Chapter 31 Àn’yīng
àn’yīng
Imperial Palace, Kingdom of Rivers
Cold. Black. Sinking into my bones with a frightening familiarity as my spirit energies resume healing me and my senses slowly return.
I’m lying in the middle of the long hallway leading to the dais, where the throne of the Kingdom of Rivers rests, unoccupied for over a decade.
On either side of me are the tatters of silk banners that once hung with the insignia of our kingdom: a golden circle with a river of lapis lazuli. The air is as still as death.
All but for the shifting, swirling gateway open behind the throne.
The gateway that I need to destroy—by ending Yù’chén’s life.
I clench my teeth, and with enormous effort, I heave myself onto my feet, dragging my lotus sword with me.
Yù’chén stands against the great mahogany doors of the palace, watching me in silence. Neither of us moves—him, sharp and clear as steel; me, wounded and swaying, the soft blush of my energies pooling at my feet as my body desperately tries to heal itself.
Panting, I point my sword at him.
He blinks once, glancing at the blade, then looks back at my face. “You’ve figured it out, then,” he says.
I’m too tired to speak, but I need to stall, at least until my wounds are healed. Warmth seeps back into my limbs, the pain dulling as my bones and tendons mend themselves back together. “Figured what out?”
“The secret to the gateway. Why it remains open, decades later. How Sansiran managed to create one in the first place.”
“It’s you,” I whisper. “You are the key to keeping that gateway open.”
Somehow, he looks pleased. “Well done. You’re right.
It’s me, àn’yīng—it’s been me from the very start.
My blood, my life, is what ties my realm to yours; how the gateway remains open, expanding into the Kingdom of Rivers.
Without me, the Kingdom of Night cannot maintain this gateway.
” A humorless smile curves his lips. “You figured that out the night Sansiran spilled my blood, didn’t you? ”
I grip Fleet and my lotus sword tighter. “I did.”
His laugh is humorless. “Is that why you’re here, àn’yīng? So you can kill me and close the Kingdom of Night’s way into the mortal realm once and for all? So Hào’yáng can finally be crowned emperor of the Kingdom of Rivers and everyone can have their happy ending?”
I search his features for the man I have come to know—the man I loved in spite of realms colliding and the fates dissenting. I know he must be in there, somewhere. I know it was real.
“I never wanted this,” I say softly.
Yù’chén is quiet for several heartbeats. I can’t read the thoughts behind those fathomless black eyes, as dark as the ocean at midnight.
He gives a tiny shake of his head. “It’s never about what we want, àn’yīng,” he replies.
“In the end, in spite of all the palm readings and prayers to the stars, this is what our fates have led us to, isn’t it?
” That same, humorless smile lingers around his mouth—but when he glances away briefly, there is something like shattered glass to his gaze.
“My blood was made to destroy your world; my very existence has been to help my realm take yours. No matter how you look at it, I was made to be your monster in this lifetime.” Yù’chén lifts his sword.
“So let me be your monster until the very end, àn’yīng. ”
Without warning, he charges at me.
I raise my own blade, my body protesting in pain as I retaliate.
But Yù’chén is too strong, too fast, too powerful.
His first blow knocks me back several steps; I’ve barely reoriented myself before he’s on me again, sword flashing, the air parting before him as he cuts through with the grace of a blade’s edge.
Again and again, I trade blows with him, each of my parries growing weaker and slower, even with Fleet’s talisman pouring energies into me, even with my spirit energies sparking at my fingertips like guttering candle flames.
I realize, now, that Yù’chén has never used this side of him against me. I’ve seen him tear down enemies without batting an eye; I’ve witnessed the terrifying demonic powers he holds. But in all those times, he has used them to protect me.
He has never unleashed them upon me.
My lotus sword flies from my grasp, clanging onto the ground somewhere beyond my reach in the darkness. All I’m left with is Fleet. I’m gasping in breaths, a sharp ache has bloomed near my ribs, yet miraculously, I’ve sustained no flesh wounds.
Yù’chén lands, again blocking the doors. Sometime in the course of our fight, they have cracked open. A sliver of the outside yields glimpses of the battle: flashes of icy white and turquoise—She of the Moon-Frosted Sea facing down the two Perils, and Hào’yáng still holding ground against Sansiran.
Yet more movement catches my attention. Through the darkened streets and alleys of the Imperial City come moving pinpricks of…light. Flame. Torches.
A shout goes up as mortal warriors spill out from the streets and abandoned houses, gathering at the palace steps.
