“Mother?”
The mother gripped the girl’s hand and ran ... even though there was no running from this. The light from the torches and the ugly shouts of hatred drew closer and closer.
“You must run, Daughter.” They skidded to a stop, steps away from the plunging cliff. “You must never stop running.”
The mother knew her daughter couldn’t run from her destiny forever. She only hoped that the girl would find happiness along the way to sustain her through the devastation that would follow.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
I know who the man is. I raise my arms to shield my face as the villagers pelt me and my mother with stones. He is Daeseong, the dark mudang whose hunger for magic led to the murder of countless beings of the Shingae. The mudang who drove so many of us into hiding. I thought he was a make-believe villain in a dark fairy tale that my mother told me to keep me in line. But he is very real and here for us.
My mother hides me behind her back, and I let her, even as shame crawls over me. I should be strong and brave, but I’m scared. I’ve never been more scared in my life. I still have my hwando, but it hangs limply by my side.
“Give her to me,” he snarls.
“She does not have it,” my mother says, her voice breaking. “You can walk away, Daeseong. It’s not too late.”
Something like regret softens his face, but a demented scowl overshadows the fleeting glimpse of humanity. “Itistoo late.”
“Monster!” someone shrieks.
A stone hits my mother’s forehead, and blood slides down her temple. I drop my sword and step in front of her with my arms spread wide. I peer into the crowd, my eyes frantically scanning the sea of angry faces.
When I see my friend in the crowd, I sag with relief. It’s going to be all right. She will explain to everyone that my mother and I are good people. We always bring the poor meat after a hunt, taking thebare minimum for ourselves. My mother helps the sick with tonics and acupuncture, and I provide whatever care I can. But I feel my blood chill as I recognize the hateful glares of the very people we helped.
“Beast!” My friend screams and launches a stone at me. “This scholar told useverything. You and your mother are abominations. You will destroy our village.”
“No, that’s a lie. You know that’s not true.” I hold out a shaking hand. “Please, I’m your friend.”
The mob roars with fury and closes in on us. We retreat, one halting step at a time, until the lip of the cliff snatches at our heels.
“Be brave, Mihwa.” My mother wraps me in a tight embrace. “I love you.”
“Mother ...” I shake my head. It sounds too much like goodbye. “No ...”
Daeseong withdraws a rectangular piece of paper from his sleeve, dismissive of the villagers raging around him. My mother gasps and pushes me behind her again. Before I can protest, she takes her gumiho form. Screams erupt, and the mob breaks apart, as some villagers run back into the woods while others scramble to gather more stones.
The paper catches fire, and black flames engulf the mudang. The men flanking him scamper back with horror on their faces. The fire is extinguished in a heartbeat. Blood drips from Daeseong’s mouth, dribbling down his chin, and his eyes are filled with it, violence screaming within them.
My mother growls, low and fierce, but I can feel her body trembling against mine. Whatever dark magic this is, she might not be able to withstand it. I have to do something. With jerky, broken movements, I pick up my hwando and take my fighting stance. But the smile on Daeseong’s face brings up bile to my mouth.
“Sa,” he hisses.
My mother rears up and wraps her body around mine. My breath comes in rough pants against the soft coat of her stomach. And slowly—oh so slowly—she slides off me. I stare down at her body. The woundslook like crimson poppies blossoming over her white fur, until the blood runs together and there is no white left on her.
“Mother?” I fall to my knees. “M-mother?”
“Now come with me, little one,” Daeseong says, his bloody smile stretched across his pale face.
My growl bristles down my spine, and I stand over my mother’s body, my gumiho unleashed. My consciousness curls up into a little ball in my head—the gut-wrenching grief unraveling the stitches of my sanity—and mindless fury explodes inside me. Searing heat spreads in my chest. All I feel is hate. Because love hurts too much. All I want is destruction. Because I can’t bring my mother back. Love is sorrow. Sorrow is rage. I close my eyes, and everything goes white.
When I come to ... I am me again. A hint of fuchsia outlines the distant mountaintops, sunrise nudging against the inky darkness. And a sea of death lies before me. My breath leaves me in a shaky moan. I stumble to my knees as I lurch toward the bodies and crawl on all fours, even though I’m back in my human body.
Daeseong lies prone on the ground with his bloody eyes still open. I reach out with a trembling hand and feel for his life force. Gone. He is dead. All the men he brought with him—his followers—are also dead. Dead. Dead. I snatch my hand back and clutch it against my chest. The villagers ... all of them ... lie deathly still. But I don’t reach out for their gi, afraid of the silence I’ll meet.
Did I ... did I kill them? All of them? I don’t remember what happened. Or how it happened. I wrap my arms around my stomach and rock back and forth on my knees. What frightens me the most is that my first thought isn’t of guilt—or remorse for the horror I’ve committed.No.My first thought is that I should’ve killed them sooner. Before they killed my mother. If I had such power, I should’ve used it when it mattered. I don’t ... I don’t know who I am. I don’t know who this ... this killer is.
I rise to my feet and turn haltingly toward the cliff. I clap a hand over my mouth and whimper against it. My mother lies crumpled onthe ground, her blood dried in dark-brown clumps. I don’t need to reach for her gi. I already know she’s gone. I don’t feel her anymore. The line that was once tethered from my heart to hers now hangs limply from me, with nothing to anchor the other end.
