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She shakes her head, shrugging me off and opening her mouth to continue the cry. The same soldier who struck her before now backhands the side of her head to quiet her. I leap to my feet, thrusting myself between the man and my sister, ready to take whatever he is dealing out. But before either of us can act, the woman who recognized me earlier comes hurrying forward, pointing and gesturing frantically at me. This soldier can't understand her, but another comes striding up, a hard look in his gaze as his eyes fix on me. He's no one I know, but it's clear he has realized who I am.

He says something harsh to the soldier who struck Zhang Jing and then grabs me by the arm, dragging me toward the man who seems to be in charge near the mine. The crowds shrink back from us, and as we move, I notice that the cries around us have died down. A few people are still halfheartedly trying to carry on, but most either have been forcibly silenced or are in fear of what might happen to them.

And nothing has happened.

Only a need to appear undaunted in front of the soldiers prevents tears of frustration from springing to my eyes. I wanted to believe Elder Chen's story about the pixius. I wanted there to
be an explanation for all that has been going on. I wanted a magical creature to come save us all.

But as the united cry disintegrates into frightened whimpers, it's clear there is no one out here in this desolate place but us humans. The realization nearly breaks my heart, and I must summon all my courage when I'm shoved to my knees in front of the lead soldier. He looks down on me with a sneer and speaks, but I shake my head, showing I don't understand.

He doesn't seem to care, though. I am the girl who started all this by climbing down the mountain and stirring up the king's fears about the pixius. And it's clear this soldier plans on putting an end to my mischief—and to me.

He gives an order, and the soldier who brought me drags me away. My heart is so heavy, my grief so great at our failure that at first I don't even realize where we're going. I'm too devastated that this has all been for nothing and that the township is going to win after all. A cry from the crowd—Zhang Jing's voice—snaps me out of my despair.
I must be strong for her
, I tell myself. I look up and realize the soldier is taking me to the cliff's side. He halts there, pushing me to my knees again, so that I'm facing the edge. The world reels as I see that fathomless drop off the mountain in front of me, with only the soldier's hand on my shoulder standing between a push or a pull. Swallowing my fear, I am just barely able to twist around back to the gaping crowd. There are tears on Zhang Jing's face, and the soldiers have to restrain Li Wei to keep him from coming to me.

The army's leader says something to the prisoner who can
read lips, and cringing, the man holds up his hands so that all can see.
Watch now and see what happens when you defy the great king!
The soldier's hand tenses on my shoulder. I know he is only seconds away from pushing me off the edge to my death. All he's waiting for is his leader's command. The prisoner continues as directed:
Those who attempt to stir discord will be punished accordingly. Those who are obedient will—

The prisoner trails off as a shadow passes over his face.

Then another.

And another.

Eyes wide, he looks up to the sky . . . and that's when we see the impossible.

A DOZEN GLITTERING FORMS
circle above us, dazzling in the late afternoon sunlight, powered by strong wings. The soldier lets go of me, backing up and abandoning me on my precarious perch. I'm caught off guard by the sudden movement and find myself wavering on the cliff's edge. Using both hands and feet, I scramble to move backward, far from the dangerous precipice and onto more solid ground. All the while, I keep my eyes fixed above.

Those glittering beings circle lower and lower, and I feel tears prick my eyes as I see the same wondrous forms from Elder Chen's scroll: the regal bearing, dragon-like head, lion's mane, and full-feathered wings. Dream has become reality. Myth has been made flesh.

The pixius are here.

They are so beautiful, even with the ferocity of their sharp teeth and claws, that it makes my heart ache. That instinct I so often feel, to capture the world in my art, rears up within me, a
thousand times stronger than ever before. I want to draw that exquisite profile, the way the pixius command such incredible power yet seem so graceful as they glide on currents of air. I want to convey the sense of the breeze rustling their thick manes. I want to recreate the glimmering metallic color of their coats, varying from shades of deep bronze to brightest silver, even though I have no idea how to begin. The color ripples on their fur almost like water. Capturing the full majesty of these creatures would probably be an impossible task, but in this moment, I could happily spend a lifetime trying.

When I can finally drag my gaze from their beauty, I see that chaos has returned below. The horses are rearing, and the soldiers try to calm them, splitting their attention between the animals, the villagers, and the majestic creatures in the sky. The reactions of my own people are mixed. Some are simply stunned, unable to move. Others, terrified, attempt to flee. Still others make the connection between our cries and the appearance of the pixius. Many of these people are older, familiar with the myths, and see this as our salvation. They fall to their knees, holding their hands up and raising their voices, though this time there is a note of joy to the cries.

