At the end of the path, Ling paused outside of a cave. She smelled Taelen within, along with the fragrance of another dragon. Female. Cao was right. Not Ry.

Rather than intrude, she waited patiently at the entrance for them to smell her.

Being a dragon was pretty cool. She sensed things she hadn’t been able to before. The hairs on her neck pricked a moment before she caught the spicy note of her brother’s scent near.

“Hey.” Taelen raked a hand through his disheveled locks, grinning smugly at her. Dressed in a pair of dark leather pants, his torso bare, it was easy to tell how much he’d recovered. His large frame had filled out, and he appeared strong and vibrant.

“Hi,” she murmured, waving. Having a brother was new to her, but she was glad it was him. “Cao and I have some things we’d like to discuss, over breakfast? Main cave.”

“Sure.” He cast a glance over his shoulder. “Let me take care of a couple things and I’ll meet you there.”

She bobbed her head and sauntered down the path just as a feminine moan carried from Taelen’s cave. Uh-huh. Taking care of things.

Flinging off the unbidden image, Ling paused in front of Ry’s cave. No other scents drifted from inside, so she strolled through the entryway. “Hey Ry.”

The bed was made, or hadn’t been slept in, because from the bathroom came the soft whimpers of crying. “Oh, sweetie.” Ling rushed into the steamy chamber and knelt beside the huddled figure, wrapping her arm around the woman’s pitiful, unclothed form.

“They’re dead.” Ry’s shoulders shook with a sob. “Gone. All of them.” She tapped the side of her head. “It’s so quiet in here.”

“I know. Shh.” Ling rose and grabbed a towel, wrapping it about Ry’s bare shoulders, before rocking the other woman in her arms.

Lok had lost his den mates, too. From what he’d told Ling, it was the worst imaginable torment for a dragon. Without their kin, they were nothing. The Hive connection between den mates was the strongest, so no doubt, Ry would be missing their voices.

Guilt spread through Ling for spending the night with Cao instead of with her, comforting her friend. Ry shouldn’t have been left alone to grieve.

“I’m here. So is Taelen. We can’t replace the family you lost, but we’ll take care of you.”

Ry emitted an undignified sniffle. “I want him dead.” She fisted her hands and her tone drilled low. “I’m going to kill the King for this.”

An ominous tingle ran down Ling’s spine. Ry might be right.

She squeezed her friend hard and helped Ry to her feet. “Whatever you need, we’ll help you, but first, Cao and I would ask for your help. Let’s get you dressed.”

She stepped into the chamber and nabbed some clothes from the armoire, handing them to her. “Here. Put these on and please join us for breakfast.”

Seeming numb, Ry donned the leather pants and bodice.

Together, they departed the chamber and headed for the main cave. Cao and Taelen were already there. Ling smiled at Cao but took a seat next to Ry, opposite the hearth from the two males.

Various meats and vegetables were piled onto the grill above the blazing fire. A quick peek around showed several other dragons had gathered around the other pits. Though none of them focused on her, Sheep’s instincts continued to insist she was being watched. But by whom?

The leader, Gen, posed atop his throne on the platform, and as she studied him, he met her gaze—his hard, dark, and unmistakable with intent.

They might be seeking Gen’s help, but he demanded something from them, first.

He rose to his towering height and leapt from the platform to stride toward them. As he advanced, Ling steeled herself. Though they were his guests, they very well might’ve outstayed their welcome.

“Morning,” he rumbled, his sharp survey cutting across them. “I trust you slept well, if at all?” A knowing quirk lifted the corner of his lips.

“Thank you, yes, we did. Gen, we have a few questions we were hoping you might answer.”

“My pleasure.” He plopped onto the bench beside Taelen. “Of what nature are they?”

“This place exists on a separate plane, correct? Is there any way someone here could communicate with another realm, say, Dìyù?”

“You wish to speak with a ghost?” Gen leaned forward, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Such would be dangerous business indeed.”

“I could make it worth the risk.” She swallowed hard, determined to convince him.

“How so?” The glint in his eyes said he was intrigued.

