He darts left. I follow, my momentum nearly causing me to careen into a jade divider. The muscles in my thighs burn, my human form unable to keep up with his speed. I refuse to give up, fueled by my rage. He leads me deeper and deeper into the Court of Wrath, and that’s when I realize something.
What if this is another trap?
“Stop!” I scream at him. “Come back!”
But the Maskmaker keeps running. I lose him as I round a corner, nearly tripping over my own feet when I come up to a large courtyard with towering walls—a fortress within a fortress. The bitter taste of metal lingers in the air, along with distant battle cries and groans of agony. There are people fighting, but I know not who. Despite my growing trepidation, I venture in through the waiting arch, instantly greeted by the harsh sourness of sweat.
This is no courtyard, but an arena.
A frightening legion of men and women, fighting each other with their bare hands stand in my way. They come in all shapes and sizes, ranging from young to old. I wonder how long ago they abandoned their weapons, judging by the assortment of splintered shields, shattered swords, and snapped lances lying forgotten around us. One of them has had his eyes scratched out. The woman closest to me is missing an arm. But no matter the carnage, they continue the match, thoroughly absorbed in the senseless violence of it all.
Upon a throne of jade sits a man, his features strikingly similar to the first star god we encountered. He glows deep red, from his wine-flushed cheeks to his bloodshot eyes, to the wine staining his robes a dull maroon. The star god sits there, leaning to one side and breathing heavily as he watches the contenders with an almost sickening amusement. Through his drunken haze, he spots me.
“Enough,” he says, voice low and hoarse. It carries throughoutthe arena like distant thunder. The ghosts stop what they’re doing, looking at the god in confusion.
My heart rails against my rib cage. When will this nightmare end?
“Finally, some fresh meat.” The star god settles into his throne with a chuckle. “Let’s give our newcomer a warm welcome.”
18Yue
Hunting Log #382:
Gods, the way she fights is terrifyingly beautiful.
Their advantage: I’m outnumbered.
My advantage: seething fury.
These are human souls, I realize: thousands upon thousands of those unworthy of reincarnation without proper penance. They must have been lucky enough to pass through the first Court of Hell, only to end up trapped here.
I wonder what heinous crimes they committed in life to earn their place in Hell. Were they murderers? Thieves? Adulterers? In the end, it doesn’t matter. I couldn’t care less about their redemption now that they’re in my way.
Instinct tells me to kill. I could easily slice them to ribbons with my claws or tear them asunder with my teeth. This could even be an opportunity to sate my hunger before it gets the better of me. They are nothing more than a field of souls ripe for the plucking.
The two closest souls to me charge, gnashing their teeth and raising their bloody fists. I brace for the assault, wincing in anticipation of pain—but it never comes. Before I have a chance toblink, my would-be assailants are on the ground, tackled by Wen and Sooah with startling force.
“On your feet, Fox,” Sonam says, running up from behind. His dao is drawn and ready.
I’m surprised to see him. I was certain he’d let me run off ahead and leave me to my own devices. Now that he’s standing before me, his body a sturdy shield against the impending onslaught, I feel… strange. Lightheaded and untethered. Likely the adrenaline of the fight.
The souls of the next circle of Hell storm us en masse, screaming and cursing all manner of vile slurs as they try to tear us apart. There’s a crazed look in their eyes, so consumed with violence that they’ve been driven to madness. The star god has stripped them of their humanity, turned them into nothing more than ravenous beasts, all the while watching from atop his throne. He reminds me of a cruel child cutting off the tails of mice he’s caught. He relishes in the pleasure of it, laughing simply because he can.
It’s a matter of survival, but as the fight drags on, I realize just how slim our odds are. They must be under some sort of spell, because they never tire. No matter how many people I beat back, they keep coming.
I pin a man to the ground, my nails digging into his chest. There’s bloodlust in his eyes, yes, but there’s also a hint of something desperate. Anguish. Behind his anger, I can see his exhaustion. His helplessness. He doesn’t want to fight any more than I do.
“Please,” he rasps. “Just let me kill you.”
His request confounds me. “Let you?”
“He won’t let us sleep. Day in and day out, he has us fight.” The man’s voice breaks. “If I kill you, maybe he’ll finally let me go.”
I take in the violence surrounding us. Wen takes blow after blow, cracking his knuckles against jaws. Sooah is trapped in a corner, lashing out at those who draw too near. And the captain—I’velost sight of him. Panic grips my throat. What if he’s hurt somewhere in the crowd? If anything were to happen to him…
“Human!” I cry out. “Dammit, where—”
“I’m here.”
