Page 5

The Prophecy

Night falls, and I savor the silence.

Although we are only a day’s ride away from the Wyusan Wilderness, where the tree leaves are still brittle and orange, the snow where we have made our camp for the night on the mountain is thick and glittering white. It dulls the sound of Bomin’s desperate attempts at wooing Iseul as they sit around a fire, eating the rabbit I shot down for them.

“Ssso close,” Sonagi hisses. “Can you tassste it, Child of Venom?” Her dark, forked tongue—the same as mine—flicks out to sample the night air.

“ Haneul is planning something ,” I reply darkly, toying idly with the red thread as I will it into existence, passing my fingers through the insubstantial scarlet material. “I feel it.” If I concentrate, his emotions—anticipation and determination—are mine to experience as well.

“Bessst find out, ” Sonagi murmurs. “Undoubtedly he is gathering alliesss. What is it Bomin said?”

“ Empress Moon is in correspondence with the Dokkaebi. She is training her troops.” One of Bomin’s latest pieces of intelligence concerns Wyusan, from a general who owes Bomin many favors—and has been promised leniency when I arrive (a lie, really, but he doesn’t need to know the futility of his efforts). I sent missives of my own, of course, detailing in exquisite detail the benefits of Moon’s surrender. I only received one letter back.

Fuck off , Empress Moon had scrawled back. There was not even a signature, nor a royal seal.

And that was that in terms of the Wyusan negotiations. I have not yet heard a word from Bonseyo. I was not surprised. Empress Moon Dahee is known to be ruthless. She married Emperor Soo Hyunjin of Wyusan, briefly becoming a part of Wyusan’s ancient Soo Dynasty. And then, before the emperor could get an heir out of her and solidify the dying Soo line, she killed him and took the throne—as well as his army—for herself, founding the Moon Dynasty.

Rather impressive, honestly.

In terms of the Jeon Dynasty further north, I have not yet heard a word from Bonseyo. Either they have something interesting planned, or nothing at all. Judging by what I know of small-minded mortals, it is likely the latter.

I sigh, stroking one of Sonagi’s diamond-hard scales. “I will pay Haneul a visit.” There is a trick to this soul-stitching of ours. If I so desire, I can spy on my enemy. “But Moon is a fool if she expects to find a solid stand against us .”

Snow quietly crunches under light feet as Iseul abandons Bomin in favor of joining my side. The Gumiho is smirking. She finds Bomin’s extravagance amusing. I don’t. “Mmm,” the Gumiho says, licking her fingers. “That wasn’t quite as good as human liver, but I suppose it’ll do in a pinch.” Without waiting for an invitation, she takes a seat next to me on my cloak, patting Sonagi with a grin. This far from the fire, Iseul is shivering a bit, but I am not. My scales run up my arms and legs, and frame my face, blocking out most of the cold. “Do I hear that you’re paying your dear husband a little visit? If he’s meeting with that horrid Empress Moon, I might give you an, ah, warning .”

“Oh?” The Gumiho has been one of my most valuable allies thus far. Any advice she offers, I will listen to.

After the night I took Sunpo for my own, I recited my exact destiny for her, watching as her dark eyes grew with awe and glee. As her pink tongue darted out to lick her lips in hunger, and as the corner of her lips pulled up in an animalistic sort of anticipation. In that moment, with her head cocked and a cold determination frosting her visage, Song Iseul struck me as more than just a Gumiho, but a weapon—one fit for my arsenal for years to come.

“ Very nice, Lina,” she’d said after a moment of awed contemplation. “I rather like the whole bit about ruling all. I expect that as your friend, there will be some added bonuses for me, no?”

There will be, indeed. Iseul is useful, and she will be even more useful if meticulously cared for. That is what one does with weapons, after all. She will be given power, what she has always longed for. A place above the mortals who killed her kind.

Now, Iseul pulls her cloak tighter around her shoulders. “From what I know of her—some of my Doves came from her court—she likes to toy with men. You may see something…” Iseul hesitates, her usual cheer dipping. For a moment, she almost looks concerned. “Uncomfortable.”

“She is welcome to him.” I wrinkle my nose. “Pleasures of the flesh mean nothing to me. He means nothing to me.”

Iseul arches a brow a little wryly, and I know she is thinking of the wedding day—how she helped this body into the traditional attire, how she cheered during the final kiss, how Haneul and his soul-stitched seemed, for a brief moment, so very much in love.

But that Lina was not me. That was the Prisoner, the girl I keep locked away. I am the Prophecy.

But Iseul does not understand that difference, for she does not need to. It is a concept that is confusing, unknowable by those of lesser intelligence. And while my Gumiho is cunning, and crafty, I do not expect her to comprehend my complexities in their totality.

“Well,” Iseul says, “that’s true, I suppose. You’ve been trying to kill each other for a while now. But just don’t be surprised when the empress starts telling your husband how pretty he is, how tall he is, and my, what big biceps you have… ”

Her voice fades away as I close my eyes. In the darkness, the red thread appears before me. I follow it to a splash of color in the midst of the inky black, where Haneul is standing below a phoenix throne. The elevated, red structure is raised feet from the ground by a high dais harboring a small set of stairs leading to the seat. The actual chair pales in comparison to the glossy columns supporting the multiple eaves above, and the folding screen depicting in vibrant blues and rich golds the sun and moon and stars.

