by Cindy Pon
“Next!” The magistrate waved another person forward.
Ai Ling lurched to her feet, felt as if she would float away if she didn’t concentrate. It was impossible to move quickly. Her body lacked substance and momentum.
“What are you doing, girl? Stop her!” The magistrate pounded on the table, and everyone bounced from the force of it.
She fell. Ox and Horse careened toward her, their weapons extended. She lunged for the mirror. They stabbed her, their thrusts like a sizzling branding iron on her heart. She thought she cried out when she touched the glowing glass. She saw her ghostly face, then Silver Phoenix’s reflected back at her. The images merged into one, and the mirror splintered into a thousand shards as dazzling white light exploded around her.
The ground was damp, slick. She could hear a steady dripping. Ai Ling blinked, trying to adjust to the darkness. The curved walls began to glimmer with a blue phosphorescence. She stood and turned in a circle and saw that she was in a massive cave. Alone. Echoes of screaming, sobbing, and shouting floated to her from a great distance.
A sudden tug at her navel, and she glanced down. A glowing white cord as thick as her finger and as insubstantial as air shimmered from her stomach and disappeared into the shadows of the cave. She followed its faint pull. Ai Ling knew who would be at the other end: Zhong Ye was waiting for her.
Water dripped from the ceiling, at times through her. It was cold, like a streak of ice. She didn’t know how long she walked. She saw no one. The cord led her through a small opening at the back of the cavern, one she could barely fit through. She placed a palm against the wall. Although her hand slid beneath the rock’s surface, there was resistance. She couldn’t simply walk through the stone.
A blur of motion, and Ox was bounding toward her. “Stop! You don’t belong here!”
She dropped to her stomach and began wiggling through the small opening. Ox tried to grab her legs, but his fingers slipped through her, his touch scalding. She cried out as she pulled herself to the other side. She could hear Ox hurling himself against the wall.
She stood on a small landing, with nowhere to go except down into a wide river of molten lava. Beyond the river she could see a warren of endless catacombs, a wasp’s nest hewn from rock. The screams and cries were louder here. A plume of lava, taking the shape of a clawed hand, bubbled from the river. Another burst of molten heat formed a skull with long fangs. It surged high enough for her to stare at fiery eye sockets.
Ox crashed onto the landing. He seized her by the throat, his fingers passing through her, and she choked. She scrambled back, teetering on the edge of the small landing.
“There’s nowhere to go, fool,” Ox jeered. “You’re keeping me from my tasks.” Arms wide, he pounced again.
Ai Ling glanced down. She followed the shimmering cord from her navel all the way across the river to the catacombs. That was where she needed to go, where Zhong Ye was.
She jumped.
Ox sprang after her, shouting, “No!” His hand cut through her chest, stabbing like a thousand needles, but it was too late.
Instead of falling, she drifted, weightless, buffeted by the hot air. A serpent-shaped spiral of lava shot upward and through her. Heat blazed across her body. But the river couldn’t stop her. She swung her arms as if she were swimming and followed the glowing cord as it plunged into the catacombs.
The closer Ai Ling got to the river, the more unbearable the heat. She was almost there. She landed in the magma, burning her feet to the ankles, and screamed. The sound was swallowed by the roar of lava that bubbled in jagged knifelike formations from the riverbed. She stumbled forward through the boiling hot current.
Finally, she climbed onto solid rock and, consumed with pain, pulled her knees to her chest. She stared down at her feet, phantomlike and charred but still there. She stood and took a tentative step. It was like walking on hot glass. She gritted her teeth and continued, one agonizing step at a time.
The cord snaked through a crevice and into a vast cavern. Giant hooks hung from the ceiling, many swinging with human bodies strung upside down or with parts of bodies. She sank to her knees and recognized the demons of hell, with their strange blue, gray, or green-colored skin and their towering height. Just like the illustrations from The Book of the Dead.
Two demons laughed hysterically as they pulled a sharp-toothed saw between them, back and forth, while the victim, impaled on a hook, his hair hanging over his face, screamed. Even when he was halved, and his blood and innards had spilled to the floor, he kept screaming. One of the demons hacked at the rope, and both sides of the man crashed to the floor. They moved even then, squirming like bloodied worms.
