The Girl Who Fell Beneath the Sea (24 page)

 

Back in the alley, the
boat crumbles into dust, drifting from my hand in swirls.

“It is done,” the goddess says. “By now, the Sea God and the emperor will have regained their memories, of who they were, of who they are, as well as the people caught in the power of the wish.”

I can still feel the memory on my skin, the salt-kissed air, the sweep of the dragon through the sky, the Sea God. Shin.
Th
ey are one and the same. In order to save the emperor's life, Shin gave the emperor his soul, the dragon. Now I understand how I could share a Red String of Fate with both the emperor and Shin, as for a hundred years, their soul was one.

“How did you know?” the goddess asks. “
Th
e memory only confirmed what you already suspected.”

How did I know? I think of all the pieces I've gathered up until now—Shin, who lost his soul and his memories with it; the Sea God, who seemed less like a god and more like a boy caught in a terrible nightmare. But mostly I knew …

“Because I am the Sea God's bride, and Shin is the one I love.”

After a pause, the goddess sighs. “Well, I can admit defeat when bested. But regardless of who bears the soul of the dragon, he can be overthrown. Hurry back to your Sea God, little bride. Let him know to expect a visit soon from the Goddess of Moon and Memory.”

I study the goddess. Her face is flushed, her eyes bright with triumph. Yet, when I asked to see the memory, she'd already had it with her, waiting to be given. Somewhere in her heart, she had wanted me to see the memory. She had wanted me to discover the truth.

“If it's power you desire,” I say, “then there's a better way to have it than battling the Sea God.”

She arches a brow, her expression disbelieving. “And what way is that?”

“
Th
ere is no goddess more beloved than the one who protects children.” I think of the young mother who made the wish beside the stream, and the many before and after her who misplaced their hope in an indifferent goddess. “Yet I've met the Goddess of Women and Children … and I've never met a goddess more unsuitable for such an honored role.”

“Are you saying that
I
should become the Goddess of Women and Children?”

“It would surely give you the power that you seek. For if it is true, and gods gain power through the love of their people, then you will have much, for the love given to and received from children is the most powerful love in the world.”

Th
e goddess watches me with a guarded expression. “But why do you think I would be suited for such a role?”

I think of my grandmother, who, after my parents and my grandfather passed on to the next life, raised my brothers and me on her own. I think of Mask, my fierce great-great-grandmother, who protected and guided me throughout my time in the Sea God's realm. I think of the goddess standing before me, who protected Dai from the Imugi, who shed tears for my sister-in-law and her child, who sent the moonlight to guide me home.

“Because, like the women in my family, you have the wisdom of a crane, the heart of a tiger, and the goodness and love that only a goddess who treasures children can have. It's a heavy burden to be a goddess so beloved, but I believe you of all can bear it.”

Th
e goddess quirks a brow, a subtle movement, but it's there. “Your belief is strong. You make it difficult to deny your words.”

“I'll make it easy for you,” I say, already turning to leave, shouting over my shoulder. “Just believe in it, too!”

It's quiet in the city, the atmosphere similar to how it was the first time I entered the Spirit Realm, but without the fog. Magic hangs thickly in the air. It's as if the city and all its wondrous inhabitants are holding their collective breath. I wipe the back of my arm against my eyes, dislodging the tears gathered there.
Th
ey started when I left the goddess and haven't stopped since. But I have to stop them now. I need to be strong, stronger than I've ever been before.

I follow no Red String of Fate.
Th
e path I take is the one I know.

I know this city, and I know its many streets—its gardens, its canals, its alleys, its people.
Th
e main boulevard leading to the Sea God's palace is empty.
Th
e gates are flung wide. For the last time, I climb the steps and walk through the doors.

I run into Namgi and Kirin in the first courtyard.

“Mina!” Namgi races up to me, grabbing me in a strong embrace. I hug him back just as fiercely.

