The voice in the back of my head tells me that it’s madness. My fear pleads that I find another way. But my gut knows that this is the answer.
When souls arrive in Hell, they have two choices. They caneither accept their fate or wander the darkness. It’s no small wonder there are so many ghosts lurking in our periphery. They’re the ones who can’t accept their place here, clinging to the memories of their mortal lives. The only way forward is to relinquish control, and that means willingly falling into the belly of the beast. To accept is to give in. My reluctant travel party may not be dead, but I’m sure the magic stalling our advance works much the same way.
I know what I have to do. Now it’s a matter of whether I can convince Sonam and the rest to follow suit. Irritation simmers beneath the surface of my skin. I’d rather cut off my tails than suffer through that conversation. I can already hear them dismissing me, denouncing me for some devious trickster.
Which—fair.
But in this instance, I’m not trying to lead them astray. How in the nine suns am I going to convince them to let the city eat them alive?
Perhaps I don’t have to say anything at all. Maybe what I need right now is to be reckless.
I press my lips together and whistle. One long, loud blast as high as I can manage. Sonam and Wen startle awake, while Sooah watches me with a frown.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Sonam snaps, sitting up while quickly gathering his things.
“Has it lost its damn mind?” Wen grumbles, hopping to his feet.
I whistle again, this time a short blast. The sound echoes off the cobblestoned streets of Longhao, chirping back at me weakly.
Sonam steps up behind me and roughly grabs my shoulder. “Stop it. You’re going to wake the—”
When the city releases a low, rumbling groan, I know that I’ve woken the beast. Wooden beams arrange themselves into a facsimile of a skeleton, roof tiles slotting together to create scalelikeskin. Its gaping moon door eyes hone in on us, and I wonder if we look like mere bugs, easily squashed.
It lurches forward.
Before he can blink, I take Sonam by the wrist and run to meet it.
“Stop!” he shouts, but I ignore him, barreling at top speed toward the beast. Wen and Sooah aren’t far behind, their thunderous footfalls giving chase.
The city opens its mouth—
And swallows the four of us whole.
I flinch despite the confidence of my theory. When I finally find the strength to pry my eyes open, my jaw gapes in astonishment.
We’re surrounded by a beautiful garden full of golden peonies, white orchids, and drooping wisteria trees of soft violet. The footpaths beneath us are carved from jade, as are the walls penning us in, so tall and imposing that they reach the clouds above. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say we’d found a way to sneak into Heaven.
The sea of listless souls staring at us proves otherwise.
We’re caught in an inescapable net of eyes. Our scenery may be serene, but I notice the peculiar chill in the air. I smell the unnatural staleness of death all around us. These ghosts have a musty old scent despite the sweet young flowers in bloom. Like stepping into a long-forgotten memory, they’re a suspension of blurry colors and sounds. The ghosts don’t look at us so much as they do past. Aware enough of our presence to step out of the way as we walk, but too trapped within their own minds to give us any more focus.
“What is this place?” Wen asks breathlessly. It’s the quietest I’ve ever heard him. “And who are all these people?”
“These are my flowers,” a deep voice intones. “Aren’t they beautiful? They keep me such good company.”
The four of us whip around to find a man in ornate robes of golden silk, his sleeves so long and luxurious they glide upon the ground. His hair is a pale yellow, so soft and vibrant I could mistake it for twilight. A chill runs down my spine when I notice the disturbing crisp silver of his eyes. Everything about him seems to glow, radiating power and light even in the deepest pits of Hell.
A fallen star god from the legends of old.
“What do we have here?” the man muses. “Three warriors and…” He pauses when he gets to me, his lips pulling into a deviously wide grin. “If it isn’t the Maskmaker’s favorite. How wonderful to finally meet you in the flesh.”
The hairs on my arm stand on end. “You know the Maskmaker? Who are you?”
“My name is of no importance to you,” he says calmly. “Though if you survive my trial, I may be inclined to tell you.” With a grand sweep of his hand, he gestures to his garden at large. “Welcome, dear friends, to the Court of Temptation.”
13Yue
Hunting Log #378:
