When they set out in the spring, even Kija could admit to himself that the last thing he wanted was to face another Ancestors' Festival, but by the time the next winter came, the thought of neglecting the tradition was more bittersweet.

He still thought it too selfish to insist on bringing everyone to his village two years in a row, and as they settled in for the season in Awa, Jae-ha in his own oblique way seemed just as happy to be home as Kija would have been. But one day as they were eating at one of Jae-ha's old favorite places, Kija did mention his regret.

"Even after all of that, missing it will feel a bit lonely, I suppose," he said.

"Maybe White Dragon could do it here," Zeno suggested.

The idea tempted him for a moment, but he brushed it aside. "I don't have the incense."

The very next day, one of the traveling merchants from White Dragon Village found Kija to give him the incense, and the traditional tea, and the white robe. They even tried to give him a new over-sized floor cushion, and he had to insist, "We can't carry that."

Thankfully they hadn't gone so far as to bring the founder's necklace. With or without the new rule, that would have been a step too far.

When the night of the solstice came, Jae-ha did indeed get everyone the promised 'room with a beautiful view' overlooking the parade and the harbor, but then the rest of the party went down to join the celebration in the streets and let Kija and Zeno have the room to themselves for the ritual — since Gigan had kicked them off her ship when she heard that they were trying to summon a ghost.

Zeno brought out the room's floor mattresses and quilts for them to sit on, and he piled a little lacquered table with festival food including a set of five cakes wrapped in colored papers, a locally-traditional New Year's Eve offering to the Red Dragon King and the dragon warriors. Kija chose to forgo the plain white robe, but he steeped the tea and lit the incense. He recited a version of the ritual words, improvising to suit the occasion, and finally the two of them sat down in expectant silence.

At first, Kija was distracted by the muffled din of celebrating voices and snatches of music from the street below, but at last it resolved into a rolling sea of sound, and he let himself be carried by it and even lulled by its waves.

Whatever happened tonight would happen. If there was no visit, then he would have offered the gesture to the ancestors even so, and sitting here like this with Zeno was a fine way to pass the night and see the old year off.

And if there was a visit… Kija had learned some things the year before. The naive, eager courage with which he'd always faced the Ancestors' Festival had been smashed, but he had a wiser, accepting courage to take its place.

So he sat, breathing the scent of the incense, and waited.

This time, there was no mysterious unfurling of space, but as the hours rolled slowly by, Kija did have a sensation of something, at first too slight and vague even to put words to, but the feeling persisted, gradually gaining strength and form.

A nudge.

Just let it happen, he thought, hearing the echo of the year before. Just be the anchor. That was best; that would be enough…

Until he recognized the presence.

At that, holding back would have been the more disruptive effort. He risked reaching toward that touch — and he came through into that other place. He dimly felt his body fall back onto the mattress; the room around him faded and blurred as if hidden behind a veil, but he wasn't alone here.

Kija risked barely a glance at the huge man beside him before he turned and bowed to the ground. "Honored founder — Lord Guen, my profoundest apologies for my inexcusable behavior a year ago. It is too much to ask forgiveness for such a thing, and yet I must."

"So…"

Kija heard Guen's voice above him and felt his presence lean closer.

"…Are you saying you're sorry you broke your word?"

Kija's face burned with shame at facing Guen again and remembering what he had done — but even so, there was only one answer. "No," he said. "I am not sorry that I broke that promise — I am sorry that I made it falsely. If I had known my own heart better, I would have known that it was more than I could bear. Instead, in my blindness, I treated the very people who have my highest gratitude and esteem with terrible cruelty. I'm ashamed to face you again after such a thing…"

That other claw took Kija's shoulder and lifted him up with gentle, irresistible force. He willed himself to look Guen in the face…

…And found a surprisingly indulgent lopsided smile waiting for him. "Hey. Neither one of us came out of that night looking so good. Let's just call it even, huh?"

Kija blinked. "But, Lord Guen, you didn't do anything wrong."

"Oh? That's not what you said a year ago."

Guen was still smiling, but Kija's face burned with fresh fire that left him stammering.

The founder laughed. "Well, if you still think I didn't — you are one of my kids, after all. I guess it's in the blood. White dragons aren't stupid, but sometimes we don't change our minds so fast."

Kija puzzled at this — as though he hadn't learned from last year, when he certainly had. But there were more important things than to puzzle over it. "Zeno is here with me, if you'd like to spend the night with your old friend."

Guen craned to look over Kija's shoulder. Kija followed his gaze, made the effort to bring the veiled reality of the physical world into focus, and found that Zeno had lain over sideways with his eyes shut and his medallion dangling askew.

