For Ever More

Book 2: Never Ever After

by Sue Lynn Tan

Genres: Sword & Sorcery; YA Fairy Tales & Folklore

Synopsis

Don’t miss the breathtaking sequel to the New York Times bestselling Never Ever After!

Order now and receive the SPECIAL FIRST EDITION while supplies last—featuring a designed case cover under the jacket and illustrated endpapers, in addition to shiny foil and embossing. This must-have special edition is only available in the limited first printing.

After the explosive events of Never Ever After, Yining flees the Iron Mountains with her unlikely allies, seeking the truth about her newfound powers amid the secrets surrounding her ancestral home. But with a traitorous queen ruling the Three Kingdoms from a stolen throne, nowhere is truly safe, and Yining must decide whom to trust to keep her family—and her heart—from harm.

Praise for Never Ever After:

“Rich and layered and deliciously transportive.” —Renée Ahdieh, #1 New York Times bestselling author of The Wrath & the Dawn

“Tan has crafted a jewel of a fairy-tale retelling and each prism is lustrous with sinister wonder.” —Roshani Chokshi, New York Times bestselling author of the Gilded Wolves Trilogy

“A lush and effervescent, masterfully crafted fantasy.” —Elizabeth Lim, New York Times bestselling author of Six Crimson Cranes

“I absolutely adored it and cannot wait for the sequel!” —Allison Saft, #1 New York Times bestselling author of Wings of Starlight

Release date: October 27, 2026

Publisher: Little, Brown Books for Young Readers

Print pages: 400

Sample

HOME LIES ACROSS THE HORIZON, WHERE OCEAN AND cloud entwine. This moment doesn’t feel real; I’m afraid it will be snatched from me. Ahead, lotuses drift on the azure water, its warm current swirling around our ankles. When Dian raises her hand, the band of her ring gleams, and three of the larger lotuses break away to float toward us.

“These will bear us safely to Mist Island,” Dian assures Ruilin and me.

“I’ve never seen anything like these flowers back in the Amber Forest.” Ruilin’s eyes are wide with awe. “But why can’t we go by boat?”

“This is the only way to reach our island, the lotuses can only be summoned by one with our abilities. Since the attack of the soldiers that stole the Sun Dragon, Mother, and Yining, all other vessels have been forbidden.”

The fragrance of the flowers is heady and sweet. I inhale, an old memory unearthing: of running down a long bridge as I chased a gold dragon in the sky, my small legs unable to keep up. My surroundings blur until the forests of Thorn Valley loom like spears, the Iron Mountains soldiers seizing me despite my pleas. A tightness squeezes my chest as though that frightened child is still buried inside me.

“Wasn’t there a bridge? One that joined these shores?” I ask slowly.

Dian swings to me, her gaze bright. “You remember? It was crafted of stone that shimmered blue in the day and white at night. But after the Sun Dragon was lost, the Elders ordered that the bridge be destroyed. Now nothing connects us to Thorn Valley—or to the rest of the world. We are safe.”

“I’m glad,” I say with feeling. “I’m tired of running and hiding.” The new Queen of the Iron Mountains and her consort not only hunger for conquest, but for my blood.

“Yet we cannot let our guard down. The magic of our island is waning since the dragon was taken.” Dian’s expression is somber, her breathing unsteady as she shifts the creature in her arms—heavy despite his shrunken form. I lean forward, unslinging him from her shoulder, to fasten around mine.

“You are tired, Dian. Let me carry him.”

“Thank you, Sister.” She nods. “I’ll never forgive the vile Prince of the Iron Mountains for what he did to the Sun Dragon. We should have cut his throat instead of helping him escape.”

An unsettling reminder that Prince Zixin is in Thorn Valley. “He helped us get away,” I remind her. “I gave him my word.”

“And it’s better he remains a captive, a hostage. Alive,” Ruilin adds, not liking it when Dian threatens violence. “What good would killing the prince do?”

“It would make me feel better.” Dian rubs her finger, the skin still raw from where the soldiers tore her ring off. “Lord Jin-Yong better not let him escape.”

