The Immortal Words (The Grave Kingdom), стр. 28
The colors of the Woliu suddenly exploded in the night sky, brighter and brighter as she hurtled toward them. A roar of rage ripped through the air. She watched as the dragon Echion opened its massive jaws and belched out a plume of blackness aimed at her. Darkness engulfed the sky and the land, but this time she saw through it. She watched as a pale-scaled dragon rushed into the fray, shrieking with anger.
It struck her then that the phoenix fighting Echion had disappeared. They all had.
The Woliu embraced Bingmei’s spirit, cradling her in dazzling hues of orange, purple, yellow, and gold. She could still feel the phoenix tomb, could still sense Rowen, but they both felt distant now, as if they were on another world. Still, the strands connecting her to them—to Rowen and her body—were powerful, and she suspected she could make it back to them eventually.
The radiance of the Woliu dissolved, making her aware that she was flying over the vast cityscape of the Grave Kingdom. From her perspective, it seemed without boundary, one colossal maze as wide as the world. The sensation of flying felt strangely familiar. It felt . . . right. She glided down toward the land, which was when she saw the enormous replica of the Death Wall stretched beneath her. Or maybe the one from her world was the replica. On one side of the wall, she saw a gloomy city shrouded in darkness, as if the land were perpetually in the season of the Dragon of Night, when night stretched longer than day. She’d walked those teeming streets filled with lost and lonely souls. She’d felt the hopelessness of their situation. Which was why she was shocked by what she saw on the other side of the wall—a glorious realm of parks, fountains, groves of trees, and celestial palaces made of stone that shone like the moon.
Did any of the lost, lonely souls know how close they were to the wall?
Did any of them know what lay beyond it?
The magic carried her near the wall, close enough that she saw the soldiers walking atop it, armed with bows sheathed in gold. Wings sprouted from the armor on their backs, and each of them carried a quiver of meiwood arrows with delicate, colorful plumes. She wasn’t certain how she knew this, but the knowledge sprang into her mind.
As she flew toward the wall, the sentries lifted their bows. Not to shoot at her, but to wave. She saw smiles on their faces, the sentries all cheering and shaking their bows as she flew overhead. Each of them, she noticed, had a suit of armor that bore the design of the phoenix.
She crossed the Death Wall to the side that was bright, as if the land were perpetually in the season of the Dragon of Dawn. The chirp of siskins met her ears, and a myriad of the colorful birds lifted up from the trees to greet her, surrounding her as she lowered to the ground. When her feet touched down on the pavement of a road leading from the wall into the woods, the birds finally calmed and returned to their perches. She’d never seen such trees before—they had thick trunks and limbs, long crooked branches, and shapely leaves.
In the distance, looming at the end of the path through the trees, sat a palace even more resplendent than Fusang. It seemed to glow with the light of the Woliu, and the same tugging sensation that had drawn her toward the lights compelled her toward the palace.
She looked back and stared up at the Death Wall. This structure stood taller than the one in the mortal world, and it didn’t show the ravages of time and neglect. Directly behind her, there was a gate with two massive red doors, tall enough to fit a dragon. The doors were embedded with golden knobs and huge, ornate handles shaped like lion heads. The top of the doorway was a stone arch covered in intricate carvings. The images of various animals and dragons and phoenixes seemed to be telling a story. She was drawn to the doors out of curiosity, although she still felt the tug toward the palace.
Her journey lay ahead, not behind, and she sensed a rune in place there, keeping the door closed. From what she could tell, it was impenetrable.
Turning back, she was startled to see a man approaching her down the smooth paved road separating the woods. A faint breeze rustled the branches of the trees. It struck her then that every sensation felt balanced and proper. She was neither hot nor cold. Nor did she hunger or thirst. The cravings of her mortal body were gone. All except one. The desire for connection, to know someone and be known by them. To be part of something larger than herself. She ached to see her family.
As the man approached her, something about him seemed familiar. She started to walk toward him to hasten their meeting. Was it Grandfather Jiao? Her father?
But as he came nearer, she realized it was someone else. When she had last seen this man alive, he had knelt before Echion and exposed his neck, offering his life on behalf of his brother.
She stared at him in surprise and recognition as he came fully into view.
“Prince Juexin,” she said, dropping to her knee in respect.
Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage.
—Dawanjir proverb
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Cry of Mercy
As she knelt, awaiting his approach, his scent blossomed around her, like the bulb of a flower opening to the touch of the sun. Only it wasn’t a flowery smell at all. It was the smell of unspeakable