The Moonburner Cycle

by Claire Luana

  “No!” Hiro exclaimed, running to Kai’s bedside. Quarantine be damned. He hovered his ear over her mouth, feeling for a whisper of breath. There was none.

  “She’s not breathing,” he choked out.

  “No!” Hanae cried. “Try the crown again!”

  “It’s empty,” he said, the words sticking in his throat.

  Hanae rushed in, pushing Hiro out of the way. His body felt like lead, but he stood to give her access to Kai.

  Hanae checked Kai’s vitals and began pumping on her chest with gloved hands, trying to send air back into her lungs.

  Hiro couldn’t tear his eyes away from Kai’s still form, lying limp on the sweat-soaked sheets. Just twenty-four hours ago she had been filled with life, her hazel eyes sparkling as she teased him about his aim with a bow. And now they were losing her. This couldn’t be.

  CHAPTER 4

  This dream was new.

  At first, Kai’s dreams had been filled with feverish nightmares. Sometimes she had found herself walking through the spirit world with its unnatural night and bright full moon, crossing paths with strange seishen and oddly-dressed burners. They looked at her with frowns and suspicion, as if she did not belong, and she shrank from them, fleeing into the dark.

  Other times she had been stalked by dark shadows, twisted remnants of animals and men, and she had shamelessly hidden, praying that those swiveling ears, those slavering snouts, did not register her presence.

  In the worst dreams, she had seen Tsuki—the strange unnaturally large figure that Queen Airi and General Geisa had summoned in the citadel temple. Her voice, deep enough to drown in and sharp as the headsman’s axe, echoed through Kai’s mind. Tsuki was everywhere. She’d come through Kai’s window, she’d come through a ray of moonlight pooling in a citadel courtyard, she’d risen through the still water of the lake in the Akashi Mountains where Kai once had seen her mother.

  There was no hiding from Tsuki when she came, no cowering in the bushes. Kai had tried. Tsuki saw her, despite that strange blur where a face should be. Always, she said the same thing.

  “This world belongs to us. The time of the burners is at an end.”

  And then she would devour Kai. She would grow huge and unhinge her jaw and Kai could only sit, frozen, and let it happen. Down, down, down into a suffocating darkness that she could not escape. A blackness that melted her into nothingness. And somehow Kai knew that this dream was more than a dream, that it was a vision of what was to come.

  Now, that void seemed but a memory. Kai squinted into bright sunlight as her eyes adjusted. She sat at a small table atop a castle built of warm sandstone. The castle continued below the crenellated walls that cradled the courtyard in which she sat, descending in ornate levels filled with fountains and gardens, cheerful squares, and sturdy structures. Beyond the outer castle walls stretched a vast city—a patchwork of homes and businesses decorated with colorful awnings and sparkling stained glass windows. In the far distance a lush green landscape bowed to the thin shining line of the sea.

  Here, there was only serenity—the feel of the sun on her face and the breeze tousling her hair, the fragrance of the flowering vine climbing the wall behind her, its blossoms buzzing with honeybees. Her tense muscles relaxed. She could be safe here for a while.

  “This is my favorite view in the whole world,” the man sitting next to her said.

  She looked at him, surprised by his presence, but also not. He had been there all along, hadn’t he?

  The man was perhaps forty years old with a pleasant profile—his honest brow and straight nose led to a neatly-trimmed beard, an unusual fashion in Miina. When he turned to her, his eyes puddled with the deep brown of loamy soil. Quitsu sat in his lap, curled up as unabashedly as a housecat. That sight jarred her back into reality.

  “Where are we?” she asked.

  “Yoshai,” the man replied, gazing into distance. He stroked Quitsu’s silver fur. “Or I should say, its shadow.”

  She furrowed her brow, studying the man. He wore simple but well-made clothes—green pants, white shirt. His feet were bare on the warm stones of the courtyard. He seemed harmless enough, but yet…

  “Its shadow?” Kai asked. “What do you mean? And where is Yoshai? I’ve never heard of it.”

