Chapter Four: The First of Eternal Night
The wind howled louder now, like a thousand voices screaming through the trees.
Sheila clutched the pendant, its surface burning her palm as if warning her. The shrine around her groaned—timbers creaking, shadows shifting unnaturally. The temperature dropped, frost lacing the altar stone, even though it was only late autumn.
Hyunsoo stepped in front of her, his coat flaring behind him as he reached for the blade strapped beneath his back. A long, crescent-edged dagger shimmered into view, one side engraved with ancient Hangul.
"Don't run," he said without turning. "Stay behind me, no matter what you see."
Sheila's voice trembled. "Who's coming?"
He didn't answer.
The silence shattered.
A piercing screech ripped through the air—inhuman, echoing from everywhere and nowhere at once. From the forest beyond the shrine's gate, a figure emerged.
It wasn't walking.
It glided.
A woman—or what had once been a woman—dressed in black silk robes that floated above the ground. Her hair was long and loose, falling over her face like wet vines. Her hands ended in claws. Her face… it shifted constantly, like smoke trying to remember what it once looked like.
"Moonlight-born," the creature hissed, eyes glowing white. "You reek of her. Of the Queen."
Sheila froze.
"She sees you," the creature snarled. "And so do we. Your soul will be torn before it fully awakens."
Hyunsoo stepped forward. "Back," he commanded, voice suddenly laced with something older than anger. "You do not speak to the Queen of Samhwa."
The creature let out a shriek and lunged.
Hyunsoo moved like lightning.
His blade caught the air and sliced through shadow. Sparks flew as magic met magic—his moonfire clashing with the darkness of the intruder. The shrine pulsed with energy, each collision of their weapons sending waves of wind and silver-blue light surging outward.
Sheila stumbled back, heart pounding.
The creature twisted mid-air, mouth widening into an impossible snarl. Tendrils of shadow whipped toward her like spears. She screamed—
Hyunsoo turned, one hand outstretched. A glowing barrier of moonlight erupted between them, shielding her.
"She's not ready!" the creature screamed.
"She will be," Hyunsoo growled.
He hurled the crescent dagger through the air. It struck the creature square in the chest—light exploded, and with a final shriek, the entity shattered into smoke, dissolving into the cold night wind.
Silence fell.
The wind calmed.
The shrine stood still once more.
Sheila dropped to her knees, breath shaking.
Hyunsoo was there in an instant, crouched before her. His voice was gentler now, the fury gone. "Are you hurt?"
"I—what was that?" she whispered. "That thing—what was it?"
"A shade of the Eternal Night," he said grimly. "They were once human. Now… they hunt souls born from moonlight."
Her fingers dug into the earth. "That thing said she sees me. Who is 'she'?"
Hyunsoo didn't answer at first.
Then: "She was your sister. Once. In another life."
Sheila's blood ran cold.
"I had a sister?"
"She loved you. She served you. Until she betrayed you."
"Why?"
"Because she believed the crown changed you."
Sheila shook her head. "I don't remember any of this."
"You will." He looked into her eyes. "And when you do, you must decide whether to wear that crown again—or destroy it."
She looked down at her hands. They were shaking. Not from fear… but from something else.
She wasn't just a girl anymore. Not even close.
"I don't want this," she said quietly. "I didn't ask to be Queen. I just wanted to be normal."
Hyunsoo's gaze softened. "Fate rarely asks for permission."
She looked at him—really looked at him. His face was pale, his dark hair dusted with frost, and yet his eyes held something familiar. Something ancient and warm. She remembered the dream. His voice. His hand reaching for hers in a burning palace.
"What are you?" she asked. "Not who. What?"
He hesitated.
Then said, "I was once your sworn protector. Your General. Your… consort."
The word hung in the air between them.
Sheila's breath caught.
"Do you remember me?" he asked, quietly, as if afraid of the answer.
She stared at him for a long moment. "Not yet."
A flicker of pain crossed his face. He rose, offering her his hand.
"Then we begin again."
She took it.
His fingers were warm, strong, and yet cautious—as if he knew how easy it would be to break her trust.
Together, they walked down the shrine's steps into the waiting shadows of the mountain, unaware that eyes still watched from the trees.
From the branches above, a figure in a black hood whispered into a silver mirror:
> "She's awake. The Queen returns. Inform the Council."