Page 63

The Prophecy

When the leather pouches of water mysteriously disappear, I know that it is the work of Haneul. Just as I know it is when a handful of my Imugi fall ill after their supper of deer and moose, and when Eunwoo wakes up to the smell of smoke and realizes that his wings are on fire.

Blue fire, to be precise.

Although the prince was able to snuff out the Dokkaebi fire before it caused true harm other than a few singed feathers, Haneul’s tricks have created a delay in our route toward the Bonseyo Shadowshafts.

Which is undoubtedly what he wanted.

I seethe as I drink from a Bonseyo river that is thankfully clear, bringing my cupped hands to my lips and guzzling in a manner that is entirely undignified. This river was two miles off-course, sheltered within not an orchard but a small forest of autumn foliage, and with this mortal body depending on water, we had no choice but to stop. Iseul drinks to my right, with Eunwoo to my left. Chan’s gag has been soaked with water, and it amuses me greatly that to drink, the weakened Supreme Commander must suckle at the fabric.

Haneul, appearing supremely smug, arches a brow as I return, stomping toward Sonagi. Although I can outlast the typical mortal, my Imugi can go much longer without water than I. The hiding of the water pouches was a personal attack, and I would be lying if I said I was not coldly furious at the inconvenience.

And I am well able to suspect how Haneul passed on such illness to my Imugi after their supper. The crag on which we were camped hosted clumps of a suspicious-seeming brown herb that I only noticed after Daeyang took the sickly back to Jeoseung to heal. It would have been easy enough for Haneul to sprinkle the bloody carcasses with whatever it was, inducing this effect.

These petty attacks. I could see them coming, from the minute Haneul arrived here. My Imugi were meant to keep a close eye on him, but the Dokkaebi is as much of a trickster as Seokga, and my forces have been rattled after the ambush from the gods. Yet although Haneul has succeeded in this minor sabotage, my serpents now keep him under unblinking, watchful eyes. Stomach cramps and disappearing water are the worst he will be able to do.

Thanks to Haneul’s antics , we are not en route and instead must travel the two miles back before we can truly start out in earnest. All the while, Haneul whistles under his breath, and it is only after I have Iseul bind and gag him once more that he stops. Yet I can still feel his amusement, his utter entertainment at his successful diversion. He can burn through the ropes, the gag, at any time. He is only humoring me, yet the reprieve from his endless prattling is soothing. By the time we near the Shadowshafts entrances, my ire has begun to fade.

The terrain of Bonseyo is rich with hills, and there is hardly a village to be seen as fruit-bearing trees begin to sprout up around us. Branches groaning with the weight of fat persimmons, glossy red apples, and sweet figs fill the evening air with saccharine aroma. Wasps buzz in the expansive orchard, humming contentedly as they crawl across the fruits that have fallen to the richly soiled earth below, stomachs full and bulging. These orchards are nearly as dense as the Wyusan Wilderness, but thoroughly more enjoyable for my forces. Iseul crunches happily on an apple while my Imugi snap their heads up toward the trees and tear off entire branches of persimmons. Sonagi sighs in exasperation as her children crunch contentedly away on them, wood and all.

Eunwoo’s singed feathers ruffle as we traverse deeper into the orchards. The sun is setting, and the air has become colder. He seems nervous, and I catch him throwing anticipatory glances my way. “We’re nearly to one of the Shadowshaft entrances,” the prince says.

“Good,” I reply curtly. It is only luck that the gods and the Wyusan-Gyeulcheon alliance have not yet intervened. Atop Sonagi, I have grown tense, waiting for a deity to lunge out of the shadows.

Something small and hard hits me in the back of the head, and my eyes flare wide as I swivel around, scaleblades extending…

Only to see Haneul lobbing another apple toward me, apparently having tired of tolerating the ropes binding him. I catch it swiftly and hurl it back toward him as hard as I can. It slams into his forehead. The pain of impact bursts through me, too, but it’s worth it to see the damned emperor nearly tumble off his reluctant Imugi mount. How I wish I could imprison him elsewhere. But it is a risk I am unwilling to take: I must keep my eyes on him at all times.

A hill in the midst of the orchard looms into view. Although its top is grassy, and home to a large apple tree, the underside is blocked of rocks, piled atop one another. A blockage, preventing entrance into the tunnels.

The Imugi make quick work of it, clearing the stones with a speed that sends a burst of pride through me. The entrance is a gaping mouth, like that of a cave—the hill is hollowed out, leading to darkness.

“Ooo,” says Iseul. “How terrifically horrible. Who will go first, Lina?”

I cut a look toward my Gumiho. Eunwoo has reported nothing strange, yet I still cannot help but wonder if Iseul is truly as loyal to me as she seems. If she has mourned for Uloe at all, I have not seen it. Grimly, I am about to suggest that Iseul goes first when Eunwoo intervenes.

