Chen Wuya hit the hard ground, pain flaring through his back. A metallic taste surged up his throat, and he lowered his head to spit out a mouthful of bloody foam. His vision went dark and his ears rang, yet he immediately looked down at Bai Zhi in his arms.
She lay utterly still, her face white as paper. Her lips were cracked, her breathing so shallow it was nearly imperceptible. One hand still rested over her abdomen, her fingertips icy cold. Chen Wuya reached beneath her nose, and only when a thread of faint breath brushed his fingers did he release half a sigh of relief.
He turned to look beside him. Mo Feng lay face-down a few feet away, his chest rising and falling faintly but steadily. At least he was alive.
The sea wind swept over them, carrying a damp, frigid tang of salt. Far away, waves crashed against the reefs, pounding against his ears again and again. Above was a murky gray sky—no sun, no clouds. The outline of a ruined temple stood at the end of the desolate beach, its door hanging crooked, a scrap of tattered cloth dangling from the eaves and swaying in the wind.
Chen Wuya tried to stand, but his legs would not obey. Bracing himself against the ground, his palm came down on a shard of stone and split open. Blood trickled through his fingers and soaked into the sand.
Gritting his teeth, he crawled to Bai Zhi's side and pulled out the Karmafire Pearl from his robes. He had always kept it against his heart. Once wholly gold-red, it was now dim and ash-gray, with only a speck of light flickering deep within.
He pressed the pearl to Bai Zhi's chest, cupped it in both hands, and murmured, "Wake