Metaworld Chronicles

Shanghai.

Fudan Tower.

Much to the surprise of all involved, Gwen Song, Cambridge Magister, Mistress of the Isle of Dogs, War Mage of the Commonwealth Mageocracy and preeminent Lord Regent of Shalkar, did not forget that once, she was the Worm Handler of Fudan.

To the chagrin of Pudong Tower's dignitaries, their rare guest did not choose to arrive at the VIP lounge of Pudong Tower but at the ancient, three-decade-old ISTC of Fudan University's student Towers.

After an initial surge of hesitant mana, the ISTC array flared into life, materialising a trio of guests into the humble, local array used by the students.

"Honoured Regent!" Dean Lou, the first to receive the announcement two nights prior, was dressed in his best Mage robes, something between a changshan and a battle garb. To prepare for this moment, he had not slept for a day, having personally led the Conjuration Research Committee and the Enchantment School's best members to retool the ancient receiver. "Welcome!"

"WELCOME TO FUDAN!" The dozen Magisters and Maguses behind him also bowed, lowering their heads but not their eyes.

"Dean Luo—" came a voice both sultry and sweet, with a tone akin to a niece chiding a childish uncle. "—You honour us too well. After all, isn't my return to Fudan more like a homecoming?"

The speaker possessed the same youthful face Luo had etched into his memory, barely touched by the passage of years. Her infamous coming-of-age, however, had robbed the girl of the doe-eyed doubt that he recalled being so prominent.

“Magister Song—“

“GWENNIE—!”

The Dean's speech was interrupted by a shout of pure jubilance from another rare guest he dared not interrupt.

Elvia Lindholm, Knight Companion of the Ordo Bath—the Vessel of the Immortal Yinglong, launched herself up the stairs, then latched onto his guest.

To have two such visitors meet in Fudan was to bring more attention to the school than when they received a handful of Cambridge Magisters as instructors in exchange for delivering Magister Wen, their resident Void Specialist, to England.

The visit had been, Luo knew, Gwen's way of paying back the school that had gifted her a stepping stone in reaching the upper stratum of Spellcraft. Together with the national attention they invited into the campus grounds, their alumna would also announce an Isle of Dogs Scholarship, one with a potential pathway to exchange programs in Oxbridge.

Lumen recorders flashed, bathing the room like a lightbox.

Watching the smaller girl hang onto the neck of her taller companion, the Dean felt suddenly nostalgic for the "Flashbang" custom Evocation his ex-student once wielded with such pride.

"Magus Kutznetsova…" The Dean bowed his head again, greeting the girl's entourage. "And Miss Li and Magus Huang. It's good that you've all returned to the motherland."

Richard and Petra were Mages with impeccable grades, model university students that quickly became widely known throughout the campus. Many of the Maguses gathered today had been their instructors, which made their presence all the more pride-inducing.

"Dean! How are ya, mate?" Richard was the first to reach out and shake his hand, dispelling the awkwardness of Gwen's occupied state.

"Sir." Petra bowed, making Luo feel an inch taller. "It's good to see that you are well. Is Ellen's training coming along?"

"She's doing well, though she did decline to be here, haha..." Luo made a glance at Gwen.

Petra delivered an understanding nod.

Luo inwardly signed. Seeing one's student take on roles that had tangible impacts on events and lives worldwide was something even he had not dreamed of coming so soon. Yet, here they were—a pair of Maguses under the wings of Magister Gwen Song, making waves in the Black Zones, carving out new niches of living space for their fellow man.

As for their last member, Luo wasn't sure how to exactly receive the girl.

Lulan Li had been the mad dog of the university, a student for sure, but one who had brought more trouble than merit. Yet, through Gwen's guidance, the girl somehow recovered from her mana deviation, made a name for herself in the IIUC, and then… disappeared.

Luo had even received requests from the Tower asking if she should be stricken from the student register for failing to attend even a quarter of the lessons and submitting no credited assignments or Dungeon Quests for her final third-year grading.

Luo had instantly rejected the request—and looking at the girl now, he felt only relief for his informed choice.

Lulan Li, the disciple of Ryxi, is known to those in high places as a Yinglong household Faction member. A girl as sharp as her jade blades, carrying herself with the air of a dynastic swordswoman, like those narrated by popular novelists of the old ways before the Clans succumbed to the ease of Spellcraft.

No matter what the regulations say—Luo shall always think of Lulan as a "student' of Fudan.

"Dean." The girl tilted her head slightly, her eyes scanning the room for what Luo hoped wasn't anything dangerous enough to cause her to act. With the press corp here, should anything happen to the Regent of Shalkar, Pudong and the PLA may raze Guanghua Towers to its foundations.

It took a dozen more breaths for the Vessel of the Yinglong to peel herself from the Regent, who then held the Vessel's hand even as they spoke to the press about how gracious they were to be received by Fudan.

More Hands were shaken. Lumen-pics recorded and Messaged.

The scholarship was announced to general applause.

Then Luo gave a prompt speech about cooperation between Oxbridge and Fudan.

After that, he stepped from the podium, knowing his part in the play was done.

A long time ago, against the ignorance of others, he had given a girl a scholarship.

Before those naysayers had even finished their tenure, that girl had returned to gift the university with a hundred scholarships, recognition and connections.

Once the rare hour of his old student's apportioned time was spent, she would be off to grander accomplishments.

As for Luo, he would have to return to the mortal duty of organising the largest celebration the university had ever held since its inception: an extravaganza extolling the marriage between a mortal man and an immortal Dragon.

With Elvia clinging to her arm like a lost koala joey, Gwen felt no impatience as their limousine glided soundlessly through the orbital highways of the city. She felt content, for Elvia's face was warm against the skin of her shoulder. Outside, the mana smog was only mildly obscuring her view of the city, and her nostalgia was thicker than a bowl of shark-fin soup.

She wasn't sure why her friend was so impassioned by their three months of separation, though she could hazard a few guesses.

Ahead, a few spaces away, Richard and Petra made small talk with Mathias, Elvia's Knight Protector. Lulan sat behind the driver, keeping a keen eye on the nervous NoM's manipulation of the luxury vehicle. Their limo was also escorted by police on rumbling motorcycles, clearing the traffic with flashing batons.

"The traffic is almost impossible," Elvia explained, having been in Shanghai for a few days already. "You should have applied for a Teleportation permit."

The traffic was impossible because half of the small roads had been blocked by banners, banquet tables, lanterns strung across the buildings, and people already packing the city's spaces, readying to get unbelievably drunk at the Central government's expense. To ensure that no citizen felt a shred of ill will toward Ayxin, the Planning Committee of Shanghai had spared no expense, releasing a budget so generous that the next governor would likely lose a full head of hair just paying back the interests.

"I spoke to your brother," Elvia said.

"You did?" Gwen smiled at the thought of Percy. "Isn't he so handsome now? And he only has one girlfriend this entire time. Could this be the end of the curse of Hai Song? I should thank Mei for keeping him in line, hahaha."

"His opinion of you hasn't changed much." Her Cleric's tone was sad and discouraged. "From when we were in high school."

"He IS a Salt Mage." Gwen made a poor joke. "He'll grow into it, I am sure. No doubt he's seeing Shalkar and feeling a bit… overwhelmed."

Her soul mate did not offer a counterpoint, which was, in Gwen's opinion, what made her love Elvia so much.

"They say the city will be a sea of firecrackers and lanterns in twelve hours." Elvia pivoted as she sunk into the folds of her well-glamoured Parisian dress. "The jubilation of China's cities will be heard from the Yellow to the Eastern Sea."

"If it's as amazing as you say," Gwen answered dreamily. "We should go for a fly around later, after the wedding. I can request Flight privileges for this region as a part of my entry permit. Seeing the fireworks from the top of a pyrotechnic city would be incredible."

"I would like that," the girl on her shoulder whispered. "I hope the wedding's aftermath isn't too taxing."

With Elvia so docile, Gwen silently mulled a recollection of Auckland as their palatial vehicle snail crawled through the diverted traffic. They were both older now, wiser, and worldlier. Their friendship-not-friendship, for the lack of a better word, had been the right choice to buy the both of them time so that the fruit would be sweeter, the wine richer.

Not knowing why, she reached out and patted the girl's hand.

"Your fingers are a bit stiff," Gwen remarked. "Nervous? You weren't even nervous when you performed for that enormous crowd at Christmas Mass. You should know that my men on the isle are still raving about that like it happened yesterday."

"The wedding is… in front of a nation of almost a billion people." The Cleric squeezed her hand in turn. "Imagine if something were to go wrong."

