Life, death, light, dark, good, evil—to him, these all existed in ephemeral and ever-changing eternity, just like the forces of yin and yáng that had created him. This world was not meant to remain stagnant, unchanging for long. Just as the earliest clans had risen, so, too, had they fallen; dynasties cycled through time, emperors who believed themselves great and immortal wheeling past him with lifespans briefer than those of shooting stars.
Though his power was infinite, the human body that had bound him was not. The boy grew tired; he could sense grief pushing against the dam he’d set up in the boy’s fragile heart.
Very well. His job here was done. He would return to his slumber until the boy brought them to their next feast.
Zen’s thoughts fractured, swirling like a blend of dreams and nightmares, voices that belonged both to him and to an ancient creature coiled deep in his soul. When he came to, hestood alone on the shore. It was raining, the drops drumming against the surface of the lake, tapping on the armor of the Elantian army before him.
They lay horribly, terribly still, a mass of bodies littering the landscape. Corrupting the beauty of nature and harmony in this previously untouched land. And even as Zen gazed out at them, knowing that what they had done to the Hin was a hundred, a thousand, times worse, he could not quell the nausea rising in his throat, nor the tremor of his hands.
It was a different feeling, knowing that an entire army had done this under someone’s command, whereas he—he had slaughtered these people of his own will with his bare hands. He could sense the presence of the Demon God cooling within him, a great fire in his bones simmering down to smoke.
“How many?” he panted, and the answer slithered a chokehold over his neck.
Four hundred and forty-four,the Black Tortoise whispered, its voice like fading fog. The answer was a twist of irony: four,sì,the unlucky number that bore such close resemblance tosi,death.
So many, yet barely a drop in the well he was meant to fill. Zen closed his eyes and imagined an hourglass he’d once seen from the Kingdom of Masyria, each fine speck of falling sand a life he had taken.
How much longer until it takes my body, my mind?Zen crushed that thought before it fully formed and said instead, sharpening his voice to cut, “You took my mind during the fight. That was not part of our bargain.”
What I do cannot be comprehended by the mortal mind,came the response.I am older than the mountains of this land, my power flowing deeper than any rivers. For your mind to attempt to rein it and channel it…would break you. You areweak,boy, not fit to wield this blade.
“Icontrolyourpower,” Zen snarled.“Icommandyou.Those were the terms.”
Seals were conjured as a matter of technicality, yes, but Master Gyasho had always stated that the heart of each Seal lay in the will of the practitioner. It stood to reason, then, that the same principle might hold for controlling a demon—and by extension, a Demon God. Exert a strong enough will, and slowly, it would bend.
He sensed cunning black eyes, devoid of light yet full of fire hidden behind smoke, watching him from nowhere and everywhere at once.Your bargain, your terms,the Demon God replied.But having outlived all your dynasties and eras and having been the force behind so many emperors and generals, I already see through you, all of you. You will never achieve the power of those before you should you attempt to rein in my power.A pause, the brush of an invisible smile.Xan Tolürigin embraced me and gave himself completely to me, and his name lives in your history, does it not? “The Nightslayer?”A low chuckle.
Zen whipped out Nightfire and slashed, but it was useless; the shape in the darkness was only an illusion, a reflection of the thing that now lived inside him. He heard a dimming, rumbling laughter before the heavy presence retreated from his mind and vanished.
The sudden withdrawal sent him to his knees. The power of that dark fire receded through his veins with a juddering violence, and for a moment his heart gave a painful squeeze, as though his strength were not enough to keep it going. His body ached. He couldn’t breathe. Black spots bloomed before his eyes.
He’d been a fool to think that he would immediately control it,masterit. He hadn’t even been able to control the power and will of a lesser demon; to hope to command a legendary being that had existed since the beginning of time was folly.
He gritted his teeth and dug his fingers into the bloodstained soil. It was still raining, yet one warm drop slid down his cheek.
Help. He needed help before his body completely gave way. He needed somewhere safe. A shelter.
He could sense the remnants of the Demon God’s qì stirring, taking over and guiding his body based on instinct. Saving him—not out of kindness, of course, but out of self-preservation. It was almost always in a demon’s best interest to protect its human vessel…until the terms of the bargain were fulfilled.
His awareness was fractured, fragments of time and scenery weaving in and out of his consciousness. When he came to again, he stood in a forest, far from the shores of the lake andthe ground littered with the dead. He was utterly alone but for the pines and shadows around him. Skies’ End loomed out of the thick fog, the shape of the mountain as familiar to Zen as the back of his hand. It pierced through the maelstrom of his thoughts, a place of stability, of safety.
Reality and dream blurred: a forest of pines, a waterfall’s murmur, a fretwork window, bitter medicine mixed with an evening breeze. A slender face with kind eyes and lips parting gently as he blew on a bowl of broth in his hands. The scene swam in Zen’s mind’s eye, and he was screaming as someone carried him through a storm-tossed night, a father’s voice finding him in the dark.It will be all right, child. You are safe, with me.
His master.
Shi’fù.
His consciousness was reduced to his most primal of memories as he pushed himself to his feet, stumbling to the base of the mountain where the secret entrance lay, shrouded by the Boundary Seal. There it was, the ancient, gnarled form of theMost Hospitable Pine, branches extended as though to welcome him back.
Zen let out a choked sob of relief as he stumbled forward. He felt the rush of cool qì against him, the whispers of the Boundary Seal as he entered.
Nine hundred ninety-nine steps to safety.
Zen was about to take the first when he was assaulted by a chorus of ghostly screams. The air around him thickened to an unimaginable density, closing over his nose and his mouth, cracking over him like hoarfrost. From the ice and fog came faces, hollowed out and twisted in their furious malevolence.
Traitor,the souls in the Boundary Seal howled.Murderer.
Demon.