“He won’t.” Unbidden, Jin’s amber eyes flash through my mind, along with the way his black hair frames his face. But I cast the image aside, anger stirring at the promise he compelled me to make.

Help me restore Thorn Valley. We have need of the magic that was denied to us.

Dian’s forehead furrows. “You sound very sure of the Lord of Thorn Valley.”

“I’ve spent a fair amount of time with him. I know what he’s capable of.” Devious and ruthless.

“With him, your gaze is clouded,” she remarks bitingly. “It’s best to keep your ‘friendship’ a secret when we arrive home. Our people won’t look well upon a close relationship with Lord Jin-Yong. More so the Prince of the Iron Mountains, whom you kissed,” she adds with a shudder.

My eyes narrow; I’m trying to forget the ripple of desire he’d kindled. It meant nothing, just that he was well-practiced. “I did it to save the Sun Dragon. You told me a kiss from a flower spirit could cure any poison. It was either you or me, Sister.”

Dian’s mouth curls in revulsion, though her tone lightens. “Was that the only reason you did it?” She tugs the red sleeve of my wedding clothes, those forced on me. “What will Father say when he learns he almost gained a son-in-law?”

A flush creeps over me. This is not how I want to return home. At once, Dian unfastens her cloak, draping it over me, tucking my wretched dress beneath.

“Sisters can be annoying, but we watch out for each other,” she says quietly.

A warmth lodges in my chest. “You do both effortlessly.”

Dian laughs as she steps upon a lotus, helping Ruilin next to her. The one I clamber upon is satiny, almost fragile. I’m afraid it will tip over, but an unseen force steadies me like I’m sheathed in a column of air. As Dian raises her hand, the lotuses glide swiftly across the water. The mist winds around, enveloping us like a cloud; I can barely make out Ruilin and Dian ahead. Yet I’m not afraid. This ocean, the scent of the breeze… they are as familiar to me as the smell of mud and grass by the pond in the Iron Mountains. I know this place, not by memory—but something more profound, marked from within.

We travel a long way until the shores of Thorn Valley recede from sight. The water has darkened to a deep sapphire, yet bright green streaks undulate beneath like luminous seaweed.

“Be careful of the seagrasses,” Dian cautions. “They protect our island from intruders and will drag down anything not upon the lotuses, whether boat or person.”

I shiver as the sun slips behind a cloud, shadows falling longer. In the distance, something gleams: the ruins of a bridge crafted of blue stone, arching above the waves into the mist beyond.

As we draw closer, footsteps reach my ears alongside muffled voices. The lotuses halt by a flight of rough steps carved into the stone of the ruined bridge, ascending to a path with a metal gate at the end—the only passage to the island, ringed by towering cliffs all around.

“We’re home,” Dian breathes as she climbs the stairs, followed by Ruilin and me.

My throat goes dry as I recall the stories of this place, those evoking both wonder and dread. “The island looks larger than I thought. Almost as large as the Iron Mountains.”

Dian scowls as though the comparison is an insult. “The Iron Mountains is a shadow to our home—a hovel. While our grounds aren’t as sprawling, they are far more beautiful, as are our buildings.”

The gate swings open, a troop of guards coming out. Their armor of gold and silver is carved with twin dragons on the breastplate, their blades lacking the sharp white glitter of the Iron Mountains. A soldier walks ahead, a gray cloak draped across his shoulders, his brown hair pulled into a topknot.

His stern expression breaks into a smile at the sight of my sister. “Welcome home, Dian.”

She grins in return, tapping the clasp of his cloak. “I did not expect you to be here, Shenming. Wearing the captain’s attire too. You are swiftly rising in the ranks.”

A flush darkens his neck at her praise. “The Elders have been kind to me.”

“How did you know I was here?” she asks.

“Our scouts sighted you. I’ve already sent word to your father.” He adds after a pause, “It’s good to have you back.”

