The Girl Who Fell Beneath the Sea (21 page)

“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.
Th
e beast doesn't sink but walks on the surface. With every step of its hooves, radiant light pulses outward, trailing incandescence.

Kirin reaches Namgi's body in the river, nudging his shoulder with his nose. When Namgi opens his eyes, I sigh with relief. With Kirin's prodding, Namgi grabs on to Kirin's neck and pulls himself onto the beast's broad back. Slowly, so as not to let Namgi fall, Kirin begins heading back to shore.

A loud screech draws my gaze to the sky. A sea snake circles in the air above the river, eyeing Kirin and Namgi. If it attacks, it will be disastrous. Even if Kirin can fight in his beast form, he can't risk dropping Namgi.

With one hand, I grab my great-great-grandmother's knife, and my skirt with the other. Turning, I sprint from the river, back
toward the city. When I hear the scream in the air, I know the sea snake has spotted me. I pump my legs, moving as fast as I can.

I know what I'm doing is reckless. Namgi and Kirin would never ask me to risk my life for theirs. But I can't help it. It's true that people do the most desperate things for those they love. Some might even call it a sacrifice—maybe that's what people believed when I jumped into the sea in place of Shim Cheong. But I think it might be the other way around. I think it would be a terrible sacrifice to do nothing.

And never was it for anyone's sake but my own. I couldn't endure in a world where I did nothing, where I let those I love suffer and be hurt. If I had stayed home, if I had never run after Joon, if I had never jumped into the sea, there would have been such a hole in my heart—the emptiness of having done nothing at all.

Still, as I look at the snakes chasing me, the snakes in front of me, blocking my way, I wish the circumstances weren't always so dire.

I've reached the main boulevard outside the Sea God's palace.
Th
e wide-open space is overrun with sea snakes slithering down every alley and climbing over the many rooftops. I'm surrounded. My chest pounds with the pressure from my lungs. My shoulder aches from the wound left by the assassin.

Th
e sea snakes converge upon me, large and terrifying. I brandish my knife with two hands. I can see the faces of people watching me from the buildings. Earlier, a boy had called me the Sea God's bride and asked me for a kiss. I won't disappoint him now. After all, I am a Sea God's bride. Maybe not
the
Sea God's
bride, but a girl who wished, in a world far distant from this one, for a different fate from the one I'd been given, one I could grasp on to and never let go.

A tremendous roar shakes the city.

I look up.

Th
e dragon crashes down from the sky.

Th
e dragon is massive, three times the size of the largest snake. It sweeps its long tail through the street, hurtling Imugi against buildings. As a pack, the Imugi attempt to close in on the dragon, but it lashes out, thrashing and flailing. A freezing wind picks up. Shards of ice like glass whip out from the air, piercing the thick hides of the snakes. One by one, the snakes fall to the ground, transforming into men.
Th
e rest take to the air, screaming their defeat.

Th
e dragon, terrible and bloody, lets out another roar. It twists its head wildly in search of a new enemy.

I take a step back, only to trip on the steps of the Sea God's palace.
Th
e dragon catches the movement. Unlike on the boat, when my anger gave me courage, my fear overwhelms me.
Th
e dragon prowls across the distance between us, all four of its curved claws digging great holes in the broken ground.

“Mina!”

Shin stands on the roof of the nearest building. He leaps off, rolls on the ground, then sprints toward me. Reaching me, he pulls me into his arms. He smells of sweat, blood, and salt. I hold him close and draw strength from his heartbeats.

He releases me, placing his body between the dragon and me. “I won't let you hurt her.”

I catch my breath, reminded of Joon and Cheong on the boat.

Th
e dragon lowers its head, baring row upon row of deadly fangs. Shin unsheathes his sword, his hand opening to reposition itself, grasping the hilt strongly. His shoulders tense, ready to strike.

A new voice interrupts. “My soul would never hurt my bride.”

Th
e Sea God stands on the steps of the palace.

He's dressed in full ceremonial robes.
Th
e gilded seal upon his chest depicts the dragon as it appears now, powerful and ferocious.
Th
e god himself looks pale, but undeniably awake.

