Forest of a Thousand Lanterns

by Julie C. Dao

  Xifeng turned to the waterfall, where her reflection stood small and alone.

  “I was plain and awkward. I never had your or Mingzhu’s ability to win a man’s heart with my face,” Guma said bitterly. “But I had something else. You see, I used to play by the river as a girl. I found a black snake there once and followed it to a cave, where . . . it became a man. He told me I had the makings of a great wielder of magic and taught me all I know about poisons and poetry. He gave me books of poems and my first deck of cards. He taught me the dark magic of lifeblood, which he had shared with no one else. Only me.”

  “The Serpent God.”

  “He told me to call him that.” Her aunt grimaced. “He forced me to keep our meetings secret and took payment here and there for our lessons over the years. Things he said I wouldn’t value: My ability to read music. Memories of my childhood. My sense of direction. My vision in the dark. Things I was willing to give if it meant I could be special like Mingzhu.”

  “He took all of these things and you never questioned him?”

  “Not at first. I was young and desperate to make something of myself. Over time, I began to suspect things were not as they should be, but still I felt a duty to him, and a desire to be more—much more—than what I was.”

  Xifeng gave a slow nod. She understood that desire well.

  “He cared for me like a father. He was the only one who saw me as anything.” Guma’s shoulders drooped with every word. “So I worked hard to please him. I progressed so well that he promised me one great wish. Anything I wanted. I should have known the wish wouldn’t be free, either. Something else would be taken, and this time, it would be something I’d notice.”

  “You wished for Long to fall in love with you?” Xifeng asked, though she was terrified of the answer and what it might mean . . . what it might change.

  Guma’s body faded with each passing minute, but her grimace was clear. “My parents wanted him to marry Mingzhu badly enough that they bribed the matchmaker and astrologer to favor the union. So I knew it was time. But what I wished for was one night with Long, to convince him he should be with me. I still had my pride. I would not have him unless I had earned him myself.”

  She clenched her jaw. “That night was the worst of my life. The whole time, he believed I was Mingzhu. He came to me in the dark, drunk with passion, believing I was my sister. Afterward, he screamed when he realized it was me. And we both saw what had become of my leg. Rivers of blood. Unimaginable pain. It came on suddenly, as soon as Long found me out and our night together was over. The payment was due, you see.”

  Despite the heat of the springs, Xifeng felt ice in her veins. “The Serpent God injured you as payment for granting your wish.”

  Guma stared into the waterfall that did not reflect her. “Long left in terror, convinced my parents had used black magic to entangle him with their daughters. Mingzhu’s mind had never been strong—a vein of madness runs through our family—and grief destroyed her.”

  “A vein of madness?” Xifeng repeated. “You told me magic runs through our family.”

  “Are they not the same, I wonder? My parents never recouped the fortune they’d wasted trying to attract him into marrying her. They died, one after the other, followed by my sister. Your aunt, Mingzhu.”

  Xifeng felt faint as she stared into the face of this woman . . . her mother. “I spent my childhood yearning for you, and you were there the whole time.” The tengaru queen had known. You drift toward each other, she had said, two streams from the same river.

  “I wrote to Long’s parents when my baby was born. They told me he had died and never to contact them again. They didn’t want anything to do with me or their granddaughter.” Guma shook her head. “But there was someone else who could help me, who had done this to me so I might depend on him. He called me back to him, insisting he had given me my gifts and talents out of the goodness of his heart. But those gifts and talents now allowed me to see exactly what he was: an evil spirit using me for reasons I didn’t understand. He told me his secret.”

  The Lord of Surjalana, a voice whispered inside Xifeng.

  It was one of the many names of the jealous god who had ruled the desert and coveted the Dragon King’s wealth and might. Xifeng remembered Shiro telling her a theory in which this god, seduced by power, never returned to the heavens at all.

  “The Serpent God is the Lord of Surjalana.” Xifeng shivered. “All those nightmares you had . . . All of those times you came running home to lock the doors and windows . . .”

