Page 110 of Reign of the Talon
His strained smile grows as he descends the rest of the steps, twirling the jikdo in his hand. “Heh. I killed my older brother when I was eight years old,” Emperor Jeon croaks. “My sister when I was, hm, twelve. My younger brother, he eluded death for so long. But he, too, died. Painfully. And so will you—yet another pretender to the throne. I admit,” he chuckles as his feet touch the ground of the pavilion, “I did not expect you to make it this far. Mm. No. I was not overly concerned with the stories of the power-hungry teenage girl or with the messengers sent to beg for aid.” His hateful eyes flick to Haneul, who stands behind me. “Why waste an army when others can do the work for you? But then you took Wyusan, and I was forced to change my strategy.” He sighs. “You were supposed to die in the Shadowshafts.”
“Disappointed?” I purr.
Emperor Jeon laughs under his breath. “Heh.”
Then, quickly enough that I miss it with a blink, his smile drops and is replaced by a look of pure fury. He rushes toward me, sword swinging down in an arc. I lurch away, dropping and rolling underneath his blade, leaping back onto my feet on the pavilion’s ground. Haneul, face pale, does not engage in the fighting—guilt wracking through the red thread in sharp waves—but rather stands stiffly with fear-bright eyes as Jeon’s sword flashes through the air, forcing me up the steps. It is like he is…waiting for something, but I know not what.
The emperor’s blows I block with my scaleblades and grit my teeth as I seize an opening for the offensive, ducking his next attack and sending a harsh kick to his unprotected right side. Jeon huffs and stumbles down a step, closer to me.
Turning him around with strategic attacks, I force him toward the center of the pavilion, breathing hard with anticipation. Emperor Jeon is the one remaining force between myself and my rightful claiming of the Three Kingdoms. When I take Bonseyo, my Imugi will transform into Yong—and the battle in the Bonseyo Shadowshafts will end quickly. Excitement thrums through my blood as I send a harsh point kick upward, my boot connecting with the side of his face with a satisfying crack. Jeon stumbles back and spits out blood, blinking unsteadily. Disarming him swiftly, I send him to his knees and level my scaleblade at his throat.
Finally. This will end now.
But—
Too slowly, my eyes move toward Haneul—toward that damned blue fire burning in his palms, toward the Dokkaebi who slowly meets my eye.
CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO
Rui
The Dokkaebi emperor forces down his complete and unending terror as his blue fire burns steadily in his palms, their deadly flames licking upward toward the sky. Does Gameunjang look down upon him?
What has come of her promise that she will descend in Bonseyo, that she will stop the Prophecy herself? As the Prophecy battled against Emperor Jeon, Rui awaited her descent: waited for a flash of dark-red hair and a crimson hanbok, the unmistakable sense offate. Yet there was nothing, no whisper of the divine, even as the mortal emperor began to falter in his fight—and it is now that Rui understands, with a terrible clarity, that something is very wrong.
For it is in this moment that the Prophecy has her scaleblade pressed against the Jeon emperor’s throat. She is only one drop of blood away from reaching Fulfillment, from releasing her Imugi into the skies as terrible, winged beasts.
Trembling, Rui forces his roaring thoughts back down and focuses only on the thrumming of power through his blood and the burning of his dokkaebibul.
There is still time to win. He can no longer wait in vain for Gameunjang to lend her powerful hand. Lina needs him.
She needs him, and if the gods won’t answer her, he will.
The Prophecy hisses, faltering where she stands above Emperor Jeon. “You wouldn’t,” she hisses.
Rui makes himself smile sharply. “Do not underestimate what I would do for her,” he breathes and hurls one of those fiery orbs straight toward the Prophecy.
Caught off guard, the Prophecy takes the full force of the Dokkaebi fire. It hits her chest, and she lurches backward, flame erupting on her skin. Rui grits his teeth, fighting the urge to look away as Lina’s body catches fire, flesh and scales burning. It is not enough to kill her body, he has made sure of it, but it is enough to keep her down.
The Prophecy’s wounds do not bloom upon his own skin. This dokkaebibul has never been able to hurt him. This is the one weapon he has. The one weapon that can buy Lina—wherever she is—some time.
He can only apologize that Lina may feel the same pain that wracks the Prophecy’s body—and can only hope that she is close enough to the surface that she does not lose valuable time from the agony of it.
The Prophecy screams in rage as she stretches out a hand toward the sky, attempting to summon rain. Rui, eyes flashing, takes a stance before the weakened Bonseyo emperor.
The fire has eaten a hole through the Prophecy’s stealthsuit. Rui watches as, panting hard, she manages to climb to her feet even as the fire continues to ravage her flesh. “What are you doing?” she spits.
A muscle jumps in his jaw. “Time,” he replies coldly. “It’s something that we unfortunately need.”
“Ah,” the Prophecy replies, cocking her head. “Still too weak to kill me, I see. Still waiting for your treasuredwifeto break free.” She stalks forth, gritting her teeth. “Your longings are foolish. Move aside, Dokkaebi.”
“No.” Rui searches her gaze, searches intently for Lina. She is not there. Not yet. “No,” he repeats quietly.
“You—”
A pillar of Dokkaebi fire erupts before him.
It splits into five, then into ten.
