The misty grove lay shrouded in silence, its ancient trees draped in silver moss, their branches arching under a sky heavy with roiling gray clouds. Suyeon lay slumped against a gnarled trunk, its bark etched with faint runes that pulsed in time with her heartbeat. Her breath was shallow, each exhale a faint wisp that vanished into the damp air. The yeomma's burn seared across her chest, its dark veins now encircling her heart, pulsing with the curse that thundered within. Her nine tails, hidden beneath a cloaking spell as fragile as the mist itself, trembled with the strain of her depleted power, her foxfire reduced to a faint glow that flickered in her palms, though the cracked orb she clutched pulsed stronger now, its silver light a steady anchor. The pain was relentless, a fire that choked her with every heartbeat, but it was the weight of Jinwoo and Hana's presence that threatened to break her. Jinwoo knelt beside her, his blood-soaked hanbok staining the moss crimson, his amber-flecked eyes wide with worry as he pressed a trembling hand to her shoulder, shielding her from the grove's chill. Hana stood a few paces away, her broken staff clutched like a talisman, her gray eyes scanning the mist for Miran's shadow or the god's next hunter. The air was thick with the scent of wet earth and divine malice, and the grove seemed to echo the god's words: *The pact is eternal.*
Suyeon's arm throbbed, the burn's dark veins a lattice of pain that resisted her foxfire's attempts to heal it, though the orb's growing warmth seemed to dull the curse's edge. The curse pulsed, a searing reminder of the pact she'd made a thousand years ago—kneeling in a temple, her fur matted with the blood of her kin, begging a god for power to survive a world that hunted Kumihos. The god had granted it, but at a cost she hadn't understood: her soul bound to servitude, her humanity a fading dream. The temple, the yeomma, the shadow foxes, Miran's pursuit—they were all pieces of a trap closing around her, and Jinwoo and Hana were caught in its jaws. She wanted to push them away, to vanish into the mist, but their loyalty was a chain she couldn't break, their blood a guilt heavier than the curse itself.
"Suyeon," Jinwoo said, his voice rough, strained by pain and the grove's damp chill. He leaned closer, his blood dripping onto the moss, his hand steady despite his wounds. "You're not okay. We need to find answers, figure out what's next." His amber eyes searched her face, his oath a fire that burned through the mist, and she hated how much it anchored her.
She shoved his hand away, her eyes flashing gold before she forced them back to brown. "I don't need your pity," she snapped, her voice hoarse, the burn's agony making it waver. She struggled to her feet, the soft moss cushioning her unsteady steps, her body trembling with exhaustion. "You're bleeding worse than I am, Jinwoo. Save yourself." But her words lacked venom, her gaze lingering on his bloodied form, the guilt of his wounds a blade sharper than the god's wrath.
Hana's broken staff sank into the earth, her face pale, her blood leaving a faint trail in the moss. "He's right," she said, her voice sharp but strained, her breath heavy in the humid air. "You're dying, Kumiho. That burn is divine—it's killing you faster than you think. And we're not safe here. Miran's still out there, and the god's not done." Her gray eyes met Suyeon's, a flicker of grudging respect beneath the suspicion. "There's a clearing deeper in the grove—I felt its energy when we crossed the portal. It's old, maybe sacred. It might hold answers, not just shelter."
Suyeon's lips curled, a bitter smile masking the fear clawing at her chest. "You think a clearing will stop a god?" she said, her voice low, bitter. "She wants my soul, and she'll take yours to get it." She stood, swaying, her cloaking spell straining to hide the tremble in her hands, the orb's steady glow anchoring her. The curse pulsed, the burn spreading, and a memory surfaced—kneeling before a god, her voice pleading, her hands bloodied. The pact's terms were still a fog, but its price was clear: her soul, or theirs.
