Seon declared, "My brother is determined to die a noble death."
Though she spoke of her only sibling's demise, there was no desperation in her voice, only a chilling emptiness in her eyes. She had given up on persuading him, just as Kyeong'ui had given up on understanding him. Ryang was unwavering, predictable to a fault, and Kyeong'ui scoffed at his unwavering loyalty, a trait she craved.
"There's no such thing as a noble death," she retorted. "You would know that if you had ever witnessed one."
"I have," Seon said. "I still have nightmares about my father's severed head."
Kyeong'ui's sneer faltered at the chilling image.
"Cheon Hwan killed him," Seon continued. "On the day Cheon Seong was chosen as heir, he stormed our home in Nahmgyo and murdered my father before leaving. Then, after the star fell, he returned and killed more of our men. He nearly killed my brother last time. And now, he's sent back the skins of our people from Ju, sewn into sails. People often said I resembled my aunt, the one who gave Cheon Hwan his delicate features."
Kyeong'ui stared at her, momentarily captivated by her intense gaze.
"Every time I think about sharing his blood," Seon spat, "I want to drain every drop from my veins."
Her eyes, though dry, burned with a cold fury. Even Seon, who Kyeong'ui had considered more pragmatic than Ryang, couldn't bring herself to choose Cheon Hwan as her lord, not even when faced with death. Is the man I have never met truly so terrifying, so evil? But then, her own father was a ruthless king, feared by many. Yet, Kyeong'ui had never seen him as a villain, only as a hero. Perhaps Cheon Hwan, like Seon, harbored a deep resentment towards House Myeonghyeon. She pushed the thought aside. Whether they were villains or heroes, they were all her enemies. She couldn't afford to get entangled in their personal vendettas.
Just as the history of Wicheong Palace wasn't her fight, Birahng was no longer Seon's battlefield.
"I despise the Azure Scripture, the prophecy, the Guardian, all of it," Seon declared. "But my brother won't abandon Cheon Seong. Because of that, House Myeonghyeon is on the verge of collapse. I can't leave our family's fate in his hands any longer."
Seon spoke of her family, abandoning the loyalty House Myeonghyeon had upheld for a thousand years. Kyeong'ui met her gaze, a challenge in her eyes. Seon didn't flinch.
"What is your house to you?" Kyeong'ui asked.
"I am House Myeonghyeon now," Seon declared.
Kyeong'ui, looking into her resolute eyes, felt a pang of envy. She envied Seon's ability to claim her family's legacy, a burden Kyeong'ui herself couldn't bear. She was a princess of Dahn, while Seon was merely the last descendant of a fallen house, her name a whisper in the shadows. It was Seon's desperation, born from her family's decline, that fueled her resolve. It was the strength of Dahn, of the royal court, that rendered Kyeong'ui powerless. She longed for the same unwavering determination, the same freedom to forge her own path.
"Then you must leave for a place where your name can be preserved," Kyeong'ui observed.
Seon's lips curled into a bitter smile. "Sunyahng is no longer such a place, at least for now."
"Where do you intend to go?" Kyeong'ui asked.
"Dong'gyeong. For now."
"For now..." Kyeong'ui echoed. "It seems you have several options. But none for your brother?"
Seon averted her gaze.
"You begged me to find your brother," Kyeong'ui scoffed. "And now you abandon him?"
Seon met her gaze once more. "Do you disapprove of me abandoning my brother?" she asked.
Kyeong'ui chuckled. "It would be a fitting end for him," she admitted, "but I desired revenge."
"Didn't you already strike him?"
"Do you truly believe that was enough?" Kyeong'ui glared at her, her anger barely contained.
Seon smiled dismissively. "I was merely jesting," she said. "But considering you're engaging in casual conversation with me, even in this dire situation, perhaps I can assume you don't harbor any ill will towards me?"
"Your brother and you are one and the same," Kyeong'ui retorted. "I simply haven't had the time to focus on my resentment."
"Will you seek revenge later?"
"If the time comes."
Kyeong'ui's threat, spoken in this moment of uncertainty, sounded more like a lament. Seon's gaze drifted towards the distant horizon.
"Perhaps it is a betrayal," she said quietly. "But I will save my brother by betraying him."
Kyeong'ui's eyebrows rose slightly. Though Seon's words hinted at a plan to save her brother, Kyeong'ui didn't press for details.
"I've delivered my message," Seon said, rising to her feet. "I must take my leave. If I never reach Sunyahng, this might be our last encounter. I wish you a safe escape and a long life."
