Hunting Log #379:
I am genuinely surprised the fox hasn’t eaten us yet.
Imight drown in all thissilk.
Gone is my armor, missing are my weapons. Even the rocklike calluses upon my palms have somehow been erased from existence. I stand upon the dais in silk robes so smooth and beautiful it seems almost a sin to drape them over my unworthy shoulders. Even the mianguan that sits upon my head is ill-fitting, a little too large and heavy. Any sudden movements, and it will fall from its seat.
The throne room shines in all its brilliance. A forest of green, but without any of the same warmth and life. It’s strangely empty, however. I count no guards, no palace advisors waiting at the ready. Intricately woven tapestries hang upon the walls, illuminated by the soft flickers of yellow lamplight. The lightest trace of cherry blossom oil lingers in the air, combining sweetly with the scent of burning sandalwood incense. Thick columns carved of smooth white jade hold up the heavy roof, a wide skylight carved out of the middle to let in the silver shine of the moon.
As magnificent as the throne room may be, I cannot be fooled. Never in my life have I been allowed to step foot in this place—which is how I know none of this is real.
“We never should have doubted you,” Min says with a tremble.
“You are the most capable among us,” adds my brother Han. He cannot bring himself to look me in the eye, and I can’t help but wonder if it is out of fear or hatred.
“If anyone deserves to be my heir, it is you,” Father says, lifting his head ever so slightly.
He doesn’t look quite like himself. Upon closer inspection, none of them do. I know in my heart who each of them is supposed to be despite their faces existing in a state of blurriness. The finer details that would make each of them distinct are nonexistent, the result of an inexperienced painter using broad strokes to capture nothing more than an impression.
Could it be that this spell I’m under can only show me what I hold in my mind’s eye? I have spent so little time with my family that they are but shadows of themselves. I have paid more attention to the faces of strangers than those of my own brothers. I suppose, in some twisted way, I should be grateful for being the forgotten son. This illusion’s hold might have been too strong to break free from otherwise.
Now that I know this is some sort of ruse, how do I go about pulling myself from its clutches?
“What exactly are you praising me for?” I ask Father.
“You’ve rid the world of demonkind,” he says, “an accomplishment only few could dream of.”
“And you think I did it for the throne?”
“Only the strongest and most cunning of my children deserves to be king. You will have the entire kingdom at your command.”
I ignore the ache in my chest. “I have no need for power.”
“Of course you do. There is little else a man could desire.”
I turn toward the throne. As with everything else in the Jade Palace, it has been cut from a large block of rich viridian, chiseled down into a wide chair with solid arms on either side. The crest of the royal family has been engraved into the center of its high back. A circular emblem showcasing a phoenix, its wings spread wide as it rises from a nest of many-petaled chrysanthemums.
I step closer and blink in confusion when I find that it boasts no phoenix, but a snarling fox. One with nine sweeping tails and six hideous eyes. How utterly vile. What fool thought to put this here?
“What say you, my son?” Father asks behind me. “Will you accept the throne?”
I run my fingers over the fox’s etching, tugging at the hazy veil that has draped itself over my mind. Memories rush back to me with force. My fall into Hell. That blasted fox. Wen and Sooah, trapped down here with me in the Court of Temptation. The star god has tried to seduce me—with what he believed I craved—and failed.
“When my mother was sick, she wrote to you,” I say quietly, ignoring his question.
“If she did, her letters never found their way to me.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
“Sonam—”
“All she wanted was to see you one last time. You couldn’t even grant her that.”
“My responsibilities kept me away.”
“Responsibilities that will become mine if I accept the throne?”
“A necessary sacrifice.”
