The Immortal Words (The Grave Kingdom), стр. 31
As he spoke, Bingmei understood what he was saying because she had experienced it her entire life. She knew the cost of greed and dishonesty, for she’d always been able to smell them.
He gave her a shrewd look. “From what I understand, it is a form of suffering with which you are acutely familiar. And it will be their curse unless . . . unless . . .” He paused, smiling at her. “Unless there is mercy. The other ideal. Echion has weighted the balance scales toward justice and, in so doing, made a mockery of it. He seeks to delay the Reckoning because he knows he will have to answer for his actions as much as anyone else who has ever cheated or lied or taken advantage of someone else because of selfishness, hatred, or disdain. But, as you have learned, it is possible to be released from that torment.”
“Because of mercy,” Bingmei said.
“Yes. You showed Muxidi mercy, and I showed it to you when I greeted you here in Tian. You needed to experience for yourself the gift that you will be bringing to the world.”
“I think I’m beginning to understand,” Bingmei said. The words resonated inside her. She felt peace and confidence. She also felt a determination to succeed. “I must defeat Echion,” she said. “I must restore the balance . . . but how? Didn’t you say my future is on Tianxia?”
He stopped, his look becoming somber and earnest, as if he were about to share a truth even weightier than all those he’d given to her thus far. “Bingmei. It is not your life that you must sacrifice. You are to be the mother of the phoenix reborn. That is the meaning of the prophecy my father shared with you in the Hall of Unity. Do you remember what he said? ‘This child is set for the fall and rise of many kingdoms. For a sign of dawn, which shall be spoken again. And yes, a sword shall pierce through your own soul also. That the thoughts of many hearts may be revealed.’ It was about your child, Bingmei. The child that you and Rowen will conceive as husband and wife.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Sacrifice
Bingmei stopped where she was, dropping to her knees as she struggled to understand the implications of what Juexin had just told her. Her feelings were like the sea during a vicious storm, tumbling her this way and that.
A child.
It was the very last thing she’d expected to hear. She’d been ready to fight. To sacrifice herself—again and again if need be. She was a warrior. Fighting was the only thing she knew. The thought of a baby growing inside her was revolting, and the thought of protecting a helpless newborn terrified her.
The urge to weep came strongly, but she had no way of doing so. There was no muscle, no tears, nothing to enable it. But the feelings strangled her all the same.
“Bingmei,” Juexin said in a gentle tone.
She lifted her head, looking up at him. Words simply wouldn’t come.
“I know this is new. Unexpected.”
She stared at him. Those words were insufficient.
“This is what you were chosen for.”
“Do I . . . do I have a choice?” Bingmei finally managed.
“No true sacrifice can be forced. It must always come from your taidu. An offering from your heart.”
“I know nothing about being a mother,” Bingmei said in desperation.
“You, more than anyone else, understand it. Because of your gift. You can smell emotions, Bingmei. What does a mother’s love smell like?”
She looked down, putting her face in her cupped hands, but the smell of cinnamon porridge was never far from her memory. Her mother used to make that dish for her some mornings when they were alone together. The smell had always been accompanied by a look of tenderness in her mother’s eyes. Even though Bingmei looked different from other children, her mother’s smell had never once contained a hint of disgust or remorse. It was a smell that meant she was cherished. That mothering smell was the best smell Bingmei had ever experienced.
She lowered her hands to her lap, still shocked and in a state of disbelief. “He said . . . he said a sword would pierce my soul. I had assumed it meant Echion would kill me with the Phoenix Blade.”
“Sorrow is another form of death,” Juexin said. “I never had the chance to become a parent. But I loved my father, and I felt his deep love for me. I want to see him again, Bingmei. I want to see my mother. But they are trapped inside the Grave Kingdom.”
She looked at him in confusion. “Your father sacrificed his life to save mine. Why didn’t he come here?”
“He did,” Juexin said. “But he could not bear to remain here without my mother. He is wandering the maze streets of the Grave Kingdom, even though he knows he cannot possibly find her. He went there to tell the people that the phoenix will be reborn, that death will finally be conquered. He believed in you, Bingmei. He believes in you still.”
“I don’t believe in myself,” she said bitterly. “I’ve trained all my life to be a warrior.”
“Yes,” said Juexin, nodding. “And so you must be. You must train your child to defeat the greatest evil this world has ever known. The child’s role will require unimaginable courage. And so will yours. It is you who will instill that courage. It is you who will nurture it. Why did you come here, Bingmei? Why did you seek out the phoenix shrine?”
She did not need to breathe, nor could she, yet there was still a sensation of sighing. “I wanted to stop Echion. I’ve seen