Chapter 35 Sonam
We are made of sharp edges, she and I.
Perhaps that’s why I’m beginning to understand her.
We find solace in a dark, quiet corner, safely hidden within the shadow of an abandoned outpost. On the surface, this building might have served as a storage unit, though it’s clear that it rarely sees any use down here in Hell.
Wen works quickly. I’m on my back against the ground, drenched in cold sweat.
“Not a sound,” Wen warns.
I bite down hard and take a deep breath.
If he doesn’t snap my shoulder back into place, I won’t be much use in a fight.
I don’t think I’ll ever be ready for what’s about to come, but I give Wen a tentative nod all the same.
He hesitates for only a moment before yanking my arm backward, effectively shifting my limb back into its socket.
I don’t scream. Can’t. To do so would be to put us in further danger.
I have no choice but to endure in agonized silence.
A part of me prays for unconsciousness. At least then I wouldn’t have to be aware of the screaming agony in every one of my nerve endings.
My mind is stubborn, however. Too strong and proud to do something as merciful as faint.
I keep my eyes on Yue, who’s still fast asleep, cradled in Sooah’s arms like a babe. It’s strange to see her in the form of a boy, but perhaps it’s a testament to the Maskmaker’s undeniable artistry. Yet while I marvel, I can’t help but wonder where and when he stole this face.
The revelation that the Maskmaker is a fallen star god unsettles me greatly, but the fact that he and Yue have a history disturbs me even more. How did they come to cross paths? And when did things take a turn for the worse?
The Sun’s magic flows through your veins.
Whether from the adrenaline or the subsequent shock, my thoughts are a jumbled cacophony within my skull.
There was recognition behind the Maskmaker’s cruel eyes.
A burning hatred that I could smell searing into my very soul.
He called me the descendant of the Legendary Archer, and for whatever reason, he could not strike me down despite having ample opportunity.
If I am truly of Houyi’s bloodline, I fear it will only place a larger target on my back.
But for now, I have more pressing concerns.
“How is she?” I ask, my voice weak and small in my own ears.
I don’t know, Sooah replies with one hand. She won’t wake.
Wen helps me sit up. An intense vertigo knocks the wind from my lungs. It takes all of my strength not to keel over and wretch up the contents of my stomach. By some miracle, I manage to make it onto my feet. My sense of balance is skewed. Everything is off-kilter.
I tell myself that I’ll be fine. After all, I’m only a spare.
I’m the least favorite son of His Majesty the King.
Where my brothers took up philosophy, mathematics, the zither, or even the arts, I dedicated myself to the hunt.
I was aware of the dangers, always knew the risks—severe maiming and death are both part of the path I’ve chosen.
Every step is a struggle, my body in shock.
The only reason I’m able to move is out of the pure need for survival.
I manage to kneel before Sooah and Yue, taking great care as I lift the mask off of Yue’s face.
It was ill-fitting, anyway, so loose that it sat crooked.
The magic melts away, revealing her head resting gingerly against Sooah’s lap.
I don’t sense any distress or pain, only a deep, undisturbed slumber.
Whatever spell the Maskmaker cast upon her has an impressive hold.
“Fox,” I say, a gentle whisper at first. When she doesn’t rouse, I try again. “You need to wake up.”
Her ears twitch, but her eyes remain closed. Yue’s breathing is deep and slow. I detect the faintest trace of movement beneath her eyelids. I think she can hear me, but she can’t seem to push through.
“What did that bastard do to you?” I hiss under my breath. I look to Sooah and say, “Leave her with me. Stand guard with Wen. I’ll wake her.”
What if she doesn’t?
“She will.”
Sooah gives me a hard look. I wonder if she thinks my confidence foolish. Nevertheless, she gently cradles Yue’s head and transfers her onto my lap before standing. I reach out slowly, shakily, stroking the fur behind the fox’s ear. It’s surprisingly soft and warm.
“Yue.” I say her name slowly. If I startle her, she might attack me in surprise. I really can’t afford to lose a limb. “We need to get out of here.”
When she fails to stir, cold, genuine panic begins to fill my chest. What if she’s lost to us? It’s nothing short of cruel—to come this far only to fail.
