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“I will accept the position, but only until another leader is elected. Choose wisely—one who will serve the people rather than themselves alone.” She spoke quietly, yet her voice resonated. “Power should not be inherited but earned.”

General Fang frowned. “It’s never been done this way before.”

“What if the leader is unfit?” Lin asked.

“Then choose again,” Aunt Shou said. “The mandate to rule should no longer be determined by bloodline alone, it should reflect the wish of the people. We cannot afford a recurrence of what happened before.” She glanced at Dalian, her expression unreadable. “Don’t be afraid of change; it’s what helps us grow.”

The soldiers folded over in a bow, pressing their foreheads to the ground in an obeisance. As they rose, they dispersed, most heading back toward the mountains to begin their trek home. General Fang and Captain Lai remained, speaking to Aunt Shou in hushed tones. Her words lingered in my mind, awakening something in me. She had given her people a priceless gift—of freedom, of choice, a voice in their own future.

“We will return now,” Aunt Shou said, to those left on the shore. “We must prepare for my son’s funeral.”

As we made our way to the barge, Aunt Shou stumbled once as she walked, but she refused any help offered. It wasn’t easy to feign strength when one felt weak—but sometimes, pretending was easier than reality. Sometimes you might even fool yourself.

“Will Chengyin be all right?” she asked me dully.

“Yes. His wound is healed, he just needs rest.”

She frowned. “Our barrier will protect him, but how will he make his way home from Kunlun?”

“Once the skies are unsealed, the immortal soldiers will return. They will bring him back safely,” Zhangwei assured her.

Aunt Shou bowed her head, her shoulders slumped. “What must Chengyin think of me? I’m not the mother he deserves.”

“He loves you, Aunt Shou. As you love him.” I reached out toward her—hesitating—then took her hand.

“Thank you, Liyen.” Her fingers tightened around mine as she turned to glance at the ruin of the marble archway, the shattered remnants of the gateway. “What will you do now?”

“Zhangwei and I will have to stay here until we find a way back.” How heavy my heart was. We had won, yet lost so much. “Can we get a message to the Golden Desert? If the immortals know we’re trapped, could they restore the gateway?”

Aunt Shou shook her head. “There is no way to send a message between our realms.”

Zhangwei’s arm drew me close. “The magic that helped create the gateway is no more. Queen Caihong—your mother—was only able to craft the enchantment because the archway existed in the first place, the one that linked Kunlun to here.”

As we boarded the barge, the skies above were lightening to rose, the first shafts of daylight spearing the heavens. We traveled the rest of the way in silence, until the palace loomed ahead. As we drew to a halt, the shining lights of the waters beneath caught my eye.

“What about the Eternal Boatman? Could he help us?” I was grasping at threads, but I wasn’t ready to give up, still fighting to find a way back.

“Only those who have surrendered all their memories are allowed to board the vessel,” Aunt Shou explained, confirming what Zhangwei had told me before.

A bitter trade—to give up the one thing that gave home its meaning.

“How can we find the boatman? Maybe we can negotiate with him? Offer something else instead of our memories?” I suggested.

Lin glanced at Aunt Shou. “The ruler of the Netherworld can summon the Eternal Boatman. However, he does not do their bidding—the choice to bear a passenger is his alone, and he is bound by his own rules.”

Aunt Shou’s eyes were bright as she turned to me. “Why not remain here with me? I will find a place for you and the God of War. You will want for nothing; we will be as family again.” Her voice trailed away. The truth was, nothing could replace the family we’d lost.

“My home isn’t here, Aunt Shou—just as yours was never in Tianxia.” I spoke gently, not wanting to be cruel; she had lost so much already. If there was the slightest hope of returning, I would not turn my back on it.

“I understand.”

Aunt Shou’s smile was sad but resolute as she strode to the bank of the river. Bending down, she dipped her hand into the water. White light trailed from her fingers, forming a silvery trail. Foam frothed on the surface, the fragrance of incense springing into the air. The delicate peal of a wind chime rang out, one that folded into the stillness instead of shattering it.

The wind strengthened, shifting its direction, tearing strands of my hair loose. Something gleamed on the horizon. A golden boat curved like a wedge of the sun floated upon the surface. The only vessel that could traverse the rivers and oceans across the realms, unhindered by any barrier, whether of stone or magic. It was ferried by a nameless boatman said to be as old as death—neither immortal, nor mortal, nor demon. A broad bamboo hat covered his head, leaving a silver beard peeking beneath. His cheeks were hollowed, his eyes as pale as pearls. A cloak was draped across his shoulders, the cloth so fine it seemed to be woven of ash and smoke. His callused fingers gripped a long pole that he thrust into the water with rhythmic strokes.

As he approached, Aunt Shou inclined her head. “Honored Boatman, thank you for answering my call.”

“Why have you summoned me, ruler of the Netherworld?” His voice was rich and deep.