What little Yuehwa knew of the elusive Horanjit Temple came from the mouths of storytellers she had met along her travels. They spoke of towering stone pillars and roofs with overhanging eaves and white jade tiles hewn from the Jilin mines, blending in with the snowy peaks. Within them stood the statues of the gods, standing head and shoulders above their loyal servants, carved out of the very same rock that made these mountains. The monotonous chants of the ascetic temple monks would meld with the voices of the wind, the rhythmic drumming of their wooden bowls perfectly harmonious with nature's heartbeat.

It had once been a sanctuary of peace, tucked away from the muddy reaches of civilisation in this hidden valley.

None of that remained.

Looking at the wasteland that lay before her, Yuehwa understood why Ru Fei never spoke of Horanjit, even though he was the sole survivor from within its hallowed halls.

The once-regal and imposing temple had been reduced to a pile of rubble by the fires that raged through it. Only mere stumps of its large, cylindrical pillars remained jutting from beneath the thick layer of snow and the cracked likeness of the gods lay abandoned and forgotten.

Yuehwa stood in front of what used to be a majestic colonnade, staring down at the frozen face half buried by the snow beside the carved emblem of an eagle, the temple's guardian.

The worst part of this was that the frigid weather had left the entire place frozen on the day its inhabitants drew their last breath. Those who were burnt to ash were the lucky ones, for they could be carried away upon the wind. Then there were those who were not so fortunate, whose bodies remained where they had fallen, mouths gaping and eyes widened, doomed to spend an eternity trapped in this final nightmare.

She bent over and gently closed the eyes of the petrified monk, saying a prayer even though she did not believe in them.

They gave the dead a fiery send-off, sending them on their final journey to reunite with their compatriots, twelve years late. There were twenty-eight in total. The billowing smoke rose like a tower towards the skies, until nothing was left of their remains except scorched earth beneath melted snow.

"He'll need some time to collect himself," Shoya said.

Ru Fei was standing in the centre of what used to be the temple's grand hall, still staring silently at the dying embers of the makeshift funeral pyre. They could only imagine the depths of sorrow that was running through him now, coming back to a place that had once been his home and being forced to face the death and ruin once more.

Yuehwa nodded, walking over to a different section of the temple grounds instead. "I don't think he ever thought he would return again," she said. "I wouldn't want to if I were in his shoes, knowing that everyone I ever cared for is dead and gone. All this for what? A few relics in exchange for some gold?"

"How are we so sure that bandits were responsible for this?"

It was a good question. Yuehwa had never considered this before, because she had no reason to disbelieve what she had been told about the Horanjit massacre. What other reason could there be for the cold-blooded murder of so many innocent lives?

She tilted her head, trying to read Shoya's expression.

"Have your visions shown you something different? Did Wan Jue tell you the answer?" she asked.

"No," Shoya replied with a shake of his head, "nothing about the massacre from twelve years ago. But there was something else. When Hwang Nanzhe was trapped within the mountain, the Horanjit monks were the ones who helped them survive the long wait, supplying them with provisions through that secret passageway we just came through."

"Mmm, and?"

"The monks suspected that Wudi was wielding dark magic."

"Dark magic? Not that again."

Yuehwa wished they had left this insidious magic behind in the Dahai palace, destroyed along with the bronze guardsmen. Unfortunately it seemed determined to latch onto her—and its footprint was growing. She grimaced, thinking about the mysterious hand that had stolen her brother away from her and the hidden force that was trying to devour the kingdoms.

"If they were right, then Hwang Nanzhe must have discovered a way to combat the dark forces of the Wudi empire in order for him to eventually claim victory. What if the monks of Horanjit were a part of this? What if the answer to defeating the power of dark magic came from right here?"

The strong winds from the mountaintops howled in the distance, as if they carried the voices of the ghosts that still haunted these grounds. Yuehwa took another look at the ruins around her, then at the silhouette of the commander who was still standing vigil for his fallen brethren. She sighed.

The bandits responsible for the Horanjit massacre had already been captured and sentenced to death by Feng officials, a short two months after the horrific incident. An entire clan of thirty-six, dragged out from their mountain lodge and hung in front of city gates as a warning to any others who dared harbour similar intentions. Yuehwa had only been a child then, but she remembered hearing about it from General Han. She didn't know if Ru Fei witnessed the hangings for himself, but she reckoned he would have. For closure.

How would he react if he found out that they had punished the wrong people for this crime?

