by Julie C. Dao
Koichi prayed over and over in an undertone, but Wren didn’t know how that would help, seeing as the gods were preoccupied.
The largest, forest-green dragon seized a snake with its front talons and flung it against a tree, generating another tremor in the earth. The serpent recovered and plunged forward, sinking two ivory fangs the size of swords into the dragon’s shoulder. The very moon shook in the heavens as the dragon roared with pain, blood gushing from its body as it circled the snake.
Beside them, the ocean-blue dragon and another snake were attached in a spinning infinite loop. The dragon’s talons were buried in the serpent’s neck, and the serpent’s jaw was embedded in the dragon’s flank. They spun in a painful, frantic whirl until at last, the blue dragon ripped the snake’s head off with a mighty scream and threw it into the forest, where it felled a dozen burned trees and lay still, the head rolling away.
As Wren, Koichi, and Fu looked on, the snake’s head and body deteriorated into black smoke, vanishing into the air. It wasn’t the real Serpent God, but still the victory stirred the four dragons into a greater frenzy as they surrounded the three remaining snakes, teeth bared.
As though in silent agreement, the dragons leapt upon the snake in the middle.
Koichi covered his eyes, but Wren looked on with vengeful delight as they shredded the snake with their talons, sending a haze of blood and black scales down, which also vanished into smoke. The remaining two serpents wasted no time as their comrade died. They leapt into the fray, hissing violently as they sank their fangs into the yellow dragon. One of them, Wren knew, was the Serpent God himself—too angered, too full of hatred to remember his cowardice.
The yellow dragon collapsed, sending a massive shudder through the earth that cracked the bridge. It pinched its eyes shut in pain as blood streamed from its body. Meanwhile, one of the snakes had begun attacking the gray dragon, which slashed and whipped its tail furiously, while the other serpent fended off the talons of the red and blue dragons.
A ferocious scream erupted from the Great Forest. It came from neither dragon nor snake, but from the throat of a man, powerfully built with a blade in each hand, who rushed toward the snake attacking the gray dragon. The serpent had time only to turn its head, startled by this tiny figure running at it, before Ming sliced its head off with three brutal swipes of his weapons. The beast’s body shook as the smoke left it and it vanished, leaving only Ming with his bloody sword and dagger still brandished in the air.
“What is he thinking?” Wren hissed. “This isn’t his fight!”
But Koichi only looked at the crack in the earth through which Xifeng had disappeared, as though he understood.
In the center of the clearing, the yellow dragon rose painfully on its back legs and joined the other gods in forming a circle around the fourth and final snake—the Serpent God, now without any Imperial soldiers, any shield behind which to hide.
None of the gods spoke. But the snake hissed and the dead bloodstained grass rustled beneath the dragons’ feet, and Wren imagined what they might have said to one another. The loss of their friendship had cut deep enough to sever the ties to the heavens and destroy what they had shared, when once they had walked the earth as brothers and benevolent rulers of Feng Lu.
There was such hurt in the air that it made Wren tremble with the intensity of it. She turned to Koichi, but realized he was gone. Unable to watch the violence or be apart from Jade any longer, he had hurried to the apple tree, now laid bare and ungated.
So it was that Wren, watching Koichi with pity in her heart, did not see the death of the Serpent God. She kept her eyes on her friend’s slumped shoulders as he sobbed over the princess who lay beneath the fleecy branches of the tree. It was love and loss that filled her eyes, not the blood or the ravaged tremors of the snake as the dragons devoured it whole.
When Wren turned back to the battlefield, what remained of the Serpent God’s body was only a pile of bloody bones, and the four dragons stood sorrowfully facing the direction of the apple tree. She wondered if they mourned the loss of Jade or of the water-blue dragon who had once guarded the tree in their name. Perhaps it was all one and the same.
