Chapter 36 Sonam
She possesses more good than I gave her credit for.
The fifth Court of Hell has no signs of anyone present. The Court of Despair, Kelai had called it.
There isn’t even a star god here to oversee our trial.
Instead, we find ourselves standing at the edge of a wide moat, its waters dark and eerie.
I can’t make out the bottom. It must be deeper than it looks.
But the other side is only about half a li out, the high walls of the sixth court standing there as if to goad us into coming over.
“A swim in the waters of Hell, this’ll turn out great,” Wen mumbles, sticking his foot out so that the sole of his boot just barely grazes the water’s surface.
“Wait,” I tell him.
I reach for one of the small daggers attached to my belt.
One of my last. It’s taken a lot of damage—the edge is now blunt, and the leather wrapping around the handle is coming loose.
It might not hold up during our next battle, but it can at the very least serve me one last time.
I toss the dagger as far as I’m able, watching as it sinks into the inky water, leaving ripples in its wake.
Nothing happens. No monsters creep up from the depths, the water doesn’t somehow come to life on its own. I should be relieved—but the fact that we’re not met with chaos leaves me wholly unsettled.
I glare down at the crude map burned into my palm.
The shortcut we’re looking for is somewhere on the other side of this moat.
All we have to do is get across. I turn to Yue, who is staring blankly into the distance with a slight downward curl to the corners of her lips.
Where once she was an inferno threatening to burn me to a crisp, now she’s nothing more than a candle flickering at the last of its wick.
My chest tightens.
“Do you know how to swim, Fox?” I ask, my voice so gentle that I sound foreign to my own ears.
“Yes,” she murmurs. “Don’t worry about me.”
But I do worry.
I don’t know when it began, this… fondness for her.
All my life, I’ve trained to kill her kind.
No hesitation, no remorse. Demons are nothing short of a plague; the damage they can cause is immeasurable.
I’ve studied them for years. They’re cruel, driven only by an incessant need to devour human souls, and therefore simple-minded and easily felled.
But Yue is far from that. Hungry, yes—I can see it in the way she tracks my movements and discreetly licks the corner of her lips—but there’s something soft beneath her jagged, protective layers.
Behind her rows of teeth and matted fur and the woman’s face she so desperately hides beneath.
Her curiosities, her insecurities, her delights, and her displeasures.
She lashes out in anger because it’s the only response she has in a world that’s made her unwelcome.
In a world where I have made her unwelcome.
I take a careful step toward Yue, drawn to her like the tide to the moon for which she was named.
When she finally looks up at me, there’s but a foot of space between us.
The dark circles under her six eyes are concerning, the heavy slouch of her shoulders so severe I can feel my own muscles ache in sympathy.
My hand moves of its own accord, reaching out so that my fingertips ghost along her muzzle.
Yue doesn’t recoil, which I take as a good sign, but I don’t miss the way her breath catches and her eyes widen, vulnerable and unsure. She could tear out my heart for this.
Instead, she turns into my palm, the warmth of her fur soaking into mine.
“We’re almost there,” I whisper. “And then you can be free of me.”
I mean it as a jest to ease her tension, but Yue’s lip curls before she pulls away completely. “Right,” she answers tightly.
Yue advances without us, sinking her front paw into the moat.
The embankment’s slope is subtle at first, rising to her ankles and then her calves.
Sooah and Wen step in after her, and then I follow to bring up the rear, shivering against the obscene chill of the water.
Even the harshest winters of the Southern Kingdom couldn’t have prepared me for the cold that bites through my skin and freezes my joints.
It isn’t until we’re all chest deep and treading the surface that I realize this is no ordinary water.
Of course it isn’t. A simple swim across the fifth Court of Hell would have been far too easy.
Even though I kick with all my might, do everything I can to keep my head above water, something strange happens to the moat.
The more we swim, the farther the distant shore appears, the space between us and safety growing with every stroke.
Where once the moat was only half a li, now it’s grown to two, three—five.
