His shadow raced along the walls, tendrils of his unbound hair streaming in waves along with the billowing flaps of his night robe.

Where? Where?! WHERE must he look?

Why couldn't he find what he was searching for?

Time was running out. He mustn't stop. He had to find that which he'd lost before it was too late.

But what was he searching for?

And what was that sickening smell?

Lemon? Only if such were being squeezed through smoldering ashes of mold. Wanfeng grimaced in disgust. Who was burning such a noxious incense within the palace?

You are not in the palace, his mind told him.

The flameless glass lights overhead cast a dull gleam upon the metal bars mounted across the doors, an endless succession of dull white doors; all identical, all set equidistant along the passageway he was in.

Wanfeng stopped before each one. Smacking his palms down upon their bar, he would shove hard with his hip as the bottom of the doors always caught on the exact same torn section of carpet.

Flinging each open the same way, again and again, yielded the same result each time. The space beyond each doorframe was but a pitch black void. No light, no sound, no movement, nor scents... If he tried to reach out with his hand, his fingers were met with an invisible barrier.

Wanfeng began to run faster, adrenaline pumping through his veins. And the passageway stretched in time with his footfalls, walls and doors multiplying ever rapidly down the yawning maw of a tunnel like the bottomless gullet of some infinite beast.

A jolt of fire blazed through Wanfeng's chest. A familiar pulling sensation swift in its wake.

Without breaking his stride, Wanfeng clamped his hand over his pounding heart. No. You know it's not from there. The tugging was upon something much deeper than his heart. It pulled upon his very core...

...his soul.

Growling in frustration, Wanfeng flung the doors open even harder than before. He mustn't give up. He had to keep trying.

He had to find the way.

Shadowed streaks of hair and robe snapped forward when Wanfeng skidded to a halt in the middle of the passageway.

He raised a quaking hand before his face.

His index finger was tingling, as if... as if... someone had touched it, squeezed it in a tight clasp. He rubbed the side with his thumb. There was nothing there.

Looking onwards, Wanfeng hissed between gritted teeth. The tunnel without end was now a solid wall. Every door had vanished but just one ahead. He bolted to it, slamming down its bar.

Beyond the threshold was the same dark void.

Breaths ragged and uneven, Wanfeng hung his head.

Then snapped it back up.

He distinctly heard something, something from within the void for the very first time. A sound, followed by a scent.

A tearing of the air chased by a crisp scent of ozone. The crackle of lightning? And from a great echo of distance beyond, there was a living creature's call, one Wanfeng couldn't quite distinguish so far away it came.

brrt?

The door slammed shut with a thunderous boom. Wanfeng stumbled backwards. The entire passage plunged into darkness. A sudden vibrating flush of heat rippled down his back followed by a buzzing--

Wanfeng snapped his eyes open with a gasp, only to blink into the stream of morning light that lay across his bed.

Groaning softly, he rubbed the bleary dregs of sleep from his face to stare at his chamber's carved rosewood ceiling.

It was always this way.

He'd had another of the dreams... or was it a nightmare? They were something that caused him great agitation and frustration. But every time he would awake, he never had any recollection of the details, gone like wisps of flame.

"Good morning, your Highness."

Wanfeng's secretary, Tuo Liang, entered the chamber carrying a silver breakfast tray. A never ending bundle of official scrolls for Wanfeng to sign was tucked under the wiry man's arm. Depositing everything neatly upon a side table, his secretary turned to face him.

"A servant is bringing you a fresh pot of tea. Their Majesties are expecting you in an hour."

Rising out of bed, Wanfeng grabbed a tie off the bedshelf and swiftly bound his hair into a half-ponytail.

"May I bring you anything else, your Highness?"

"No, Liang, thank you. That will be all. I'll make my own way to the throne hall shortly."

His secretary's critical gaze narrowed a moment upon Wanfeng before the man bowed crisply and withdrew. Wanfeng glanced down at his sleeping robe and sighed. With a wave of his hand, he smoothed out the twisted creases and rumpled folds of the black silk with his magic.

The delicious smell of freshly made steamed buns wafting from the tray made his stomach rumble.

A maid entered just then with a steaming pot of tea and knelt gracefully at the table to pour Wanfeng a cup. She cast a different sort of gaze upon Wanfeng through her lowered lashes, a gaze that vanished in alarm as she scuffled away when he scowled in response.

The Crown Prince of the Sky Dragons sighed once more.

