“It looks empty,” Hào’yáng says quietly, scanning the crenellated walls.
The sunbird carrying Hào’yáng turns to him, and her voice rings out, melodious and deep: “The city is warded in a magic of darkness and shadows, mortal prince. We cannot pass without a fight.”
Hào’yáng slides off the sunbird and draws his sword in a flash of turquoise. “Then we fight,” he says. “We make for the gates and focus our attack on a single point. You all know the plan: Help Àn’ying and me get through so we can defeat their halfling crown prince and break their connection with our realm once and for all.”
An insidious whispering draws our attention, like the rush of phantom voices on the wind. On the walls, shadows peel out from the night; hundreds of pinpricks of red suddenly flare to life—demonic crimson eyes, all trained upon us.
Mó guards.
Tán’mù starts forward. Her human shape ripples, peeling apart as she steps into the skin of the monster. Sharp gray scales like sword metal coat her exterior; veined wings unfurl from her body, which has elongated into a serpent’s tail. She looks to the Heavens and lets out a long, inhuman cry. By her side is Lì’líng, shoulders tensed, knees bent in a defensive stance, acorner of her lips lifted to reveal sharpened canines. The other yao’jing follow suit, their human appearances rippling as they transform into their true spirit forms.
The mó descend upon us like a vicious black cloud of teeth and talons. There are at least a hundred of them, more than we anticipated, and as Tán’mù and the others leap forward to meet them, I know our numbers won’t be enough.
I lift my sword and cut down one; Fleet finds another, and I hear a resounding shriek from behind me as Hào’yáng plunges his blade through one. We are back to back, falling into the rhythm familiar from when he trained me to spar during the Immortality Trials.
“There are too many,” he shouts, his voice strained as he cuts through another mó. I dodge to avoid the splash of ichor as it dissolves. “We won’t be able to clear the path to the palace.”
I look up at the steps, darkened now with mó in their black uniforms, colorful magic and flowers twisting in the air as they fight. Tán’mù holds her own; I spot Lì’líng, a small speck of white, darting between two enemies. The sunbirds have taken to the air, scorching enemy forces with bright bursts of flame. The nine-tailed foxes pounce on the mó, ripping and tearing with their powerful claws and teeth. And our mortal warriors are engaged in battle, weapons flashing, robes whirling.
They’re opening a path for Hào’yáng and me to get to the Imperial Palace—and it’s working.
A crackling sound comes from the ground. When I look down, frost is spreading across the paving stones, freezing the grass and choking the life from everything it touches.
I know who is responsible before I set eyes on her.
Xisenyin stares down at me from where she’s standing onthe city walls, long white hair whipping in a rising wind. The Higher One holds no visible weapon; she has no need for one. She twirls an elegant hand and a spike of ice explodes from the ground, spearing through two of Tán’mù’s warriors. The tang of blood is thick in the air, and the rime-covered stones redden.
By Xisenyin’s side, a second Higher One appears out of the night—a mó with skin shimmering purple and horns protruding from his forehead. He holds in each hand two silver rings, gleaming as though wrought of starlight, and begins to spinthem.
The air vibrates with a thrum that drills into my head like the sound of a thousand screams. All around me, our armies stagger, holding their hands to their heads, some falling to the ground. Xisenyin’s ice continues to spread, freezing victims as it finds them in its path.
“Tricking the tiger to leave its lair unguarded?” Xisenyin’s voice rings across the night to me. “That only works when your forces are evenly matched. My army will cut through yours in no time.” She speaks the words in a mocking sneer. “You had your chance to join the winning side,Lotus Immortal. And no doubt our pathetic halfling prince would welcome you back with open arms here and now should you decide to.” She cracks her knuckles, and four more mortal soldiers’ cries are cut short as her ice spears impale them. “Say the word, and we can still curb the bloodshed today.”
Hào’yáng’s hand closes over mine. He is bleeding through a gash on his arm, but he meets my gaze with one of silent resolve as he hoists his sword higher.
“If I didn’t know better, Xisenyin, I’d think you were anxious that we got this close.” I step forward, my lotus sword flaringin the night. “I think you’re afraid of facing your queen’s wrath at such a slipup. And I think you’re terrified at the prospect of what’ll happen to you when you lose.”
Xisenyin’s lip curls. “Very well, then, Lotus Immortal. May you be known as the one who led her army to death.”
She lifts a hand.
Suddenly, a bright light cleaves the sky. Feathers begin to drift downward like snow, increasing in speed and turning into sharp blades—making for Xisenyin.
The Higher One pivots with a hastily-raised shield, snarling as the magical blades rain down around her.
“Perhaps, then, we can make our forces more evenly matched,” comes a voice from above.
More feathers spiral from the skies in a torrent and coalesce into a human shape: the immortal Zhong’lì, striding elegantly toward the battle on a wisp of cloud. Behind him, Tie’guai appears with his white-flowered gourd. Smoke spills from it, drifting down to the wounded and dying. Where it touches, their injuries seem to shrink and their breaths grow steady. All the legends say that Tie’guai is famed for his healing powers, and that he once traveled the mortal realms as a benevolent physician. Today, I’m glad they hold true.
Xisenyin wears a very ugly look on her face. “Alert the empress,” she snarls at one of her subordinates, who vanishes in a swirl of night.
I curse under my breath. If we can’t penetrate the Imperial City’s walls before Sansiran knows we’re here and sends reinforcements, our plan may fail.
“Leave this to us,” Zhong’lì says to me.
I’m not certain I know how to react to this change of heart from an immortal who has scoffed at my presence since thevery first time we met, who consistently spoke out against me during the Immortality Trials.
Zhong’lì seems to sense my hesitation. Eyes still on the enemy ahead, he continues: “This is the battle we should have fought eleven years ago instead of turning our backs on the realm we were born in.”
