My body screams in protest as I force myself to rise, every fiber of my being begging me to stop, to rest. Running is futile, but what other choice do I have?
Reaching out aimlessly, my fingers jam up against a rough, solid surface, scraping the skin off the back of my knuckles. I wince, ignoring the sting in favor of feeling around. It’s part of a crumbling stone wall. Squinting, I notice what look to be the ruins of an old building, worn away to its foundation. How odd. It never occurred to me that anyone would make a home of Hell, though they’ve clearly left long ago.
My knees buckle, exhaustion and panic whiting my mind. By some miracle, I’m able to prop myself up against the wall, struggling to stay awake. I need to escape this place, but I don’t know how. The palace shamans understand the magic required to cast demons away, but I’ve always understood it to be a one-way door. Even if I possessed magic and knew the spell to open a gate, I have doubts it would even let me pass through.
It’s okay to be scared, little brother,Jun once told me.I’m sure even the Legendary Archer feared the wrath of the stars.
How did he do it, then?I remembered asking, still small enough to sit across his lap. My eldest brother had come home injured from a hunt, and because he did not cry, I felt compelled to cry for him.
Jun had simply laughed as he pinched my cheek.How does anyone do anything? Afraid but willing.
I silently repeat the mantra to myself until my heart finallybegins to steady. Sweat drips from my brow and down my neck, soaking into my clothes. I can’t hear the fox anymore. Hopefully it’s died somewhere, but I know better than to leave my fate to luck.
What I need to do is reset my shoulder. I will want full use of both my hands if it comes down to another fight. Taking a deep breath in through my mouth, I thread my fingers together to form a loop with my arms. I prop my leg up and through, hitching my wrists over my knee. I thrust my leg forward while pulling my torso back, swallowing my agony as the joint snaps into its socket.
I make no sound. No scream, no groan, not even a whimper. I must endure in silence or else risk giving up my position. It takes a moment for the horrendous dizziness to fade. Even when it does, the terrible churn of my stomach threatens to make me lose my lunch. I think of Wen and Sooah, of how we were making dinner plans only hours ago. I’m thankful, at the very least, that the demon didn’t drag them into Hell with me. I wouldn’t wish this fate on my worst enemy any more than them.
Although my arm throbs, I can move more easily now. I draw my dao, the sharpened edge of the blade singing against the scabbard’s throat. My brothers all have their own, most of them gifts from Father, but they are decorative and wholly useless: worn at the hip the same way the court ladies flout their jewelry and custom-painted fans.
My blade boasts no name or glittering accents, only triumphant kills. This nine-tailed fox may be the fiercest, vilest, and most grotesque monster I have ever faced, but I am the Demon Hunter of Jian and there has never been a beast I could not vanquish.
Reaching for my belt, I produce one of my throwing needles, mindful of the poison-coated tip. I may be afraid, but I am willing. If I cannot banish the fox, I will outrun it. If I cannot outrun thefox, I will fight it. And if I cannot fight the fox, I will simply have to outsmart it.
I untie my scabbard and grip the end tight, throwing it a few feet ahead of me. It lands with a dullthud, but in this silent void it may as well be an ear-bursting clamor. I’m rewarded with a snarl from somewhere to my left. The fox, still disguised as a human woman, must have been lying in wait. She picks up my scabbard and screams—a high, bloodcurdling howl—when it realizes it’s fallen for my gambit. It turns in search, but it’s too late. I lunge, throwing my arm around its throat to trap it in a headlock.
I squeeze and squeeze andsqueeze.
“Get off!” she rasps. “Filthy human—get off!”
“This is for all those innocent souls you feasted on,” I hiss against her ear. “For that little girl you snapped up.”
“What”—she croaks—“girl?”
“The seamstress’s daughter.”
“I’ve never—I don’t eat children!”
There’s no reason to hesitate. To believe its desperate lies. I’ve killed countless demons without a second thought. I could easily snap her neck—a quick and harsh pull separating head from shoulders—yet this feels different somehow. It’s… jarring.Wrong. Especially when her eyes roll back and she attempts to suck despairing gulps of air. I’ve never killed a demon who looked and felt this human before. Even the skin-wearers were easier to dispatch, for they lacked the life and warmth of the people they impersonated.
This feels too real, too much like murder.
“Please,” the fox demon whimpers, her cheeks wet with tears. “Please—I don’t want to die.”
8Yue
Hunting Log #374:
Risk comes with reward.
This is it, I think.The human is going to kill me.
His hold loosens from around my throat.
With my remaining strength, I throw my elbows back and push him away. He falls to the side with a wet cough, blood spilling from his lips.
And we just… lie there.
Our minds are exhausted and our bodies destroyed. Black creeps from the edges of my vision, my eyelids are too heavy to keep open. It would be so easy to give in. To let myself rest until there’s nothing at all.
