But there were consolations available to imugi who reconciled themselves to their fate. Like revenge.
The human was perhaps a little older than when Byam had last seen her. But she was still alive—alive enough to suffer when Byam devoured her.
Byam let its invisibility fall away. It spread its hands, the better to show off its magnificent sleeves.
It was the human's job that had given Byam the idea. Leslie Han was an academic, which appeared to be a type of monk. Monks were the most relatable kind of human, for like imugi, they desired one thing most in life: to ascend to a higher plane of existence.
"Leslie," crooned Byam in the dulcet tones of a celestial fairy. "How would you like to go to heaven?"
The monk screamed and fell out of her chair.
When nothing else happened, Byam floated over to the desk, peering down at the monk.
"What are you doing down there?" began Byam, but then the text the monk had been studying caught its eye.
"Oh my God, you're – " The monk rubbed her eyes. "I didn't think celestial fairies descended anymore! Did you – were you offering to take me to heaven?"
Byam wasn't listening. The monk had to repeat herself before it looked up from the book.
"This is a text on the Way," said Byam. It looked around the monk's office. There were rows and rows of books. Byam said slowly, "These are all about the Way."
The monk looked puzzled. "No, they're about astrophysics. I'm a researcher. I study the evolution of galaxies."
Maybe Byam had been dumb enough to believe it might some day become a dragon, but it knew an exegesis of the Way when it saw one. There were hundreds of such books here—more commentaries than Byam had seen in one place in its entire lifetime.
It wasn't going to repeat its mistakes. Ascension, transcendence, turning into a dragon—that wasn't happening for Byam. Heaven had made that clear.
But you couldn't study something for 3,000 years without becoming interested in it for its own sake.
"Tell me about your research," said Byam.
"What you said just now," said the monk. "Did you not – "
Byam showed its teeth.
"My research!" said the monk. "Let me tell you about it."
Byam had planned to eat the monk when she was done. But it turned out the evolution of galaxies was an extremely complicated matter. The monk had not explained even half of what Byam wanted to know by the time the moon rose.
The monk took out a glowing box and looked at it. "It's so late!"
"Why did you stop?" said Byam.
"I need to sleep," said the monk. She bent over the desk. Byam wondered if this was a good moment to eat her, but then the monk turned and held out a sheaf of paper.
"What is this?"
"Extra reading," said the monk. "You can come back tomorrow if you've got questions. My office hours are 3 to 4 pm on Wednesdays and Thursdays."
She paused, her eyes full of wonder. She was looking at Byam as though it was special.
"But you can come any time," said the monk.
§
Byam did the reading. It went back again the next day. And the next.
It was easier to make sense of the texts with the monk's help. Byam had never had anyone to talk to about the Way before. Its past visits with monks didn't count—Leslie screamed much less than the others. She answered Byam's questions as though she enjoyed them, whereas the others had always made it clear they couldn't wait for Byam to leave.
"I like teaching," she said, when Byam remarked upon this. "I'm surprised I've got anything to teach you, though. I'd've thought you'd know all this stuff already."
"No," said Byam. It looked down at the diagram Leslie was explaining for the third time. Byam still didn't get it. But if there was one thing Byam was good at, it was trying again and again.
Well. That had been its greatest strength. Now, who knew?
"It's OK," said Leslie. "You know things I don't."
"Hm." Byam wasn't so sure.
Leslie touched its shoulder.
"It's impressive," she said. "That you're so open to learning new things. If I were a celestial fairy, there's no way I'd work so hard. I'd just lie around getting drunk and eating peaches all day."
"You have a skewed image of the life of a celestial fairy," said Byam.
But it did feel better. No one had ever called it hardworking before. It was a new experience, feeling validated. Byam found it liked it.
Studying with Leslie involved many new experiences. Leslie was a great proponent of what she called fresh air. She dragged Byam out of the office regularly so they could inhale as much of it as possible.
"But there's air inside," objected Byam.
"It's not the same," said Leslie. "Don't you get a little stir-crazy when you haven't seen the sun in a while?"
Byam remembered the shock of emerging from its cave for the first time in 800 years.
"Yes," it admitted.
Leslie was particularly fond of hiking, which was like walking, only you did it up a hill. Byam enjoyed this. In the past 3,000 years it had seen more of the insides of mountains than their outsides, and it turned out the outsides were attractive at human eye-level.
The mountains were still polite to Byam, as though there were still a chance it might ever become a dragon. This hurt, but Byam squashed the feeling down. It had made its decision.
It was on one of their hikes that Leslie brought up the first time they met. They weren't far off the peak when she stopped to look into the distance.
Byam hadn't realised at first—things looked so different from human height—but