  “I would rather have starved and watched my baby die than crawl back to that cave, to that being who had destroyed my life.” Guma’s eyes met hers. “I burned everything he gave me. Every book of poetry, every gift . . . even the deck of cards. I bought a new deck myself, though it cost me dearly. I wanted nothing more to do with him, now that I had a child to protect.”

  Xifeng felt a lump in her throat, as though the rat’s heart had lodged itself there.

  “I promised myself you would be better than I was,” her mother told her, eyes blazing. “When I read your fate in the cards, I knew you would be, though I was afraid at first. If I pushed you toward your destiny, might you encounter him on your path? But then I asked myself: where is the safest place on earth for my daughter? Where will she be mightiest, most powerful, and under the rule of no one but herself? Ah. As Empress of Feng Lu, protected by the Great Forest. Just as the cards predicted. A woman of unimaginable strength, with an army at her back.”

  “But you served him for so long. He controlled you,” Xifeng argued. “How do you know he isn’t controlling you now?”

  “He can’t. He isn’t. I took precautions . . . I denounced him . . .”

  “How could you have agreed to give him all of those things without knowing the costs? Without knowing what you were paying for?”

  “Aren’t you doing the same thing?” Guma countered. “You are following your destiny without knowing the costs. You are willing to pay in other people’s lives to get there. Do not dare pass judgment on me, daughter, without first accepting your own actions.”

  “No,” Xifeng whispered. “It’s not the same.”

  Her mother’s fading mouth twisted. “Do you see now what I’ve tried to teach you? Love is weakness. You open yourself up to choices you’d never make if your heart were your own.” She moved closer, desperate. “I was ashamed. I didn’t want you to be like me. I’d rather have you hate me as your aunt than pity me as your mother. And I was so afraid he would find you.”

  A dark, terrible anger settled into Xifeng’s bones. “You pushed my destiny on me to get me away from him. You knew I would leave you to pursue it.”

  Guma’s sad face was a wisp of smoke now. “I wanted a better life for you.”

  “How do you know you aren’t connected to him still?” Xifeng enjoyed watching her flinch at the cruel words. She flung them like daggers, wanting Guma to hurt as much as she did. “How do you know he hasn’t been speaking to you through those cards? Through this incense?”

  “I know I’ve done things you can never forgive. But I did them for you, and my time is almost over now. Protect yourself, child. Rid yourself of the Fool, whoever she may be.” Her mother’s eyes flickered to the invisible wounds on her face. “Until you do, you will never be safe, and you will be reminded of it again and again. It is a consequence, like everything else.”

  “This was a reminder?” Xifeng touched the pristine skin of her face, which had been shredded only moments ago. A vein of madness runs through our family.

  “I want you to know . . . I wanted the world for you.”

  “This destiny you saw for me could be what he wants,” Xifeng shouted as her mother faded out of view. She hoped Guma was still listening, hoped the pain of this revelation would make all those years of brutality and abuse worthwhile. Maybe, at last, they would be even. “How do yo
u know he isn’t in my very bones, and his eyes aren’t looking back at you?”

  The creature inside her roared with this truth. The realization twisted Guma’s disappearing face: the Serpent God had taken his final payment, after all.

  He had taken Xifeng.

  She felt him burst free, and though her mother was gone—though Xifeng stood alone—the strange waterfall now reflected a being too tall to be human, once a darkness twisted within and now joyously released. Exhilaration tingled in her nerves as she watched herself beside him, tall, imposing, as treacherously beautiful as an immortal.

  My shadowed goddess. My dark queen. My fairest, he said. Guma was only a means to an end. You are my prize.

  She licked blood from the corner of her mouth, still ravenous for more. In the reflection, the man ran long, thin fingers down her neck, and she closed her eyes as though she could feel it.

  The moon shines down upon us, beloved . . .

  “Our deal is different from what she had with you,” she told him, still smarting from Guma’s accusation. “I know my ending. I understand my destiny. I’m different from her.”