_____

The burbling water fountains of the imperial gardens sounded through the great open archways of the Cloud Palace throne hall, its air breathing in soft exhales of jasmine incense. The hushed murmurs of the court attendees blended with the whisper of scented breeze that blew about the marble columns. The columns were awash with sunlight streaming in from the open sky above which Wanfeng quietly basked in while he waited.

Dressed in formal robes, he stood patiently at the back of the hall while his parents finished hearing from Lord Zao Jun. The minister in charge of agriculture was reporting upon the latest harvest yields.

It came as no surprise the Woodland Kingdom had once again enjoyed the most bountiful growing season of all. Their arable fields were among the most fertile and productive of the Realm. Ever since the cosmic storm had raged through their world, altering the climates by reshaping the lands and shifting the waterways, the Woodland Kingdom had been blessed with the perfect conditions to grow crops.

Blessed, and cursed.

Wanfeng had been but a toddler when the Cataclysm--as it had come to be known--occurred. There'd been many tragic casualties given the force of that storm but none more tragic than that of the youngest victim, the Fox King and his Queen's infant daughter, Xia.

That Wanfeng and his mother had been there to witness it was a fog of vague, disjointed flashes of memory to the prince. He recalled... a basket, and warm grass; an angry wind, shouting and screaming, his mother crying as she gripped him tightly in her arms, his father suddenly there shifting to his majestic gold dragon to dive into dark waters. But the rest was lost. Repressed perhaps? The infant princess was not the only one to have been swept away by tidal forces that day. His memories had been too.

Hands clasped behind his back, rubbing his finger with his thumb, Wanfeng continued to wait his turn to address his parents.

The zigzagging of a silvery haired topknot through the crowd caught his attention from the corner of his eye.

Lord Han was inching his way towards him. The affable steward of state affairs' wizened face held an eager gleam, one Wanfeng recognized with an inward groan. The man had another juicy tale he wished to share with the Prince, even though Wanfeng was not one to partake in gossip. Standing out in the open where he was, there was nowhere for Wanfeng to tuck away and hide.

"Good morning, Lord Han." Wanfeng kept his gaze fixed upon the throne dais in the distance as the smaller man sidled up to him. "So what doddering nobleman has become besotted with a young courtesan this time?"

The steward's smile sharpened to a grin.

"Ah, not today, Crown Prince, not today." Lord Han paused to make sure no one was listening. "The news I have to share has to do with a certain Dragon Crown Prince."

Wanfeng drew in a deep breath. Need he wonder what the subject could be?

The steward leaned close.

"It is rumoured that the Duke of the Northern Wilds has sent a missive of intent to your Highness' parents," he whispered, "proposing an engagement between his daughter and you."

Xiurang.

She was deemed one of the great beauties of their world, proficient in the musical arts as well as a prolific writer of poetry. Her father held lands of strategic value as well as great wealth. The Duke was a key ally to the Sky Dragons.

Wanfeng feigned a yawn. Lord Han grinned wider. The steward opened his mouth to--

"Crown Prince Wanfeng is called to the throne!" boomed the deep voice of the sentinel at the base of the dais. With a parting tilt of his head to Han, Wanfeng promptly made his way forward to stand before the dais.

Clasping his hands before him, he bowed low.

"Please rise, Crown Prince Wanfeng." His father's warm tone welcomed his son.

Wanfeng stood tall. "The Crown Prince greets Empress Mother and Emperor Father."

Both his parents smiled down at him. And Wanfeng could only marvel, as he had countless times before, at the powerful bond between the two that he could not only sense but sometimes see as well. An energy that sparked between them when they were close to each other.

His mother and father were each other's soul flames.

"Are the preparations complete, Wanfeng?" His father dropped the use of title now that the appropriate opening formalities had been observed.

"Yes, Father," Wanfeng replied in kind. "The Spirit Tribe leaders await us at the border of their lands. Once my company and I arrive, we will escort them through the neutral corridor until we cross into Dragon-ruled territory. Once there, the leaders will be brought to the peace treaty signing location."

"Do you foresee any difficulties, Wanfeng?" his mother asked.

"No, Mother. Our escort is more of a courtesy than a necessity. Spirit energy is suppressed in the neutral corridor which is why the tribe leaders cannot simply windwalk to the signing. By providing a royal escort, we are also showing favour to the leaders for all the Realm to witness."

The Sky Dragon Emperor stroked his beard.

"I don't foresee any problems either, Wanfeng. The only obstacle you'll face is a physical one, the stretch of the Jade River through the corridor. But there is a crossing shallow enough for horses to cross."

