The shrine's silence was a lie, heavy with the aftershocks of the shadow fox's attack. Suyeon leaned against the cracked altar, her breath shallow, her arm throbbing where the yeomma's burn lingered. Her nine tails were hidden again, her cloaking spell a fragile veil stretched thin by exhaustion and fear. The air was stale, thick with the scent of old incense and stone dust, but the divine energy of the shrine pulsed like a heartbeat, its runes etched into the altar glowing faintly under her touch. The shadow fox's words echoed in her mind—"The god demands your soul"—a reminder of the pact she'd made a thousand years ago, its terms a fog of half-remembered desperation. Jinwoo stood nearby, his sword sheathed but his hand ready, his amber-flecked eyes watching her with a mix of concern and stubborn resolve. Hana circled the altar, her staff tapping the ground, its runes dim but vigilant, her gray eyes sharp with suspicion.
Suyeon's fingers traced the altar's runes, their shapes familiar, like scars on her soul. She'd stood here before, centuries ago, in a temple much like this one, begging a god for power to survive a world that hunted her kind. The price had been her humanity, her freedom, bound by a curse that now called her back. The shadow fox was a warning, the yeomma a hunter, and this shrine a trap—or a key. She wasn't sure which, and that uncertainty gnawed at her more than the pain in her arm.
"You're not telling us something," Hana said, her voice slicing through the silence. She stopped pacing, her staff pointed at Suyeon, its runes flaring briefly. "That shadow fox wasn't random. It knew you, just like the yeomma. What did you do, Kumiho? What's this pact it spoke of?"
Suyeon's lips curled, a defensive smirk masking the dread coiling in her chest. "You're an exorcist," she said, her voice low, edged with mockery. "You tell me. Don't your scrolls have all the answers?" But her bravado faltered, the curse pulsing harder, as if the shrine itself was listening. She didn't know the pact's full terms—only that she'd traded something precious for survival, and now it was coming due.
Jinwoo stepped closer, his bloodied bandage stark against his hanbok, his limp more pronounced but his gaze unwavering. "Suyeon," he said, his voice soft but firm, "you can't keep shutting us out. That thing almost killed us all. If you know anything—anything at all—tell us. We're in this together now."
Her eyes flashed gold, her temper flaring. "There is no 'we,' Jinwoo," she snapped, rising from the altar, her cloak swirling. "You swore an oath, but that doesn't make you part of my curse. Walk away. Both of you." She turned to Hana. "You want to bind me? Do it. But don't pretend you're my ally."
Hana's grip tightened on her staff, her eyes narrowing. "I don't trust you, fox. But I'm not stupid. Whatever's hunting you is bigger than one Kumiho. I felt the shrine's power—it's divine, ancient, and it's tied to you. If we don't figure this out, it won't just be your soul at stake."
Suyeon's laugh was bitter, echoing off the stone walls. "You think I chose this?" She gestured at the altar, the fox statue looming above, its jade eyes glinting. "I didn't ask for this shrine, or that shadow fox, or your damned questions. I just wanted to live." Her voice cracked, betraying the centuries of running, hiding, pretending to be human. She'd been Yuna, Mira, countless others, each life a lie to escape the truth: she was a Kumiho, and the gods never let her forget it.
Jinwoo's hand brushed her arm, gentle but firm, and she flinched, her foxfire flickering unbidden. "You're not alone anymore," he said, his voice steady despite the blood seeping through his bandage. "You saved me. You fought for us. Let us help you."
She pulled away, her heart racing. His touch was warm, grounding, but it terrified her. Mortals were fragile, their trust a blade that cut both ways. She'd seen it before—lovers, friends, all turned to ash when her truth came out. "You don't know what you're asking," she said, her voice low, almost a whisper. "Helping me means facing gods, Jinwoo. Gods don't care about your oaths."
Before he could respond, the shrine trembled, a low rumble that sent dust cascading from the ceiling. The fox statue's eyes flared, their green glow flooding the chamber. Suyeon staggered, the curse in her chest searing, a voice not her own whispering in her mind: "You cannot hide, Kumiho. The pact is eternal." The runes on the altar pulsed, their light weaving into a pattern that burned into her vision—a circle of foxes, their tails intertwined, surrounding a single flame.
