Chapter Twelve Sunny
Chapter Twelve
Sunny
“So how does this work?” I toe the water, but the moonglade doesn’t so much as flicker against the ripples. The silver road is literally solid.
“We just . . . walk.” Minju glances over her shoulder at her father.
He nods reassuringly and waves us on. We’ve already said our goodbyes to him. Lingering will only make leaving harder for her. I’m here to help my friends, aren’t I? I suck in a sharp breath and step onto the moonglade, then I peek open one eye. What the hell? When did I even close my eyes?
With an impatient tsk, I open them wide and look down. I’m standing on the silver road, and I haven’t been struck down by lightning or anything. Cool. I’ll take that as a win.
“Come on.” I wave Minju and Captain Seo over. “I thought we were in a hurry.”
The captain joins me first and, again, no death by lightning. She meets my eyes and shrugs. “So far, so good.”
I look toward the distant horizon, and my shoulders droop. It’s going to be a long, long walk. Perhaps the true challenge of walking the moonglade is enduring the torture of cardio.
Minju hesitates in front of the silver road, lifting and lowering the heel of her right foot. I try to give her an encouraging smile, but she squints at me in confusion.
“Oh never mind.” I let my features settle into a comfortable scowl. “Let’s go. We haven’t got all day.” Then I turn to the captain and quip, “This walk is going to be worse than cadet training, isn’t it?”
“If it is, then I haven’t done my job.” Captain Seo smirks, drawing a chuckle from me.
But when Minju gingerly steps onto the moonglade, I choke on my laugh as Eurwangni Beach disappears and darkness swallows me whole.
“What the—” I’m tossed around like a lonely wet sock in the dryer—spin, drop, spin, drop. I can’t see which way is up and which is down in the pitch black.
“Oh shit!” I shout as the darkness suddenly bottoms out beneath me.
I fall until I have no air left in my lungs to scream. But my stomach swoops again and again, and my toes flex and squirm against the sheer terror of free-falling. At some point, my voice returns to me, and my scream pierces my ears.
How long have I been falling?
Longer than a jump from the Empire State Building, five times over. I feel my sanity unraveling when my body finally goes limp, reaching its limit, and my eyes roll back. Thank gods. But before the sweet oblivion of a dead faint claims me, I hit the ground with a resounding thump.
“Ow.” Pain lances through every inch of my body, but I don’t care. Nothing can be worse than falling . . . and falling. Laughter trickles out of me in unhinged relief.
“Daughter.”
I stop laughing. I stop breathing. Keeping my gaze lowered, I push against the ground—a distant part of me recognizes the silver road—and get to my feet. Even after I stand, swaying on unsteady legs, I don’t dare look up.
“Come, daughter,” my mother says. “Let me hold you.”
My breath comes in short, unsteady pants, and I finally raise my head. The dark surrounds me, but I see her in the ghostly glow of the silver road. She is only a few yards away, wearing a plain beige hanbok, with her hair in a neat, low bun.
“Mother?” Tears blur my vision. I wipe them away with an impatient swipe of my hand. I can’t see her if I’m crying.
“Yes, Mihwa.” She nods and holds her arms open with a warm laugh. “Come, daughter.”
I take a step, then falter, my eyes narrowed in confusion. “But how?”
“Does it matter?” Her smile is sad but beautiful.
“No.” Gods, I missed her. “I guess it doesn’t.”
I run toward her but stumble to a stop again. This can’t be my mother.
But she’s right here.
Why shouldn’t I get to hug her—to feel her arms around me—one more time? I work so hard. Don’t I deserve this one thing?
I take one step, then another—faster and faster until I’m sprinting. She’s so close. Almost there. I stretch out my hand. My fingertips nearly skim hers, when I’m yanked back, like I have a bungee cord wrapped around my waist, and I crash onto the ground where I started.
“Mother,” I scream, straining against the invisible hold.
“Behave, Mihwa.” Daeseong steps behind my mother and wraps his hands around her throat.