"Leave him be," Guen decided. "He might have a nice dream tonight, you know? Or it might be his way of telling me, 'Talk to the kid, you big ox.'"

Kija let slip one sighing laugh. It was an incredible gift to see the founder again, not to be a conduit but just to spend time with him, especially now that it was a chance to reconcile after the last year, but it left him feeling awkward. At least as he cast about he could find something to say, although it still touched his sense of shame. "Have your injuries healed?" he asked.

"It's fine. You didn't think a few scratches like that would slow me down, did you? I'm more worried about you."

"It's been difficult, but I've recovered well," Kija said. Those wounds were still sore when prodded, but he had his strength back, perhaps even more than before.

"That's good," Guen sighed. "I am sorry about that. You scared me, coming at me like you did, but after it was over… Well, I'd still say 'you scared me,' but I'd mean something else." He folded himself, chin on his hand, elbow on his knee. For once his head was lower than Kija's. "You really saved me, too, you know."

"How so?"

"Mmm…" Uncharacteristically, Guen mulled his words. "All of that, it was about what I wanted. I didn't know it then, or I didn't admit it, but… No matter how much things had changed, I didn't want to let go. I wanted to be the one."

"That's only natural," Kija argued.

"It is. And I still think you were right; this bunch would have warmed up to me — the dragons can't hate each other for long. But I'll tell you this much." He turned, still leaning on his hand, and looked into Kija's face. "I would have regretted it. But by the time I figured it out, it would have been too late to take it back…"

The mention of regret, too painful to bear and too late to change, brought it all back. Kija still flinched at the memory of those poisoned claws across his back, that crushing pain… "I suppose then that both of us were saved from our regrets by someone's unkindness."

Guen's thick brows lifted. Kija opened his mouth, hesitating to explain, but Guen spoke first. "Where your father got you?"

"Ah — you knew?"

"If I hadn't seen it, I would have heard about it — holy dragons, he was mad at me."

Kija laughed from the awkward shock of hearing one of the founders use that as an exclamation. "That makes both of us, then," he said.

Guen laughed, too. "I had it coming from both of you — don't rub it in!"

"What? No, I meant Father was angry at both of us."

Guen stopped laughing abruptly. He straightened himself and blinked. "Where'd you get that idea?"

"Well, something like that… It wasn't the first time."

"I know."

"But I never… I always admired my father's devotion. I was grateful that he held it so strongly, that he made such a sacrifice passing it down to me," — not just to the next white dragon, but to Kija. "I never thought there was anything I needed to forgive him for. But feeling it that night, when it already hurt so much… It felt senselessly cruel. I thought, 'Isn't it enough? Why are you doing this?' Of course, I understand why —"

"No, you don't," Guen said.

"Hm?"

"When he scratched you, you felt something, didn't you? Not just a cut."

"Yes," Kija admitted. "It took all the regret I felt then and drove it in deeper…"

"Okay, there's where it got confused," Guen declared. "Still did what he meant to do, though."

"'Confused'?"

Guen looked gravely into Kija's face. "He wasn't trying to show you your regret — he was trying to show you his. He was saying, 'Here, this is what hurts the most, where I was jealous and I hurt you. Don't let someone else do this.'"

It struck Kija with a warming shock, and he took a moment to let it settle. "That could be right."

"It is right. Look, I'm not one for guessing games about this stuff. Zeno's told you, hasn't he, how they follow you around? I wouldn't be saying anything if I didn't know it from the source."

Kija gasped as that warming shock plunged deeper. It's true. Father is with me. He'd always known, but now, to be hearing from him at just one degree of separation… He wanted to cry, 'What else has he said? What does he say now? Tell him something for me!' — but he didn't. He knew now what it meant to be only a conduit for someone else's spirit, and he couldn't bring himself to treat the founder that way. He'd already been given the message he needed most, even if he hadn't understood it properly.

His face burned again; his eyes burned with tears. "That was… He saved me… And I didn't understand…"

Guen took him by the shoulder. "It's okay. It's better this way. If your dad's anything like me, he'd rather see you stand up for yourself than just do it because he told you to."

"But I got so angry at him!" Kija sobbed. "It hurt so much — but how could I have thought such an awful thing about — about my —"

"Don't worry about it," Guen said, patting him firmly but soothingly. "Kids get mad at their folks sometimes. Trust me, I know; I had sixteen of 'em."

Kija was caught in mid-sniffle and choked. "S- Sixteen?"

"Yeah. Nine boys and seven girls." He said it with a smile, but then it faded. "That is hard, when I think about how how long they've all been gone… But looking at you and your folks, I think they must have done a good job."