  Fairest. The water a vast and eternal mirror . . .

  Another image appeared in the mirror-water: Lady Sun, waiting alone in the tunnel. Lady Sun, descending the stairs to the hot springs as if in a trance.

  “She’s here? But how . . . ?”

  My servant has brought her to you, my queen, the man told her in the creature’s voice reborn. She is a threat to us, and you will end her.

  “Turn your face from the world’s apple-blossom fragility,” she recited softly, dutifully, “and embrace this boundless night.”

  But though she had waited for this moment—though she knew she would destroy Lady Sun for good—hearing her desire spoken aloud made Xifeng dizzy. Her reflection in the mirror-water looked pale and afraid. One by one, the oozing wounds reappeared on her face, a thousand times worse than she remembered . . . spreading across her perfect skin until she could not recognize herself. She was a horrible leper beside the image of Lady Sun’s luminous beauty.

  Which of you looks like a queen? the man’s whisper taunted her.

  Xifeng imagined the concubine’s heart pounding, her blood pure and rich beneath her flawless skin, and she felt faint with hunger. She could taste the woman’s lifeblood on her tongue, feel the slippery muscle of her young, fresh heart gliding against her teeth.

  “Rid yourself of the Fool, whoever she may be,” she echoed Guma’s words.

  Would she accept the Serpent God’s help in destroying Lady Sun, even knowing what he had done to Guma? It dawned on Xifeng that she had run out of other options. But she was not Guma. She would not accept the same fate. The cards promised her victory as Empress . . . the great destiny surely protected her from enduring Guma’s defeat.

  She had harbored the Serpent God’s spirit within her for a decade, she had struggled with the dark side of her own self, and now he would reward her. In the swirling darkness, the god waited for her to choose.

  So Xifeng chose.

  She picked up the dagger and lay in wait by the stairs like a vengeful goddess of the old world. She slithered into the shadows, listening to the concubine’s footsteps. The dark god’s servant, whoever it was, had as good as handed Xifeng her prize. She gave a quiet, chilling laugh that did not seem to have come from her. Nothing seemed to be hers tonight—not her voice, not her words, not the slender fingers braced on the blade. Perhaps that was best. Perhaps she preferred to feel disembodied, watching from above as this new Xifeng prowled and hunted.

  Lady Sun appeared, the smell of fear pungent in the air around her. There was a moment, before the woman reached the bottom step, when Xifeng’s hunger intensified with such strength she wanted to scream from it, from this need for the concubine’s blood to trickle down inside her and fill the empty places in her dark, dark soul.

  Just as it had the first time Guma had made her kill, Xifeng could hear a piece of her old self pleading: Let me go. Don’t make me do this. Her limbs shuddered with her silent prayer for mercy, for her own salvation, but she heard nothing in return except the thundering of her own heart.

  “Save me,” Xifeng uttered aloud, one last time, before she let the darkness take her. She knew nothing now but her uncontrollable hunger.

  Lady Sun entered the cavernous space without seeing the Serpent God, who now stood beside a hulking figure robed in black, a hood concealing all but two glittering eyes. His servant.

  “Hello?” Lady Sun called in a thin, high voice. Her figure on the steps was soft and appealing, the kind a man like Wei or the Emperor would want to protect. Such loveliness might even distract them from Xifeng, but she told herself soon there would be no one who could turn his eyes from her. The darkness whispered its approval.

  Lady Sun’s shadow flickered across the damp, archaic stone as she stood transfixed before the waterfall. Did she look as beautiful as Xifeng in the mirror-water? Did she see in its ripples an image forever held in the depths of perfection? If only, Xifeng thought, they could remain that way forever.

  And she realized, as she leapt shrieking from the shadows . . . she could.

  All it cost was blood magic, Xifeng mused, staring into the concubine’s terrified face as she plunged the dagger into her chest. The woman collapsed, her cry stifled in her throat, eyes gazing at Xifeng with pitiful innocence.

  Even in death, she was a liar.

