Chapter Fifty-Two Sunny
Chapter Fifty-Two
Sunny
“You selfish, evil motherfucker.” I shove Hwanin to the ground. “She was my grandmother. I am Ungnyeo’s granddaughter.”
His shoulders shake, not with tears, but laughter, as though his sanity is slipping through the sieve of his tattered mind. Or maybe he feels relieved—it must be positively freeing—now that he has unburdened himself of the horrifying truth he and the other gods kept secret for so long.
“Fuck this,” I snarl.
Where even are we?
I was so consumed by his chilling confession that I stopped paying attention to the road. It doesn’t matter. I already know where we need to go. The sooner we get this over with, the sooner I can be rid of Hwanin. He disgusts me to the depth of my soul.
At least the last few minutes with him allowed me to restore my magic.
I grab him by the collar of his robe and pull him up to his feet. Then I teleport us to the entrance to the Donggul and fling him away from me.
I remember my father’s face as he spoke of my grandfather’s soul-shattering grief. And my poor grandmother. I clench my fists and scream toward the sky, as impotent sorrow and rage pummel my insides. I spin on the male responsible for all that pain.
“Hwanung lost his fated love. Dangun lost both his parents. Ungnyeo lost herself. All because of you,” I spit at him, shaking from head to toe. “How could you?”
“I have no excuse.” The piece of trash drops his head. “I am a monster.”
“Damn right you are.” I remember the pain of the stranded in the Gray Void. All those suhoshin cadets—young, hopeful, and noble—deceived into sacrificing their lives to preserve the immortality of the selfish, unworthy gods. “You make me sick.”
“As I should,” he says and opens the gates to the Donggul. “But I will do what I can to atone for what I have done.”
A chill runs down my spine, and terror wraps around my body. I am immortal, but what I have to face in this place is far worse than any manner of death. The monster in the Donggul is no longer the kind, strong bear spirit my father described.
From what Hwanin told me, I am about to face a monster so dark and depraved that anyone who dies at its hands becomes a stranded—their life force twisted and corrupted into han.
But the former god of Heavens steps inside without fear—as though he wishes to suffer all the horrors the Donggul promises.
As I follow him into its eerie depth, I understand why the unassuming hanok was given that name by the Suhoshin. The darkness inside the “cave” feels fathomless and expands all around us.
In a few steps, the light from the gates disappears, and we stand in the pitch black of the space. But it’s different from the Amheuk’s darkness—which is the absence of light, desolate and empty. The darkness here feels alive, like it’s slithering with malice and violence.
Even though I listened to Hwanin’s confession, I didn’t understand the extent of the evil the former gods have created.
“What have you done?” I snarl.
“This way.” Hwanin sounds stronger than before, in a stoic, hopeless kind of way.
I float a ball of white light above us and follow him, only because I have no other choice. I glance around the cavernous space, where the Suhoshin trials are held every Lunar New Year. I always imagined there would be endless obstacle courses that grew ever more harrowing.
But the Donggul is completely empty. No walls. No rooms. Not even pillars—much less a gauntlet. Because it was never an obstacle course that killed the suhoshin cadets.
I want this horror to end. I want to end Ungnyeo’s suffering, even for the speck of herself that remains. And I want to end the Amheuk so that it never haunts us again. I just want everything to fucking end.
Maybe not everything. I don’t think I’m ready for my life to end . . .
Fuck.
Panic grips me by the throat. I am immortal. How do you kill a god? I stumble over my own feet, my breath coming in sharp pants. Is it inevitable then? Must I become the End of Days? I cup my clammy forehead with a trembling hand.
Ethan will save me.
He loves me more than anything. He will find a way to kill me. I bring my hand down to cover my mouth.
My poor Ethan.
I drop my hand and drag air into my constricted lungs. I can only take one step at a time. I have to focus on the harrowing step ahead of me.
“Where is she?” I growl at Hwanin.
“She will come for us,” he says with absolute certainty. “She was created to inflict suffering. To crave your blood, your pain, your screams.”
I raise my head and pierce Hwanin with my enraged gaze. “You deserve to suffer.”
“Yes.” He turns and resumes walking.
I trail after him, deeper into the darkness. My white orb only lights a few steps ahead of us, and I trip over a long, pale bone—a femur. My stomach heaves.
Every faltering step reveals more bones and skulls—the remains of the suhoshin cadets who died at the monster’s hands. Soon the bones cover every surface of the floor, and we have to march atop the mass grave.