"Ha!" Gwen thought of the man who had invited her, the stern-faced Secretary General Miao, and the hypertension-fuelled meticulousness of her grandfather. Not to mention, somewhere near Hangzhou, a mythic would be watching the telly with eyes glued to whatever Dragons used for lumen-casters. With such an arrangement in a city with TWO Towers and, reasonably, at least ONE Magi sitting in the PLA Tower, how pear-shaped could events become? "Relax, Evee—if the collected force of China's best Mage Flights cannot put out a few fires, then you've got me, right?"

"Yes." The Cleric's hair smelled amazing against her chin. "If anything, Gwennie, I'll have you."

"PEACHES!"

“Mah Gwennabi—Arrrgh—Mina! Stop it!"

The cousins embraced, or at least Gwen embraced Tao while Mina twisted the man's flesh like a slow juicer, extracting moisture from his eyes. Of her two cousins in Shanghai, Mina had completely transformed, shedding the cocoon of her rich girl party days to become a respected young professional at the Second PLA Army Hospital, an apprentice Healer under the care of their grandmother. Conversely, besides the pant-suit-attired Mina, Tao's Adidas tracksuit was forever a branded metaphor for the man's commitment to his fruity persona.

"That's Regent Song to you!" Mina's hands appeared to be fighting themselves from strangling her brother.

"We're cool!" Tao attempted to throw down something with his talkative hands, only to be interrupted by Mina. "Yeah, dawg?—STOP IT!"

"We're cool." Gwen laughed, patting them both on the back. "Seriously though, Tao. Don't let the cameras catch you saying it. Yeye will skin you, ask Babulya to heal you, then skin you again."

At her behest, her cousin settled.

Their current whereabouts were the interior space of a refurbished Shanghai Stadium, usually reserved for mass sporting events and propaganda parades. An area of around ten thousand seats was arranged into a sea of carmine, with scarlet drapes hanging like waterfalls from every ledge. The stage itself, where they now stood, was almost four storeys tall from the base, accessed by a long flight of stairs.

What was most impressive was the stage backdrop itself, an enormous mural of the Yinglong dancing over the sky of the Forbidden City. It was crafted entirely from shades of precious stones like Jadeite, additionally punctuated by pearlescent shells of Magical creatures. From Mina's introduction, the Mayor of Shanghai had taken donations from individuals and corporations, meaning behind those jadeite plates were logos, inscriptions, messages and well-wishes.

The itinerary of the ceremony started with a twelve-kilometre motorcade from the Yu Gardens to the stadium, with Jun waving and playing the part of the national hero with his military mates from the Northern Campaign while Ayxin rested in a carnival float bus that was fully enchanted and shielded from the outside world, recreating her room in the Yu Gardens.

Once begun, speeches and performances would be put on for the people while the pair prepared for the tea ceremony.

The latter would take place on the transmuted stage, after which Party officials would preside over the wedding.

The wedding party would then retreat to the bottom of the dais to the enormous banquet table to eat and watch several hours of music and dance numbers by the Cultural Committee's best appointees.

Once the core performances praising the Yinglong and congratulating the newlyweds finished, Axyin would be escorted back to the Yu Gardens. Jun, as tradition, would have to remain behind to toast the Party's august power brokers and his friends and family. Traditionally, the groom was expected to pass out—though with Babulya's help, Jun could return before midnight to comfort his new bride.

"So you're telling me…" Gwen pointed at the row upon rows of seats forming a near-oval around the stage. "They're going to have Illusionists in every row, projecting spectacles as a part of the show?"

"Yeah!" Tao was beside himself, for he had also snagged a role in one of the more modernised performances, one performed by him and his mates. Of course, the performance would be one of the LATE NIGHT ones to grace the Lunen-screen, many hours away from the officious showcases.

Gwen admired the "Jumbotron" Mandalas set up around the stadium. To imagine Tao throwing his gangster signs on national television was truly a sign of the times.

"We're doing a number on the bitch-slapping of the Drought Gods," Tao beat-boxed a little as he spoke. "But like, Westside style, you know?"

"Oh, I know…" Gwen couldn't help but laugh again. She laughed a little too much for a Regent of a Protectorate, but how could she help herself when she felt so happy?

Her eyes continued to scan the stadium with its milling multitudes of labourers. At the underground entrance, she saw a sight that instantly made her eyes glimmer. "Sorry, Peaches. I need to go. Richard, Pats, Lulu, could you look after things here for me?"

Before her companions could reply, she became lightning.

A flash later, she was beside her benefactor, the bloke who had gifted her new hope.

"Uncle Jun!"

Her arms were around the surprised Jun before the Ash Mage could react. The bodyguards around her uncle shouted profanities, though it was too late to prevent her from wholeheartedly showing affection.

"Whoa—" Her uncle's arms moved from pushing her away to giving her a returning embrace. "Mao, Gwen! That was fast! Your Spellcraft might even be better than mine now!"

"Ma'am." One of the bodyguards wasn't having it. "Please step away from Master Song."

"Captain Li, it's fine." Her uncle waved away his men. "Give me a moment."

PAP—! A Lumen-caster popped somewhere from the stands. One of the other guards growled, then Dimensioned Doored away in a puff of smoke.

The two separated.

"Let me look at you now." Her Uncle's smile was infectious. While he measured her, Gwen also studied her uncle. Compared to when they had travelled, her uncle appeared far haler, possessing a vitality that Gwen knew well. It was the blessing of Essence—the very same Essence that had flowed through her Astral conduits years ago. Her uncle was no Vessel, but he had reaped the benefits of being the son-in-law of a domain rich in Draconic produce.

"You look older," her uncle joked. "Your aura does, anyway. Do you have a boyfriend yet?"

"I have Evee." Gwen threw her uncle's all-too-Asian question back at his feet like a wet fish. "What would I need from a boy? I have Caliban. Have you seen how big Cali gets?"

"I suppose when you're Draconic enough, there's always a way to have children." Jun appeared unfazed by her retort and even threw in some new knowledge. "I hope her Ordo doesn't mind."

"They'd have to consider their budget going forward if they do," Gwen snickered. "Nothing is free, after all, especially my charity."

Jun lifted his head and laughed out loud.

Gwen shared the joy, drunk on her uncle's unbridled happiness.

Who would have thought that poaching Draconic Essence and trying to find Caliban a new form would result in this event, this day? To say that the Yinglong's claws stirred the pot mysteriously was an understatement.

"When shall I expect a Dragon nephew or niece?" she asked. "You know I am very generous with gifts. Here's the first allotment."

She reached into her pocket and pulled out the Dwarven-made Storage Ring. "This is for Ayxin and my cute nephew. Everything here is either Elven or Dwarven-made. The cot was hand-woven by Sanari, a Hierophant of Tryfan from the root vines of the World Tree itself."

"That's…" Her uncle appeared taken back, an expression engendering great pleasure in her chest. "I don't even know what to think. A cot—made from the what?"

"The World Tree of Tryfan." Gwen grinned, repeating herself. "From the long vines that hang down the sides of it. It's not a big deal."

"Not a big deal?!" Jun shook his head as though seeing the God of a new religion. "Gwen, are we living in the same world still? I've never seen a World Tree with my eyes. Perhaps only our Magi know the Elves. I don't think anyone in our nation could order custom furniture from a race of immortals living in their unassailable Demi-Plane."

"Then I hope Ayxin and my new nephew will like it."

"She will." Jun looked like he wanted to pet her head but then stopped himself. Instead, he thumbed the Storage Ring, then placed it upon his pinky. "Thank you, Gwen."

Gwen accepted the thanks, knowing her uncle was far too humble for a man of his station. She wanted to continue their conversation, but her uncle's bodyguards and event planners were waiting to get on with the day's events.

"We'll speak later." She allowed the others a chance to breathe. "After the wedding."

"Without doubt," her uncle replied, gazing past her. "I'll leave you to your friend."

Gwen turned to see her Evee approach, escorted by a bodyguard as was protocol. The Vessel of the Yinglong curtsied at Jun, who nodded, and then the two groups parted.

"You have no more rehearsals?" Gwen asked her friend.

"My part isn't that complicated." Elvia smiled. "Secretary Miao has set up a penthouse suite for us at the newly built Hyatt Pudong. Do you want to remain here and look over the planning? Or would you like to retire from the long-range Teleport?"

Gwen didn't need to think twice about Elvia's loaded proposal.

They would sit on the lounge, wine glasses in hand, and the hotel's staff would have delivered a banquet spread to the kitchen table. Below them, the vista of Shanghai on fire would ignite from one horizon to the next, with the city's arterial highways lighting up like flaring strings of red-paper prosperity poppers.

