Ryōgen Saitō had commanded close to a hundred before reaching Sen’s northern coast. Now he commanded fewer than thirty. Most had died in their struggle against the Demon of Shinkō, though pieces of the creature continued to burst from its victims’ bodies even a week after departing the coastal town. The remaining dead had succumbed to injury or infection; every survivor of Shinkō was left with open wounds that had been contaminated by others’ entrails. Among the Righteous, illness afflicted all.
They progressed along the coast at a steady pace. Despite all that had happened, it seemed the Monk Commandant intended to keep his word. The Clouded Sea lay to the East, and it was in that direction that they travelled. Lin couldn’t help but wonder why he hadn’t changed his mind. Was it some queer sense of duty, or was he simply eager to see her gone? She carried the blame for the deaths of his consecrators, after all. The appearance of the demon and the suffering of its victims were thanks to her alone. Ryōgen clearly carried some reverence for the Heavens in his heart. If he didn’t, she was certain she’d already be dead.
The days were quieter now. Most of the consecrators refused to speak with her, and since they’d killed the refugees she’d saved, Rie was her only company. Mitsuhide visited every once in a while to check on them, but only when his father had gone to sleep. It was through him that she learned Fuu had survived Ryōgen’s massacre in Shinkō, staging an escape mere moments before the demon’s attack. Lin could only guess at where the Jishu had headed. She’d never gotten a chance to speak with her. There was so much she’d wanted to ask her about: those thorn-drawn scars, Yu’s absence, the tragedy of Keisato, although a part of her yearned for nothing more than a friendly conversation.
Lin felt more lonely now than she’d ever felt in the isolation of Solace Valley. Kana had fallen into a sleep from which he’d never wake. His wounds had been too grave. She’d burned and buried him by the sea. Salt and smoke haunted her dreams. Whenever his face appeared in her mind, it was never the boy she’d grown to love. It was the boy she’d broken. A nervous, terrified wreck too afraid to sleep. A pale, empty corpse. She’d done that to him. And she could never take it back.
Crossing one horizon after another, the Righteous staggered on. The path to the Clouded Sea was not short, nor was it easy. Sen’s northern reaches boasted beautiful blue lagoons, rivers and lakes that sparkled under the summer sun, but that same sun could blister skin in less than an hour. Shelter was now a necessity for day as well as night. It seemed strangely fortunate that swathes of jungle masked the road through the mountains ahead of them, though there was no gratitude among the consecrators. In the day, they rode through the dense undergrowth while being eaten alive by insects. In the evening, they cleared space for their camp while being assailed by ants and biting flies. At night, they shared their tents with what must have been the entire animal kingdom, and their bodies were an endless larder. Lin missed Kana’s effortless ability to ward off whatever nature could throw at him. She remembered the peaceful nights they’d spent together, and then she remembered what she had lost.
The pests swarmed every hour, every minute and second. Their presence was a constant onslaught of buzzing, crawling, itching, biting. When they weren’t sucking blood, they were stinging. When they weren’t stinging, they were burrowing. A botfly larva found a new home in the leg of a man named Date about a week after they’d first entered the jungle. He’d caught and skinned a snake, then tied it around his thigh, covering the hole where the parasite hid away. It was a sound plan in theory, though Lin wasn’t sure whether it was the raw meat or the sudden lack of oxygen that would convince the larva to leave. The man didn’t account for Lin’s accursed blood, however. By the time morning arrived, Date was left with a stump in place of a leg. The snake had reanimated into a fiend and attacked him in the night. Little could be done to stem the heavy bleeding. He died at daybreak.
