There it is, Jasmine thought, approaching the library with a casual gait. She tapped the parcel under her arm, fighting to keep her face stoic. If Youxia was watching, he’d have to assume she was delivering the box to the librarians. Right? Or was her back too stiff? Was she walking like a normal person? Would he call her bluff? She looked to Pui for inspiration.

The girl was singing to herself, swaying back and forth, dancing as she walked.

I am not doing that. Jasmine held the parcel with both hands, lifting it high and pretending to stretch her arms as she quickly glanced over her shoulder.

The street was paved with white stones, and with the occasional glowing brick. Turreted structures were spaced far apart, and there was little to no traffic in this part of town. She searched for Youxia’s spirit eye, but saw nothing. Just sparrows with white feathers darting through the sky, followed by what looked like tiny clouds.

Jasmine turned her head, looking forward again.

The library was situated at the center of a snowy park, surrounded by tall aspens with golden leaves. One side of the building was tall and cylindrical, with vast windows that spiraled along its side. The other part of the library was long and rectangular, with triangular windows that lined its brick walls. Its terraced roof bore short trees with glass leaves and glowing fruit.

“Turtles!” Pui shouted, sprinting forward. There was a group of seven turtles with glass shells and feathery wings. They were munching on the . . . snow? No wait, that was grass! The grass here was white. The reptiles munched on the blades, seeming unconcerned. A gold-tinted cloud hovered near the reptiles. It was about the size of a handcart, and it was dense.

The wind was blowing towards Jasmine, and she caught a whiff of a wet, earthy scent. She sighed, shoulders sinking. Part of her wanted to lie down on the grass and relax, but she had a purpose for being here. And that purpose was in the form of a book, hiding somewhere within that library.

She hurried toward it, soles tickled by the soft grass. She accidentally bumped a round bush with dangling flowers that reminded her of bells. The flowers swayed and tinkled. Tiny clouds emerged from the bush, each one a different hue. When they noticed her, they squeaked and dove back into the safety of the bush. A gray one peeked from behind a white leaf, watching her with glowing, pinprick eyes. She nearly stopped to examine the little guy, but she couldn’t let—

Something hard hit the back of her skull.

“Ow!” She rubbed the back of her head, and spun around. Two boys and a girl were stalking toward her. They were dressed in simple, homespun tunics, with trousers that matched the sky.

“Mon-Jasmine!” the foremost said while the other two smirked. He opened his arms, as if to embrace her. “Welcome back to the sect!” His brown hair was tied up in a bun. A silver badge glistened on his chest. “Thought I’d never see your face again.”

Jasmine frowned, taking a step back. Heart beginning to pound. Where did she know them from? They looked familiar, but she couldn’t pin them down.

“You should have never returned.” He tossed a pebble up and down. “Thief.”

Then it hit her. Ogwen Bui. This was Ogwen Bui, son of the famous Bui merchants. Months ago, she’d managed to pilfer a few meager things from their store. Weeks later, when she tried taking a bag of spiritual pills, they caught her, beat her, then imprisoned her. The day they were to cut off her hands—as punishment for what she’d done—Abbot Channarong sent someone to bail her out.

Ogwen chucked the pebble. Jasmine ducked, dodging the bullet. She cycled a meager trickle of maqi through her meridians. She formed her hands into fists, ready to defend herself. She’d seen the monks practice martial arts—she wasn’t allowed to participate, but that didn’t keep her from practicing in private. But Ogwen was a Silver, and she, a pathless lesser soul.

To fight meant death.

Heat prickled her skin. As her enemy advanced, Jasmine shuffled back, shrinking like a frightened child. Her father’s bloodshot eyes glared from a distant memory. The bruises he’d left her with seemed to throb. She touched the back of her head, feeling the welt from the pebble. Pain shot through her skull, waking her up to the reality of the moment.

Ogwen Bui.

He was hustling for her, holding up his hand, palm facing the sky. Golden light shone through the belly of his shirt, crawling up his veins. Would he beat her? Capture her? Cut off her hands?

Jasmine was still backing up, the hair on the back of her neck standing on end. She hadn’t taken anything, or broken the rules yet. Which meant she was still under the protection of the monastery. Youxia had only threatened to leave her in the hands of the sects if they caught her stealing again.

Which meant she had no reason to flee.

Gritting her teeth, she stomped her foot, holding her ground. She snatched up a rock, squeezing it, feeling the gritty texture. “Don’t. Touch. Me!” she shouted, fighting to keep her voice from trembling. She held up the rock, as if threatening to throw it.