Exhaustion seeps into my marrow, too, almost encouraged by Yue’s peaceful breathing. I fight the urge to close my eyes, tempted to give up the struggle. How easy it would be.
But I try again, short of breath and sweating profusely. I gingerly run my fingers over her old burns. They don’t seem to cause her any pain, for which I find myself grateful.
“I don’t think I can make it out of here without you, Fox. Whatever spell the Maskmaker has you under, I know you’re strong enough to fight it. Come back to me, Yue. Please.”
The next few seconds may as well last hours, the air around us so thick and heavy I feel as though I’m being crushed. I can’t imagine abandoning Yue in Hell. No one deserves this twisted, torturous place—not even a man-eating nine-tailed fox.
She sniffs. Once, twice. Her ears press down flat against her head. Her six eyes crack open one by one, blinking slowly as her tails sweep lazily behind her. She’s not fully alert, her movements sluggish. Yue stares up at me, blinking.
“Sonam?” she murmurs, rising onto four unsteady legs. “Where are…”
Yue looks around, her delirium quickly fading into something far more horrified. Her gaze snaps back to me, to the walls of the Jade Palace, to her claws now digging into the ground.
“No,” she wheezes. The look she gives me is one of utter betrayal. I see heartbreak in them, too. “Why did you wake me? You shouldn’t have woken me.”
I frown in confusion. “Of course I should have. The Maskmaker was—”
Yue scrapes her claws over her face as if to hide. Or perhaps peel it off. She whimpers, pathetic and helpless, muttering nonsense. “Don’t look at me! I can’t stand it. You shouldn’t have—you shouldn’t have!”
Instinctively, I attempt to pry her claws away before she hurts herself. “Calm down. Now isn’t the time to lose your head.”
She doesn’t listen. She instead curls up tightly, using her long tails to sweep around and hide her face. I didn’t think it was possible for Yue to look so small. It isn’t often that I find myself at a loss, yet I don’t know what to do.
Souls are tested against their heart’s own paradise, Kelai had said. To wake and see the truth that all is not as it could be leaves the soul shattered beyond repair.
“What did he do to you?” I ask, barely above a whisper.
Yue is silent for a long time. For a moment, I wonder if what that rat said earlier about demons being unable to lie was indeed a farce. But then Yue slowly pulls her tails away, her chin resting upon the ground as tears bead down the sides of her face.
“He showed me a life that will never be mine,” she replies, her voice breaking into a soft sob. “A life I can never have.”
“What was it?” I ask before I can realize how selfish I’m being. What right do I have to the details of her most intimate dreams?
She hesitates, though the answer eventually escapes her lips. “One full of love,” she answers bitterly. I’ve never heard anyone sound more ashamed. Embarrassed, even, for wanting something so simple. So freely given.
Just not for her.
“The Maskmaker is taking his army to the surface,” I pivot, unsure what else to say. “We need to get to the gate before them. We can use the shortcut Kelai spoke of. If we’re quick, we might be able to beat them there.”
Yue says nothing.
“We must seal the gate behind us,” I continue, hoping for something—any reaction. “If his army is released upon the earth, it could be the end of life as we know it.”
Even as I say this, I don’t expect her to care. What can she do—what can any of us do—in the face of such great evil? Yue has no stake in this fight, only a vow to keep, but maybe that’s enough. I need allies wherever I can find them, and I’d rather not have Yue as an enemy.
She stands slowly on all fours, claws digging into the ground. There’s a blankness in her eyes, no spark of life.
I’m tempted to reach out. I’m used to patting Wen on the shoulder, giving Sooah’s elbow a pinch.
Little gestures we’ve adopted over the years to ease each other’s worries.
But I don’t know what to do when it comes to Yue.
I know she’s unbelievably strong and fierce—but I can’t help but worry that right now, something as small as an act of kindness may break her.
I want to comb my fingers through her fur but resist the impulse. I stand straighter and clear my throat.
“We should get going,” I tell her.
Yet again, Yue says nothing.
Before we leave, I stoop down to pick up her discarded mask and tie its fastening strings to my belt. It may be of use, or at the very least, it will make for a fascinating study in my hunting log.