Night arrived and departed before Lin could bring herself to eat. She’d left her appetite in Shinkō, and now her stomach felt like a lead weight. Thoughts of food stirred feelings of nausea. Whenever she saw one of the consecrators eating, she half-expected their meal to come to life and devour them. Her parasite was alive- that much had been proven, but if that was true, then why did it refuse to speak with her? Why couldn’t she wield its power? She was a beacon in the darkness for the creatures of the Abyss, and without her vines, it was only a matter of time before they wore down her strength. The sealed wound beneath her navel still throbbed ceaselessly. Around it, painful cramps and twinges shook her body. She knew the cause didn’t lie with her injury alone. She’d suffered the same sensations before the struggle for Shinkō, after all. Back then, however, she’d simply assumed she was ill. Now, seeing the undeniable swell in her abdomen, the truth was obvious. Lin was pregnant. She had been for months. And then she’d taken a sword through her stomach. How likely was it that the child had survived?
This was for the best. She convinced herself of that, over and over. Caring for a baby wasn’t something she was capable of. Certainly not now, in the company of demons and self-righteous killers. Innocent blood soaked the path she walked upon. Wherever it led, there would be no room for peace. She was damned. Unfit to be a mother.
At times she felt sensations like movement, as if her baby was kicking from within. Was it her body’s rejection, she wondered, or had the lifeless child been possessed by a fiend? Horrific scenes invaded her imagination of an undead monster clawing through her stomach. She wished she could calm her thoughts, that she could recognise them as foolish worries, but they were not. It was a dangerously real possibility. Kana had suffered much the same. Lin tried to shut out the memories of that day in Shinkō, though they bombarded her all the same. She saw the boy’s dread and desperation as he realised his condition. She saw his panic-stricken face twisted by pain. Yukio Kanamori died in agony, and in terror. Would she be the same?
With time came a new valley of grief, deeper than she’d ever imagined. Lin hadn’t given much thought to families or futures even before Sio had dragged her from her home in Solace. Motherhood had been a faraway concept, one that existed in a different space from herself. Now she felt a strange emptiness, as though a piece had been stolen from her by an invisible hand. Beyond that feeling was a harrowing sense of guilt. The child was not hers alone. Whether a son or a daughter, it would’ve been the final remnant of Kana in this world. No longer. She’d failed them both.
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Lin was over halfway to her destination. From the home she’d built with Kana and Rie at Kōji Castle, she’d travelled hundreds of miles through spring and summer, all in hopes of attaining freedom. In the Clouded Sea was the City of Seventh. Kana had promised she’d find help there. In what form that help would be, she wasn’t sure, but as long as she could be freed from her parasite, it made little difference. A change needed to be made. In the last few weeks, a single, pervasive thought had begun to echo within her mind: hers was not a life worth living.
Dark feelings eroded her spirit like an enervating poison. Each night, as though trapped in the stands of a theatre, she watched the events of her past play out before her. The scenes flowed from one to the next without order or meaning. But that’s wrong, Lin told herself. There were reasons behind all of this. Otherwise, why would it have happened? Behind closed eyes, she bore witness to all she had done. Shades of regret and remorse dyed each memory. From that perspective, it felt like every decision she’d ever made had been wrong. Her life had been a long chain of mistakes.
From her shame bloomed that anguished desire for meaning. The things she’d done had to have meant something. Why had she made those choices? What was it she’d wanted? The more she thought about it, the less sure she became. Until their parting, she had obeyed Sio in spite of her doubts, because her life was devoid of anything else. Those she had killed had died for nothing. Those she had wished to protect had died for nothing. Only Rie remained, and she too had suffered terribly. It was Lin that had brought a demon to her home. It was Lin that had led her to Rosethorn instead of to safety. The little Daimyō had faced unimaginable horrors and endured grim wounds. If Lin’s wish had been to protect her, then she had failed miserably.
Had she been alone with the Righteous, she would’ve paid no attention to where their journey was taking them. She had no power, nor the drive to change it. With Rie to care for, however, she couldn’t afford such an attitude. It had been wrong to bring the young lady, just as it had been a mistake to follow the Righteous. Now that they had come this far, Lin needed to ensure the girl’s safety. She owed her that much, at least. Anything else was secondary.
