In the sky above my village, a fracture has appeared. Itwidens and shadows spill from it: amorphous at first, and then I make out claws, jutting bones and ribs, wings…and two deep, crimson flames burning with the light of the Ten Hells.
Hào’yáng draws his sword; the sound of the metal slicing through the clearing. He utters a word that breaks open my world, draws me from the sunlit, golden afternoon back into my old nightmares:
“Hellbeast.”
7
Àn’ying
Xi’lín Village, Central Province, Kingdom of Rivers
My blades are in my hands, and the world blurs around me as we run. The sky has begun to bleed into night, the gash between realms exposing a familiar bone-white moon. There, the periwinkle dusk is gone, eclipsed by the monstrous creature clawing its way into our mortal kingdom.
Distant screams rend the air as we draw close to Xi’lín. The fear in my chest is so thick that I can’t breathe, can’t think.
Hào’yáng tips his head to the skies and lets out a high-pitched whistle. From afar comes a whinny as a silver light streaks toward us across the darkening night. Meadowsweet canters through the air in her equine form, landing before us with unnatural grace. Her eyes, normally a liquid brown, now churn like an ocean in a storm.
Hào’yáng swings up onto her back and pulls me in front of him. I hold tightly on to Meadowsweet’s neck as we gallop through the gates into the village.
It’s a cacophony of noise and activity. People run past us, crying, and suddenly, I’m ten years old again, the Imperial Palace has just fallen, the emperor and his family have been killed—and the mó have reached our village.
Except this time, there are no village practitioners here to fight them off and to raise wards around our borders. There is no Bà to draw me into his arms, the reassurance of his large hands covering my small ones as he pressed my blades into my palms.
This time, there is only me and Hào’yáng—and the hellbeast.
There is a familiarity to the way its ribs protrude from its shadowy mass, the wings that spread over rooftops. I realize that Iknowthis beast. It is one of the Four Perils of the Kingdom of Night, the same one that hunted me when I’d been traversing the most treacherous parts of the mortal realm in hopes of reaching the Kingdom of Sky for the Trials.
The one Yù’chén saved me from.
Qióng’qí.
I grip the hilts of my crescent blades so tightly that the grooves of the talismans dig into my palms. We’re racing down the dusty road that leads straight through the village to my home, and I’m craning my neck to catch a glimpse of my house when the earth before us splits open. Meadowsweet screams, the world tilts, and I’m only aware of Hào’yáng’s arms around my waist as we’re thrown. He breaks my fall, but there is nothing to break his.
He slams into the ground.
We scramble upright as a colossal shadow falls over us. In a blink, Hào’yáng is on his feet. He thrusts me behind him with one hand as he lifts his sword with his other.
Before us, where the carpenter’s house once stood, is nowa gaping hole. Earth crumbles into it, vanishing into utter darkness—a darkness thatmoves. It ripples over the talismans my father and the village practitioners drew as protections before they died, which I have been reinforcing year after year, now broken and scattered.
Talismans that are nowhere near strong enough to hold back one of the Four Perils.
Claws appear from the writhing mass of shadows and gouge into the soil as the opening in the sky widens and another hellbeast emerges into our realm. Its tusks gleam bone-white from a dripping maw; horns the length of spears protrude from a mane of shadows. I recognize it from the myths: Táo’wù, another of the Four Perils.
Outlined against pitch-black skies, second Peril lifts its tusked head over the rooftops of our village and lets out a snarl that sends tremors across the ground.
Hào’yáng turns to me. “Go to your family,” he says, and then calls to Meadowsweet. “Go with her. Hold off Qióng’qí.”
“Hào’yáng,” I begin, catching his hand. The words at the tip of my tongue turn to ash, for it is now that the true meaning of my mother’s words to him hit me with full force:
Each and every day, you will need to choose between kingdom andlove.
She spoke not just of Hào’yáng—but of me, and my life were I to be with him.
The heir to my kingdom, the man who can liberate my realm, stands before me. The logical thing would be to flee with him, let his dragonhorse carry us swiftly out of here to safety.
But choosing that means leaving my entire village behind to die. And in this moment, all I can think of is saving Ma and Méi’zi and my home.
Hào’yáng’s gaze does not leave mine. “Go,” he repeats. “Meadowsweet, with her—”
