I left the Eastern Sea with a violent hunger gnawing at me for someplace new, untainted by the past. Gripped by a desire to wander and roam, to drown my senses with unfamiliar sights across emerald forests, silver mountains, and untouched oceans. There was one place that called to me stronger than the rest, one place I had stayed away from, afraid of reopening old wounds that had never quite closed.

Finally, I yielded, traveling to the Golden Desert, trekking across the glittering dunes as the sunrays beat down upon my head. If the Celestial Kingdom was spring, the desert was a pitiless summer. I slept in the afternoons and walked in the evenings when it was cooler, beneath the light of the moon. Some nights I fell asleep upon the rough sands, only awakened by the fierce glare of day … and those were the times I slept best of all.

At the border of the Cloud Wall, I froze—jolted by the sight of those shifting violet clouds, emotions crashing through me. Through snatches of news that trickled my way, I heard there had been a great power struggle after Wenzhi’s death. His mother, the Dowager Queen, had emerged victorious, ascending the throne and proving she was a capable and wise ruler. Just as her son would have been, had he not the misfortune of loving me.

The Cloud Wall prospered, no longer the outcast of the realm. Immortals ventured freely to this place they had feared for so long, and the name “Demon” was uttered less. A sudden urge seized me to journey there—where I had known both anguish and hope. But Wenzhi’s mother would rightfully cast me from her presence, the one who had cost her son so dear. No, I could not impose myself upon her, stirring up grief anew. She was no friend of mine; I had no claim to her patience, even as I longed to grieve with her for what we had both lost. The greatest service I could do for her was to disappear.

There was fragile solace in knowing that after an immortal’s passing, their spirit lived on in our realm, whether in the skies or the Four Seas. Even though their consciousness was gone, at least they were not wholly lost. Death was a strange thing for an immortal to ponder, yet how could I not when it had claimed those I loved?

I lifted my head, inhaling deeply. Something in me—the part which still hurt—craved the very air here, the trace of him I sensed among these clouds. A hard thing to grasp, impossible to define. Was I attuned to it because of our closeness, because we had been tethered by the enchantment that killed him? Or perhaps, it was merely the kindness of my mind, conjuring illusions to ease the hurt.