. It never left me."

"The mark never reached me. And I never broke."

Her tone was still.

But not soft.

Yin Suiyan did not press.

Instead, he drew a shard from his sleeve.

A broken curve of mirror-glass. Old. Cold.

Shen Jin stiffened.

The envoy spoke again:

"Found near the dream's boundary. Said to be a fragment of a second mirror."

"Do you recognize it?"

Luo Qinghan looked.

And then—

"I do not."

Gasps.

But she continued:

"I know my mirror. This is not it."

"If this came from the dream, it belonged to someone else."

The envoy turned.

Shen Jin said:

"Then maybe we weren't alone."

Silence.

Cold.

Then—

The old man's voice:

"The seal is whole. The oath is met."

"If Ningyuan wishes another hearing, name it within three days."

"After that—

the Seal speaks. Not men."

Yin Suiyan said nothing.

The Seal returned to Shen Jin's palm. Warm.

And in its warmth—a sliver of cold.

Something unseen.

Watching.

Waiting.

Measuring a future not yet written.