Then, without a sound, the stars began to fall like rain. Dilaya shouted and scrambled backward as the spring caught fire, but Lan remained where she was, her head spinning.
“A Seal,” Tai said numbly. “The stars created a Seal.”
The flames had swept across the surface of the water, coiling into indiscernible patterns. Lan could sense the qì burning hot within the fire, forming rippling waves. She traced it in her mind, racing to decipher the strokes—but before she could make sense of it, the fire drew a great ring, beginning to end, and the Seal snapped into place.
It was as if the world had shifted and the sky fractured, so strong was the whiplash of qì that cracked from it. A fierce wind rose, howling as it swirled over the center of the spring, where the Seal burned. And there, from the surface, emerged a thing of river water and fire, coiling into the shape of a winged serpent. Its screech pierced Lan with a wave of yin.
A great blue eye snapped open inside Lan.
The sky at once darkened and began to burn as a colossal surge of water and fire smashed down toward her. The qì hit her first, bringing her to her knees. Then she felt flames so hot that she wondered if this might be her last sensation before her death.
Lan reached for her ocarina even as a tidal wave of water unfurled over her, enough to break her bones.
It never reached her.
Qì rushed from her to meet the great water demon in a burst of silver light. A cool wind billowed past, and she felt the earth tremble beneath her feet.
Lan opened her eyes to a spectacular sight.
Two great serpentine forms reared overhead. The Silver Dragon’s qì was knitted like a net over Lan and her friends, protecting them from the fire that rained down from the river demon. Seeing the pale glow reflected on Dilaya and Tai’s stunned faces, Lan realized that the qì from her Demon God was visible this time.
The Silver Dragon lunged, qì bursting in torrents of whitepetals. The water demon screamed as the Dragon’s claw scraped against its belly; burning drops of its scales splashed into the spring.
As the Silver Dragon reared back in preparation for another attack, something in the air shifted. The water demon froze, its head cocked as though listening to a voice on the wind. And then it bowed to the Demon God, water sluicing off it and flames extinguishing. It shrank, dissolving, until the waters swallowed it whole. Where it had once been, only embers of its fire remained, flickering faintly in a pattern. A Seal.
The crackle of qì in the air calmed as the Silver Dragon turned toward Lan. It towered above her, its head crowning the night sky. In that moment, facing the great being—the god—Lan had never felt smaller and more powerless.
The Silver Dragon gave a slow blink, and Lan realized she’d dug her nails into her palm so tightly that she’d drawn blood. Even if she hid her thoughts from it, it could sense echoes of her emotions.
If the Demon God felt Lan’s overwhelming fear, it gave no indication. They watched each other until its outline flickered and disappeared, as though it had never been there at all.
“Lan…”
She jumped as a hand gripped her shoulder; looked up at Dilaya’s sheet-white face and frightened gray eye. They gazed at each other a moment, and Lan knew the two of them shared the memory of Lan’s promise not to call upon her Demon God’s power.
She hadn’t this time, for the Dragon was mandated to protect her life—but she wasn’t sure if Dilaya would care. Either way, unleashing a Demon God was risky.
Lan tensed, prepared for Dilaya’s anger.
It didn’t come. Instead, the girl’s mouth only tightenedslightly as she gave Lan’s shoulder a squeeze. “You’re fine,” she said gruffly. “On your feet.”
They were interrupted by a shout.
“Look.Look.” Tai pointed vigorously toward the center of the spring.
The embers of the water demon, still gently aglow, appeared to be sinking below the surface. There, they unfurled like a painting.
A painting of a palace.
It sat at the edge of a spring that seemed to extend from within this one, as though place and time split impossibly. An arched stone bridge led across it, on either side of which swept golden sands. Light spilled from red lanterns swaying gently in an evening breeze, gilding the curved rooftops and vermilion pillars of the palace and the jagged green pines lining its gardens.
Shaklahira.
—
“I don’t believe it.” Dilaya’s voice was hushed with awe. The three companions stood at the edge of the Crescent Spring, staring at the reflection that wasn’t a reflection within the water. At a palace they’d thought fallen to ruin, instead intact and resplendent.
Tai knelt at the water’s edge, brows furrowed and jaw tight in concentration. “A Gate Seal,” he muttered. “There is a Gate Seal on thisspring.The likes of which I have never encountered.”
