Chapter 6
The Missing Woman
The first day upon the southern road felt endless.
Even beneath the elegance of the priestess’s carriage, Seolhyun found herself restless by midday.
The wagon rolled steadily along ancient mountain roads carved into the sides of cliffs and forests, its wheels creaking softly beneath embroidered canopies while distant caravan bells echoed through the valleys.
Outside, life never stopped moving.
Camel handlers shouted in northern dialects.
Silla soldiers rotated patrol positions along the outer ridges.
Merchants argued over inventory.
Somewhere near the rear caravans, foreign musicians played reed instruments unlike anything Claire had ever heard before.
Inside the priestess’s carriage, however, silence and composure were expected.
Seolhyun sat cross-legged upon layered cushions beside two of her closest attendants.
The elder was named Mirae, sharp-eyed and endlessly observant despite her gentle manner.
The younger, Nari, possessed a softer disposition but worried constantly over everything from weather to bandits to poisoned tea.
Neither woman voiced her suspicions aloud, yet Claire could feel them noticing the changes.
The priestess they knew had once been distant, reserved, almost ghostlike.
Now she stared too long at unfamiliar objects, asked unusual questions, forgot prayers halfway through their recitation and smiled far too easily.
Two eunuchs had been permanently assigned to the priestess’s escort from the Silla court.
The elder, Hanul, remained close to the women’s carriage, his calm temperament soothing the attendants whenever anxiety threatened to overwhelm them.
The younger, Bokjin, hurried endlessly between the military ranks and caravan officials carrying messages.
Young, handsome and slight of frame, he possessed the delicate features of a court page and by the time dusk approached had thoroughly convinced himself they would all die before reaching the capital.
“I heard the northern ridge routes are crawling with mountain thieves,” he whispered dramatically after returning from the outer lines.
Nari immediately paled.
Mirae rolled her eyes.
Hanul sighed.
“You hear rumours every hour.”
“This one came from soldiers.”
“That makes it worse,” Mirae muttered. “Soldiers exaggerate everything.”
“They said spies have already entered the caravan.”
“They also said a tiger spirit stole a horse two nights ago.”
“The horse is still missing.”
By evening the caravan finally settled beside a broad valley river surrounded by towering cedars and flowering hills.
Compared with the dangerous mountain passes, the camp almost felt peaceful.
Hundreds of lanterns glowed across the encampment while cooks prepared evening fires and guards rotated watch positions.
Silk banners snapped softly in the wind.
Traders unloaded water barrels.
Animals were secured for the night.
The priestess’s wagons occupied the protected centre of the camp where security remained strongest.
Even so, multiple patrols continued throughout the evening.
No one trusted the rumours enough to ignore them.
Seolhyun nearly sighed with relief when Hanul approached.
“You may walk briefly before evening prayers,” he informed her, “but General Hwan Ryuk’s orders remain absolute.”
He lowered his voice.
“Never alone.”
Within minutes an escort assembled around her.
Hanul.
Mirae.
Nari.
Two armed soldiers assigned to evening duty.
And, to Claire’s immediate surprise—
Him.
The younger soldier standing beside the lantern post turned as she approached.
For one dangerous heartbeat her chest tightened painfully.
Not someone she knew.
And yet…
Close enough.
The same calm eyes.
The same effortless precision in movement.
The same quiet amusement hidden beneath discipline.
Only older.
Stronger.
Clothed in dark Silla armour instead of modern fabric.
His name, she learned quickly, was Jiho.
Beside him stood another guard, broader and slightly older, named Taejin, whose permanent expression suggested he regretted every decision that had brought him here.
Jiho bowed respectfully as Seolhyun approached.
When he lifted his eyes again, there was unmistakable curiosity there.
Not improper.
Simply fascinated.
As though the mysterious priestess hidden beneath veils and moon markings had unexpectedly become human.
The evening walk began quietly.
The small group followed a narrow path leading toward the riverbanks while several tiny northern lap dogs—gifts intended for the royal court—trotted impatiently ahead on silk leads.
The creatures were absurdly pampered.
One wore tiny bells.
Another refused to step through mud.
A third barked furiously at absolutely nothing every few minutes.
Claire nearly laughed.
Jiho muttered beneath his breath,
“These creatures crossed deserts only to terrorise soldiers.”
Taejin snorted.
“And now look at them. Royal gifts.”
“They’re demons with fur.”
As if to prove his point, one of the tiny dogs promptly relieved itself beside Taejin’s boot.
Nari gasped.
Mirae burst into muffled laughter behind her sleeve.
Even Seolhyun’s shoulders trembled beneath the veil.
