—
Dòng’bin, Jing’xiù, Cai’hé, Xiang’zi, and Guo’lao have summoned their own armies. The clearing beneath the mountain dome is teeming with activity, training, and sparring when we arrive with my army.
“I need to send word to the other realms,” I declare. “I’d like to tell them that the Kingdom of Sky backs Hào’yáng and is ready to fight against the Kingdom of Night within the next day. Anyone willing and able to support us in the war should join us at the Imperial City, where the mortal heir awaits them.”
“An allegiance of realms,” Jing’xiù says grandly, raising his bamboo scepter to the skies. Jade-green light spirals upward in the form of vines, leaves unfurling as it climbs.
“I like the sound of it,” Cai’hé cackles. They reach into their basket and fling a handful of herbs into the air, which flow up to join Jing’xiù’s gently spiraling green vines.
Xiang’zi and Guo’lao contribute their own spirit energies, a trill of lovely, winding flute music and the beat of a fish drum. And at last, Dòng’bin lifts his red-tasseled sword.
“Lady Hé,” the leader of the Eight Immortals says. “Your vessel.”
I lift my lotus sword, feeling foolish as I mimic them. But as my spirit energies flow through my veins and bones, my sword gives a responding pulse as the vessel’s spirit responds to my will.
Before my eyes, it disintegrates.
A gentle blush glow envelops the clearing. The warriorsaround us pause to exclaim in wonder as the mountain dome fills with light.
Then it fades. In its place, a hundred butterflies flutter in the air, their pearlescent wings gleaming. As we watch, they take wing and spiral up, up, and out through the crack in the mountain gorge, into the endless skies.
We spend the rest of the morning drawing up battle plans. When the sun hangs high in the sky, we make our move.
I clamber onto the back of Jing’xiù’s great white crane. I’m to fly with him and Dòng’bin, along with the Dark Spears, the stealth unit of soldiers specializing in assassinations and covert missions. Following right behind us will be the Iron Swords, the strongest unit of warriors, adept at swordplay and hand-to-hand combat; as well as the Flying Daggers, the cavalry fighters whose spirit weapons manifest as powerful steeds. Bringing up the rear will be the Song Shooters.
With my lotus sword gone to carry my message across the realms, I palm Fleet and Poison. I have the strangest feeling that I have returned to where I began, and yet everything has changed. I turn around to look at the legendary warriors, the generals, and at last, the Eight Immortals. I wonder briefly if this is the last I’ll see of them.
I hope it isn’t.
Cai’hé gives me a cheery wave from where they sit on a great leaf pad hovering just above the ground. Xiang’zi twirls his flute in his hand, and Guo’lao sits peacefully atop a little white donkey, eyes closed as he taps his fish drum to an unheard melody.
Dòng’bin gives the command, and we’re off.
Jing’xiù has bespelled his crane to camouflage itself, its feathers shifting hues to match the color of the cloud masseswe soar into. Soon, it feels as though we are alone again, wind whistling in my ears, the cloud mass shifting with shadows and smoke as we plunge through them in silence. To my left and right, though, I make out the gleam of a blade, the whip of a cloak. The Dark Spears, it seems, are living up to their name.
As we approach the back of the Temple of Dawn, there is a colder bite to the air. Darkness thickens until it feels as though we are soaring into a falling twilight.
The first hellbeast swerves at us out of nowhere. It shoots out from a cloud, red eyes blazing and fanged teeth bared. Astride the crane, I lift Fleet, preparing to greet it—
—only for a shadow to flit across my vision, quicker than the blink of an eye. The hellbeast’s shriek echoes as a Dark Spear drives their blade into its core; my stomach drops as Jing’xiù’s crane plunges suddenly to avoid the dissolving tendrils of ichor the hellbeast has become.
Suddenly, we’re out from the bottom of the clouds, in clear skies, the immortal realm unfurling beneath us in a constellation of floating mountains and twining rivers. And there, right ahead, is the Temple of Dawn.
Only, I barely recognize it from the gleaming palace of pearl-white walls and golden-tiled roofs it once was.
Now the curved eaves are a glistening black, shadows writhing from it. The pillars and walls have turned fog-gray. Darkness yawns from its steps as we approach it from the back. Wards rise high into the skies beyond it, denoting the end of the immortal realm and the beginning of the mortal realm.
The second hellbeast lunges at us from above. Dòng’bin vanquishes it with a powerful swing of his sword—but not before it lets out a ghastly, bloodcurdling scream.
And then they’re on us, swarms of winged hellbeasts, theirskeletal torsos made of writhing shadows, fanged maws agape as they descend. I raise my crescent blades to defend myself.
A sharp jerk on my wrist pulls me back down. I look up, and Jing’xiù is calmly shaking his head at me. “This is our battle,” he says majestically, lifting his bamboo scepter. “Yours lies ahead of you.”
The scepter’s gemstones catch a glint of light. There’s a burst of unfathomably strong spirit energies, and at once, the air fills with dazzling light and colors that form a shield, dissolving all the hellbeasts that attack us.
Yet as we draw closer to the Temple of Dawn, I catch sight of something that chills my blood.
Mó. An entire army is lined up at the back of the Temple of Dawn and in the Celestial Gardens. They stand as still as statues, only their glinting red eyes showing signs of life.
