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It was a trap. This task was never about restoring the Wangchuan—was it to seize the Divine Pearl Lotus? I cursed Lord Dalian, shivering as sweat beaded my skin, the cold sinking into my flesh worse than any fever. Closing my eyes, I grappled with these vicious sensations. The stars above glittered like a crown of light, bathing me in their pale glow. Would I die here? A pang struck as I thought of Zhangwei. What lay between us felt unfinished—a story without an ending. And what of Tianxia? Would he honor his promise to me? Somehow, I knew he would . . . if only I could see the walls come down.

My head fell back, as I closed my eyes, on the cusp of succumbing to despair. Faces flashed across my mind: Grandfather, my parents, Chengyin—and Zhangwei, his eyes of midnight flame, his voice urging me to fight back. Something sparked in my core, morphing into a deep warmth that surged through my body. The shivering stopped, my breathing calmed, the turmoil settling like dust falling to the earth. Such sweetness spilled into the air, of cloves . . . the scent transporting me back to the Ancient Grandmaster’s courtyard, when I’d lain beneath the shade of the Tree of Everlasting Life—when the glistening drop had fallen to my brow. The deep peace that had suffused me then was enveloping me now.

A blessing from the Tree of Everlasting Life . . . One of protection, to seal your spirit from harm.

I still struggled to understand, yet sensed I’d been protected from something terrible. I’d almost forgotten the tree’s gift, only now awakening to how precious it had been—the only thing keeping me safe, keeping me whole.

As my pulse slowly steadied, the unfamiliar sensations fading, my eyes flicked open. Above lay the gap that opened to the skies, void birds circling as though sensing the disturbance. Though they were far away, specks in the night, their shrill whistles pierced my ears.

A strange tingling rippled through my body as a sudden awareness crashed over me—the ends of countless threads coiling around me, tangled and knotted, a few merging together seamlessly. Images drifted into my mind of things I’d never seen yet were familiar somehow, like a fragment of the past, an echo of a song I’d almost forgotten:

Clouds floating across the sky. Mountains of turquoise, nestled amid the glittering sands. A woman was holding me in her arms, her long hair obscuring her face, the gold thread on her brocade gown rubbing against my skin. There was such love in her embrace, my heart ached.

“Mother,” I whispered, looking up into her face.

The Queen of the Golden Desert.

A scream burst from my lips, my heart racing. Queen Caihong was harsh and cruel, the bane of Tianxia. My own mother had died long ago, along with my father. Was this some trick? If so, it was a twisted and vicious one.

As I pressed my hands to my head, more recollections swept through me as if a dam had burst open, too many to weave together, leaving me grasping at shreds: the immortal queen picking me up when I fell, wiping tears from my eyes, smiling with pride at my accomplishments, scowling when I misbehaved. How she’d tucked me into my bed, whispering my name in her clear voice. And once, when she’d hugged me as we’d both wept, grief hollowing our hearts—and though I couldn’t recall what we’d lost then, tears fell from my eyes now at this shadow of unspeakable sorrow.

What did this all mean? I was no longer afraid, just filled with a fierce longing to know. “What is happening? Is this a trick? A test?” My voice resonated through the empty chamber. If it was, just let it end. My heart could bear no more.

The waters of the pond shuddered, as a disembodied voice rang out: Those who come here claim one future, but two lie before you.

My eyes darted around frantically. “Who are you?”

The Mirror of Destiny—of the past, the present, and that which has yet to come.

I stared into the dark waters, light flickering over the surface like fireflies. My reflection looked back at me: the copper gone from my eyes, now as black as my hair, just the sliver of white remaining.

“What are you? Are you . . . alive?” I asked carefully.

No. Neither am I dead. A long pause. Will you claim your destiny? Choose, and the other will be no more.

“I don’t believe in destiny, nor do I believe a puddle in the ground.” I spoke vehemently—afraid of what was happening, of what might be unveiled.

You are insolent.

“I am cautious. It comes from knowing too many liars.”

Destiny bears as much weight as you yield it. Sometimes hope can forge your path, sometimes fear can divert you from it.

“Hope is not the same as blind faith,” I said.

Just as you should not deny what you are ignorant of.

I flushed, feeling justly rebuked. The mirror was right; I shouldn’t close myself off to any possibility simply because it might be hard to hear.

“Who are you to the Wuxin?” I asked.

Neither their ally nor their foe. I take no sides, revealing only what lies in my domain.

“Are the waters here tainted at all?” Part of me still hoped for the chance of a peaceful solution. “Is the Wangchuan River weakening?”

The waters here are untainted. Yet the power of the Wangchuan River has waned. Before one attempts to restore it, one should learn the cause.

Dread sank over me. It was as I’d suspected; Lord Dalian had lied just to bring me to the temple. “Why do the Wuxin want me here?”