Chapter Forty-Seven Sunny
Chapter Forty-Seven
Sunny
Ethan steadies himself with a hand on my back when the verdant hills and forests of Shinsan materialize around us. I shift back to my human form and link my fingers through his.
Holy fuckaroni.
Knowing I could do it, and actually transporting us to a different realm with a single thought, are two completely different things.
“Do we look under every rock on this entire mountain to find this elusive god?” Ethan muses with worry tugging down his lips.
Every minute counts. The Kingdom of Sky might already be under attack.
“No.” I scan the trees around us, determination coursing through me. “I can sense him. This god isn’t asleep.”
I lead us down a hill and deeper into the forest until we reach a cave, nearly hidden from view. The towering trees barely let needles of light touch the ground, but vegetation flourishes around the cave.
“Do you think Dangun is in there?” Ethan whispers close to my ear.
“He is,” a soft, resonant voice answers from the cave.
“Lord Dangun,” I project my voice without raising it. A neat goddess trick. “We come to seek your help.”
The god of Mountains comes to the mouth of the cave with his hands clasped behind his back.
He wears a simple hanbok of unbleached cloth, with a thick, long vest on top.
He is ruggedly handsome, with shoulder-length waves that fall haphazardly over his broad shoulders and a dark beard that can’t hide his strong jawline.
If it weren’t for his kind eyes, he could be mistaken for a sanjeok, a mountain bandit.
He tilts his head for us to follow him inside, and we do as we’re bid. I glance around the cave, which is surprisingly bright and warm, then settle my gaze on the god of Mountains. Dangun exudes a soothing calm that steadies my frazzled nerves.
But when he does a double take on me, his jaw dropping in shock, I promptly freak out. What? I glance down at myself. Is he not a fan of all-black attire?
“Hwanin,” he chokes out. “My grandfather gave you his divine life force?”
“Y-yes.” I can’t tell if he’s mad about it, so I prattle on. “I bear the Yeoiju, the last of the Cheon’gwang. I’m pretty sure I was able to absorb Hwanin’s gi without dying because of that.”
“Among other reasons.” The hard lines of Dangun’s face soften, and he releases a long, resigned breath. “I am glad Hwanin did his part. Did Yongwang and Yeomla also agree to transfer their gi to you?”
Wait. What other reasons? Never mind. There is no time to waste.
“They did.” Then I feel obliged to add, “That is, if you give me your divine life force first.”
His lips press into a stern line. “They likely believed you will not survive receiving my gi.”
“Why is that?” Ethan wraps his arm around my shoulders and pulls me close to his side. “Why would your life force affect her any differently than Hwanin’s?”
“The King Foretold.” Dangun angles his head to study Ethan. “You truly love her.”
“With all my heart,” Ethan confirms, and my knees grow weak. I will never tire of hearing that he loves me, no matter the circumstance . . . even when he’s mouthing off at the god of Mountains. “But you haven’t answered my question.”
I resist the urge to pinch his arm. Since he is now the husband of a goddess, he should be able to get away with some disrespect toward the gods. Even so, my stomach instinctively clenches.
“Each god is the embodiment of a distinct source of life,” Dangun explains evenly, instead of smiting Ethan. “Yeomla and Yongwang must believe that no god is able to embody more than one divine life source. It is too much power—conflicting power at that—for even a god to survive. Or so they think.”
Ethan’s gaze snaps toward me.
“Don’t worry. I can survive.” I place my fingertips on his mouth before he can speak.
“The Yeoiju burns the brightest when all four life forces are combined within me. When the blue of Water, the green of Mountains, the red of Underworld, and the silver of Sky merge, the Yeoiju shines white—the combination of all colors. That white light is the Cheon’gwang. ”
“You are right.” Dangun nods. “The Yeoiju will allow you to absorb all four divine life forces.”
Ethan kisses my fingertips before gently tugging them off his lips. Then he asks, “How can you know that for sure?”
“Because the Yeoiju showed me the truth a long time ago,” the god of Mountains says with a faraway look. “Sunny was always meant to be the one to vanquish the eternal darkness. She was always meant to be the light.”
“How d-do you know my name?” Icy fingers of trepidation scrape down my spine.
“A god knows many things,” he hedges, then plows forward after a jagged pause, “but I know your name because I am your father. The blood of the gods runs through you. That is how you survived absorbing Hwanin’s gi.”
Vertigo spins the cave in dizzying circles, and I sway on my feet. My laugh starts as a quiet giggle, then gradually snowballs into a shrill cackle. I wrap my arms around my aching ribs as tears rain down my face.
