The misty mountain pass carved a jagged path through towering peaks, their craggy faces veiled in fog that clung to the rocks like a shroud. Suyeon lay slumped against a frost-covered boulder, her breath shallow, each exhale a faint wisp that vanished into the biting air. The yeomma's burn seared across her chest, its dark veins now encircling her heart, pulsing in time with the curse that thundered within. Her nine tails, hidden beneath a cloaking spell as fragile as the mist itself, trembled with the strain of her depleted power, her foxfire reduced to a faint glow that flickered in her palms. 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 break her. Jinwoo knelt beside her, his blood-soaked hanbok staining the stone crimson, 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 talisman, her gray eyes scanning the mist for Miran's shadow or the god's next hunter. The air was sharp with the scent of ice and divine malice, and the pass 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 mist, 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 stone, his hand steady despite his wounds. "You're not okay. We need to find shelter, figure out what's next." His amber eyes searched her face, his oath a fire that burned through the mist, 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 feet, the slick rock threatening her balance, 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 stone, 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 shrine deeper in the pass—I felt its energy when we crossed the portal. It's old, maybe sacred. It could shield us, at least for a while."
Suyeon's lips curled, a bitter smile masking the fear clawing at her chest. "You think a shrine will stop a god?" she said, her voice low, bitter. "She wants my soul, and she'll take yours to get it." She stood, 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 stone. "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 narrow path winding deeper into the pass, where the mist parted to reveal a faint silver glow. "We're wasting time. That shrine'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 path, her steps deliberate, her blood leaving a faint trail on the stone.
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 mist 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 pass, the path winding deeper, the rocks growing sharper, their surfaces etched with faded runes that pulsed faintly with silver light. The shrine loomed closer—a small structure of black stone, its entrance carved with foxes, their eyes dark but not glowing, their tails curling in patterns that felt ancient, familiar.
Suyeon's curse flared, but not with pain—with recognition. She'd been here before, not as Yuna or any mortal guise, but as a Kumiho, centuries ago, before the pact. This was no shrine to the god, but to her kin, a place of refuge for those hunted by mortals and gods alike. The air was still, the mist parting gently, and the curse quieted, its pulse softening for the first time in days.
"This place," Suyeon whispered, her hand brushing the shrine's runes, their touch cool against her fevered skin. "It's ours." The curse stirred, a memory flickering—not of the pact, but of her kin, their silver tails dancing in a place like this, their voices a song of defiance. This was a sanctuary for Kumihos, a place of power, not servitude.
Hana's eyes narrowed, her broken staff raised. "It's old," she said, her voice low. "These runes—they're protective, meant to shield spirits like you. But they're weak, faded. They won't hold against the god for long." She glanced at Suyeon, a flicker of curiosity in her gray eyes. "Why does it feel like you belong here?"
Suyeon's heart raced, the curse pulsing softly, as if responding to the shrine. "I don't know," she said, her voice hoarse. "But it's… safe. For now." She sank to her knees, the burn's pain easing slightly, the shrine's runes glowing brighter under her touch. Memories flickered—not of the pact, but of her kin, their laughter, their strength, before the god's shadow had claimed her.
Jinwoo knelt beside her, tearing another strip from his hanbok to bandage her arm. "You're not alone," he said, his voice low, urgent. "Whatever this place is, it's giving you strength. Use it." 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 shrine's entrance, her broken staff across her lap, her eyes scanning the mist outside. "These are Kumiho runes," she said, her voice soft, almost reverent. "They're meant to protect your kind, not bind them. This place could help you fight the pact, but it won't be enough. The god's too strong." She paused, her gray eyes softening. "What did you trade, Suyeon? What does she 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 shrine trembled, a low rumble that sent dust cascading from the ceiling. The runes on the walls flared, their silver light clashing with a green glow that seeped through the mist. 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 shrine's entrance, where the mist 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 shrine, mist clinging to her tattered robes. "But the god's patience is gone. Surrender, Kumiho, or they die." She raised her talisman, and the runes 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 shrine. "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 mist, 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 shrine. 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 shrine's runes pulsed, and a crack split the floor, revealing a faint light—a portal, like the one in the glade. 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 misty valley, the shrine'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 mist swirled, silent and cold, but the pact's shadow loomed, and Suyeon knew the price of her defiance was growing—her soul, or theirs.