As I nodded, Wenzhi drew out the scroll from his sleeve, unrolling the yellowed strips of bamboo, crammed with tiny characters. As he passed his palm over it—agleam with power—the characters leapt off the scroll, hovering in the air like dark moths.

“This enchantment can only be performed once,” he cautioned, taking my hands firmly in his.

“What should I do?” I asked.

“Look upon your mother. Keep her face firmly in your mind,” he instructed.

I studied her slender eyes beneath delicately arched brows. Skin of moonlight, hair of night. When I was young, I had wished to look like her, and now it might be the death of me.

Wenzhi’s power pulsed from his fingers, his energy coursing through me with the force of a storm. The black brushstrokes of the characters broke apart, encircling me like a chain, swirling across my body, gliding over my limbs and face before stilling—a heartbeat before seeping into my skin like spilled ink. Pain seared, jagged and raw, like the words were being carved into my flesh. A hoarse gasp broke from me, sweat beading on my brow.

Wenzhi’s grip tightened around my hands. “Shall I stop?”

I shook my head, gritting my teeth. “Continue.”

The hurt swelled until each breath was a struggle. It erupted through every pore on my body, my skin, bones, and teeth—pressed, squeezed, and scorched like I was being made anew, shaped from clay and fired in a forge … like those soldiers Wugang had spoken of, who guarded the mortal emperor’s tomb. Just when I could bear it no more, a scream rising from my throat—the agony subsided, leaving a dull throb throughout my body and an unfamiliar tautness like the thinnest of threads stretched between Wenzhi and me.

As he released my hands, I staggered back, clutching the table. My vision blurred then sharpened once more. I lifted my fingers to my face, running them over my chin, the slender arch of my nose and cheekbones.

My eyes collided with my mother’s, hers widening with disbelief. “Your face,” she stammered.

“Did it work?” I started to hear her bell-like tones emerging from my throat.

“Yes. For as long as the enchantment holds,” Wenzhi said.

“How long do I have?” I asked.

“As long as you need.” He tilted his head toward me. “You must be careful not to unleash the feather’s power while it’s within you. Keep yourself shielded from it at all times.”

“I will,” I assured him.

“Will Wugang sense your magic?” Liwei asked anxiously.

As I glanced at Wenzhi, he shook his head. “It will be masked, along with your aura.”

A powerful spell. Little wonder that his father had kept this scroll with his most treasured possessions. “Is it a strain on you?” I asked.

He smiled. “I can bear it as long as you can.”

“How will you fight?” I wanted to know.