Page 37

REN

The Floating World

The Meadow

REN STUMBLED BACK, falling on the ground as Sunho began to change. While her transformation had been painless and quick, his was agonizing and slow. His bones cracked as his limbs extended, and his hands thickened into claws. Feathers erupted across his body, covering his torso, arms, and legs.

He cried out, his voice guttural and hoarse.

“Sunho!” Ren crawled toward him.

He pitched forward as from his back burst forth great wings, completely engulfed with black feathers.

One of his feathers darted toward her face, and she winced at a sharp, slicing sensation. With trembling fingers, she raised her hand to her cheek, drawing it away to see her fingers were wet with blood. Still, she pressed forward, crying out as a feather sliced her arm, her shoulder.

Sunho was hunched over, his back toward her. “Sunho, it’s all right. We’ll fix this, we’ll—”

He turned, and she felt as if the ground had dropped beneath her.

His face had transformed completely. His eyes were no longer brown with sparks of blue but completely black, filling the white of his eyes. His mouth had widened, splitting, and fangs had sprouted from his upper jaws, dripping blood.

For a moment, she felt as if she was facing the demon on the bridge again. In his transformed state, Sunho was twice its size. He rose to his feet, talons digging into the ground. He towered over her. With one swipe of his clawed hand, he could kill her.

But this wasn’t a demon, this was Sunho .

I would never hurt you, no matter the circumstances.

She’d believed him, when he spoke those words on Yurhee and Tag’s aircraft. She believed him still.

If this was a transformation, he could turn back. It would be like taking off armor, like he’d said. Though she knew, deep in her soul, it wasn’t the same.

She slowly got to her feet. Sunho loomed over her, but he didn’t attack her.

Tears sprang to her eyes as she reached out her hand toward his face. For an infinitesimal second, it appeared as if he leaned forward.

Then he threw his head back with a roar. An arrow stuck out from his right shoulder.

She whipped around to see Jaeil standing at the edge of the meadow. Soon after, a half dozen soldiers came tearing through the trees, carrying bows.

“Wait!” Ren shouted. “Don’t shoot!”

But it was too late—the archers launched a volley of arrows at Sunho. He lifted his wings to shield his body, screaming as they tore into him.

“Protect the princess!” Another voice rang out across the meadow. It was the commander. He charged forward with his own contingent of soldiers on horseback, the ground rumbling with their approach.

Spreading his wings wide, Sunho launched himself into the air.

The pressure of his ascent knocked Ren off her feet, and she went tumbling backward. Jaeil’s soldiers quickly surrounded her.

“Don’t hurt him!” Ren cried, scrambling upward as they raised their bows.

But Sunho was too high above them for their arrows to reach. He circled the meadow, his great wings blacking out the sun. Then, with an agonized cry, he beat his wings against the air, flying off and over the mountain.

In a few short heartbeats, he was gone.

Ren sank to the ground. What had happened? Her lips were still tender from their kiss. Her magic must have reached him in that moment, and he’d regained the rest of his memories.

What did he see? He said he’d killed his brother. The pain, the agony he must have felt, must be feeling …

It was her fault. She should have never—

“Princess.”

The commander and his soldiers had dismounted and were standing before her. Her eyes widened as he lowered himself to his knees and, with surprising grace for so large a man, pressed his forehead to the ground. His soldiers followed their commander’s example, placing their weapons on the dirt before them. “Forgive me,” the commander said, and he sounded truly remorseful. “My faith was tested, and I failed. From this day forward, I will protect you with my life.”

Ren didn’t know him enough to trust him, but she didn’t have a choice.

“Where is the general?” she demanded.

“He’s being confined, under my direction. I had believed his story that you and your honored mother had perished the night of the storm. Now that the truth has been revealed, he will be held accountable for his crimes.”

Ren noticed that not only the commander’s soldiers, but all the soldiers in the meadow, Jaeil’s included, were bowing with their heads to the ground.

At the very back, Jaeil kneeled with them as well, though he didn’t seem to be paying attention like the rest, reaching out to pick up a black feather in his gloved hand.

