by Kat Cho
“It’s not enough. You can’t kill a sansin with a human weapon,” Junu yelled, but before he could reach them, the sansin dislodged Somin.
Miyoung stumbled onto her feet in time for Somin to crash into her. And both girls went tumbling across the field.
“You would dare to attack a god?” the sansin boomed. “You will be punished for your insolence.”
He lifted his hands, and rocks rained down from the cliffs around the girls.
Miyoung cried out as a stone glanced across her temple. Blood seeped from a gash in her forehead.
Another volley fell, and Somin twisted in pain as one hit her in the arm. She fell beside Miyoung, bleeding.
“No!” Junu launched himself at the god, ready to use anything he could, his fists, his teeth.
But the old man turned, his eyes bright as the sun as he plucked Junu up by his neck.
Junu’s feet kicked at air as he struggled.
“You have crossed me for the last time. I should have let you die a millennium ago. I turned you for my amusement, but you’ve become a menace.”
Junu’s vision blurred. Ringing filled his ears.
The shadows of the forest swam. It made the foliage turn to hazy green smoke. And he saw figures seeping out of the darkness. No, not just figures. They became opaque, faces solidifying. Faces that had haunted his dreams. Faces that looked at him with the same disgust they’d held just moments before they died. Moments before they burned.
Junu stared in horror as his mother stepped out of the shade of the trees.
No, this was impossible. He started to claw more desperately at the sansin’s hold. His skin began to tingle, began to heat.
Junu watched as his sisters limped out of the forest, their forms burnt and deformed, as they stood beside their mother.
I’m sorry, he tried to choke out. Surely they were vengeful spirits come to drag him to hell with them.
Fire and death, his mother said, though her lips didn’t move. Junu recognized her voice.
I didn’t mean to kill you! Junu thought even as he felt that telltale burn start within him, a sweltering heat that began to fill him. Please know that I never meant to hurt you.
Fire and death. The end, his nunas chorused together.
I can’t. His head spun. He glanced at Somin and Miyoung, lying on the ground mere meters away. I don’t want to hurt them. His fear filled him like steam. He felt the fire within him turn blistering. Feeding on his fear. No, he thought. I can’t.
It is the only way. Bring fire and death. Bring the end, his mother said, and as stars began to explode behind his eyes, Junu felt sparks race along his limbs. He closed his eyes and concentrated on holding the fire close. He couldn’t stop it, but maybe he could control it. He felt it spread over him, the fire growing, brought forth by fear and agony.
And then heard the howl of the sansin as flames burst from his skin, crawling over the god, swallowing him whole.
Junu fell. The ground racing up to meet him. He smelled smoke. He felt the heat of flames, and then he blacked out.
60
JUNU WOKE SLOWLY. His throat burned. His body ached. He blinked his eyes open. They stung, like they’d been dried out by smoke.
The trees loomed above him. The sky was so clear he could see stars blinking above as twilight overtook them. Funny, he hadn’t noticed before. He’d been so focused on his mission. But it was a strangely beautiful evening.
He turned his head, leaves sticking to his cheek as he did so. He saw the shaman lying where she’d fallen, and a meter away was his staff, still intact.
“Junu,” Somin said.
He sat up and looked at the charred ground around him, a perfect circle, embers still burning dimly. Smoke rose like steam from the blackened ground. And beside him was a pile of burnt robes. Nothing else of the sansin remained.
Somin sat beside him, blood drying on her shirt.
“Somin-ah,” he said, reaching out to her. “Are you hurt? Did the fire touch you?”
She shook her head, pushing his hands away. “I’m okay. But Jihoon.” Her voice became thick, so she just glanced over.
Junu followed her gaze. Miyoung held an unconscious Jihoon in her arms, fresh blood spreading over his shirt.
61
“WE HAVE TO do something,” Miyoung said, trying to stop the bleeding.
“We need to get him to the hospital,” Somin said.
