Kirin drops to the ground beside me. “Mina! What are you doing here? Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. I was on my way to meet Shin at Lotus House.”
“We’ll go together.” He turns north, only to stop, his eyes narrowing. “Is that—”
I follow his gaze. Namgi in his Imugi form dips erratically through the sky. Following on his tail is a whole swarm of snakes.
“That fool!” Kirin shouts. “He’s luring them out of the city. But he won’t make it that way.” Kirin races off in Namgi’s direction, and I hurry to follow. We’re almost by the river when Namgi goes under, disappearing beneath the swarm. There’s a terrible crack, and the swarm breaks apart. Namgi, transformed back into his human body, drops from the sky.
“Namgi!” Kirin cries out. We race down the street, turning the corner to see Namgi battered and broken on the ground. Kirin rushes forward, dropping beside Namgi’s limp form. He takes a knife from his waist, raising the blade to his palm. But before he can make the cut, Namgi’s hand jerks upward, grabbing his wrist.
“Don’t, Kirin,” he says, blood thick in his throat. “My wounds can’t be healed so easily. Not this time.”
He’s not wrong, but that doesn’t stop Kirin from growling in frustration. “Why do you have to be so reckless?” he shouts. “I thought you desired more than anything to become a dragon. Did you forget? An Imugi can only become a dragon after living one thousand years.”
Namgi coughs. Even with blood slipping from between his teeth, he smiles. “That’s right. One thousand years. I couldn’t believe those fools who thought they could become dragons by fighting in endless battles. Don’t they understand what a dragon truly is? The Imugi live for death and destruction, but a dragon is the manifestation of peace.” Namgi coughs again, and this time it takes longer for the tremors to subside. Kirin grabs his hand and Namgi looks up at him with young, fearful eyes. “I wanted—I wanted to be a dragon, Kirin. More than anything. I wanted to be wise and good. I wanted to be whole.”
Kirin’s grip tightens. “You are, Namgi.”
Before our eyes, Namgi’s body begins to fade.
I look desperately from Namgi to Kirin. “What’s happening?”
“He’s losing his soul,” Kirin chokes. “Hurry, we need to get him to the river. Help me, Mina.”
Together we manage to get Namgi onto Kirin’s back. I take the lead, checking around corners to see if there are any snakes in our path.
Around and above us, the battle rages on. I catch sight of the death god Shiki jumping from rooftop to rooftop, leading a band of warriors with bows slung low across their backs. I look for Shin in the group, disappointed not to find him among their number.
We reach the river. Unlike the night of the storm, it’s calm. Few bodies float on the surface. Kirin and I gently lift Namgi from Kirin’s back and lay him by the shore.
“Look for Namgi,” Kirin says, unbuttoning his jacket. “He should be coming down the river.”
The thought terrifies me. Only the recently deceased float down the River of Souls. Is Namgi … dead? He’s lying so still. A curl of hair falls over his pale face. Without his vibrant soul to light him up, he looks empty …
“Mina!” Kirin shouts.
I snap my head from Namgi’s body to the river. I need to concentrate. He isn’t gone. Not yet.
At first all I see are strangers, older men and women, ghostly shadows in the water. But then …
“There!” I point to a familiar lanky body. Namgi floats facedown on the surface. I look over to Kirin to find him approaching the river.
“Kirin,” I say, suddenly realizing what he plans to do, “Shin said only the dead can enter the river. The current will sweep your soul away.”
“I’m not going into the river.”
Kirin steps to the very edge, the water lapping at his feet. His body begins to tremble, and his skin emits a beautiful silver light. The human shape of him morphs, changing. There’s a burst of illumination, like a star exploding. A beast of myth emerges from the light, its hooves clopping on the stone. Where once Kirin stood, there now stands a magnificent four-legged beast with two horns and a mane of white fire. It has the shape, body, and legs of a deer, but the height and strength of a horse.
“Kirin?” I whisper, and the beast gazes at me with silver eyes. It tosses its head back, jabbing its hooves in the air. It then leaps from the bank onto the water. The beast doesn’t sink but walks on the surface. With every step of its hooves, radiant light pulses outward, trailing incandescence.