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Ogwen cocked a brow, the corner of his lips quirking with amusement. “How cute.” He glanced at his cronies. They too were forming light with their hands. “Good thing I brought back up.”

“We’re not going to kill you,” the girl said. She had brown hair, which reached all the way to her waist. The badge on her tunic was bronze, and she looked almost exactly like Ogwen.

“We’re just going to break you,” Ogwen said.

“Too many people have taken from our father’s store,” the other boy whispered, his shaky voice edged with anger. He wore a perpetual scowl, and the purple rings around his eyes made it look like he hadn’t slept in weeks. “You’re one of the few we managed to catch. And the only one who got away.”

“We want to use you as an example, nun,” Ogwen said, glowing mist trailing from his mouth. “Thieves would think twice about filching from Father if they saw you lying in front of his shop, meridians shattered, limbs broken.”

“You wouldn’t dare!” Jasmine spat, heat rising in her cheeks. It took everything in her not to run. It would be futile, anyway. Bronze and Silver souls were enhanced in every way. They’d catch her in seconds.

Ogwen smirked, hand shining bright. His veins pulsed with golden light. “If you don’t fight, we’ll make this quick.”

“And painless,” the girl added, her eyes shining like two tiny stars.

Jasmine crouched, holding up a fist in front of her face. She clenched the rock in her other hand, holding it up, taking aim.

“But if you do attack,” the boy with rings around his eyes said, “we’ll make your life a living nightmare.”

Jasmine spat to one side.

She was absolutely sick of these kinds of people.

She’d rather shatter fighting for her life than die fleeing like a coward.

With a scream, she ran at Ogwen and lunged.

***

Youxia’s gut wrenched when he spotted three soul artists stalking Jasmine.

He sighed, sweeping dirt from an old Tin’s house. The man was curled up in front of his porch, snoring while Youxia—thru the aid of his bondspirit—spied on Jasmine.

What were the kids going to do to her? They weren’t stupid enough to kill a nun, that’s for sure. She was backed by the monastery, and anything they did to her was a personal affront to Abbot Channarong.

He could have disowned Jasmine months ago, back when she was first caught stealing, but she was a special case. According to the abbot, she had a part to play in the salvation of their world . . .

Or its destruction.

Which is why we need to keep her close. Personally, he wanted her dead. Why risk keeping her alive when she could potentially destroy the entire world?

But she was ignorant, like most people in the empire. He wasn’t sure why Channarong was so obsessed with the girl. She couldn’t advance, but even if she managed to bypass their poison, advancing to Gold Core would only stifle her progression . . .

Youxia leaned against his broom as he watched the three teens confront Jasmine. She was gripping a rock, her eyes wide and threatening, her bared teeth looking ready to tear flesh.

So much like Barrix. His little firecracker of a sister.

His reptilian eye searched for Pui. She was crouching near a flock of flying turtles, watching the conflict with wide-eyed horror. That look gripped his heart, squeezing tight. He grimaced. When he noticed tears streaming down her cheeks, his chest clenched up.

Just like Xiaana. His youngest sister. Her panicked screams never left his mind, always echoing in some corner of his skull—a constant reminder of the destruction of his homeland.

Help! Xiaana begged, tears wetting her cheeks. Her leg was caught under a fallen pillar. Youxia!

I’m coming! he shouted.

But as horsemen passed by, one of them struck her with a casual blow, slicing her throat.

NO! Youxia reached her, his vision bleary. She stared up at him with horror-stricken eyes, her lips moving with wordless shock. He pushed his hands against her slick neck, trying to keep the gash from gushing warm blood. The coppery scent turned his stomach, but it wasn’t just the smell that made him want to vomit. That expression—it was a look of pure terror.

And it was the same one twisting up Pui’s young, innocent face.

He growled, tightening his fists, the wooden handle of the broom creaking. What if this was one of his sisters? Bashe’s scales, he would intervene! Thankfully, he didn’t have to worry about his family. They were safe now, hidden within the heart of the Mountain’s Fist sect.

He was certain no one would find them. No one. Not even the cult he was indebted to . . .

“Check on Jasmine,” he whispered to his bondspirit. The eye was turning, but he told it to stop when he noticed something disturbing. The boy with the rings around his eyes was sneaking toward Pui. Light was gathering in his hands, mist flowing from his clenched teeth.

A predator ready to strike.

Youxia’s glare hardened, his heart pounding, his fists tightening. The broom snapped

“You will not touch her,” he hissed, speaking through gritted teeth. Pui wasn’t even their target! It was shameful—cowardly even—to strike an innocent bystander.

Youxia wouldn’t let that happen.

He already lost one sister.

He wasn’t about to lose another.