“You're here!” I shout. “I was so afraid I wouldn't see you before—”

“Mina, something extraordinary happened!” Namgi says. He leans back, and I get a good look at his face.
Th
ere's joy there, and wonder. “We know
everything
, about the emperor, about the Sea God.
Shin
is the Sea God! Can you believe it?”

“Where is he?” I ask.

“In the hall. We arrived right before you.”

Kirin approaches from behind Namgi, his always astute eyes watching me carefully. “What were you saying, Mina?
Th
at you wouldn't see us before…?”

I release Namgi, stepping back. “We might have regained our memories, but the effects of the emperor's wish are still upon us. For a hundred years my people have suffered from the storms—this is true. But also, because of the absence of the emperor, our country has been embroiled in constant wars. In order to have lasting peace, we need both the emperor and the Sea God returned to us, and there's only one way that can happen.”

Kirin catches on quickly. “You have to make a wish.”

“But…” Namgi glances between us. “A wish like that is just as powerful as the emperor's. Anything could happen. Should you make a wish to send the Sea God and the emperor back to where they belong, it's possible that not only Shim Cheong, but
you
will also be sent back, as neither of you have become spirits yet.”

“It's the only way,” I say softly. “Namgi, you once asked if I was a bird or a bride. I think I am both and more.
Th
ough to you, I'd like to believe I am a friend.”

“
Th
e very best,” Namgi says, choking back tears.

“And, Kirin.” I turn to the silver-eyed warrior, so steady and loyal. “I don't have faith in anyone as much as I do you when it comes to Shin's safety and well-being. You are the most trustworthy of companions.”

“You honor me,” Kirin says quietly.

Before I break down entirely, I turn from them, fleeing through the next set of doors. In the courtyard before the Sea God's hall, I find the dragon. It fills the entirety of the large space, its restless body beating against the walls. At the sight of me, the dragon goes still.

I step forward, locking gazes with the great beast. Its sea-dark eyes seem familiar to me, and I'm enveloped in a feeling of safety and warmth. Stepping between its feet, I pass beneath its massive jaw.
Th
e heat of the dragon's breath warms the top of my head.

Once past, I turn back, and hold out my hand.
Th
e dragon lifts one of its claws and places the pearl gently into my palm. It's
the size of a pebble. Curling my hand around it, I hurry up the short steps into the Sea God's hall.

“Shin!”

He's slumped on the floor halfway down the hall. I rush forward and fall to my knees beside him.

“You know the truth now,” he says, “of who I am, of what I've done. I am the Sea God. I am the one who takes and never gives.” His voice is filled with a bitter agony.

My heart aches for him. For a hundred years, his people have suffered, the people he was sworn to protect. For Shin—stalwart, loyal, devoted—it must feel like the greatest betrayal of his soul.

“No,” I say firmly. “You're the one who saved the emperor. You gave your soul to him when he was dying, the soul of a god. You knew only that amount of power could save him.”

“I remember,” he whispers, turning to me. “On a cliff by the sea, he made a wish to live.” He gazes at me with such vulnerability and wonder, and I realize, as much faith as I have in him, he has in me. “What happens now, Mina?”

I lift my hand between us, opening it slowly to reveal the pearl inside. “I make a wish, and restore you and the emperor to your rightful places.”

“And you?” he asks quietly. “In the story of the woodcutter and the heavenly maiden, she was sent back to the place where she longed to be, to her family. Is that what you want?”

My heart is breaking. Because his words call to a longing inside me. I want to see my family, my grandmother and brothers, to know they're all right, to give a proper farewell. I want to work alongside the villagers in sowing new life into the fields, in
building homes that last. I want to see the trees grow tall. I want to see my sister-in-law give birth to a healthy child. But just as much as I want all these things, I want Shin all the more.

I love him.

“A year,” I say. “Come to me in a year and ask me the same question.”

Shin's gaze returns to me, and I see in his eyes all the words that he can't say—that he loves me, that he wants me to stay, but that he's just gotten back his soul, and he needs to discover who he is as the Sea God, for himself.

“Wait for me,” he says, “where the land meets the sea.”

Th
e pearl begins to glow in my palm, warm to the touch. Shin covers my hand with his, gripping tight.

