At first Ruyi hoped she’d get used to the pain, the way hands grow calluses.

But she didn’t.

It only made her wish she’d never have to go through this again.

She was drowning in a boiling sea of hurt, tossed around by angry waves, lashed by seething acid rains; she felt a summer storm of the mind and there was a low rumbling, a crackling like thunder…

Later she learned she was lapsing in and out of consciousness for a week, mumbling incoherently. She was well past the point where she should’ve died. But her new body wouldn’t let her, even when her mind had given in. First it fought off the foreign demonic essence which had carved out their own strongholds in her; then, one by one, it healed every crushed bone, every ruptured artery, every torn muscle inside her.

It did all this with almost no demonic essence.

It should’ve taken hours. Instead it took a week.

She woke in darkness. Her hunger ate up all thought. She couldn’t see much but the smell overwhelmed her. She lunged, clawed, and her hands found a mound of bloodied meat. She began to chew with her bare hands. It splattered everywhere, on her tattered robes, on the stony ground. When she was done she licked the blood off her fingers.

Then she noticed where she was.

It was too dark to make out the room’s corners but she couldn’t go that far anyway—a dark lattice enveloped her. When she stalked over, pressing at it, she found it cold and unyielding. A cage.

But whose?

Where was Jin? Was he alright? Where was Mother? Had the guard caught her—the Emperor, even? Had she been taken by the demons?!

Why was she still alive?

She groaned. Her head was still made up of ten thousand tiny dots of pain, stitched badly together. She tried tugging at the bars with her fingers. Then she tried biting at them. She remembered being huge and powerful; she imagined fangs coming from her mouth and gnawing a hole in the steel, but when she bit down she did with human teeth.

It hurt so bad she was worried the teeth might fall out. The steel flared bright blue etchings, brightest where her teeth met the bar. It was enchanted—arrays ran across the cage’s length.

She hissed, backing away, massaging her gums, tonguing her teeth to make sure they were still there.

She thought about trying again, seeing if she could bite down with Lion’s teeth, but she was having trouble getting herself to do it. She didn’t want to hurt again. It was something in the gut, in the heart, a stabbing feeling.

It unnerved her. She thought she knew herself; she never used to flinch. What was wrong with her?

What else did she have?

They’d given her a water bowl. And a chamber pot.

She didn’t feel mad. Instead she just felt hurt. It didn’t make sense—why wasn’t she mad? She should be mad. All of the anger in her had burned her out; there was nothing in her to sustain it anymore. She was so tired...

It was wrong, all wrong.

She needed Mother. She needed Jin. Maybe even Sen, or Gao—

She flinched.

“Hello?” she said, but her throat only made half the word. It came out scratchy and mangled. “Hello?” There was no echo. No one was listening.

She sat, back to the cage, and curled into herself.

She didn’t even cry. She didn’t have it in her anymore. She just sat there, rocking gently in the dark.

***

A little square of light. She wasn’t sure how much later. Hours? Days? She watched it with dull eyes.

Someone was coming down. She saw the outline of his face against the glow—a familiar shape, tousled black hair—

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“Jin?” she whispered. She sat up. He had a spear strapped to his back—he’d come for her, to break her out!

“Jin!” She dashed to him, to the edge of the cage. She was so happy to see him she forgot what’d happened when they last met.

Until he plucked the spear off his back and leveled it at her, and she felt its phantom point carve into her throat. She choked, tripping over herself, landing in a pool of raw blood.

“Stay away from the cage,” said Jin.

“Jin?” she said, disbelieving. “It’s me.”

“When we were young,” said Jin. “Which game did we play most?”

She opened her mouth, but not to speak. She couldn’t believe what he was saying.

“What game?” he said, and the tip of the spear glowed white.

She scrambled away from him. “Please,” she croaked. “Please—please don’t—”

“What game?”

A diamond of steel the size of a fist, a point so small she couldn’t see it, only its cruel searing end. It was all she could see. He was asking her something—she ought to remember—she knew the answer, she could see the pieces, the board, what was it called, why couldn’t she remember?

“SPEAK!”

“I don’t know,” she managed to choke out. “Please don’t hurt me.”

He gave her a look of such utter contempt it went beneath the skin. He was not here to save her.

He climbed up the ladder and left her in the dark.

Now she found she could cry.

***

When he came next, it was with Mother.

“Chess,” she said to him. She had steeled her voice. She’d practiced saying it in the dark.

“What?” said Jin.

“The game.” She couldn’t meet his eyes; she was looking at the spear.

“Chess. You played the King’s Gambit.” She hated the voice her voice cracked.