#

"We can leave at the break of dawn. Ru Fei knows another way down the mountain from here. It should lead us back to the entrance of the Tangshan Pass," Yuehwa said.

She leapt up deftly, joining Shoya on the roof—or barely half a roof, to be precise—of the sole section of the temple compound that still remained partially standing.

He was lying on his back and staring up at the blinking stars.

"They saved some roasted rabbit for you, but I reckon it'll be gone if you don't come quickly," she added.

The rest of their men had returned to the warmth of the cavern, as temperatures in the mountains dropped several notches in the night. A light flurry of snow was falling from the skies, dusting her hair and shoulders.

"It's alright," Shoya replied. "I'm not hungry."

Yuehwa peered down at him curiously. Shoya had said little since their earlier conversation about the first king of Feng and his battle against the old Wudi empire, and it looked as if there were things occupying his mind. This place bothered him—and it bothered her too. The link that Shoya had with the forgotten past bothered her, because it felt like a part of him she could never share.

He reached out and grabbed hold of her hand, pulling her down. Her fingers touched the white jade tiles of the roof, and to her surprise, the surface was warm instead of freezing cold.

"One of the mountain's best kept secrets," Shoya said. "Jilin jade emits heat. Would have kept the inhabitants of the temple comfortably warm even in these year-round wintry conditions."

Yuehwa followed his lead and lay down against the tiles. It was one of life's greatest enjoyments, she decided, to be lying here with warmth caressing her back and frosty winds nipping at her cheeks, admiring the tapestry of the heavens above. It had been a long while since she had felt—free.

She sighed loudly, earning a sideways glance from her companion.

"If you like, we can come back to these mountains and build a little sanctuary up at one of the peaks, like Horanjit," he said. "Spend the days admiring the scenery, enjoying the peace, maybe indulge in a little sparring from time to time."

Yuehwa smiled. It sounded wonderful, to be able to retreat to such a pocket of serenity and forget about all the troubles of reality. But she had enough sense to know that it was only a dream.

"Sure." Maybe in our next lifetimes. "Do you really think that the same forces of dark magic that had plagued the lands back during the rule of Wudi are making a resurgence?" she asked, changing the topic to one that was more befitting of their current identities, the identities that would keep them shackled away from the beautiful scene that Shoya had just described.

He fell silent for a moment, then said, "I think there is a possibility, yes. I don't know much about what happened back then, so I will need to check the royal archives once we leave, but if my memory serves me correctly, dark magic mysteriously disappeared in the early years of the founding of the five kingdoms, not long after the new rulers outlawed its practise. One possibility is that the authorities managed to eradicate all of them, but what is more likely is that the survivors went into hiding."

They went into hiding, waiting for the right moment to resurface and take their revenge against those who had sought to have them destroyed.

Yuehwa recalled the shadows that inhabited the suits of bronze armour and the blood red swirls in the crystal pendant that Shoya had placed against her brother's skin, evidence of of the sinister forces simmering beneath the surface. Her fingers clenched tightly by her side, the rage and grief of losing her closest kin once again overwhelming her mind.

Shoya placed his hand around hers, slowly prying her closed fist open.

"Don't worry. We'll get to the bottom of things and deliver the justice that your brother deserves," he said, entwining their fingers.

"You have your own battle to fight, Shoya. You don't have to fight mine as well."

It was odd, having Shoya talk about them as "we", as if they had always been this way. A pair. A unit. And that she had not merely been a convenient part of his plan to reclaim his birthright. She had tried forgetting that, but found that it was easier said than done. The thought still lingered at the back of her mind, emerging every now and then to remind her of their circumstances, of how she was never sure what his intentions were, and what was going on inside his mind.

Even if he was Hwang Nanzhe reborn, she was certain she was not his Wan Jue.

He said nothing in response, simply turning his gaze back towards the night sky. She took it to mean that he accepted what she had said, as he should. Theirs was an alliance of mutual benefit, not anything more.

A loud explosion suddenly rang out, shaking the peace and serenity of their surroundings. Yuehwa sat up, turning her head towards the direction of the sound. Black smoke had started issuing from one of the rock faces.

The duo exchanged a glance, then swiftly leapt back down to the ground and hid themselves behind a half-fallen wall.

A man emerged from the hole that had been blown through the rock, coughing loudly.

A soldier, dressed in Gi armour.

His scanned the area warily, then he turned back and pulled a second man out through the hole, struggling to bear the latter's weight.

