“Yes,” Julius said. “In Siberia.”
That sounded like something he’d made up to make his brother seem as far away as possible, but it was true. Svena’s home really was in Siberia. He was trying to think how to assure the emperor of this without giving away too much of Ian’s game when the Qilin shrugged.
“Nowhere is far these days,” he said calmly. “Twenty-four hours should be sufficient to come back from anywhere in the world.” He glanced over his shoulder at the morning sun, which was now well on its way into the sky. “I will give you until this time tomorrow.”
“Oh,” Julius said awkwardly, looking at his mother. “I’m not sure if he can—”
“He will arrive on time,” the emperor assured him. “I will it.”
He said that the same way anyone else would say “It is inevitable,” and for the Qilin, Julius supposed it was. But while twenty-four hours wasn’t much, it was still infinitely more time than they’d had when they’d come out here. Maybe even enough to find a way out of this mess. It was all they were getting in any case, so Julius decided it was good enough.
“One day will be fine,” he said, nodding. “Thank you, and let me show you into the mountain. I’m afraid you’ve caught us a bit shorthanded, but I’m sure we can find you a proper—”
“There’s no need for that,” the emperor said idly. “I brought my own supplies.”
Considering he was barefoot and wearing a robe another dragon had thrown over his naked body when they’d landed, Julius didn’t see how that could possibly be true. Before he could ask what supplies he was talking about, though, the Golden Emperor turned and walked away, processing down the road toward the mountain at a serene, stately pace.
The other dragons fell into formation around him at once, surrounding their emperor in a wall of brilliantly colored scales and, surprisingly, what appeared to be genuine concern for his well-being. Julius didn’t know if their protectiveness was due to some unknown vulnerability in the Qilin’s luck magic or true respect for him as a leader. He was still trying to figure it out when the Qilin suddenly stopped.
Every dragon around him froze as well, but while they were watching the desert for threats, the emperor was looking up. Curious, Julius lifted his eyes as well, following the angle of the Qilin’s veiled face up the front of Heartstriker Mountain to the half-moon jut of the throne room balcony at its peak, where a slender figure stood at the edge, watching the drama below.
Technically, it was too far to see for certain, but Julius knew it was Chelsie. There was no one else who skulked around Heartstriker Mountain wearing all black. But while he wasn’t surprised at all that his sister had been spying, Juliuswassurprised she’d let herself get caught.
She fixed the problem at once, vanishing into the shadows within seconds of being spotted, but the Golden Emperor didn’t look away. For a full minute after Chelsie disappeared, he stood perfectly still, staring at the empty spot where she’d been. It went on so long, the dragons around him started to look nervous. The Empress Mother in particular seemed anxious, her bony fingers clutching down like claws on the golden handle of her cane. Even Julius—who had no idea what was happening—could feel the tension in the air like an invisible wire twisting around their throats. And then, just as the pressure was becoming unbearable, the Golden Emperor lowered his head. The terrible feeling vanished a second later, leaving all the dragons gasping in relief.
All except for the Qilin himself, who simply resumed his procession into the citadel of his almost-conquered enemy as though nothing had happened.
Chapter 4
Marci was frozen in the dark.
It was like the first moments after she’d died. Once again, she was trapped in nothing, stuck in infinite blackness that had no end or beginning, except now, instead of merely a voice in her head or a hand in her mind, Ghost was right in front of her, looming over her in the shadowy soldier’s body of the Empty Wind. But while he looked exactly as she remembered, right down to the ancient Roman Centurion armor, his face was no longer just two glowing blue-white eyes floating in the dark of his helmet. Or, rather, the eyes were still there, watching her fearfully, but the dark behind them was no longer merely shadow.
It was nothing.
There was no other way to describe it. Marci had looked the Empty Wind in the face countless times now, and while seeing two floating eyes gleaming in the dark had never exactly been comforting, looking at him now was like staring into death itself. Not the bloody death of the body, either.Truedeath. The nothing that came after all trace of your life was gone and even the dust of your bones had been broken down into its component atoms. His face was what it meant to be utterly forgotten, and the moment Marci saw it, she knew that was her future, too.
The sudden truth hit her like a dive into cold water. Being dead, she’d thought she understood what it felt like, but she hadn’t known anything. Her death had been a place of warmth and love, a place where she was remembered. It had been a pause, not an end, but this was different. All their fighting, their struggles, the desperate clinging to life,thiswas what it came to: nothing. Even dragons died. Lakes silted up, and their spirits slowly vanished. The whole human race would eventually be fossils on a tiny speck of rock flinging through the infinite dark of space, and when even that was devoured by their exploding sun, this—this spirit right here in front of her—was what they’d be.
Nothing.
Cold, silent nothing, as though they’d never existed at all.
Marci was still trying to process that—assuming something like this could be processed by the mortal mind—when the Empty Wind turned away, breaking the spell. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, stepping away. “I didn’t want you to see.”
It took Marci a while to recover enough of her wits to speak. When she did, though, it was in awe. “Dude, that wasinsane. You’re a walking existential crisis! All that ‘look into the void, void looks back’ Nietzsche stuff.”
The spirit’s see-through body stilled. “You’re not afraid?”
“Oh no, I’m terrified,” Marci said honestly. “I don’t think anyone could go face to face with the truth of mortality and not be. But we’ve been together for a while now, so this wasn’t totally unexpected. You don’t team up with the Spirit of the Forgotten Dead without understanding that you’re going to be in for some uncomfortable truths.”
“But you’re not afraid ofme?”
He asked this as if it were the most important question in the world. For her part, though, Marci couldn’t understand how it was a question at all.
“Of course not,” she said, insulted. “Everyone’s afraid of being forgotten. That’s why you exist. But while I won’t deny I have a normal, healthy, human fear of the concept you represent, I’m not afraid ofyou. You’re my spirit, and let’s not forget how we got here.” She smiled at him. “It’s kind of hard to be scared of someone who rescued you from death.”
After all they’d been through together, she felt this should have been obvious, but Ghost still hadn’t turned around. If anything, his broad back was set more squarely to her than ever. That was when Marci decided it was time to take matters into her own hands. It was hard to move when you had no sense of your body or space, but she managed to inch herself around, scooting forward bit by bit until she was kneeling in front of him.
