CHAPTER

4

They went down into the netherworld together. The general and her four faithful captains. The princess and her four loyal handmaids. The chosen one and her four old friends. They traveled across regions unseen by mortal eyes, unimagined by waking minds, down through impossible geographies that would confound the ambitions of staid cartographers and exuberant artists alike. As befitted their fabulist descent into the catacombs of the First Dark, phantoms awaited them at the end of their arduous journey, but Ji-hyeon knew that reaching the spirit world was only ever half of the adventure, and coming back to the world of the living was a quest unto itself.

The setup was familiar from more than one of Keun-ju’s tragic sonnets on doomed lovers, and given all of Sullen’s invocations to Old Black’s Meadhall deep beneath the earth she suspected her song would sound familiar to his ear, too. On her delirious trek through the poisoned world above she had clung as tight as she could to her memories of the two men, and her dreams for what she might have shared with them, but even so they had slipped further and further into the grey fog that numbed her mind. Like so much else, the thought of them had become a burden instead of a balm, another iron weight dragging down her skull, her heart, her feet.

But with each league her elderly Cobalt escort took Ji-hyeon away from the sickening ash of the washed-out wastes she felt … well, she felt. Bad things as well as good, and sometimes she woke herself up around their small campfires with her own cries, but when she did she would warm her hands over the coals, basking not only in the heat but the very idea of it. She hadn’t lit a fire for two years—any wood she found either turned to stone or so rotten it crumbled beneath her fingers—yet here in the vast subterranean forests they rarely went without. Unless she pulled her eye patch to the side there was no more color in this nocturnal realm than there had been in the nightless world above, but there was life, and where there was life there was hope.

On those occasions when she did let her devil-eye look out upon these new territories, that hope faltered, as if she were peeking under a veil at something no mortal was ever meant to glimpse, and so she warred with herself to keep the eye patch in place.

They marched on through days lit by pulsing lichens that covered vegetable, mineral, and even animal outcroppings of the landscape, and rested beside burbling streams beneath the ever-burning constellations of glowing worms that punctuated the ceilings of the endless caverns. Ji-hyeon heard many songs from her companions, and they heard hers, and in the digestive silences that often fell over them they listened to the trilling cries of animals that were neither bird nor beast nor bug but something altogether different. The mortals were attacked only a few times, and never by anything beyond their ability to repel or slay. The predators that stalked the deep forests took many shapes, but none were remotely human.

They traversed bubbling bogs, climbing along the sticky grotto walls to avoid swirling vortices of quick mud, and crept through perfectly preserved palaces of ice. They hiked through putrefying fungal cities where giants once dwelt, camping amid titanic tombstones and jumping at every tiny noise. They passed through lands of shadow and lands of light, through dead worlds and worse, worlds of teeming life that ought to have never existed. Stranger than all these sprawling realms, though, were the pockets of the First Dark they used to cross from one fantastic landscape to the next. They were Gates but so small you might have missed them if you did not have a guide to direct you into this crevasse or through that hollow tree, and the transition from one place to another was so instantaneous she didn’t even feel the inquisitive touch of the First Dark, let alone undergo further “improvements.”

Beyond hearing the songs of what her friends knew or believed to be true about this chaotic realm beyond the Star, Ji-hyeon also heard their wildest theories, because in close to fifty years of exploring the world that had claimed them they only ever acquired more questions. Duchess Din supposed each place they explored was akin to an island in the First Dark, wholly unique and separate and never meant to mingle. Chevaleresse Sasamaso thought that everywhere from the center of the Star to the farthest reach of this place was all one single land, with curtains of the First Dark fluttering between them. Count Hassan thought that was an academic sort of quibble, and Shea confessed she wasn’t convinced that they hadn’t indeed fallen into some Chainite hell, while the Star persisted above and apart as the one true world. And when they at last stepped beyond a cataract of black oil that roared down an ivory cliffside and emerged in the permanent Cobalt camp in the ruins of another nameless city, Ji-hyeon discovered that her first father had some theories of his own.

