Reflection (Disney Twisted Tales) - Elizabeth Lim Page 0,16

the craggy terrain below.

Wooden torches lit the bridge, the flames dancing like wild fireflies trapped in glass lanterns. Mulan tried to keep track of how far they’d gone by counting the torches, but after 108, she stopped counting.

It was hard to imagine that only hours ago, she’d been climbing the Tung-Shao Pass’s snowy cliffs, firing cannons with Mushu on her shoulder. Her training as a soldier had not prepared her for the Underworld—for demons and magical caves and who knew what else!

Even with Shang’s massive guardian now at her side, she was uncertain how she’d fare in Diyu or if they’d even be able to rescue Shang. She missed her own guardian. Yes, ShiShi had centuries of experience guiding China’s greatest military heroes—but Mushu understood her, and he knew her secret. Mulan didn’t know if ShiShi would still stand by her if he found out she was a woman. And a woman soldier, at that.

Would Shang? she wondered, remembering how much she’d wanted to tell him the truth when he’d woken up just before they had reached camp.

Something glinted to the side, catching the torchlight as well as Mulan’s attention. It grew more brilliant as she progressed down the Bridge of Helplessness, but she couldn’t figure out where it was coming from.

“ShiShi, do you see that?” she asked, glancing over her shoulder at the lion. “Those lights flickering on the cave stones.”

“I don’t see anything,” the lion replied.

“The lights look like they’re bouncing off something. Like large pieces of glass…or mirrors.”

“Perhaps,” ShiShi allowed. “But mirrors will be the least of our concern in Diyu, little soldier. They’re not going to help us rescue Li Shang.” He growled at the blue-faced demon behind them. “Omph. Stop pushing me.”

Mulan lowered her gaze back to the demons, whose march had synchronized behind her and now slowed because there was something blocking their path.

Not something, Mulan realized as she got closer. Someone. Ghosts.

Four of them sat cross-legged on the bridge, looking bored and playing a game of mah-jongg. Unlike General Li, they glowed orange and yellow instead of blue. Mulan wondered what the colors meant.

The ghost in the north position was the first to see her. A grin broke across his face, and he nudged his opponent on the left. All at once, they got up, crossed their arms, and floated toward Mulan.

“What do you think you’re doing, boy?”

“You can’t cross the Bridge of Helplessness if you’re alive.”

“I’m here on business,” Mulan said, borrowing ShiShi’s line.

“Business?” the ghosts exclaimed. They turned to the demons escorting Mulan and ShiShi across the bridge.

“Who is this?” one of the ghosts, a woman, demanded. “Who are you bringing into Diyu?”

“I am Ping,” Mulan answered for herself. “I’m here to see King Yama.”

She tried to slip past the ghosts, but they followed her.

“King Yama doesn’t like visitors.”

“Especially living visitors.” A ghost leered at the demon guards through his spectacles. “You should know better, Languai.”

Languai, the blue demon who appeared to be in charge, spat. “Go away and mind your business.”

“We guard the bridge just as much as you do,” the ghost reminded him.

“Perhaps we should throw him off the bridge,” another ghost suggested. “Then he won’t be living anymore. King Yama would like that better.”

“You’ll do no such thing,” ShiShi growled from behind. “The boy’s with me. I have an appointment with King Yama.”

The oldest ghost’s eyebrow rose. “An appointment? That’s unusual.” He circled ShiShi. “And with a guardian, no less.”

“Stop giving the boy such a hard time,” the female ghost urged. She smiled at Mulan, kindly yet sadly. “He reminds me of my son; he was a soldier, too. Let him cross.”

“Yes, let him cross,” agreed another ghost. “I want to know what King Yama thinks of him. Nothing ever happens here anyway.”

The ghost with the spectacles frowned. His aura was the brightest of the four, as orange as ShiShi’s eyes. He studied Mulan. “There’s something different about this one.”

“Jiao, you always say that.”

“No, really. I don’t know what it is.”

“The guardian said he has fairy blood.”

“That’s not it,” Jiao said. “There’s something else. I can feel it.”

“You don’t feel anything. You’re dead.”

While the ghosts bickered, the demons pushed Mulan forward.

“Stupid gossips,” Languai muttered under his breath. “Be happy. Now you’ve gotten the attention of the ghosts.”

“Is that bad?” Mulan asked.

The demon laughed maliciously. “You’ll see.”

Jiao, the ghost with the spectacles, was still watching her, a curious expression unfolding over his translucent face. “Let’s keep an eye on this one. It isn’t every day we see an outsider