“I’ll go,” the prince offers, always eager to please and already making for the entrance. He casts a trepidatious look over his shoulder and disappears into the darkness. I wait for a few moments—ensuring there is no shriek of pain or otherwise foreboding noise—before following him atop Sonagi. Her stomach glides across the rough stone that slopes downward without any difficulties, the hard scales preventing cuts or scrapes. The air becomes disgustingly thick with the smell of soil, and cold. As we venture further into the Bonseyo Shadowshafts, where tunnels split every which way, it grows increasingly colder.

Eunwoo leads us into a tunnel to the right, where the packed soil far, far above soon transitions into some sort of ore. It is very quiet in the Shadowshafts, the only sound the slithering of the Imugi.

The path the prince takes us on twists and twines. Tunnels split into two, and then three, the underground labyrinth growing more and more complex as an hour and then two slowly creep by. I amuse myself by scouring the mind for the Prisoner and feel a smug bite of satisfaction as I realize she is not moving, wherever she is. Perhaps she is trapped again.

Good.

“How much longer?” Iseul asks Eunwoo, yawning. He casts a look over his shoulder.

“The tunnel to the palace isn’t far away now,” the prince replies.

“Excellent.” I smile, heart beginning to pound. Bonseyo will fall tonight, and the gods will have been too oblivious to stop it. We will have snuck in through the Shadowshafts, right underneath their noses. Fulfillment is so close within reach, only a millimeter away. Soon, so soon, my Imugi will take the form of Yong. I can barely breathe through the thrill of it, heady excitement flowing in my veins.

The world will be as it should—Three Kingdoms, ruled by a magnificent goddess and her creatures. Creatures who have long waited their turn for this taking. I close my eyes and smile. It will be glorious, I think.

And the victory will taste so very, very sweet. Haneul’s defeat will only add another coating of sugar to this already delicious triumph. I imagine it, how his face will contort in agonized realization as my Imugi take to the skies, how he will undoubtedly cry—the poor, sensitive thing, realizing that he has failed in whatever he hoped to accomplish by fleeing here from Gyeulcheon. And the Prisoner within my head will give up on her quest, crushed by her defeat. It will be my happy ending and my purpose fulfilled.

Empress of All. Goddess of Wrath.

The Yeouiju.

I open my eyes, and my smile falls from my lips as I realize Eunwoo is nowhere in sight. Sonagi is hesitating beneath me. We are at a crossroads, two paths branching before us. “Eunwoo?” I demand.

His voice comes from the right tunnel, where the shadows grow even darker as we pass through it. Eunwoo’s voice comes from further up ahead. “The entrance to the palace is at the end of the tunnel,” he calls. “Over here.”

My lips stretch once more. “Wonderful.”

This particular tunnel is extraordinarily long. I cannot see the end through the shadows, even with my vision. I cannot see Eunwoo, either.

As we move, a peculiar sound comes from above us. It is almost the sound of shifting earth, low and gravelly. It grows within moments to a roar, and I raise my hand, bringing my forces to an abrupt halt as pebbles begin to rain down from overhead, soon followed by larger rocks that crash to the ground. Waves of dust and grime explode upward, and Iseul and I choke on it. My Imugi hiss in panic as they twist to avoid the rocks.

“GO BACK!” I shout in the Serpentine Tongue as I summon scales around my body for protection. The tunnels are caving in, and if we do not move quickly enough, we will be trapped—

I narrowly avoid the impact of a large chunk of stone and bite my tongue in outrage as Sonagi desperately dodges the plummeting debris. How? How is this happening?

We will regroup. Rethink—

“GO!” I shout hoarsely, and my Imugi turn around and slither faster, faster. The very walls of the tunnel are trembling, and I can barely see through the thick clouds of dust. The rumbling is all-encompassing, and my ears ring as it reaches its crescendo…as mere feet behind Sonagi and me, hundreds of hard, jagged stones crash onto the ground, stacking upon each other with booming, thunderous cracks . Shards of stone spray outward, one slicing a thin line across Iseul’s face. She’s pale with shock as the rockfall continues for what feels like centuries, but in reality can only be a few seconds.

I stare at the obstruction blocking our path toward the palace, chest heaving. It is silent now, yet my ears still ring, head pounding in pain. Small rocks skitter down from the towering wall of rock from which tendrils of smog swirl. Blinking dust out of my eyes, I slide from Sonagi to face my troops. I am covered in the thick, grimy powder from head to toe, and the others have not fared much better, only their eyes visible. Haneul’s are wide as I storm toward him and rip him off his mount.

“Did you plan this?” I growl, holding him around the throat, uncaring if I suffer the same pain as I sneer up at him and rip the gag from his mouth.

Haneul smirks, a razor-sharp tilt of his lips. “As much as I’m flattered that you think I would be able to singlehandedly orchestrate a cave-in such as this, no. I didn’t.”

Breathing hard, I release him and shove him away. The gods. It has to be.

“Clear the rocks.” Struggling to breathe past the dust and fury, I gesture impatiently to my Imugi, then to the obstruction, turning around to do so. “And do it quickly—”

“Shin Lina,” a voice says from behind me. It is a delicate, feminine voice. “We meet again.”

Slowly, I turn back around.