“Hey, Papa, I … I …” said Ji-hyeon, nervously rubbing the finger stumps of her off hand with the thumb of her good one as she struggled to reconcile the shrunken, ancient figure in the net-draped bed with the hale and handsome father she remembered. Sasamaso and the others had been a shock, to say the very least, but this just seemed so fucking wrong she was crying before she’d even finished saying hello. “I …”

“I know,” he said, waving her over with a hand so frail and thin it practically glowed in the lamplight. Instead of the barren, sterile tomb she had imagined when she’d looked up at the crumbling tower from outside, it was a tidy space with screens and scrolls and the nice warm rock bed he reclined on. If not for the faint, damp stink of things washed up from the sea only to bake in the sun they might have been back in his quarters on Hwabun. “Come to me, daughter, I know.”

Ji-hyeon had been unable to pay any attention during the whirlwind tour of the camp the old-timers had given her on the way to see her first father, too flustered trying to imagine what she could possibly say to her family. The relief and excitement that had carried her all this way evaporated, leaving her afraid and ashamed. She wouldn’t have known how to handle a reunion with her father even if her teenage scheme had actually gone off without a hitch and the worst that came of everything was a hit to his pride as she claimed Linkensterne for her own as a rogue princess. Seeing as how she had actually set into motion the events that led to him and his whole house being exiled to this alien realm where they scrabbled to survive for a literal lifetime, it was going to be an extremely awkward conversation.

Except it wasn’t. After hovering at the doorway for but a moment, she flew across the chamber and crouched at his bedside, holding his hand as hard as she dared without fear of breaking it. He smiled that ever-so-faint smile of his, and while he’d lost most of his teeth and hair and every familiar feature of his face had been warped by time, that smile was eternal, and sunken though they were, the eyes above it were sharp as ever.

“You always were the troublemaker,” he said, squeezing her hand so faintly she barely felt it, and then frowning at her missing fingers. “Took after your other father from the very first.”

“I’m sorry,” she managed, realizing that on top of everything else she had to tell him his husband was dead. “He … Kang-ho …”

“I know,” he said softly. “I dreamed it, as I dreamed of your coming.”

“It’s my fault,” said Ji-hyeon, barely able to get the words out of her grief-locked lips, tears darkening the hem of her father’s nightshirt. “All of it. I made you take sides. I drove you apart.”

“You are responsible for many things, daughter, but not my estrangement from my husband,” he said in that matter-of-fact way of his that meant there was to be no further discussion of the subject. She was crying so hard she couldn’t make out the old man naked of even his wigs, but it was really him, her first father, King Jun-hwan.

“I’m so sorry, Papa,” she said, “for everything.”

“An apology affects nothing,” he said. “You cannot redeem yourself with I’m sorrys, nor can you save the Star with your regrets. Only your deeds can do this, and pure or ill, the emotions that stir you to action are less important than the consequences … But I know your heart, Ji-hyeon, as I knew Kang-ho’s, and I was not surprised to see both of you act with more honor and love for your homeland than the empress herself.”

“I got him killed, and you and everyone banished here, and where are Yunjin and Hyori? Are they … are they …”

“You will find your sisters,” said her father, his shaky hand patting her cheeks dry with the hem of his sheets. “I have dreamed this as well. They have already begun swimming the stream you must follow. Together … together you three sisters will find the lost citadel of the Hell King, and you will take from it the weapon to win all wars, and then you shall open the road home and save the Star.”

“Sasamaso and the others, they warned me about this prophecy business,” Ji-hyeon sniffled. “Nothing about a Hell King, which sounds like an awfully important detail to leave out … but that you’ve been trapped here, waiting for me to return, and all that stuff about needing to find a mystical weapon? And the Star really being in danger from Jex Toth? That can’t all be true, can it?”

“The daughter of the oracle happens to be the only one who can fulfill the prophecy?” Her father smiled. “Of course not. We have spent all our days in this place seeking to find our own way home … but it is my prerogative to interpret the dreams as I see fit. You are better at leading than being led, my daughter, and this desperate army of refugees has need of a beacon to follow. If the vision of your coming had proven as false as some of my dreamtreks, I should have revised the prophecy accordingly.”

“Oh,” said Ji-hyeon, the news that she wasn’t actually the chosen one something of a relief. “I don’t … I don’t mean to second-guess you, Papa, but if some of your dreams are false how do you know we will actually find this Hell King’s weapon, or even if there is a weapon? And everything about the Star being in peril, and us finding a way to return … how do you know any of that is real?”

“I do not,” he said, “but you shall learn that the one luxury afforded us in this realm is that of ample time to find out for ourselves. And I am certain that of all the visions, the one of Jex Toth’s return and the danger it poses is true.”

