“But how did you survive the fall?”
“Landed right on top of that big, ugly boar demon. Broke our fall. He was right pissed about it.”
I don’t miss Wen’s sideways glance, nor the way he and Sooah have placed themselves on either side of their captain. Human shields. One misstep on my part, and they won’t hesitate to killme. Their unshakable loyalty almost makes me a touch jealous, yearning for a sense of safety among kindred spirits. It reminds me of a time when I still had my sisters, when it was us against all who’d harm us.
Qin was the eldest and funniest, her jokes never failing to make me laugh. Even in weeks where food was scarce or hunts went wrong, Qin could lift our spirits as easily as the sun rose in the mornings—effortless because it was her nature.
Mihan was the most well-traveled, always ready with an enthralling tale to share. Stories were one of the few things I admired most about humans. So creative and inventive, painting pictures with their words—recounting our histories in the form of myths.
Ahn was the bravest of us, the first to throw herself at danger to protect the pack. She was the one who taught me to hunt, to always remain quick on my feet. She was exceptionally patient where I was concerned. Even though I was the runt of the litter, she took her time teaching me her ways even if it took me twice as long to learn.
Lu was the quiet one, preferring to spend her days dreaming rather than on the hunt. My fondest memories were of the summers we spent together foraging for roots and bugs, or swimming in streams. She liked watching the clouds, pointing out the shapes they made. And at night, she could name every single star in the sky. Not by the names humans had bequeathed, but ones we made up and were entirely our own.
Nuying was the smartest sister, who always had answers for my endless curiosity. She was the only one of us who knew how to read human script with any sense of fluency. Though I now know how to read, I still find it dizzying, a mishmash of random curves and strokes. Her gift for language proved useful from time to time, especially when hunters put up signs to warn of the presence of anine-tailed fox. That’s how we knew when it was time to move on to the next village, on to safety.
Chunhua was the one I got along least with, our personalities far too similar and therefore grating, but I still loved the way she’d curl up next to me to help soothe my nerves during particularly fierce thunderstorms. She was sweeter than she let on, even if she had a habit of hiding behind harsh words. She was never the type to apologize aloud, though she would always try to make up for her mistakes by gifting an extra portion of food.
Jiayi was the huntress. There wasn’t a human she couldn’t stalk. Men and women from across the land resorted to all sorts of weapons and traps, only to wind up in our bellies instead. She was good at hiding in the shadows, unseen to all until she chose to reveal herself.
And then there was Su, my favorite sister. It probably wasn’t right to have a favorite among family, but it was the truth. I adored her dark sense of humor, the way she was always ready with a quip. As unserious as she was, I could always trust her to lend an ear and offer the sagest advice.
It feels almost a disgrace to describe them so simply. My sisters, my family. They were my whole world. Love is not an unknown concept to us demons; we are simply more guarded in the matters of the heart. In a realm that always let us know we were unwelcome, who could blame me for putting myself first once I no longer had anyone on whom to dote?
“Hey, dog!” Wen crows, snapping me from my thoughts. “Don’t be getting too far ahead. I’m keeping my eye on you.”
I take a deep breath. My patience is already at its limit, but I’ll be damned if I let this imbecile with a toad-like face get the better of me.
We’re roughly a li away from the outer walls of this hellishversion of Longhao. The city sleeps on, unaware of our presence. I don’t dare get any closer out of fear of waking it. All looks calm and unsuspecting, but now I know better.
“We need to make camp,” Sonam says, not so much a suggestion as a strongly implied order. “We’ll use the time to strategize. We won’t get very far with that monster standing in the way.”
For a brief moment, I wonder if he’s talking about the Sleeping City or me. When I turn, I see Sonam has his back to me—which is either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid of him—directing his guards toward an area of relatively flat ground. I’m disgruntled at the thought of wasting time, though embarrassingly appreciative for a moment of respite. Weariness has seeped into my bones and muscles. My head is heavy upon my neck, weighed down by an endless stream of thoughts.
How do we get past the Sleeping City?
You don’t.Lin’s voice rings softly in my ear.You don’t.
Sonam and Wen speak among themselves, casting me suspicious glimpses from time to time. Sooah busies herself by organizing a makeshift camp, a floating lantern taken from the demon horde serving as our dim source of light. The humans unstrap their leather armor and shrug off their outer robes, bundling them up into what I can only assume are sorry excuses for pillows.
I pay special attention to their weapons.
Sonam carefully removes several hidden daggers that I didn’t realize he had on his person, a strap lined with darts, as well as his dao, and unties that impressive rope dart from around his waist. He keeps them close even as he sits cross-legged, facing in my direction. Even resting, he means to keep me in his sights, one hand settled a mere inch away from his cache.
He eventually pulls out that silly little book of his and begins to sketch again. Thescritch-scratchof his charcoal against the paper makes my ears twitch, curiosity blooming in my chest. I resist theurge to circle around and see what he’s working on. Which one of the creatures we slew will be immortalized on the page?
Wen attempts to rest, though he tosses and turns for a good twenty minutes before finding some semblance of comfortability. Sooah sits just off to the side, alert and vigilant. The first watch of the night. Not so much against unseen foes, but the nine-tailed fox pacing a stone’s-throw’s distance away.
I ignore them all, preferring my solitude at the edge of their camp. I won’t dwell on my lack of invitation. I don’t trust them not to kill me, either.
You don’t.
You don’t get past. You have to gothrough.
I stare at the Jade Palace for several hours, seated at the edge of the humans’ camp, staring for so long that the shape of the glowing green palace burns into the back of my eyes. Lin’s words echo around in my skull, taunting me. She has twisted her words expertly—I’m having difficulty deciphering their meaning.
Even if there was a way to make our way around and get to the palace, the Sleeping City would easily cut us off in its hulking form. We don’t have the speed to outpace it, and we don’t have the strength to fight it head on. Thinking back, our escape was nothing short of miraculous. I close my eyes and recall the details of its shifting mass, somehow fluid and impassable like a rockslide come to life, easily swallowing up the Jade Palace like a morsel.
A thought occurs to me. Perhaps I’ve been thinking about this all wrong. The Jade Palace is both a destination and apartof the monster. Lin was right. There’s no getting past it. The only way in is through.
