An army of night soared toward us, led by Wenzhi, stony-
faced and grim. How had we come to this? Just a few weeks ago he had fought by my side—and now, he was the enemy.
“Hurry, Xingyin!” Shuxiao threw her hand out, blazing
with light. As a cloud dove down, she half dragged me onto it.
The wind lashed my skin, my hair streaming behind me.
As we soared farther from the border, the desert rippled before us like a bolt of unraveled satin. I craned my neck,
searching for Liwei among the fleeing Celestials, my spirits sinking to find no trace of him.
“I must go back,” I told her. “Something must have gone wrong.”
Shuxiao glanced over my shoulder, her body stiffening. “Xingyin, something is wrong.”
Behind us, slithering between the soldiers was the
confounding mist, aglitter with bloodied stars as it streaked across the skies. With every moment, it drew closer, its tendrils grasping at all within reach. Fortunately, Shuxiao’s cloud was swift; we were at the fringes of it. And yet, even at that distance, a wave of dizziness still struck me. Hastily, I wove a shield over us, sealing it tight so not a wisp of the vile enchantment could slip through. The Celestials nearest
to us followed suit, gleaming shields arcing over them as they sped away. But I watched in horror as the bulk of the army behind us—where the mist swirled thickest—ground to a stuttering halt.
“Shield yourselves!” I shouted to them, though my words were lost in the tumult.
Their eyes took on a glassy sheen, their movements
jerking and uncertain. Ice glazed my insides, as a few of them began shaking their heads in seeming confusion,
clawing at their throats. Some fell, writhing as they ripped their helmets away, tearing at their hair. One staggered to the edge of the cloud, and then—without hesitation— beyond, plummeting into the emptiness beneath. My
scream slashed the air, even as I threw my power out to
catch her. But I was too late as she vanished from sight, a dull thud rising from the ground.
I lowered my hand, shaking now. “Shuxiao, we must—” As though she had read my thoughts, our cloud swerved,
racing back toward the mist.
She shuddered, gesturing ahead. “What is this?”
“Mind magic. One of its more grotesque manifestations.” “No wonder it’s forbidden,” she said fervently.
As we drew closer, the true extent of the horror revealed itself. I fought the urge to flee from the unfolding nightmare. Amid the roiling mist, some Celestials hurled bolts of ice and flame at each other, others attacking with weapons. One thrust his spear through his companion’s shoulder, its blood-drenched tip jutting from her flesh. But the victim neither cried out nor flinched, barreling forward to hurl her weight against her attacker as they fell, rolling right to the edge. On another cloud, three Celestials
hacked away at each other with methodical abandon, their faces blank—seemingly numb to the pain—though their
cloud was speckled with blood.
Sick to my stomach, an urge to retch gripped me. No matter what Wenzhi had claimed, there was a viciousness
to this magic beyond any other. With friend turning upon friend, the cruelties inflicted were twice as sharp. A wicked torment that those fortunate enough to survive would be
doomed to a lifetime of remorse and grief.
Why did they not protect themselves, where were their shields? Why was there no attempt to banish the mist?
Were they too slow, caught in its throes, before they had a chance to secure themselves? Or had the generals not
conveyed my warning? Their suspicious faces flashed across my mind. Perhaps they truly believed me a traitor and Liwei a trusting fool.
The fog thickened, spreading its malevolent glow until the sky seemed soaked in blood. In a moment it would
engulf those at the fringes, infiltrating their shields and throwing them into disorder. More screams rent the air,
alongside cries of terror. I was free of the mist and yet, this helplessness sank over me anyway. I hated that there was no monster to slay here, no target to strike. What use was my bow against this wretched enemy? A nebulous, shifting thing, with a hunger nothing could sate.
Shuxiao clutched me, her fingers digging into my arm. “General Liutan!” she cried, pointing ahead.
I spun to find the white-haired general, the one who had accused me of being a spy, surrounded by dozens of
confounded soldiers. A shield encased him, even as the others pressed closer, leaving no opening for escape. My
gut recoiled as they attacked the general, his face clenched from the effort of sustaining his shield.
A Celestial soared toward us then, his scarlet cloak
streaming after him. Liwei. I could have wept with relief at the sight of him.
“I’ll help General Liutan. Take as many as you can to
safety.” He paused, his gaze lingering on me. “Be careful.”
