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My greatest loves, my deepest regrets.

Wenzhi’s face was ashen, the silver in his eyes dulled to slate. Even in my weakened state, the sight jarred me. Something was wrong; his powerful aura diminished. As he fell to his knees beside me, a guttural sigh wrenched from his chest. I reached out just as he did, our fingers grazing, entwining—by instinct, almost. How cold his skin … or was it mine?

His hand lifted to cradle my cheek. “I did not break the enchantment. I hope it was enough.”

“How long do I have?” I had asked him before.

“As long as you need,” he had replied.

It was I who had severed the connection, not him. And in a flash, I understood. He had not let go, not even when the enchantment had drained the last of his powers. To keep me safe, he had sacrificed his very life. Why? For his kingdom, or the realm? Deep down, I knew the answer; it was one he had told me himself.

Because he loved me.

Not with the selfish love of the past, where I was but a means to an end. He had wanted me then, yet had been unwilling to yield anything that might make his love worth having. Never did I think he would do such a thing, placing me above all else. I had smothered my emotions, clung to principles and pride, deceived myself at every turn. I had refused to believe he could change, until he had shown me—irrefutably—just how much he loved me. More than the crown and kingdom he had once betrayed me for.

More than his life.

I would have wept except there were no tears left, the flames had burned them away. Silent screams of agony clogged my throat. The white-hot pain that stabbed me was like something vital had been ripped from my core.

“I’m sorry.” My words were a shattered whisper.

“I am sorry too.” His chest heaved as a faint smile stretched across his lips. “Live. Be happy.” As he glanced at Liwei, they exchanged a long look—without hostility or rancor. Liwei inclined his head in a respectful salute. Wenzhi fell back, a sharp breath dragged through his clenched teeth.

This was agony, not the fire in my veins or the axe slashing my skin. I gripped his hand as hard as I could. His skin had always been cool, yet never this immutable ice.

“I love you,” I said to Wenzhi. Only now did I know it was the truth, despite everything I had done to destroy it.

This was no time for pride or resentment, for anything except honesty. It was not a betrayal of Liwei. The simple truth was that I loved them both. Perhaps it made me a bad person, yet it was not something I had sought. This fracture in my heart … I only knew it was there after it had formed. And strange though it may sound, it was what made me whole—for they each were a part of me.

A smile spread across Wenzhi’s face, radiant and fierce. My friend, my enemy—whose love and treachery had clawed the deepest grooves in my heart. One did not cancel out the other, yet the truth was that the Wenzhi who had betrayed me would never have sacrificed himself so. The fantasy of what might have been flashed across my mind—if he had been born of a different family, as had I. One untainted by power, suffering, and secrets. We would have been happy, as he had promised. Perhaps it was as he’d said: we never had a chance to begin, because there was already another in my heart. And then, he had lost my trust—forever, I’d believed. Only in this moment did it dawn on me that I had forgiven him long before. That I loved him, still … and it was too late.

His eyes pinned mine, a tremor coursing through him. I clutched him tighter, more afraid than I had ever been before, as though this simple act would suffice to bind him to me. But then his smile wavered as his eyelids sank down, closing over the turbulent gray. A breath left his body, his pulse slowing. His aura dwindling away until all that made him precious—was gone.

Grief ravaged me like a devouring beast. I could neither breathe nor move from the wracking agony, each moment an eternity of night. Scant consolation that I would follow him soon after. Perhaps then, I might find the peace that had long eluded me.

Someone lifted me away from Wenzhi, from the aching stillness of his body—once so powerful and strong. With the last of my strength, I turned to Liwei, to my mother and father. It was almost more than I could bear. Their eyes were ringed red and wet with sorrow. Liwei clasped his hands around mine, his touch bringing an echo of warmth to the chill that engulfed me. His energy poured into me with a rush of heat, a shallow comfort like the sun without warmth, the moon without light. My lifeforce was gone; I could not channel his magic. I wanted to tell him to stop. That I was sick and tired of partings and sorrow, that I was already dead inside.

He would not listen even if I could have spoken in that moment, his magic sweeping over me like rainfall, gliding off my skin as I continued to fade. Lights flashed across my vision like a thousand stars spinning across the heavens. My head fell to the earth, my gaze falling upon Wenzhi’s body. How calm he looked, how young and peaceful, the cares wiped from his face. The grass beneath me was wet with morning dew. It was still dark, the lanterns unlit. If only I could have seen their glow one last time.

“I love you,” I whispered. To Liwei. To my mother and father. To my home, where I would lay forever.

And then, I was free. Severed from the husk of my body, floating above. Such lightness, such calm. Love without pain, joy with sorrow, and the promise of the infinite. I stared down at the carnage before me. Wenzhi. Wugang. The broken remnants of those soldiers.

A cry erupted from Liwei that would have torn the heart from my chest if it beat still. My father’s head bowed with grief as he wrapped an arm around my mother—her weeping resonating through the air, her tears streaming into the soil. A shudder rippled through the ground, the lanterns around us flaring to sudden life—luminous and bright. The moon eagerly awakening to greet its mistress after so long an absence.

My mother pulled free of my father’s hold, kneeling by my side to grasp my hand. Tears slid down her face, falling upon the withered roots of the laurel. “Xingyin,” she wept, again and again, in the sorrowful rhythm of loss.

Something gleamed, a rivulet of bright gold sap trickling forth from the laurel’s stump. It streaked across the wood, between the charred crevices, spilling upon the ground. The earth shimmered with light, warmth erupting in the air like a burst of summer—a force yanking me back into my body, even as pain and grief latched onto my consciousness once more with excruciating clarity.

I sucked in a heaving breath, bolting upright. My eyes met my mother’s, wide with shock and disbelief, a moment before she threw her arms around me, clutching me tight. A tingling warmth surged through my flesh, coursing through my veins. Over her shoulder, I saw the last of the laurel stump crumble away, its once-glittering sap fading to brown, scattering like sand over Wenzhi’s body. No breath rattled in his lungs; he was as lifeless as stone.

“Is he—?” I could not speak the word.

“He is gone,” Liwei said hoarsely.

“Why? Why him and not me?” I burst out, unreasonable in my grief.

Already, my mind was piecing the fragments together. That somehow, my mother’s tears had revived the laurel. It had just enough power left to save one of us and it had chosen me. Was it obeying the Moon Goddess’s command? Or was this the laurel’s final gift to me? For all those years I had played beneath its shade, perhaps it knew me too.