Jiho noticed immediately and smiled.
Not boldly.
Not improperly.
Warmly enough that Claire had to look away.
The path curved deeper into the cedar groves where moonlight filtered silver through the branches.
That was when it happened.
A sharp hiss cut through the silence.
Everyone froze.
Coiled across the narrow path lay a mountain serpent, thick-bodied and dark against the stones.
Nari nearly screamed.
Bokjin, who had insisted on joining the walk despite being terrified of everything, stumbled backward so quickly he nearly fell into the river.
Jiho moved instantly.
One smooth motion.
Sword drawn.
A single precise strike.
The serpent fell before most of them had even processed what had happened.
Silence lingered for half a heartbeat.
Then Bokjin whispered weakly,
“I hate this country.”
The absurdity shattered the tension.
Seolhyun laughed.
Not politely.
Not with restrained dignity.
A real laugh.
Soft.
Sudden.
Bright beneath the veil.
Everyone turned toward her in surprise.
Even she looked startled.
The sound did not belong to the solemn priestess they expected.
Jiho stared for a moment too long before catching himself.
And in that instant Claire saw it clearly.
He liked her already.
Not because she was sacred.
Because she seemed alive.
As they resumed walking the mood changed completely.
Even Taejin relaxed enough to tease Bokjin.
“If bandits attack, we’ll throw you at them first.”
“I shall die immediately.”
“Exactly. It may distract them.”
Hanul muttered prayers beneath his breath about losing all dignity within his escort.
Meanwhile Mirae watched Seolhyun carefully from the edge of the lantern light.
Too carefully.
“You have changed,” she said quietly once the others had drifted ahead.
Claire stilled.
Mirae’s expression softened.
“Not badly. Just… lighter.”
Nari nodded quickly.
“Before this journey you could go days without speaking.”
“That sounds peaceful,” Seolhyun murmured before thinking.
Jiho overheard and laughed softly.
Mirae narrowed her eyes.
“You joke now too.”
“Dangerous territory.”
Claire lowered her gaze, slipping once more into the composed cadence expected of a priestess.
“Perhaps the mountains weighed more heavily than I realised.”
For now, the answer satisfied them.
As the group returned toward camp, distant drums echoed along the outer caravan rings, signalling the changing of the watch.
Jiho’s expression shifted instantly back into disciplined alertness.
“The general wants tighter formations tonight,” Taejin informed Hanul quietly.
“More rumours?”
Jiho nodded once.
“Intercepted messages.”
Hanul frowned.
“Northerners?”
The word settled heavily over the group.
Everyone understood.
Somewhere beyond the safety of the campfires, someone was searching for the priestess.
Not to worship her.
To use her.
To break her open for secrets.
Jiho glanced once toward Seolhyun.
A silent reaffirmation of duty.
And Claire realised something deeply unsettling.
For the first time since arriving in this impossible century…
She no longer felt entirely alone.
The camp settled slowly beneath the cedar trees.
One by one the laughter around the evening fires faded until only the quiet murmur of guards changing watch remained beneath the endless chorus of insects and the distant sound of the river.
Inside the priestess’s pavilion, the women slept close together upon layered bedding spread across woven mats. The air smelled faintly of cedar oil, drying herbs, warm silk and wood ash drifting from the nearby fires.
But Seolhyun could not sleep.
She lay awake listening to the unfamiliar rhythm of another century breathing around her.
Outside the tent walls, soldiers remained stationed through the night.
She had noticed how differently they slept compared to the sheltered attendants, wrapped in cloaks beside dying campfires with swords always within arm’s reach.
Always prepared.
Always half awake.
The world beyond the caravan circle was dangerous enough that comfort had become a luxury few soldiers trusted.
Carefully, Seolhyun rose without disturbing the others.
The two tiny northern lap dogs assigned to Hanul and Bokjin barely stirred as she passed. One lifted its head sleepily before settling again after she scratched gently beneath its chin.
Hanul, bundled near the rear divider with one of the little dogs curled against his side, had somehow become absurdly attached to the creatures.
Claire almost smiled.
Earlier that evening she had overheard him scolding one for chewing a ceremonial ribbon.
“You are a royal gift,” he had whispered sternly. “Conduct yourself accordingly.”
The cool night air greeted her as she slipped outside.
Lanterns swayed gently between the caravan wagons while distant watchfires burned low along the perimeter.
Several guards bowed respectfully as the priestess passed, though none approached too closely.
Even here she remained protected by distance and expectation.
The lavatory tents stood slightly downhill from the main encampment near a grove of dark pines.