Junu limped over. “Let me see it.” He shook his head. “The wound isn’t deep enough to kill him. But his body is weak after hosting Sinhye’s soul.”
“What does that mean?” Somin asked.
“It means if you don’t separate me from this human, he’ll die,” Sinhye croaked out.
“Don’t try to talk,” Junu said. “Save your strength.”
“Trust me, that’s what I’m trying to do, but you all keep jostling me around and it hurts.”
Miyoung shifted to let Sinhye sit on her own. “What are we going to do?”
“We have to get Sinhye out. Having two souls is making Jihoon weak, just like when he had the bead inside of him. It’s making it impossible for him to heal right now.”
“How the hell are we going to get her out without the sansin?” Somin asked, wiping furiously at tears streaming down her face.
“You know what we’re going to do,” Junu said.
Somin turned to him, at first confused. Then her face fell. “No. That’s not an option.”
Warmth radiated through him at her insistence. But it also worried him. He never thought he’d have the chance to die knowing someone would truly mourn him. But he realized he didn’t want that for Somin. He didn’t want her to be sad because of him.
“It’s for the best,” Junu said, making his voice light and conversational. “I’ve been messing up this whole time, and others are paying the price.”
“No,” Somin said again. “I can’t let you go. Not this soon.”
“Maybe we’ll meet in the next life,” Junu said softly.
“I don’t want to wait that long.”
“I’ll make it worth the wait. I promise.” Junu smiled. “In the next life, I’ll work my hardest to be a person worthy of you.”
Somin shook her head, but she didn’t say anything; instead, she held on to him. He worried if she didn’t let go, then he’d lose the courage to do what needed to be done.
“Just being yourself makes you worthy.”
Now Junu felt the burn of tears behind his eyes, but he held them back. He knew that if she saw him cry, it would only make her hurt worse.
“If I’d known it would make you say such nice things, I’d have gladly sacrificed my soul earlier.”
That made Somin choke out a laugh. “Of course you would say something absolutely ridiculous at a time like this.”
“Be good,” Junu said, leaning close, and gave her a gentle kiss. He could taste the salt of her tears on her lips.
She moved back just a centimeter, so they were only a breath apart, and said, “Don’t tell me what to do, Jin Junu.”
His laugh was a low rumble. Then he finally let go of Somin, and after a moment of tense hesitation, she let go, too.
“Okay, first things first. Let’s call that bead.”
“Junu, I can’t—” Miyoung began, but he shook his head.
“It doesn’t need discussion, I made up my mind.”
“This doesn’t feel right.”
Junu laughed. “Well, you’ve never really approved of anything I’ve ever done before.”
“Stop it. I’m saying that I don’t think you need to do this. We’ll find another way.”
“Jihoon doesn’t have time to wait. And I was the reason you lost your mother. I won’t be the reason you lose him, too.”
“You’re not. I never really thought you were. I was ju
st so angry all the time, and you were an easy target. And my mother.” Miyoung paused, taking a deep breath. “My mother made her own choices. That was never on you.”
Junu smiled sadly. “Thank you for that. But you’re not the only person I’ve wronged in this life. I’ve spent it shamefully and now I’m paying that price. It’s my price to pay.”
He held out the staff. “Grab ahold.”
Miyoung hesitated a moment before obeying.
“Now think about your bead. Think about the look of it and the shape of it. Make it solid in your mind.”
Miyoung squeezed her eyes shut.
At first nothing happened. And Junu wondered if he’d lost the ability to use the staff. Perhaps he didn’t deserve it after shunning it for most of his life. But then the staff seemed to warm. Like a low flow of energy moving through it. And the air beside Miyoung wavered.
It thickened, like a film being laid over the space. Then it congealed and shifted until it started to take shape.
“I thought it was small,” Somin whispered behind them. She’d spoken Junu’s own thoughts aloud. The bead should be the size of a large pearl. Whatever was forming here was the size of a human, or a beast.
