The Girl Who Fell Beneath the Sea(46)

It’s thicker here than it was by the shore. The atmosphere feels familiar, and I wonder if this is the same bridge I found myself on when I first woke in the Sea God’s realm.

I follow the Red String of Fate to the middle of the bridge, where Shin waits, peering into the mist.

“What lies on the other side of the river?” I ask.

“Star House,” Shin answers, “where the death god resides. Other than that, mountains and mist. The fog thickens the farther from the city you venture. You can wander in the mist for weeks and come out where you started, or on the other side of the city. It’s why I lost the thieves’ trail. In the mist, it’s difficult to keep track of anything. Spirits often get lost in it, trying to find a way to return to the world of the living, but it’s not possible. Once you come down the river, you can’t go back.”

I shiver at the thought. “What do you think Shiki wishes to speak with you about?”

“In truth, I can’t say. Last we met, we clashed. With words and weapons. I had taken the soul of the bride, as I have every year, yet Shiki, having grown protective of the girl, demanded its return. When I refused, we fought.”

“And yet her soul was returned to her,” I say, the implication being that the outcome had been in Shiki’s favor. In my mind, I envision the memory of Hyeri, peering out from the palanquin’s window, her eyes alight with curiosity and laughter.

“She had interrupted the fight. She was … dying, apart from her soul for too long. And Shiki, the God of Death, could do nothing. I returned her soul then, if only to stop him from complaining.”

“Ah,” I say. “So Shiki won in the end”—Shin scowls—“because he had a friend like you.”

Shin shakes his head but doesn’t deny my words. “Proper thanks he gave me. After saving her life, he called me a ‘bastard without a soul,’ and left. I haven’t spoken to or seen him since.”

Shin’s story has revealed more than he might have intended. For Shiki’s sake, he saved Hyeri, giving rise to rumor and scorn against himself.

“How can you be certain that you don’t have a soul?” I ask.

“Every being has a soul, whether it’s hidden inside you, as it is for humans, or in a different form, as it is for beasts of myth. Gods also have souls. For the Goddess of Moon and Memory, her soul is the moon. For the Sea God, his soul is the dragon of the East Sea. For household gods, their souls are the hearth; for gods of the mountains, rivers, and lakes, their souls—”

“Are the mountains, rivers, and lakes,” I finish.

He nods. “And so when the mountains, rivers, and lakes are destroyed, so are the gods. Because when the rivers are polluted and the forests burn, the gods fade and disappear. I am a god who has lost his soul and with it, all my memories of who I once was, of what I was meant to protect. In this way, I should have disappeared a long time ago.”

The pain in his voice is unmistakable. He closes his eyes. More than anything I want to comfort him in this moment, and yet I don’t have the words. Even when my soul was a magpie, I knew it still existed, just outside myself. It wasn’t lost. It wasn’t forgotten.

I think of all the many things Shin has done for me: saving me from Lord Crane, bringing me to the Sea God, retrieving the paper boat. He might not believe he has a soul, but I do.

I reach to my waist and unknot the silk bag, tilting it forward until the object within rolls onto my palm. Shin turns, drawn by my movements.

“Look, Shin,” I say with a smile. “I found your soul.”

I lift my palm. At the center sits the pebble with the carving of the lotus flower.

He says nothing for a few minutes, and I wonder if I’ve offended him. But then he reaches out his hand, brushing his fingers across the pebble and my open palm.

“It might not be as large as a mountain or as bright as the moon,” I say as he lifts his eyes to meet mine, a heartbreaking, vulnerable look in their dark depths, “but it’s just as beautiful because it’s your soul. It’s strong, resilient, and steadfast. And stubborn.” He laughs softly. “And worthy, just as you are.”

Shin’s breath catches.

My heart begins to beat painfully in my chest. “Well?” I say, lifting my hand. “Will you accept it?”

But instead of taking the pebble, he slips his hand over mine, the pebble pressed between our palms, holding tight. “If I take it,” he says, “I won’t ever let go.”

It’s not a question, and yet I feel as if he’s waiting for my answer.

Then he tenses, his eyes narrowing on something past my shoulder. He pulls me to his side. Death steps out of the mist.





20


The death god is a young man with handsome features—a long nose and wide lips. His skin is moon pale, so unlike the vibrant, fun-loving Hyeri, who before she was sacrificed to the Sea God was famed in all the seaside villages for looking as if she held the sun beneath her skin. There’s something melancholy about the god, the dark circles beneath his eyes that suggest a want of sleep, his serious expression. Suddenly I’m glad this god of death has Hyeri, who was so full of life.

The death god comes to a halt a few paces away. “My guards reported seeing you at the border of my lands,” he says in a voice deep and without inflection. “What were you searching for in the mist?”