One such supplicant is an older woman not far from me. I know her as someone who has lost much of her sight, but it's clear she can still make out the glittering of the pixius as they continue to circle above us. She lifts her hands in thanksgiving, crying out in happiness. A young soldier stands nearby, nervously watching the sky. When he hears the old woman, he strikes her in the head with the hilt of his sword.

In the blink of an eye, one of the pixius—a golden one—breaks formation and dives down, straight for the soldier. With talons glittering as brightly as that metallic fur, the pixiu snatches the soldier up and tosses him over the cliff in one smooth motion. His screams as he goes over raise the hair on the back of my neck.

That action is like a spark to tinder. The soldiers mobilize, seeing a clear and immediate threat in the pixius. The soldiers' leader begins shouting orders. Swords are raised, and a handful of men with bows and arrows come hurrying forward. Even though I can't understand the leader's words, his actions and expression convey his orders clearly:
Bring down the pixius!

Arrows fly into the sky. Most are dodged easily by the swiftly moving pixius. Those arrows that do make contact bounce harmlessly off the pixius' hides. Their fur looks luxuriously soft but apparently has the impenetrability of the hardest rock. These direct attacks drive the pixius to action. They break out of their circling formation now, diving and striking with incredible speed as they pick off their enemies one by one. From my vantage, I notice the pixius easily distinguish soldier from captive and spare both my people and the plateau miners. As for the soldiers . . . they meet a different fate. Some are thrown over the cliffs. Others are simply torn apart.

For those in the thick of the crowd, it is not obvious that the pixius are sparing the prisoners. Villagers panic and begin running, once more nearly stampeding over one another in their haste to get away. Soon they are joined by panicked soldiers who realize the futility of trying to kill these creatures. The soldiers
seem to be heading back toward the village, and my guess is that they are running away to the recently opened passes that will lead down the other side of the mountain. Frightened villagers, not wanting to cross paths with their former captors, head in the opposite direction, toward the mines to join those hiding within. Still others cannot move at all. They stay where they are, eyes trained upward at the beautiful, deadly display happening in the air.

Chaos reigns.

I leave my spot and head toward where I last saw my sister. The crowd around her has dispersed, but she is still there, transfixed by the sights above. She squints, her face filled with wonder. Someone fleeing pushes me from behind, causing me to bump into her. She glances down, smiling when she sees me.

You did it, Fei! You were able to—

I don't see what else she says because my attention is caught by a sound—a voice. It is one I know by now: Li Wei's. I would recognize it anywhere, and I have a brief, surreal memory of the blue thrush and how it could find its mate with a single cry. I don't have to see Li Wei's face now to hear the warning in his voice. Even without words, the message is clear. I spin around and am just in time to see a soldier barreling through, uncaring of who or what is in his way as he wields his swords.

Thanks to Li Wei's warning, I'm just barely able to grab Zhang Jing and dodge out of his path, though it knocks her and me to the ground. The soldier swings his swords where we stood and then pauses in his escape to regard us menacingly. Before he
can decide what to do next, a bronze pixiu swoops down and intercepts him, carrying him off, only his screams ringing behind him. I hurry to help Zhang Jing stand. It is unclear what place will be the safest, and then I remember Li Wei's voice. I search in the direction it came from and see him standing over by the mines, where the majority of our people have gathered. He waves at me through the pandemonium, and, taking Zhang Jing's hand, I begin making my way toward him.

It's complete disorder, almost a repeat of when I was trying to cross the village's center earlier today. At least now no one is targeting me specifically, but danger still abounds. Everyone is so concerned with saving themselves that they pay little heed to who's in their way. The soldiers don't hesitate to use weapons and force to clear their paths, fear making them even more desperate and brutal. The pixius are coming for them, and they know it. I hear their screams, and they are awful, heart-wrenching sounds—even though I regard these men as my enemies. It makes me wish for silence again, and I wonder how soldiers can stand to devote their lives to war. Who could live with such confusion and despair on a regular basis?

At last, Zhang Jing and I join the rest of our people standing by the mines, and Li Wei puts his arms around me. Because Zhang Jing is still clinging to me, he ends up hugging us both. We huddle together with others by the mine's entrance and watch the scene around us. Most of the soldiers are gone, either dead or having escaped. A couple became trapped here in the clearing, and when they are spotted by pixius, their end is quick and bloody.
One soldier, seeing a pixiu coming for him, chooses an alternate ending: throwing himself off the cliff.

