Chapter 16
The youngest star god clawed his way back up to the mortal coil, shocked to find the world above transformed into a paradise.
Luscious green trees grew ever taller. Sparkling blue rivers danced and curved across the lands to meet the oceans.
Humans had crawled out of their mountain dwellings and begun to carve the earth to their will, breathing life into the soil in the form of golden wheat, vibrant rice paddies, and thriving bamboo forests.
He might have been able to appreciate the splendor, were he not burning with such terrible envy.
“Brother!” he called out to the Sun. “Brother, I beg of you, please help us!”
But the Sun did not heed his cries, unabashedly enjoying the attention and love of the world.
As he was the sole solar deity, people prayed to him and him alone.
They built shrines and temples in his name, bestowing upon him offerings of incense, ripe fruits, and mountains of gold.
The Sun did not want to share in his newfound glory, and instead turned his back when his youngest brother called out his name.
Enraged, the ninth star cried out to the Heavens next. “Let me in!” he demanded. “I am a god as you all are! I belong neither in Hell, nor toiling away on this plane.”
The Heavens, too, ignored his pleas. They looked upon him with disdain. A god felled by something as crude as a mortal arrow wished to rejoin their ranks? And now he was throwing a fit for all to see. How wholly undignified!
The only person to take pity was his mother, the goddess Xihe. She descended from the Kingdom of Heaven to meet with her youngest son in secret.
“I cannot bring you back with me,” she said sorrowfully. “The best I can do is offer you a gift.”
His mother produced a paintbrush with a quick flourish of her hand.
Even though it was simply made—hollowed bamboo and a tip of coarse horsehair—and easily mistaken for any commoner’s calligraphy brush, the magic within made the surrounding air spark and crackle.
The sun mother plucked a large leaf from a nearby tree and demonstrated, painting a crude face upon its surface.
She pressed it to her face and was transformed. Once breathtaking, now she appeared a shriveled old woman.
“Use this to hide from Death,” she said, raising a hand to cast a spell upon her son. “It is enchanted so that only those with a god’s blessing may wield its power. Use it wisely, my child.”
With paintbrush now begrudgingly in hand, the ninth star knew it was pointless to fight his fate. Perhaps, he thought, he could hide from it instead.
He picked a leaf just as his mother had done and drew himself a mask. It was crude and hideous… and the first of many to come.
If his brother the Sun and Heaven were both out of reach, there was yet one more person to whom he could direct his anger.
Donning his newly crafted disguise, the star god went in search of the archer who shot him down all those years ago from his place in the sky, his thirst for revenge demanding to be quenched.