The spirit wraith screeched—its voice like the tearing of silk underwater—and lunged again. Yun Taemin dodged effortlessly, his nine tails slicing through the air like blades of light. Each movement left a trail of shimmering foxfire in its wake.
Hana crouched behind the broken counter, her hands still clasped around the pendant. The whisper in her head echoed again:
"Don't let him fall this time."
This time...?
She shook her head, trying to ground herself, but the world no longer made sense. Fox spirits. Monsters. Glowing tails. And a man claiming they were bound by fate.
Taemin fought like a shadow given form—fluid, deadly, untouchable. But the more he struck down the wraiths, the more emerged from the mist outside, crawling in with glowing red eyes and gaping maws.
"Too many," he muttered. "They're drawn to her presence like moths to a dying flame."
He turned slightly, just enough to catch Hana's eyes.
"You have to use it," he called out. "The pendant. It's not just a key—it's a flame!"
"I don't know how!" she cried.
"You do. Somewhere in you, that memory exists. Find it!"
A wraith lunged toward her from the side.
Hana screamed—and the pendant reacted.
A blinding pulse of blue light erupted from her chest, flaring outward like a burst of foxfire. The creature shrieked as the flame touched it and instantly disintegrated into ash.
The light formed a protective aura around her, flickering like a ghostly flame in the shape of a fox.
Taemin's eyes widened. "You've awakened the First Flame…"
Hana stood, trembling but defiant. "What… what is this?"
"It's part of your soul," he said softly, watching her with an expression that was part awe, part grief. "You were once the Keeper of the Heartflame. The only one who could calm me."
Another wraith surged forward, but this time Hana extended her hand.
Blue fire leapt from her fingers, forming a whip that slashed through the air and sent the spirit wailing back into the void.
Taemin's smile returned, subtle and bittersweet.
"There she is."
And for a moment, the battlefield stilled.
Not because the enemy had retreated.
But because something long lost had finally begun to remember.
---