“Princess,” the commander said, “please allow me to escort you to the palace. You need rest, and to gather your strength. Though the throne is yours to claim, the path will be difficult. Those of us who witnessed your transformation will spread the news of your return, but others will need more… convincing.”

Ren understood the commander’s meaning. She would have to prove that she was the celestial maiden—to the soldiers who still supported the general, to the nobles, to everyone .

She studied the man, surprised that he would be so candid. The path ahead would be difficult; she would need people like him to guide her.

“I am going back,” Ren said, and the commander appeared to bow lower in relief. “But not yet.” She raised her arm, brushing away the tears on her cheeks that had dried in the wind. “There’s something I must do first.”

THEY COULDN’T DEPART immediately—the commander needed to make preparations and see to the general’s transport back to the capital, where he was to await trial from the Floating Council. Ren, the commander assured, would proceed over the trial, but that was for later, when she returned.

She spent those few days waiting for the commander at Bright Moon Temple, assisting the people there to repair the buildings that had burned in the fire, and to say one final goodbye to Doona. Her nursemaid was buried in the courtyard where the plum tree once stood.

On the third morning, the commander returned with three airships. A day and a half later, they passed over the Haebaek Mountains.

When she saw the valley, Ren burst into tears.

Home.

The villagers had gathered on the hillside for their arrival, children climbing over the heads of their guardians, pushing hats down over their eyes as they pointed. A few were sitting atop the larger sheep. When the doors to the commander’s airship opened, two familiar faces stood out from the crowd.

“Yurhee! Tag!” Ren raced up to them. “You made it!”

Yurhee grabbed her hands, squeezing. Her skin was bright from the sun. Tag’s pallor hadn’t changed, but that wasn’t surprising.

“We did make it,” Yurhee said, “though just barely. We crashed into a haystack.” She gestured to the old aircraft, the back end of which stuck out of a large haystack; a few chickens had commandeered it for a roost. “Though, Ren… I have to tell you something.”

Ren felt her heart go still. “We were too late,” she whispered. The healer had said Little Uncle only had three weeks to live.

“We gave your uncle the antidote, but… well…” Yurhee trailed off. “You’ll see.”

Ren hurried toward her family’s cottage, located at the eastern edge of the village. Most of the villagers stayed around the airships, though a few of the more curious children tagged along, grabbing on to Ren’s hands or the back of her skirt. When they reached the cottage, only Yurhee and Tag followed her through the gate into the small courtyard.

“Where’s Auntie?” Ren asked as she pressed open the door, passing beneath the bundles of dried persimmons that dangled from the thatched roof.

“She wasn’t here when we arrived,” Yurhee said. “The villagers say she traveled south in search of a cure.”

The door to Little Uncle’s room was ajar when she entered, and Ren stepped quietly inside.

She expected it to smell like a sickroom, but a pleasant scent filled the air. Freshly cut flowers were left on the windowsill. A silver sheep bell, attached to a ribbon tied around the stems, tinkled as a light breeze swept through the window. Hwi had visited recently.

Ren knelt by the pallet, placing her hand over Little Uncle’s. “Here I am,” she said softly, “I’ve come home.”

He’d lost so much weight; his cheeks were hollow. His normally airy hair hung lank across his forehead. He didn’t stir at her touch.

“We administered the serum when we arrived…,” Tag said. “But nothing changed.”

The scientist from the mithril laboratory had lied to her, and yet she couldn’t bring herself to feel anger. It didn’t matter now. Little Uncle was dying but had held on until she could come home. She didn’t want hatred to stir this peaceful room. A magpie winged by the open window, and she glimpsed from beneath its wing a colorful flash of blue. There was only love here.

Yurhee gasped quietly. Ren looked down to see light brimming at the edge of her fingertips.

Quickly, she brought them to Little Uncle’s brow, willing her power into him. Heal.

When she opened her eyes, Little Uncle slept on.

She knew, before she had even tried, that it wouldn’t work. Sunho hadn’t healed from her touch—she’d given him back his memories, but the effects of the mithril remained.

“We’ll leave you two alone,” Yurhee said quietly. She heard them leave, the door sliding shut behind them.

