CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
M y mind recoils instinctively. The witch—Dian—turned those warriors into statues, she’s been hateful and harsh, she would have killed me if she could.
We look nothing alike: she’s taller, fairer, the brilliant hue of her eyes so different from my dark ones.
Yet there are traces in their upturned shape, the curve of her chin…
and something that goes deeper, without name or reason, an inexplicable, irrevocable sense of knowing.
“You said your family was dead.” My tone is almost accusing as I grasp at threads, still trying to understand.
“They said you’d died with Mother in the Palace of Nine Hills, except your body was never found. I didn’t believe it… because if you were dead, I’d know it here.” As she touches her chest, tears prick my eyes that I blink away.
“Are you sure, Dian?” Jin shakes his head, voicing my question aloud. “There was no sign of her anywhere. I’ve looked in the towns and villages—”
“I’ve never been more certain of anything. Moreover, my herbs would not have yielded their properties to her if they didn’t sense a connection.” She asks me, “Where have you been all this while? How did you get out of the palace?”
“I grew up in a village, a remote one. As for the palace, I don’t recall anything of it, or how I got out…” My voice trails off as I recall the unease I sometimes felt within its walls. Was it an echo of memory, of times I wanted to forget?
“You were probably too young to remember,” Dian says.
“How did you escape detection when you entered the palace for the ball, when you used their iron?” Jin asks.
A chill glazes my skin. If the guards had caught me, I wouldn’t be here—I’d be buried in the bowels of the Shadow Wing. Fortunately, the iron remained unchanged beneath my touch… though the realization jars. I both want and dread this, the desire for power warring with my fear of the unknown.
“Living in the Iron Mountains must have suppressed your magic, all trace of who you are,” Dian says.
“This must be why I couldn’t sense you,” Jin says. “Even when you were right before me.”
“I thought you were clever, Lord Jin-Yong,” Dian scoffs.
“You tried to kill her,” he retorts cuttingly.
As Dian’s face falls, I find myself saying, “It doesn’t matter. Of course, you didn’t know me; we’re strangers, grown up in different worlds.” I say this to comfort her, yet it stings because it’s true.
Jin gestures at Dian’s ring. “The deal we struck… was it for that ring?”
“I was warned that if I lost it, I’d die.” I glance at Dian, willing this to be false.
She nods slowly. “Once we’re bonded with our rings, we can’t be parted from them for long. You don’t die right away but you… wither.”
Jin mutters a curse. “I didn’t know.” As he touches my arm, I step away, remembering the harsh things we said, my anger diminished but not forgotten.
Dian’s tongue clicks impatiently. “You don’t know this, Lord Jin-Yong, because who among my people would remove our rings? The pain is unimaginable; they are part of us.”
“What symptoms do you have?” she asks me intently.
I’m not used to her speaking to me this way, without suspicion or threat.
“The mark hurts more, along with the pain in my head. I’ve been taking corydalis root to numb it, but it’s no longer working as well.
I tire more easily and feel dizzy at times.
” My insides constrict as I force out the question, “How long do I have?”
Dian lifts my hand again to examine the mark. “Two weeks, maybe a little less,” she says at last.
“Two weeks,” I repeat, dazed, weighted down by terror.
“If you’d bonded with your ring longer before it was taken, you’d be suffering worse—your deterioration far quicker, a matter of days.
We still have time,” she assures me, yet lines form between her brows.
“It was a good idea to use the corydalis. I have more potent medicine you can take to dull the symptoms.”
But none that can cure me.
“How was it that you bonded with your ring so late?” she asks.
“I always had the ring, but it was just a band of wood back then. Weeks ago, a carp brought the flower to me, transforming my ring. It told me this was a gift from my mother.”
“Our mother,” Dian says in a low voice, thick with grief.
Something in my chest splinters. But I keep silent, looking down. It’s all too new, too sudden. It doesn’t feel real.
“Where is your ring now?” she asks.
“Prince Zixin has it.”
Dian’s lip curls, baring her teeth. “Why does the Prince of the Iron Mountains have your ring?”
“He doesn’t know what it is, what it means—just that it’s precious to me, a leash to ensure my obedience.”
“The ring will disguise itself,” she says.
“Let’s hope Prince Zixin remains ignorant.” Jin closes the distance between us until he’s standing just a foot away. He doesn’t touch me, yet the warmth from his body grazes mine. “Why didn’t you tell me your life was in danger? That you needed the ring to live?”
“It would give you far too great a hold over me.” I raise my head to meet his gaze. “Just as you had your own secrets.”
“Keep your distance from my sister, Lord Jin-Yong,” Dian interjects, “or I’ll have another reason to hurt you.”
Sister. The word feels foreign and unfamiliar. I can’t banish the awkwardness between us, nothing like the effortless warmth I’d imagined with family. Our bond lacks remembrances, they were all stolen from us.
“Enough with the threats, Dian,” Jin says tersely. “And stop calling me ‘Lord Jin-Yong’ like it’s an insult.”
“I can think of many other names I’d like to call you,” Dian hurls back. But then she sighs. “We should return. Ruilin could be waking.”
We head back to the campsite, making our way through the shadowy paths in the forest. Some parts of the trail are scuffed, twigs and stones scattered—marks of my earlier flight. Jin stalks ahead of Dian and me, maybe wanting to give us this time alone, a chance to learn more about each other.
“Do you remember me? Anything of our home?” Dian asks as we walk.
“No… just the dreams I had of you,” I tell her haltingly. “Once as you are, though your face was obscured—and then, when you were a child with braids.”
She breathes out slowly, a hand going to her hair. “I haven’t worn braids in a long time.”
“I wish I remembered more,” I say with feeling. “It would make this more real.”
