Cyrus tried to calm the ringing in his head. To no avail.

  Where was he?

  The last thing he remembered was…

  The semi-finals. His last chance to make the Olympics. The ball landing in the pocket of his lacrosse stick. That unfair hit from behind –

  That unending space. Things dancing in the dark. A shooting star that called his name.

  A flash of pain caused him to shy away from the remembering. There were voices around him, and people shouting. He was able to make out bits and pieces of their much too loud concern.

  “Is he waking up?”

  “Where are his horns?”

  A sucking-in of breath. “Father, look at his dantian, and his meridians! They’re glowing!”

  “Qi deviation?”

  “Song, deviate?? Impossible!“

  “Go fetch the physician!”

  “No! What if it’s an Inner Demon! Wait –”

  “Aghh, would you shut it for a minute,” Cyrus moaned, curling into the fetal position and covering his ears with his hands. “I’m getting up!”

  Blessed silence.

  Cyrus peeked an eye, and it peeled open with some amount of effort. It revealed four men standing around him in a tight circle. They all had black hair and a tanned asian complexion and were dressed like something out of his grandma’s period dramas, with those white flowing robes. Or for a funeral. His funeral?

  And they all had horns!

  “God. I’m in Hell,” Cyrus groaned again, closing his eyes and burying his head in his arms. Yes, this had to be hell. There was smoke, and the faint scent of brimstone – or was that sandalwood?

  Hell, Home Hardware, it was all the same.

  “I don’t think it’s an Inner Demon?” The tallest of the four, a butch kung-fu looking dude said. “Surely one of them would feel more… dangerous?”

  “Hell?” The thickest of the four, some giant old demon with massive ram horns, a long beard, and a scarred face repeated back. “God? You speak in riddles, boy.”

  “Did you meet one of the True Immortals??” The demon with the smallest horns asked with some eagerness. It had long silky black hair and was fairly pretty, for a demon.

  Agh! A fresh spike of pain, and a flashing image of a great vast Thing backlit by the cosmos passed through Cyrus’s mind. He clutched his head and groaned again. “Where ‘m I?”

  “Memory loss. It happened to you, Taeyang,” The big bearded demon said, matter of factly.

  “You forgot that chickens couldn’t talk,” the tall one added, laughing. “You spent a week trying to ask them nicely for eggs.”

  “At least Mother took pity on me,” the pretty one sniffed. “See if I ever do anything nice for you!”

  “Your name is Lee Song. Do you remember?” Another demon, this one with curling horns peeking out of a receding hairline leaned in. He was dressed like the rest, but with a close cropped square beard and hair done up neatly. His tone was calm and collected. “I’m Juwon, your eldest brother.”

  “Ju…won? Where am I?” Cyrus muttered. He looked around the room, which looked like the inside of a circus tent. Or a massive version of a yurt. He was lying on a finely stitched pillow atop the carpeted floor. The faint smoke that’d filled the room was slowly wafting away, revealing bright spears of sunlight. Looking down at his body, he could see that he’d been stripped nearly naked and liberally covered with green paint. Strange symbols covered every inch of floor and flesh.

  Holy shit! He’d been kidnapped by cultists!

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  “No, seriously, where am I?” Cyrus groaned, playing up his infirmity while his eyes searched for the door. His arms and legs weren’t tied. Fools! He wasn’t the fastest Attacker in the Eastern Conferences for nothing!

  “In our Lee Family’s yurtwagon,” the big demon replied softly. “You just finished forming your dantian. How do you feel?”

  Cyrus scratched at his head. “My what?”

  The four demons all turned and looked at each other, consternation on their faces.

  Cyrus took the opportunity to stand on shaky legs, and then bolted for the cloth door.

  The three Lee brothers stared after him, then back at their father.

  “Well what are you waiting for? Go talk some sense into him!” San snapped at his foolish sons. “And don’t let anyone see him!”

  As the three young men dashed from the tent, San picked up a thick leather falconry gauntlet from a nearby table. If Song had deviated, then perhaps there was still saving him.