Ren brought her hand to Little Uncle’s once more. “I started this journey for you,” she said, and her voice sounded calm, peaceful, in the quiet of the room, “but I think I kept going for me.

“I have so much to tell you, about the places I traveled, the people I met.” She described to him the three days she spent in the caves beneath the Haebaek Mountains, and the house in the reed fields.

“I met a boy along the way…” Her breath hitched at the thought of Sunho, and it took her a few minutes to recover enough to speak. “He was a stranger at first, but after traveling together for some time, we became friends.”

She told him about the outlaws, and Seorawon, the city with the clock tower and the bridge. She told him about the Under World, meeting Yurhee and Tag, about Jaeil’s confusing actions, and facing the general at the edge of the Sky Door. She told him everything, her voice growing hoarse by the end. It was like one of the stories Auntie used to tell when they were performing in front of a crowd, filled with equal parts terror and excitement, except the journey was her own.

“After flying to the meadow with Sunho, we…” She blushed. “We made a promise to each other, but then… something happened.” She closed her eyes. “He’s gone.”

She leaned forward, pressing her forehead to Little Uncle’s hand. “I’ve never expressed in words how I feel—I believe Big Uncle knew, in the end—but I love you. You, Auntie, and Big Uncle. Because of all of you, I had the happiest childhood. I was loved here. In this home. In our caravan. In our family. And because of that, I know I’m strong.

“That’s why…” She drew in a deep breath. “I have to go back. My mother wasn’t killed by a demon but a man—an evil man who will be punished. But even before then, she’d been deeply wounded by the people around her. I want to understand what happened to her. There’s a brokenness in that other world, and I don’t know if I can put right past wrongs, but I want to try.

“But I’m afraid. Here, I’m Ren, a troupe performer, Auntie’s niece, and your and Hwi’s best friend. There, I don’t know what I am. They call me princess, goddess. What if I can’t live up to the role? What if I become someone else while trying to? I’m afraid…” Ren closed her eyes tighter, tears slipping down her cheeks. “I’m afraid of losing myself.”

“If you didn’t get lost in a cave for three days,” Little Uncle said, his voice scratchy and hoarse. “I don’t think you’ll get lost anywhere.”

“Little Uncle!” Ren cried, falling atop him.

“Oof,” he said.

“You were awake this whole time? Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Never mind that, tell me about this boy who’s stolen your heart.”

His voice was weak and he struggled to sit up, but there was a flush to his cheeks, a pink flush .

“That’s what you want to talk about?” Ren asked. “What about my powers, or that you’re alive after almost dying?”

“That’s all fine and good, but is he very handsome?”

Ren buried her face in his shirt. “I’ve missed you!”

The door slid open and Hwi rushed into the room. “Ren?”

“Hwi!” Ren shouted. Hwi ran toward her. As she collided with Ren, they fell backward together onto Little Uncle.

“Oof.”

“Oh, Wook!” Hwi exclaimed.

The three of them held each other for a long, long time.

LATER THAT EVENING, Ren went out to the hillside. The commander had left his airships on the sloping fields, and they appeared like sleeping giants in the mist.

She hoped Auntie would return soon. She wanted to see her before she left. She didn’t know how long it would be before she could come back again. Her gaze traveled to the Haebaek Mountains; beyond them was the Floating World.

Yurhee’s and Tag’s voices traveled up the hill, Yurhee’s chatter that rang like a chime through even the thickest of fog, and Tag’s quieter responses.

They joined her at the top, looking out at the sunset as they stood on either side of her.

Something cold landed on her cheek.

Snow. Soon, the whole valley would be covered in it.

She had a vague memory of the Floating World in winter, soft snow blanketing the many large open courtyards of the palace, the great lake in the eastern garden frozen over with frost.

“Sunho’s somewhere out there,” Ren said. She’d told Yurhee and Tag about what had happened in the meadow, how he’d transformed and fled. “I’m going to find him and bring him home. But first, I have to ask…”

Her gaze landed on Yurhee, then Tag, who’d started off strangers to her but somehow had become friends along the way. “Will you come with me?”