“I wish for the world to be as it should be,” I whisper, “the emperor restored to his rightful place, and Shin to be as he once was, the Sea God and protector of our people.”

Th
e last thing I hear is Shin's voice, calling out to me.

I love you. Wait for me, where the land meets the sea.

 

I wake to sunlight in
my eyes. I'm lying at the edge of the pond in my family's garden, with Shim Cheong beside me. Everything appears as it was a month ago.
Th
e earthenware pots line the back of the garden, packed with soybeans fermenting for the winter.
Th
e nesting ducks squawk from the reeds. Across the garden is my home, with its thatched roof and wooden walls.

Th
e back door slides open.

“Mina!” My grandmother races across the lawn, Joon close behind her. I scramble to my feet in time to catch her as she throws her arms around me. “Oh, Mina, my love, my beloved granddaughter.”

I hold her close, my tears flowing freely. Beside us, Joon gathers Cheong to him, kissing her soundly.

From around the house run Sung and Soojin. My grandmother lets go of me, and I'm caught up in my eldest brother's embrace.
Th
en Soojin gently hugs me, smelling like hibiscus and the pears she must have peeled only minutes before. And then I'm in Joon's arms, and maybe it's all the memories of when he
used to comfort me when I was little, when I scraped my knee, when the other village children teased me for my uncouth ways, but I start to cry great hiccuping sobs.

I'm just so
relieved
that they're safe.

Later, I'll tell them what happened in the Spirit Realm, how I jumped into the sea, and how I woke to a world of fog and magic.

I'll tell my grandmother that I met
her
grandmother, who called herself Mask and hid her face from me, because she knew if I looked upon her, I would know who she was. And I'll tell all of them about Grandfather, how he protects Miki, barely letting her out of his sight. I'll describe to Soojin and Sung how happy Miki is, and how she has Sung's joyful personality and Soojin's wits and beauty.

I'll tell them of Namgi, Kirin, and Nari, Shiki, and Hyeri …

And of Shin. How tall, not very frightening, and honorable he is. How he saved me over and over again, as himself, and as the dragon. And how much I love him.

But right now, I say none of these things.

After a while, we break apart, only for Cheong to gasp, “Mina, look!”

Blossoming pink and gold across the pond, like great stars fallen to earth, are a thousand lotus flowers in full bloom.

I thought the changes would come gradually, but in the weeks following my return, the effects of my wish echo across the land.
In places where the storms uprooted trees, saplings sprout overnight. Farther inland, where the droughts dried up the streams and rivers, water appears to fill the empty channels, soon teeming with fish and fowl. And even more wondrous, rumors sprinkle from the war-torn north that any weapon raised with the intent to harm crumbles into dust.

And then there are the small miracles. Neighbors working side by side to restore the land, planting crops and sharing time and labor. Small children in my village assisting the elderly to rest beneath the shade of the great pine trees as they play by the sparkling brook. Every week, I lead a band of women into the forest to dig for roots and gather berries and herbs. Sometimes we're so long in the forest that night falls, but we're never afraid, for always a path of moonlight appears to lead us back home.

Yet the most extraordinary miracle I only hear about a month after my return. A royal messenger arrives from the capital. Standing atop a barrel by the village well, he delivers a message that is more like a remarkable tale than a proclamation:
Th
e emperor who vanished a hundred years ago has appeared by magic on the steps of the palace, having not aged a day.

“Where has he been all this time?” the village elder asks, voicing all our surprise.

“He has no memories of where he was,” the messenger replies. “But many believe he was in the Spirit Realm, protected for a hundred years by the Sea God himself!”

Th
e villagers gasp, their eyes naturally turning to Cheong and myself, where we stand at the back of the crowd. I wonder what it must be like for the emperor, to have woken from an enchanted
sleep after a hundred years, remembering nothing of the time he spent as the Sea God. For someone who loved stories so much, he now plays a part in one of the greatest of all.

