The sun had faded to a muted orb of crimson light. In the dwindling glow, the waters of the Changjiang glittered as it wound like a fiery serpent across the emerald valley,
stretching far beyond where our eyes could see.
I squinted, scanning our surroundings for where the Long Dragon, the most powerful of the dragons, was said to be imprisoned. Liwei pointed out a mountain of blue-gray rock, its peak shrouded in fog. Fields of yellow flowers
bloomed at the base. Against the darkening sky, a pale light radiated from the mountain—so faint, it could not be seen by mortal eyes.
My fingers untied the cord of my pouch, pulling out the Divine Iron Seal. The metal was no longer cold, but pulsing with heat. My heart thudded as I lifted it toward the
towering peak. Would it crumble to dust—the dragon
soaring into the sky, grateful to be freed from its prison?
Yet nothing happened. The valley remained still with only the crickets chirping in their nightly serenade.
“How does this work?” I asked Liwei.
He took the seal, inspecting its markings before passing it back to me. “It’s a key. We just need to find the lock.”
I stared at the enormous mountain, wondering how long it might take to search it. “Would this count as a ‘dire’
need?” I ventured.
A faint smile tugged at his lips. “My father would not fault you when you’re here at his behest.”
Use whatever means necessary. The emperor’s words echoed through me again. Brushing aside my unease, I
channeled my magic, light shooting from my palm to engulf the dull metal. The carved dragon erupted into flame,
writhing as though it were alive. Hot wind surged into my face as the seal shot into the air, circling the mountain like a blazing beacon—then plunging down and vanishing from sight. Before I had time to fret, it appeared again on the horizon, hurtling back to my hand with such force that I staggered, almost falling to the ground. As I stared at it,
the fire dwindled to nothingness, the dragon morphing into lifeless iron once more.
The ground shuddered. I stumbled, almost dropping the seal before I slipped it into my pouch. A thunderous roar shattered the silence. My head snapped to the peak as a
large crack wrenched it apart. Rocks flew in all directions, several hurtling past me as I ducked, crouching down on
the ground. Crimson tongues of flame surged from the
heart of the mountain, slithering through the gaping cracks like a volcano on the brink of eruption.
With an ear-splitting cry, an enormous creature burst forth, shaking clouds of blinding dust from its body. Ruby- red scales glowed as if newly forged metal. Its massive paws were tipped with gold scythe-like claws, and its mane and tail flowed with lush vermilion strands. Its face would have been terrifying—crowned by bone-white antlers, and with those sharp curved fangs—but for its amber eyes
shining with wisdom.
We stood, transfixed, as the dragon arched its neck
toward the sky. Its gaze swept over the valley, fixing upon us. Without a pause, it flew in our direction, its powerful
body undulating in the air. How graceful its flight, unaided by wings! Yet as the great creature drew closer, my heart
thudded so hard I thought it would drive a hole through my ribs. Xiangliu, the giant octopus, the Bone Devil . . . none of those monsters had daunted me so.
Who freed me from my prison? Tell me your name. The
dragon’s tone was perfectly pitched, neither low nor high, neither sharp nor soft.
With a start, I realized its jaws remained shut as it spoke
—its voice reverberating in my mind like we were one and the same. I swung around to stare at Liwei and Wenzhi,
both equally dazed and bewildered. I had not imagined it; the dragon had spoken to them, too.
The Long Dragon cocked its magnificent head to one side. Was it waiting for an answer to its question?
I cleared my throat, trying to loosen the sudden cramp. “Venerable Dragon, I am Xingyin—the daughter of Chang’e and Houyi. I released you at the behest of the Celestial Emperor, who asks you to relinquish your pearl to him.” My pride in speaking my parents’ names was quashed by the
shameful nature of my task.
A deep growl punctured the quiet. Its eyes narrowed with menace as smoke streamed from its flaring nostrils. No, not smoke—but mist, as crisp as an autumn dawn. Shaken by its hostility, I took a step back, tugging the Jade Dragon Bow free from its bindings.
What right do you have to demand my spiritual essence?
the dragon thundered.
“Not your essence,” I said quickly, trying to allay its concerns. “The emperor only wants your pearl.” Even as I spoke, a seed of doubt sprouted. In the Celestial Kingdom— where jewels were as plentiful as flowers—why did the emperor covet these pearls?
Sparks shot from the Long Dragon’s nostrils as its voice erupted in my mind. Our pearls contain our spiritual
essence. Whoever possesses our pearls, controls us! Do you expect us to willingly exchange imprisonment for
enslavement? To the one who locked us away for bringing
rain to the mortals? We could have fought him then, we
could have fled into the oceans beyond his reach—but that would have torn the skies and upended the earth, pitting
land and sea against each other. And that, we could not bear.