They would talk of the memories of yesteryear; they would savour the then and now like the absurdly priced Bordeaux vintage she would order, and then—they would make plans for tomorrow.

PA-PA—BANG—!

BA-B-ANG-BA-BANG—!

Confetti in the form of explosive red ribbons set off by powdered mana stones erupted in every nook and alley of the trade city of Shanghai, beginning from the city centre and spreading like wildfire, racing from Shanghai to Suzhou and Hangzhou to the west, with the joy infectiously racing from Fuzhou to Beijing.

Before the wedding ceremony could kick-off, the long-repressed public had revolted, disobeying the public announcement to wait, setting off a chain reaction of celebrations that spanned the nation's east coast.

Joining the sound of miniature artillery was the clash of drums and cymbals, wielded by rogue street performers, with dozens to hundreds of men hoisting Dragon banners some a kilometre long, dancing in praise of the Yinglong.

In both China and the nations lucky enough to have a Divination infrastructure capable of transmuting localised images, billions of eyes turned to the Lumen screens, counting down the minutes until the man of the hour emerged from the red-clad gates of the Yu Gardens.

An hour later, the officious gong, together with thick ropes of firecrackers dubbed the "Dragon's tail", set off the ceremony's opening, ensorceled so that every corner of every city in China heard the sound of the nation's assurance of prosperity.

The gates to the Yu Gardens opened, revealing the impeccable sight of the Ash Bringer, now Dragon Layer, in a fitted, bright red changshan, punctuated by golden embroidery of Dragons in perfect symmetry adorning both sides of the parallel knot buttons in mithril.

Waving to the reporters and, thus, the nation, Jun Song stepped into the open-top parade vehicle and assumed his place, ready to maintain his most genuine affability for the next twelve hours.

But the man was hardly the object of worship and desire for people born and fed on the mythos of Dragons. It was only when a silhouetted figure, heavily veiled and attired in blood-red silks embroidered with inter-woven Dragon and Phoenix motifs, entered the two-storey palanquin that the viewers' emotions boiled over.

The city shook. The Districts erupted. The orbital highways trembled from the weight of the people.

All of China's east coast was aflame with jubilation.

The parade began.

First came the Mage Flights, armed to the teeth despite their festive garbs, bristling with Wands and magical implements as they opened the path.

Next came the musicians, a half-kilometre-long line of cymbals, gongs, flutes, shengs, string instruments and finally, the unmistakable, soul-rending screech of the suona, blasting with every ounce of breath, ensuring that multiple generations of Chinese would have hearing loss. Children waved Dragon flags, men raised babies to the skies for blessings, women grew hysterical as Ayxin's palanquin passed, and the elderly bowed or fell to their knees to beg for a prosperous future for their kin.

At precisely noon, the parade arrived.

The ocean of faces surrounding the stadium in every direction rose and fell as Jun stood beside the palanquin float.

He was soon joined by his groomsmen, a bevvy of his friends from the Military, lined up behind the upright figure of Percy Song, Jun's nephew, all attired in dark navy changshans with a rose-gold lapel of flying drakes.

The crowd roared, and the mechanisms lifted, opening the palanquin like a blooming flower, revealing the veiled figure of Ayxin, daughter of the Yinglong, the bride of the nation. Beside her were her handmaids, a dozen at least, headed by a pale blond girl in a pale peach qipao.

"That's the Vessel of the Yinglong!" some shouted at the giant lumen projector. That's Elvia Lindholm!"

"And there's Mei Yang!" other voices echoed the first.

"Who is that beauty?" Another asked his peers. Not many recognised the girl in the midst, the former Mad Dog of Fudan, though the rest possessed the well-known faces of the Party's guan-er-dai.

Pair by pair, the groomsmen led their partners away, until finally, in tune with the hoarse throats of the nation's people, Jun led his bride from the palanquin and into the well-lit belly of the stadium.

Sixty-Four Mage Flights, the best men and women in the nation, took up their positions around the stadium.

In the distance, The PLA Tower thrummed, its mana Core whirring up its protective Mandalas as a precaution, setting the city's budget balance aflame.

The PLA and its leaders knew that there were too many important men and women at the stadium banquet for even a smidgen of danger to be acceptable. Today and tonight, for the next twelve hours, careers would be made or unmade.

The Vice-Chairman of the Party, Secretary Yang Wu-Lei, took to the stage to address the nation.

As he spoke, a thousand of the Nation's best Illusionists projected the subjects of his speech around the stadium, playing Lumen-recording of the Party's struggles, the Party's rise to power, and finally, this moment of glory and wonder.

A masque followed, performed by the hand-picked Mages of the Cultural Committee, commemorating the memory of Magi Mao and his unification of a shattered nation picked apart by imperialists. Considering its international audience, the show was sensitively performed, shrouded by euphemisms and symbols, such as the Dragon's defeat of a flock of Da-peng eagles aided by children dressed as doll-eyed Kirins.

With the dance number concluded, the Illusionists encircled the stage in clouds, parting a minute later to reveal a mock-up of a traditional Dynastic home. On the right sat the unknown faces and figures of Jun Song's parents, a lovely grandmother who looked younger than her years, and a happy but gruff-looking Secretary Song who looked ten years older than his wife. Both were humbly dressed, sitting on pincushions while waiting for events to unfold.

On the right, in place of Ayxin's parents, was a huge tapestry of the Yinglong, announced to be a work by the late Chen Chun, an artist-documentarian of the Ming Dynasty who had faithfully captured the likeness of the Dragon through an unexpected meeting.

The tea ceremony began, and once more, the nation held its breath as the stadium transmuted its interior to allow the bridal Party's entry.

The men and women arrived like companionable birds of paradise.

The musicians soared, and the nation cried tears of joy as Ayxin, in resplendent view, ascended the stairs into the mock relief of the manor interior.

Tea, prepared by the staff, materialised for the newlyweds.

Each held out a cup for the Yinglong.

Inexplicably, the tea evaporated. The entirety of the stadium gasped, then launched into a cacophonic roar that had to be quietened by sonic sorcery.

Next, without bending on her knees but still bowed and respectable, Ayxin presented the cups poured by her husband to the two mortals seated on the left.

"Mother…" her words reverberated around the nation. "Father."

With trembling hands, the elderly pair drank their tea.

Gifts were given. Priceless pieces of dynastic jewellery from the nation's vaults were added to the weight of the Phoenix headdress on Ayxin's head, shackling her wrists with bangles from China's weighted history.

Finally, the moment was upon them.

For months, the nation had waited for this moment.

Jun Song turned to face his bride.

His bride adjusted her position, needing no aid like a moral bride disorientated by the head shawl.

"ONE BOW FOR THE HIGH HEAVENS AND THE EARTH THAT DOTH GIVE."

"ONE BOW FOR ANCESTORS AND HE WHO ANSWERS."

"ONE BOW FOR THE ETERNITY THAT IS HUSBAND AND WIFE."

The pair lifted their heads.

With his emotions written unhidden on his face, Jun Song lifted the veil.

Ayxin, the granddaughter of an Emperor, the daughter of the Yinglong, a woman whose blood was the noblest in all of China, gazed upon her husband, her face finally known by the nation.

The audience fell silent, for they had never beheld anything so incomprehensibly beautiful, even across the sheltered shielding of the Lumen-casters' delayed seconds. The Dragon in her human form was flawless, timeless, domineeringly beautiful, a sculpture in mutton-white jade. She had no make-up, for nothing could be improved, from her long lashes to the angles of her face, the rouge on her cheeks or the fullness of her sensual lips.

Maotai, a major sponsor of the event, was poured into ivory cups, one presented by Percy Song, the other by Elvia Lindholm.

The couple's wrists entwined.

Then—they each drank from one another's cup.

The stadium shook.

For an unending while, it continued to shake.

Even the muting devices implanted by the PLA shuddered under the raw emotions. Everywhere, everywhere, impassioned celebrations flowed out, forming a tidal wave of psychic energies that enveloped the cities from coast to coast.

In the middle of the banquet, seated just beside the bridal table, a camera caught the Regent of Shalkar crying what they hoped were tears of joy.

Tianjin.

The city shook.

Then the city began to shake.

For the first ten seconds, the shaking was accompanied by laughter.

"A party for the ages!" affirming cries of the Party's faithful citizens proclaimed from their lounges or the public squares of the Districts. "A toast to our new Dragon bride!"

Their smiles faltered when frames began to fall from the walls, dishes from their racks, and the lights of every household from Tangshan to Tianjin began to displace violently.

When the Lumen-casters winked out at the sixteen-second mark, and a sudden, limbless dark pervaded the provinces, the joy turned to panic.