“He's won back his palace with the help of the great-grandsons of his former followers,” the messenger continues, “and is working to restore peace and order to the land as we speak.”

A cheer goes up at this wondrous news.

After the messenger's proclamation, many villagers approach Cheong to thank her for her great deed, and she glances at me with a look of resignation. I shrug, smiling at her.

We noticed it a few days after our return, that most of the villagers believed it was Shim Cheong who ended the curse upon the Sea God, as she was the last bride to be sent down—and the only one, besides me, to have returned. At first horrified, she tried to correct the many well-wishers, but I told her that I didn't mind. And I don't mind, truly. After all, in the last story I told the Sea God, Shim Cheong
was
the Sea God's bride.

Seasons pass, and come spring, Sung and Soojin welcome a child into the world. Her great-grandmother names her Mirae, in honor of her bright future.

As spring blends into summer, I start to make the walk down to the beach. My family notices and, guessing the reason, makes preparations for my departure. My grandmother and sisters sew me a beautiful dress with fabric procured from their own gowns, both to honor me and to remember them by. My brothers fashion me a dagger—Joon carves a magpie into the hilt—to join my great-great-grandmother's knife.

Exactly one year after I arrived back in the world above, I'm
waiting on the beach, my family surrounding me, when the sun sets and the moon rises. Shin doesn't appear.
Th
e next day we return to the beach, and then the next, and the next, until it's only me who waits every day by the sea as summer turns to fall.

First confusion clouds my thoughts, then doubt that he ever loved me, then understanding. Because if the emperor lost his memory when his soul was returned to him, then likely Shin did as well.

Fall turns to winter, and the following spring the same messenger comes back, surprising us all by declaring that the emperor has plans to travel to our small village in order to celebrate the anniversary of his miraculous return. A festival to honor the Sea God is to take place, first in the village and then on the cliffs by the sea, and the villagers rejoice.

Soon caravans arrive from the capital, bringing with them noblemen and court ladies whose servants pitch elaborate tents in the fields, exciting the children and setting the elders to grumbling.

For weeks, the whole village prepares for the emperor's arrival, stringing up lanterns in the eaves of the buildings in the village square and between the branches of the trees that line the pathway up to the cliffs.

Cooking fires blaze far into the night, and the loud banging of iron against wood can be heard from sunup to sundown as roofs are repaired and new buildings constructed to accommodate the
hundreds of merchants and craftsmen who flock to our village in hopes of enticing the nobles.

Th
e seaside temple dedicated to the Sea God is restored to its former glory, and an artisan is commissioned by the village to paint a mural of the dragon on the wall, surrounded by ninety-eight lotus flowers, to honor every bride sacrificed to save our people.

Th
e hard work makes me wistful for the magic of the Spirit Realm, but it's also a welcome distraction from when my thoughts turn heavy, the longing I feel like a splinter in my heart.

Th
e morning before the festival day, there's a loud commotion outside our home. Cheong and I look up from where we sit by the hearth, picking the tails off bean sprouts.

“What's that?” Cheong says.

I listen carefully. “Circus performers?”

“Maybe it's the eldest Kim son again,” Cheong teases. “He is quite determined to claim your favor.”

I fling a bean sprout in her direction. “I'm only eighteen. I won't get married for another ten years, at the least!”

Th
e door slides open, and Joon rushes in. We watch as he leans against the doorway, panting. He opens his mouth, closes it. Opens it again. No words come out.

“Joon, my love,” Cheong says patiently. “Who has come to visit, making all that ruckus? Are those drums I hear?”

“
Th
e emperor,” Joon says, breathless. “
Th
e emperor has come.”

Cheong stands abruptly, eyes widening. “To the village?”

“
To our home!
He's right outside the gate.”

Time seems to slow. Cheong's and Joon's excited voices become incoherent murmurs. Cheong rushes to tell my grandmother and
Soojin, while Joon runs into the garden to get Sung. I look down to see the bean sprout I've been holding is now crushed in the palm of my hand.

We gather in the small courtyard of our house. Sung and Soojin holding Mirae at the head, then Joon and Cheong, then my grandmother, and, lastly, me.

