The frozen valley stretched before them, a desolate expanse of snow and jagged rock, its silence broken only by the howl of the wind. Suyeon lay crumpled in the snow, her breath shallow, each exhale a faint cloud that vanished into the storm. The yeomma's burn seared across her chest, its dark veins now curling around her heart, pulsing in time with the curse that roared within. Her nine tails, hidden beneath a cloaking spell as thin as ice, trembled with the strain of her depleted power, her foxfire reduced to a dying spark. The pain was relentless, a fire that choked her with every heartbeat, but it was the weight of Jinwoo and Hana's presence that threatened to shatter her. Jinwoo knelt beside her, his blood-soaked hanbok staining the snow red, his amber-flecked eyes wide with worry as he pressed a trembling hand to her shoulder. Hana stood a few paces away, her broken staff clutched like a lifeline, her gray eyes scanning the swirling snow for Miran's shadow or the god's next hunter. The air was bitter, thick with the scent of frost and divine malice, and the valley seemed to whisper the god's words: *The pact is eternal.*
Suyeon's arm throbbed, the burn's dark veins a lattice of pain that resisted her foxfire's attempts to heal it. The curse pulsed, a searing reminder of the pact she'd made a thousand years ago—kneeling in a temple, her fur matted with the blood of her kin, begging a god for power to survive a world that hunted Kumihos. The god had granted it, but at a cost she hadn't understood: her soul bound to servitude, her humanity a fading dream. The temple, the yeomma, the shadow foxes, Miran's pursuit—they were all pieces of a trap closing around her, and Jinwoo and Hana were caught in its jaws. She wanted to push them away, to vanish into the storm, but their loyalty was a chain she couldn't break, their blood a guilt heavier than the curse itself.
"Suyeon," Jinwoo said, his voice rough, strained by pain and cold. He leaned closer, his blood dripping onto the snow, his hand steady despite his wounds. "You're not okay. We need to find shelter, now." His amber eyes searched her face, his oath a fire that burned through the snow, and she hated how much it anchored her.
She shoved his hand away, her eyes flashing gold before she forced them back to brown. "I don't need your pity," she snapped, her voice hoarse, the burn's agony making it waver. She struggled to her knees, the snow soaking her cloak, her body trembling with exhaustion. "You're bleeding worse than I am, Jinwoo. Save yourself." But her words lacked venom, her gaze lingering on his bloodied form, the guilt of his wounds a blade sharper than the god's wrath.
Hana's broken staff scraped the snow, her face pale, her blood leaving a faint trail. "He's right," she said, her voice sharp but strained, her breath visible in the freezing air. "You're dying, Kumiho. That burn is divine—it's killing you faster than you think. And we're not safe here. Miran's still out there, and the god's not done." Her gray eyes met Suyeon's, a flicker of grudging respect beneath the suspicion. "There's a ruin in the valley—I felt its energy when we crossed the portal. It's not much, but it's better than freezing to death."
Suyeon's lips curled, a bitter smile masking the fear clawing at her chest. "You think a ruin will stop a god?" she said, her voice low, bitter. "She wants my soul, and she'll take yours to get it." She rose, swaying, her cloaking spell straining to hide the tremble in her hands. The curse pulsed, the burn spreading, and a memory surfaced—kneeling before a god, her voice pleading, her hands bloodied. The pact's terms were still a fog, but its price was clear: her soul, or theirs.
Jinwoo stood, his limp pronounced, his blood staining the snow. "Then we face her together," he said, his voice steady despite the cold. "I swore an oath, Suyeon. I'm not leaving you." His hand hovered, as if to steady her, but he stopped short, respecting her earlier warning. His amber eyes burned with a fire that made her heart ache, a reminder of the lives she'd destroyed by letting mortals get too close.
Hana's voice cut through, sharp and practical. "Enough," she said, her broken staff pointing toward a dark shape in the snow—a crumbling stone structure, its arches barely visible through the storm. "We're wasting time. That ruin's our best chance to regroup. If you want to die out here, Kumiho, that's your choice. But I'm not letting that god take me without a fight." She started toward the ruin, her steps deliberate, her blood leaving a faint trail in the snow.
Suyeon hesitated, the curse burning hotter, the burn's pain choking her. She didn't want their help, didn't want their blood on her hands, but the storm was relentless, and Miran's laughter still echoed in her mind. She nodded, leaning on Jinwoo despite herself, his warmth a lifeline she hated needing. They trudged through the snow, the ruin's arches looming like the bones of a forgotten beast, its interior swallowing the storm's howl.