She slanted forward to meet his scrutiny and smirked. “I have something every dragon would kill for.”

* * *

The male was hooked. Cao grinned at Ling’s skill.

She produced a stone fragment from her spirit. “Remember how dragons ended up in this world?”

“They followed a bloody stone.” Gen eyed the rock on Ling’s palm. “You don’t mean to infer this is that stone?” He cocked one thick brow. “I sensed its potency, but—”

“It’s a piece of it.” Cao jerked his chin toward the rock. “My brother has another piece.”

“Let me guess.” Gen’s tone pitched dry. “He’s the one in Hell.”

Ling nodded and continued, “During its descent, the stone broke into eight pieces. Some were recovered, and some are unaccounted for. I’ve been searching for them. If I can piece the fragments together and unite the stone, the dragons might stay. Might help us win this war and protect humanity from extinction.”

Gen whistled and reclined, extending his long legs. “You’re serious.”

“I am.” She nodded solemnly. “Will you help us contact his brother?”

The male narrowed his eyes. “Opening a link between our realm and Hell poses risks. Perhaps we encounter your brother,” he scrutinized Cao, “or we might invite a thousand yāoguài to feast on our souls.”

“So, it is possible.” Cao stared down the other male. “But you’re afraid.”

“Nothing frightens me, Immortal.” Gen snorted. “You should be aware your friends could die.”

The jab forced him to clench his jaw to hold back a retort. He had to convince Gen, not provoke him.

“How would it work?” Ling chimed in. “Is there anyone or anything here with that ability?”

“Aye, there is,” Gen shifted forward, “but before I take you, I would ask something of you.”

“Okay. What?” Ling tensed.

Gen’s mouth relaxed into a cocksure smile. “A favor. When I have need of it.”

Cao tensed and would have called it off, but Ling bleated, “Deal.”

The two shook hands and Gen leapt to his feet. “Allow me to escort you.” He ushered them through the main cave, into a cramped tunnel that darkened and deepened as they journeyed further inside.

“You may have noted the absence of mirrors on this island.” Gen paused in front of a descending staircase. “Let me assure you, it’s not an oversight.” His tone took on a grim note. “While mirrors in your realm must be enchanted to become portals, mirrors here behave quite differently. It’s better if I show you.” He proceeded to guide them into the stairwell, single file.

Flickering torches lit the winding stone stairway down to the chamber below, at least a hundred feet underground. Hell, if they weren’t close to the bottom of this island.

On the last stair, Gen paused for a moment before seizing a torch and passing through an archway. Cao followed him second, squinting into the dim chamber while Gen lit half a dozen torches on the walls.

What the fuck?

Dozens of frames of varying sizes, shielded by dark cloths, hung from the stone walls.

“This is the mirror chamber,” Gen announced.

Ling slipped her hand into Cao’s, and he gave a reassuring squeeze. A lot of superstition surrounded mirrors and apparently dragons weren’t immune.

“I would caution you before glimpsing into any of these mirrors, for you never can be certain who, or what, is peering back.” Gen’s warning thundered through the chamber, echoing off the walls.

Beside Cao, Ling shivered, so he draped an arm around her shoulders and tugged her close.

“You’re welcome to try, but know this. It may be your brother you contact, or it may be a yāoguài posing as him.” Gen wrenched on one drapery and uncovered a mirror. “This one has been noted to call forth spirits. It’s your best shot.”

Its simple wooden frame belied the power it possessed. A ripple of energy fizzled over Cao’s skin as he stepped closer, releasing Ling.

Through the smooth glass, his reflection regarded him, but was it him? As he glanced back at Ling, a flash of light caught the corners of his eyes.

Aha. So, not alone.

Someone, something, else was in there.

Time to say hello.

* * *

The air in the chamber grew cold and still, just like death. Ling wrung her hands and hoped it wasn’t an ominous warning. The hairs on her arms and neck rose, making her swallow thickly. Growing up in a world where supernatural things were commonplace meant ghosts didn’t scare her, but malevolent beings did.

Plus, she didn’t care for demons. They were jerks.

