A general is only as strong as his men and his allies.

  -General Sun Niehuang of the Golden Plains

  Dawn broke the siege on the town of Hanai. With the rising of the sun, so too did the defenders find their second wind to push back against the armies of lesser yokai who began to burn in the light of day.

  High Queen Pharyx walked upon the walls, surveying the damage. Walls could be fixed, buildings rebuilt, but it was the tired look of despair in the eyes of the defenders that had him most concerned. The human defenders were exhausted from months without a full night’s sleep, and even the hornets were starting to feel the weight of six years of war.

  Ever since Tsuyuki, Tenri, and little Xinya had fled into the night, the Moon Soaked Shore had been in turmoil. Lines were drawn, allegiances declared, and allies summoned. The Shore had been cut down the middle, east vs. west, and Pharyx had found himself on the isolated side.

  Where the Western Shore had originally lacked in capable cultivators, it made up for with supply routes to the capital city. After the initial salvo, where the Hunting Lodge had been completely obliterated, Governor Hong ran crying to whomever would listen, which just so happened to include the Sect Leader of the Chained-Demon Sect. Within a few weeks, Pharyx’s limited troops had been ground to a halt by the advance of a thousand summoned yokai.

  Five years and three hive’s worth of reinforcements from the Dawn Empress later, they were still in a stalemate. Even with the human cultivators Pharyx had subjugated and forced to advance, it still wasn’t enough. The hordes were endless, and they would soon be overrun.

  “My Queen,” greeted Captain Kaiyana. “Dawn is pushing the enemy back.”

  Pharyx nodded his greeting to the hornet captain. She was newer to the front, since her predecessor had been caught in a wing-slicer trap and eaten by spirit hounds only a month before.

  “Dawn brings us strength,” he said. “Refresh yourself. I’ll take the watch in the meantime.”

  “Yes, your majesty.” Kaiyana’s bow was sharp, and she jogged towards the stairs in a show of solidarity with the humans who lacked the wings of their hornet brethren. However, just before she began to descend, she paused and turned back to her Queen. “Your majesty? May this humble hornet ask a question of your illustrious self?”

  “You may.”

  Kaiyana relaxed slightly. “Sir, the morale of our troops is at a critical low point. They’ve asked when we will receive reinforcements from the coastal towns, or from the Honeybees.”

  Pharyx fought to keep the frustration off his face and out of his pheromone reaction. Projecting strength was critical, even if he didn’t feel it as deeply as he hoped others would believe.

  “The honeybees and coastal cultivators have been redirected,” he admitted.

  “But sir,” the hornet protested, “we are barely holding the line, here. If Hanai falls, there won’t be anything stopping the enemy from swallowing the East Shore.”

  “If the enemy takes Saikan’s supply routes, then we will be dead in the water,” he answered calmly. “Trust in me, Captain. Our forces are being directed where they are needed most. Your troops are strong, and under your leadership, they are a decisive force that could stop a hurricane. Everything is fine.”

  A flash of gold passed through the High Queen’s eyes as a subtle thread of qi reached out to the Captain. As soon as it touched her, she relaxed and nodded.

  “Yes, sir. Of course. Forgive me for questioning you. I live to serve the Queen.”

  Pharyx smiled warmly. “Good. Now, go and get some rest. You will serve no one if you’re dead on your wings.”

  Captain Kaiyana smiled and bowed again before departing. Pharyx turned back to the wall, maintaining his confident visage until she was fully out of sight. Then, the mask he wore crumbled, as it was all he could do to keep his emotions from emanating across his connection to the hive.

  Things were not fine. He was faced with an enemy that struck when his forces were at their weakest, with enemies who thrived in the dark. As if that wasn’t bad enough, Saikan was being threatened. Ships carrying supplies were being seized by pirates and Administrator Shen had sent several letters saying that it was only a matter of time before the port was raided. If they lost Saikan, if the enemy gained a footing in the east, it would all be over.

  “You must find your own allies, my only son.” That’s what the Dawn Empress had said the last time he asked for reinforcements. She’d provided much for the effort, but the Shore was largely worthless ground. She couldn’t afford to spare any more resources on its defense.

  But, who could he call on who would stand against the Chained-Demon Sect? They had the backing of Lady Yi Mingyue. Members of the Jade Scales Sect had been seen, as well, and they had the backing of the Four-Fingered Death. Who in all the realm would be willing to stand up to forces like that?

  Pharyx knew the answer. It was one that he’d been avoiding for years, one that he swore he’d only use as a last resort. Yet, now, with his back against the wall, the idea of calling on the person he’d betrayed chilled him to the bone.

  Desperate times, he mused to himself. As he continued to watch the wall for enemies, he began to prepare himself. A speech would no-doubt be required, an argument made, a request for forgiveness. When his shift on the wall was over, he would pack his things. Kansi could manage the war without him for a few months. It was time to make amends.