He regarded her coolly. “Why didn’t you say so when I asked?”

Because you put your fucking spear in my face, you ass! She wanted to scream at him. A small want, dying fast. Then she was scared again. Her throat felt tight. She looked away. When she looked at him she didn’t recognize him; the Jin she knew was gentle, kind, caring. It was like he’d been possessed by a demon.

She almost couldn’t bear to look at Mother. When she did she wasn’t ready for the tenderness in her face; she hadn’t braced for it at all.

“Rue?” whispered Mother. She seemed tear-eyed. “Oh, Rue… what have they done to you?”

Mother reached out a hand, weakly. The hand dropped before it met the bar.

What did she say—‘what have they done?’

Did Mother think the Cult made her a demon?

“Mother,” she said, trying not to look at Jin, trying not to feel the weight of his gaze on her. “I’m… stable. I’m okay. Um. Who else knows about… me?”

“Just us,” said Jin stiffly.

She was flooded with relief. “Oh. Oh—that’s okay, then. Um. We don’t need to tell anyone, the Emperor, he doesn’t need to know, I can hide—”

“Hide?” said Jin, cutting in. His voice was harsh. “Hide, like you did from us?”

“…”

“The raw steaks? The puffy dresses? It was so obvious.”

“I’m cold,” mumbled Ruyi. “I… I don’t feel very good. Could you please let me out?”

“How long,” breathed Jin, and the threat in his voice broke her.

She hung her head. “Since the last Banquet,” she said.

“Marcus got to you months ago?” gasped Mother.

“No,” said Jin coldly. “No. I remember. Mei, the Cult, why you wanted to go to the Underground so bad… I remember. It all makes sense now. You’d changed long before. The Demon Lord didn’t do this to you. You did this. You wanted to become a demon. If I go search your lab refrigerators right now, what will I find, I wonder?”

Ruyi squirmed; she couldn’t seem to escape his gaze.

“Jin!” snapped Mother. “Rue’s been kidnapped. She’s not in her right mind. She doesn’t know what she’s saying. What do you think you’re doing?”

“Mother,” said Jin. “This isn’t the Rue you know. This is a demon wearing her flesh. She’s tricked you, just like she’s tricked me.”

Ruyi felt like he’d slapped her.

“Mother doesn’t know you, not really,” Jin told her, merciless. “I don’t know you. You did this to yourself. You made deals with the Cult. You betrayed Father, Mother, me. For what? Some—some petty power? You never could help yourself, could you? I never thought you had evil in you. I was wrong.”

“I don’t understand,” whispered Ruyi. She was trying very hard not to cry. “Why are you being so mean to me?”

“To think,” Jin snapped, talking over her—she’d said it so softly he didn’t hear her. Or maybe he just chose to ignore her. “I would’ve given my life for you.”

“It’s not what it looks like,” said Ruyi. Her voice sounded very, very small. “I can control it.”

“I’m sure,” said Jin. His face was closed, like Father’s; nothing she said mattered to him now.

“You don’t understand. You’ve never understood.” She sounded so pathetic. She was thirsty, her head was throbbing something fierce; why was she finding it so hard to be mad? Getting mad used to come so easy for her, but it was like she’d been wrung dry. She realized she’d always been like this—only she used to be able to use anger like a shield. Now she had nothing. She felt like he was taking a vicious delight in hurting her.

“You don’t know what it’s like,” she tried, desperate.

“Oh?” He crossed his arms. “Enlighten me.”

She opened her mouth, closed it, and burst into tears.

“Jin,” she heard Mother say. “That’s enough. Rue has made a poor choice. A very, very poor choice—”

“A poor choice?!” he sounded incredulous. “Are you serious, Mother?”

“I’ve known many, many demons. They’re not so different from us. At a certain level they’re as lucid and functional as humans. When she says she can control herself, I believe her.”

“If the Emperor found out—if he finds out—we could all be put to death! This isn’t your little girl, Mother. She’s turned! This is a demon! And you trust this—this—”

Jin was watching her sobbing, and he wavered. “I—You don’t get to just cry, and have us—”

“Don’t you think she’s suffered enough?” Mother had steel in her voice. “Human or demon, she is still my daughter. She should still be your sister. And you will not speak to your sister that way.”

Ruyi had never loved a person more in her entire life.

Jin ran a hand through his hair, made a frustrated sound. He shook his head.

“Dear?” Mother knelt by the cage, next to her. “Dear… for your own safety, maybe it’s best you stay in here. At least for a little while, just so we can make sure you’re okay. Jin and I will supervise you. We’ll get you all you need, alright?”

They left her shivering in the dark.