Page 117 of Immortal

“Aunt Shou, even if I wanted to—which I don’t—he doesn’t want any help. He rejects even you, so why would he listen to me? This is something neither of us wants,” I said gravely. “When I marry, it will be for love—because of who they are, not what they might become.”

Aunt Shou fell silent, looking into the horizon. The mountain loomed ahead, the gateway to Kunlun. How close it was, fear creeping over my heart.

“Do you miss Tianxia?” I wanted her to remember, if there was a chance that she might help us later.

“Every time I see this place, I think of it and your grandfather. He was a good man, a kind one.” A tear fell, which she let slide down her cheek. “But my first loyalties are to my people and my son.”

I took a deep breath, caging my resentment. Regardless, I needed her support in one matter, one I didn’t think she’d refuse. “Aunt Shou, will you help me keep Chengyin safe?”

Her gaze was piercing. “Will you keep your word to open the gateway?”

No.

“Yes,” I lied. “But if things don’t go to plan, do you promise not to let Dalian hurt Chengyin?”

And though she nodded, I couldn’t help wondering if she was lying to me too. We were on dangerous ground, both of us making promises we had no right to make . . . that we weren’t going to keep.

43

Ahead, the river forked, one side continuing into the Wangchuan—the other flowing into a narrow inlet that our barge turned into. The landscape shifted, towering cliffs flanking us, their jagged peaks clawing at the skies. The other boats did not follow us, instead heading toward a wide stretch of land on the far side of the river.

Dalian strode out to the prow, joining Aunt Shou and me. He was smiling, and in that moment he almost looked like my friend again.

“Where are the other boats going?” I asked.

“Only one vessel can enter this passage at a time. The rest of our soldiers will make their way through the mountains,” he replied, gesturing at the steep cliffs.

This must be the same path Zhangwei was taking. The slope appeared treacherous, and what if he encountered the other soldiers? As Dalian’s gaze shifted to me, I turned to conceal my anxiety.

“Don’t worry.” His lips curved wider. “There are more than enough soldiers on board, my finest warriors to ensure everything goes to plan.”

Another threat. Maybe he knew only one way to make people obey him.

The deeper into the inlet we sailed, the narrower it grew, pressing us between the dark mountains until their shadows engulfed us, until it felt like we were being squeezed between two giants. Here the waters gleamed with an oily opacity, the green lights of the Wangchuan fading away.

The air sharpened abruptly, frost creeping over the wooden floorboards, the cold seeping through my shoes and my robe. As I shivered, mist shrouded the barge like a gossamer sheet. Just ahead, land gleamed, my pulse thudding as we neared it.

The barge glided onward, finally halting by a slender stretch of earth at the foot of a mountain ringed by cliffs. My throat tightened at the sight of the shimmering gateway ahead, just as I’d seen in the Mirror of Destiny.

That was not my fate, I reminded myself. It was not the future but a possibility—one I had denied, one I would not let come to pass.

Upon Dalian’s order, we left the barge together. Aunt Shou walked beside him as Lin, Mei, and I trailed after them. The soldiers followed us closely, more than fifty of them, including Captain Rao. My steps dragged, my gaze darting around for a sign of Zhangwei, but there was none.

A silent scream was building inside me. My choices were rapidly narrowing. Lies would no longer suffice; the only chance of survival lay in doing what Dalian wanted. I wouldn’t—but I also wasn’t ready to die. It wasn’t about being a coward . . . but wanting to live, holding on to each frail moment. Maybe I had become more mortal than immortal.

“Walk faster, or I’ll help you along,” Captain Rao snapped from behind me.

At once, I feigned a stumble, kicking a lump of dirt over his feet. “My apologies, Captain,” I said without a flicker of sincerity. “I’m clumsy by nature. When I hurry, I tend to trip.”

As his mouth twisted, I resisted the urge to laugh. My triumph was short-lived as the captain barked a furious command to two soldiers, who grabbed my arms to yank me along. Their fingers dug so hard into my flesh, bruises were already forming.

“Release her,” Lin called out. “Don’t manhandle Lord Dalian’s honored guest.”

“We’ll see how long she remains a guest,” Captain Rao flung back, an ominous prediction of my future.

I wrenched free of the soldiers’ hold, striding out of reach. As the gateway loomed before me, my heart plunged. The mountain gleamed like obsidian, a white marble arch set into the stone. Just as in Kunlun, ropes of vines were twined around the archway, thorns dusting their stalks. Thick clusters of wisteria hung down in rich shades of violet. A shimmering pane of liquid cascaded within, its ceaseless rush muffling the cry of the void birds above. It flowed seamlessly, without pause, obscuring what lay on the other side—jagged lines streaking across the water as lightning illuminates the skies. Closer to the ground, a small part of the pane thinned—just as I’d seen on the other side.

The air rippled with powerful magic, infused in each drop, petal, and thorn. Something about this place called to me, anticipation coursing in my veins, an inexplicable urge to draw closer that battled with my terror. Was it the imprint of my mother’s magic? If I closed my eyes, I could almost imagine she was here, the familiar thrum of her aura winding around me. But she was not; I was alone.