by Cindy Pon
Finally, she said quietly, “I’m an orphan too, Kai Sen.”
His head snapped up.
“It seems so frivolous to say. Because I know it doesn’t change anything for you. But my mother abandoned me. And I had never given much thought to her—”
“Never?” Kai Sen said incredulously.
“No. It had seemed pointless to wonder, but now … ”
But now, I wonder.
“I’m sorry, Skybright.” He slid his hand across her back and pulled her into him, so that they leaned together. “The monks say that those who can see the dead have one foot in this realm and one in the underworld.”
“Is that how you feel, like you’ve got one foot in our world and the other in hell?” She knew Kai Sen was fully human, nothing like her.
Kai Sen caressed her arm with one hand, in a distracted way. “I don’t know, to be truthful. I only know that I’ve always been marked as different.” He lifted his chin in that unconscious way of his, and Skybright traced his birthmark with a light finger. He froze, seeming to hold his breath.
“And do you think your … clairvoyance is connected to this?” she asked.
He grasped her hand, pulling it gently from his throat. “Yes, I do.” His expression was guarded, lacking its usual mirth. And somehow, she knew she was the first person he had ever allowed to touch his birthmark.
“One ghost said that there’s a breach in the underworld, that they escaped early,” she murmured.
“It’s true. The hungry ghosts are already wandering, and the Ghost Festival doesn’t start for a few days yet. The monastery has been on alert. Our abbot is concerned by the stories travelers are bringing from across the provinces.”
Skybright stiffened. “What stories?”
“Peasants and nobleman alike have seen … oddities. A man twice the height of any mortal with a bird’s head and black wings sprouting from his shoulders. Children without arms and a hand where their mouths should be—”
She shuddered and he leaned in to kiss her softly on the cheek. Skybright smelled again his subtle scent of camphor wood.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gone on.”
“No. I’m glad you told me.”
Kai Sen rubbed his forehead with one hand, his weariness palpable. “The abbot has sent notices to nearby towns and villages, warning the people that all wards for their homes should be in place. That no one should go out at night, especially past the thieving hour.” He reached over to grasp her hand. “Be especially careful, Skybright. I don’t know what it means that spirits show themselves so clearly to us both.”
She stared at their hands, fingers twined, and wished she could be truthful with him. Or tell him she didn’t like him, never wanted to see him again. Make things easier for them both. But she enjoyed his company too much, and his kisses, to give them up.
“Promise you’ll keep safe?”
She gripped his hand. “But what does it all mean? Are the demons real?”
“I’ve not seen them myself, but the sightings have been too numerous. If there truly is a breach between our realms, any demon or monster can come into ours from the underworld.” Kai Sen stood and helped her up with a gentle tug. “It means that the monks are going to war.”
They took leave of each other reluctantly. Skybright accepted another chaste kiss on her cheek, although she wanted nothing more than to push Kai Sen to the ground and kiss him again like they had the night before, with his arms tightly wound around her.
Her head swam with everything they had discussed—the little information she could gather on the serpent demon, the early appearance of the hungry ghosts and a breach in hell into their own world. Kai Sen had said they might not see each other again for some time, and this had filled Skybright with a sense of longing and dread. More than she should have felt for a boy that she had just met—that she barely knew.
The cheerful sunshine and blue skies seemed a mockery of what was happening around them, what would surely come again at night.
That evening, Skybright lay awake in bed, listening for the return of the hungry ghosts. But there was nothing except for the chirping of crickets. She thought back to what Kai Sen had read to her about serpent demons. If this was what she truly was, there was no way of changing it. But she could try and control when she shifted. Grabbing her hand mirror and stuffing it into a knapsack, she peered into the silent courtyard awash in moonlight, then sneaked quietly out the servant entrance after unlocking the door with her key.
She shouldn’t be going into the forest so often. But she had to find out more about who, or what, she was becoming, had to find a way to control her shape shifting. She couldn’t risk someone discovering her as a serpent in her bedchamber—she needed to know how to change back. And deep down, if she would admit it, the wilderness called to her.
Running, she was drawn back to the creek where she had met with Kai Sen. The three quarter moon sat high in the sky, giving enough light that she could see what she was doing. Quickly, Skybright undressed, glad for the warmth of the summer air, yet her bare skin still tingled at the thought of being so exposed in the wild. She folded her sleep clothes neatly and placed them in a pile on a stone. The familiar ritual soothed her jangled nerves.
Skybright then sat on the sparse patch of grass near the bank with her legs extended and the knapsack she had brought beside her. She concentrated and recalled that unbearable heat, imagined the feelings that struck her when her tail emerged, the writhing of her flesh, the soft whisper as scales covered her skin.
Nothing happened.
Again, she tried to change into serpent form, imagining the hotness rising below her waist, that sensation of severing then melding together. Something shifted, and she jolted up. Her tail emerged within a few breaths, and she shuddered to see it twisted in front of her, so long it touched the creek’s edge. Darting her tongue out, she thought that she could still taste Kai Sen in the air, the lingering scent of camphor wood from his clothes, the distinctive salt and tang of his skin.
