“It’s you,” I whisper. “You are the key to keeping that gateway open.”
Somehow, he looks pleased. “Well done. You’re right. It’s me, Àn’ying—it’s been me from the very start. My blood, my life, is what ties my realm to yours; how the gateway remains open, expanding into the Kingdom of Rivers. Without me, the Kingdom of Night cannot maintain this gateway.” A humorless smile curves his lips. “You figured that out the night Sansiran spilled my blood, didn’t you?”
I grip Fleet and my lotus sword tighter. “I did.”
His laugh is humorless. “Is that why you’re here, Àn’ying? So you can kill me and close the Kingdom of Night’s way into the mortal realm once and for all? So Hào’yáng can finally be crowned emperor of the Kingdom of Rivers and everyone can have their happy ending?”
I search his features for the man I have come to know—the man I loved in spite of realms colliding and the fates dissenting. I know he must be in there, somewhere. I know it was real.
“I never wanted this,” I say softly.
Yù’chén is quiet for several heartbeats. I can’t read the thoughts behind those fathomless black eyes, as dark as the ocean at midnight.
He gives a tiny shake of his head. “It’s never about what we want, Àn’ying,” he replies. “In the end, in spite of all the palm readings and prayers to the stars, this is what our fates have led us to, isn’t it?” That same, humorless smile lingers around his mouth—but when he glances away briefly, there is something like shattered glass to his gaze. “My blood was made to destroy your world; my very existence has been to help my realm take yours. No matter how you look at it, I was made to be your monster in this lifetime.” Yù’chén lifts his sword. “So let me be your monster until the very end, Àn’ying.”
Without warning, he charges at me.
I raise my own blade, my body protesting in pain as I retaliate. But Yù’chén is too strong, too fast, too powerful. His first blow knocks me back several steps; I’ve barely reoriented myself before he’s on me again, sword flashing, the air parting before him as he cuts through with the grace of a blade’s edge. Again and again, I trade blows with him, each of my parries growing weaker and slower, even with Fleet’s talisman pouring energies into me, even with my spirit energies sparking at my fingertips like guttering candle flames.
I realize, now, that Yù’chén has never used this side of him against me. I’ve seen him tear down enemies without batting an eye; I’ve witnessed the terrifying demonic powers he holds. But in all those times, he has used them to protect me.
He has never unleashed them upon me.
My lotus sword flies from my grasp, clanging onto the ground somewhere beyond my reach in the darkness. All I’mleft with is Fleet. I’m gasping in breaths, a sharp ache has bloomed near my ribs, yet miraculously, I’ve sustained no flesh wounds.
Yù’chén lands, again blocking the doors. Sometime in the course of our fight, they have cracked open. A sliver of the outside yields glimpses of the battle: flashes of icy white and turquoise—She of the Moon-Frosted Sea facing down the two Perils, and Hào’yáng still holding ground against Sansiran.
Yet more movement catches my attention. Through the darkened streets and alleys of the Imperial City come moving pinpricks of…light. Flame.Torches.
A shout goes up as mortal warriors spill out from the streets and abandoned houses, gathering at the palace steps. And then they’re charging up, and I think I see Fú’yí at the front, longsword flashing as she runs. Soaring overhead on wisps of clouds are Zhong’lì and Tie’guai…and, farther behind them in the skies…specks of white and gold, winking like stars.
Growing closer.
I hardly believe my eyes as uniformed immortal warriors materialize, descending upon iridescent clouds, weapons out and energies blazing.
The immortal armies are here.
We won, I think in disbelief.We beat the mó in the Temple of Dawn.
Yet they’re not the only ones who have arrived.
All across the palace grounds, from the white marble walkway to the steps, the air is shifting. A darkness blots out the fading sun like a storm cloud.
Mó—an entire army of them, some riding hellbeasts, others on foot. They descend like flocks of birds from the skies, gathering behind where Sansiran battles.
With a flick of his wrist, Yù’chén slams the palace doors closed again with his dark magic and turns to me. His face is in shadow; I cannot make out his expression, but I speak first this time.
“The immortal army is here,” I tell him. “Even if you kill me, they won’t spare you.”
“Kill you?” He raises an eyebrow. “Again, assuming the worst of me, little scorpion.”
I blink at the familiar nickname.
Yù’chén lowers his sword. Beyond the gateway, in the Kingdom of Night, comes movement. Silhouettes emerge: more mó warriors, dressed for battle, gathering in the Palace of the Aurora to cross over into this realm.
“The entire mó army in the Kingdom of Night is coming through this gateway for this war.” Yù’chén’s words confirm my worst nightmare. “It won’t be an even fight, Àn’ying.”
I’m kneeling on the ground, too drained to stand. Sparks of my spirit energies flutter weakly at my wrist and on my skin, like embers of a dying flame. My lotus sword lies somewhere out of reach.
