Page 36

CHAPTER 36

SUNHO

The Under World

SUNHO WAS FALLING.

Above him, he could see the hole in the world where the general had thrown him. It was growing smaller with every second that passed.

The wind was sharp. He thought of closing his eyes, but he wanted to see the sunlight for as long as possible, because that’s where Ren was.

He hoped she wasn’t too saddened about what had transpired. It wasn’t that he believed he could have saved her—the odds were too great, and he’d been weakened before the climb, on the last of his strength when he’d pulled himself over the edge. He’d wanted only to be where she was.

There was a feeling in his chest he couldn’t identify. He didn’t know when it started—it wasn’t a feeling that he’d known before he’d met Ren, but it was always there now.

A figure stood at the edge of the Sky Door. Even at this distance, with the light shining in his eyes, he recognized Ren. What was she…?

She jumped.

His heart, which had been beating at a steady rhythm, lurched as panic swept through him.

He could accept his imminent death, but not hers .

She was diving toward him, her arms and legs pinioned to her sides, as if she meant, unbelievably, to catch up to him. It was impossible, their distances were too great. Still, he spread his arms and legs out wide, fighting against the wind.

He’d been resigned to his fate, but he’d fight until the end for her.

He felt like he was falling faster now that it mattered. The air bore down on him, the pressure overwhelming. His arms and legs, stretched out on either side of him, went numb. The screaming wind intensified as he entered the airspace above the Under World.

He felt fear then as he hadn’t felt before, not on the battlefields of his youth nor in his darkest moments inside the laboratory; it devastated him, filling him with equal parts agony and longing. She wasn’t going to reach him in time.

A burst of light erupted above him. It seemed to fill the whole sky, from one end of the Floating World to the other.

He was bathed in incandescence, the celestial sparks alighting on the bridge of his nose, the curve of his cheeks, his eyelashes.

As the light dissipated, the brightness remained, emanating from a single point—the source of the light. Ren.

Sprouting from her shoulders was a pair of glimmering white wings.

The rush of emotions Sunho had felt earlier vanished as an all-encompassing feeling of wonder spread throughout his body.

Ren was the true heir to the Floating World. A celestial maiden.

“Sunho!” Ren shouted. He snapped out of his daze. She’d caught up to him, her wings swooping behind her to bring her within reach.

She grabbed for his hand and their fingers touched before the wind pulled them apart, spinning her to the side.

“Ren!” he shouted back, trying to track her in the air, but it was difficult to turn his head. She corrected course, her wings beating the air as she fought to get to him.

This time, when their hands connected, he drew her toward him. They collided in the air, her breath against his neck, her fingers digging into his back. He held her just as tightly; his fingers brushed the feathery lightness of her wings.

They circled around him, a shining embrace. Bowing his head, he drew in a quiet breath. For a brief moment, the loneliness of the past two years, the painful losses of his friends, the uncertainty of his missing brother, diminished, and he felt at peace.

This was the feeling he hadn’t known before Ren. She sheltered him with her wings. And before then with her paper umbrella. Under her shelter, he had never felt so safe.

He lifted his head as she opened her wings to their full span.

“Hold on,” she said, and he held fast to her as she lifted them upward.

Her wings were powerful, pumping up and down, cutting the air like silver blades. They careened toward the surface, gaining speed. The light from above grew stronger, showering them in a golden haze. They swept through the Sky Door, into sunlight. Sunho closed his eyes, momentarily blinded.

When he opened them, the general’s army was spread out beneath them; ten thousand soldiers gazed upward, arrested by the sight of a girl with wings.

He wondered if the proof of Ren’s heritage would change anything—no one could deny that she was a celestial maiden now, descendant of the true rulers of the Floating World.

Ren didn’t linger near the door but swept them away south. They’d only traveled a few miles before reaching a meadow dusted with a sprinkling of snow.

They had almost reached the ground when Ren’s wings started to shimmer, growing translucent and breaking off into pieces like crystals. Soon, her wings disappeared altogether. They fell. Sunho managed to twist his body in the air so that she landed atop him as they skidded a short distance among the flowers.