She retrieved the hand mirror from her knapsack. The passage Kai Sen had read mentioned venom. She opened her mouth, her forked tongue flicking out. Her heightened vision and the moon let her see her reflection perfectly. Grimacing, her upper lip pulled back to expose curved fangs where her incisors had been. Skybright shrank back from the mirror, but forced herself to look again. The fangs were the length of a finger joint, deadly sharp. With her mouth closed, her face appeared unchanged. Hand trembling, she slipped the mirror back inside her bag.
To distract herself, Skybright focused on what she could sense in her serpent form. No nocturnal creatures scampered around her, like she had felt the other night. Not even the leaves rustled. It seemed impossible that the forest, usually so filled with hidden movement and life, was at a complete and hushed stand still. She ignored the strange quiet and tried to will herself back into a girl. This was what she needed to be able to do, if she wanted to survive. She had always been asleep when she changed back and had no inkling what it felt like.
She imagined her scales vanishing, revealing human flesh, visualized her serpent length shortening and splitting in two. Something faint whirred in her chest, but nothing happened. Skybright squeezed her eyes shut and tried harder, picturing herself with bare legs. The scales of her serpent coil rippled, but the sensation halted when she felt the pounding of many feet from a great distance, like a faint echo. She flipped over and began pushing herself through the trees toward the noise. The vibrations became stronger and stronger, until she glimpsed many torches weaving between the trees.
She sensed danger like a tremor in the back of her throat, tasted terror and anger the closer she came to the lights. Instinct told her to stay away, that she shouldn’t be seen, but she was unable to pull away from the wavering torches before her. Men shouted and grunted, their thundering footsteps carrying to her like stampeding elephants. She stopped a fair distance away from the chaos, hidden
among the dark trees. The large clearing ahead was filled with monks battling … demons. There could be no other word for the creatures that she saw.
Dozens of monks clutched torches, and the bright flames cast a lurid light across the clearing; their flickering bounced off the strained faces of the men and illuminated the murderous rage of the beasts from hell. Even the tall cypresses ringing the battle appeared ominous, silent observers to the bloodshed before them. A muscular monster towered above a group of monks, his body that of a man, but with the head and legs of a goat. The demon’s bare chest was a dusky blue, and he swung a giant axe at the attacking monks. The men dispersed like leaping grasshoppers beneath it.
The stillness from before had been replaced with a thousand voices that began as a hum and surged to shrieks, swelling the air and shuddering Skybright’s heartbeat before dropping off again. She covered her ears, although that didn’t stop her from feeling it just as strongly through her serpent coil. The Xia spoke of ghosts and demons in folklore, in tales of morality, used wards against evil to protect their homes, paid respect to their dead ancestors. But it was all a part of ritual and tradition; never considered as actuality, as fact. But nothing was more real than what Skybright was now witnessing.
She should have been terrified, in disbelief. Instead, she felt only fascination, to see these demons that appeared so much like herself, who had burst into their realm from the underworld. Their existence validated her own. She wasn’t going mad. Skybright didn’t know why this had happened to her, but at least she still had her sanity.
The demons and monks fought in the clearing, hacking at each other, like in a scene from some nightmare. She caught glimpses of the undead risen from their graves, could smell their musty flesh from where she hid. They shambled in spastic motions, reminding her of broken puppets. The monks set fire to them, and the undead twitched in circles, aflame, before crumpling to the earth.
Skybright tasted his scent before she saw him.
Kai Sen whirled amongst the chaotic mob, a torch in one hand and a saber in the other. He slashed with precision, at throats and shins and the tender insides of arms, while stabbing at torsos and thrusting the torch in an agile dance that was mesmerizing. The entire time he seemed to be chanting, though she was too far away to hear him. But even from this distance, the birthmark on his neck stood out, an angry palm print against his throat.
Captivated, Skybright didn’t feel the approach of the undead creature until it was too late. It jumped toward her, arms extended, surprisingly quick despite the stiffness of its limbs. The overwhelming smell of decay turned her stomach. She slid away, but it followed. Instinctively, she thrust her head forward and bared her fangs, hissing deep.
A small part of her cringed that she was acting this way, like the monster she had turned into. But she shoved those human concerns aside, and relied on her intuition for survival. Skybright let the distance between them shorten, until it was close enough for her to whip her long coil out and wrap the length around its torso, binding its arms to its side.
The undead thing grunted, but didn’t struggle, seemingly incapable of dealing with this new situation. She constricted the muscles of her serpent body, amazed by how powerful it was, reveling in the feel of her prey caught between her coils. They shifted and curled, writhing along the ground as they snaked their way over the undead creature’s neck. Her tail wrapped around its throat. She yanked it in one violent motion, and the creature’s head snapped off with a sickening pop.
Her thick serpent length unfurled smoothly, and the undead creature’s body twitched on the ground for long moments, even as its head rolled into the darkness. She hissed in triumph, her hands fisted in front of her, the taste of dust and decay like grit against her tongue.
“You are supposed to be on our side.”
She whipped toward the deep voice, the tip of her tail slapping against the earth.