The currents turn violent, dragging us beneath tumultuous waves as the water expands into what can only be described as an endless sea.
Wen chokes on foam. I grab onto Sooah’s arm to help her stay afloat. And Yue—
My heart plummets.
I’ve lost sight of her.
Calling her name proves disastrous. Water rushes into my lungs, the heavy taste of salt burning my tongue and throat.
I’m dizzy, breathless. Drowning. The longer we spend in the icy sea, the more the colors of the world begin to drain away.
It’s my duty to see my friends to safety, but how am I supposed to do that when I can barely save myself?
So this is why it’s called the Court of Despair. A man only has so much fight in him. And neither strength nor bravery is any match for the wrath of the open sea. At the whims of the powerful current, defeat finally claims my heart, drowning out the final inklings of my hope.
Something below grips my ankle.
It yanks with so much force I fear it will tear my whole leg from my hip. There isn’t time to take a full breath before my head is completely submerged, water rushing into my nose, clogging my ears, stinging my eyes.
Despite my blurry vision, I can see them—thousands of souls lost to the bottom of the sea, doomed to a perpetual drowning.
Their arms reach upward like floating weeds, latching on to us as would starved parasites.
They claw at my arms, snatch my hair, wrap their elbows around my throat; all in the hopes of pulling themselves up to the surface.
Instinctively, I reach for one of my remaining weapons. The current is too strong, however, washing them away before I can grasp it. I’m running out of time. Out of air.
There’s something peculiar in the water with us.
It isn’t like any of the other desperate souls trying to use me as a stepping stone to the surface.
Only a few feet away, I see the figure of a young man who seems strangely…
at peace. He makes no effort to swim or struggle.
He has given in to his sorrows, allowed his despair to swallow him whole.
When I catch sight of his bright white eyes, I suddenly understand who he is.
A star god. The one tasked with governing this forsaken place. It seems he’s resigned himself to his seat in Hell.
Something grabs me by the collar. At first, I fear it’s yet another one of the damned and forgotten souls, but then comes a sharp scrape along the nape of my neck.
I twist just enough to see a pair of fangs, along with six obsidian eyes staring back at me.
Yue’s managed to nab Wen, Sooah, and I with her teeth.
With incredible strength, she kicks and bats at those standing between us and air.
The four of us breach the surface with bone-rattling gasps.
It’s as much a relief as it is painful, burning all the way down my throat and into my searing lungs.
The current is still strong, our muscles cramping with the frigidity of the water.
The souls of Hell continue to try to drag us down with them, but Yue fights—against our enemies, against the sea itself.
She turns her head and throws us onto her back, freeing up her mouth to bite and maul.
“Hang on!” she yells.
I cling to her fur despite my swollen fingers and water-logged muscles.
The distant shore is still several li out, and this wretched trial shows no sign of ending.
But Yue doesn’t give up. She swims and swims and swims, her head tilted up awkwardly to keep her snout in the air.
Sooah, Wen, and I beat back any stray soul who attempts to touch her, combat reduced to nothing more than our fists. We won’t let them harm her.
There are moments when I think we might be done for.
Yue’s pace slows, her breathing frantic and shallow.
But the seconds drag into minutes, and minutes into a near hour.
I’m impressed by her endurance, but my heart twists knowing she can’t possibly last much longer.
I stroke her fur, though whether it’s for my own reassurance or hers, I cannot say.
Blessedly, and not a second too soon, I finally see the shore and the imposing red walls of the sixth Court of Hell.
Yue hauls us onto dry land with slow, arduous steps, collapsing onto her side with a wheezing cough. I’m quick to kneel at her side, water dripping from my hair and clothes. She trembles violently, the rapid rise and fall of her rib cage alarming.
“Easy, Fox,” I say hurriedly, pressing my ear to her chest to listen to her heart. It drums so hard and fast that I can hardly distinguish each individual beat. It’s going to give out at this rate. “You have to calm down.”
She makes a noise, almost like she’s trying to say can’t, but the word doesn’t fully form.
