Page 40 of Reign of the Talon
The god’s eyes are unnerving in their intensity as he replies, “I’m not, actually. For I cannot reverse the effects of death. I abandoned Jeoseung long ago, and as such, my connection to it has slipped. Jeoseung, direly as it needs one, has no ruler. The throne is there, empty, yet many of the dead no longer have a wish for power. And to rule, one must first die. Therein, I suppose, lies the underworld’s problem.” Yeomra laughs, cold and cruel. “I just wanted you to ask, so I could tell you ‘no.’”
I feel a dull, emerald flush rise to my cheeks. Chastened. I am beingchastenedfor having the gall to demand of Yeomra what I wish. Chan is laughing hoarsely against the tree, and my embarrassment is as hot and as painful as Dokkaebi fire.
“Goodbye, my little serpents,” he whispers, turning back to the Imugi, who hiss their goodbyes. “You are such wonderful creatures. I will be awaiting your triumph, my loves.”
The death god does not bother to say goodbye to me before he vanishes—there one moment, and gone the next.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
The Prisoner
Yeomra.
When I saw him, pressing my face against the bars…
When I saw him, I thought he was there to kill me.
There was—gods, for a moment, there was such a complete and unending terror that it was the most I could do to grip the rungs of my cell hard enough to stay upright and continue watching.
And perhaps distracted by the deity of death, the Prophecy let me. Let me watch as Yeomra, beautiful as the bite of a blade, deadly as a rolling thunderstorm, greeted the Imugi as if they were a litter of kittens. Let me watch as those violet eyes somehow metmine—not the Prophecy’s,mine—searing through the body I once inhabited and piercing where I stand imprisoned in this mindscape.
I have been seen by a god.
Agod.
One of my cherished deities, the same divine being I envisioned as the hand guiding my own as I slipped through Sunpo, naming myself the Reaper after his Jeoseung Saja of legend. The knowledge is all-consuming, nearly unbearable. Never have I doubted their existence, but seeing him—in the flesh, not just in a long-ago memory—is overwhelming in the very worst and best of ways. The gods have seen what this body has done. And they… They are angry.
I try to breathe evenly. One breath in, then out. In, then out. I long for the bitter bite of halji, so much that it dries out my mouth and quickens my heart. The Prophecy smokes it, I know, tearing my hard-worked resilience to abstain into shreds.
What do they think of me, those treasured deities? Do they know it is not the true Shin Lina, destroying villages and demanding worship? Do they care?
I do not want them to see my body like this. I do not even know if I am even apersonor if I am only a little figment of a fractured mind…
It doesn’t matter.
The gods are coming.
The gods are coming. And they will make me pay.
The realization breaks me completely, as if I am nothing but a glass figurine in the uncaring hands of a laughing child.
…
The Prophecy is nearing Sanyeongto. There have been no divine obstacles, not yet, but every moment now feels like a brewing storm. Rui has not come since he was ripped apart from me by the pain of our twin wounds. I have not gotten the chance to ask of him what I must and am calmed only by the possibility that, at any moment, he might appear.
As I wait, I run my hands along the sides of the walls, over the rungs, testing for a spot of hidden weakness. I am trained in this searching; Yoonho ensured it. Capture was always a possibility when working for the Talons, and my leader needed proof his Reaper would be able to return if stolen away by rivals. He locked me in Sunpo’s hidden crevices, and each time, I broke out.
First, it was a sewer. Then it was the underground tunnels below the kingdom. Dungeons. And in his final test, a gallowsroom before a hanging. I earned his pride all four times.
There came a time, though, where I could not escape. But by then, the Talons were dead.
I focus on the rungs with difficulty, ignoring the taunts and leers of the Dalgyal Gwisin. I pull on them carefully, listening for any noises that may signify a shift, an unstable spot. It would sound like a soft groaning, or perhaps a creaking of metal. I work my way across the bars, brows furrowed in concentration, sweat trickling down my back.
And then I hear it. At the very end of the row, right near the edge of the wall…that soft groaning, that creaking of metal, so faint that I must have missed it the first time around underneath Eunbi’s jeers. These bars, near the end… Whatever the reason, they’re weaker than the others. I grit my teeth and pull, yet despite their diminished sturdiness, still they do not move. Panting, I step away, wiping my grimy hands on my tattered pants.
I may not be able to create an opening.
But I know somebody who can.