It formed a head and a body that slowly filled with color. Until it became almost whole. Until it became Yena.
“Daughter.” Her voice sounded like a thousand whispers emitted as one. “You did it. You’ve found me again.”
62
MIYOUNG’S LEGS SHOOK as she rose. She wanted to do so many things in this moment. Cry in rage, in fear, in joy. She wanted to wrap her arms around the thing with her mother’s face, even as she knew it wasn’t really her mother, not all of her at least.
“Eomma,” she said, her voice shaking. “I’m so sorry. You can’t stay.”
Yena’s beautiful brow furrowed. “What are you saying, Daughter?”
Miyoung shook her head. “You don’t belong here. Not anymore. And keeping you here is selfish.”
“What if I don’t want to go?”
“Be careful,” Junu murmured to Miyoung as he stood beside her.
Miyoung nodded and her face became set. “You can’t stay,” she told her mother. “You have to move on. You have to give me my bead back and leave.”
“Bead?” Yena said, and she opened her hands.
Miyoung could have sworn they’d been empty a second before, but now in her left palm lay a luminescent pearl.
“Is that it?” Somin breathed, staring at the bead. Like she’d never seen anything so powerful before. And of course, she hadn’t. It was a wondrous sight. The soul of a gumiho.
“Please give it back,” Miyoung said.
“No.” Yena closed her hand.
“What?” Miyoung asked.
“You shouldn’t have it,” Yena said, her frown deepening.
That slashed at Miyoung’s heart, because it was something she’d always feared, that her mother would not think her worthy of the title gumiho. “It’s mine, Mother. I need it.”
“No.” Yena stepped back.
“If you don’t give it to her, then something bad could happen to your daughter,” Junu said.
Yena’s eyes darted to his, sharp and angry. She growled and retreated another step.
“You are not my ally. You betrayed me.”
“Yes, you’re right,” Junu said. “Loyalty has never been my strong suit. But I’m trying to help your daughter now. Isn’t that all you’ve ever wanted?”
That stopped Yena. Her eyes darted back to Miyoung, and they became soft again. “Daughter. I want you to live.”
“Then please, give me back my bead.” Miyoung held out her hand.
Yena started to reach out.
“Please, Eomma,” Miyoung whispered, catching hold of her mother’s eyes. “I need it.”
Yena stared at Miyoung with an unblinking gaze. Miyoung stood still, her arms outstretched as her mother moved toward her with jerking steps.
It was so close. She could almost feel the pulse of the bead. It called to her; it wanted to be reunited. Her eyes slipped toward the bead. It glowed. So bright she couldn’t look anywhere else. She needed it. She didn’t know how she could have been apart from it for so long.
There was a garbled cry from behind her. A sound that wrenched Miyoung from her reverie. She glanced over to see Sinhye wincing in pain, doubled over on her side.
Miyoung turned to find Yena glaring at Sinhye. “Eomma, no, just look at me,” Miyoung said. “Just give me back my bead.”
“No,” Yena snarled. “You shouldn’t have it.” And she turned, fading into nothing again.
“Mother!” Miyoung yelled. She turned in a circle, searching for Yena. Then she raised desperate eyes to Junu. “She’s gone.”
63
“MOTHER!” MIYOUNG SHOUTED. But her mother didn’t return. What were they going to do now? “Eomma!” she screamed so loud that it reverberated off the rocks.
“That’s not going to work,” Sinhye said.
“How do you know that?” Miyoung asked, eyes scanning the pale face that should have belonged to Jihoon.
“As someone who existed as a spirit for a long time,” Sinhye panted out, “I can tell you that shouting for her won’t bring her back.”
“Then what will?” Somin asked.
“You have to give her a reason to come back,” Sinhye said. She crooked a finger at Miyoung.
“What?” Miyoung stepped closer.
“Come here,” Sinhye said.