Not knowing what else to do, I lie down next to her, placing Yue’s head so that it rests upon my arm. I gingerly stroke the fur behind her ear, press my nose lightly to her muzzle. I don’t mind the sight of her jagged teeth.
“It’s okay,” I whisper, staring into her strikingly deep eyes. “You were magnificent, Yue. Everything’s going to be alright. Just breathe.”
It’s no small relief when I feel her pulse begin to slow, her ragged breaths eventually coming under control. Yue’s shivering, however, does not stop—I fear she’ll succumb to exposure.
Sooah lowers herself onto her knees and lies down behind Yue’s arched back. With a cautious stroke of her hand over Yue’s fur, Sooah settles in with a sigh. Wen sits next to Yue in a similar fashion, his back pressed up against her matted belly.
When I shoot them a questioning look, Sooah answers, She kept us warm once. We’ll return the favor.
It’s unclear how long the four of us lie there together, exhaustion having carved away at what little we have left.
The calm that blankets us is more soothing than sunshine after weeks of earth-moving storms. But I keep an eye on Yue’s condition.
Her eyelids droop heavily until she can keep them open no more.
“We can’t stay here,” Wen says, breaking the silence. “The Maskmaker’s army’s well on the way.”
I glance down at my palm. The shortcut Kelai spoke of is close, a servant’s corridor somewhere near the outer perimeter of the sixth Court of Hell. Nothing short of a miracle, frankly. Even if the Maskmaker knows his way through Hell, we should be able to beat him to the gates.
I look back at Yue, sound asleep at last. We’ll be cutting it close, but I’m sure we can spare at least an hour for her sake.
Wen is right, of course, that we can’t stay here out in the open.
We need to find shelter, stay out of sight until we’re ready to move.
It’s simply a question of how to move Yue without disturbing her.
Even with our combined strength, Sooah, Wen, and I can’t carry Yue in her fox form.
An idea occurs to me.
With a heavy exhale, I reach for the boy’s mask tied to my belt, setting it down on my lap so that I can smear the painted surface. Using my sleeve, I wipe the porcelain clean, surprised at how easily the ink falls away. I reach for the Maskmaker’s brush next, unsure how to wield the magic within.
Will it reject me, I wonder? Only a fool would be so brazen as to think they could wield a tool crafted for the gods. Yet I am out of options and desperate enough to try.
It feels like any other calligraphy brush, but when I bring the coarse hairs to the surface of the mask, I’m surprised at the marks it leaves behind.
It produces ink all on its own, easily changing color with a mere shift of my intentions.
The process is perfectly intuitive, enchanted to bring what I see in my mind’s eye to life.
I can feel the magic flowing through me, a river of warmth rushing through my veins and into the brush.
I feel blessed—by the spell, by the paintbrush itself—as if chosen by some higher power to wield it as the gods would.
I’d find enjoyment in the process, were I not so worn down and fearing for our safety.
I refer to the sketches in my notebook. Who knew such a thing would be so handy? I’ve already made careful study of her, having captured her at various angles, but when I put brush to porcelain, I work from memory, too.
It’s not perfect. A copy of a copy. The Maskmaker’s rendition was without a single blemish or fault, cold and otherworldly in its appearance.
My artistry offers a touch more warmth. Soft curves where once there were hard edges.
The palace scholars had an old saying that an artist gives a piece of their soul to each of their works, be it writing, music, or the fine arts.
I like to think that by making Yue a new mask, I’m giving her a sliver of what it means to be human.
Once finished, I place the mask upon her face. The magic seeps into her skin, transforming her almost instantaneously into a young woman.
Before, her beauty was arresting. Ethereal. All-consuming.
Now, she casts a soft but undeniable radiance. Her lips are plusher, her nose not as sharp. Her cheeks are full and a sweet pink, her long black hair as smooth as silk.
I’m quick to lift her, one arm bracing her back with the other tucked under her knees. Yue’s head settles against my chest, her lips parted just so as she continues to sleep.
I nod to Sooah and Wen. “Scout ahead. I’ll carry her.”