They lay there for several minutes, her heart beating fast against his own. Then, Ren rose to a sitting position, and Sunho joined her.

“I think,” she said slowly, “I need to work on my landing.”

They stared at each other. A buoyant feeling rose in his chest, and he laughed.

“You have flowers in your hair,” she said, reaching out to pluck one from the top of his head. He held still as she removed each one, her brow furrowed in concentration. She had petals on her, too, but he left them there.

“You carried me for a long time,” he said. He was a head taller than her and weighed more. “Wasn’t I heavy?”

She shrugged. “My wings are strong, I guess.”

He leaned forward to look over her shoulder. Beyond the tears in her shirt and camisole, there wasn’t any evidence of her wings; that, and the white feathers scattered around the meadow.

Lifting his hand, he slipped his fingers through the tear, trailing them across the soft blades of her shoulders. He didn’t sense anything unusual. “They’re not a part of your anatomy, then, but emerge when you transform, similar to putting on armor.” He removed his hand.

“W-wings like a-armor,” she said, her voice hitched. “I like that.”

He frowned at the heightened color in her cheeks. Was she ill?

“I think I know how to call on my powers more fully,” she said quickly. “I don’t know how to completely control them, nor the entire extent of what I’m capable of yet, but I know at least how to activate them. I could heal you, more deliberately. Your injuries, your memories.”

She didn’t know yet that he’d regained his memories in the laboratory. He would tell her soon.

“Did you know when you jumped that this would happen?” he asked. It wasn’t just that she had jumped, but she’d overcome her fear of heights. He’d have to ask her about that, too.

“I’m… not sure. I knew that I had to save you, no matter what. I didn’t know that I would have wings . Although…” She frowned, her brow furrowing. “I think I’ve manifested them before. The morning of the festival, the feather I found on my pillow… I think, maybe, it was mine .”

She seemed caught in her memories before shaking her head. “What about you? Did you know you could make that climb?”

“I think I felt the same as you. I didn’t start because I knew I could do it, only that I had to try. Not that I was much help in the end.”

“You helped,” Ren said adamantly. “You were my motivation.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he teased. “To get myself into trouble, the next time you need inspiration.”

“It’s not that.” She shook her head. “You inspire me with your strength. You inspire me with your goodness. You never give up, even when the odds are against you. When I saw you climb out of the Sky Door, I knew you’d achieved the impossible and it made me believe that I could do the same.”

“When I woke up at Wolryudang,” he said, remembering the painful moment when he realized she was gone, “I knew, without Yurhee and Tag telling me, what had happened. You’d traded your freedom for our safety. Don’t do that again, Ren. Don’t sacrifice yourself, even if it’s to protect me, or anyone else. We’ll find a solution to the problem. Together.”

“Then you have to make the same promise. Don’t make rash decisions with your life, even if you think it’ll help others. Don’t think your life is worth less than anyone else’s, because it’s not. Not to me.”

“I promise,” he said.

“I promise,” she echoed.

“Should we seal it?” he asked. It was a tradition his brother had started at the orphanage. Promises were made, but neither party was bound to them unless they were sealed. And this was an important one.

Ren frowned, biting her lip. “What do you have in mind?”

“With Rohoon and Heetae, we would seal promises with blood.” He held up the palm of his hand.

She wrinkled her nose. “I’d rather not.”

He looked around the meadow, uncertain. He didn’t have any other ideas. “Never mind. Our words are enough.”

When his gaze traveled back to Ren, her face held an odd expression. It wasn’t one he often saw on her—it took him a moment to identify the emotion. She looked uncertain.

“I have an idea,” she muttered, her cheeks a curious shade of pink. “Close your eyes.”

He immediately obeyed her.

He felt a soft pressure against his mouth, then it disappeared just as quickly. When he opened his eyes, she was looking out toward the single tree in the meadow. “There, it’s sealed.” She brushed the petals from her skirt and moved to stand. “Now, why don’t we—?”