Without waiting for an answer, he flew toward the soldiers, the sunstruck gold of their armor lighting the sky. Yet nothing but chaos reigned in their midst; Celestials
writhing in confusion, attacking each other with magic, fists, and weapons. Never had I imagined this calamity.
Such brutal violence. When I had been confounded, I only wanted to defend myself, not to hurt another. Yet now, their bloodlust emanated in waves. Had the turmoil aggravated their confusion, knowing they were in a battle yet unable to distinguish enemy from friend?
They suffer because of you, a harsh voice inside me hissed. You should never have taken the dragons’ pearls. See what your greed and arrogance have spawned.
Remorse stabbed me like a knife thrust deep, but there were other forces at play, too—the emperor’s craving for power and Wenzhi’s relentless ambition. I would not pay
the price alone in my conscience. And I would not wallow in guilt now, not when there was still a chance to end this.
An insidious thought slid into me, that I could so easily make this right. The dragons—what if I called them to aid
us? I had summoned the Black Dragon to carry me to safety before. Why not harness them to drive away the enemy? In a single stroke I could save the Celestial Army and repay Wenzhi for his treachery. With their power at my command,
I could wrest my mother’s freedom from the emperor. My vision shifted: I saw myself with a crown on my head,
raising high those loyal to me, tearing down all who had
caused me harm. Only then, would I relinquish the pearls. All I had to do was speak the dragons’ names . . .
My hand drifted to my pouch. Struggling against its lure, I snatched it back. No, such a thing would destroy the dragons, it would destroy me. I could never forgive myself. I had made a promise to them—one I meant, one I would keep. I dared not venture down a path I might never find my way back from, at least not until every other lane had
been traversed.
I turned to Shuxiao. “Wind. Rain. Anything to cleanse the skies.”
She nodded, squeezing her eyes tight in concentration,
the veins straining from her neck. I grasped as much of my energy as I could muster, the power coursing through my body.
“Now!” I cried.
Magic streamed from our palms. A gust of wind surged through the clouds, snatched from a summer storm in the mortal world, laced with dust and heat. Something jolted our cloud and I stumbled, steadying myself to feed the
hungering wind—the churning air transforming into a
howling gale which hurtled through the sky, dispelling the mist from those closest to us.
Yet our reach was not wide enough; hundreds were still in danger. Worse still, the Demons began countering our efforts, forcing the mist back upon us. It writhed thicker now, trapped between both sides. How much longer could we sustain this? Our shields would not hold indefinitely;
even now, we were tiring. If we failed to banish the mist soon, it would return in greater force, engulfing us all.
Just ahead, a cluster of Demons shot by, led by Wenzhi. I hesitated for a moment, before summoning a cloud and
leaping upon it to give chase.
“What are you doing?” Shuxiao cried. “Going after them.”
“Are you mad?” she yelled, gesturing at the horde of confounded Celestials ahead.
“No, which is precisely why I’m doing this.” I pointed at Wenzhi. “His presence here is no coincidence. Maybe I’ll find a way to stop this.”
Trailing Wenzhi through the clouds, I flew in a winding path to avoid detection—though there was little chance of him sensing my aura amid this vast tangle of immortals. I pulled the Jade Dragon Bow from my back, clutching it in readiness. Here, the mist was so dense, I could barely see beyond the shimmering haze of crimson dust. As a whiff of
its cloying fragrance hit me—of honey and of rot—I held my
breath at once, tightening my shield. I could not lose
control now, when a moment might make the difference between life and death. Between killing an enemy or a
loved one.
A short distance away was Liwei, harnessing a raging
wind to clear the air. It was working, the soldiers beginning to emerge from their stupor and move away from General Liutan—but then Wenzhi swooped toward him like a hawk
sighting its prey. Had Liwei been his target all this while? He would fail, I resolved, racing after him with my heart thumping in my chest.
Liwei’s head shot up, as though he sensed Wenzhi’s approach. For a moment, they stared at each other—eyes so bright, so dangerously narrowed—I went cold inside.
Swords drawn now, they lunged at each other with
unrestrained ferocity. Blades clashing, sparks raining down in a shower of fire and ice, the clouds trembling from the
force of their blows. For a moment I could not move,
trapped in fear’s embrace—yet transfixed by the savage grace of their swordsmanship, their movements a blur in this merciless battle.
