Page 126 of Reign of the Talon
All throughout the Three Kingdoms, the dead rise, blinking underneath the morning sun, stretching as if waking from a deep slumber. Soldiers embrace each other, crying out in triumph as villages are repopulated, families reborn. And the Wyusan Wilderness slowly, steadily, becomes home once more to the Gumiho, released from wrongful death by a new goddess with justice and hope in her heart. In the burrow where Song Iseul last saw her parents, two sleek white, nine-tailed foxes appear, hearts pounding eagerly as they look around for their daughter.
Yet some remain within the underworld, those who hurt and killed, those who abused, those who died naturally. Gwan Doyun, although he travels before the death goddess’ throne and begs for life, is turned coldly away, even as Gwan Yoonji ascends once more to the world above. The new Goddess of Death wipes away a small, sparkling tear, holding the memory of Yoonji’s frightened, yet hesitantly forgiving, smile deep in her heart.
The same goddess silently laughs in Wang Jiwoon’s face as the Dokkaebi makes his plea. Wisely, the Blackbloods do not even bother arguing their case to Jeoseung’s ruler, bitterly seething as the new death goddess lounges on her throne, her Dokkaebi emperor by her side.
The years begin to pass. Slowly, at first, then all at once.
A healer and a Gumiho wed in the Wyusan Wilderness, underneath an autumn sky, surrounded by ones they thought lost forever. The hidden realm of many moons begins to collapse, and Dokkaebi settle in the palace behind the crumbled Beast Wall, a wise once-advisor adamantly refusing to take the throne, instead opting to give it to the people—establishing a new system of rule. The white-haired Supreme Commander lives alone in the forest with regret and grief, even as he is revered as a war hero. His lover slips away from him in the dead of night and does not return, unnerved by the madness lingering in his eyes, the way he clings to her far too tightly, hinging his very existence upon hers, frightful that even the slightest adventure may kill her. She travels instead to Bonseyo, where the new emperor—a black-feathered boy with a heart that longs for love—takes her hand and marvels at how sweet her smile is, how her love feels like life itself.
The blond-haired twins both find joy, the pure, sparkling sort that only comes once in a lifetime. Chara is swept away by an adventurer, riding the seas with her mischievous lover, and Chryse spends her days in a small Bonseyo orchard picking apples and other sweet fruits with a local baker with flour-dusted hands and a smile as wide as the world itself. In Sunpo, the leader of the Talons reclaims his throne, and underneath Yoonho’s just rule, the decrepit cesspool slowly becomes a kingdom once more.
Tousle-haired Ryu Seokjun keeps true to his word, protecting a goddess’ sister from the shadows as she lives with her parents in a cozy Wyusan cottage. He holds his promise close to his chest, where a packet of cigarettes used to be. Sometimes, when he closes his eyes, he sees her: the girl he smoked with on the rooftops, the girl who gave him this second chance.
And, as the years wax by, Shin Eunbi begins to grow up.
CHAPTER SEVENTY
Lina
Goddess of Death
They all return to me, eventually.
With small, bittersweet smiles in faces that have aged, once-smooth skin etched with deep grooves, laugh lines and crow’s feet and other beautiful evidence of long lives lived well. Yet the eyes are always the same—long-lashed hazel, sultry greens, searing purple, flinty emerald.
But the eyes that I wait for, large and brown and sparkling, do not come. Not yet.
In the Bone Hall, I lounge on my throne, Rui sitting in the one beside me—the one I had made for him, to rule by my side over the dead. Although he is not a god, he is an emperor, and has been integral in helping me with this transition into power. His throne is similar to mine, albeit slightly smaller, fitting his lithe frame as he reclines against it, listening to the pleas of the Gwisin who kneels before us, begging to be moved to another Jeoseung village. It seems that she died many years after her family and, as such, does not live in the same region of the underworld as they do.