At the twentieth second, the city's Soviet-era buildings began to collapse en mass, accompanied by an orchestra of terror as Districts fell in upon themselves and the hillside of the mountainous escarpments started to slip into the city below.

At the thirtieth second, the quaking ceased, and the fires began. Great spurts of supernatural magma coursing through long dormant nodes of Elemental low-way once used by the Dwarven civilisations erupted, spewing unfathomable volumes of Elemental Fire into the valley below. At their fore, visible from the observation windows of the Tianjin Tower, was a giant with the skin of crackling magma, riding upon the back of a hellish ursine carved from the core of the molten earth itself. Behind the howling horror, the final battalion of the Brass Legion burned and fumed, ready to upturn the hated order enforced by the Axis Mundi.

While the city reeled, the deep recesses of the China Sea to its east began to boil. Far from the reach of its disturbed Divination Towers, the begrudged masters of the pale-eyed Great Shoal began to whip its mass of dead flesh toward their new domain. For the disgrace of Shenyang, they would pay back the Human nation ten-fold! For the loss of a Demi-divine God of the Juche doctrine in the Antarctic, they and their allies would expand their flesh farms a hundred-fold!

Shanghai Stadium.

The crowd roared.

The music bounced from wall to wall.

The banquet's endless flow of exotic dishes was shaken by the rumbling of the building, spilling wine and unearthly sauces of culinary delight, engendering laughter by all.

DING—! A scarlet Message ping, plainly visible, blossomed beside the high-ranking party members, beginning with Secretary-General Miao Yang Bo.

DING-! DING-! DING-! DING-!

DING-! DING-! DING-!

A second later, the Generals of the PLA and the Committee Chairs and Vice-Chairs received their summons and warnings, each clamouring with the hysterical voice of subordinates they had left in charge of their departments.

Like a wildfire, a sea of scarlet began to cascade from the highest, most regal point of the escarpment, adding to the fiery lantern-glow atmosphere below.

DING-! DING-! DING-! DING-! DING-! DING-! DING-! DING-! DING-! DING-! DING-! DING-! DING-!

DING-! DING-! DING-! DING-! DING-! DING-! DING-! DING-! DING-! DING-! DING-! DING-! DING-!

DING-! DING-! DING-! DING-! DING-! DING-! DING-! DING-! DING-! DING-! DING-! DING-! DING-!

DING-! DING-! DING-! DING-! DING-! DING-! DING-! DING-! DING-! DING-! DING-! DING-! DING-!

DING-! DING-! DING-! DING-! DING-! DING-! DING-! DING-! DING-! DING-! DING-! DING-! DING-!

DING-! DING-! DING-! DING-! DING-! DING-! DING-! DING-! DING-! DING-! DING-! DING-! DING-!

DING-! DING-! DING-! DING-! DING-! DING-! DING-! DING-! DING-! DING-! DING-! DING-! DING-!

DING-! DING-! DING-! DING-! DING-! DING-! DING-! DING-! DING-! DING-! DING-! DING-! DING-!

The stadium of guests, each admitted for their contributions, connections, wealth or privilege, now received their irrespective warnings.

At the head banquet table, seated beside her cousins and her recently returned grandparents, the Regent of Shalkar's Message blooms were a technicolour of warnings and requests from the Tower to the Consular of the Commonwealth Mageocracy.

Quickly, Gwen flicked through her priorities.

"DISASTER WARNING: NATURAL EVENT IN TIANJIN. ELEMENTAL ASSAULT TO CITY EAST. REQUESTING IMMEDIATE DEFENCE ASSISTANCE AND DEPLOYMENT. TOWER AIRBORNE IN 15:21."

The next was from her consular.

"REGENT SONG. RETREAT WITH YOUR PARTY TO THE PUDONG ISTC FOR IMMEDIATE EXTRACTION. DO NOT TARRY. POTENTIAL BLACK ZONE. ASSUME SPECTRE. RE: BLACK SEA EVENT —MAGISTER O. EDWARDS"

A part of Gwen's mind caught up immediately. However, the temporal lobe of her brain was still warm with the fever of the roaring ecstasy.

Around her, those with enough clout to receive the Messages were rapidly sobering.

On an adjacent table, someone vomited.

Nonetheless, the show continued, the food remained fragrant, and the flowing streams of waiters, waitresses, dancers and singers on the stage did not cease.

The surreality of it all made Gwen feel like she was caught in a dream sequence, pursuing something just out of sight, unable to be reached.

Tao and Mina, lucky individuals spared from the impending crisis, looked at her in confusion.

"Cousin, what's wrong?" Tao swallowed a mouthful of Swallow's Nest, then replaced his chopsticks. "Those Messages from Yeye?"

"We're in a crisis, Peaches." Petra, who had not been spared, was ready to tear off her qipao and change into something combat worthy. "Tianjin is under attack. There's a real possibility it might fall."

"I don't know if Grandfather's friends in Central should have expected this, but surely there are contingencies in place." Richard was his usual collected self despite the glowing Glyph. "Tianjin is almost a tier 1 city. Its Tower lies on a major ley-node, and Beijing can send the Zun Tower to reinforce."

Her cousin's words managed to lower Gwen's heart rate enough to catch her breath—until she recalled the guest list presented to her as a Regent of the Mageocracy. "Richard, I don't think anything can be that simple. If this has the involvement of Spectre, as our consulate has suggested, Tianjin could be a distraction."

"A distraction?" Tao and Mina both raised their brows.

"In Australia, they tried to create a distraction in the Royal National to attack Sydney. In the South Pole, they used a natural disaster to open the sanctum of the Forest Elves for assault by the Undead." Gwen said. "If the attack on Tianjin is the goal, potentially, we can focus on our defences. But what if the attack is itself a diversion? Do you know who is here right now?"

“Secretary-General Miao Yang Bo?” Richard stirred his shark fin soup. Is that important?"

"Party Secretary Yang is here as well." Gwen pointed to the VIP table not far from them. "And over there is First Secretary Qi. Behind us is Deputy General Ding. If Secretary Miao is seventh in the line of succession, then numbers two to five are all here."

"… and number one and six are in Beijing." Richard crunched the numbers. "If Shanghai diverters its Towers northward, they may be in danger?"

"And even if these Party heads are willing to put their safety second, China cannot ever afford to lose Shanghai," Petra concurred. "Even a remote incursion of the Undead into Shanghai would be catastrophic. To have Undead overrunning Beijing would be the end of the Party as it currently exists. If this is Spectre, as you say, Gwen—they've been planning this for a long time. It has their modus operandi written all over it."

"Then what?" Mina's voice quivered. "Let Tianjin burn? There are millions of people there. Do we go there and help? What if it falls?"

"Who says Tianjin would fall? Did you forget who you're with?" Richard directed their attention first to herself and then to the wedding table. "Gwen… I think it's time for you to make a call as our Regent and War Mage—one that will obliterate every strand of hair from Ollie's body…."

As a Mage with a foreshadowed life span, Jun Song was a very pragmatic man with a pessimistic outlook.

He had been gifted with a rare talent.

And for filial piety, duty, and the loss of his brother, he had exercised that talent until the Party grew wary of losing its Golden Goose.

His retirement from the Front had been an unexpected reprieve, a rare display of compassion from his superiors, and one he had thought was the turning point of his life—until he met with an unknown niece whose tragic circumstances had made the ashen monotony of his life smoulder with new expectations.

But he was wrong. Helping Gwen was only the beginning.

On the mount, he met Ayxin.

They fought.

He had given her a Hello Kitty shirt intended for a teen girl.

Then Ayxin had found him.

After that, the next three years spent in the gilded cage of the perfect world created for them by the Party was a surreal second life.

A life that culminated in the form of all his hopes and dreams.

A child.

A child of his flesh and blood.

But all dreams had to come to an end. As a man who had known only the ultraviolence of treacherous war for the entirety of his life, his expectations were dipped in the smouldering ash of cynicism.

When the warning erupted across the wedding banquet, Jun's first reaction, much to his shame, was a sigh of relief. As he read the brief, he knew with absolute certainty that the attack was framed with the celebration of his wife and the child in her belly in mind.

As Secretary Miao has stated, their union was the guarantee to China's rice bowl for the foreseeable future.

China was a rising drake compared to the decaying Dragon that was the Commonwealth's prime. But power aside, it was the most populous civilisation of "Humanity" with the least Demi-human admixture on their globular home of Terra.

In his endless meetings with the CCDI, they had thwarted innumerable disruptions to the wedding and the peace of Ayxin's childbearing. Assassins featured prominently, which was why Jun had accepted their residence in the Yu Gardens. Terrorism against the celebration also loomed, so Shanghai was put into total lockdown.

