Page 7

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I turn.

We are at the clifftop. The expanse of rock is broken by lush, flat-topped pines. The mist has evaporated. The sun caresses my face and illuminates a radiantly beautiful sight.

Clouds roll beneath us in every direction, pouring over mountaintops. The morning light filters through, dusting treetops a dusky gold. In the distance, high in the skies and as faint as a mirage, I see it: nestled between the hazy shapes of mountains that seem to drift above the rolling clouds, flashes of gold from the eaves of curving rooftops, and white stone pillars blending into the mists.

The immortal realm.

And I stand at its threshold.

I realize I’m gripping Yù’chén’s forearm, my other hand curled around the jade pendant at my chest. “We made it,” I whisper. Possibilities bloom before me, as warm and tangible as the sunlight on my face. Mā, brown eyes sparkling and mouth curved in a smile as she bends over her sewing. Méi’zi by her side, silver needle flashing in perfect harmony with Mā’s.

Everything is right here, before my eyes.

“We just have to make it through the Sea of Clouds,” Yù’chén says. He points. “See those outcrops of rock? We need to cross those. You can jump, can’t you?”

I follow his finger. There, beginning at the edge of this mountaintop and dotting a path through the clouds, are what appear to be floating slabs of rock. No, not floating slabs of rock. Mountains, whittled to pillars by wind and water over time. I’ve studied them—the Immortals’ Steps, spoken of as half-mythical in our mortal realm. So few have survived the treacherous Way of Ghosts and Heavens’ Gates to see them, the stories have become mixed with legend.

The steps have another name: the Dragons’ Pass, for—as the stories say—far, far below us, hidden beneath the Sea of Clouds, is the actual ocean…and the beginning of the realm of dragons. I breathe in deeply and notice a briny scent on the breeze.

“The ocean!” I exclaim. I turn to Yù’chén. “It’s below us, isn’t it?”

His expression softens as he looks at me. “Yes. We are at the seam between the realms.”

I watch him unwind the sash around our waists until there’s only one loop tied around each of us.

“We’ll be anchored,” he explains. The sash trails between us, long enough to bridge the distance between the pillars of the Immortals’ Steps, so that we’re still tethered. “I’ll go first.”

I follow him forward. It’s a clear day, and I don’t spot any other candidates…yet. The clouds seem to race beneath us, and my toes tingle as I look down. I have no idea how far the fall is; I can’t even hear the sound of waves below, only the whistle of the wind stirring wisps of mist. But according to the tales, prowling those seas are vicious, flesh-eating sea monsters and ocean spirits who thirst for mortal blood.

Yù’chén studies the first of the Immortals’ Steps. “Don’t let me fall,” he says, and without another word, he leaps.

I dig my feet into the edge of the cliff, but my worry is unfounded. Yù’chén slices through the azure sky with the grace of a dancer, the sun catching the sharp edges of his features and tangling in his wild black hair. I find myself wanting to hold on to this image forever in my memory—a reminder that there is yet beauty in this world.

Yù’chén lands perfectly in the center of the first step. He twists toward me and gives a little bow.

I roll my eyes. It’s about a twenty-pace jump, which I know I can manage.

I lower my stance, coiling my body tightly.

That’s when I feel it: a coldness behind me, a caress of something I can only describe as darkness against my back. Bile rises in my throat as something tugs at my core…an old memory, as if my body and soul recognize this.

I know what I will see when I turn—the same thing that has always haunted me from the corners of my eyes, the edges of my imagination and sanity. A flash of red, the curve of a smile, the wink of a garnet. Gone in a blink.

Yet this time, the vision is different.

As I turn, I glimpse a swathe of darkness that swallows the blue sky and morning sun at the other end of the mountaintop. I have the impression of a crescent moon hanging in a black sky like a bone-pale scythe…and beneath, like the centerpiece, is the familiar flash of red.

The image is gone in the next blink, and I’m standing there with a pounding heart, staring at the shadows between the pines. Clouds race over the skies, shifting pockets of light; and though I know it wasn’t real, my body reacts anyway, my mind filling in the spaces with the red of her silks and the white of her smile and the raven black of her hair as though a part of me wants it to be real, wants to hold on to her.

My knees go weak. There is a roaring blankness in my head as time fractures, and I am back in my kitchen in that moment my father died and my mother’s soul was nearly devoured, frozen and helpless, my life rapidly spinning out of my control.

Somewhere in the white fear of my mind, I hear a voice. It pulls me back, back until the mountaintop and the pines and the sunlight materialize again.

“àn’yīng!”

It’s Yù’chén.

I know I need to go to him, but I can’t. I can’t tear myself away from my own mind, from the image of the woman with the red lips. Time has flowed backward; the àn’yīng with her crescent blades is gone, and I am once again ten years old and terrified.

“àn’yīng!” Yù’chén shouts. A gale has whipped up around us, carrying his voice to me. I hear something like fear in his tone…and then it shifts completely. The panic vanishes. It pitches low and sensual, echoing in a hauntingly musical way: “àn’yīng, I command you to come to me.”

The tender caress of his words renders my mind blank, relaxes my muscles. I cannot remember why I was so frightened. I cannot remember anything more important than following that command.

I turn to Yù’chén, the wind screaming in my face. My foot takes a step toward the edge of the cliff—but that is when something deep inside me stirs, whispering of danger. I pause and look up.

Yù’chén stands across from me, on the first of the Immortals’ Steps in the rolling Sea of Clouds. The sun gilds him, worships him in a halo of light, and I remember the first time I saw him, rendered like a painting in that crimson cloak of his. Now his dark eyes are wide, his lips are parted, and his hand is reaching for me—

The brightest and most beautiful flowers are the most poisonous.

As I stare at him, the strange haze over my mind begins to clear, overtaken by a realization that grows terrifyingly clear. I think back to every small memory, every unanswered question or unexplained occurrence. The way Qióng’qí backed away from me that first night, as though by someone’s command. How eerily quiet our journey has been in a forest supposedly teeming with monsters from the Kingdom of Night. And earlier, as we scaled Heavens’ Gates, how he spoke and commanded my body to pull itself up toward him.

I have felt the pull of this type of magic before, and I know the type of creature that can wield it.

Mó.

Impossible. I have seen Yù’chén bleed. I have heard the beat of his heart.

“àn’yīng,” he calls again, and his voice is a song, a spell that reaches for my soul. “Come to me.”

My muscles burn as I resist the pull of his magic, the power of his command wrapped around my heart and tugging me forward. I gasp as my leg shifts toward the edge of the cliff.

Gritting my teeth, I wrench my mind from the lure of his voice. My hands are at my waist, swiping out Fleet and Striker by instinct even as my mind swirls.

Demons have no hearts and cannot bleed.

But mortals cannot perform enchantments with dark magic.

Movement in the bushes to my left. I pivot, thoughts scattering, just as a blurred figure shoots out and lunges at me.

I raise my hands to parry my attacker’s blade. But it’s not aimed at me.

Snip.

As though time has slowed, I see my attacker’s sword cut through the sash that ties me to Yù’chén. I hear Yù’chén yell as though from a distance, and I understand now—too late—what he was trying to save me from.

“I told you I’d be waiting for you,” Yán’lù snarls and slams his heel into my chest. I stumble backward. One, two steps. On the third, my foot treads on empty air.

This time, I fall.