Th
en the rumors are true.
Th
e Sea God woke because of that night, when I held him in my arms as his sorrow rained down upon both worlds.

My hands begin to shake, and I hide them in my skirts.

“I have served you well, my lord,” Shin says, lowering his sword. “I have guarded your home. I have guarded your person—”

“And you have guarded my bride.”

“—but I cannot serve you in this.”

Th
e Sea God's eyes flash in anger. “You would stand against me? I am a god!”

“As am I,” Shin says fiercely.

Behind him the dragon takes a menacing step. My hand closes in a fist, and I wince in pain. I forgot I was holding my great-great-grandmother's knife. Blood trickles down my hand over the scar on my palm, so long hidden beneath the Red String of Fate. I made it when I swiped this same blade against my skin and pledged my life to the Sea God.

“Mina?” It takes me a moment to realize the Sea God is calling me.

Even though he appears grand in his magnificent robes, the palace behind him, the dragon before him, his eyes are as they were in the hall—full of a heartbreaking grief.

“Will you come with me now?” he asks softly. In the vastness of the boulevard, his voice is hardly a whisper. “Will you be my bride? I've done what you asked. I've ended the storms. I've taken my rightful place among the gods and my people. I've—I've woken.”

He falters for a moment but then lifts his face. “I am the Sea God. And you are my bride. Come with me now, as you said you would. As you promised.”

I look to Shin, and to the dragon, looming behind him. If I refuse the Sea God, will the dragon strike in anger? Silently it watches me, waiting.

“Mina,” Shin says, a hint of panic in his voice. “You don't have to do this.”

“You said it yourself, Shin,” I whisper. “You know why I came here. It was always to protect my family.” I look behind Shin and the dragon, to the city.
Th
e lanterns from the festival, which once shone so brightly, are now ripped and shredded.
Th
e people peek out from the wreckage of the buildings, watching me with wide eyes and soot-streaked faces. “I have to do this. Don't you see? I think … I think I
am
the Sea God's bride.”

“Mina,” Shin says, his voice hoarse. “Please don't.”

“I'm sorry.” I turn just as the tears start to fall, rush up the steps of the palace, and take the hand the Sea God holds out to
me. He leads me up the stairs and across the threshold of the gate.
Th
e wind rises as the dragon lifts its great body into the air, gliding over the gate above our heads. My thoughts feel cloudy. My heart beats hollowly in my chest.

At the last moment, I look back.

Shin stands outside the gates of the Sea God's palace, his head lowered. He doesn't look up, even as the doors shut between us.

 

I follow the Sea God
through the courtyard and into the hall. An eerie silence hangs over the palace, no evidence of guards or nobles or even servants. Reaching the dais, the Sea God hesitates before forgoing the cold throne and sitting on the steps. I join him, pulling my feet beneath my skirt.

Th
e silence drags on. I study the boy-god, who appears ill-suited for his grand robes. He sits hunched over, his elbows balanced on his knees. I realize—I don't know his name. Immediately I feel guilty for having never asked. “What should I call you? What is your name?”

“You may call me Husband.”

I blanch. “We are not … married, are we?”

“
Th
ere must be a wedding first.”

I sigh with relief.

“As for your second question, I don't have a name. Perhaps … you can give me one.”

“What about…” I look past his shoulder to the mural of the dragon. “Yong?”

Th
e Sea God grimaces. “If you must…”

He looks so appalled, I can't help but smile a little. “I won't call you a name that displeases you. For now, Sea God will do. I venture no one else in two worlds has a name like that.”

“I do have a name. I just … I can't remember it.
Th
ere are so many things I can't remember.”

He peers down at his hands, and I'm reminded of what drew me to the Sea God in the first place. What must it be like, to be so alone? When I first saw him, I thought that I could protect him.

“When I sleep,” he says softly, “I have the strangest dreams.
Th
ere's a city of crimson and gold and a cliff and a dazzling light. And then there's pain, unbearable pain. But it's not in my bones—it's in my soul.” He lifts his pale hands to his neck, as if the words in his throat hurt him. “And in all of my dreams, I'm drowning.”

I move closer to him. He leans forward and places his head on my knees. “Mina,” he whispers, “will you tell me one of your tales?”

