Page 69 of Night of the Dragon

“Tatsumi,” I whispered, my voice shaking with tears. I opened my eyes but could see only my own shadow on the ground before me. “I don’t... I don’t want to say goodbye.”

Tatsumi hesitated, and then ghostly arms rose to embrace me from behind. I couldn’t feel them; like Reika’s hands, they were insubstantial, only a cool tingle against my skin. But Tatsumi bent close, as close as we could get, his lips brushing my cheek.

“I’ll find you,” he murmured. “I promise, Yumeko. No matter how long it takes, how far I have to travel, even if it takes me several lifetimes, I’ll keep looking. My appearance might change, my name might be different, but you are the other half of my soul. It won’t stop searching until it’s found you again.”

“How will I know?” I choked out. “If you look different, how will I know it’s you?”

“You’ll know,” Tatsumi said. “One day, you’ll look up and I’ll be there. And you’ll know it’s me because our souls will recognize each other.”

I turned in his arms, gazing up at him through blurry eyes. He was nearly gone, just the faintest image against the light of dawn. I blinked at him and smiled through the tears.

“Then I’ll hold you to that, Kage Tatsumi,” I whispered. “Until we meet again.”

He raised a fading hand and pressed it to my cheek, making my stomach twist even though I couldn’t feel him. “I love you, Yumeko,” he whispered. “On my honor, I will find my way back to you.”

Lowering his head, he touched his lips to mine, and I closed my eyes.

Goodbye, Tatsumi. Someday, if we do meet again, I hope to hold you for real. Without clans, emperors and Dragon scrolls coming between us. Someday, when the world has calmed down and this is all behind us, we’ll find our way back to each other. And when we do, I’ll never let you go again.

When I opened my eyes, I was alone.

The sun had fully risen over the mountains, and the stars were gone. I stood on a rocky ledge overlooking the valley, the sun on my face and the wind at my back, watching the light slowly creep over the valley below. The long night was over. The Dragon had come and gone, and a new age had begun.

Sitting on the edge, I lay Kamigoroshi beside me and gazed into the valley, watching as the sunlight drove away the last of the shadows and darkness. I knew I should head back down the mountain, find the armies of Moon and Shadow, if any of them had survived, and tell them what had happened. And I would. The Tsuki deserved to know that their island was safe, the Harbinger had returned to normal and the Wish had been spoken. But right now, I was weary and soul-sick, and loss was a gaping wound across my heart. I needed a little time to mourn, to be alone with the memories of my friends, the human I had loved, so that when I did tell their story, it would be one of triumph and victory. And one I could get through without completely breaking down.

So I sat there, the sun warm on my head and shoulders, Kamigoroshi dead and lifeless at my side. I thought of chance encounters and first meetings: a stranger cutting down the demons chasing me through a forest; being ambushed by bandits on a lonely road; encountering a masked, beautiful swordsman on a moonlit bridge; meeting a stern, suspicious miko in a tiny shrine. I thought of Daisuke’s kindness, Reika’s pragmatism and Okame’s irreverence. And I remembered how Tatsumi had looked at me, the touch of his fingers on my skin, his whispered promise at the very end. I thought of everything that had brought me here from the moment I’d fled the Silent Winds temple with the scroll—the danger, the friendship and the love—and several times, I found myself smiling through my tears.

And that was how Kiyomi-sama found me, several hours later.

“Yumeko.”

I turned, looking over my shoulder. A figure stood several paces away, long hair unbound, sleeves fluttering softly in the wind. She looked exhausted, her robes tattered, dirt and blood spattered across her hands and face. But she stood there, steady and solid and real, gazing down at me in relief.

I blinked as my own relief crashed over me like a wave. “Kiyomi-sama,” I whispered as the stubborn, persistent tears crowded forward again. “You’re alive.”

“Yes.” The Moon Clan daimyo gave a pained smile. “We took heavy losses, and were forced to fall back several times, but the line held. The demons did not reach any of the villages, and when the Harbinger first appeared, we took advantage of the chaos and panic it caused to push them back. Still, the losses were severe. Without the aid of the Shadow Clan, none of us would have survived the night.”

I shivered, remembering a wizened, twisted creature shouting at the Dragon, demanding it correct what it had done two thousand years ago. “Lady Hanshou...” I began.

“I know,” Kiyomi-sama said quietly. “I was there when she transformed. She flew into the clouds after the Harbinger and did not return. Long has it been rumored that the Shadow daimyo has slowly been going mad. I hope that, wherever she is, her spirit has finally found peace.”

“What will happen to the Kage now?” I wondered.

Kiyomi-sama shook her head. “I do not know,” she said solemnly. “I do not believe Hanshou had any heirs. Her adviser, Kage Masao, has taken over in her absence. He appears to have the situation in hand. Beyond that, I do not know what will happen to the Shadow Clan, nor is it my place to ask. The Kage must take care of their own. And I must do the same.”

The Tsuki daimyo hesitated, then took two steps forward, watching me with dark eyes that were both conflicted and sympathetic. “Daughter,” she began, sounding uncertain for perhaps the first time I had known her. “I am...pleased that you survived. I know you suffered greatly this night, and as your friends are not here with you, I can only assume...” She trailed off, her smooth brow furrowing, as if unsure of how to proceed. I bit my lip, feeling twin tears slide down my cheeks, as the Moon Clan daimyo paused to collect herself.

“But you are here,” Kiyomi-sama went on. “The night of the Wish is over, and the empire still stands. Genno is gone, the gate to Jigoku sealed, and the demons have returned to the abyss. I don’t know what happened, or what caused the Harbinger to go momentarily mad, but it appears that, against all odds, you have emerged victorious. I can only hope this means that the Tsuki islands are safe, that it is finally over.”

I nodded. “We won,” I whispered, hardly able to believe it myself. “It’s over, but...” I trailed off, closing my eyes as memories crowded forward, bright and painful. “My friends,” I said, my voice shaking. “I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for them. They were the true heroes tonight.”

“They will be remembered,” Kiyomi-sama said solemnly. “In memory and song, in verse and play, their legacy will not be forgotten.” She raised her head, gazing at the sky as the sunlight washed over her face. “We will mourn those we lost, and commit them to legend, but tonight, we will celebrate with those still standing.”

She looked at me, and in that dark gaze, I saw the terrible, always present sorrow finally begin to fade, vanishing like mist in the sun. “Sixteen years ago, I lost a daughter,” the daimyo said. “Last night, I thought I would lose her a second time. But by fate, the Kami’s mercy, or her own incredible luck, she stands before me now. We have been given another chance, Yumeko,” Kiyomi-sama continued and, incredibly, she smiled. It was faint and rusty, as if it hadn’t been used in a long time, but it lit up her face and drove away the lingering shadows in her eyes. “If you are ready,” she murmured, and held out her hands. “I would love to show you where you come from.”

Tears filled my eyes. I stumbled forward and grasped the outstretched arms, clinging to them tightly as her fingers curled over mine. “I would like that,” I whispered. “It has been a very, very long night.”

The Moon Clan daimyo returned my smile. With a sigh, she gazed over the valley, in the direction of Shinsei Yaju. “My advisers are likely in a panic right now,” she said wryly. “And the kami are starting to return. I can feel them, the land welcoming them back. But there is much to do still. Come then, daughter,” she said, and squeezed my hands. “Let’s go home.”

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