The wind over Ashara’s outskirts carried the scent of salt and spice, a sharp contrast to Zion’s dry heat. Liang touched down beside a rocky overlook, folding his vast wings as Selene slid off his back. Ghost-light dimmed beneath his scales as he shifted back into human form—tall, quiet, steady.

  They walked for a moment in silence.

  Selene had expected the question to come eventually.

  Just… not this soon.

  Liang walked beside her, hands clasped behind him—a habit from his days as a royal heir. Even undead, he moved with the discipline of someone raised for greatness.

  When he finally spoke, his voice was low and even:

  “Selene… why vampires?”

  She stopped.

  Not because she didn’t know the answer.

  But because she knew the answer too well.

  “I told you I need closure,” she said softly.

  Liang tilted his head. “Closure can take many forms. But hunting the remnants of the Crimson Court—that is not healing. That is war.”

  He wasn’t accusing her.

  He was worried.

  Selene swallowed.

  “Varik took things from me that I never got back,” she whispered. “My voice. My choices. My sense of safety. I let myself believe I moved past it. I didn’t.”

  Liang stood silently, letting her continue.

  “When I saw Adonis bury General Lei alive… and when I saw him let you die…”

  Her breath faltered.

  “It woke everything back up.”

  Liang’s jaw tightened—but he didn’t interrupt.

  “It wasn’t Adonis’s fault,” she said quickly. “What he did to you… he did to save Zion. I know that. But watching you scream—watching him stand there like nothing could touch him—”

  She closed her eyes.

  “It made me feel small again. Trapped again. Like someone else held all the power, and I had none.”

  Liang exhaled slowly.

  She forced herself to continue.

  “I don’t want to live afraid. Not of Adonis, not of the past, not of myself. And the vampires who fled… they’re the last piece of Varik’s shadow still haunting me.”

  Liang looked at her with a strange, quiet intensity.

  “You want to kill them,” he said.

  “Not kill,” she corrected.

  “End.”

  Then softer:

  “End what they represent. End what he left behind. End the version of myself that still shakes at night.”

  Liang stepped closer.

  “And you think hunting them will give that to you?”

  Selene turned her eyes toward the horizon.

  “No. I think it will give me a chance.”

  A gust of wind brushed between them.

  Finally, Liang nodded.

  “Then I will help you.”

  His voice softened.

  “Not because Adonis commanded it. Not because Zion expects it.”

  His gaze held hers.

  “But because no one should face their ghosts alone.”

  Selene swallowed hard, the knot in her chest loosening just a little.

  “…Thank you, Liang.”

  “Always,” he said.

  For a moment, the world felt still.

  Then Liang straightened, the faint ghost-flame glow returning beneath his skin.

  “We should reach Hassim before dawn,” he said. “He will know where the Crimson Court scattered.”

  Selene nodded.

  And together, they walked toward the lights of Ashara.

  ***

  “Ghosts Walk Beside Us”

  (POV: Selene → Liang)

  The two of them stepped deeper into Ashara’s outskirts, the sandstone buildings rising around them like slumbering giants. Evening torches flickered against clay walls. Merchants slept behind shuttered stalls. A lone camel huffed somewhere in the dark.

  But the city’s usual warmth didn’t touch her tonight.

  Selene’s thoughts were knotted—grief, anger, fear, hope—none of them clean, none of them tidy.

  Liang walked a half-step behind her, as if protecting her from shadows she no longer saw.

  After a long silence, he spoke again—but not with accusation.

  With quiet observation.

  “You didn’t say goodbye to anyone,” he said.

  Selene flinched.

  “I know.”

  This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  “Not to Barek. Not to the refugees you healed. Not to the Phoenix.”

  Her throat tightened.

  “I couldn’t,” she whispered. “Nyra would’ve stopped me just by looking at me. She’s… become important to me. Like a sister.”

  Liang nodded, understanding without judgment.

  “And Adonis?” he asked softly.

  Selene hesitated.

  “…He already knew.”

  Liang hummed, a low sound—thoughtful, almost surprised.

  “He let you go,” he said.

