Prologue
Emperor Takashi
Akira TakashiTennowatched the last petitioners leave his throne room, their silk robes whispering against marble floors worn smooth by centuries of supplicants. Golden afternoon light slanted through high windows, illuminating dust motes that danced like tiny spirits above ruby-painted pillars. The great hall fell silent, save for Nawa’s breathing beside the Jade Throne, the steady rhythm of a dragon who had curled by his side for thirty-seven years.
“You grow weary,”Nawa observed through their bond, her thoughts warm as summer rain in his mind.
“The burden of peace weighs heavier than any Samurai’s armor,” Takashi replied, rising from the throne that had become both his purpose and his cage.
Together they made their way to the Imperial gardens, passing through corridors lined with portraits of ancestors, painted eyes following as they strode by. The gardens sprawled before them—a masterwork of controlled nature where every stone hadmeaning, every tree a purpose. Cherry blossoms drifted on the breeze like snow, carpeting wood-chipped paths in pale pink. The gardeners had outdone themselves this season, coaxing beauty from every corner of the grounds.
Takashi dismissed his guards with a gesture. They hesitated—they always did these days, with reports of Asami troops massing in the north—but eventually withdrew to stand beneath the pillared pavilion at a respectful distance.
The Emperor kneeled beside the central pond, its surface mirror-smooth and dotted with lotus blooms. The wooden bridge arching over it cast geometric shadows in the late afternoon sun. Takashi plucked a pebble from the path and tossed it into the water. Its splash sent ripples spreading outward, disturbing the perfect reflection of sky and clouds. Several ducks burst into flight, their wings beating against the cultivated tranquility.
“That may be the least Imperial gesture I’ve seen in years,”Nawa’s voice teased through his mind.
Takashi smiled at the dragon who crept beside him on all fours through the garden, careful not to crush the well-tended flower beds. Her scales caught the light like burnished copper as her tail lashed back and forth, keeping the Imperial Guard at their distance. She knew the Emperor needed room to breathe—and to think.
“They say I am the Voice of the Gods,” Takashi mused aloud, his words barely disturbing the garden’s peace. “Why do theKaminot speak to me, then? Why must I make every choice without their guidance?”
“It has been ever so, Takashi-sama.Still, your reign has been more peaceful than any before.”
“Cloudless days of the past are little solace for one facing blackening skies.”
Storm clouds were indeed gathering on the horizon, dark and angry against the mountains that ringed the capital. Nawa huffed in her version of a heavy sigh, steam rising from her nostrils to mingle with the garden’s perfumed air.
“You are the Son of Heaven. There is none more able to weather the storm.”
Takashi stopped beside a stone lantern, its carved surface depicting a dragon in flight. He turned to face his companion. “Nawa, I sent my son into the teeth of a bear. No one expects him to succeed or for the Asami to hear my plea for peace. I may have consigned the future leader of the Empire—my boy—to his death. What kind of father does such a thing?”
The dragon cocked her great head, considering. Ancient eyes that had seen the rise and fall of dynasties studied him with infinite patience, then she huffed so loudly the guards stiffened and reached for theirkatana, hands resting on wrapped hilts.
“A father who is willing to sacrifice what is most precious to save his people.”
Takashi’s head bowed at her words, the silver of his tightly bound topknot catching the fading light. He reached out and stroked the dragon’s ear, earning a rumble that vibrated through the ground beneath their feet.
As the pair meandered through the gardens, they passed moon gates framing perfect views, stone arrangements suggesting mountains in miniature, and ancient trees turning centuries into living art. They walked until the sun began its slumber across the sea and painted the sky in shades of blood and gold that reflected in every pond and stream.
The Emperor’s private chambers occupied the palace’s highest tower. Its windows offered views of the capital, spreading below like a silk painting. Incense burned before a small shrine in the corner, fragrant smoke rising in the still air.
“Sleep well,Tenno.” The chamber servant bowed deeply, his aged head never lifting as he backed out and slid the painted door closed with practiced silence.
Weariness seeped through Takashi’s limbs. The silk cushions of his low bed beckoned, promising rest his body craved, but his mind would allow no respite. His first decades in power had been consumed by rivalry and bloodshed as thehanbattled in ceaseless animosity. The Yumi claimed Chinami fishing boats violated their waters while the Toshi complained Yumi farmers settled in their rice paddies. Ancient families squabbled like children over toys—only the price of their toys was measured in burned villages and salted fields.
It had taken nearly twenty years and thousands of lives to forge peace from that chaos, and now the Asami threatened to tear it all apart. Asami Eiko had her father’s ambition and none of his wisdom. She revered the old ways, when strength alone determined what was right—and who ruled.
The thought of Mugen returning to a blood-soaked land made Takashi’s chest tighten beneath his sleeping robes. His son—his brilliant, gentle son—was riding into Asami territory with littler more than hope and an Imperial decree.
“Where has our youth gone?” Takashi wondered absently as his head settled into the silk pillow.
Nawa blew out a rumbling sigh that rattled the bed frame. The dragon aged alongside her bond mate, her scales dulling with each passing season, her flights growing shorter.
“Soon, we will rest with our brother- and sister-gods beyond the sunrise. Youth will be renewed, and age will become an illusion,”she crooned in his mind.
“And leave our people in flames?” Takashi grunted bitterly.
Nawa’s massive body curled around the base of the low bed, her head resting on the mattress by his feet. She nuzzled his leg through the silk coverlet, then settled in to rest. Her breathing deepened, and Takashi felt the familiar comfort of her presence—warm, protective, and eternal as the mountains.
