Rui
The fake sun was disappearing into the horizon, but Zizi had not returned. Unease crept into Rui’s mind. It felt like an internal clock was ticking loudly in her ears. Would he return in time? Why did he say he wasn’t going back to the mortal realm with her? She couldn’t think of a single reason for him to stay in this literal hellscape.
Kicking off her boots, she paced in her socks, hoping to be rid of her nervous energy. Down the hallway, she found three doors, just like the three doors that led to three very different rooms in Zizi’s shophouse on Mort Street. The narrow one on her right drew her attention. Was it a coincidence that it had no hinges, like the door to Zizi’s bedroom in the mortal realm? She had found the sketches he’d drawn of her there. What would she find here?
Thisdoor opened without protest. There was no lock or voice spell or anything to stop someone from entering. Rui walked in. The room was sparsely decorated with a humongous canopy bed, a simple wooden table, and—
She froze.
A watercolor painting hung on the wall across from the bed. The art style reminded her of paintings from centuries ago, where old masters would imbue each brushstroke with poetry and feeling. The painting depicted a young woman dressed in shades of lilac and amethyst standing against the backdrop of a black pine forest. Her hair was adorned with jeweled pins, and her cheeks were flushed from the cold.
But it was the young woman’s face that had stopped Rui in her tracks.
It’sLei Yingwas her first thought, even though she didn’t know how she knew that.
It’s mewas her second.
But it wasn’t quite her. It was like looking at a twin, only the twin was a few years older.
The longer Rui stared at the painting, the more disoriented she felt. The brushstrokes seemed to shiver to life, swirling like clouds, distorting the young woman’s face.
The world tipped back.
Rui reached out to grab something, anything to halt her fall. Silk flowed over her fingers and she kept falling, breaking up into mist, like she was a drop of ink splashing against canvas. And she saw—
—flashes of a grand courtyard covered in snow... the Imperial Palace in the distance... royal guards flanking a figure... the figure walkingcloser and closerto her...
She is on her knees, hands and feet bound. She isn’t frightened. She should be.
The figure approaches, dressed in robes of gold. A veil of glittering beads hangs from a crown covering the person’s face...
She knows him.
“You have no right to enter the Fourth King’s private chambers!”
Rui broke from her trance. She was lying on the bed, silk drapes from the canopy above strewn around her. She must have pulled them down somehow. What happened? Had she fallen asleep or was it a vision?
More shouts came from outside the apartment.
“Release me!” It sounded like Nikai.
“The Guardians do not take orders from Kings or Reapers,” said a different voice.
Don’t open the door, not even for Nikai.
But she heard a zapping sound and a cry of pain, and she ran out and yanked the front door open. A burst of energy flung her back.
Shaken, Rui rose unsteadily to her feet.
Bruised and battered, Nikai was pinned to the ground outside by three guards. A few other guards were scattered on the floor, knocked out cold. Nikai had put up a good fight, but it wasn’t enough. Two men inexpensive-looking suits stood over him. One had a long horsey face while the other was muscular and burly like an ox. White light sizzled out of Horse-Face’s hand as he held it close to Nikai’s eye.
“Rui—you broke the seal,” Nikai cried out.
“Oh, she’s right there.” Horse-Face laughed. It sounded like a neigh.
“Run!” Nikai yelled.
But in that split second, the two men in suits had closed in, blocking the corridor. There was nowhere to go but back into the apartment.