Catching my gaze, Rui slips a glance toward me, smiling slightly. His silver earrings glitter as he tilts his head, eyes sparking as they meet mine, as he runs a hand through his wavy hair and sends a jolt of his boredom down the red thread. The crown atop his dark locks is white and smooth, a ringlet of shining bone. Nothing as impressive as mine, but he claims it is how it should be. “After all,” he’s fond of murmuring, “youare the goddess.”
I fight not to roll my eyes as Rui sendsanotheremotion down the thread, a suggestion of something he would much rather be doing. Something involving skin on skin, lips against lips, and teeth grazing all the sensitive places, spilling shivering pleasure.
With difficulty, I focus again on the Gwisin and smile, raising my hands and ignoring Rui’s continued hints.I understand, I say to the girl, whose eyes widen as Rui translates the Quiet Language for her aloud. Jeoseung, tied to me as always, also understands this girl’s pleas. It shifts and ripples in the space around the soul, preparing to carry her to the place her family resides.Go, I sign gently, and the girl beams, thanking me profusely before she ripples and disappears, carried off by my realm.
All these years, and still I do not speak. So many times I have come close, yet words continue to slip away from me, elusive, tumbling back down my tongue and through my throat whenever I attempt to summon them. I almost spoke, that once, before our deaths—yet ever since, I’ve not felt the same urge, the same desire.
It feels as if my voice is…waitingfor something. What, I do not know.
The Bone Hall is now empty of my subjects, who may come every morning to ask for favors, to express their content or lack thereof. “Well,” Rui murmurs, perhaps a bit wryly as he stretches out his long legs and tilts his head back toward me with a mischievous smile. “I paid a visit to the Imugi today, deep in the mountains.”
I fix him with an exasperated glare. Rui has grown extraordinarily fond of visiting Sonagi and her children where they reside atop Jeoseung’s towering peaks, in the rivers and lakes of the mountaintops. They descended to my realm not as dragons, but as their original serpent forms. It seems that Rui takes magnificent delight in taunting them about their failed war, often sneaking away to gloat and monologue about our victory. He views it as free entertainment, one that he’ll never grow sick of.
The Imugi, however, have certainly grown sick of it. Decades ago, in fact.
Rui grins, utterly unconcerned. “Sonagi sends her regards.”
I’m sure she does.I shake my head in dry amusement. I choose not to visit the Imugi—I’ve nothing to say to them and personally enjoy pretending that they do not exist.
My soul-stitched laughs, stretching out a hand in the distance between our thrones. I take it, slipping my hand into his. He stands, and I follow, the red thread coiling around us as he tugs me closer to him.
So many years with him, and my blood heats as if we are still new, still exploring each other with wonder and perhaps a little fear of how deeply we have fallen. Although we are forever young, he and I, we have grown old in our hearts, our souls. Rui smiles, mouth quirking upward as he draws me down to the center of the Bone Hall, below the cavernous white ceiling, the balconies. “Do you remember our first dance?” he murmurs, although I doubt that I could ever forget it—waltzing with the Pied Piper underneath the moons of Gyeulcheon, torn between wanting him dead and wanting to feel his lips on mine.
I can’t help but to silently laugh as Rui’s hands slip onto my waist, as we begin to move across the moss beneath us, his silken hanbok rippling as we dance, both of us mindful of my eternally wounded leg. With one quiet command from me, the Bone Hall is filled with a haunting violin, a sweetly mournful harp, and I feel Rui’s delight like it is my own as he leads me through the bone-carved benches, pressing me close to him. My lavender hanbok whirls as he spins me, and I shake with unrestrained amusement as I spinhim, as he returns to me with grace, looking incredibly pleased with himself—as he always does, when he makes me laugh.
Our hands intertwine together, his nose touches mine, his breathing hoarse. “Gods,” he whispers, “I do love you, little thief.”
My love for him sparkles down our bond, and Rui smiles before slanting his lips against mine. I close my eyes, running my hands through his dark, silken hair as he crushes me against him.
