“I don’t know. The gods, maybe? Other gods? Legend is forever telling tales of heaven’s wars.”
Esumi sat back, the bloody rag still clutched in his hand. “You think the gods are fighting over Mugen? You seriously believe that?”
“Never mind. It’s nothing.”
His eyes narrowed, but he didn’t challenge, only asked, “And then you woke up bleeding?”
“And then I woke up bleeding.”
Esumi was quiet for a long moment, the only sound my breathing and the distant chirp of night insects outside the window. When he finally spoke, his voice carried a weight I’d rarely heard from him.
“So it was real.” His words came out flat, empty of everything except exhaustion. “Not just a dream, an actual god or dragon or whatever trying to warn you?”
“Or something else trying to manipulate me using the form of a dragon.”
He looked at me sharply. “You think it was a trick?”
I swallowed down lingering fear. “I think we’re at war, and strange things happen during wars. I think there are forces at play we don’t fully understand.”
He examined my nose in the dim light. “The bleeding’s stopped, but Haru, if this happens again, if something tries to contact you through your dreams again, we need to tell someone. Maybe the priests or your mother, someone who might understand these things better than we do.”
“And tell them what? That I’m having prophetic dreams? That dragons are speaking to me in my sleep?” I laughed, but it came out bitter and afraid. “They’ll think I’m mad. Worse, they’ll think I’m claiming some divine mandate, trying to use religion to justify taking the throne before my brother is confirmed dead.”
Esumi eyed me again. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“What—?”“I see it in your eyes. When you mentioned Kioshi, something flickered, like you’re hiding something.”
My head bowed.
“Haru?”
“Fine,” I sighed. “The dragon said his journey had ended. I’m pretty sure that means he’s dead.”
Esumi swallowed as he nodded. “Okay, we already thought that was the case. It doesn’t change anything.”
“Doesn’t change anything?” I practically shouted. “Esumi, it changeseverything. It makes me . . . gods above . . . it makes all this real.”
Esumi’s hands were on my shoulders faster than I could stand, steadying me, comforting me, holding me upright lest the world tilt again and I lose my place in it.
“Breathe, Haru. Just breathe.” His voice was a balm. “We’ll tell them you had a nosebleed from stress and leave it at that. The priests will fuss and want to feed you disgusting syrups, but your dreams will remain your own.” Esumi set the cloth aside andtook my hands in his. “But between us, here in this room—do you believe it was real?”
Did I?
I thought about those golden eyes, the weight of that voice, the absolute certainty with which the dragon had commanded me to take the throne. I thought about the urgency in its final plea, the fear that something was moving against me—against our entire world—even now.
“Yes,” I said finally. “I believe it was real. I wish it was just stress or bad sake or too much training, but yes, something spoke to me. It was something divine, and it’s terrified of whatever’s coming. Es, if a god is afraid—”
“Then we’d better prepare.” Esumi’s voice was steady, calm, the voice of a man who’d decided on a course of action and wouldn’t be swayed from it. “Tomorrow, you lay your father to rest, but tonight, and every night after, we watch for signs, we pay attention to what the priests are saying, and we listen for rumors of gods and divine intervention.”
“And if something tries to contact me again?”
“Then you let it, and you remember every word, because if the gods are choosing sides . . .” He squeezed my hands. “Then this is much larger than you or the Asami or anyone else in Mugen could imagine. The Empire’s survival—the whole world’s existence—might depend on understanding which side we’re on.”
I wanted to argue, to say that gods didn’t choose sides, that divine beings were above mortal conflicts, but Father had told me stories of the old wars, the ones that happened before the Empire unified, when gods walked openly among humans and chose champions to carry their will.
If those times were returning . . .
If the tether breaking had torn open barriers that should have remained closed . . .
