Page 117 of The Blood Orchid

“What’s wrong?” Yufei said, her grip bruising around my wrist.

I turned away, sinking my fingers into the soft soil to ground myself.

I understood, all at once, why the Sandstone Alchemist had tried so hard to keep me away from Penglai.

He understood as well as I did that powerful alchemy could rend the world in half if it fell into the wrong hands, as it had with the Empress. Of course he hadn’t trusted someone like me with that kind of power.

But if he’d gone so far to hide Penglai away, why had he kept any sort of instructions for how to return? The fact that they were written down meant they were intended for someone else. Perhaps it was in case he ever changed his mind?

“I think I figured out where all these rings came from,” I said at last, turning back to the river where the bodies had fallen. I dipped my fingers into the river once more, feeling for latent alchemical energy, but could sense nothing but cool, clean water. The other four alchemists had gained incredible, inexhaustible powers from this island by sacrificing their friends. What kind of sacrifice could I give in order to bring back a dozen souls?

I pulled away from my siblings, looking between the threerings we’d stolen, then up at the mountain peak where the Sandstone Alchemist had descended from.

The source of alchemy.

Surely, if there was anything in the world that could bring back all the long-lost dead, it was up there.

I hesitated a moment before rising to my feet. The Sandstone Alchemist had used his sacrifice to keep this place hidden away. Surely that meant this place was awful, that this sort of alchemy wasn’t meant to be used.

But so many people were waiting for me, trapped in the river of souls. I could hardly turn back now.

I rose unsteadily to my feet, pointing at the mountain. “I need to go up there,” I said.

Slowly, we trekked into the forest. The leaves felt like silk brushing past my face, the hum of insects like distant bells. Each pebble glimmered, a marvel in and of itself, every flower and grain of sand and cloud overhead perfectly shaped, as if crafted by the hands of the gods.

At last, we reached a small cave, cool with shade, where the stream disappeared into darkness. I stepped under the blanket of shadows, emerging in a small stone room where the water swirled in a small pool on the ground.

On its surface bobbed a transparent sphere, like a planet made out of the thinnest, most delicate glass. Inside it, storm clouds of every color swirled, the same as inside all of the other alchemists’ rings. The air rang like the faint echo of a gong, my bones buzzing from the force of it. My rings felt warm, and my soul tag burned. The Silver Alchemist had said alchemical power was heightened on Penglai Island, but this was the only place I could truly sense it.

Here, at the source of alchemy.

“Zilan?” Wenshu said, his shadow eclipsing the doorway, casting the room in darkness.

Just beyond him, at the opening of the cave, I caught a glimpse of a figure standing on the golden sands, far below.

Who else is with us?I thought. But when he moved from the doorway, the figure was gone.

I shook my head and knelt down at the water’s edge as Wenshu and Yufei lingered uneasily behind me. Whatever the Sandstone Alchemist had seen, it had changed his mind about alchemy. Once I learned its source, I could never unsee it.

I took a deep breath and sank my hands into the water.

Chapter Twenty-Four

I am standing in a village that no longer exists.

The sky is an unsettled gray, the taste of an impending storm on my tongue, pinpricks of cold rain over my face and open palms. The houses of this fishing village burst like plum blossoms from the green hills, south sides hugged with moss, red lanterns echoed in ruby reflections across the cove. It is the kind of quiet, perfect beauty that can only exist in memory.

To my left, the ocean hums. The villagers are hiding from some nameless fear, whispering behind their locked windows.

I come from a world of fierce monsters and evil empresses, and I expect a great sea beast to claw its way up to the shore. Perhaps a creature of legends, something fearsome beyond measure.

But what happens next is much worse.

From the east, the ocean begins to rise.

As if the sea is a great blanket that someone has peeled up to peer underneath, it grows taller and taller, the dark abyss of the deep ocean yawning as it approaches. It stretches taller than the village, taller than the whole world, blacking out the gray skyuntil there is a lightless cage of sea overhead. And then, at last, it crashes down.

The wooden bones of the village shatter, lanterns extinguished in an instant, foam and black sea rushing toward me. Thatched roofs are carried away, carts tumbling over themselves, children screaming before they’re sucked underneath. The water seizes me, crushes me in its cold hands, slams me against the side of the building. It drags me along the village streets until my chest screams for air. The ocean releases me at last when a metal support beam from the roof skewers my spine, splitting me in half.

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