Page 94 of For Ever More

“Thank you, Dian,” I whisper.

As she sprints away from me, I’m running too, my heart fracturing apart. Once I leave, I don’t know when I’ll see my sister and father again. But I can’t dwell on that, I won’t weaken.

All around, chaos churns. Dian drew one group of soldiers away, but more are joining the chase. Heading north, I run till my legs burn. There’s no sign of the dragon, yet the guards’ footsteps thud louder, closer—my chest squeezed with terror.

The air ripples abruptly, dust scattering. Something cool envelops me, sweeping me off my feet—lifted high as I smother a scream. Below, the soldiers call out in confusion, none looking into the skies. I’m flying, riding on something that feels as hard as stone, as smooth as jade.

The Moon Dragon.

I hold my breath, not daring to move or speak as we fly silently across the night, the wind tearing through my hair and clothes. She bears me on her back effortlessly, her scales shifting to blend into the dark. Beneath, the island unravels like a flutter of silk, lights flickering from the torches of the soldiers searching for me. They can’t see us, but unease grips me as I think of Dian. Did she get away safely?

At last, we descend toward a cluster of trees. I brace, though am set gently down on a sturdy branch. The creature lands beside me, shrinking to fit the confines of the tree. Twin eyes shine like sapphires, scales gleaming silver-white, delicate gold antlers arched from her head.

I bow awkwardly. “Great One, thank you for your help.”

She fixes her eyes upon me. My companion is dead, yet I sense a remnant of his power in you.

“I am sorry we could not save him.” My voice falters. Inadequate words to express the sorrow spilling through me.

He is not fully lost. He lives in my mind, in my heart, in the sliver of magic that now belongs to you. A pause. Use it well.

“You must miss him greatly,” I say haltingly.

Every second of every day. Even in my dreams.

Such grief in those words, they wring my chest.

The Moon Dragon slants her head toward me. Why did you come here?

“Great One, I need guidance.” Quickly, I tell her what the carp spirit shared in the Ancient Grove, all that transpired in the Pavilion of Elders.

Her expression is somber. The Elders have changed since we came to this island. In the beginning they were humble and kind, grateful for any aid we offered. Over the decades, they have grown intoxicated by power, their demands increasing, their manner more arrogant. A low growl rumbles. The Elders’ greed and ambition have long been of concern to my companion and me. Except sharing our power with your people tethered us—we are now so deeply interwoven with the island, our departure would endanger all who live here, even ourselves.

“Is this why you warned me against revealing the Sun Dragon’s magic?” I ask.

Yes, but this treachery is worse than imagined. Her claws dig into the branch, splintering the bark. Unforgivable, to murder the loyal captain, to steal the starfire that my ancestors destroyed to protect the realms. To yield it to the Queen of the Iron Mountains for evil.

“Lord Hairong has accused me of his own crimes and fled,” I say. “I fear my family is in danger.”

He must suffer the consequences of his wrongdoing. Rest assured, until the truth is revealed, I will watch over your family.

“Thank you.” Relief fills me, but there is more. “I want to stop the queen. Will you help me?” I dig into my waistband, pulling out the starfire, flickering in the dragon’s presence as though unsettled. “We took this from the waterfall before the queen arrived. I want to use it to end the threat of the Iron Mountains.”

If only I could destroy this now—a wretched thing that caused such suffering in the tussle for power. Revulsion churns in her gaze. If only I could bury the starfire forever in the depths of the ocean, crush it to nothingness. If only my brother and sisters were still here—together, we could end this threat again. But I am alone. After the destruction of the waterfall, there is no place left in our realm that would be safe for it.

Fear presses like a stone in my chest when I think of the queen searching for this, how she would kill for it. “In the Palace of Nine Hills, the pieces of starfire were immersed in the Sun Dragon’s blood to unite them. Back then, I was able to carve a scratch upon the surface. How can the starfire be destroyed so this never happens again?” I ask.

The starfire is flawed, even after being merged. If shattered again, it will be irrevocably destroyed. A pause before she continues. The moment when the starfire is joined together is also when it is most vulnerable. A great force is needed to break it apart, more than I possess—for I am alone now, weakened after the loss of the waterfall and the decline of the grove.

“It is claimed the same dragon’s blood must be used to unite the rest of the starfire.” I recall Mistress Weining’s words, asking intently, “What if your blood is used on the starfire as well, in addition to that of the Sun Dragon’s?”

The Sun Dragon’s magic and mine are as different as night from day. To combine our blood would cause a great clash—one of terrible destruction.

Hope flares for the first time in days. “Terrible enough to destroy the starfire?”

Perhaps. But it would be dangerous. My power is also waning, my blood less potent—it might not be enough.

I think of the elixir I took from Lord Hairong. “What if the Ancient Grove is restored? Would this strengthen you?”