The Gates of Han Fortress
The journey north had been a silent one. Do-hyun's breath fogged in the air as Han Fortress emerged from the blizzard—a monstrous structure of black iron and jagged spires, its walls carved with runes that made his sword hum in warning.
Lady Han Seol stiffened beside him. "My father's sigil is everywhere. Even the stones obey him here."
Ji-hoon eyed the guards—their faces hidden behind wolf-pelt masks, their spears tipped with jagged spirit-iron. "They've been expecting us."
A horn blew. The gates groaned open.
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The Wolf Lord's Court
Lord Han's throne room was a hunter's den —trophies of monstrous beasts lined the walls, their glassy eyes following Do-hyun as he approached. The lord himself sat draped in the pelt of a silver direwolf, his fingers tapping a rhythm on its skull.
"Daughter," he said, voice like grinding ice. "You return with* interesting *company."
Lady Han knelt, but her spine stayed rigid. "Father. We seek shelter."
A smirk. "And the Mirror of Echoes, no doubt."
Do-hyun's hand twitched toward his sword. How did he—?
Lord Han stood, descending the steps. "The relics speak, boy. Even broken, they remember their makers." He paused, studying Do-hyun's petrified fingers. "Though it seems you're forgetting yourself."
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The Feast of Lies
That night, a banquet was held—venison seared in blackened wine, roots that numbed the tongue.
- Ji-hoon noted the servants' hollow eyes —all bore faint spirit-brand marks on their wrists.
- Lady Han avoided her father's gaze, nursing a goblet she never drank from.
- Do-hyun caught the lord's advisors exchanging hand-signs —the same ones used by the White Mask hunters.
"Tell me," Lord Han mused, swirling his wine. "What do you know of the other relics?"
Do-hyun hesitated. "They were made to seal Gyeonma."
A chuckle. "No. They were made to control it. A distinction the Jin Clan failed to grasp."
The firelight caught the serpent-blade at his hip—its edge shimmering with something alive.
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Scene 4: Lady Han's Warning
Past midnight, Lady Han slipped into Do-hyun's chamber.
"The mirror isn't here," she whispered. "He moved it. But he's lying about why."
Ji-hoon frowned. "You think he serves the Dowager?"
"Worse. He thinks he can outplay her." She pressed a vial of black powder into Do-hyun's palm. "Spirit-ash. It'll hide your scent from the hounds."
A scream echoed from the courtyard.
They rushed to the window—just in time to see a servant dragged into the shadows, his mouth sewn shut with iron wire.
Lady Han's voice broke. "He's been testing on them."
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The Wolf's True Teeth
At dawn, Lord Han summoned them to the Blood Hall—a cavernous chamber where the walls wept rust-colored water.
"I propose an alliance," he said, gesturing to a cage hanging from the ceiling. Inside whimpered a White Mask hunter, his armor stripped, his skin carved with runes.
"The Dowager's hound. He came sniffing last week." Lord Han drew his serpent-blade. "Let's see what he knows."
The blade pierced the man's chest—and instead of blood, black smoke poured out, forming words in the air:
"The prince comes. The seal weakens. The mirror is the key."
Lord Han turned to Do-hyun, eyes alight. "You'll help me break it* all *open."
Lady Han stepped between them, her dagger drawn. "No."
Silence.
Then---