ಠ_ಠwarning/content: RATED X. MATURE AUDIENCES ONLY. blasphemy and sacrilege like a mfer; seriously you do not want to read this if you believe in and want to go to heaven, pastor!yunho x fem reader, plot twist, the devil is real so so is god maybe ?, witch hunting, violence against reader, more specific warnings on each chapter
Soundtrack by @jailn and @last-words-ofashootingstar
âĄmasterlist + navigation âĄ
Teaser #1; Of Spirit Most Weak And Troubled
Teaser #2; Of Comfort Most Disturbing
Teaser #3; Concerning The Nature of Lust
Teaser #4; Wherein My Faith Doth Greatly Falter
Teaser #5; Concerning One Whom I Ought Not Hold Dear
Teaser #6; Of the Sound Which Came From Beyond the Trees.
The Lord Knoweth My Name; Being an Account of Certain Disturbances Which Befell Our Household.
Under An Angry Heaven; Wherein I Fear I Have Been Forsaken.
Love, Most Sinful; Concerning the Cruelty of Earthly Affections.
A Trial Of Faith; Of My Great Unworthiness Before God, Concerning the State of My Soul and the Want of Assurance Thereof.
Tried By Fire; Wherein Is Recorded a Most Miserable Evening.
The Devil Knoweth My Name; Wherein Satan Doth Make Assault Upon My Soul.
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âžIn Which: Your plane goes down in uncharted wilderness â but you don't have to be afraid. He will take care of you.
RATED X. MATURE AUDIENCES ONLY.
âĽSong Mingi x fem reader
Star's Fairytale July
âĄ'ｼá´ď˝Ľ'âĄgenre: dark Âżromance?, smut
ಠ_ಠwarning/content: briefly proof read, a spin on "Tarzan", unspecified historical au, light gore, reader loses feeling in one of her legs from the crash + slowly recovers, slight communication barrier: mingi understands everything but has trouble speaking a lot, lowkey feral but soft mingi, size difference, implied chubby reader: has squishy thighs and boobs (we cheered !!), touch starved ming (i want to bite him-), is it stockholm syndrome if he didn't reallyyyy kidnap you, semi-forced cuddling, cleaning and eating animals (rip thumper), mingi has a heart of gold but grew up in the wilderness so is... strange ಠ_ಠ1 non-con scene: dry humping, groping, reader 'lets it' happen because she's afraid he'll make her leave, short scene (reader blacks it out). 1 consensual scene: outdoor, unprotected (they don't have any choice but boooo), teaching him how to kiss, him using what he learned on readers pussy (jjsjshdjan), spit as lube, soft to rough, overstim, titty fixation !!, virgin mingi goes FERAL, like actually feral like biting, growling, manhandling to get deeper, cumming multiple times, moaning like a bitch, trying to breed like his life depends on it feral, mingi only knows three words during sex "more, love, mine"
âŻnon-con disclaimer: non-con is NOT okay in real life. this is ONLY EVER acceptable in FICTIONAL settings (and even then it's fucked up)
âŻa/n: i luv me some feral-ness, and i luvvvvv me some minki <3
âĄmasterlist + navigation !âĄ
18+, MINORS WILL BE ABANDONED IN THE JUNGLE.
The smoke makes it hard for him to see.
Perched on a large branch a good bit above the ground, he watches. Observing, carefully.
The plane is stuck on the shore. Half in the shallow water, half not. The pilot must have took a chance at trying to land it on the uneven beach.
He doesn't hear anything besides the creaking metal, the lapping waves. Perhaps whoever was inside perished.
He likes that possibility the best. He doesn't like people â not that he has much experience with them. Those little ones he has had were less than pleasant.
They always treated him... different than the way they treated each other. And then, they tried to drag him back onto their boats.
They left him alone quickly when he started biting.
The wilderness has been his home ever since he was a boy. He'd never leave, and he'd never let anyone else take his home from him.
His head perks up as the door opens. A survivor? Great... He thinks how much trouble it will bring him when â
Out comes you. Sobbing as you fall to the sand. A piece of glass lodged in the side of your thigh and staining your dress with blood.
His interest caught, he climbs down.
You look much different than the other people he's had the misfortune of meeting.
Bare feet on the sand, he makes his way to the fallen plane.
You sound different, too. You're shaped differently. Wearing odd clothes.
He walks right up to you as you cry into your arms; not even noticing his presence until he grips your scalp and pulls your head up.
You scream in shock, grabbing his wrist as he tilts your head from side to side â inspecting you.
You stare at the man dumbfounded. Shock in every fiber of your being. First, your plane had a malfunction and was forced to crash land. Then, you awoke without feeling in one of your legs; looking around to find a piece of glass stuck in it and all of the men you were traveling with dead.
Now, a terrifyingly large and silent man is grabbing your head and looking at you with his eyebrows pressing together â confused.
He thinks you might be another species entirely until he remembers, very distantly, "woman?" His voice is deep and broken, like he doesn't use it a lot.
Frightened and beyond puzzled, you nod in his grasp.
He bites his lip, thinking for a moment. When you go to flinch away, he holds you tighter as he lifts his other hand to your face.
His touch is careful. But it's rough with callouses and awkward as he touches your cheek in a state somewhere between awe and bafflement.
He drops you without care, nodding; to himself you think, because he walks away before you can say anything. You fall back to the sand weakly as he climbs inside the plane â leaving you there with wide and teary eyes.
He comes back out a few minutes later, finding you just where he left you and just as in shock. He has a bag from inside the plane in his hands. He gathered what he wanted and left the rest to collect dust before high tide sweeps the plane further into the water.
"Hold." He says simply, shoving it into your stunned arms.
"W-" You have so many questions. But he doesn't give you the chance to ask any of them before he lifts you up like you weigh almost nothing, slinging you over his broad shoulder.
You groan as your stomach meets his body, clinging to the bag tightly and watching the plane grow further away as he walks away with you.
¡ ¡ â ¡âśÂˇ â ¡ ¡
Eventually, you gave up on asking all of your questions when all you got was silence, one word answers, or grunts in response.
He keeps one arm over the back of your thighs, holding you tightly.
You're so soft compared to anything he's touched before.
He's thankful when you stop talking. He likes the sound of your voice, but he's not used to hearing anything that much. He can finally think.
His body reacted before he had the chance to think this over. Something deep in his brain told him to bring you back with him and he just did it. He wants to figure out why; but it's hard.
Your skin was really soft when he touched your face. It was warm. He liked it. He likes the warmth and the weight of your body as he carries you through the dense trees.
He squeezes your thigh curiously, a hum low in his throat.
Yes, he likes that.
He lowers you with more gentleness than he picked you up with, steadying you with a hand on your hip as your leg buckles under your weight; the other completely useless.
"Stay." He leans you against a tree, turning around and climbing up another with efficiency that makes your jaw drop a bit.
It drops even more as you follow his form, looking up to see what looks like a literal house in the tree.
It's clear he's been here a long time.
A rope ladder drops from the opening, and the strange man follows; climbing down it with something clutched in his teeth.
You, obviously, have a million more questions to ask. But you stay quiet. He seemed to have liked that better â and he's your only chance at survival.
He points to the ground, then to you. 'Sit', you assume. You slide against the rough bark until you sit with your legs sprawled in front of you. Watching him closely as he takes the blade and the large scrap of fabric from his mouth.
"I fix," he says while gesturing to your leg, the small piece of glass still lodged in it.
You swallow thickly before nodding. Theres no way in hell you can fix it yourself. Even though you can't feel it, you know you don't have the guts to pull the glass out yourself.
He slides your skirts up your claves, straddling the injured leg. He opens his mouth to say something before he changes him mind, only tutting his tongue. He wants to ask your name, what you are called. But he forgets the words for that and it makes him a bit frustrated. He doesn't want to keep calling you 'woman' when he thinks of you.
You want to tell him to be careful as he lifts the fabric over the glass to get it out of the way â but you decide against it. You don't even know how much he speaks, how much he knows. It seems like a good bit.
You finally drop the bag next to you and bundle up your skirts, holding them out of the way. Avoiding looking at the mess, you look at him instead while he examines the wound.
His shorts were once pants, cut at the thigh â for less restriction, you assume. His shirt is missing quite a few buttons and you suppose that's why he doesn't button it up. One of his wrists has homemade rope bracelets stacked on it. He has scars all over his body.
A long and rough one across his torso. One short and smooth across the front of his forearm. A little one below his eyebrow.
"What is your name?" You ask softly, and it gives him pause. "Do you have one?"
You talk to him like he understands â and he loves it. Because he does understand. That's what the others didn't get, where they went wrong. They assumed he didn't comprehend full sentences because he didn't use them.
It sounds foreign on his own tongue as he shares, for the first time in many, many years; his own name.
"Mingi."
¡ ¡ â ¡âśÂˇ â ¡ ¡
The inside of Mingi's tree house is strangely put together, for being in the middle of literally nowhere on an uninhabited island.
He has a bed of moss covered with a military issued brown blanket. You kind of want to ask where he got that, but it seems obvious. From someone else who crash landed or came across the island.
He's quiet as he slowly lays you down on it; having carried you up the ladder as you clung to his neck. Your thigh is wrapped up tightly with the strip of fabric, your skirt cut to just above it. He throws the ripped and bloody bottom half of it into a corner, thinking he can clean it and use it for something else.
You're starting to get cold. Blood loss is catching up to you as your adrenaline levels lower because you start feeling safer and safer with the strange man. You know you shouldn't. He seems... well, you don't know.
He's unlike any man you've ever met. His silence unnerves you. His gaze is much too intense. He has zero sense of personal space.
But he's gentle, now at least. And he doesn't look at you like you're beneath him; as many men in society do.
He touches your cheek again as he hovers over you, crouching by the makeshift bed. Fingertips grazing your skin slowly. "Soft." He says lowly.
"Th-thank you?" You whisper, a bit frightened.
He nods, "I like." And he stands up like that isn't a strange thing to say, probably because he doesn't think it is, turning to some fruit hanging by one of the window-like openings.
You push yourself up on your elbows, watching him. "How long have you lived here?"
He has to take a second to think of the word, "ever."
"How?" You ask, astonished, and only get a shrug in response as he comes back to you.
He really is not much of talker, you've found out quickly.
Sitting next to you on the blanket, he pulls off a piece of dried fruit and offers it to you. When you only look at it, slightly suspicious, he shoves it into your hand. "Eat."
¡ ¡ â ¡âśÂˇ â ¡ ¡
When the sun sets, you've barely been holding your eyes open for the past few hours.
He hasn't shown any intention of hurting you, but your mind still yells to stay alert because he's a stranger â an incredibly strange and strong stranger, at that.
"Mingi."
He looks over to you quickly from his place on the floor; where he braids some plant material together into a rope. Almost like he forgot you were there, but he didn't. He's just so very unused to hearing someone speak; let alone hearing his name.
"Do you sleep at night? When it's dark?" It seems like a stupid question, but you genuinely don't know. He doesn't seem tired at all. Obviously, he has to sleep. He's human. But when is a different question.
He nods, tilts his head.
"Soon?" You stifle a yawn, but he catches it. If he sleeps while you do, maybe it's less chance he can hurt you. That's what your logic tells you.
"No," he turns back to the rope and keeps braiding. Sleeping while someone new is around is practically asking for trouble, that's what his logic tells him. He'll wait until you fall asleep.
You let out a sigh as you rest your head on your arm, rolling onto your side to face him. Your leg is starting to tingle, which you suppose is good news. At least you're feeling something.
"Thank you," you whisper, "for saving me." He grunts softly in response.
No matter how hard you try to keep your eyes open, they start falling shut for longer and longer until sleep eventually takes you.
When he hears your even, quiet breathing, he looks over his shoulder. Dropping the rope he was working on, he quickly slides off his open shirt and climbs over you. He should sleep in a branch, on the floor at the very least â but he likes his little warm corner.
And you've made it even warmer.
He likes it.
He likes you.
Scooting closer, laying behind you on his side, mirroring you; he follows his instincts and slowly slides his arm under your head, replacing yours. A gentle sigh leaves you in your sleep as you nuzzle against the warmth of his arm.
Yes. He's definitely decided. He likes you.
¡ ¡ â ¡âśÂˇ â ¡ ¡
A week goes by.
You learn very little about the man who's taking care of you.
You know he is intelligent, maybe not socially aware; but he knows how to tend to wounds using the Earth. In fact â he knows how to do a lot with the Earth. How to make tools, rope, traps, how to fish and hunt, he even uses agriculture to his advantage; has a small garden you can see from one of the openings in the suspended hut.
That's where you are now. Sitting on the ledge with your legs dangling, kicking them slowly to get some sort of exercise, watching Mingi tend to his plants.
You still can't hold all of your weight on your bad leg. The feeling in it comes and goes. You weren't shocked when he all but banned you from leaving the small tree house â only shaking his head and saying "no" whenever you asked about helping him below. You suppose it's fair. You'd probably be more trouble than you'd be help.
He does let you do some things. After you said you felt guilty for being so reliant on him. You're allowed to scrub and hang both of your clothes with the buckets of water he brings up.
You learned, or rather; he taught you, how to skin a few different animals. The gutting of them still makes you uneasy, so he takes over with that. You're waiting for him to do so now so you can help him cook it over the scavenged pot he lights a fire in almost every day. You rinsed your hands clean of the rabbits blood and limped your way over to the window.
Leaning your head against the wood, you sigh.
You don't think you'll ever go home. You're starting to come to terms, realizing the fact that this is most likely your home now.
It's not all so bad.
Mingi is strange. He's a bit scary at times, when he comes up the ladder breathing heavily with blood dripping down his arms. He still acts like he has no clue what personal space is â even though you've explained it a fair few times. And you know he understands everything you say.
At night, starting the second one, he asks; or rather tells you softly to, "tell me things."
You told him of your home, your hobby's, your family, and friends. About technology and some agriculture things he might be able to make use of.
He hums, or simply breathes differently in response most of the time. If you really peek his interest, he asks, "more." It's usually when you talk about yourself or about things he can make use of.
"(Y/n)." He speaks from below you, snapping you from your thoughts. "Bucket." He says while tapping the rope that leads up to the opening you're seated on.
"Oh, yes," you nod, "sorry." Leaning back with a groan, you get the two wooden buckets, carefully setting the one with the dirtied water in your lap and tying the knot he showed you onto the handle. "Coming down." You lower it with the pulley system, sill in awe of his ingenuity with such limited resources.
He takes them everyday and dumps them away from his area, so as not to attract predators to the smell of blood â at least, that's what you assume. Because getting that detailed information out of him would be near impossible with the way he speaks.
He takes whatever animal as well and leaves the guts he decides not to use in one way or another.
"Be back soon," you call out as he starts walking away, getting a small look over his shoulder as an answer.
You make life a little bit better. He enjoys having you here with him, even if most of the time is spent in silence â he doesn't mind, that's what he likes anyway. But he's found that he likes sharing it with you.
He's also grown fond of physical touch. Not you touching him, not just yet. That still makes him flinch if you move too fast.
But him touching you? He can't get enough. Over the past week, he's grown more brave with it. At first, the first day after he pulled you from the wreckage, it was only to change the makeshift bandage on your wound. That night, he put his hand on your waist as he laid down behind you. He liked squeezing it.
The morning after, he helped you stand and try to walk. You didn't get very far â but he kept his hands on your hips as you braced yourself on the wall. That night, he drug you to lay with your back to his chest.
He's gotten braver and bolder. It makes you a bit uncomfortable, like he might try to take advantage of your weakened state; but you don't even know if he knows what sex is.
He does. Well â not really. But he's woken up with hard-ons before and he knows how to take care of them.
You do have him thinking, though. What it might feel like to put himself between your cushiony thighs or put his face in your chest.
He decides he'll try tonight as he climbs up the ladder and finds you changing into the large shirt he's given you to wear at night. He swallows, his throat suddenly dry. Something warm and needy flicking to life in his gut.
He clears his throat, setting the bucket with the rabbit in it down.
"Thank you." You say that a lot, he's realized. You don't want him to throw you to the wilderness if he suddenly deems you too much trouble; you make your gratitude very clear. That's another thing he likes about you.
Even injured and in an environment so different from what you're used to, you try to pull your weight and make yourself as useful as you can.
He only nods, headed to the line of clothes you hung up earlier that day and getting the softer pair of shorts he has to his name. He doesn't bother with modesty; so you turn around as he strips himself and stretches his arms above his head. Busying yourself with skewering the meat.
The night continues like the last seven had. He lights the small bundle of firewood in the metal pot and sits across from you, cooking some for you and handing it over before he does the same for himself. He helps you stand and walk from wall to wall until your leg gives out and he carries you to the moss bed.
Now is usually the part where he asks for you to tell him things until you're too tired to continue.
But that's not what happens tonight.
He usually helps you to lay on your side and gets behind you.
Not tonight.
Tonight, he lays you on your back and straddles your hips. He touches your cheek. With just his fingertips, at first. Then he cradles your face in his palm and hums contentedly as your warmth seeps into him.
"What are you doing?" You ask shakily as he lowers himself a bit, still holding your cheek as he presses his face to your chest.
"Soft." He mumbles, cuddling his face closer. He likes them â he likes them a lot. His cock is twitching in his shorts.
You stay completely still underneath him. Not scared of him, exactly. But scared of what he might do if you deny him the affection- the intimacy he craves.
You'd never survive a day without him.
So you bite your lip as humiliation creeps up while he gives an experimental roll of his hips. And he moans. Low and quiet; just over the insects chirping outside.
He slides his hand lower, tracing your neck softly before it reaches your breast and he gives it a squeeze. He moans louder, moves harsher against you.
You let out a shaky breath as you close your eyes tightly, trying to disappear from your own skin as your savior gropes you.
¡ ¡ â ¡âśÂˇ â ¡ ¡
Another week goes by.
If Mingi notices you're more uncomfortable with his touches the first three days, he doesn't say anything. He keeps them the same as before that night. Like it never even happened â but he had clearly enjoyed himself. Once or twice, you've caught him staring at your chest.
Day four is when you start getting more relaxed around him again. He brings you flowers that day. Yellow petals and bright green stems. Awkwardly holds them out to you, points between you and them, and says, "you." They remind him of you.
Five and six, or rather; twelve and thirteen, pass without incident.
It's on day seven of the second week he picks you up and says, "with me." He helps you wrap your legs around him and you hold on tightly as he climbs down the ladder. You know better than to question him.
You just enjoy the change of scenery, hugging onto his back until he stops.
Your jaw drops as you look at the large waterhole. It's crystal clear, you can see all of the rocks at the bottom, the little tassels of water grass and the small fish swimming through it.
"Swim?" He looks over his shoulder, something like a smile on his lips as he sees the joy in your eyes.
"Yeah- yes! Yes!" You hug onto him tighter, smiling as well. "Thank you for bringing me here, Mingi."
His name still sounds odd to hear out loud, but he thinks he likes the way you say it.
He slowly lowers you from his back, steadying you as your leg trembles a bit. "Water-" He groans, tilting his head as he unwraps your healing wound, "good."
"I think so too," you nod. He definitely likes that about you. You still don't shorten your sentences or talk to him like he can't understand. "It will be good to move it around without pressure on it."
Exactly what he was thinking, although he could never express it as elegantly as you. His lips do that thing they've been doing lately â turning up in the corners.
You decide against going fully nude, but he has no qualms about stripping bare before diving into the water.
In just your underwear, you slowly lower yourself to sit on the edge before pushing off and submerging yourself.
It feels wonderful. Beyond wonderful â it feels magical. You and Mingi both freshened up each day with clean water and fabric scraps, but this is entirely different. Like your soul is being cleansed and lightened of its burdens as the water surrounds you.
You push your hair out of your face as you come back up, laughing happily.
Mingi hasn't heard that sound from you before, but he enjoys it nonetheless. It makes him feel warm.
"Happy?" He hums curiously as he swims, going back and forth the length of the water slowly.
"Very." You reply quickly, moving to copy his movements.
He definitely has more stamina than you, but he slows himself down a bit to match your pace as you try to keep up.
And you're both content to swim back and forth in silence for a while, it must be at least thirty minutes later when you finally give in to your muscles begging for mercy. You haven't moved this much since before your plane crashed.
You fold your arms over one another on the edge of the water, breathing a bit heavily as you catch your breath.
Mingi comes up beside you, no worse for wear; and looks at you for a moment before copying your pose. He rests his chin on his arms and looks out into the wilderness with you. "Happy." He says lowly.
You turn your head, resting it on your arms as you peer over at him. "You are?" You search for clarification, kicking your legs slowly.
He nods, moving again to mirror you. "Was... lonely. But, people before; no good." He reaches over and touches your cheek, "you good."
You only smile in response. It's the most words you've ever heard him say in one day it feels like, let alone one 'sentence'.
Pushing yourself a bit closer, you slowly lift your hand. And he doesn't flinch like he normally might. He leans into your touch as you cradle his cheek, sighing softly. "Like you."
"I like you too," you move carefully, until your hip brushes against his side under the water. "Do you know... what a kiss is?"
"Kiss?" He repeats you with a small raise of his eyebrows.
"Yeah, kiss," you lean forward. His eyes are locked on yours, watching you intently as you lift yourself up a bit to be level with his face. "For affection, when you like something," you press your lips to his cheek softly, "you do that."
He cranes his neck, delicately placing his lips against your cheek for a moment longer than you did to him. He has a soft blush across his tanned cheeks when he pulls back.
"Nice, right?" You say with a bit of a giggle, seeing the man who literally climbs trees and hunts in the woods with bare feet get flustered at something as simple as a cheek kiss.
"Nice," he mimics you with a smile; one undeniable. He has a nice smile, you realize. Warm like the sunshine that beams down on the cool water you're in.
"It feels nice," you readjusted yourself, fidgeting a bit shyly yourself, "to kiss in other ways too."
He leans closer, "show." Show him. Effective immediately, you have to show him.
"Oh, I don't know-" You're getting cold feet. You want to kiss him for real, but what if that changes things? You know it realistically shouldn't, he doesn't know how intimate kissing on the lips can be. He doesn't know the implications of it.
"Please?"
He catches you off guard with that. He never asks for things. Always tells or gestures. But now, his eyes are soft and asking.
"O-okay," you nod before lifting yourself up to sit on the ledge. He watches maybe too closely as the water runs down your chest. "Close your eyes."
He hesitates, only for a moment, before he does so.
He flinches when you cup his jaw, but he quickly relaxes into your touch as you pull him forward. And he absolutely melts when he feels your lips against his own â the touch feathery light.
It's like a flip switches in his brain, something instinctual. And all he ever does is listen to his instincts; so he follows his bodies lead and presses his lips to yours harder as he moves to slot himself between your knees.
Holding himself up with his hands on either side of your thighs, he follows your slow movements. His heart starts racing. His skin feels like it's tingling under your touch.
"Open your mouth," you whisper heavily against his lips; having him practically chasing your mouth as you pull back to do so.
And if he thought he liked kissing before â he has no doubt about it now, as you slip your tongue into his mouth.
He just about loses what's left of his mind when you press it against his.
He has to pull away, panting heavily and blushing deeply. "Like that." Comes out a moan. His cock twitches as he runs his eyes over your body slowly, watching the rise and fall of your chest.
"You do?" His answer to your question is to jump out of the water and yank you to your feet.
He has to bend down to kiss you again, copying your actions and cupping your cheeks as he moves against you.
He definitely does like it.
His tongue is a lot more adventurous than yours was. More wild. Licking the roof of your mouth and tracing your teeth and touching every single inch he can possibly reach. You would never think this was his second kiss.
To think he's practically devouring your mouth and you only taught him what a kiss is a few minutes ago.
His hands slide down your neck as he leans back, resting over your chest while he looks at you closely; taking in every part of you he can. "W-" He stutters, for the first time ever. For the first time ever â he's rendered completely speechless.
"You're really good at that," your panted words make him twitch again. When you stumble, he grabs your hip to steady you.
One hand on your hip, the other engulfing your breast; he helps you lower onto the ground, eyes never leaving yours. He goes even further than helping you sit, and pushes you to lay back. Hovering over you, "more than like. Word?"
"More than like?" You shiver under his intense gaze, your heart about to burst with the ferocity with which it beats. "Love, maybe?"
"Love," he nods quickly, straddling your thighs.
"You love me?" You question with butterflies blossoming in your stomach.
He nods, shakes his head, then nods again, then he groans frustratedly and slams his mouth against yours more passionately as he slides his hands all over your body. He goes as far to nip your bottom lip before he pulls back.
"You are love." His clarification makes little sense, but it makes all the sense in the world at the same time.
He doesn't remember what love feels like. The memories of everyone he knew faded with time. But something about you â your softness, your gratitude, the color of your eyes in the sunlight, your willingness to learn how to help, the determination when you hold yourself up on your injured leg to try and push yourself â he can't help but feel... warmth.
Blooming in his chest whenever he looks at you, when he thinks of you. He doesn't love you, he thinks. It's more than that. You are love because you're the only thing he can think of and start smiling, the only thing that feels so gentle and sweet.
You feel like something he never wants to let go of.
If a rescue party ever did come for you, he'd fight them off tooth and nail. Because you make his life better somehow. He isn't just surviving anymore. He's living. And he won't go back.
"You," he points to your heart, then to his, "here."
He does love you. He wants you to stay with him. He welcomes you into his home, his wilderness. Nobody else. Only you â and only ever you; because he is not willing to risk any other humans coming near you.
"Thank you, Mingi," you smile, shyly, at his affectionate gesture. "I feel the same way."
He leans back over you and presses his forehead to yours, his eyes asking silently; 'really?'
"Yes," you nod, slowly wrapping your arms around his shoulders. You give him a softer kiss, barely grazing his lips and it drives him crazy. He likes â he loves how soft you are.
He squeezes your breasts in his palms, leading you to let out a soft moan against his lips. At the sound; he finds that he's officially hard. His member leaking against your leg.
He crawls down, pushing you back down by your shoulders when you go to sit up. "No." Is all he says before he starts leaving sloppy and heated kisses all over your chest.
"Oh-" You gasp quietly, melting between him and the Earth.
He's so unabashed about what he wants. Always, but especially now; you come to realize. He does whatever his brain tells him to do to get a taste of oxytocin. It's primal. The way he grabs and squishes your body like he's playing with it, like he's exploring how it feels â because he is. The way he pauses at your hardened nipple before giving it an experimental kitten lick.
And when you moan a bit louder, arching into him; he decides that definitely gives him what he's looking for. You give him what he's looking for.
He wraps a hand around his length, groaning lowly as he gives your other nipple a lick. Then he nuzzles his face between them while moving his fist along his cock. "Soft..."
When his free hand slides down your waist and meets the fabric of your panties, he realized there's one part of you he's never even seen. Putting two and two together â how you've been so protective and shy about it, and how it's between your legs like his cock is between his; he smiles. It must be your center of pleasure.
He's pulling your underwear down before you know what's what. "Mingi-" You squeal in shock, going to put your hands over your soaked cunt when he grabs your wrists and pouts as you press your thighs together. An honest to goodness pout.
He wants to say a lot of things right now. Like please let him touch you. Please let him feel how soft you are in comparison to him. Show him how to make you feel good. But he's blanking on his words, only grunting as he puts your hands back on the ground.
"It's..." You feel heat burning your face, all the way down your neck, "sensitive."
He doesn't say anything, but the look in his eyes says he'll be gentle as he touches; as he explores. You look away as you spread your legs, breathing a bit heavily.
And he wastes no time, sitting on his knees between your legs and bringing his fingertips to graze your cunt. So gentle it makes you twitch. He traces down your lips, watching closely. When he notices your wet slit, that's where his fingers go.
Earning himself another timid moan from you urges him on. He lets out one of his own as he feels just how warm and wet you are, his eyebrows pinching together as he touches you carefully. He, again, quickly decides he likes it.
If he likes it â he should give it a kiss. That's what his brain tells him.
You're a bit confused, a little disappointed as his touch leaves you. But by the time you're looking at him, he's already bent down and giving your cunt a soft kiss.
"Mmf-" You muffle yourself with a hand over your mouth, hips twitching.
He looks up, smiling. That must feel good, you like kissing; and you must really like it down here.
