Violence churns through the courtyard. The sound of scraping metal corrupts the air as a bloody and battered Nikai and a handful of cultivators make their last stand.
In the commotion, no one notices the figure that appears out of nowhere. The pale young man in dark robes is on his hands and knees, long silvery-white hair tumbling over his face. He crawls, gasping as if each movement causes him immense pain.
Stay alive. Stay alive—for me.
Breaking his restraints has temporarily impaired him, reducing Four to a shadow of his true self. The bonds of the underworld pull him back, the silk around his neck burns. Still, he reaches, fingernails digging into the cold, hard ground, urging his limbs forward.
Until he sees her.
And he starts to weep.
They say each King is born without a heart.
But when Four sees her body lying motionless on the softly fallen snow, he knows it is a lie.
Two figures stood before the boy strung up against the obsidian pillar in the dark cavern.
“He is weak,” said the hunched crone with bottomless pits for eyes. “He may not survive the ordeal.”
The taller figure in a canary-yellow pantsuit raked a hand through their pixie-cut hair. “Give our brother time. He will remember who he is.”
The crone made a disagreeing sound. “Time is a luxury we do not have, One. The imbalance between the world of the living and the realm of the dead continues. The Nothing has reached yet another Court—the Seventh. Countless souls lost to the gray void, doomed to wander in thedarkness for eternity without any hope of reincarnation. Our fortifications are failing, all because of him.”
“We must have faith. There are forces at work that even we do not yet understand,” One said, though there was a hint of doubt in their voice.
As the pair turned to leave, something caught their attention.
A single tear, barely visible in the dim light, rolling down the boy’s sunken cheek.
14
Rui
Cold air burns her throat. Squinting in the falling snow, she tries to get her bearings. Craggy mountain peaks rise in the distance, and smoke trails circle the air. Tall black pine trees surround her, their tops dusted white.
The last thing she remembers is being in her room. But this isn’t the Academy dormitories or anywhere on campus. Is this a dream? It feels too real to be one.
Something red appears. A thread or ribbon, fluttering in the air through the snow. One endwrapsaround her wrist, the other end weaves between two shadowy figures in the distance, as if connecting the three of them.
She hears a voice whispering,To the ends of this world or the next...
Breaths ragged, Rui clutched her chest, gasping awake. It felt as though she’d been stabbed a dozen times in the heart, the cruel knife twisting deeper with each entry.
Breathe, Rui. Listen to my voice; stay with me.
Gulping air, she counted down slowly from ten. Gradually, the pain subsided, leaving a phantom feeling like the leftover scent of smoke after a campfire. Fragments of her dream-turned-nightmare came to her, flashing in her mind’s eye: winter giving way to spring, flowers in her hair, a kiss as sweet as nectar, laughing with someone as she gazed at the stars...
Then, something terriblycold.
Who and what had she dreamed of? She remembered feeling a fleeting happiness and something darker lurking in the shadows, waiting to pounce.
And it was that something that scared her.
As president of the Student Council, Ada had the privilege of living in a suite that was as large as Matthias Lin’s modest one-bedroom apartment, and she’d done up the place with black lace curtains and little pink plush cushions everywhere.
Standing by the windows, Rui stared at the ancient village in the distance. It had been abandoned centuries ago. Remnants of old buildings remained, dotting the base of the tallest mountain in the rugged range.
Xingshan. The mountain of stars.
