26

26

Shining globes of light floated in the air like a hundred tiny moons had descended, casting their luminous glow all around. Mulberry trees rose from the grass, as golden as the summer harvest in the Mortal Realm. Their lush fruit clustered upon the branches like strands of garnets twined between the leaves. A rich sweetness pervaded the air, that of ripened berries, their juices spilling from fragile skins. The trees were beautiful, yet there was something eerie about their gnarled forms, a wretchedness in the twist of the branches, the sharpness of the roots jutting from the ground. Towering above them was a building of fiery carnelian, flanked by agate pillars and a tiered roof of gilded tiles. Panels of silk fluttered from the walls, delicate and light as they danced in the breeze.

There were no guards, no one to announce my presence as I approached the entrance. I was glad for it; fewer to combat should the need arise, should I need to flee. Something clinked above, a wind chime hanging from the ceiling. As a breeze drifted past, copper tubes and jade discs collided in a soothing melody. My heart thudded to a frantic rhythm as I lifted my hand to knock, my knuckles grazing the door. An ancient power pulsed from within, the same one woven through the walls encircling the grove. Light flared from the foot of the entrance, crawling over me as the door swung open to reveal Lady Xihe, the Goddess of the Sun.

Though we were of a similar height, Lady Xihe seemed to loom above me, even without her headdress of shining stones. Her black hair was coiled upon her head, held in place by a circle of ruby pins, the tips as sharp as daggers. Her black eyes were ringed with gold like a hawk's and her cheeks were flushed with the radiance of dawn. Delicate lines traced her skin in intricate imprints of feathers as the rounded curves of her face flared from her pointed chin. Talons arched from her fingertips, a glossy red like they were dipped in blood. The light from the chamber beyond cast shadows across her, lending her a forbidding air. Or was it the way her lips pulled into a thin slash, the power that emanated from her like heat from a flame? She looked as different from my mother as ink from water, the sun from the moon—and utterly striking in her own way.

"Who are you?" She neither inclined her head nor invited me in—prudent, as that might be an unnecessary complication. After all, it would violate the rules of hospitality to kill a guest.

The lies I had practiced stuck in my throat. In the silence, the goddess's eyes narrowed to slits. "Tell me who you are," she repeated, this time in a tone of command.

Caution warred with my heart, honor battling self-preservation. Prince Yanming's face flashed through my mind, my chest squeezing with agony. Such lies might have fallen glibly from my tongue before, but they stuck in my throat now, and I knew they would ring false. Something in me was forever changed since death had shadowed my life. I hurt for all the goddess had lost, for what she suffered. Had I become weaker? Perhaps, but I preferred to believe this was a different type of strength. Oh, I did not intend to sacrifice myself to her vengeance, yet this was a chance to do what the dragons had wished of me, to say what should have been said a long time ago—to try to ease the goddess's anguish.

Cupping my hands together, I stretched them out and bowed low. I was not begging for mercy, nor was I deluded enough to think this adequate recompense. "Lady Xihe, I am Xingyin, the daughter of Chang'e and Houyi."

"I know." Her words rang with indisputable certainty, seething with fury. "Whoever gave you the key did you no favor. It reveals your identity, for I tolerate no pretenders in my grove."

Inwardly, I cursed the Celestial Empress, and myself for not suspecting the trap. She had yielded it too eagerly—purposefully, I had no doubt. She would be glad for my death, or was I intended as her peace offering to the Sun Goddess?

The light in the globes wavered, the air rolling into wild gusts that tore through the mulberry trees. Above, the wind chime clanked in jarring bursts, swinging so forcefully I thought it might snap. Dread sank through my flesh—the same gray chill as when I had entered Xiangliu's cave, when Governor Renyu's venom had frozen my limbs, when I awoke in the Demon Realm and discovered my love had become my worst enemy

I shielded myself instinctively—just as Lady Xihe flicked her palm forward, waves of crimson flame surging toward me. They engulfed me whole, searing even through the barrier, the scalding heat more potent than the Celestial Empress's attack.

The gold in the goddess's pupils had spread across her entire eyes, light radiating from her skin. "How dare you come here? Did you wish to gloat over my misery, to tempt my wrath?" Each word pounded like the beat of a drum.

"No, Lady Xihe. On behalf of my family, I ask your forgiveness—"

"Forgiveness?" She spat the word like a foul thing. "Never."

