Sacrifice (37 page)

She ran her fingers over the delicate carving, her chest feeling hollow, when Stone broke her reverie and said, “The breach is closed. The divining stone is not responding at all. It’s done.” Stone’s shoulders dropped, his relief as palpable as his exhaustion. They had closed the breach in time—he would live.

But Kai Sen … She threw her senses downward again, searching, searching for that ephemeral essence that had touched her mind for a heartbeat, that she
knew
had to be him.

Nothing.

Skybright nodded slowly. “It is done,” she repeated and let Zhen Ni take her hand. Blossom slipped up to them, and her friend clasped her other hand with the child’s. They returned to the forest, followed by Stone and trailed by two demon hounds. Stone gave them suspicious looks, keeping clear of the demonic beasts as best as he could.

But even as she slid into the forest, she kept casting her senses back to Bei manor and the deep caverns beneath it for that familiar glimmer—a wisp in the darkness.

Kai Sen.

Kai Sen.

Kai Sen.

No one spoke during the long trek through the thickets. Entering its depths usually lightened Skybright’s heart, but this time, she barely took note of her surroundings. She slithered in a daze, as if she dwelled in a waking dream, her senses cast behind them toward the destroyed estate, even as her hold grew more tenuous the further they traveled. Her mind filled with images of Kai Sen: running, leaping, slaying demons. Then she recalled their last passionate, lingering kiss and how Kai Sen looked at her with desire and tenderness but also with a wistful regret.

She had said things she knew would hurt him, but they needed to be said. Kai Sen was always the impractical dreamer, but he was even more so a loyal and fierce fighter, and he had given up his life to save Stone … to save them all. Skybright ran her thumb over the figurine and concentrated on the strange scent of the hellhounds, snuffling and snorting behind Blossom, who was tireless, keeping up with all of them on her chubby legs. She still couldn’t sense the girl, other than as a void, something she’d miss unless she knew to look for it.

“You should return to Yuan manor, Zhen Ni.” Skybright stopped when they passed near the path that led to their old home. What had always been comforting to her, these trees, the night noises, and the well-worn way back to Yuan manor, seemed distorted now. It was hard to speak, but she forced her mouth to form the words. “Your mother will hear about Bei manor’s destruction, and she’ll be worried for you.”

“With these hellhounds in tow?” Zhen Ni asked. “We can’t release them into the forest.”

“They are able to change their appearance,” Stone said. “At least, that is the lore.” He stood apart from them, his features masked in shadows. But as worn down as he was, Skybright could feel the tension in his stance, his readiness to fight if the hellhounds turned.

Blossom stood in front of the giant beasts. They towered over her, smoke curling from their mouths, eyes glowing like they offered a glimpse into the underworld. The demon child didn’t reach halfway to their powerful front legs that ended in paws larger than her head. “Change,” Blossom commanded.

The demonic beasts let out a low whine that shivered through the leaves, silencing the forest. But then they obeyed, each morphing before their eyes, turning into large mastiffs. Still huge but not even a quarter the size of their demonic selves. The horns and sharp claws receded, along with their glowing eyes. By all appearances, they were just giant dogs. Blossom reached up, and the beasts lowered their heads so she could rub them between their ears.

Zhen Ni touched Skybright’s hand. “You’ll be all right?”

“Yes.” She squeezed her old mistress’s fingers.

“Come to Yuan manor after you are done with your tasks,” Zhen Ni said. “You’re always welcome.”

Skybright gave her a small smile. “I’ll visit as soon as I can.” She hugged Zhen Ni. “Keep safe.”

Zhen Ni nodded and turned toward the familiar path back to Yuan manor, holding Blossom’s hand, the mastiffs flanking them.

Skybright watched until they disappeared into the darkness, even as she followed their footsteps with her senses. Stone began walking toward the monastery, as they needed to give Han news of what happened.

He wanted to speak with her, but she felt him holding back, respecting her need for silence. The forest and creatures of night welcomed them, rustling the branches above and turning the dirt beneath. But Skybright was incapable of enjoying the life and wonder surrounding her, weighed down by Kai Sen’s death. Something, she realized, that she had never allowed herself to truly fathom, despite how many times Kai Sen had met danger head-on wielding only a saber. She didn’t notice they had reached the monastery until Stone stopped before the grand double doors.

“Will you shift, Skybright?” Stone asked her in a soft voice.

She stared back at him, not speaking.

“You cannot go in like that.”

“I’m not shifting,” she rasped. To face Kai Sen’s death was hard enough in serpent form, when she felt removed, emotionally aloof. How could she survive her grief in her human form?

“You should speak to Han. You … knew Kai Sen the best.”

She swallowed and tasted the trace of bitter venom in her mouth from sinking her fangs into Ye Guai. “Then I will speak to Han like this.”

Stone appeared as if he would say something else, but then nodded and knocked on one of the massive double doors. It swung open immediately, as if they were waiting for them. Han stood at the opening himself, and his eyes widened a fraction when he saw her, but he never let the surprise reach his smooth face. He signaled with a hand to someone they couldn’t see behind the door and stepped out. The giant door slammed shut behind him. Han was obviously taking no risks.