A tall man stood behind her, dressed in full armor—silver and gold etched with crimson. The only piece missing was his helmet. His hair was long, pulled back in a top knot, like paintings she’d seen of ancient Xian warriors. He didn’t seem to be more than eighteen years, but she felt as if she should bow down to him, as if he were nobility.
Instead she pushed herself back with her coil, so there was more distance between them. This man was powerful and dangerous. Her tongue darted out; he didn’t appear as he truly was.
He smiled. “I can take on almost any form I want, it is true. But this is a close representation of the mortal that I was.”
She slid further from him. What was he? Could he read her mind?
He closed the distance between them with two long strides. She tried to turn, to escape from this man who wasn’t a man, but discovered she was unable to move. Her breaths quickened with panic as he grasped her chin in one hot hand—so hot it could burn her if he allowed it. He turned her face from one side to the other, and Skybright saw how impossibly handsome he was—in the way that gods were—with perfectly chiseled features, a strong full mouth and eyes as black as the night sky.
She swallowed hard, trying to control the tremors that swept through her.
“You look exactly like your mother,” he said in a soft voice. “There is no question that you are Opal’s daughter.” He dropped his hand and she gasped, released from his enchantment, and slithered away from him.
“I did not think it was possible, a serpent demon giving birth. There are so few left in this world now. I have seen many things, but never a halfling such as yourself.”
Was this man saying that he knew her mother? That he could confirm what she was?
Skybright threw her hands up, fingers splayed, as if she could push him away or ward off his words.
“You cannot speak in this form,” he said in sudden understanding. “Change back to your human form, and we can talk.”
She shook her head and retreated further from him. Was there a glimmer of sadness in his eyes? Of sympathy?
“You have spent most of your life thinking that you are normal—human. You are not. You are one of us.” He tilted his head toward the clearing, where the shouts and cries of the fighting monks and the inhuman roars of the demons drifted to them. “Those monks would kill you without hesitation. You are not a part of their world any longer. There is no denying what you are, daughter of Opal.”
She twisted from him then and propelled herself deep into the forest, faster than she’d ever done, into the embrace of its darkness. Opal. Was that her mother’s name? Her mother, the serpent demon? The salt of tears filled her throat, but didn’t escape from her eyes. She couldn’t cry in this form, just as she couldn’t speak.
“My name is Stone,” the man’s voice said in her ear, and she lurched, lifting high on her serpent body. But no one was near her. “Say it if you need me.” And his words whorled into the night.
Stone.
It was what he had tasted like on her tongue. Of earth and gravel and granite. Of dirt and pebbles and the most pristine jade. Of all the life that could spring from it. Or all that it could oppress with immoveable finality.
Skybright clutched herself with both arms, trying to make sense of everything she had seen that night. Trying to ease the trembling that would not stop. She never glanced back as she returned to the creek. She sank into the cold earth near its bank, pressing her bare torso against it, her tail unwinding along the ground. It was frightening how familiar this form felt to her already, how used to being unclothed she’d become. She didn’t even think to cover herself when Stone had manifested from nowhere.
Change back to your human form, he had said, and we can talk.
To be naked as a girl was a completely different matter. But Skybright didn’t forget her original task. She needed to be able to control her shape shifting, needed to be a girl as quickly as she could change into a serpent. She lay there, with her cheek pressed against the dirt, absorbing the quiet hum of life that reverberated through her sens
es, the rodents and hares, her fellow brethren slithering along the forest floor, hunting in the warm night.
She drew a deep breath and focused on becoming a girl again, on her tail splitting to give her back her legs. Her fingers thrust in the dirt. A coolness zinged through her lower half, the opposite of the heat she had always felt when her tail emerged. She tingled from the waist down. Rising unsteadily on both feet, she grinned in triumph as she pulled on her sleep clothes.
There was no use fighting fate, fighting the lot you were given in life. But she refused to be ignorant and helpless, halfling demon or no.
Skybright sneaked on noiseless feet back to her bedchamber, feeling very awkward in her human form. She did her best to sponge the dirt from her body, then slipped into a peach tunic and trousers for the day. It was still some time before dawn, but feeling too restless to sleep, she slipped on her embroidered cloth slippers and stepped outside, with the intention of going to the kitchen to replenish the hungry ghosts’ offerings.
She wound her way through the enormous manor, but slowed out of habit outside her mistress’s quarters. A faint sound made her pause by the door panels carved with lotus. There it was again—a low moan. Was Zhen Ni having a nightmare?
Skybright slid the door panel aside. The reception hall was in complete darkness, but she walked through it with the familiarity of someone who could navigate it blindfolded. She pressed her ear against the bedchamber door. There was the rustling of silk sheets, a soft murmur and gasp. Surely, her mistress was having a bad dream.
She pushed the bedchamber door aside and the golden glow of lantern light spilled into the reception hall. Surprised that Zhen Ni had kept the lantern burning, Skybright stepped inside. The chamber was warm, tinged with the scent of peach cream and jasmine perfume, sweat and—
The bed sheet writhed in front of her, obscuring a giant lump, some kind of beast or monster. Uttering a cry, Skybright rushed to the bed, tearing the sheet back, ready to do whatever she had to to defend her mistress. But what she saw stopped her dead. Confused, she stumbled back.
