Our cloud glided through the sky, carried by a gentle breeze. It was a clear day, and we could see all the way to the mortal world below—though I stared blankly ahead. In the distance, sunlight glinted over the gold dragons poised on the roof of the Jade Palace.
Black-armored soldiers appeared on the horizon, soaring upon violet clouds to sweep between us and the Celestial Kingdom. At once, they surrounded us, only parting to let Wenzhi through. He stood before me now, his dark gray
robe swirling around his ankles, the emerald in his crown flashing with jade fire. While he wore no armor, a sword was strapped to his side.
Liwei stiffened beside me, his anger rolling off him in waves. “Traitor. Are you here to confess your crimes?”
“There is nothing to confess. Nor have I heard any
accusation from the Celestial Court.” Wenzhi’s silken tone was cultivated to infuriate.
“You know what you did, as do I. And you will pay for your offenses,” Liwei snarled.
“Perhaps. But not today. And certainly not at your hands.” Wenzhi deliberately turned from him, his gaze locking onto mine. “I didn’t come to fight you today.”
I gestured at the arrows and spears which his soldiers aimed at us. “This would imply otherwise.”
“I didn’t say anything about him.” His head jerked toward Liwei, though he did not look away from me. “Give me the pearls,” he said, like he was asking for a pin from my hair.
I would give him nothing more of me, not now, not ever. “It’s too late. The pearls are of no use to you now.”
He frowned, searching my face. “What do you mean?” “The dragons’ essence is gone; returned to them.”
A sharp hiss of breath. “Don’t lie, Xingyin. It doesn’t suit you.”
“This is no lie.” I spoke gravely. If he did not believe me, if he took the pearls again—he would snatch away the last hope for my mother’s freedom. Digging the pearls from my
pouch, I cradled them in my palm as I walked to the edge of the cloud.
“You’ve seen what they were before. Can you say they are the same?” My pulse leapt to an erratic rhythm. Though I
wanted him to see how diminished they were, this was the very thing I feared the emperor would discover and punish me for.
He stared at the pearls, unspeaking. “Why?” he ground out, at last.
His voice throbbed with such shock, dismay, and disappointment, it was as music to my ears. I did not expect this rich satisfaction to course through me, this exulting
triumph that despite everything he had done, the intricate web he had snared me in—it was all for nothing.
“Because of you,” I told him. “What?”
“I want to thank you for showing me what needed to be done, of what would happen if the pearls fell into the wrong hands. I could not let that happen again.” I tipped the pearls back into my pouch. “Now we have nothing you want, let us pass.”
Instead, his cloud drifted closer, the anger easing from his expression. I braced myself for more lies.
“What if I told you I’m not here for the pearls alone?” he asked.
“I don’t give a damn what you’re here for.” Liwei stepped closer to me, his knuckles white around the hilt of his sword.
I gripped his sleeve. “Liwei, don’t attack him.”
“After everything, do you still care for him?” he asked in disbelief.
“How can you think that?” I seethed, releasing him. “I am sick to my core of bloodshed, terror, and grief. Our best
chance is to convince him to let us go. If you attack him, his soldiers will strike us. And if he hurts you again,” I raised my voice so Wenzhi would hear, “he’ll have a lightning bolt through his heart.”
“You’ve already broken it, Xingyin. What other damage could you do?” he said quietly.
My laughter rang sharp and bright. “I shall be pleased to try.” In the next moment I had unslung the bow, Sky-fire
blazing between my clenched fingers—yet undeniably muted from before.
Wenzhi’s gaze fixed upon the blood trickling down my hand, from old wounds torn anew. “What happened to you? Why are you weakened?” His tone was rough with urgency.
We had fought together so many times, it was little wonder he could sense my diminished strength. I did not answer, stifling a hiss of pain.
“Don’t exhaust yourself,” Liwei warned.
“Drop your sword, Demon Prince,” I said, in my most
threatening voice. “Call off your soldiers and let us go. In return, I won’t sink this into your chest. Even though it’s well deserved.”
A heartbeat of silence pulsed through us, unbroken by word or breath.