But an invasion of Tianjin?

If true, this was no attempt at disrupting China's peace but an act of territorial war, the opening act to another decade of total strife.

Jun's eyes fell upon his wife.

Ayxin's eyes were hard. His Dragon bride was deeply unhappy about the disruption. Even so, she kept her temper in check for the hundreds of Lumen recorders broadcasting her flawless disposition.

Their eyes locked. Jun forced a smile.

Husband…the voice in his head reverberated. If you have a duty…

Jun fought the impulse to kiss his wife then and there.

He glanced at another Message: one targeted at active service members of a particular tier.

"RECALLING ALL ACTIVE WAR MAGES CURRENTLY NOT ROSTERED: DISASTER EVENT IN TIANJIN. ELEMENTAL ASSAULT TO CITY EAST. CATASTROPHIC DAMAGE. UNDEAD MERMEN LANDFALL IMMINENT. REQUESTING IMMEDIATE ASSISTANCE AND DEPLOYMENT. MAGE FLIGHTS AND PERSONNEL CURRENTLY INSUFFICIENT FOR REPEL. TOWER AIRBORNE 13:11. NON-COMPLIANCE WILL BE MET WITH DISCIPLINARY ACTION."

Tianjin! Jun felt his teeth grind.

The same Front where he had once made his name in the north. His men, the soldiers who had served under him, the Mage Flights that had not been promoted and shipped around the country, were all still there.

Now more than ever, they needed their Ashbringer.

With their victory, millions had built their lives thanks to the death of entire companies, platoons, Mage Flights, comrades and friends… If the city were to fall now, was it all meant to mean nothing?

"Axyin…" He took his wife's cold fingers, wishing he was a Healer and could warm up her trembling digits. He could sense the flow of Essence within her noble form. He also felt the flow of the Essence pool within her womb. Gently, as if responding to his thoughts, the oblong sphere of pure mana stirred.

For his child, Jun felt he could do the impossible.

His profundity was interrupted by a pale blonde in pastel pink, now kneeling beside his wife. Taking Ayxin's hands into her own, the Vessel of the Yinglong began the process of soothing his wife's Essence flow.

"Lord Ayxin needs a quiet place to return to deep slumber," the Cleric informed him. "Do not make her worry more than you need."

"Husband." Ayxin's eyes were twin pools of liquid. "Go."

"JUN!" Several figures materialised beside the wedding table.

His father, mother, and "uncle" Miao were upon him.

"Ah-Jun, take Ayxin to the Yu Gardens and remain there," Miao's words were delivered as a command. "We'll put the gardens on lockdown until this is all over. As for the broadcast, the Cultural Committee will fill the spaces somehow."

"Jun, listen to Secretary-General Miao," his mother agreed.

Jun looked at his father.

Guo's mouth moved—but it was evident to Jun that the old soldier could not bring himself to command his son to hide with his wife, at least not while countless others died in their stead.

Jun's jaws clenched.

"Mother, Father…" Axyin's voice flowed like cool water over the hot coals in Jun's head. "If Jun needs to go… then he should go."

The trio of elders stared at their Dragon-bride.

"Is this…" The Secretary was the first to speak. "The will of the Yinglong?"

"I do not presume to know my Father's mind," Ayxin spoke with the regal bearing of her usual self. "But I know that if Jun does not go, he will regret this moment for the rest of a very long life."

Perhaps it was the implication of the final words Ayxin used, but Jun felt the tension in the air grow slack.

"Son." Guo bowed at Ayxin before turning to Jun. "Do you wish to go to Tianjin?"

"My old Mage Flight members, the surviving ones, are here at the wedding." Jun indicated to the banquet tables in the middle of the stadium. "They will all leave shortly, as soon as the PLA Tower can secure the ISTC Arrays for rapid transit. I do not wish for them to leave like this from a wedding I invited them to… only to have them thrown into the maws of war."

"I see. I have no objections." His father stepped back. "Klavdiya, as I've said before, Jun is his person. All we can do is support him."

His mother's expression said it all, but Jun knew he had to disappoint her.

"I will allow it." Secretary-General Miao made an audible sigh. "The wedding cannot continue, but so long as you emerge triumphant, even if Tianjin is destroyed—we can Purge, recover, and rebuild… Ah-Jun. You must survive. For Lord Ayxin's sake and the nation's sake. Only if you promise me that will I let you go."

"Lord Song will return," the Cleric beside his Dragon Princess declared. "This is also his will. Besides..."

BZZZZACK—! The air around them sizzled before the Cleric could deliver a line for the history books. Miao's bodyguards drew their wands but were waved off by the Secretary-General as a trio of familiar faces appeared.

"Without doubt, Uncle Jun will live to see his child and return!" The interjecting voice was haughty enough to draw Jun's tight lips into a broad, self-depreciative grin. "After all, with the Regent of Shalkar by his side, what's a mere Elemental Invasion and a Greater Shoal of Undead?"

The cocky figure of his niece, prideful as a peacock, stood resplendently in her midnight-blue sleeveless qipao. In her heels, the girl positively towered over them, making even Jun feel diminutive in the nesting recess of his throne-like chair.

"Gwen. You're not one of us anymore," Jun reminded the girl, just in case. "Do you not speak for the Mageocracy?"

"I do, and if they deny it, then I speak for myself. As the highest authority in Shalkar, I am an autonomous agent, don't you know?" His niece flashed her pearly teeth at her audience. "Secretary Miao, I've fought these Mermen for six months in the Arctic. I know their tactics and how they work their overlapping assaults. I've also fought the Fire Elementals, Ash Elementals, and UNDEAD Elemental Magical Creatures, the lot. Allow us to accompany Uncle Jun, and I'll ensure he returns as soon as the fire is put out."

"Gwen…" Jun was still wondering if he should risk his niece when his superior decided for him.

"Regent Song. As the representative of the Central Committee, I thank you and shall say no more. You have my blessing and authority to be a part of Ah-Jun's Party. I will ensure that Tianjin Tower's Friend-Foe systems and the Chain of Command are subordinate with minimal limitations."

"Gwen, you have a whole life outside of China now." Jun could not displace the acute feeling of guilt in his chest. "You don't have to do this. Tianjin's defences—China's Mages—our nation isn't so weak as to be defeated by a counter-offensive."

"Husband—" Once more, Ayxin's voice quelled the disquiet in his heart. "Allow the Vessel of the Old One to go with you. It is…"

"…A part of your Father's will?" Jun asked.

"… her obligation to a benefactor," Ayxin concluded, then turned to Gwen. "Calamity, I don't know what my Father told the Vessel of his will, but you must bring back Jun."

"To Elvia?" His niece looked straight at the Cleric beside his wife. "Evee?"

"I have a duty as well." Elvia's positivity was enough to warm Jun's blood.

"Perhaps my father knew that these two would one day preserve my husband and child," Ayxin confirmed his suspicions and wonderment.

The more Jun thought about it, the more he felt terrified at the prospect of his Dragon-in-law's multi-dimensional chess mastery.

Elvia Lindholm, a Knight Companion with the sorcery of Faith and the blessing of the Yinglong, was also from the Order of the Bath, an existential antithesis to the Undead hordes that once ravaged Europe.

For such a girl to be chosen for a Vessel had to be intentional.

As for Gwen... Had the Yinglong allowed them to leave Huangshan with her stolen Draconic Essence, having foreseen this day?

As for the others...

His parents appeared satisfied.

Conversely, on the Secretary-General's aggrieved mien, he saw the unhappiness of a man who wanted to blame an immortal being for not giving them forewarnings.

The Party had planned for the wedding for months and, in the final weeks, significantly shifted its military assets to ensure its capital's security and its Dragon Princess's safety. Now, one of their principal ports was left understaffed. In the Secretary's place, Jun could almost wonder if the Dragon was giving the CCP a demonstration of its power.

Again, Jun steeled his resolve to attend to the city's defence. With Gwen and Elvia there...

"… Tell Golos that if Jun loses a single strand of hair… I'll cut off his manhood and auction it as fertility medicine." His wife was very adamant as she spoke to the Regent of Shalkar.

"I'll let Gogo know. So—How long until we can leave?" Gwen interrupted the conversation regarding Ayxin's sibling, her voice cutting through the ding of the growing chaos as the general public ponderously grew aware of the events up north. Already, the broadcasters were scrambling to shift the focus of the wedding into contingency mode, for the nation's Towers had to be powered up, their ISTC arrays Glyphed and entire regiments and platoons had to be moved northward to reinforce Beijing and contain Tianjin.