“You,” I snarl. “Get away from her.”
“Mi—” My mother gags and gurgles as her fingers claw at the dark mudang’s hands. “Mihwa, bewitch him. Make him stop.”
“But Mother, I swore never to use that despicable power. You made me swear it.” I slowly shake my head. “I c-can’t. I won’t. I don’t want to be a monster like him.”
“Please, daughter. Bewitch him,” she cries. “Save me. Please.”
“It’s . . . not right,” I croak. “I . . . I have to try t-to do better.”
“He’s killing me.” Her eyes glow red.
“Wh-what . . .” I bury my fingers in my hair. “What’s happening?”
“Sometimes, you have to do bad things for the right reasons.” My mother’s eyes are back to the warm brown they have always been, and they glisten with unshed tears. “I don’t want to die, Mihwa. Bewitch him. Don’t let him kill me.”
I blink. But Daeseong already killed her. I draw in a shuddering breath. Mother is dead. A wail rises to my throat like I’ve lost her again, but I fist my hands, my nails digging into my palms. This isn’t her.
“Mother would never ask me to condemn myself to save her.” She isn’t real. But I miss her so much that I still want to run to her. “Who are you?”
“Me?” She points at herself, another sad smile curving her lips. Blood blossoms like crimson poppies over her hanbok until it stains the fabric red. “I am your mother. The one you let die to keep your hands clean.”
I shiver from the memory of my mother’s gumiho rearing up on her hind legs to shield me from Daeseong’s dark magic. I remember her crumpling to the ground as her life bled out of her—and how she died in my arms. The female standing in front of me is not my mother.
“Besides, you’ve already used your dark power once.” Daeseong releases her throat and steps around her. “What’s the harm in doing it again?”
“You’re not him,” I rasp, my blood pounding in my ears. “I killed him.”
“You did, didn’t you?” The fake Daeseong tuts his tongue as dark blood soaks through his gray dopo from a gaping wound in his chest. “You killed your own father. Twice. How could you redeem yourself from that?”
“With every choice I make.” I stand tall and face my demons. “I will choose to do better.”
“You will fail.” My fake mother’s voice sounds sibilant.
“Then I will try to do better the next time.” My Yeoiju hums with pride. “I will try and try again until my last breath.”
My fake mother rakes her fingers down her cheeks, and her skin slides down like melted wax, exposing a layer of raw flesh. She tugs and pulls at her face until I can see her eyes bulge and swivel in their sockets, the muscles pulsing and twitching.
Daeseong’s replica mimics her grotesque performance, peeling away the skin of his head like a hood. I gag on the bile rising to my throat. Then he emits a piercing screech, stretching his jaw open past his chest.
I clap my hands over my ears and watch in horror as their limbs elongate and bend like gangly spider legs.
The monstrosities launch themselves at me, their movements jerky and freakishly fast. I duck my head under my arms, a silent scream tearing out of me.
Scared out of my mind, I don’t even think about fighting them off.
My Yeoiju, however, is made of sterner stuff than that.
It sings inside me, and warmth spreads through my body. My fear recedes by a fraction, clearing my mind. But before I can gather myself and figure out a plan, a stream of white light bursts from my chest, arching my back.
The demons’ screeches hit a fever pitch, and I press my palms harder against my ears.
My limbs begin to quake, and panic slices through me. If I don’t stop the Yeoiju, it will deplete my magic, then draw power from my very life force. With a roar, I call back the white light before I lose control and raise my Shin’gwangdo to fight off the demons.
But they’re . . . gone. The Yeoiju defeated them.
My arm falls limply to my side, with my sword dangling by my thigh. Panting into the heavy silence, I finally look around me. In the fading white light, I see a wall of fire surrounding me in a mile-wide radius.
It should be sweltering where I stand, but I don’t feel any heat emanating from the towering inferno. Unfortunately, the countless naked bodies floating and writhing in its depths certainly do.
Dear gods.
We’re not walking through the abyss. I fall to my knees. We are walking through the depths of hell.