Minji
Ink and flame
The scent of shadow magic was thick in the air — something like burning spice and cold iron. Rheon’s rage lingered in the corners of the room like smoke that couldn’t be washed away.
We were preparing for war.
Not with swords — though we packed those too. This was a war of truths. Of blood. Of bonds too ancient to name. And I couldn’t stop shaking.
Not visibly. No. I’d trained my body to stillness years ago. But inside? Every breath felt borrowed. Every step felt like I was trespassing into a story that wasn’t mine — and yet somehowwas.
I cinched the final strap on my chest piece, trying to drown out the pulsing heat at my side. The mark. I hadn’t told the others yet. Not really. Not about what it meant.
It had started to burn the moment Jisoo looked at me — not with that cocky smirk or lazy gaze he gave everyone else. No. This time he had lookedthroughme. And something ancient in my bones hadanswered.
And it terrified me.
Jisoo was danger in the shape of beauty. A fallen star wrapped in shadow. He was the kind of being mothers warned their daughters about in whispered lullabies.
And yet… when they pulled me from the Guild, broken and bleeding, it was his arms I remembered. The sound of his voice — cracked and furious — as he ripped through the walls to get to me.
I remembered the words.
"How dare you touch her."
I had dreamed of that voice since.
I pressed my hand to the mark beneath my ribs, trying to will it into silence.Not now.
A hand brushed mine — Yuna.
“You good?” she asked softly. Her eyes, always so expressive, held a storm of their own. But she smiled anyway. For me.
I nodded.
“As good as we can be.”
Behind us, Rheon stood silent, his eyes focused on the Demon Gate as if he could tear it open with will alone. His hands trembled slightly — I doubted anyone else noticed. But I did.
Because Seori was his soul. And she was out there. Alone.
“I hate this,” Yuna whispered, her voice cracking.
“I know.”
“But we’ll bring her back. All of us.”
I reached for her hand.
“We have to.”
The magic in the room shifted. Rheon raised his hand, and the gate — carved in obsidian and bone — began to glow with eldritch fire.
This was it.
No turning back.
As we stepped toward the gate, I felt the mark on my sidepulseagain. And from the shadows across the chamber… I felt him.
