Page 64 of The Dragon Wakes with Thunder (The Dragon Spirit Duology #2)

Forty-Three

By the emperor’s decree, all my hard-won achievements were cast to the winds, like dust upon a worn path.

I fainted with fatigue, but my relief was momentary. Chittering fireflies woke me, buzzing in my ears with equal parts awe and fear. All around us, the lights of the spirit realm wobbled and shivered, their pulse frenetic and faltering. It seemed as if the world itself was holding its breath.

But the Cardinal Spirits did not care. A hair-raising snarl ripped from the sky as the Ivory Tiger struck out at the Azure Dragon, and the two of them went spinning through the air.

Their violence knew no bounds. Ancient trees were ripped from their roots, tremendous rivers ran dry, tidal waves flooded forests, the sky rained ash.

Bruised, bleeding, and exhausted beyond belief, I simply hugged my knees to my chest and covered my head with my arms, trying to remain as small as possible.

Trying to be forgotten. Trying to forget myself.

It was hard to tell how much time had passed. The sky burned overhead, so that no sunlight was visible from where I hid. I could see shadows pooling at my feet, but I did not know if that meant dawn or dusk.

It was only when Baihu landed hard beside me, skidding into the earth with a growl, that my hiding place was uncovered.

“ You ,” she snarled, and I flinched instinctively. “ You need to get out ,” she warned. “ Don’t you realize the rift is closing? If you do not leave now, you will lose your way back to your world. ”

I stared at her open-mouthed, uncomprehending. Then she was gone, their fight moved elsewhere, and hot panic sluiced through me.

The spirit realm had a way of erasing the passage of time, severing your ties to the world you once knew. And I, foolishly, had allowed myself to sink into a dreamless sleep.

But now, my memories swept over me like a frigid wind, and I began to run.

I ran like I’d never run before, and then I was no longer running, but flying, keeping pace with the birds, who were guiding me home.

I’d forgotten that not all spirits were hostile, that just like humans, no two were alike.

Yet the first spirits to cross the chasm had been driven by greed and conquest, leaving behind a damaging legacy that shaped how all were perceived.

Shadows loomed above and below. Day seeped into night, or night into day. How much time had I wasted down here? Was I too late? Was there still a way out?

“Lei!” I called, but there was no response.

The birds dove, and I followed them, trusting their instincts. They took me through a hilly desert, until I spotted a familiar hulking silhouette sleeping beneath the stars.

“Kuro?” I could not tell if it had been days or years since we’d seen each other last. And yet I knew him.

I knew his fondest memories, his dreaded nightmares, the last words he’d spoken to Jinya.

I knew the scars along his hands and the limp in his left foot and even the way his joints ached when it rained.

Slowly, he woke from a deep slumber. “ You… ” he said, his voice hoarse and rasping, as if he’d forgotten how to form syllables.

I offered him a hand, and he stumbled toward it, his body clumsy and imbalanced. “Come with me,” I ordered. “Now.”

And then we were running, the sand dunes blurring past us. A cliff rose up in our path, but we didn’t hesitate; we jumped. The light was closing fast, the shadows growing longer with every passing second.

We swam through the currents, fighting turbulent waves.

Disoriented, I sought the surface of the ocean, forgetting how to tell up from down.

There—I could see that solitary beam of light in the distance, blinking at us as if beckoning us closer.

I gave a shout of triumph—we weren’t too late! —and swam with fervor.

But Kuro was tiring, his focus waning. The currents played cruelly with us. With every stroke I made, the waves drove us back twice as far. The attack felt personal—this was how I had lost Zilong during the war.

“It’s too late for us,” said Kuro.

“No,” I gasped, fighting the currents. “We can’t—give up—”

“We had a good run,” said Kuro, disentangling his fingers from mine. “But I’m ready. I’m ready to move on.”

I reached for his hand, but the waves were too strong. Borne by the currents, he disappeared into the depths of the dark sea.

“Kuro!” I screamed, treading water. But the pale beam of light was fading, and I was out of time. I surged forward, lighter and more buoyant without him. Still the light narrowed, the chasm that had once been so vast now barely wide enough for me to slip into.

Through the opening I could see the clear expanse of sky, only one moon hanging from above. I could see people and horses and even my own body, which I’d abandoned, and next to it—Sky, my first love, who I never thought I’d see again.

As if sensing my desperation, he turned toward the fissure and peered through it.

“Sky!” I screamed. Somehow, he heard me.

He reached a hand through the crack, and I was reminded of another night long ago, a Ximing cliff, waves crashing far below me.

He had saved my life then, despite the impossibility of it, and perhaps because of that memory, that moment, I found myself imbued with false confidence.

I trusted Sky; I trusted him to save me.

His touch would return me to the human realm. It would be my bridge back to myself.

I reached for Sky’s hand, that solitary source of light against a world of darkness. But my fingers, like a ghost’s, slipped through his. He fumbled for me, his hand meeting nothingness.

My will, already threadbare, unraveled into dust. I surrendered to the currents. I let go.

“Meilin!” he screamed.

The last thing I saw was Sky, plunging into the darkness after me.