by Evelyn Skye
The corridor led to a heavy set of wooden doors. The handles were carved with dragons, their eyes inset with red rubies, their claws outstretched as if ready to tear into prey.
“I have a feeling one of the two people we’re looking for is behind those doors,” Daemon whispered. “And it’s not Empress Aki.”
Their gemina bond tightened, the taiga equivalent to holding hands to give each other strength. Sora nodded at Daemon. There was no time like the present for regicide.
Knives and throwing stars at the ready, they snuck up to the twin keyholes and peered inside.
Gods almighty.
The throne room was a massive receiving hall, with walls made of the same red-streaked black stone as the castle. There was a huge mural painted on the ceiling—although Sora couldn’t quite make out its subject from the angle of the keyhole—and also a throne, a menacing opus of crimson stone and black velvet, with fiery flames made of orange sapphires to frame Prince Gin’s head.
He wasn’t sitting on the throne, though. The Dragon Prince knelt before the fireplace in front of real flames, chanting over and over in what sounded like Kichonan but older. Like an ancient version of their modern language.
“What is he doing?” Sora whispered.
Daemon didn’t get to answer, though, because the fire in the throne room suddenly extinguished itself, and a giant appeared in the air in its place, his long dark beard fluttering like a flag, his ten-fingered hands stained red with a millennium’s worth of blood.
Zomuri.
Chapter Nine
Sora staggered back a step. Gods rarely deigned to interact with humans. Sola, goddess of the sun, would visit the emperor or empress only if summoned with imperial blood and a sacrifice of a year of his or her life. Non-royals like Sora never got to see deities. She would light incense and pray, hoping that the smoke would carry her wishes to Celestae, the island paradise in the sky where the gods lived. But people didn’t expect to ever see a god during their lifetimes, let alone twice. Yet Zomuri had appeared for the Ceremony of Two Hundred Hearts, and here he was again.
Why?
It had to be bad. Zomuri may have been more willing to appear to humans than the other gods, but still, he came only if there was something worthwhile to him. Hearts to eat. Emperors’ promises of glory in Zomuri’s name. Or possibly worse.
Sora pulled herself together and mashed her ear against the keyhole to catch what she could of their conversation.
“I do not like being summoned like a dog,” Zomuri said. “What is the meaning of this?”
Prince Gin bowed to the ground. “My lord, you know I am your most humble servant. I am working toward creating a vast empire to worship you and to achieve the Evermore for my people. However, I’ve been reviewing my research on the emperors of the past who marched this path before me, and always, they fail before conquering all seven of the mainland kingdoms because the Kichonan forces are outnumbered. I want to ensure that I’m not susceptible to this same human frailty, and so I have a request to make of you.”
Zomuri’s voice rumbled ominously in the back of his throat. “Why should I give you anything more? By declaring your kingdom’s loyalty to me, rather than the sun goddess, you have already gained an advantage.”
“What?” Daemon whispered, confused.
Sora shook her head. She didn’t understand either.
Prince Gin dipped his head in acknowledgment. He clearly knew what Zomuri was talking about. Then again, he’d been a devotee of Evermore legends since childhood. “I understand the effect your reign will have on the people of this kingdom. But what I’m proposing is a deal that will benefit both of us even more—a guarantee of glory and empire for you and a clear path to the Evermore for me, my ryuu, and all of Kichona.”
Zomuri floated above the throne. “I’m listening.”
The Dragon Prince rose to his feet and took his time walking to his throne. He sat in it casually, with a surprising lack of deference, given the fact that he was in the presence of a god. Maybe being emperor allowed him that.
Or maybe he’s just an arrogant snake, Sora thought.
“Make me immune to death—invincible,” Prince Gin said.
Sora’s jaw dropped. Was that possible?
“You already have magic superior to that of anyone else you will face,” Zomuri said.