Our servant, an elderly woman we hired after Mirae was born, opens the doors.
Th
e emperor strides through our small wooden gate. I try to see the Sea God in him, that scared, sorrowful boy, but he's no longer there.
Th
is man with his straight back and proud stance is like the young man from the memory, the one who faced death on a desolate cliffside and made a wish to live. He sweeps his gaze over us. His eyes meet mine, and I immediately lower my head.

I hear Sung approach him. “Your Majesty. You honor us with your presence.”

When the emperor doesn't speak, Sung says tentatively, “May I offer you some refreshment?”

“No,” the emperor says, and even his voice sounds different, deeper and more commanding. “Please introduce me to your family.”

Sung hesitates for only a moment. “
Th
is is my wife, and my daughter.”

I can hear the tread of their boots. “My brother and his wife, Shim Cheong. You might have heard—”

Th
e emperor must make a sign of impatience because they move down the line. “My grandmother,” Sung says.

Th
ey stop before me. “And my sister.”

I look down at the emperor's shoes.

“What is your name?”

I swallow thickly. Why is he here? He should have no memories of me. I am a stranger to him. His hand takes my chin and lifts my face.

“Your Majesty,” I say. “My name is Mina. I am the daughter of the Song family.”

“Mina,” the emperor says, in that deep, unfamiliar voice. “Will you walk with me? Perhaps, in your garden?”

I look to my family, who all stare at me with wide eyes. “Of course, Your Majesty.”

We head into the garden, his back to me. He's different from my Sea God. He has broader shoulders and a warrior's height. He wears a sword at his side, and his hair is longer. A strange longing for my Sea God builds inside me. I realize—he no longer exists.
Th
e thought brings me to tears.

Th
e emperor turns. He's silent as he watches me cry. I expect to see confusion, or perhaps disgust, on his features. But he looks … almost relieved, as if my tears prove to him a doubt in his mind.

“Mina, I apologize for coming to you like this. I realize this must be very … unexpected. I just—I needed to see you.
Th
e truth is…” I can see the apple in his throat moving. He's nervous. “
Th
e truth is that I dream of you.”

I blink. “You … what?”

“I have nightmares. A memory of … of loneliness. Of a terrible helplessness against an overwhelming fate.
Th
e only
constant is you. You're in all my dreams. Showing me the way out of the darkness.”

Th
e emperor takes my hand and lifts it to his mouth. His lips are warm against my skin. His eyes, when they find mine, are like the Sea God's. Like my Sea God, that lost boy, who until this moment, I didn't know I missed so powerfully. “Will you marry me, Mina? Will you be my bride?”

Later in the evening, Joon and I walk through the garden. In the past year, we haven't had much time to spend together, just the two of us. Joon has a family now, with Shim Cheong, and her father, and someday children, if they're so blessed. And although I will always be in his heart, he must think of them first. As he should.

Joon sighs. “I can't believe the emperor is here. In our
house
. And that he wants to
marry
you.”

“It is … quite unbelievable,” I say.

He nudges me with his shoulder. “And you told him, ‘Let me have the night to consider.' My sister, telling the emperor of our country that she will
consider
his proposal.”

Joon chuckles, adding beneath his breath, “I will admit, though. I feel bad for the eldest Kim boy.”

We head to the pond, leisurely walking around the border. We're both quiet, lost in our thoughts.
Th
e ducks swim lazily in circles. When a cloud passes over the moon, I yawn. “Let's go inside.”

“Wait,” Joon says, calling me back.
Th
ere's a troubled expression on his face.

“Don't worry,” I say. “I won't make any rash decisions. I will either choose to marry the emperor, or I won't. Nothing or no one can force me.”

He shakes his head. “No, it's not that…” He looks at the ducks on the pond. “I guess most brothers would be happy to have an empress for a sister. And I am happy for you. Or at least, I would be if…” He turns from the pond to look at me, his eyes searching.

“What are you saying, Joon?”

“
Th
is past year, ever since…”