Jinwoo stood, his limp pronounced, his blood staining the moss. "Then we face her together," he said, his voice steady despite the chill. "I swore an oath, Suyeon. I'm not leaving you." His hand hovered, as if to steady her, but he stopped short, respecting her earlier warning. His amber eyes burned with a fire that made her heart ache, a reminder of the lives she'd destroyed by letting mortals get too close.
Hana's voice cut through, sharp and practical. "Enough," she said, her broken staff pointing toward a faint path through the grove, where the mist parted to reveal a faint silver glow emanating from a circular clearing. "We're wasting time. That clearing's our best chance to find something—answers, power, anything. If you want to die out here, Kumiho, that's your choice. But I'm not letting that god take me without a fight." She started toward the path, her steps deliberate, her blood leaving a faint trail in the moss.
Suyeon hesitated, the curse burning hotter, the burn's pain choking her despite the orb's growing warmth. She didn't want their help, didn't want their blood on her hands, but the mist was relentless, and Miran's laughter still echoed in her mind. She nodded, leaning on Jinwoo despite herself, his warmth a lifeline she hated needing. They trudged through the grove, the path winding deeper, the trees growing denser, their bark etched with runes that pulsed stronger with silver light. The clearing loomed closer—a wide circle of grass, its center marked by a low stone platform, its surface carved with foxes, their eyes glowing brightly, their tails curling in patterns that felt ancient, familiar.
Suyeon's curse flared, but not with pain—with clarity. She'd been here before, not as Yuna or any mortal guise, but as a Kumiho, centuries ago, before the pact. This was no shrine to the god, but to her kin, a place of power where Kumihos had woven their magic, their silver tails dancing in defiance. The air was still within the clearing, the mist parting gently, and the curse quieted, its pulse softening as the orb in her hand pulsed stronger, its light syncing with the platform's runes. A new sensation stirred—a faint hum within the orb, like a voice whispering fragments of a forgotten song.
"This place," Suyeon whispered, her hand brushing the platform's runes, their touch cool against her fevered skin. "It's ours." The curse stirred, a memory flickering—not of the pact, but of her kin, their laughter, their strength, before the god's shadow had claimed her. The orb felt heavier, its cracked surface almost vibrating, as if unlocking secrets of her kind's lost strength. The clearing hummed in response, its runes glowing brighter, and the orb's light pulsed in rhythm, revealing faint etchings on its surface—runes matching those on the platform.
Hana's eyes narrowed, her broken staff raised. "It's old," she said, her voice low. "These runes—they're protective, meant to shield spirits like you. They're stronger here, almost alive. This place could hold the god at bay." She glanced at the orb in Suyeon's hand, her gray eyes sharp with realization. "That relic… it's not just tied to this place. It's a key, isn't it? It's waking something."
Suyeon's heart raced, the curse pulsing softly, as if responding to the clearing and the orb's awakening. "I don't know," she said, her voice hoarse, but a spark of hope flickered within her. "But it's… more than before." She sank to her knees before the platform, the burn's pain easing slightly, the runes glowing brighter under her touch, the orb's light steadying her. Memories flickered—not of the pact, but of her kin, their silver tails weaving through a clearing like this, their voices chanting a ritual to bind their power into an orb like hers. The orb was no mere relic—it was a vessel, holding the essence of her kin's defiance.
Jinwoo knelt beside her, tearing another strip from his hanbok to bandage her arm. "You're not alone," he said, his voice low, urgent. "Whatever this relic is, it's giving you strength. Use it." His fingers brushed her arm, gentle but firm, and she flinched, her foxfire flickering unbidden, brighter now with the orb's influence.
"Don't," she said, her voice breaking. "You don't know what you're asking, Jinwoo. The pact—it's not just my soul. It's blood, sacrifice. If you stay, you'll pay the price." Her eyes met his, the guilt of his wounds a weight she couldn't bear. She saw flashes of her past—lovers betrayed, allies lost, their faces fading into the centuries. Jinwoo's oath was a chain, binding him to her fate, and she couldn't let him die for it.
