And about my own heart, but I don’t tell him this.
Then a thought occurs. How are we having this conversation? As I’ve been speaking, I’ve made no sound. I narrow my eyes. Can he read my mind? I wait. His face remains decidedly blank.
“You can read lips.”
“Yes.”
“Why did you cut the Red String of Fate?”
“To protect the Sea God.”
“From me?” I ask incredulously.
Shin’s gaze moves to the boy-god on his throne, where throughout the commotion he’s remained asleep. “The Spirit Realm cannot sustain a human bride. Your kind are weak, your bodies more susceptible to the dangers of this world. Anything could effectively kill you, if it so wanted. The Red String of Fate binds your soul to the Sea God. If you were to die, the Sea God might also suffer the same fate. To protect him, I severed your ties.”
I try to make sense of his words. “Before, what did Kirin mean when he said I could retrieve my soul at the end of the month?” Shin doesn’t respond, and I realize he doesn’t know I’ve spoken, his gaze still upon the Sea God. I tug at his sleeve, and when he looks at me, I repeat my question.
“In a month’s time, you’ll have spent thirty days in the Spirit Realm. You will become a spirit then. As I said, human bodies are weak: Without a stronger tie to keep them grounded in this world, they—”
“You mean I’ll die?”
“You’d have died anyway,” he says, “in time.”
“I’m sixteen years old. I’m supposed to have all the time in the world!”
He scowls. “Then you should have stayed where you belong.”
“My world, the place where I belong, is being destroyed because of your world. If you won’t be bothered to fix it, then I will!”
“How?”
“The Sea God—”
His eyes flash. “What about him? Oh right, your precious myth. You believe only a human bride can save him, that he will fall in love with her. That he will save her people because of his love for her.”
“No.” I grit my teeth. “I wouldn’t be so naive.”
“It’s what your people believe. It’s what every bride before you has believed.”
“You can’t possibly know that—every bride has her reasons. Maybe some are not as grand as you’d like them to be. To know because of their sacrifice, their family will be taken care of when they’re gone, fed and clothed. To know they’ve done everything in their power to protect those whom they love most. To know that they tried when no one else could or even would!”
Shin’s brow furrows; he’s clearly frustrated. “Slow down. I can’t catch everything you’re saying.”
“Who are you to judge their hopes? At least they have them. What do you have? A sword that cuts. Words filled with hate.”
We’re both breathing heavily. His gaze moves upward, from my mouth to my eyes. “For someone who can’t speak,” he says slowly, “you have a lot to say.” There’s a hint of something in his voice—respect? He looks as if he means to say more, but he turns away. “But it doesn’t matter. In another life, you might have found a more welcome shore than this. As it is, the sea is dark and the Sea God sleeps, and the shore is too far to reach.”
I’ve heard the cadence of these words before. They’re a farewell.
“Wait!” I shout, but of course no sound comes out. I reach for him, only to grab empty air.
He sprints from the room, his steps soundless across the wooden floors. In the space of a breath, he’s gone.
What just happened? The level-headed part of me knows that I can survive without my soul. After all, I’m living and breathing at this very moment. But a larger part feels that without the magpie, I am not wholly myself. I feel lighter without it, and not in a pleasant way. I feel as if a breeze could set me adrift, as insubstantial as a leaf on the wind.
The silence that felt thick before now feels empty without the familiar sound of my own breathing. Shivering, I wrap my arms around my body and turn to face the Sea God.
He’s just as he was before, but for one difference. The hand that held the ribbon is bare, nothing to evidence that he and I were once connected. There is no color in the air between us, no Red String of Fate. If he were to wake now, would he even recognize me as his bride?
The Sea God lets out a soft sigh.
I take a step forward.
There’s a thunderous crack of sound, and I’m flung backward. Digging my heels into the floor, I grapple for purchase, but it’s as if solid wind has taken hold of me. The Sea God becomes a distant blur as an invisible force drags me from the hall, through one empty courtyard after another. Doors slam shut as I pass through each gateway, the sound of great planks of wood sliding into place behind me.