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Chaos reigned. Wugang’s army had struck earlier than anticipated. The colliding forces were caught in the throes of battle, weapons gleaming as they clashed, currents of magic illuminating the night. I leaned over the edge of the cloud, my veins hardening to stone at the sight of the snarling monsters that prowled alongside Wugang’s army. An enormous boar with a mortal’s face charged into a troop of Cloud Wall warriors, skewering them upon its curved tusks. Blood sprayed into the air—a fine mist—amid the desperate screams and pleas. An eerie light shone from the boar’s eyes, its tusks glowing just as the soldiers’ guandao did, with the same malevolent power.

A shadow fell over me as a monstrous winged tiger swept down to sink its claws into an Eastern Sea soldier, flinging her high into the air. Her scream was swallowed by an ominous thud, yet the creature did not pause, already pouncing on another victim.

Taowu. Qiongqi. Legendary beasts, renowned for their vicious cruelty, having devoured countless mortals and immortals until they had been slain by the Celestial Army. And now, they were resurrected by Wugang to serve him, to reap devastation across the realms.

My nails cut into my palms. If only I could fight alongside our soldiers, if only I could have helped them. Yet it would not be enough. I could stop one monster, perhaps—a handful of soldiers … but thousands?

A flash of brightness streaked across the sky, gleaming with the gold of summer. The Yellow Dragon soared forth, its spiked tail lashing the air, churning it into a gale. Its force slammed into Qiongqi, the winged tiger’s claws unclenching—its victim plummeting through the skies with a scream—but the Black Dragon shot forward, catching the soldier upon its back. Further below, the crimson scales of the Long Dragon blazed as it cleared a path for the soldiers fleeing Taowu’s charge. As the dragon opened its great jaws, torrents of water crashed upon the boar, sending it rolling across the sands.

Though leaden with terror, a lightness crept into my heart. Sharp cries rang out then, the phoenixes sweeping into the fray in a flurry of shining feathers and talons. As they circled in graceful flight, their tails rippled behind them like rainbows arched across the night. The Celestial Empress flew among them upon her mount, a spear in her hand. A fierce radiance suffused her, as though she were a bird whose cage had sprung open, who could finally spread her wings and soar. Flanking the Phoenix Army were Prince Yanxi’s forces, bearing down upon the armies of the Northern Sea.

The sun had not yet risen, and already the clouds were drenched with blood. The glittering sands of the Golden Desert—so dazzling from the palace rooftop—now glistened with a dark wetness. How many lives would be lost? Death would feast well tonight, gorging itself over the immortal table it had once been cast from.

Despair shrouded me, dank and cold. I wanted to shut my eyes to the unfolding nightmare, but forced myself to watch, biting down on the inside of my cheek till it was raw. This was the horror that awaited us if Wugang prevailed—an eternity of chaos, destruction, and death. And I dared not dwell on what might happen to the spirits of those slain by his creatures. This was not just a battle for the realm, it was one for its soul. I would not falter, I could not fail.

The cloud swerved sharply away, climbing higher. I tore my mind from the devastation below, for my own battle lay before me. Long moments ticked away, sheathed in silence. All the while, the feather strained against its binds, pounding against my skull. My energy flowed in a constant trickle to hold the shields fast, my tension coiling tighter until I thought I might snap.

At last, the silver roof of my home gleamed ahead. Tiles were cracked and charred, several missing, part of the lower tier fallen away. A far different homecoming from before, when joy had brimmed over with anticipation—for all I felt now was a withering dread, coupled with the relentless stab of fear.

It was cooler than I remembered, the tranquil stillness edged with desolation. Never had the night felt so oppressively thick, with the lanterns unlit, the once-luminous earth as dull as ash. A trace of cinnamon wound through the air, a musty tang clinging to it, a remnant of stale smoke. My gaze darted over the blackened walls, the cracked stone path, the stump by the entrance where a mother-of-pearl pillar had once towered. It had been a nightmare of my youth, to return home and find it in ruins—achingly silent, without the voices of my mother and Ping’er.

