Cāng Jì stood in the center of the cavern and there was no dramatics. No posturing. No complaints about the humidity or the mud or the indignity of being surrounded by lowlanders.

His golden scales were streaked with soot. His wings, usually pristine, were battered from flying through collapsing temple debris. There was a gash across his chest that was still bleeding.

He had flown through hell to get here.

And he was absolutely furious.

He shifted into his human form.

The mercenaries froze. Every single one of them.

"Lower your weapons," Cāng Jì said.

No one moved.

"I said," he repeated, and his voice dropping, "lower your weapons."

Blades clattered to the stone floor. Bows were dropped. A bear mercenary near the back actually fell to his knees.

Cāng Jì walked through them slowly. He stopped in the center of the cavern and turned in a slow circle, looking at each mercenary in turn.

"You made a mistake. And I won’t forgive it,"

He raised one hand.

Fire erupted from his palm.

It swept across the cavern, curling around the mercenaries like living serpents, touching nothing else. The jaguar survivors pressed back against the walls, untouched. The cubs, huddled behind Bai Yue, felt only warmth.

But the mercenaries—

The mercenaries screamed.

Their weapons melted in their hands. Their leather armor charred and cracked. The bears dropped to their knees, clutching their arms, their chests, their faces. The jaguars scrambled for the tunnel entrance, but the fire was faster. It didn’t kill them. It didn’t need to.

It just hurt.

"Please," a jaguar begged, his voice raw. "Please, we didn’t know—"

"You didn’t know what?" Cāng Jì’s voice was cold. "That the people you were hunting belonged to me? That the dragon you shot out of the sky was a friend of my family? That the Snow Leopard you poisoned—"

He stopped.

His hand dropped.

The fire vanished.

Right, Han Shan.

"Where is Li Hua?" 𝐟𝐫𝕖𝗲𝘄𝚎𝗯𝕟𝐨𝕧𝐞𝚕.𝕔𝕠𝐦

Silence.

"The ice," a jaguar whispered. "The cub’s ice. It melted."

Cāng Jì went very still. "Melted?"

"When the temple collapsed. The ceiling fell. The ice... cracked. She was gone when we looked."

Bai Yue’s blood ran cold.

Gone.

Not dead. Gone.

That meant Li Hua was still out there somewhere.

Cāng Jì’s jaw tightened. He looked at Bai Yue, at her face, pale with exhaustion and grief, and made a decision.

"We’ll find her later," he said. "Right now, we have other problems."

He turned back to the mercenaries.

"Leave," he said. "All of you. Leave this territory and never return. If I see any of your faces again, I will not bother with warnings. The Burning Sky will come himself."

They didn’t need to be told twice.

They scrambled for the tunnel, crawling over each other, desperate to escape. Within moments, the cavern was empty of everyone except the survivors.

Cāng Jì’s eyes swept over her, the cut on her lip, the bruises on her wrists, the mud caked in her hair. His expression crumbled.

"Star-thief," he said quietly. "I’m sorry I wasn’t faster."

"You’re here now."

"Barely."

He looked past her, at the cubs. At Zhēn, who was staring at him with wide, tear-filled eyes. At Yòu Lín, who had one arm still wrapped around Glimmer’s neck. At Ruì Xuě, unconscious, his white fur grey with dirt and exhaustion.

And at Han Shān’s absence.

"Where is he?" Cāng Jì asked.

No one answered.

The silence stretched, thin and terrible.

Then Zhāo Yàn spoke. "The poison. His heart stopped. We had to leave him."

"Where?"

"At the temple. In the mud. We—"

Cāng Jì was already moving.

"Wait," Bai Yue said. "Cāng Jì, wait—"

"I’m going to get him."

"He’s dead. There’s nothing—"

"Then I’ll bring his body home." Cāng Jì’s voice cracked. "He deserves that much. He deserves that much."

He shifted.

His dragon form filled the cavern, golden and terrible and beautiful. His wings scraped the ceiling. His tail smashed a stalactite to rubble.

"Stay here," he rumbled. "Protect the cubs. I will return."

He launched.

The ceiling exploded outward, stone and soil raining down as the Golden Prince tore through the earth like it was paper. Sunlight flooded the cavern. Birds scattered.

And then he was gone.

~

The wait was agony.

Bai Yue paced the edge of the spring. The jaguar survivors tended to their wounded. Mo Xiao stood guard at the tunnel entrance, his amber eyes fixed on the darkness. Zhāo Yàn sat with his back against the wall, his nine tails wrapped around himself like a blanket.

Yàn Shū checked on the cubs. Ruì Xuě was still unconscious, his breathing shallow but steady. Glimmer was awake now, sitting up in the spring, her green scales slowly regaining their color. Yòu Lín refused to leave her side.

