Closing my eyes, I released my power into her, just as Liwei had done for me before—letting it surge unbound, not halting even when a weariness sank into my limbs, darkness toying at the edge of my consciousness. She could not die; I would not let her. But there was no echoing warmth, the lights fading from her blood until it grew mortal-dull. I gathered more of my magic, hurling it into her—again and again—even as something pierced my daze, the sound of my name repeated in an endless refrain, each time more urgent than the last.

“Xingyin, stop! Don’t drain yourself.” Wenzhi’s voice rang out. Had he been calling me all this time?

“I can’t let her die.” Such anguish wracked me that I would fail, that there was nothing I could do to save her. Wenzhi’s hand clasped mine, and I had not the strength to tear myself away—numbed from exhaustion, from the agony that burrowed a hole through my chest.

“Let me try.” He released me to press his fingers to her brow. His eyes narrowed, as a bleakness settled over his face. “The wound is fatal; her lifeforce is destroyed. No matter how much of your energy you give her, it is hopeless.”

He spoke gently, yet each word hit me like a blow. As my mother’s sobs stabbed my ears, I took Ping’er’s hand again, refusing to yield.

Her eyes opened wide, startlingly bright like they were lit by some inner fire. Her chest convulsed, her lips parting, a labored breath slipping out. I leaned closer, placing my ear just above her mouth.

“Little Star, no more. I am tired.”

Fear was a dagger plunged deep through my heart, and twisted once to tear it anew. A hopeless wish wound through my mind: That this was not real, that I had not failed her, that she was not dying.

She reached for my mother with a shaking hand. “Mistress, it was my greatest honor to have served you. My honor and my joy.”

My mother clasped Ping’er, tears sliding down her pale cheeks. “The honor was mine, my dearest friend.”

Ping’er’s mouth worked as though she had more to say, though not the strength to voice it. She squinted like she could not see, darkness beginning to cloak her vision. As her grip tightened around mine, I squeezed back with all the love in my heart … but then she broke free to fumble at her neck, unlatching something that she pressed into my palm—the pearl I had seen once before. It had been warm then, yet was now glazed with a wintry chill.

“The daughter I never had. The light of my days.” Her words rang clear, a radiant smile upon her face. “Would you bring me home?”