Wenzhi’s eyes flashed silvery bright. “Xingyin, have you
lost your mind? If you’ve stripped the pearls of their power, how can you return to the Jade Palace? Do you trust so fully in the mercy of Their Celestial Majesties?”
I stiffened at his scorn, yet beneath it I detected
something else—was it alarm? For my safety? It did not matter as I recalled his boundless deceit, raising my chin in defiance.
“More than in yours. What did my trust in you gain me before? Lies and captivity. My magic sealed and my possessions stolen.” I could not help trembling with fury at the memory.
Wenzhi stretched his hand out to me. “You don’t have to
confront the Celestial Emperor. Come with me, I’ll keep you safe. You’ll not be a prisoner this time. I’ll do what I can to help you, and your mother . . . without conditions.”
His offer took me by surprise, as did his concern. But words were easily spoken. What mattered was one’s conduct, and I could never trust him again. I kept my grip
steady on my weapon, my gaze trained upon him. “I will not go with you. And I’ll keep myself safe.”
His face darkened. “Do you realize what awaits you in the Celestial Court? Count yourself fortunate if all they do is lock you up as they did your mother!”
“She has my support. Unlike you, I will never betray her,” Liwei declared flatly.
Before I could speak, a hail of arrows whistled through
the air, one plunging into my shoulder. Pain flashed through me as I bit back a cry, the bow slipping from my hand. Was this a trap? As Liwei pulled out the arrow and healed my wound, I glowered at Wenzhi. Yet his expression was
strangely stricken.
“Hold your fire,” he barked at his soldiers.
His pupils were the gray of a windswept sea as he turned back to me. “I know what my brother said to you. He
offered you your freedom, and my death. You refused. Why?”
I could sense Liwei staring at me, his unspoken surprise.
I had not told him of this. For some reason, I had not
wanted to. “Not because of you,” I said fiercely. “I couldn’t let him, because not even my worst enemy deserved to be killed that way. It would not have been . . . honorable.”
His lips curved into a mirthless smile. “I’m grateful for your honor. You saved me that night. In a way.” He inhaled a slow breath, and when he let it out, the sound was heavy with regret. “I’ll not hold you against your will again. Your hatred and resentment are not what I want.”
As he glanced at Liwei, his face twisted into a sneer. “To repay my debt to her, I’ll let you go free. You won’t be so
fortunate the next time we meet.”
“Nor will you.” Contempt dripped from Liwei’s tone.
I stared at Wenzhi in disbelief. Was this a trick? Was he
really letting us go? What of his ambition? The deal he had struck with his father? While a part of me had hoped he
would do this, I never quite believed he would.
I kept these thoughts to myself as a wind surged,
glittering with Liwei’s energy as it bore our cloud away.
And though I resisted the urge to turn around, I could feel the heat of Wenzhi’s gaze trailing after us.
The closer we got to the Jade Palace, the deeper my terror sank in. My skin was like ice, my heart pounding at the thought of the emperor’s fury. I had no doubt he would sense the change in the pearls, which I still hoped to claim as fulfillment of our bargain. Would he accuse me of trickery? Would he punish us? I dropped my head into my hands, my breaths sliding in and out in a frantic rhythm.
Warm fingers encircled my wrists. As gently as though holding one of his paintbrushes, Liwei drew my hands
away. “You have the pearls. You fulfilled the task. I will be with you.”
He did not let go of me until we landed by the Hall of Eastern Light. Sunlight shimmered over the stone walls, luminous and bright. So utterly at odds with the dread
lurking within me. An urge gripped me to flee, to disappear until my very name was forgotten. But like every hard thing which had come before—Xiangliu, Governor Renyu, fighting Liwei in the Eternal Spring Forest—I would face this, too.
The moment I stepped into the hall, all heads swung my way—bodies growing taut, eyes hardening. But that was nothing to the whispers which wound around like the
hissing of snakes. Snatches of “Traitor,” “Liar,” and
“Demon,” filtered through my ears. Pitying glances were
cast at Liwei, as though wondering how he could have been taken in by me. My insides coiled tight at so hostile a reception, even as anger seared me to be found guilty
without a chance to defend myself. On Liwei’s behalf as well, in whose judgment they should have more faith.