As his black eyes shift to Ruilin and me, Dian moves between us. “They are with me—”

“Dian,” another calls out in a low rasp.

A stout man hurries forward, his brocade robe falling to his ankles, the leather belt around his waist studded with precious stones. A silver, flower-shaped ornament hangs from it. His black hair is graying, a mole protruding from his chin, and the eyes he turns toward my sister are as green as hers.

My heart thuds as the man comes toward us, walking past me to take Dian’s arm. “Daughter,” our father says as he smiles at her. “At last, you’re home.”

WHEN I IMAGINED COMING HOME, I DREAMED OF MY father uttering such words of welcome to me. He speaks them now—to my sister. I search him for a flicker of recognition, a fragment of memory.

Nothing.

My father is a stranger. My eyes sting, my fingers curl. Yet when I met Dian I didn’t know her either; I’d feared her, the witch. And now, she isn’t just my sister by blood, she is family in every way that matters.

A small crowd has gathered around us. The men wear long robes, the women in ankle-length dresses, some with slits along the side that reveal the pants beneath. Most have tied their hair high, others leaving it loose over their shoulders, a few keep it short as my sister does. They cluster around Dian, greeting her warmly, some glancing at Ruilin and me with curiosity.

Ruilin moves behind me as I pull my cloak tighter over my accursed wedding garments. We’re both reluctant to interrupt Dian’s reunion, feeling out of place.

My father doesn’t notice anyone but my sister, clasping her in a hug. “Where have you been, Dian? You were expected to return months ago. I’ve been so worried.”

“I’m sorry, Father.” She speaks softly, sounding younger. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

He releases her, patting her head as though she’s a child. “I’m just glad you’re back. When I received Shenming’s message, the Elders graciously allowed me to leave the council meeting. You must return with me to pay your respects.”

My father’s gaze slides to me then, anticipation knotting in my gut. Does he see anything to remind him of my mother—of him? Yet he’s already looking away at Ruilin, then back to my sister. “Who are your friends, Dian?”

I shake my head at her, glancing at the crowd. Not now.

“It’s a long story, Father,” she says. “They are my trusted companions. We escaped from the Iron Mountains together—”

“The Iron Mountains?” He’s gone pale. “You swore you would stay away from there. Did you forget what they did to your mother?”

“I will never forget.”

Pain shadows their eyes—my chest taut with emotion. Father misses our mother still, he grieves for her. It makes me feel a little closer to him, even if he knows nothing of it.

“At least you’re safe,” he tells Dian. “Don’t leave home again. I had more gray hair sprout in your absence.”

She squeezes his hand. “Then worry less, Father.”

“We must go to the Elders at once. Lady Shila, Lord Zhu, and Lord Hairong have summoned you. They’ve been anxious at your long absence.”

Dian frowns. “Why? When I fulfilled their conditions to leave, they did not stipulate any terms—”

“The Elders have been worried for your safety. The Three Kingdoms are dangerous,” he says.

Dian glances at me wrapped in her cloak. “Can we return home to change first?”

“We shouldn’t delay,” the one called Captain Shenming advises. “The Elders know of your arrival, along with the outsiders you’ve brought. They will have questions.”

Outsiders. It stings, though I shouldn’t let it.

“I must also return to the council,” our father says, walking ahead. “We mustn’t take advantage of their patience.”

We follow a wide stone pathway, heading deeper inland. Dian falls back to speak to me in a low voice. “Shall we tell Father who you are now?”

Soldiers circle us, along with the captain who never seems far from my sister’s side. “Not here. Later, when we’re alone.”

“I doubt we can wait that long. The Elders will want to know too.” Dian adds, “But don’t tell them about the dragon’s magic, or attempt to channel it. It could be hard to explain. You might be kept under watch, or even confined.”

Unease grips me. “Why? I thought I’d be safe here, among our people.”

“You are.” She touches my arm. “The Elders are wise and understanding, but their first duty is to protect our island from danger, beyond and within. It’s why they made me remove the root of my ring before I left—to ensure no enemy could use it to get here.”

