“You must come with me.” Something of his former power returns when he intones, “Now.”
“I’m rather busy at the moment.” I shoot an impatient scowl at my great-grandfather, the male who disapproved of my bear-spirit grandmother. I’m not inclined to listen to a single thing he says.
“It will not be enough. Your power ...” He swallows. “Your power is not complete. You cannot stop the Amheuk yet.”
“Sunny.” The Judge of Tenth Hell squeezes my upper arm to get my attention. “You have to go with him. He is telling the truth. He told me everything.”
My lips part with surprise. No one can lie to the Judges of Ten Hells.
“Go with him.” Gyun nods when he sees the realization in my eyes. “He will explain everything on the way.”
Ethan stands. “I’m coming with her.”
“No, Your Majesty.” The judge holds up a hand. “No one can follow where she goes. Not there. She needs to focus on keeping herself safe—not on keepingyousafe.”
I glance at Gyun, his face tight with fear and worry, then at Hwanin, his eyes wide and wild.
“Ethan.” I turn to him and cup his cheek. “Hwanin is telling the truth. I need to do this.Alone.”
“We do this together,” he growls. “Or not at all.”
“This is how we do this together. Please let me go, my love,” I plead, knowing how much I am asking of him. “Minju, Jaeseok, and Draco cannot have died in vain. I can’t let that happen. I need to stop the Amheuk. Please, Ethan. I will come back to you. I promise.”
Ethan exhales a shuddering breath, heartbreak in his eyes. “I will hold you to that promise, wife.”
I crush my lips against his but draw away before he can pull me close. Then I grab Hwanin’s arm and yank him away from the field of clouds. “Where to?”
“The Suhoshin headquarters.” He huffs as he struggles to keep up with me.
The damn fool will slow us down, but I don’t have enough strength to teleport us yet. “Why? What’s there?”
“You have only absorbed three-quarters of each of the gods’ gi.” Hwanin ages before my eyes, stooped and ancient. “The rest of our divine life forces is in the ... Donggul.”
“The place of the Suhoshin trials?” My brows pull together.
“Yes.” The old man begins to weep. “The monster within holds the remainder of the four gods’ gi.”
Then he tells me the horrifying story.
A Fate Worse than Death
Hwanin, the god of Heavens, told himself it was for his son. Besides, he had every right to do as he wished. He was a god. He mattered more than a mere mortal. And so did Hwanung.
“Ungnyeo’s heart is strong and pure,” Hwanin said to his son. “If we do this, she will become immortal, and she will be able to keep the Amheuk at bay. She will be a hero—a goddess. She will be at your side for all eternity.”
“My wife is perfect as she is,” Hwanung, the god of Earth, insisted, but there was doubt in his voice—there was greed. “I will speak to her. This must be her decision.”
Hwanung wanted to hold on to his wife. He wanted her to say yes. His greed blinded him to his father’s shadowed heart. That night, Hwanung asked Ungnyeo to become an immortal goddess in order to protect the realms.
“Do it for Dangun, beloved.” Hwanung clutched his wife’s hand. “You can keep our son safe.”
Ungnyeo did not wish to become an immortal goddess—not even to spend all eternity with her fated love and their son—but she could not turn her back on the realms. “I will do as you ask.”
Hwanin was right. Ungnyeo’s heart was strong and pure. Her mortal soul should have shattered from the force of the divinegishe absorbed, but her strong and pure heart preserved a speck of her true self.
Even as she became a monster too horrific to behold.
Even as the monster killed countless suhoshin cadets to satiate its gnawing hunger for blood and death.