So he wastes no time diving in and kissing your wetness. Just as messy and raw with primal intent as he had explored your mouth; he does the same between your legs. Licking up and down and feeling everything he can. The noises you're making tell him he must be doing a great job, because even with your hand over your mouth embarrassedly; your moans sound out loud enough for him to hear them and drink them up like he's dying of thirst.
His tongue goes a little bit lower and he finds your hole, slipping inside curiously and making you cry out. He pulls back with wide eyes, his cock twitching for attention.
It was even hotter than the rest of you, even softer...
He lays back over you quickly, his chest crushing you to the ground as he looks deep into your eyes. "In."
"W-what?" You stutter, dizzy from his intense make out session with your cunt. Grabbing onto his biceps, you try to make sense of what he says.
"Want... inside you."
Now your eyes widen. He's a big guy, and that doesn't stop at his cock. You doubt he'd understand if you told him you needed to be stretched first. And by the look in his eyes, he probably wouldn't be able to be patient enough to do so anyway.
"You have to be gentle with me," you say slowly, squeezing his arms, "okay? Put- you can put it in, but you have to go slow."
He nods fast, looking down and gripping the base of his length while holding himself up above you; just enough to have room for you both to look down between your bodies and watch as he lines himself up with you.
He gulps as he slides his tip along your slit, pressing forward as he meets your entrance. You bit your lip, breathing slowly as he pushes forward. You almost cry when his cockhead finally slips all the way in, telling him in a wobbly voice, "wait! Wait a second!"
He groans, fisting his shaft while you clench around his tip. He wants to go all the way in. He needs to. He needs to. He needs to feel your snug heat all around him or he'll cry.
Willing yourself to relax, you let out a shaky breath and look up at the sky as he continues to look down at the way your pussy lips are stretched around just the very tip of his cock. "Slow, please, Mingi."
His name leaving your tongue makes him shudder, a tingle running along his spine. He starts inching forward immediately. Grabbing onto your shoulder tightly to ground himself so he doesn't just slam into you, he watches as you slowly encase his entire length.
He all but collapses on top of you when he bottoms out, pinning you to the ground. You bury your face in his shoulder, panting moans raising goosebumps on his skin. Your walls flutter and twitch as they try to mold around him. Both of you are clinging to each other tightly; his hands gripping your shoulders and your arms wrapped back around him.
"Love," he whines as you clench around him, his fingers twitching to hold you tighter.
"You feel so good..." You whimper back as you rub down his back tenderly. "Do you... you want to move?"
His response is immediate, grinding his hips into yours and moaning loudly; louder than you. He bites his lip, letting go of your shoulders and placing his hands by either side of your head to hold himself up.
His eyes flick from your face to your cunt wildly, and he looks like he's going to ask something â but he gets to annoyed trying to think of any words at all as your gummy walls cling to him. He only growls, pulling his hips back an inch before thrusting back into you with a testing, delicate pace.
And when you moan as he bottoms out again â all hell breaks loose onto your cunt.
"Fuck!" You scream as he starts pounding into you, your back arching from the sudden onslaught. He's hitting every spot inside of you that makes you see dots of white when you squeeze your eyes shut; tickling your brain with the flood of pleasure.
He leans down, his face in your neck; nuzzling you softly in a stark contrast to how he slams his hips against yours. "L-love." He says again.
You can't tell if he's saying he loves how it feels, or if he's calling you 'Love'. It seems like the latter as he moans it yet again, his eyes rolling back into his head as his hips stutter.
He pauses, very briefly, panting heavily into your neck. Before you can even fully register that he's came â his hot release making you shiver with ecstasy as it pools inside of you â he groans, "more."
And his pace returns, harsher than before. More animalistic. Downright brutal as he fucks himself into your cum-slick pussy.
Lowering himself onto his forearms, he latches onto your parted mouth as you moan and gasp uncontrollably; doing just the same as he pounds you into the ground.
Your moans mix together, spit as well as he flicks his tongue against yours lewdly â showing just how much he likes you.
Your cunt feels like heaven on Earth as he buries himself into it repeatedly. He never wants to leave. He never wants you to leave.
As he takes you on the ground like an animal, your moans filling his ears and your eyes dizzy as he pulls away from your lips to look at you â a word comes to mind.
"Mine." He moans it deeply, gripping you tightly and having his eyes nearly roll back again as he squeezes your soft sides.
And your eyes do roll back, yelling out and grabbing his arms tightly as your orgasm suddenly washes over you. Feeling like the pure ecstasy is going to snap you in half somehow as you tremble.
Already messy with his cum, his cock nearly slips out with your wave of arousal and your intense clenching. When he realizes, he growls with frustration â no way in hell is he about to let that happen. He slams all the way into you and holds you still by your hips as you twitch below him; not allowing you to go anywhere.
His cock rests right against your g-spot. It drives you to tears in your post orgasmic sensitivity, makes you dig your nails into his arms for a sense of stability.
"More," he whines as he leans down and nuzzles your chest, mouthing at it more gently as he hears your sniffling. He forces himself to stay still within you and placates himself by wrapping his lips around your nipple. Having no idea that it's making your jaw drop as he twirls his tongue around it.
"Oh, Mingi~"
At the sound of your saccharine voice, dripping with lust, his hips gain a mind of their own again; making you both moan. Your overstimulated cunt clenching around him only makes him go harder. Makes him try to get deeper, groaning when he can't.
His body acts before he knows it, before you know it â and he's pulling up your legs and crushing them to your chest as you whimper at the sudden stretch in your muscles before he knocks away any and all thoughts when he slams his hips into you again. He touches deeper than anything ever has.
He pins your legs to your body as he lays over them, your calves over his shoulders. The sight of it â of him makes you cum all over again. And he's right behind you; spilling his cum even deeper than the first time and satisfying something deep in his soul.
He grinds against you, refusing to stay still but refusing to pull out even a fraction of an inch out while he fills you up. A growl gets stuck low in his throat, and he licks his lips before leaning his head down quickly and biting you.
Like an actual fucking animal, he buries his teeth into your shoulder as he keeps you trapped below him; moaning as you squeal and grab at him. Your hips try fruitlessly to move away, confused by the sudden rush of pain mixing with the body wracking pleasure.
He licks the fresh bite, making you shiver. He didn't break skin â just barely sparred you from it. The deep indentations of his teeth on your skin makes him grin.
Kissing it softly, his pace returns once more; making you wail. "Fuck, Mingi!" And maybe you should learn that saying his name only makes him more excited. But how can you take in any sort of information when he's pounding so deep inside of you that he's practically in your guts?
He rests his head in the crook of your neck, his jaw agape and moans spilling out each time he bullies his cock into you. "Love," he gasps, "more."
How in the world it's even possible for someone to have this much stamina, you can't wrap your head around it. He was a virgin not fifteen minutes ago â and now he's ready to cum for a third time inside of you.
"More," you mimic him with a heavy breath, struggling to get enough air as he keeps you folded up with almost all of his weight on top of you.
He lets out a particularly loud moan as you reach and wrap your hands in his hair gently; holding his head to your neck. Your nails scrape against his scalp, albeit very lightly, and he chokes on his own breath as he slams into his peak.
His hands go everywhere, unsure of what he wants to grab onto as his brain starts feeling the effects of all of his previous orgasms. They land on your breasts and he almost whimpers, squeezing and kneading them in his palms to distract himself from the ache in his cock. "Mine," he stutters as he finally stills above you.
He only moves enough to let your legs fall back down, trembling and heavy. He lays on top of you while he pants; his breaths coming as hot puffs against your skin as he keeps his head buried in your neck. His hands between you as he continues to play with your chest while you both float back down to Earth.
You groan softly, wrapping your arms around his head and hugging him close. "Mine."
âFuck, you're shakingâŚâ Kai hisses behind your back, squeezing the water out your hair gently. Diamond beads sparkling and sliding down on his forearms, dripping on the ground. âWe shouldâve got more towels.â he mumbles to himself.Â
And you chuckle, turning back to him for a second to give a What are you talking about? look, âI bet you guys even planned this.âÂ
âNo-â Kai refuses immediately but Beomgyu's laugh interrupts him, putting a wide smile on his face, too. And you join them, shaking your head. These boys.Â
Beomgyu raises his eyebrows. âThink we wanted to check out if boobs are more gorgeous when they get out of the water?âÂ
Kai groans at the back, Beomgyu still can surprise him with that filthy mouth of his.Â
âWe already knew that, lady.â Beomgyu murmurs, sticks the towel on your face and wipes the water, not letting you speak. And you're kind of grateful because you've been catching their eyes on the different spots of your body but this is the first time one of them enters a conversation. With a cocky compliment?Â
Kaiâs fingers are almost massaging to your scalp on the other hand, combing your hair gently, feels really good. You're doing nothing but leaning on the boys a little for a moment, hugging yourself. They're preventing the cold. And you're slowly realizing that you love being in between them like this.Â
When Beomgyu pulls the soft fabric back from your face finally, you look at each other with your shaking chins. Your own teeth are even hitting each other because of the cold. And you laugh again, while Beomgyu bumps your heads together.
He squints, putting the towel on his shoulder. âI think,â He holds your waist, his hands feel surprisingly warm on your skin. âYou need another squeezeâŚâ he murmurs, hands sliding on your upper body, taking his time before pulling your shirt upwards. Your chest rises and falls under his hands, leaning his warmness secretly. â...from thereâŚâ he whispers, squeezing your wet shirt for you, and watching how the fabric tightens on your nipples with his parted lips. The drops fall both on your skins, disappearing between your crotches.Â
And Kai puts his hands on your hip bones for a brief second, giving you shivers without knowing it. Then his arms wrap around you. Carefully. His damp, cold chest pressing against your back slightly. Slightly.Â
And maybe he's really protecting you from that sudden wind.Â
Maybe they're just being your best friends. As always.Â
Maybe Beomgyu is not really pressing his hips forward, maybe his covered semi-erect cock not leaning on your stomach. Not at all.Â
(>á´â˘)genre: smut with plot, unspecified historical au
ಠ_ಠwarning/content: a spin on "Tarzan", slight gore, reader loses feeling in one of her legs from a plane crash, slight communication barrier: mingi understands everything but has trouble speaking a lot, lowkey feral but soft mingi, size difference, implied chubby reader
The smoke makes it hard for him to see. Obscures his view of what might be around.
Perched on a large branch, he watches. Observes, carefully. Always carefully.
The plane is stuck on the shore. Back half in the water, front half nose dived into the sand. The pilot must have took a chance at trying to land it on the uneven beach.
He doesn't hear anything besides the creaking metal. The lapping waves. The smoke hissing. The birds curiously chirping.
Perhaps whoever was inside perished. He likes that possibility. More so than the others he can think of.
He doesn't like people â not that he has much experience with them. Those little ones he has had were... less than pleasant.
They always treated him differently than the way they treated each other. And then, they tried to drag him back onto their boats, onto their planes.
They left him alone quickly when he started biting.
The wilderness has been his home ever since he was a boy. He'd never leave, and he'd never let anyone else take his home from him. Few have tried, but none have succeeded.
His head perks up as the door creaks open pitifully. A survivor? Great... He thinks how much trouble it will bring him when â
Out comes you. Sobbing as you fall to the sand, a piece of glass lodged in the side of your thigh and staining your skirts with blood.
You look much different than the other people he's had the misfortune of meeting.
His interest caught, he climbs down. Bare feet on the sand he makes his way to the fallen plane.
You sound different, too. You're shaped differently. Wearing odd clothes.
He walks right up to you as you cry into your arms; not even noticing his presence until he grips your hair by the roots and pulls your head up.
You yelp in shock, grabbing his wrist as he tilts your head from side to side â inspecting you as you stare at him. Dumbfounded, wide eyed. Shock in every fiber of your being.
First, your plane had a malfunction and was forced to crash land. Then, you awoke without feeling in one of your legs; looking around to find a piece of glass stuck in it and all of the people you were traveling with dead.
Now, a terrifyingly large and silent man is grabbing your head and looking at you with his eyebrows pressing together â like he's the one confused.
He thinks you might be another species entirely until he remembers, very distantly, "woman?" His voice is deep and broken, scratchy, like he doesn't use it a lot.
Frightened and beyond puzzled, you nod in his tight grasp.
He bites his lip, thinking for a moment. When you go to flinch away, he holds you tighter as he lifts his other hand to your face.
His touch is careful. Gentle in nature but rough with callouses, awkward as he touches your cheek in a state somewhere between awe and bafflement.
He drops you without care, nodding; to himself you think, because he walks away before you can say anything. You fall back to the sand weakly as he climbs inside the plane â leaving you there with wide and teary eyes to lift yourself up on your elbows.
He comes back out a few minutes later, finding you just where he left you and just as in shock. He has a bag from inside the plane in his hands. He gathered what he wanted and left the rest to collect dust before high tide sweeps the plane further into the water.
"Hold." He says simply, shoving it into your stunned arms.
"W-" You have so many questions. But he doesn't give you the chance to ask any of them before he lifts you up like you weigh almost nothing, slinging you over his broad shoulder.
You groan as your stomach meets his body, clinging to the bag tightly and watching the plane grow further away as he walks away with you; further into the dense jungle.
¡ ¡ â ¡âśÂˇ â ¡ ¡
Eventually, you gave up on asking all of your questions when all you got was silence, one word answers, or grunts in response.
He keeps one arm over the back of your thighs, holding you tightly. You're so soft compared to anything he's touched before.
He's thankful when you stop talking. He likes the sound of your voice, but he's not used to hearing anything that much. He can finally think.
His body reacted before he had the chance to think this over. Something deep in his brain told him to bring you back with him and he just did it. He wants to figure out why; but it's hard.
Your skin was really soft when he touched your face. It was warm. He liked it. He likes the warmth and the weight of your body as he carries you through the trees.
He squeezes your thigh curiously, a hum low in his throat. Yes, he likes that.
He lowers you with more gentleness than he picked you up with, steadying you with a hand on your hip as your leg buckles under your weight; the other completely useless.
"Stay." He leans you against a tree, turning around and climbing up another with efficiency that makes your jaw drop a bit.
It drops even more as you follow his form, looking up to see what looks like a literal house in the tree. It's clear he's been here a long time.
A rope ladder drops from the opening, and the strange man follows; climbing down it with something clutched in his teeth.
A dagger and a fabric scrap.
You, obviously, have a million more questions to ask. But you stay quiet. He seemed to have liked that better, you being quiet, and he's your only chance at survival.
He points to the ground, then to you. 'Sit', you assume. You slide against the rough bark until you sit with your legs sprawled in front of you. Watching him closely as he takes the blade and the large scrap of fabric from his mouth.
"I fix," he says while gesturing to your leg; the piece of glass still lodged in it.
You swallow thickly before nodding. There's no way in hell you can fix it yourself. Even though you can't feel it, you know you don't have the guts to pull the glass out yourself.
He slides your skirts up your claves, straddling the injured leg. He opens his mouth to say something before he changes him mind, only tutting his tongue. He wants to ask your name, what you are called. But he forgets the words for that and it makes him a bit frustrated. He doesn't want to keep calling you 'woman' when he thinks of you.
You want to tell him to be careful as he lifts the fabric over the glass to get it out of the way â but you decide against it. You don't even know how much he speaks, how much he knows. Though, it seems like a good bit.
You finally drop the bag next to you and bundle up your skirts, holding them out of the way. Avoiding looking at the mess, you look at him instead while he examines the wound.
His shorts were once pants, cut at the thigh â for less restriction, you assume. His shirt is missing quite a few buttons and you suppose that's why he doesn't button it up. One of his wrists has homemade rope bracelets stacked on it. His hair is cut haphazardly.
He has scars all over his body. A long and rough one across his torso. One short and smooth across the front of his forearm. A little one below his eyebrow.
"What is your name?" You ask softly, quietly, and it gives him pause. "Do you have one?"
You talk to him like he understands â and he loves it. Because he does understand. That's what the others didn't get, where they went wrong. They assumed he didn't comprehend full sentences because he didn't use them.
It sounds foreign on his own tongue as he shares, for the first time in many, many years; his own name.
(>á´â˘)genre: smut with plot, unspecified historical au
ಠ_ಠwarning/content: a spin on "Tarzan", reader loses feeling in one of her legs from a plane crash + slowly recovers, slight communication barrier: mingi understands everything but has trouble speaking a lot, lowkey feral but soft mingi, size difference, implied chubby reader: has squishy thighs and boobs, is it stockholm syndrome if he didn't reallyyyy kidnap you, mingi has a heart of gold but grew up in the wilderness so is... strange ಠ_ಠ1 non-con scene: dry humping, groping, reader 'lets it' happen, ಠ_ಠmultiple consensual scenes
âI was invited,â He says simply, and you feel a heat crawl up your spine. Invited. No. No, you didnât invite him. You didnât ask for this. You didnât want any of this.
âI⌠I didnâtââ You croak, your throat tight around the words. Panic claws at your chest, and your breaths come out shallow, frantic. Your gaze snaps to your mother, desperate to explain to her that you had nothing to do with this, but when your eyes meet hers, you see none of your own horror in them, none of the shock.Â
Instead, thereâs an eerie calm in her eyesâa nauseating resignation.
âI did,â She tells you flatly, her voice steady, emotionless âI said I would end it, didnât I?â
You stare at her, your mind struggling to comprehend her words. End it? What does that mean? Your heart hammers in your chest as it refuses to put the pieces together, to admit to what your mind already knows.Â
But it canât hide away from it for long. Not when your mother blatantly proclaims it to the world to hear, not scared of how her act of betrayal against her own daughter might incur the wrath of the gods.Â
"Take her. Do what you want with her. Just release me."
Warnings: fem!reader, DARK FIC, FUTURE NONCON/DUBCON, mentions of people being burned alive, iron age au, supernatural au, yandere beomgyu, allusions to child sacrifice but nothing graphic, character death, smut, blow job, handjob, riding (lol the warnings be giving you whiplash)
______________________
The high priestâs burning sparks a twisted revelation in Beomgyuâs mind. Why should the tribe carry the burden of those marked by the curseâhousing them, guarding themâwhen he could rid the land of them as he did with the priest? With each body he casts into the fire, he sees it as another step toward his grotesque mission of purification, purging the tribe of these cursed souls and claiming victory over what he calls the evil that threatens all of you.
It is not difficult for him to rally the tribe to his cause. After all, the afflicted were all but dead in the eyes of the people, their fates sealed as soon as the first sign of the curse was seen within themâand Beomgyu presents the purge as an act of deliverance, allowing the tribe to turn its gaze away from the humanity of the victims. With his power to draw out the mark before the curse could completely corrupt their bodies and souls, he convinces everyone that the victimsâ removal is not only justified, but humaneâa mercy killing.
The first of these so-called purifications unfolds in a scene of dreadful cruelty. Dozens of men and women, their voices silenced by gags and their limbs bound tight, are led to the center of the settlement where the flames are stoked high, eager to consume their bodies and drown their cries in the crackling and snapping of its fire.Â
The cloud of smoke that results from the horrid act is putrid and choking, hanging over the settlement like a deathly veil. It clings to everythingâclothes, hair, even skinâuntil it becomes part of the very breath the people take. For days, the ash lingers like a dark miasma, a constant reminder of the atrocity that has occurred, haunting the people like a second shadow.
Though the smoke eventually begins to lift, it never fully dissipates, for the fire is never allowed to die. As long as there are new victims to be found, it continues to burn, fueling Beomgyu's influence over the tribe, as if his dominion is sustained by the very lives he consumes.
You confide in your mother, knowing full well that you cannot speak of your suspicions to Kai or his family. They would not understand. She listens, appearing perturbed by what she was hearing. But instead of confronting the horror you both know to be true, she retreats further into her work, her magic now consuming her every waking and most of what are supposed to be her slumbering hours. Though she does not say it, you know she believes you.
She has become a shadow of her former self, her body ravaged by the dark forces sheâs courting. Her hair, once thick and full, falls away in brittle strands. Her eyes, once bright, are now hollow and drained of life. Her once-strong frame is now emaciated, the dark powers stealing away years of her life in mere weeks.
The sight of her chills you. If Beomgyu doesnât kill her, the magic will. Either way, you fear for the fate of her eternal soul.Â
Not that she welcomes your concern. With each passing day, her bitterness toward you deepens, winding its tendrils around her heart, suffocating the remnants of warmth she once held for you. She holds you accountable for the blight that has befallen the tribe. In her eyes, you are the harbinger of doom. She insists that, were it not for you, none of this would have come to pass. She believes you were sent by the gods to curse your family, as Beomgyu cursed his, and that, unless she can find a way to break the curse, she will succumb to the same fate that afflicted your father and Beomgyuâs parents.
Oh, how Beomgyu would delight in this, were he to hear her wordsâor perhaps he already does, watching from some hidden corner, amused by your suffering. It must be endlessly entertaining to him to witness you enduring the very fate you once abandoned him to escape fromâthe distrust of your family, the suspicion in the eyes of your people, the public fall from grace. Could this all be an act of vengeance devised by a scorned man?Â
It canât be⌠Surely he would not go so far just to hurt you. To curse the innocent, scorch their bodies, to raise those long slumbering powersâ
Overwhelmed by it all, you flee to the hills that embrace the settlement, desperate for a breath of air that does not taste of ash. But when you reach the crest and look down, your heart falters.The village lies beneath you, shrouded in a veil of black smoke. It rolls across the earth, giving shape to the curse, devouring home, streets, and souls alike.
From this height, itâs difficult to find hope to cling to. From where you stand, all seems lost.
Should you flee? Kai and his family still rule the tribe, but for how long? How soon before Beomgyu weaves his schemes to undo them, just as he did with the high priest? His influence grows with each passing moment, and you wonder if their reign will slip through their fingers like water in the palm of a hand.
But where would you go? Would it be better to die under the claws of a wild beast than at the hands of Beomgyu and his men? Everywhere you turned your gaze you saw only death.Â
Your families were still fightingâthat much was true.
Your mother, Kaiâs family, and the remaining elders had bound themselves in an uneasy alliance, pooling what power and knowledge they possess between them in a last, desperate attempt to stall Beomgyuâs creeping dominion.
But as it was necessary for your mother to conceal the full truth from them in order to shield you both from suspicionâmuch of her work had to be done in secret. And due to that secrecy, she often found herself with no choice but to turn to you. Her summons were never tender. Your obedience never willing. It brought her no comfort, and you no peace.
Ever since that dark ritual she performed on your fatherâs lifeless body, your mother had spiraled deeper into the abyss of dark magic. Each incantation drew her further from the path of righteousness, binding her more tightly to shadowed forcesâthose ancient, insatiable beings whose whispers came with a price. Their demands grew darker, their hunger more cruel, and with every new pact, a toll was taken.
Her body suffered. But it was her soul that bore the deepest scars.
You tried to distance yourself as much as you could. Surely, fighting darkness with darkness was not the path of the gods. This calamity should have been an opportunity to prove your steadfastness, to remain true to your faith even if it meant your death. Better, you thought, to endure a slow, agonizing end upon this earth than to be cast out of the eternal bliss in the shadow of your beloved gods and into the fiery depths of the underworld.Â
You have come to realize a bitter truth: that despite all your knowledge, all your years of training and sacred rites, you are no different from the common folk when true peril knocks at your door. In the face of such a threat, even the wise falter. Even the learned cling to superstition, whispering half-remembered prayers, and committing the most desperate and selfish acts in the name of survival.
âYouâre a long way from home, flower.â
Terror seizes your body at the sound of his voice. You hadn't heard him approachânot a single footfall, not the faintest rustle of leaves. How could you have believed that the wilderness could shield you from him when this is where he has always found refuge, where he has long conspired with the unseen forces that dwell in the shadows of the wild. This has always been his domain for as long as you can remember, his secret kingdom. Here, there is no escape from him.Â
âI just wanted to breathe,â You murmur, your voice barely a whisper, your body stiff with terror, refusing to turn and meet his eyes.
âI see,â He replies, his tone flat, undecipherable..
A silence hangs between you, as stifling as the black cloud of smoke. He is content to stand there and let the stillness suffocate you, and you realize you must break it yourself before it breaks you. âAre you going to kill me?â
âDo you think I am going to kill you?â He throws your words back at you, replacing your fear with amusement. They come out slowly, as if heâs savoring them, relishing in the terror heâs created in you. It is clear that your discomfort, your fear, pleases him.Â
âIs this funny to you?â You frown, unable to mask the disgust in your voice. He was the one who brought about this catastrophe, and yet here he stands before you, unburdened by any hint of guilt. His cold indifference to the suffering he has caused, the destruction in his wakeâitâs almost worse than the act itself. He watches you, as if this is all some twisted game to him. He truly is a monster.
âI must admit, it is.â He replies, his voice light, almost playful.
âWhy are you doing this? Just... please, tell me,â You plead, the desperation clear in your voice, seeking to find the real reason for his actions, to finally make sense of why he has seemingly decided to throw the world into chaos one day.Â
He laughs and you stare at him in incredulity. âWhat is so damn funny?â
"I find it rather amusing," He says, his tone laced with a quiet, unsettling humor that is only funny to him, "how not long ago, I was beneath you. And now, here you are, so eager to talk to me."
âYou still are beneath me.â You proclaim proudly, no matter how dearly that would cost you. If he insists on this path, so be it. The monster standing before you has no shred of mercy within him so there is no point in trying to appeal to it. âJust because youâve maimed and killed your way into this farce of a leadership among your band of savages, does not make you worth anything.âÂ
The false lightness in his expression slips away, replaced by a burning hate. "And just because you married into power," He spits with bitter disdain, "does not mean they will protect you or your kin. When the time comes, they will stand aside and watch your bodies burn, all to save their own hides. He would, too."
âYou know nothing of him.â You hiss at him, feeling defensive of Kai. âYour wretched soul cannot even begin to fathom the love his heart can hold. He would lay down his life to protect us.â
âBut how will he protect you when heâs not even here?â Beomgyu tilts his head, feigning curiosity. In that moment, the reality of your situation comes back into clear focus and you remember where exactly you are, and who the man standing before you is.Â
He steps closer, his presence looming, and reaches out to gently grab your neck in his large hand, pressing down slightly. The absolute emotionlessness in his expression sends a shiver down your spine. You dare not resist; thereâs no point. Any struggle would be futile, and you know all too well how easily he could overpower you. Youâd be on the ground in no time like you were the last time you were alone with him. At least if he kills you now, you will die standing.Â
âIf I wring your little neck and bury you in the earth under our feet, how will he stop me? If I choose to end this now, would he even know where his lovely bride laid? â He taunts you, âTell me, did you even bother to tell him youâd come here?â
He feels your gulp under his hand and his grip tightens in response, sensing your answer without you even needing to utter a word. A rush of regret floods over youâno, you hadnât told anyone where you were going. You had acted carelessly, and now, that recklessness may cost you your life.
âFigured as much. Youâve always been pretty, but not too bright, my flower,â He remarks with a sneer, and you're taken aback by how his words sting. Though your death by his hands seemed imminent, you had still believed your past friendship was genuine. The thought that he had always harbored such disdain for you cuts deeper than you expected. It tarnishes the memories you thought were safe, innocent. Had he been deceiving you all along? Was he always the monster everyone had warned you about, and youâd simply failed to see it? You really are stupidâŚÂ
It doesnât matter now, does it?Â
But then, unexpectedly, he laughs and releases his hold. âHow has your mother been?â
The sudden shift in his tone catches you off guard, and you freeze, unsure of what to make of this abrupt change. For a brief moment, confusion clouds your mind, but that confusion quickly turns to dread as the true implications of his question settle in.Â
âNo. Donât you dare!â You warn, your voice trembling despite your efforts to sound firm.
He chuckles, a hot, bright sound that scalds its way down your spine. âDare to do what?â
You have no time for his gamesâthey serve only to entertain him, offering you nothing but distress in return. Whatever truth he holds, heâll twist it into something unrecognisable just to watch you suffer. The only way to find out what this threat truly means is to go find your mother right now.Â
So with a shaky breath and even shakier limbs, you take a step back. âAre you going to let me walk away?â
He grins, the expression predatory and playful, as if this is yet another game to him. âWhy donât you give it a try?â
You draw in another shaky breath, bracing yourself for whatâs to come, before you sprint down the hill, heart pounding in your chest. Each step feels frantic, as if youâre trying to outrun your fear, the thought that Beomgyu could be hot on your heels unshakable. Every part of you expects him to leap from the shadows and drag you back into his grasp, to make good on his earlier threats. The world around you is a blur of trees and underbrush, and despite your desperate pace, the tangled roots and uneven ground slow you down, making you stumble and fall as if the earth itself, subject to his swat, has conspired to bring you to your knees.