Pulling myself as straight as a spear, I strode to the front of the dais. I did not spare a glance to the courtiers—not
from arrogance—but to ensure the weight of their censure did not crush my false bravado. My only defense was that I had done no wrong, so I dared not reveal a flicker of doubt.
Before Their Celestial Majesties, I sank to my knees,
folding over to touch my forehead and palms to the jade tiles. Silence greeted me; the emperor did not invite me to rise. Hesitantly, I lifted my head to the thrones—my gaze gliding over their pearl-encrusted shoes, then the hem of their brocade robes, which were the color of night.
Embroidered gold dragons prowled across the skirt of the emperor’s garment, while silver phoenixes danced on the empress’s. The Celestial Emperor’s eyes probed my face as he leaned forward, the pearl strands on his crown clicking together.
“They tell me you are a traitor. That you took the dragons’ pearls to the Demon Realm, surrendering them to your lover. Not a hard tale to believe, though my son spoke
so fiercely in your defense. Yet the one thing which gave me pause was how passionately you pleaded for your mother before. Surely, you would not seal her to an even
worse fate with your crimes. Surely, no child could do such a thing to a beloved parent. Surely, my trust in you was not misplaced.”
His voice was soft, but I was not fool enough to miss the menace in it. His threat to my mother cut me deep. Oh, I was thankful to have escaped the Demon Realm, to plead my case before him now. My instincts were right, that he would have struck out at my mother in retaliation for my
imagined crimes. What was equally clear, however, was that this ordeal was just beginning.
“Your Celestial Majesty is wise. I would never do such a thing.” It choked me to utter such flattery, but I dared not antagonize him with our lives at stake.
The emperor settled back against his throne, the air
between us charged with unbridled anticipation. “Where are the dragons’ pearls?”
My fingers trembled as they groped in my pouch. But I forced them to steady, stretching my hand out to display the pearls.
An attendant took them from me and gave them to the emperor. He lifted each one in turn, between his thumb and finger, holding it up to the light. As he looked at me with
those black shards of ice beneath his drawn brows, I went cold inside—with the biting harshness of winter.
“How dare you try to trick me!” he thundered.
Beneath my robe, my legs were shaking. His rage was all the more terrifying because he had always displayed such control before. But to cower and plead for mercy, would be an admission of guilt. And that I could not do.
“Your Celestial Majesty, this is no trick. These are the pearls from the dragons, as you commanded me to seek.”
“They are not!”
“Honorable Father, she speaks the truth.” Liwei remained beside me, instead of taking his position upon the dais.
White light flared from the emperor’s palm, swirling
around the lustrous orbs. “Where is the dragons’ essence?” He drew out each word, quieter now—though his tone was riddled with threat.
I should have been terrified, yet anger sparked in me instead. It had been no coincidence; the emperor had
intended to use me to force the dragons to his will. I met his gaze unflinchingly. “Returned to them, as it belongs to no other. Your Celestial Majesty, all you asked me for were the pearls in your hand. My end of the bargain is fulfilled.”
His fist slammed the armrest of his throne. “The dragons belong under my rule. They should submit to my
authority!”
“The dragons do not agree.” Rash words, I chided myself.
Though it was nothing but the truth.
The courtiers stepped away from me in a swish of silk
and brocade. As though I had the plague and they were not immortal.
“Honorable Father, the dragons have no wish to be under anyone’s rule,” Liwei said. “It was too dangerous to leave
the pearls as they were. What if they fell into our enemy’s possession again? Xingyin only recovered them at great risk to herself. Imagine the destruction the Demons would have rained upon us with the dragons at their command!”
Shocked gasps burst from the courtiers, who fell silent when the Celestial Empress pointed a finger at me.
“You have grossly overstepped yourself,” she spat, her teeth bone-white against those crimson lips. “Somehow, with your conniving ways, you’ve tricked my son into
speaking for you. But you’re a traitor and should be
punished as such. Did you come back because you’ve been discarded? Played false by your lover? Hoping to worm your way back into my son’s good graces?”
Such vile words, they tore away the last shreds of my restraint. Doubly cruel because I had been played false, just not the way she envisaged.