Ru Fei had been right after all and Baixun had indeed sent his men through the Tangshan Pass, possibly with the intention of finding the lost treasure of the first king of Feng. However, something seemed off.

Even though most of the two men still had armour on, they were ripped at parts, not by swords, but as if clawed into pieces by some beast. Both men were bleeding profusely onto the pristine snow.

"What happened to them?" Yuehwa murmured.

They watched as the first man hauled the second over to a fallen stone slab, laying him carefully down. Then, he removed his helmet.

"Park Maroo!"

But if this was the Gi adviser, then the other man...

Baixun?

Maroo gingerly removed the helmet of his unconscious companion, revealing the familiar countenance of the crown prince of Gi.

Baixun looked a far cry from when they last parted. He was a crumpled wreck, his injuries slowly bleeding him dry. Alive—but barely—with his face pale and stained with dried blood.

But the blood wasn't red.

Black.

"He's been poisoned?"

"Very likely. And close to death."

Yuehwa startled at the thought. This was certainly not how she imagined Baixun would meet his end, out here in the wilderness, breathing his last among the lost souls of Horanjit. If someone like him should die, it should be out on the battlefield, fighting for the glory he envisioned in his mind. A proud death. A worthy one.

"We have to save him," she said, stepping out before Shoya had time to respond.

The moment she appeared, Maroo instinctively spun around, waving his sword wildly in the air.

"It's us," Yuehwa called out. "We can help."

The adviser stood stunned, his jaw gaping as if trying to figure out whether she was real or a hallucination. He blinked a couple of times, staring at Yuehwa, and then at Shoya, who had appeared behind her.

"Phoenix... And you..." he stammered. He hesitated for a moment, then lowered his weapon.

Yuehwa had never thought much of Park Maroo, but in this moment she thought she understood why Baixun kept the man by his side as his closest confidante and aide. Life and death was very often determined by one swift decision, and Maroo could be trusted to make that decision in times of need.

The adviser stepped aside, allowing Shoya to pick up Baixun's wrist and feel for his pulse.

"What happened?" Yuehwa asked.

"We were attacked," Maroo explained with a tremble in his voice. "There were so many of them. So many. The prince fought to keep as many of us alive as he could, but it was impossible. Everyone died." He wrung his hands together anxiously.

"Them?"

"Monsters!" A stricken expression crossed Maroo's face. "They must have been monsters. They had claws. Sharp claws that could rip through our armour like knives."

Monsters?

Yuehwa glanced towards the small opening in the rock that the men had climbed through, wondering what lay down there. Judging from the marks that lined the bodies of the prince and his adviser, it did appear as if they had been attacked by creatures of some sort. But it sounded incredulous.

"Did you see what they looked like?"

Maroo shook his head. "It was too dark. Our torches were suddenly extinguished, and then they appeared out of nowhere. No one saw them coming."

"And they didn't chase after you when you tried to escape?"

"No. We were running, and then suddenly they were gone. Vanished. Maybe they turned around and went back..."

There was something that smelled odd about this entire situation, but now was not the time for probing. Maroo looked like he could barely stand. It was a miracle that he had managed to get Baixun out of there. The questions would have to wait until they had recovered.

"Can you save him?" Maroo asked Shoya.

Shoya sat Baixun upright and tapped a few critical acupoints on the latter's back, then he took out a small blade from his waistband an made a small nick on the man's right index finger. Maroo yelped, but stifled his cries as he watched more black blood drip slowly from his prince's fingertip.

"Baixun has already used his own vital energy to force most of the poison out, and this can help clear the remainder from his bloodstream. He'll survive, however, the poison has already made its rounds around his entire body, so I can't say for certain what the repercussions will be."

Blackened blood dripped onto the snow at their feet, forming a dark smear that released a putrid odour. When the blood regained its maroon hue, Shoya stemmed the flow and tied a thin strip of cloth around Baixun's hand.

Hearing that his prince would live, Maroo heaved a loud sigh of relief, collapsing onto the snow. "Thank the gods! I knew we shouldn't have gone looking for that gold. That place is cursed! It's haunted by demons and the ghosts of the king of Feng's men!" he muttered, then he passed out.

Gold? Curses? Ghosts?

Yuehwa looked down at Baixun, who lay in a fitful slumber, a frown of distress marring his handsome countenance.

Seems like someone found his treasure after all, she thought. But was it worth his life in exchange?