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Her eyes flashed with anger, even as she turned from me like I had not spoken.
“Venerable Dragons,” my father said. “We must stop Wugang’s heinous ambitions. Can you tell us what you know of these creatures and the power of the moon laurel?”
The Long Dragon’s eyes blazed as they swept over the broken bodies strewn along the beach, like some glistening monstrosity the tide had washed up.
We never imagined the moon laurel could be harnessed to such ends. Its power is of regeneration and renewal. This is a vile corruption—using it to enslave immortal spirits, stealing life itself. Wugang must be stopped.
I dragged myself from despair. “Heat weakens these soldiers, yet it’s no easy matter to bring them down. If Wugang’s army is as large as he claims, imagine the destruction they would wreak across the realms.”
“His army is constrained by the laurel seeds in his possession,” Wenzhi remarked. “How many can there be?”
An image of the glittering tree slid into my mind. “As many as there are stars in the sky.”
Remember, too, the seeds plucked will regenerate, the Long Dragon cautioned. There will be no end to this horror.
“Wugang can’t grow his army that quickly.” I tried to assure myself as well. “He had to strike the tree with all his might before it yielded a single seed. It was a fortunate coincidence that he managed to harvest so many the last time—”
Coincidence? The Long Dragon tilted its head contemplatively.
My insides curled like a withered leaf. I had not wanted to remember anything of the night Ping’er died—reluctant to dwell upon it, to relive the horror, regret, and sorrow. But now, I forced the memories into my mind: my mother’s blood splattering the laurel, its seeds raining upon the ground … the light in Wugang’s eyes when he had ordered the soldiers to seize her. And what of his strange words earlier when he had claimed not to be the soldiers’ sole creator? My fingers dug into my temple, more recollections surfacing of Wugang chopping at the laurel, the scars on his palms reopening with each strike. My mother weeping in the forest. The two images converging as their blood and tears spilled upon the luminous tree, seeping into its roots, its bark … its seeds.
Panic rose, cresting high. “Mother, that soldier did not attack you.”
“I was fortunate,” she said slowly. “It stopped, almost like it recognized me.”
“Mother, Wugang meant you.”
Her eyes went as wide as those of a frightened deer. “What do you mean?”
I softened my tone, taking her hand. “General Jianyun said the laurel seeds did not exist before. The tears of some immortals are said to contain part of their power. All those nights you wept in the forest … it was from your tears that the seeds sprouted.”
She shook her head violently. “No. Impossible.”
I did not want to be right, yet I could not ignore the facts. “The laurel is a part of you both. Wugang’s blood can harm the tree, yours can harvest its seeds.”
My voice shook over the words and their searing implication: for Wugang had not come at us out of pique, vengeance, or pride—but because my mother, the Moon Goddess, was at the heart of his plots, and he would stop at nothing to seize her.
“I have no magic. How could such a thing come from me?” She was so pale, like she was about to be sick.
“All immortals have magic which manifests in different ways,” Liwei explained. “This does not mean your power is evil, nothing starts out inherently so. You might not even be aware that it exists in you. Somehow, what power you inadvertently yielded the laurel has been tainted, likely through Wugang’s efforts.”
Wugang had not wanted to alert us to his true ambition. This was why he had taken our home, hunted us down, and tried to secure my father’s allegiance. He would never let us go … which was why I must end him.
My father slid an arm around my mother’s shoulders. “If Wugang captures you, he will be able to harvest all the seeds he wants. His army will be unstoppable, he will reign supreme over the earth and skies for eternity.” He turned to the dragons. “Will you stand with us, my friends?”
The Long Dragon did not reply at once. Was it conferring with its siblings? Its voice resonated in my mind, startling me—all of us—from the transfixed faces around.
We will aid you as far as we can, though we are constrained in what we can do. This power is far greater than ours. The Moon Goddess must be protected at all costs. The dragon fell silent as its amber eyes swung to me.
Evil must be struck at its roots. Cutting its branches will not suffice.
Did it speak to me alone? How clearly the Long Dragon had seen into my weak heart—my selfish plans of staying clear of trouble, of running away with my family, hoping to never be found. What did I owe the Immortal Realm? We could make a new home for ourselves in the world below. Yet if Wugang prevailed, no place would be safe for us. He was a danger like no other because he believed in nothing, whether tradition, history, or honor. He lacked even the innate care for his people that Queen Suihe possessed. Any compassion or love that might have existed in him once had been long extinguished, for his heart was consumed by hate. Death and misery fed him; he seemed to crave it. He did not care if he brought the realms crashing down with him. There would be no peace when such as him reigned.
Why did he want power? I did not know. Perhaps because he had nothing else.
A heaviness descended over me, a profound gravity. No longer could I hover on the fringes, hoping evil and misfortune would leave us unscathed. I had done this before and now … Ping’er and Prince Yanming were gone. Their lives would not be in vain. If left unchecked, this evil would engulf the realm, devouring all in its path until there was nothing left but the cries of the tormented, and the silence of the dead.
This was no honor; I did not want this burden. Yet if I did nothing, I would lose everything—all whom I loved. As I caught the resolute glint in my father’s eyes, I was glad to not be alone. Together, we would keep my mother safe.
