Page 1 of The Prince of Demons

Prologue

Luna was a mistake.

Her mother knew it from the moment she cradled her tiny, darling baby girl, with eyes as black as an abyss.

Her father knew it as soon as his one-night stand came running back into his life, sobbing and panicking.

All their friends knew it when the shotgun wedding invites went out.

But her mother was determined for Luna not to know it. From the second she came out of the womb, covered in skin so fragmented it mirrored her mother’s broken heart, she knew that her daughter was her fault, and her fault alone.

Never mind that the baby was so lovely, all her pets were entranced, despite Luna dissolving their collars. Or that she was so vibrant, she smiled at her mother more than any other child ever would, while sapping the electricity from the house. She was unplanned. Uncontrollable. Unruly. So, her mother had to overcompensate.

Luna’s mother bought toys, sang songs, and planned walks in the park with her newborn, showing her off to the world. Showing the world she was wanted. That it wasn’t the alcohol-fueled consequences of teenage naivety. She devised a list of excuses, of go-to-explanations whenever something died, or decayed, or disintegrated in her daughter’s presence.

She couldn’t tell her—couldn’t risk her precious child’s self-worth—by letting her know.

Her father, a very happy-go-lucky man, was happy to let his wife take over their strange baby. Her grandparents, able to do basic math, knew by her delivery four months after the wedding that she was not the first granddaughter they wanted. But in true Korean fashion, they always praised their daughter when questioned publicly.

Yet her mother knew, and she knew from the moment she felt the shadows swirling in her belly, that this baby was never supposed to exist.

So, when the time came for her Dol ceremony–Luna’s first birthday party and presentation to society—her mother knew it had to be spectacular.

Quietly, she was hopeful. Her husband said his entire family would be there. She had confronted her own family publicly, ensuring they’d attend. Everyone would be present, and everyone would celebrate the baby, because nobody would dare to call her a mistake with so many others around. Such was equivalent to declaring war between two groups who already hated each other, but united in their desire to one-up the other side.

By one year old, nobody had ever bothered to visit. Why would they? Each blamed the other for Luna’s existence.

Please, her mother hoped.

Please love her.

Luna’s grandmother would be there, and she’d never shown an ounce of love to her own ward. But this time would be different. Luna’s mother was determined for it to be so.

The Dol ceremony was deeply rooted in tradition, an occasion predetermined by the fates, designed to impress even the coldest of families.

Parents from around the neighborhood dressed their kids in their finest to observe. Grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins came to watch her in vibrantly colored hanboks. The traditional gowns swayed with the guests, splashing the room in bright bursts of color.

Above family, hidden in the chandelier where nobody could see, spirits also paid their dues and visited.

Traditional decorations of fans and paper lanterns adorned the room, hand-selected by the parents. Luna was placed down in the center of the room, an uncertain future ahead of her. It was a prosperous, auspicious celebration, a relic from ancient times.

The child’s community brought food. The family brought well wishes. Parents brought the sacred items.

As the room filled with anticipation, Luna’s eager parents propped her up on a mattress, raised slightly for everyone to see the spectacle. One by one, items were brought out to the smiling, oblivious baby.

The first was a rainbow rice cake, to prevent the baby from ever going hungry. A fine choice in ancient times, but unlikely to impress in the modern era.

A calligraphy brush came second, to symbolize intelligence and creativity. Her mother would have liked that one—everybody wanted to say their baby was brilliant.

Next, a shiny coin, to foretell great wealth and success. Luna’s father hoped for that one—having a good retirement plan would be nice.

Last, a long thread was presented, to imply an even longer life. It was skipped aside, tossed over as the least interesting of the options.

The family urged Luna to choose an item. Her relatives and neighbors looked on, peering over the crowd.

Her mother waved aggressively at the brush. Her father tipped the coin, hoping the glare would catch Luna’s eye.

What would the baby choose for her Dol ceremony?