“What news?” The words were burdened by what Han didn’t ask. But as it had been for Skybright, she was certain he already knew.

Stone seemed to be waiting for her to speak, but since she remained motionless and silent, he said finally, “The attack was a success. We’ve closed the breach and destroyed the demon nests.”

“And my brother monks?” Han asked.

“Likely dead,” Stone replied. He dropped his chin and drew a shaking breath. “The entire manor is destroyed, sunken into the ground. I’m sorry.”

“Kai Sen too?” The blood had drained from Han’s face, and his eyes shone like obsidian in the faint moonlight.

“Trapped in the caverns,” Stone said. “He gave his life so I would live.”

Han spun around and punched the giant door with his fist. Then he did it again and again, until Skybright could taste the tang of his blood in the air. He whipped toward her and snarled, “Are you satisfied, temptress? Now that he’s dead?”

It felt as if he’d slapped her, and she almost reared back on her coil. But she recognized his grief and anger and pain, tasting as harsh as the draughts Nanny Bai used to brew. An exact reflection of everything she felt herself. Tears streamed from his eyes. “He would want you to take his place, Han,” she said in her rough voice. “You are the leader of the monastery now.”

The young man winced, like she had been the one to inflict physical pain. “Kai Sen knew I wanted to lead,” he choked out. “But not like this. Never like this.”

“He always spoke well of you, Han,” she said. “You know he thought of you as a brother.”

The young man was sobbing now, his grief heavy in the night air, pressing against her own sadness. Stone met her eyes in the dim moonlight, and she gave a slight shake of her head. Never one to betray his thoughts, she still knew exactly what was on his mind: the covenant. Han was the chosen one now. Who would tell him about the agreement between the mortals and the gods, to uphold the next Great Battle?

No one, Skybright thought. Kai Sen had called it a twisted agreement, costing innocent mortal lives. He was right. Zhen Ni would have died as the chosen sacrifice if Skybright had not given herself as a captive to take her place. But Kai Sen was gone now. So it would end with her.

“The successor is usually trained by the abbot in more powerful magic,” she said. “Under the circumstances, I think you’ll find Stone to be a great mentor.”

Han lifted his head and assessed Stone with sharp eyes. Even if he was not as magically inclined as Kai Sen had been, she knew he would be a good leader for the monastery.

Skybright had sensed Stone’s surprise by her suggestion, but he hid it. “I am willing to help, Han.”

Han’s features hardened, even though his cheeks were still wet from tears. “I have to give the news to my fellow brothers,” he said in a low voice. “I’ll take into consideration all that you’ve said, but I have no reason to trust you.” He rapped on the door in a short series of knocks, and it swung open. “Kai Sen did, and look where it got him.” Han slipped through the opening without a glance back.

Skybright gripped the wooden figurine in her hand so hard it bit into her palm. Suddenly, she felt lightheaded and swayed on her serpentine coil, her torn shoulder throbbing.

Stone clasped her by both arms, keeping her steady. “Your binding is soaked with blood,” he said from what seemed like a long distance. “You need to rest.”

Her body was not hers to command any longer, and she felt herself growing limp. Just then, her skin tingled, and her hair lifted from her head. A portal opened before them, offering a glimpse of a lush garden and a velvet sky spangled with stars. “I will speak to you both,” a voice said, from without, but also within their own minds.

Skybright recognized that voice.

The Goddess of Accord.

“Yes, goddess,” Stone said. He was holding her up now. She rested her head against his shoulder, breathing in his earthen scent, and heard nothing more.

Skybright

Skybright’s senses were suffused by the perfume of tuberose, delicate and fragrant. Her cheek was pressed against something gloriously soft, and she was reluctant to open her eyes. The sharp pain in her shoulder had disappeared and so had her exhaustion. Surely it was a delirious dream, and she must not wake, because waking meant aching and loss, suffering and grief.

Then she felt someone stroke her arm, and a melodious voice said, “She is fine, Stone. But tired … and grieving.”

It could only be the goddess, as hearing her words lifted Skybright’s heart, as if letting sunshine and spring air in. “You need rest too,” the goddess said. It sounded like a command.

“I will, lady,” Stone replied. “After I take my leave.”

The goddess eased Skybright up, and she unwillingly opened her eyes. She had been resting in the goddess’s lap, her face pressed against the soft fabric of her dress, which shone in the dark, its colors flowing and shifting like liquid. “Rise, Skybright. Stone is worried for you.”

He was pacing a short distance from them, still dirty and disheveled, to the point where he was almost unrecognizable, because she was so used to seeing him meticulously dressed and presented. “You’re awake.” He broke into a relieved smile, looking no older than the eighteen years he had spent as a mortal thousands of years ago. She was still in serpent form and rose on her coil, slithering away from the goddess, feeling frightened but also hesitant. It was hard to put from her mind what she had witnessed last she had been with the Goddess of Accord, how easily she had stripped Stone of his powers, as if plucking a petal from a flower.