Page 26

The Prisoner

Yeomra.

When I saw him, pressing my face against the bars…

When I saw him, I thought he was there to kill me.

There was—gods, for a moment, there was such a complete and unending terror that it was the most I could do to grip the rungs of my cell hard enough to stay upright and continue watching.

And perhaps distracted by the deity of death, the Prophecy let me. Let me watch as Yeomra, beautiful as the bite of a blade, deadly as a rolling thunderstorm, greeted the Imugi as if they were a litter of kittens. Let me watch as those violet eyes somehow met mine —not the Prophecy’s, mine —searing through the body I once inhabited and piercing where I stand imprisoned in this mindscape.

I have been seen by a god.

A god .

One of my cherished deities, the same divine being I envisioned as the hand guiding my own as I slipped through Sunpo, naming myself the Reaper after his Jeoseung Saja of legend. The knowledge is all-consuming, nearly unbearable. Never have I doubted their existence, but seeing him—in the flesh, not just in a long-ago memory—is overwhelming in the very worst and best of ways. The gods have seen what this body has done. And they… They are angry.

I try to breathe evenly. One breath in, then out. In, then out. I long for the bitter bite of halji, so much that it dries out my mouth and quickens my heart. The Prophecy smokes it, I know, tearing my hard-worked resilience to abstain into shreds.

What do they think of me, those treasured deities? Do they know it is not the true Shin Lina, destroying villages and demanding worship? Do they care?

I do not want them to see my body like this. I do not even know if I am even a person or if I am only a little figment of a fractured mind…

It doesn’t matter.

The gods are coming.

The gods are coming. And they will make me pay.

The realization breaks me completely, as if I am nothing but a glass figurine in the uncaring hands of a laughing child.

…

The Prophecy is nearing Sanyeongto. There have been no divine obstacles, not yet, but every moment now feels like a brewing storm. Rui has not come since he was ripped apart from me by the pain of our twin wounds. I have not gotten the chance to ask of him what I must and am calmed only by the possibility that, at any moment, he might appear.

As I wait, I run my hands along the sides of the walls, over the rungs, testing for a spot of hidden weakness. I am trained in this searching; Yoonho ensured it. Capture was always a possibility when working for the Talons, and my leader needed proof his Reaper would be able to return if stolen away by rivals. He locked me in Sunpo’s hidden crevices, and each time, I broke out.

First, it was a sewer. Then it was the underground tunnels below the kingdom. Dungeons. And in his final test, a gallowsroom before a hanging. I earned his pride all four times.

There came a time, though, where I could not escape. But by then, the Talons were dead.

I focus on the rungs with difficulty, ignoring the taunts and leers of the Dalgyal Gwisin. I pull on them carefully, listening for any noises that may signify a shift, an unstable spot. It would sound like a soft groaning, or perhaps a creaking of metal. I work my way across the bars, brows furrowed in concentration, sweat trickling down my back.

And then I hear it. At the very end of the row, right near the edge of the wall…that soft groaning, that creaking of metal, so faint that I must have missed it the first time around underneath Eunbi’s jeers. These bars, near the end… Whatever the reason, they’re weaker than the others. I grit my teeth and pull, yet despite their diminished sturdiness, still they do not move. Panting, I step away, wiping my grimy hands on my tattered pants.

I may not be able to create an opening.

But I know somebody who can.

Where is he?

…

I pace back and forth in my cell, waiting for Rui as I have been for what seems like hours upon hours.

Yesterday before Yeomra, the Prophecy fell to her knees in pain. Rui must have felt that, through the bond, through that red thread that connects him to it, and him to me. Has it severely wounded him as well? This injury I’ve not felt from the Prophecy—it seems that only severe injuries can reach me in here. It is interesting, then, that I can feel Rui’s own minor scrapes and wounds regardless.

I will the thread into view now and, before I can lose my nerve, tug on it. Perhaps it will call him to me. Time is of haste. Until I was shoved away as I so often am, I peered through the Prophecy’s eyes and heard for the first time their plan to take the Beast Wall. Half the forces, the strongest forces, travelling by sea. The other half serving as a distraction, voyaging by land. And the Dokkaebi do not know.

But I can—I can tell him. I can be a spy for Rui, in the very mind of his enemy. I tug on the thread again. And again. And againagain againagainagain —

“Lina?”

Finally. Finally .

Rui, haggard, is stepping forth from that strange door. He looks even worse than usual. The typically dark shadows of sleeplessness underneath his eyes have taken on a purple tinge, and deep lines of stress bracket the sides of his mouth.

I want to ask what happened, but a part of me is too frightened to do so. To further acknowledge I have caused this suffering. But Rui is not hurt, at least physically—I would feel it if he was. He is, I fear, anticipating the Sanyeongto attack. At least now he will know of the Prophecy’s strategies and can adequately prepare for the opposing army’s siege.

One of his fingers is curled around our thread. “I had…the strangest feeling. Did you call for me?” His tone is nearly unreadable, yet I know him well enough to understand that the faint tinge underneath his words is hope—I would know this even without the emotion cresting through the tie between us. I swallow hard and scramble to my feet.

I must speak to you of something.

“What is it?” His silver eyes are wide, so wide, and I remember how they looked when he used to laugh, how they crinkled at the corners and sparkled like thousands of stars. His hope quickly turns to worry, anxious energy pricking me from the outside.

With quick movements, I explain to him the diversion the Prophecy has created with the goal of taking Sanyeongto. My fingers flash, fast and nimble, detailing every element of the plan I was able to overhear before I was shoved aside. Alarm flares through the thread, yet I do not stop there, detailing Yeomra’s visit.

The gods will ally with you , I tell him urgently, signing fast. Dalnim and Haemosu, perhaps others. Tell me—do gods have the power to stop a Prophecy from being fulfilled?

Rui’s face goes strangely pale. “They very well might. They’ve been absent for centuries. We’ve never seen what their effect on a Prophecy could be. I would…I would venture to say yes. Yes, they just might.” His voice is hoarse. I wonder why he is not celebrating, but then he adds: “And they will kill you— us —without remorse.”

Us . That one word, that one small, monosyllabic word, slices through my bones as I glance toward the Dalgyal Gwisin, lingering in the shadows outside my cell. My stomach twists. Knowing what is coming for us… Knowing that my body’s wounds, somehow, appear on Rui… Death, for the two of us, as inescapable as a storm rolling on the horizon. But how? How long until the storm showers down upon us? And how will we die?

Not dishonorably. Our deaths can still mean something.

I will not have Rui meet death alone, while I cower here. I want to die as myself . I want to die fighting . To show the gods, idols of my childhood, that I am not the woman razing villages and capturing kingdoms, calling herself a goddess.

This prison… This cage … I cannot let it be my forever. Not while the gods above prepare for war, not while my sister below believes me to be a monster.

Gods, I am so fucking frightened . But when has that ever mattered? I have been scared all my life. Sick with it, shaking with it, pushed to do things I believed myself incapable of doing. This is no different. There exists something beyond fear.

And that is power.

I can’t do this , I sign, and I feel Rui’s disappointment like a dagger to my heart.

But I am not done. Far from it. I have been waiting to sign these next words for such a very long time.

I can’t do this without you.