Prophecy (11 page)

“Greetings and felicitations!” The frail monk had a deep, melodious voice. He raised his arms expansively. “I am Master Roshi.”

The visitors sat cross-legged before the two monks.

“Master Roshi has been expecting you for a long time,” Brother Woojin said.

Kira caught her brother’s eye in surprise.

“Do not look so baffled, young ones. I knew this day would come in fulfillment of the Dragon King’s prophecy,” Master Roshi said.

“What do we have to do with the prophecy?” Taejo asked.

As Master Roshi began to relate the history of King Dang, the Dragon King, Kira detected the telltale signs of boredom on Taejo’s, Kwan’s, and Jaewon’s faces—twitchy lips, glazed eyes, the slight hunching of their shoulders. They’d all learned these stories as children. But Seung was enraptured.

Listening to Master Roshi’s melodious voice, Kira’s attention began to drift. The lanterns that illuminated the room seemed to dim, casting the room into shadows. As she contemplated the painted mural, she heard the others talking, but their voices sounded muffled. The scales of the golden dragon shimmered. A rushing sound filled her ears. The dragon reared up on its hind legs and flew off into the painted blue sky, the goddess still seated on its back.

In its place, a battle began to rage between humans and demons. The demons cavorted on a battlefield, dragging humans into the depths of an underground inferno. Kira sensed an evil presence waiting deep underground. She couldn’t see it, but it terrified her. A chasm broke through the field, pulsing like a living thing, sending blasts of hellfire everywhere. Kira couldn’t stand to watch anymore. She closed her eyes, but the scene played vividly in her mind. She glared at the painted skies. Where were the dragon and Gwaneum? Why weren’t they helping? Why had the heavens forsaken their people?

She felt a sharp poke from Kwan. The room was silent. Both monks were staring at her—Master Roshi with an expectant expression.

“What is it you see, young mistress?” he asked.

She blinked. The golden dragon and the goddess Gwaneum were looking down at her once again. Feeling dazed and peculiar, she shook her head. She’d never had a vision while she was awake before.

“I saw a nightmare,” she said with a shudder. “The end of the world.”

Master Roshi’s expression sobered immediately. “Yes, that is what awaits us if the daimyo is successful.”

Kira wished her father were there. She missed his wisdom and his strength. Her fingers dug into her thighs. She just couldn’t bear to believe he was gone.

Master Roshi took a sip from a small teacup. He gestured to Brother Woojin, who then continued the story.

“In order to prepare for this time, King Dang hid away his three most prized possessions: the tidal stone that controls the seas, the jeweled dagger that controls the earth, and the jade dragon belt. When reunited with the dagger and the stone, the belt will allow the wearer to control the fourteen dragons of the heavens and the powers of wind, rain, lightning, and all the other physical elements. The Dragon King’s treasures have not been seen for over a thousand years. We have made it our life’s work to study the prophecies and the possible location of the treasures.”

“I’ve never heard of them,” Kira said. “How do you know this is all true?”

Brother Woojin picked up the bundle of bamboo sticks Kira had seen in her father’s office. He untied and unrolled the scroll.

“It’s all written here in Master Ahn’s scriptures. While the original is kept safe in the temple, every monk is given a copy of the scriptures to study.”

“So you know exactly where the treasures are?” Kira asked.

Brother Woojin shook his head. “We only have theories.”

Taejo heaved a loud sigh. “I don’t understand,” he said. “Who is supposed to find the treasures and save the world?”

“Master Ahn believed it would be the Dragon Musado—our savior,” Roshi said.

Brother Woojin said, “The prophecy states, ‘Seven will become three. Three will become one. One will save us all.’ Master Ahn added the following: ‘But only in the hands of the Dragon Musado will the Dragon King’s treasures destroy the Demon Lord, wreaking the vengeance of the heavens on earth.’”

He passed the bamboo scroll to Kwan, who began to study it.