My heart plunged as I spun to Liwei. “Were you aware of this?”
“No,” he replied tersely. “Dragons disappeared from the Immortal Realm centuries ago. Nothing in our texts tell of this.”
I should have known better; he would not have kept it
from me. It dawned on me, then, that I had been duped by the emperor. He had asked for the pearls, without
mentioning the dragons’ essence. This was not what I had agreed to . . . yet this was the bargain I had struck. How
could I do this? How could I make the dragons give up their freedom in exchange for my mother’s?
Yet, how could I not?
It was not the same thing, I reminded myself, though it was a hard truth for me to bear. Imprisonment was not the same as enslavement. To give the emperor such power over the dragons, to force them to yield their will to him—could I do such a monstrous thing?
“You served under the Celestial Emperor before. He must have good reason to request your service again.” I fumbled for a peaceable solution, clinging to this slender thread to
salvage my conscience—even as I loathed myself for it.
The Long Dragon’s eyes flashed, its tail lashing the air.
We never served the Celestial Emperor. We were once ruled by a far worthier immortal. To him, we gave our allegiance
—until he returned our pearls into our safekeeping.
Its words crushed my last glimmer of hope. Turning to Wenzhi and Liwei, I read grim determination in their faces.
My fingers reached for my jade pendant, pulling it out
and clasping it for comfort. I could not look at the dragon, a
hot, prickling tightness spreading across my chest. “I’m sorry, but I need your pearls.”
The Long Dragon bared its fangs, sharper than spears. Its jaws parted, spewing a stream of white mist toward me.
Light erupted from Liwei and Wenzhi, even as I threw my
own shield up—too late—the mist shrouding me, clinging to my skin where it seared with the biting cold of ice. But the discomfort faded abruptly, leaving just a pleasant coolness below the hollow of my neck. My pendant? I lifted it to
stare at the carving. The crack had vanished; the jade was whole once more. Had the dragon’s breath done this?
The Long Dragon reared back, its eyes bulging as mist coiled from its nostrils once more. Was it attacking again?
Terror clawed me as I drew the bow, Sky-fire crackling
between my fingers. My stomach churned as I aimed it at the creature. I thought wildly of my mother—grasping for
the strength, the ruthlessness, to do what I needed to. All I had to do was release this arrow . . .
Unbidden, the memory of the paper dragon from Prince Yanming rose in my mind. May the dragons protect you on your journey. My heart quailed from a sudden burst of
anguish as I raised my bow higher—away from the dragon
—releasing the bolt into the sky. White veins of light illuminated the heavens. A crushing disappointment
descended over me, yet it was laced with undeniable relief.
I could not strike it, and deep down, I knew my mother
would not have wanted this either. No matter what it cost us.
Behind me, Liwei sucked in a sharp breath. The Long Dragon craned its neck toward me, staring at the bow.
Something flashed in its golden gaze, akin to recognition.
The Jade Dragon Bow. How is this possible? Its voice was calm once more.
Before I could speak, Wenzhi stepped forward. He must have heard the dragon’s question, too. “The bow chose her. She wields it now.”
This is most unexpected. The Long Dragon’s sigh was like the wind tearing through the trees. Would you lend me the Divine Iron Seal? I would use it to free my siblings as I
must confer with them. I give you my word that we will return here, and no harm will come to any of you.
Wenzhi drew me aside and spoke in hushed tones. “Ask the dragon to surrender its pearl, first. If you give it the seal, it will free the others and you might never see it again. We’ve come this far—if you lose the seal now, you will end up with nothing.”
His advice was sound. In any confrontation, Wenzhi was ever vigilant and ruthless—which was why he was so often victorious.
But the dragons were not my enemy.
As I looked away, my eyes met Liwei’s. “Xingyin, this is your decision,” he said, in a gentler tone than I expected.
I should have heeded Wenzhi’s advice, but my instincts guided me down a different path. I believed the Long
Dragon would not deceive me. How could I hope to gain its trust if I hesitated to yield mine?
Slowly, I stretched out my hand, the seal resting in my palm.
Light shot from the Long Dragon’s paw, enveloping the seal, which floated into its grasp. As its claws closed
around it, the dragon’s massive jaws curved up. With a single bound, it soared into the night.
Wenzhi stared silently after its shrinking silhouette. Was he displeased? I had not his wealth of experience, but I
trusted my own intuition.
I reached out to touch his arm, pressing my fingers against his sleeve. “It will return.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Because I’m wise beyond my years.” I spoke lightly, trying to conceal my own rising doubt.
He laughed, the sound rich and full. “That you are.
Though you are young, for an immortal,” he added
pointedly.
“Then tell me, Ancient One,” I said, with a smile. “What did you mean when you said the bow chose me? Why didn’t you mention this before?”
