“We’re here to ask for your help,” I say, chastised. She’s not a carnival fortune teller. “We need the sacred ashes.”
“Do you?” She clucks her tongue. “Is it worth the price you have to pay?”
“The ... the price?” Apprehension prickles down my spine. My mother never taught me about any price that had to be paid to obtain the sacred ashes.
“Severing a part of our roots means severing a part of our gi,” Samshin Halmeom says. “Do you think we will hand you a portion of our life force without a price?”
Severing a part of their gi? I shake my head slowly. I had no idea I was asking the Seonangshin to sacrifice so much.
“You must relive the worst moment of your life.” Her voice echoes with the rustling of restless leaves and the baying of wind caught in ahollow trunk. “It will be more than remembering. You will feel every emotion, every pain, like it was happening to you again.”
I suck in a sharp breath. “But why?”
Samshin Halmeom’s eyes burn in every shade of green, beautiful, terrifying, and eternal. “You dare question my decision?”
“N ... no.” My teeth chatter with fear. I know with devastating certainty what the worst moment of my life was. Reliving it will wreck me. “No, Samshin Halmeom. I ... I will pay the price.”
Ben didn’t deserve to die. Neither did my mother. My hands fist at my sides. I killed Daeseong once. I will kill him again. I will payanyprice to avenge their senseless deaths and protect Ethan from him.
“Sunny.” Ethan grips my shoulders and turns me to face him. “What’s going on?”
“The sacred ashes ...” My voice breaks. “I have to pay a price.”
“What price?” He shoots an enraged glare at Samshin Halmeom and roars, “What are you going to do to her?”
“Ethan! No!” I step in front of him, but it’s too late.
Samshin Halmeom’s nostrils flare, and Ethan slams into a tree at the farthest edge of the field. Branches snake around him, binding him to the trunk. Despite his furious struggles, he is cocooned in a wooden prison within seconds.
“Sunny, don’t do—” Leaves plaster themselves across his mouth, silencing him.
“Please don’t hurt him,” I beg, more afraid than I’ve ever been in my life. “He doesn’t know the ways of the Shingae. He meant you no disrespect.”
“Oh, the boy meant me disrespect.” The deity snorts. “Don’t fret, child. His destiny has yet to play out. I will not interfere.”
Before I can ask her what she means, the field and the cypress grove dissolve around me, melting away into my nightmare.
THE GIRL WHO RAN
The girl was full of joy and light. The mountain rabbit and its puffy white tail. The ribbon of leaves dancing in the wind. The song of birds and the flight of butterflies. They all made her laugh and laugh. With her world filled with such beauty, there was no room for fear or sorrow.
“Why must we train endlessly?” The girl panted even as she swung her sword over her head to take her fighting stance. “There’s never anyone here but us.”
“Would you rather gather more herbs?” the mother asked. “Winter’s approaching. The villagers will need more cough tonic.”
“When an adversary attacks from behind, what is the best defensive strike?” the girl asked, changing the subject with cheeky mischief. Without waiting for her mother to answer, she spun with fluid grace, proving she already knew the proper technique.
The daughter’s silken hair was braided down her back like a proper maiden’s, but she wore the hanbok of a man, with loose pants and a top that fell below her waist. Even the coarse brown cotton of a commoner did nothing to diminish the girl’s exquisite beauty. In the moonlight, her dark laughing eyes twinkled with vivacity while she wielded her hwando with the deadly precision of a seasoned warrior.
There stands hope born of despair,the mother thought with wonder. Then she shook her head and hid the smile tugging on herlips. She loved her daughter more than life itself. She prayed she would always shine—bright and beautiful. She hoped her daughter would never forget that she wasgood.
But that didn’t mean she should take her training lightly.
The mother opened her mouth to scold her, when the roar of an angry mob echoed in the distance. The blood drained from her face.Oh, gods.It couldn’t be.Please no.The girl was only eighteen.It’s too soon.She closed her eyes against a wave of dizziness. He had come for her.
She should have taught her more.No.She should have told her the truth. In her soul of souls, hadn’t she known this day was inevitable? But she hadn’t wanted to believe it. She had thought only of protecting her beloved daughter. Now it was too late. How was the girl to face what lay ahead?
“Forgive me.” She pressed a shaking hand to her mouth.