  Xifeng watched her die, thinking of the girl she herself had been. A girl who longed to love as others did, who had prayed to the gods for guidance—and had at last been answered by one. She stood alone in the mirror-water as Lady Sun stopped moving. “I was born a woman into this world,” she said, echoing the concubine’s words. “And I will play the game, but I won’t lose.”

  The dark god’s servant stepped forward, his robes smelling of dank, forgotten soil. He held out two enormous, cruel hands, on which rested a scroll, still sealed. There was something familiar in the way he bowed his head and backed away respectfully when she accepted it. She broke open the seal and unrolled the edges to find the letter Lady Sun had written to the General, detailing Xifeng’s romance with Wei.

  “I am saved,” she whispered. “You stole it back before he learned the truth.”

  The servant bowed again, then bent his massive bulk over Lady Sun’s motionless form. There was a cracking sound as he tore into her ribs with his massive bare hands, and Xifeng watched dispassionately as blood burst out, so dark it was almost black, staining the ground a brilliant cherry. He moved aside, clearing her path to the prize.

  There is nothing I won’t do for you, the Serpent God told her. There is no door now that will remain closed to you. The world is yours.

  A roar of triumph ripped through Xifeng’s body. This was her destiny. This was the fate the cards had seen: unimaginable power and beauty at the cost of lesser women’s lives. The throne of Feng Lu lay just beyond, ready and willing to be taken. She knelt beside the dead concubine and dug the dagger into her chest, feeling the tip catch slightly. And then there it was, Lady Sun’s heart—perfect, and glistening in the dim light. The hot metallic smell mingled with the incense in an intoxicating blend as Xifeng brought it to her lips.

  In the waterfall, the Serpent God watched her take a bite.

  The power that plunged through her made her cry out loud. She bit again and again, savoring her invincibility. The woman’s essence was stronger than wine, headier than incense. Her limbs shook from the magnificence of it. Never in the deepest throes of passion with Wei had she ever felt so alive, so physically charged. She tipped her head back, gasping as the blood gushed down her throat. Lady Sun swam in her veins, alluring and seductive, everything that could win an Emperor. But Xifeng would know how to keep him.

  Eternal beauty for such a small price. A life for a life of beauty, forevermore.

 
Never again would the wounds haunt her.

  Xifeng did not stop until the heart was gone. The cavern hummed with energy, vibrating with the power within her. Hands and lips drenched in blood, she dragged the hollowed body to the water and slipped it in, watching it land beside the rat she had killed. The concubine lay faceup, her hair streaming around her face like the petals of a flower. In the water, her skin shone pure white and her lips were as red as the blood that still oozed from her gaping chest.

  In time, that beauty would fade. It was inside Xifeng now, dancing through her veins. She had given Lady Sun a gift, really, by ensuring the woman would continue to live through her, by harnessing her power. And there were so many other hearts that might do the same—so many other enemies who would not be wasted by death, who would instead contribute their essence to the night that had begun inside her.

  And there was no going back now; there were no second thoughts.

  The world was hers.

  Guilt. Self-hatred. Fear.

  Whatever Xifeng might have felt afterward, it was none of those. Instead, she woke and faced the day with a light heart. She and Wei were safe, Kang was avenged, and the Empress would no longer be tormented. Lady Sun was gone and the danger she posed had ended.

  “Everyone’s saying she finally left him as she threatened to do for years.” Kang sat beside her at the morning meal, eating with more vigor than usual. “She didn’t even bother to take her precious son.”

  Xifeng thought of the little boy gazing up at the map, babbling about sea monsters, and forced herself to harden her heart. “What will happen to her children if she doesn’t turn up?”

  The eunuch shrugged. “They’ll go back to her family, I suppose.”

  The banquet hall seemed even noisier and more crowded this morning. Xifeng watched ladies-in-waiting gossiping, maidservants scurrying, and eunuchs tossing dice in the corner of the room. A woman’s life had ended, but everyone else’s would continue—including her own.