He leaned over to tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear, his hand lingering before falling away. “It was
something I read in the Eastern Sea library. I didn’t think it was important as it seemed obvious the bow had made its choice.”
“Not to me,” I admitted. “I thought it was some coincidence, that maybe I was the first person to touch the bow. That I was just its custodian.”
“I should have told you, but it slipped my mind until now.
The dragon’s words might have pried the memory loose,” he said wryly.
“Did you discover anything else?” I probed.
“Just that the Jade Dragon Bow yields to one master at a time. I wasn’t sure that part was true.” A pensive look
crossed his face. “However, the Long Dragon’s reaction appears to confirm it.”
“I’ve never heard of this weapon before,” Liwei remarked, coming toward us. “Unsurprising, perhaps, as we did not study the dragons. May I hold it?” he asked,
stretching out his hand.
Before I could offer it to him, the bow quivered in my palm in seeming protest. Liwei drew back, shaking his head. “I’ll not be fool enough to try to take it.”
I did not know how long we waited there, until the sky had darkened to black, until the last remnant of heat from the day was stripped from the earth. Until I finally sank to the ground in exhaustion, wrapping my arms around my
knees. Was I wrong to trust the dragons? Was I mistaken in their honor? I dared not look at Wenzhi. Although he would not gloat or reproach me, I would have disappointed him, nonetheless. And terror gripped me as I wondered, what
would the Celestial Emperor do should I return empty-
handed, with neither pearls nor seal? Just as I was about to admit defeat—the moon and stars vanished as though
swallowed by the night, covered by the silhouettes of the four creatures flying above.
The dragons landed before us, the ground trembling from the might of their descent. Soil flew up as their golden claws sank in, tails lashing behind them as their long necks arched to the sky, their antlers gleaming silvery-white.
Their auras were so powerful, the air itself seemed to shudder with their force. The other three were smaller than the Long Dragon, yet no less magnificent. One glowed as
moonlight with a snowy mane. Another was as dazzling as the sun, a ridge of golden spikes stretching along its back. And the last, merged seamlessly into the shadows, but for its ivory fangs gleaming like daggers of bone.
On the bank of the longest river in the realm, the
Venerable Dragons were united once more. They stared at me unblinkingly, their eyes ablaze with eternal wisdom.
Without knowing why, I sank to my knees and folded my body over until my forehead pressed against the grass.
The Long Dragon’s voice thrummed in my mind. We are
grateful to be freed, to feel the wind in our faces again. Life is precious once more. Its eyes flashed, mist streaming
from its nostrils. However, we do not wish to serve the Celestial Emperor. We will not give him our pearls.
A heaviness sank over me as I rose to my feet. Wenzhi stepped closer as though lending me his support. Did he
think I would fight the dragons now? I could not. It was not fear which held me back—though they could probably tear me to pieces if they were so inclined—but, I would not.
Which meant, I had failed. My mother would remain a prisoner. And everything I had striven for in the Celestial Kingdom would be for nothing.
The Long Dragon’s voice resonated through me again. We will give them to you.
“What? Why?” I repeated in disbelief, certain I had misheard, even as Liwei and Wenzhi swung to me.
As the Long Dragon lifted its head, its mane rippled
through the air like silken flame. Long ago, when we were young, a powerful sorcerer stole our spiritual essence. We would have died, if not for a brave warrior who saved us. Yet we were too weakened to retrieve our essence and the warrior bound it to the four pearls instead. To him, we
swore our loyalty. When he left the Eastern Sea, he
returned the pearls to us—though we are honor-bound to
yield them to him again should he ask it of us, or to the one in his stead. Here, the Long Dragon paused. The Jade
Dragon Bow was his cherished weapon, cleaving to him alone. And now, it has chosen you.
My mind whirled. I had known the bow was powerful, yet never did I dream it held such a revered place among the dragons. Even less so, that I would be its rightful owner.
And that the dragons would acknowledge me as— “But I’m not the immortal who saved you,” I said
hesitantly. “I know nothing of him. My mother and father are mortal-born.”
Titles are inherited, talent might be blood-bound, but
true greatness lies within, the Long Dragon said. There is a reason the bow chose you. A reason that you might not
even be aware of yet, which will only become clear once the clouds are parted. Our oath must be fulfilled. We will
honor the bow’s choice and yield our pearls to you, if that is your wish.
The Long Dragon fixed its golden gaze upon me.
However, there is something else you must know. If you
accept our pearls, we ask you to swear—as our ruler did— to never force us to act against our inclination, and to
safeguard our honor and freedom. We are creatures of peace. We cannot allow our power to be harnessed for
death and destruction, or our strength will wane and we will die.
Despite the cool night, sweat broke out over my skin.