By the time you see the familiar sight of home, youâre battered and breathless. Mud streaks your clothes, and your skin is marked with scratches and bruisesâa testament to the battle youâve waged against the wilderness. But none of that matters now. As you stand before the entrance to your home, a dread unlike any youâve ever felt sinks into your bones. What will be waiting for you inside?Â
The possibilities rush to your mind, each one worse than the last. Will your mother be missing? Dead? Bound, tortured, andleft to the mercy of those dark forces she meddled with? The thoughts gnaw at you, and the images they summon are near enough to fell you where you stand if you let them continue to run wild.
With a quiet prayer to the gods above, you steel yourself, pushing the terror down into the pit of your stomach, and step over the threshold.Â
âMother?â You call, the word leaving your lips with an urgency that belies your composure. There is a long, drawn-out moment of silence before you hear her answer. Weak, but unmistakable. Her voice, though faint, is still thereâand in that small, fragile sound, you find a breath of relief. The tension that had wound so tightly in your chest begins to loosen, though you remain on edge, knowing the fight isnât over yet.
You follow the direction of her voice, finding her hunched over her cauldron in her usual spotâher ghastly face illuminated by the flickering candlelight, casting eerie shadows as she stirs whatever concoction brews within.
At first, you donât notice it, the strange lighting obscuring your view. But when she looks up at you, taking a step back from the cauldron, your eyes catch itâthe faintest discoloration on her skin, a sickly, blackish hue that sends a rush of nausea through you. Youâre so struck by the sight that you canât hide your reaction, and itâs then that she sees your dismay.
âWhat?â She croaks, her voice trembling. You remain silent, a lump forming in your throat. âIs it on me?â
âMother, Iâm sorryââ You apologize as if you truly believed it is your fault. Maybe sheâs right. Maybe itâs all because of you.
Your words have the opposite effect than you hoped. Instead of evoking her sympathy, they seem to fan the flames of her fury. In an instant, anger takes hold of her, and she thrusts herself toward you, scratching at your face. âYou fucking slut. You did this. You brought him into our lives.âÂ
âI am sorry.â You weep, holding your hands to your face to prevent her from clawing your eyes out.Â
âI ought to kill you right now, bury you alongside your father and rid us of this evil. No, you do not deserve the dignity of a burial. I should slit your throat and leave your body out to the vultures to pick at your innards and the beasts to tear you apart from limb to limb.âÂ
âPlease, mother, I did not mean for any of this to happen.â You try to reason with her, but even you feel yourself choking on your own guilt.Â
âShut up! Shut up!â She snarls, striking you repeatedly.
Fortunately for you, her strength has long waned, the dark magic sapping what little power she had left. You manage to push her away, stumbling backward toward the door, your heart hammering in your chest. As you flee your home, your tearful apologies echo behind you, but they feel hollowâan empty attempt to ease the guilt that eats at you with every step you take.
Kai is taken aback by the state youâre in when you stumble through the door of your married homeâdisheveled, wounded, your eyes wide and wet with grief. He asks what happened, tries to coax even an explanation from your lips, but you are in such an inconsolable state, you could not have given him any even if you had wanted to. So he stops asking.
All he can do is gather you into his arms and hold you close, rocking you gently as if the motion might carry you out of your despair, and futilely drying off your unending tears as he whispers meaningless reassurances to you.Â
Itâs all worthless. Beomgyu is going to win. He will take each and everyone you love away from you and then he is going to kill you.Â
________________
You fabricate a story to tell your husband, weaving it with just enough truth to make it sound believable. The words flow from your lips with effort, each one stinging with betrayal. You tell Kai that you had a falling out with your mother over your decision to venture into the woods in search of a rare herb that would aid in her potionsâpotions that would ultimately benefit his family. You tell him that you ignored her warnings and ventured out alone, only to be attacked by a wild animal. You describe how your mother arrived just in time to save you, though her fear of losing youâmuch like she had lost your fatherâleft her furious. Her anger, you say, led her to say things she didnât mean and ultimately cast you out of her home.Â
It would have been a convincing story had the scratches on your face not looked so human and had you not been so reluctant for Kai to attempt to mediate any form of reconciliation between the two of you, fearing that your mother would be angry enough to expose your secrets to him, even if it meant her doom. After all, what has she got to lose? Sheâs already been claimed by the curse.Â
So imagine your surprise when she was the one who extended an invite to you to talk things over at your family home, telling you that she has found a way to get rid of the curse once and for all.Â
You felt exceedingly nervous about it, especially that she had specifically instructed you not to tell anyone you'll be meeting her. It made sense that she didn't want anyone to know about the secrets you've been harboring, but after the way she had spoken to you the last time you saw her, you worry about this being a trap to get you within arms reach so she could act on her previous threats.Â
Still, you had no other choice but to go. If anyone could find a way to break the curse, it would be your mother. And if not, you die. Either way, you die, right?
Your mother looks nothing like herself anymore. The curse has latched onto her like a parasite, rapidly consuming her body until sheâs nothing more than skin on bones. Sheâs covered with it from head to toe. It writhes and pulsates over her in deep slow breaths.
âMotherâŚâ You speak slowly and she grimaces.Â
âDon't you dare look at me in pity. You did this. You're the one who invited the evil in. But I'll be the one to end it.â She tells you resolutely, but before you can seek more answers, before you can ask her what she means, a sudden suffocating presence presses down on your chest. The room grows impossibly still, and the world outside seems to fade, leaving only the rhythmic pounding of your heart in your ears.Â
Your gaze is drawn, unconsciously, toward the front of your home. Thereâs a shadow, a figure standing just beyond the threshold, barely visible in the dim light of the evening. It feels like youâve been here before, the vision cut right out of your nightmaresâthe figure so suffocatingly familiar to the deepest, most primal part of your brain, bringing forth images of deathly blue eyes, and with them, the paralysing fear.
The figure moves, a silhouette cloaked in darkness, each step slow, deliberate. Your pulse quickens as your mind races, your body rooted to the spot, unable to move, barely able to breathe. But when the figure steps fully into the light, the air in your lungs escapes in a sharp, panicked gasp, for the monster it unveils is even worse than the one in your nightmares.Â
Beomgyu.
A mixture of disbelief and terror floods your veins. You try to speak, to say something, anything, but your voice falters. Heâs standing there, more real and solid than the ground beneath you that threatens to fall away from under your feet to escape his presence.
"Wâwhat? What are you doing here?" The words stumble out of your mouth, barely more than a breath. Your legs feel as if theyâve turned to stone, unable to carry you to safety even as terror pulses through you. The monster in the doorway, Beomgyu, stands with an unsettling calm, his eyes fixed on you, something predatory in the curve of the smile lingering on his lips.
âI was invited,â He says simply, and you feel a heat crawl up your spine. Invited. No. No, you didnât invite him. You didnât ask for this. You didnât want any of this.
âI⌠I didnâtââ You croak, your throat tight around the words. Panic claws at your chest, and your breaths come out shallow, frantic. Your gaze snaps to your mother, desperate to explain to her that you had nothing to do with this, but when your eyes meet hers, you see none of your own horror in them, none of the shock.Â
Instead, thereâs an eerie calm in her eyesâa nauseating resignation.
âI did,â She tells you flatly, her voice steady, emotionless âI said I would end it, didnât I?â
You stare at her, your mind struggling to comprehend her words. End it? What does that mean? Your heart hammers in your chest as it refuses to put the pieces together, to admit to what your mind already knows.Â
But it canât hide away from it for long. Not when your mother blatantly proclaims it to the world to hear, not scared of how her act of betrayal against her own daughter might incur the wrath of the gods.Â
"Take her. Do what you want with her. Just release me."
The words hit you like a bolt of lightning, sharp and burning. You can't breathe. You canât think.
âMother!â You shriek, shaking your head in denial. âWhat are you saying?!â
Her eyes meet yours then, but thereâs no softness, no comfort in them. Her expression is cold, like sheâs already detached herself from whatâs happening, like sheâs already let go of whatever bonds once tethered her to you, allowing her to commit the unthinkable against her own flesh and blood without her heart giving way in protest.
Beomgyu doesnât make any move. He just stands there, watching your reaction with curious intensity, studying your every flinch, your every gasp, as if to see if this will finally break you. The room feels impossibly small, as though the walls are closing in on you, and the darkness of his gazeâof his presenceâfills every inch of space, suffocating you.
He tilts his head towards your mother, his voice laced with false sweetness as he continues to wear that chilling smirk on his lips, like a tyrant delighting in watching his subjects perform their misery for him.
âLook at you, Mother. You are unwell. It's making you delirious.â He coos, his eyes glinting with amusement as they flicker toward you. âI have nothing to do with this or your daughter.â
âDonât you dare mock me,â She spits out, her voice fierce, but thereâs something hollow in it, something broken. âI know it is you behind all of this. I know you want to have her for yourself, so do it. Take her and do what you will with her. I wonât tell anyone. Just let me go.â
The words send a tremor of revulsion through your body. Your stomach lurches, nausea rising like bile in your throat at the sheer abhorrence of what sheâs just said. Your mother, your own motherâthe woman who should have been your protector, the very one meant to shield you from the cruelties of this worldâ is willing to give you up, to throw you out to him in order to save herself. How could she? She has seen what he's capable of. How could she hand you over to him like this?
But to your surprise, Beomgyu doesnât act on her offer. He doesnât step forward, doesnât claim you the way your mother so coldly suggested. Instead, his grin widens, and he chuckles softly, as if amused by the entire exchange.
âNo offense, mother,â He says casually, his voice smooth and playful despite the jarring reality. That lightness, that ease, only makes it more terrifying. âYour daughter is a beautiful lady, and I understand that every child is precious and priceless in their motherâs eyes. But do you really think Iâve set the netherworld loose on my own tribe just so I can have her?â He pauses, letting the silence stretch between his words and wrap around your throats, before he continues, âI think you might be overestimating her worth a little bit.â
You halt at his words. When he says it like that, it sounds almost absurd, doesnât it? How highly do you think of yourself? How inflated is your own sense of ego, that you could ever believe that a man would go to such lengths just to possess you?Â
You suddenly question everythingâthe beliefs you held, the assumptions you made. Have you completely lost your mind? The realization hits you like a wave, washing away your certainty, leaving only the salty sting of embarrassment in its wake. In truth, are you nothing to him but an insignificant pawn in a much larger game? All this time you had convinced yourself that you were his sole obsession, the source of his dark desire and unquenchable wrath, when your suffering may be nothing more than an afterthought to him.Â
But your mother is not so easily dissuaded.
âDonât you dare lie to my face,â She snarls, voice shaking with fury, and lunges at him. âI know who is killing me.â
A blade flashes in her grip and for a moment your heart lurches in your throat as visions of blood, of Beomgyuâs skin split open and carved by her fury, flash through your mind unbiddenâbut she is much too slow. Whether itâs the curse draining her strength or the unnatural force thrumming through him, it hardly matters, because Beomgyu catches her arm mid-swing and twists it with savage ease, a sickening crack echoing through the room.
Her scream is as mangled as her arm and the fight leaves her all at once. She would crumble to the floor if it wasnât for Beomgyu grip on her arm holding her up
âMother, is that the mark of the curse?â He asks emotionlessly, bringing her now deformed arm to his face so could have a closer look.Â
Your mother pales at the realisation of what she's inadvertently revealed and tries to pull herself away from him but he quickly grabs her by the throat with his other hand, ruthlessly cutting off the protests she tries to utter.Â
No, this cannot be happening. You cannot bear to lose another parent to him.
Desperation surges within you, and you rush forward, falling to your knees. âNo. Please, don't. I beg you. Donât take her from me.â
He gazes at you, bemusement flickering in his eyes. âYou wish for me to spare her? She was prepared to sacrifice you to me.â
Yes, youâre acutely aware of that fact, but she is the only family you have left. Without her, you would be utterly lost. How can you ever hope to stand up to him if the only remaining person who knows the truth about you and him is gone? The only person remotely capable of devising a plan to stop him?
âSheâs the only family I have left. Please, donât take her from me.â
The world seems to hold its breath as Beomgyu regards your pitiful form at his feet. His expression reveals nothing, his face carved from stone. You cannot begin to decipher what he's thinking, and that is the most terrifying thing of all.
You want to save your mother. Thatâs what you tell yourself. But as you kneel before him, a dark terror coils in your chestâtight and shameful. Because in pleading for her life, youâre leaving ajar the door your mother had openedâan invitation to come in and steal you away.Â
And what if he does?
You are all too aware of his hatred for you, and the thought of him finally getting his chance to unleash that festering rage, not on strangers or enemies but on you, the one who left him behind and chose anotherâit makes your blood run dry. Because you know you wonât be treated with the same twisted cruelty he treated them. No, what he has in store for you will be far worse.
And yet, when he finally speaks, it is not with furyâbut with cold indifference.
âShe has been marked. Her fate is no longer in my hands.â Beomgyu finally declares, his voice devoid of human emotion.Â
Without another word, he turns, dragging your mother along, and you follow in frantic pursuit, but neither your mother's wailing and flailing nor your screams and attempts to separate them yield any success. He leads you both toward the heart of the settlement where the bulk of the cleansings have been taking place.Â
âI have another,â Beomgyu announces to his men, who are tending to the ever burning flames at the center of the ritual site, keeping it well fed with daily sacrifices.Â
âNo, please, don't do this.â You plead hysterically, but Beomgyuâs men have long forgone any trace of mercy. They move with grim efficiency, one tearing you away, another seizing your mother. There is no flicker of hesitation or remorse in their eyes, as though this act of unimaginable crueltyâthis tearing apart of families, this march to feed the flamesâhas become second nature to themâŚmundane.
âNo, please, please!â You thrash and scream until your throat burns, but still you cannot break free of the grip that holds you.
People gather quickly, drawn like moths to the flame, eager to feast their hungry eyes on the latest sacrifice to the fire that rages like a god over their lives.
And before long, so do your husband and his family.
A sense of nauseating terror and shame fills you as you see them make their way through the crowd, for in that moment, your greatest fear is not the impending loss of your motherâbut the dread of what they might see, the secrets that she may expose in her desperation and anger at you.Â
âWhat is happening here?â The leaderâs voice rings out, commanding attention, but Beomgyu does not flinch. His expression remains impassive as he calmly reveals the mark on your motherâs body, exposing it to all who have gathered around, and the sound of shocked gasps ripples through the crowd, echoing in the air like thunder.
The leader is struck into a disquieting silence, wearing a grim expression that tells it all. You shake your head in disbelief, the words tumbling from your lips in a frantic plea. âNo, no, itâs a mistake. You must do something.â
But he does not answer you. This manâyour leader, your shield, the one who once stood bold and brave against a whole horde of enemies at your gatesâcannot even summon the strength to meet your eyes.
He doesnât speak, because he doesnât have to. His silence confesses what his pride wonâtâthat he is too afraid to challenge Beomgyu. Too afraid to stand between her and the flames. And in that moment, whatever faith you still held in him withers away completely.
So you turn your gaze to Kai instead, pleading for him to save your mother. And your husband, your precious Kai, tries to move forward, tries to do something, anything, to stop this madness. But before he can act, hands seize his arms. Not Beomgyuâs men, but his own family.Â
âShe bears the mark,â His father declares, his voice flat, stripped of emotion. A wave of disgust churns within you, not just at his words, but at the apathy with which he speaks them, as though he agrees that condemning your mother to a fiery grave was the only possible solution.Â
"I have to do something!" Kai shouts, his voice raw, his body taut with urgency, but his family does not yield, they keep their grip on him iron-clad, unwilling to let him risk his life to save your motherâs.
Left with no other recourse, and desperation all but consuming you, you throw your body around, managing to somehow slip away from the man holding you.Â
âShe didnât do this. You know she didnât!â You dash towards Beomgyu, but one of his men quickly intercepts you, shoving you back roughly, the force causing you to crash onto the groundâand you lay once again at Beomgyuâs feet.
He looks down at you, his expression blank, unnerving. âI knowâor you know?â He asks, his words laying out a trap for you. âIs there something youâre hiding from us? Do you know who is behind this?â
A knot tightens in your stomach, and for a moment, the world stands still. You know you cannot accuse him, not without proof.Â
And without proof, nobody would ever believe youâthey would turn on you as easily as they have turned on everyone else. Theyâre itching to burn you too, you are certain of it. This must be what Beomgyu wants. He seeks to provoke you, to drive you into a corner, to force you to reveal your own culpability in front of them all and seal your own fate.
âIâI donât,â You stammer, flinching as you crawl back, the fear in your chest tightening around your lungs like a vice.
âThen how do you know sheâs not involved?â Beomgyu takes a step forward, like a panther stalking its prey.Â
You hesitate, your mind racing for an answer that could save your mother without giving yourself away, but you cannot find a lie convincing enough even if your motherâs life depends on it.Â
So you turn your face away in shame, just like Kaiâs father did. Youâre all nothing but cowards and he will pick you off one by one.Â
âI donât.â
A cold sneer curls on his lips, and he spits the words at you in contempt. âThen donât waste our time.âÂ
âHe did this. He's the devil.â Your mother finally screams, not afraid of holding back anymore. But itâs too late for her now. No one listens to the ravings of the condemned. No truth she speaks will save her lifeâBut that doesnât mean her words wonât damn yours.
âAre you happy with what youâve done?â She snarls, her voice trembling with fury as her eyes bore into yours. And in that gaze, you see itâa hatred deeper than any she could ever hold for anyone else, even Beomgyu. âYouâve killed me. Youâve killed your father!âÂ
Your heart lurches in your chest, your mouth running dry. Is this it? Is this how you burn?
But before she can speak furtherâbefore she can offer you up to the hungry crowd, Beomgyu steps in, wrapping a strip of cloth around her mouthâsilencing her.Â
Your mind reels. Why did he do that? Why did he save you? Is it so he can trap you a little longer in this waking nightmare? To force you to watch as everyone you love is devoured by flames? So he can draw out your agony, savor it, let it rot in your bones before he finally claims your life?
You watch as Beomgyuâs men bind your mother in the same manner they did the high priest, the ropes biting into her skin as they force her to her knees and hold her there. She struggles but her muffled screams are lost behind the cloth gagging her.Â
ââThen Beomgyu approaches her slowly, in his hand he carries a censer of burning myrrh, thick smoke billowing from its bronze mouth in slow, curling tendrils. He swings it over her head, his movements rhythmic and purposeful, the scent heavy, cloying, smothering.
"Spirits of darkness, foul ones born of shadow and hate, hear my warning and depart from this vessel. Recede back into the deep earth, to the cold underworld below our feet. Linger not, lest you perish with the flesh that binds you. Let her soul rise, carried by wind and smoke, to the gods who dwell above, that she may finally find peace and forgiveness in the light of the heavens."
A strange wind answers. It weaves through the crowd like a living thing, burrowing through cloth and skin alike with claws that cannot be seenâsinking into flesh with a chilling sense of foreboding and terror. Something ancient has stirred, and it is listening.
But even in the chaos of your frantic thoughts, an unsettling detail strikes you.
Why is Beomgyu invoking the evil spirits to depart? Why not bind them within her, trap them in the flesh they defiled, and let the flames consume them?
Surely, if his goal was to destroy them, this would be his chance. Unless⌠their destruction was never his aim. Unless this ritual is not a cleansingâbut a deliverance. A gruesome offering to those same dark spirits.
You glance around, your eyes darting from face to face, searching for even a flicker of doubtâsome glimmer of recognition that this is not right, that someone sees through the veil heâs cast over their eyes. But no one stirs. They stand in still, vacant silence, their faithâor fearârendering them blind.
And so, without question, they watch as his men step forward and present him with a shallow dish filled with a foul-smelling ointmentâthick, dark, and reeking of rot. Beomgyu takes it with solemn hands, dipping his fingers into the paste and leaning over your mother. Then, in slow, deliberate strokes, he begins to smear it across her forehead, tracing a shape you do not knowâNot of your people. Not of your gods.
It is other. Ancient. Wrong.
âO watchers beyond the veil, turn your gaze from the mark that stains her flesh and upon the weary soul beneathâlost, bound, and cursed,â He intones, his voice echoing inside your skull. âUnbar the gates, and let her spirit pass into your keeping.â
His words fall with the cadence of prayer, but they ring hollow. The chant drifts, aimless and meanderingâlacking the clarity, the structure, the intent of true communion with the divine. He names no god, directs his plea to no realm, invokes no power.
To the unknowing, it may pass as a true prayer. But you know better.
The hollowness of it unsettles youâfor it either speaks of his ignorance of the sacred rites he dares to mimic, or more chillingly, his deliberate intent to obfuscate the ritualâs true nature so as to confuse and mislead those who are watching.
Your suspicions are all but confirmed when Beomgyu is handed a ceremonial knifeâits blade dulled by time but still sharp enough to serve its purpose. Without pause, he presses it to the center of his palm, unflinching as he draws a thin, precise line of blood.
Then, with grim ceremony, he places his bleeding hand upon your motherâs chest, the crimson smearing across her skin like a second mark. His chanting continuesâa dissonant blend of the familiar and the foreign. Words you half-recognize, twisted into forms that sound unnatural to your ears.
It soon becomes clearâthis is the true spell, veiled beneath the pretense of prayer and cloaked in the cadence of forgotten tongues. Yet its purpose still eludes you. There is no revelation in his words, no guiding lightâonly a slow, suffocating dread that wraps around you tighter with every utterance.
Whatever he calls upon is not merciful. It is old, it is patient, and it is hungry.
As his chant begins to wane, Beomgyu looks to his men, and with a single, commanding gesture, they seize your mother and drag her toward the fire. He lifts his hands to the heavens, his voice rising in one final invocationâdeep, resonant, and utterly unintelligibleâspoken in a tongue long forgotten by time, its meaning lost to all who hear it.
But youâre no longer listening.
You are rooted to the ground, eyes fixed on the figure of your mother as sheâs cast into the fire. Her small frame is devoured almost instantly, swallowed whole by the flames. Even her screams are soon lost to the roar of the inferno.
You stand there, motionless, the tears that should have sprung forth remain trapped behind your eyelids, their ghostly tendrils burning hot on your cheeks. Around you, the world feels distant, veiled behind a wall of smoke and ash.Â
You stare at the faces of those around youâeveryone who has come to witness your tragedy. Beomgyu stands at the center of it all, the firelight casting haunting shadows across his blank face, untouched by the horror he has wrought. His men, however, are alive with twisted fervor, their eyes gleaming with bloodlust as they watch their sacred flame consume your mother's body.
And the common folk⌠they are no different. They whisper among themselves with eager smiles, reveling in your tragedyâgleeful to see another of your kind consumed by the flames.
And then there is your leaderâyour brave leader who cannot summon the courage to lift his gaze to you, nor to your motherâs fiery grave, his shame shackling him.
They do not mourn for you. Not him. Not his family. Not the crowd that gathers like vultures at a feast.
It is just as Beomgyu had promised. They would all stand back and watch, silent, eager, complicit, as you and everything you cherish burns to ash.
____________________________
Kai tries to explain, to excuseâoffering hollow apologies for his fatherâs shameful cowardice. He promises you protection, swears by all the gods that he will keep you safe.
But you no longer have the patience for these white lies. You remind him that he couldnât protect your mother from Beomgyu and he cannot protect you from his family.Â
Because now, just as Beomgyu had warned, his family force you to take her placeâpressuring you to fill the role she left behind before her ashes have cooled. They drape her robes across your shoulders and place her tools in your unready hands. You are expected to brew their potions, chant their spells, stitch their wardsâpositioning you as a shield between them and Beomgyu. They do not care about the risk to your life or the toll it would have on your soul. Just as they hadnât cared about what it did to her.
But the joke is on them, for you are not your mother. You possess not her strength. The power that once coursed through her blood lies dormant in yours. You cannot command the dark forces as she did, and so your body is spared the toll that broke hersânot out of mercy, but out of lack.
And with that lack, their terror grows. Beomgyu stalks their nightmares still, and without your motherâs protection, they are left vulnerable to his attacks.Â
In their fear, they grow more and more callous. They demand more. Always more.
They hold Kai over you, blaming you for any harm that would befall him should you fail. They shut you within the cold walls of your motherâs now empty home for days on end, leaving you to choke on the air heavy with long-spent incense and bitter memories. Days pass, and still they demand, pressuring you to invoke powers that should never be meddled with.Â
And when your hands falter, when the spells fail, they turn cruel. They tell you that if Beomgyu should come for you, they would not stop him.Â
But their threats fall flat. If they had possessed the strength to stop him, they would never have turned to you. And if your mother had failed, how could they have ever thought you would succeed? This was all an exercise in futility, and they know it. Only they cannot bear to face that truth. They would wear you thin, grind your bones to dust, bleed you dry, tear your soul from your body and lay it bare before the voidâbefore they would ever face the reality of their own doom.Â
But before they can sacrifice what little you have to offer, Kai steps in.
He cannot silence their demands, nor can he shield you from the endless expectations they heap upon your shouldersâbut he can, at the very least, keep them from raising a hand against you.
Not that any of them would admit to considering such a thingâyet you see it clearly in their eyes, the desperation, the growing contempt. If it came down to it, they would throw you to the flames if it meant they could delay their own reckoning, even if for a day.
And so, in the wake of your failure and inadequacy, Kaiâs grandmother, a former temple priestess herself, has to step inâthe magic in her bones faded but not gone.
She arrives at your motherâs house with two men in tow, straining to carry a heavy stone slab between themâits surface worn but unbroken. She bids them to place it at the centre of the room before she dismisses them, leaving only the two of you inside. You and the dark stone.
She tells you it was once part of a great altar, built by your forebears in time before memory, when your ancestors called down unknowable powers before the tribes bowed to gods with temples. This fragment is the only piece that remains. And for that, it holds powerâancient and terrible, capable of channeling the kind of dark magic Kaiâs family so desperately needs.Â
She begins by laying down the materials atop the cold stoneâarranging them carefully in the shape of a cross, each point aligned with one of the five cardinal directions: north, south, east, west⌠and the centerâthe axis, the bridge to the underworld.
To the north, bat wingsâthin and crumbling at the edgesâsymbols of the veil, laid down to draw the unseen from its hiding places, to give shape to powers were never meant to walk in flesh.
To the west, mugwortâ dry and heavy with scentâlaid at the feet of the dying to open the path between worlds, to beckon what lingers between life and death.
To the south, wormwoodâgnarled and acridâburned to rouse what sleeps beneath the earth, to tempt spirits into the realm of the living.
To the east, a hareâs thigh boneâscrubbed clean, wrapped in ash-dyed twineâ a vessel of passage, used in rites that tread the seam between realms, where breath falters and blood is the price of entry.
At the center, cedarâweathered, etched with faded sigilsâIt anchors what is summoned, lest it drift and devour. Once it touches the stone, the rite takes hold.
She murmurs to herself as she places each item, speaking in a tongue you barely recognizeâan old dialect of the priestesses, near-extinct, clinging to life only through the lips of women like her, remnants of a world that has all but turned to dust.Â
Your pulse falters, skipping onceâtwiceâbefore racing on. Though she has not said it, your heart knows it to be true. Each item, taken on its own, could belong to any number of rites. Harmless, even sacred in the right context. But not like this. Not laid out in this formation. Not chosen in this combination.
This is not a rite of protection. It is a summoning. And whatever it calls forth will demand a price.
Then, without saying a word, she leaves you, disappearing into the shadows outside your home, and when she returns, you see a babe sleeping quietly in her arms. Swaddled. Unaware.
Your breath catches and your stomach turns. Â
âGrandmother,â Your voice barely leaves your lips, âwhat are you doing with that baby?â
She places the child at the centre of the altar, directly atop the cedar. Her eyes find yours with an unsettling calm.
âYou did not think blood magic came without blood, did you?â She asks. âThe old rites demand life in exchange for powerâuntainted, pure life.â
The air grows colder, thicker, as if the house itself is holding its breath. You stagger back, one hand clutched to your stomach. âNoâI will not do this.â
âYou must,â She tells you, her voice low and final as she begins to light the materials one by one, the flames catching like a stuttered breath. âIt is the only way.â
Your eyes remain fixed on the child, so small, so still. The flickering shadows from the burning herbs dancing across his skin like claws waiting to dig into flesh.
