Prologue

Seven years earlier

The hemp sack over Prince Xian's head smelled of animal feed. His hands were bound in front of him, his toes raw from being

bitten by hungry rats in the windowless cell where his captors had imprisoned him for two days and two nights.

He hadn't cried, though. At least not when they were around.

Growing up in the palace as the ten-year-old son of a consort among rival half brothers had taught him a lesson: Pride wasn't

just his armor. It was everything he had.

They were on the move. The wheels coasted over a pothole, and his head bounced against the side of the wagon. A mushy, grassy scent tickled his nose, and his skin prickled as he recognized the smell. His mother used to bring him out of the palace to play by the lake, and he'd thought the clouds of green and blue drifting in the water were pretty, but she'd told him some algae blooms were dangerous, even deadly.

He was close to home again. So close he could imagine standing on the shore of the West Lake. The three islands, floating

on the water. The Broken Bridge—it wasn't really broken, just looked that way when the snow melted on one side. Leifeng Pagoda

in the distance, a sentinel on the southern shore.

The wagon slowed to a halt. Xian's heartbeat quickened. Horses neighed as boots pounded back and forth on the summer-baked

dirt. They manhandled him out of the wagon and yanked the sack off his head.

He squinted at the sudden brightness of the forest's clearing. He was surrounded by armed mercenaries—but at the other end

of the glade stood General Jian, his father's most trusted official.

"Prince!" General Jian's forehead was creased with worry. "Are you hurt?"

Relief rushed through Xian. He forced a brave face. "I'm—"

"You've seen the boy." The mercenary leader pushed Xian behind him. His long hair was matted and straggly, his leather brigandine

covered in bloodstains. "All fingers and toes intact... for the time being. Now—the pearl."

Xian's eyes widened. His father had told him that spirit pearls from the highest peaks of the sacred Kunlun Mountains could

cure any illness... and even reverse death. Countless men had died in search of them, plunging into treacherous crevasses

hidden by eternal snow.

General Jian's expression was grim as he strode forward and handed over a wooden box. A murmur rose from the mercenaries. Their leader lifted a small spherical object to the sunlight—it was the size of a marble and glinted with an unnatural glow.

A spirit pearl can cure a bite from a white snake , his father had said. It will make your mother well again...

"No!" Xian burst out. "She needs it! Don't give it to—"

A blast rocked the wagon behind Xian. The force flung him forward, and his hands, still bound, couldn't break his fall. He

landed on his face. The scent of burned gunpowder stung his nostrils—he couldn't breathe, like the time his eldest half brother,

Wang, had knocked him down and sat on his chest.

Xian raised his head as palace guards swarmed out from their ambush. The mercenaries shouted, their horses rearing in panic.

General Jian, sword drawn, pushed through the chaos toward Xian—

Rough hands grabbed Xian from behind, and General Jian disappeared from view. Xian struggled as he was hauled toward another

wagon and shoved into the back.

A second explosion hit. The rear wheel shattered, and Xian's head struck the floor as the wagon lurched sharply. A man screamed

as if he were being dragged to hell.

Pain reverberated through Xian's skull, black and gray dots teeming like ants across his vision. But he forced himself upright.

For the first time, he was unguarded. He had clenched his hands when they tied his wrists like his best friend, Feng, had

taught him to, which made wriggling out of his bonds easier.

As he crawled out of the wagon, a horrible groan made him turn. A mercenary lay by the shattered wheel, his face contorted in agony as he clutched his mangled left thigh. The rest of his leg had been blown off.

A palace guard came up to him and drove a sword into his chest.

Xian recoiled.

The mercenary gurgled and went still. The guard pulled out the blade. Blood spurted from the wound.

As weapons clashed, no one seemed to notice Xian lying exposed on the ground. He flattened his body, trying to make himself

as inconspicuous as possible. One of the mercenaries' horses, unaccustomed to battle, charged toward him. Xian dived out of

the panicked creature's way a moment before its hooves landed on the spot where his head had just been.

He rolled over, panting hard. He had to find cover. As he crawled on elbows and knees toward a nearby thicket of bushes, his

fingers dug into the soil. They closed around something small, hard, round...

Xian halted, unfurling his fingers. Nestled in his hand was an iridescent sphere, frosted with specks of dirt and dried grass.

The pearl. The tiny orb seemed to pulse in his palm like it had a heartbeat of its own. It felt strangely heavy, as if it

contained the density of universes—it stared back at him, an otherworldly eye, and Xian couldn't tear his gaze away—

A pair of boots slammed down in front of Xian. He blinked up at a mercenary's roughened face. The man's eyes locked on the

pearl and widened in recognition.

"Give it to me," he growled.

Xian leaped to his feet and ran.

His short, feverish strides instinctively led him toward the lake. Toward the mushy scent of poisonous algae, less deadly

than the thundering footfalls gaining ground behind him. He propelled his legs faster, even though each step on his bare,

torn soles was like running on burning coals.

Up ahead lay the Broken Bridge. He reached the middle and hoisted himself onto the parapet wall. His heart hammered, his breaths

breaking in harsh stabs. The lake gleamed an unnatural green, forcing him to confront the one thing he was ashamed of: He

couldn't swim.

The man approached. "Hand it over, boy."

"Don't come any closer!" Xian shouted. "Or I'll jump into the lake!"

"I'll let you go, promise." The man held out a calloused hand. "You can run home to your mother—"

He lunged at Xian's leg.

Xian dodged, but his foot slipped and his head tilted sharply backward—

Hitting the water was like being swallowed whole. In the green, opaque world under the surface, everything abruptly slowed

and his limbs seemed twice as heavy. The algae blooms loomed like hulking monsters, their formless fingers stretching toward

him.

He thrashed, kicking his legs frantically, his hand still curled in a fist. He couldn't drown. He couldn't lose the pearl

that would cure his mother.

Something slithered along his arm. He froze. A flash of reptilian scales, so white they were luminous—then a long, limbless body was encircling him, graceful and terrifying, tightening around his sides like a giant tentacle.

Horror gripped Xian's chest. He opened his mouth to scream—but only a trail of bubbles emerged, rising like a prayer to the

pale, faraway light.

Then the bubbles ran out, and his world went black.