  Xiaolong leaned on the counter, a brush in his hand and a half-finished ledger before him. He knew that there wouldn’t be any customers today. Most days there weren’t. Aunt Sumiko preferred to take what she called a “direct approach,” meaning that she would walk the streets and pass out what medicines she had rather than making people come to her. When she did, Xiaolong was left to mind the shop and do the chores that she couldn’t be bothered to handle. Balancing the ledgers, taking inventory, sweeping the floors; it was all work that was beneath a normal dragon, but he liked it for that reason. He wasn’t a normal dragon, and there was a certain novelty in doing such mundane chores. Any other day, he’d have the ledger done in record time with a smile on his face. Today, however…

  Two weeks remained until the Lunar New Year, and he felt absolutely horrible. The numbers swam before his eyes on the page, and his stomach twisted in on itself. It happened every year and was a necessary evil if his father was to be believed.

  Dragons were supposed to bring harmony on the new year. They were meant to bless the land with their qi and bring fortune and strength to those who saw them. It was an instinct written deep into Xiaolong’s bones, and he had been forced to ignore it for nearly seven years.

  He was barely more than a hatchling when he performed the ceremony last, in the Imperial City of Sento Seinaru with his mother. Huang Meilong, the fearsome dragon of the Indomitable Peak, descended from her mountain headwaters to bless the Phoenix Empire and pay her respects to the Emperor. At his request, she’d brought Xiaolong and the two of them performed the rites together. He couldn’t remember ever being happier than when they danced together, both in their human forms and their dragon forms. The rain created by the ritual refracted into the most beautiful rainbows as it fell down upon the Imperial City. They returned to the mountain, and Xiaolong remembered babbling to his mother about all the pretty colors. She listened, her qi practically singing in his senses as a proud smile crept onto her usually stoic features. She promised they could do it again next year.

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  Before the next year came, a wicked man who introduced himself only as the Scholar had broken into their home and snatched Xiaolong right out of his bed. Xiaolong’s mother was thrown into a furious frenzy, the likes of which the world had only seen once before, when she was christened as the Demon of Cruelty. The mountain erupted in fire and earth as she turned all five elements against the man who attacked her hatchling.

  Xiaolong didn’t like thinking about what happened after. It was because of him that his mother, mighty and powerful dragon that she was, was captured. The Scholar used him, knowing full well that Huang Meilong would never willingly harm her own child. At first, they were both taken prisoner, and it was only thanks to his Uncle Kazuya’s swift rescue that he was freed and placed in Aunt Sumiko’s care. They’d gone into hiding, and Xiaolong was forced to pretend that he was just another yokai in the Black City.

  For seven years, he had remained hidden, despite very nearly being revealed when the Demon of Misfortune arrived in their second year. To maintain that illusion, he could not participate in the Lunar New Year the way his instincts craved. Denying that primal part of himself was not ideal, but Xiaolong knew with certainty that it was necessary.

  Better to keep moving forward rather than dwell on what cannot be, he reminded himself. Those were his Aunt Kimiko’s words. There were few people Xiaolong believed to be wiser than her. She had centuries of life and access to the complete collection of knowledge on the western continent. She had an answer for everything, and when he asked himself what answer she would give to him in this situation, as he asked himself every year around this time, this was the solution he always landed on.

  Xiaolong straightened, taking a deep breath to refocus his mind and his qi. The five elements churned inside him, and he allowed himself one minute of qi circulation. Water surged beneath his skin. Hungry wood drank deeply of the water before being consumed by the fire. The fire settled into his bones, turning to ash, then earth. Finally, metallic qi danced through his meridians, hardening the earth into steel before giving way to water’s patience once more. So the cycle continued, repeating a dozen times in the space of the single minute Xiaolong afforded himself. Once that minute was finished, he slowed the flow of qi.

  To his dismay, he felt no better than when he started. Dizziness made the world swirl and shift around him. Numbers and characters bled into each other on the ledger page, and he was forced to grip the counter before his balance failed him entirely.

  When the nausea passed, for the twisting in his stomach had somehow increased without him realizing it, and the world stopped spinning around him, Xiaolong felt something sticky and wet on his hand and chest. He looked down, and for a moment, thought the liquid staining his hand and gray robes was blood. However, that theory was quickly discarded as the confusion of a clouded mind, since the liquid was black and not gold.

  In his dizziness, he must have hit the inkstone. Ink covered the counter, his hands, and had spilled onto himself and the floor. With a sigh, Xiaolong set the brush down and went to search for a rag.

  He didn’t make it three paces before he stopped, his brow furrowing slightly in thought. Why was he getting a rag, again? What would a dragon need a rag for?

  Xiaolong just needed to lie down. He didn’t have anymore energy for…whatever was going on down here. With a flick of his wrist, the wood shades flicked down, and he began dragging himself upstairs to the small apartment where he lived with Aunt Sumiko.

  Everything would be fine. He just needed some sleep. When he woke, everything would be right as rain.