I uncoiled my legs, rising to my feet. A grievous breach in etiquette, but it was nothing to the words that sprang from me now. “I’m no traitor. I fulfilled the task, retrieving the dragons’ pearls—then risked my life to steal them back again. I did as you commanded, and all I ask now is for you to free my mother as was promised, as honor dictates.”
“You speak of honor? Have you no respect for His
Celestial Majesty? On your knees and beg for mercy!” A harsh voice rebuked me, adding, “Others have died for less.”
I turned to see Minister Wu stepping forward, his eyes bulging in apparent outrage. My gut twisted. He had
proven himself no friend of mine, nor my mother’s, and this was no exception.
The minister bowed before the thrones. “Your Celestial Majesty, you have been most gracious to this liar and she has played you false, time and time again. Who knows if
she really surrendered the essence to the dragons, and not to the traitor in the Demon Realm?”
For a moment I could not speak, stunned by his malicious accusation. “That’s not true,” I finally managed.
“How can you prove it?” Minister Wu countered.
Liwei glared at him. “Would my word suffice? Because I was with Xingyin when she was abducted, and when she
fought by our side against the Demon Army. I stood beside her as she returned the essence to the dragons. Minister Wu, do you question my honor, too?” He threw each word out as a challenge.
The minister bowed to Liwei, though his expression was one of skepticism. “Your Highness, you are kind and merciful. We are all aware of your . . . special friendship with the First Archer. Is there nothing you won’t say to
protect her?”
Someone snickered at his insinuation. A few laughed outright. The minister’s words were calculated to inflame the emperor’s wrath, reminding him of what he disdained as Liwei’s “weaknesses,” when they were his greatest strengths. Before, I had wondered if his dislike of me
stemmed from my heritage, his contempt of mortals, perhaps. But from his hostility, the way he contrived to
incite the emperor against us—it had to be more than that. Had I offended him, without even realizing it? Did he bear some grudge against my parents?
The energy in the hall shifted, flecks of ice drifting in the air as I crossed my arms to cling to a fragment of warmth. Whispered murmurs died away, a moment before a stillness swallowed the room like I had been transported to the land of the dead. The Celestial Emperor’s face was colder than
the heart of a glacier. He raised a hand, stretching it out as white sparks crackled from his fingertips, brighter even
than the light from my bow—arcing toward me with
breathtaking speed. Fear engulfed me in a blizzard of frost and snow. I could not move, not even to tear my eyes from the Sky-fire’s terrible beauty, a heartbeat before it hurtled into me with merciless accuracy.
Pain exploded. Scorching, searing. A thousand white-hot needles piercing my chest, again and again in never-ending agony. I did not feel myself crumple to the floor, tears
falling from my eyes onto the jade tiles, unmarred by a
single drop of blood. This torture was not of my body being sliced or speared, but of my nerves ripped from my flesh by the sea of lights crackling over my skin. Never had I felt
such agony—not from Xiangliu’s acid, the sea scorpion venom, not even when Liwei thrust his sword into me.
Nothing in my worst nightmares or darkest fears could
have prepared me for this wrenching torment which tore my very being apart.
Strangled gasps slid from my mouth. My body spasmed as I retched myself dry. I had come here with my head held
high, but I was beyond caring that a crowd of strangers stood by to witness my utter humiliation.
My screams came then, shattering the silence. Too late did I bite down on my tongue to stifle my cries, blood
spilling into my mouth. I welcomed it, a reminder that I was still alive. Through my daze, a voice drifted into my ears— Liwei—his anguish wringing my heart even as I drowned in agony.
Flashes of a life unlived, paths untrodden swept through my mind, arousing a thousand regrets and longings. If only I could have gone home to my mother. If only Liwei and I
had never parted. If only Wenzhi had not betrayed me. If only . . . this was not the end.
I fought the urge to close my eyes, to sink into the
beckoning oblivion. Was it possible to survive this? I waited for a flicker of anger, for my will to harden and revive my
strength—but there was nothing, beyond this weariness which sank into my bones.
I would die here; I knew it now. There was neither pity nor mercy in the emperor’s expression, only a callous
satisfaction that his justice would be served. But I would not close myself off in blissful ignorance. I would depart
with my eyes open. I would see everything, from the face of my beloved to that of my killer.
