The Last Dragon of the East

Chapter 33

33

W e remain on foot, knowing that the huntress will be watching the skies. Jyn’s keen sense of smell leads us on a path straight to the village. I keep an eye out for any movement in the underbrush, wary of what new creatures might be lurking there. At least I now know I possess the strength to rip them apart, though my lack of control is a cause for concern.

I’m unable to stop myself from reliving the moment I nearly lost my mind to that overwhelming power. If Jyn hadn’t been there to calm me down, who knows the damage I might have wrought?

“Do you think I can do it?” I ask as we walk.

“Do what?”

“Fully transform.”

Jyn glances at me as I offer my hand, helping her jump over a narrow stream. “You’re well on your way there.”

“Is it always such a process? You make it look easy to shift between forms.”

“I’ve been doing it all my life, Sai, and you’re relearning. With enough practice, it will come back to you.”

I chew on the inside of my cheek. “What does it feel like? When you shift, I mean. The anger that leads to my transformation… it nearly tears me apart.”

Jyn takes my hand, lacing her fingers between mine as we continue forward. “I don’t feel anger, but sadness.”

I pause midstride to look at her. “I don’t like that at all. I’m sorry, my lady.”

“It’s just the way it is, I’m afraid. Evoking strong emotions makes it easier for us to wield our magic.”

“But why?”

“I’ve never been sure. Perhaps because it comes from so deep within, emotion makes our ability to shift easier. It’s easiest for us to channel our magic when we focus on one feeling.”

“What of the prince?” I ask after a moment of contemplation. “The blue dragon. What did he rely on to shift?”

Jyn’s eyes grow misty, though she forces a small smile. “Happiness,” she whispers. “The emotion that helped him use his magic was pure joy.”

My heart twists painfully in my chest.

“What was he like?” I ask gently.

“A rascal,” she says, but with every ounce of love behind the word. “A-Qian was such a troublemaker. Just like you.”

“A-Qian,” I echo. His name fits in my mouth just as easily as Jyn’s. It’s familiar and sweet and fills my heart with a longing I didn’t know I was capable of feeling. In this life, I can’t boast of having any children, and yet there’s no denying the paternal pride that comes forth when I think of the young blue dragon of old.

“He loved to swim,” I remember aloud, pulling at the thread of a memory I didn’t know I had. “And he was always asking to hear my stories.”

Jyn beams. “Every day. And your jests, and your songs—though you never could carry a tune.”

I chuckle. “You will be pleased to know that in this life, I have golden pipes. My doctor once told me so.”

She laughs softly. “Maybe when we’re someplace safe, you can serenade me.”

“It would be my greatest pleasure.”

Together we climb up a steep hill, the ground slippery with fallen leaves and overnight rain. The scents of cooked meat and roasted spices linger in the air. We’re getting closer to the village.

“Has he ever come back?” I ask after a moment, the question popping into my head. “Our son. Has he reincarnated? It would be so lovely to find him again. Do you think—”

I stop short when I realize Jyn has halted in her tracks. She has grown deathly quiet, her face completely blank.

“My love?” I call out to her. “What’s the matter?”

“He can’t come back,” she says, barely loud enough for me to hear her. “He can never come back.”

I frown. “Why not?”

Jyn trudges forward, picking up speed in an attempt to outpace me and my questions. I rush after her, alarmed. I take her hand and pull her back toward me, wrapping my other arm around her waist.

“But the tapestry we found… The one about the Albeion monks’ teaching of reincarnation. At the Steps of Heaven, your soul is given a choice to be reborn.”

She grinds her teeth, her hands curled into fists against my chest. “Yes, that’s how it’s supposed to be.”

“Did he choose to ascend?”

Jyn shakes her head, her shoulders trembling slightly. “He never got that far.”

“Please, enough of these riddles. What happened to our son?”

Her lips become a thin line, her brow furrowing in distress. “In order to begin a new cycle, you must first possess a soul.”

“And?” I urge, desperate for a proper answer.

“His was shattered and consumed,” she says shakily. “Unable to move on.”

A cold dread creeps down my spine.

“I don’t understand. How is that possible? What happened?”

“A stranger arrived from the lands beyond the horizon.”