When I saw you that night, I knew.
Rui clutched her face. “I don’t believe you. I don’t.”
“It does not matter what you believe, Rui. The truth still stands. How did you meet?” Ten quirked his head. “Didn’t this boy save you? Just as the power in you seeks to protect its master, the vessel must be protected too. That scar you left on Feng—it was the blue fire that protected you that night.”
Rui didn’t remember that. She’d fallen unconscious right after her mother died. She only remembered a bright light. Was it the blue fire? She couldn’t be sure. There wasn’t a coherent thought going through her mind, just a constant stream of anguish.
“I feel almost sorry for you, Rui,” Ten said, but he showed no sign of sympathy. “It must be devastating to know you were used this way, to have thought the boy’s feelings toward you were true.”
Did Zizi know? Had he been pretending all this while? Befriending her and keeping her close because she was the vessel... He’d told her he was an orphan, that he didn’t remember much of his childhood... Was it all a lie?
A gasp came from behind.
Rui turned to the boy lying on the tracks, covered in his own blood.
Zizi drew a shuddering breath and opened his eyes.
They were no longer a pale blue, but dark like the deepest night.
“Behold,” said Ten, overcome by sudden emotion, “the Fourth King of Hell has arrived.”
54
They say each King is born without a heart.
But when Four sees her body lying motionless on the softly fallen snow, he knows it is a lie.
Four sits in the Garden of Tongues, eyes fixed on the night sky. He presses a hand to his chest. If he presses hard enough, he thinks he can feel a beating heart.
As he gazes at the stars, yearning for things lost, he sees the spirit trail of a dying star, its green light moving eastward. An anomaly is about to happen in the mortal realm, he thinks.
The spirit trail descends rapidly, but it does not hold his interest—
—until another, fainter trail appears where the dying star once hung in the sky.
Four stands up now, curiosity stirring inside him as his eyes follow the second light. Barely visible, the green light flickers, streaking in the opposite direction of the first.
Upon its death, the star had split into two.
Hell is a never-ending night.
The shadows are long and sharp when Four finally arrives at Wangyi Lake. Its silvery-gray waters are pristine; looking into them is like looking into a mirror. Except instead of his own image, he sees strangers.
Human faces, disturbingly real in detail, drift in the water, swirling like koi in search of food. Four wonders if the faces belong to people who have lived, or if they represent the hordes of souls that populate the kingdoms.
Or perhaps, they are the faces of the living.
Despite existing in the underworld for so long, there are so many things about his realm that he does not understand.
A hexagonal pavilion stands in the middle of the lake. Its sloped roof is ivory-tiled, its pillars made of equally fair stone. Inside, a solitary figure sits. A woman. Beyond the pavilion, the faint outline of a bridge stretches far into the horizon.
Four has never been here. None of the Kings have any real business in a place where souls begin their journey back to the living world.
He takes a tentative step onto the lake.
A lotus flower, slightly larger than the size of his foot, springs up from under the water and meets his weight. Each step he takes is greeted by another flower until he reaches the pavilion.
The woman inside stands and bows. Her robes are white silk, the fabric so seamless he cannot tell where it starts or ends. White hair, almost translucent, flows down her back, loose and free. She is ageless, her face easily forgettable. But the more Four gazes upon her, the more familiar and beautiful she becomes. Still, he knows that once he departs, he will be unable to describe her, and he will not recall any detail of her person.