Horror struck me, to imagine what the emperor might have demanded from the dragons’ service, and what it would
have cost them. What the dragons offered me was an immense honor and yet a terrifying burden. One I was unsure whether I was worthy to undertake or strong enough to bear.
“Venerable Dragons, could you free my mother, the Moon
Goddess?” I asked in a small voice. If they could, I would not need the emperor’s pardon. I would not need the pearls. I would not need to weigh my honor against my mother’s freedom.
The Long Dragon’s amber orbs darkened. Even during
our imprisonment, we had heard the tale of Chang’e and Houyi. The emperor oversees the celestial bodies in the sky, and Chang’e is bound to the moon. Her immortality is from the elixir, his gift. Hence, Chang’e is his subject and his
punishment of her—while harsh—is within his right. We
cannot undo the enchantment. If we attempt to release her, it would be to defy the Celestial Kingdom. An act of war. We cannot fight them as that would destroy us.
The weight of my indecision almost crushed me. I had no wish to betray the dragons, but what if my mother was threatened? Could I resist the terrible temptation to trade them for her safety? And what if the dragons perished in
the emperor’s service, then? Could I live with that on my conscience?
Part of me cried out to refuse this burden, yet how could I let this chance slip by? If only there was a way to harness
the dragons’ power without endangering them. If only I
could keep the dragons and my mother safe. I did not know if it was possible, but there was only one way to find out.
I cupped my hands before me, bowing to them. “I will accept your pearls.”
The dragons inclined their heads. Was it disappointment that clouded their faces?
Guilt pierced me, sharp and deep. I added at once, “In return, I swear to never force you to act against your inclination, to safeguard your honor and freedom. And I will return the pearls to you.” My voice shook with the
solemnity of my vow. The dragons had not asked the last of me, but deep down I knew this was right.
The night was so still, I could hear the shiver of the grass, the snap of a leaf fluttering from its twig. Finally, the Long Dragon prowled toward me. As its enormous jaws parted, its breath misted the air. Between gleaming white fangs,
upon a blood-red tongue, rested a pearl of crimson flame. As it lowered its head, its tongue lifted the pearl gently onto my palm. One by one the others followed suit until four pearls glowed in my hand, each the color of the
creature who had gifted it. They thrummed with power
against my skin, incandescent like they had been drenched in sunlight.
Our destinies are in your hands, daughter of Chang’e and Houyi, the Long Dragon intoned gravely. Whenever you
wish to summon us, hold our pearls and speak our names.
My fingers closed around the pearls, the payment the Celestial Emperor had demanded. “Thank you for your trust,” I whispered.
Thank you for your promise. The Long Dragon let out a
sigh of longing. Now we wish to bathe in the cool waters of the Eastern Sea, from which we have been parted for too long. Without another word, it sprang into the air, streaking across the heavens. The Pearl and Yellow Dragon followed close behind it.
Only the Black Dragon remained, its gaze disconcertingly bright. When it spoke, its voice chimed like a bell struck hard. Daughter of Chang’e and Houyi. During my years
beneath the mountain, I heard the mortals who bathed in my river speak of the greatest archer who ever lived.
“You have news of my father?” I dared not hope, yet I could not suppress the wild leap in my chest.
The Black Dragon hesitated. They spoke of his grave not far from the banks of my river. At the point where two rivers merge into one, there is a hill covered in white flowers. There, you will find his resting place.
My father . . . dead? Deep down, I had always harbored a secret hope that he was alive. Even with the short life span of a mortal, he might still be in the early winter of his life. My last lingering hope crushed, I mourned the father I had never known. As for my mother who waited for him still— this would break her heart, destroying the dream she had clung to all this time. The strength sapped from my limbs as I dropped to my knees on the dew-glazed grass, sunken in despair.
Wenzhi crouched down beside me, drawing me into his arms. From the corner of my eye, I saw Liwei reach toward me, his fingers curling before they fell back down again.
The Black Dragon sighed. I wish I had gladder tidings. I am sorry for your loss. With a graceful leap into the night, it flew away.
Wenzhi’s arm tightened around me then. Looking up at him, I blinked in surprise. His pupils were no longer black, but a silvery gray like rainfall in winter. I jerked back,
shoving against him as a cloud swept in and whisked us into the sky—soaring so quickly, I could barely breathe through the air rushing into my face. I thrashed against
Wenzhi’s hold, reaching furiously for my energy, despite the numbing chill that spread through my body like the frost
forming on a leaf. I could not move, not even to struggle. Liwei’s shout pierced my stupor, followed by the ringing clash of metal which soon faded to a dull echo.
“I’m sorry.”
A drifting whisper that dissolved with the wind, so soft I might have imagined it. Eyes of silver, shadowed with
regret—and then everything went dark.
