I grasped in vain at his claws, reaching for my qi and finding nothing. “I will never—”
A thunderous boom shook the earth as the dragon’s claws wereripped from me. Gasping, I crawled away, seeking a hiding place. But the earth was moving.
Before my eyes the riverbank reshaped itself into a mountain, and the Dian River, which I had believed as enduring as the seasons, began to reverse course, its currents flowingawayfrom the sea.
I knew of only one creature who had the power to make mountains.
“Baihu,” said Qinglong, but there was a new note in his voice. Was it fear? “I warned you to stay out of this.”
“You’ve gone too far.” The Ivory Tiger’s presence was like the sand of the Runong Desert, ancient and forbidding and vast. “It’s time we ended things.”
And as she roared, the earth itself trembled with awe. Lightning flashed through the sky as Qinglong rose to meet her, their cardinal forces to be the ruination of our world. I clambered back, certain this was how the human realm would meet its end. But Baihu had not come here to fight. Instead the wind stirred around us with a different kind of power, animals scurrying for cover, leaves blustering in the gale, the scent of autumn and harvest all around us, in the air itself.
The thought struck me—how had Baihu known to find us here?
Then it clicked: Lei. I had told him I was at the Dian River. Could he have passed that on to Kuro, who then told Baihu? If they were in contact, it could only mean one thing—they were still alive.
I scrambled upright, elation surging through me, as the mountains once again began to ripple like water. Baihu flickered, like an ember about to burn out. So too did the dragon, despite his desire to remain. She was returning them to the spirit realm, I saw. They would leave me alone, and at last, I too could return.
The thought brought tears of relief to my eyes. I hauled my aching body forward, seeking refuge from the gale. But I should not have underestimated the dragon’s spite. For at the last second, just before they vanished, the dragon seized me within his claws—and dragged me back into the spirit realm.
Forty-Three
By the emperor’s decree, all my hard-won achievements were cast to the winds, like dust upon a worn path.
—Records of the Grand Historian, 489
I fainted with fatigue, but myrelief was momentary. Chittering fireflies woke me, buzzing in my ears with equal parts awe and fear. All around us, the lights of the spirit realm wobbled and shivered, their pulse frenetic and faltering. It seemed as if the world itself was holding its breath.
But the Cardinal Spirits did not care. A hair-raising snarl ripped from the sky as the Ivory Tiger struck out at the Azure Dragon, and the two of them went spinning through the air.
Their violence knew no bounds. Ancient trees were ripped from their roots, tremendous rivers ran dry, tidal waves flooded forests, the sky rained ash. Bruised, bleeding, and exhausted beyond belief, I simply hugged my knees to my chest and covered my head with my arms, trying to remain as small as possible. Trying to be forgotten. Trying to forget myself.
It was hard to tell how much time had passed. The sky burned overhead, so that no sunlight was visible from where I hid. I could see shadows pooling at my feet, but I did not know if that meant dawn or dusk.
It was only when Baihu landed hard beside me, skidding into the earth with a growl, that my hiding place was uncovered.
“You,” she snarled, and I flinched instinctively. “You need to get out,” she warned. “Don’t you realize the rift is closing? If you do not leave now, you will lose your way back to your world.”
I stared at her open-mouthed, uncomprehending. Then she was gone, their fight moved elsewhere, and hot panic sluiced through me.
The spirit realm had a way of erasing the passage of time, severing your ties to the world you once knew. And I, foolishly, had allowed myself to sink into a dreamless sleep.
But now, my memories swept over me like a frigid wind, and I began to run. I ran like I’d never run before, and then I was no longer running, but flying, keeping pace with the birds, who were guiding me home. I’d forgotten that not all spirits were hostile, that just like humans, no two were alike. Yet the first spirits to cross the chasm had been driven by greed and conquest, leaving behind a damaging legacy that shaped how all were perceived.
Shadows loomed above and below. Day seeped into night, or night into day. How much time had I wasted down here? Was I too late? Was there still a way out?
“Lei!” I called, but there was no response.
The birds dove, and I followed them, trusting their instincts. They took me through a hilly desert, until I spotted a familiar hulking silhouette sleeping beneath the stars.
“Kuro?” I could not tell if it had been days or years since we’d seen each other last. And yet I knew him. I knew his fondest memories, his dreaded nightmares, the last words he’d spoken to Jinya. I knew the scars along his hands and the limp in his left foot and even the way his joints ached when it rained.
Slowly, he woke from a deep slumber. “You…” he said, his voice hoarse and rasping, as if he’d forgotten how to form syllables.
I offered him a hand, and he stumbled toward it, his body clumsy and imbalanced. “Come with me,” I ordered. “Now.”
And then we were running, the sand dunes blurring past us. A cliff rose up in our path, but we didn’t hesitate; we jumped. The light was closing fast, the shadows growing longer with every passing second.