His father smiled appreciatively at his mother. "Thanks to your Empress Mother's tireless efforts and artful negotiations, the Spirit Tribe leaders agreed to this accord of peace with the rest of the Realm. It will hopefully bring an end to the remaining Dark Shamans' attempts to cause an uprising. Without the Spirit Tribe as our allies, the Shamans will no longer be able to hide away in their lands and the tribe leaders can help us track the Shamans down. Then we can bring them to justice.

Wanfeng watched his father's eyes flash gold. They both knew that no Dark Shaman would willingly surrender or give up. The only way to end the demonic fiends' destructive and murderous ways was to run them down in a blood hunt. Wanfeng's eyes must have blackened as his dragon essence flared.

The Empress cleared her throat. No doubt the flare of male dragon energy flooding the throne room was a little... unsettling.

"When do you leave, Wanfeng?" she asked.

"At midday, Mother," Wanfeng replied, with a predatory edge in his voice.

_____

"I never understood why you insist your dress armour be the same black as your battle gear. You are the Black Dragon Prince of the Realm, yes, but the Sky clan colours of azure and gold would better suit for this mission, no? Besides, you look so much handsomer in those colours."

Wanfeng gave his mother sitting on the edge of his bed an amused smile.

"My presence alone suffices, Mother. I'm there as a royal figurehead to show to all our world that this delegation is one that is fully supported by us."

The Empress remained quiet a few moments as Wanfeng finished putting on the last pieces of his uniform.

"You looked a little tired in the throne room earlier, Wanfeng."

Wanfeng snapped closed the clasps attaching his cape to his shoulder guards. The dreams that troubled his sleep sometimes were something he'd never shared with his parents, even as a boy. Besides, there'd always been a sense of these dreams being private and personal to him alone.

"I was up late last night, finalizing the details of our route with my officers, Mother. There's only that narrow stretch of the Jade River that is shallow enough for the horses to cross."

His mother didn't immediately respond, fussing with the trim of a pillow instead.

"Something more is troubling you than my looking less than handsomer than usual," he teased her, and she laughed, as he'd intended her to.

"You so take after your father, Wanfeng. I can never hide my concerns from him either --though your self-effacing humour is all your own." Her gaze dropped to her hand which had stilled. "I feel nervous about today."

Wanfeng sat down beside her. "Why Mother? You yourself forged the peace deal. Today's escort is merely a formality of etiquette, a gesture of respect. It's why I go in my dress uniform and not in full battle gear. There will be no hostilities. We are merely accompanying a group of politicians from one place to another."

His mother sighed. "Yes, I know that, Wanfeng. What can I say? Even if it's only seeing you off on an errand of diplomacy, no mother wants to see their child possibly put in harm's way."

"Is that truly all, Mother? Or is it because of what happened on the shores of the Jade River when I was there as a young boy?"

Wanfeng was quick to clasp his mother's hand when he saw tears well in her eyes.

"Mother, the past is a distant shore. I'm a man grown. Everything will be fine."

His mother put her other hand atop his and gave a light squeeze as she drew in a deep, steadying breath.

"Wanfeng... while we have this moment alone together, there is a matter I need to bring up with you."

"The engagement proposal from the Duke of the Northern Wilds?"

His mother's gaze widened, then crinkled with mirth. "Lord Han's talent for knowing everything that goes on, even before it happens sometimes, is truly a wonder."

She straightened her shoulders. "Your father and I think it is a match worth considering, Wanfeng. As Crown Prince, you will need to choose a princess eventually. However, we leave the decision to you. I only ask that you meet with Xiurang before dismissing the possibility. You are well of an age to marry, Wanfeng, yet I have never even seen you show any interest in a girl, though your father has assured me that..." her voice trailed off.

Wanfeng's face grew hot. Only with his mother could he feel embarrassed this way. "There have been women who've caught my attention, albeit only superficially. What can I say? I see the eternal bond of my parents and wish the same for myself. I don't want to settle. I want to find my soul flame."

"I know you do, Wanfeng, but not all are fated with a soul flame in life. All I can tell you is that if it is meant to be, Fate will show you the way to them when it is the right time."

His mother squeezed his hand again. "I don't like thinking you may be lonely. Take the time you wish with regards to choosing a princess but understand that one day you may have to choose with just your heart."

Wanfeng had no reply to that.

"I hope you can find your soul flame, Wanfeng," his mother said softly, taking in the expression on his face, "for once you do, your life will forever be changed."

He leaned forward to kiss his mother on the forehead. "I love you, Mother. Please don't worry."

Rising to cross the room, he flexed his fingers as he slipped on his leather gauntlets. "I'll be back in two days. Maybe when I return we can have a picnic together in the gardens? I'll bring my old coloured blocks along again to build you a tower."