Around me, the mood is conflicted, and I share in that mixed emotion. We are all glad to see the soldiers removed, but there is a deadly edge to the pixius' beauty. When there are no more soldiers in sight, the pixius make a few more circling flights before turning their attention on us. They land in the center of the clearing in one great, glittering herd and approach us on foot. Li Wei's arm is around me, and I feel him tense. Fear shines on the faces of my people and Nuan's, and a few terrified individuals seek the safety of the mine.

I share their anxiety, looking over the approaching pixius and wondering what is to stop them from turning on us. For all I know, they saw the soldiers as the immediate threat and eliminated it before turning to easier prey.

The pixius come to a stop only a few feet away from where I stand. I hold my breath. They are so close that I can see all the multifaceted strands of fur that make up those rippling, metallic coats. Their claws glitter too—some are wet with blood. All of them have blue eyes, something the stories never mentioned. It is a clear, azure blue, like the sky they descended from. It is fitting, I decide. Those beautiful eyes watch us all solemnly now, as though they too are waiting for something.

From their midst, there is a stirring, and one pixiu steps out toward the front of the group. She—somehow, instinctively, I know this one is female—is one of the largest and has a coat of mixed silver and white strands. She shimmers like moonlight as
she moves, and her beauty makes me weak in the knees. At the same time, I also experience that sensation again—that tugging in my chest that makes me feel like someone is summoning me over a great distance. It grows stronger and stronger as she approaches, until that sense of connection practically burns within me. Her eyes hold mine, beckoning. Unable to resist, I slip out of Li Wei's arm and step forward. He signals to me in my periphery.

Fei, be careful. You've seen what they're capable of. They have a taste for blood.

I nod in acknowledgment and move closer to the herd until I'm just a few feet away from the silver female. Both humans and pixius seem to be holding a collective breath, waiting to see how this drama will unfold. The silver one shifts and comes right up to me, and I hear a few gasps, as my people expect her to attack. But she doesn't.

Instead, she kneels.

I reach out and rest my hand on the side of her face, letting out a gasp of my own as my mind is suddenly bombarded with pictures and scenes. It's like having another sense. Images—hers, not mine—play out in my head, and I suddenly find myself witnessing memories from a time long, long ago. Pixius and humans—my ancestors—lived in harmony in these mountains. It was before the passes were blocked, and the village had access to fertile valleys and trade routes. The pixius draw strength from precious metals, and our ancestors would mine small amounts of ore as tokens of friendship to the pixius. In return, the pixius protected my ancestors from outside threats and also imparted
an aura of energy and healing that prevented the toxins in the mines from causing harm.

But those serving the king of that time developed weapons capable of harming the pixius. Their armies came into the mountains, hunting the pixius both for their coats and to gain access to the rich mines. This last pixiu pride, weak and depleted, managed to elude its hunters and seek refuge in a magical hibernation within the mountain. They needed that sleep to recover their strength, even though it meant abandoning the humans they'd bonded to—humans who then became trapped and enslaved when avalanches closed the passes.

This female, alone of her pride, has sought a human she could share her dreams with—a human whose mind was as visually stimulated as the pixius'. It was she who reached out to me in my sleep, bonding to me, and that connection imparted the pixius' healing upon me, restoring my hearing. She was the one who showed me what I must do—raise the voices of my people—in order to wake the rest of her pride and remind them of the bonds they once had to our ancestors.

She tells me all this in pictures—her mind to mine—as I stare into her eyes. I read the images as easily as I do characters on paper. It is part of the reason she chose me. Not all humans are capable of communicating the way the pixius do, but I understand her perfectly. Her story is an epic one, with consequences I suspect I'm only beginning to grasp. Much will have to be worked out, but for now, I have only one question.

What is your name?

She doesn't speak in words as we do, but my query comes through to her. More images flash in my mind by way of answer. A glitter of brilliant silver, dazzling to behold. A gust of wind, stirring branches or providing an easy current for a pixiu to ride on.

Yin Feng
, I think.
That is your name. Silver Wind.

The pixiu bows again, and I remove my hand from her face, finding I am smiling. Li Wei and Zhang Jing are beside me, looking understandably puzzled by this silent exchange, not realizing the vast information I have just learned about our past—and, I suspect, our future.

What is happening?
asks Li Wei.

A new beginning
, I reply.
A new beginning for all of us.