  He pursed his lips. “You mortals always ask so many questions. I only came because my light was so strong in you. I’ve never known a mortal to wield it before. And with you passing through… I was curious to meet you.”

  Kai blew a lock of hair off her forehead in frustration. His light? Passing through? What in the seishen’s name was he talking about? “Let’s start at the beginning. Where am I?”

  He heaved a sigh. “This city is called Yoshai. It is my holy city. But we’re in its shadow. I think you mortals call it…the spirit realm.”

  Kai’s mouth fell open in slack disbelief. Her head swiveled, surveying the city in new appreciation. The spirit world. How did she get here? Was she asleep? And what had he said…‘my holy city’?

  “Who are you?” Kai asked carefully.

  “I am all of this.” He swept a hand across the view before them. “That butterfly,” he pointed at a brilliant indigo creature flapping by on lazy wings. “You. That ocean. Or should I say, all of this is me.”

  “You’re…a god?” Kai asked, awe filling her. “The god of the earth? Like Tsuki and Taiyo are the gods of the moon and sun?”

  He stroked his chestnut beard as he considered that. “No, I don’t like that word. It’s not quite right. Tsuki and Taiyo are my creations as well.”

  “You created the sun and moon? The earth?” Her mind was struggling to take it all in.

  He looked at her proudly, like a child holding up a painting to its parent. “Yes, I created it. Beautiful, isn’t it? I really outdid myself.”

  Kai couldn’t help but smile at his enthusiasm. “You did,” she agreed, turning her gaze back to the tapestry of color before her illuminated in buttery sunlight. “But why am I here? Not that I’m not pleased to meet you…but…what do you mean that I’m passing through?”

  “Oh,” he said, scratching Quitsu’s head, not meeting her gaze. “I thought you knew. You’re dying. Passing through…passing over. Beyond.”

  An icy chill snaked through Kai’s body despite the warmth of the morning. She remembered. The spotted fever. The dreams. Flashes of her mother and Hiro’s worried faces, Nanase, the citadel nurses. Pain, and fear…and for a moment, a warm glow bathing her in light and love.

  Hiro had used the crown. The lunar crown.

  “Your light. Are you talking about the white light? When sun and moonlight combine? That’s your power?”

  “It’s the raw stuff of creation. Like I said, I’ve never known a mortal to wield it. It should be too much for your limited heart and mind to behold, to understand.”

  She shook her head, too distracted to be offended. “They tried to save me with it. But it didn’t work. I’m dying anyway.”

  “That spotted fever is a nasty business. Corrupts your ties to me. It wouldn’t be enough for them to heal you with it. To eradicate the fever. You’d have to wield it—purify yourself from the inside.”

  “And I was too weak to,” Kai said. She was dying. Would die. The faces of her family, her subjects, flashed before her. What would happen to Miina? To her kingdom? Tears pricked her eyes. She wasn’t ready to go yet. To give up. To let darkness fall over the land.

  As despair filled her, she looked at the creator with an appraising eye. Surely, he could fix what was wrong with Miina. Perhaps she could give her kingdom one last gift before she went.

  “If you created the world,” Kai asked, “you must know what’s going wrong with it. The seasons, famine, and now this spotted fever is spreading. Could you fix it?”

  “No,” he said wistfully. “I don’t intervene directly like that. Not anymore. It’s one of the rules of creation. It was up to my guardians to find the way to fix things, and I fear they have failed.”
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br />   “Whose rules?” Kai asked.

  “The universe,” he gestured widely. “Something had to create me.”

  She took his hand, pleading with him. It was warm and calloused, like her father’s hands. Like someone who worked the land. “Even if you can’t intervene directly, can you tell me how to fix things? I could get a message to my subjects before I go. Who are these guardians?” Kai said.

  He shook his head. “It’s admirable that you care so deeply. But it’s not your problem anymore. It’s time for you to find your peace.”

  “I can’t,” Kai said “I can’t go yet. Not with Miina in shambles.”

  “People live and people die. That is what it is to be mortal. You will move on to a better place.” He motioned around him. “A place of beauty and peace. You needn’t worry anymore. Miina is no longer your responsibility.”