âWhose child is that?â You whisper, heart hammering in your chest. She meets your gaze without flinching.
âThe debt has already been forgiven by his family,â She replies, as if that excuses the butchery. âThey gave him to me willingly. They understand what must be done. He will save us all.â
âSave us?â You spit out, disgusted. âYou think salvation could ever come from shedding the blood of the innocent?â
She says nothing, only staresâher eyes empty, carrying the same vacant look you saw in Beomgyuâs. They are no different than him. None of you are.
âYouâve lost your mind,â You hiss, stepping back, bile rising in your throat. âThis is madness and I will not be part of it.â
The flames crackle louder, as if stirred by your defiance.
âItâs either this child or everyone else.â She tells you, her voice sharp like the crack of dry bone. âIf you will not help us defeat him, you would doom us all. If you do not stand with us, then you stand with him.â
âI don't.â You insist fiercely. âI wonât be made his champion just because I refuse to slaughter an innocent.â
But she only narrows her eyes, her voice rising with condemnation. Then if the ritual fails because of your cowardice, do not dare to weep as your husband is dragged to the fire for you will have no one to blame but yourself when he becomes the next sacrifice to feed the fire you refused to quench.â
âNo! There has to be another way.â You cry, refusing to believe that Kaiâs salvation could be bought with the life of a child barely given to the worldâa soul still cradled in innocence, not yet touched by sin or time.
âThere isn't'.,â She tells you cruelly, banishing your hopes away. âSpare the child, and heâll burn with the rest of his kin before the season turns. His death is mercy. His death is salvation.â
You recoil from her words, your voice breaking. âThe gods will not forgive this.â
A cruel smile twists across her lips. âWhat do you know of the gods, foolish girl? The old gods demand blood. They always have. They have slept long and deep, and now they wakeâand they hunger.â
âI wonât be a part of this.â If you stand on nothing, then you must at least stand on this.Â
âThen you are every bit the failure your mother feared you would be.â
Her words almost knock you off your feet yet she does not bother to waste another glance on you. Without another word, she turns away and begins to chant. At first, her voice is thin, worn by age, but as the words spill forth, it begins to shift. It deepens. Fractures. Each syllable splits into layered echoes, as though more than one voice now speaks through her. The sound slithers across the stone, coils around your spine, and settles behind your ribs.
The air shifts, darkening, as if itâs remembering a time before light. The walls of your home seem to breathe, expanding and contracting with each syllable of her chant. And somewhere just beyond your sight, you feel itâthe veil thinning, the world bending. And something drawing near.
The moonlight recedes completely, swallowed into shadow, until only the dim glow of the burning herbs remains, their smoke rising in faint spirals. The scent of mugwort is sickly sweet in the back of your throat, mixing with the acrid tang of wormwood to churn your stomach. The symbols carved into the slabâones you hadnât noticed beforeâbegan to glow as if sensing the offering.
A strange power stirs within you, rising without warning. It shivers along your skin, flaring at your fingertips, lighting your nerves with wildfire. It fills you to the brim, heady and intoxicating, making you feel more alive than you have in moonsâwhole, strong, near invincible.Â
You glance at the old woman, and her faceâwithered and worn mere moments agoânow seems to shine with youth, her features blossoming by a vitality not her own. The dark force that is sparking within you has rooted itself fully in her, feeding her strength beyond what her flesh should hold. A faint smile graces her lips as she looks at you, knowing, triumphant.
And for one breath, you waver. For a moment the power calls to youâsweet and seductive. With this power, you can make the world right again. With this power, you can save Kai, you can save the tribe, you can restore everything to order. Perhaps one life is a small price for peace. Perhaps some sacrifices are necessary for the greater good.
But then, the child stirs.
And your eyes fall on himâ-small, fragile, alive. His chest rises with each shallow breath, lashes trembling against his cheeks, tiny fingers curling as though instinctively reaching for comfort he will never again receive. And in a flash, his future unfurls before you like a visionâthe laughter of boyhood, the wild courage of youth, the heat of love, the wisdom that only time can bestow. All of it devoured by a power that prowls around him like a beast, eager to tear into his soft flesh.
And thenâsuddenlyâall that power is gone. It departs your body in a violent rush, leaving you gutted and raw. You stagger back, breath caught in your throat, bile rising. The strength that once made you feel godlike now curdles from the guilt and shame brewing in your gut.Â
You turn around, fleeing from the horror of it all. Your feet slamming against the ground as you runâout of what was once your home and into the cold night. You donât stop to think. You canât. All you know is that you have to get away.
From the altar.
From her.
From the child.
From what youâve all become.Â
You flee the settlement in a haze, your feet carrying you into the wilderness before thought could catch up to you. You donât pause to consider that if Beomgyu finds you alone, in the dark, he might not spare you a second time. Perhaps, somewhere beneath the panic, a part of you hopes he wouldnât.
The forest swallows you whole. Branches clawing at your skin. Rocks biting into the soles of your feet. You wander deeper, breathless, until the walls of your world are replaced by thorns and shadows.
The air out here is bitingâcold enough to make your teeth chatter, and still you welcome it. The frigid night air is a balm against the fever that has clung to you ever since the night-bloomer scorched its way through your blood. That cursed flower was the beginning. It opened something inside you, and whatever stepped through never left.
From the edge of this high ridge, you watch the settlement below. Its fire flickers and dancesâno doubt being fed new sacrifices even now. It has become a nightly ritual. You have stopped asking who, or why, or what it accomplished. It no longer mattered. One day, it would be your turn. Perhaps soon.
You stay there for hours, curled against the earth like a wounded animal, until the morning sun breaks the night open with its blinding light, its heat beating ruthlessly against your back, pulling you from your icy resting place. Only then do you begin the long walk home. Step by step, as though the daylight could erase what you had witnessed from your mind.
As you approach Kaiâs homeâthe one you had once tried to think of as your ownâdread blooms anew in your chest.Â
Kai is waiting inside for you. He sits stiffly near the hearth, though no fire has been lit. His eyes, hollow and rimmed in red, snap to you the moment you enter. He hasnât slept. You can tell.
âWhere were you?â His voice is rough, dry. You open your mouth to answer, but the words catch. âIâI was justâŚâ
He turns fully to you, something brittle in his expression, like a man one breath away from breaking. âWere you with my grandmother?â
Your heart seizes up, scared to beat lest it betray you. He knows. He knows what you've seen. What youâd almost done. He knows what you are now. A monster.
âDid my grandmother slaughter a child for blood magic?âÂ
You open your mouth, but no words come. What is there to say? There is no explanation, no defense that wouldnât rot on your tongue.
But he does not wait for your answer. He seems to barely even see you.Â
âSheâs gone,â Kai tells you, his voice hollow. âThey burned her.â
You stare at him, quiet, still, guilty.Â
âShe was caught trying to dispose of the body,â He continues, looking somewhere past you. âThe villagers found the remains⌠and the altar. They saw what she had done.â
He swallows hard, his own words hard for him to stomach. âThey dragged her to the fireâAnd they threw her in.â His breath hitches, faltering for a moment. âMy father tried to stop them. He tried to save her.â
Kaiâs hands tremble, fingers curling into fists in a futile attempt to steady himself. His eyes shine with unshed tears. âHe stood before them all and called Beomgyu the devil. Said heâd cut him downâand every last one of them who stood with him. Even if it meant slaughtering the entire tribe.â
Kai looks down, and for a moment, you fear he might shatter into a thousand pieces that youâd spend the rest of your short life trying to piece back together. âBeomgyu didnât even need to say a word. His own people turned on him. Just like that. They dragged him to the flames and threw him in after her.â
He lifts a trembling hand to his face, his fingers press against his skin like a dam against a flood, but itâs no use. The tears spill anyway, silent and searing. âI only survived because my men held me back. They stopped me from running into the fire after them.â
Silence settles between you for a few long momentsâpressing in from all sides, crushing. Then, finally, Kai lifts his gaze to you, and for the first time, you see him utterly broken.
âIâm next. I know I am.â He swallows hard, voice thinning to a whisper. âYou were right. I canât protect you. I canât protect anyone.â
____________________________
Kai watches, helpless, as more and more of his family fall like winter leavesâplucked from the tree one by one, their faces lost to the fire.
He moves through life like the dead, a ghost barely bound to flesh, walking only because he does not know he has been claimed. Each morning he wakes is not a mercy, but a sentence delayed. Each breath drawn is a borrowed one.
And still, you try to protect him.
You surround him with wards, cleanse the air around him with sacred herbs, speak the old words over his sleeping figure. You draw on all the knowledge you had learned from your mother and your mastersâevery charm, every rite, every shred of knowledge that has been passed down through the ages.Â
And still, it is not enough. You can see the darkness seeping in through your protective walls, like water through cracked stone. So you shift course, forced to adopt a new approach if you wanted any hope of making it out alive.Â
You form an alliance with Beomgyu, offering him the illusion of compliance. You adopt the language of compromise, of reasonâanything to buy time. You push Kai to yield, not just out of fear, but out of strategy. Because if Beomgyu truly means to rule, he cannot do so alone.Â
Let him burn the priests, let him silence the eldersâbut he cannot kill everyone. If he erases every trace of the ruling line and all religious authority, there will be no one left to legitimize him. The people may fear him now, but once the blood stops flowing, they will begin to question. And power built on fire alone will, in time, burn itself to ash.
You believe this. You hold onto it. Because the alternative is too monstrous to bear.
So you and Kai play your parts in this madness. You nod in silence to Beomgyuâs demands. You keep your gaze lowered when they drag another innocent soul to the pyre. You swallow down your shame, choke on your disgust, and wear your submission like armor.
And it works. For a time, the sickness slows. The village breathes. The sacrifices seem to satisfy somethingâif not Beomgyu, then whatever he serves.
But even that isnât enough to save him.
You notice it first, of course. A faint shadow, just beneath Kaiâs skin. A sheen of black along his collarbone, no bigger than a bruise. He doesnât see it, but you do. You press your fingers to it, try to rub it away like dirt, but it stays.
And if Kai canât see the rot slowly overtaking his body, he can still see your reaction to itâyour alarm, your despair, and eventually he has to ask. âWhat is it?â He says softly, his voice quiet, resigned, as if he already knows the truth you cannot bear to speak.
Instead, you burn more herbs until your eyes sting from the smoke, steep roots and resins until your hands are raw, chant until your voice grows hoarse. You bathe him in salves, wrap him in spells and prayersâbut still, it spreads.
The darkness that clung to your mother has found him now. It festers beneath his skin like rot, blooming slowly. The same black veins. The same sleepless nights. The same flickers of pain he tries to hide behind weary eyes and quiet smiles.
And with every passing day, you watch as you fail the one person you have fought so desperately to save. You wonder if this is why Beomgyu has spared you. So you would live long enough to witness your loverâs slow and torturous demise. So you would be forced to bear the agony of helplessness, to watch as love turns to ash in your arms. So he can see how much more you can take before your heart splits open under the weight of your grief.Â
_____________________
The fire in the hearth has long since died out, but you donât have the strength to reignite it. The shadows stretch long across the room, and Kai lies beneath themâasleep, his breath shallow, his skin dark with the unmistakable touch of the curse.
You sit with him, legs folded, his head resting on them. You havenât left his side since the coughing beganâsince the first flecks of blood stained his lovely lips.
His eyes flutter open, slow and unfocused, but when they meet yours, he offers a weak smile. âYouâre still here.âÂ
Your throat tightens. âWhere else would I be?â
He shifts, just barely, wincing from the effort. âI keep dreaming⌠that you left me. That youââ He frowns, not continuing, and you did not wish him to.Â
You brush your fingers through his hair, slow and gentle, as though trying to smooth the sickness away. âI wouldnât leave you. Not now. Not ever.â
Kaiâs hand finds yoursâshaky, and weakâand he brings your knuckles to his lips, resting them there. Thereâs no heat in his breath anymore, just the ghost of warmth. The silence between you is thick, filled with everything you feel and everything you donât have time to say. Outside, the wind howls like it mourns for you.
Kaiâs hand moves slowly, fingertips brushing your cheek. âDo you remember the first time I saw you in the temple gardens?â
You smile weakly, the memory fond and precious in your mind. âYou asked me if I was a spirit.â
âYou looked like one,â He murmurs, awed. âToo bright to be real.â
You let out a soft laughâreal but slightly bitter. âI think youâre the only one whoâs ever looked at me like that.â
Itâs true. No one has ever looked at you so kindly. Not your parents. Not Beomgyu. Not anyone.
âYouâre the only one I ever looked at like that,â He tells you, his weak voice sounding firmer than it has been for a long time. âIf my end is near⌠Iâm glad I get to spend it with you.â
You press an aching kiss to his forehead, your lips lingering there, as if the love you press into his skin can sink deep enough to drive out the curse.
âItâs not the end,â You lie gently. âYouâre still here. And Iâm not letting go yet.â
He looks up at you, and thereâs something in his eyes that breaks youâresignation, sadness, the desperate look of a man who knows heâs fading and wants to feel alive just one more time.
You shift, laying his head down on soft fabric so you can climb over him, breathing him in. His hands reach for your waist, tentative, as if asking permission. You donât pull away. You wouldn't dream of it. Instead, you lean into him, your foreheads touching, the tip of your nose brushing his.
His fingers graze the back of your neck, sliding into your hair, and you press your mouth to his slowly. The kiss is soft. His lips part against yours, and you drink in the faint warmth of him while it lasts.
You pull back just enough to look at him again, eyes shining with love. He tucks a lock of hair behind your ear, thumb brushing the side of your face.
âIf I die, I want to die like this. Holding you. Not inââ He gulps, and you shush him, quickly pressing another kiss to his lips.Â
Then his cheek, then lowerâto the hollow of his throat where you feel his thready pulse, to his chest, where his heart beats faintly beneath your lips. You take your time with him. Every brush of your fingers, every kiss, is slow, deliberateâlike youâre trying to remember himânot just his body, but everything about him, the way his muscles tense beneath your touch, the way he sighs your name like itâs the only thing keeping him tethered to this world.
You make your way down his stomach, lingering where the faint little hairs rise from under his breeches, listening for the way his breath hitches at your proximity.Â
Then you pull them down, exposing his hard member to you. You gather it in your hands, placing a few gentle kisses along the length before taking it in your mouth. You shudder at the soft moan he lets out. He lies still and pliant, chest rising and falling in rhythm with your movements. His hand finds the back of your head, not pushing, just holdingâlike he needs you to anchor him.
âYou feel so good.â He chokes out, breath quickening as the heat of your mouth gets to his head. âGods, I love you so much.âÂ
You slow down again, needing to savor the way his hips twitch beneath your touch, the tremble in his legs. You can feel his restraint, the way heâs holding back, not wanting to overwhelm you with his urgency. It makes your chest ache. Even now, with his body failing, heâs still thinking of you.
âI know, darling. I love you too. So much.â You whisper, taking your mouth off him to pump his length in your hand instead, your pace fast and easy over the wet member. âWant you to give in to me. Forget everything and only focus on my touch, the tightness of my grip, the softness of my lipsâŚâ
You talk him through it, punctuating your words with open-mouthed kisses to his cock, until his head falls back and a quiet, broken sound escapes his lips.Â
âI'm right there. I can'tâI need you!â His body arches, shuddering as you draw every last drop of pleasure from him, and then he collapses back against the ground, boneless, eyes fluttering shut.
You move back up his body slowly, pressing soft kisses to his stomach, then to his chest, then to the curve of his jaw. When you finally reach his lips, he pulls you in, arms around your waist, holding you close like he never wants to let go.
âI donât deserve you.â
Your heart drops in guilt, and you hush him with a kiss. âYou deserve more than I have given you. More than I can ever give you.â
He shakes his head. âYouâve given me everything.â
No, youâve taken everything from him, and soon youâll take his life too.Â
Still, you stay close to him, selfishly curled along the length of his body, his skin damp with sweat, his breath still shallow but slower now. You rest your head on his chest and listen to his heartbeatâfaint, yes, but steady. Strong enough to ease your worries, if only for tonight.
His fingers thread loosely into your hair, his other hand cradling the back of your neck, as though heâs afraid you might disappear if he lets go. Neither of you speak for a while. The silence full of things too heartbreaking to put into words: thank you, I love you, Iâm scared.
You kiss the skin over his heart, once, then again, and he hums softly, tired but content.
âYou're warm,â He murmurs, and you frown. Does he feel the burn of the curse too?Â
You shift to look at him, your leg draping over his hips, hands resting gently against his ribcage. You can feel the sickness thrumming under your fingertips. You know it all too well nowâthe slow, merciless crawl of it. The way it spreads inward, inch by inch, carving through flesh and spirit alike as it creeps toward the heart, and yet he holds you like heâs still whole.
âI wish I could take it from you,â You whisper, fingers pressing down firmly as if you could draw it out through touch alone. âIâd carry it all, if I could. Every ache, every breath. Iâd let it tear through me insteadâif it meant saving you.â
He shakes his head resolutely. âI would never let you. I would die a thousand deaths before I let it hurt you.â
There is no use arguing with him. For all your declarations, neither of you can save each other. So you lay your head back down on his shoulder and fall into a rhythm with his breathing, your hand moving slowly up and down his side in a soothing motion.Â
âTell me something good,â He asks you quietly.
âLike what?â
âAnything. A lie, even. I donât care.â He says, and his desperation breaks you.Â
You think for a moment, then smile to yourself, picking the most beautiful lie. âYouâre going to get better. Weâre going to beat this, beat him, and restore everything to what it was. Then weâll rebuildâcleanse the tribe, shape it into something kinder, somewhere safe. A place worthy of the children weâll raise together. And one day, thereâll be stories about us. Legends. Our descendents will speak about how we saved the world from darkness.â
Kai chuckles, low and raspy. âThatâs a good lie.â
âIâll keep telling it until itâs true.â You lean up and kiss the corner of his mouth. He turns his head and kisses you back, more desperate and needy this timeâthe kind of kiss you give when you donât know how many more you have left.
He touches you more boldly, his hands running along your sides, to your hips, pulling your dress up and guiding you over his cock until youâre sinking down on it, making you both cry out in relief as you become one.Â
If you could, you would never let this moment end. You would stay here, forever bound to your beloved.Â
Your hands slide across his chest, your mouth trailing close behind it, kissing every inch of skin as if each touch could buy you another day. He murmurs your name like a prayer, over and over.
When your bodies meet, itâs not rushed despite your desperation. Itâs not even just about pleasure. Itâs about closeness. Skin to skin, breath to breath. You move together in the dark, your hands tangled in his hair, his fingers grasping your waist, your shoulders, your armsâanything to keep you near. You feel him tremble beneath you, from the strain of his pleasure, from the emotions he can no longer hold in.
You kiss his tears away. You give him your everythingâevery thrust of your hips, every desperate moan, every gasp as you ride him until neither of you can tell where he ends and you begin.Â
âIâm so sorry.â You tell him, fighting to hold back your own tears as you watch him ache beneath you, his cock hot and twitching inside your fluttering pussy. âIâm so sorry.âÂ
He canât hear your apologies, and perhaps thatâs a small mercy. Better he never knows what youâve done. The curse might claim his body, but to live his final days with the knowledge that he has been doomed by the very person he lovesâthat is a fate more cruel than death. Â
You can tell that heâs close, and you let one of your hands drop between you to brush against your pussy, pushing yourself over the edge so your contracting walls can milk his cock dry.Â
âOh, gods!â He groans, his eyes fighting to stay on you as his second release wracks through his weak body. âI love you. Thank you.âÂ
You cannot bear to receive his gratitude, not when you know that the slow ruin overtaking his body all began with you. So you kiss him until he can no longer speak, until the tension fades from his limbs and his body yields to exhaustion. Only then do you stop.Â
You collapse beside him, your bodies pressed together, limbs entwined like roots grown from the same tree. You rest your head in the crook of his neck, your hand over his heart once more.
It still beats. Not strong. Not for long. Not if you do nothing.Â
You cannot let him die. You need to save him. Youâve been selfish enough, watching him suffer for far too long while you cling to your fear, your pride, your hope that there might be another way. But there isnât.Â
And you know what you must do.Â
_________________
You slip out in the dead of night, silent as the grave, your heart pounding so loudly it feels like it can be heard through the stillness. The village sleeps around you, tucked into an uneasy slumber. You should be asleep tooâwrapped in your loverâs arms, but instead your feet carry you forwardâto the one place you swore youâd never go.
Beomgyuâs home looms ahead, shrouded in shadow, the darkness pooling thickly around it, making it seem larger, more oppressive than it is. The door hangs slightly ajar, as though left open for you. And perhaps that should have been your first warning.
ââYou step inside, breath lodged in your throat, every footfall echoing loudly in the unnatural stillness. You half-expect to find him asleep, or hunched over in some twisted ritual. But instead, heâs standing in the center of the room, perfectly still, eyes fixed on the door, on you, as if he knew you were coming. That should have been your second warning.
The hairs on the back of your neck lift. Every instinct screams at you to turn and run and not look back until youâre far away from here. But itâs already too late. Youâve stepped into his grasp, and you know he will not let go so easily.
âWhat are you doing here, flower?â He asks, his voice quietâalmost gentle. Thereâs no surprise in it. No confusion. Just a calm certainty. As if this moment had already taken place in his mind a thousand times before.
You open your mouth to speak, but your words fail you. Youâre struck by the softness of himânot the snarling cruelty you've come to expect, not the hollow-eyed hatred heâd worn all these weeks since youâd first rejected him.Â
Godsâhas it only been mere weeks? It feels like the terror and grief youâve lived through can fill up a hundred lifetimes.Â
âIs it proper,â Beomgyu murmurs, his tone and expression almost⌠fond. As if you were lovers meeting in secret. âfor a married woman to be alone in another manâs house at such an ungodly hour?â
His tone is light, but beneath it lies something darkerâa knowing, a warning, a welcome. And though you havenât yet said a word, he already knows why youâve come. You see it in the way he steps closer, in the slight, assured curl of his smile. Heâs been waiting for this.
âThere is no such thing as an ungodly hour. The gods watch over us always.â Your voice is steadier than you expected, the defiance slipping out before you can stop itâsmall, trembling, but there, surprising even you.
Beomgyu smiles wider, and you canât help but feel mocked. In this house of darkness, you worry that the gods canât see you.
âIndeed they do,â He takes another slow step toward you, hands clasped behind his back as if he does not need to lift a finger to bring you to your knees. âDoes he know youâre here?â
You shake your head, already struggling to breathe. âNo.â Your voice is quieter now, more weak. âHe canât know. He canât know any of itâso please, just⌠stop.â
Your mouth fills with saliva as bile rises to the back of your throat. âI donât know why youâre doing this. I donât understand what you want from me. But please⌠no more.â
You hate how broken you sound. You hate the way the shadows press closer around you as if they can sense your weakness, how he watches you as if heâs ready to devour you.
âSo youâve come here all alone⌠behind your husbandâs back⌠to another manâs home?â He advances on you slowly, like a predator savoring the moment before the strike. âThatâs not very wise.â Another step. âWhat if I do something to you?â His head tilts, eyes gleaming with something far too close to hunger. âWhat if I decide to take what I have always wanted?â
His words hang in the air like incense smoke, thick and cloying. He watches you the way a cat watches a mouse it had battered within an inch of its lifeâcurious to see what you will do, knowing you canât run.Â
Your breath is shallow, but your pulse is a thunderous roar in your ears. You flinch when he finally closes the distance between you and reaches out. You brace for the worst, but his fingers merely brush through your hair to tuck a loose strand behind your ear. The gesture may seem sweet, but it only serves to remove what little separates you from the depthless darkness of his eyes, and that is exactly his purpose.Â
He hates you and he wants you. This isnât about affectionâitâs about conquest. About proving that he can take what was once denied him. That he can make you his, if only to undo you. You feel it in his gaze, in the sharp softness of his touch. This is the revenge heâs always hungered for.
Your voice comes out quieter than you had hoped, but it remains resolute. âDo what you will⌠just stop this.â
âStop what?â The corner of his mouth twitches. That cruel little glint of satisfaction, duperâs delight, flickering in his eyes like he can barely contain his pleasure at seeing his plans unravel so perfectly. âI am only purging this tribe of those infected with the curse,â He says, mockingly pious. Â
You stare at him, heart thundering, disgust bitter on your tongue. âThen go jump into that fucking fire. That will cure us all.â Â
He laughs, the sound battering against your weak heart and making it want to shrivel up and dieâhis apparent good mood more unnerving than his anger. You feel like prey already halfway into the lionâs mouth. Â
âWhy, surely youâre not implying that I am behind the curse?â The mockery drips like poison honey from his tongue. Heâs daring you to say it, daring you to try to strip away the mask he wears for the others and face the monster youâve unknowingly nurtured.
âYou are!â You cry, your voice thrumming with a courage you do not truly possess. âI donât know why youâre doing this, or how you can find any of it amusing, but itâs not. Youâre killing peopleâinnocent people!â
Beomgyu doesnât flinch, your fury and disgust scattering around him like ash in the wind. He merely tilts his head, a slow, mocking gesture, and drawls, âWho is innocent? Your mother? The woman who tried to barter your life for her own?â Â
That silences youâbut he isnât finished.
âOr perhaps your husbandâs fatherâour brave leaderâwho threatened you, used you, and would've cast you at my feet just as your mother did, if it meant Iâd spare him.â Â
You donât respond, the truth of his words piercing your skin like blades.Â
âNo one in this tribe is innocent,â Beomgyu continues, his voice low, almost mournful. âThey care for nothing but their own safety. Their own comfort. They would let the world burn just to keep themselves warm.â Â
His fingers liftâgentle, too gentleâand brush against your cheek. The touch is soft, but it feels like it brands you. âThey condemn that which they donât understand and cast it out without a second thought. Without mercy.â Â
You swallow, forcing down the lump in your throat. âIs that what all of this is for? To punish them? To take revenge for what they did to you?â Â
His gaze darkens, like a storm passing over still water. You've struck something raw. âDo I not deserve revenge?â Â
âFor what?â You ask, incredulous. âBecause they looked at you in distaste?â Â
âYou think thatâs all that was done to me?â His false smile finally slips from his face, revealing the raw edge beneath. âI was feared by my own mother, hated by my own father, then blamed for their deaths. I was judged before I even had the chance to defend myself. I was stripped of everything, my family name, my birthright, my future, and you all watched it happen. No one came for me. No one defended me. My bloodline was doomed to rot while others like yours were revered. I was condemned to nothingâand still you call it distaste?â Â
You feel the world bend around youâas if even the night itself recoils in fear of his wrath.
âIf you think all that was nothing but distaste,â He murmurs, his voice stripped of all pretense, âthen why are you here, begging for it to stop when itâs finally happening to you?â
You blanch, the breath catching in your lungs like smoke. Â
Suddenly, everything begins to make sense. His aim was not just to dismantle and destroy those in power so he could rise to take their place. Noâhe wanted you to suffer as he had suffered. To feel the whispers at your back. To endure the suspicion in your familyâs eyes. To suffer the isolation that gnaws at the edges of your sanity. To see your name soiled, your future crumbling in the palms of your hand.
He wanted to ruin you, just as you watched him get ruined.
âPlease,â You whisper, voice quivering with the tears of despair and utter hopelessness youâre struggling to hold back. âWhatever justice you believe this to be, youâve delivered it. Let it end nowâplease.â
âBut I am not doing anything, my flower,â Beomgyu says, his voice once again cloaked in silken innocence. âThis is the godsâ wrath, sent down to punish the sinners.â Â
You recoil as though scorched, fury and dread climbing your throat like smoke from a pyre.
