The Last Fallen Star: Chapters 15–22

I turn my head to discover him in a chair to the left of me. His is also made of wicker, which makes me feel like we should be on a porch drinking iced tea.

The room isn’t big, and it’s devoid of any furnishings besides our two chairs.

I have no idea where all this bravado is coming from, but thinking of what these cursed witches did to Emmett’s mom is enough to light a fire in my gut.

Emmett blanches and I scream, “No!”

“How are you doing that?” I ask, incredulous.

They were valiant and loyal scholars who passed away protecting our clan.

So I hunker down and give her the highlight reel of my life.

Sora and Taeyo lead me through the trees until we get to a sparser part of the forest that opens onto a lake.

“Some of our best scholars programmed a biochip that can be inserted into the wrist and do the job of a Gi. Without the need for divine intervention.”

“She died in the attack you guys orchestrated.”

A part of me still wonders if the Horangi have fabricated this entire story in order to get their own hands on the last artifact.

“I mean, beggars can’t be choosers, and we’re not exactly flush with leads.”

He is completely oblivious to Emmett’s sarcasm, and for some reason, that makes me warm to him.

Sure, Taeyo’s vibrant color palette is a world away from Emmett’s all-black uniform, but there’s an earnestness about the guy that makes him easy to be around.

“It’s kinda like a ghost-whisperer app. It puts out a beacon to gwisin. If they match with someone who’s willing to help them, they’ll finally get to pass into the Spiritrealm. Hopefully, anyhow.” “No way.” I am genuinely impressed by both his altruism and his coding ability.

I shake my head dubiously.

Taeyo complies, and we wait with bated breath.

We take off our shoes and follow Jennie through the main foyer, which is huge, with double-storied high ceilings and a fancy chandelier.

Jennie leads us into a side parlor room with lavish gilded couches. It looks like something out of a K-drama where the parents are the rich, stuck-up owners of an international company.

Jennie leads us into a side parlor room with lavish gilded couches. It looks like something out of a K-drama where the parents are the rich, stuck-up owners of an international company.

She looks at me and glowers.

He just helped a gwisin find peace, and by the look of things, he helped Jennie find solace, too.

She could’ve been the one working with the council, the one who coveted Sookhee’s position as elder, so she could get her hands on the artifact.

When Emmett frowns, David quickly adds, “They’re totally natural and non-addictive. I help my mom make them for the Gom clinics around town.” When I corroborate David’s claim, Emmett accepts the vial and swigs it in one go.

Emmett nods imperceptibly.

Jennie doesn’t nod or agree, but she doesn’t give me the snide comeback she normally would, either.

She was so breathtaking that bachelors would line up at her door each day for a chance to win her hand. But she was young and vain, and careless with her affections. So one day, a scorned lover—who happened to be a Gumiho illusionist—cursed her to become an ugly, human-headed bird.

A third of Hattie’s heart has now decayed, and the sight of it gives me the impetus for what I need to do next.

As he works on a minuscule chip with tiny tweezers and pliers, his movements are so painstaking, I have to stare at him for a good ten seconds to make sure he’s a human and not a robot.

I wince at the insinuation I could be deemed faulty.

She is now angrier than ever, having been singed, squashed, and scraped by the others.

I try to relax and stoke the flame.

“I know it isn’t fair, child,” she croons, “but we can’t all be heroes."

It isn’t fair that Hattie was taken as collateral because I got greedy.

I look her in the eye with as much calmness as I can muster.

Somehow I manage to get to the waterside unscathed, and when I’m sure I’m not going to get mauled, I put the petals on a flat stone and use a smaller rock to grind them into a paste.

I scoop up the salve and carefully make my way toward the bird-woman once more.

I ponder what a fitting name for this formidable bird-woman might be.

She tests out the new word in her avian mouth.

It’s not as regal as an initiation at the gifted temple with all the elders and the entire congregation watching. I didn’t even get to wear a cool bear crown or dress.