The woman sitting upon the throne, I note, cocking my head, looks quite different from what I expected. She’s younger, though, perhaps in her mid-twenties. Empress Moon Dahee of Wyusan wears not the traditional robes of an empress, but the attire of a soldier, not unlike the plate-armor Haneul and his forces wear. The Wyusan forces wear brown leather lamellar armor, the color of the trees in their stretch of wilderness. Moon’s dark hair is cut short and choppy save for two long, thin braids framing her face. And although her clothing and the length of her hair may lean toward traditionally masculine, her features are anything but. Plump lips. High cheekbones and golden-brown skin. Two dimples and a pert nose.

Yet there is something…off…with her eyes. They look like she is willing them to be warm, but a natural coldness still seeps through. Interesting. This is the woman who ended the Soo Dynasty and began her own. Grudgingly, I admit that I am not entirely disrespectful of that fact.

“Emperor Haneul Rui,” Empress Moon says with a small, almost shy, smile. In the corners of the vision, soldiers stand guard, watching the Dokkaebi warily. I feel Haneul’s flinch as she utters his family name. It is the same as when I invoke it.

It is a reminder that he may no longer claim the family name of Shin, as he briefly did after the marriage.

“It’s nice to finally make your acquaintance after the missives and spokespeople you’ve sent,” the empress continues. “Although one does wonder why you haven’t bothered to come yourself until now.” To my surprise, her voice is quiet. She’s soft-spoken despite the ssang gum sheathed at her waist. The twin swords’ hilts match in both length and lotus flower design.

I watch as Haneul smiles, lips tight. “Apologies, Empress Moon,” he says and my own lips curl in disgust as I watch the red thread between us ripple as he inclines his head. “My army and I have been preoccupied as of late, attempting to stop the Prophecy’s army before they enter the Wyusan Wilderness. An endeavor that I seem to recall you placing particular emphasis on.”

Empress Moon titters. “Oh… A valid point, Emperor. I would, admittedly, appreciate the avoidance of a war. If you stop them before they take Wyusan, my preferred strategy will be successful.” Her lips twitch for a split-second. “So…tell me. How does that battle fare?”

Haneul’s expression has no warmth in it as he replies, “The Prophecy will enter your wilderness soon, Empress Moon. Your forces are needed.”

Satisfaction blooms in my chest as Moon blinks, her smile falling. On the phoenix throne, she stiffens and leans forward. “Do you mean to tell me,” she asks incredulously, “that the Dokkaebi—creatures of legend, descendants of the gods , if your advisor is to be believed—have failed to stop some Sunpo snake-girl from crossing the Yaepak Mountains?”

I feel Haneul’s sudden flare of anger. The intensity of it almost takes me aback. Usually, that ire is directed toward me. I narrow my eyes analytically as I watch Haneul struggle for control. “As I have told you,” he says in a low voice coated in ice, “she is a Prophecy. Stopping her is not something that is so easily done.”

“Then what,” laments Moon, “is even the point of fighting? Why engage in this…charade? It is a losing game. And, to be honest, I’m not fond of games that I cannot win. A flaw of mine.” She sighs delicately.

Something, I think, is… wrong about her tone. It rings false in my keen ears that can pick up every undertone beneath those words.

Haneul scoffs, tilting his head in a way that is most hawk-like. “A question I never believed I would hear from the girl who grew up power-hungry. Who lied her way into this very palace and seduced the last Soo emperor and manipulated him into marriage. Who slit his throat and took his throne and army for herself, who created her own dynasty.” Haneul takes a step closer to the throne. His jaw is so tight that I hope he will crack a tooth. “Well, Moon, here it is. Will you surrender your throne? I can assure you that the Prophecy won’t let you live, even if you do. Or will you stand against her? To grapple for some semblance of a chance to save your people?”

An inspiring speech, I think derisively and tilt my head, continuing to watch the exchange with no small amount of annoyance. Moon is pulling Haneul along by the strings if her response to my missive— fuck off— is to be believed. The warrior-empress will join the battle. She will do no such thing as surrendering this lavish throne, this kingdom, her Wyusan Wilderness. That much is clear. Although Haneul may miss it, with his general lack of basic intelligence, I see the spark behind Moon’s doe eyes. She’s doing precisely what my Gumiho said she would do—toying with him. Her sweet, innocent demeanor does not match that harsh scrawl I received.

She wants something from Haneul. The only question, I suppose, is what.

Moon Dahee is silent. She lowers her eyes, and I watch with exasperation as her shoulders begin to shake. “Oh, Emperor,” she whispers helplessly. “How has it come to this?”

Haneul, to his credit—which truly, I give him very little of—stares on impassively at this little show. “I have kept you well-informed of my battalion’s losses. You know precisely how it occurred.”

The woman wipes her eyes. “You need my help.”