âLiar!â You hiss at him. âItâs you. This is all your doing.â Â
He feigns confusion, his smile soft and patronizing. âHow can that be? I have no power, remember? I am nothing, no one. Not compared to you.â His gaze sharpens, though his tone remains deceptively light. âWasnât it your family who was entrusted with the sacred arts? The divine craft passed down through generations? Wasnât it you who once told me of the dark magic that is kept hidden behind the walls of the temple? The spells marked in blood beneath the altar?â Â
The implication in his words is clear. You cannot give him up. If he burns, you burn with him. Â
Your knees nearly buckle under the weight of it allâhis threat, his power, the noose heâs been quietly tightening around your neck seemingly since the moment you met him. Â
âPlease,â You plead, voice frayed. âSpare them. Spare him.â Â
 Â
He regards you in a silence that stretches between you like a taut thread ready to snap. Then, calmlyâalmost kindlyâhe says, âOnly the innocent will be spared.â
Your heart thuds heavily in your chest. âBut⌠you said there are no innocents.â Â
His answering smile is slow, terrible, and you finally start to cry, the tears falling faster than you can wipe them away. âHe is innocent.â You insist, wailing.Â
âIs he?â His voice is not raised, but sharpenedâlike a blade sliding between ribs. âHis family is the reason mine is dead.â
âLies!â You shout, desperate to drown him out, to push back against the tide of his hate. âHe is goodâheâs good.â
But your words barely leave your mouth before his hand strikes like a snake, fisting in your hair and yanking your head back sharply. You gasp, pain blooming across your scalp, your neck straining as he forces you to look up at himâhis eyes dark and gleaming with fury and hurt, long-fed and allowed to fester.
âTell me again. Tell me how good he is.â His grip tightens, uncaring that heâs hurting you as he watches your tears stream down your cheeks.Â
âTell me why you chose him over me.â For the first time, his voice rises, a crack forming in his composure, letting you glimpse his hurt. âWas it because he is respected? Because his familyâs name sits high on the tongues of fools while mine is dragged through filth? Because the people love himâtrust himâas a matter of birthrightâwhile they hate and fear me for the lies his family told? For the poison your elders whispered into my fatherâs ear? For the lies they let fester until they bled into every home in this cursed tribe?â
You try to shake your head, to deny it, but his grip holds you fast.
âYouâre lying,â You manage, the words brittle, barely holding shape. âWhy would they do that? Why would they want to hurt you?â You ask as if youâve never heard the rumors. As if you donât remember the whispers that once buzzed like flies around a fresh grave, speaking of his fatherâs untimely death and how fortuitous it was for Kaiâs father to survive his only real rival for leadership.  Â
Beomgyuâs laugh is empty, humorless. âAsk your precious husband. Iâm sure he wonât lie to youânot now that youâre one of them.â The accusation in his voice burns like his fire. âYouâre both cut from the same cloth. Liars and hypocrites. You wear righteousness like a veil, pretend to be pure, pretend to be above meââ He sneers down at you, his shadow devouring your light. Â
âIâll strip away that veilâthread by thread. And when thereâs nothing left to hide behind, not your name, not your blood, not your husbandâs family, Iâll show everyone what you really are. What youâve always beenârotten underneath.â Â
You stare at him, heart fluttering in your chest like an injured bird. âYouâre insane,â You whisper faintly to whatever monstrous creature is wearing Beomgyuâs face.Â
And yet, the cruelest truth is the one you cannot denyâhe is not wrong. Youâre no better than him. You have brought death to your parents, ruin to your husbandâs bloodline, and doom to the tribe. Every choice you have made has carried you further from the grace of the gods, and you fear that their gates have been long closed to you.
He leans closer, until there is no air between you and him. Until the warmth of his breath ghosts over your skin, and you can smell the faint trace of herbs and smoke clinging to him like a second skin. âMaybe I am after all,â He murmurs, voice low and intimate, as if sharing a secret only with you.Â
âWhat do you hope to gain from this?â You sob, wondering with growing terror if there remains any plea, any offering, that might yet stay this madmanâs hand. âJust to kill us all for crimes youâve imagined we committed?â
âOh, flower,â He murmurs, almost fond. âYouâre even more beautiful when you cry but I must warn you that those precious tears you shed only burn me with more hatred.â Â
He cups your cheek in his hand, and though he stands suffocatingly close, you canât pull away, not with his fingers tangled in your hair like claws hooked into flesh. âIt makes me want to kiss you until I've taken all your breath away, to fuck you until you have no tears left to shed and your throat bleeds from screaming my name.âÂ
There it isâhe no longer makes any effort to conceal his ravenous hunger. You came knowing this moment could come, hoped for it⌠but to say you were prepared for the violence of his desire would be a lie. Still, if surrender is the price for a little more time, you will pay it. If he harbors even a sliver of mercy in that withered heart, youâll trade whatever pieces of yourself he demands so he will let you breathe a little longer. Not for you, but for itâŚ
âPleaseâŚâ You tremble, the words tearing your throat like thorns. âSpare my child. It is innocent.â Â
He stills, his haughty expression faltering. âYouâre⌠with child?â Â
For the first time, there is no mockery in his voice. No smile on his face. No anger in his eyes. Just curiosity. And a flicker of something youâre scared to name.
You nod, tears blurring the shape of him, but never softening it. The despair wells up like a maelstrom in you as your thoughts drift to the life inside you. So small, so fragile. A child who may never see the light of day because of the monster that stands before you. Â
His shadow spills over youâvast, engulfingâlarger than any mere mortalâs. His hand moves. Down. Until it lays gently over your abdomen.Â
You still, every muscle in your body tightening. You want to recoil, to strike him, to run. But you canât. Youâre afraid of what he might do if you try.Â
His touch is warm, gentle even, but it makes your skin crawl just the same. He is silent, contemplative, as though he could feel your child's lifeblood pulsing beneath his fingers. Then comes the faintest curve to his lipsâa small, inexplicable smile that unnerves you. You canât make sense of it and that terrifies you more than all the threats heâs made. Is he marveling at the life within you⌠or planning how best to use it? Will your child be spared, or sacrificed?
Your mind spirals. Behind your eyes, that horrible image resurfacesâthe one youâve tried so hard to banish: the infant Kaiâs grandmother laid on the altar, soft and helpless, its innocence consumed to feed something foul and ancient.
Will he slaughter your child the same wayâspill its blood to sustain whatever darkness writhes beneath his skin?
You wish youâd never told him. You wish your child would slip into the silence of your womb, its life fading before it could be used for something unholy. Before he could defile it, as he has defiled everything heâs ever touched. Before he could stain its soul so utterly that even the gods would turn their faces in disgust and refuse to welcome it home.
âPlease,â You sob, barely able to speak through the wave of panic drowning your lungs. âPlease don't hurt my child.â Â
He brushes away your tears with the pad of his thumb, his touch so gentle it only deepens your horror, convincing you that heâs preparing you for the slaughter. âHush, flower,â He whispers. And then, slowly, he leans inâ Â
His lips find your cheek first, kissing the trail your tears have burned down your face. He follows them as they run, until they pass over the corner of your mouth. There, he catches your lips in a kiss. Uninvited. Unwanted. Unstoppable.Â
You do not dare fight him. Instead, you kiss him back, desperate, needing to appease him. You let him draw you closer, pliantly responding to his terrifying hunger. You suppress your flinch when his hands start to roam, caressing and groping places only a husband should claim.Â
His pleased sighs are hot against your mouth, and you force yourself to swallow them downâburying your revulsion, your horror, your shame. You feel the hardness of him pressed against your hip, and everything inside you screams at you to stop this. Â
But you canât. Because if this is the cost to keep your child aliveâŚÂ If this is what it takes to keep him from burning the only person you have leftâŚÂ then you will endure. Even if it breaks you. Even if the gods forsake you. Even if you never forgive yourself.
Your breath hitches as his hands roam lower, kneading the flesh of your hips, fingers digging in as though trying to mold you to him. You feel his hips grind faster against youâfirm, insistent. You hear the roughness in his breath as he leans in closer, burying his face in your neck, breathing you in. And still you donât pull away.
âSo soft,â He murmurs, voice rough with need. âYou donât even realize what you do to me.â
Youâre filled with revulsionâat him, at yourself. It sickens you to hear him all but admit to having viewed you so lewdly, to having lusted after you. But what makes your stomach turn even more violently is the way your body still reacts to his touch, despite everythingâdespite the monster heâs become, the horrors heâs unleashed, the blood heâs spilled. Despite the fact that you belong to another man, one you love. You hate it. You hate yourself for it.
And you begin to wonder if this too, is just another step in his cruel design? Not just to take you, not just to break you down and claim the pieces for himselfâbut to make you complicit? To make you question your purity, your loyalty, your sanity?
His lips press along your jaw, down the side of your throat, trailing heat and dread in equal measure. You close your eyes and try not to feel any of it. Try to think only of the child inside you. Of Kaiâs face. Of anything but this.
You pull back, breathless, your lips damp with the salt of your own tears and the taste of him still clinging to your mouth. âPlease, if I let you have me⌠will you spare them?â
He cocks his head to the sideâeyes wild, feral. He lets the silence stretch until your heart is pounding against your ribs as if it wants out. Youâre the first to break. Of course, you are. You cannot bear it, and so carefully, slowly you push one hand between your bodies to find his hard length and wrap your fingers around it in a tentative stroke. His jaw parts on a groanâa low sound that rumbles from deep in his chest. His lashes flutter shut, and for a few breathless moments, his body is open to you.
You study himâthe quiver of his lips, the tension in his brow, the ache he hid for so long.      Â
You watch his lashes, long and thick, fan out softly against his cheeks. His nose rising in an elegant silhouette from his handsome face. And his lipsâsoft, full, and delicate in a way that doesnât belong in his world of ash and fire. You wonder how someone so lovely could hold so much darkness. With his eyes closed, he looks almost peaceful. Serene. Like an angel caught between two worlds, reminding you so much of the young boy you once held a small flame in your heart for, and your heart breaks. Not for the man in front of you, but for the boy who never stood a chance. Â
For a few moments, all you see is the boy who once waited for you at the edge of the woods with dirt on his knees and wildflowers in his fists. The boy who laughed too loudly and asked too many questions, excited and eager to have a friend, to get a glimpse at a world that never made room for him. Â
You wonder if he is still in there, if the fire burning through him hasnât completely consumed him. You wonder if itâs not too late, if the monster still remembers what it means to love. You wonder if maybe, just maybe, there is a way to pull that boy out from underneath the embers.
But even with his eyes closed, you feel watched. Not by himâbut by whatever always clings to him.Â
You keep stroking him, slow and measured, your other hand braced on his chest to keep some distance between you because despite all your mournful ruminations, this is not an act of tenderness, of love. This is a bid for salvation. He is no longer the little boy who yearned for belonging, who begged for your attention. That boy is long gone, if ever he existed. In his place stands a monster who slaughters those who once shunned him, carving out the place he was robbed of with blood and ash, and forcing you to bargain for the life of your unborn child with your chastity and dignity.Â
Beomgyuâs head drops back to your neckâgravitating there like itâs in his nature to tear you apart. His lips are hot and open, teeth scraping against your skin with something between hunger and rage. You wince, swallowing down your cries and moans. You can already feel the bruise forming there, how youâll have to hide it later. If you live long enough to care.
He drags your dress up with possessive hands, fabric sliding over your thighs like a shroud being lifted. You shiver, the cold air meeting your bare skin, but that brief moment of chill does not last long for it is quickly replaced by his burning touch, his cock pressingâhard and hot, against your bare pussy.
You try not to cry out, try not to feel, but every nerve in your body seems to betray you, registering the pressure, the heat, the terrifying intimacy.
âWhat a pretty, pliant little whore,â He breathes against your ear, voice low and filled with a dark kind of awe. âLook how easily you break for me.â
You squeeze your eyes shut, shame burning you alive. You want to vanish, to disappear inside yourselfâanything so you wonât have to endure the shame and guilt of your body reacting to his touch.
But you stay still. You let him. Because thereâs nothing else left to give. No more bargains to make. Just this. Just your body. And he knows itâHe savors it.
You feel it in the way his breath turns ragged, in the low hum that escapes his throat like a growl. His hands tighten on your hips, fingertips digging into your flesh like heâs trying to imprint himself on you, like he wants you to never forget this.
His thumb brushes against your clit, touching you with slow intent, forcing you to feel as he drags his cock against your wet pussy. His satisfaction is palpable in the heat of his body, in the raspy moans that break from his lips like prayers through clenched teeth. Each breath he takes sounds like hunger. Each sigh, like triumph.
âGods,â He mutters, voice shaking with pleasure. âI can eat you whole.â
âP-pleaseâŚâ You barely have the power left to speak, your shaky voice sounding repulsive to your own ears. Oh, how deep youâve sunk. âWhatever you want. Just⌠just spare my baby. Spare Kai. Please.â
Suddenly, he pulls back, and the shift in his demeanor is swift and jarring. His mouth that was open in pleasure snaps shut. His brows that were furrowed in pleasure take on a furious look. And his dark gaze that is no longer tempered by pleasureâlocks onto yours.   Â
His hand wraps around your wrist and you swallow down the trepidation at the back of your throat, bracing for him to pull you in for more, to finish what you started. But instead, to your reliefâand despairâhe doesnât. He pushes your hand away and steps back, shaking his head. Â
You blink, uncomprehending, as the distance opens between you. His eyes stay on yours, and for a heartbeat longer, he allows you to see the storm behind them. The rage. The grief. The boy who was buried alive beneath years of humiliation and exile, and who clawed his way back from the grave with nothing but the hatred and pain burning through his veins. Â
The full revelation of it, wrapped in a single, horrifyingly calm moment, almost knocks you off your feet.
âCan you give me back respect?â He asks, his voice low, his anger barely contained. âThe dignity they stripped from me? The place in the tribe that should have been mine by birthrightâstolen by your husbandâs family?â
Your stomach knots. âNo,â You shake your head, denying it until the end. âThatâs not what happened. You brought this upon yourself. You killed your parents. You gave yourself to the dark.â Â
âWhy is it so hard for you to believe they conspired to ruin my family in order to keep their place atop the tribe?â His eyes blaze, his tone bitter, âAnd yet so easy for you to believe that a childâa childâcould murder his own parents? His unborn siblings?â Â
You struggle to meet his gaze as if the hatred within it has the power to fell you. âBecause youâre evil. Everyone can see it.â Â
The words hang in the air, quivering like a blade waiting to drop. Â
His smile returns, and your stomach drops. Thatâs when you knowâyouâve said the wrong thing. Youâve broken whatever fragile thread held back the monster. âThen everyone will see their evil too. And they wonât be given mercy, just as no one showed me mercy.â Â
âPlease,â You try again, voice cracking and hands trembling as you try to reach out for him. try to fix it. âPlease, Beomgyu.â Â
But his eyes remain cruel, pitiless. Youâve squandered your one chance.Â
He seizes your arm, his grip bruising, and hauls you toward the door. âSave your tears. You never shed them for me. Why should I care if you shed them for him?â Â
With a final shove, he casts you out. âGo to him,â He spits, looking down at you. âSave him if you can.â Â
And just like that, the door slams shut behind youâsnuffing out the last flicker of hope you still dared to cling to.
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A/N: There is only one chapter left because this one was humungous. please let me know what you think and how you think the story will end
âMother, please!â You plead with a deathly rasp. âYou'll kill me.â
âIf you die because of this then so be it. I would rather a dead daughter than one ensnared by a demon.â She declares coldly, and plunges the knife into the center of the corpseâs chest. âWith this, may the forbidden love die.â
You gasp, feeling an inferno light up inside your chest and you claw at it, trying to dig your heart out as it burns. You canât breathe.Â
Warnings: fem!reader, DARK FIC, FUTURE NONCON/DUBCON, character death, iron age au, supernatural au, yandere beomgyu, dark magic, blood magic, messing with a corpse, burning as execution (see the fic title lol), first times, kai and oc are awkward because they're virgins living in the iron age, breast play, PIV, guided masturbation, kai is so sweet and clumsy and clueless, gyu is a monster
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You wake up that morning, drenched in sweat with your body aching all over and your heart still pounding.Â
It was a nightmare. You're sure of it. Just the work of your nervous and grieving mind, you convince yourself. You will away the aching in your muscles and the stinging of your skin that scream at you as if you'd fought the biggest battle of your life in your sleep. You reason with yourself that of course you would feel rotten and drained after watching your father get killed right in front of your eyes. The monster you saw last night was just your guilt-ridden mind playing tricks on you by making you experience what it thinks your father has experienced before he died because you feel responsible for his fate and whatever part you may have played in it.
You lie and lie to yourself but you cannot deceive your own eyes when you take off your night clothes to see the cuts and bruises covering your body and laying waste to your flimsy defenses the same way the savage demon laid waste to your father.Â
You run to your mother, naked and bawling, not bothering to cover yourself up. There is no use in hiding anymore. He has laid it all plain to see. You have been marked up for slaughter just like those poor beasts.Â
âMother, I am scared.â
She looks at you and your knees buckle under the contempt in her eyes. There is an accusation thereâa knowledge you'd been hiding from all this time. âWhat have you done?âÂ
You consider lying for a moment, pretending that you haven't a clue why this is happening to you, but you can see in her eyes that she already knew that you are to blame for all of this misfortune. She knew it all along and now there was no running from it anymore.
So you tell her everything. You tell her about your pity for the dark boy, your late night meetings, your detestable loose tongue, the stupid way you've unintentionally led him on only to break his heart, the cursed night bloomer, the recent meeting in the forest, the stolen kiss, your belief that he must be behind all of this, and the beast that attacked you in the night.Â
She looks at you in horror, and in that momentâafter recounting everything out loud, you realize just how terribly you have messed up. âYou did this? You invited the demon in?â
âI didn't mean to. I didn't know he was evil.â You tear up, trying to beg for her forgiveness.Â
She slaps you. âLiar. Everyone in this cursed tribe knew to keep away from that vile creature.â
âI thought you had all misjudged him. He wasnât like that when I was with himââ
âWhat do you mean to say? Do you hold affection for him?â
âNo!â You insist, humiliation and guilt burning in your chest at the accusation. This is why you could never have belonged to him. You cannot even face the disgust of one person at the notion of you possessing feelings for him, let alone the assured ridicule of the whole tribe were they to find out you had even considered him. âI would never.â
âYou stupid bitch. Is that why you sabotaged the spell and sacrificed your father? To save him?â She advances on you, not listening to your denials and flinging piercing accusations at you.Â
âNo. I swear to you, I did my best.â You did! Whether you've ruined the spell or not was a question that will forever haunt you, among a myriad of abominable memories like your father's dying sounds and the demon in the night, but whatever the truth of the matter is, you know you did not do it intentionally. You were just scared. It was much too daunting to face that evil head on and despite all your efforts, you may not have been able to stay focused enough on the spell to keep it going and protect your father from the monster.Â
She slaps you again. âYou fell for the demon's tricks and now you've doomed us all. You've killed your father.â
âNo. No.â You cry, shaking your head. âMother, please. I didn't mean to. I didn't know. There⌠There must be a way to save us.â
âPerhaps you don't deserve saving. I should leave you to the beast to have his fill of you for the way you served your father up to him on a platter.âÂ
âI didn't.â You wail, falling to your knees, heart frozen with the fear of being left to be picked off by him. âPlease believe me. Please don't leave me to him. I am your daughter.âÂ
She pushes you away and you fall to the ground. âI will help you but not for you. If I don't stop the rumors from going around, it won't just be your neck on the line but mine as well. We must banish him and ensure things go back to the way they were and that your marriage to the leader's son goes as planned.â
You nod meekly. âYes mother. I will do everything you ask.âÂ
âYou better. This will require fighting fire with fire. Our magic clearly cannot stand up to him. We must use the same sort of magic he is using if we have any hope of defeating him.â
âYou mean blood magic?â You blanch and she curls her lip at you in contempt. âYou did this. You invited him in. Don't you dare cry about it now.âÂ
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You shouldnât be here. This is wrong. It went against every pillar of your religion and every fiber of your beingâ to desecrate a grave like that, to mutilate the corpse that now belongs to the gods⌠your own father's corpse at that. It was unforgivable! How will the gods welcome you in again? They shall cast you out to eternal damnation!
But your mother doesn't care. She tells you that if the gods could see this, they would have already interfered to stop him. No, they have been blinded and now itâs up to you to restore their sight and bring back peace and harmony to your tribe. You do your best to believe her. What other choice did you have?Â
She had explained to you that Beomgyu had deceived you all, manipulating you into performing the cursed summoning ritual to bind himself to you. Through blood magic, he sacrificed your father, using him to tether himself to your very soul. And now, the only way to free yourself is to undo the ritual, using the same dark magic he used against you.
She digs through the earth in the dead of night as if pulling out its guts, elbows deep in it until she breaches the sanctity of your father's grave. She rips out the body that was already well into rotting, the skin discolored by mud and decay, belly swollen with putrid gases and the worms busy making a meal of the tender parts of the face.  Â
You couldnât have recognized the corpse in front of you as your father if your life had depended on it, yet the sight of it still instills tremendous shame and disgust in your heart. How could you do this to him? Isn't it enough that you've killed him? Now you canât even let him rest in his grave?Â
Your mother, for all her weeping and grieving over your father, is savagely efficient with the process. She places the body on a flat section of ground, then draws an intricate symbol around itâone thatâs unfamiliar to you, though you suspect itâs tied to dark magic.
She chants an unfamiliar spell. "O Great Gija, Lord of Sorcery, Terror of the Divine, heed my cries and bless me with your dark favor. Before you, I lay the body of my fallen lover, the dearest of my possessions. Let this offering serve as a snare for my enemy, binding him to my will. Make him endure as this body has endured. Make him suffer as we have suffered, and grant me the power to seek my vengeance upon him."
You stare at her, struck dumb with disbelief. How could she, of all people, pray to the dark mage? Youâve heard it said before, in hushed whispers around dark corners, that some who have not found their desire in the gods, have turned their rotten hearts to him instead. They spoke of him as if he was a wronged soul, claiming that the gods had been envious of his might, that he had been cursed not because he dared challenge them but because of their bitter jealousy. They believed he still wandered the realm between life and death, waiting to be called forth by anyone worthy of summoning him, a soul as rotten as his that could wield the same dark arts. Yet, never did you imagine that your own mother, a woman who has devoted her life to the gods in servitude, would turn to such wickedness. This was no mere sacrilegeâthis was an offense that could not be forgiven.
âMay the gods have mercy on me.â You whisper under your breath before you follow along with the orders she spits at you, shuddering as you open the corpseâs eyesâyour skin desiring to peel itself over your bones to escape the detestable touch.
âThrough the eyes that once watched you with love and pride, the creature now gazes upon you with hatred.â She takes two thin iron rods and pushes them into the murky pupils, puncturing the soft eyes that were already half-eaten by worms. âWith this, may he be blinded.â
You feel a tightening in your chest, pain springing up at the first signs of the forced separation from the dark spirit. It can feel the ritual taking place and it desperately tries to cling onto you.Â
Next she asks you to move the corpse's arms away from his body, placing them spread out onto the dirt next to it.Â
âWith these hands, he lifted you up each time you fell, guiding you through your journey and helping you fulfill every longing of your soul. Now, through these same hands, the creature binds you in chains.â She strikes the hands with an axe, savagely cutting them off, a thick congealed substance spilling from the stumps instead of the bright red blood that gives life. âWith this, may you be freed.â
Your teeth chatter in pain as if your own limbs were being severed, and you choke out. âMother it hurts.âÂ
She looks at you in disdain. âEither this ritual is done or I bury you right alongside your father and rid this tribe of the curse.â
You cower under the severity of her contempt and obey meekly as she instructs you to pull out the dead man's tongue, the slimy feeling turning your stomach and bringing you close to sickness.Â
"Through this mouth, you once heard words of wisdom that steered your steps toward the righteous path. Now it unfurls only with deceit.â She removes a blazing totem from the fire, and presses it against the dead man's tongue. âWith this, may it never rise against you in falsehood again.â
You release your grip, a rush of dizziness sweeping over you, as agony floods through your veins, tearing at you from within.The malevolent spirit, woven deep into your being, is ripped away, its departure wreaking havoc upon your body.
Your mother leaves the totem inside the corpse's mouth, the metal stuck to the flesh. She doesnât ask anything further of you, instead drawing a dagger from her robes and holding the tip over the center of the dead man's chest..Â
"With this heart that once loved you, the creature now lusts after you." She lifts her arms, the dagger poised above your fatherâs chest, and in panicked desperation, you throw your hands out to stop her.
âMother, please!â You plead with a deathly rasp. âYou'll kill me.â
âIf you die because of this then so be it. I would rather a dead daughter than one ensnared by a demon.â She declares coldly, and plunges the knife into the center of the corpseâs chest. âWith this, may the forbidden love die.â
You gasp, feeling an inferno light up inside your chest and you claw at it, trying to dig your heart out as it burns. You canât breathe.Â
Youâre going to die.Â
______________________
"Mother, is it true you and father faced a real demon and defeated it?" The little girl with long black hair asks, her voice soft, innocent. You hum, fingers weaving through the strands, lacing small flowers and protective charms into the silky dark locks. "Yes, my dear."
She pauses, a strange silence settling in the room before she speaks again. âWhat if it comes back?"
You ache to cradle her in your arms, to shield her from the world, to let her know that you will let nothing, nothing at all, ever harm her. And you tell her as much. âI will never let anything hurt you. You're my heart, my soul. Everything I do is to protect you, my darling. Nothing will ever touch you."
You finish braiding her hair and reach forward to brush your fingers against her cheek.
You feel the warmth of her smile before she turns to face you, beaming brightly. But your gaze shifts, drawn to something else.
You recoil, withdrawing your hand as if scalded. Those eyes⌠those dead blue eyesâŚ
______________
The ritual was a success, your mother tells you, though it exacted a heavy toll on you. The beast resisted its expulsion with all its might, nearly killing you in the process.Â
After you had lost consciousness, your mother had to drag you back to your home and keep you locked away from prying eyes, especially Kaiâs, as she nursed you back to health. Now you stand alive, seemingly untouched by the ordeal. Â
Yet the wounds your mind and soul carry weren't so easily healed. They lingered and festered, resisting your will just as the beast had resisted until they formed grotesque scars, forever marking you by him.Â
Fortunately for your sake, those weren't entirely visible to other people. Yes, they could see that your demeanor has changed. Your spirit was quieter now, your joy dimmed, but the suffocating heat that once consumed you has lifted. At least now you can breathe a little easier. The dark force no longer hovering over you. You donât feel watched. You donât feel violated.Â
Kai could tell you're not the same, and he tried his hardest to put the life back in you, and you tried your hardest to help him. But what you've seen was simply too muchâyour father's death, what you had to do to him, the disturbing dream⌠You know heâs still out there, and a sickening fear eats away at youâthat he will find a way to return, to latch onto you once more.
That is why you and your mother were determined to finalize your marriage to Kai. She insisted it must happen before the vile rumors surrounding your father's death could put an end to it, and you, too, felt the urgency. You yearned to marry Kai, to bear children with him so you can erase the haunting dream you had of your future child by replacing it with the wonderful vision of your real offspring.
And so, you wed Kai.
The tribeâs people were far from pleased that the celebration was taking place while that thingâwhatever it isâis still out there. Though the mysterious pestilence appears to have halted, no culprit had been apprehended for it and the fear that this quiet might be the calm before the storm hung heavily over everyone. You couldnât fault them. This was your fear as well.Â
Moreso, they still had their suspicions about the circumstances surrounding your father's death and what role they imagined you might have played in it. They were unsettled by the fact that their future ruler has chosen to maintain his relationship with you when your innocence could not be adequately demonstrated. Â
For the first time in your life, you felt what it was like to become an outcast. Beomgyu must find it all so funny.Â
On the night of your union with Kai, you searched for him in the crowd, half-expecting him to find some way to ruin your moment of joy. But there was no sign of him. Still, your pulse would quicken whenever a flurry of jet-black hair flashed before you, or when the moonlight struck a reflective surface just right, casting a shadow that resembled the icy blue eyes. Each time, you would snap your head around, bracing yourself for his oppressive presence, only to find it was nothing more than a trick of the eye, a cruel play on your mind.
You almost wished he had been thereâanything to justify what you had done to your father, anything to prove to yourself that you hadnât committed the greatest affront to the gods and mutilated his corpse on a frenzied impulse.
No, this way of thinking wouldnât do you any good. What is done is done, and you had to force yourself to stop thinking of him. He had already consumed far too much of your life, and you had finally managed to defeat him, once and for all. It was time to leave him behind, no matter how unsettled you still felt, unsure if you had truly been victorious, and burdened with the fear that you were pulling Kai into the curse that may still cling to you.
