I’m overwhelmed with emotion. We no longer share a Red String of Fate, but he’s willing to do this, for me.
“I—”
There’s a sizzling burst of a sound, followed by a scream.
A dark cloud spreads over the city, and I look up to find a hundred shadows creeping over the moon.
The Imugi are here.
29
Shin and I run through the streets, spirits rushing to duck into buildings or leaping into the canal as Imugi rain fire down upon the city.
Up ahead, a bolt strikes a teashop, burning a hole through the tiered roof. Patrons barrel out of the smoking doorway, tripping over themselves in their panic and fear. I rush over and help a woman to her feet, while Shin carries a boy to the canal, dropping him in the shallow water to douse the flames on his jacket. More screams pierce the night, not too far from us. I watch as Shin tenses, his head instinctively canting toward the sound.
“Go,” I tell him. I motion toward the remaining teashop patrons, huddling and coughing on the ground. “I’ll help the rest of them, and then hurry to Lotus House. I know the way.”
Down the street an Imugi roars, followed by more screams. “Lotus House,” Shin repeats. “No more than an hour.” I nod, and he holds my gaze for a searing second before running off in the direction of the screams.
I help the rest of the teahouse patrons to the canal, crowded now with spirits eager to escape the fires.
After the last is safe in the water, I sprint down the streets, retracing the steps I walked earlier with Namgi and Nari. Though this time, instead of joy, I feel only heartache as I pass over broken lanterns and crushed kites.
I’m almost at the bridge that leads to Lotus House when I hear an awful slithering sound. I dash into an alley and back against the wall just as an Imugi prowls by, failing to notice me in the shadows.
The alley I’ve stepped into is deserted, with only a small alcove down the way that appears to house a shrine. I recognize the familiar stone tablet and the bowl for offerings. Incense sticks trickle smoke into the air. Most likely it’s dedicated to a local god, a place for spirits to gather and ask favors from the deity.
As I draw nearer, the strong scent of incense washes over me, smoky and bitter. Then I notice an object floating in the bowl of offerings. It’s a paper boat, ripped in half and stitched back together again.
A chill runs down my spine. Slowly, I lift my eyes to read the characters scratched onto the stone.
This shrine is dedicated to the Goddess of Moon and Memory.
Soft laughter floats down the alley.
I turn to face the goddess.
She wears a simple white gown with a red sash around her waist. Even without her great mount, she’s terrifying, twice my height with candles in her eyes. She lifts her chin slightly, eyes flickering. “Why don’t you pick up your wish? Let us discover your deepest desire.”
I swallow my fear. “The Imugi are your servants, aren’t they? Why have you allowed them to wreak such devastation? Don’t you think this city and its people have suffered enough?”
She continues as if I hadn’t spoken. “Once I see your memory, it will belong to me. I will have that part of you that wishes to be the Sea God’s bride.”
The puzzle of her words falls into place, and I think I finally understand what she wants. I turn toward the bowl and pick up the boat. When I look back, I bite my tongue to keep from crying out. The goddess stands beside me, having moved silently from a distance. She’s now close enough that I can see the candles in her eyes, the flames burning brightly. I unfold the paper boat and hold it out to her.
“Do you relinquish it willingly?”
During the storms, she told me that she couldn’t see the memory because it was too closely tied to my soul. Only by relinquishing it will she have power over me.
“Will you call away the Imugi if I give you this memory?”
The goddess watches me carefully; the flames in her eyes hold steady. “Yes.”
“Then I give it to you willingly.”
She smiles, triumphant. “Then you are a fool. Because though you might have saved the city tonight, you have thrown away your chance to save it forever. The memory contained in this boat belongs to me now, and I will destroy it, along with your desire to be the Sea God’s bride.”
She grabs the paper, and the memory rises up, taking hold.
* * *
I’m in the garden behind my house, and with me is the goddess. Like the wish I’d found in the Pond of Paper Boats, the memory is clouded, as if seen through a veil of mist. The goddess appears out of place, standing regally beside my grandfather’s pond.