Page 8 of Reign of the Talon
“You killed her,” the Aglyeong whispers as it wraps bloated fingers around the bars of my cell, the sleeves of its white hanbok stained with old blood. If it had eyes, I know that they would glitter with sadistic cruelty.
Yet the demon before me is completely faceless, its long, lank black hair framing a white face as cracked and empty as the shell of a broken egg. There is no mouth for it to speak out of, but that does not stop the wet, rasping words from reaching my ears. It laughs softly under its breath and tilts its head as it watches me. “Yourmistakes killed your sister. Not the bullet, not the pistol, not the man. You, Lina.Youkilled her.”
Curled on the cold stone floor of my cell, I hug my knees to my chest and shudder, squeezing my eyes shut as the Aglyeong clucks its nonexistent tongue.
“She would still be alive, if not for you,” it leers. “You murdered her by the murder of another. How does thatfeel, my sweet little morsel? Hmm? Why don’t you come out? Why don’t you come out and show me how terrible that makes you feel? Come out. Come out.”
Here, I remember everything I once forgot. That the Voice in my head was the Prophecy, the whole time. That Rui and his courtknew, the whole time.
The Aglyeong makes the hoarse, rattling sound I know now is its laugh. Sometimes it attempts to coax me out of this cage, although how I would escape it is an utter mystery to me. “Oh, please,” it’ll gurgle. “Just a nibble. Just ataste. I am ever sohungry.Come here, my delicious gobbet of flesh. Surely that cell grows boring.”
Those hungry goadings are the only time its mouth appears: stretching across its horrible face, a wide, gaping chasm of yellow saliva and chattering, rotting black teeth. Perhaps I would try to go to it, to end whatever meager existence this is, if not for the atrocity that is its breath.
The stench of its lichen-crawling tongue is so eye-wateringly foul that I just… I cannot bring myself to let it eat me. The little dignity I have left recoils at the thought.
The Prophecy, I think, has somehow sent this creature to ensure I remain imprisoned. Has somehow brought it into my mind, where I lie now. She does not need to have bothered.
The war, the destruction, the battles. The Imugi, the worshippers, the schemes. All it makes me is hollow, numb. I will not try to escape. Frankly, I am too weary. In my bones, and in my blood.
“Rui never loved you,” the Aglyeong continues. My hands do nothing to block its cold, slithering voice. It is like a winter wind howling through a forest, felling ice-coated trees with horrific ease. “Who ever could? You’re weak. Sniveling. Cowardly. You bring death to everybody you touch. Who could ever love a monster?”
Nobody can. Nobody should.
Only pain befalls them in the end.
C R A C K.
C R A C K.
C R A C K.
C R A C K.
The sound of my world shattering apart echoes through my mind, piercing my rotten heart with shards of jagged glass. I am sick—violently, terribly sick—on the ground beneath me, hot bile scorching my throat and spilling through my lips as the Aglyeong stands outside the bars of my cell, hideous and horrible, delighting in my misery.
As it leans in close and whispers the words that are true, so inescapably true.
“You killed her, Lina. You killed her.”
…
Curled in the cell, underneath the Aglyeong’s blank yet watchful stare, I dream of Eunbi. Not as I last saw her, still and silent, but as she once was: full of laughter and joy and that sweet, silly humor.
I consume these dreams like a sad child consumes candy. I inhale them, desperate for just a hint of sweetness.
In my dream, Eunbi is laughing, her small face crinkled in joy. My little sister is spinning, her small hands placed in larger, scarred ones, her curly hair whipping through a wind that carries small pink cherry blossoms through a lilac sky. “Faster, Sang,” she cries out in delight. “Faster!”
The dream broadens, like watercolor seeping across parchment, expanding to reveal the tousle-haired spymaster. His hazel eyes are bright as he spins Eunbi underneath the cherry blossom tree, his mouth curved into the small, crooked smile he used to give me after a successful mission carried out in the dead of night.
It is as if I’m standing there, a few feet away from them, a silent and invisible specter. Once, I thought I might have slipped through my sleep into the realm of Jeoseung, as I used to—that I might truly be watching my sister in her place of rest—but she cannot see me, not as Sonagi did during my visits to the underworld realm. With a sinking heart, I’ve come to believe that my nighttime excursions to Jeoseung were only the insidious work of the Prophecy and Sonagi, dragging me to my doom.Icannot flit between worlds without those creatures jerking my strings like a puppet master does a marionette.
Right?
“Now!” Eunbi shouts, and with a soft laugh, Sang lets go of her hands. The momentum carries my sister through the long, swaying grass, where she twirls like a falling snowflake before plopping onto the ground, still giggling. Mountains of jade, of onyx and quartz, rise in the background. Sang laughs, staggering, clearly dizzy as well.
Eunbi’s head pops up from the long grass as she climbs back to her feet. “Again,” she demands, and Sang groans.
“We have been doing this for an hour…”
