Chapter 17 Yue
She has sad eyes. A trick, surely, to take advantage of my sympathy.
The four of us step into the waiting temple situated between the courts in silence.
The building appears abandoned, not a soul in sight.
The only reason I know others have been through before us is by the faint footprints left behind on the dusty floors, reminders that we aren’t the first to attempt an escape.
I wonder how far they got. Did they make it out of Hell in one piece, finally having burnt off their sins to once again step back into the circle of reincarnation?
Paper lanterns float of their own accord, suspending themselves a few feet in the air to illuminate the space in soft, flickering light. It’s a welcome reprieve from the sickening green glow of the Jade Palace. It was starting to give me a headache.
“We should rest before we move on,” Sonam says. His voice is low and hoarse, weighed down by obvious exhaustion.
Normally quick to fight him, I end up nodding along with Wen and Sooah.
They seem as eager as I do to move on to the next trial.
Which is to say—not at all. While they settle down near the center of the main room, I find a quiet, dark corner to sit down.
With my back pressed to the wall and my knees tucked to my chest, I force myself to find calm.
I can’t stop thinking about them. My sisters, dying. Burning. Right before my very eyes, all while the star god laughed.
Curse him. Curse him and all of Hell and these horrible humans who brought me here.
Mihan once told me a story about the star gods, all those years ago.
They had always been cruel and uncaring, so much so that a human took it upon himself to end their tyranny.
It seems almost fitting, in hindsight, that they should be tasked with running the Courts of Hell. They’re certainly well suited for it.
My stomach grumbles, but I stifle the sound by hugging my knees tighter.
It’s impossible to tell how much time has passed since we arrived.
A few days, perhaps? Though given my growing hunger, it could be closer to a week.
This could prove troublesome. Eating Sonam while under a blood oath is out of the question, and killing his guards won’t come without consequence.
The more the seconds tick by, the more ravenous I become.
I bite my tongue and ignore my hunger pangs. This is no time to lose my head.
The humans shift out of their armor as they did before, clearly more at ease now that we’ve managed to escape the star god’s torturous illusions.
Nobody says a word as Sooah rifles through her pockets, pulling out a small package wrapped tightly in banana leaves.
She unfurls them one by one, exposing a handful of rice balls. She’s come prepared, it seems.
They look dry, and might have been sat on once or twice, but the scent of the salted salmon filling within makes my mouth water even at this distance. Sooah shares the three portions she has with Sonam and Wen without hesitation, though she does momentarily glance over her shoulder at me.
“Don’t worry about feeding that thing,” Wen says, already scarfing down his rice.
Sooah signs something with one hand. I don’t understand a word, but I can tell by the tension in her shoulders and the frown she wears that she’s agitated. Maybe she doesn’t agree.
“We need to look out for ourselves,” Wen continues with a huff. His voice is worse than nails screeching over porcelain. “Don’t waste our food on that animal.”
I don’t suffer fools, but the usual anger that fuels me is nowhere to be found. I’m still too shaken, trapped in my own mind as I relive my sisters’ demise again and again. What a cruel thing, to have your most horrifying memories used against you.
A shadow approaches, long and wide. I look up to find the captain a few paces away, hesitation knitting his brows together. We stare at each other distrustfully. Neither of us makes a move.
“Are demons even capable of eating human food?” he asks gruffly. As to the point as ever.
“We are,” I reply, looking him up and down, “though there are certainly more nourishing things.”
He huffs. After a moment, he settles for a simple nod and bends over slowly, portioning his food in half and setting it down on a banana leaf upon the floor.
He looks like he’s trying to appease a rabid dog, which I’ll admit isn’t as far from reality as it could be.
Sonam backs away without a word, and I suppose it’s better than sticking around awaiting thanks.
I’m used to being cursed at, treated like filth.
This kindness is unsettling. No. Not a kindness, but an act of self-preservation.
I shouldn’t fool myself into thinking Sonam truly cares.
This is but an attempt at pacifying me. It isn’t an entirely foolish ploy.
If I’m kept full, I am less likely to turn my teeth on them, though there’s little to stop me from biting just for fun.
I momentarily entertain the thought of nipping off Wen’s fingers, but what good is an archer who cannot nock his arrow?
Sonam returns to his little troupe, taking a seat with his back turned to me, and then pulls out that notebook of his and starts to write.
The scritch-scratch of his charcoal against the surface sends a light shiver down my spine.
He appears almost meditative, perfectly still save for his studious hand.
I want to ask what thoughts he’s committing to paper, but I decide against it.
It’s evident that none of us are in a particularly talkative mood.
Once the humans return to ignoring me outright, I reach for the offering of hardened rice and salted fish that Sonam left out for me.
I give it a sniff. No poison. Not a trick.
Ignoring the way my face heats, I finish it in two measly bites.
It’s dry going down, a grain or two stuck to the back of my throat, but at least it quiets my stomach.
After I lick my teeth clean, I return to the safety of my corner of the temple and keep a watchful eye on all.
A rough hand claps over my mouth, cold metal biting the front of my throat. I made the mistake of nodding off. Something heavy drives itself into my chest—a pair of knees. Someone is on top of me.
Wen. Dagger in hand. The usual tremor that plagues him is gone.
He’s going to kill me.
