Page 124 of Reign of the Talon
My name is Shin Lina.
And I will triumph.
INTERLUDE
In the realm above, it happens in a singular, frozen moment.
Chan stands, arms outstretched, greeting his death with an icy stare as the Yong slice through the clouds, fanged maws poised just above the courtyard, eyes burning vicious ire. Iseul shrinks into herself, pale with terror as she feels the hot breath of the dragons, as she stares up into the spit-dripping throat, the dagger-sharp fangs.Seojin, she thinks and wonders if he will desperately try to piece what is left of her together after this, healing hands shaking violently. Kang is stretching a hand out toward the Gumiho, his portal flaring behind him.
The largest Yong unleashes a monstrous bellow, deep and dark with pain and fury and triumph as she descends, flared nostrils pointed at the ground. Sonagi screams at the sight of Shin Lina’s body, limp in the Gumiho’s arms.
It is in that moment that Jeoseung’s fingers stretch upward from the ground, wrapping around the throats of the dragons, invisible to all as they squeeze and scratch viciously, deeply. As Jeoseung draws their essence, their withered souls, downward…that momentchanges.
Furious golden eyes suddenly dull, rusting over with an empty glaze. The hot rush of air assaulting Iseul suddenly cuts off, only wisps remaining. For a split second, the dozens of Yong descending upon the courtyard are perfectly frozen, unmoving, suspended lifeless in the sky.
Sonagi’s bellow rings out one final, true tone…
Before the dragons begin to fall.
It is ugly, how they fall—the unnatural twisting of their long, sinuous bodies, the graceless bending of their necks, their mouths hanging open, slack-jawed and still. Iseul barely has time to react before the first one is crashing into the courtyard snout-first, sending showers of stone and dirt erupting through the air, the force of the impact causing her to lurch backward toward Kang—who practically shoves her into the portal. In a flash, they disappear.
Chan does not move, not at first, as the dozens of dragons crash onto the palace, sending eruptions of wood and dust and earth-shaking tremors through the world. He welcomes it, this death, for he has nothing. Yet something lurches him from his trance. It almost feels like the tapping of a finger on his shoulder, the familiar breathing of the black-haired Dokkaebi he loves, and a soft whisper urging him to“come back.”
Hana, Chan thinks nonsensically before falling backward into his portal, just as a Yong comes crashing down to the spot where he stood only moments before.
The war ends then, in Bonseyo, dead Yong hurtling down from the heavens, crashing atop each other, destroying the palace in its entirety. A black-winged boy watches from above, watches his palace and prison be reduced to nothing but dust and he feels…
“Father,” he cries, but the word rings false. Tastes bitter in his mouth.
As he looks down upon his father’s bloody body, Jeon Eunwoo somehow feels…nothing. Nothing at all as he watches the body—which he once thought so powerful—become a limp ragdoll at the mercy of another. Eunwoo watches his father’s corpse disappear under the weight of a Yong, and he does not cry.
Hollow-hearted and confused, he watches as Bonseyo is destroyed.
Something must be wrong with him, Eunwoo thinks, to feel such emptiness at such horror. Maybe his father was right, and even chains in the dungeon could not beat the wrongness out of the bastard prince.
And when the dust finally settles, the very last of the Jeon Dynasty touches down in the ruins, and hesitantly wonders what might be built next.
CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE
Iseul
The dead are alive.
Thedeadarealive.
As Iseul bursts through the double-doors of Gyeulcheon’s sickbay, breathless and panting hard, she is absolutelycertainthat she is hallucinating. Because right now, she’s watching the formerlyvery muchdead Ijun sweep Jae into a crushing hug, joined by a somber-looking man at her side. Gyeulcheon’s hospital wing is flooded with patients Iseulknowsdied—patients she and Seojin watched slip into the underworld, eyes glazing over, pulses stopping.
“What,” gasps Iseul, “thefuck…”
She pants through her teeth as she scours the sickbay for Seojin, barely able to stand on her shaking legs. The war is over, the war is over andthey have won, but she cannot comprehend that. Her body is still surging with adrenaline, and she is half-convinced that she is going to die somehow, that she’ll die if she doesn’t find Seojin—
And then she sees him, sitting in shock on a cot, all slumped head and shaking hands…and that manacled wrist…
In a flash, Iseul is running, leaping over cots and barreling toward her friend, her love, her Ryu Seojin. With a low sob, she flings herself into his arms and breathes in the familiar scent of him—ginseng and wood, his warmth wrapping around her as his hands lift to hold her close.
He looks up with a gasp as Iseul guides his lips to her, kissing him deeply, hungrily, shaking from the want of him.
“Seojin,” she cries against his lips, pulling away to cup his face in her hands, “Seojin.” And they look at each other as if for the first time, as if they have never done so before—and in their gazes exist a promise.