The room grew so cold, her breath misted from her mouth, swirling and dissipating. She struggled against grabbing the drapery and masking the damned mirror again. This wasn’t worth it.

Cao marched closer to the mirror, peering inside. “How do I summon my brother?”

Gen handed Cao a knife, which he accepted without peeling his focus off the mirror. “Blood works.”

“Right.” Cao inclined his head, raised the dagger, and sliced the blade across his left hand. A slit of blood welled on his palm, and he pressed it against the mirror’s surface.

Suddenly, the glass bubbled, ripples flowing outward from Cao’s hand.

He removed his hand and the smear of blood dissolved, along with his reflection. The mirror grew dark, not showing anything. Then it brightened once more, and a male not Cao stared back at them.

“Jingzhi,” Cao breathed, elevating his hand as though to touch the glass.

“Brother?” The male’s youthful voice rang through the mirror. Dressed in a simple dark tunic, his long hair tied at the nape, he was tall and broad, like Cao, the resemblance between them unmistakable. Only his nose was more pointed, his jaw hollower. Something else flickered in his eyes, too, but Ling couldn’t pinpoint what that was.

“It’s me.” Cao stiffened, his shoulders set so tensely.

How difficult this must be for him.

“Why did you summon me?”

Cao edged forward. “I need your help.”

“Yeah? Well, I needed yours, too, brother.” His lip curled. “You never sent me anything. No Hell money, no shitty tribute.”

Family members burned special joss paper call Hell money to their deceased relatives, so they could buy what they needed. During the ghost festival, once a year, when spirits roamed free, they offered them food and other goods.

“I’m so sorry, brother.” Cao braced both arms on the mirror frame and hung his head. “I’ve failed you.”

“Did you summon me to apologize? To fucking beg forgiveness?” The man in the mirror crossed his arms and scoffed.

“No, though I am sorry. I was hoping you still had something.” Cao lifted his head and released the frame. “Remember the stone?”

Jingzhi blinked, then narrowed his blackened eyes. “Fuck you.”

The image zapped from view.

“Shit!” Cao slapped the frame, but his own reflection returned.

Well, that was one way to hang up on a person.

Ling strode to Cao’s side, placing her hand on his arm. “We’ll try another method.”

He bobbed his head, but the tenacity in his depths told her he wasn’t done yet.

* * *

Unacceptable. Cao snorted into the flames of the fire. Ling was off learning to fly with Taelen and Ry. At least, she was doing something useful.

Jingzhi hadn’t wanted anything to do with him. Not that he blamed his brother. Still, he’d hoped, after centuries of atonement, they might discuss how to mend the bridge between them.

Damn this shit. Cao dumped his bottle of water onto the flames, dousing them, and jumped to his feet. The entrance to the mirror chamber seemed to loom before him, beckoning.

Jingzhi had required a few moments to blow off steam. He might’ve come to his senses. Cao had failed his brother countless ways. He sure as fuck wasn’t going to give up after one tiny setback.

He stormed down the winding tunnel, not bothering with torches. The wooden framed mirror called straight to him, and he whipped off the drapery, flinging it to the floor. “Jingzhi,” he bellowed while grabbing his knife and slicing his hand. He pressed the bloodied gash to the mirror, watching in satisfaction as it rippled. Obeying him.

Just like his brother would.

All those years ago, what Jingzhi had required most was a firm hand. Cao would be that hand, now.

“What?” Jingzhi appeared on the other side, dutifully sullen.

“Look, I made mistakes. I let you make even worse ones. After all this time, we owe each other the chance to hash things out. Let me make this right.”

His brother raised his dark glower. Something sinister glinted in those black depths. Something Cao had missed earlier.

Bloody hell.

“You want to make this right?” Jingzhi smiled at him, but it wasn’t with affection. “Dear brother, I thought you’d never ask.”

Jingzhi shot out his arm, passing straight through the mirror like it wasn’t even there, and wrapped his fist around Cao’s neck, choking him.

Cao slashed at his brother’s arm, wheezing as Jingzhi’s grasp grew tighter and tighter.

Until only blackness remained.