My body quivered as I pressed my palms against the floor, raising my head an inch from the ground. Each breath I drew was a shuddering torment. My pendant slipped out
from the folds of my robe, the jade disc clinking against the tiles.
Had only a few seconds passed? It had been a lifetime of suffering.
“Father!” Liwei’s shout pierced my ears again, along with that ominous crack in the air.
I stared at him, dazed, as a shining barrier of gold light encased me. Just as when he had protected me from the Demon soldiers—the emperor’s Sky-fire splintering to
nothingness when it struck. My body went limp with relief at this reprieve, despite the shield shattering a moment after. Liwei rushed forward, standing between me and the thrones —his face pale, sweat running down his brow. He had come to my aid, just as I always knew he would.
“Liwei, move aside. I’ll show you no leniency if you defy me again.” The emperor’s voice was so hostile, it was as
though he spoke to an enemy instead of his son.
The empress dashed down from the dais, stumbling in her haste. The gold flowers on her headdress shivered like they were caught in a gale. “Liwei, this deceitful girl does not deserve your protection. Her actions have threatened us all.” She tugged his arm to pull him away.
As he yanked free of her grip, the emperor nodded at his guards who ran toward Liwei. I wanted to tell him to leave, yet was filled with a violent joy that he fought to stay. I was so cold, I did not think I would ever feel warm again—but as I watched his struggles, a spark kindled deep inside me, my arm stretching across the floor in a futile attempt to
reach him.
The emperor’s gaze flicked to me as he raised his hand.
My battered body could not withstand another attack, yet I forced my eyes to open—even as his fingertips blazed once more.
Time ceased. Sky-fire streaked toward me with dazzling speed, yet agonizing slowness. Liwei’s cry shattered my stupor. I shook my head, a scream erupting from my throat as he wrenched free of the guards, lunging forward to
shield me with his body—even as I reached out to push him aside. Even as I knew I was too late.
“No.” A broken whisper as he clasped my hands. As my eyes met his—brimming with such warmth and love—I
could not regret this final sight.
White light filled my vision. I braced for death.
Yet no stabbing pain pierced my skin . . . no blistering
agony ripped through my flesh. Instead, I was encased in a
luminous cocoon, as soft and tender as the mist at dawn. My eyes darted to Liwei’s. He was safe and alive—as was I. It was then, I felt it, a coolness rippling across my chest. I pulled my hand from Liwei’s to grasp my father’s pendant, tingling against my skin and sheathed in radiance. The
same light which had shielded Liwei and me from harm. Yet all too soon it faded, the jade warming between my fingers as the smooth stone cracked—just as before the Long Dragon’s breath repaired it.
The Celestial Emperor . . . I did not recognize him in this moment. Pale with shock, red with rage. Did he feel any
remorse for almost killing his son? He would have none for me. As his stony gaze swung my way, I forced myself to
hold it—I would embrace his loathing and return it with my own.
Liwei swept his robe aside, kneeling upon the floor. “Honorable Father, your command was to retrieve the pearls from the dragons in exchange for repealing the
sentence of the Moon Goddess. You did not mention their
spiritual essence. If we have erred, I plead for mercy on our behalf. Yet the four pearls are before you, delivered as promised. Only one side of the bargain remains to be
fulfilled. Yours.”
His voice carried to each corner of the hall, stirring the court from their stupor. A few courtiers, the braver ones, nodded in agreement. Whispers were exchanged behind
raised sleeves. Of course, they knew little of the pearls and the great power they once held. In their eyes I had
completed my task, only to be rewarded with a lightning bolt to my chest.
The Celestial Emperor stilled. Had Liwei’s words
reminded him of the many speculative eyes watching?
Silent tongues which might withhold their judgment here might not be so restrained when they returned home. Had he been deemed just and benevolent? Or capricious and cruel? As for me, Liwei had irrevocably linked our fates
together. “My” choices had become “our” choices. My
punishment would be his, too. I had fought for Liwei in the Eternal Spring Forest, just as he was fighting for me here. Then I shook my head to banish such thoughts. As he had told me before, there was no need for such accounting
between us. No matter how our paths diverged, our bond remained intact.