Despite her heartfelt farewell, Kyeong'ui couldn't bring herself to offer well wishes, nor could she curse her. She watched as Seon turned and walked away.
"Wait for the cannons," Seon said, before disappearing through the door.
Kyeong'ui remained awake. Dawn broke, painting the sky a pale blue. She retrieved Hongyoo's ring, which she had hidden in a hole in the wall, and held it up to the faint light. Ryang's warning echoed in her mind: "If you must keep that ring, so be it. But keep it hidden. It could be dangerous." She had guarded the ring carefully, worried about being discovered, first during the move from Nahmgyo to Hyangdo, and then again when she was relocated within the city. What is his motive? If it was truly dangerous, as Ryang had warned, she should have discarded it. But something held her back. She wasn't sure what, but she knew it wasn't sentimentality.
Kyeong'ui clenched the ring in her fist, the sharp edges digging into her palm. She no longer doubted her decision to kill Hongyoo. Her path to survival wasn't the one he had offered, but the one she had carved with her own blade. It lay within the roar of the cannons that would bring Hyangdo to its knees. The morning sun streamed through the window, but the world outside remained quiet. Hyangdo was still enemy territory.
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The summer storms raged relentlessly against the small island in the heart of the southern sea. For the Dahnian forces settled on Sahpung, mere survival was a battle. They focused more on protecting their dwindling food supplies from the torrential rains than guarding against enemy attacks. Their warships, hauled ashore, were more vulnerable to damage from the elements than from enemy fire. With no respite from the downpour to dry their soaked gunpowder, their cannons were rendered useless. Their only defense was the capricious sea, a raging force that threatened friend and foe alike. The fierce winds threatened to tear apart their tents and even the battered houses they had repurposed for shelter. Gahngyun Yeol's order to remain on the island had been less a strategic command and more a plea for survival.
While Hyeok assisted the officer left behind by his brother, tending to the troops and maintaining order, Song'un Wu and Seo'oh, clinging to the hope of Kyeong'ui's safe return, dedicated themselves to researching the Sphere. They had waited anxiously for support from Sunyang, and the arrival of supplies, a day before the monsoon's onset, felt like a miracle. Since then, they had worked tirelessly, day and night. Baekyang Seoh's letter informed them that the Iridescent-black Stone sent to Sahpung was the entire reserve intended for Kyeong'ui's wedding. He relayed the King's urgent command to produce results. Hyeok, clutching the chest containing the Iridescent-black Stone, was consumed by guilt, but Wu, despite the urgency of the situation, couldn't bring herself to leave his side.
Though unfamiliar with court politics, Wu knew that even if Kyeong'ui returned alive, she wouldn't escape blame for the rebellion. She believed that their success in Sahpung might be the only way to save Kyeong'ui from the court's wrath. Whenever her resolve wavered, she would remind Seo'oh that the Sphere was their only hope. Seo'oh, though he couldn't fully comprehend the court's harshness, shared her desperation, his eyes burning with determination. Hyeok, though unconvinced that the Sphere held the key to Kyeong'ui's salvation, understood that their only option was to produce results. He supported their research, ensuring they were free from distractions.
Their only clue was a single line in an ancient text: "It can be melted and reshaped with Iridescent-black Stone." They started with the familiar, grinding the Iridescent-black Stone into powder and applying it to the heated Sphere, as if forging steel. But the Sphere remained unscathed, not even a scorch mark from the open flames. Seo'oh devised a contraption to encase the Sphere and heat it like pottery in a kiln, but constructing a device large enough to contain the massive Sphere and withstand the frequent storms proved impossible.
They then tried coating the Sphere with Iridescent-black Stone powder, a method they expected to fail. Seo'oh studied the documents Baekyang Seoh had sent along with the Iridescent-black Stone, focusing on the process of creating black robes for the royal family. It was a tedious process: the finely ground Iridescent-black Stone was mixed with water, applied to the fabric, then ironed and pressed repeatedly until no more powder could be extracted. This led Seo'oh to the realization that melting the Iridescent-black Stone itself was the crucial first step, a theory Wu agreed with. Creating a device to melt the stone, though still challenging, was more feasible than building one to melt the Sphere.
Seo'oh, with the help of the blacksmiths, constructed seventeen devices, each a failure. The Iridescent-black Stone had to melt completely, not just adhere to the surface. The heat had to be contained long enough to melt a sufficient quantity, and the device itself had to withstand the intense temperatures. Each failure depleted their already limited fuel supply, and as summer waned, Seo'oh grew increasingly anxious, his sleepless nights filled with worry.
After a season of failures, on the cusp of autumn, his eighteenth attempt succeeded.