Page 42 of Reign of the Talon
I turn to him, swallowing hard.I…should not have let myself be shepherded into here. You are right, Rui. This is my war. I must at least—try to fight. One last time. Just one last time.
His silver eyes shine with the heat of a thousand stars. “Lina,” he says, and I think he might fall to his knees. “Lina.” The simple sound of my name from his lips holds more—more meaning, more emotion, more reverence—than any other word could. I blink rapidly, and I am searching for words of my own when the Dalgyal Gwisin speaks instead. My eyes narrow as I whip back around.
“Ooo,” it rasps, somehow smacking its nonexistent lips. “Ooo… Are youescaping? Oh, I truly hope you are.” As it steps out from the darkness, its mouth appears in a twisted stretch, its teeth beginning to chatter in excitement. “I’m hungry, so hungry. My mouth…it’swatering.” Dark saliva drips from its maw. “Come here, scrumptious. I’m ever so hungry.”
Rui was right. It was never guarding me on behalf of the Prophecy. It was guarding me for itself, waiting forthis.
For me to leave the safety of the cell, as it’s been trying to goad me into doing this entire time.
For it to…eat me.
Truly, I am beginning to think that Gameunjang, Goddess of Luck and Fate, despises me. I suppress a groan as its teeth continue their relentless, unnerving chattering.
“Come out, come out,” croons the Dalgyal Gwisin. “My tasty little morsel of flesh, my scrumptious tidbit of misery…” It stretches out its arms, sleeves of the white hanbok falling away to reveal bloated flesh. “Come to me… Let me have you…”
Rui stiffens, something hitching in his throat. “Itcannotcatch you,” he breathes into my ear. “If it kills you in here—I do not think you will stand any chance of returning to your body. You could be destroyed.” I can tell what he means: my very essence, shredded into nothingness.
It can bleed, I tell him, but he shakes his head. I watch as he paces the cell.
“You are unarmed against an Aglyeong. And not just any Aglyeong, little thief, but aDalgyal Gwisin.A Dalgyal…” His jaw clenches, and he looks so utterly lost…until his hand drifts down to the hilt sheathed at his hip. Eyes suddenly determined, he yanks the hilt out of its sheath and flicks his wrist. A blade of pure blue appears. “A firesword,” he tells me, striding back toward me with urgency and pressing it into my hand. “Forged in dokkaebibul. The blade is retractable. I do not know if it will remain here once I am pulled from this place, but it is worth a try.”
The sword is cold and heavy in my hands, the hilt dark and simply engraved. Out of instinct, my fingers tighten around it. For me, holding a sword is as natural as a mother holding a babe. Something inside of me stirs from slumber, blinking intently at the feeling of a weapon in my hand.
Rui must see it or sense it. His eyes trace my face and shine with what I know is pride.
Pride is not what I feel. No, I feel a surge of bitterness. Is this the only thing I was made for? Holding a weapon? Slowly, I turn back to the Dalgyal Gwisin. Its teeth stop chattering as it beholds the sword.
“You’re spoiling the fun,” it hisses.
Rui unbuckles the leather baldric around his waist and tosses that to me, too. A place to sheath the sword. With resignation, I fasten it around my own waist.
Glaring at the Dalgyal Gwisin, I tilt my head toward the bars, a gesture that Rui understands.
“I’ll try,” Rui murmurs, and I step aside as he wraps his hands around the rungs. He strains, pulling the bars in opposite directions. He grunts, strains, and then steps back and shakes his head. My hopes deflate. “Ifthisarea is weaker,” he mutters, “I don’t even want to try the other rungs.”
Try again, I tell him, having sheathed the sword.This time, I’ll try, too.
Rui’s lips curve, just slightly. “Are you sure the Prophecy can’t see us in here? Because I’m sure this shall look hilarious,” he adds as I place my hands around the cold metal and as he steps behind me to place his hands just above me. I’m sure, but with my hands occupied, I can’t tell him—so instead, I just nod.
Together we pull. My muscles strain, yet even as the bars groan and I think they might be giving way, they don’t budge. And I am exhausted—I stumble backward, hands lurching from the bars, and collide into Rui. My back meets his hard torso, and together we trip, landing on the cold, dank floor.
Cheeks burning, I scramble up. Before I can stop myself, I reach down a hand in an offer of help. Surprise flickering across his face, Rui takes it.
His hand is cool. Calloused.
I hold on for a second longer than I need to. Like holding the sword, holding his hand feels…natural. Despite everything.
“Lina,” he whispers hoarsely.
Rui, I mouth silently, hand in his grasp.
“Your voice,” he says uncertainly. “I have wondered… Have you lost it, little thief?”
Yes. Yes, I have lost it. But not in the way he thinks. It is still there, curled within my throat, but the words I’ve spoken, the words fed onto it by the Prophecy during my crusade of terror in Sunpo… The thought of speaking still fills me with a sickening dread.
But I do not know if Rui would understand this, so I merely shake my head and pull my hand from his grip. I pretend I do not feel his pity nor his disappointment as my touch leaves his own. I pretend that my own hand does not seem to ache at the loss.
There has to be a way out, I sign, quickly changing the topic.You’ve tried the Dokkaebi fire on my body during the battles, haven’t you?Those flames nearly worked once, nearly tore the Prophecy out of me. But then—