Ai Ling stood and tried to run, but her feet wouldn’t allow it. Instead, she kept her eyes on the glowing cord and walked at an infuriatingly slow pace through the cavern. Groans and wails and screams surrounded her, convulsed through her.
The air reeked of blood, guts, and urine and the salty sweat of terror. Passages from The Book of the Dead returned to her. The punishment of vertical rending was given to those who had destroyed marriages to satisfy their own lust. She pushed against the cord. Faster, she needed to move faster! It was like thrusting a knife into her own gut. She clenched her fists and forced herself forward.
A gust of hot wind seared through her as she entered a new chamber. This one was lit by hundreds of fires, the flames as tall as she was. Massive black cauldrons were suspended above the fires. Ai Ling screamed when she saw a demon with the head of a goat toss a man over the rim of the cauldron and into the scalding oil. His entire body blistered instantly, and his hair burst into fire. These men and women, who had helped cheat the poor during their lifetimes, would never die, would be made whole again and again to suffer for their transgressions.
She pressed forward, impaling herself on the cord. The air was thick with grease and the nauseating stench of burned flesh. She gasped with relief when she saw the shimmering cord curve through another opening in the cavern wall.
This chamber was small, circular, the walls a glowing milk white stone. The air was cool. She wiped the sweat from her brow, relieved, even as something tickled the back of her mind like a stray spider silk. The cold stone soothed her feet. The room was empty, and she saw no exit, although the glowing cord shot through the opaque wall. Quivering, she collapsed to the ground.
The cave shimmered. A rainbow of light swirled in the air above her: beautiful and mesmerizing. She saw herself in the light crouched on the floor, next to Li Rong’s body. The blood unfurled beneath him, staining the white stone floor a deep crimson. She watched as her other self reached into the gaping wound of his chest, slicing his heart out with her dagger.
“Forgive me, Li Rong. I will make it right again.”
“No!” she shouted, and lunged at the vision, lunged at herself, and crashed to the ground, empty-handed.
The cavern glimmered in brilliant colors again, and this time she was in an opulent bedchamber. Festive red lanterns were strung from the ceiling and bouquets of fragrant lilies filled the room. She could smell the steam rising from a jasmine bath. Ai Ling blinked hard, her heart still hammering from seeing Li Rong again, from the memory and the guilt. She watched Silver Phoenix, uncomprehending. She looked older, even more stunning, her hair braided and looped elaborately, threaded with pearls and rubies. A gold brocaded robe was pulled over her shoulders, and she stroked a crimson breast binder with slender fingers.
Ai Ling suddenly understood and tried to turn away, but she couldn’t. She was being forced to watch. Silver Phoenix’s wedding night, so like the one she had endured with Zhong Ye. Soon, Ai Ling knew, she would hang herself. Silver Phoenix dropped the binder on the bed next to her gorgeous wedding dress, the same gown Ai Ling had been made to wear. She glided to the bronzed mirror and gazed at her reflection and adjusted her ruby earrings.
Ai Ling gasped when she saw Yokan flicker into view. Silver Phoenix spun to face him, drawing her robe tight around herself.
“What are you doing here?”
The alchemist didn’t reply. He stalked forward, and Silver Phoenix backed away, until she bumped against the lacquered vanity. Yokan paused, standing as close as a lover.
“Get away from me,” Silver Phoenix said.
He pressed closer, never speaking. Silver Phoenix’s arm shot out, an etched gold and silver dagger glinting in her hand. The alchemist wrenched her arm back, the motion so swift it was a blur. He shoved Silver Phoenix hard against the vanity, and the dagger clattered to the floor.
He released her wrist and jammed his hand to her throat. Silver Phoenix thrashed, fought with all her strength. But Ai Ling could see that it was like struggling against an immovable statue. Yokan lifted her off the ground, his pale face expressionless.
Silver Phoenix swung at him. Her jade phoenix ring slammed into his cheekbone. Yokan’s head snapped back, and he lifted his brows in amusement before wrapping his other hand around her throat and crushing the life from her.
