The mountain's jagged peaks pierced the sky, their silhouettes shrouded in mist that clung to Suyeon's skin like a second curse. Her breaths came in shallow gasps, each one a battle against the yeomma's burn, its dark veins now curling around her heart, pulsing in time with the relentless curse in her chest. Her nine tails, hidden beneath a cloaking spell as fragile as a dying flame, trembled with the strain of her depleted power, the foxfire that had once blazed like a star now barely a flicker. Jinwoo limped beside her, his blood-soaked hanbok torn, his amber-flecked eyes darting between her and the path ahead, his sword sheathed but his hand ready. Hana trailed behind, her staff dragging in the rocky dirt, its runes dim, her gray eyes scanning the mist for signs of Miran or the yeomma's return. The air was thin, heavy with the scent of pine and ancient stone, and the mountain's silence was a lie, masking the divine energy that pulsed beneath their feet.
Suyeon's arm throbbed, the burn's pain a constant fire that resisted her foxfire's attempts to heal it. The curse roared, its rhythm a reminder of the pact she'd made a thousand years ago—a desperate bargain with a god whose cold smile haunted her fragmented memories. The yeomma's attack, Miran's pursuit, the shrine's carvings, the god's fragment—they were all threads of a tapestry she couldn't unravel, each one pulling her closer to a truth she wasn't ready to face. Jinwoo's oath and Hana's uneasy alliance were chains she couldn't break, binding her to a fight she'd always waged alone. She wanted to push them away, to vanish into the mist, but their presence anchored her, their blood on her hands a guilt heavier than the curse itself.
"We're close," Hana said, her voice sharp, cutting through the mountain's oppressive silence. Her staff tapped the ground, its runes flickering as if struggling against the divine energy that grew stronger with every step. "The temple's just beyond the ridge. If there are answers about your pact, they'll be there." Her gray eyes flicked to Suyeon, a mix of suspicion and reluctant concern. "But you're running out of time, Kumiho. That burn is killing you."
Suyeon's lips curled, a weak smirk masking the fear clawing at her chest. "You're all compassion, exorcist," she said, her voice hoarse, the burn's pain making it waver. She pressed a hand to her chest, feeling the curse's pulse merge with the burn's venom, a dual assault that threatened to unravel her. "If you're so worried, bind me now and be done with it." Her bravado was thin, her legs trembling as she climbed the rocky slope, each step a defiance of her fading strength.
Jinwoo's hand brushed her arm, gentle but firm, and she flinched, her foxfire flickering unbidden. "Suyeon," he said, his voice rough but steady, "you don't have to do this alone. We're here. Let us help." His wounds were worse, blood seeping through his bandage, his limp slowing him, but his amber eyes burned with a fire that made her heart ache. His oath was a chain, binding him to her fate, and she hated how much it steadied her.
"Stop it," she snapped, pulling away, her eyes flashing gold before she forced them back to brown. "Your help is going to get you killed, Jinwoo. You don't know what this pact is, what I've done." Her voice cracked, memories surging—blood on her hands, villages burned, lives taken before she'd learned to leash her nature. She'd sworn to live quietly, to be Yuna, but the pact had always been there, waiting to claim her. "Walk away while you still can."
He shook his head, his jaw tight. "I've seen you fight," he said, his voice low, unwavering. "I've seen you save us, again and again. You're not the monster you think you are." He stepped closer, undeterred by her glare. "I swore an oath, Suyeon. I'm not breaking it."
Hana's staff tapped harder, her voice cutting in. "He's stubborn, but he's not wrong," she said, her tone grudging. "You're falling apart, Kumiho. That burn, the curse—it's tied to the god, and this temple might hold the key. But if you keep pushing us away, we're all dead." Her eyes softened slightly, a flicker of something like respect. "I don't trust you, but I trust that you don't want us to die."
Suyeon's claws twitched, her foxfire stirring despite her exhaustion. "You're both fools," she said, her voice low, bitter. "The god doesn't care about your trust or your oaths. She wants my soul, and she'll take yours to get it." But her words felt empty, the weight of their loyalty pressing down. She turned, resuming the climb, the ridge looming ahead, its peak shrouded in mist that pulsed with green light.
The path grew steeper, the rocks slick with dew, the air colder. Suyeon's burn spread, its veins now visible on her neck, a dark lattice that choked her with every breath. The curse pulsed in time with her steps, each one a reminder of the god's relentless pursuit. The temple's silhouette emerged through the mist—a crumbling structure of black stone, its spires jagged, its gates carved with foxes whose jade eyes glowed like the shrine's lanterns. The air hummed with divine energy, heavy and oppressive, and Suyeon's curse flared, a searing pain that forced a gasp from her lips.
Jinwoo caught her arm, steadying her. "Suyeon," he said, his voice urgent, "you're not okay. Let us—"
She yanked free, her foxfire flaring, illuminating the mist in silver light. "I don't need your help," she snarled, but her body betrayed her, swaying as she reached the temple's gates. The carvings seemed to move, their fox tails curling, their eyes watching. The curse burned hotter, and a memory surfaced—kneeling in a temple like this, her fur matted with blood, her voice pleading for power. The god had answered, but at a cost she hadn't understood—a pact that bound her soul, her freedom, her humanity.
Hana's runes glowed, her staff raised. "This place is alive," she said, her voice tight. "The energy here is stronger than the shrine. Whatever's inside, it's tied to your pact." She glanced at Suyeon, her eyes narrowing. "If you know anything, now's the time to speak."
Suyeon's jaw tightened, her hand brushing the burn on her arm. "I don't remember everything," she said, her voice low. "I was young, hunted. I begged a god for power to survive, and she gave it. But the price… my soul, my service. I thought I could outrun it." She paused, the curse pulsing. "I was wrong."
Before they could respond, the temple's gates creaked open, unbidden, revealing a cavernous interior lit by green flames. The air grew heavy, the scent of blood and incense overwhelming. A voice echoed, cold and melodic, not in their minds but in the stone itself: "Enter, Kumiho. Pay the price." The curse roared, and Suyeon staggered, her cloaking spell breaking, a single tail flickering into view.
Jinwoo's hand tightened on his sword, his eyes on the gates. "We go together," he said, his voice firm despite his wounds. "No arguments."
Hana nodded, her runes flaring. "For answers," she said, her tone grim. "But if this is a trap, Kumiho, you're answering to me."
Suyeon stepped through the gates, her foxfire flickering, her tails itching to break free. The cavern was vast, its walls carved with foxes and flames, their jade eyes glowing. A stone altar stood at the center, its surface etched with runes that pulsed in time with her curse. Miran waited there, her talisman glowing, her eyes green with divine power. But she wasn't alone. A figure loomed behind her—a fox, massive and black, its nine tails fanning like a storm, its eyes burning with the god's wrath.
"You're late, Kumiho," Miran said, her voice a taunt. "The god grows impatient." The fox behind her growled, its presence shaking the cavern, cracks forming in the walls.
Suyeon's foxfire flared, her nine tails breaking free, their silver light clashing with the green glow. "If she wants me, she can come herself," she said, her voice steady despite the pain. Jinwoo and Hana stood beside her, their weapons ready, their fates tied to hers. The temple hummed, the pact's truth closing in, and Suyeon knew this was no escape—only a deeper plunge into the god's game, where the price might be everything they had.