Hana's staff flared, her runes countering the shrine's energy. "It's waking," she said, her voice tight. "This place is alive. We need to leave, now."
Suyeon shook her head, her eyes fixed on the altar. "No," she said, her voice hoarse. "This is where it started. The pact. I made it in a place like this." She stepped forward, her hand hovering over the runes, their power pulling at her like a tide. "If I'm going to face it, it starts here."
Jinwoo grabbed her wrist, his grip firm. "Suyeon, you're hurt. You can't fight another battle like this." His eyes searched hers, a mix of worry and determination. "Let us help you."
She yanked her hand free, her foxfire flaring, illuminating the shrine in silver light. "You don't understand," she said, her voice raw. "This isn't just about me. The pact—it's tied to my soul. If I face it, you could die. Both of you." Her gaze flicked to Hana, who stood silent, her staff still raised but her expression softening.
The shrine shook again, the fox statue cracking, its jade eyes splintering. A wind rose, unnatural and cold, carrying the same sulfurous stench as the yeomma. The voice returned, louder now, echoing in the chamber: "Your soul, or theirs, Kumiho. Choose." The runes on the altar flared, and a figure emerged from the light—not a shadow fox, but a woman, her form translucent, her eyes glowing green. She wore robes of white silk, her hair cascading like ink, and nine tails fanned behind her, each one shimmering with divine power.
Suyeon's breath caught. "You," she whispered, recognizing the figure—not from memory, but from the curse itself. This was the god she'd bargained with, or a fragment of her, bound to the shrine. The air grew heavy, the shrine's walls humming with energy, and Suyeon's tails flickered into view, unable to stay hidden.
The god's voice was a melody of ice and fire. "You've run long enough, Suyeon," she said, her eyes piercing. "The pact was clear: power for servitude. You took my gift, but you've defied me. Now, the debt is due."
Hana stepped forward, her runes blazing. "What pact?" she demanded, her voice steady despite the divine presence. "What does she owe you?"
The god's gaze shifted to Hana, and the exorcist staggered, her staff trembling. "Mortal," the god said, her voice a blade, "you wield borrowed power. Do not challenge me." She turned back to Suyeon. "Your soul, Kumiho, or the souls of those who stand with you. Choose now, or I will take all."
Jinwoo drew his sword, his body shaking but his stance firm. "She's not alone," he said, stepping beside Suyeon. "If you want her, you'll have to go through me."
Suyeon's heart twisted, his words a weight she couldn't bear. "Stop it," she hissed, her voice breaking. "You don't know what you're doing." But the god's eyes gleamed, her smile cruel, and Suyeon knew this was no bluff. The pact was waking, and it demanded a price.
She raised her hands, her nine tails flaring, their silver light clashing with the god's green glow. "You want my soul?" she said, her voice steady despite the fear clawing at her. "Come take it." Foxfire erupted, a storm of light that filled the shrine, striking the god's form. The figure wavered, her laughter echoing, but the runes on the altar cracked, their light dimming. The god vanished, but her voice lingered: "This is not the end, Kumiho. The pact will claim you."
The shrine fell silent, the air heavy with the aftermath. Suyeon collapsed, her tails fading, her body drained. Jinwoo caught her, his arms steady despite his own wounds. "Suyeon," he said, his voice urgent, "stay with me."
Hana lowered her staff, her face pale but her eyes sharp. "That was a god," she said, her voice low. "Or part of one. You can't fight that alone, Kumiho. Not with that curse."
Suyeon pushed Jinwoo away, her breath ragged. "I don't have a choice," she said, her voice hoarse. "The pact is mine. You're just… collateral." But her eyes betrayed her, lingering on Jinwoo's face, on Hana's reluctant concern. The shrine was a warning, the god's fragment a promise of worse to come. Suyeon was a Kumiho, cursed and hunted, but with Jinwoo's oath and Hana's uneasy alliance, she felt the pull of a path she couldn't escape—one that might break her curse or shatter them all.
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