The shrine's oppressive silence clung to Suyeon as she stumbled out into the night, the forest's mist curling around her like a shroud. Her arm burned where the yeomma's claw had marked her, and her chest ached with the curse's relentless pulse, each beat a reminder of the god's chilling words: *The pact will claim you.* Her nine tails, hidden once more beneath a fragile cloaking spell, trembled with the strain of her dwindling power. The foxfire she'd unleashed in the shrine had drained her to the edge of collapse, her body heavy, her steps faltering over roots and stone. Jinwoo followed close behind, his limp more pronounced, his blood-soaked bandage a grim testament to his stubbornness. Hana trailed at a distance, her staff's runes glowing faintly, her gray eyes scanning the trees for threats. The air was cold, thick with the scent of damp earth and lingering divine malice, but the forest offered no answers—only shadows that seemed to watch.
Suyeon's mind churned, the god's fragment haunting her thoughts. The woman in white, with nine tails and eyes like burning jade, was no mere vision. She was the deity Suyeon had bargained with a thousand years ago, in a desperate bid for survival when her kind were hunted to near extinction. The pact's terms were a blur—power for servitude, her soul bound to a divine will—but its consequences were clear now. The yeomma, the shadow fox, the shrine—they were all pieces of a trap closing around her. And yet, Jinwoo and Hana were caught in it too, their presence a complication she couldn't afford but couldn't shake.
"We need to stop," Jinwoo said, his voice rough, breaking the silence. He leaned against a tree, his breath visible in the chill air, his hand pressed to his wounded shoulder. "You're barely standing, Suyeon. And I'm not much better."
She didn't turn, her gaze fixed on the path ahead, where the mist thickened into a gray veil. "Keep moving," she said, her voice sharp, though it trembled with exhaustion. "The shrine's power will draw more hunters. We can't stay here." She didn't know where they were going—only that staying still meant death. The god's fragment had seen her, marked her, and the pact's pull was growing stronger, like a chain tightening around her soul.
Hana's staff tapped the ground, her steps deliberate. "He's right," she said, her tone clipped but less hostile. "You're pushing too hard, Kumiho. That burn on your arm—it's divine. It's draining you faster than you think." She stepped closer, her runes casting faint light on Suyeon's face. "And you're not the only one at risk. That god's threat wasn't just for you. It said 'their souls.' That means us."
Suyeon's eyes flashed gold, her temper flaring. "Then leave," she snapped, whirling to face them. "Both of you. I didn't ask for your help, and I don't need it." Her voice cracked, betraying the lie. Jinwoo's oath, Hana's reluctant alliance—they were chains as much as the curse, binding her to a fight she'd always faced alone. She wanted them gone, wanted the solitude she'd mastered over centuries, but the thought of their absence left her hollow.
Jinwoo pushed off the tree, his face pale but his jaw set. "You don't get to push me away," he said, his voice low, steady despite his pain. "I saw your tails, Suyeon. All nine. I saw you fight that thing in the shrine. You're not a monster—you're someone who's been running too long." He stepped closer, his amber-flecked eyes locking onto hers. "I meant my oath. I'm not leaving you."
Her chest tightened, the curse pulsing in rhythm with her racing heart. "You'll die for it," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Mortals always do." She saw flashes of her past—faces of those who'd trusted her, loved her, only to fall when her truth came out. A merchant's son, burned by exorcists. A priestess, torn apart by demons she'd drawn. Each one a wound she carried, heavier than the curse itself.
Hana's voice cut through, sharp and practical. "He's stubborn, but he's not wrong," she said, her staff planted in the ground. "You're falling apart, Kumiho. That burn, the shrine, the god—it's all connected. If you keep running, you'll lead us straight into another trap." She paused, her gray eyes softening slightly. "I don't trust you, but I don't think you're the enemy. Not yet."
Suyeon laughed, a hollow sound that echoed through the trees. "Not yet," she repeated, her tone bitter. "That's the most honest thing you've said, exorcist." She turned away, her cloak swirling, and resumed walking, though her legs felt like lead. The mist thickened, the path narrowing, and the forest seemed to shift, its trees leaning closer, their branches whispering secrets she couldn't decipher.
They walked in silence for what felt like hours, the mist growing denser, the air colder. Suyeon's arm burned, the divine mark spreading, its dark veins creeping up her shoulder. She could feel the curse feeding on it, sapping her strength, but she pressed on, driven by a need to outrun the god's reach. The path led to a ravine, its edges jagged, a river roaring far below. A rope bridge spanned the gap, its planks weathered and swaying in the wind. Lanterns hung from its posts, their flames green and flickering, like those at the shrine.
