Chapter Fifty-Two Sunny #2
“Ungnyeo,” Hwanin roars and jumps onto the monster’s back. “I know you are in there, somewhere deep and dark. Find yourself, one last time. I know it hurts. I know you are scared. But you have to come out of hiding. Fight the madness.”
The monster slaps at its own back, trying to dislodge Hwanin, but the old man hangs on tenaciously.
“Look down, Ungnyeo.” He shakes the monster by its hackles. “That is your granddaughter. She is Dangun’s daughter.”
The Donggul Monster finally lands a hit on Hwanin and throws him to the ground. Then it lumbers to its feet and steps on Hwanin’s head, crushing it into a red pulp. I watch, lying on my back, and sob brokenly.
I don’t know if I’m crying because of the agony in my ruined shoulder or from the shock of seeing my great-grandfather’s head smeared on the ground. What he did to my grandmother and the countless suhoshin cadets is unforgivable. But he tried to do the right thing in the end. He tried to save me.
The monster seems . . . confused as it stares down at the limp, headless body of the former god. I force my limbs to move, and flip over to my stomach. When my shoulder begins to heal and the pain passes enough for me to see straight, I crawl up to my knees.
I have to do this—not only for Ethan and my friends—but for my grandmother.
Hwanin said she’s still in there somewhere.
Only I can help her. I don’t resent the lonely power of the Yeoiju anymore.
Because of it, I can untangle the curse that broke her mind.
I can free her from her tortured existence.
“Grandmother,” I whisper, pressing my hands against my chest. I summon my Yeoiju. We have to help her. “Grandmother, hear my voice.”
The Donggul Monster growls and clicks, then she slowly hobbles toward me, leaving bloody paw prints on the floor.
“Help me, Grandmother.” My husky voice breaks on the last word. “I need to absorb your gi to stop the Amheuk from destroying the Realm of Four Kingdoms. If I don’t stop it, it will destroy your beloved Mortal Realm next. That’s my home too. So please. Help me, Grandmother.”
The monster pauses halfway, as though she hears me.
I rise to my feet and reach my power toward her, expanding the light of my Yeoiju. And she allows my magic near her. But as soon as I come into contact with her psyche, I flinch and draw back my power.
She is hurting so much.
The four strands of divine life forces struggle inside her, fighting each other. Their strife is tearing her apart—her soul, her mind, her body—but the immortality of the divine gi mends her, only to rip her to shreds all over again in a torturous cycle.
I harden my resolve and delve my magic deeper inside her, cold sweat breaking out on my forehead. The four life forces are frantic—their discord too jarring. I have to unravel the knot of divine gi before I can absorb them. But they are tangled so badly that I don’t know where to start.
What do I do?
Panic unfurls in my stomach, and indecision threatens to paralyze me all over again. My gaze jumps frantically over the monster. She cocks her head at me, like she’s trying to decide whether to keep cooperating or to just kill me.
Fuck this.
I have always been an intuitive person. There’s no reason to stop listening to my gut just because the fate of the worlds hangs in the balance.
Led by pure instinct, my magic pulls at the silver thread first. It is Hwanin’s gi, and it unravels from the knot without resistance.
I had a feeling it would be cooperative.
I tug on the red thread next. Even though he was one of the assholes who entrapped my grandmother to preserve his divinity, Yeomla died honorably. Little by little, his red gi comes loose, and some of my anger loosens too.
When I pull on the blue thread, I’m not surprised that Yongwang’s gi resists. Gritting my teeth, I yank it harder, but it clings to life as its cowardly owner had done.
Across from me, the monster lowers herself to the ground with huffs of tired breath, then curls herself into a ball.
My grandmother is helping me.
I push on, swallowing past my tight throat. At last, I unknot the stubborn blue gi and wrench it free. But when my magic reaches for the green gi, the monster jerks and recoils. It is Hwanung’s life force—her husband and fated mate’s gi.
“Grandmother.” I speak into her mind. “You have to let him go. He waits for you in the next life.”
A keening cry—not quite human, not quite animal—slips past the monster’s lips.
“When he lost you, Hwanung transferred his divine gi to Dangun and became mortal. He couldn’t live on without you,” I continue. “Now you have to release the last of his gi so you can join him in the next life.”
The monster moans plaintively. I don’t know if she’ll let go, but I have to try. Trembling from head to toe, I gently tug on the green gi, and it . . . slips loose. The evil gripping the Donggul loosens its hold, and the darkness becomes just . . . darkness.
I withdraw my powers from her, then look at the Donggul Monster, searching for her gi. I gasp, pressing my hand against my chest.
All four divine life forces flow in harmony inside her.
The monster lies so still that I stop breathing. Did I . . . fail? Then, with a sigh that echoes through the cavernous room, she uncurls her body and slides onto her back.
I release a rough breath and drop my head toward my chest. My lips wobble, but I press them together.
Please let my grandmother be finally free.
“My dear child,” a serene voice says.
I jerk my head up.
A beautiful apparition floats above the monster, glowing white.
“G-Grandmother?”
“Yes, Sunny.” She has the kindest smile. “Come closer. Let me get a better look at my granddaughter.”
I stumble toward her, exhausted from unraveling the divine gi inside the monster. I stop less than an arm’s length away and reach my hand toward her. My fingertips brush against the glowing specter, and it . . . flickers.
I can touch her. Ungnyeo isn’t a ghost. She is manifesting her true self through the divine gi of the gods—through the four life forces that I need to absorb.
But once I do, she will be gone.
“Are you afraid, child?” Her ghostly hand cups my cheek. Her touch feels warm.
“Y-yes.” I lean into her hand.
“Good. Only a fool would not be afraid.” She tilts her head to the side. “But you know what you have to do, right?”
“I do.” I bite my lower lip.
“My brave child.” She smooths her hand down my hair.
“But I don’t know if I can do it without my fated love anchoring me,” I whisper.
“Your fated love?” She presses her hands to her chest. “I am so happy the gods have blessed you as they blessed your grandfather and me. Even if he is not with you, his love will anchor you. And I will help. I will not let you lose your way, my dear child.”
“Thank you, Grandmother.” I swallow thickly. We don’t have time. “A-are you ready?”
“Is your father well?” The words tumble out of her. “Is my son . . . well?”
“Yes, he’s well.” I smile. “My father is kind, strong, and loving. He reminds me of you.”
“And you remind me of him.” She returns my smile. “Dangun has always been a good son.”
“I think . . . I think he is a good father as well.”
“I am glad.” She sighs. “Very well. I am ready to leave you now. I long to see Hwanung.”
I nod, my throat working to swallow. I take a deep breath and call on the Yeoiju. Calm spreads through me, and my chest glows white. My grandmother places her pale hand against it. Then we close our eyes, our hearts aligned.
The four divine life forces flow into me like a gentle stream. There is no hesitation, no conflict. Only harmony. I absorb the last of my grandmother’s gi and fall to my knees.
“Goodbye, Granddaughter.”
I open my eyes in time to see her fade away. “Goodbye, Grandmother.”
The green gi of Mountains, the silver gi of Sky, the red gi of Underworld, and the blue gi of Water coalesce inside me until the white gi of the Cheon’gwang flows through my veins and pulses around me. And it is done.
I am the goddess of Light.