“Why?” Miyoung asked as she kneeled beside Sinhye.
“Because I’m going to give her a reason.” Then, without warning, Sinhye lunged forward and wrapped her hands around Miyoung’s neck.
Despite her injury, Sinhye was strong. Miyoung fought against the choke hold, gasping for breath. But despite Miyoung’s struggling, Sinhye wouldn’t let go. And Miyoung started to see dots appear before her eyes.
“Let go,” Miyoung heard Somin shout. Hands pulled at her, but Sinhye’s hold was too strong.
“Spirits only react to strong emotions,” Sinhye said as she squeezed tighter. Miyoung felt each individual finger digging into her throat. “To fear. Anger. And loss. Put the thing she loves most in danger and she’ll react.”
The world began to spin. Bright lights blinked into Miyoung’s vision. And just as she felt like she was going to lose consciousness, a coldness washed over her skin.
There was a roar in her ears. Was that her blood trying to rush to her oxygen-deprived brain? No, it was a howl.
Stop! Yena’s voice echoed around them. And Miyoung was finally freed from Sinhye’s grasp. She fell back. And fell. And fell. Until darkness surrounded her.
She tried to grab ahold of something, but her arms felt so heavy she couldn’t lift them. Finally, she stopped falling. Not with the hard jerk of a landing. The sensation that came with falling merely ceased.
“Hello?” Miyoung called out, her voice echoing in a void. “Hello? Can anyone hear me? Somin? Junu?”
Still nothing. Until she heard the footsteps. Turning, she saw the forest spring out of the darkness. Trees and branches twisting and reaching around her until it became the familiar terrain of her dreams.
“Eomma?” she whispered.
“Miyoung-ah.” Yena stood before her. And for the first time in a long time she seemed . . . whole.
“Eomma, is this really you?” Miyoung asked.
“I don’t know how to leave,” Yena said. “I don’t know if I can.”
“You can,” Miyoung said. “It’s my fault you’re still here. I held on to you because I was afraid of losing you. I was selfish.”
“No, Daughter. I built a cage around you, one where you could only rely on me. I regret that.”
Miyoung wasn’t sure how true the words were, but something in her heart told her that
this was truly Yena speaking, not some warped specter of her.
“You did your best,” Miyoung said. “And you made me strong. Strong enough to live without you. I can accept that now. I can let you go.”
Yena nodded, a small smile on her lips.
“Please, can I see my bead?”
And this time, when Yena produced it, she held it out to her daughter. “You have to make a choice now.”
Taking it in her palm, Miyoung closed her eyes. She felt the pulse. She felt the pull. It would be so easy to join with it again. But she could also feel the hunger. It spread through her veins; it wanted to consume her. It wanted to connect her to the moon in a way that would give her power as well as a prison.
And she knew that this wasn’t the life she wanted.
As she held the bead, she could feel her connection to it. And as she envisioned that bond, it appeared, a golden thread connecting her to the yeowu guseul. She took it between her hands. It should have been delicate, but it pulled tight and strong, like steel. She yanked at it and could feel a slice of pain. She pulled again, and the agony increased, like fire rising up to encompass her, to fill her.
With a final yank, she let out a scream. It felt like a thousand knives stabbed through her as the thread finally broke. And she felt the bead dissolve, turning to dust in her palm. And her body became numb as her energy drained. Leaching out of her until she felt hollow. Until she felt nothing.
64
JUNU STARED AT Miyoung’s still body. She wasn’t waking up, no matter how much Somin shook her and called her name.
Beside him, Sinhye let out a groan of pain. “Junu.”
She was pale and drenched in sweat. He knelt beside her, putting a hand over her brow. “You’re burning up.”
“This body is too weak,” she said. “I can feel it breaking down.”
“What happens if he dies with you still inside him?” Junu asked.
“I don’t know. But I can feel a darkness pulling me down. I can feel myself fading.”