Ai Ling watched, frozen, as the minutes dragged into eternity. Finally, the alchemist let go, and Silver Phoenix slid like a broken butterfly to the floor. He flicked his fingers and smiled. The crimson breast binder snaked through the air and tied itself neatly around Silver Phoenix’s neck.
Ai Ling screamed and tried to lunge forward again. But the scene dispersed, gone like a breath of mist. She was as cold as ice and lying on the floor of the white stone chamber, staring at the illuminated ceiling. Stunned and horrified by Silver Phoenix’s fate, she tried to speak the handmaid’s name aloud but could only whimper. Her hand flew to her neck. She was afraid she’d find it bruised. Broken.
She forced herself onto her ruined feet, her being as diaphanous as dragonfly wings, and allowed the glowing cord to tug her to the cavern wall, where a gaping hole had opened from nowhere.
A deep pit dominated the center of this cavern. The odor of burned hair and flesh trailed her every step. She climbed down and stopped in front of a rough rock, where Zhong Ye sat, alone. He was naked, and the cord was connected to his navel. She dropped her eyes, unwilling to look at him.
The glimmering cord thrummed, then disappeared.
“You’ve come to me, Ai Ling,” he said in that smooth, rich voice.
She looked at him then. This wasn’t the pale-eyed Zhong Ye she had met, the one she had wed. This was Silver Phoenix’s Zhong Ye: nineteen years, handsome, his eyes a deep brown, like the earth after a rain.
Corpses swayed overhead, hanging between spiked rocks from a ceiling that reminded her of sharp fangs. She didn’t want to look, but a dreadful sense of familiarity forced her to. It was Zhong Ye. They all were Zhong Ye: dozens of identical corpses, dead from every kind of torture, dripping blood and guts. She covered her mouth, gagging.
“The demons are keeping score,” he said with a wry smile, not bothering to glance up. “I’m losing.”
He was glad to see her; she could sense his pleasure. It only terrified her more.
Zhong Ye stood, unabashed in his nakedness. His legs were shackled, and the chains clanked. She remembered how easily, how perfectly Silver Phoenix could tuck herself against him, his chin touching the top of her head. “I sent you that dream of Li Rong.”
“What?” she whispered, her entire being cold.
“I needed you to go to Chen Yong. To take this journey.”
“Release him!” she screamed. “You’re killing him!”
Zhong Ye brushed the hair from his eyes. “I knew I could lure you here.” He cocked a dark brow at her. “You love him enough to risk everything to save him.”
Anger exploded within her. “Haven’t you caused enough harm? All this for vengeance, because I would not love you?”
His laugh was mirthless. “If I wanted vengeance, Chen Yong would already be dead.” His eyes burned with pain, with anger and sorrow. “I only wanted to bring Silver Phoenix back.” He dropped his head, as if it were too heavy to hold up any longer.
She hated him for what he had done to Chen Yong. Hated herself for understanding him so completely. His life had been opened to her like a book well studied. “I know,” she whispered. “It was wrong.”
“You.” He stepped closer, and she had to force herself to meet his gaze. “You, of all people, know why I did it. You cannot judge me.”
Her heart was in her throat.
“Ah, yes.” Zhong Ye continued, scrutinizing her as if he could read her thoughts. “I’ve lived your entire life—more than once. I know that you have your mother’s hands but despise embroidering. That you have your father’s eyes, his stubbornness and drive. His acute mind for books and his artistic talent. I know that you miss your cat, Taro. That you stole candy from the sweets jar when you were seven years and felt terribly repentant for far too long. I know—”
“Stop.” She would have fallen to her knees, but her body was too insubstantial. “Stop!” It was as if he had plundered her head of memories. Just as she had plundered his. How he had caught a toad for a pet at nine years and named it Smudge, only to have his older brother toss it into a lake out of spite. How he had done extra chores for a drunken scholar, starting at eleven years, in exchange for reading and writing lessons. How he had stayed up past the thieving hour to study, begging for candle stubs. How ruthless he had become after he had lost Silver Phoenix, driven only by rage and grief, guilt and betrayal. But she hadn’t wanted any of these memories. She hadn’t wanted to know.
“You did send Chen Yong that dream,” she said.
