Page 97 of Reign of the Talon
No stairs appear to carry me away from this torture, to flee from my mistakes and misdeeds. I sit by the lake until the sky turns to a deep, mournful darkness.
My little sister does not return.
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
The Prophecy
When the leather pouches of water mysteriously disappear, I know that it is the work of Haneul. Just as I know it is when a handful of my Imugi fall ill after their supper of deer and moose, and when Eunwoo wakes up to the smell of smoke and realizes that his wings are on fire.
Blue fire, to be precise.
Although the prince was able to snuff out the Dokkaebi fire before it caused true harm other than a few singed feathers, Haneul’s tricks have created a delay in our route toward the Bonseyo Shadowshafts.
Which is undoubtedly what he wanted.
I seethe as I drink from a Bonseyo river that is thankfully clear, bringing my cupped hands to my lips and guzzling in a manner that is entirely undignified. This river was two miles off-course, sheltered within not an orchard but a small forest of autumn foliage, and with this mortal body depending on water, we had no choice but to stop. Iseul drinks to my right, with Eunwoo to my left. Chan’s gag has been soaked with water, and it amuses me greatly that to drink, the weakened Supreme Commander must suckle at the fabric.
Haneul, appearing supremely smug, arches a brow as I return, stomping toward Sonagi. Although I can outlast the typical mortal, my Imugi can go much longer without water than I. The hiding of the water pouches was a personal attack, and I would be lying if I said I was not coldly furious at the inconvenience.
And I am well able to suspect how Haneul passed on such illness to my Imugi after their supper. The crag on which we were camped hosted clumps of a suspicious-seeming brown herb that I only noticed after Daeyang took the sickly back to Jeoseung to heal. It would have been easy enough for Haneul to sprinkle the bloody carcasses with whatever it was, inducing this effect.
These petty attacks. I could see them coming, from the minute Haneul arrived here. My Imugi were meant to keep a close eye on him, but the Dokkaebi is as much of a trickster as Seokga, and my forces have been rattled after the ambush from the gods. Yet although Haneul has succeeded in this minor sabotage, my serpents now keep him under unblinking, watchful eyes. Stomach cramps and disappearing water are the worst he will be able to do.
Thanks to Haneul’santics, we are not en route and instead must travel the two miles back before we can truly start out in earnest. All the while, Haneul whistles under his breath, and it is only after I have Iseul bind and gag him once more that he stops. Yet I can stillfeelhis amusement, his utter entertainment at his successful diversion. He can burn through the ropes, the gag, at any time. He is only humoring me, yet the reprieve from his endless prattling is soothing. By the time we near the Shadowshafts entrances, my ire has begun to fade.
The terrain of Bonseyo is rich with hills, and there is hardly a village to be seen as fruit-bearing trees begin to sprout up around us. Branches groaning with the weight of fat persimmons, glossy red apples, and sweet figs fill the evening air with saccharine aroma. Wasps buzz in the expansive orchard, humming contentedly as they crawl across the fruits that have fallen to the richly soiled earth below, stomachs full and bulging. These orchards are nearly as dense as the Wyusan Wilderness, but thoroughly more enjoyable for my forces. Iseul crunches happily on an apple while my Imugi snap their heads up toward the trees and tear off entire branches of persimmons. Sonagi sighs in exasperation as her children crunch contentedly away on them, wood and all.
Eunwoo’s singed feathers ruffle as we traverse deeper into the orchards. The sun is setting, and the air has become colder. He seems nervous, and I catch him throwing anticipatory glances my way. “We’re nearly to one of the Shadowshaft entrances,” the prince says.
“Good,” I reply curtly. It is only luck that the gods and the Wyusan-Gyeulcheon alliance have not yet intervened. Atop Sonagi, I have grown tense, waiting for a deity to lunge out of the shadows.
Something small and hard hits me in the back of the head, and my eyes flare wide as I swivel around, scaleblades extending…
Only to see Haneul lobbing another apple toward me, apparently having tired of tolerating the ropes binding him. I catch it swiftly and hurl it back toward him as hard as I can. It slams into his forehead. The pain of impact bursts through me, too, but it’s worth it to see the damned emperor nearly tumble off his reluctant Imugi mount. How I wish I could imprison him elsewhere. But it is a risk I am unwilling to take: I must keep my eyes on him at all times.
A hill in the midst of the orchard looms into view. Although its top is grassy, and home to a large apple tree, the underside is blocked of rocks, piled atop one another. A blockage, preventing entrance into the tunnels.
The Imugi make quick work of it, clearing the stones with a speed that sends a burst of pride through me. The entrance is a gaping mouth, like that of a cave—the hill is hollowed out, leading to darkness.
“Ooo,” says Iseul. “Howterrificallyhorrible. Who will go first, Lina?”
I cut a look toward my Gumiho. Eunwoo has reported nothing strange, yet I still cannot help but wonder if Iseul is truly as loyal to me as she seems. If she has mourned for Uloe at all, I have not seen it. Grimly, I am about to suggest that Iseul goes first when Eunwoo intervenes.
“I’ll go,” the prince offers, always eager to please and already making for the entrance. He casts a trepidatious look over his shoulder and disappears into the darkness. I wait for a few moments—ensuring there is no shriek of pain or otherwise foreboding noise—before following him atop Sonagi. Her stomach glides across the rough stone that slopes downward without any difficulties, the hard scales preventing cuts or scrapes. The air becomes disgustingly thick with the smell of soil, and cold. As we venture further into the Bonseyo Shadowshafts, where tunnels split every which way, it grows increasingly colder.
Eunwoo leads us into a tunnel to the right, where the packed soil far, far above soon transitions into some sort of ore. It is very quiet in the Shadowshafts, the only sound the slithering of the Imugi.
The path the prince takes us on twists and twines. Tunnels split into two, and then three, the underground labyrinth growing more and more complex as an hour and then two slowly creep by. I amuse myself by scouring the mind for the Prisoner and feel a smug bite of satisfaction as I realize she is not moving, wherever she is. Perhaps she is trapped again.
Good.
“How much longer?” Iseul asks Eunwoo, yawning. He casts a look over his shoulder.
“The tunnel to the palace isn’t far away now,” the prince replies.
“Excellent.” I smile, heart beginning to pound. Bonseyo will fall tonight, and the gods will have been too oblivious to stop it. We will have snuck in through the Shadowshafts, right underneath their noses. Fulfillment is so close within reach, only a millimeter away. Soon, so soon, my Imugi will take the form of Yong. I can barely breathe through the thrill of it, heady excitement flowing in my veins.
The world will be as it should—Three Kingdoms, ruled by a magnificent goddess and her creatures. Creatures who have long waited their turn for this taking. I close my eyes and smile.It will be glorious,I think.