"I do not presume to understand your loss, but I grieve for it nonetheless." I spoke through gritted teeth, struggling beneath the force of her might. I did not attempt to extinguish her fire, I did not want to challenge her—I was her enemy, but she was not mine.

She stilled. "Why aren't you fighting? Do you think to trick me into mercy? You will find none."

"I ask your forgiveness," I repeated hoarsely, channeling more of my energy into my shield as her flames raged across it, unabated. "And I am here to beseech your aid."

A laugh rang out, arched in bitterness. "How convenient that your conscience affects you now. That you only came here when you needed something."

I stiffened at her derision, though it was well-deserved. "Only recently did I learn more about the circumstances behind this tragedy. While the threat to our realm drove me here, I mean what I say, nor did I attempt to lie to you when I could have."

"If you had, you would already be dead," she snarled. "How can you imagine I would ever aid the kin of the Sun Slayer, the one who murdered my children?"

Even as shame flushed me, I made myself say, "This is not for me alone. The Immortal Realm is in grave peril, for the Celestial throne has been usurped. A terrible evil threatens the realms above and below, and the only way we can vanquish it is with the Sacred Flame Feather."

"I do not care." Despite the heat of her fire, her voice was like ice. "The Celestial Kingdom failed me, their empress most of all. Regardless of who sits on the Celestial throne, the sun will rise and set as it did when I had ten children, as it does when one remains."

Her aura undulated like storm-ridden waves, her hunger for violence stamped on her face, glowing as bright as a sword from the forge. "You are an arrogant fool to come here. Today, I will avenge my dead children. Today, your father and mother shall weep over your body. Today, they will taste unimaginable loss and live the greatest nightmare of any parent."

Terror spiked through me, yet I forced myself to meet her gaze. "No, Lady Xihe. You have not earned my death. It would be dishonorable to strike me when I came to you in good faith."

"A simple formality, one easily rectified. Run. I will hunt you down, and then my vengeance will be complete." A carved silver handle appeared in her hand, from which coils of flame sprang forth—the same weapon that had wrenched such agonized cries from the phoenix.

My throat constricted, my mouth going dry. "The Mortal Realm was in danger. My father—"

"Murdered my children!" she cried wrathfully. "Reasons have no place or meaning here." Light rippled in her eyes like molten metal. "I have just one daughter left. Now I will take one life—yours—for the nine who were slain. A pitiful exchange, yet it will suffice." As she raised her hand, the ropes of flame writhed like snakes.

Sweat broke out over my skin, cold and damp. Her power was immense; I could not fight her alone. I might make it beyond the grove to where Wenzhi waited, we could challenge her together... although that would not earn us the feather. I fought to preserve a veil of calm, for revealing my fear might feed her rage, inflame her bloodlust—and set us on a path from which there would be no return.

"Will it ease your pain to kill me? Will it bring your children back?" I spoke quickly to hide the quiver in my voice. "I did you no wrong. If you hurt me, I will fight back, and I am no weakling. Even should you take my life, it will not end there. My family and friends will seek vengeance. You have one daughter left, would you risk her too? What if she was to grow up motherless, after losing her siblings?"

Her gaze shifted to the stairway behind her, perhaps where her child slept. A low blow, to strike at a mother's terror. How I despised these vile threats, but I hoped they would give her pause, stem her vengeance, steer her from the exquisite temptation of killing me. Far too much blood had already been shed.

"I did not come to anger or hurt you," I said quietly. "A common enemy threatens us all, and the feather is our only hope. Will you give it to us?"

"I will never give anything to you. I do not care what happens to the world." Yet her tone hitched with a note of uncertainty.

"If the immortal and mortal realms are destroyed, who will care if the sun rises or falls? You do care for the mortals' worship, that you are needed, that they love you and your child. You cherish it, the only time of day when you can lose yourself in your task rather than dwell on your sorrow."

It was a guess, and yet it was not. For as long as I could remember, I had seen my mother toil over the lighting of the lanterns each night, a reprieve from the torment of her mind. And when she had stood on the balcony, gazing at the world below, hearing the songs sung and seeing the offerings laid out in her honor... she had found solace in the mortals' adoration. It brought new meaning to her life, all the more precious after what she had lost—to know she was wanted, needed, and loved.

When Lady Xihe did not speak, I continued, "Killing me will only yield a fleeting satisfaction, for vengeance is no cure. My father did what he had to. Your children were destroying the world; you would have stopped them yourself if you could have, because you care for the mortals—because they give these infinite years meaning."

