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The Prisoner

She is not who I thought she would be, this piece of myself, this girl. Pain washes over me as I stare at her, and I know that outside this mindscape, the Prophecy is in terrible agony. Yet it fades to nothing as I stare at this little shard of my soul, wondering who she is.

She stands just before the staircase, blocking its path. The hall of mirrors is at my back—somehow, I have found the end. Somehow, I have found her.

Golden eyes. Long, dark hair.

Yet she is not…the Prophecy. There is no bloodlust on her serene expression, no murderous intent. Her golden-beige skin is covered by a beautiful hanbok of lavender silk, embroidered with small cherry blossoms. No, she is…something else. Some one else. I did not see the mirror from which she came, cannot find the plaque explaining which part of my soul this woman is, from what part of me she was carved.

“Lina,” she says coolly, voice clipped as she eyes me. Her voice is…regal, somehow, and my eyes trace the—the crown atop her head. It seems to be crafted from a wood unfamiliar to me, a deep, dark purple. Jagged thorns rise from the circlet, and they look like outstretched hands, reaching up in desperation with gnarled wooden fingers.

A power seems to thrum from her—something deep and dark, yet…almost peaceful. Like a depthless slumber. I think that perhaps I can see the power around her, flickers of a rich purple, the same color of her crown.

I…I don’t know you , I manage to sign, heart thundering at the sight of her.

“No,” she murmurs. “You wouldn’t, not yet.”

You’re not the Prophecy.

“The Prophecy is not a part of you,” my strange, other self replies, eyes softening. “That is not you , Shin Lina. It’s only a parasite that has wormed its way into your skin, a disease from the outside that has found its way in. Would you say that a fever, or a plague, was a fundamental, intrinsic part of you? A slice of yourself? No,” she says, before I can summon a response, “you wouldn’t. And I know that until now, you haven’t truly understood that.”

I swallow hard. No, I wouldn’t say that a fever or a plague were one of my other selves. And I hadn’t—I hadn’t thought about it in this way until now. A rush of relief overcomes me, the extent of my terror lessening, just a bit.

It is not a part of me.

It is not a part of me.

But…

If you’re not the Prophecy , I say, who are you?

The other Lina’s lips tilt upward. “I’m what you can be,” she answers gently. “What you will be. I’m your hope, and I’m your future.” She takes a step toward me, so that we are nearly nose to nose. When I blink, she blinks. When I shift uncomfortably, so does she. It is like looking into a mirror. “Much awaits you,” she murmurs. “For I am you, at the end of this.”

My lips part in shock—shock and hope and relief. We…win? I ask tentatively. The Prophecy, it’s defeated? It’s never fulfilled?

A long, long moment of silence follows. One that is thick with hope and words unsaid. One where my other self hesitates, meeting my eye, as if gauging whether I am able to hear the truth. Palms sweating, I meet her stare and watch as her lips slowly part to speak…

Her smile is bittersweet. “What have we ever been but a puppet? A puppet of the Prophecy, a puppet of the gods? Our strings were ever jerked by powers higher than ourselves.”

Ice, thick and cracking, creeps over my heart. My bones. I shake my head, where a dull buzzing has filled it.

The other Lina’s eyes gentle, just slightly. “You do not understand yet, do you?” I make no move to stop her as she gently cups my cheek in her hand. “Oh, Lina. You have been fooled by Fate herself.”

…

The world seems to fall away at my feet. I sway, unsteadily, and only the other Lina’s firm grip around my shoulders keeps me from falling. No. What she says cannot be true. Gameunjang is—she is on our side, mine and Rui’s. Guiding us toward a way to stop Fulfillment, a way to avoid our…our deaths. She has to be, because if she is not, that means all of this…has been for nothing.

You’re lying , I sign with trembling hands. Stop it.

The gentleness in her eyes fades, replaced by a hard, unforgiving truth. “Why would the Goddess of Fate create a Prophecy only to attempt to destroy it? Tell me you see how that goes against every rule of nature. No. Gameunjang has been doing everything she possibly can to ensure the Prophecy is fulfilled, that the other gods cannot thwart it. See it, Lina. See that this is the truth. ”

No. I back away, shaking my head. No. Stop it. I wish desperately for her to be lying, but I—I do not think she is. I know my tells when I lie. I know that my mouth twists, tasting burned sugar. I know that I cannot hold eye contact for much longer than a few moments. But her mouth is flat, and her gaze is steady.

Seokga’s alliance with Gameunjang. Trickery and fate. The answer was right before me, yet I was too frightened to face it. I should have…I should have seen this, should have known better than to trust her so completely. To be betrayed, by one of the deities I so loved… There is no greater pain.

My panic returns, and my breathing becomes rapid. I jerk away from her, staggering back, but the other Lina rushes forth, grasps my hands in hers, and forces me to still.

To look into her eyes, which have become flinty with determination.

A searing pain ignites in my chest, and I choke on air, hands flying to where a blue flame burns. Rui , I think desperately as my skin blisters and burns. He’s fighting, and he would only fight—would only do this—if the Prophecy was too close to succeeding. Panic bubbles up in my throat, and I unleash a silent sob.

The other version of myself slaps me across the face. The sharp, unexpected pain is enough to distract me from my terror and the burns rising on my skin.

Gaping, I still, and she glowers at me.

“Listen to me,” she says coldly. “Listen to me and stop your weeping . This Prophecy was never about the Imugi or the Three Kingdoms. It was about you . Listen,” the girl hisses again, and with a breaking heart, I do.

Her words are quiet. Soft. Yet they are still steely, edged with an unrelenting resolve. Her eyes do not break from mine as she tells me what I must do, what I will lose, and what I will gain.

It is horrible in its brilliance, terrible in its truth. Gasping softly, I finally lurch away, holding one hand to my pounding heart.

“It is fated,” the other Lina says, not unkindly. “It always has been.”

And, gods, in an ironic way, it is everything I have ever wanted, everything I have ever longed for after that horrible night when the Talons were taken, after Eunbi’s blood spilled before the scarlet moon.

Reunion. Rest.

And…something else. Something else that I did not know, all this time.

Something that I still do not want— but something that even Yoonho saw was in my destiny. Something that I will become yet do not trust myself to be. Something that I suspect this odyssey through the mind has been preparing me for, level by level, truth by truth.

It is staggering, yet here this future self somehow stands, a crown atop her head, power thrumming from her body, flowing from her very veins outward…

“This is in the Prophecy itself,” this other Lina continues and smiles dryly. “ This brings the Prophecy to its conclusion.” She steps closer, and I realize that she smells like cherry blossoms, that the petals on her hanbok seem to be fluttering in a phantom wind. “Your necklace,” she whispers and reaches out to graze the three golden truths with a slender finger. “You will need those, Lina.”

As I tremble, she touches my face briefly in farewell before stepping to the side to allow passage toward the staircase that beckons beyond. With a small clink , the final key appears on my chain—its small charm of a familiar crown cool against my warm skin.

Wait , I sign desperately. Wait. Who are you, now? Who have you become?

My other self raises a hand to the dark purple crown atop her head. Her smile is a sharp knife, a sword in the dark. “Our name is Shin Lina,” she whispers, “and we will triumph. Fear not that this is your end—trust that this is your beginning.”