When James and Thea appeared before a majestic palace, a spiritual radiance bathed them. A purple-gold light wrapped their bodies, as if scanning every inch. With their strength, they could have brushed it off, but they allowed a few low-level Taoist wards to pass over them and lock the device in place.

After the inspection, the lead female general made a formal gesture, inviting the couple inside.

They stepped through the palace doors and found a woman in purple armor and a fiery red cloak standing with her back to them, as if she had been waiting a long time. Her presence carried a strange, unreadable force. James and Thea exchanged a look: despite their cultivation, they couldn’t pierce the veil around her—she was, for all intents and purposes, a blank.

“Xilin, come down.” The red-cloaked marshal’s voice rang out. It sounded pleasant, yet for James and Thea it felt both familiar and strange.

Xilin bowed and hurried away. Then the marshal raised a hand and a soundproof barrier slid over the palace. Slowly, deliberately, she turned.

James and Thea nearly stopped breathing.

A goddess stood before them—flawless, her long hair draped over her shoulders. Her combination of beauty and martial bearing made her at once wild and regal. Most disorienting of all, she resembled Thea—there was a six-point similarity, a likeness so exact that the pair felt as if they’d been carved from the same mold.