The gold receded from her eyes, though her aura still churned ominously. As she drew her arm back and lashed the air with her whip, sparks showered down like rain. I braced myself—but then a shriek broke the stillness, a blazing creature rising in the horizon and soaring toward us, magnificent and utterly terrifying. The phoenix that had borne the sun chariot glided down to land beside the goddess. Its crest was the golden brown of a pheasant, while its body was shaped like the snug barrel of a mandarin duck attached to long, graceful legs. Beyond its ink-tipped wings, its plumage was a breathtaking riot of color, a peacock-like tail sweeping across the grass in feathers of crimson and yellow, blue and green—each one blazing like it was afire. Dark, liquid eyes swept over us, its pupils flecked with light, its curved claws spanning the breadth of my palm. As its beak parted, the tips glinted sharper than spears.

The phoenix bent its neck in subservience to the goddess, even as an untamed wildness flared in its eyes. A strong yet frenetic energy pulsed from it like a hundred dragonflies beating their wings. It spread its tail wide, its feathers fluttering like a rainbow, though their swish was that of arrows whistling through the air.

The goddess pointed at me with her whip. "If you are sincere in your desire to seek forgiveness, you must face my champion—the fire phoenix. While its heat is not as potent as my beloved sunbird's, it is a far more skilled fighter. Defeat it, and you will earn your life, along with the feather you seek." She raised her head high as though daring me to object. "Blood must be repaid in blood. Perhaps then, my children's restless spirits will be appeased, their eternal cries silenced."

I nodded, my fear braided with relief. Lady Xihe would never have been satisfied by words; I would not have accepted them as recompense for Ping'er and Prince Yanming. Pain and suffering, these were the currency in which such debts were repaid. But I hoped this might be the end of it . . . or at least, a new beginning.

Her eyes pinched in speculation as she stared at my bow. "A few rules. You cannot draw a weapon or use your magic."

I shook my head. "A weapon must be allowed."

"Do you think I don't know what you carry?" As she spoke, an unseen force ripped my bow from my back, hurling it across the ground. Another, crafted of bamboo, appeared before me, alongside a quiver of wooden arrows.

Little wonder that she had been so close to the Celestial Empress. Their natures were hard and unyielding, and they both drove an unfair bargain.

"Is this the justice of the great Sun Goddess?" I challenged. "A mortal weapon is of no use against the phoenix."

Lady Xihe stiffened as she raised her hand. Light streaked across the bow and arrows, their tips gleaming brighter. I would have preferred the Jade Dragon Bow, but this was the atonement the goddess demanded—and a part of me whispered that she could have asked for more.

"I must be allowed to shield myself." I did not ask, speaking it as a fact.

"Very well," she agreed icily, already raising her whip once more.

I bent to snatch up the bow. It was light in my hands, an inadequate weapon. "What happens if I lose?"

"You die." A mirthless smile spread across her lips. "There is a reason I am not fighting you, why I needed your consent. No court in the Immortal Realm will find fault with me, and your kin will have no cause to seek vengeance upon your death."

The assured way she spoke stung. "If I win, this ends here. You will not seek further vengeance against my family."

A mirthless smile curled on her lips. "If you win."

I grasped my magic, weaving it over Wenzhi's shield, glad for his foresight and that he could not interfere. He would not have stood idly by in this battle, a thought that both eased and tightened the tension coiled within me.

The goddess's whip lashed the air, flames crackling forth. The phoenix reared up obediently, stretching its wings wide as it dove toward me. Scarlet tongues of fire erupted from its beak, searing through my shield. I darted back, evading the phoenix's attack, as my fingers instinctively plucked the bowstring—unfamiliar and stiff. An arrow hurtled toward the phoenix, which shrieked as it flew aside. Swiftly, I released another, hurtling into its side, but the creature tore the shaft away as though it were a splinter. The phoenix plunged forward once more, pecking wildly at my barrier. Its power crashed against mine, pummeling my shield, its claws puncturing through to rake my arm. As a deep gash split my flesh, a gasp burst from my throat. I shoved the creature aside, the needle-like barbs on its feathers slicing my palm.