You’ll bury us. You’re destroying yourself. I’ll never forget the fear in Dian’s eyes when I unleashed the dragon’s magic at the Palace of Nine Hills. Does my sister think I’m a threat? Yet warmth fills me that she’s protecting me now.

As Father comes to lead Dian away, Ruilin and I trail them, unable to stop staring at our surroundings. Peonies, azaleas, and jasmine bloom alongside others I’ve never seen before: sprays of pink buds, feathery blossoms in yellow and indigo, some shining like they’re dusted in silver or copper. The grass glitters, iridescent dew caught in the blades, butterflies darting across the meadows. Trees tower in the forests behind, small clusters of fruit nestled amid the flowers, blossoming in a stunning array of colors—the Radiant Sky Trees. Farther inland, buildings rise, surrounded by vast gardens. The rooftops are adorned with miniature sculptures of dragons, often entwined around the sun or moon. The craftsmanship is exquisite, the colors vibrant. Everything appears glazed in perfection, without blemish, scratch, or flaw—as though time leaves this place untouched, a haven preserved by magic.

My heart swells with pride. This is my home, as beautiful as Dian said, not just the wonder of the grounds but the sweetness of the air akin to ripe mandarins, the melody of the birds, the way the pristine ocean wraps the island like a precious jewel. Even the Palace of Nine Hills seems worn in comparison, rough around the edges.

As the path leads up a steep slope, Dian’s pace slows, her face glistening with sweat. Unsure how to address my father, I call out to the nearby soldier instead. “Captain,” I say awkwardly. “Dian is injured. She is tired from our journey and needs to rest.”

“Injured?” My father’s voice rises. “Shenming, can you summon a carriage?”

He nods, striding toward a wooden carving of a lotus. Only now do I notice these scattered at intervals along the path. As he places his hand on it, light streaks across the petals. A short while later, a closed carriage rolls toward us, the wheels shimmering. The five of us climb in, settling on the cushioned seats, the other soldiers following on foot. Without warning, the carriage sweeps forward swiftly—almost eerily—with no one to guide or draw it.

“How is this possible?” Ruilin voices my question aloud.

“Our island doesn’t have horses or similar large beasts, but we make do with the power we possess,” the captain says shortly.

“Can they only be summoned with magic?” I ask.

“Yes,” Dian replies. “Our people’s magic is strongest here on our island, these carriages will not work beyond.”

The captain looks at her pointedly, as though warning her against sharing this with “outsiders.” But when she ignores him, he holds his tongue.

Dian’s eyes go to my hand, curled in my lap to conceal my ring. While the brightness has faded from the petals, the gold stalk marked by the Sun Dragon is so different from the green one wrapped around my father’s and the captain’s rings. When Ruilin asks the others a question, Dian crumples a green leaf between her fingers, rubbing the juice over the root of my ring, discreetly staining it. While a shade darker, the difference is almost imperceptible.

“Your family must be proud of your elevation, Shenming,” Dian says when he glances at us again. “The Elders think highly of you.”

She speaks with such familiarity, this captain must be a close friend. His answering smile seems to confirm it. “The Elders honor me. But it is your father and those on the council who hold their trust, who the Elders lean on for their advice.”

“I am one of many,” Father replies somberly. “We are honored to be chosen by the Elders to represent our group—whether the army, artisans, scholars, or physicians.”

“How long have the Elders governed?” Will they remember me?

He frowns. “As long as I can recall; they ruled during my parents’ time too. Lord Hairong, Lord Zhu, and Lady Shila are blessed with remarkably long lives.”

I’m drawing closer without realizing it, but shift away at my father’s wary look. My spirits sink. Though I’d asked Dian to conceal my identity for now, I’m growing afraid for when I finally reveal who I am… of being a disappointment.

The carriage jerks to a halt at the foot of a hill. As my hands cradle the dragon strapped to me beneath the cloak, Ruilin is gazing out the window, her mouth ajar. Joining her, I forget to breathe. All we’ve seen of the island is beautiful, but this place—the Pavilion of Elders—is a fairy tale come to life.