And there, past my Imugi, past the unconscious Chan and thin-lipped Haneul, past Iseul’s wide black eyes…

The moon goddess and her brother.

Dalnim, as pale as her moon, holds that silver gakgung, an arrow aimed straight at my heart. Haemosu, dressed in armor as golden and bright as his sun, radiates divinity and holds a gleaming sword in one hand.

And an army is at their backs, filling the extensive tunnel, men and women and Dokkaebi all aiming their weapons toward mine.

My Imugi hiss in surprise and fury. I join them, my scales unfolding along my skin, glittering in the low light. My finger trembles with rage as I lift it into the air, preparing to signal for war…

Haemosu tilts his head, following the gesture. “Oh, this isn’t even all of us,” the sun god says with a nasty grin, just as Jeon Eunwoo flies around the bend, where that second tunnel was…

…and just as he lands next to the gods, bringing with him a wave of soldiers who join ranks with the others. The color of their lamellar armor is unfamiliar to me. Not the brown of the Wyusan soldiers, or the dark green, scaled armor of the Gyeulcheon soldiers. The leather of their plates have been painted white. Realization strikes me like a violent wave.

These are Bonseyo soldiers .

A snippet from a long-forgotten conversation comes to me.

“Can you throw your voice like a raven?”

“I can.”

Tricked. I have been tricked . Lured into a trap by Jeon Eunwoo.

I am beginning to understand Iseul’s hatred of birds.

The prince smiles. It looks stiff on him, but hopeful. “My father finally found a use for me,” he says as I clench my jaw hard enough that a molar cracks, sending a burst of pain through my mouth. “He did not release me on my birthday as I told you. He released me just before you claimed Wyusan, with a bargain. Lure you here, and trigger the rockfall. There is a lever, you see…one hidden just around the bend. A defense, he said, for Bonseyo in times of war. If I completed this mission for him, he’d acknowledge me as his son.” Eunwoo’s eyes glisten, something springing to life in their dead depths. “I can live in the palace. With him.”

“You fool ,” I spit, digging my nails into my palms—but it is not the prince who is the fool. It is me. All this time, I assumed Bonseyo cared not for the strategizing of war, too busy with their feuding dynasty and other such trivialities. I became complacent, and I—Shin Lina, the Prophecy, the Goddess of Wrath—was manipulated . Believing myself so ahead, I gave my trust to a bastard prince with a desire to be loved.

And my fatal mistake was deeming that desire wearisome, rather than dangerous. I saw this desire as a weakness, yet it has been weaponized against me. Eunwoo wove a story, and I believed it.

“Do you think he’ll ever love you?” I spit. “You could have had everything. Victory. A title. And yet.” My laugh is bitter and cold as I search for more words, for more time to buy myself and my army. “You sacrifice it all for a father’s lie. You tell the gods of my route. You bring death upon your own head.”

Eunwoo balks but quickly recovers. “I wasn’t the one who alerted the gods,” the bastard prince says. And this time, when he smiles, I know it is a smile he has learned from me. It is a cruel smile. Sharp and jagged. “Although I won’t complain that they’re here.”

My breathing is little more than a furious, shallow panting. “If not you—”

“Me.”

The world goes still as Song Iseul dismounts the Imugi she rides on. She stares me down, reaching behind her to grip her ax as her words ring in my ears. “It was me,” she says, tilting her head. “You’re not Lina,” she spits, slowly walking backward to join the gods. Iseul’s lip curls. “You’re not my friend. All you are is a tyrannical bitch .”

I knew it. I laugh again, this time hard enough that my shoulders shake. “And you think that this will bring her back?” I manage to gasp out. Dalnim’s arrow is still trained on me, and I eye it as subtly as I can, gauging the speed at which it will fly, how quickly I can shift out of the way. “Oh, no, Song Iseul. You’ve made a grave miscalculation. They want to kill me. And if I die, she dies. Surely Haneul explained that to you while you conspired.”

The Gumiho does not even attempt to deny it.

“He did,” Iseul replies. Her eyes move to Haneul. “I’m sorry,” she says. “But I was right the first time. This way is quicker, for everybody. And…the gods have ordained it. You have nobody, nothing, but your own hope on your side.”

“But Ga—” Haneul’s throat works, and he clamps his mouth shut. His terror pierces me in crashing, frothing waves.

I do not have time for this. Refusing to give these traitors the shock they so clearly long for, I look Dalnim directly in the eye. “Hurry up,” I snap and gesture impatiently. “I grow bored.”

Her brother makes a sound like he might laugh but instead composes himself and looks to Dalnim, who cocks a brow.

It happens quickly after that.

The arrow slices through the air, hurtling toward me like a falling star. Her last ambush prepared me well for this. I whip to the side, launching myself away from the weapon, just as the opposing army releases a mighty roar and rushes forward. Although the tunnel is wide—at least the size of a small field—the soldiers are packed in so tightly together that, as they approach, they are a monstrous wave of fury and fireswords.

“Fuck,” growls Haneul, and lunges for me.

We fall into darkness and shadow.