The wind whispered through the coconut palms, brushing salt from the sea into the air like an offering. On the island of Abaiang in Kiribati, dusk arrived with soft orange and purple hues that kissed the horizon. Lianora Wei crouched beneath the tall taro leaves in her grandmother's garden, her fingers digging gently into the earth.
She wasn't looking for roots.
She had seen something glint there the night before—a strange green shimmer from beneath the soil. And now, with her heart racing and her hands dirty, she uncovered it.
A circular pendant, smooth like jade but warmer in her palm, lay before her. Strange carvings, spirals that swirled like waves and dragons, etched its surface. As her fingers curled around it, the ground trembled beneath her feet—not violently, but enough to make the taro leaves shudder.
Lianora stood, heart in her throat, the relic warm against her chest.
"You've been out late again," her grandmother scolded gently over a bowl of boiled breadfruit and fish.
"Sorry," Lianora mumbled, hiding the pendant in her pocket. Her grandmother's eyes were sharp, though dimmed with age.
"You felt it, didn't you?" the old woman asked suddenly.
Lianora looked up. "Felt what?"
"The tremor. The sea is restless. And you… you've been dreaming again, haven't you?"
Lianora froze. The dreams had returned in full force ever since she arrived in Kiribati. Dreams of green temples, of warriors cloaked in flame, and a boy with storm-gray eyes who called her name in a language she didn't know.
"I don't understand what's happening to me," she admitted softly.
Her grandmother gave her a long look, then stood. She pulled down an old, dust-covered box from the top of the shelf. From it, she took out a scroll, faded and torn at the edges.
"This is part of your legacy," she said. "You are not just Kiribati. Your mother was from China. Your great-grandfather was the last Keeper of the Jade Path."
Lianora blinked. "The what?"
Her grandmother unrolled the scroll. Drawings of two lands connected by an ocean bridge shimmered faintly on the old paper—one land marked by dragons, the other by spirits made of coral and flame.
"There was once a bond between our lands," her grandmother whispered. "China held the Jade Spirit. We, the Flame Guardian. But the Jade Spirit was taken by a man who sought immortality, breaking the balance. Only the blood of both worlds can restore it."
Lianora touched the pendant again. "Why me?"
"Because you dreamed," her grandmother said. "And because you found the key."
That night, Lianora held the pendant tightly as she slept. When the dreams came, they were stronger than before.
She stood in a bamboo forest drenched in moonlight. A river carved through the trees like a silver snake. And on the other side of the river stood him—the boy from her dreams. Tall, dressed in ancient robes, his long dark hair tied back with a dragon pin. His eyes, storm-gray and sharp, studied her with a mix of sadness and hope.
"You found it," he said.
"Who are you?" she asked.
"My name is Wei Shen," he replied. "You carry the pendant. You are the bridge."
Before she could ask more, the sky cracked open with thunder and fire rained down from above. A great beast, serpentine and glowing with emerald scales, roared from the heavens.
Lianora woke with a scream, drenched in sweat, the pendant now glowing faintly in her hand.
Two days later, she was boarding a plane to China.
It felt surreal. Just a week ago, she had been lost, unsure of who she was, suspended between two cultures. Now, she carried a pendant older than time and dreams of a boy whose name was branded into her heart.
The university archives in Xi'an were ancient and vast. Her great-grandfather's records had been stored there, her grandmother said. A single contact—a professor named Zhang Yuelin—was all she had.
Zhang was younger than she expected. Mid-thirties, glasses perched on his nose, and eyes that sparked with curiosity.
"You say your ancestor was Wei Liang?" he asked, scanning the documents she handed him. "The last Keeper? That would explain this." He pointed to a sealed letter in an old file. "This was addressed to his bloodline. It's never been opened."
Lianora broke the wax seal with trembling fingers.
Inside was a map—half burned, but still legible—and a name: "Mount Wutai." Along the edge of the paper were six characters: "He waits where jade and fire meet."
As they traveled toward the mountains, Zhang explained the legend.
"The Jade Path was a hidden spiritual route through China," he said. "Monks, mystics, and even emperors once sought its power. But when the last Emperor tried to bind the Jade Spirit for eternal life, the path collapsed. Chaos spread, and the Flame Guardian across the sea vanished."
"And the balance broke," Lianora finished. "Now I'm supposed to fix it."
Zhang glanced at her, curiosity turning to something softer. "You don't have to do this alone."
She turned her face to the window, but her heart fluttered at the warmth in his voice.
It wasn't just the ancient boy in her dreams she thought of now—it was also the man beside her. Both pulling her into a destiny she didn't yet understand.
Author's Note – About the Story
*"Tides Between Jade and Flame" is a work of fantasy fiction. While inspired by the rich cultures and natural beauty of China and Kiribati, the people, events, nations, and conflicts in this story are entirely imaginary.
This novel is not intended to reflect real-world politics, historical events, or cultural beliefs. It is written purely for creative and entertainment purposes.
Thank you for understanding and joining Lianora on her journey."*