Chapter 9 Rui #2
Revenant in her current state, but with her weapon and a boost of her spiritual energy, maybe, just maybe, Song Yiran could use her sword. There was only a slim chance her idea would work. But
what other choice did they have?
She seized Yiran’s hand, dragging him down to her. They locked eyes. He didn’t pull away from her, and she didn’t let go.
In one breath, she recited the rest of the incantation.
The last bit of talisman lit up.
Please.
Seconds ticked by like an eternity. Rui was suddenly hyperaware of her splintered ribs, the blood trickling from her side, her own shallow breathing, and the sound of the Revenant dragging its body along the gravel path.
And him. The boy who was staring at her in wonder.
The spell hit.
Energy vibrated through her blood like an electronic hum of tiny needles pricking and biting. Heat spread through her body—followed
by a piercing cold, like ice burning in her veins. The hum rose to a crescendo, screeching like nails on a chalkboard as it
went back and forth between Yiran and her. A song that only both of them could hear.
With no warning, it stopped.
They stared at each other, breathless.
Rui was shivering. But although Yiran’s face had gone pale, an ethereal glow emanated from him. It disappeared as his hand
warmed in hers, and the same unusual heat radiated off the rest of him.
Yiran was first to speak, his voice hoarse. “What was that?” He jerked away from her, a hand on his own chest like he was checking for a heartbeat. “What did you do to me?”
“I’m saving us.” Rui nudged his cheek so he faced the Revenant. “You have to kill that.”
“Fuck.”
“Exactly. If you want to stay alive, do as I say. Raise my sword.”
Yiran held her sword up, a skeptical look on his face.
“Now, go.”
“Go?”
Rui didn’t understand why he was so confused. “You’ve got a boost of my yangqi; use my sword. Channel your magic and kill
the Revenant.”
“But how?”
When she stared back at him, just as flabbergasted as he seemed, Yiran swallowed. Even in the subdued light of the streetlamps,
she could see a flush spreading across his cheeks.
“I was born with a normal spirit core,” he confessed, looking wretched.
“You’re a normie?” How did she miss that earlier? She focused on him, but it was too late. Whatever energy she sensed from him now might be a result of Zizi’s spell. “Isn’t every Song born with a powerful spirit core?” she said, desperate for it to be true.
Yiran hung his head. “Every Song but me. I don’t have magic.”
I don’t have magic.
His words were a death knell. They were going to perish after all. Word on the street was that Yiran hadn’t enrolled at Xingshan
because Song Wei had lost his only son in the war against the Revenants, and he wanted at least one grandson to be out of
harm’s way. She didn’t know it was because he was incapable of magic.
But something had happened between them because of the spell. Rui was sure of it. She felt different. Hollow, like something was missing from her.
“It doesn’t matter,” she said, hoping she was right. “The spell might’ve still transferred some of my spiritual energy to
you. But it won’t last long and it’s our only chance. We can do this—you can do this. Breathe in slow, focus on how your breath moves in your stomach.”
“But—”
Rui gripped his hand, speaking as calmly as she could. “Trust me. Ground yourself and breathe. Feel your vital force, your
qi, circulating through your body. Feel the energy. Let it flow over you like a wave.”
“Okay, breathe,” Yiran repeated. He inhaled and exhaled.
Soft crimson light shimmered from his hands. For some strange reason, the light looked like it was pouring out from the small
white scars on each of his fingertips, as if he’d been cut dozens of times, the cuts healing and tearing and healing again.
Rui had never seen anyone channel magic directly from their hands before, but relief rushed through her.
They had a chance.
“You’re doing good,” she said. “Run your hand over the blade, that’s right, like that.”
The entire sword in Yiran’s hand lit up with crimson light.
He fell back in surprise. Rui choked on a hysterical laugh. It felt like her chest was about to explode.
Zizi’s spell worked. It worked.
Yiran gawked at the glowing sword in his hand. “What—how? This is impossible.”
“Focus,” she hissed. “Keep breathing.”
“Okay, okay.”
As Yiran kept the rhythm of his breathing, the blade transformed, its light brighter than before. The blade wasn’t shaped
like a lightning bolt. It was bigger and thicker, curved like an outsized saber. A nagging voice in Rui’s head questioned
its appearance, but there was no time to think about it.
“I can’t cast any protection spells for you. You only get one chance,” she told Yiran. “Use me as bait. Approach the Revenant
from behind and cut off its tentacles.”
“Cut off?”
With an exasperated grunt, Rui pointed at the weapon in his hand. “See this? Sword, tentacle, chop.”
“Sword, tentacle, chop,” Yiran recited. He gave her a tentative smile. “It’ll be fine, right?”