“The monks have long believed that the ‘one’ refers to a person, he who will unite all the kingdoms again. He will be the heir to King Dang’s throne—the Dragon Musado,” Brother Woojin said.

“Yes, but who is he?” Taejo asked.

“We do not know for sure,” Master Roshi said. “But we believe that he is a direct descendant of King Dang, for only a direct descendant would be able to wield the power of the three treasures.”

“I am a direct descendant,” Taejo said. “And so are Kira and Kwan.”

“Yes, and so are the kings of Guru, Oakcho, Tongey, and the Jinhan Kingdom,” Master Roshi cut in with a wave of his hand.

“So any of us could be the ‘one’ of the prophecy?” Taejo asked.

“It is possible,” Master Roshi agreed.

“I believe it is you, Your Highness,” Brother Woojin said.

Roshi looked sharply at him. “We do not know for certain who it is.”

“Your pardon, Master,” Brother Woojin said with an apologetic bow. “Let me explain my reasoning. Centuries ago, Master Ahn had a dream that he was to send his monks out to all the kingdoms and educate the royalty in the hope that one day, one of our monks would return with a prince who would be the savior of our lands. It was foreseen that a direct descendant of the Dragon King would arrive at the temple. He would be the one to defeat the Demon Lord. And now you are here. Master Roshi thinks that it is too early to know who the Dragon Musado is. But I have no doubts. And I believe that it is dangerous not to warn you of what is to come.”

Taejo’s mouth gaped at the pronouncement.

Kira could hear her father’s voice in her head: Why, I would be less surprised if you were the Dragon Musado instead of the prince. She wondered what her father would say if he were there. She felt a sharp pang of loss.

“Excuse me,” Jaewon said. “Why are Seung and I here? We are not part of this prophecy.”

Master Roshi and Brother Woojin seemed amused.

“My son,” Master Roshi said. “Your fate has led you here. Your destiny is now intertwined with that of your friends.”

Suddenly, Kwan leaped to his feet, startling Kira.

“Why would you assume that Taejo is the one? My brother, Kira, and I are also descendants!” Kwan said.

“None of you are royalty. The One will unite the kingdoms. He will be the future king. Prince Taejo is a direct descendant from both his maternal and paternal lines. King Dang’s blood runs deep in his veins,” Brother Woojin said. “He is the reason I went to Hansong.”

“Wait,” Kira interrupted. “Please forgive me, Sunim, but Prince Taejo is just a child! How can he be the Dragon Musado?
Musado
means ‘great warrior.’ It would make more sense if the Musado was our uncle, the king of Guru.”

“Kira’s right,” Taejo said, sinking down into his seat. “I’m not a warrior. I’m only twelve.”

“There is a chance that I am wrong. That is why, before the start of the last month, I will lead you to the Dragon King’s birth cave in the Diamond Mountains to seek out the first of the treasures. If I’m correct, then I believe the treasure will reveal itself to you as the true Dragon Musado,” Brother Woojin said. “Until then, you will stay here at the temple, where it is safe. The Demon Lord is also seeking the Musado. We must not let him find you.”

Kira caught sight of her cousin’s face.
Look at him, just a scared kid. How could they think he’s the Musado? He can barely take care of himself
.

She gave his arm a comforting squeeze. “Never fear, little cousin,” she said. “I will always protect you.”

As she rose to her feet, she caught Master Roshi’s intense gaze.

“Remember,” he called out to her, “unlike Brother Woojin, I am not convinced that the prince is the Dragon Musado.”

The next day they held a
jesa
, the ritual memorial feast for King Yuri
and General Kang. The three cousins dressed in white hemp funeral robes. They unbound their hair to signify their grief. The itchy fabric of the robe chafed at Kira’s neck and wrists, an added reminder of the pain of loss that always ached inside her.

The monks chanted in rhythmic harmony as disciples rang bells. Master Roshi raised his arms to the air and made an invocation to the heavens. He then invited Kwan to step forward as chief mourner.