The cloud glided to the ground. Before I could descend, a soldier shoved me forward. I stumbled, tripping over my skirt, as another grabbed my arm, pulling at me. Anger flared in me to be treated like some beast, yet there was no malice in their rough handling, rather the detachment of performing an appointed task. I was glad when the young one remained on the cloud, unmoving, though his gaze kept flicking to the skies. Did he intend to take flight? How I prayed he would.

The soldiers hauled me along a familiar path, winding between the osmanthus trees—I could have walked blindfolded and found my way. Something rustled, the gentle clink of leaves from the laurel towering above. Its silvery bark seemed darker than before, cast in shadow—or perhaps because it was no longer bathed in the light of the moon.

Wugang stood there, a glint in his hawkish eyes. The gold scales of his armor rippled across his chest and down his arms, tapering to his wrists. His great axe was strapped to his back, its green tassel swinging from its bamboo handle. A powerful shield gleamed around him, my spirits sinking at the sight. Gone was my faint hope of catching him off guard. Even surrounded by his soldiers, his guard was still up.

He clasped his hands in seeming delight. “Chang’e, it warms me to see you again. I have long awaited this moment.”

I seethed at his false geniality. As his eyes narrowed with speculation, I dropped my challenging stare, trembling from the strain of not striking him, which I hoped he would take for fright.

“Release her.” His hand lifted in a careless wave.

The soldiers loosened their grip at once, their heads cocked toward him.

“I hope they haven’t made you too uncomfortable,” he said. “My soldiers can be overzealous when obeying my orders.”

How polite he sounded, like I was an honored guest. As though he were asking after my well-being, without the slightest intent of drawing my blood.

“Why did you bring me here?” My mother’s voice slid from my lips.

“Goddess of the Moon, I think you know.” His arm swept toward the laurel.

How many times had I climbed its pale branches and tugged at its seeds, admiring its exquisite beauty? All I saw now was that same ethereal light curving from the eyes of Wugang’s soldiers and monsters—resurrected, not to life, but to eternal slavery in death.

“Bind her to the tree,” Wugang commanded.

A gray chill sank through my flesh. I did not imagine he would tie me to the laurel. How would I escape? Panic surged, my struggles in earnest as I kicked at the guards.

This is what you need, the better part of me whispered—the part that was brave and wise. There was only one way to get the Sacred Flame Feather into the laurel, and that was if Wugang allowed it. Being bound to the tree was an undeniable advantage, though there was no relief when it would also trap me. Magic tingled at my fingertips, yearning to be released—to cast the soldiers aside, to flee. The same urge that had driven me to claw victory from despair, life from death—was now a hindrance, chipping at my resolve.

I forced myself to go limp, dropping my head to hide my churning thoughts. As Wugang’s soldiers wrenched my arms around the tree, cords of light slithered around my wrists, spiraling across my chest, waist, and knees, locking me in this forced embrace. The bark stung against my body like I was pressed to a column of ice.

There was no need to feign terror; I shook with it—that Wugang might discover our trick, that I might fail … or die. I had weighed the danger, steeled myself for what lay ahead. I had imagined being held at sword point, restrained, threatened, and hurt—yet, I had also dreamed of a swift escape. I was quick; my magic was strong. All I had to do was lose myself in this forest I had known all my life. I had not expected to be trussed up like some cruel sacrifice—though, that was what I was. Yet as fear froze my blood, a rush of relief spilled through me that it was not my mother here.

I shoved aside my terror, probing my bonds cautiously. It was a strange magic I was tempted to test, but was wary of arousing Wugang’s suspicions. A sudden pain pierced me from within, the feather’s power lashing free. At once I channeled my energy to strengthen my shield, unable to afford a moment’s distraction. As my chest cramped with despair, I closed my eyes, fighting for calm. Images of my parents slid into my mind, along with Liwei and Wenzhi, of Shuxiao, Prince Yanming, and Ping’er. Something hardened along my spine, a warmth spreading over me.

Those truly powerful have no need for love.