“Quiet,” he hisses. “This’ll be qui—”
I unhinge my jaw and bite off two of his fingers, the crunch of his bones echoing inside my skull.
His flesh tastes foul, but I expect nothing less from this rat.
Wen falls back in agony, clutching his hand to his chest as he cries bloody murder.
My heart pounds and my lungs burn. I lunge at him, driving my knees to his chest just as he did to me.
“Attacking someone in their sleep?” I growl. “You’re as cowardly as they come.”
“Fox!” Sonam is on his feet, barreling toward me. He shoves me off of Wen with dizzying force. I can barely hear anything over the rush of blood in my ears.
“The demon attacked me!” Wen lies, groaning and whining as if he’s suffered a fatal wound. He holds up his bloody, disfigured hand. “See? It was going to eat me!”
“He’s lying!” I snap back. There’s an unfamiliar sting in my eyes. “He was going to kill me.”
“Like anyone would believe that,” Wen huffs. “You saw how it was on top of me. Another second, and the beast would have taken my whole hand.”
“I was defending myself. You had a blade to my throat!”
“You can’t trust a blasted thing out of that monster’s mouth. Everything it says is a lie!”
“But I’m not—” My throat chokes. I don’t know what I want more badly: to convince Sonam that I’m not lying, or that I’m not a monster, because both are true.
I only eat humans because it’s my nature.
There’s no choice in the matter. I don’t take pleasure in killing—though there’s an element of satisfaction in ridding the world of a particularly unkind soul.
Would they call a tiger a monster for feasting upon a hare?
What about a viper helping itself to the eggs in a bird’s nest?
And what of the dragons in the Far East who have been rumored to fly off with farmland ox?
They blame me for what I am, hunt me for what I am, and even make sport of it.
So it begs the question: Who is the real monster here?
“I’ve had enough of this,” I say through gritted teeth, turning toward the temple’s entrance.
“Where are you going?” Sonam calls after me. A direct question—I cannot lie.
“I’m going ahead. Worry not, Your Highness,” I spit the title like a curse, “you don’t have to worry about our deal. I’ll clear the way, and you and your minions can follow.”
Sooah stomps her foot, but no one heeds her.
“Fox, wait,” Sonam says. “It’s too dangerous to go alone.”
“Maybe for you,” I snap. “I’ve been on my own for a very long time. It won’t make any difference now.”
He attempts to grip my shoulder, but I’m twice as fast, my hands shooting out to grab him by the front of his shirt. I let loose a snarl, ready to sink my teeth into whatever foolish wolf stands in my way.
“What did I say about touching me?” I hiss.
“You need us.”
“You need me. I don’t need anyone—”
This time, Sooah presses her fingers to her lips and whistles.
It’s a sharp, high blast that bounces off the temple walls.
All eyes turn to her—as well as to Wen, walking in from around the corner.
He sleepily rubs his eyes and yawns. I glance back at my attacker standing directly next to the captain, seeing double. How can this be?
“What’s going on?” the real Wen asks. “What’s with all the shouting?” He notices his duplicate and frowns steeply. “Who the—”
The imposter smiles. It’s eerie. A little too wide and unnatural for the proportions of Wen’s slim face. His features almost seem to slip off—like a mask.
“Hello, Yue,” he says. “It’s good to see you’ve been doing well.”
“You,” I breathe, realization slapping me across the face.
After a tense beat, he runs.
I give chase.
We exit the temple together, barely an inch between us. The Maskmaker is within my grasp, but when I reach out—
He darts left. I follow, my momentum nearly causing me to careen into a jade divider. The muscles in my thighs burn, my human form unable to keep up with his speed. I refuse to give up, fueled by my rage. He leads me deeper and deeper into the Court of Wrath, and that’s when I realize something.
What if this is another trap?
“Stop!” I scream at him. “Come back!”
But the Maskmaker keeps running. I lose him as I round a corner, nearly tripping over my own feet when I come up to a large courtyard with towering walls—a fortress within a fortress.
The bitter taste of metal lingers in the air, along with distant battle cries and groans of agony.
There are people fighting, but I know not who.
Despite my growing trepidation, I venture in through the waiting arch, instantly greeted by the harsh sourness of sweat.
This is no courtyard, but an arena.
A frightening legion of men and women, fighting each other with their bare hands stand in my way.
They come in all shapes and sizes, ranging from young to old.
I wonder how long ago they abandoned their weapons, judging by the assortment of splintered shields, shattered swords, and snapped lances lying forgotten around us.
One of them has had his eyes scratched out.
The woman closest to me is missing an arm.
But no matter the carnage, they continue the match, thoroughly absorbed in the senseless violence of it all.
Upon a throne of jade sits a man, his features strikingly similar to the first star god we encountered.
He glows deep red, from his wine-flushed cheeks to his bloodshot eyes, to the wine staining his robes a dull maroon.
The star god sits there, leaning to one side and breathing heavily as he watches the contenders with an almost sickening amusement. Through his drunken haze, he spots me.
“Enough,” he says, voice low and hoarse. It carries throughout the arena like distant thunder. The ghosts stop what they’re doing, looking at the god in confusion.
My heart rails against my rib cage. When will this nightmare end?
“Finally, some fresh meat.” The star god settles into his throne with a chuckle. “Let’s give our newcomer a warm welcome.”