And then they’re charging up, and I think I see Fú’yí at the front, longsword flashing as she runs.
Soaring overhead on wisps of clouds are Zhōng’lì and Tiě’guǎi…
and, farther behind them in the skies…specks of white and gold, winking like stars.
Growing closer.
I hardly believe my eyes as uniformed immortal warriors materialize, descending upon iridescent clouds, weapons out and energies blazing.
The immortal armies are here.
We won, I think in disbelief. We beat the mó in the Temple of Dawn.
Yet they’re not the only ones who have arrived.
All across the palace grounds, from the white marble walkway to the steps, the air is shifting. A darkness blots out the fading sun like a storm cloud.
Mó—an entire army of them, some riding hellbeasts, others on foot. They descend like flocks of birds from the skies, gathering behind where Sansiran battles.
With a flick of his wrist, Yù’chén slams the palace doors closed again with his dark magic and turns to me. His face is in shadow; I cannot make out his expression, but I speak first this time.
“The immortal army is here,” I tell him. “Even if you kill me, they won’t spare you.”
“Kill you?” He raises an eyebrow. “Again, assuming the worst of me, little scorpion.”
I blink at the familiar nickname.
Yù’chén lowers his sword. Beyond the gateway, in the Kingdom of Night, comes movement. Silhouettes emerge: more mó warriors, dressed for battle, gathering in the Palace of the Aurora to cross over into this realm.
“The entire mó army in the Kingdom of Night is coming through this gateway for this war.” Yù’chén’s words confirm my worst nightmare. “It won’t be an even fight, àn’yīng.”
I’m kneeling on the ground, too drained to stand. Sparks of my spirit energies flutter weakly at my wrist and on my skin, like embers of a dying flame. My lotus sword lies somewhere out of reach.
“àn’yīng.”
I glance up sharply. Yù’chén’s tone has changed. It’s softer, gentle, the way he would call my name when we were still candidates in the Immortality Trials; when we were in the Kingdom of Night together.
When things between us were real.
“àn’yīng,” Yù’chén repeats, raising his sword again. “I promise, you’ll be safe.”
Safe, like a bird in a cage. Safe, like those claimed mortals relying on the whims of their mó masters. Safe, while his realm ravages mine.
I’d rather die than let that happen. And if this is how it comes to an end, then I’m going to take him with me.
Yù’chén leaps through the air toward me. Too high, too fast, and his cloak whips back behind him, revealing the glint of something familiar.
Something that falls, arcing like a crescent moon.
Right toward me.
Heart.
The blade I left with him back in the Kingdom of Sky. The one with the strangest talisman: a talisman that listens only to the intent of one’s heart.
I’m on my feet. My hand darts out; my fingers close around my blade’s familiar hilt, the touch of my energies activating the talisman engraved there by my father.
I pray for the talisman to work this time.
For my heart to guide me true.
Yù’chén lands before me. One step, two, and he’s within arm’s reach, his sword flashing as he thrusts it toward me.
I surge forward to meet him, arm outstretched, Heart gleaming in my hand.
I plunge the crescent blade toward his chest, where his demon’s core and his mortal heart sit. A move that will end with me on his sword, and him on my blade.
We collide.
Resistance. The sound of metal slicing through flesh. Liquid heat, spilling down my sword hand.
We are caught in an embrace: Yù’chén’s arm encircles my back, holding me to him, my hands fisted against his chest. The hilt of my dagger in my palm.
The blade buried in his heart.
The seconds pass by; the pain I’m waiting for doesn’t come.
Then, dimly, I hear the sound of a sword clattering to the ground.
Yù’chén slumps against me. His breaths heave against the crook of my neck as he lifts his sword hand and places it on the back of my head. He turns his cheek to me as he strokes my hair, once, infinitely gentle.
A stillness falls. The air that was, moments ago, charged with energies and motion has fallen still and silent.
I can’t move, can’t think, can’t process anything but for the ridges of Heart’s hilt in my palms, pressed against the warmth of his chest; the gleam of his own blade, discarded at his feet.
Yù’chén’s body seizes against me; his fingers dig into my back as a tremor passes through him.
I gasp and wrench myself from his grasp.
He stands there, swaying, the hilt of Heart protruding from his chest. His head is bent; his hands are open.
One is outstretched, as though reaching for someone or something.
Suddenly, I’m reminded of that day back in the Immortality Trials when he was punished by the immortals for stealing a sewing kit—a sewing kit that he gifted me—and no one came to his aid.