The Scorpion and the Night Blossom

From the Nine years ago, the Kingdom of Night began to seep into the mortal realm, and the Kingdom of Rivers was invaded by mó: beautiful and deadly demons that lure in;humans with their appearance, then feast on their bodies and drink their souls. Those that survived the mó’s initial invasion now live behind protective wards, hoping to get through to another day.; Àn’yīng hasn’t forgotten the face of the demon who killed her father and drank her mother''s soul. Àn’yīng;was helpless then, but now, armed with her crescent blades and her father’s magical practitioning texts, she’s determined to heal her mother''s soul, and the Immortality Trials are her only hope. Hosted by the Immortals in the Kingdom of the Sky, the Trials have taken place for centuries. Open to mortals who can find their way to the Kingdom of Sky, those who complete all eight trials and prove their merit are granted a pill of immortality--a prize Àn’yīng believes can restore her mother’s soul. But competition is fierce, and if the Trials themselves don’t kill her, the other contestants might. Who is friend and who is foe? And who is the irresistibly handsome and frustratingly arrogant contestant who keeps appearing when;Àn’yīng least expects it--and most needs help? Danger is everywhere, and;Àn’yīng;is beginning to see signs that not all is right in The Kingdom of Sky. Night is coming for the Immortals--and when they fall, all is lost.

Autorentext

Amélie Wen Zhao

Klappentext

A NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER • In a world at war with demons, one girl will face the ultimate test when she is forced to enter into an ancient, deadly competition for the chance to save her mother's soul… before she loses her forever. From the author of Song of Silver, Flame Like Night comes the beginning of a dark and opulent fantasy duology, perfect for fans of Throne of Glass.

Nine years ago, the war between the Kingdom of Night and the Kingdom of Rivers tore Àn’yīng’s family apart, leaving her mother barely alive, and a baby sister to fend for. Now the mortal realm is falling into eternal night, and mó—beautiful, ravenous demons—roam, feasting on the souls of humans.

Àn’yīng’s only hope now is the Immortality Trials. If she can complete every Trial in the magical competition, she has the chance to save her mother’s life. But the Trials are deadly, and the longer Àn’yīng survives, the clearer it is that certain contestants are out for her blood. Even odder, though, is the handsome rival who seems intent on protecting her life. Survival is key, but Àn’yīng will need to figure out if she can trust the stranger she’s falling for, or if he’s the most dangerous player of all.

Leseprobe
1

The nights have been longer and more beautiful since their world began to bleed into ours. It also gives them more time to hunt. But tonight, I will not be prey.

Through the silk-spun mist, moonlight catches on the wicked curves of my crescent blades, two snug against my palms and six more tucked up my sleeves and bodice for quick access. My thumbs rest against the grooves of the unique talismans engraved on the hilts by my father. The magic of these talismans, activated with a touch of spirit energy, amplifies the power of my blades and makes them lethal weapons against demons.

I move quietly through the fog, each step carefully stitched between silvergrasses and pines, weaving in a manner that renders me ghostly on a mountaintop dulled to shadows and smoke. My senses are weaker than theirs--it’s hard hearing past my own breathing--so I don’t know if any are waiting for me out here in the dark. If they are, I’m prepared. I’ve spent years learning how to fight them.

Not by choice, of course. I once had a normal life as the daughter of a seamstress in our village. My sister and I grew up surrounded by fine needles and soft silks, in patterns both beautiful and ordinary, that we delivered all across the Central Province. But then the Kingdom of Night broke the Heavenly Order across the realms, destroyed the border wards that kept our realms separate, and demons--mo--began to invade the Kingdom of Rivers, the mortal world. Soon our emperor and his armies fell to the powerful demon queen, then province after province collapsed, and the immortals in the Kingdom of Sky raised the wards on their realm and left us on our own.

I was ten years old the night the ministry of my province dissolved. I swapped needles for knives, silks for talisman spells, and lost my father in a lesson I will never forget.

Nine years later, I am still alive.

And tonight, I will not be prey.

When the sound of rushing water threads through the trees and the ground begins to flatten, relief lightens my chest. I’ve survived another trip to the moon spring at the summit of the westernmost mountain range of our kingdom. I will harvest light lotuses: flowers that drink in the magic of stars and are rich with the life energy that fuels our mortal souls. I will return to my village of Xi’lin and grind the petals and seeds into an elixir.

And my mother will live for a few months more.

Waves lap at the root of a great willow, swallowing the grass and muddy banks at my feet. I push past the curtains of wisteria that grow thickly around the spring--and freeze.

Beneath the moonlight filtering through the fog, the water is red.

My senses sharpen. Too late, I catch the sweetly putrid stench in the breeze. Too late, I notice the shadow in the middle of the spring. As fear tightens my chest, I feel the press of its gaze upon me.

Demon.

Mo take on a human appearance; beneath their beauty are their true monstrous forms, yet on the surface, there isn’t much to differentiate them from mortals. This one has taken the form of a young man. Through the branches of the willow, I see the powerful muscles of his shoulders, the spill of his hair in the moonlight. He carries a fresh, half-eaten corpse in his arms, blood spattering his chest. I am relieved to see it. Only the young, lesser mo will consume mortal flesh. The Higher Ones are less inclined toward the taste of our flesh; they prefer our souls.

The young male holds his hand out toward me.

“Come.” His voice is song. The air heats with the signature dark energy of their kind, and I feel the power of his magic in that command. It’s a spell that mortals are powerless to resist.

Most mortals.

Unbeknownst to the mo, I’m holding Shield, the first of my father’s crescent blades that I learned to use. Shield has a talisman that blocks attacks--including magical ones.

I tap my thumb to the blade’s hilt and push a small spark of spirit energy against the engraved talisman. I sense it activate, its power flowing through me to resist the dark magic of the mo’s command.

I will my body to relax. As much as I hate it, I have to play the part of prey. In fighting the mo, I have only two advantages: that of surprise and that of being underestimated. I can’t let this demon know that I am armed against his magic . . . or that I have magic of my own.

Though all mortals are born with life energy flowing red in our veins, few of us are able to channel spirit energy: the life force and magic of immortals and, some say, the gods. Those of us with the ability to do so are named practitioners: warrior-magicians who dedicate our lives to learning the martial arts and cultivating our magic.

Most died in the war against the Kingdom of Night.

I brush aside the willow branches and step into the water.

Moonlight bathes me, almost t…