Page 47 of Reign of the Talon
With a small sigh, the woman crooks her finger at him. The red thread of fate embedded in his chest materializes, leading somewhere far off in the distance to his Lina. When the woman gently hooks her finger around part of its length and gives him a gentle tug, the pieces of the puzzle finally fall into place. As Rui is jerked to her side and lowers himself cautiously to sit beside her on the shifting strings, he knows to whom he speaks.
Gameunjang. Lady Luck. The Goddess of Fate.
“That’s better,” sighs Gameunjang, releasing his thread. “The other gods, they say I am too quiet. Yet they never come close enough to hear me.” Her smile, while sweet, is sad. “They are frightened of me, I think. Of the power of fate. Even Emperor Hwanin shuns me.”
Rui blinks. The all-mighty Hwanin, afraid of Gameunjang? If one were to only look upon her, at her small face and her warm gaze, they might laugh. What could this soft-spoken goddess have over a divine emperor? Yet Rui has seen the devastation she has wreaked, and he is not fooled by her small, self-deprecating smiles.
“Even now, Dalnim and Haemosu look at me with terror as they attempt to stop this Prophecy. I do not know if they can—they have never tried before. I am curious, I admit, to see if they can.”
Rui’s hands tremble in his lap. Gameunjang sees.
“You resent fate,” she murmurs, and he cannot tell if the guilt in her voice is real. “You resent me, for you are in agony. You mourn for your soul-stitched even as both of you live.” Gameunjang sighs. “For what it is worth, I am sorry.”
“You aresorry?” Rui rasps. “Is it not you, Gameunjang, who creates Prophecies? Fate incarnate, who stitches souls together? In hatred, and in love? Tell me,” he begs, and tears gleam in his eyes, “tell mewhat I did—what she did—to deserve this.”
“Oh,” Gameunjang whispers. “But I did not mean to do this… I did not mean to do this to you. I meant to do this for…someone else. Someone who…needed my help.” When he stares at her uncomprehendingly, she blinks quickly a few times. “There are many foolish things done for love. Prophecies and wars included. It is not only a mortal affliction, love.”
His sharp mind goes utterly blank. What inJeoseungdoes the goddess speak of? Whom does she love? Rui opens his mouth to demand answers, but Gameunjang holds up a slender hand.
“We do not have much time, Dokkaebi. I have not come here to fight with you. So do not try to fightme. The oceans of fate are mine alone to control.” A possessive fire burns suddenly across her face, and it is suddenly clearer than ever why the other deities may fear her. “Do not overstep. For I am here…to help you. This war, this bloodshed… It is my mistake. Do not look so surprised. Even deities make them. Listen closely, Dokkaebi. I am the only deity that isknownto be able to stop a Prophecy. Oh, the others will try, but their victory is uncertain. I, though,Ihold power over fate and may be able to change the tide. But you will have to doexactlyas I say. Can you do that?”
His throat tightens; he knows his eyes are glassy, that his face has leeched of all color, but he cannot find the strength to don his usual pretense of cool, unruffled calculation. The Dokkaebi emperor is glad that he is already kneeling, for if he wasn’t, he is certain that his legs would have given out beneath him. That he would have collapsed, this sudden arrow of hope to the heart simply too much for his exhausted body to bear.
That Gameunjang, the Goddess of Fate, of Luck, has taken pity on him and Lina—it is impossible, surely, yet the proof is before him in the deity’s steady stare. He swallows hard, and when he speaks, his voice is like a shard of glass. Shattered and bright all at once. “Yes,” he whispers. “Y-yes. I can.”
“Good.” Gameunjang seems to breathe a little sigh of relief. She dips a hand into the writhing threads below, like they are an absurd sort of stream. “I know that you have seen the Dalgyal Gwisin, as has your Lina. I can…lend my hand here, too. The Dalgyal Gwisin appeared in tandem with the Prophecy.”
“But if we thwart the Prophecy,” Rui rasps, “we may not…die.”
“You understand. Yes.”
“What must I do?” For the emperor will do anything—anything—to save his lover.
“It is not only you. Shin Lina, too, must play a part in this. She must return to her body, avoiding the Dalgyal Gwisin. And you must purchase her time to do so. But that is not all.” Gameunjang’s gaze is suddenly sharp.
Rui’s throat is suddenly dryer than a desert. “How…?”
Gameunjang sighs softly, as if in pity. “It will be difficult, Dokkaebi. For to thwart this Prophecy, there is no room for error. Everything must happen exactly as I say. Imagine it like this: the Prophecy is a deep and endless wood. There is only one path through. Should you take even the slightest misstep off this trail, you will be swallowed whole by this forest. And there will be nobody to find you. Including me.”
“So show me,” he begs. “Show me the path.”
Her voice is a whisper on the wind. “Your fate thus takes you…to the one place you would not expect. To the defense of an enemy.” Again, Gameunjang reaches out, plucks the thread emerging from his chest. It reverberates through him like the strumming of a gayageum. “Do this, and within this immeasurable darkness, you will find…light.”
Light. Rui’s heart beats faster and faster.
Gameunjang looks at him knowingly. “Do not tell anyone but Lina of my involvement,” she says softly. “Some secrets of fate are best kept hidden, lest they wither in the open.”
And then he is ascending, ascending rapidly from the Goddess of Fate and her many threads, ascending until he is waking gasping on the floor of his corridor with the terrible knowledge of what he must do.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
The Prophecy
When they come, they come with fire.
Hounds, blazing with orange flames, streaking across the night sky. Landing before us, singeing the ground, growling with muzzles pulled back to reveal fangs of fire.
There are six. No, eight? It is impossible to tell as they speed in a circle around us, becoming nothing but a ring of burning, flickering flame. I shout as Sonagi rears, the two of us encircled, the other Imugi unable to reach us as the hounds race in a ring.