  “I understand why you say that,” Kai said, “but respectfully, you’re wrong. I made an oath when I became queen. To my country, but to myself as well. I would leave Miina a better place than I found it.” Her face flushed as she voiced the secret promise she had made to herself, her vow to be better than Airi, to somehow find a way to be the queen Miina deserved. She had so far yet to travel down that road.

  “You mortals are such unusual creatures,” he said, his brown eyes warm. “And I think you are a very unusual mortal, Kailani Shigetsu. Even though I created the burners, I’m still often surprised by your nobility.”

  “Isn’t there anything you can do?” Kai pleaded. “Show me how to help fix things. Otherwise, this beautiful world you created will be lost to the darkness.”

  “It does pain me to see the corruption that has infected my world,” he said.

  Kai held her breath, not daring to hope that he would help her somehow, give her some piece of magic or information that would allow her to fix things.

  He stood, picking Quitsu up off his lap and handing him to Kai. He walked to the side of the courtyard, nodding for her to follow.

  They stood along the crenellated wall in silence for a moment, the soft breeze slipping by her like a warm embrace.

  The creator turned to her. “The rules are firm. Once I set a world in motion, I cannot interfere. I am more sorry than you know.”

  Kai nodded, crestfallen at his words. So she would walk into whatever lay beyond this world, leaving her promises unfinished and her kingdom abandoned. It was a bitter pill to swallow.

  “But,” he went on, “my creations are capable of deep wisdom, and my guardians still stand bravely against the forces of darkness in this world.” He scratched Quitsu’s chin and then looked her square in the eye, pinning her with the strength of his gaze. “Though I can’t interfere”—he raised his eyebrows, punctuating the last two words with a strong inflection—“if you look deep within your heart, you may find the power you need to be victorious.”

  Kai wrinkled her brow, exchanging a look of confusion with Quitsu. Was he…

  “Do you understand?” he asked. “Look within your heart.” He placed the palm of his hand flat against her chest over where her heart beat its last mortal beats. His skin—warm against hers—began to burn.

  Kai cried out as sharp pain lanced through her, at the smell of burning flesh filling her nostrils. She wrenched back from him, her eyes stinging from the pain and betrayal. Her heels hit the wall edging the courtyard and she careened back, toppling over the edge, Quitsu in her arms.

  She reached out in panic—her mind, her spirit straining to grasp at moonlight, at anything. Brilliant white light was waiting, just beyond her reach.

  As the air whistled past, she reached for it… and blackness closed in.

  INTERLUDE

  The man cowered before the god, his forehead pressed against the cool tiles of the empty temple. If he was being precise—which he always was—it wasn’t a god. Perhaps the opposite of that. But it had been masquerading as Taiyo for so long that it had become habit to think of it as a god. To call it Taiyo. When he didn’t, it grew angry. So it was Taiyo. At least to its face.

  “Rise,” false Taiyo said, and the man did as he was instructed.

  The false Taiyo towered over him—at least ten feet tall. It wore fine robes of dark gray, and from its navy obi sash a broadsword hung, as long as the man was tall. All in all, the creature cut quite an intimidating figure, even if the man didn’t look at its face. The face was chilling, strange and distorted as if peering through a thick block of ice. It made the man feel sick to look directly at it, filling him with a clamminess that leeched the heat from his body. And so he fixed his eyes firmly on the mosaic pattern of the tiles before him.

  The man hated sniveling before this false Taiyo, but he had worn this face of meek subservience for so many years that it had grown comfortable. Like a pair of boots that pinched and chaffed at first but molded to its owner over years of wear. He needed the creature’s help to secure the final destruction of the burners and their wretched seishen. For that prize, he could tolerate a bit of bowing.

  “Our plan is progressing,” false Taiyo said. “With the suffering caused by the drought and the spotted fever, we are growing strong enough to break through the barrier into the mortal world. We tire of being trapped in the prison of the spirit world. We have waited long enough.”