I shouldn't be surprised. For the Sea God, stories are both an escape from the truths of the world and the only way to see them clearly.

My hand hovers above the Sea God and then comes down gently upon his soft hair. I lightly brush back the strands that have fallen across his forehead.

Joon's favorite stories were always the ones I seemed to pluck like a leaf from the air to best fit our moods, whether we wanted to laugh or cry, stories about love, about hate, about hope and despair—all the truths we needed to hear.

I would close my eyes, let my mind wander, and tell him—tell
us
—a story from the heart.

“In a village by the sea,” I begin, “there lived a blind man named Shim Bongsa. He had nothing of material value, but he was content and happy, for he had his daughter, Shim Cheong, who he loved more than anything in the world. More than the warmth of a summer breeze, more than the sweet taste of honey in a cup of tea, more than the song of the sea as it kisses the shore. He was blind, but he saw the world, because the world to him was Shim Cheong.

“Now, in this village by the sea, there was a great storm. Many crops and livestock were swept away with the tide.
Th
e village elders gathered together and determined that the reason for the storm was because of the Sea God, who they say lived somewhere deep down in the great depths of the sea. In order to appease him, they decided to make a sacrifice.

“
Th
e previous day, Shim Bongsa had fallen into a ditch on his way home, and had broken his leg. Because of this, he could no longer work in the fields. Shim Cheong, hearing about the sacrifice the elders were preparing, volunteered. She would jump into the sea, if the village would provide rice for her father in her absence.
Th
e villagers quickly agreed, for Shim Cheong was kind and beautiful, a worthy sacrifice for a god.

“On the day of the sacrifice, she kissed her father on the cheek, and when she told him she loved him, she kept her voice steady so he wouldn't know that she was leaving him forever, and that she was afraid.
Th
e boatmen rowed Shim Cheong out to sea, and with one last prayer that her father live a long and prosperous life, she jumped.

“She went down, down into the dark depths. After a while, she didn't know whether she was dead or alive. Finally, her feet touched the bottom of the sea. Before her stood a magnificent palace. Coral formed the walls, and sea ivy grew up its grand towers. She stepped through the palace doors into a hall, catching sight of the Sea God sitting on a golden throne.

“He was a great sea dragon with a whiskered mouth and eyes so large and dark she felt they must hold all the wisdom of the world. Colorful fish of red, gold, and white floated all around him. Although fearful, Shim Cheong approached the throne, coming to stand before the Sea God with her chin held high.

“Shim Cheong would have been right in believing the Sea God was wise, for he could see all things. Looking into her heart, he said, ‘Your love for your father is beautiful and good. Because of your sacrifice, I will honor you above all others.' He summoned dolphins to come and wrap Shim Cheong in a gown woven of the flowers of the sea, and he sent her back up to the surface inside a beautiful lotus blossom, which bloomed in the court of the emperor.
Th
e emperor, upon seeing Shim Cheong, fell in love with her, and she with him. And shortly afterward, they were married.

“Meanwhile, Shim Bongsa roamed the countryside, searching for his daughter. Even though the villagers offered to take care of him, he declined, for as you can imagine, he was bereft. To him, he had lost the world.

“He heard of a great feast the emperor was hosting for all the blind men, women, and children of the kingdom, in honor of his new bride. Shim Bongsa made his way to the capital. He entered the palace, drawn by the sounds of laughter and music. A hush
fell across the hall, and the old man was curious as to what was happening. He heard the approach of light steps.
Th
e crowd gasped when the empress leaned down to embrace the old man.

“‘I have found you,' Shim Cheong said to her father. ‘You are home.'

“And Shim Bongsa, hearing the voice of his beloved daughter, wept tears of joy.”

As I finish the story, a spell of sleep falls over me.

I wake to a strange tugging at my wrist. I look down only to sit up abruptly.
Th
e Red String of Fate.

Shin.
I scramble to my feet.
Th
e ribbon leads me out the hall into the courtyard, where a figure stands alone, looking up at the starless sky.
Th
e Red String of Fate falters in the windless air. At the end of it is …

Th
e Sea God.