Inside, the ruin was a hollow shell, its walls etched with faded carvings—foxes, their tails curling, their eyes dark and lifeless. The air was dry but cold, heavy with the scent of stone and something older, something divine. Suyeon's curse flared, a warning that this was no ordinary shelter. She sank against the wall, her breath shallow, the burn's veins now visible on her throat, pulsing with green light. Jinwoo knelt beside her, tearing another strip from his hanbok to bandage her arm, his hands steady despite his own wounds.
"You need to stop this," he said, his voice low, urgent. "You're pushing too hard, Suyeon. Let us help." His fingers brushed her arm, gentle but firm, and she flinched, her foxfire flickering unbidden.
"Don't," she said, her voice breaking. "You don't know what you're asking, Jinwoo. The pact—it's not just my soul. It's blood, sacrifice. If you stay, you'll pay the price." Her eyes met his, the guilt of his wounds a weight she couldn't bear. She saw flashes of her past—lovers betrayed, allies lost, their faces fading into the centuries. Jinwoo's oath was a chain, binding him to her fate, and she couldn't let him die for it.
Hana knelt by the ruin's entrance, her broken staff across her lap, her eyes scanning the storm outside. "He's naive, but he's not wrong," she said, her tone grudging. "You're dying, Kumiho. That burn is tied to the pact, and it's spreading. If we don't find a way to break it, we're all dead." She paused, her gray eyes softening slightly. "I've seen divine curses before. There's always a way out, but it's never clean. What did you trade, Suyeon? What does the god want?"
Suyeon's claws twitched, her foxfire stirring despite her exhaustion. "I don't remember everything," she said, her voice low, bitter. "I was young, hunted. My kin were gone, slaughtered by exorcists, mortals, demons. I begged a god for power to survive, and she gave it—at a cost. My soul, my freedom. I thought I could outrun it, live as a mortal. But I was wrong." She paused, her hand brushing the burn, its pain a reminder of the pact's price. "The god wants me to serve, or die. And now, she wants you."
Before they could respond, the ruin trembled, a low rumble that sent dust cascading from the ceiling. The carvings on the walls glowed, their fox eyes flaring green, and a voice echoed, cold and melodic: "You cannot hide, Kumiho. The pact is eternal." 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 ruin's entrance, where the storm swirled, parting to reveal a figure—Miran, her talisman glowing, her eyes burning with the god's power.
"You're persistent," Miran said, her voice a taunt as she stepped into the ruin, snow clinging to her tattered robes. "But the god's patience is gone. Surrender, Kumiho, or they die." She raised her talisman, and the carvings pulsed, shadow foxes rising from the walls, their black tails lashing, their eyes green and unblinking.
Suyeon rose, her nine tails breaking free, their silver light illuminating the ruin. "If she wants me, she'll have to take me," she snarled, her foxfire flaring despite the pain. Jinwoo fought beside her, his sword slashing through shadows, his blood staining the stone. Hana's talismans burned, binding the foxes, but Miran's power overwhelmed her, her broken staff splintering further.
"You can't win," Miran said, her talisman pulsing. "The god's will is absolute." She raised her hand, and a yeomma emerged from the storm, its molten-iron hide glinting, its eyes burning green. Suyeon's heart sank, her foxfire flickering, but she met it head-on, her tails slashing like blades. The yeomma roared, its claws tearing through the air, and she dodged, her body sluggish, the burn choking her.
Jinwoo's sword struck, drawing ichor, but the yeomma's claw caught him, hurling him into the wall. Hana's talisman burned, binding its legs, but it broke free, its roar shaking the ruin. Suyeon's foxfire erupted, consuming the yeomma, its form dissolving into ash, but the effort dropped her to her knees, her tails fading, her body trembling.
Miran laughed, her talisman flaring. "You're done, Kumiho," she said. "The god will claim you." But before she could strike, the ruin's carvings pulsed, and a crack split the wall, revealing a faint light—a portal, like the one in the temple. Suyeon staggered to her feet, leaning on Jinwoo, his blood mixing with hers.
"We go," she gasped, her voice raw. They stumbled through the portal, the world twisting, and emerged in a frozen forest, the ruin's remains behind them. Suyeon collapsed, her tails gone, her body drained. Jinwoo knelt beside her, his breath ragged, his eyes fierce. Hana stood guard, her broken staff raised, her face pale.
"We're not safe," Hana said, her voice strained. "Miran's coming, and the god's not done." The snow fell, silent and cold, but the pact's shadow loomed, and Suyeon knew the price of her defiance was growing—her soul, or theirs.