I keep laughing. I can’t seem to stop. Then, suddenly, I do stop with jarring abruptness, because despair rides through me in a merciless tidal wave of self-loathing.
“Daeseong is my father,” I say flatly. “He wasn’t lying—he couldn’t lie—because I stole his free will. I bewitched him to tell me the truth.”
“The dark mudang believed that you were his daughter.” Dangun’s shoulders slump as though he feels the weight of the world on it. “Your mother believed that you were his daughter. It was the only way.”
It’s too much. I would give anything to be anyone’s daughter but Daeseong’s. And to be Dangun’s daughter? I realize a part of me badly wants this kind-eyed god to be my father, but what if it’s not true?
“Stop talking in riddles,” I snap, my shoulders rising and falling. “Just tell me what you think you know. You’re wasting time we don’t have, Dangun.”
“Sunny, you should listen to him.” Ethan rubs my back in soothing circles.
Normally, that would have worked wonders. But right now, no amount of comfort, even from my fated love, will calm my nerves. I want the truth. Yet finding out the truth terrifies me.
Then Ethan goes deathly still next to me, and the sounds of the mountain shut off in an instant.
“Wh-what’s going on? Ethan? Ethan.” When he doesn’t respond, I frantically run my hands over him. His body is warm, but he isn’t breathing. I spin on Dangun and rage, “What did you do to him?”
“Do not worry. Ethan is unharmed, merely frozen in time,” the god of Mountains reassures me. “But I can’t stop time for very long, so you must listen, Sunny.”
Ethan is okay. I focus on that and not on the time-stopping shit, lest my brain blow up.
“Fine.” I duck my head and dry my cheeks on my shoulder. “I’m listening.”
“I loved your mother. More than life.” Dangun’s voice breaks. “But I had to let her go when she became pregnant with you.”
“Why?” I don’t believe he’s my father—I don’t know what to believe—but this hurts anyway. This is why I shouldn’t get my hopes up. “Did you not want me?”
“You are everything I have ever wanted in a child.” Love shines from his eyes, and I look away. “The moment you were conceived, you already bore the Yeoiju in your soul, and it showed me your destiny.”
My brows knit above my eyes. What is he telling me?
“I don’t know why the Yeoiju chose to show me—perhaps because I was meant to be the first flap of the butterfly’s wings—but it showed me everything. Far more than even a god could foresee.”
I stagger back as his words finally sink in. He has seen my destiny. The whole of it. Does he know how it ends?
“In order for you to fulfill your destiny, your mother had to leave me before she realized she was pregnant with you.” He wipes a hand down his mouth.
“That very night, I told her that the novelty of toying with a gumiho had worn off, which made her run into Daeseong’s arms, wishing she could be human. ”
“How could you?” I gasp, my hand fluttering to my mouth. Oh, Mother.
Instead of making excuses, Dangun takes a bracing breath and continues, “I broke your mother’s heart because Daeseong had to believe that you were his daughter. He had to believe he had every right to the Yeoiju so that he would hunt you, even after death, by becoming the dark mudang.”
“You could have stopped everything before any of it happened,” I seethe. “It’s because of you . . . Everything is because of you.”
If the god of Mountains had stayed with us, my mother would not have died at Daeseong’s hands. I wouldn’t have left Korea. I would never have met . . . Ethan.
I grab my head in my hands, my breaths coming shallow and fast.
Would I trade my time with Ethan to avoid all the loss, grief, and loneliness I’ve endured for over a century? To avoid the pain and devastation that is yet to come?
I don’t know what to think—how to feel. I drag my fingers down my face, then my arms fall limply to my sides. It’s . . . too much.
“In time, you will understand.” Dangun brushes the hair off my face and cups my cheek. I am too exhausted to push him away. “When the Yeoiju reveals your true destiny to you, you will know that this was the only way.”
“Even if you really are my father, you abandoned me,” I accuse past numb lips. “You let Mother die. You left me all alone.”
He draws away, his face crumpling, and I see the broken male behind the god. This hasn’t been easy for him. He didn’t want to push his family away. He had no choice but to break our hearts, as his own broke with ours.
For the first time since it sang for me, I hate the Yeoiju.
“I am so sorry, child. But believe me when I tell you that you were never alone.” He holds my chin and doesn’t let me look away. “I was always with you. Every step of the way. Sometimes as my various manifestations. Most times in my heart.”
My eyes drop down to the arm that hangs down by his side—the arm that stops at the elbow. Why hadn’t I seen the half-empty sleeve before? My gaze shoots back to his.
“Halmeoni?” I ask in a small, childlike voice.