He approached cautiously, reaching up to slide his porcelain mask to the side, revealing the bright flash of his startling white eyes and disarming smile. “No need to fear me. Stand aside, I am here to help.”
With suspicious glares and claws at the ready, the family of fox demons watched with bated breath as this face-shifting stranger reached down to grab their sister by the scruff. The foxes yapped happily, their reunion sweet, but short. They regarded the stranger with wary appreciation.
“What do we call you?” one of the older foxes asked. “So that we may give proper thanks for the rescue of our dear sister.”
The star god thought for a moment, readjusting his mask over his face. Few were around to use his true name anymore. The Heavens certainly wouldn’t use it to call upon him. His siblings were unheard and forgotten. And what few worshippers who once knew his name were long dead.
“You may call me the Maskmaker,” he said finally, foolishly believing he had nothing left to fear.
26Yue
Hunting Log #388:
With her mask, her beauty is undeniable.
You’re back!” Kelai chirps, flittingabout the main room with more enthusiasm than I have energy. She has an overwhelming essence, big and bright and all too much for so small a figure. “You must be feeling refreshed, yes? Here, some new dresses. Can’t very well have you walking around in those uncomfortable, filthy rags, hmm?”
I don’t argue when the star goddess tugs off my outer robe and shoves a new one onto my back, smoothing out any errant wrinkles she happens to find. Although the garment is beautiful, boasting a light-blue dye glittering with a pattern of delicate pearls along the edges, no doubt meant to mimic the foamy nature of waves washing upon the shore, I don’t care much for her firm handling. Though I fear that if I say anything, she’ll snap. Take a violent turn. Her frenzied state makes my skin prickle and my gut clench. Kelai may be outwardly friendly, but there’s a stifling crackle in the air. Something unsound and jittery, like a bloodhound playing a little too rough.
“Where’s Sonam?” is the first thing I ask.
Kelai adjusts my collar, brushing my damp hair out of the way. “Who?” she asks.
My heart stutters. “The captain,” I say tightly, suddenly on edge. Sooah and I exchange a glance, our hackles raising. “What have you done with him?”
The star goddess blinks, not an apparent thought in her head, before something sparks. She slaps her own forehead and giggles wildly. “Oh, yes! Yes, of course. I sent the men off for their own baths. They should return shortly.” Kelai steps back to appraise her work, fiddling with the silk of my sleeves. “My, you’re a beauty. Isn’t she a beauty?”
I’m not entirely sure who the goddess is speaking to until I hear the soft clap of shoes padding across the floor tiles. Sonam and Wen have returned, just as Kelai said they would, their hair damp and skin scrubbed clean to the point of pinkishness.
I find myself staring. There’s something intriguing about seeing Sonam stripped down to his inner robes. Without his armor and the colors of the royal family, he appears almost unburdened. Relaxed, now that he’s shed the appearance of both prince and hunter. He’s let his top knot down, messy strands falling over his eyes. For some reason, the quick peek I take of his exposed neck and bare upper chest makes my face warm.
He’s quite handsome, I suppose. For a loathsome human. I have no doubt that he’ll make some princess very happy one day. Who wouldn’t want to align themselves with the Demon Hunter of Jian, survivor of the Courts of Hell? When we escape this place, he will be the stuff of legends.
And I, no doubt, the villain of his story.
“Well?” Kelai urges when no one answers, batting her lashes as she twirls her fingers around a few locks of my hair.
“A demon in the robes of a goddess,” Wen says wryly. “Now I’ve seen everything.”
I sneer at his remark, biting back the avalanche of insults I could easily sling in his direction after having saved his life. Ingrate. I’m fully prepared for whatever jab Sonam has, as well, only…
He says nothing. The captain stares openly with a strange, heated intensity. What could he be thinking? Probably that I’m the vilest creature to ever walk the earth, or perhaps that I dishonor them all by simply existing in the same space as a goddess who once gazed upon the Kingdom of Heaven.
Sonam finally averts his gaze, the tips of his ears an unusual shade of pink. No doubt due to the heat of the bathwater. “A dress is a dress,” he says bluntly, his voice unusually tight. It’s not exactly an insult, but it’s not a compliment, either.
“Show me your hands,” I grumble. “Both of you.”
There’s a moment of confusion, but the captain and Wen do eventually raise their hands. They have all ten fingers. After our little scuffle, the Maskmaker will only have eight, his digits digesting nicely in the pit of my belly. Unless he knows the specific magic he needs to grow his fingers back, it’s as foolproof a plan as we’re going to get to ensure there isn’t an imposter among us.
Kelai is the first to speak, wringing her fingers together. I also count ten there, though it’s unlikely she’s the Maskmaker in hiding. “Well, I’m sure you’re all very tired after the long journey you’ve had,” she says. “I think a good night’s sleep is in order.”
With a simple snap of her fingers, the table full of food shoves to one side, making room for four bedrolls of soft goose down to unfurl beneath the moon chandelier. It’s waning now, a crescent shadow stretching across its surface.
“What about the map?” Wen asks bluntly, not that I can blame him.
The star goddess rubs her temples with the tips of her long fingers and hums. “Ah, yes, the map, the map… I will have it for you very soon. The ink is drying. Wouldn’t want to smudge all the details and have you lose your way.” She laughs brightly, but I can’t help but notice how strained the sound is in my ears.
“How long will it take?” Sonam presses on. “We appreciate what you’ve done for us, but we’re in a hurry.”
