A fistful of jade, a pile of soothsaying birds’ bones, and a golden bowl with a nugget of sparkstone. Those were the trinkets the Alchemist sages had given Liao. The prince was happy to be playing with such things he’d been forbidden to touch before.

The Emperor and his wife watched their son with intent focus.

“How long will this test last?” the Emperor questioned the sages.

“Gongwei, your son must discover the trial for himself,” one of the sages intoned.

Liao’s mother said, “He’s just a boy. Have patience, Jian.”

“He’s my blood. What difference would it make if he’s a Seer?”

Liao glanced up, pretending he didn’t hear his father’s growing impatience. He knew what the test was for, he’d read of the trial in the imperial library the night before. In truth, he was prolonging the test to see more of his father. Sitting before them, he tried to imprint his father’s face to memory. A long and tan face, with a broad nose of Qeitan heritage. Covering his frown was a short but dense black beard. Long hair partly pinned into a bun flowed down his thick neck. His eyes were piercing green, bright as the jade stone Liao held. All he’d ever truly remembered were those eyes, compared to his own common brown irises.

“Stop playing and start doing, boy,” his father ordered.

Liao looked down.

Jade was the main object of the trial. Liao knew this. Striking the jade with the sparkstone would begin the test. Scraping the two rocks together, the prince dropped the jade into the metal bowl, green flames licking the mineral.

Jade Incense started to sift into the room, green smoke that had no smell or taste. The sages encircled a pale clothed screen around Liao, trapping the Incense.

He could still see the dark figures of his mother and father.

“Breathe,” one of the sages said, his tone gentle, like lapping water. “Breathe.”

Liao inhaled, exhaled, and inhaled again. He began to feel light headed, his breath growing heavy, his body warming.

He gathered the bird bones in his closed hands and clattered them across the floorboards.

“What do you see?” the sage asked.

The prince stared at the bones. The jade fire burned without a sound, continuing to release its fumes of Incense. Shadows formed and swirled around the bird bones.

Liao said, “I see an army marching, many men… dying. And…”

The shadows rose, surrounding him, smothering him. The green fire lit a path, burning away the darkness.

The capital razed. Warriors fighting, dying in droves, bloodied steel flashing in the fires. His family, slaughtered. The palace, burnt to cinders. And at the center of it all was Liao, now a young man, sitting on the Celestial Throne, still and smug – a hard glint to his cold, brilliant-green eyes. There was only one thing that could cause such a physical change – it meant that he had become an immortal.

Liao’s dark eyes blinked.

“What do you see?” the sage repeated.

“Nothing else,” Liao lied, trying to steady his voice.

“Well?” his father said. “Is he or is he not a Seer?”

“He sees the crows' bones, gongwei, and the men's lives that these crows have pecked at. Your son shows promise. The Oracle will ensure his tutelage as a Seer."

The encircling cloth screen was wrapped away by the sages. The jade fire had dwindled away to green dust. When the veil was lifted, his father was already gone; only disappointment left behind. Liao stood, hesitant as a short and stooped old woman beckoned him. His mother smiled, tears in her brown eyes. She nodded for him to move.

The old woman held out her hand. Liao took it, walking out of the room, silent.

“You saw more than that, didn’t you, child?” the old woman murmured under her breath.

Liao met her gaze, still silent.

“I’ll start with my first lesson,” she said, walking out of the room with him. “The truth will always come out. And it will be your duty to see it.”