The Girl Who Fell Beneath the Sea(75)

35


I wake to sunlight in my eyes. I’m lying at the edge of the pond in my family’s garden, with Shim Cheong beside me. Everything appears as it was a month ago. The earthenware pots line the back of the garden, packed with soybeans fermenting for the winter. The nesting ducks squawk from the reeds. Across the garden is my home, with its thatched roof and wooden walls.

The back door slides open.

“Mina!” My grandmother races across the lawn, Joon close behind her. I scramble to my feet in time to catch her as she throws her arms around me. “Oh, Mina, my love, my beloved granddaughter.”

I hold her close, my tears flowing freely. Beside us, Joon gathers Cheong to him, kissing her soundly.

From around the house run Sung and Soojin. My grandmother lets go of me, and I’m caught up in my eldest brother’s embrace. Then Soojin gently hugs me, smelling like hibiscus and the pears she must have peeled only minutes before. And then I’m in Joon’s arms, and maybe it’s all the memories of when he used to comfort me when I was little, when I scraped my knee, when the other village children teased me for my uncouth ways, but I start to cry great hiccuping sobs.

I’m just so relieved that they’re safe.

Later, I’ll tell them what happened in the Spirit Realm, how I jumped into the sea, and how I woke to a world of fog and magic.

I’ll tell my grandmother that I met her grandmother, who called herself Mask and hid her face from me, because she knew if I looked upon her, I would know who she was. And I’ll tell all of them about Grandfather, how he protects Miki, barely letting her out of his sight. I’ll describe to Soojin and Sung how happy Miki is, and how she has Sung’s joyful personality and Soojin’s wits and beauty.

I’ll tell them of Namgi, Kirin, and Nari, Shiki, and Hyeri …

And of Shin. How tall, not very frightening, and honorable he is. How he saved me over and over again, as himself, and as the dragon. And how much I love him.

But right now, I say none of these things.

After a while, we break apart, only for Cheong to gasp, “Mina, look!”

Blossoming pink and gold across the pond, like great stars fallen to earth, are a thousand lotus flowers in full bloom.



* * *



I thought the changes would come gradually, but in the weeks following my return, the effects of my wish echo across the land. In places where the storms uprooted trees, saplings sprout overnight. Farther inland, where the droughts dried up the streams and rivers, water appears to fill the empty channels, soon teeming with fish and fowl. And even more wondrous, rumors sprinkle from the war-torn north that any weapon raised with the intent to harm crumbles into dust.

And then there are the small miracles. Neighbors working side by side to restore the land, planting crops and sharing time and labor. Small children in my village assisting the elderly to rest beneath the shade of the great pine trees as they play by the sparkling brook. Every week, I lead a band of women into the forest to dig for roots and gather berries and herbs. Sometimes we’re so long in the forest that night falls, but we’re never afraid, for always a path of moonlight appears to lead us back home.

Yet the most extraordinary miracle I only hear about a month after my return. A royal messenger arrives from the capital. Standing atop a barrel by the village well, he delivers a message that is more like a remarkable tale than a proclamation: The emperor who vanished a hundred years ago has appeared by magic on the steps of the palace, having not aged a day.

“Where has he been all this time?” the village elder asks, voicing all our surprise.

“He has no memories of where he was,” the messenger replies. “But many believe he was in the Spirit Realm, protected for a hundred years by the Sea God himself!”

The villagers gasp, their eyes naturally turning to Cheong and myself, where we stand at the back of the crowd. I wonder what it must be like for the emperor, to have woken from an enchanted sleep after a hundred years, remembering nothing of the time he spent as the Sea God. For someone who loved stories so much, he now plays a part in one of the greatest of all.

“He’s won back his palace with the help of the great-grandsons of his former followers,” the messenger continues, “and is working to restore peace and order to the land as we speak.”

A cheer goes up at this wondrous news.

After the messenger’s proclamation, many villagers approach Cheong to thank her for her great deed, and she glances at me with a look of resignation. I shrug, smiling at her.

We noticed it a few days after our return, that most of the villagers believed it was Shim Cheong who ended the curse upon the Sea God, as she was the last bride to be sent down—and the only one, besides me, to have returned. At first horrified, she tried to correct the many well-wishers, but I told her that I didn’t mind. And I don’t mind, truly. After all, in the last story I told the Sea God, Shim Cheong was the Sea God’s bride.

Seasons pass, and come spring, Sung and Soojin welcome a child into the world. Her great-grandmother names her Mirae, in honor of her bright future.

As spring blends into summer, I start to make the walk down to the beach. My family notices and, guessing the reason, makes preparations for my departure. My grandmother and sisters sew me a beautiful dress with fabric procured from their own gowns, both to honor me and to remember them by. My brothers fashion me a dagger—Joon carves a magpie into the hilt—to join my great-great-grandmother’s knife.