Suyeon froze, her senses flaring. "Another trap," she muttered, her foxfire stirring despite her exhaustion. The curse pulsed, sharp and insistent, as if the bridge itself was part of the pact's design.
Jinwoo stopped beside her, his sword half-drawn. "What is it?" he asked, his eyes scanning the mist. "Another yeomma?"
Hana's runes glowed, her staff raised. "Worse," she said, her voice low. "This bridge is warded. Divine wards, older than the shrine. Whatever's on the other side, it's meant for you, Kumiho."
Suyeon's jaw tightened, her eyes fixed on the bridge. The lanterns' green flames pulsed, their light weaving patterns in the mist—foxes, flames, chains. The curse burned hotter, and a memory surfaced, vivid and raw: kneeling before a god, her hands bloodied, her voice pleading for power. The bridge was no coincidence. It was a path to answers—or to her end.
"We cross," she said, stepping toward the bridge. "Or we die waiting."
Jinwoo grabbed her arm, his grip firm despite his wounds. "Suyeon, you're not thinking straight. You're hurt, and that mark—it's killing you. We need a plan."
She yanked free, her eyes blazing. "There is no plan, Jinwoo. The pact doesn't wait. The god doesn't wait." Her voice shook, the weight of centuries pressing down. "You want to help? Then keep up. Or stay here and live."
Hana stepped forward, her staff glowing brighter. "She's right," she said, surprising Suyeon. "We can't stay. The wards are active, and they're not just for her. Something's coming." Her eyes flicked to the mist, where shapes moved—shadows, too many, too fast.
Suyeon didn't wait. She stepped onto the bridge, the planks creaking under her weight, the green flames flaring as she passed. The curse roared, pain shooting through her, but she kept moving, her foxfire flickering to life. Jinwoo followed, his sword drawn, his limp slowing him but his resolve unshaken. Hana came last, her runes casting light that clashed with the lanterns' glow.
Halfway across, the bridge shuddered. The mist parted, revealing a horde of shadow foxes—smaller than the one in the shrine, but no less deadly, their black tails lashing, their coal-red eyes fixed on Suyeon. The god's voice echoed, cold and relentless: "Choose, Kumiho. Your soul, or theirs."
Suyeon's tails broke free, all nine blazing silver, illuminating the ravine. "Stay behind me," she snarled, her foxfire forming a barrier. The shadow foxes lunged, their claws tearing at the bridge, their jaws snapping. Suyeon struck, her tails slashing like blades, cutting through the nearest creature. It dissolved into ash, but more came, their numbers endless.
Jinwoo fought beside her, his sword carving through shadows, though each strike cost him blood. Hana's talismans burned, binding the foxes, but the wards on the bridge flared, weakening her runes. Suyeon's foxfire blazed brighter, her strength fading with each blow. The burn on her arm spread, its dark veins reaching her chest, merging with the curse's pulse.
"We can't hold them!" Hana shouted, her voice strained as a shadow fox broke through her barrier, grazing her arm. Blood welled, but she kept fighting, her staff spinning.
Suyeon's vision blurred, the curse and the burn draining her. She saw Jinwoo stagger, a shadow fox's claw raking his side. "No!" she roared, her foxfire erupting in a wave that consumed the horde, the bridge trembling under the force. The shadow foxes dissolved, their ashes falling into the ravine, but the effort dropped Suyeon to her knees, her tails fading, her body shaking.
Jinwoo caught her, his own wounds bleeding freely. "Suyeon," he gasped, his voice urgent. "Hold on."
Hana knelt beside them, her face pale, her arm bloodied. "We need to get across," she said, her voice tight. "The wards are weakening, but they're still active. Something's waiting on the other side."
Suyeon nodded, her breath ragged. She forced herself up, leaning on Jinwoo, his warmth a lifeline she didn't want to need. The bridge swayed, the lanterns dimming, but the path ahead was clear—or so it seemed. As they reached the other side, the mist parted, revealing a stone archway carved with foxes, their eyes glowing green. The curse burned, a voice whispering: "The pact is near."
Suyeon's heart sank. Jinwoo's oath, Hana's presence, the god's relentless pursuit—she was no longer running alone, but the road ahead led only to her past, and the price it demanded might destroy them all.