A STONE STAIRWAY LEADS UP THE SLOPE, FLANKED BY flowers. The hill is crowned by a large pavilion, vines coiled around the mother-of-pearl pillars. Lanterns hang from the roof, gold and silver dragons rising from the ridges of the turquoise tiles, as bright as a shard of the noon sky. A large building is connected to the back, a few steps away—ringed by thick clusters of bamboo, set in the grounds of an elegant garden.

Guards are stationed around the pavilion, while within a dozen people are gathered before three wooden thrones. Two men and a woman sit there, in robes of blue brocade that pool on the ground. Shining white hair falls over their shoulders, held in place by circlets of six-petaled flowers, glossy as if dipped in dew. Something gleams at each of their waists: matching gold ornaments of a carved blossom.

The Elders sit as straight as columns, their hands adorned with the same rings all here wear, including me. Despite their age, they look just a little older than Dian and me, their unlined faces radiant and calm. My heart beats faster; suddenly I feel unsure of myself.

“Remain by the entrance until you’re summoned,” Father instructs Dian, then strides ahead to join the group before the Elders. They must be the council he’d mentioned. Curious, I edge closer to listen.

“Master Sikyong, where is your daughter?” the woman on the throne asks, her striking features accented by a mole above her lip.

“Outside, Lady Shila. She awaits an audience. Thank you for allowing me to leave to welcome her back.”

“We treasure the bonds of family.” Lady Shila inclines her head. “Your daughter can join us after the council departs.”

Another Elder, a man with a narrow face and a pointed nose, addresses my father. “The others have delivered their reports. Only yours on rare harvests and Mistress Weining’s on the dragons remain. Why don’t you begin, Master Sikyong?”

“Yes, Lord Hairong.” As Father pulls out a scroll from his sleeve and begins reading aloud the yields of certain plants, most of which are unknown to me, I whisper to Dian, “Are we farmers?”

“Not quite,” she replies in an undertone. “Father oversees the cultivation of rare plants here, beyond those grown for food or ornamentation: medicine, herbs, those for protection or defense, such as the seagrass in our waters. Even the poisons—”

“Poisons?”

“Our island is home to plants of powerful properties, both to heal and to kill.” If she weren’t my sister, her smile would be terrifying. “Haven’t you realized an affinity with plants runs in our blood?”

I smile back, thinking of her ability to craft elixirs and incense, even those that blur the lines between dreams and reality, as she’d shown me once. “I want to learn.”

“I will teach you,” she promises. “We have time.”

After Father finishes his report, he adds, “We anticipate a good harvest this year. But if our island’s magic wanes further, it will affect our crops, and we should ration their usage.”

The third Elder, Lord Zhu, a plump man with thick eyebrows and a pinched expression, thanks my father—then turns toward a lady with brown hair who holds herself rigidly, her gaze somber. “Now let us hear from Mistress Weining on the dragons.”

Dian says heavily, “Mistress Weining will be distressed to learn of the Sun Dragon’s condition. Since he was lost, she rarely smiles. She watches over the dragons’ well-being, though she can’t approach or speak to them.”

“Why not?” I ask. “Is she afraid?”

“The dragons are much loved, but reclusive by nature,” Dian explains. “According to the Elders, they wish for us to speak to them through prayers in their temples rather than approaching them. They value their solitude, as tranquility is essential to revive their strength.”

Daughter of Mist Island, will you bring me home? the Sun Dragon asked me in the palace, my chest tight at the memory. Though our encounter was brief, he saw something in me that even now I strive to be worthy of. “The Sun Dragon spoke to me in the Palace of Nine Hills, to aid our escape,” I tell her.

“He suffered greatly there,” Dian says darkly.

Lady Shila faces Mistress Weining. “How fares the Moon Dragon?”

Her thin lips purse as she bows. “The dragon spends most of the day sleeping, rarely swimming in the ocean. Her appetite continues to wane.” Mistress Weining sighs. “She still mourns her lost companion; I fear for her health.”