Hwanin shoots out a hand, and I bump into his outstretched arm before I come to a stop. “She is here.”
Then I hear it.
A low, feral growl that tapers into a manic clicking. The beat of silence as the monster inhales. Then another clicking growl. Goose bumps spread across my arms, and the hair on the back of my neck rises to a stand.
“I will distract her.” Hwanin meets my eyes. “You must absorb the four life forces inside her, like you absorbed Yongwang’s. Let your Yeoiju take what it needs.”
I almost lost control after I absorbed the treacherous god of Water’s gi. I forgot in the chaotic aftermath, but if it wasn’t for Ethan, I don’t know what would’ve happened. Without him as my anchor, I don’t know if I can do this.
What if I lose control?
“Ungnyeo,” Hwanin booms, stepping out of the halo of the white light. “It is I, Hwanin. Take your vengeance. Be free of your han.”
The growling and clicking grow louder as heavy, limping steps approach us. I don’t want to see what stands across from him, but I expand the light of the Yeoiju.
“Oh gods.” I gag and vomit on the floor.
The Donggul Monster stands three stories tall, and . . . I scrunch my eyes shut against the grotesque sight. But I force them back open.
The monster is nearly torn up beyond recognition, but the faintest hint of a bear remains in it.
Half of its skull is missing, along with one ear, and its brain pulses in its exposed head.
One of its eyeballs dangles from its socket, hanging on by a single strand of muscle.
And a long, black tongue flicks restlessly inside a mangled snout, jagged teeth flashing in the maw.
Its arms hang down its sides at gruesome, broken angles—one with patches of fur and skin missing, the other almost chewed down to the bone.
Oh gods . . . its stomach . . . I gag, but there is nothing left to throw up.
Its stomach is ripped to shreds, and its intestines dangle from the open wounds.
And its legs and feet are almost burned to stubs. I don’t know how it stands and walks.
I shrink away from the thought that a speck of my grandmother remains in the monster—that someone so good has been rendered to this.
“Ungnyeo.” Hwanin pounds his chest. “I am here, the one who trapped you in this hell. Come at me, you hideous monster. I am the one responsible for your suffering.”
“Hwan . . .” Its malformed mouth moves, a guttural voice emerging. “Hwan . . . in?”
Before a shudder finishes running through me, the monster launches itself at Hwanin with an earsplitting howl.
“Now, child,” he yells at me before he hits the ground. “Now.”
I watch paralyzed. The Donggul Monster works almost delicately, piercing one of his eyes, then ripping off one of his ears.
Hwanin’s screams sound inhuman. I hear the snap of bones as it breaks his arm.
It pauses as if to listen to his tortured cries, then tears off the useless arm. Then it bites off the side of his head.
The monster is inflicting on Hwanin the same injuries it endured.
“No,” I say without sound. When the monster draws a jagged nail down Hwanin’s torso, opening up his stomach, I finally find my voice. “Stop it.”
“N . . . no,” Hwanin wheezes. “Do . . . it. P-please. Save us both.”
“Grandmother, stop,” I shout.
The monster’s hand pauses, and it tilts its head toward me. The growling and clicking return, and it rises to its feet with surprising fluidity. Then . . . it’s upon me before I can blink. My head hits the floor with a thwack, and pain rings through my skull.
Its jaw unhinges, the smell of rot and death bathing my face, and it bites down on my shoulder.
I scream as its teeth drill down to my bones.
I thrash my legs against the pain, and consciousness becomes too much to bear.
My eyes roll back, and darkness edges into my vision, but my survival instinct belatedly kicks in.
I punch the monster’s head, and I knee its ruined stomach. Yet the Donggul Monster doesn’t budge. It only clamps down harder into my shoulder, and I hear the crunch of bones.
I cry out in agony, and my Yeoiju cries with me. Help. I feel my Yeoiju unfurl, and the four life forces spin and expand inside me. The shivers running down my body become violent until I flop around on the ground like a fish out of water.
Then, at last, the light of the Yeoiju explodes out of my chest, my back arching from the force.
But the monster remains on top of me, unaffected by the white light. My vision wavers. Of course. This monster has the power of the gods, but it isn’t the Amheuk. The white light can’t kill it.
I . . . I have to remember something. It’s important.
I can’t . . . kill the monster. Not until I absorb its gi. Everything will be ruined if I don’t absorb the divine life forces inside it.
Draco. Minju. Jaeseok.
I push weakly against the Donggul Monster as it tugs on one of my arms, like it’s toying with it before it tears it off.