The journey back to the village felt longer than the way out. Jin walked in silence, clutching the basket firmly against his chest. Each step echoed through the fresh snow, and the cold seemed to have intensified, slicing through his skin like tiny blades.
The sun had already set when he caught sight of the village rooftops appearing on the horizon, covered by a thick layer of glistening snow. The lights from the houses flickered softly, casting dancing shadows over the dark wooden walls. There was a different atmosphere in the air, a dense, silent expectation that Jin couldn't quite explain.
As he crossed the gates, some villagers greeted him with respectful nods. Jin returned the gestures quietly, keeping his eyes fixed on the ground. He felt the weight of the ingredients in his arms, but also the weight of everyone's expectations on his shoulders.
In the central square, the older monks were busy reinforcing the spiritual seals. Small talismans hung from each ceremonial pillar, emitting a faint blue glow. Jin headed directly to his parents' house, knowing they would be waiting for him.
Upon entering, he found Hwa Yun kneeling before the family altar, praying silently. Jin remained still for a moment, observing her. His mother looked more fragile than he remembered, her shoulders curved by the weight of unspoken worries.
— Mother — he called softly.
She opened her eyes and stood up, her face lighting up as she saw him. Without saying a word, she approached and touched her son's face, as if to confirm that he was really there.
— Did you succeed? — she asked, her voice trembling.
Jin nodded, opening the basket and revealing the three sacred ingredients. The crimson root pulsed faintly, the silver leaf floated as if still carried by the wind, and the snow flower glistened in its icy bed. Hwa Yun smiled softly, her eyes moistening.
— You did well, my son — she said, embracing him tightly.
That night, the entire village prepared for the ceremony. Ceremonial tents were erected around the Mirror Temple. Monks moved back and forth, carrying scrolls, incense containers, and baskets filled with sacred candles. Jin watched everything attentively, feeling his heart race.
Later, Hwa Yun entered his room carrying a ceremonial robe. It was white with silver edges, adorned with the symbol of the Baekseong clan — a cracked mirror with flower petals. She helped Jin put on the robe, adjusting the fabric with care.
— Remember, Jin — she said, gripping his shoulders. — What you did was only the beginning. The true challenge is yet to come.
Jin met her gaze. For a brief moment, he saw something in her eyes that unsettled him. A glint of sadness, or perhaps a premonition. He wanted to ask what she was feeling, but Hwa Yun had already turned away, extinguishing the oil lamp and leaving the room in silence.
Jin remained there for a while longer, sitting on the edge of the bed, his eyes fixed on the basket with the ingredients. He took a deep breath, trying to calm the thoughts swirling in his mind. What he had achieved was only the beginning, and something inside him whispered that the peace in the village... was about to be shattered.
In the early hours of the next morning, the temple bells rang.
The ceremony was about to begin.