Kai, bless him, was none the wiser about your inner turmoil. He was happier than ever, excited for you to finally be together, which only made you feel more guilty.Â
You tried to put on a brave face, tried to enjoy it allâthe lavish festivities that only the tribe leaderâs wealth can buy, the best food and wine the cooks could provide, the chance to let go and be celebrated for one night, the prospect of a happy stable life together⌠but you couldnât. Not when it felt like it would be ripped away from you at any moment.Â
________________________
Yet despite all your fears, here you stoodâa married woman gazing at her glorious husband on her wedding night. He didnât stop it. Youâve done it. You had somehow gotten your happy ending.Â
Maybe you really made it all in your head and he had nothing to do with any of it. After all, if he truly was after you, surely he wouldn't have let you have this.Â
Have you misjudged him so terribly? Where was he now? You had scarcely seen him since the dark ritual. You might have believed you had killed him if you hadnât caught fleeting glimpses of him every now and then, like shadows in the corner of your vision. Â
"Are you okay? You've been distracted all night," Kai asks, his voice tinged with uncertainty. You snap out of your unwelcome thoughts, blinking as you focus on him.
"Huh? Oh, yes, Iâm fine," You reply, brushing him off quickly, but then you catch yourself. Gently, you reach out to cup his cheek, smoothing away the frown that creased his face. "More than fine. Iâm perfect, now that weâre finally together."
He smiles brightly at that, encouraged by your response, and leans forward to catch your lips in a sweet kiss. He is so painfully good, you do not deserve him. You are dirty and cursed. Youâve got blood on your hands and the dirt of defiled graves under your fingernails. You shouldnât be allowed to touch someone so pure lest you sully him.Â
And yet you let it happen. You let him kiss you until the sweetness turns into a need that takes hold of your bodies and compels you to seek out more and moreâ your hands grappling with the otherâs body, and your lungs fighting to survive off the remaining breath they hold until they canât no more and youâre forced to part.Â
âYouâre so beautiful.â He tells you shyly and you burn with more than just bashfulness, but you force all your guilt and feelings of inadequacy down as you smile up at him and undo your bridal dress, letting it fall to the ground to bare yourself completely to him.Â
The sweet, honest boy canât keep his eyes from flitting down to your breasts before he quickly averts them and apologizes as if he isnât your husband.Â
âItâs okay, darling. You can look. I am all yours.â You tell himâstrangely struggling to get those last words out as if your tongue was bound with some unseen force. Whether itâs the purported curse Beomgyu placed on you or the result of your own guilty conscience, you canât be sure. But despite it, you force yourself to reach out, turning his head back toward you, watching as he swallows nervously and takes in your entire body before his eyes settle back on your breasts. Yet he still does not make a move. Â
âYou can touch them.â You tell him and his eyes snap to yours, searching for confirmation, as if to ensure youâve truly given him permission. Once heâs certain, he moves forward, but instead of touching them, he lowers his head and presses his lips to one.
âOh.â You yelp, surprised at his sudden action.Â
âYouâre so beautiful.â He repeats, voice tremulous against your sensitive nipples. âI was so nervous you wouldn't choose me.âÂ
âHow could I not choose you, you silly boy?â You ask breathlessly, fingers tugging at his hair lightly as he suckles on your breasts, his hand rising to knead the soft flesh.Â
Truly, who else could you have chosen? Yeojun, the cunning tradesman who bedded every woman in the tribe? Taehyun, the stoic warrior who showed no interest in wooing a woman properly? Soobin, the humble farmer with no grand ambitions?
Or Beomgyu, who might very well be a monster?
Your body erupts in goosebumps at the thought and you pull Kai up from your breasts, hushing his whines with your mouth, needing him to push out all thoughts of him from your head.Â
He kisses you back hotly, his hands replacing his mouth at your breasts, eager yet clumsy, and it all just makes him all the more endearing to you.Â
âI need you.â He whispers between breathless kisses as if you canât tell, and shuffles you backwards towards the bedding on the floor. In his eagerness, he causes you to trip on the furs and stumble backwards. Your hands reach out instinctively to grab hold of him to steady yourself, but you only manage to pull him down with you instead.
He lands heavily on top of you, forcing the air out of your lungs in a big whoosh.Â
âOh gods, are you alright?â He pulls back, mortified.Â
âYes.â You chuckle but then wince as the movement causes a sharp pain in your chest. âA little bruised but Iâll be fine.âÂ
âOh okay.â He breathes, eyes straying from your face and moving, seemingly out of no will of his own, to the space between your legs that now lay exposed. You might have laughed at his eagerness if you werenât equally as eager.
âDo you like it?â You ask, brushing your fingers coyly over your pussy and his face reddens. âYâyes.âÂ
You gather all your courage and reach forward to palm the hard outline in his breeches, feeling it twitch under your hand. âTake me.â
He sits back quickly, losing balance and awkwardly landing on his bottom. However he pays this no mind as he pushes his breeches down to pull out his cock before jumping back on you and pressing himself against your pussy. But when he tries to push in, nothing happens. It just slides up and off. He tries again and again, but with each failed attempt, he becomes more flustered and nervous, until his nerves get the best of him. Â
âFuck.â He curses, hanging his head in embarrassment and letting it fall onto your shoulder to hide himself in the crook of your neck. You can feel the heat of the embarrassment on his face and it endears him to you immensely. Though he must have had ample opportunities, given his familyâs position, he has remained untouched, his purity reserved solely for you.Â
"I'm sorry," he mumbles, and you gently pull his head back to meet your gaze, despite his resistance. Only when his eyes lock with yours do you speak. "Don't be," you say softly. "Iâm happy we get to experience this together. Iâd much rather this than have my husband lie with half the tribe before our marriage. You waited for me and that means everything to me.â
You wrap your hand around his cock and guide him to where your entrance is, helping him to push inside, but unfortunately he is much too big for you and it is more difficult for you to accommodate him than you had anticipated.Â
Of course, the sweet boy notices immediately. You know that other men would have pressed on, only preoccupied with their own desires, but not him. Not your Kai. âAm I hurting you?â he asks, his voice tinged with worry.
"A little," you admit, and he immediately tries to pull back, concern written all over his face. But you wrap your legs around him, holding him close. "No, please, keep going."
You know you should have let him take his time, to ease you into it, but the urgency of your situation pushes you forward. You want him to claim you now, to seal this union before he could be ripped away from you. A sense of impending dread lingers, as if the demon would strike at any moment, its vengeance ready to scorch you. Though these thoughts are far from the romantic reflections you should be having on your wedding night, you convince yourself that if you survive this, there will be countless nights ahead to make up for it. Right now, all that matters is consummating this marriage.
With that in mind, you press your feet to the small of his back, pushing him in despite his reluctance and your body's resistance. As good natured and kind as he is, Kai is still a man, and it doesnât take him long to give in, his protests quickly turning to breathy moans as he feels your cunt give way and wrap around his cock. He is so mesmerized by the feeling that he unintentionally thrusts his hips forward, breaching you all the way and making you scream out which brings him back to his senses.Â
âSorry. sorry.â He whimpers, his lips pressing gently against your face in apology.Â
âIt's okay. Just give me a moment.â You exhale sharply, willing down the tension that had seized your body. He nods, burying his face back in your breasts and apologetically strewing kisses over the tender flesh in a bid to get you to ease up as your body starts to react to his touch.Â
âOh, fuck.â You mutter, pulling at his long hair when the rough side of his tongue flicks across your nipple and you feel yourself getting wet around him enough to let him move a little.Â
âYou feel amazing.â He gasps, muscles straining as you allow him to start moving. âDoes it feel good for you?â
âIt will be soon.â You tell him through gritted teeth.Â
âHow can I help?â He peers at you with bright, misty eyes that are full of adoration. You take a hold of one of his hands and bring it to your face, silently pressing two of his fingers in to swirl your tongue around them. Affected by the lewd action, he wriggles around, inadvertently moving his cock inside your pussy and sparking an unexpected surge of pleasure inside you.Â
By the time youâve made sure his fingers were wet enough to your liking, youâre both squirming in need. You quickly press them against your clit, guiding him on how to touch you there.Â
âBrush it with your fingers gently.â He follows your lead, teasing the sensitive nub carefully. âYes, just like that, love. A little faster now.â You suck in a breath, feeling the tingling pleasure spreading out to the rest of your body.Â
âChange it a touch, move up and down for a little bit to get me there then slow down and go around it. Be gentle, It can get too much.â You whine, the pleasure taking hold of your body and making you tense once more, in ecstasy this time. As your arms press to your arching body, your breasts are pushed out, emphasising them and drawing his attention once more, and he reaches out to fondle them, the added pleasure making you start to drip around his cock.Â
âYou really like them, huh?â You laugh, making him blush. âYeah⌠You do not know how difficult it has been for me not to stare at them all this time.â
âOh, I know.â You bite your lip and he groans, bending down to kiss you, a quiet shut up whispered against your lips.Â
âHave you done this before?â He asks curiously when you come up for breath and you nod, now your turn to flush.Â
âWho did you think about?â He asks shyly and you freeze, caught off guard.Â
âY-you.â You sputter out, sounding unconvincing to your ears though it had been the truth. For the most part. You thought about Kai most of the time. Moments like this. Him claiming you⌠But there was also anotherâsomeone whose presence, though unwanted, had crept into your most intimate thoughts.
A flush of shame washes over you, but you cannot deny the truth, not to yourself. He was too captivating, and you, only human, could not resist. Though he terrified you, your thoughts had wandered to him when you were alone at night sometimes, like a soul drawn to the abyss. Was this your punishment from the gods? Because you lusted after that creature of darkness?
âAre you alright?â Kai asks, his voice laced with concern as his other hand gently brushes something from your face. Itâs then you realize youâve been crying.
âIâm fine. Please, do it now. Take me.â Save me, you silently beg. You need him to wipe away every trace of him from your mind. âPlease.â
You were ready for him now, your pussy prepared to take him and so you grab his waist and guide his movements, teaching him how to fuck you. With his thrusts now easier and more free, he quickly becomes distracted from your bizarre outburst.Â
"Is it better now?" He gasps, his brows furrowing over his eyes as he struggles to focus.
âYes. You feel so good.â You tell him truthfully, the movement is not burning anymore and you can begin to enjoy itâthe smooth drag of his cock, the way it hits those never before touched spots inside you. It has your thighs tightening around him and your toes curling.
âI thought about you too.â He says and you give him a confused look. âWhen I was touching myself.â
âDoes it live up to your expectations?â You ask meekly, and your heart almost shrivels up when he shakes his head, but then he says, âMuch better. Could never imagine how tight and hot this feels. I'm so happy right now.â
You smile in relief, allowing yourself to enjoy this. âI am happy too.â
His thrusts start off controlled and deliberate but as he keeps going, you see his eyes glaze over and his mouth fall open, the pleasure getting to him and taking over his mind until he's just rutting against you fervently and clumsily. You can tell he's trying to keep your pleasure in mind but it becomes harder for him to do so by the minute. Â
âI--I can't⌠do you⌠do you like this?â He slurs, trying his hardest to focus his eyes on you, and you nod. It does feel good, the stimulation of his cock breaching your walls over and over again keeping a considerable tingle under your skin, but his thrusts were now uncoordinated, no longer hitting that spot inside you that made you want to seize up. Still, you enjoy seeing him lose himself in you. This is all you really wanted, a good husband who cares for you and wants to please you. He will get there eventually. You have the rest of your lives to get this right. You will not be selfish tonight. Not with all youâre making him risk unknowingly.Â
âYes, darling. You feel so good. I want you to let go for me.âÂ
âAre you close?â He asks desperately, panting and his back flexing as he tries to hold himself back.Â
âYes.â You lie, wanting him to keep going, needing him to let go and release his seed inside of you, joining you as one with the promise of a new life. You don't care if you don't cum tonight. This means so much more to you. âJust need to feel you there. Can you do that for me, my love?â
He nods eagerly. âYes. I am so close. Feels like I am burning.â He moans out in ecstasy but you freeze at his choice of words. It makes you clench up in panic, but sweet Kai is too far gone to notice. He just feels you tighten around him which is the push he needs to be sent over the edge, grunting and gasping as he fills you up, burning you inside like he just proclaimed.Â
âOh, gods, that was⌠divine.â He pants, offering you a bashful smile. âI shouldnât say that, Should I? Itâs wrong to make light of the divine. But I cannot help myself. You are simply too wonderful.âÂ
Your heart swells within your chest, and you smile, vow solemnly. âI shall not tell a soul. It will remain our secret.â
He giggles. âYou came too, right? I felt it around me.â He says eagerly and you don't have the heart to contradict him. He looks so genuinely excited, but in that moment, youâre overcome with a sudden repulsion. You donât want to carry on any longer. Not tonight. Not with the image of him burning in your mind.Â
âI did. You were wonderful.â You lie, your fatigue serving to mask the falsehood.Â
his breath gradually evening out, and he kisses you gently. âI love you.â
You smile back, genuine. If nothing else is real, your love is, and thatâs all that matters. âI love you too.â
_________________________
You thought you had gotten your happy ending, that youâd brushed against the flames of hell and somehow slipped away unscathed. For a brief, tender moment, you were lost in your wonderful delusion. You reveled in the quiet peace of your new lifeâallowing yourself to believe you had truly escapedâbefore everything came tumbling down, breaking apart around you.
You donât notice it at first. And if you do, you dismiss it as nothing more than a fleeting illusionâthe faint, sickly hue that clings to some faces, the strange, dark sheen on their skin, as though something festers just beneath. It was so subtle at first, you thought it was a trick of the eyeâblink, and youâd miss it. Perhaps it was the brilliance of your new life and husband, so radiant, making everything and everyone else appear dull by comparison.
But as the days pass, that darkness only deepens, until the sickly rot that clings to some people becomes impossible to ignore. It begins to manifest in other, more disturbing ways. Some fall into fits of violent coughing, their bodies wracked as if afflicted by the plague. Others are overtaken by a seizing illness, as though possessed by a malevolent force. And yet others lose all reason, roaming the streets in a wild frenzy, screaming and raving like madmen.
The people of the tribe could make no sense of it, watching helplessly as the afflicted grew worse with each passing day, until they were reduced to frothing, stumbling shells of their former selves, before finally succumbing to the diseaseâs merciless grip.
It was not until after their passing that the true connection between them and the curse was revealed. Though everyone already had their suspicions, it was only when the bodies were examined that the truth could no longer be denied. Each body bore ancient, cryptic symbols, etched into their flesh like those found upon the crops and the fallen beasts. The curse had at last spread to humankind, just as fearedâand those who had perished did not simply carry the curse to the grave. No. As everyone would soon come to find out, they had been spreading it to those around them all this time, and before long, those touched by the afflicted began to show the telltale marks of the blight themselves.
Unfortunately, unlike the darkness you had seen before the others, the mark of the curse was but the final omen, revealing itself only in the shadow of death. It was absent in the early stages, leaving no way to tell for certain whether someoneâs peculiar behavior was simply the result of illness or the first signs of their impending demiseâan insidious affliction capable of infecting all in its silent wake.
Naturally, paranoia swept through the tribe like wildfire, and suspicion turned quickly to accusationâfear drove people to hastily condemn anyone displaying even the slightest deviation from normalityâwhether warranted or not. A cough became a death sentence; a moment of anger or weariness, a mark of the walking dead. Fear consumed them, unraveling the very bonds of society as people fought desperately to shield themselves and their families. Isolation became their only defense. Friendships fractured, neighbours grew distrustful, trade came to a standstill, and the delicate fabric of society threatened to unravel beneath the power of an unknown threat no one knew how to fight.
The people cried out to their leaders, their rulers, the wise men and temple priests, pleading for protection, for answers, for some promise that a way would be found to stop the encroaching darkness. But their pleas were met only with empty assurances, meager instructions on how to shield themselves from this unfathomable evilâmundane spells, fragile talismans, and hollow advice to and hold steadfast in their faith. Meanwhile, those in power hoarded the true strength and resources, their selfishness not only abhorrent but grievously short-sighted.
With no help to be found, the people were left to take matters into their own hands, and they quickly resolved that they would not sit idly by, watching their loved ones fall like flies. No, they began to form patrols, made up of strongmen and those with any semblance of magicâno matter how rudimentaryâ for anything, no matter how imperfect, was better than nothing. Their task was clear: to seek out those showing the first signs of the curse and isolate them before they could spread it further. They confined the afflicted in hastily constructed cells, guarding them fiercely and keeping watch over their loved ones, searching for any sign of the creeping infection.
Soon however, they were confronted with a dire predicament: their makeshift prisons were insufficient to contain all those suspected of bearing the curse. And with no certain way to discern who had truly succumbed to its blight, they found themselves once more ensnared in the very same helpless position from which they had sought to escape.
They once again turned to their rulers, pleading for aid in their plight, but were met with cold indifference. In their grievous folly, the leaders left the path wide open for another to rise and seize the opportunityâsomeone to exploit the deepening rift between the people and their rulers and command the vast, albeit volatile, power now at their disposal. And who, if not he, would step forth to claim such a mantle??
Beomgyu, born to privilege, had once lived a life of ease, only to be cast into disgrace and solitudeâostracized by the very people that now treated their subjects with the same callous disregard they had once shown him.
Cunningly and insidiously, he wormed his way into a position of command. First winning the trust of the patrolmen by offering them protective herbs and crystalsâgifts that the religious men hoarded, too selfish to share. Then, as a warrior of considerable strength, hunting down the diseased, regardless of who they wereâruthless and impartial in his grim duty. Lastly, he uncovered a method to reveal the mark of the curse on those suspected of bearing it, halting its spread before it could claim others.
No one questioned where he obtained his supplies, nor how he had come by such strength, nor how he had mastered the peculiar spell he wielded. All that mattered to them was that he was thereâby their side, protecting and leading them through the perilous dark, while those who ruled sought refuge in their guarded homes, content to shield only themselves and their families.
With this, the people began to rally to his side, their hearts stirred by his fearlessness. They turned their ire upon their rulers, condemning them for their failure to protect them and blaming them for the curse that had befallen the land. For if they had truly been pious and devout in their worship of the gods, they reasoned, why would the gods have unleashed such wrath upon them? No, the rulers must have strayed from the divine path, committing some folly to provoke the godsâ anger and bringing down this curse upon their very heads.
You feel as though your sanity is slipping away. Yes, you recognize the grievous error of the leaders in failing to protect their people, and can see how Beomgyu was able to step forward to fill the glaring void of leadership left in their wake. But, how can they place their trust in him so easily when not long ago, they, too, had partaken in his social exile, believing with unwavering certainty that he was cursed. How is it that they now turn to one they had once condemned, trusting him to deliver them from this grisly fate? What manner of sorcery could he be wielding to twist their hearts and minds so thoroughly?
Though you suppose you cannot underestimate the power fear has to cloud the eyes and corrupt the mind. These people believed they were doomed to dieâleft by their leaders to be ravaged by an unseen force while they hid away behind their power. If Beomgyu could, somehow, draw out the curse and halt its spread, what other choice did they have but to follow him? To do otherwise would be to accept the fate their rulers had condemned them to.
It is your own family, and others who hold power, who have allowed this rebellion to fester unchecked. They chose to remain passive, unwilling to intervene for fear of succumbing to the curse themselves. They let the suffering unfold, deeming it but a small unrest among the peopleâan opportunity to rid themselves of the diseased while distracting the masses. They stood back, content to watch as the people cannibalised one another, believing the plague would eventually burn itself out, all the while, they cloaked themselves with the protections only their wealth and influence could afford.
But that was their fatal flaw. They allowed the danger to fester and grow, too consumed by the immediate threat to heed the quiet rise of Beomgyu and his followers. In their shortsightedness, they fixed their gaze solely on the peril before them, neglecting to watch their backsâallowing Beomgyu and his men to swoop in and stab them in the back.
The first great blow fell upon the temple leader. He was captured during a bold raid on the temple, executed by Beomgyu and his followers, who sought the powerful spells Beomgyu believed essential to counter the spreading evil.
Naturally, the high priest stood as their first obstacle, attempting to thwart the ransacking of the sacred halls. Yet neither he nor the other priests and apprentices could withstand the sheer brute force of the surprise assault. Swiftly and efficiently, Beomgyuâs men subdued the priests, taking what they soughtâand the defiant high priestâalong with them.
You were in the temple that day, as you always were. The moment the commotion reached your ears, you hurried toward its source, only to find the high priest kneeling, surrounded by Beomgyu and his men.
"You will hang for this, boy. You and all who stand with you," the high priest snarled, his voice thick with fury. Beomgyu merely smirked in response.
"Then you intend to hang the entire tribe, do you?" Beomgyu's tone was calm, mocking.
"You do not speak for the tribe," the high priest spat, "The good people do not claim you and your band of miscreants."
Beomgyuâs eyebrow arched in amusement. "Care to test that?" He jerked his head toward one of his men, who seized the high priest by the arm and yanked him to his feet.
"What are you doing? Unhand me!" the high priest protested, struggling against his captor.
"Let us go meet the people." Beomgyu said, his voice cold. "Letâs see what they truly think of you, and those like you, who have hidden behind wealth and power, leaving them to be picked off one by one."
They drag him, kicking and screaming, to the very heart of the settlement, the growing spectacle drawing an eager crowd that follows in a frenzy, like ants converging for a feastâand what a feast he provides them.
"Tell me, good people," Beomgyu's voice rings out, clear and commanding, "What think you of a priest who swore to serve his gods and protect his people, only to turn on them, using the powers granted to him to hoard riches, to fortify his own position, and to save his own skin when darkness fell upon us all?"
Several voices rise in unison, each offering their own version of the same sentimentâcondemnation and scorn, a chorus calling for justice.
âHe should be stripped of his power!â
âHe should be cast out.â
But one voice stands apart, high and sharp, cutting through the murmur of the crowd, and capturing the attention of everyone.
âHe must die!â
âWho said that?â Beomgyuâs asks, his gaze sweeping over the crowd. Instantly, silence falls, and a few eyes turn to a small boy, his fear evident as he realizes he has been singled out. "Was it you, boy?"
Beomgyuâs eyes lock on him, but the boy remains mute, his lips sealed, too terrified to speak. "Do not be afraid," Beomgyu encourages him gently. âTell me, why do you think he must die?â
The boy hesitates, then, with a shaky breath, he speaks, trying to steady his voice. "B-because... my lord... my family... they were claimed by the curse. He should have protected them. If my family lost their lives to this curse, why should he be spared?"
A proud smile touches Beomgyuâs lips, as though he were an elder brother, pleased with the courage of his younger sibling. "You speak the truth, boy. An eye for an eye, yes?" His gaze shifts to the high priest, who regards him with incredulity, still not fully grasping the gravity of his predicament. âYou have lost your mind. If you dare touch a hair on my head, the leader will make sure to sever yours from your body.âÂ
"Will he?" Beomgyu's voice is calm, as if he does not even consider the leader to be a threat. "Has he not done nothing to protect any of us? Is your life truly more valuable than ours?"
"Of course!" The stupid priestâs words spill out hastily, his voice shaking with arrogance. "I am the high priest. The gods speak through meâI am their channel upon this earth."
"Ah, but clearly, the gods do not approve of you," Beomgyu retorts, his tone dripping with mockery. "For if they did, surely they would have protected you from us. If your righteousness is as true as you claim, let the gods strike me down where I stand before you come to any harm, most exalted priest." His lips curl into a derisive smile as he turns to his men. "Bind him. And stoke that fire."
"Whatâ?" The men move quickly, roughly seizing him and binding his hands and feet.
"I remember my parents speaking of fire as the great purifier. They were devout, as I am sure you well recall. They came to you, placed their faith in your counsel, and entrusted you with their livesâand mine. Do you remember that?"
"Youâre insane," the high priest stammers, his face draining of color as a surge of panic grips him. What did Beomgyu mean by that? What dark history lies between Beomgyuâs parents and the priest? And is whatever imagined sin he committed the true reason for his targeting?
Yet Beomgyu pays him no mind, his reverent gaze fixed on the fireâs ceaseless dance, the flickering flames casting a haunting glow upon his handsome features, twisting them into a monstrous visage. His voice is low and reverent, each word deliberate as he speaks, lost in the blazeâs hypnotic dance.
"Fire is from the gods. It is pure, righteous. It strips away all that which is false, revealing all wickedness within. Let us see what lies beneath your skin, priest.
"No!" you cry out, your voice trembling with both defiance and desperation as you attempt to halt the public execution. Your eyes flit nervously between Beomgyuâs dead ones and the high priestâs scared, tearful ones. No longer do you see him as the figure of reverence he once was in your eyes; the veil has fallen, and you now recognize him for what he isâcowardly and selfish. Yet, despite the disdain you feel, you cannot allow Beomgyu to kill him. If this is permitted, what will stop him from repeating such acts, removing anyone who dares oppose him until he achieves whatever dark purpose heâs after? Someone must intervene, or all will be lost.
Just as your courage begins to waver under Beomgyuâs dark gaze, Kai and his father arrive, and a small, quiet relief stirs within you. Alone, you would not have had the power to stand against Beomgyu.
"What madness is this?" Kaiâs father demands, his tone firm and commanding, his eyes locked on Beomgyu who shows no sign of submission to his authority.
You answer swiftly, your words urgent, âHe has captured the high priest. He intends to burn him!
"This wretched excuse for a man of faith has cloistered himself within the sanctuary of his temple, shielded by the very powers the gods entrusted to him to protect his people. Yet, as his people suffer under this curse, he hides behind his walls. And when we went to him, seeking only the smallest of blessingsâsome simple talismans, a few herbs to stave off the curseâhe turned his back on us. What say you, my lord, to a man granted such sacred power to defend his people, yet chooses to hoard it for himself, abandoning those he vowed to serve? Does he not deserve punishment?"
The leader falters, his uncertainty palpable. He senses the danger in Beomgyuâs words, the threat veiled beneath them, but he is powerless to speak against it in the presence of such a large, angry, and deeply distrustful crowd.
You, however, feel no such restraint. âPunished, perhaps, but not burned!â you shout, drawing the cold weight of Beomgyuâs gaze back upon you. It takes every ounce of strength in you not to shrink away beneath it. âWho are you to decide what becomes of him? He has been chosen by the gods themselves. It is not your place to pass judgment on him.â
âAnd what, pray tell, is my place, fair priestess?â Beomgyuâs voice flows like dark silk, smooth and suffocating as he fixes you with his deadly gaze. âShall I bend my knee in silence and wait to be trampled beneath the feet of him and those like him?â He gestures contemptuously toward you. âYour family is of considerable power and influence, is it not? And you have wed into an even more formidable lineageâthe most powerful of all. So tell me, what have you done to protect your people, to stand against this blight that ravages them? Why only now do you raise your voice to protect him? Do you perhaps condone his actions? I pray you be careful, priestess, or you may find that your defense of him betrays you.â
The words hang in the air, deliberate and menacing, an unmistakable threat woven into every syllable. A murmur ripples through the crowd, and you feel a hot prickle of fear crawl down your spine. Surrounded by a sea of disgruntled faces, it is all too clear that this moment could turn against you in the blink of an eye.
Youâve fallen right into his trap.
Kai pulls you behind him, standing as a barrier between you and Beomgyu. "If you're using that to threaten my wife, then you must be threatening me as well."
Beomgyu meets his gaze with unyielding defiance. "I suppose I must be," he replies, his voice a steady current in the rising tide of anger around them. The crowd, sensing the delicate balance of powers tipping, murmurs with mounting fervor. Each word Beomgyu speaks fans the flames of discontent. He has masterfully turned this into a battle between the oppressed and their rulers, the powerless against the powerful, and he, a self-appointed champion of the downtrodden.
âSon of a bitchââ Kai rages, and tries to lunge at Beomgyu but you and his father quickly intervene, recognizing the peril in making any unwise move. The crowd watches, ready to act at Beomgyuâs bidding.
âGo on then.â Beomgyu taunts him, smile is a sly curl, knowing he has everyone in his grasp. "Strike me down. Crush me beneath your feet, as you would any of these people. Show them what kind of leader you truly are."
âDonât do this, Kai,â you whisper, your breath catching in your throat with fear. You can see the turmoil within him, the struggle between reason and the fierce desire to retaliate. But beyond that, you feel the collective hunger of the crowdâtheir eyes, eager and expectant, thirsting for more blood, the threat of violence now hanging heavy, a storm ready to break.Â
For a moment, you fear he might lose control, his muscles coiling like a snake ready to strike. But your hand remains steady on his arm, a quiet anchor in the midst of this tempest. âLeave him. He is not worth it.â
Beomgyuâs gaze shifts toward you, filling the air between you with a quiet malevolence. A smile curves at the corners of his lips, cold and cruel.