The phoenix flew at me again, the tip of its beak sinking into my shoulder, burying silk into flesh. Such fiery agony engulfed me as I stumbled back, shooting an arrow into its wing. The creature barely flinched as it soared toward me again, its claws curved like sickles. A slender tongue slithered from its beak, stained with the same dark shade as the mulberries, the sweetness of its breath smoked with char. As it ruffled its feathers, flames streaked toward me, my body still stinging from the violence of its attack—

I ran, my feet pounding over the grass. My weapon was of no use, I needed time to form a plan. Gnarled branches loomed before me as I ducked, weaving my way between the trees. As my shoe caught over a raised root, I stumbled, catching my balance. The heat from the phoenix suffused the air as the creature soared above. Was it toying with me? I was an easy target, barreling through the forest, my steps thudding against the ground. Diving deeper into a thicket of trees, I stretched my arms wide to slap the branches, intentionally rustling their leaves. As the phoenix swung around, drawing nearer—I crawled away stealthily in the other direction. Out of the creature's sight, I scrambled up a mulberry tree, scraping my palms against the rough bark. My heart raced as I crouched within the shelter of the twisted branches.

Above, the phoenix shrieked as it circled the grove, searching for me. My sleeve was torn where the phoenix had clawed it. The cords around my wrist had come undone, hanging loose. I ripped them free, tucking them into my sash. Climbing upon a thick branch, I flattened myself against the trunk to keep out of sight. Another cry rent the air, the phoenix, impatient for blood. How I wished I could summon a gale to sweep the creature away, but I was bound by Lady Xihe's terms—onerous though they were.

I breathed deeply, catching the sweetness threaded through the air. Something surfaced in my mind—that of the phoenix's breath, the stains on its tongue... the mulberries, did it like their taste? Slinging my bow upon my back, I bent down to grasp handfuls from the tree, ripe and sticky, as I piled them onto the branch in stacks of ruby, rich currant, and black. As I crushed a handful along the branch, rubbing their syrupy juice into the wood, the fragrance thickened, cloyingly sweet and heady. The phoenix's cry grew louder, wind coursing through the air as its wings flapped closer. Did it smell the mulberries? I moved back into the thicket of branches, an arrow nocked to my bowstring—my body stiff with terror, my fingers like ice.

The phoenix approached my tree, its eyes fixed upon the berries, it's beak parted eagerly. My arrows had little chance of penetrating its body, but what of its tender mouth? The softness of its throat, the gateway to its skull? Bile crowded the back of my throat, but I swallowed hard. Oh, I did not want to do this, but I did not want to die.

I sprang forward, my arrow aimed at the dark hollow where the creature's beak parted, at the scarlet throat beyond. A perfect shot. My fingers clenched harder, emotions roiling within—fear mingled with revulsion and anger, that we had been forced into this confrontation that neither of us wanted. The phoenix had done no wrong. It was a victim of Lady Xihe's misery, merely obeying her command. And fool that I might be, I lowered the bow. An enraged screech erupted from the phoenix, its eyes glinting with murderous intent as it lunged at me.

I dropped down to evade its attack, clasping the branch tightly as I sprang off to dangle below. The phoenix burst through where I had stood a moment before, then circled around to soar toward me once more. My nails dug into the rough bark as I swung myself along the branch, bracing for the phoenix's inevitable return. I was shaking, my arms burning from the strain of my weight. As the phoenix shot forward, now just beneath my feet, I let go—

Falling through the emptiness, the air rushed against my body as I slammed against the phoenix's back. Pain tore through me, of scorching heat—the creature's feathers piercing my flesh like a nest of pins. Grasping my magic, I wove a stronger shield, forcing my mind to clear as the phoenix bucked wildly beneath. I clung harder, its barbs scraping my skin, searing even through my barrier. Swiftly, I snatched the cords from my sash, looping them around the phoenix's neck, knotting them to form a crude harness. I yanked it, just as I had seen Lady Xihe do when we followed her, the creature shrieking as it dove through the air at a blinding pace. The wind surged against my face—trees and clouds blurring as they melded together, the phoenix spiraling in tighter circles, frantic with rage. I clung fast, clenching my thighs around its body, gripping the reins as I uttered soothing words and entreaties until at last its pace gentled, the heat subsiding from its body.

Only then did I loosen my hold. The phoenix circled once around the grove before obediently flying back to where Lady Xihe waited, the wind chime stirred into a haunting melody.

"It lives. You did not win," she snarled.

As though sensing her displeasure, the phoenix's head drooped, its wings trailing on the ground.