Wanfeng gave his startled looking mother a warm smile before the room disappeared to his eyes in a mist of cloud as he windwalked away.

_____

But for the soft clopping of the horses' hooves, all was quiet as the group journeyed along the river's edge.

Everything had gone smoothly so far. The Spirit Tribe leaders with their small retinue had been waiting at the rendezvous point at their border for Wanfeng's company to collect them.

Wanfeng's mount was in the lead, his soldiers flanking either side of the escorted group. Guan Ren, his first officer, brought up the rear. Their formation was for ceremonial show, but Wanfeng wondered if it were a cause for concern for some of the group whom he noticed kept casting furtive glances behind them as they approached the river's crossing point.

"Is something wrong?" Wanfeng turned to ask the leader closest behind him. The man quickly put on a smile. "Not at all, your Highness. Forgive us. We are not used to seeing such landscapes like this back home."

Wanfeng nodded as he turned forward again. It was true that the autumn foliage here was lovely to behold. Not far from the river bank was the treeline of a forest resplendent in all its fall colours. Its pure scent of earth and leaves warmed in the sunlight was an incense only Nature could create.

That the Spirit Tribe members from their land of cold winds and dark cliffs were in awe was not surprising.

Wanfeng's attention kept being drawn to the river, its waters sparkling in the sunlight. The way the current swept past, weaving and wandering with flowing ripples, was hypnotic... captivating... luring him in. How cool and refreshing would it be to shift into his dragon and indulge in a swim.

He blinked, giving his head a sharp jerk to the side to clear a wave of dizziness. What was wrong with him? Ever since they had begun following the river's course, Wanfeng had been getting distracted. His mind kept wandering when he should be focused on the crossing which should be just about...

Wanfeng raised his hand to signal a halt. The clopping of hooves stopped in a midst of soft whinnies and snorts. They had reached the crossover point.

"Guan Ren."

His tactical officer rode up the line to meet him.

"Take half the company ahead with you to the other side. The delegates will follow along with the other half as I will bring up the rear." Wanfeng was merely stating this for the Spirit Tribe members' behalf. Guan Ren already knew what to do.

"Yes, your Highness."

Wanfeng's mount blew softly through its nostrils, its tail flicking back and forth as they waited on shore for the escorted group to cross the river.

Guan Ren was waiting on the opposite shore with his half of the company.

The shallow rise of the riverbed here had the water only reaching the crossing horses' chests, and what few weeds there were did not hamper their path. Wanfeng slowly rode his horse to the river's edge, gathering the reins to direct his mount into the water when the group was midway across.

Squeals of terror erupted from the horses in the river, the Spirit Tribe leaders shouting as their mounts began to panic and buck, throwing them off. Instinctively drawing his sword, Wanfeng whirled about to face downriver where a shrill whistling emerged, growing rapidly louder. His blood turned to ice at the sight of the churning miasma of dark energy spiralling towards the group in the water.

Demon curse.

How was this even possible in the corridor?

Whatever evil spellcraft this was, Wanfeng could sense the vile intent of it. The Shamans behind it not only intended to kill the Spirit Tribe leaders, they were going to disintegrate their souls as well.

Guan Ren and his soldiers charged back into the water, dragging out those that they could. Horses and men floundered in suddenly roiling waves. Sheathing his sword in its saddle scabbard, Wanfeng leapt from his horse to dive into the river. There was no way his men would be able to get the fallen group out in time before the curse struck.

In an explosive spray of water, a roaring Black Dragon broke through the surface. Using his elemental magic, Wanfeng caused the river to form a massive wall, infusing it with his own power. The ear-splitting shrill of the accelerating miasma as it honed in on him made men scream as they clapped their hands over their ears. When the curse collided with Wanfeng's wall, his dragon eyes flamed as he held it back long enough for Guan Ren to pull the last man to shore.

The curse was beginning to weaken. The Shamans may have found a way to make their black magic work here but they couldn't sustain it. But as Wanfeng held his position, waiting for the miasma to dissipate, dizziness struck him again but with debilitating force in his dragon form.

Wanfeng's tail began to uncoil. Something was dragging him down into the water. More powerful than the miasma that bombarded him before. With a feral snarl, Wanfeng gathered all his essence to shield his core. If he died here today, the Shamans would not claim his soul!

His barrier wall collapsing, the last thing Wanfeng heard over the frantic shouts of his men calling out to him was a strange dream-like call that seemed to emerge from the pitch black void enveloping him.

brrt!

_____

The Hour of the Horse (11am - 1pm)