Xau woke in the rocking wooden cabin of the ship, his guards about him, his sheets twisted, soaked in sweat. He shook, and could not stop from shaking, could not speak, could not answer his guards. Tsung stood over him, an oil lantern swinging in his hand. Xau stared up at its small and insufficient light. The ship a scrap tossed atop vast darkness. Above the dark ocean, above the swinging lantern, unbounded night. Gan and Shuen lit more lanterns, brought them near, but it was Li who lifted Xau in his arms, who carried him out onto the rocking deck. Before them, the waxing moon and all the patterned stars hung over the sea. The darkness broken. The demon dead.

(First published in Star*Line)

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