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Flashes of light illuminated the skies in the mirror. Clouds were descending to Tianxia, bearing immortal warriors. Zhangwei rode at the front, his great sword unsheathed, his armor gleaming darkly. When he landed, he froze at the sight of my reflection—a deadly mistake when facing a ruthless foe. She did not hesitate, attacking him relentlessly with her sword. Each move she made was one he’d taught her, that he’d taught me—the realization a punch to the gut. Zhangwei did not fight back, his expression anguished as he tried to reach for her, but she struck him aside viciously. How I wished he’d strike her too. Again and again, her sword thrust at him—and while he evaded most of her blows, those that landed drew blood. Meanwhile, Zhangwei’s attacks were halfhearted—to deflect, not to injure.

It sickened me, wrenching me apart. From behind Zhangwei, Lord Dalian appeared—had he been lying in wait all this while? My blood turned to ice as Lord Dalian raised his whip, lashing Zhangwei. As it coiled around his neck, Zhangwei clawed at it—but Lord Dalian yanked it harder, the whip glowing malevolently as it snapped Zhangwei’s head back.

I was screaming; I would have struck both Lord Dalian and my reflection if I could. She just stood there, a stony smile on her face as Zhangwei raised a hand to her, his fingers curled—a moment before he collapsed to the ground, the whip still biting into his neck. Dalian drew his sword then, and drove it through Zhangwei’s throat with enough force to pierce his skull—

I curled over and retched. I’d never believed some fates worse than death . . . until now. Tears were running from my eyes, my chest heaving, my heart breaking apart.

“No more,” I whispered, almost pleading, my voice raw.

The mirror faded to an oily sheen, erasing the devastation it had shown. Relief swept through me that this needn’t be my destiny, that there was a choice—and after what I’d seen, it would be an easy one to make.

The other reflection, the one that vanished before—now resurfaced. This manifestation of myself was clad in the gold armor of the immortals. Her black hair was pulled high, the ends curling around her shoulders, not a fleck of copper in her pupils. Zhangwei appeared in the mirror and took her hand. A smile lit her face, such fierce joy, it warmed me inside. A glow emanated from her skin, akin to his—an immortal’s aura. The reflection undulated, shifting to show a battlefield in Tianxia once more, Kunlun towering in the distance. Immortals fought alongside my soldiers, battling the Wuxin. Zhangwei and my reflection fought together, their swords gleaming as magic flared from their hands. Screams tore the air, an agonizing refrain—this time, as many wrenched from the Wuxin as from my people. Zhangwei’s sword flashed, cutting down Captain Rao—that young soldier avenged at last.

A savage satisfaction curled in my heart, though the violence repelled me even when inflicted on those I should hate. They were our enemy; they’d killed so many of my people, tried to transform me against my will into one of them. But then my gaze fell upon the body of a young Wuxin attendant—Mingwen. The one who’d helped me. A coldness enveloped me, deepening as I found Miss Lin next, her eyes vacant, a gaping wound on her neck. The bodies were piling onto one another, their limbs twisted, their anguished faces blurring. Were they immortal, mortal, or Wuxin? In death, somehow, they all looked the same. Who among them truly deserved this vicious end?

Someone was weeping, the sound—the voice—piercing my heart. Aunt Shou clung to a limp body: Lord Dalian’s. His pale skin was mottled with blood, his eyes closed. I should have felt triumph; I should rejoice in his defeat. But there was just a numbing emptiness within, a grief that had no name.

The reflection shifted once more, cheers erupting across the immortals. The soldiers bowed as Queen Caihong came toward me. Her bloodstained sword fell from her hand as she folded me in her arms. Such pride shone in her face, such love. In this moment, I almost believed she was my mother. On the surface, all seemed as it should be: I was among my people, our victory against the Wuxin was complete.

Yet why did it feel wrong? Why did this triumph feel hollow?

The answer lay before me among the bodies of the fallen, the earth dark with their blood. Horror set in that most of the dead were mortals . . . those of Tianxia: not just soldiers but the elderly and children, splayed on the ground, curled in terror, some still shielding their loved ones in their lifeless embrace. Death shrouded the land that I would have given my life to protect. The greatest losers of this war were my people after all, what I’d always feared. Vengeance had sown this field of death, and its cruel harvest should never have been reaped.

The nightmare faded, my two manifestations appearing side by side once more. But I could not unsee the devastation—weeping silent sobs that racked my core, tears that never fell. My arms wrapped across my stomach, trying to banish this chill within me.

One fate was preferable to the other, but neither felt right. Death marked them in despicable measure; both culminating in the destruction of Tianxia. What would be left of my kingdom? Just the ghosts of the dead. The banks of the Wangchuan River would overflow with their tormented spirits, their cries ringing through my conscience forever.

I would choose no path that led to this end; I could never live with myself.

“Why?” I asked numbly. “Why does the future diverge this way?”

You are marked by both—a curse in its burden, a gift in its choice. The blessing from the Tree of Everlasting Life shielded your core, giving you the choice of the destiny you wish. Without this gift, the Wuxin would have claimed you entirely. You would not know anything of your life before . . . in some ways, maybe an easier path, never knowing what you’d given up?

“No,” I replied furiously. “A coward’s choice. I’d rather know than to live as a fool in ignorance.”

A brief silence followed my outburst. Then choose well. Choose wisely. Once made, this decision cannot be undone.

It should be clear. The choice to become one of the Wuxin—to slaughter my people, both mortal and immortal, to kill Zhangwei—was utterly horrifying. Yet both fates were cruel, the blood of countless innocents staining my hands. If war broke out, Tianxia would be destroyed. If these were the fates written for me—I wanted neither.

Then write your own.

Zhangwei’s words resonated through me as I straightened, raising my chin. Calm spread through me, a precious clarity. “I claim neither fate. Return my memories, all of them—and I will make my own destiny.”

I tensed, expecting the mirror to rebuke me, to demand a choice—yet only a sigh rippled through the temple. A wind stirred, the waters of the pond frothing and churning, the two images of me shuddering—as they shattered, vanishing like they’d never existed.

So be it.

Closing my eyes, a tingling sensation rushed through my veins, into my head. An awareness surged to life deep in my mind, unleashing what was once bound—my body warming with a surge of power. Neither borrowed nor stolen but my own, answering to my command. Had my immortal lifeforce been restored along with the awareness of my true self? Gone was the confusion and uncertainty, my knowledge of magic returning in force—yet something felt different . . . a restraint, where once it had flowed free. I was weaker; my power diminished. Was it because I’d been poisoned and taken only part of the cure? Or was it because I was no longer wholly immortal?

The sensations softened into a glittering warmth that darted through me. Azure light flickered from my hands as I reached out to touch the pond. The water stilled at once, cold to the touch—my pale face staring back at me. I looked almost as before: just a slight shimmer to my skin, a brightness to my eyes, my lock of pale hair shining as it curled down my face. Yet inside, I was forever changed.

It is done, the Mirror of Destiny said solemnly. You are all, yet you are none.

“Then what am I?”

This time there was only silence. Maybe, at last, this was a question the mirror could not answer.

My mind was suffused with memories, too many to decipher at once. I struggled to piece my past together from the glimpses I’d caught, like figuring out a book with half the pages torn out. “There are still gaps in what I remember,” I said haltingly. “Many things I don’t understand or recall, yet I know something is missing.”