I’d always known I was adopted but never imagined this.
During the lowest times with my step-aunt, I’d dreamed of finding my family, conjuring up fantasies of being a princess in hiding, the daughter of a brilliant scholar or brave warrior.
Silly dreams, foolish ones, a brief respite from the reality of my existence.
“What about Mother?” Dian asks. “Do you recall anything about her?”
“I want to,” I admit, my voice raw.
“It doesn’t matter if you don’t.” She speaks like she’s trying to console me. “It doesn’t change who you are—one of us.”
Something wrenches in my chest. I’m one of them, of Mist Island—those I was taught to fear. My emotions are tangled up: dread knotted with longing, with tenderness for a sister I’ve never known, grief for all we lost. And running through it all, a bright thread of hope.
We walk in silence for a while, Dian making her way effortlessly through the dark, while I’m struggling not to trip. There are so many things I want to ask… I don’t know where to start. “Tell me about our people?” I say at last.
“We are descended from flower spirits who took mortal form after cultivating their powers for centuries.” She pauses like she’s searching for the words.
“The water surrounding our island is clear, our sand as fine as snow. The Radiant Sky Trees flourish throughout our land, their six-petaled flowers blooming in all colors. The flowers in our rings are their gift—through them, we can channel our powers. The stalk you mentioned is a sliver of the Radiant Sky Trees’ roots, which enable us to find our way home. ”
“It sounds beautiful.” A flicker of excitement sparks. While I grew up in the Iron Mountains, I never felt I belonged. Maybe I could belong in the Land Beyond—though the idea is jagged and unfamiliar.
“It is.” She speaks with pride. “Twin dragons perch upon the trees—”
“Dragons?” The word slips out, infused with wonder as I imagine them soaring through the night.
“They aren’t like the dragons you might have read about, who hoard pearls and cause floods.
The twin dragons of Mist Island live in the sea and eat the fruit of our trees.
Their size shifts depending on their strength and mood—some days they loom over the land, other times they fit in one’s palm.
The Moon Dragon shines like pearls and silver, and the Sun Dragon glows like golden fire.
Together, they form the heart of magic in our realm. ”
“I want to see our home, to meet our family… to see the dragons.” I want this so much that for a moment I can’t breathe.
Dian’s face clouds as she glances at Jin, keeping ahead of us with his long strides.
“It’s not like that anymore. Over fifteen years ago, the Iron Mountains soldiers entered our realm.
They laid a trap and stole the Sun Dragon, also taking Mother and you.
Now the Moon Dragon has gone into seclusion.
Our trees and flowers are withering, along with our power.
We’ve been searching for the Sun Dragon for years but found no trace. ”
My gut knots as I call out to Jin. “The Sun Dragon—is this the creature you asked me to find?”
“Yes.” When he turns, the wind catches his hair, pushing it across his brow. “Why?”
“I think I know where the Sun Dragon is.” It’s hard to admit what I kept from him.
I was so close to the dragon… if only I could have helped it.
“It’s trapped in Prince Zixin’s royal seal.
There is a forge in the Shadow Wing where I think they’re drawing the dragon’s power to strengthen their weapons. ”
His mouth thins, his eyebrows snapping together. “Where is this place?”
“Beneath the palace. I could only enter because Princess Chunlei brought me there.” Quickly, I tell them the rest of what I’d seen, their expressions morphing from horror to fury.
“That is how they’ve enchanted their iron and grown so powerful, so quickly.” Jin’s hands clench as he adds, “King Baoyu had the dragon for years and nothing came of it. This must be Prince Zixin’s scheme.”
“A wicked one,” Dian seethes.
In the silence, a searing ache burrows in my chest. “I hate them,” I say bitterly. “I hate them all for what they did to us—for taking Mother, for breaking our family apart.”
“I hate them too,” Dian says, her voice taut. “But at least we have each other now.”
As the pain in my head throbs harder, I inhale sharply. “Will you give the starfire to me? I must trade it for my ring.”
“I’m sorry, I can’t,” she says, looking away.
“Why is starfire so important?” What I really want to ask is, Why is it worth more than my life?
“This matter is greater than us. Starfire isn’t just some jewel. They are—”
“The shards of a god’s heart?” I laugh as I repeat the myth, but at the tense expressions on their faces, I stop.
“The Elders spoke of a great war among the gods, long ago,” Dian tells me.
“The heavens rained blood, the sun hid in the shadows, the moon curled into a sliver of a crescent. One of the defeated gods fell to our land—his heart broke to pieces, scattered across the Iron Mountains. It is said the one who can put the heart back together can claim this god’s might. Power that should belong to no mortal.”
“We can’t let Prince Zixin secure all the pieces,” Jin says. “As king, he can pressure the other kingdoms to yield their starfire. Such immense power in the wrong hands will threaten the entire world, not just the Three Kingdoms but the Land Beyond.”
A queasiness churns inside me. “How many pieces are there?”
“Six that we know of. Three with the royal family of the Iron Mountains, one with Lady Ruilin, another with the ruler of the Pearl Ocean.”
“What of the last?” I ask.
“Lost,” Jin says grimly. “No one knows where it is.”
“Then… are we safe?”
“No. If they find a way to merge the other pieces of starfire, the united jewel would yield some of its power.”
“How can I get my ring back without it?” I ask haltingly. It feels selfish to worry about myself in the light of such great matters, yet I can’t help it either.
Dian touches my arm. “I will help you.”
“As will I,” Jin assures me. “Whether we have a deal or not.”
Warmth pools in my chest. Is this what it’s like to have a sister? Those you can count on? I’m almost afraid of these roots that are tethering me someplace new—to the hearts that beat with mine. Yet this feels right… a lot like home.