The little Daimyō had been recruited for her healing gifts after Ryōgen’s medics succumbed to disease, and now spent her evenings among the violent killers of the Righteous. She rarely rested even at night. Lin couldn’t stand it. She’d tried to argue against Ryōgen, of course, but her bargaining power had been lost along with her vines. The Monk Commandant’s retort was delivered with a shrug; “It’s hardly the worst we could use her for.” At the time, she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Nothing had changed, however. That was just the kind of man he was. Loathsome. Carelessly vile. Rotten to the very core.
In comparison, what kind of woman was she? Unlike him, she held no foundation of ideals, no morals to bear the weight of her sins. Lin Ko was empty, purposeless. With Sio’s vines, she’d been able to fill that void with a false sense of power. Bullying her way through the Righteous like a lofty empress had been the easiest thing in the world. She felt like she’d grown, because she was now strong rather than weak. Beneath that hypocritical mask of strength, however, she was unchanged- small, hollow, and pathetic. That had been proven well enough.
What now, then? What am I supposed to do? What course of action could transform her from herself to someone she admired? With everything Lin had done, she was already halfway to becoming a monster. Yet, if that was true, it also meant there still remained something else in her heart. Some kind of innocence, perhaps. A hope that, despite everything, there might still be a way to find happiness. The way forward was not a sudden, drastic change. It was to continue onwards, with an important question in mind. Who am I? To answer that question, she needed to answer another. Who do I want to be?
At face value, the questions were too large, the possibilities limitless. Beneath the surface, they were as simple as a two-faced coin. She could either live the coming days as her usual self, or with the intent of betterment. How convenient it would be, she thought, if such a small difference was enough to draw a line between redemption and damnation. She didn’t know what lay ahead. But she couldn’t keep living like this.
Eventually, the jungle broke, giving way to sand and sea. These were not the same waters they’d travelled alongside before the mountains. The Channel of Sen had sported waves of shimmering azure, its depths strikingly clear. Here, the sea was opaque even in the shallows. Like a dark sludge, more green than blue, it couldn’t be pierced, no matter how bright the sunlight. A misty haze lingered above, almost unmoving despite the breeze. This was the Clouded Sea Kana had spoken of. She was sure of it.
Unexpected company awaited beyond the jungle’s verge. He was alone, save for the scrawny horse standing by his side. A frayed scarf and fishing hat obscured most of his face. The remainder of his gaunt features revealed a grave weariness, as well as something more- they were familiar. Lin knew this mess of a man. His name was Shōren.
She spurred her horse forward, but Ryōgen was already ahead of her. He offered his usual greeting to the man before them in a voice like grit. “Explain yourself.”
“To what end?” asked Shōren. “I have no business with you.”
Ryōgen snorted. “When given an order by a consecrator of the Righteous, it is your business to obey. Who are you? What are you doing here?”
Shōren’s gaze did not waver. “I have no business with you, Saitō. That is all.”
Lin expected the Monk Commandant’s reply to come in the form of a swinging blade, but he didn’t attack, nor did he say a word. He rode past Shōren, giving him a wide berth, then circled back around. The colour had gone from his face. “My lord,” was all he could utter. His eyes were upon the ground, not daring to raise his head.
Shōren took no notice. His attention had never left Lin. She felt a cold curiosity from his piercing stare, and though only slight, there was something more. It was pride. “I’ve come to escort you, Lin Ko. We’re needed at the Dragonsmouth.”
“Is it hungry?” Lin asked out with a half-laugh. She wasn’t sure why she’d said it. The joke was awkward and out-of-place, but still, Shōren smiled. It was an expression that didn’t suit his face.
“You’re still you, after all. I’m glad. Keep yourself, so that this world does not change you. This calm will not persist much longer.”
“Calm?” she asked, and almost scoffed. “What are you talking about?”
“You will learn soon enough. The winds of change are foul and noxious. It’s time you rejoined your mother.”