Page 33

“Mother, are you ready?” I asked quietly.

She nodded, her eyes bright with tears, yet it was not from fear or the impending loss of our home. For as long as I could remember, it had been her nightly ritual to wander the forest, weeping for my father—the only time she allowed her grief to unravel instead of knotting tight in her chest. As a child, I had been hurt by her seeming coldness when I interrupted her during those times, realizing only later it was because she did not want me to see her cry. The urge to confess my father’s existence gripped me, a hard secret to keep when it was what she longed for most—yet I stifled the words. The bond between my father and me was new and untried, but I had given my word; I would respect his choice. And my mother had suffered enough from their parting. I would not revive her hopes only to have them crushed again. Not until I found a way to restore him. Not until I found that duplicitous, backstabbing Tao.

“Make sure the soldiers see you enter, then leave through the balcony with Ping’er,” I instructed her. “Clouds have been summoned just beyond the forest. Shuxiao and I will meet you on the shores of the Southern Sea.”

“Come as quickly as you can,” my mother reminded me, her lips pursed as they did whenever she suspected I was up to no good.

But I no longer crumbled beneath her glare, the truth tumbling out in a stammer. “We will,” I replied steadily.

She left then, the Celestial soldiers by the entrance paying her no more than a cursory glance. Their eyes darted toward me instead, cautious and assessing, before shifting away. My gaze lingered on the luminous walls of my home, its iridescent pillars—pressing each tile and stone into my mind, just as when I had left the first time. My chest ached with suppressed grief. How I would miss this place. Yet as long as we remained alive, so would the dream of returning … no matter how frail it seemed right now.

The wind surged, the air quivering with a rush of immortal auras. Clouds veiled the once-clear night. I locked my hands together, cold yet slicked with sweat.

“They are coming, sooner than anticipated,” Shuxiao said in a low voice.

Something hardened within me. “Then we must go.”

Sensing the soldiers’ eyes upon us, we strode with deliberate measure into the forest, only then breaking into a run, our feet sinking into the shining soil. We halted by the glittering laurel, its leaves clinking like pieces of silver. It was beautiful, yet in that moment I had never hated anything more. If this tree did not exist, the emperor would never have set his sights on my home, and we would not have been forced to flee.

As I raised my hand, a breeze rippled from my fingertips. It wound through the osmanthus trees at the other end of the forest, encircling them and rattling their branches. A decoy, to draw the soldiers’ attention, allowing my mother and Ping’er to escape unhindered. As we sensed their auras rushing away, Shuxiao and I wove delicate threads of air coated with translucent flame, braiding them into a snare around the laurel’s trunk—to be set off with a single touch.

A heaviness crashed against my consciousness like I had slammed my head against stone. I shuddered as the wards that Liwei and I had so painstakingly constructed were ripped apart like rice paper, the roaring in my mind fading to a deep stillness, the type that plunged ice down my spine.

Tremors rippled through the ground, soil scattering over our shoes. Shuxiao’s eyes rounded as she gestured ahead. Pale tendrils streaked the night like fingers clawing at the sky, the smoky bitterness of ash entwined with the sweetness of charred cinnamon. My home … it was afire. Flickering flames devoured the once-white walls, gray smoke spiraling high. A writhing anguish took root within me, choked gasps wrung from my throat.

Shuxiao’s hand gripped my shoulder. “Grieve later.”

Steeling myself, I nodded, turning from the hellish sight. A flash of brightness splintered the dark as a bolt of light shot past me, striking Shuxiao’s ribs. She gasped, reeling back as I grabbed her arm—my turn to steady her—as she pressed a palm to her wound, her magic streaming forth to close it. Grasping my energy, I wove a shield over us just as another wave of malevolent light plunged forward, crashing against our barrier.

An immortal appeared, clad in the Celestial armor of white and gold, wielding a great axe in his hand. His brown eyes gleamed, his hair slicked into a glossy topknot. Wugang, without his soldiers—an opportunity I would not waste.

His lips tilted into a mocking smile. “Still here? You’re not as clever as I thought.”

“Alone?” I shot back. “You’re not as clever as you think.”

I drew my sword—not the bow, as its light would draw every Celestial from the skies. Yet he did not move to defend himself, letting his axe blade rest upon the ground as he leaned upon its handle.

“Why do you hate us?” The question burst from me, one I had longed to ask before. “We did nothing to you.”

He shrugged. “My dear girl, I don’t hate you in the least. Call it a misalignment of fates; you stand in the way of what I want.”

Rage seared me at his callousness, his indifference as venomous as malice. My fingers tightened around the hilt of my sword. Make this quick, my mind urged, the part not incapacitated by terror, sickened by this needless destruction of my home. What did it matter if he refused to fight?

I lunged at him, my weapon thrust out as he swung his axe high. Our blades collided in a shrill scrape, my wrist throbbing from the force. Shuxiao leapt up, slashing at Wugang from the side, his body curving inward to evade the blow. Shoving his full weight against his axe, he flung me off, a bright flare of his magic streaking toward us. At once I pushed Shuxiao to safety, spinning aside to avoid his attack.

Wugang raised his palms, alight with power, a shield gliding over him. “I was right to doubt your loyalties, Lieutenant.”

“You did nothing to earn them,” Shuxiao retorted.

“Disloyal. Disobedient. Untalented. It’s time to purge the Celestial Army of such worthless recruits.”

Anger throbbed as I swung at him again. Shuxiao’s sword flew beside mine, swift and ruthless—yet Wugang moved with startling deftness. He dodged Shuxiao’s next blow, spinning around to slam his foot into her gut. She went sprawling but scrambled up at once, flinging a bolt of ice into his shoulder. As Wugang staggered back with a gasp, I dove forward, driving my sword into his chest. The metal tip ground against the scales of his armor, yet his shield held fast. Grasping the hilt of my sword with both hands, I threw all my force against it, magic sliding from my palms to sheathe the blade. Wugang’s shield fractured, my sword sinking deeper to penetrate his flesh—

A cry jolted me, ringing between my ears. My mother’s voice. Why was she still here? As I froze, Wugang shoved my sword aside, springing out of reach. I started after him at once, but Celestial soldiers spilled from the trees like rivers of gold. My heart sank as Feimao dragged my mother forward, while another soldier built like an ox held Ping’er fast.

“They found us,” my mother whispered. “I’m sorry.”

“Drop your weapons,” Wugang commanded, a slick smile upon his face—when barely a moment earlier, my sword had been pressed to his chest. “Any foolishness on your part, and your mother will pay the price.”