Chapter 161: The Ice That Would Not Come

Han Shān had known pain before. The cold bite of winter storms. The pain of claws across his chest in battles long past. The ache of loneliness in the years before Bai Yue.

But this was different.

This was a fire in his veins, burning through him from the inside out. The dagger had been coated in something dark, something that spread through his blood like poison ivy through dry wood.

Jaguar venom, he thought distantly. They use it to paralyze their prey.

He was the prey now.

“Han Shān. Han Shān, can you hear me?”

Yàn Shū’s voice. Strained. Desperate. His hands were pressed against the wound, trying to stem the bleeding, but the blood kept coming.

“Scholar.” Han Shān’s voice came out as a croak. “Where are the others?”

“Mo Xiao is holding the passage. Zhāo Yàn is with him. Zhen is with him as qell. Líng went to find a way out.” Yàn Shū’s glasses were fogged, his face pale. “The cubs are…..I don’t know where the cubs are. They got separated in the chaos. Bai Yue was taken, alongside Tao Zi.”

Bai Yue.

Captured.

No no.

Han Shān tried to sit up.

The world spun.

“Don’t move,” Yàn Shū said, pushing him back down. “The poison is spreading. Every time you move, it spreads faster.”

“Then let it spread.”

“Han Shān—”

“I will not lie here and die while my son is—”

A crash. Stone shattering. Footsteps.

Han Shān’s hand went to his side, reaching for a weapon that wasn’t there. But the figure that emerged from the dust wasn’t an enemy.

It was Yòu Lín.

The fox cub was covered in dust and blood, not his own, Han Shān noted with relief, and his amber eyes were wide.

“Uncle Han Shān,” Yòu Lín gasped, skidding to his knees beside him. “Uncle Han Shān, you’re hurt.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine. You’re bleeding everywhere. Glimmer—Glimmer is—” His voice broke. “She’s not waking up.”

Han Shān closed his eyes.

Glimmer down. Ruì Xuě still missing. Bai Yue taken. Tao Zi taken.

And me, useless on the floor.

No.

He opened his eyes.

“Scholar. Help me sit up.”

“Han Shān, I told you—”

“Help. Me. Sit. Up.”

Yàn Shū’s jaw tightened. But he moved, slipping an arm behind Han Shān’s shoulders and pulling him upright against the wall.

The world swam. Han Shān gritted his teeth and forced it back into focus.

“Where is Glimmer?”

“Behind that fallen pillar,” Yòu Lín said, pointing. “She’s still breathing, but she won’t open her eyes. I tried to wake her. I tried—”

“Yòu Lín.” Han Shān’s voice was soft. “You did everything you could. Now I need you to do something else.”

Yòu Lín sniffled. “What?”

“Go to Mo Xiao. Tell him to fall back. We can’t hold this passage. We need to regroup.”

“But Glimmer—”

“I will stay with Glimmer. Go.”

Yòu Lín hesitated. Then he nodded, wiped his eyes, and ran.

The silence after he left was heavy.

Yàn Shū was still pressing against Han Shān’s wound, his hands shaking. The poison was spreading faster now, Han Shān could feel it reaching his chest, his lungs, his heart.

“Scholar,” he said.

“Don’t talk. Save your strength.”

“I need you to listen.”

Yàn Shū’s eyes met his. Behind the cracked glasses, they were bright with unshed tears.

“If I don’t make it—”

“You will make it.”

“If I don’t make it,” Han Shān continued, “you need to get them out. Bai Yue. The cubs. Tao Zi. All of them.”

“I can’t—”

“You can. You’re smarter than any of us. You’ll find a way.”

Yàn Shū’s breath hitched. “Don’t talk like that. Don’t—”

“Shhhhh.”

Han Shān reached up and gripped the scholar’s wrist. His hand was cold. Too cold. Even for him.

“Han Shān, please—”

“If I don’t make it, tell Ruì Xuě that I was proud of him. Tell Zhēn that I love her. Tell Bai Yue that—”

A sound.

Not from the passage. From above.

Han Shān looked up.

The ceiling was cracking.

“Move!” he immediately shouted, shoving Yàn Shū aside.

A chunk of stone crashed down where the scholar had been kneeling. Then another. And another.

The temple was collapsing.

“Glimmer!” Yòu Lín’s voice, from somewhere in the dust. “Glimmer, wake up! Please!”

Han Shān forced himself to his feet.

The world screamed in protest. The poison burned. His legs shook. But he stood.

He limped toward the fallen pillar where Glimmer lay.

