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Beyond the Inner Court lay the heart of the Jade Palace: the Hall of Eastern Light, the Chamber of Reflection, and the Imperial Treasury, spread out across the sprawling grounds. A circular building of red marble rose from the grassy lawn, like a ring of copper dropped onto a bed of silk. Intricate carvings of vines, leaves, and flowers were etched upon its walls. The lacquered doors were studded with gold and flanked by a pair of carved stone lions, while the roof was paved in lapis tiles which slanted into a graceful slope. Glazed by moonlight, all was drenched in silver and white. Celestial soldiers in gleaming armor were stationed at the treasury entrance, the rest patrolling the grounds.

As my cloud landed within a grove of camphor trees, I folded myself into the shadows, making my way quietly toward the lone figure in black.

Tao’s teeth gleamed as he gestured at the cloth covering my face. “Have you been reading too many mortal tales?”

“Did you not ask me to disguise myself?” I thrust a piece of cloth at him. “Better this than letting someone catch a glimpse of your face.”

“I don’t need it.” He waved it aside disdainfully as a shimmer glided over his skin, like I was looking at him through the glare of the sun. Except his eyes were more close-set, his lips thinner, his nose squat and broad. If I had not been staring at him, I would have thought he was a different person. Still, his aura remained unchanged, flickering faintly, almost imperceptible.

I frowned. “How did you do that? I sensed no magic.”

“It is a skill I was born with, the only useful one I have.” His breathing was labored as he wiped the sweat from his brow. “Useful, for my profession.”

“Is this like the magic of fox spirits?” I asked.

He shook his head. “Mine is weaker. I can only distort my own form to avoid recognition, while fox spirits can mimic another’s appearance. I’ve also heard of rare enchantments that can mirror not just one’s physical attributes, but their aura and voice as well.”

“A dangerous skill. Though undoubtedly useful in moments as these.” I looked at him hopefully. “Could you disguise my features?”

“No. My powers are not strong, which allows me to avoid detection. It would be a strain for me to maintain two illusions.”

I nodded, shrugging away my disappointment. “How do we get in?”

Tao pointed at a panel in the wall ahead, a shade lighter than the rest. I had thought it a shaft of moonlight, only now noticing others were scattered in regular intervals across the marble walls.

“Each of these leads to a different chamber in the treasury. That is the one we want.” He handed me a jade disc carved with a peach blossom. “I’ll draw the soldiers away. Once you enter, leave the key on the ground for me. Don’t draw attention to yourself and use your magic sparingly to avoid alerting the guards.”

“What of the other enchantments guarding this place?” It seemed unlikely that nothing else lay between us and the treasury.

“There are none. The items within protect themselves better than anything else could.”

The back of my neck prickled. “What do you mean?”

Yet his form was wavering, fading from sight. A distance away, the trees rustled—Tao, already at work. The guards jerked to attention, most of them hurrying over to inspect the disturbance, leaving just two by the entrance.

Bending down, I grabbed a handful of pebbles, flinging them as far from me as I could throw. They scattered with dull thuds, the guards’ gazes swinging away. At once, I sprinted toward the entrance, pressing myself against the walls. Just beside the panel was a hollow carved with the same flower as on the jade disc, blending seamlessly into the carvings. My pulse raced as I pressed the ornament against it, sliding smoothly into place. As the panel shimmered, dissolving into nothingness, I tucked the key behind a clump of grass and slipped into the chamber.

Behind me, the door solidified into stone once more. The air within was stale and heavy, like no living creature had entered the room for decades. I examined the vast chamber, larger even than the Silver Harmony Hall of my home. A round mahogany table lay in the center, carved with an elegant floral pattern, books and scrolls stacked in neat piles upon it. There were no stools, perhaps because there were no visitors here—certainly none of leisure. The walls were lined with elmwood shelves, crammed with exquisite sculptures of mythical creatures and ornaments of gold, porcelain, and jade. Along the walls were miniature trees barely knee-high, with spring-green leaves and elegantly curved branches.

As the door shimmered once more, Tao stepped through. Without a word, he strode to a shelf at the far end of the room. As he ran his fingers across a painted panel, a low crack ruptured the silence. A space appeared behind it, holding a round lacquered box roughly the size of my palm. It was exquisitely carved into a peony, its crimson petals clustered tight. Six jade dragonflies perched over its petals, crafted with translucent wings, iridescent bodies, and golden antennae.

As I reached for the box, Tao grabbed my arm, his fingers like bars of ice. He was trembling as he pointed at the dragonflies. “Those creatures sting. Their venom is excruciating. I barely escaped the last time.”

“The dragonflies?” Doubt layered my tone. They were beautiful, so well made, I found myself listening out for the thrum of flight. As I leaned closer to inspect them, they twitched—wings fluttering, rubies flashing from their eyes as sharp stingers slid from their slender abdomens. I leapt back, the stirrings of a gale on my fingertips to sweep them away—

“Careful, the guards will sense magic,” Tao hissed, nodding at my bow. “Can’t you use a weapon?”

I drew my sword instead, just as the dragonflies shot forth with an ominous whir, the edges of their wings glinting like sharpened knives, a pale liquid glistening from their stingers. They hovered before us, those blood-red eyes fixed on Tao and me. My skin crawled as I forced my arm up, slashing at them—yet they darted aside with startling speed, hurtling toward me once more. I twisted aside to evade them, stabbing frantically at the one nearest to me, its wings breaking off with the clink of sawn glass. My blade flashed in a silvery blur as I hacked at the rest until all that remained were broken shards, strewn across the floor.

I breathed easier—too soon—as the lumps quivered. Bodies lengthened, wings and heads and limbs sprouting forth until every disjointed fragment had formed a new creature, springing into the air and humming like a plague of locusts.

Tao’s eyes went wide. “I had no idea they could do that.”

“You should have told me about them in the first place,” I bit out.

He flushed. “I told you I needed your skills. I … I was afraid you wouldn’t come. You had enough reservations.”

“Tao, we’re going to have a long talk after this.” I did not look away from the grotesque vision of gleaming stingers and fiery pupils, my ears ringing with that damned whirring and clicking like the gnashing of pincers.