  “Welcome, Master,” the Stormchaser disciple said with a stiff and formal bow, only to be ignored by the man in turquoise. What did he care if the disciples of the Stormchaser sect greeted him or not? None of them had even a fraction of the potential garnered by those who were worthy of his attention. Under normal circumstances, even the elders in the Black City branch were beneath him, but their incessant nagging of the Hand of Disaster had gotten out of hand. Thus, the Hand had practically begged him to check in on the situation, as the one Master in their ranks who could traverse the Black City without bringing the entire reality crashing down around their ears. The audience was a favor, nothing more.

  The man in turquoise strode quickly through the vast sect estate, a disciple following doggedly at his heels to handle any situation that the Master might need. In a few moments, he pushed open the doors to the Elder Feng Nao’s office. The young man, for few were elder to the man in turquoise, was startled and almost protested the unannounced entry before realizing exactly who was standing in his doorway. The moment that recognition dawned on him, he kowtowed deeply to the floor.

  “Hand of Hubris, this master is but a humble student in your presence. Thank you for agreeing to this audience,” he said with a reverent tone.

  A fan snapped open to hide the crinkled nose and eye roll that answered the title’s use. The man in turquoise had never liked the title, and had petitioned several times with his Master to have it changed, only to be denied with a polite but amused smile.

  “I understand that you begged your sect leader for aid? Do you realize that no Gemstone or Ascendant may enter this city?” he asked cooly.

  “Yes, sir,” the younger artist admitted, head still to the ground. “I’ve been requesting aid for years, sir. Have you been in the city long enough to know the rumors?”

  “This is a city. There are many rumors.” Despite his words, he knew exactly which rumors the branch leader was referring to. He could also confirm that the rumor was very much true and was, in fact, the subject of his current projects.

  “Sir, they say the Darkened Moon has returned to the Black City.”

  The Hand smiled behind his fan. The fear in the younger master’s voice was absolutely delightful, as it showed he knew who his betters were. Without a second glance, the older artist strode into the room and sat with a grace that was far above his current advancement.

  “What do you know of the Darkened Moon?” he asked as he poured a cup of tea from the pot on the man’s desk.

  Feng Nao stood, but kept his head bowed as he returned to his own seat. “They say a man in the Fourteenth Armillary District has declared himself the Darkened Moon, but he lacks the power of an Ascendant. They say that he is responsible for the schism in the Shattered Moon Sect and that he has goals to retake the city for his own.”

  “‘They say?’” the Hand raised an eyebrow. “Do you not confirm rumors such as this for yourself? Is it not your job as Branch Leader to ensure that your headquarters in this place are safe?”

  “Y-yes, sir, but the political climate here has always been delicate,” Feng Nao answered. “Travel is restricted between the districts, both by the Void and the wicked sects who infest this city like rats. Even should I be able to find him, he is one of the Demons of Devastation. Only an Ascendant such as yourself would be able to handle him.”

  It would be rude to roll his eyes again at Feng Nao’s words, and it was only thanks to the respect he had for the Hand of Disaster that he held back the verbal lashing he wanted to give this foolish child. If it weren’t for the fact that he knew that the Stormchaser Sect’s Black City branch would not exist for much longer, he’d recommend to the Hand that she replace this idiot post-haste.

  “Did you not just say that he lacked the power of an Ascendant?” the Hand of Hubris pointed out. Then, he sat back and sighed. “No, don’t answer that.”

  Feng Nao bit his lip to keep quiet. He was clearly afraid to speak at all, lest he anger his betters. Eventually, the Hand set his cup down once more, took a deep breath, then continued.

  “Let the Hand of Disaster know the situation is being taken care of,” he instructed. “As it happens, I’ve had my eye on Tsuyuki Yoru for nearly seven years. I am seeing to his proper development.”

  After all, he was first and foremost a teacher. Even if his students didn’t always know they were being taught, it was his duty to ensure they reached their potential. When he encountered the wandering Void artist on the Moon-Soaked Shore, he knew there was something special about him. After all, it wasn’t just any Iron artist who could defeat a monster such as the Tide Serpent. Watching that fight had been a rare treat, one that had him feeling like a child in a festival all over again. Tsuyuki just needed to be pushed in the right directions, and he would become one of the greatest forces of nature the world had ever known.

  “If you say so, sir,” Feng Nao agreed uncertainly. “Is there anything the Stormchaser Sect, or our offshoots, can do to help your goal, Master?”

  The Hand couldn’t help the predatory grin that crept across his face, but he hid it behind his fan. “Of course, there is. When it is time, your instructions will be provided.”

  “Should I withdraw our forces to have them available for your orders?”

  “Yes, that will do nicely.”

  Without another word, turquoise robes fluttered as the Hand of Hubris departed. He had much work to do. If his sister sect would soon be ready to assist him, then it was time to expedite his plans. Perhaps it was finally time to let some semblance of stability return to the Shattered Moon Sect. The pieces would soon be in place, and everything would be ready.

  The return of the Darkened Moon would be his finest work yet. Tsuyuki Yoru would rise again, the perfect villain to bring the world to its knees.