Page 73 of For Ever More

Dian smiles at me, yet her arms close tighter around the dragon as though shielding him. While Shenming’s gaze is watchful and alert. Is he regretting not informing the Elders of the danger I pose?

Jin grips my hand, looking into my face. “Soon, you will be free of it.” Is he trying to reassure himself or me?

Taking his arm, I inspect his wound. Though the blisters have healed, the skin is raw. “It doesn’t hurt anymore. The cure worked.” He calls out to Dian, “You have my thanks.”

“Yining would be unhappy if you died,” she replies brusquely.

“She’s trying to say she doesn’t dislike you anymore,” I add with a laugh.

“I wouldn’t go that far.” She scowls at us. “I just dislike him less.”

We travel onward in silence, relieved that the snakes don’t return. Above, the clouds have rolled away, leaving the night infused with starlight.

“We’re close,” I tell the others. “It feels different, like we’re no longer searching—but almost there.”

We travel through a forest, then up a hill, finally descending toward a clearing. There, I halt, struck by wonder. Thick pillars of dark smoke billow from the earth to merge with the sky, clustered to form a wall, undulating with the wind. Though I can’t see what lies on the other side, a deep peace permeates this place, a transcendent quiet.

“The Waterfall of Eternal Night,” I say in hushed tones.

As we approach, the smoke glistens like ice. A disembodied voice rings through my mind—ours—as we exchange startled looks. Only those in the company of a dragon may enter.

Dian unclasps the sling across her shoulder, carefully peeling it away from the Sun Dragon, gone as still as stone. Her hands are shaking, the same excitement surging through me too. Soon, the dragon will regain his strength, restored to the shining creature in my memories. As Dian holds him out, the lights in the barrier fade. I’m holding my breath as we step through the smoke, as cool as the mist that winds around our island. It closes behind us, cutting off the sounds of the world beyond.

We stand in a clearing surrounded by these opaque, undulating pillars. It’s colder here, my arms instinctively wrapped around myself. The Waterfall of Eternal Night feels at once radiant and unfathomably dark, a place of magic and secrets.

The earth is carpeted by flowers and dandelions, the same as those I’ve only ever seen in Thorn Valley. Iridescent rocks circle a shimmering lake, reflecting the stars above, now crowned by the curve of the moon. There is no relentless rush of water cascading down, the lake as still as a mirror—the waterfall formed of a torrent of celestial light spilling from the heavens. From the lake, a red rose blooms, gold thorns gleaming on its stalk—Jin stares at it too—a twin to the one in the Ancient Grove, except in perfect bloom.

“We must submerge the dragon in the lake,” Shenming instructs us.

Dian kneels by the bank and lowers the Sun Dragon carefully toward the water. It surges suddenly, lifting the dragon from her grasp, bearing him away. My sister sits back on her heels, her face intent and bright—an aching lightness in my chest.

As the Sun Dragon drifts closer to the luminous waterfall, his tail uncoils, his claws unfurl, his eyelids fluttering to reveal slits of white beneath. The stars and moon shine so bright it feels like day, their radiance converging around the dragon, imbuing him with an unearthly glow. Dazzling, it hurts to look upon him, my gaze dropping as I kneel beside my sister. The shards of our reflection ripple across the water, this place reminding me of the pond near my old home. I miss the Little Dragon, my first real friend—its bones in my pouch, the right burial place still eluding me.

Except the carp spirit would have loved it here, entranced by the old legend of a waterfall said to transform fish into dragons. An impulse seizes me, my hands digging a hole in the ground, the wet soil caking my nails.

“What are you doing?” Dian asks.

“Fulfilling a promise I made.”

She joins me, plunging her hands into the earth to dig alongside me. Once the hole is large enough, I lay the Little Dragon’s bones within it. “Rest well, my friend,” I whisper.

A breeze stirs, the flowers swaying. A glittering trail streaks from the lake to the sky—so swift, it could be a trick of the eye. Perhaps it’s the carp’s spirit murmuring its approval… or a final farewell.

The waves bearing the Sun Dragon rise higher then, carrying him deeper into the waterfall, where the light of the heavens shines brightest. His scales gleam, his head moving from side to side as though stirring. The air is taut with power, the lake glistening like stars are churned in its depths. Something jolts me within, my ring searing. The Sun Dragon’s magic roils, straining to be freed, to return to its true owner. I’m rising, my feet moving of their own volition toward the water. Dian calls out a warning, but it sounds far away—as I step into the lake, the icy water swirling around me.

“It’s time. I need to return the magic,” I tell my sister. “This will help the Sun Dragon’s restoration.”

In unison, we look up. The dragon’s head is flung back, his mane rippling around his face, his scales ablaze like fire. Tears shine in Dian’s eyes, the urge to weep seizing me too. It’s been a long time since I felt such joy—such hope, that the days ahead are not so bleak after all.

Drawn onward, I move deeper into the lake. Waist-deep in the frigid water, the cascade of light beckons. As I step into it, my body grows taut; it feels as if my skin is splitting apart. Magic surges in a violent force, streaming from my fingertips, glittering as it rises toward the dragon hovering above. Regret sears at surrendering this—yet my heart soars in the certainty that the Sun Dragon will be safe.

Darkness engulfs us. Abrupt and bewildering… like the moon and stars are snuffed out, the absence of light startling. Gone is the tranquility from moments ago. The magic I’ve released suddenly halts—resisting my attempts to channel it into the dragon—then floods back into me, the force almost knocking me over. This time, it feels different, eluding my hold, my attempts to grasp it.

I turn to find Jin crouching on the ground, picking up the shards of luminous crystal that weren’t there moments ago—lines creasing his brow. The lake roils violently now, a murkiness pooling like ink, staining the once pristine waters. Terror consumes me, Dian’s face ashen. Everything is wrong.

“Get out of there, Yining!” Jin calls out urgently.

I crane my neck to the dragon still floating above, though the radiance of his scales has faded again, as though his strength has been leached once more.