"You did not say I had to kill it," I countered, sliding down from its back. "It would be a needless waste of life when it was merely obeying your command."

The goddess's knuckles whitened around the hilt of her whip, the flames surging brighter as though channeling her wrath. "How dare you pretend to care for another's life? You, the daughter of that butcher Houyi."

"Do not insult my father." My voice came low and furious. "I kept my word; I defeated your champion. It is you, trying to break yours." In truth the terms had not been fully laid out, each of us interpreting them to suit our ends.

As Lady Xihe raised her arm, her whip blazing—I summoned the Jade Dragon Bow, flying up from the ground into my grasp. Yet I did not draw it. I did not want to hurt her, I never had.

But I would defend myself.

Her whip descended upon my head, crackling ropes of flame unfurling. My energy surged forth, crafting a barrier of wind that slammed between us. Fire thrashed against the translucent surface, the goddess baring her teeth as she channeled more of her power, the heat intensifying. Cracks rippled through my shield like cobwebs, flickers of flame bursting through, the pain almost blinding. I staggered back, digging my heels in as I sealed the shield's cracks, panting from the strain. As Lady Xihe snarled, her palms aglow with crimson light—I tensed for another blow—but then she stilled, slanting her head back as though listening for something.

A radiance shimmered behind her, the dark vanishing with its approach. As the goddess spun around, the hilt of her whip fell from her hand.

"My daughter," she whispered, crouching down to sweep her into her arms.

The sunbird was the size of a gourd, with great solemn eyes. Where the phoenix was a rainbow of color, the sunbird was fire incarnate. Three legs were tucked beneath her body, the rich vermilion of a sunset, while her yellow plumage emanated a radiant glow. At her crest, a single feather curled—of deepest crimson edged with gold, as dazzling as the heart of a flame.

Lady Xihe hugged the sunbird tightly, murmuring to her in a language I did not know. Tears streamed down her face, visible only when she looked up. Muffled sobs fell from her in an aching rhythm—even after all these decades, her pain was still raw. The sunbird craned her neck, nuzzling her mother as though used to such violent outbursts.

The lone child in her arms, the vulnerability of the great goddess in her misery... how I ached at the sight. Blood oozed from my wounds, my torn flesh afire—yet it was nothing to their suffering that no magic in the world could heal. Only time might ease it, and even then, immortal memories were eternal.

Without knowing what I was doing, I dropped to my knees on the ground. Straightening my back, I stretched my arms out before me, folding over to press my brow to the floor. Not in some contrived plea for mercy, but because from the bottom of my heart, I regretted her pain—that we were inexorably linked by the death of her children. I did not speak, for no words could capture the enormity of their loss, the grief I felt for them.

A stillness fell over us. Something rustled, the sunbird gliding toward me, sheathing me in its luminous warmth. As her somber gaze met mine, part of me recoiled, fearing an attack—yet the sunbird's eyes were gentle and knowing, brimming with untold sorrow. Spreading her wings wide, she bowed her head. The crimson feather fell from her crown, its shaft pulsing like liquid flame, an incandescent white. My spirits leapt, though I dared not presume the sunbird's intent—until her curved claw pushed the feather toward me.

"I... thank you." Such simple words for this priceless gift, and yet there was nothing more apt. The sunbird's generosity moved me deeply, and I resolved to be worthy of her gift.

"Its true power lies in its shaft. Plant it at the source of your target's might. Now, take it. Leave," Lady Xihe said in a hollow voice. "I will not harm you further, nor will I give you aid. Do not test my mercy again; it died the day I lost my children."

She gathered the sunbird tenderly in her arms, striding away without a backward glance. The doors closed after her, the wind chime quivering in a mournful melody. Though they had gone, along with their light, darkness was kept at bay by the blaze of the feather before me. I reached out to take it, halting, as the heat surged forth in shimmering waves, as though its full might had been unleashed only after it had been plucked. I wove a shell of hardened air around it, then slipped it into my pouch. The enchantment would not hold, the heat already thawing the barrier—a strain to keep it intact, yet preferable to being burnt to cinders.

Sinking onto my heels, I trembled from the emotions colliding within me—relief layered with remorse, sunken by a bone-deep weariness. I was not so presumptuous as to think Lady Xihe had forgiven us; these wounds went too deep. But perhaps we had come to an understanding of sorts, and I hoped with all my heart that mother and child might find their happiness again.