Page 123 of Immortal

“General Fang, does she speak the truth?” a soldier asked hoarsely, her eyes rounded in disbelief.

“Captain Rao was in charge of constructing the barriers. We knew the river was weakening, but we didn’t know why. We didn’t investigate as we should have, accepting his word,” General Fang said, touching the gold bell by his waist. “I am ashamed to admit we didn’t feel the same urgency, that we grew complacent—a mistake we will not repeat.”

“Traitors!” Dalian raged as he pointed at the general, his face blotched with fury. “Those who do not obey me will die!”

As his hands gleamed once more, an eerie light enveloped the bell at his waist. Fear shrouded me, the memory of the withered Wuxin still fresh in my mind. “Shield yourselves!” I cried out. “Your bells are bound to his, he controls them. It’s how he killed the others.”

As shining barriers formed around the soldiers, Dalian’s power surged—an immense force, yet the soldiers held steady. Again and again he lashed at them, until at last, he faltered, lowering his hand.

Aunt Shou walked toward him slowly, her eyes red. The side of her face was swollen where Dalian had struck her. Yet her expression was calm, devoid of resentment, as she reached out a hand to him. “Come, my son. It is over. Let me look after you now.”

Dalian’s voice was almost hollow, his shoulders hunched. “Why pretend that you care for me, Mother? You only love Damei. You’d rather she was alive and I was dead.”

“Never,” she swore vehemently. “We don’t trade or weigh those in our hearts. You are both precious to me in your own way.”

“What if I told you that I let her die?” His eyes were wide, his last tether to sanity fraying.

Aunt Shou stared at him, the blood draining from her face. “No. Don’t say it. You couldn’t—”

“The immortals wounded her, but I let her die. The others didn’t realize she was still alive, despite her wounds. While they were all fighting, I could have saved her had I brought her back sooner, had I summoned aid. We will never know. When she lay hurt and bleeding, I just kept thinking how much better my life would be without her. She was weeping, whispering my name. But after a while, she stopped.” His voice hitched, an echo of regret. This act haunted him still—and maybe he had been punishing himself all this while.

Aunt Shou closed her eyes. “It’s not true. They killed her.”

“None of the spirits of the Wangchuan bear a greater burden than me,” Dalian said, closing his eyes. “I am tired, Mother. I’m tired of trying to be better than I am, to prove to you, to everyone—that I deserve the throne more than my sister.”

“We never asked you to.” Aunt Shou’s hands balled into fists. “How could you, Dalian? Your sister loved you.”

His face hardened. “Because of her, nothing I did was ever good enough. I was never good enough. But now I am greater than all of you—and you will suffer for doubting me.”

All around, the air twisted unevenly like it was throttled, a great force roaring through as blinding light erupted from Dalian’s palms. A blazing pillar streaked into the heavens, crackling like a storm of lightning—a heartbeat before it hurtled into the depths of the Wangchuan River, setting the waters and its barriers aglow.

“The river!” Lin shouted. “He’s destroying it!”

A rustling sprang up, the sound creeping down my spine. In the distance, the green lights of the waters writhed, moans rising from the river, melding into a cry that broke across the heavens—no longer of regret but of unfathomable suffering.

Lin, General Fang, and Captain Lai rushed forward, their hands alight with magic, channeling it into the waters—but the barriers along the riverbank gleamed brighter, towering like the tentacles of some monstrous sea creature. Their power rebounded sharply, the Wuxin soldiers thrown onto their backs, blood trickling from the corners of their mouths.

“We can’t remove the barriers,” Lin cried in despair

Dalian laughed, a vicious sound. “Only I control the Wangchuan River; none of the other Wuxin can touch it.”

“Stop!” I shouted at Dalian. “You’re killing your people. You don’t want this.”

A cold smile stretched across his face. “They betrayed me. If I die, let them die with me.”

He flung his arms out, light now plunging toward the gateway—his body jerking violently from the force. The shimmering pane shuddered, then crumpled like paper. “A final gift for taking everything from me. A choice: Stay, to help your enemies, or flee and leave us to our fate.” He smiled cruelly, one last game. “You were never one of us anyway.”

As he collapsed to the ground, Aunt Shou rushed to embrace him. She was weeping as she channeled her power into him, but it was too late. He had spent himself—a final breath slipping from his chest as his eyes flicked toward his mother. How bright they shone, his mouth trembling as his body went still.

A thunderous sound tore from the gateway. It was closing—the marble archway shuddering as chunks fell away, the wisteria wilting on the vines that had shriveled and browned. Petals fell in a shower like rain.

“Liyen, we must go,” Zhangwei said urgently. “The gateway is unstable, destroying itself. If we don’t leave now, we will be trapped here forever.”

My insides were ice, my mind engulfed by the cries rising from the Wangchuan, the shouts from the soldiers desperately fighting to restore the river—even as their efforts rebounded and hurt them in turn. It would be so easy to flee now, leaving the Wuxin to fend for their survival. They had killed my father; I would be avenging his death. Zhangwei’s grip on my hand tightened as though pulling me away. He had no bond to the Wuxin, knowing them only as enemies. While I had lived among them, learned from them, tasted their compassion. Even in this short time, I’d seen the many faces they possessed—not just the mask they showed to their foes.

I was selfish . . . but I wasn’t a monster. I couldn’t let this tragedy unfold, the destruction of an entire kingdom. I couldn’t close the door on them all to save myself—to preserve my own joy, precious though it was. My heart was breaking as I turned to Zhangwei, memorizing his face. This time, I would forget nothing.

“I can’t leave them to die. There is good here, too.” I drew a long breath, yet the weight in my chest did not lessen. “The Wuxin can’t touch the barriers, but maybe I can.”