My fingers were stiff as I drew my bow, Sky-fire crackling in my grip. I steeled myself to release, reminding myself
that Wenzhi was the enemy. But they were too quick, blades flashing, bodies whirling and spinning. What if I missed?
Just then, Liwei dipped low, evading Wenzhi’s sword
which sliced over his head—then rolling back to thrust his blade toward Wenzhi’s chest. He swerved, swinging his
sword in a wide arc, slashing through Liwei’s armor, his blood spraying into the air. Liwei gasped, clutching his wound.
As Wenzhi loomed over him, raising his sword—
something inside me snapped. Not the bow, this close, the Sky-fire might hurt Liwei, too. Coils of air sprang from my palms, striking Wenzhi. He folded over like he had been
punched in the gut, stumbling to the edge of his cloud. Catching his balance, a shield closed around him now.
He swung to me. “Xingyin, you have your powers back.” “No thanks to you,” I snarled.
“You’re too late, though.” Regret laced his tone as he raised his hand again, daggers of ice streaking toward Liwei—
I shot through the air, hurling myself between them,
slamming a barrier around Liwei and me—Wenzhi’s attack shattering harmlessly against it. It stirred something in my mind, a recollection of the time Wenzhi and I had stood in the Chamber of Lions, when he had instructed me to use
my powers. I did not think he ever expected his lesson to be used so.
Wenzhi’s face tightened, was it with anger?
Disappointment? As he drew back, the air roiled with his energy, crashing against my shield. It quivered as I braced
myself, holding it steady against him—but then his soldiers attacked, unleashing their magic upon us. My shield ruptured, shards of ice and wood and flame scraping me.
My teeth sank into my tongue, stifling a cry. Something hissed from behind me, fire erupting over the Demon
soldiers, cast by Liwei. He shifted his hand toward Wenzhi, the tongues of vermilion flame now streaking toward him— so hot, like they were torn from the sun.
Wenzhi’s shield broke. He was flung back—right off his cloud, plunging into the depths below. My heart . . . it dropped. I rushed to the edge, peering down as his soldiers hurtled after him—their power dragging him to safety. A mess of tangled emotions wound through me, one of which was undeniably relief.
“You’re making a habit of saving me,” Liwei remarked. “I thought we weren’t keeping count.” I glanced below
again, half fearing to see Wenzhi emerge. “This isn’t over yet, Liwei. We must hurry.”
All around us, the fog swirled thicker; Liwei’s earlier efforts for naught. Once more, the soldiers closed around General Liutan whose hair was slicked with sweat, his
shield beginning to waver.
My magic was already flowing forth to summon a gale, Liwei’s energy merging with mine in seamless streams of light. Sweat poured from my face, my knees almost
buckling from the strain. Though the mist thinned a little, it still hung over the trapped Celestials who were beginning to turn their attention to us. Flames shot out from the hands of one. I ducked, barely missing a scorching. Another hurled a spear at Liwei, but he deflected the blow with ease. While General Liutan crouched on his cloud, bearing the brunt of their attacks.
Just ahead, I sighted the Demon soldiers in the onyx studded helmets. Those I had seen when flying with the
Black Dragon, only now visible in the heart of the fog. The Mind Talents who had crafted the mist, their eyes aglitter as waves of crimson light swirled from their palms. Yet their faces were strained and beaded with sweat.
They were as tired as we were, which meant they could break.
Hope flared in me as I gestured to them. “Liwei, I will attack the Mind Talents. Hold the enchantment here.”
Before I finished speaking, his power had swelled to shoulder my burden. Wind rolled through the air, a storm breaking upon the Celestials.
An arrow of Sky-fire hurtled from my hand, plunging into a Mind Talent. He screamed once, his body convulsing as his skin crackled with light. As he fell, the mist streaming
from his hands dissipated. I did not pause—no time for either triumph or remorse—my cloud soaring through the air as I shot another and, then, a third. The Mind Talents cried out, pointing at me as torrents of their magic leapt my way. My shield trembled before it shattered, but another sprang up in its place, golden-bright.
“Xingyin, watch out!” Liwei called out.