"Of course not," he murmurs, his voice venomous. "You never thought I was worth anything."
He gives you little time to absorb his perturbing words before he turns back to his men, commanding them to carry out the cruel sentence.Â
âNo! My lord, you cannot! You must stop this madness!â The high priest's voice trembles, cracking with terror. âI have served you faithfully, all of my days!â His cries are desperate but futile. They fall on deaf ears as the leader stands motionless, lips pressed in grim silence and fists clenched at his sides.
His cries swell, rising to a harrowing crescendo as he is forced into the flames. Beomgyu raises his arms to the heavens, his words a hushed murmurâan invocation ancient and elusive, its meaning obscured by the veil of time. The crowd, however, does not listen to the chant. Their eyes remain fixed on the figure before them as he, in the throes of his final moments, writhes in agony.
The stench of burning flesh fills the air, pungent and nauseating, clinging to the teeth of those who watch. It hangs like a heavy fog, pressing down on the soul of everyone bearing witness to this horror.
Your stomach churns, and you turn away. What you once glimpsed within the darkness of the distant visions, now manifests before your eyes, crushing you under the realisation of its inevitability. Soon, you think, it will be you. It will be those you hold dear. For what has been set in motion this night will not halt here; it will echo through the days yet to come, unstoppable.
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Kai holds you close that night, and you sense the embrace is as much for his own comfort as it is for yours. He too is shaken by the horrors heâs witnessed, the events of the night troubling him, just as they do on you. He has witnessed firsthand how Beomgyu has slithered himself into the minds of the people, claiming their anger as his own and effortlessly commanding it to his benefit, even to the point of thwarting the leaderâs authority. It all seems to indicate something far darker than just a passing rebellion. Beomgyu has grown too powerful, too dangerous to be ignored.
âWhat did he mean by âyou never thought he was worth it?ââ Kaiâs voice is a low murmur, disturbed, searching for an explanation that would quiet his suspicions.
Your heart stirs with uneaseâyou had worried that he would fixate on thatâbut you mask it as best you can, forcing your thoughts into a controlled calm. "I think..." you begin, carefully choosing your words, âheâs consumed by bitterness. He envies us for all that we haveâeverything he was deprived off, and he imagines that we look down on him for it. It must be that resentment, that jealousy, that has twisted him into what he is now.â
The lie tastes bitter on your tongue. You wish you could tell him the truth, that the roots of Beomgyuâs hatred run deeper than mere jealousy, that they stretch back to a time when your hearts were once bound in friendship, a warm fire that has now turned into a blazing inferno. If you tell him the real storyâthe connection you once shared with Beomgyu, the poisonous gifts, how your father really died and what youâve done to himâit would unravel everything⌠no, he canât know. He could condemn you the same way he would condemn Beomgyu, and he would not be wrong.Â
âI see,â Kaiâs tone softens, as if he believes you. You almost wish he didnât. âI wonât let him hurt you, my love. You know that, donât you?â
âI know.â You answer quickly, too quickly, knowing better than to let any doubt slip, not now, not in front of him. His certainty is a fragile thing, already beginning to crumble apart when faced with Beomgyuâs growing influence. Soon, even Kai will come to see the futility of his efforts, just as you have. Perhaps soon, he, too, will feel the chilling presence of those cold, dead eyes upon him⌠Then heâll know.
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A/N: Y'all i'm not above begging for feedback at this point. i need any engagement so I don't feel like I am screaming into the void lol love you
But you canât answer them, throat closed shut and eyes glued to the detached orbs on the floorâthere in front of you lay the sacred bullâs missing eyes. Its eyes that used to be so bright in life with warmth and light now replaced with icy blue crystals crudely jammed in the middle of the irises to form the evil eye, and its menacing gaze was set directly on you.Â
You canât deny it anymore. You are the intended target. If the gods were watching you through the creatures eyes in life then this monster is watching you in death.Â
He was here again, in your home, in your room, just like he had been in your temple. There is no refuge of your own that is safe from his dark presence.Â
âOh dear gods, save us.â You hear your father whisper fearfully, following your line of sight and realising what had alarmed you so.Â
âItâs for me. I have been cursed.â You say, your voice devoid of any emotion, body going cold with a numbness that can only come about from the realisation that one is utterly doomed. âWhat am I to tell Kai?â
Warnings: fem!reader, DARK FIC, FUTURE NONCON/CON, gore, mentions of cruelty to animals, character death, iron age au, supernatural au, yandere beomgyu
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A small part of you feels guilty about it. You know it hurt him to hear you accuse him of the same hearsay everyone else flings at him. You were supposed to be different, he must've thought, and youâre ashamed to prove you arenât, but you canât risk your future and place in the tribe to stand by him when at best he is being misjudged and by choosing him you doom yourself to a future of living as outcasts together, your offspring having no hope of any viable future, and at worst, everyone is right about him and he drags you to the depth of blackness with him.Â
Beomgyu keeps his distance from you much to your surprise. Given how bold he was in that forest, you half expected him to continue to pursue you despite your rejection but you suppose you finally got your message across.Â
But you canât think about it for too long. You and Kai are now official and you have to focus on your future and the future of your family, especially because you still don't know what the fallen star was meant to foreshadow. Your parents weren't able to find much on it, only stumbling across vague warnings of falls from grace, being cast from heaven, ruin and damnation. The doom and gloom of cursesâthe most powerful of them allâbut no more details than that and no way to intercept or stop it.Â
Was it doom for you? For your family? For the entire tribe? They couldnât tell you, but you knew that associating with the dark boy was not likely to make things any better.Â
You had suggested seeking help from the elders, perhaps someone else knew more about it, but your family quickly snuffed that idea out. How could you ask such a stupid thing? You think the others would take kindly to doom tellers? You think they would welcome an inescapable prophecy of blood and death?Â
No, you were to keep your mouth shut and work in secret to get to the bottom of this. It doesnât even have to mean anything. It could all just be a coincidence.
You couldnât believe what you were hearing from your parents. It was borderline blasphemy. A coincidence? There was no such thing in the art of reading the stars. The stars do not simply plummet themselves to death because they were bored one day. This is a sign and you all know it but they choose to turn a blind eye to what they canât fix, like a mouse freezing in place when it encounters the jaws of the snake.Â
Still, it is easy for them to forget and brush it off when things have been going so well for you. With the announcement of your betrothal to the future leader, your already esteemed place in the tribe climbs right to the top.Â
You parents are quite pleased with it. They always thought they deserved more than they were getting. They even thought they deserved more than the leaderâs family. After all, you were the spirituals and divinators that guided the entire tribe and the ones who they entrusted their eternal souls with. Why shouldnât your place be at the top?
It was jarring to see how close and dear your parents have gotten to the leader and his family and how flattering and generous they were beingâregaling him with poems about his bravery and wisdom when behind closed doors they would rake him over the coals with their scathing remarks about his intelligence and short temper, likening him to the beasts that live in the forest.Â
But it isnât like the leader wasnât aware of their duplicity or that he didnât enjoy their excessive flattery. He purposefully encouraged them to continue feeding his massive ego, caring nothing if their intentions were true or not.Â
Truth be told, this situation was making you see them all in an unfavourable light. You used to look up to them as tough but reliable and wise, only doing what was best for the tribe, but now you see how they're all working for their own favor.
But you can't act too righteously, for you also found it shamefully easy to not care about the hypocrisy or the lies or even the threat of damnation hanging over your heads, not when Kai was your prizeâand what a sweet prize he was. Unlike them, he was pure of heart. Beneath his angelic features was an even more generous and kind soul. You actually believe the words he speaks. You know he does not lie and so when he acts loving and sweet towards you, you know to trust it.Â
You get so caught up with him and your family gets so caught up with his that you start neglecting your calling and your duty to the tribe. Even the search for the star is momentarily forgotten. After all, where was this fabled curse? Here you are having the best time of your life, your fortune more blessed than ever. Maybe the fallen star really didn't mean anything at all.
Oh how arrogant you were. How blasphemous. The stars are not there for your entertainment. They're not little light shows just there to brighten your night, and you shouldâve heeded their warning. Maybe if you did, you could have saved everyone.Â
It starts small, like most horrible inescapable fates do, with the farmers finding odd symbols burnt onto their fields. The shapes strange at first but then vaguely familiar as old runes youâve all collectively lost the knowledge of. Some similar to the stone pillar in the heart of the sacred temple and others unseen by any of your kind before.Â
They were written off as youngster mischief at firstâthe youth just finding new and creative ways to occupy their time and mess with their elders. Even as the farmers started growing more and more anxious as more and more of these strange symbols cropped up, ruining a sizable portion of their cropsâdone seemingly by an unseen force as no one has been able to catch or even catch a glimpse of the culprit in action despite the numerous watches being set upâthey were brushed off and assured it would stop when the culprits grew bored of not getting the reactions they wanted.Â
But the culprits were not dissuaded. They just took it a step further, and soon the symbols were found not just on crops but burned or carved onto the flesh of the animals. Thatâs when the people really started panicking. They didnât understand what this meant but they knew something was seriously awry.Â
Even the other animals knew, as they seemingly avoided the ones marked by the unseen force as if being near them could infect them too. The farmers refused to consume the goods of these afflicted creatures and no one tried to convince them toâand maybe for good reason as soon these poor souls were slaughtered one by one by that unseen force in the night.Â
They were found massacred as if by a wild animal, bits of fur and fat and brains scattered around fields. Entire body parts missing. Heads chopped off and found in childrenâs cots.Â
This was no mere joke. This was the work of a demented individual or individuals, and no one even knew what they wanted. But this new development finally got the elders to pay attention and take this seriously.Â
They started by calling for meetings. First between themselves in order to figure out the source and meaning of these runes and how to stop this malicious energy, still foolishly holding onto the hope that this was under control and that they can stop it. But when they came up as empty as your family did, they turned to you and other young apprentices in their desperation, seeking any suggestion that could help them decipher the code. But of course that yielded even less results and led to panic spreading across the tribe when the looser tongues of the less experienced spoke too much.Â
As more and more crops and livestock gave way under this unseen dark force, there was a widespread fearâalmost expectationâof what to do when it reached the people themselves. Again the elders reassured the peopleâlying through their teeth that there is nothing to be concerned about, still insisting this was the work of a group of troubled youth, all while they used their precious powers and resources to bless and protect themselves and the people and sites most important to them, resting easy for a while in the belief that at least they were safe hiding behind their powers while the rest of their people were left in the open with whatever was out there, watching and waiting to see if it will start developing a taste for humans next.Â
The good gods will protect them just like they always have, they thought. After all, they were their most esteemed servants and this dark forceâwhatever its origin may beâcould not possibly stand up to the combined powers of such godly men and women, right? It will soon stop and retreat back to the dark groves from whence it came.Â
It was disgusting to witness it all, seeing the people you admired and respected so much only thinking of themselves. This thingâwhatever it was--has lifted the veil of naivety and innocence off your eyes and exposed you to the brutal reality of the world around youâa world you once thought was built on altruism and honour but have now come to realize was all a lie. Your heroes weren't wise, virtuous leaders, but scared, selfish and arrogant hypocrites who hoarded their powers for themselves while simultaneously covering their eyes with their own hands and refusing to see the danger right in front of them.
They completely refuse to acknowledge that the animals werenât butchered with wanton and random crueltyâthere was something spine-chillingly deliberate about the slaughter. The savage cuts may have seemed like the work of a mad spirit hungry for blood at first glance but if they were to look even just a little more closely they would see that they were deliberate, intentionalâthe missing body parts of the corpses were not mere bits of meat torn away to be devoured. They were key pieces to a gruesome bigger pictureâthe tongue of a cow, the heart of a deer, the testicles of a bull, the feet of a chickenâthese are all ingredients used in dark magic.  Â
You had said as much to your family, and you knew they knew it too but they still arrogantlyâor fearfullyâdismissed it. After all, who would possess the knowledge to perform such dark arts apart from the priests and priestesses themselves, and not just any of themâthis knowledge is only accessible to the most powerful and most respected of the lot such as your parents. There is no way one of them has gone rogue with the others being none the wiser.Â
But you know thatâs not fully true because you have accessed such knowledge secretly after spying on your parents, and if you could do it then someone else could have done it too. Some of the children of the other powerful priests and priestesses could have done the same. Or someone could have let it slip to an outsiderâŚ
But even the elders and even your parents canât shut their eyes and cover their ears any longer when the hand that works in the shadows reaches forward to touch the most cherished and protected, right in their midst.Â
You were the one to find itâthe sacred bull that resided in the heart of the templeâor what has become of it.  Â
It was a gruesome sight. Its body butchered, the entrails pulled out and hung over its altar, the scent of blood and organs heavy in the air and tasting of metal, the corpse posed in a grotesque mockery of the god it represents.Â
It was such a gentle animal, friendly with wise eyes that often made you feel as if you were being watched by the gods themselves. But it never made you feel judged. Instead you felt safe and protected by the large, strong animal that was only easy to shepherd due to its gentle nature, but was also capable of great force if provokedâas youâve witnessed first hand when it was handled incorrectly by someone it didnât deem worthy. You knew it wouldnât have been easy to take down the majestic beast and it certainly wasn't easy to string it up and flay it in this grisly way. Its eyes that comforted you so much were nowhere to be found, plucked right out of its skull and leaving behind black hollow sockets that stare you down with the ghastly gaze of death itself.Â
An overwhelming sense of nausea built up in your stomach at the thought of being so alone without the watchful eyes of the gentle creatureâeven more so than you were at the abominable mockery that has been made of its remains, and you couldnât even make it more than a few steps away before you fell to your knees on the floor and vomited your guts out.Â
It kept coming and coming even when your stomach was long empty, your body purging itself as if your insides were trying to escape it and run away from the danger it sensed.Â
It didnât take long for someone to be alerted to this catastrophe, and a small crowd soon gathered around the slain animal, sobs and gasps of horror filling the once serene sanctuary.Â
The elders eventually made their appearance and after getting over their initial shock and revulsion at the sight, quickly dispersed the crowd, ordering them not to mention this to any of the tribes people and instructing some of the other apprentices to take you outside for some fresh air, thinking that only the sight of the slaughtered beast was the cause of your intractable sickness.Â
But you couldnât even get to your feet. They had to drag you out as you shook and dry heaved, a cold sweat drenching your body and making it slippery in their grasp, causing them to lose grip and plummet you to your feet more than once, each time your weak body slamming against the ground as you had no strength to break your fall, the impact making you even more nauseous and weak.Â
The only small reprieve you got is when the outside fresh air met your drenched skin and cooled down your overheated body, allowing you a moment of relief. But that fleeting reprieve was quickly gone as your body went from cool to cold and you started shaking. You curled up into a ball, trying to conserve your body heat and unable to utter any word of reassurance to the poor apprentices who watched you, horrified at your stricken condition. Youâre sure their minds were conjuring up all sorts of terrifying tales about what had just happened, but none of it would come close to your bizarrely confident belief in who exactly was behind this.Â
Because it's not what you've seen that terrifies you, it's what you havenât. You saw no evidence of this being the work of a group of demented individuals like your elders have been insisting. This was not the work of any human at all. This was something cold and evil, and you think you know exactly who it isâthe shiver currently racking your body more a product of breathtaking dread than the cold.Â
Mercifully, your mind eventually tires your body out, but before all strength leaves you, you become vaguely aware of being picked up by someoneâa warm, strong body pressed against your own, grounding you and preventing you from giving in to the terror completely.
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âShe's waking up!â Someone shouts, entirely too loudly for you tired and sensitive ears, and you flinch away, trying to nuzzle further into the softness surrounding you in order to block it out.Â
âShe is.â Another voice adds, and you immediately recognize the deadpan voice of your mother. âSee, she is okay. You can head home now and we'll take it from here.â
âDarling, can you hear me?â The first voice gets closer, ignoring your mother, and you feel a feverish touch against your face, almost scalding against your own overheated body which makes you pull away.Â
âWhat is wrong with her?â The voice asks, and even through your delirious nightmare state, you could hear the obvious concern marring it.
âNothing. She will be fine if you just let her rest, Kai.â Your father says sharply and you force your eyes to flutter open when you finally realise who the person touching you is. Your vision swims and you find it hard to focus but you can recognize Kai's worried gaze even through the haziness.Â
âKai?â You ask, wincing as the sound cracks your parched throat.Â
âI am here, my love.â He tells you and gets even closer to you but you use what little strength you have to pull away, grimacing at the look of hurt that crosses his handsome face. âHow are you?â
âI am okay.â You repeat your father's sentiment, your tired brain still recognizing the need to get him away from all of thisâfor his sake and yours. You don't want him to see whatever is happening to you and you don't want it to hurt him. âYou don't need to be here.â
His blurry frown still hurts your heart, as does the hesitant way he pulls his hand away. âI was just worried. I know about what happened at the temple. I canât imagine how you must feel having witnessed that dreadful sight. Oh, what they did to that poor animal was heinous. And for you to see it like that⌠I know how much you cared for the beastââ
Bile rises up in the back of your throat at the reminder, and you cut Kai off. âIâm okay. I was just shocked, is all. You neednât worry yourself about me.âÂ
âWhat are you on about? As your future husband and leader of this tribe, I must protect you and my people from the scum who did this. Rest assured, my love, I wonât let those barbarians get away with it.âÂ
Your eyes widen and your heart rate picks up in fear at his words. No, no, this is exactly what you didnât want to happen. You donât want him to get involved in this. He is no match for the darkness looming over all of you. It will swallow him whole and spit out bones. You must keep him away from this.Â
âNo!â You blurt out loudly, making him jump back in shock. Out of the corner of your eyes you can see your parents shooting you warning looks, silently telling you to get a grip and not reveal too much.Â
You clear your throat and try to reign in your terror. âYou donât have to worry about me, my love. The elders have it all under control. We must keep our trust in them. That is how weâll remain safe.âÂ
âOf course!â He agrees immediately, sheepishly. âI do not mean to doubt the elders. I simply wish to do my part for you and my people.âÂ
Your heart twists guiltily at his innocence and the untainted good in him. He is the one who must be protected. He must remain pure, which is why you have to keep him away from this.Â
âYou always do, my sweet. But we should leave this to the elders. They know what to do.â You reach out to cup his cheek, your soul aching at the way he melts into the touch for a second before he leans forward to press a gentle kiss to your forehead.Â
You close your eyes, quietly savouring the act of kindness and tenderness before pushing him away. âYou should go now, love. I need to rest.â
âYou can rest. I'll stay by your side.â He gives you a gentle smile that hurts you even more. You want nothing more than for him to stay by your side and ward the evil spirits away but you know you must make him leave so you can speak to your parents in private about this new disturbing development.Â
âThere is really no need. I will rest easier knowing you are also rested.â
âBut Iââ
âMy lord, you really must allow us the chance to tend to our daughter. You being here will only excite her more and delay her recovery.â Your father says irritably, flustering Kai. Really, must your father be so short with him?
âOh, I didn't realise that. Forgive meââ
âYou are forgiven. Now if you'll excuse us.â Your mother interjects, shooing him off the floor and towards the door. Your heart lurches in your chest at the dejected look on his face. It flings itself against your ribcage and demands for you to follow him, but you canât.Â
âVery well. I will see you soon?â He asks hopefully and you nod, mustering up the smallest smile for him. âVery soon.â
He smiles widely at that, but you hardly see it before your mother pushes him out the door and closes it behind him, all warmth suddenly leaving the room with him, and as soon as you are alone with your parents, they are on you, interrogating you about what happened as if you had a clue.Â
âDid you see who did it?â Your father asks.Â
You shake your head.
âWere there any clues?â Your mother follows up.
You shake your head.Â
âWhat does this mean?â Your father quickly adds and you sigh deeply, feeling the dread gnawing at your bones. âI don't know. But I know it is related to the fallen star. The end is coming.âÂ
You expect your parents to scold you, to tell you to stop your prophesying of doom and gloomâthat it really wasnât as bad as you were making it out to be and that they will find a way to fix this. But instead, they wring their hands and exchange nervous glances, and thatâs when the panic really starts to set it.Â
________________
The elderâs now feel affirmed more than ever in their terrifying conclusion that this was not the work of one demented soul but an organised effort by a group of individuals working together in tandem to bring chaos to the tribe. To what end, they still didnât know, but they were certain that no one human can achieve this feat of superhuman strength by themselves and that this must mean that there is a secret cult working to undermine the very foundation of this tribe, to take it down from its strongest link and watch everything else will fall apart following suit.Â
But you have a more terrifying proposal that you do not dare utter. This was the work of a single individual, a dark rotten soul that has crossed the invisible line between flawed but salvageable human to complete corruption into a demon.Â
But you won't say it. You canât even bring yourself to fully accept it. There is no way he could have achieved this level of power. There is no way he has forsaken his soul so completelyâŚ
But when you had looked into the hollow sockets that had once contained the bullâs gentle eyes, you couldnât help but conceitedly think that this was intentionally targeted at you. You were one of the privileged few tasked with caring for this most sacred and divine animal, and through its familiar eyes, the gods watched over you and protected you for years. But now that it has been blinded, will they be able to ward off the creeping evil that they can't see?Â
The elders interrogate you about that cursed day over and over again, along with everyone else that had access to the sacred temple in order to try to piece together who couldâve done this. They reasoned that whoever did this must be someone from within your midst, otherwise how would they have managed to slip in unnoticed and bypass all the protections meant to keep outsiders away?
But who were they and what exactly did they want, is what theyâve been desperately trying to find out, but their interrogations led them nowhere. Sure, suspicions and accusations were flung aroundâeveryone blaming everyone else in their scared and panicked state, any perceived suspicious look or action was reported to the elders and investigated heavily but no concrete evidence against anyone has been found yet and all this inquiring has managed to do is breed fear and mistrust amongst your ranks. Everyone had one eye on their back and one eye on the other apprentices and priests, watching out for any sign of betrayal, fearful of meeting the same fate as the poor beast. You were now more divided than ever, and if the assailantâs purpose in doing this was to take you down from within, then theyâve already succeeded.Â
The rising tensions are made even worse when things start to go missing from the templeâpowerful totems, valuable ingredients, ceremonial weapons wielded by the gods in their battles⌠piece by piece they start vanishing, further proving to the elders that the assailants had help from someone within the temple. Â
They start keeping inventory of everything that goes missing in an attempt to divinate the next movement of the culprit, trying to predict what spell or potion they have got planned and what they might seek next, and piece by piece a horrific picture starts to form. They canât tell exactly what the assailantâs plan was, but they quickly realise that it involved some ancient and dark magic that has largely been lost to time.Â
Whoever or whatever is doing this has found a way to unlock knowledge no longer available to the rest of you, and you had no way of protecting yourselves against it.Â
________________________________
Kai tries to take your mind off things. Every day after your morning of prayer and interrogation has finished, he walks you along flowery fields and bubbling river banks and speaks to you of the bright futures and happy endings he has planned for you. He tells you how he canât wait for you to be married and what he imagines your family life will look likeâfilled with joy and love and the tinkling laughter of a house full of children. Youâll have many, he says, both boys and girls. Theyâll be strong and smart and beautiful, just like youâhe says. And when you ask if theyâll be priests and priestesses like you or political leaders like their dad, he says theyâll be whoever they want to be just as long as theyâre happy and healthy and you all have each other. His sincerity and earnestness almost brings tears to your eyes. You can tell how much he wants it and you want it so badly as well.Â
But neither the sweet smell of the roses nor the soft sounds of the water can soothe your nerves. Your fear to touch the roses lest thorns tear your skin. You fear to dip your feet into the water lest it wash you away. And most of all you fear to let yourself step into the enticing dream he has laid out for you lest you fall into a trap and get swallowed whole. You feel severed from the world around you, unable to tell if it would turn against you at a momentâs notice, and even Kai senses it.Â
âHey, it will all be alright. The gods will protect us.â He smiles at you, trying to reassure you but your frown only grows deeper.Â
Will they? They couldn't even protect their own vessel so how will they protect you? But you donât dare share your worrying thoughts. Kai may be kind but even he must have his limits. He may not tolerate such blasphemy.Â
You feel his hand on your cheek as he turns you to face him. He brushes the lines of your frown with his thumb gently, his own smooth skin furrowing in response to your distress.Â
âWhat are you thinking about?âÂ
âWho might be behind this and what their purpose is.â You tell him truthfully but leave out your one suspect. He may be the tribe outcast but that doesnât mean that your conspiracies about him wouldnât sound unhinged to Kai. After all, what reason would he have to be doing all of this? What does he gain from it apart from getting back at you and sowing chaos amongst the tribeâs people? No, you have to have better evidence than this, otherwise youâd be exposing yourself and your connection to him for nothing.Â
âMaybe the gods are testing us.â He offers, unsure but hopeful. âMaybe they wish to ensure our faith in them is strong and this is our chance to prove this unwavering faith to them, to show them that Gija and his mistakes wonât be repeated again.â
You hesitate. Did Gija face something similar to this? Is this the untold story of why he turned against the gods? Because they had seemingly forsaken him when danger loomed its vicious head?Â
No. You must refrain from these sacrilegious thoughts. This is precisely the type of doubt and fear these attacks are meant to provoke, and as a woman of religion, you should have more faith than this.Â
âMaybe.â You answer, wincing at how unconvinced you sound and hoping he canât hear it.
But Kai, ever the caring and tolerant being that he is, doesnât strike you down for it. Instead, he meets your doubt and fear with compassion and sympathy. âI wish I could take your worries away⌠or at least lighten their burden on your precious shoulders. If I could bear some of your worries so you can finally get some rest, I would in a heartbeat.â
You give him a small but genuine smile. He is too sweet, too pure. This world doesnât deserve him. You know you certainly donât. âI could never wish such pain on you, my sweet. You're the only thing that keeps me going.âÂ
He sighs, a hint of frustration coming out in his breath that surprises you, and he tangles his hand in your hair and leans his forehead against yours. âI want to help.â He insists, exasperated.
âYou are helping.â You maintain, trying to silence his self-doubt, but you both know thatâs not the full truth.
âNot enough.â He murmurs sadly, pressing a chaste kiss against your lipsâso soft and unsure, beseeching, seeking approval from you, everything that his kiss wasn't.Â
You are suddenly angry. You donât want to be thinking of that stolen kiss. You donât want to judge your future kisses by it, no matter how favourable they appear in comparison. It shouldnât have happened and you certainly shouldnât still be thinking about it.
But you canât stop. Not when he has been on your mind since this calamity has been set in motion. Youâve barely seen him since that night in the forest. He has not made any attempt to speak to you or get your attention in any way again but you still canât shake the feeling that heâs behind all of this.Â
Is it superstitious and judgemental? Yes. Should you as a priestess rise above these base accusations that so many of your fellow people so easily fall into without thinking? Yes. But you canât help it. Not when his mere existence has poisoned your mindâshutting your eyes and plugging your ears to the point that you are barely hearing the sweet sounds the boy in front of you is making. And when Kai tries to press his tongue against yours, you flinch back, breaking the kiss as if you were doing something wrong. As if youâll get punished if you keep going.
âWhat is it?â Kai asks, concerned and a little bit hurt at your apparent rejection.Â
You put on a fake smile for him. âNothing. I just thought I saw something.â
He frowns. You can tell he wants so badly to believe you and so he tries to lean in for another kiss, hoping this time you wonât reject him, but you instinctively do, taking a step back from him, and now he really looks wounded.
