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Once, I might have felt shame at these accusations, but no longer. “You are the wicked one. You lured the dragons here, stealing their magic for your own ends. Your long lifespan, our magic, these rings”—I raise my hand, anger thrumming in each word—“they leech off the dragon’s power, strengthening us at their expense.”

“Lies!” Lord Hairong declares smoothly, accustomed to deceit. “A spy from Thorn Valley, a serpent in our midst. Shenming, do you believe this girl—this stranger?”

The Elders have nurtured suspicion of all who did not grow up beneath their rule, those more inclined to question them.

Shenming looks at me, his face inscrutable. “She isn’t a stranger,” he says at last. “She is Dian’s sister, Master Sikyong’s daughter.” Yet he doesn’t lower his sword.

Lord Hairong’s tone softens. “You know nothing of what we went through in the past. Back then, Shila, Zhu, and I were united in our ambition for our island, to secure the protection of the dragons. Thorn Valley was abundant in magic, unjustly blessed with rare creatures and plants. Even after we cleared our island of the accursed wintergrass, after we succeeded in planting the Radiant Sky Trees—we were still ignored. We had to shift the balance.”

Rage simmers. “You poisoned the Radiant Sky Trees of the Ancient Grove out of envy. You drove Thorn Valley into devastation to steal the dragons. Then you spent years accusing them of everything you are guilty of.” I’m trying to sway Shenming, to open his eyes.

“Thorn Valley did not deserve their magic and good fortune,” Lord Hairong seethes. “Power flows to those who seek it, it stays with those who fight to keep it.”

“Except you are losing the power you sacrificed your honor to steal. The Sun Dragon is dead. Now the decay in the Ancient Grove is weakening the Moon Dragon. Don’t you feel it?” I press, careful not to reveal anything I shouldn’t.

“Don’t believe her,” Lord Hairong snaps. “Thorn Valley has been spreading these vicious rumors. I am protecting our people. Shenming, you should understand—unlike this girl.”

“I understand everything,” I retort. “Thorn Valley isn’t cursed as you’d like us to believe. It was betrayed. By you.”

History is fragile, easily distorted and forgotten. Thorn Valley was always depicted as the opportunist, grasping and deceitful. All this while, the true villains were the revered Elders. A pack of charlatans who used every opportunity to push their rival into ruin, to bury the truth of the past. And they almost succeeded.

But to stop them, I need to get what I came for—the bottle in Lord Hairong’s hand, the elixir to destroy the wintergrass. I need to goad him to reveal more, to turn Shenming from him. He isn’t evil or merciless like the Elder. His loneliness made him vulnerable to Lord Hairong’s schemes… if only he’d chosen to confide in my father instead.

“You said I did you a favor, Lord Hairong—was it to steal the talismans?” I ask.

“I planned on taking the keys from the other Elders and your father tonight, through far more unpleasant means. Fortunately, your skills are commendable. Though they do not know it, they owe you their lives.”

“You were going to kill my father? Lord Zhu and Lady Shila?” I demand, revolted.

Shenming flinches, the first crack. But as I reach for my magic, his blade presses harder against my neck, Lord Hairong’s bond with him deeper than expected.

The Elder’s smile is almost triumphant. “I have always been the visionary among us, though Shila likes to pretend she’s in charge. I let her; it’s easier to move in the shadows. Once we were aligned, but over the years our opinions diverged. They are content to hide, while I seek to rise.”

As Lord Hairong’s fingers tighten over the elixir, fear seizes me. “Why do you want this bottle?” I ask, though I already know. He intends to destroy it along with all evidence of his past treachery—along with the hope of the Ancient Grove’s restoration.

“Give the elixir to Thorn Valley,” I try to persuade him. “They have suffered long enough. It will also strengthen the Moon Dragon—”

“I will never help them,” he cuts me off. “Moreover, I’m not here for the bottle alone.”

As he tilts it to tip it over, my blood runs cold. “You’re stealing the starfire. That’s why you need the keys,” I accuse him, trying to distract him too. “Are you working for the Queen of the Iron Mountains?”

“Aren’t you? Don’t you need a prize from her?” he asks derisively. “You’ll have to find another way to save the Lord of Thorn Valley.”

He’s wrong, but I don’t correct him. What matters is stopping him from destroying the elixir. Shenming’s expression is stony, yet his knuckles are white around his sword hilt. “The Queen of the Iron Mountains wants to kill the dragons,” I tell him. “How can you ally with her?”

“A choice forged of necessity,” the Elder replies. “At first, I believed we could hold out against her. But then the waterfall was destroyed, the Sun Dragon killed. As our might wanes, hers strengthens. Destiny can’t be thwarted. The Iron Mountains army will swallow us, and so I will secure my place in the new world—I will ensure our people’s future, alone.”

He steps closer, a shiver rippling through me at the menace in his expression. “Your sacrifice will be remembered.”

“You said she didn’t need to die,” Shenming says quietly.

“She knows too much.”

My gaze flicks to Shenming. “So do you. What will he do once you’re no longer of use?”

Lord Hairong waves this thought away. “You and I are different, Shenming. Do not forget all I’ve done for you. You will rise in power too, by my side.”

“What use is power when you lose everything else of worth?” I ask Shenming.