“Your Celestial Majesty,” the silken tones of Minister Wu slithered forth once more. “I humbly advise you to quash
such defiance at once. This girl and her mother will make a mockery of the Celestial Kingdom. Do not forget how
Chang’e concealed her child’s existence from you, just as her daughter attempted to deceive you now. What if others believe they can trick you so and escape unscathed?”
Liwei rounded on him, pointing to where I lay slumped upon the floor. “Unscathed? Can you bear the Sky-fire as she did? She has more than paid for any offense—”
“Silence!” the emperor lashed out, gripping the armrests of his throne.
The air was stifling, thick with tension. No one dared to move, not even the empress, as she stared at Liwei with wide disbelieving eyes.
The Celestial Emperor’s mouth clamped into thin lines.
Ice glistened in the air once more as my body recoiled in
remembrance of the torment, bracing for death’s embrace.
The sharp click of boots against the tiles broke the stillness. An aura approached—steady, resolute, and strong
—that of General Jianyun. Before the dais, he sank to his knees.
“Your Celestial Majesty. Before you pass judgment, it is your loyal servant’s duty to remind you that the First Archer saved the Celestial Army from the Demon Realm’s heinous trap today. The soldiers wish to show her their
gratitude and even now, they await outside.” He raised his head, gesturing to the entrance of the hall.
I looked up in disbelief, staggering to my feet, ignoring the pain that bloomed with each movement. Slowly, I
turned, following the sweep of General Jianyun’s hand. The courtiers before me parted, whispering among themselves.
Shuxiao stood near the entrance—and just behind her, beyond the hall, was a sea of Celestial soldiers, stretching out farther than I could see. As one, they bowed, sunlight rippling over their armor, a wave of golden-white fire. My
heart caught in my throat as the pain in my body subsided. Tears sprang into my eyes as I lowered myself to them in return.
I was not loyal to the Celestial Kingdom. But I was loyal to my friends; those I had fought with, those I had bled with. As I straightened, my eyes met Shuxiao’s. I lifted my hand to her in greeting. I suspected I had much to be
grateful to her for. Who else would have informed General Jianyun and brought the army here?
The army of the Celestial Emperor.
My skin crawled along the back of my neck. Recalling
myself, I spun around and sank to my knees again. I would not plead or beg; it would do no good. “Your Celestial
Majesty, I am no traitor. I fulfilled the terms of our bargain and I await your justice.” My words were graceless, my
voice hoarse from my screams—yet whatever came after, there was a peace in knowing that I had done all I could.
The murmurs in the hall swelled louder, several courtiers shaking their heads. While the soldiers did not disperse,
remaining at the entrance of the hall.
The Celestial Emperor’s face was a mask of regal poise, without a trace of his vehemence and rage from a moment ago. And when he spoke, his tone was steady and calm.
“First Archer Xingyin. In gratitude for your noble service, we will grant your wish. Chang’e is pardoned and will
henceforth be free to leave the moon. However, she is not to shirk her responsibilities. As the Moon Goddess, it still
falls upon her to ensure the moon rises each night—without exception.”
A heartbeat of silence. Then the cheering erupted, within and beyond the Hall of Eastern Light. If there were those who disagreed, the empress or Minister Wu, their protests fell on deaf ears. I sank back onto my heels, feeling the
tension slide from my body, even as my mind whirled. The emperor’s pardon was generous. Magnanimous. Wholly unexpected. I knew as he did, that I had not truly fulfilled my quest; I had not done what he wanted. He was within his right to deny his side of the bargain, when he was also my judge. His grace was well calculated, reading the mood of the court and of his soldiers—to preserve his honor and reputation. And I heard, too, the threat in his words. All was not well. And there would be no mercy a second time.
As the emperor waved his hand, a seal appeared before me, glittering like a star. I wrapped my fingers around it, folding my body low, pressing my head to the cold stone
floor. There was no humility or gratitude in my bones, but I would perform my role in this farce. Pain threaded every
inch of my flesh and I could not banish the prickle of fear that this might still be a trick. Trust was something I had learned not to readily yield. Yet my joy could not be
restrained—surging free, spilling through me like the rays of the sun reaching across the infinite sky.
I was going home.