As one, the four remaining Dragon Lords bowed their heads to the tree. And then the world shook as they burst into the night, parting the stars on their way back to the heavens. The gale they left in their wake swept the thousand lanterns of Lihua’s story off the ground and out of the trees. The lights flew up and away into the sky, leaving the Great Forest in complete darkness for the first time in fifteen years.
Their task was complete. They had eradicated the final vestiges of true evil on Feng Lu.
And I played a part. Wren’s legs trembled as she walked to where Koichi knelt, stopping to look at the gods’ treasures. The rose had now faded, as had the shine of Tu Lam’s sword. The cloak looked like a mass of dirty gray feathers, and the fishbone like something that belonged in a pile of trash in the palace kitchens.
The palace kitchens.
Wren’s shoulders shook and something bubbled in her throat, inappropriate and yet somehow necessary. She burst into laughter even as tears rained down her cheeks, relief and joy and terror and devastation mingling together, and the disbelief that a year ago, she had been kneeling on the floor of Xifeng’s kitchens, scrubbing pots and wishing for a different life.
Ming came toward her, covered in snake blood, as did the Crimson Army.
“It’s over,” Wren said, gasping for air. Ming placed a hand on her shoulder, his face still full of grief for what he had been forced to do. “It’s all over.”
Dawn broke over the Great Forest and shone its pale light upon the apple tree. Pink streaked through the sky, the only sign of the heavens shattering the night before, and birds sang in the war-ravaged woods. Broken branches and crushed flowers filled the clearing where the battle had raged, but all thoughts lay on the scene before them.
Koichi pulled Jade from the water and laid her upon the grass, his head drooping. He held one of the dead princess’s hands and did not look up when Wren came over with Empress Lihua’s and Amah’s brocade cloak. Quietly, she draped it over Jade’s wet body. Ming came too, gathering a branch of rose-gold apple blossoms to lay upon the girl’s arms.
Behind them, the Crimson Queen and her warriors dropped to their knees, their right arms folded over their hearts in a sign of respect—not because of her royal blood, but because they had recognized in her what they themselves sought to uphold.
My princess, Koichi thought, whose love might have brightened my life.
Jade did not look as though she had passed on in pain or sorrow. There was only peace in the gentle slope of her brows, her sun-warmed cheeks, and her rosy upturned lips. She lay in contentment and joy, for she had loved and been loved. She had known herself, she had made her choices freely, and she had always overcome the fears that plagued her.
Koichi knew that, above all, had threatened Xifeng: the strength of the beauty inside Jade, her good and gentle heart, and her determination to right the world as best she could.
And now she was gone.
Xifeng had taken her from them.
A hot tear fell from Koichi’s eyes and splashed onto Jade’s cheek, and then another, as Fu knelt near his sister with his hands clasped in grief.
“The world must go on without her,” the ghost whispered. “But how, when she was the one thing that might have renewed it?”
Grief twisted Ming’s features. Some of it, Koichi knew, was for Xifeng. The man had lost someone he loved tonight, too . . . or the memory of her. He had lingered on all these years in the desert, dreaming of a woman who had already gone from him long ago.
And I must do the same, Koichi thought. “Goodbye, Princess. Go with all my love,” he whispered, bringing his lips down to meet hers. He kissed her for the last time and squeezed her small, cold hand, as he had done on their journey.
Her fingers twitched in his.
Koichi drew back in shock. He felt them all watching him, full of concern, as he bent over her again. Her skin changed from gray to pink and a light breath emerged from her lips.
Slowly, her eyes opened just as dawn broke over the clearing in its brilliant peach-and-gold glory. “Koichi?” she asked, the name ragged in her throat. She coughed several times, then turned her head and spat a large, ragged piece of red apple onto the grass.
She and Koichi gazed at each other for a long, charged moment, tears cascading down their faces, before he seized her in his arms and kissed her again, deep and fierce. They barely heard the raucous cheering of all who looked on—the Crimson Army’s stoic faces brightening, Ming genuinely laughing for the first time in years, and Wren crying with her hands over her face beside an overjoyed Fu.