“True, but I can still die, and my enemies are clever and savage. Give me the power over death, my lord. You and I both know that I’m your best chance at achieving what you’ve craved for centuries—the entire mainland united under your name. The people of the world will worship you and offer all their riches for your blessings. There will be no god as loved as you’re loved. No god as wealthy and glorified as you. If you grant me invincibility, I can all but guarantee this to you.”
“Invincibility . . .” The god pulled on his beard as he contemplated Prince Gin’s offer. “Perhaps I could do that. But it would cost you.”
“What do you want?” Prince Gin said.
Sora held her breath as she waited for Zomuri to reply to the prince. Anyone who knew anything about the Kichonan gods knew that Zomuri loved only three things: blood, glory, and treasure.
“I want your soul,” the god said.
Prince Gin crossed his arms. “Choose something else. If I give you my soul, then it won’t get to rest in the afterlife if I die before reaching the Evermore.”
Zomuri chuckled, and it shook the room. Sora and Daemon had to let go of the doors or the handles would jiggle too much and give them away.
“You speak of your research,” the god said, “but for a man who prides himself as a scholar of Kichonan legend, you are woefully undereducated. You must not have read the legend Dassu and the Warrior.”
Daemon whispered to Sora, “I’ve heard that one before. . . .”
Zomuri, in the meantime, continued speaking to Prince Gin. “If you had, you would know that you are condemned to the same fate. Ten years ago, when you were on the cusp of death and your soul traveled down the final tunnel of light, you caught a glimpse of the glittering emerald magic that awaited you there. But instead of crossing the threshold to the afterlife, you reached in, stole the ability to see the magic, and brought it back to this life, where it is not supposed to be used in so powerful a manifestation. Do you really think the gods will let your soul rest in peace after that?”
Daemon threaded his hands through his hair and tugged on the blue locks. “That’s how he got ryuu magic?”
Sora just stared through the keyhole. She didn’t know it was possible to go to the brink of death like that and return, let alone steal an ability like Sight from the afterlife.
Prince Gin seemed equally stunned by what Zomuri had said but for a different reason. “If I die without agreeing to your terms, my soul is condemned to the hells?”
Zomuri laughed, as if dealing with a less than diligent student. “Go back and study your books, Gin, and you will find the answer.”
The Dragon Prince took a moment to pull himself together. But then he shook away his shock and asked, “What happens if I give you my soul instead?”
“I haven’t decided yet. But that’s a risk you’re going to have to take.” Zomuri rubbed his hands together in malicious glee. “There is, however, a third option—you achieve the Evermore and you never die. If you do this, your body will live freely and forever in paradise, while your soul merely looks pretty in my treasure vault. This gives you even more incentive to make sure you achieve what you’ve set out to do. But I am finished with this discussion. Do you accept my offer or not?”
“No,” Sora whispered, sick to her stomach. If Zomuri made him invincible, Prince Gin couldn’t be killed. There was no way Sora would be able to save Kichona, even if they did find Empress Aki. Everyone would become a puppet of the prince. Pawns on the front lines of his wars. Marching toward their deaths without even realizing they were at the ends of their lives.
Daemon stood motionless, as horrified as Sora was
.
Prince Gin took a long moment to consider Zomuri’s offer. On the one hand, there was invincibility. On the other hand, there was the risk of a cruel god’s whim.
But in the end, Prince Gin must have either thought it was worth the gamble or had immense confidence in his own abilities if he were both a ryuu and invincible because he said, “You are a shrewd negotiator, my lord. I accept. I offer you my soul.”
Zomuri grinned, baring his gold teeth and the dried blood on his lips, likely from the Ceremony of Two Hundred Hearts.
“We have to get to Prince Gin now,” Daemon said to Sora. Their gemina bond burned violet with fear. “We have to stop this before it begins.” He grabbed the door handles.
Sora threw her arms around Daemon to pull him back, to keep him quiet. “That’s the Dragon Prince and the most vicious god in the realm in there! If we charge in like this, we’re dead. And then Empress Aki and all the brainwashed taigas might as well be dead, too, because we’re the only ones left to save them.”
