The jaguars in the clearing were not warriors.

Bai Yue realized it in the space between one heartbeat and the next, the way their ribs showed through their fur, the way their eyes were dull with exhaustion, the way they flinched when the cubs stumbled forward. These were not the mercenaries who had hunted them through the jungle. These were survivors. Shadows. Ghosts of the proud clan Tao Zi’s parents had once ruled.

An old jaguar woman stepped forward, her fur patchy, her left arm ending in a scarred stump. She squinted at Tao Zi, her weathered face crumpling.

"The mark on his tunic," she whispered. "That is the crest of the Jade Jaguar royal line."

Other voices rose behind her, trembling, disbelieving.

"The cub—"

"—those eyes—"

"—it can’t be—"

"—after all these years—"

The old woman dropped to her knees in the mud. "Is that... the heir?"

Tao Zi pressed closer to Bai Yue’s leg. His small hand found hers and squeezed.

"She called herself the Usurper King," he said, his voice barely audible. "She said everyone was dead. She said my mother begged."

A collective sob rippled through the gathered jaguars. Some fell to their knees. Others turned away, covering their faces. The old woman reached out with her remaining hand, her fingers trembling inches from Tao Zi’s cheek.

"We thought you died in the fire," she said. "We searched the nursery. Found nothing but ash."

"My nursemaid," Tao Zi said. "She took me. She raised me in the caves."

"Blessed be her name," the old woman murmured. "Blessed be her memory."

More jaguars were gathering now, emerging from crude shelters woven into the roots of the great trees. They looked like famine victims, like prisoners, like creatures who had been surviving on hope and spite for five long years.

"The Usurper worked us to the bone," a young male said, his voice hollow. "Those who refused were killed. Those who complied......we dug. We built. We buried our dead in unmarked graves."

"She took everything," another added. "Our homes. Our history. Our dignity."

Bai Yue looked at their faces, gaunt, haunted, barely clinging to life, and felt her heart break for them. These weren’t enemies. These were victims. Just like Tao Zi. Just like her family.

"Your prince is alive," she said. "And the Usurper is dead. Frozen in her own throne room."

The jaguars stared at her.

"Dead?" the old woman breathed.

"Trapped in ice," Bai Yue confirmed. Maybe not dead, but definitely frozen. "She won’t be hurting anyone ever again."

A sound rose from the crowd, half sob, half cheer, but it died quickly. Because behind Bai Yue, Glimmer let out a soft, terrible whimper.

The young dragon’s scales had gone from dull green to a sickly gray. Her breathing was labored, each inhale a struggle. The arrow wound in her wing had turned black at the edges, the poison spreading despite Yàn Shū’s desperate efforts.

"She’s dying," the scholar said, his voice raw. "I’ve done everything I can. I don’t have the herbs. I don’t have—"

"The Spirit Spring," the old jaguar interrupted.

Everyone turned.

"Beneath the temple," she continued, pushing herself to her feet. "The ancient jaguars built their sanctuary over it. The water has healing properties. The spring feeds the roots of the great tree. If we can get the dragon to the water..."

"Show us," Bai Yue said.

The old woman nodded. "Follow me."

They moved through the clearing, past the crude shelters, past a pile of skulls that made Bai Yue’s stomach lurch, toward a gap in the roots of the largest tree. A stone staircase descended into darkness, slick with moisture and age.

"The Usurper sealed this passage years ago," the old woman said, lighting a torch. "But we’ve been digging. Slowly. In secret. We hoped......we never stopped hoping..."

The stairs opened into a cavern.

And there, at its center, was the spring.

Water bubbled up from a crack in the stone, crystal clear, glowing faintly with an inner light. Moss grew thick on the rocks around it, and tiny flowers bloomed in colors Bai Yue had never seen before.

Mo Xiao carried Glimmer to the water’s edge and lowered her in.

The effect was immediate.

The young dragon’s scales began to brighten. The black edges of her wound receded, replaced by fresh pink flesh. Her breathing steadied, deepened, and her eyes, her beautiful green eyes, fluttered open.

"Glimmer!" Yòu Lín threw himself into the water, wrapping his arms around her neck. "You’re awake! You’re awake, you’re—"

"Ow," Glimmer croaked. "Everything hurts. Why does everything hurt?"

"You got shot by an arrow and then the ceiling fell on you and then we ran for like a thousand years and—"

"That explains it."

Bai Yue let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. One crisis averted. One.

But there was no time to rest.

Because Han Shān’s body was still back there.

Left behind.

In the mud.

Bai Yue’s legs nearly gave out.

"Han Shān," she whispered. "We left him. We left him—"

Zhāo Yàn caught her arm. His grip was tight, almost bruising. "We had no choice. The mercenaries—"

"I don’t care about the mercenaries! He’s alone out there! He’s—"

"He’s gone."

The words landed like stones in still water.

Zhāo Yàn’s face was pale, his usual sharpness dulled to a wounded expression. "Bai Yue. He had no pulse. The poison—"

"Don’t." Her voice cracked. "Don’t say it."

"His heart wasn’t beating."

"ZHĀO YÀN."

He pulled her against his chest. She fought him, shoved at his shoulders, clawed at his arms, but he didn’t let go. His nine tails wrapped around her, holding her together while she tried to fall apart.

She closed her eyes.

The tears came then, hot and silent and endless. She pressed her face against Zhāo Yàn’s chest and wept for the husband who had thawed for her, who had learned to smile, who had built a cradle with his own hands and painted it with paw prints.

When she finally pulled back, her eyes were red but dry.

"We can’t stay here," she said.

"The mercenaries—"

A distant sound echoed through the cavern. Oh no.

Shouting. Boots. The clash of metal.

The mercenaries had found them.

"Seal the entrance," the old woman commanded. "Quickly—"

Too late.

The first jaguar mercenary dropped through the gap in the roots, his blade already swinging. Mo Xiao intercepted him, claws meeting steel. Zhāo Yàn’s tails lashed out, knocking two more off their feet. But more were coming. Always more.

Bai Yue grabbed Tao Zi and pushed him behind her. "Stay down. Don’t move."

"But—"

"STAY."

The cavern filled with bodies. With screams. With the wet sound of blades finding flesh.

And then—

A roar.

Not a jaguar. Not a bear.

A dragon.

The ceiling above them cracked. Sunlight poured through, blinding, golden. And through the gap, descending on wings of fire, came a shape Bai Yue knew better than her own reflection.

Cāng Jì.

The Golden Prince of the Dragon Peaks landed in the center of the cavern, his scales blazing, his roar shaking stones loose from the walls. His molten gold eyes swept the chaos, found Bai Yue, found the cubs.

And the world went very, very quiet.

"Star-thief," Cāng Jì said. "I believe I arrived just in time."