The smell of smoke was no longer a memory—it was a roar.
General Fang had made his move. To flush us out of the tunnels, he had set the West Wing ablaze. The ancient tapestries curled into black ash, and the cedar beams groaned overhead, showering us in sparks.
We reached the summit of the West Tower, the highest point of the palace. Below us, the courtyard was a sea of iron—Fang's army, waiting like wolves at the base of a tree. There was no way down through the stairs, and the only path forward was a leap into the dark.
"History repeats itself," I whispered, staring down at the churning black water of the Xuán Hé river far below. The height was dizzying. Five years ago, I had jumped to escape him. Now, I was standing beside him.
Zhenkai stepped to the very edge of the stone parapet. The wind whipped his black robes, and the fire behind us cast his shadow long and jagged across the drop. He turned to me, reaching out a hand.
"This time," he said, his voice steady even as the tower shuddered beneath us, "you don't jump alone."
I looked at his hand—scarred from the archive fight, soot-stained, and trembling slightly. I took it. Our fingers interlocked, skin to skin, a silent vow that transcended thrones and blood.
"If we fall," I said, looking into his dark eyes, "I'm taking you to the bottom with me."
"I've been at the bottom for five years, Meilin," he replied with a faint, tragic smile. "It's much warmer with you there."
The doors behind us burst open. Fang's elite guard charged, their faces twisted in the orange light.
Zhenkai didn't look back. He tightened his grip on my hand, pulled me flush against his side, and stepped off into the abyss.
The Interlude: The Breath of Life
The impact with the water was a bone-shattering shock. The Xuán Hé was a violent, freezing beast in the winter, pulling us down into its lightless gut.
I felt my lungs scream. The poison, still lingering in my blood, made my limbs heavy as lead. I began to sink. The surface, a shimmering mirror of the fires above, drifted further and further away.
Then, a hand caught my waist.
Zhenkai pulled me toward him under the water. He didn't swim for the surface immediately. He wrapped his arms around me, his legs kicking powerfully against the current. He pressed his lips to mine—not for a kiss of passion, but to share the last of his air.
It was a raw, desperate exchange of life. His breath became mine. For a moment, in the silent, blue-black depths of the river, we were the only two living things in the world.
He kicked upward, breaking the surface a hundred yards downstream, hidden by the thick mist and the shadows of the willow trees. He dragged me onto the muddy bank, both of us shivering so violently we could barely speak.
"You... you idiot," I coughed, water lungeing from my throat. "You could have drowned."
Zhenkai collapsed beside me, his head thumping onto the wet earth. He reached out, his fingers fumbling until they found my hand in the mud. He squeezed it.
"I told you," he rasped, his eyes fixed on the burning tower in the distance. "Never again."