“I only showed him the truth.” His glittering eyes narrowed. “I could smell the guilt you carried even in the underworld. Did you truly think you could hide something like that from him?” He snorted. “From Chen Yong?”
Furious, her vision spotted, for a moment went black. “Don’t lecture me about guilt or keeping secrets!” Ai Ling stomped toward him, slapping her hands against his chest. His skin sparked at the contact, and Zhong Ye, surprised, took a step back. “Silver Phoenix would never have died if you hadn’t lied to her. She warned you about Yokan!”
He seemed to crumple before her. Her words had hit their mark. She only wished she could feel some satisfaction, but there was no triumph in it.
“I only wanted to protect her,” he said in a rough voice. He sat down again on the hard rock, his shackles jarring against it. “Would you have fared better?” He met her eyes, his soul laid bare, concealing nothing.
Ai Ling recalled living those moments of Zhong Ye’s life: the ecstatic pleasure overwhelming her body; the exuberance of life’s essence flooding every fraction of her soul. Each time more powerful and potent than the one before. She couldn’t answer him truthfully.
“I know how I appeared to you.” He regarded her with an unreadable expression on his handsome face. “Like a monster. Just as she had feared—”
“I am not Silver Phoenix,” Ai Ling whispered. It was all that she could muster.
“No. You’re not. I thought—” Suddenly his shackles seemed to morph into giant snakes, their scales like emeralds. He didn’t notice. “I could make things right through you. You were her incarnation. If you loved me as she had…” He clenched his jaw, the cords of his neck taut. “I need your help, Ai Ling.”
“My help?” she asked, unable to keep the incredulity from her voice. Frantic for Chen Yong, she was fighting hard not to cry, to scream. She’d lost track of time. How much time had passed? Was it already too late? The cavern pulsed a sickly orange, and the corpses above spun in a lurid dance as if taunting her.
Zhong Ye had tucked his head between his fists. “I realize I have no right to ask it,” he said.
Ai Ling felt her being shiver, vibrate like a lute string plucked. It was as if she had stepped away from herself toward Zhong Ye, as if she had split in two. The snakes binding his wrists reared their heads and hissed. She stroked his shoulder. Her fingers glided across his bare skin. He raised his eyes and gasped, caressing her face. His touch left a flourish of warmth on her cheek. “Silver Phoeni
x,” he whispered, “I’m so sorry. I tried. I tried to bring you back.”
Silver Phoenix brushed her hand over his. “I know.” She smiled at him, radiant, although her eyes shone with sorrow like his. “I know.”
“He lied. Yokan never returned with the empress root. I went after him, but there was nothing left. He had taken it all.” His words spilled one on top of the other, as if he had clutched them inside for too long. “Why? Why did you kill yourself?”
She shook her head sadly. “He tricked you, Zhong. He used you. He wanted to be certain the immortality spell was”—she pursed her lips—“safe. He tested it on you first.”
“No. I saw him. He showed me how to do it.”
Silver Phoenix dropped gracefully to her knees. “He never ingested the empress root,” she said.
“But he appeared younger!”
“Minor spells, to alter his appearance. Artifice.” She paused. “He killed me.”
Zhong Ye leaped to his feet. “What!” His body seemed to expand with his wrath.
She pressed her fingertips to his wrist, and Zhong Ye sank back on the rock. “How could I have ever believed it?” He gazed at her, his eyes shining with tears. “Does Yokan still live?” he growled.
“He drowned centuries ago. Swept overboard on a return journey to Xia.” Silver Phoenix’s beautiful face had turned cold and hard. “The gods do not often meddle in the lives of man, but I only asked for one well-placed storm. Yokan was strong, but he could not survive an angry sea.” She lifted her chin to meet Zhong Ye’s gaze. “I don’t regret my request. The gods would kill Yokan for me, and I would end your life.”
Zhong Ye brought her hand to his lips. “I was a fool.” He stared at her, as if trying to memorize her face. “Is that why you killed me? A pact with the gods?”
She placed her palm against his chest. “I wandered the underworld for years without reincarnating, a restless spirit. Then the Goddess of Records gave me the gift to watch you on earth—”