  “Soon, you will be free,” the man said. Their plan is progressing. Pah. His plan! This “god” couldn’t think its way out of a ricepaper box on its own. It had been his idea to initiate the natural disasters after that meddlesome queen had unceremoniously ended the war that had been bolstering his master and mistress for so many years.

  “What update do you have for me on your mission?” false Taiyo inquired.

  The man grimaced. “I have located where the god Taiyo has been hidden from us, suspended in sleep these several centuries.”

  The hairs on the back of the man’s neck stood as false Taiyo growled, a rumbling sound emanating from low in its throat.

  “The burners and their guardians thought they were clever, hiding the god and goddess from us. But I will have the last laugh when I plunge my sword into their chests and all light bleeds from this world,” false Taiyo said.

  And I will use the power you have given me to rule that dark world without your tiresome interference, the man thought with a grim smile.

  “Our victory is not assured yet,” the man said. “I was unable to wake…the original Taiyo from his supernatural sleep. I had with me a vial of the blood of the heir, which I believed would open the tomb where Taiyo sleeps. But it was not sufficient.”

  “It did not open?” The false Taiyo’s fist clenched.

  “Do you see the god before you?” the man snapped and then schooled himself, tamping down his annoyance. “There was an inscription on the tomb. It must be the heir’s blood, freely given.”

  “So hold a knife to the heir’s throat and encourage him to give freely,” false Taiyo said.

  “I’m not sure that will satisfy the enchantment,” the man said.

  The creature paced the room in agitation, its head nearly striking the tall wooden beams crossing the ceiling.

  “But I have an idea,” the man said hastily, backing out of the way of the giant scabbard as it haphazardly swooped by his head.

  “Always another idea. I grow tired of your ideas!” false Taiyo said.

  Without my ideas, you’d still be mewing in the spirit world, complaining about your lot in life, the man thought.

  “We near our goal,” the man said. “But there is a bit more deception to be had. I mean to convince the heirs to open the tomb freely.”

  “How will you accomplish this?”

  “You just leave that to me,” the man said, a smile spreading across his face.

  CHAPTER 5

  It was an uneasy feeling, like she was a stranger in her own body. Kai’s chest burned, and her muscles and joints ached. The lights in the hospital ward shone harshly in her vision. As she squinted across the room, her eyes traced the flecks and crac
ks in the gray stone, the dust motes dancing in the ray of sunlight pouring across the neighboring bed.

  Quitsu roused in the bed next to her, but he was forgotten as she turned to face the rest of the room and her mother fell on her, wrapping her in a crushing embrace.

  “You came back to us,” Hanae said, tears pouring down her face. “Thank the goddess. I couldn’t outlive all of you.”

  What was going on? The last she remembered, she had been infected with spotted fever. She had collapsed in the hospital ward. There had been dreams…so many dreams. She tried to remember them, but their substance eluded her; like a slick fish, they slipped from her grasp. She knew she had seen Tsuki, had felt terror at her presence. The rest were dark.

  As her mother loosened her grip and sat up, Kai saw Hiro and Emi, hands clasped and eyes wet with tears. Kai’s small smile seemed to release Hiro from some invisible hold, and he crossed the distance between them in two strides, wrapping her in his arms.

  She closed her eyes and melted into him, letting the warm feel and musky smell of him fill her senses. And then they were all around her, smothering her with arms, fur, kisses, cold wet noses. Kai laughed and took it all in stride. “All right, all right, I need some air.”

  “Get back, get back,” the head nurse said. “Let me check her.”

  Her friends and family reluctantly backed away while the nurse pulled down the collar of Kai’s shirt to check her heartbeat.

  The woman’s face paled. “What is that?” she whispered.

  Kai looked down and saw that while her spots were gone, something else had taken their place. A handprint, puckering the smooth skin of her chest like it had been burned into her, shiny and white with scar tissue.

  “I…I don’t know,” Kai said.

  Kai wolfed down a piping hot plate of sweet porridge and a cup of steaming lemongrass tea while a servant gathered the rest of Kai’s council. It turned out that almost dying made a person hungry.