Lan gazed up. High atop the palace, where the yin energies and storm clouds gathered, was Zen. He was barely visible, but Lan had watched him practice martial arts, had sparred with him and knew the way he moved: with the fluidity of water, and sudden explosions like flame.
Now Zen stood unnaturally still even as demonic qì continued to billow from him. The Black Tortoise, made corporeal by dark smoke and shadows, clung to the palace, clashing with the Azure Tiger. Chunks of the walls were tearing off, tumbling down to the square and the streets below, smashing through houses.
I have to get to him,she thought.
Lan kicked off toward Zen in a burst of the Light Arts. The demonic qì grew too strong once she crossed the square; she landed on one of the lower palace rooftops, her fingers scraping against the terracotta bricks for purchase as a blow from the Tortoise shook the entire building.
Lan had just righted herself when, with a great cracking noise, the roof of a house directly below her collapsed. Lan heard screams; in the settling dust, she could make out the shapes of humans trapped in the debris. Songgirls and sweepers, vendors and families.All Hin,Lan realized with a sudden jolt of fear.All vulnerable.
The plan she and Zen had drawn up so carefully was unraveling before her eyes. He had lost control. This could end in bloodshed and tragedy, just like Xan Tolürigin’s story.
I have to stop it.
She began to climb. Inside her, the core of the Silver Dragon had awoken. It watched her with those frost-white eyes, and she heard its voice echoing down the bond between them.
Unleash me.
No.Lan leapt onto the next roof and caught herself on the ledge. Swung herself up.
Her Demon God gave a slow blink.It is only a matter of time before you do.
Lan slammed down the mental wall separating their thoughts. She sensed the Dragon’s retreat, its qì coiled over its core, its great eyes still watching her surroundings for danger.
Her muscles were cramping. Lan gauged the distance to the highest rooftop, where Zen was. With the last push of qì she could summon, she leapt and barely made it to the edge of the roof.
It was terrifying to be in the vortex. Lightning flashed in the clouds that had gathered over Zen, striking the ground every so often. Fires had started, embers and ash stirred up by the wind around them. And at the heart of the demonic qì was Zen, unmoving and unflinching as though he were carved of stone. His skin was the pale of porcelain, his eyes filled with black. Shadows seemed to slither beneath his flesh as he let the Black Tortoise’s qì pour and pour and pour from him.
This was the tale all the history books had foretold; what their masters had warned them against; what the Order of Ten Thousand Flowers had sought to prevent.
It was also a scenario she and Zen had discussed.
What if you lose control?she’d asked him back in the chamber they’d shared in Shaklahira.
Then you will put an end to it.There had been no hesitation to his tone.
I can’t,she thought now, glancing down at the square. There were still too many Royal Magicians; Dilaya and her forces would not stand a chance at infiltrating the palace. They would lose this war.
Demonic qì roared in her ears as she turned to the vortex. She took one step. Then another. Teeth gritted, eyes stinging, head pounding. He was right there, in front of her.
“ZEN!”Lan screamed.“ZEN, WAKE UP!”
He turned to her. His gaze met hers, but there was no recognition in them.
Too late, she saw a flick of the Black Tortoise’s tail overhead; saw its qì rip up tiles from the rooftop beneath her. The world tilted, and the next thing she knew, she had slammed into the rooftop and hung over the edge by her waist, the ground a precipitous fall away. Lan spat out blood, then heaved herself back onto the roof.
Zen faced her, staring at her with those black-glass eyes. Slowly, he drew Nightfire from its sheath and raised it overher.
Lan did not move. Instead, she began to hum.
It was the song she had sung for him in that bamboo forest long ago, the song of his homeland. Of winter fallen upon the steppes, of the quiet earth slumbering beneath the silence of snow.
Something in Zen’s expression flickered. A frown creased his brow; his lips parted, and somehow, in the cacophony of the battle, she knew he spoke her name.
“Lan.”
The roof between them exploded in bright blue light. For a moment, she was falling, the world a kaleidoscope of sky and ground. Inside her, the Silver Dragon opened its eyes; its power surged, catching and righting her. She landed lightly on a lower section of the palace roofs.
The blue light faded to reveal a shadow in its midst.