  Selene swallowed hard.

  “He didn’t let me go,” she whispered. “He accepted that I had to leave.”

  Liang looked at her from the corner of his eye, the faint ghost-light in his irises pulsing like embers.

  “You fear him,” he said—not cruel, not taunting, only honest.

  Selene stopped walking.

  The night around them felt suddenly smaller.

  “…Yes,” she admitted.

  Liang turned fully to face her.

  Even with deadened flesh and hollowed veins, his expression held more gentleness than many living men.

  “Fear,” he said slowly, “is not weakness. Fear is a wound.”

  She met his gaze, chest tightening.

  “And you want to heal yours,” he continued. “Not run from it.”

  Selene’s breath shook. “I don’t know if I’m strong enough.”

  Liang’s voice dropped almost to a whisper.

  “You are.”

  The certainty in that single word struck her harder than she expected.

  He continued walking, and she fell into step beside him again.

  They crossed a long stone bridge leading toward the merchant quarter, the moon painting them in silver.

  “Selene,” Liang said after a moment, “you told me why you hunt vampires. But… why now? Why leave Zion so suddenly?”

  Selene pressed a hand to her chest.

  Because dreams of judgment kept strangling her.

  Because she wasn’t ready to watch Adonis become a Judge in truth.

  Because the past was clawing out of its grave.

  But she found different words—truer words.

  “Because if I stayed any longer,” she whispered, “I wouldn’t have left at all.”

  Liang stared straight ahead, as if weighing the truth within her words.

  “You remind me of me,” he said finally. “Before death. Before rebirth. Before everything.”

  Selene blinked. “Me?”

  “Yes.”

  He turned slightly.

  “I ran from things too. From expectations. From my father. From who he said I had to be.”

  “And now?”

  A hollow, quiet smile tugged at his lips.

  “Now I walk toward them.”

  Selene exhaled slowly.

  “Maybe… maybe I need to learn that. How to walk toward things.”

  Liang inclined his head.

  “That is why I am here.”

  She almost smiled.

  Almost.

  Ahead of them, lanterns began to glow brighter—the sign of Ashara’s midnight port.

  And there, standing beneath a large archway with three camels and a ledger book—

  was Hassim.

  Arms crossed.

  Eyebrow raised.

  Expression somewhere between amusement and exhaustion.

  He waved them over.

  “Well,” Hassim called out dryly, “I was told to expect a lioness girl and an undead lightning dragon at my gates, but even I didn’t think that message was literal.”

  Liang exhaled quietly.

  Selene laughed for the first time that night.

  ***

  The next day Ashara shimmered on the horizon like a cluster of stars dropped onto the earth.

  Its bazaars never slept.

  Torches and lantern-crystals lit the sandstone streets in warm gold.

  Ships rocked gently in the harbor.

  Merchants haggled even at this hour.

  And above it all, the palace of the Merchant King rose like a fortress woven from marble and trade banners.

  Liang landed in the outer courtyard with a low, rumbling growl as his wings folded in.

  Ghost-fire dimmed along his ribs as he shifted back into human form—tall, ash-skinned, and unsettling in the moonlight.

  The courtyard guards froze.

  Spears dropped. Eyes widened. One even stumbled back, muttering a prayer under his breath.

  Undead or not, Liang’s presence commanded fear.

  Selene stepped forward before panic spread.

  “It’s alright,” she said. “We’re expected.”

  The guards looked between her and Liang with disbelief.

  “Lady Selene,” one finally managed, bowing quickly. “The Merchant King waits in the Hall of Sapphire.”

  Of course he did.

  Hassim always waited.

  Always prepared.

  Always watching.

  Selene’s chest tightened with an unexpected warmth. She had missed him—his humor, his confidence, the way he treated Adonis like a friend instead of a myth.

  Liang walked beside her, silent and watchful, his cloak pulled tight over the ghost-fire scars.

  “What should I expect?” he asked quietly.

  Selene offered him a faint smile.

  “Hassim is… a lot. But he’s loyal to Zion. And he’s been good to me.”

