Page 85 of Reign of the Talon
Rui waits. Patiently. Oh, he knows there is more to come.
“She told me,” Chan rasps. “She told me you wouldn’t make the trade for me. You’re an incompetent bastard. You’re going to get our people killed.” Hatred simmers along the dark planes of his face as Rui opens his eyes and forces himself to smile thinly.
He knows he should not, but this—hiding wounds beneath dark smirks and broken laughter—is second nature to him. Haneul Rui is a charade, a mask to hide a creature of darkness and despair.
“If you are so desperate to name me a villain,” he whispers, “best to say it outright.”
And when the word leaves his friend’s mouth, crackling with resentment and broken brotherhood, Rui does not even so much as flinch.
Instead, he laughs under his breath and turns away.
Even as something crumbles to dust inside of him.
…
He does not sleep that night, although perhaps that should come as no surprise with Chan hissing threats at him through the darkness of the stables and the hard-packed dirt beneath him. Yet although Rui does not sleep, somehow, he dreams, and he dreams of Gameunjang.
The goddess is kneeling on that writhing landmass of threads once more, and this time, Rui does not need to be told to come closer.
“Dokkaebi,” says Gameunjang. “I see you have heeded my advice.”
“Tell me that what I am doing is right,” begs Rui, hanging his head, closing his eyes in exhaustion. Chan’s words ring in his ears. “Tell me that we will stop this Prophecy from coming to fruition.”
“You are doing as fate decrees,” the goddess replies softly. “You remain on the right path, cutting through the forest.”
Rui shakes his head, opening his eyes, staring blearily at her. Gameunjang’s gaze is steady and knowing.
“Time is running out,” he says desperately. For although Lina is trying, there is no possible way for him to deny how close the Prophecy draws toward Fulfillment. “If Lina does not reclaim her body before the Prophecy reaches Bonseyo…”
Gameunjang looks at him for a long, long moment. When she finally speaks, her words are little but a reassuring sigh. “If that should happen, then I will descend, Dokkaebi,” she murmurs. “If Lina has not reclaimed that which belongs to her before the Prophecy enters the Jeons’ domain, I will do as my brethren have done and descend. I shall do as I’ve urged you: I will purchase her some more time. Believe that I will aid you in thwarting the Prophecy. I ask only that you trust in me. Trust in the tides of fate.”
He can do that, he supposes, yet surely there must be a faster way to prevent Fulfillment…
“You are plotting something,” Gameunjang guesses wryly.
Of course he is. It is a known fact of the universe that Haneul Rui, infamous Dokkaebi that he is, is always scheming. It will be a day like no other when his mind is not twisting itself around one plot or another, sharpening its edges on mischief and malice. This particular plan may be well possible if he can somehow manage to avoid the detection of the Imugi and apprehend the Prophecy in time.
“Tell me,” commands the goddess. The threads beneath them begin to writhe more and more rapidly. This brings him pause. Why does it seem as though Gameunjang is distressed by the possibility of his plotting? Does she have no faith in him?
When Rui remains reticent, the red thread of fate appears from his chest, and Gameunjang curls a finger around it, giving it a demanding yank. It is like she pulls the words from his mind to his lips.
“I could remove the Prophecy from her forces,” Rui grits out. “If I manage to reach her, I can open a portal and drag us to some remote land. I can thus prevent her from taking Bonseyo. I could stop Fulfillment.”
Something flashes in Gameunjang’s brown eyes. “It will not work,” the goddess warns. “She will not allow herself to be taken. You have tried this on the battlefield, no?”
Rui narrows his icy silver eyes. He has, yes. Every time, it has completely failed. “This is different. I am behind the lines with her. I could…”
“You must not,” says the goddess firmly. “It will…tangle everything. Remove you from the path. You must not do it, Dokkaebi. This is an order.”
“It is hard to follow these orders,” he replies in a voice as cold as a winter wind, “when you do not explain the meaning behind them.”
Gameunjang’s mouth twists. “Even if you were to isolate the Prophecy, her Imugi would easily continue on without her.” Damnation. Rui curses heavily in his mind. She is right. “Thus, I suggest you remain here, where you might prove yourself useful. There is only one path toward victory. Do not stray from it, Dokkaebi. Trust in me. Trust in fate.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
The Prisoner
This time, I do not stop to rest at the cabin. Instead, I hurry onward, fresh determination singing through my veins, the memory of Chara and Chryse’s hands in mine lessening the acute loneliness and desperation I so often feel in this mindscape. Their key, with a small charm shaped like an ornate mirror, gives me strength as it clicks against the other three. I’ve collected four out of the seven. Only three more levels await me.
