“When someone is severely injured in a traumatic incident—like car accidents, natural disasters, wars—their souls sometimes get lost in purgatory, while their bodies lie in a coma.” Hailey shakes her head. “They have to find the courage to wake up and continue living or let go and move on to their next life. Until they make their choice, they remain in limbo here.”
“Poor souls.” I shiver.
“And the longer they stay,” Gyun picks up, “the harder it becomes to choose—to remember—because there is no time in purgatory.”
“No ... time?” I follow him into the phantom streets of the Kingdom of Sky.
“There can be no passage of time without life or death,” the judge says as we round a corner.
“Whoa.” I stumble to a stop. “Are we in the Kingdom of Underworld?”
“Yes, the capital.” Gyun glances around him as though he, too, is surprised by the sudden shift. “As you can see, space becomes jumbled here as well.”
“Then how do you know where we’re going?” Ethan’s brows dip as he takes in the faded metropolis.
“I am the Judge of Tenth Hell. I know the Ten Hells and purgatory like the back of my hand.” Gyun then concedes, “Even so, finding my way here is not easy.”
We trudge through the deserted streets in grim silence. After five minutes or three hours—I can’t tell for the life of me—the modern city abruptly shifts into a wide open field. Hailey gasps at my side, and I grab her hand as my pulse spikes. Purgatory is a creepy-ass place.
“That’s going to take some getting used to,” Ethan mutters.
“It is rather jarring.” Gyun scans the field, then does an about-face. He squints into the distance, then nods in satisfaction. “This way.”
“If you say so.” I follow our guide, tugging Ethan close. I do not want to get lost here. “How did you find the gods anyway?”
“When the gods of Underworld, Water, and Heavens arrived in purgatory, they put themselves into a deep sleep to hide their presence,” the judge answers without slowing down. My short legs work double time to keep up with his long ones. “But even in slumber, a trace of their magic leaked through. I didn’t understand what I was sensing for a long time—this place distorted their magic beyond recognition—until I came upon the first sleeping god.”
I nod, out of breath from marching across the desolate field that stretches on endlessly. “Are we even going in the right—”
“Whoa.” Ethan skids to a stop, shooting an arm out in front of me. A sheer cliff had appeared out of nowhere.
Gyun points toward the horizon. “Yeomla, the god of Underworld, sleeps there.”
“There’s nothing there.” I squint, following the trajectory of his finger. But as soon as the words leave my mouth, I see a long, dry river snaking through a rocky landscape. And a lone, thatch-roofedhanokstands along the curving path. “What is that place?”
“It’s the Tea Shop,” the judge murmurs. “Or the shadow of it, at least.”
“TheTea Shop?” Ethan arches an eyebrow. “The one where they serve the tea of forgetfulness?”
“It sure looks like it. In a creepy, washed-out way. The real Tea Shop is quite charming.” Hailey rises to the tips of her toes for a better look. “But why would Yeomla choose to sleep there?”
Gyun reaches toward her but catches himself and drops his hands back to his sides. “Maybe he was being sentimental.”
“Or maybe he did something he wanted to forget,” I murmur. “If that’s the case, it must be something truly awful. If an immortal god messes up, they gotta mess up big time.”
“Do you think it wise to awaken such a remorseful god?” an echoing voice whispers in my ear.
I spin around with a gasp ... but there’s no one there.
“Sunny.” Ethan grasps my arm. “What is it?”
“I ...” I shake my head. “I thought I heard someone ...”
“What did they say?” Worry pinches his brows.
“They wanted to know if it was wise to awaken a remorseful god,” I whisper, wondering if I’m losing my mind.
“Well,” the voice drawls, “do you?”
