She nodded, her eyes bright with tears, yet it was not from fear or the impending loss of our home. For as long as I could remember, it had been her nightly ritual to wander the forest, weeping for my father—the only time she allowed her grief to unravel instead of knotting tight in her chest. As a child, I had been hurt by her seeming coldness when I interrupted her during those times, realizing only later it was because she did not want me to see her cry. The urge to confess my father’s existence gripped me, a hard secret to keep when it was what she longed for most—yet I stifled the words. The bond between my father and me was new and untried, but I had given my word; I would respect his choice. And my mother had suffered enough from their parting. I would not revive her hopes only to have them crushed again. Not until I found a way to restore him. Not until I found that duplicitous, backstabbing Tao.

“Make sure the soldiers see you enter, then leave through the balcony with Ping’er,” I instructed her. “Clouds have been summoned just beyond the forest. Shuxiao and I will meet you on the shores of the Southern Sea.”

“Come as quickly as you can,” my mother reminded me, her lips pursed as they did whenever she suspected I was up to no good.

But I no longer crumbled beneath her glare, the truth tumbling out in a stammer. “We will,” I replied steadily.

She left then, the Celestial soldiers by the entrance paying her no more than a cursory glance. Their eyes darted toward me instead, cautious and assessing, before shifting away. My gaze lingered on the luminous walls of my home, its iridescent pillars—pressing each tile and stone into my mind, just as when I had left the first time. My chest ached with suppressed grief. How I would miss this place. Yet as long as we remained alive, so would the dream of returning … no matter how frail it seemed right now.

The wind surged, the air quivering with a rush of immortal auras. Clouds veiled the once-clear night. I locked my hands together, cold yet slicked with sweat.

“They are coming, sooner than anticipated,” Shuxiao said in a low voice.

Something hardened within me. “Then we must go.”

Sensing the soldiers’ eyes upon us, we strode with deliberate measure into the forest, only then breaking into a run, our feet sinking into the shining soil. We halted by the glittering laurel, its leaves clinking like pieces of silver. It was beautiful, yet in that moment I had never hated anything more. If this tree did not exist, the emperor would never have set his sights on my home, and we would not have been forced to flee.