"I can get you to an ISTC array in the next five minutes." the Secretary-General brushed away a cascade of fading Message Glyphs. "Is that too quick?"

"Every minute we're present is a family saved from the fire and waters of Undeath." Gwen raised her Storage Rings. "I have here everything my team might need, as well as supplies for a small volume of refugees. But before we go…"

Jun's niece walked across the gathered power brokers to arrive at a space a few meters from Jun.

"Percy!"

The young man being addressed almost jumped. For the whole while, Jun recalled, his nephew had been wholly silent, arrested by a world of internal thoughts. The young man's paralysis, he supposed, was completely natural. The boy was only a year into his military service. He was probably just as torn between the safety of Shanghai and the utter chaos of his service region, Tianjin. To go there now, especially as a novice Magus between the fourth and fifth tier, did not mean he would make a difference. After a dozen sorties, without any achievement of note, he would likely be sent back to the Tower, or in the worst case, return wounded but alive by his Contingency Ring.

"Gwen." his Salt Mage nephew looked up to his looming sister.

"Thinking of going to the Front?"

"I am stationed in Tianjin. You should know," Percy answered adamantly. "I've friends there, platoons of them."

"That's a good mindset," his niece said. "But you must trust me when I say you must stay in Shanghai."

"WHAT—?" Percys stood up, as did Mei. "NO!"

"You will," Gwen continued. "You should stay here; keep Ayxin and the others safe. As for why, let me tell you…"

With hands on the young man's shoulders, Gwen pushed her brother back into his seat. "There will be an extreme level of danger. I am told that Spectre is likely the culprit, which means Elemental Princes… maybe even… Elizabeth Sobel… if Sydney was an indicator of what's to come."

As expected, the young man's face blanched to the colour of boiled eggs.

Sobel... Jun recalled the name. Assuming Gwen's intelligence on Spectre was right, there would be a hell of a fight.

"And if I have to fight Sobel, and if I were to unleash Caliban to its full potential, or perhaps, even call upon Shoggy to level the Eastern Seabed, then I WON'T have you in the crossfire. Understand? There's no profit for you to be there. On the contrary, if you are in any danger…"

Jun, ashamedly, felt his face burn. To think that only a few years ago, he was the one to shelter Gwen. Now he felt like a wayward sibling looking to a sister to shield him from a scary Magical Beast.

"Gwen is right," Guo gave the final word, un-ironically, with an immense tone of relief. "Percy, stay home and look after Aunt Ayxin with Mei and the others. You'll go to the Yu Gardens. Your babulya and I are going to Tianjin as well."

"Father…" Jun felt his heart leap to his throat.

"I'll be working the triage centre," his mother said. "Your father will be with the auxiliary forces, helping to arrange the evacuation. We're too old to fight, Jun. We'll leave that to the young folks."

"Then all is settled!" his niece concluded the impromptu meeting with a clap. "Let's get ready. It's a catastrophe; we must save as many people as possible. Now, if everyone's on the same page… let's get to it!"

His niece raised a fist toward them.

Jun couldn't help but give her fist a bump.

Elvia joined in, then Richard and Petra.

Sheepishly, the grandparents joined, followed by Percy and Mei.

The Song family group then looked to Secretary-General Miao.

Flustered, the man checked his Messages.

"TWO MINUTES!" he declared. "Ah-Jun, for all our sakes, for Lord Ayxin's sake, you must return in one piece!"

Percy Song nursed his ice-cold fur-peak tea. The Kirin Amulet was as hot as a bead of white coal against his chest.

His mind was torn clean in half, a schism no less than Luther's sundering of Christendom, taught by his professors in Prince's as a simple student in Sydney.

But he was no student now.

He was the rising star of the CCP's next generation.

And he was the promised Vessel of the Kirin tribe.

When the warnings rang out, including on his own Message Device, his Divination Sigil had rang like a gong, electrifying every nerve in his body. Cold sweat had instantly oozed from every pore, drawing the attention of Mei, who was yet to recover from the news of Tianjin's crisis.

His eyes had scanned the Message, reading the lines repeatedly as if the power of his will could change the implication.

A part of him felt a natural concern for the citizens of Tianjin. The city had been his haunt for the past six months. He had visited its sacred places, patrolled its borders, and gotten to know the folk at the fair and the markets whenever he and Mei rested there.

The better part of him cared nothing for the human fodder that fed the capital with its sea trade—if the city falls, it falls. Its perishing millions was no skin off Percy's nose. However—he was extremely concerned with a very important part of the city central to his plans for the future.

The Octogramic Mandala of the old dynasty.

The Jade Core hidden in the heart of the Tianjin Tower's ley-node.

The Kirin had made it doubtlessly clear that the old empire's resources were needed to cultivate his role as a Vessel.

But if Tianjin were to become a wasteland.

Or if Tianjin were to fall into the hands of the Undead Masters of Juche.

Then what?

The reflexive question was not rhetorical, for Percy Song had no idea what would happen if either happened. Should he give up on the role of a Vessel for the foreseeable future? How long had it taken for Shenyang to be recovered? A decade? What had remained in Shenyang after his sister was done with it. Nothing!

His woe was why he desperately looked inward, thinking of the Vessel of the Yinglong sitting only a few meters away. For his plans, stealing the Essence spark from Ayxin was only the first step. After that, he had to infiltrate Tianjin Tower, find his way under the Mana Furnaces, and rediscover the Jade Foci the Kirin Tribe had hidden.

Lord Kirin! He pleaded internally, transmuting every mote of his mental strength inward toward that burning mote of conflagration on his chest. Answer me!

His mind grew suddenly cloudy.

Vessel. Came the unbidden thoughts, the voice in his head that was his own but not his own.

Retrieve the Jade Lode. Usurp the Essence before the city falls to the defilers.

HOW? His frustrations rang out like the gong at the beginning of Ayxin's wedding. What am I to do?

Find the Node.

The fucking Node under the goddamned Tower of Tianjin? While it's on maximum alert? Percy had to fight the impulse to shout at the amulet. How simple and ridiculous could the Kirin…

Suddenly, a puzzle piece fell into place.

He read the summons to war once more.

"DISASTER WARNING: NATURAL EVENT IN TIANJIN. ELEMENTAL ASSAULT TO CITY EAST. REQUESTING IMMEDIATE DEFENCE ASSISTANCE AND DEPLOYMENT. TOWER AIRBORNE IN 9:11."

His wet swollen eyes blinked.

TOWER AIRBORNE IN 9:11.

Tianjin Tower would be fighting at the port.

A floating battle Tower no longer connected to the base plate.

His mind furiously turned.

He looked up.

His uncle was fighting with the older generation, desiring that he should be present at the Front. Knowing his uncle, the man would get his way, one way or another.

Thankfully, Jun's absence meant aunt Ayxin would be quickly transported back to the Yu Gardens.

She would be unguarded in her chamber, not alone but isolated enough for an opportunity to present itself.

Once he could steal the spark, he would need to return to Tianjin before the city's siege was on full lockdown.

There, he would do what he could.

Either to defend the city and then enable the discovery of the Mandala.

Or to retrieve what he could while the city burned.

Master Kirin, if I do manage to arrive at the location of the Jade Lode… are you able to retrieve it? Or recover its power?

His question received no answers, though Percy no longer needed one.

For some reason, Percy recalled one of his sister's Gwenisms.

A pessimist sees the difficulty in every opportunity; an optimist sees the opportunity in every difficulty.

Unhappily, he had to admit that his sister was right. After all, hadn't she gone poaching on the Yinglong's mountain? Didn't she venture into the Murk to fight for the Dwarves? They say that she even spent six months in the Antarctic, accruing accolades to solidify her position in the Mageocracy.

All of which had paid well enough to make her important enough to attend a national wedding as a state invitee.

With his plans drawn and his paranoias quelled Percy felt the return of his spatial awareness. Carefully, he looked to his right.

Elvia Lindholm, as expected, paid no attention to him, for the girl was busy circulating the Yinglong's Essence into the weary body of his aunt, all the while partaking in the debate of Jun's role in the upcoming evacuation.

His mind brushed over the pulsing amulet.

Would the girl go with Jun? Or would she stay with Ayxin?

And if the Vessel remained… how could he approach his aunt?

"Percy, are you alright?" Mei's voice was barely audible.

Percy looked at his fiancee. In her pastel pink qipao, Mei was lovely as the day he had met her, a debt owed to his appearance-obsessed sister, who had sent the daughter of the Yang family a bounty of Elven fruits and infused Maotai on her birthdays.

His mind churned.

Tianjin.

The Jade Lode.

