Page 42

The Prophecy

The fourth day is the bloodiest.

We push closer to the northern sector from the northwest, where the Gyeulcheon-Wyusan forces are concentrated. There is a new style of fighting that has been implemented by the opposing army. Soldiers take on the Imugi in quartets. Two of these soldiers will be archers, the other two trained in the sword. This tactic has been more effective than I would like. The archers aim for the Imugi eyes, uncovered by protective scales. The swordsmen aim to strike the killing blows.

Yet I have implemented new strategies, as well. Lightning to create fire, destroying infrastructure. Fighting the Dokkaebi with Chan’s firesword, piercing their armor. Collecting the firearrows, shooting back with striking aim. To retaliate against the quartets, I order my Imugi to fight in pairs of two, the better to guard one another. And there is, of course, the matter of the venom. It’s quite useful, how quickly it incapacitates the opposing side. My Imugi are relentless with it, and as rain pounds from our summoned storms, it is hard to avoid the poison through the sheets of water.

Haneul and I battle, although it is different than before. I do not wish to wound myself, and he doesn’t wish to kill the body belonging to his weakling of a wife. Thus Haneul and I are evenly matched, and the columns of Dokkaebi fire he utilizes are his only advantage against me. Inflicting the flames upon me does not seem to impact him at all. Even with the red thread of fate tying our wounds together, the emperor is still immune to his own fire. He remains the only being who can walk through those flames and not feel a lick of pain.

I evade the fire as I have, dulling it with unnatural winds and rains. My goal is to subdue him, to capture him, to neutralize him as best I can— without killing him. His goal is the same. Yet every time I manage to strike him, I must feel the same pain for as long as he does. It is a fool’s battle between us, and I am enraged.

So strong is my army’s storm that it is a weapon as well—a weapon that unsteadies fighting soldiers, shoving them off-balance and obscuring their vision with sheets upon sheets of icy rain. Thunder booms as my forces, and I finally break into the northern sector, the palace within reach. I laugh as the bedlam reaches a frenzied, desperate pacing. Around us, all other buildings burn and burn and burn as lightning strikes wood before being quickly drenched by the rain.

As the capital’s scout towers collapse, soldiers are trapped underneath scorched tinder. Wood whips into the air, slicing open skin.

I laugh.

The hours pass, punctuated by the cries of the fallen. But there is no stopping me now, not when the palace is so very, very close. When I take Moon’s palace, I officially take the throne and claim the second kingdom out of the three. All that will be left is Bonseyo—poor, fractured Bonseyo, whose royals are too focused on their in-fighting to concentrate on the impending war.

As if they can already taste the victory, my Imugi become even more vicious, striking and striking hard in their pairings. Uloe and Beongae, both without their riders since Iseul’s capture and Bomin’s death, take the lead, cutting a path toward the palace for Sonagi and me to follow. The battle reaches its crescendo, a glorious, glorious crescendo, and Haneul—atop his chollima—attempts one last desperate attack on my army, pelting Dokkaebi fire down from the sky, aiming for the rearing serpents, aiming for me.

The blue orbs crash into the blood-soaked earth, sending clods of dirt and stone flying up at its impact. It singes Uloe, who hisses in pain, and chars some of Beongae’s scales. Yet their wounds are soothed by the storm, and I—with a vicious leer—aim for his steed with one of my venom-tipped arrows. The Dokkaebi himself will be fine, will teleport away, but this horse has been a constant thorn in my side.

Haneul’s eyes widen in alarm and he veers away, mouth moving urgently as he speaks to the chollima. My arrow is loosed, but the chollima plummets feet below where it strikes, tucking in her white wings before extending them once more. Haneul, face grim, leaps from his steed and she zips off, anxious for safety.

He hits the ground hard in front of Sonagi and me just as we approach the hundreds of stone steps before the gleaming red palace. With his soldiers nearest us cut down, and the rest engaged behind me with my serpents, the emperor is the last obstacle before the kingdom of Wyusan is entirely mine and its capital city of Sanyeongto falls.

Sonagi rears, hissing, but she is unsure of how to attack him without attacking me. This new combat is…difficult. How does one abduct an emperor by using minimal harm?

“You won’t pass,” Haneul says, drawing his firesword, extending the blade.

I roll my eyes. “Please, husband dearest,” I croon, sickly sweet as he flinches, “let’s not pretend that you’ll do anything but refuse to harm a hair on my head. I can feel her, you know, running around in here”—I gesture vaguely to my head—“doing who knows what. Whatever it is, Haneul, it will not work. Wyusan will be mine, as soon as you step out of my way. And Bonseyo will follow immediately after. My destiny will be Fulfilled, and there will be nothing that you, or she, can do to stop it. Now, move.”

Haneul scowls, twirling the blade. I watch as his eyes flick up—toward the heavens, the raging storm, in which something seems to…stir.

The gods.

They’d best not descend. The sun and moon deities, according to Bomin’s intelligence, are not to be expected until after they have recovered, which was projected to be sometime after the potential taking of Sanyeongto. The twins hoped to give Rui a chance to prove his competence.

I note that Haneul does not look pleased at the thought of divine intervention, either.

I wrench my gaze down from the storm. If there is a divinity lurking up there, it is prudent that I end this quickly—

Something dives down from the dark sky, a blur of black feathers and a sharp, sharp laugh that cuts through the battle. My eyes widen as Haneul, head whipping upward, curses violently—and as the creature swoops into him, sending the Dokkaebi flying through the air, and landing in the bedlam behind us. I feel the pounding pain at his impact—the way that his breath is knocked out of him, ensuring he cannot yet utilize his teleportation magic to return—but I pay it no heed as I take in this new arrival who now stands on the first step of the palace stairway.

Stands, because the creature is not a creature after all but a young man, with deep, angular brown eyes and short, spiky hair.

A young man with large raven’s wings jutting out from his back.

His eyes lock with mine. I am half ready to attack, but he only smiles and steps aside.

Sanyeongto’s stairs loom before me. At the top, the capital’s palace awaits.

With a wary look at Haneul’s attacker, I begin to ascend the stairs with Sonagi following behind me. And as Dokkaebi desperately teleport themselves in front of me, as arrows soar through the sky, as bloodshed stains those thick stone stairs, the strange boy laughs and laughs and laughs.

He is still laughing as I take the throne.

He is still laughing as Wyusan becomes mine.