The Girl Who Fell Beneath the Sea(53)

Namgi holds himself very still; then his shoulders sag, the fight seeming to leave him. He says, in a defeated voice so unlike his own, “Sometimes you don’t find family in your own blood, but elsewhere.”

And though Kirin was the one with the harsh words, it’s he who turns away, as if pained.

Namgi separates from us, and the fog swallows him whole. When he doesn’t return after a few minutes, I ask worriedly, “Should we go after him? He might get lost in this fog.”

From the murky depths comes a muffled shout.

“Namgi!” Kirin cries out, his hand reaching to his sword belt.

“Go to him,” I say. “I’ll follow the Red String of Fate to Shin.”

He meets my gaze, then nods, disappearing into the mist.

Rain begins to fall, and soon my dress is soaked through. Perhaps it was a mistake to go in search of the Sea God instead of waiting out the storm, but deep down inside I knew when I woke this morning that if I didn’t look for him now, I might not look for him ever. I might step off the path I chose for myself when I jumped into the sea and instead follow my heart.

The rain lightens to a low drizzle. I follow the Red String of Fate as it parts the mist, flitting along the dewy air to the pavilion by the Pond of Paper Boats. This is where I find Shin, standing at the center of the elegant wooden structure. With him is the Sea God.

If Shin is surprised to find the Sea God awake, he’s careful not to show it, perhaps wary like I am that the god might flee, taking with him the chance to solve the mystery of his enchantment.

“Have you come to tell me another story?” the boy-god asks. He’s dressed in the same grand robes he wore when I first laid eyes on him, an emblem of the dragon embroidered in silver on his chest. Once more, I’m struck by how like a child he is, wanting to hear a story rather than face the truth.

I immediately chide myself. My grandmother would scold me for such a thought. Sometimes, only through a story can a truth be heard.

“If that is what would please you most,” I say. Though I’m unsure of what story to tell.

I meet Shin’s gaze over the boy-god’s shoulder. I settle on Joon’s favorite, a love story.

“A long time ago, there lived a woodcutter at the edge of a great forest. He was young, strong, and kind. He was also very lonely. One night, as he was traveling back home, he heard laughter through the woods. Curious, he followed the lovely sounds. Beneath a magnificent golden tree, he found two heavenly maidens swimming in a small rock pond, their beautiful white dresses streaming out behind them. The heavenly maidens had taken off their wings and had hung them over a low branch of the golden tree.”

Heavy raindrops begin to hit the rooftop of the pavilion. I raise my voice to be heard.

“Though the woodcutter counted three sets of wings upon the branch, there were only two heavenly maidens in the pond. Then a hint of white in the verdant green caught the woodcutter’s eye. A third maiden was approaching through the woods. She came to the rock pond, but didn’t slip into the water. Instead, she looked up through the trees, to the stars, closing one eye as if to see them clearer. The woodcutter fell in love, then and there. And so, he stole her wings.”

Both Shin and the Sea God frown at this, though neither speaks a word, listening carefully.

“When her sisters returned to the heavens, their strong wings carrying them up into the sky, the youngest heavenly maiden was left alone and wingless. It was then the young woodcutter came to her, offering the jacket from his back. She accepted it, charmed by his humility and love for her. They built a life together. They could not have children, for she was not of his world, but for a long time, they were happy.”

The Sea God turns his face toward the garden, as if distracted.

“But as it is with life, the woodcutter grew older and wiser. He realized that his love of a moment was nothing to the love built over a lifetime. Although it weighed on his soul, he knew what he had to do. For he knew that if he truly loved the heavenly maiden, he would have to let her go.”

As I say these last words, my eyes meet Shin’s. His face holds a heartrending expression. Taking a deep breath, I finish the story.

“In the night, he went into the forest and dug up her wings from where he’d buried them beneath the golden tree. He laid them beside his wife as she slept and went back to the forest to weep.

“The next night, he returned to his house, only to find that the heavenly maiden was no longer there, and the wings were gone. With tears in his eyes, he went outside to peer up at the sky to see that one more star had appeared in the heavens. And although he cried for what he had lost, he was filled with joy. For he knew, then, that the heavenly maiden had returned to where she belonged.”

As I speak the last word, the Sea God lifts his face to look out into the storm. His hand goes to his chest, fingers digging into the fabric. “There’s a tugging at my soul.” Suddenly he leaps from the pavilion, rushing into the rain.

“Wait!” I follow. I hear Shin shout from behind me, but the rain muffles all sound. The fog rises up around me, and soon I lose my way. I try to turn back toward the pavilion, but I can’t tell if I’m going in the right direction. Even the Red String of Fate is barely visible in the heavy mist.

My foot catches on the ground, and I stumble forward, landing on a grand sweep of stairs. I recognize them as those that I climbed when I first arrived in this city. Above are the gates of the Sea God’s palace, the doors now open. How am I here, when I’d been in the garden?