He caught her wrist.

“We both have to seal the promise,” he said quietly.

He shifted closer to her. Sliding one hand along her waist, he placed the other at the back of her neck, drawing her toward him. She came willingly, her body flush against his. He’d never done this before—before Ren, he had never had the urge to—but it was all he could think about, all he wanted. That brief pressure, while sweet, wasn’t enough.

When their lips touched, he felt a sigh go through her; his arms tightened in response.

He thought the need to be closer to her was just one of proximity, but he felt a need in this as well. Every touch of her lips was a balm, every caress of her mouth filled him with a desperate longing.

He felt a spark upon her lips— her magic , flowing through her, into him. He could taste her magic, like drinking starlight.

He had a thought that if she couldn’t control it, she might burn him. But he didn’t care. He would burn for her.

Their kisses grew more frantic. As he pressed her down among the flowers, a piercing pain ripped through his skull. It was like the pain he’d felt when facing the demon, but worse.

“Sunho?” Ren said, still breathless from their kisses. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know.” He pressed his hand to his head. “I—” The pain seared through him, strangling his words.

“Sunho!” he heard Ren scream from a distance, as the night from the laboratory came roaring back.

Teacher had injected Junho with the serum. Afterward, a demon had knocked Sunho to the side. He’d hit his head against a table and blacked out, but only for a few seconds. Blearily, he’d risen to his feet.

He spotted Junho nearby. His brother was breathing raggedly, hunched over, holding his head with both hands. But he wasn’t turning like the others. He was fighting back the effects of the serum. Sunho cried out in relief. His brother would survive, his brother would—

A sharp pain pricked Sunho’s neck.

“No!” Junho cried out.

A syringe clattered to the floor.

Sunho looked up at Teacher. “I’m sorry,” Teacher said, “but we have to know.”

“Sunho.” Junho stood before him, gripping him by the shoulders. His face was bloody, his eyes in tears. “You’ll survive this. You’re the best of us.”

Sunho felt paralyzed with fear, but he nodded to reassure Junho. He would survive, like Junho. He would—

The pain was agonizing. He felt like he was being ripped apart from the inside. His blood seared him, turning to fire, then ice in his veins. His bones felt like they were breaking all at once.

He was still conscious; he wasn’t a demon. He would survive this. He would fight, like Junho. He would—

“S-Sunho?” his brother choked. Blue, viscous blood dripped from his mouth.

Sunho looked down to see that something had punctured his brother’s chest. It was Sunho’s hand, cleaved right through Junho’s ribs and out his back.

Sunho withdrew his hand, watching Junho slump to the floor.

He didn’t get back up again.

At first, Sunho didn’t understand. More blood dripped down his fingers, his claws . And then he knew , and it felt as if the whole of the Floating World had fallen down on him.

Junho was dead. Junho was dead because of him .

He winced at a loud screeching sound from across the room. Teacher was closing a door, trapping him inside, trapping them all inside .

A roar ripped up his throat, inhuman, monstrous. He grabbed the nearest person, a soldier from his regiment. Friend his subconscious supplied, but it didn’t matter. He tore them asunder.

He didn’t stop there. His pain and rage exploded into pure violence. Blue and red blood spilled across the floor, across the walls. It was a massacre. It was a slaughter.

It wouldn’t end. It wouldn’t stop.

“Sunho!” he heard Ren calling him back to the present.

He heaved into the grass.

“What’s wrong? Tell me what happened.”

“It was me,” he choked, racked with horror. “I killed him.”

“I don’t understand—”

“I killed Junho. I killed my brother. ”

And he hadn’t just killed Junho. He’d killed everyone —the scientists and the other soldiers from his unit.

Ren reached out her hand, but he backed away.

The world began to blur at the corners. A darkness encroached on the edges of his vision, enveloping the flower fields, enveloping Ren.

He couldn’t stop it; the pain was too great, of what he’d done, of what he was .

He had one final thought before he fell to his knees, as light turned to dark.

I am the Demon.