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“It is almost time,” my father said. Now that our path was set, he would show no doubt. Half the battle was won in the mind.

I glanced out the window, concealing my face. Dusk had fallen, a veil of violet splendor—elusive and fragrant, with mystery and promise. Yet a hollow numbness sheathed me as I clasped my hands together to hide their shaking. One breath, and then another—until finally my heart calmed. Only then did I dare to look at them, pressing each of their beloved faces into my mind. Precious remembrances to sustain me through the hell ahead.

“You should go, before Wugang’s soldiers arrive.” I did not know how much longer I could sustain this mask of calm.

My mother embraced me, her arms tight around my neck and shoulders. I swallowed hard, inhaling the faint sweetness of her scent, trying to ignore the tears which fell from her eyes onto my robe. She released me, hurrying from the room. Liwei and Wenzhi bowed to me then, their faces solemn as they straightened. I bent my head to them in turn, my throat crammed with unsaid words, my heart heavy with suppressed emotion as they left. In a moment, my father would be gone too.

“Father, wait.” An involuntary cry I could not prevent. I had faced dire situations before, been dragged to the brink of death—yet there was a difference to this one. The burden was almost crushing, for the stakes were greater by far: not just my life and those of my loved ones, but of every mortal and immortal in the realms above and below. I could not fail; I dared not. And yet … could I prevail?

My father came toward me. “Daughter, what is it?”

“How did you feel when you faced the sunbirds?” A halting question.

“Afraid,” he said bluntly.

His answer comforted me, soothing my fraught nerves. “Why did you do it?”

Grief shadowed his face. He looked older in that moment, an echo of the mortal I had first met, stooped with the cares of time. “I did not want to. I knew I would pay a heavy price, for they were beloved by the gods. Yet if I did not, all whom I loved would perish.”

“I don’t want to do this.” My words fell out in a low cry. “I am not courageous; I am afraid. I am no hero.” I did not shy from sharing these thoughts with him. More than anyone, he knew the price that must be paid, the hard choices that had to be made.

“You are,” he said with feeling. “For the fools do not fear the odds, the reckless do not care—and only the truly brave proceed regardless.” He placed a hand on my shoulder, steady and warm. “It was either the sunbirds or the world. And along with the world, my wife, you—my unborn child—my friends, and every other living creature. There is nothing more worth fighting for.”

He reached out and hugged me, his palm stroking the back of my head. “I am proud of you, my daughter, whether you do this or not. If you cannot, there is no shame. Say it now, and we will find another way.”

There was no other way.

“Houyi, is Xingyin all right?” My mother appeared at the entrance, looking anxiously at me.

“Thank you, Father.” It was a relief to have said all this aloud, to confront the inner demons that plagued me. And even though the impossible task lay before me still, I did not feel so alone anymore.

He released me. “Remember, my child, if you believe in yourself, in what you’re doing—no one can take that from you.”

He left then. All of them gone, each carrying away a piece of me. As the doors slid shut, their footsteps faded, the silence deepening with foreboding.

I stared at the mirror, my mother’s face looking back at me. Reaching into my pouch, I pulled out the translucent orb containing the feather. It shivered like a living creature, each barb ablaze, shining golden bright. It warmed to my touch, straining against the restraints that bound it. Drawing a ragged breath, I released my magic inward, plunging it into the core of my lifeforce as I had done once before, the day I released the dragons. I clawed it apart, the glittering pool spilling free, incandescent with the light of the heavens. I did not hesitate, not allowing myself to think as I pressed the orb against my forehead, shut my eyes, and let my magic sweep over it. The feather seared as it sank through my skin and flesh, like a pebble pressed into damp sand—giving way as it slid into the core of my lifeforce. The heat scorched, startling in its intensity—and at once I wove a shield around it, tightening the barriers until not a pinprick slipped through.

It was done. My head throbbed like a hammer was pounding it from within. How had King Wenming borne this? It would suffice to drive anyone to madness. A shudder rippled through my body as I sank upon the bed, a sob wrenched from my chest before I buried it—for at the very moment my life was illuminated by love, it had never seemed so dark.

They came swiftly, their auras creeping closer—mirrored reflections with the stillness of ice. Throttled gasps swelled from the corridor beyond, something heavy striking the ground with a thud. I flinched at the thought of the guards, but then the door burst open, my fears turning inward.

Eight of Wugang’s soldiers stood in the entrance, their skin mottled with frostlike patches, their eyes alight with that eerie glow. I tried to muster a spark of hatred for them for so callously snuffing out Prince Yanming’s life, but it was like trying to hate an arrow that had hit its mark. These creatures were no more than weapons themselves, though far deadlier than any I had ever encountered.

As two of them seized my arms, I cried out and struggled, tempering the urge to fight back in earnest. They dragged me effortlessly into the silent corridor, past the crumpled bodies of the guards. Their fingers bit into my arms as they hauled me outside the palace. My slippers scraped a jagged stone, the silken threads rupturing, the beads from the embroidery scattering upon the ground.

A large cloud hovered just beyond the entrance. One of them pushed my back, and I stumbled upon it. As it took flight, soaring high—I almost knocked into a soldier. I blinked, studying its face. This one appeared younger than the rest, a strange thought when these creatures seemed at once ageless and yet not quite alive. The same light emanated from its hollowed eyes, however something more grazed my consciousness—a shadow of remembrance, an echo of who he used to be … a stark dread of what he was now.

It could not be him. Prince Yanming was a Sea Immortal; his spirit did not lie in the Divine Harmony Sky. His brother had brought him back to the Eastern Sea. A rush of emotions crashed upon me, a terrifying thought sliding into my mind: What if those killed by Wugang’s soldiers were somehow bound to his will, even in death?

“Prince Yanming?” I whispered, even as my heart clenched, rejecting the thought. When he showed not a flicker of recognition, I tried again, choosing my words carefully. “Do you remember your parents? Your brother? The Eastern Sea?”

The soldier’s head lifted ever so slightly—if I were not watching him, I would have missed it. I followed his unseeing gaze, catching a glint of sapphire and pearl on the horizon—the sea, awash with midnight stars. His lips parted, his eyes fixed ahead like he was seeking something … even though he might not know it. Hope unfurled in me that perhaps a part of him remained untarnished by this vile power, that the dragons were watching over him after all.

“Go far from here,” I told him quietly, unsure if he could hear or understand. “Return to the Eastern Sea. Find the dragons; they will keep you safe.”

His head seemed to dip into a nod. So slight, it might have been a trick of my mind seeing what it wanted to, but I clung to this wild hope. I was shaking, fighting the urge to retch at the thought of what lay ahead—what success might cost me and the unspeakable price of failure. Breathing deeply, I fought for calm. A clear mind was the greatest weapon when one had relinquished all else.

Our cloud climbed north, toward the Golden Desert. I dared not probe for a trace of my father, Liwei, or Wenzhi. All my energy in this moment was centered on the feather borne within my body, keeping it whole—and me, alive. As screams and cries rang out from below, I glanced down, my insides turning to ice.