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A low groan broke from Ping’er’s throat. I fell to my knees beside her, clasping her hand, so ashen and cold. More blood leaked from the wound at the base of her skull, my throat tightening at the sight of the torn flesh.

Closing my eyes, I released my power into her, just as Liwei had done for me before—letting it surge unbound, not halting even when a weariness sank into my limbs, darkness toying at the edge of my consciousness. She could not die; I would not let her. But there was no echoing warmth, the lights fading from her blood until it grew mortal-dull. I gathered more of my magic, hurling it into her—again and again—even as something pierced my daze, the sound of my name repeated in an endless refrain, each time more urgent than the last.

“Xingyin, stop! Don’t drain yourself.” Wenzhi’s voice rang out. Had he been calling me all this time?

“I can’t let her die.” Such anguish wracked me that I would fail, that there was nothing I could do to save her. Wenzhi’s hand clasped mine, and I had not the strength to tear myself away—numbed from exhaustion, from the agony that burrowed a hole through my chest.

“Let me try.” He released me to press his fingers to her brow. His eyes narrowed, as a bleakness settled over his face. “The wound is fatal; her lifeforce is destroyed. No matter how much of your energy you give her, it is hopeless.”

He spoke gently, yet each word hit me like a blow. As my mother’s sobs stabbed my ears, I took Ping’er’s hand again, refusing to yield.

Her eyes opened wide, startlingly bright like they were lit by some inner fire. Her chest convulsed, her lips parting, a labored breath slipping out. I leaned closer, placing my ear just above her mouth.

“Little Star, no more. I am tired.”

Fear was a dagger plunged deep through my heart, and twisted once to tear it anew. A hopeless wish wound through my mind: That this was not real, that I had not failed her, that she was not dying.

She reached for my mother with a shaking hand. “Mistress, it was my greatest honor to have served you. My honor and my joy.”

My mother clasped Ping’er, tears sliding down her pale cheeks. “The honor was mine, my dearest friend.”

Ping’er’s mouth worked as though she had more to say, though not the strength to voice it. She squinted like she could not see, darkness beginning to cloak her vision. As her grip tightened around mine, I squeezed back with all the love in my heart … but then she broke free to fumble at her neck, unlatching something that she pressed into my palm—the pearl I had seen once before. It had been warm then, yet was now glazed with a wintry chill.

“The daughter I never had. The light of my days.” Her words rang clear, a radiant smile upon her face. “Would you bring me home?”

I nodded violently, eager to do anything to lighten her cares. Hope burst in me at this show of strength, dissipating abruptly when she fell back down, as though she had struggled against the shackles of her broken body and could fight no more.

“The sea,” she rasped. “It is beautiful there.” Her body shuddered, eyelids fluttering in a frantic rhythm before going still.

Soft cries punctured the silence, those of my mother’s, as I stifled the screams that surged up my throat. I crumpled over Ping’er, clasping her tight—as she had held and rocked me in her arms when I was small enough to fit in them. But she was no more, forever gone … taking along with her a part of me.

The rush of the wind was a mournful lament as our cloud soared onward. My mother’s eyes were veined red, the coils of her hair undone, falling over her shoulders. As my gaze rested on Ping’er’s body, a wrenching pain suffused me. Without her vitality and warmth, it was nothing but a shell.

Memories flooded me: of Ping’er correcting the fingering on my flute, of her showing me how to pluck the strings of a qin, of her stories that gave me my first thrill of adventure. The times she had tucked me into bed and pressed a kiss to my brow when my mother had lingered too long in the forest. The tears came then, sliding down my cheeks. I would not wipe them away or flinch from these recollections, because they were all I had left of her. There was an aching finality to this moment, this immutability of death. For gone were the days that Ping’er would hug me, never again would she call my name. How did the mortals bear such anguish, knowing all they loved would meet this end?

A gust of wind ruffled Ping’er’s sleeves. I smoothed them down, my knuckles grazing her skin—so cold and still. I was a selfish creature to think of just myself. What of Ping’er’s family? My mother? This loss was not mine alone.

I touched my mother’s arm. “Are you all right?”

“Pain is no stranger to me.” Her eyes were dulled pools of despair. “At least we have each other.”

I wanted to tell her of my father then, to let hope spark in this impenetrable darkness. Yet my vow bound me fast, as did my shame. How arrogant I had been to think I could have helped my father, how reckless to steal from the Celestial Emperor, to have imagined we could escape his wrath, to have ever challenged him in the first place. For now Ping’er was dead, our home was destroyed—and I was lost.

Wenzhi bowed his head as he intoned formally, “May she find peace in eternity. May you and your mother find the strength to overcome your sorrow.” He reached out a hand to me, then pulled it back, his fingers closing into a fist.

Shuxiao hugged me tightly. “I’m so sorry. I’ll miss her too.”

Grief clawed me, endless recriminations ringing through my mind. If only we had fled sooner, if only I had been swifter—I might have killed Wugang before. Had I treated him with the same mercilessness as he showed Ping’er, his blood would be bathing the laurel and Ping’er would be alive.

“Where should we go?” Shuxiao asked as she released me.

“To my home. You will be safe from the Celestial Emperor there,” Wenzhi offered.

I recoiled from his suggestion, despite the sense in it. Once, he had brought me to the Cloud Wall against my will, and I had no desire to ever return. Even if Wenzhi truly wanted to aid us, what of his ruthless father? His vile brother? My nails dug into my palm. No, I would not thrust us into that nest of vipers. I would not lay Ping’er to rest there, in a strange place she had feared all her life.

Would you bring me home? Her words echoed through me, cutting through the fog of misery.

“We have to bring Ping’er back to the Southern Sea,” I said flatly.