To Gaze Upon Wicked Gods

Chapter Four

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I stared at my hands. Remembered how it had felt, the first time I killed someone. An accident on the hottest day of the summer. A moment that continued to haunt me, years later. I could still feel shimmers of his qi lingering within me. Felt Death's colors, burning.

Baihu's mercy was frayed, hanging by its last threads. What would he do if I turned down his proposition?

If I provoked his wrath, there was no telling what he might do. To me. To my family.

He had the power.

Was the blushing boy I remembered from when life was simple and free still there somewhere? Or had Baihu burned his former self to ashes when he pledged his allegiances to Rome?

The package in my hand was hefty. Enough to last Meiya through the next moon cycle. But was that enough time to wean her off the drug? Withdrawals were dangerous, deadly. An abrupt stop would put her life at risk.

We had to take this slow, give her body the time it needed.

I only hoped I could make this final supply last.

Outside, the sky had darkened from dusk to night. Baihu's office on Lotus Tower's top floor shone like a beacon, unnaturally bright, with its lights powered by humming electricity instead of candle flames.

I savored the sight—because next time I might not leave so easily.

If Baihu wanted to, he could use Meiya's life as leverage. Make sure no one in this city sold any opian to me. Force my hand in the cruelest possible way.

If he did that, I would kneel, do whatever he commanded of me.

He knew I would.

I owed Meiya too much to repay in one lifetime. Forget about murder. If Baihu asked my life for hers, I would surrender without hesitation.

If becoming a murderer meant keeping my sister safe, I would do it. But that didn't mean I wouldn't try and find another path first.

"Traitor," I muttered under my breath in a burst of rage. A small show of defiance—one he would never hear.

I hurried my steps. Grandma didn't like it when I got home after dark. I kept what remained of my coins deep in my sleeves, far from the reach of pickpockets, as I brushed shoulders with pedestrians and hollering traders. The night market was crowded with farmers hawking goods illuminated by bright lanterns. The atmosphere was chaotic but comforting. A dizzying array of distractions that helped me forget my worries and smile at the parents wandering with their children, lovers holding hands, friends linking arms.

Under the portal's ambient light and the Fence's shadow, the danger of war staled the air. Yet, happiness found root.

Sparse joys. All that we had left.

In the dark corners, plastered across the crumbling walls and peeling beams, red and black, were posters I had seen a thousand times before. Scattered in the streets, hurriedly pressed onto walls. But today, I paid closer attention.

Because a few days earlier, I had found a stash of these posters in Meiya's room.

Join the rebellion. The humiliation ends now.

Join the Phantom. Stand on the right side of history.

Across the continent, rebels disguised as martyrs and vigilantes risked their lives by ransacking opian shipments. Small retaliations. Useless in the bigger picture. These rebels, they died, they bled, they drained their magic for brief flames of fame and a sense of justice.