Kira’s throat tightened. A new wave of grief washed over her as she watched her brother step into the role that her father had always played in memorial services for their ancestors.

The jesa rituals had never meant anything to Kira until now. Today, her father would not be there to help her light the incense. She would not hear his rich voice chanting the ancestral prayer and inviting the spirits to dine with them. Her mother would not help serve the meal afterward.

She missed her mother and worried about what was happening to her. Was she all right? Was she hurt? Was she still alive? It was the not knowing that agonized her.

When the temple bell began to toll, the monks led them through the doors and into the shrine.

Two altars stood side by side, piled high with five rows of food and a large bowl of rice wine at the end.

“Kira, Taejo,” Kwan called to them. “It’s time.”

From the small pouch she always wore close to her heart, Kira pulled out her little haetae. Kwan had inscribed the names of their father and uncle on paper mounted onto wooden tablets and positioned at the heads of the altars. She set the figurine in front of her father’s tablet while Taejo left a beautiful ivory-hilted dagger, an eleventh-birthday present from the king, in front of his father’s. Before each altar stood a large copper incense urn filled with sand.

They each lit a stick of incense and placed it in the urn. Long, smoky tendrils wafted up into the air in serpentine spirals. Kwan and Taejo poured cups of rice wine and placed them in front of the personal mementos. Kwan uncovered a rice bowl and stuck a pair of silver chopsticks into the rice, letting them stand like a pair of incense sticks. Taejo repeated the same movements on his father’s altar.

All of them stood and bowed twice before each altar, genuflecting completely, their foreheads touching the floor.

Suddenly, Kira heard a voice calling to her. Raising her head, she peered at her little haetae. It seemed to shimmer in the candlelight. Her father’s smiling face flashed before her.

“Father?” she whispered. “Father, are you here?”

The haetae continued to shine before her, as if in answer to her question. As if to tell her that everything would be all right.

My little tiger
.

Kira pressed her face against the cool wood of the shrine floor, and cried for her father.

Kwan left the next
day to search for Captain Pak. He was sure the captain and his men had survived the attack and would be seeking the temple. Since Kira needed to stay with the prince, Jaewon and Seung agreed to go with Kwan.

Kira found the valley quiet and peaceful and deadly boring. To keep herself busy, she trained with the monks. Their warrior-like drills were as rigorous as anything her father would put her and her brothers through. They didn’t use swords, and archery was only for target practice, but the monks were still dangerous foes.

As the only female, the monks had given her a small room at the very end of the dormitory building. She was a solitary person by nature, more inclined to listen rather than speak. It was not unusual for her to feel alone even in the most crowded of places. Her differences had always kept her apart. But a new kind of loneliness had crept into her soul. She missed the familiar normalcy of her life—the noisy training of the saulabi, the chattering gossip of the servants, the ebb and flow of the palace routine.

After seven days of forced confinement, Kira couldn’t stand it anymore. She had to get out. She went to find Brother Woojin.

The monk was in the garden, meditating under the shade of her favorite gingko tree. She sat cross-legged in front of him and waited for him to acknowledge her presence.

“Young mistress, how may I serve you?” he asked.

“Sunim, when will we be ready to seek the first treasure?”

He folded his hands in his lap. “The time is not yet right. We must wait until the end of the eleventh month of this year.”

Kira’s body sagged in disappointment. It was only the sixteenth day of the tenth month.

“I know it is hard for someone as used to action as you are to sit and wait, but the time will go quickly. You must be patient.”

She bowed in agreement, hiding her dismay. Cooped up like a prisoner within the temple walls, she felt sucked dry of energy and happiness. Desperate, she reached for any excuse she could think of to attain some freedom.

“Sunim, would it be all right to take the prince on a local hunt? It has been a while since we’ve had any meat, and I’d like to catch some game for us,” she said.

“Yes, it must be difficult for you meat eaters,” he said. “Although none of our monks can help you with your hunt, I will make sure you have a guide.”