Page 35 of Immortal

A growl rang out behind us, frantic and low. I twisted around to find an enormous creature flying toward us, even larger than the phoenix we rode upon. Silver antlers reared from its head, its body covered in coppery scales. A red mane encircled its face, from which curved tusks emerged. Black hooves gleamed at its feet, curled beneath the creature as it soared with swift grace.

Fear flickered, underscored by something else—was it curiosity? Fascination? This being was otherworldly and magnificent—a mystery—unlike the dragons and phoenixes I’d often read about. “What is this creature?” I wanted to know.

Zhangwei’s eyes narrowed. “A qilin. She should not be here.”

“Why? Are they dangerous?”

“They can be,” he replied tersely.

The creature must be more vicious than it appeared. Before I could ask more, Zhangwei raised his hand, the tips of his fingers aglow with his power. The air thickened with a tension I was growing attuned to, a translucent shield sweeping around us that rippled with the wind. The qilin howled as it flew past, like it could no longer see us. I instinctively covered my ears with my hands, unsettled by the fury in its tone.

“It’s gone now. Don’t be afraid.” Zhangwei caught my hand, his touch searing me.

“Why did you hide us from the qilin?” I asked.

“You mean instead of killing it?” He paused, then replied, “Violence should never be the first answer.”

“Sometimes, not even the last.” I was glad he could not see my face. Maybe it was time to stop making assumptions about him when I was so often wrong. “Violence should be avoided at all costs, the reckless reaping of innocent lives.”

“Yes,” he agreed. “Yet there are rare times when the lines are blurred, when it’s your life against your enemy’s, when you need to protect those you care for.” His voice rose above the wind, clear yet low. “I didn’t want to hurt the qilin. They are wondrous creatures: powerful, intelligent, fiercely loyal—though they can turn aggressive when challenged or provoked.”

“It flew so swiftly,” I said. “Can the qilin be ridden as the phoenixes?”

“Many have tried. But the qilin have little interest in accepting riders.”

Beneath us, the mountains rose like a ridge of islands from the glittering sand. The sun beat down, a pleasant heat that glided off one’s skin rather than settling like a cloying weight. Lush forests loomed on the horizon, a steep cliff appearing from their midst, its sheer face gleaming like beaten copper sliding into the azure ocean. Flowers bloomed from the branches, vivid reds and yellows, until they seemed afire from a distance. As our cloud descended, an exquisite melody filled the air—pure, sweet, and strong. Such lightness filled me, unseen burdens falling away. Here I could breathe easier, smile without restraint, a rare peace stealing over me.

We landed upon the grass, silken-soft beneath my feet. After Zhangwei helped me down, he unfastened a basket from the phoenix’s side. A breeze sprang up, infused with the warmth of summer. As a shadow swept over us, I looked up to find a phoenix soaring above, its bright tail rippling through the skies. Another flew alongside it, spiraling through the air—this one with a scarlet crest and silver-tipped feathers.

How easy it would be to lose oneself in wonder, to forget why I was here. Yet those soft feathers came with talons that could rend flesh like silk, and a mortal here was nothing but prey.

“This is the domain of the Phoenix Kingdom,” Zhangwei said as we walked. “It’s a privilege to hear their song; not many beyond their borders have the opportunity. Their songs possess a rare quality that aids in healing, especially the mind—the wounds that can’t be seen.”

“Do you come here often?” I asked.

“The Phoenix Queen doesn’t look kindly upon trespassers, but she granted me permission to visit when I wish.”

“She must think highly of you.”

“It was more a repayment of a debt.” His tone hardened. “The Golden Desert bore the brunt of the war with the Wuxin. We protected the Immortal Realm when the other kingdoms did not, claiming it was an internal conflict. Maybe they believed it was safer to not take sides—to wait until the dust settled, until it became clear who would win.”

My anger flared. “A costly mistake that both our people paid for.”

“The other kingdoms underestimated the danger of the Wuxin, not knowing enough of them,” he said. “They only became a threat under their new ruler—one who taught them to seize, to destroy.”

“If the Wuxin had won, the other immortals would have been next,” I said bitterly. Selfishness lay at the root of this, those who jostled for gain rather than for the good of the realm. “Why didn’t your allies help you?”

“Our kingdom was newly formed, without allies, those willing to help shoulder the burden of war.”

Unlike Tianxia. “Why did Queen Caihong want to unite the Golden Desert?” I asked.

“Back then, the Golden Desert was the only domain in the Immortal Realm without a ruler. It isolated us, keeping us friendless, weakening us with petty infighting and rivalries. We’ve learned that we’re stronger together. Since then, the other kingdoms have also welcomed us.” He looked around. “I was glad to be able to come here. This place was vital to my recovery after the war.”

While I’d heard murmurs of his injuries, this was the first time he’d spoken of them. “Were you badly hurt then?”

“Yes,” he admitted slowly. “Some days I still feel its shadow.”

He appeared so strong and indomitable, it was hard to imagine him weakened. “Is that why your skin feels cold?” I asked.