The young dragon was still unconscious, her green scales dull, her wing bent at an unnatural angle. Blood seeped from the arrow wound, black and thick.

Yòu Lín was beside her, his small paws pressing against her neck, trying to wake her.

“Glimmer, please. Please wake up. The ceiling is falling. We have to go. Please.”

Han Shān dropped to his knees beside them.

He placed his hand on Glimmer’s snout.

Cold.

Too cold.

No, he thought. Not her too.

“Yàn Shū,” he called. “The healing herbs. Do you have anything for—”

The scholar was already there, his hands moving through his pack, pulling out pouches and vials.

“I don’t know what will work on a dragon,” he said, his voice trembling. “Their physiology is different from—”

“Just try.”

Yàn Shū tried.

He pressed crushed leaves against the wound. He poured a tincture between Glimmer’s lips. He whispered words that Han Shān didn’t understand, prayers or spells or desperate hopes.

Nothing.

Glimmer didn’t move.

The ceiling cracked again.

A beam fell, crashing across the passage, blocking the way back.

“We are trapped,” Yòu Lín whispered.

“No.” Han Shān looked around. The dust was thick, but he could see another passage, narrow, to the left. “There. Líng said there were multiple tunnels. That one might lead out.”

“Glimmer can’t walk,” Yòu Lín said. “She can’t even—”

“Then we carry her.”

Han Shān bent down.

The poison screamed at him but he ignored it. He had to be brave for his family.

He slid his arms under Glimmer’s body, ignoring the weight, ignoring the burning in his veins, ignoring the way his vision blurred at the edges.

“Han Shān, you can’t—” Yàn Shū started.

“I can.”

He lifted.

Glimmer was heavy. Heavier than she looked. Her scales were cold against his skin, her body limp.

But he held her.

“Move,” he ordered. “Now.”

They moved.

Yàn Shū led, his glasses cracked but his eyes sharp, navigating the crumbling passage. Yòu Lín stayed close to Han Shān’s side, his small hand pressed against Glimmer’s flank, as if he could lend her his warmth.

The tunnel narrowed. The walls pressed in. Dust filled their lungs.

Behind them, the temple collapsed.

They emerged into a small chamber.

Natural stone, not carved. The walls were wet with condensation. Water dripped from above.

Han Shān laid Glimmer down on a patch of moss.

His arms were shaking. His whole body was shaking.

The poison had reached his heart.

“Han Shān,” Yàn Shū said, his voice sharp. “Your face.”

Han Shān touched his cheek.

His fingers came away black.

Venom

, he thought. It has reached my face.

“Scholar,” he said. “How long?”

Yàn Shū’s hands trembled. “I don’t—I don’t know. Hours. Maybe less.”

“Then we don’t have much time.”

He turned to Yòu Lín.

The fox cub was crying. Silent tears tracking through the dust on his face.

“Yòu Lín.”

“I’m sorry,” Yòu Lín whispered. “I’m sorry I couldn’t—I’m sorry Glimmer got hurt—I’m sorry—”

“Yòu Lín.” Han Shān gripped his shoulder. “None of this is your fault. Do you understand me?”

Yòu Lín nodded, but his lip was trembling.

“Good.” Han Shān released him. “Now. I need you to be brave. Can you do that?”

Yòu Lín wiped his eyes. “Yes.”

“Good. Because I need you to find Líng. She got lost in the chaos. She knows these tunnels. She can lead you to the others.”

“But what about you?”

“I’ll stay with Glimmer.”

“Uncle Han Shān—”

“Go.”

Yòu Lín hesitated. Then he turned and ran, disappearing into the darkness.

Han Shān watched him go.

Then he leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes. The poison was in his lungs now. Every breath was a struggle.

Bai Yue, he thought. Ruì Xuě.

I’m sorry.

I tried.

A sound.

Footsteps. Light. Fast.

He opened his eyes.

Líng stood before him.

Her gold eyes were bright, her scales rippling. She looked at the wound, at the black spreading across his skin, at the unconscious dragon beside him.

“You are dying,” she said.

“I know.”

She crouched beside him. Her hand pressed against his chest, over his heart.

“The venom is jaguar-bane. It’s meant to kill slowly. To give the victim time to suffer.”

“I am aware.”

“There’s an antidote. In the temple. Li Hua keeps it in her private chambers. I can bring it for you.”

Han Shān’s eyes opened.

“Really?”

She nodded, her eyes sparkling. Hmm. He didn’t have much of a choice anymore.

“Please bring it for me. I….I need to—”

He was stopped by a sudden chill he felt. Cold. Cold….

Wait….

That could only be—

“Rui Xue!”

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