Epilogue Yue
Why do we have to record everything?
So we have something to look upon and remember.
Seems foolish.
Indulge me, Fox.
Very well.
Through the narrow streets I stalk, drawn to the sounds of the water market. A year on, Longhao has nearly returned to its former splendor, not a hint of the Maskmaker or his demons to remind us of that fateful day.
Well, almost nearly.
Leaping from rooftop to rooftop, the tiles clacking beneath my sharpened claws, I observe the old man as he hobbles his way down the winding alley. His back is hunched, his weight supported by a sturdy bamboo cane.
A completely defenseless victim—the perfect lure.
The old man brings a hand up to stroke his bald head. “Oh, dear,” he mutters, confused. “Did I take another wrong turn? I thought for sure the tea shop was this way.”
I stifle a chuckle. What an adorable little snack.
As if on cue, a young man steps out from the shadows, seemingly appearing out of thin air. He isn’t nearly as clever as he believes himself to be. I could smell him from a mile away. I don’t act immediately, however, waiting for the right moment to strike.
“Are you lost, good sir? Maybe I can help you find your way.”
The stranger has a charming, unassuming air to him.
Full of youthful energy and a smile that can warm even the most frigid of hearts.
I must confess, this is one of the Maskmaker’s better works of art.
The face the demon wears gives the impression of genuine friendliness, not a hint of underlying motive to be found.
It’s no wonder this one has claimed three lives this moon alone.
Three lives we could have spared, yes, but from tonight, it will feast on no others.
“That’s very kind of you, my boy,” the old man says.
The demon approaches. Not so fast as to seem eager, not so slow as to give the old man a chance to slip away. “Worry not. These streets can be confusing, even for me. Where is it that you’re hoping to—”
He comes within arm’s reach, but before he has the chance to unhinge his jaw and take a bite out of the elderly man’s neck, I pounce from the rooftop. I land with such force that I create my own wind current, the rush of air sending dust billowing up and outward.
With my claws extended, I swipe the demon’s mask clean off his face, the magic washing away instantly to reveal the face of a toad.
It’s covered in a spattering of at least twenty bright-yellow eyes, hideous brown warts affixed to every inch of its thick skin.
Toad demons are rare—and an incredible nuisance.
No matter. This one is destined for death.
I eat, scarfing down my meal to leave no time to feel pain or sorrow.
Even after all this time, I still see no need to toy with my food.
Demon flesh is nowhere near as satisfying as a human’s, but with Sonam’s offering to feed once a moon, I’m not only able to subsist, but thrive on the abundance of qi he has to share.
As I lick my lips clean, the old man steps forward, reaching up to remove the mask he wears. Sonam ties it securely to his belt with a grin. “Another job well done.”
“You make a very convincing senior citizen,” I tell him once I’ve finished my meal in a mere three bites.
He folds his arms over his chest. “And you’ve been letting them get awfully close, Fox.”
I sweep my tails from one side to the other. “Don’t worry, Dinner. I was never going to let him hurt you.”
Sonam reaches out and affectionately scratches below my chin. “Speaking of dinner, we should hurry. We don’t want to be late.”
I press my nose to his cheek. “Lead the way, then. I’m right behind you.”
We walk through the narrow streets of the city together without our masks, making our way over moon bridges and down familiar passages.
It’s true that people stop and stare, but never out of fear.
Not anymore. I am a familiar and welcome sight—one of the beloved heroes of Longhao—my captain always at my side.
Our matching scars make us easily recognizable.
That, and the fact that I’m the only nine-tailed fox demon from here to the farthest corners of the land who protects mankind from the monsters who lurk in the shadows.
Sonam’s posture changes ever so slightly when we’re out and about. A little straighter, his chest puffed out with pride, a protective hand laid upon my side as if to remind me, I’m here.
I rarely hide my face anymore, though my mask still has its uses—like helping me fit through the small doorframe of Wen’s family abode. Although there’s plenty of space, I doubt they’d be pleased to find claw marks everywhere.
Sonam takes it upon himself to place my mask, adjusting it for me as one would a crown.
There’s warmth in his eyes as he brushes his fingers across my cheek, moving to tuck a few loose strands of hair behind my ears.
He presses a tender kiss to my lips before we enter, and I make sure to relish the way he tastes.
Wen, his wife, Ling, their children, and Sooah all greet us with enthusiastic shouts the moment we step inside.
An assortment of food sits out on the table—steamed vegetables, fried dumplings, noodle soups, and sweet buns all lovingly prepared by hand.
It’s not a banquet fit for a king—because in many ways, it’s even better.
“Auntie Yue!” Cheng, Wen’s eldest son, rushes up and wraps his arms around my waist in a tight hug. “What did you bring me?”
I scrunch up my nose. “Unhand me, imp. What makes you think I’d bring you anything?”
“Because it’s my name day!” he says without missing a beat. “You have to bring me somethin’.”
“It’s a rule, is it?”
That’s how humans celebrate their name days, yes, Sooah says with a wide smile.
“So I have to give you something—for free, I might add—just because your parents decided to f—”
Sonam clears his throat, interrupting. He reaches into one of the larger pouches attached to his belt and produces a small bag, something rattling inside. Handing it to the boy, he says, “This is from the both of us.”
Cheng opens the bag and spills its contents onto the flat of his palm. A collection of small, colorful porcelain marbles. His face lights up. “Oh, wow!”
“What do you say, son?” Wen says firmly.
The boy hugs me again. “Thank you so much!”
How did the hunt go? Sooah asks. We could have helped—
“It was easily dispatched,” Sonam informs her, “but we’ll be sure to take you along on the next one. I’ve heard rumors of a large group to the west.”
Wen’s wife clicks her tongue. “No talk of hunting,” she says, voice light and sweet. “Not with the children around.”
Miyu, Wen’s youngest, whines, “But I love hearing about their adventures.” She’s quite nasally, not unlike her father.
“Me, too!” Cheng boisterously adds as we all gather around the table, taking up our seats to begin the celebration. I take a seat beside Sonam, diligently placing bits of food into his bowl. I’ve grown quite fond of the ritual dinnertime brings, though managing chopsticks still proves a challenge.
“I want to hear about when all of you went to Hell,” Cheng continues.
Their mother frowns deeply. “Don’t say that word. It’s terrible luck on a name day!”
“But it’s our favorite!” he insists.
“Yeah!” Miyu says. “Won’t you tell us the story again, Auntie Yue? Please?”
“Tell us about your sisters. And Uncle Sonam can tell us about Hell and the Great Fire!”
I groan. “Don’t you ever tire of hearing it?”
Sonam leans over and kisses my cheek, whispering against my ear, “Humor them, my moonlight. We all know you tell the story best.”
I sigh, but it’s without any real irritation. I enjoy entertaining the little ones more than I’ll ever admit aloud. That’s why, even though it’s the hundredth time I’ve told the tale, I glance to Wen and his wife for approval. When they both eventually nod, I clear my throat and begin.
“I like watching them. Humans. It’s a cheeky little pastime of mine.”