Ayxin,

The Essence Mote.

"PERCY!"

Percy jumped, near-swearing that his soul had left his body and he had perished alongside all his dreams and ambitions.

"Gwen," he replied.

"Thinking of going to the Front?" his sister's face was full of mockery.

"I am stationed in Tianjin. You should know." Percy forced his mouth to move. "I've friends there, platoons of them."

His sister did not like that answer. "…You have to trust me when I say you must stay in Shanghai."

Percy felt his spine tingle.

The Kirin Amulet might as well be twisting off a chunk of his flesh.

"WHAT—?" He stood up, as did Mei, still hanging from his arm. "NO!"

The next moment, his sister's command came down like a high-tier spell. "You should stay here; keep Ayxin and the others safe. As for why…"

With her enviable eloquence, she spoke of dangers, excuses, fears and duty.

Percy's gaze, however, glanced past the imposing visage of his sister. Ayxin was in a daze. The Vessel was helping her, but the distress of Jun's desires was taking a toll.

From their conversation, his sister would leave for the Front to protect Jun.

And from the tone of their discussion, the Vessel and their Knights of the Ordo shall also participate in protecting his uncle.

The amulet on his chest pulsed and flared, flooding his mind with potential possibilities. Within the pain, Percy felt the engendering of an idea not unlike reaching the threshold of a new tier of Spellcraft.

Somewhere, Guo's voice drifted across like fog in a dream. "Percy, stay home and look after Aunt Ayxin with Mei and the others. You'll all go to the Yu Gardens. Your babulya and I are going to Tianjin as well.."

"Yes, Yeye," he answered—or perhaps he did not.

His train of thought had been derailed by the weight of the opportunity the heavens bestowed upon him, its intention implicit and without ambivalence.

He watched as Ayxin said her farewells to the departing Party, though it would appear the Vessel would remain for a while longer.

On his left, Mei's hands gripped his own, their fates entwined and inseparable.

"Mei..." he whispered into the Silent Message Glyph pulsing besides his ear. "I need your help."

Elvia Lindholm, Knight Companion, Vessel of the Yinglong, thought of her soul mate who had left to attend a higher calling. Unlike the cherished moment between Axyin and Jun, hers had been a brief goodbye, a fare-thee-well sealed with a casual promise of future meetings, a moment so weightless that Elvia felt hollowed by its unimportance.

How many men and women would her friend save this time? Tens of thousands? Hundreds? A million or more?

And how many millions of souls might have been saved if she, Elvia Lindholm, had not selfishly chosen to save her friend?

A hundred thousand? A million or more?

In the confessional, under the benevolent gaze of the Nazarene whose blessed feet had been nailed to the cross for mortal man's salvation, she had been long haunted by fantasies of agency and choice.

Even now, she wanted to tear herself in twain to send her simulacrum to aid Gwen in the impending calamity. In the events that should have come to pass, her place was beside her friend, wielding the powers bestowed by the Ordo, repelling the howling Mermen hordes until the moment of the calamity.

But now that she had chosen to remain behind, Elvia knew the Yinglong's vision was no more real than the mental apparitions of her cloistered prayers.

The instance she had boarded the carnival float taking Ayxin back to the Yu Gardens, her trial was nigh—and whether weal or woe, she must now stay the course.

Outside the shelter of their moving carriage, she could still hear the ragged cheers of hopeful people. For those who cared, the celebratory mood had long fizzled. Nonetheless, for most of Shanghai's citizens, the plundering of Tianjin was as far a reality as the hope that their lives would grow fruitful.

In this timeline of her creation, only herself, Mathias, Percy and Mei sat within the enormous two-storey carriage, the only family with sufficient clearance to accompany the Dragon Princess in person. Her Knight Protectors, Sir Reginal and Sir Kass, flew with the Mage Flight assigned to them, keeping a wary eye for outside forces that might intervene with the coalescence of events taking place.

As for Ayxin, she could see why her Patron's daughter had been helpless to defend herself, for the pallid young woman rested on her divan like an ivory statue, her mutton-white skin wet with a snail-sheen of perspiration, doing her utmost to maintain the swirling possibilities within her womb.

In a reality that was no longer, the PLA physician would know nothing of the young man beside him and his unnatural ambitions—and that a young man's ascension would lead to two decades of death and destruction so total that Humanity may never again possess the means to balance the Axis Mundi against the Elemental world.

So how should she proceed?

A part of her, long fostered by the horrors of the Wildlands and the Humanity her Ordo had aided, imagined herself suddenly launching an assault with Kiki and Sen-sen, drugging then strangling Percy Song to total oblivion.

Another part of her wanted Mathias to lob off the young man's limbs while she kept him healed and sedated. That foresight had seemed the best—but if the promised Kirin were as vile as her visions, the only surety would be Percy's death and the amulet's destruction.

As each paralytic possibility and its infinite array of consequences spread out before her, Elvia lamented Yinglong's wisdom. There was a reason why Diviners were often distant, deranged or delirious. To pluck and choose the threads of fate was indeed an impossibility.

To slay the young man for a precognitive crime would be the cleanest means of averting her vision—but there were no guarantees as to what Jun's half of the Kirin Amulet might perform.

To catch the young man red-handed? At least she could salvage her relationship with Gwen, though such selfishness would surely blossom into darker tidings.

Or perhaps there was still good in the boy—for Elvia could not imagine that there was not. She had heard the confessions of innumerable sinners as she healed them, and all had lamented a slippery slope moment, one that might have been diverted.

Or she would proceed as planned, with her body in the way of Percy's chosen Path of Sorcery, and shoulder the sins of the mortal men and their mortal ambitions.

She turned from Ayxin's meditative slumber.

Elvia took a long, deep breath.

She was ready.

Having read her moods in the years of their partnership, Mathias took up the middle distance between herself and the subject of their interrogation.

"Percy." Elvia compressed her will into folded iron as she faced the pleasant young man, so lamb-like in his filial piety. "Do you remember our talk the other night?"

"The one where Gwen saves?" the young man chuckled, his eyes averting her burning orbs of sincerity.

"She's in Tianjin right now, saving the folks trapped between the cascading Fire Elementals and the Undead-infested waters," Elvia continued, reading off a defunct script of the future.

"That's my sister for you." Percy's tone grew irritated, with both hands in his tailored mandarin jacket. Unhappily, the young man turned to face her. "Miss Lindholm, you've been at this for days now. However, we're now in a crisis time. Why don't you say your piece, and I'll promise to think about it?"

Elvia swallowed. Her throat hurt. She had never been sick in her life, though she felt now the feverish pounding of blood in her head.

"Then let us be plain, Percy Song. I want you to recant your use of the Kirin Amulet. I want you to return the unholy artefact of your family so that your sister can focus on saving the innocent and the helpless and not see them as pawns in her long war against Spectre."

There was silence, once made more audible by the muffled sound of the partying "innocent and the helpless" outside the moving carriage.

"I see." The calmness of Percy's reply, Elvia noted, was the opposite of the vitriol she had expected. "Did Gwen put you up to this?"

"That possibility does not exist, Percy." Elvia shook her head at the misguided delusions of her friend's precious brother. "I am asking you to do this for the greater good. You have a bright future ahead of you, Percy. The Masters of the PLA have their eye on you. Gwen will give you far more than… whatever you think you may gain from the path of a deviant."

"Deviant!" The young man's tone finally grew restless and combative. "Is that the words of a Vessel of the Yinglong?"

Percy's outburst, Elvia felt, was soothing. The facade they had both upheld had been grinding down their patience, and now it was finally time to give the festering wounds a scorching redress. "We humans are given free will by the Almighty, Percy. We have the freedom to choose. Thus, please choose wisely."

"FREEDOM? You mean the Yinglong chooses, and we are all pawns in the grasp of his claws!" The young man stood. The atmosphere changed. Elvia tasted a hint of salt in the atmosphere of the carriage. "You, free will? You're a Dragon's pawn!"

"MAGUS SONG!" Mathias's eyes glowed golden with the invocation of faith from his Relic crest. "Do not leave your seat. Do not approach the Dragon Princess. I will give this warning exactly once."

Gwen's brother did not immediately sit.

"Give me the Amulet, Percy." Elvia extended a white hand. "There is too much chaos in the world already. We do not need an old evil to add to it."

Elvia expected the young man to protest in a rage, after which Mathias would strike, and the matter would erupt into a dire but momentary struggle.

"So your Yinglong, it knew?" The young man laughed instead and then sat. He sat with both legs apart, then pointed at his chest with a free hand. "Does the Yinglong know what this is? Did Uncle Jun tell you Dragons everything he discovered at the ancestral home?"

