Page 10

CHAPTER 10

REN

Haebaek Mountains

AFTER LEAVING GORYE Village, Ren remembered a conversation she’d had with its healer, on one of the nights they’d kept vigil by Little Uncle’s bedside, about a rumored entrance to a tunnel that wound through the mountains, with an exit on the opposite side. She found the opening between two great rocks, a hole so small she had to push her belongings through with her feet before shimmying through herself, dropping onto hard-packed earth.

She was in a tunnel, sealed from behind, but that stretched forward an interminable distance.

“Well, at least I’m not going over the mountain,” she said, shivering as her voice echoed back to her, loud and ghostly. With her fear of heights, she wouldn’t have made it far. The tunnel led into one more cavernous with great boulders that she had to climb over. She was grateful for Auntie’s rigorous training as she leaped from the top to scale a short wall, grabbing the ledge and pulling herself to higher ground.

The tunnels were like a maze, testing her strength, dexterity, and endurance. There were places where she had to squeeze between large rocks that pressed against her back and chest, others where she had to crawl on her stomach, dragging her belongings behind her with a rope tied around her waist, unsure if there would even be a way forward. Sometimes there wasn’t, and she had to backtrack and take another path.

She knew, had she wanted, she could use her magic to help guide her, conjure wind to lead her down the right tunnel, and yet… she felt unease at the thought of using it. Her powers were tied to the past, and she feared that the more she used them, the harder it would be to hold on to who she was; she was already moving farther away from the life that she’d known, a safe, happy life, part of a family who adored her, and whom she adored in return; she wanted to keep the thread that bound her to them for as long as possible so that, once this was all over, she could follow it back home again.

She needn’t rely on her powers. Her family had provided her with everything she needed to get through this journey. Auntie’s training had honed her body, her reflexes, and her ability to think on her feet. Because of Big Uncle, she knew which mushrooms and plants were safe to eat, supplementing the foodstuffs Hwi had packed for her.

And Little Uncle… her spirit was strong because of him. She thought of all the things she’d tell him when she saw him next. The tunnels, she discovered, were connected by great caverns, which were the sources of the light that permeated the caves, making it possible for her to see. Vast and echoing chambers of great beauty, they were like halls to an underworld god, though she never saw any beings, creatures or other in the darkness. The light came from the sunlight that speared through the caverns’ ceilings, like waterfalls of sunlight, pouring from the world above.

It wasn’t the darkness that made the journey difficult, it was the solitude—she wasn’t used to being alone. On the caravan trail, there was always someone near, asking for help with a cart that was stuck, or wanting to show her a particularly interesting pine cone. She found herself having conversations with Hwi and Little Uncle in her head. Don’t those stalactites resemble the horns of a ram? she’d imagine asking Hwi, who would, of course, agree with her, while Little Uncle would scold, Yes, but what are you doing standing beneath them?

When her thoughts strayed to Big Uncle, her feelings growing too large for her chest, she would take deep breaths, remembering his gentle smile and reassuring presence. It helped that small things on her journey reminded her of him. Every mushroom she discovered felt like a gift, like he had left them there for her. And sometimes, when a rock fell in a distant cave, it sounded like the booming of a drum, and she imagined it was a sign from him, encouraging her to keep going.

One night, she ventured across a cavern that held a massive lake, open entirely to the sky. Silver fish shone through the clear water. When she dipped her hands beneath the surface, they darted away in fear, only to return to nibble curiously at her fingers.

She slept beside the pebbled shore and woke to rainfall on the lake, a great pattering that she felt deep in her bones. It was there, on the shore, where she let herself weep for Big Uncle, for the life that, even should she return to it, would never be the same.

Afterward, she left her water jug in the rain, capping it once the water flowed over the rim.

Three days after entering the tunnels, she emerged on the other side.

It was midday. The cave opened into a deep valley, surrounded on all sides by the mountains. At the end, she could see a steep, grassy incline leading upward. She realized excitedly that from that greater height, she might be able to spot smoke from a village. Gauging the distance, she guessed it would take her the entire afternoon to reach the end of the valley.

She felt a tightening in her chest that she hadn’t yet left the mountains proper but reasoned that at this point all she could do was move forward.

Sparkling brooks cut across bright late-autumn grass. Gorals grazed on hillocks, their black eyes tracking her movements as she stepped among abundant wildflowers, pink-and-white-petaled cosmos flopping against her wide pants.

As sunset approached, she stopped to finish up the last of Hwi’s provisions, splashing her face with cool water from a brook before refilling her jug.

At last, she reached the end of the valley, huffing and puffing as she made the arduous climb. By the time she emerged over the rise, she was breathless.

As if drawn there, her gaze swept over grassy plains and dark forests covering low, sweeping mountains toward the horizon. She spotted it, then, looming in the distance.

Sareniya, the Floating World.

It was partially obscured by a gray cloud that every few seconds pulsed with silver illumination. Lightning—there was a rainstorm on the Floating World. The thought triggered a memory, a sensation of raindrops, cold like shards of ice against her skin.

Same as when she touched the crimson robe, she was spun into a memory—of her last night on the Floating World.

It came in fragments. A white feather, drifting downward.

The voice of a boy, calling out for her. “Ren!”

Her mother, at the edge of the cliff, and the man that was a demon, reaching out toward her with its clawed hand.

Then the feeling passed. She fell to her knees, trembling. She knew memories like this would become more frequent as she approached the Floating World. They would pull her into the past, just as it pulled her closer into its sphere.

Shakily, Ren got to her feet. She refused to be drawn in.

She came for a purpose. She was going on this journey for Little Uncle. So that she could return to the valley, to the life that she wanted.

As she stared at the Floating World, she made a promise to herself. That world could pull her into its shadow, but it would never hold her. In the end, she would break free.