Zomuri plunged his hand down the prince’s throat, so far that his arm seemed to disappear. Prince Gin’s eyes bugged, and his body convulsed.
Sora stood frozen as the improbable unfolded before her.
A few seconds later, Zomuri yanked his arm from the prince’s throat. He held what looked like a small gold pearl.
“To safety, in my vault,” he said to the soul pearl. In a puff of smoke, it disappeared, magicked away.
Prince Gin straightened his robes, as if what had just happened to him was no big deal. Then he unsheathed a sword and rammed it straight through his own middle.
Sora gasped.
He twisted the blade through his organs, then withdrew it. The sword dripped with blood.
But Prince Gin was still standing. He pushed aside the fabric at his stomach. The gaping wound healed before his eyes, the blood and flesh reabsorbed into his body, the skin smoothing without a scar.
“Excellent,” he said before sitting back on his throne. He cast his sword to the floor and smiled smugly.
Sora’s knees nearly buckled beneath her. There went her hope of assassinating the Dragon Prince tonight and putting a quick end to this. As long as Zomuri had the soul, they wouldn’t be able to kill Prince Gin or stop him from turning all of Kichona into a mindless game of war.
“There must be a way to fight back,” she whispered.
“He’s invincible,” Daemon said. “It’s over.”
Chapter Ten
Sora and Daemon stepped into the chestnut grove in Jade Forest.
Cold, sharp steel immediately pressed to their throats. “Don’t move.”
Nines, Sora swore to herself as she stilled. The ryuu had found them.
“We don’t have anything valuable on us,” Sora said, in case the knife at her throat belonged to a thief.
“Oh, thank the gods, it’s you,” Fairy said. She dropped the blade.
Sora exhaled. Thank the gods indeed.
“Sorry it took us so long,” Daemon said as he rubbed his neck where Broomstick’s knife had pressed.
“Yeah,” Sora said. “Daemon had to carry me on his back both ways so I could keep us invisible. I slowed him down.”
“You can make other people invisible?” Broomstick asked. “Why didn’t you do that to us while we were crossing the Field of Illusions or when Fairy and I were in the Citadel?”
“It takes a lot of concentration for me to cast that kind of magic on someone else,” Sora said. “I needed my wits to cross the shifting sand, and I couldn’t think that hard while also making all four of us invisible. Maybe with more practice, I’ll be able to.”
They settled beneath the dense canopy of the chestnut trees. Fairy handed out thick, woolen cloaks—she and Broomstick had had the foresight to grab fresh clothes, sleeping mats, weapons, and food for everyone—and they huddled together around a campfire.
“I assume, since we’re all here and the mood isn’t celebratory, that none of us managed to find the empress or kill Prince Gin?” Broomstick asked.
Everyone shook their heads.
“Damn,” Fairy mumbled. She proceeded to tell them about Mariko’s murder.
Everyone was silent as that sank in.
“Mariko was always so nice to us,” Daemon said. “She shouldn’t have been at risk. She wasn’t a soldier, just an ordinary person trying to do her job.”
“Yeah . . . ,” Fairy said.
Sora wrapped her arms around her knees, as if that would help settle her. She’d been so focused on the Evermore as the ultimate evil that she hadn’t really thought about why it was atrocious.
It wasn’t the striving for paradise on earth that was inherently bad. It was every ruthless thing that would be done in order to get it. This war wasn’t just about conquering the mainland. It was a war on Kichona itself. Prince Gin and the ryuu were the invading horde, and the people were their targets. The terrible irony was, if the prince murdered and brainwashed enough and Zomuri made the Evermore a reality, there would be no Kichonans left to enjoy it.
But this was why Sora had to fight back. She took a deep breath to compose herself, then turned to Broomstick. “Please tell me you have a better report.”
He shook his head. “What I saw was just as horrible, in a different way.” He looked a little green as he reported watching Blade, Quicksand, Philosopher, and other apprentices they knew training with ryuu magic.