Though Lihua’s thousand lanterns had disappeared, the rays of the sun illuminated the places where the lights had once been. They glowed on the branches where the globes had shone out like beacons watching over the Great Forest and the young woman meant to rule them.
Jade looked around at them, her arms still around Koichi. “I saw my mother and Amah when I died,” she told them, her voice hushed with wonder. “They reminded me of the tale of the apple tree, of how an exiled prince discovered one for the first time and survived against all expectations. The Dragon King always taught that hardship shows us who we truly are.”
“And from death comes new life,” Koichi said, his face glowing with happiness.
Jade looked up at the blooming branches. “When my mother died again as the dragon, her wound bled poison into the tree’s roots and tainted the apple. But her love and her protection were in her blood, too, and entered every part of this tree. Your kiss, Koichi, was an act of love that awakened hers, and it was stronger than any poison, hatred, or evil.”
The Crimson Army rose and stood before her respectfully as Jade got to her feet, her mother’s brocade cloak still wrapped around her wet body.
“We have won, and Xifeng and the Serpent God are no more. My friends and I have traveled through fire and water to bring together the Dragon Lords’ relics, and they will hold a place of honor in my halls for as long as the heirs of my blood sit on the throne.” Jade looked up at the skies. “I will honor you, lords of heaven, with every beat of my heart and breath in my body. My children will revere your names. We will do our best to repair your shattered world.”
Her words stirred the burned and ravaged trees of the clearing. A great and gentle wind rustled through the apple blossoms, showering petals in the air.
“My time here is done. I’ve accomplished what I was sent back to do,” Fu said, his kind face full of joy and contentment, and Jade went to him and put her arms around his solid form. He had not relinquished it since he had reunited the relics. He looked over her head at Ming, calling him by the name Xifeng had used. “Wei, you did me a great favor in life. And in return, I have annoyed you . . . that is, kept your company, these many years.”
Wei ran a hand over his wet face, shaking his head and chuckling.
“I must ask yet another favor of you,” Fu said. “Please watch over my sister and take your rightful place as the head of her army in the Imperial Palace.”
Wei’s mouth trembled with emotion as he and the Crown Prince bowed deeply to each other. Then he turned and bowed low to Jade. “I will accept this request of your brother’s, Your Imperial Majesty. I will be in your service for as long as you require.”
“The Commander of my army,” Jade said, looking fondly at him, then turned to Koichi. “I would be honored if you and your father, former Ambassador Shiro, would live with me in the palace and serve as my ministers and trusted advisers.” Koichi placed one hand over his heart as he bowed, and her eyes moved from his beloved face to Wren. “What might I do for you, my friend? I would ask you to train under Wei, and perhaps one day become a great war general of mine, if that was what I felt you wanted. But I think your heart lies elsewhere.”
“It does, Your Majesty.” Wren would have gone on, but Jade held up a hand to stop her.
“You are my sister, and you will never call me anything but ‘sister’ or Jade. It’s what our grandmother would have wanted.” Wren’s face crumpled as she and Jade threw their arms around each other, heart beating against heart. “No matter where you go, there will always be a place for you in the Imperial Palace. And I don’t mean the kitchens,” Jade added quickly, and the laughter burst from Wren again, joyous and fulfilled.
“Thank you, my sister,” Wren told her, with all her heart in her eyes. She turned to the Crimson Queen and the fierce, courageous women behind her. “I would like nothing better than to join this army of warriors, if they’ll have me. I want to live and train in the mountains and be of service to them like I’ve dreamed all my life.”
The Crimson Queen did not hesitate. “More than one of my generals has told me of your prowess with the blade and of your great courage. It will be as you wish,” she said, a rare smile crossing her stern features, and the women came forward to welcome Wren as one of their own.
“The hard work has only just begun, my friends, but with your help I am ready to face this new challenge. I’m not afraid,” Jade said, standing tall, her shoulders held back proudly. “Not anymore, and never again.”
EPILOGUE
Feng Lu struggled on for many long years.