“Yes,” grits out the Dokkaebi emperor. “Your forces, joined with ours, would reinforce the stand against Sunpo greatly.”

“But, Rui,” breathes Empress Moon, and I watch as Haneul blinks warily at the casualty with which she suddenly addresses him, “we are only mortals. What worth are we to your army?”

To my surprise and great interest, I feel a flash of guilt pierce me from the outside. Haneul stiffens almost imperceptibly. It’s his emotion I feel. “Do not underestimate your value,” he says quietly, and Empress Moon’s lips twitch. I catch a glimpse of the true Moon Dahee for a moment as this facade of meekness falters, replaced by…hunger? She looks, for a moment, at Haneul like he is a confectionary, and she is a child with teeth rotting from sugar. “We need Wyusan’s aid, Empress. I urge you to give it before it is too late.”

“You must understand,” the empress explains softly, “that this undertaking is…perilous. My soldiers and I, we will require certain…comforts, both long term and short term.” Empress Moon rises and descends the phoenix throne until she stands close to Haneul, staring up at him beneath thick lashes.

“Such as?” Haneul demands, impatient.

With those words, the empress’s facade falls away, and the hunger reemerges on her face. “Such as an alliance that lasts long after the war is over,” Moon Dahee replies, soft voice now sultry. Haneul’s emotions—surprise and dread—crest through our thread. “Until then, I would be satisfied with your presence in my bed every night.”

“I am married,” Haneul replies scathingly, his throat working. Rage flickers in his cold glare.

Empress Moon laughs and shakes her head. “Your wife is trying to kill you. I think that counts as an annulment.”

“I am married ,” Haneul repeats firmly, and I want to snort at his foolishness. There is as much marriage between us as a predator and her prey.

The queen abruptly stops laughing and peers into the emperor’s face. “Do you mean to say that you love this monster?”

“I love who she once was.” Haneul takes a step back from Moon, his distaste palpable. “It troubles me, Empress, that you would place a decision to protect your land and people on whether or not I will sleep with you.”

Moon Dahee scowls. “I’m not a fool. My forces are clearly to take the brunt of Sunpo’s attacks. Pardon me if I want compensation.”

“You will have compensation,” Haneul replies cuttingly, “but you will not have me. You will not manipulate me as you did Emperor Soo Hyunjin.”

“Then let me revise my terms,” Moon says sweetly. “One night with you, Rui. Give it to me, and in return, you will have my army. Don’t pretend,” she croons, “that you do not want it. That you missed being…touched. I’ve often wondered what it would be like to bed a god. I suppose you’re close enough.” Her hand reaches forth, and a nail-bitten finger trails its way down Haneul’s hard face before slinking down his chest, heading toward his navel…

Somewhere, in the back of my mind, a girl grips the rungs of her cage. I feel her looking through my eyes.

No. I shove her away. Faintly, I sense her cringe of pain as she hits the floor of her cell.

Weak, spineless thing.

Haneul’s own hand shoots out and grabs Moon’s. He holds it, eyes blazing. I watch as the Dokkaebi leans in close and sneers. The guards bristle, but a quick look from Moon ensures that they stand down—for now.

“I will say this only once more,” Haneul growls. “ I am married . But also, Moon, is the fact that I do not want you . I do not want your touch. I do not want anything from you but your army and your aid. If you refuse to give it to me because I will not sleep with you, then so be it . You may watch as your kingdom is taken and your wilderness burned. And then you can watch as the Prophecy’s blade nears your neck and know that you had every chance to fight back but didn’t.” With a snarl, he unhands the empress, who has frozen. “What will it be?” He smirks, but there is no hint of amusement in his expression. “And do not pretend that you have not decided. Your mind was made up the moment you heard the Prophecy was poised to enter your lands.”

Moon’s face darkens as she rubs her wrist. “Fine,” she spits angrily. “I must admit that my desire for you has now banked considerably.”

Haneul chuckles. It is a hollow and dangerous sound.

Her eyes narrow. “But I’ve heard that you use your pocket realm for your war camp. I demand that your forces and mine share the same encampment and have access to the same resources. It’s only fair, if you’re toting us off like hogs to the slaughterhouse.”

Haneul’s lips thin. “There is no possible way for us to teleport your soldiers to and from each battle—”

“Then move your camp to Iseung ,” snarls Moon. Her demeanor is markedly different, now that she has been rejected. “And should Bonseyo’s emperor finally take his head out of his saggy ass and realize that there is a war outside of his family’s bickering, he too will share the camp. That is my demand. See that it is fulfilled, Emperor Haneul.” She turns and stalks back up to her throne, where she sits with an almost child-like huff. “You’re dismissed.”

Haneul sketches a mock-bow that somehow conveys more disdain and disrespect than a crude gesture ever could. “And I am sincerely delighted to be,” he sneers with withering contempt.

Yet as I open my eyes, returning to my body on the Yaepak Mountains, there is none as delighted as I. For with the Dokkaebi hiding in Gyeulcheon, sieges on my side have been impossible to instigate.

But with Gyeulcheon’s forces moving camp to Iseung…

My smile grows.

A future ambush may be very easy, indeed.