He gathered Kija to his shoulder and held him, bending his head to rest his cheek in Kija's hair. "You make me proud, kid."

Kija hadn't fully regained his composure, and at that, he let himself go again and sobbed on Guen's shoulder. Such a gift — like the gift half-offered the year before that he'd been unable to accept — words to assure him that he was carrying his blessed fate well, the feeling of another white dragon's arm embracing him…

Guen rocked him back and forth a little, even after the storm of emotion had calmed. The two of them sat together that way as a deep, calm silence settled. Kija thought that he should say something, like 'Thank you,' or 'I'm honored,' but the peace of the moment felt too sacred to disturb.

It was so quiet that, from the world of life waiting for him beyond the veil, he heard the first distant pop in the sky and cheer from the street.

Guen raised his head. "What was that?"

"Oh, the fireworks are starting," Kija said, breaking his voice loose again.

"'Fireworks'?"

"That's right; I suppose they wouldn't have had them in your time. To keep the village secret, we can't use them there, but they are very beautiful."

Guen craned curiously to see.

"Give me a moment," Kija told him.

When he stepped back into his body, he found himself staring at the ceiling of the room; all that could be seen of the fireworks was a faint, colored glow in the shadows where the lamps didn't reach. The floor mattress wasn't so soft that his head didn't ache where he'd fallen, but the pain was a small thing, and he picked himself up. He could feel Guen watching from behind him, as he himself had been the one watching from behind a year before.

Kija quietly folded the free end of Zeno's quilt over him, then brought his own quilt and draped it over the yellow dragon as well. Zeno smiled and rolled over, coiling the covers around himself like paper around a scroll.

Kija put on his cloak before opening the doors onto the balcony and letting in the winter air. The breeze from the sea didn't strike with the frigid sting of the winter wind in his own mountain village, but it had its own mild, heavy chill, and now it faintly carried the sharp, burnt scent of the fireworks. It was indeed a beautiful view as he sat down to watch, looking down onto a street bustling with lanterns and out to the harbor and the sky. Another streak of flame flew upward with a whistle and burst into a shower of orange hair-sparks.

Ahh, that is something! Kija heard Guen say. He could feel the founder looking over his shoulder at the celebration, the fireworks, the firelight wavering on the ocean from the burning offering boats. This is the kind of thing we'd have done at the Ancestors' Festival when I was your age.

Kija started to reply. I'd like to hear about that—

"Kija!"

He heard Yona's voice and leaned over the balcony to find the others waving at him from the street. He waved back.

Jae-ha leaned closer to Yona. Straining to hear, Kija just caught the words 'beautiful view' — and then Jae-ha caught Yona up in his arms and jumped. They flashed past Kija in a streak of green and red, and he heard them alight on the roof.

The others chased after them, into the inn and up to the room. Zeno didn't stir even at the sound of their footsteps as they came to join Kija on the balcony.

"Everything okay up here?" Yoon asked.

"Oh, yes! In fact I…" As he reached for the words to describe what a blessing tonight was, he felt, from that place behind him, a hand reach forward and cover his mouth.

I'm fine like this, Guen told him. Let's not scare them, huh?

"Ah… We've been enjoying a peaceful evening," Kija said; that was also the truth.

"I wonder how much longer that'll last." Yoon looked over as Hak climbed up onto the roof.

But a few moment later, Jae-ha jumped down onto the balcony beside them.

"You're staying down here with us?" Yoon asked.

"Well, they do say 'three's a crowd,'" he remarked with a shrug. "Besides, it's been annoying me all evening thinking of the trouble Kija could get himself into if I don't keep an eye on him."

Kija laughed awkwardly — it was a fair enough concern — but then Shin-ah distracted him, offering a basket filled with various snacks. He hesitated for a moment over his own tradition of leaving food on that night for ancestors, but finally he picked a rolled, crusted cracker and found it gingery and sweet. "Thank you; it's delicious."

Shin-ah nodded. He took a stick of puffed rice and began to tuck it into his robe; Ao poked her head out just long enough to snatch it before vanishing again, leaving only a quiver of cloth and the sound of munching to reveal her presence.

The fireworks were coming more quickly now, by twos and threes, and they settled in to watch. Now and then, Kija could hear Yona and Hak's voices from the roof. He could look through the doors into the room and see Zeno there, still coiled up in the quilts and smiling in his sleep. Yoon and Shin-ah sat down beside him, around the basket of food, and Shin-ah pushed back his mask to watch the fireworks as Jae-ha fetched his erhu from the room, sat on the balcony railing, and began to play.