Zhēn sat with Tao Zi, the two of them pressed together, waiting.

And then—

A roar.

Not from outside. From above.

Cāng Jì crashed through the hole in the ceiling, his golden scales streaked with fresh blood, not his own, and in his claws, cradled with impossible gentleness, was Han Shān.

The Snow Leopard’s body was limp. His white fur was caked with mud and blood. His eyes were closed. His lips were blue.

But his chest—

"Move," Cāng Jì roared. "Move, move, MOVE."

The jaguars scattered. Bai Yue ran to the spring’s edge as Cāng Jì lowered Han Shān into the glowing water.

Nothing happened.

For one terrible heartbeat, nothing happened.

Then—

The water began to glow brighter.

It swirled around Han Shān’s body, rising up his chest, his neck, his face. The black veins that had faded now disappeared entirely. The wound in his side began to close, knitting together with fresh pink flesh. The blue faded from his lips.

But his chest didn’t rise.

"Come on," Bai Yue whispered. "Come on, come on, come on—"

Zhāo Yàn was beside her, his hand gripping hers so hard she felt bones grind. Yàn Shū was on Han Shān’s other side, pressing two fingers to his throat, searching, praying.

Mo Xiao stood at the tunnel entrance, holding the line, refusing to look back because if he looked back he would break.

The cubs huddled together. Zhēn had her arms around Ruì Xuě. Yòu Lín had his face buried in Glimmer’s neck. Tao Zi stood apart, his dark eyes fixed on the Snow Leopard in the water.

Cāng Jì knelt at the edge of the spring, his golden eyes fixed on Han Shān’s face.

The water glowed.

And glowed.

And glowed.

And then—

A cough.

Wet. Ragged. Agonizing.

Han Shān’s body arched in the water. Water erupted from his lungs. His eyes flew open, blue, confused, alive.

"Han Shān," Bai Yue sobbed.

She threw herself into the water, wrapping her arms around him, pressing her face against his neck. He was cold. He was shaking. But he was breathing.

"Bai Yue," he rasped. His voice was wrecked. "You’re—you’re crying."

"Of course I’m crying, you absolute idiot. You died."

"Did I?"

"Your heart stopped. The poison—the mercenaries—we had to leave you—"

"I know." His hand came up, weak but steady, and touched her cheek. "I heard you. Before. When you were talking to me. I heard everything."

Behind them, Ruì Xuě stirred.

"Papa?" The cub’s voice was small, confused. His purple eyes blinked open. "Mama? What happened? Where—"

Zhēn tackled him. "You’re awake! You’re awake, you’re awake, you’re AWAKE!"

"Oof—Zhēn, I can’t breathe—"

"You weren’t breathing before! Now you’re breathing! This is better!"

Ruì Xuě looked over his sister’s shoulder at the spring. At his father, alive, holding their mother. At Cāng Jì, kneeling at the water’s edge, his golden eyes soft.

"Did Uncle Sparkles save us?"

"No," Cāng Jì said, and his voice was rough. "You saved yourselves. I just......helped."

Yòu Lín was crying now, great heaving sobs, his face buried in Glimmer’s neck. Glimmer was crying too, her green scales streaked with tears.

"We’re alive," Yòu Lín gasped. "We’re all alive."

"Barely," Mo Xiao said, but he was smiling. His amber eyes were wet.

Zhāo Yàn let out a long, shaky breath. His tails unwound from around himself and draped over Bai Yue and Han Shān like a blanket.

"No more adventures," he said. "For at least a month. I’m serious. I’m putting my foot down."

"Your foot?" Yàn Shū laughed, tearfully. "You have nine tails and you’re putting your foot down?"

"Don’t mock me. I have had a very traumatic day."

The jaguar survivors watched from the edges of the cavern. The old woman with the scarred stump stepped forward, her eyes bright with tears.

"The prince is safe," she said. "The Snow Leopard lives. The dragon is healed." She looked at Tao Zi. "Our long nightmare is over."

Tao Zi didn’t say anything. He just walked to Bai Yue and pressed himself against her side. She wrapped an arm around him and held him close.

Cāng Jì stood up. His golden scales were still streaked with soot. His chest was still bleeding. But he was smiling.

"Well," he said. "That was terrible. I never want to do it again. Someone remind me to complain about this to my father for at least a century."

"You flew through a collapsing temple," Bai Yue said.

"Obviously."

"To save us."

"Obviously."

"You’re family, Cāng Jì."

His smile faltered. His golden eyes went soft.

"Star-thief," he said quietly, "you are never going to let me forget this, are you?"

"Never."

He huffed. But he was smiling.