Basuin nods and reaches a hand down to her to help her off the ground. Instinctively, his arm winds around her waist to hold her steady, and their eyes meet once more. He opens his mouth to say something, but hears the rustle of feet on forest floor, of long robes brushing past foliage. He turns his head toward the sound, holding Ren closer to him.
But it’s only Ko who appears from the thick wooded forest, long strands of black hair falling over his shoulders and robes askew as if he hurried here.
“We must leave Gyeosi now,” Ko says. “More are coming.”
Chapter 21
As Ren commanded, they move north. Rain comes to wash away the horrors of Gyeosi, but when it falters, all it leaves behind is smoke coloring the skies in the same dreary gray. They’ve spent these last days gaining distance, but they need time to plan their next steps. Ren needs time to rest—her wounds from Gyeosi’s attack still haven’t healed.
“There is a village not much further we can rest at,” Ko tells them as they travel. “I have an old friend there.”
Basuin tries to keep count of the days. How many days has it been since he’s been a god? More than he can count on all his calloused fingers, smeared with dirt and soot. He’s been a man for ten thousand days, and now—now Basuin will be a god for much longer than that. Bound by duty, not fate.
It’s been two days since Gyeosi burned, and when Basuin crawls into his bedroll on the eve of the third day, Yaelic is already asleep, breathing slow through his mouth. That gold-white hair of his reminds Bass so much of the slender soldier he first saw dressed in a forest-green tunic, laughing over a mug of ale with his buddies in the tavern, right before Isaniel was assigned to his fleet. Those clay-colored eyes, baked into hardened brick, challenging Bass to come over and join them for drinks.
He didn’t, not that night. Regret grows in his gut as the image of Isaniel’s rage-stained eyes flashes in his mind. The smash of the porcelain carafe as Isaniel threw him into the table it sat upon, falling to the ground.
If you won’t listen to me as a soldier, Isaniel shouted, then listen to me as a man.
Basuin shuts his eyes and tries to sleep.
But you won’t listen to anyone, Isaniel hissed. You didn’t even listen to your own mother.
Go to sleep, go to sleep, for the morning will come and the monsters will be gone. Go to sleep, my son.
And the morning of the third day does come, but unlike his ma told him, the monsters aren’t gone. The rains slowed them, yes, but it will not stop them from marching forward. If the storms that the gods bring won’t stop the legion, then it will have to be them—the Forest God and the Wolf God.
It’s the spirits who have gone. They’ve outrun the monster. The village they traveled toward is empty, left behind in a hurry. Straw huts and tents are disheveled. Blankets and clothes and children’s toys forgotten. No one roams here. Ko’s friend can’t be found. Everyone is gone.
“They left,” Haaman says, even as they all stare at the same wreckage.
Qia picks up a colorful ball, dented and losing leaking air. Yaelic looks over the smudges of soot and dirt, frowning.
“It’s for the best,” Ko says. He looks to Ren, as if waiting for her approval.
But Ren says nothing. She squeezes the flesh of her bicep and turns away. Unable to look at the evidence of the danger that trails behind them. The army will come here, too. It really is for the best that they left.
“We’ll make camp here, then,” Bass decides for her. No one speaks, not at all.
“Of course, Am-ga.” Ko bows his head before turning and motioning the children forward.
Bass frowns at the name, confusion making his brow twitch. Ren is Am-sa, a title he’s come to know well.
As if she can read his mind, Ren comes to rest beside him and says, “Am-ga is what they have begun to call you. Though, Ko is old-fashioned, so he took to it first.”
“And what is that?” he asks.
Ren glances at him. “A protector.” Then, she follows behind their party into the abandoned village.
Ko graciously takes the children to walk around the woods, searching for any friendly spirits who may have stayed behind. Haaman volunteers to fly southward and scout out how close the legion is. With how damp the storm kept the island, no fire will survive for the next few days. But the flames will return.
Ren sits on an overgrown stump, legs crossed underneath her, as Bass paces a circle around what used to be a cook-pit. She’s looking better today, skin less pallid and eyes more golden. The mottling has long been fading, few marks left behind.
“How did they find Gyeosi?” he asks out loud, though it’s a question that doesn’t have much of an answer. To it, Ren shrugs a little. “I thought only magic could bring down the barrier and open the gates.”
She frowns. He doesn’t like the look of it. “That’s not quite how it works. I used god magic to create the barrier, but it only redirects people from the path—like an illusion.” Her fingers tap on her knee. “In all fairness, I never expected people to come to the forest. When the soldiers arrived, I threw the barrier up as quick as I could. It wasn’t…” She chews her lip. “It wasn’t built to keep an army out.”
Basuin blanches, the air stolen straight from his lungs. The barrier was made of magic. He knew that, of course he knew that. But Ren’s magic weakened when he was deified. He stole it from her; their connection leached it from her.
