Hóng’yì paused and they both cast their gazes to the water, which was roiling, a gargantuan shadow materializing within and rising to the surface.
Hóng’yì’s eyes narrowed. “What—”
The water demon burst from the spring with an earsplitting shriek and plunged toward them, bringing a colossal swell of demonic energies that battered away Hóng’yì’s binding Seal. Waves pounded into Lan, squeezing the air from her lungs; demonic energies surrounded her. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see, couldn’t move.
Hands wrapped around her, gentle as they pulled her from the disorienting whorl. Lan expected to slam into the ground—but instead, the impact was soft. Cushioned. Wet fabric scratched her face, and beneath her, someone breathed.
Lan opened her eyes to a very familiar face.
Gone was the sickly pallor of Zen’s skin, the rings under his eyes. He had a healthy glow; his cheeks and lips were tinted red; and his hair, soft as black silk, was full. But most changed,Lan thought, were his eyes. Their gazes locked, and held, for a heartbeat. There was nothing of the frightening, unending black or the turbulence of a storm-tossed sea she had seen back when they’d stood on opposite sides of the cliffs at Skies’ End and chosen their different paths. Instead, there was something calm and settled to his qì.
Zen reached up and brushed a thumb against her cheek, feather light. The moment stretched between them, and against her better judgment, Lan leaned into his touch. She opened her mouth to say something, but perhaps for the first time, she wasn’t quick enough.
Zen rolled her over and pushed himself to his feet. He straightened, his dark páo and hair still dripping water as he turned to face Hóng’yì. In the eastern sky, the flames of dawn and the Crimson Phoenix seemed to dim slightly as the shadows of the western sky lengthened, the colossal energies of the Black Tortoise roaring to life to swallow even the stars.
It is the duty of the ruler not to be loved but to be powerful and to be obeyed.
—Dissertations of the First Emperor, Jin Dynasty,era of the Middle Kingdom, Cycle 1
He had not used the full power of the Black Tortoise since he’d consumed the Seed of Clarity, yet in the morning light outside this palace built on the blood of the common people, Zen marveled at how easy it was to call upon the Demon God’s qì. His own core was filled with power, and for the first time since binding the being, Zen felt fully in control.
He took in the scene before him: a man cloaked in a crimson hàn’fú, whose core, he could sense, brimmed with power and vitality—power and vitality he had stolen from hundreds, or thousands, or more of their people’s souls.
“Zhào Hóng’yì,” Zen said quietly, testing the name on his tongue.
The Crimson Phoenix unfurled its two colossal wings. Zen narrowed his eyes and those flames shifted: golden pennants bearing the Imperial Army’s sigil against a bright blue sky. The smell of blood and screams of terror rent the air.
Yes, the imperial heir’s name on Zen’s lips did indeed taste of an ancient, bone-deep fury.
“Ah,”Hóng’yì said, drawing the sound out. He had the tone of a man born into power and wealth, offered everything this world had to give. “Shall I hazard a guess? Xan Temurezen. Heir of the long-dead Mansorian clan.” His mouth twisted in a grin as his eyes flicked to the Black Tortoise looming over Zen like a shadow in the night. “What an honor.”
Zen’s anger was a deep, yawning abyss within him, and if he allowed himself to fall into it, he would never climb back out. He could almost hearDé’zi’svoice:Calm the storm of your emotions. A restless ocean is not one to sail upon.
“No,” Zen said slowly. “The honor is mine. The honor to put an end to you and the blood-painted path you and your family carved across this land.”
Hóng’yì lifted an eyebrow. “I would not speak so casually of a ‘blood-painted path’ if I were you, great-grandson of the Nightslayer.”
The embers of Zen’s anger burned higher. He shifted his focus from the imperial heir’s self-satisfied smirk to the tome he held in his arms. An ordinary leather-bound tome, with a familiar-looking Seal on its cover.
Here was the other half of theClassic of Gods and Demons.
After consuming the Seed of Clarity, Zen had tracked down the location of the Crimson Phoenix from the star map Lan had played for Erascius that night on top of the Öshangma Light Mountain. It had been difficult: the Boundary Seal Hóng’yì—and the Phoenix—had laid over Shaklahira ensured that no qì from within here could be detected, which was how this place had been kept secret from the world for the past twelve cycles and more.
It was seeing the lotuses in the spring that told him he had come to the right location. According to the Nameless Master, the imperial line had regularly consumed the Seeds of Clarity. Now Zen understood that they had somehow learned to growthem. Even the sight of the golden seeds had sent a wave of nausea pulsing through Zen. He thought of all the souls required to produce those seeds.
The imperial family had lived on the blood of the people they were meant to protect.
The demon in Crescent Spring had been distracted when Zen had slipped through, gifting him the element of surprise. From underwater, he had wrestled a Seal on the demon to gain control over it. He had watched Hóng’yì perform the Counterseal to unlock the missing half of theClassic of Gods and Demons.
Then the prince had begun to conjure the Seal that would bind the will and power of another soul to him—the Seal that Xan Tolürigin had used on his Deathriders. The key to all Zen had searched for: his great-grandfather’s army of demonic practitioners, his one chance to overthrow the Elantians and take back this kingdom.
Now all that rested in the hands of the heir to the clan that had wiped out Zen’s.
Zen drew Nightfire. The desert air crackled with frost as he drew upon the yin energies of the Black Tortoise. The shadows behind him yawned, stretching wider and darker.
“Sòng Lián.” He didn’t have to look to know that she crouched behind him, watching. “Get back.”
“No,” came her voice, as bright as the ring of bells. The laughter that had once limned it, however, had faded. He heard her footfalls on the sand as she approached. “You don’t get to tell me what to do. That bastard has something I want,too.”