“I thought that, too, but it was all a trick of the empress to lure us home,” said Ji-hyeon. “She acknowledged that the Sunken Kingdom has indeed risen but didn’t seem to think it was actually a threat.”

“She is wrong. The Court of the Dreaming Priests has long suspected that the Burnished Chain sought to restore Jex Toth. Whether it was even possible or what it should mean if they succeeded was a subject of much debate. So many scrolls have been written over the centuries since the Sunken Kingdom was banished … What we all agreed was that it should usher in a new age, one where the First Dark and the Star became wedded, the spirit world and the mortal world made as one. But when this happened there should be a war unlike any the Star has ever known.”

He shifted in his bedding, and Ji-hyeon’s stomach heaved to see how elongated his lower half appeared beneath the blankets, curling down and around the foot of the bed. Much as she rued her devil-eye, some far more dramatic transformation had affected her father, but now was not the time to ask if it had happened when he was forced through the Othean Gate or at some point in the many years since.

“I believed, as did others, that this war would be waged between the just and the unjust, that when the Heavenly Kingdom of Jex Toth returned it would bring with it enlightenment that mortals should either embrace or lash out against. A host of supreme beings were thought to inhabit that land, and the Ugrakari and the Immaculate should be their allies from the first. We have the old blood in our veins, after all, and keep their traditions as best we may.”

At the mention of maintaining Tothan traditions Ji-hyeon couldn’t help but remember the many elaborate rites her first father had carried out over the years, private ceremonies she and her curious sisters had spied on …

“A few in our society were more cautious,” he went on, “and warned that Jex Toth might instead be home to angry gods who crave only carnage. Who should flood our oceans with blood, sacrificing the Star to summon an even greater evil. And in the decades I have been banished to this place my every dream grows more vivid, and these visions confirm that the worst shall come to pass. I was wrong, as were most of the Court. They shall advise Empress Ryuki that the coming of Jex Toth poses no imminent threat, and this mistake shall be the undoing of not only the Immaculate Isles but all the world.”

“No, it won’t,” said Ji-hyeon, watching Fellwing nest in one of the folds her father’s twisted bulk formed in the blankets. “The empress is already responsible for the fall of one innocent Isle. I won’t let her ignorance cost our people any more. I’m going to find my sisters, find this Hell King and his ultimate weapon, and then bring an army the likes of which the Star has never seen crashing down on our enemies.”

“It will be a long and perilous quest,” he said in the same dramatic tone he’d used when telling her bedtime stories as a girl.

“All the best ones are,” she told him, giving his hand another warm squeeze. After years trapped in a seemingly endless nightmare, her first father hadn’t just saved her from physical peril; he’d also rescued her from her own agonizing self-doubt. “Time passes so much slower on this side of the First Dark, I shouldn’t have any trouble fulfilling your prophecies and still getting back to the Star in time to save the world, but it never hurts to get an early start. Especially when a late arrival means there’s no world left to save.”

“I have no doubt you shall lead our Cobalt Company home in time,” he said. “No daughter of mine was ever late to a dance, and no daughter of Kang-ho’s was ever late to a fight.”

“I’m the only one you ever accused of being his daughter,” said Ji-hyeon, the thought of their old spats on Hwabun as bittersweet as all the rest of her memories had become, now that they were outlined in loss. “But I guess it’s been a while since I saw Yunjin and Hyori. I’m thinking they’ve changed a little over the years, huh?”

“Not as much as some,” said Jun-hwan, his blankets fluttering and sending Fellwing back up into the air with a chirp as his lower half contorted. There were wide coils down there, outlined by the damp bedding as he shifted about, the smell of moldering marine life stronger than ever. “I know you think you want to see, Ji-hyeon, but you are wrong. Do you remember the harpyfish you would help me collect from the tide pools? Well … the changes I have experienced since crossing over into this realm are not without their ironies. Unlike your own transformation, it is benign enough, and has even given me a newfound appreciation for swimming.”

“You dreamed about my eye, too?” It itched something fierce at being talked about, but when she reached up to rub under her eye patch her infirm father moved quickly for the first time since her arrival, grabbing her arm.

“Don’t! You are wise to keep it blinded, and while you will have need of it throughout your many trials I must ask you never to let it look upon me.”

“Sure, Papa, sure,” said Ji-hyeon, easing him back down into his bed. “I knew it was trouble, but it’s that bad?”