  Liang considered this.

  “…Then I will be respectful.”

  She nodded.

  They stepped through the palace doors—

  and the cool air of Ashara’s wealth washed over them.

  Perfume, parchment, and polished stone.

  Hassim sat at the far end of a long table, papers scattered, gold coins stacked neatly, and two guards standing behind him. He looked up the moment they entered.

  His face broke into a broad grin.

  “Selene! Praise the sands, I thought Adonis had decided to keep all his champions locked in that citadel of his.”

  She exhaled in relief.

  “Hassim.”

  He stood and crossed the room, embracing her warmly.

  “You look tired,” he said, pulling back to study her face. “Too tired for someone your age. Has Kalen been forcing you into night training again?”

  Selene almost laughed.

  “No. It’s just been… a lot.”

  His gaze sharpened—he was perceptive like that—but he didn’t pry.

  Then he noticed Liang.

  Hassim’s smile faded.

  “By the gods… is that—?”

  Liang inclined his head politely.

  “Zhao Liang,” Selene said softly. “But he prefers Liang.”

  Hassim blinked.

  “You’re walking.”

  Liang nodded.

  “You’re talking.”

  Another nod.

  “And you’re not devouring my guards.”

  Liang paused.

  Then, with a straight face:

  “…Not yet.”

  The guard nearest the door squeaked.

  Selene elbowed Liang sharply.

  “He’s joking.”

  Hassim’s eyes widened. Then—slowly—a grin cracked across his face.

  “Well. Zion truly is rewriting the world.”

  He gestured for them to sit.

  Selene lowered herself to the cushions, but Liang remained standing, looming like a quiet sentinel.

  Hassim didn’t comment—wise enough not to push an undead dragon.

  “Adonis sent you?” Hassim asked, folding his hands.

  Selene shook her head.

  “No. I… left on my own. He supported it, but this quest is mine.”

  Hassim immediately sobered.

  “Selene… that is not a small decision.”

  She nodded.

  “I know.”

  Liang stepped forward.

  “We need to know where the remnants of the Crimson Court fled after Ashara’s fall.”

  Hassim leaned back slowly, the color fading from his face.

  “Oh. You’re hunting vampires.”

  Selene nodded once.

  Hassim exhaled, rubbing his forehead.

  “I hoped you’d never say that. Not after what happened with Varik.”

  Her jaw tightened.

  “I need closure.”

  Hassim studied her for a long moment.

  The king mask slipped—the friend remained.

  “Then I’ll help you,” he said finally. “But you won’t like the answer.”

  Liang’s gaze hardened.

  “Where did they go?”

  Hassim pointed toward the north.

  Toward the black mountains that separated Ashara from the haunted lands.

  “Lich territory,” he said. “Most sane creatures avoid it. But vampires? They flock there like flies to rot.”

  Selene swallowed.

  Hassim’s voice lowered:

  “You’ll need more than vengeance if you walk into that place.”

  Liang stepped forward.

  “She won’t be alone.”

  Hassim looked at him—really looked.

  “Zhao Liang… undead or not, you’ll draw every lich in that territory like a beacon.”

  Liang didn’t flinch.

  “Then let them come.”

  Selene glanced at him, surprised at the steel in his voice.

  Hassim sighed.

  “Ashara will give you supplies. Food. Ammunition. Maps. Wards.”

  He paused.

  “And if you bring down the Crimson Court for good, Selene… your name will be legend.”

  Selene shook her head.

  “I’m not doing this for fame.”

  He smiled sadly.

  “I know. That’s why it scares me.”

  Liang bowed his head respectfully.

  “We leave before sunrise.”

  Hassim rose as well.

  “Then may the sands protect you both. And Selene—”

  She looked back.

  “Come home in one piece,” he said gently. “Zion needs its heart as much as its strength.”

  Selene’s breath caught.

  For a moment—

  the world felt still.

  Then she nodded, wiped her eyes discreetly, and followed Liang back into the moonlit streets of Ashara—

  toward the mountains,

  toward the undead,

  toward her past,

  and whatever future waited in the dark.