Without waiting for an answer, he sprinted off into the dark.
Rui propped herself up on her good elbow, ignoring the pain pulsating through her body. When Yiran was out of sight, she grabbed
a rock and threw it at the Revenant.
“Hey, asshole, I’m right here!”
The Revenant raised its head at the sound of her voice. Shambling closer, it made a sorrowful sound, almost as if it were
crying. But Revenants didn’t have emotions . . . did they?
Something flitted behind it.
Yiran. He approached the creature with a natural predatory agility, like this was something he was born to do. He raised his
arms. Rui held her breath. The blade of crimson light flashed.
A howl echoed through the night.
Flesh smoked as a deep cut emerged across the Revenant’s back. But Yiran’s strike had missed most of its tentacles. Helplessly,
Rui watched as the Revenant lunged at him. He twisted just out of reach, but not before the Revenant hit his arm. His sword
flew to the ground, landing a distance away.
Yiran sprang back and dropped to one knee, bracing himself with a hand.
It’s going to kill him. Rui had sent him to his death. What was she thinking?
But Yiran got up. He looked undaunted and more determined than before. He angled his body as if he were escaping to the right.
The Revenant shifted in anticipation. Cutting left, Yiran slammed a shoulder into its body.
The Revenant smashed into the fence. Without wasting a second, Yiran ran and dove for the sword. But the crimson blade had
vanished, and the sword looked like an ordinary sword, the metal dull and silver.
“It’s gone,” Yiran shouted to Rui.
“It’s not,” she said, keeping an eye on the Revenant. One of its tentacles was caught on the wires of the fence, but it was
pulling itself free. “I don’t feel my spiritual energy returning, which means the spell’s still working.”
“I can’t—my grandfather tested me—”
Even from a distance, she could sense Yiran’s doubt. “The past doesn’t matter. The spell’s working. You have magic—use it.”
Yiran shook his head. “I can’t do this.”
“You just did it,” Rui insisted. The Revenant was pushing back on its deformed feet, snapping its head this way and that.
But Yiran stood frozen, staring at the sword in his hands as if he were off in some faraway place. Rui dragged herself closer
to him, pleading, “Trust me, you can do it.”
The Revenant was close. Closer.
Desperation shoved her. “Song Yiran—I believe in you, dammit!”
The sharpness in her voice snapped Yiran out of his daze. His eyes went to her for a moment, and she saw something flicker in them. Whatever it was, it gave her hope.
But as Yiran ran toward the Revenant, the blade of his sword stayed dull.
Heart in her throat, Rui whispered, “Channel your magic. Do it.”
Just as the Revenant’s tentacles grazed his arms, Yiran slid his hand down the blade.
Light flashed.
The Revenant screamed.
Something pungent and wine-colored sprayed through the air.
Yiran spun and sliced again. The Revenant’s tentacles flopped onto the ground with a wet sound. Lunging with a triumphant
yell, he pushed his blade into the Revenant’s chest.
The creature shuddered for a few moments, but it didn’t vaporize the way Rui had expected it to. Its body hardened, turning
gray. Then it crumbled like a sandcastle, bits of ash scattering everywhere. In moments, all that was left was smoke and dust
and that acrid sulfur stench.
Rui fell back onto the grass, dizzy and nauseated. The annoying boy had done it. He killed the Revenant. Of course he did. He’s a Song, she thought as black spots filled her vision.
Footsteps drew close. Warm hands slipped under her and lifted her up.
“What are you doing?” she said, barely able to speak.
“We need to get you to a hospital.”
“No hospital.” She pushed her bloody palms against his chest, but Yiran held her tight.
“I’ll bring you to my grandfather. He’ll know what to do.”
“Not him, not the Guild.” Rui couldn’t show up at the Guild like this. She would have to explain what happened. The illegal
spell she used, the transference of spiritual energy, going after a Revenant by herself—the evidence was damning. She would
get kicked out of the Academy. She would lose everything. “No Guild. Put me down, I’m fine.”
“How are you fine? Look at yourself.”
“You don’t understand. Put me down right now. I don’t need your help.”
“Shut up and listen,” Yiran growled.
Rui blinked hard.
Yiran came into focus. He was licking his dry lips. “I don’t know what you did to me. I’m not even sure if I want to know,
because it feels like there’s a fire inside me and I’m going mad. But I know you’re bleeding to death, and you need help.
You’re an Exorcist. I’m bringing you to my grandfather.”
His hair was flattened to his forehead, neck slicked with sweat, eyes wild and frantic. Rui was pressed close enough to sense
his heart beating too quickly. He was barely holding it together. She could not let him fall apart.
She swallowed and tasted blood. “Mort Street—bring me to Mort Street.”