"I cannot speak for what my Patron knows," Elvia said. "I only know that I must save you and by association—Gwen. Will you relent the amulet, Percy? Or…”

"I don't need you to save me." The young man raised an accusatory hand as if to place a finger on her lips. "If you want my Kirin Amulet, come and take it."

"Elvia…" Mathias drew his sword an inch from its sheath.

Elvia implored the Knight to pause. "This my choice, Mathias. I am the Vessel. I'll see it to the end."

She leaned closer to the Salt Mage, her mind full of offensive and defensive incantations that could manifest in the blink of an eye. In the likeness of a youthful lover's longing, her arms breached the distance between the table and took command of the young man's collar.

"You won't regret this, Percy..." her voice was calm and sympathetic. "Gwen will save you."

Somewhere under that fabric was the conclusion she sought. Once the Percy half of the amulet was in her possession, she could petition her Patron or use the Ordo's Faith Sorcery to aid Jun in weaning him from the use of his half.

Then, with both stones separated, she would cast the damned Relic into holy fire or leave it imprisoned by the Yinglong.

It would mean the destruction of the Song's legacy and a portion of Gwen's ordained future, but her shouldering the blame was better than any other alternative.

Her fingers undid the first button on Percy's collar.

Percy's mouth moved. His churlish frown softened, turning ever slightly upward in the sign of a grin.

Her fingers touched the second button.

A flash of sudden quicksilver filled the room, followed by a second flash of Faith-fuelled gold a split-second later, slicing the chair and floor, striking with such force that the Walls of Force shielding the walls sparked and sizzled as the empty chair shattered.

There was blood.

A long line of blood, barely visible in the damage, traced upward onto the edge of Mathias' blade.

Nonetheless, Percy Song was gone.

"CHRIST!" Mathias swore. "How in the nine hells is this possible? We asked for both of his Contingency Rings to be disabled!"

Elvia had no answers for Mathias. Her mind was writing blank checks she could not cash. Regret, horror, and guilt gushed into her head like the torrential flooding of a cyclone.

Mathias, ever reliable, was upon the shell-shocked girl beside them like an Iron Golem against a wayward intruder. With one hand, he lifted the Lightning Mage and slammed her against the cracking panes of Wall of Force. "MEI YANG! WHERE DID HE GO?"

"I don't know!" The girl trembled, her feet kicking in the air. "Percy, he—"

Mathias caught the girl's hand with his gauntlets. His eyes flared with diagnostic magic. "—Where is your—JESUS, Elvia! They swapped Contingency Rings! She's wearing his ring!"

"I don't know, I…" The girl was pale and flushed at once; her face contorted in agony.

"Where does your ring lead?!" Mathias crushed the girl's hand, causing her to whimper. Crackling lightning erupted as the girl's mana shield kicked into place—but was instantly extinguished by the Conjugation of Light flaring from Mathias' protective Relic. "

"T—Tianjin!" Percy's fiancee wailed. "We both have a pair… the Tianjin Tower gave us the rings when we were P-purging the Undead at Yantai! It takes you into the Triage Bay within the Tower!"

TIANJIN!

A quake erupted in Elvia's mind—but then the flow of the Yinglong's Essence rapidly pacified the panic that prevented her from thinking.

"Give me your ring!" Mathias growled. "Unbind it now! Or you'll roast in the Fires of Faith!"

Sobbing, the girl undid the binding magic surrounding the Contingency Ring.

"Elvia?" Mathias held his prize. "I'll inform Pudong Tower now. We need to go and reinforce Master Jun and Regent Song. And hunt down this additional calamity."

Elvia lifted her head.

Her Knight was right. They had to go.

The room was ruined, and explaining to the PLA underlings at Yu Gardens would only aid Percy, for Lord knew what Percy Song would do in Tianjin to revive her vision. Walking past the crumbled girl, she bestowed a Cure Moderate Wounds, immediately followed by a tendril from Kiki that impaled the squirming Lightning Mage in the neck, delivering enough euphoria for her to remain blissfully asleep for a day.

Beside her, Mathias informed Sir Reginal and Sir Kass that they would attend to Tianjin's developing situation.

As added insurance, Elvia added a Binding Ward used for Magic Creatures, one that made the victims bereft of sight, sound and smell, all the while inhibiting their mana conduits with the power of Faith.

Once Percy met his fate, Elvia had no doubt the PLA would have plans for his oblivious accomplice at the prison Gwen had horridly narrated. The Song family, conversely, would remain unscathed but for their one wayward grandchild and continue to prosper. That would be her Patron's promise and the will of Ayxin, at least if the Party wanted its rice bowl intact.

Percy Song.

Elvia steeled herself.

Her charity was spent.

Even if Gwen had to watch, her next meeting with Gwen's brother would be the final nail fastening a man's palm against blood-soaked oak.

Calmer now, she turned to Ayxin, who seemed oblivious to the going on in front of them. Deep in her dream of impossibility, Elvia suspected that her mistress was watching—though her physical manifestation was now helpless.

Her heart felt glad. She had not failed here.

Ayxin was safe.

The child of impossibilities was safe.

"Elvia," Mathias reported beside her. "Sir Reginal and Sir Kass have reported that we have received Pudong's authorisations. Our rings will activate in five seconds for Tianjin Tower. Their Magisters at the Yu Gardens take care of the PLA... and see to the young woman."

Elvia knelt before the crimson mass that was Axyin's slumbering form.

Did the daughter of the Yinglong place that much trust in her Father?

Was Ayxin's Faith, like her belief in the ethos of the Nazarene, what sustained her through the agony of bringing forth an immaculate life?

"Rest well, Lord Ayxin," she delivered the Message in Dragon Tongue so that the sentiment would linger long after she was gone. "Your child is now safe, and I shall do my utmost to ensure Lord Jun returns to you."

The Dragon Princess's passivity was a reply in itself.

The room flashed quicksilver, leaving only the gentle thrum of the Walls of Force.

Mei Yang was in pain.

She had been in pain the whole while since they boarded the carriage of the Dragon Princess, though she had borne her agony well.

Now, she was bound by darkness, afraid and alone, with the unimaginable pain impaling her diaphragm.

She was drugged and glamoured, but the pain in her body was worse than molten magma, disobeying the promised rest of the Floral Sprite's intoxicating poison.

Though her body was healed, hers was a distress of the soul—one that extended from the Kirin Amulet pressed against her quivering flesh, boring into her Astral Body to sap up her life force.

Percy had said she had to trust him.

And Mei did, implicitly and without question.

As they waited to board Ayxin's carriage, her husband had said that Gwen would desire his Kirin Amulet and that she was the only one he could trust.

In secret, they had swapped rings, and he had pressed the most important thing in his life into the palm of her sweet little hand.

And true to Percy's word, Mei had witnessed the tyranny of the Yinglong's Vessel. Percy's sister was kind—but she was also a Dragon—and Mei now knew their ruthlessness.

For Percy's sake, she had to protect his heirloom.

She had to hide it from the Dragons.

She had to preserve the Kirin Amulet.

It was Percy's future.

Their future.

And whatever agony she must endure, no matter for how long, none shall take it away from her.

Slowly, a tendril of Essence, untouched by magic, untethered to the Material Plane, leaked from the unmoving silhouette of Mei Yang.

Like it had done before for a prior mistress half a world away, the Kirin Amulet now sought the closest Essence of the Dragon kind to sustain its host.

Many years ago, the wandering tendril had been unconscious, instinctual.

Now, it moved with purpose, snaking along the floor for the protective barrier surrounding the sleeping princess.

Though it possessed no means of scent, taste, sight, or hearing, it perceived the roar of life in the womb of the Dragon child like a sailor drawn to the howling gales of a frothing sea.

With the spark of impossibility… it would become whole again.

With the Yinglong's Essence usurped… they would be together...

SCHWWWWWING—!!!

The sudden protrusion of a vibrating blade cut short the tendril's progress, instantly breaking the tendril's reach, only ending when the opposing Walls of Force consumed the momentum of the jadeite slab twice the height of its conjurer and dozens of times her weight, too immense to be called a sword.

Shouts of protest, horror, and the blasting of spells erupted outside, together with cries of "ASSASSIN!" And "PROTECT THE PRINCESS" filled the surrounding perimeter like fleeing crabs from an overturned bucket.

The Kirin Amulet, its dire glow fading as its residue energies were spent, lay submerged in a pool of rapidly cooling offal, buried in a mess of shattered bones and rendered skin and muscle.

Above the offending carcass, the Bodhisattva serenity of Ayxin continued her slumber, a mother at peace, blissfully nurturing a child of impossibility.