“Place the finest fruit of the Radiant Sky Trees as offerings in the temples.” Lady Shila’s brow creases with concern. “This winter, we must prepare a grand celebration for the Moon Festival to show the dragon how she is revered.” She meets the eyes of the other Elders, then joins her hands. “The Council of Elders is dismissed. We now welcome Master Sikyong’s daughter, who just returned.”

Though they mean Dian, my insides twist into knots. Soon they will learn about me. I’m not perfect as this place is, nor as talented or powerful as my sister. And deep down I’m afraid they will blame me for my mother’s capture. There are times I blame myself, even though I only wanted to save the dragon back then.

“I will wait outside,” Ruilin offers. “They might feel more at ease without me there.”

Dian squeezes her hand, but doesn’t protest. Her people—ours—seem mistrustful of strangers. We enter the pavilion as the council leaves, only my father remaining. When Mistress Weining passes, she swings to me, halting at once. Does she sense the Sun Dragon hidden beneath my cloak? The impulse grips me to give him to her, but Dian motions for me to join her before the waiting Elders.

“Welcome home,” Lady Shila says to my sister as we bow in greeting. “We are pleased you have returned safely.”

“You also brought friends?” Lord Zhu examines me, then glances at Ruilin outside, his face stern. “Can they be trusted? Many from the Three Kingdoms seek our secrets.”

“Lord Zhu, we trust in Master Sikyong’s daughter.” Lord Hairong rubs his chin as he asks Dian, “Did you accomplish all that you set out to do?”

“Yes, Lord Hairong,” she replies respectfully. “Everything and more.”

The Elders’ eyes widen; they did not expect this answer. But then Mistress Weining stumbles forward, pointing at my cloak where the dragon’s form bulges beneath. Tears form in her eyes, a smile breaking across her face. “The Sun Dragon… he has returned!”

At once, I peel away the covering, gently lifting the dragon from the cloak. His fiery scales are dulled to rust, his eyes closed. Flecks of white have formed over him like snowflakes, his breathing so faint it’s barely a flutter.

Gasps ripple through the pavilion, Captain Shenming stepping closer as the Elders rise to their feet. Mistress Weining reaches for the dragon but catches herself, her accusing gaze flying to me.

“You’re holding the dragon,” she rebukes me.

“I need to.” I suppress a flash of impatience. These customs are new to me, I must learn them and hold my tongue. “He is severely wounded; he cannot fly.”

A cushion is carried into the hall, and I lay the Sun Dragon carefully upon it. Once I move away from him, the tension eases. The Elders and Mistress Weining approach the dragon, keeping a respectful distance.

“He does not awaken,” Lady Shila murmurs.

Lord Hairong straightens to stare at us. “Who harmed him?”

“The Sun Dragon was a captive in the Palace of Nine Hills, his power drained to enchant their weapons and armor. His condition is precarious,” Dian replies. “We had to touch the dragon to bear him away.”

Lady Shila’s black eyes fix on me, striking against her pale skin. “The Sun Dragon would not blame you for this.”

A sharp cry pierces like the shatter of glass. Light flares on the horizon, trees swaying—as a large creature flies toward us, its silver scales aglitter as its body undulates gracefully.

“The Moon Dragon,” echoes around in reverent whispers.

Everyone sweeps into a low bow. As the dragon nears, her body shrinks, allowing her to glide into the pavilion to land beside her companion. She lowers her head, crowned with gold antlers, her blue eyes darkening as her tail slides gently across the Sun Dragon’s. He grows larger, filling the space of the cushion, as though being here—with the Moon Dragon—strengthens him, yet he remains unconscious.

My companion’s spirit is almost broken. He has been tormented, his power stolen… he is dying. Her anguish rings through my mind—the others too—an almost violent fury pulsing through the crowd. Relief fills me to have concealed the stalk of my ring, to avoid accusations before we have the chance to explain.

“Great One, how can we help?” Lady Shila asks. “How can we restore the Sun Dragon?”

