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Zhangwei clasped my shoulders, his eyes so dark yet dazzlingly bright. “Once the gateway collapses, there will be no way out, no way home.”

“You must go.” It was the hardest thing I’d ever said, my heart cleaved apart as I pushed him toward the gateway. “This is my choice. Tell Mother I miss her . . . that I’ll find a way back.” I didn’t want him to leave, but I could never ask him to stay.

“Don’t be a hero; they don’t have happy endings,” he said quietly.

“I’m no hero.”

He pulled me into his arms tightly. “You have always been stronger than me.”

I let myself stay in his embrace for a heartbeat, for one last perfect moment. Then I broke away, turning to the river—the pain so sharp, I couldn’t breathe.

Zhangwei caught my hand, a fierce glitter in his eyes. “Where you go, I go.”

I wanted to tell him to leave me, that we would be strong whether we were together or apart—that we weren’t the romantic fools who would die of heartbreak without the other. But if I was honest, I wanted him with me.

“You would stay here, with me?” Tears fell, sliding down my face—when had they formed?

“Forever,” he said. “If you’ll have me.”

“I want you for longer than that,” I whispered.

His fingers slipped between mine. “Keep your word.”

Zhangwei and I raced to the shoreline. Lin’s face was ashen as she stood with the other soldiers, channeling their magic into the distant barriers though it seemed futile.

A loud crash erupted behind us, the gateway to Tianxia collapsing. Our only way home had gone . . . but there was no time for regret. Magic surged from Zhangwei, weaving into mine—scarlet fire, white bands of ice, braiding in chaotic harmony as it streaked toward the barriers of the Wangchuan. It struck, not rebounding like the magic of the others—the barriers quivering but holding fast. My pulse raced; could we do this? Or would Zhangwei and I die here with those who were meant to be our enemies? Except they weren’t enemies anymore.

Zhangwei and I clasped our hands, our power sweeping from us, as much as we could grasp. Our breaths came harshly, our energy spilling in violent force, twining and writhing together. At last, the barriers cracked, then shattered into fragments—the bells the Wuxin wore falling soundlessly to the ground. The cries from the Wangchuan River softened to murmurs, the roiling waters settling into a soothing rhythm.

I swayed on my feet, overcome by a wave of exhaustion. Zhangwei caught me, sliding an arm across my shoulders, though his heart was racing too. I couldn’t speak for a long while, our arms locked around each other, a lightness and weight crashing through me all at once.

“You stayed.” My voice shook with disbelief once reality began sinking in.

“How could you think I wouldn’t?” He tilted my face up to his, his words pulsing with emotion. “I’ve chased you across the skies and earth, to the Netherworld itself. I will never let you go again.”

A lump rose in my throat, my joy laced with pain at his sacrifice. “I wish I didn’t take you from your home.”

He pulled me closer, running his hand along my back. I rested my head against his chest, listening to the sound of his heart beating to mine. There was nothing more beautiful in the world.

“I am home,” he whispered.

45

Zhangwei held me for a long time, and I was in no hurry to break away. These days of ceaseless strain had exhausted me. All I wanted was to sleep, and to awaken to him beside me.

Aunt Shou was slumped on the ground beside Dalian’s body, his hand still clasped between hers. The tears had stopped, but the haunted expression in her eyes remained. How calm his face in death, stripped of bitterness, regret, and spite. I felt no pity for him. Dalian had died as he’d lived, sowing hate and fear. His legacy was devastation, wreaked upon his own people after the realms beyond were out of reach. This quiet death, in the arms of his mother, was far better than he deserved. Part of me hoped that he’d found peace at last, though the other part didn’t think he deserved it.

Captain Lai approached Aunt Shou and knelt respectfully. “Great Lady, now that Lord Dalian is no more, we ask if you might reclaim your position as the leader of our people? The Wuxin prospered under your reign; we seek the peace you once brought us.”

Aunt Shou shook her head, her gaze almost vacant, dulled with pain. “I have no wish to rule, I have no heart for it . . . it died with my children.”

General Fang, Lin, Mei, and the other soldiers fell to their knees before her, their red-gold armor gleaming like the setting sun. “There is no one else, Great Lady,” General Fang said. “Chaos lies in Lord Dalian’s wake; we fear an opportunist will take advantage. Who can we trust with the throne during these precarious times? The people need a steady hand to settle the unrest and rebuild our kingdom.”

I broke away from Zhangwei reluctantly, walking toward Aunt Shou. My body tensed as I sat beside her, my resentment still unquenched. Yet in her own way she had loved Chengyin and me—she had tried to keep us safe here, hiding my secret, defying Dalian to help Chengyin escape. For that, I would always be grateful, and my heart was not so hard as to be numbed to her pain.

“Aunt Shou, when I took the throne in Tianxia, I did not want it either. It was you who guided me until I found my way. Your people need you now, as you need them.”

Aunt Shou remained silent for a long while. If she heard me, she gave no sign of it. At last she released Dalian’s hand and rose to face the soldiers.