“Worse,” he murmured, staring at the stained iron patch as if he could see through it, just as her devilish eye could see through solid walls, through solid flesh … “I cannot tell you what it means, what it has become, for to learn such secrets I would have to gaze upon it, and were I to do that it should gaze back at me, and I sense that would be calamitous. It is very potent and very dangerous, Ji-hyeon, the greatest burden you shall ever bear … but bear it you shall. This too I have seen.”

“Ugh,” said Ji-hyeon. “And here I thought growing an extra eyeball looked kind of fleet.”

“Fleet?” Her father blinked at the Flintland expression.

“Never mind.” Trying to distract herself from the goading ache in her devil-eye, she said, “So you’ve finally taken up swimming, huh? Me and Dad could hardly convince you to get your feet wet, but I guess you’ve figured out what all the fuss is about.”

“More than you can even imagine,” he said, his hidden lower half twitching. “Perhaps now that you have fulfilled my most important prophecy I will do as I have long dreamed of, and withdraw to one of the many seashores this place has to offer.”

“Give it a little time, Papa, and we’ll take you home to the waters of Othean Bay,” said Ji-hyeon, rising to her aching feet and whistling Fellwing to her shoulder as she set out to find her sisters, the weapon of the Hell King which would win all wars, and then a Gate that led back to the Star. That order, as her childhood hero and adult headache would’ve said.

Before she set out, though, she had to raise one final matter, much as she was sure they would both prefer to avoid it. “So, um, if your dreams showed you some of what happened to me back on the Star … does that mean you know about Keun-ju?”

“I have known about Keun-ju for some time now,” said Jun-hwan with an arch smile. “Though not nearly so long as your other father—he tried to convince me to separate the two of you years ago, before anything more could grow between you, but I could not see it then. A Virtue Guard and his princess should be friendly, after all, and I had overmuch faith that the dictates of custom would keep you both firmly in your respective roles. After being swept off my feet by a scoundrel so far beneath my station you would think I would have had the sense to listen to him when it came to such matters.”

“Oh.” Ji-hyeon blushed at the thought of her fathers debating the subject. “Well, I’m glad you didn’t. Separate us, I mean. Keun-ju is … Well, if you know what he means to me then we don’t have to get into it anymore at present, but do you know if he’s safe? Have you dreamed of him? Or Choi and Fennec and the rest of my Cobalts, or … or …”

Ji-hyeon was still trying to figure out how to ask her staunchly traditional father if he’d had any prophetic visions of her foreign boyfriend and his current well-being when she saw from Jun-hwan’s darkening expression that he knew exactly who she was working up the moxie to ask about.

“The wildborn Flintlander,” he said softly, not even trying to mask his disappointment. “Yes, I have dreamed him as well. He … he I am unsure of. The others, though, they—”

“The only thing you need to be sure of is that I love him,” said Ji-hyeon, the words out before she could second-guess them. “I know he’s even less conventional than Keun-ju, but Sullen is one of the greatest men I’ve ever met. If you just give him a chance you’ll see that.”

“You mistake me …” In a lifetime of discomfiting her conservative first father Ji-hyeon didn’t think she had ever seen him act so awkward, and almost interrupted him again when he said, “I do not mean I am unsure of his worth. I am unsure of his fate.”

“Oh.” Ji-hyeon’s stomach dropped, but she tried to buck herself up in the face of her father’s portentous frown. “Well, whose fate is ever certain? I mean, plenty of people probably gave me up for lost, and here I am!”

“This is true,” agreed her father, but before Ji-hyeon could enjoy a momentary reprieve from her fear he continued. “Yet it is also true that some fates are simply destined to be darker than others. Keun-ju had suffered a terrible loss, last I dreamed him, yet he remains strong even in mortal danger. And while your Cobalt army remains captive on Othean, the empress has not yet executed any more officers …”

“And Sullen?” She almost didn’t want to hear, just as she didn’t want to hear what terrible loss Keun-ju had endured since she had exiled him from her side, but she had to know. “You said you were unsure, but unsure of what?”

“I saw him fall, gravely wounded, and I have not dreamed him since,” said Jun-hwan, and before that blow had fully landed on her heart he hit her with another. “Even if he recovers, I worry it shall not be for long. He has been marked by a god, Ji-hyeon, yet spurns her command. A brave, brave decision, or a foolish one, but whatever his motivation the result will be the same, should he persist. The fate of those who refuse the bidding of the gods is a grim one, and his time is almost up.”