My companion must be immersed in the Waterfall of Eternal Night, the birthplace of the dragons. Only that can revive him. Only those in the company of a dragon may enter.

“Where is this place?” Lord Zhu asks. “We will go there at once.”

Study the movement of the dragon stars, those that can only be seen from this island. They will reveal where and when the waterfall will appear for a single night. Fail to find it then, and it will vanish for decades after. These words reverberate with urgency, and a deep fear.

“We will find the waterfall,” Lord Hairong assures the dragon, his steadiness a comfort amid the rising anxiety. “We will save him, whatever it takes.”

The Moon Dragon turns back to the Sun Dragon. Though she doesn’t look my way, her voice rings in my mind. I am speaking only to you now, child. Do not answer aloud; I will pluck your answers from your mind. At once, I drop my head in silent agreement, hiding my shock.

I sense the imprint of my companion’s magic within you.

I breathe easier at the lack of accusation in the dragon’s tone. Ignoring the rules, I think my answer to speak to her. He offered this magic to me. It was the only way we could escape the Palace of Nine Hills—

Speak of this to no one, she warns.

The others are watching the Moon Dragon curiously. “Is there more you wish to tell us, Great One?” Lady Shila asks.

When the dragon doesn’t reply, Mistress Weining says in hushed tones, “Perhaps she is tired, or wishes to observe her companion in silence. This reunion is most sudden, and though it’s a cause for great joy, there is also much to worry about.”

The Moon Dragon doesn’t respond, still staring at the Sun Dragon—capable of deception too, in this slight way. You must take care, she tells me. Our power is not meant to be wielded by mortals. It is dangerous should you be unable to harness it, should you use it recklessly.

A chill shrouds me to think of this magic in my veins, thrumming ceaselessly—growing in force since it was yielded it to me. How can I return it?

Travel with my companion to the Waterfall of Eternal Night. Once he is awakened, you can relinquish the magic. It will aid his recovery. Her eyes gleam like sapphires. Until then, do not lose control of the power, else it will consume you—even destroy you.

My gut churns. Can I ask anyone for help?

Be careful whom you trust. Greed thrives everywhere. The greater the prize, the more monsters are roused, whether on our island or across its shores. The Moon Dragon tilts her head back. It lives in your heart too. You must be vigilant against this nameless enemy: a seed that takes root when least expected, and if allowed to flourish, becomes far harder to uproot.

The warning sinks through me. The lure of power and wealth tempted me once… it tempts me still. But this magic isn’t mine—a jagged shard embedded in my body, a constant sting of unease. I won’t keep it, especially not at the expense of the dragon’s safety.

I will be careful, and I will return this gift, I assure the Moon Dragon silently.

She comes toward me now, her claws clicking against the stone floor. The Elders, the captain, and my father follow her gaze as I suppress the impulse to shrink away.

Are you ready, child?

Ready?

To reclaim your place here.

She knows who I am. Just as the Sun Dragon did.

“Do you recognize this girl, Honored One?” Lady Shila asks in surprise.

All of you know her. This time, the Moon Dragon speaks to everyone. I was welcoming a daughter of Mist Island home, after her long absence.

Emotion floods my chest until it feels it might split apart. Without another word, the Moon Dragon’s mane ripples with light as she lifts the Sun Dragon upon her back, their tails entwined as they soar from the pavilion toward the forest, like two glittering stars in the sky.

“A daughter of Mist Island?” Lord Hairong repeats to me, his eyes wide. “Who are you?”

This answer, I will not give him. Instead, I face the one they call Master Sikyong. “I am your daughter.”

MY FATHER COMES FORWARD, SEARCHING MY FACE LIKE he’s looking for something that binds us. “Is this true?” he asks, dazed.

Dian touches my hand with the ring. “Yes. She is my sister, your daughter. Lost all these years in the Iron Mountains, now come home.”

As the Elders confer among themselves, Mistress Weining and the guards study me. I’m glad the rest of the council has left, fewer to star