“Stars, even the kids like Quicksand?” Daemon asked. “Did you see any of our mentees?”
Broomstick nodded sadly. “Yours. I didn’t see Fairy’s or Spirit’s, but that doesn’t mean they’re not being trained. Anyone who was a taiga apprentice is learning ryuu magic. That means kids as young as seven. Who knows? Maybe even the little tenderfoots in the nursery.”
Daemon punched the tree nearest him.
“I also spent some time in Warrior Meeting Hall.” Broomstick recounted what he’d seen there.
Sora curled into herself even more. And yet she couldn’t stay like that for long, because then it was her turn to tell Fairy and Broomstick what she and Daemon had discovered in the castle.
“Do you want to give them the bad news, or should I?” Sora asked Daemon.
Fairy let out an involuntary cry. “How can it get worse?”
“The Dragon Prince gave up his soul,” Daemon said, cutting quickly to the point.
“What do you mean?” Broomstick said, his deep voice cracking.
“He struck a deal with Zomuri,” Sora said. “He gave up his soul in exchange for being invincible.”
Fairy opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out. Broomstick was equally speechless.
“Don’t resign yourself,” Sora said. “This isn’t over until we say it is.”
“I’m not so sure about that,” Daemon said. He picked up a twig from the ground and speared it through a hapless mushroom.
“It isn’t over yet.” Sora glared at him and sent a stab of displeasure through their gemina bond.
He cringed but didn’t retract his dismay.
She needed to do whatever it took to get her head in order. Those who’d lost their lives in the Ceremony of Two Hundred Hearts should not have died in vain. And Sora had to stop this war before it began, or her fellow taigas and too many citizens of Kichona would die under Prince Gin’s command. Her kingdom needed her.
If stashing the soul pearl in Zomuri’s treasure vault kept the Dragon Prince safe, Sora would have to change that.
“Listen,” Sora said gently, trying to change tack to persuade Daemon, Fairy, and Broomstick that they still had a fighting chance. “We’re going to find Zomuri’s vault to retrieve the soul pearl. If we can reunite it with Prince Gin’s body, he won’t be invincible anymore, and we can kill him. It’s the only way to stop this madness.”
“I’m sorry,” Daemon said. “Did you just say we’re going to steal from a god?”
Sora flushed. “Um, yeah.”
He jabbed his twig at more mush
rooms near his feet. “Tell me, assuming we could pull off a theft like that, how do we even find the soul pearl? Where does a god stash his treasure?”
“I . . . don’t know.” Sora deflated. She hadn’t gotten that far yet in her plans.
“This is not a good idea, Sora,” Daemon said.
Fairy perked up. “Is there anything you remember from your mother’s books?” Mina Teira was one of Kichona’s most famous authors, known especially for her volumes on the kingdom’s myths and legends.
Sora shook her head. “I thought about it the whole trek here from the castle. But nothing jumps out at me.”
Broomstick picked up some chestnuts that had fallen from the tree. He started throwing them one by one in frustration.
Daemon growled. “That’s not helping.”
“Oh, because the sound of a few nuts is distracting you from a brilliant revelation?” He chucked one at Daemon’s head.
“Guys—” Sora began.
“What the hells,” Daemon said. He grabbed a chestnut from the ground and hurled it. But Broomstick rolled out of the way, and it smacked into Fairy instead.
“Stop it, both of you!” She scowled at Daemon and whacked Broomstick on the back of his head. “If this is what the last hope for Kichona looks like, I might as well start writing my tombstone now.”
“Sorry,” the boys mumbled under their breaths.
“I didn’t hear that,” she said.
“We’re sorry, Fairy,” Daemon and Broomstick both said.
“Damn right you are. Now sit with your hands folded in your laps and do something useful.”
In other circumstances, Sora would have laughed at the two boys sitting with legs crossed beneath them and heads bowed like chastised tenderfoots.
But instead she groaned as she thought of something that could spell the end of their plans.
“What is it?” Fairy asked.