  But if he’d been overcome by an Inner Demon…

  Then San would not have his sons deal with what came next. That would be his responsibility as Lee family Patriarch and as Song’s father.

  To free him of his Demon.

  And send him off to the other side.

  —

  Cyrus’s feet faltered almost immediately after he rocketed from the tent. He was met by a vast open sky and a sparkling blue horizon that stretched out over lush waving grassland. They were at the top of a small hillock, surrounded by hundreds of brightly coloured yurts of varying sizes. Purple irises dotted the landscape, giving the breeze a faintly sweet scent.

  Far off in the distance, great herds of horses and sheep moved like black rivers over the plain.

  It looked like something out of a storybook. Definitely not what he’d been expecting from Hell.

  Cyrus heard clattering from behind him, and he launched into a full sprint, racing past the yurts until he reached the open plains beyond. He almost tripped as his body moved more lightly than it had in years. His muscles were thin, but powerful.

  “Weird…” Cyrus muttered, but didn’t dwell on his good fortune. It took a moment to adjust, but memory quickly took over as he shifted his form, then picked up speed. There was shouting behind him that was lost in the wind.

  I just need to find some people. Ask for help and access to a cell phone. Where am I? This doesn’t look like Ontario, or Saskatchewan for that matter.

  He passed another Asian looking fellow that was riding a horse. He wore a fur and wool outfit that would’ve been right at home in a Mongolian history book.

  Cyrus’s gait faltered. Uh oh, Cyrus. I don’t think you're in Canuck-land anymore.

  Had he been kidnapped and trafficked off to China?? Was that even possible??

  He heard a screech overhead, and ducked as the biggest eagle he’d ever seen swooped down low over his head. “Mother – !“

  The bird rose into the air, then circled, before coming in for another low pass. This time, Cyrus was ready for it, as he gripped his lacrosse stick and swung it around like he was trying to lariat a midfielder. Only to meet air, because he didn’t have his lacrosse stick. Instead, he was treated to a face full of feathers as the giant eagle hit his chest and bowled him over. “Agh! Sonnuvafridge!”

  Cyrus wrestled with it, and amongst flashes of beak and claw, he realized something.

  This wasn’t a giant eagle at all. It was a giant hawk, bigger than it had the right to be. It had the long tail of a pheasant, thick impenetrable feathers, and red-rimmed eyes that spoke of more intelligence than a bird ought to have.

  And the three demons or cultists or whatever had caught up with him.

  “Dammit,” Cyrus wheezed, collapsing to the ground with the bird on top of him.

  “Good running form, little Song!” The tall one laughed. “Much better than before! Your new martial path has treated you well. Kkongi, good work. You can go back to Father.”

  The hawk thing gave a piercing screech, glared at Cyrus, then rose into the air on beating wings. It only took a second for it to be over the yurts and out of sight.

  “We need to get him inside. Too many eyes,” the one with the curling horns and beard – Juwon? – muttered darkly.

  “Wouldn’t want to shame the family!” The pretty one laughed.

  “Not now, Tae!”

  “Who are you people?” Cyrus asked, his voice coming out in a dry croak.

  Juwon frowned. “Your brothers, of course. One moment.” He pulled out a dull metal hip flask and handed it down to Cyrus. “Here, drink. And then we’ll talk.”

  But Cyrus didn’t hear him.

  All his attention was on the face reflected in the burnished metal of the flask.

  It was his face, but younger, and harder. It was familiar, yet alien. It was him, but wasn’t him.

  Cyrus sucked in his breath. “Okaaay. I think… I’m ready to talk.” He crossed his arms in defiance and stayed put on the ground. “But let’s do it here, under the open sky.”

  The three demons – his brothers? – looked at each other, and nodded in unison. They all lay down in the grass beside him, in varying poses of comfort.

  “Very well,” Juwon said. “But after all this? You’re doing the dishes tonight. Celebration be damned.”

  Ah, yes. Cyrus thought. BROTHERS.