“The shadow of his presence, like a dream without a face.” My voice shook as I remembered Wenzhi’s eyes closing, his chest hollowing with his last breath. “I know he is dead. But I thought … I believed part of his spirit remained in the Cloud Wall—until now.” I fell silent, realizing the foolishness of my words, already regretting the impatience that had led me here, clinging to nothing but a mirage.

It was so quiet in the hall, surely all could hear the rustle of my sleeve, the breath which slipped from my mouth. Liwei leaned forward, his eyes dark and opaque. “He is in the world below, but not as you know him. Not yet.”

I could not move, staring at him, wide-eyed and numb. And then his meaning sank in—a blazing lightness sweeping me up, even as a hundred questions slammed through my mind. Disbelief warred with a wild hope that refused to be tamed, for it had been caged far too long. I was trembling, my heart still piecing together what my mind was beginning to grasp. My father had spoken of the few times when immortals had been sent to the Mortal Realm at the Celestial Emperor’s behest, just as he had been sent to slay the sunbirds. A rare exception, requiring the emperor’s permission, and the promise of restoration.

Liwei was the Celestial Emperor now.

“Wenzhi is mortal? How is that possible? He died,” I said haltingly.

“He was fortunate. His consciousness was preserved along with his immortal spirit, something we had never seen before.”

“The laurel.” A lump formed in my throat as I recalled the fading remnants of its sap scattering over Wenzhi’s body. “It brought me back. It saved a part of him too.”

“Why did his spirit only leave now? Why not before?” My voice shook, the enormity of the revelation still unfolding in my mind.

The Keeper of Mortal Fates stepped forward, approaching the dais. “We could not do it at first. His spirit was greatly weakened; we were unsure if it was strong enough to sustain a mortal existence, the only way he could return without losing his immortal self.” He stroked his long beard contemplatively. “Yet over the years his spirit gradually strengthened, as though something was helping him heal—a most unusual circumstance. Only then, could he be sent to the Mortal Realm.”

“But that was after the laurel was destroyed, its power is no more.” Even now, I dared not wholly believe it, afraid it was not real, that this happiness would be snatched from me again.

“Not the laurel. You,” Liwei said gently.