Kija felt his heart swell with the joy of it, and with a little pain. He wished that the princess were there beside him. He wished that his father and his ancestors could be there, or that he could see them there; it tempted him with a twinge of guilt, but he knew that the best thing he could do for them would be not to hold back from any of it.

But he couldn't countenance acting selfish toward the one who was there with him. Inside himself, he turned back toward Guen, who still watched from behind him. Please, you're welcome to —

No, no, I learned my lesson! the founder replied. I'm happy right where I am. Seeing the dragons together again, having kids around me again… Kija could almost see that indulgent, lopsided smile. Can't say I'm glad I took that long learning my lesson, but… I'm glad I was here to meet everybody.

Yes, Kija thought. He'd had his own lessons that he'd been shamefully slow to learn, with more surely still to come. But to be with everyone, not just at a time like this, but every moment…

He was glad to be here.

The Longest Night - END

End Notes:

While I was writing this story, somehow I kept encountering that saying about "the cracks are where the light comes in," and it seems to fit.

This started with a fairly throwaway line at the beginning of Not All Chains where I invented gifts the other original dragons got from their king (kind of in apology for the time he gave Zeno the medallion). Guen's necklace was just what I came up with — and of course White Dragon Village would still have it and of course Kija would gush about getting to wear it.

From there the idea snowballed into this kind of spiritual sequel — getting to meet Guen like we met Shuten in Not All Chains — and I immediately knew what the conflict would be: that once we got Kija channeling Guen, we would be in real danger of not getting Kija back. In the end, we do get him back (there's your Possible Character Death spoiler), but it's a near thing that ends in an ugly fight. I knew all this right away but it was kind of scary to go with it because, well, this isn't everyone's finest moment. Kija and Guen are both good and well-meaning people, but in this case their respective character flaws interact disastrously — they have enough of the same blinkered recklessness to go off the rails together, Kija's poorly bounded scrupulosity sets Guen's straightforward stubbornness underway, and I think it's fair to suppose that white dragons' troubles with Letting Go go all the way back. Plus the result gives everyone else a chance to have grief reactions that aren't necessarily pretty (e.g. Yoon never making it past Denial and Jae-ha going all in on Anger and Depression).

Yeah, at some point I realized just how badly I needed to add the coda.

At the risk of undercutting the stakes of my own fic, though, I don't think even the worst case would have been as complete a disaster as it seemed — because I have thought about the "what if I had pulled the trigger?" scenario. As seen in the coda, Guen would have softened and had time to change tracks by next year, enough to trade places again. In the meantime, it would have been challenging, but I think the others would have warmed up to him enough not to leave with hard feelings. Kija would have been sad at first, but being dead wouldn't have been enough to stop him from doing his best for Yona and the others, and he probably would have gone off on some kind of spirit-world quest and leveled up somehow, although damned if I would know how to write that.

But that wasn't what was supposed to happen, because this way gives the level-up I did (?) know how to write. Yes, being a spiritual sequel to Not All Chains doesn't just mean meeting the original, it means a character development lesson for their successor. Jae-ha's lesson was "break down some of your walls" (and he's working on it in Medicine and Poison, bless him); Kija's lesson is "build up some of your boundaries." I think Kija is the one with the messiest enmeshment between his sense of self and his role as a dragon warrior, and when he can't align the two he has trouble valuing and standing up for himself for his own sake — so this is the outcome that moves him in that direction, however messily. See also his occasional lines about his willingness to throw his life away for his duty; this was a chance to rub his nose in what that would actually mean without ultimately pulling the trigger.

What the lesson might be for Shin-ah, meeting Abi? Well, sadly I don't quite have a plotbunny for that to complete the set, but I will continue to think about it.

As mentioned, I think this story came out messier than Not All Chains did. Like, most of the important stuff that happens in this one is just people talking, plus there's tons of exposition, I didn't know how to get to and from the climax without rambling, and I admit it's kind of clumsy in its determination and earnestness (like its focus character perhaps). But I wanted to get it done no matter how messy it turned out. Partly that's because I think the ideas and themes are worth it…

…And partly it's because this thing is so dang fun to brainstorm side stories for! The village scribes with their airbrushed histories and their Kija Observation Logs! Feelsy, quiet character pieces while Kija's recovering! Shin-ah making new friends! Yoon getting to play in Granny's mad science laboratory! Zeno getting to keep the bead where ghost!Guen lives and the two of them maybe having more scenes together (gods they deserve it after getting put through this wringer) and maybe they even go back and visit ghost!Shuten… I don't know if I'll actually write any of it, but how could I not at least create the potential? (And in case anyone else feels the same way, I do have that blanket permission policy…)

Hope you enjoyed the story!