Alliances and friendships had to be rebuilt, the trade route repaired and secured, and the farmlands revitalized after decades of poverty and neglect.
At eighteen years of age, Empress Jade, the last trueborn heir of the Dragon King, knew this well, but did not allow it to frighten her. She learned to call the Imperial Palace home and had every lingering vestige of her stepmother destroyed, ordering Empress Lihua’s map of Feng Lu to be moved to her apartments beside the brocade map that had guided her through her wondrous adventures. She insisted on caring for Emperor Jun herself and spent many hours with her ailing father, who never recovered from his years of suffering and tried his best to impart what knowledge and wisdom he had to her. When he passed, Jade grieved him with genuine sorrow.
She gathered a group of ministers with great intellect and insight on how to right her stepmother’s wrongs, with former Ambassador Shiro and his son, Koichi, as heads of the royal cabinet. Under her orders, they granted each kingdom its independence and sent envoys and gifts to each ruler, for Empress Jade insisted that no one know the Kingdom of the Great Forest as a supreme power or anything but a neighboring land and ally. She chose to maintain the honorary title of Empress of the Great Forest in name only, as a family tribute.
She pulled from the coffers the gold hoarded by the former Empress and distributed it over the land, strengthening farms and securing the Imperial City, in addition to stationing guards along the great trade route to increase its safety. She sent money to monasteries across the continent, particularly to the one helmed by Abbess Lin, to help them continue to serve the gods faithfully and care for the poor. The world would never be perfect, Jade knew, and change would be slow. But she was determined that Feng Lu would not suffer again during her reign. People recognized in her a shadow of Empress Lihua and rallied eagerly around the young queen, who listened to their concerns as though they were her own and met every challenge with zeal.
And every year, on the anniversary of Empress Jade’s birth, the kingdom held a winter celebration in the Great Forest. Children planted trees to replace the ones lost in the Dragon Lords’ final battle, and men and women climbed the trunks to dangle a thousand white lanterns on the branches, illuminating the woodlands in honor of the Empress’s mother. The cheerful globes of light shone upon the feasting, drinking, and merrymaking in the tengaru clearing.
On just such an occasion, five years after the Dragon Lords had eradicated all vestiges of the Serpent God’s evil, a young woman with eyes like the stars a
nd a crown of white jasmine flowers in her night-dark hair kissed the man she loved and excused herself. Koichi nodded, his handsome, merry face softening in understanding as Jade left the festivities to walk alone to an apple tree that flourished in the heart of the wood.
New gates had been erected to protect the apple tree and the many seedlings sprouting all around it. Jade gazed at the branches and sleeping buds that would bloom once more in the spring. As she stood paying tribute to those she had loved and lost, she saw on the island in the clearing many ageless eyes watching her from long, angular heads as red as fire. She had only ever heard them described in Amah’s stories, these horse-demons, both gentle and fierce by turns, who watched over the Great Forest with love and care. Jade bowed deeply to the tengaru, honoring them as guardians of the woodlands, and murmured a prayer of thanks for their return.
Outside, in the midst of the merrymaking, a proud-looking young woman garbed in black gathered all of the children beneath the newly hung lanterns. From her lips, painted crimson, everyone knew she was a member of that fearsome army of women who lived deep in the mountains of Dagovad. But they let their small sons and daughters go to her freely, trustingly, for she was Empress Jade’s own heart-sister who returned to the Great Forest for each birthday celebration. And every year, she would tell the rapt children the tale of courageous Empress Jade, and of how that apple tree had taken her life and given it back again, thanks to a mother’s powerful love that had transcended even death.
Every so often, Wren would look up in the midst of her storytelling and see Koichi seated beside Wei, grinning approvingly at her newfound appreciation for folktales. She would shrug, smile back, and continue painting with words the glittering lake where the sky-maidens had danced, the sea where a bold young man had fled his captors and found salvation, and the burning, unforgiving sands of the desert where once, a princess who had been lost had found herself again.