Hana knelt by the clearing's edge, her broken staff across her lap, her eyes scanning the mist outside. "These are Kumiho runes," she said, her voice soft, almost reverent. "They're meant to protect your kind, not bind them. This place, that orb—it could help you break the pact. The power here is older than the god's, maybe stronger." She paused, her gray eyes softening. "What did you trade, Suyeon? What does she want?"
Suyeon's claws twitched, her foxfire stirring despite her exhaustion, bolstered by the orb's growing power. "I don't remember everything," she said, her voice low, bitter. "I was young, hunted. My kin were gone, slaughtered by exorcists, mortals, demons. I begged a god for power to survive, and she gave it—at a cost. My soul, my freedom. I thought I could outrun it, live as a mortal. But I was wrong." She paused, her hand brushing the burn, its pain a reminder of the pact's price. "The god wants me to serve, or die. And now, she wants you."
Before they could respond, the clearing trembled, a low rumble that sent leaves falling from the trees. The runes flared, their silver light clashing with a green glow that seeped through the ground. A voice echoed, cold and melodic: "You cannot hide, Kumiho. The pact is eternal." The curse roared, and Suyeon staggered, her cloaking spell breaking, a single tail flickering into view. Jinwoo's hand tightened on his sword, his eyes on the clearing's edge, where the mist swirled, parting to reveal a figure—Miran, her talisman glowing, her eyes burning with the god's power.
"You've run far, Kumiho," Miran said, her voice a taunt as she stepped into the clearing, mist clinging to her tattered robes. "But the god's patience is gone. Surrender, or they die." She raised her talisman, and the runes pulsed, shadow foxes rising from the moss, their black tails lashing, their eyes green and unblinking.
Suyeon rose, her nine tails breaking free, their silver light illuminating the clearing, amplified by the orb's glow and the platform's runes. "If she wants me, she'll have to take me," she snarled, her foxfire flaring brighter than before, fueled by the relic's awakening power and the clearing's energy. Jinwoo fought beside her, his sword slashing through shadows, his blood staining the moss. Hana's talismans burned, binding the foxes, but Miran's power overwhelmed her, her broken staff splintering further.
"You can't win," Miran said, her talisman pulsing. "The god's will is absolute." She raised her hand, and a yeomma emerged from the mist, its molten-iron hide glinting, its eyes burning green. Suyeon's heart sank, her foxfire flickering, but the orb's energy steadied her. She met the yeomma head-on, her tails slashing like blades, the relic's power surging through her veins, amplified by the clearing. The yeomma roared, its claws tearing through the air, and she dodged, her body still sluggish, the burn choking her.
Jinwoo's sword struck, drawing ichor, but the yeomma's claw caught him, hurling him into a tree. Hana's talisman burned, binding its legs, but it broke free, its roar shaking the clearing. Suyeon's foxfire, amplified by the orb and clearing, erupted, consuming the yeomma, its form dissolving into ash, but the effort dropped her to her knees, her tails fading, her body trembling.
Miran laughed, her talisman flaring. "You're done, Kumiho," she said. "The god will claim you." But before she could strike, the platform's runes pulsed, and the orb flared brighter, its runes glowing vividly, a crack splitting the ground to reveal a faint light—a portal, like the one before. Suyeon staggered to her feet, clutching the orb, leaning on Jinwoo, his blood mixing with hers.
"We go," she gasped, her voice raw. They stumbled through the portal, the world twisting, and emerged in a misty ruin, the clearing's remains behind them. Suyeon collapsed, her tails gone, her body drained, the orb still clutched in her hand, its steady glow her only anchor. Jinwoo knelt beside her, his breath ragged, his eyes fierce. Hana stood guard, her broken staff raised, her face pale.
"We're running out of places to hide," Hana said, her voice low, heavy with resolve. "Miran's breath is on our heels, and the god's chains draw tighter." The mist coiled, cold and unyielding, and Suyeon felt the pact's weight suffocating her, her defiance a fragile flame that could either shatter the curse or consume them all—her soul, or theirs.