I nodded in thanks, another arrow already streaking from my fingers. The Demon ducked, but my next shot took her
in the shoulder. As I aimed at the fifth, the Mind Talents broke rank and fled.
The mist lingered in their wake. Yet more Celestials were roused from their daze, more of them joining us now. My hair was whipped free from the last of its coils, my black dress fluttering wildly as our gale strengthened—howling as it sped across the heavens, sweeping each corner of the sky. The mist thinned, its crimson lights fading like stars in the dawn, before ebbing into oblivion. The sky had the calm of a tempest just passed, as our clouds rolled toward the
safety of the Celestial Kingdom.
We were safe, the Demons gone. But my pulse still raced, my breaths coming in quick bursts at the thought of what
awaited me in my audience with the emperor. My options were rapidly diminishing. Now that the generals knew I had the pearls, I must either relinquish them to the emperor, or outrightly defy him by refusing. An agonizing choice, if even a choice at all. Either one would be a betrayal, a loss of something infinitely precious—whether
my mother’s freedom or the dragons’. Even worse was the fear that the emperor would punish my mother further for my defiance. Or that he would wrest the pearls from me by force, just as he had ordered me to take them.
My head pounded. If only I could safeguard both! Such a thing was impossible, unless . . . there was some way to
fulfill my bargain without harming the dragons. An idea formed in my mind, frail and new. Wild and undoubtedly dangerous.
“Xingyin,” Shuxiao called out, as she halted beside me. “Let’s go.”
“I can’t,” I replied. “Not yet.” I did not say more, I dared not reveal my plan—if it could even be called one, more a haphazard string of ideas and guesses. Such information
would endanger her, placing her in an untenable situation— one I was plunging toward myself—torn between my loved ones and my honor.
“Will you do something for me?” I asked her somberly. “Anything.”
“Don’t tell them I didn’t go back. Spread the word that
you lost sight of me in the battle.” Perhaps this might delay arousing the emperor’s suspicions.
“Is that all? I was hoping you might give me an actual challenge,” she snorted.
“Everything about me is a challenge these days. But if things don’t go as planned, maybe you can think of a way to restrain His Celestial Majesty’s anger?” I spoke in jest,
trying to conceal my unspoken fear.
She paused, searching my face. “Stay safe. I will do what I can,” she said finally.
“Thank you” was all I said, though there was so much more left unspoken. As she flew toward the Celestial Kingdom, she turned around once, her hand lifted in a wave.
“Xingyin, my father expects you.”
I looked away from Liwei, brushing the hair from my forehead, as I gathered the courage to tell him, “I can’t surrender the dragons’ pearls to your father. I gave them my word.”
He did not speak at first, his eyes so dark and solemn. “What will you do?”
I hesitated. Dare I trust him with this? Did he want the pearls for his father? And if so, would he try to stop me? But as I looked into his face, alight with the warmth that haunted me still—I knew my worries were false. He might argue with me, he might try to dissuade me, but he would never betray me.
“The dragons said it was an enchantment which bound their spiritual essence to the pearls. According to Teacher Daoming, no enchantment is unbreakable. What if this can
be undone? I don’t know if it’s possible, but I intend to find out.” I added haltingly, “This way, I will keep my bargain
with your father, but just the one I struck with him and no more.”
A faint smile formed on his lips. “Just the pearls and no more, do you mean?”
I nodded, despite the doubt which gnawed at me. The emperor intended to get from me more than what had been agreed. And now, he would get exactly what was promised, which was not what he wanted at all. It might not work;
there were too many things that could go wrong. Perhaps the enchantment could not be undone. Perhaps the emperor would not accept the pearls without the essence; he would certainly be furious. But what choice did I have? None that I could stomach making.
As Liwei’s cloud drifted closer, he leapt onto mine,
reaching out to clasp my hand. “We don’t have much time.” At that moment, I breathed easier than I had in years—
ever since I left the Courtyard of Tranquility. I was not alone, and despite everything which had happened between us, he was my friend still.
Yet I took no pleasure drawing him into these plans of mine. My schemes would pit Liwei against his father,
incurring his displeasure and inciting his wrath. But I
would not refuse his help now, not when it was as welcome to me as the rain on parched soil. Not when so much hung in the balance.
“Where are we going?” he asked.
“To where the dragons were born.”