âAre you okay?â He still asks, your well-being still his first thought and it fucking stabs at your heart.Â
âI am.â You say and his frown grows deeper and takes on a bitter edge, now probably thinking that if youâre alright then you are rejecting him for him and nothing else, and you canât let that stand. âI mean, I am trying to be but I just feel a bit overwhelmed with everything that has been happening.â
âYou shouldnât worry about that, my sweet. I'll protect you.â He proclaims and a small airy laugh leaves your lips before you can stop it, unintentionally offending your lover further.Â
âWhat is it? You don't think I can protect you?â He moves away, finally having enough of your disrespect, and you panic, quickly grabbing his hands and squeezing them tightly. âI do not mean to offend you, my love.âÂ
He scoffs, taking his hands out of your grip, rejecting you for the first time, and just the thought of it squeezes the air out of your lungs. âBut you do not deny it. You don't think I can protect you.â
âI am not sure anything can protect us.â You confess cautiously. You wish you could lie and make this better, but you canât lie to him. At least not anymore than you already are. He has to be warned. âThis⌠thing. It is much too dark and powerful for any of us.â
âSurely it isn't stronger than our courageous religious men and women. They have the godsâ favor. What can prevail against that?â He asks, and you pause. You have to navigate this carefully. You canât let him see the cataclysmic doubt that threatens the very core of your beliefs. What would you even be if you didnât have your belief anymore? What is a priestess without her gods?Â
âNothing, my sweet boy.â You paint your face with the most sincere smile you can muster and reach out to cup his face in your hands lovingly. What that looks like, you donât know, but he still leans into your touch, breaking your heart further as he answers your fake smile with a genuine one of his own and stares at you with the night starsâ twinkling in his pretty eyes.
All the stars of the night sky but one.Â
________________
The panic has now spread to the elders. They can no longer turn a blind eye to what is happening around them, especially because despite all their efforts, they are no closer to finding the culprit whose hands have now reached into their midst and left them scrambling for an answer that would explain this threat's surprising prowess.Â
Was this the work of a rogue priest? A mythical demon? Were the gods themselves unhappy and smiting you down?
That last one is becoming worryingly and increasingly popular among the tribe's people with every passing day. With no real answers to turn to in times of trouble, this is the one most people eventually fall back on. If the gods are the source of prosperity in good times then naturally the opposite would happen if you fall out of their favour.Â
But you refuse to believe this. It doesn't make sense to you. If the gods are behind this then why would they target their own vessel? Why would they make it look like an attack on the gods themselves?
But once again, you couldn't say that. It's blasphemous to even imply anyone or anything can harm the gods. And so who do you blame when the gods aren't happy with what their subjects are doing? The leaders of those subjects, of course. If they did their job correctly and faithfully the gods would've protected them from whatever was out there lurking at the edge of darkness.Â
This is the line of thinking that scares you the most. If people fall into this trap then it could quickly turn ugly for Kai and his family, even you. You're not at the top of the command chain but you're a priestess of the gods and if the people perceive that you're failing in your duty to appease those gods then you are in trouble.
Kai tries to calm you down, reassuring you that the people are just stressed and panicking but that once the culprit is caught, this will only strengthen their loyalty to his family and the religious leaders who have protected them. Which all sounds great in theory, but how in the hell were they going to achieve that when they still haven't the faintest clue as to the culprit's identity? No one knows who is behind this and at this point, everyone has started turning on everyone else around them. Neighbours were suspicious of their fellow neighbours, dear friends no longer trusted each other. Even families were starting to break at the seams with fear and doubt. The whole tribe was on the verge of moral collapse and the elders and leaders could do nothing to stop it.Â
You, of course, retain your perhaps paranoid inkling about the dark boy. It all makes sense to your panic stricken mind. He knows the layout of the temple from your stupid stories. He knows where the sacred items that have gone missing were kept. He even knows some basic spells and he could learn much more from those stolen artifacts.Â
But surely that's not enough? You've trained for years and even you could not carry out an attack of this magnitude. There is no chance he could be capable of this. And what would he even be doing this for? What does he gain from it? Just to spite you? Surely not. Youâre being delusional, succumbing to the same panic the common people were. You have no proof and going around accusing him will just land you in trouble. It would just reveal your ill-advised past friendship with him and cast you in an even more suspicious light.Â
You have to keep your diseased thoughts to yourself, but it becomes increasingly hard each passing day, especially when you receive yet another âgiftâ.
When you first saw it perched there innocently on your table, you thought it was from Kai. He has a habit of leaving you gifts, big and small, here and there to try to brighten your day and make you think of him instead of being trapped in your gloomy thoughts. They ranged from little sweets he liked or a pretty flower he found to extravagant rings or hair ornaments he had made specifically for you.Â
This one is an ornate, delicately carved wooden box which is one of the most beautiful containers you have ever seenâand for a moment you wonder if that is the gift in itselfâalready thinking about how you'll surely be using it to store all the precious jewelry he has already gifted you.Â
But you were curious to see if it did contain anything, and you find yourself eagerly grabbing the lid and pulling it open to see if there is anything inside.Â
But as soon as you do, you quickly drop it with a scream, your knees giving way under you and plummeting you to the ground next to it, the contents of it rolling on the floor in a bloody trail towards you as if it was chasing after you.Â
You scramble like a trapped hare away from it, barely realising that your parents have joined you in the room after hearing your cry and the crash.Â
âWhat is it, child?âÂ
But you canât answer them, throat closed shut and eyes glued to the detached orbs on the floorâthere in front of you lay the sacred bullâs missing eyes. Its eyes that used to be so bright in life with warmth and light now replaced with icy blue crystals crudely jammed in the middle of the irises to form the evil eye, and its menacing gaze was set directly on you.Â
You canât deny it anymore. You are the intended target. If the gods were watching you through the creatures eyes in life then this monster is watching you in death.Â
He was here again, in your home, in your room, just like he had been in your temple. There is no refuge of your own that is safe from his dark presence.Â
âOh dear gods, save us.â You hear your father whisper fearfully, following your line of sight and realising what had alarmed you so.Â
âItâs for me. I have been cursed.â You say, your voice devoid of any emotion, body going cold with a numbness that can only come about from the realisation that one is utterly doomed. âWhat am I to tell Kai?â
Your beloved will surely abandon you once he finds out and you cannot fault him. Even love has its limits and who would stand by someone who has the evil eye upon them?Â
âHave you gone mad?â Your mother hisses, grabbing you by the shoulders and pulling you to your feet, shaking you. âNo one is to hear of this.â
âBut motherââ If you don't tell him, he will be dragged into this curse too and you canât do that to him. It is one thing to be cursed but it is another matter entirely to be so vile as to knowingly extend the same fate onto your beloved. Â
âNothing! If you speak a word of this to anyone, we'll all be cast out. Do you want to kill us?â She asks and you blanch. âNo, of course not. I would never wish to hurt you but I do not wish to hurt him either.âÂ
âHe will not get hurt. We can fix this.â She tells you and you stare at her in disbelief mixed with a small inkling of hope. âHow?âÂ
âEvery curse has its antidote. Just as someone put this curse on you, likely a jealous girl who wanted the future leader for herself, we can lift it off.â
âYou believe this is the work of a mere jealous girl?â Your father asks, clearly doubtful, and she wrings her hands nervously, not believing it herself. This was too advanced, too dark. âPerhaps. Doesnât matter. Whoever did it surely cannot stand up to our combined power. I am confident we can dispel this.âÂ
âThere is no use.â You shake your head, despairing. âThe evil eye is set upon me. I am doomed.âÂ
Your mother slaps you. âHush you stupid child. Do not speak such things. You are not doomed. This is merely the work of someone who is trying to ruin your reputation. They're bluffing. They may not have even done this correctly. See, they've already made their first grave mistake. Now that we have an item connected to them we can reach across the ether directly to pull them to us and reveal their true face. Then we shall strike them down and end this once and for all.â
Your tears start to dry and you look at her hopefully. You hadn't considered that. Of course! With thisâthis vile object in your grasp you can finally trace all of this back to the abominable culprit. âReally, mother? We can stop him?â
âHim?â Your father asks sharply and you cringe back, cursing yourself for the slip-up. âHim. Her. It. Whatever is behind this.â
You hold your breath as he scrutinises you. You imagine a look of suspicion in his eyes and you look away in guilt. Oh gods please don't let him see. You would not bear the blame and disappointment. You felt awful enough already.Â
Finally, after a measure of silence, your father proclaims, âYes. whoever is behind this has some power. I can feel it. But we have had the blood of the mages in our family line for centuries.â You almost breathe a sigh of relief. If your father says it, then it must be so. But then he continues, âHe is no match to us.â
You gulp, nodding.Â
___________________
Your parents are fluttering about, arranging the final pieces of the ritual. The smells soothe you, the routine familiar. You know this. You're good at this. Even if he is behind all of this, he still doesn't know as much about it as you do. The art of magic has been in your family for centuries while he is a mere novice. He doesn't stand a chance against your family's power. Youâve gotten yourself into such a state over nothing.Â
You step up to the circle with a smile. This will all be over soon.
Your family places the wreath of weaved Mugwort and Enchanterâs herb around your neck. They bless you with burning sage and mark your skin with precious dyes in divine symbols meant to invoke the protection of the gods. Once youâre anointed and dressed appropriately, you all reach out to clasp hands and start the chanting, calling upon the gods to watch over you during this perilous venture. You feel a cold breeze overtake the punishing heat in the air and cool you down for the first time in weeks, the bone-deep fever that had been hanging heavily over you starting to seep off your skin. You feel your face naturally relax into a smile as the healing, soothing power of the gods you adore touches your soul once more .
This is it. The curse will lift off you. You should have never doubted the gods. They would never let a true believer like you succumb to such vile forces of evil.Â
But your relief is short-lived, barely there before it is whisked away again as your parents continue to chant, now demanding the evil come forth to reveal itself, and you start to see a black cloud materialise in the air and sink down over you, first clouding your vision then stifling your breathing and eventually coming to wrap itself around your body, paralysing you with its sweltering heat.Â
You look to your parents in panic, barely able to see them through the steamy haze. You try to open your mouth to say something but it gets swallowed up by the damp darkness surrounding you.Â
Please. Cast it away again. I donât want to do this anymore. Iâm scared. Please. You desperately wish to tell them, a sense of dread flooding your paralysed body so fully you fear it would drown you.Â
But they donât stop, going on with their spell, this time attempting to pull the evil away from you to force it to take shape in the centre of the sacred circle so that they can finally start to attack it without hurting you. But it will not let go of you. It fights back, lashing out and digging its claws into your skin with savage force, making you cry out in pain and almost let go of your motherâs hand, but she holds onto it tightly, not letting the spell break. Â
You gaze towards her, a fearful look in your eyes as you experience the real pain of your skin being torn into. This thing is even more powerful than you all thought and you can see it in their eyes too. It frightens them but they steel their resolve and chant louder, demanding the evil to let you go and reveal itself to them.Â
You wish it wouldnât. What youâve seen of this force so far has been nothing but alarming. Just the awareness of its malevolent presence is enough to make you want to run away and hide. You donât want to face it. You know thatâs stupid and irrational of you. Even if you canât see it, you will still know it is there, coiled so tightly around you and blocking out all the goodness and light in the world. It is too late to back down now, not when you have already called it forth.Â
You hear the strain in your parentsâ voices as they grapple with the force, bellowing at it and demanding it let you go, but that just makes it dig its claws deeper and deeper into your body until it almost reaches bone. The pain is becoming unbearable and your head starts to swim with the sensation of losing too much blood. You look down at your body, half-expecting to see it gushing out of the deep gashes you can feel in your skin, but your eyes don't meet any red.Â
Instead what you do see makes you almost pass out in horrorâblack leathery hands engulfing your figure in its hateful grip, its dirty claws digging into your skin as it struggles to hold onto you against your parentsâ forceful invocations for it to depart. You can feel the anger and malevolence emanating from it and burrowing into your body. It doesnât want to let you go. It wants to keep you in its hold until it has consumed you whole.Â
But your parents wonât let it. Their power reaches forth to wrap around the vile creature and pull it off you, brutally yanking at it until its claws tear off your skin and it is finally forced to let go.Â
You shake like a leaf as you see it standing there towering over all three of you in the middle of the enchanted circle. You cannot make out much of its featuresâthe dark cloud like a veil seeming to shimmer and sway over it, obscuring most of its face and body, but you can see the ghastly pointed horns atop its head and those same deathly blue eyes fixed right on you.Â
âWho sent you?â Your father asks, but the figure does not answer. It doesnât even acknowledge your father at all, its cold gaze squarely on you as it reaches forward towards you, desiring to reclaim its grip on you.
You shrink back and try to yank your hands out of your parents grip, wishing desperately to run away from this thing before it manages to latch onto you again.
But your parents hold onto you tightly, your father shouting at the creature, deciding it is too dangerous to try to gain any answers from it and focusing instead on attempting to banish it. âBegone, foul spirit. Cease back to the underworld from whence you came.âÂ
A shock of power springs up and shoves the creature back and away from you. Its cold, dead eyes light up with fury and it finally moves its ghoulish gaze away from you and fixes it onto your father who slowly starts to be surrounded by the same dark cloud that looms heavily around the creature.Â
âWhat are you doing?â Your father asks as the cloud sways and slithers like a pit of snakes over his body. âOh, heavens, please.âÂ
The fear in his voice is almost the most gruesome sound youâve ever heard, second only to the howl of pain he subsequently lets out as the ghostly tendrils tighten themselves around his body and squeeze, crushing him.Â
âNo, please!â You cry out, once again trying to pull your hands away. You like to think that if you succeed youâd try to liberate your father from the forceâs deathly grip, but you know your terror is so great that youâre just as likely to run away instead.
You donât get to find out however as your mother keeps her grip on you almost as tight as the creature does on your father, her voice ringing loudly around your home, indirectly telling you to focus on the incantation and not break the spell as the black tendrils coil tighter and tighter around your fatherâs body.Â
You do your best, you really do, joining your shaky voice with her forceful one to keep the spell going but you know your mind is unfocusedâyour soul not present fully as you watch the life being choked out of your father in horror.
You see it in his eyes firstâthe fear breaking through his usually steely and stoic gaze. Then itâs his voice, hesitant and strained as the evil spirit coils tighter around him until the words are barely choked out. Then itâs the horrible crunching noise, like bones getting crushed by a boulder, followed by a strained wail that barely sounds like your father, barely sounds human at all.
âFather!â You canât do it. You canât keep the spell going, not when blood starts pouring out of the corner of his mouth and his eyes protrude forward as if theyâre being squeezed out of his skull.Â
The last sound you hear from your father is a haunting low groan that comes from deep within his chest before it gets abruptly cut off as a spurt of blood comes forth from his mouth to drench you and your mother, his hands finally letting go of you as he falls limply to the floor.Â
âNo!â Your mother screams, also letting go of your bruised hand and rushing forward to catch her husband, only to recoil in horror as his body crumbles gruesomely in her arms.Â
You back away, not looking at them but instead staring at the shadowy figure still standing over them. Your mother is too busy wailing over your fatherâs corpse to pay it any mind but you cannot take your gaze away from it. The danger is still here and itâs coming right at you.
You try to run away but it is too fast for you. Its shrouded hand shoots forward to grab onto your arm, its oppressive strength keeping you in place.
Oh gods, what have you done? Your ritual meant to bring the dark force forward in order to defeat it has only succeeded in giving it shape and allowing it to dig itself even deeper into your lives.
And it knows it too. Itâs obvious in the sinister way it smiles at you before it slowly dissipates back into the night air, unseen but ever-present.Â
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Your fatherâs burial is a quiet affair. Your mother claims publicly that his death was the result of a terrible attack by a wild animal but youâre not sure if people believe it or not. There are bound to be rumors and gossip swirling around about your father's mysterious and sudden demise in the morning, your familyâs name will undoubtedly be in everyoneâs filthy mouths as they sling forth accusations and suspicions at you and your mother the same way they did to Beomgyu. You don't miss the irony in that.Â
Theyâll wonder if your mother has killed your father to hide a lurid affair or if youâve done it because he discovered some terrible secret youâve been keeping. But those few who have seen his body and helped return it to the earth will know it was neither one of you, because like the sacred bull, what has become of him couldnât have been done by a mortal hand. Theyâll lie down in their homes at night, clutching their families close to their bodies and wrestling with the harrowing knowledge that the darkness is now coming for them and their children.Â
Your mother stays by your fatherâs grave all night, weeping and wailingâher cries rattling the hearts of all those who can hear her as if sheâs a spirit heralding all the death to come.Â
Kai tries to stay by your side but you refuse to let him. Youâve seen what youâre up against. None of you stand a chance and you wonât be so selfish as to let it hurt him too. He needs to stay away from you.Â
But as you lay down for the night, wrapped up in all your furs despite the suffocating heat that refuses to leave you, you selfishly regret keeping him away. You wish he was here with you. He would not have been able to protect you but at least you wouldnât be alone.Â
No. Thatâs not true. Youâre not completely alone. Itâs here. You can feel its dark presence and yet it toys with you, not making a single move. For hours you lay there staring at a singular spot at the roof of your home, unwilling to let your gaze wander around and confirm your dreadful suspicions. For hours, your body stays as rigid as a dead mouse with eyes just as frozen, waiting for that same suffocating grip to coil around your body and crush the life out of it the way it did to your father.
But it never comes. And slowly the energy drains out of your tense body and your tired eyes can stay open no more, falling down and letting you slip into a dangerous slumber. Â
Thatâs when it finally makes its moveâwhen all your defenses are down and you cannot muster enough strength to lift a single finger in your defense, not that you had any delusions of being able to fight it off.Â
Your mind is sluggishâcaught in a state between consciousness and sleep. It can barely process what is happening, just vaguely aware of its presence above you that stifles your breathing, and when your heavy eyes slowly open, your vision dark and bleary, they are met with that unmistakable bright blue gaze. The evil eye. The creature is upon you.Â
It reaches its hand forward to cover your face, your eyelids growing even more heavy at the touch.Â
âPlease.â Your voice sounds distant and strangled to your own ears but the dark figure doesnât answer back. It is as silent as death as it coaxes your mind back into darkness.
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A/N: please leave a message letting me how you're finding the fic so far. feedback is what keeps me going and I am so excited about this fic and wanna know if you're excited about it as well
you could let me know what you think will happen next, what you think the ending will be, who you think she'll end up with or who you want her to end up with, if you think gyu is actually involved or not and what he might be doing. the possibilities are endless lol
 Chapter Excerpt: âDo you let him kiss you?â He asks you, face blank apart from a muted curiosity. He was so close you can see every individual eyelash framing his gorgeous dark eyes, every tiny blemish on his otherwise flawless skin, the elegant slope of his nose, the firm but soft pillowing of his lips.Â
You stay quiet, too scared to speak, too scared to unintentionally set him off. What if this is what the star meant? What if it was warning you of your untimely demise and that is why you were the only one to see it?Â
âSo you have.â He takes your silence as affirmation, swiping his thumb across your bottom lip. âThen itâs only fair if I get a taste too.âÂ
Warnings: fem!reader, DARK FIC, FUTURE NONCON/CON, mentions of people being burned alive, iron age au, supernatural au, yandere beomgyu
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Your fingers strum along the chords of the sacred lyre, producing celestial tunes that rise up to the heavens to reach the ears of the gods youâre worshipping through your songs, words of revelation passing through your lips like a prayer as the people of your tribe gather to witness and take part in the ceremony, offering up their own silent prayers for the ones above, wishing for food, safety, a good harvest, an opportune marriage for their children⌠It all moulds together to encase your song as it moves up to the heavens.Â
Usually, you would be lost in it, surrendering yourself as a vessel for the will of the people to reach their gods. That is your role after all. As a priestess, youâre the link between the mortal world and the heavens above and you take your role very seriously. These people have entrusted you to carry their messages to the gods and the gods have entrusted you to deliver those messages, any distraction on your part could result in a failure of this process and the squandering of the peopleâs goodwill and the godsâ trust in your abilities.Â
Thatâs why you feel guilty right now. You canât focus your full energy on your job, not when you can feel his heavy, suffocating gaze on you. You look up to the heavens, seeking to gather strength from the stars above to guide you back to that enlightened state of being you usually access when performing the ceremonial prayers, but as your eyes land on the stars, youâre startled to see one suddenly fall down from the heavens in a bright flaming blaze. Your heart stops as you follow the distressing demise, no one else noticing it, all too focused on the song and dance and liveliness that you and your fellow priests and priestesses are putting on for the tribe.Â
No one even notices your hands faltering over the strings, blasphemously ruining the perfection of the heavenly song. No one but one. And as the star heads to the earth, flickering its last flames of light as it approaches its demise, it disappears behind the trees, leading your eyes directly to the original source of your apprehension as if it had fallen merely to guide your attention towards him.
But you didnât require such sacrifice to realise the burden of his scrutiny, you moved through every waking moment of your life entirely absorbed by the feeling of being watched and knowing whose eyes are upon you.Â
Itâs those eyes that belong to the boy with the long dark hair and even darker gaze. He stands out from the crowd, not for his clothes or jewels or status, but for his attitude of somberness and stillness among the joyful festivities of others which is enough to raise the hairs at the back of the neck of anyone who has the misfortune of noticing him. He stands there unmoving, his heavy eyes locked on you and no one else, and youâunder that singular watchful gazeâhit the wrong note, plucking your own heartstring in the process, before you stop playing completely.Â
No, this canât be. You may not know precisely what all of this means but even the unenlightened can recognise such a glaringly bad omenâthe star falling out of the heavens to point straight at the ill-fated boy.Â
You're jolted out of your spiral when your friend nudges you, shooting you a concerned but sharp look, silently urging you to keep playing, and with widened eyes you quickly pick up your lyre again, looking around to see the concerned and strange looks from the tribes people, and the angry looks of your family. You canât take your role lightly, not even for a second. You have a duty to your people and every second youâre not joining in the collective song, youâre weakening the prayers and risking their failure.Â
You diligently join back into song, but you know your heart's not in it, not when you can still feel his cursed eyes upon you.Â
Heâs been watching you for some time now, and it wasnât making only you uncomfortable. Others have noticed it too, and rumours have already started to spreadârumours about his inclination towards you. Some are making fun of you for being the object of desire of the tribeâs outcastâas if it makes you deficient in some way to be wanted by himâwhile others have started to distance themselves from you because of it, not wanting to be adjacent to the troubling boy even if itâs through the most tenuous connection to you.Â
It makes you angry to be so unfairly burdened by the unwanted association with him but you canât blame them too much. You know where their fear is coming from, and you wish he would stay away from you too.Â
Itâs not that heâs uncomely. If any of you were to be fair, you would readily admit that he is one of the most beautiful humans you have ever laid eyes upon, his handsome features seeming to have been carved out by the hands of a god⌠but which one, youâre not sure. A trickster god, perhaps, for the boyâs unrivalled looks that are meant to entice and enthral clash harshly with the unsettling darkness that surrounds him and keeps others away despite that immense beauty that under normal circumstances would have made him one of the most popular eligible young men in the tribe.Â
The quiet orphan boy never quite fit in despite his parents having been formidable warriors and therefore much loved and respected members of the tribe. His fatherâs power and influence at one point even rivalled the current tribeâs leader, a fact that has undoubtedly been the source of the hushed and vile speculation by some of the tribeâs people asserting that that is precisely the reason behind the boyâs parents sudden and mysterious deaths when he was just twelve.
Of course none of it was true. These were just the ramblings of the bored and nefarious, gathered under dwindling bonfires and spouting their ignorant and hateful conspiracies. The leader is a kind and loving man. He would never deprive a boy of his family unjustly.
Just as unfounded are the rumours that the boy himself was at fault for his parentsâ death. After all, they failed to bear a live child after himâhis motherâs womb becoming a graveyard for multiple of his lost brothers and sisters until it eventually killed her.Â
After his poor mother died while birthing yet another departed soul, his father was never the same afterwards. He became cruel and vengeful. He took his grief and turned it to angerâan emotion a warrior was much more familiar with handling. Unfortunately when defending the land and killing the tribeâs enemies wasnât enough, he turned that anger towards his only son. Â
You had felt sorry for the boy to be the subject of his father's anger and resentment. You even went out of your way to be kind to him every time you saw the marks of hate on his body or saw him crying to himself in the woods. For a very brief period, you may have even considered yourselves friends.Â
He didnât appear evil from up close. He wasnât so quiet and menacing. He was a child like all of you were. He wanted to play and laugh and enjoy himself, and you really enjoyed watching him do that. He was a silly child when you were alone together and for a short while it warmed your heart to see him let go around you. He had a beautiful smile and a tinkling honey laugh. You developed a minor addiction to it and you craved to see it more and more.Â
That is how you justify to yourself your traitorous indiscretion of secretly revealing to him some of the magic only those raised under the guidance of the gods should have access to. You couldnât help it. He had shown such interest in it and you couldnât refuse to indulge him in one of his very few desires. It wouldnât do anyone any harm. Itâs not like he could ever do anything with that knowledge. Only those chosen and trained by the temple could put that powerful knowledge into meaningful action.Â
And so you felt comfortable telling him secrets about the practice that even seasoned mages didnât have access toâsecrets youâd only known by eavesdropping on your own high-ranking parents, and he lapped it all up, pushing you for more and more which you happily provided.
Truth is, you enjoyed divulging such secrets about priesthood to him because despite it being a very respected and esteemed position to hold, it was also incredibly isolating by nature. The arts youâve learned allowed you to tap into great power meant to help and protect your people, but also necessitated that you guard the secrets to it closely so they donât fall into the hands of those who have not been taught how to correctly use them, or worse yet, those with ill-intentions.Â
Even amongst your fellow apprentices, each of you had your own area of study and werenât privy to much else. That way each of you would only be skilled at a particular art and that art only lest you become too powerful and think yourself rival to the gods much the same way the great Gija didâan ancient priest so powerful he rejected the rule of the heavens and in his arrogance thought he could bring down the gods and take their place instead. His greed was like a sickness that spread through the tribe and corrupted your ancestors, convincing them that if they directed their duplicitous charges at the heavens, they could fell the gods and rule in their place, revelling in endless riches and heavenly desires, only for the gods to strike him down, leaving him to a fate worse than death and laying waste to your peopleâturning them from a once prosperous and opulent civilisation to one that is barely surviving amongst the wilderness.Â
Many of the secrets of that ancient power were lost then, only a few ruins from that time remain guarded in the heart of the sacred temple and even fewer taught to you and your fellow apprentices in bits and pieces that are intentionally scattered amongst you to prevent another Gija from rising.Â
That is why there are now so few priests and priestesses who have been allowed to learn more than one art of magic and why youâre forbidden from sharing secrets about your practice even amongst yourselves.Â
But no one in the tribe knew you were meeting him in the woods under the cover of darkness and therefore no one could stop you from divulging all your secrets to him. It was harmless. What would he even do with that knowledge? Heâs a warrior just like his parentsânot a very good one much to his fatherâs chagrin, but it meant that he wouldn't be able to do anything with the secrets you were exposing to him even if he wanted to. He did not have the gift.Â
Still, he understood your frustrated and disjointed ramblings wellâa part of you secretly worried that he may have understood them too well for he would then make off hand alterations to incantations that would help you crack a spell you'd been struggling with for some time or bring you rare ingredients from the forest that were very hard to come by, maybe even dangerous, and would be the missing touch to a potion youâve been slaving over to no avail.Â
You didnât understand how he knew what was missing each time but you selfishly didn't ask because you didn't want to ruin it. Not when his help was setting you apart from your peers and enabling you to make a mark for yourself as the most promising young priestess of your generation.Â
For his part, Beomgyu's eyes would light up every time his help would cause you to advance further in your training. He never cared that he couldnât claim credit for it in front of others. He would just smile and make you his special wildflower and mushroom soup to celebrate which tasted like nothing out of this earth and made you crave it almost as much as you craved his smile.Â
That smileâthat cursed smile he would wear as he looked at you while you gushed or complained about your training. He didnât care, seemingly happy to listen to you talk either way, and your foolish young heart liked to think you could see a special fondness in his gaze. It was a stupid passing fancy of course. You couldnât possibly consider him seriously, not with the dark rumours surrounding him even then and especially not after his father too passed in a uniquely gruesome way.Â
As the story goes, he had been out drinking his sorrows as usual. At some point during the pitch black night, drunk and disoriented, he left the group of men he was drinking with to head towards his abode but he never made it back. He was found in the morning impaled on a spear that had gone through his eye and out the back of his head, his lifeless corpse suspended by it.Â
It was deemed an accident, an intoxicated man tripping and falling on top of an improperly stored weapon. There was no evidence of a struggle, and even his own men could testify he was not walking straight when he left them. There was no reason to think anymore of it, they said, but between themselves the people talked⌠yet another death around the dark child. It scared even you. You knew he hated this father. You knew he had an inexplicable knowledge about magic. You knew many have died around him. And so as the whispers grew stranger and more fearful, and stories of curses and dark magic swirled around, you silently stepped away from the boy, your friendship living and dying under the darkness of the night.Â
He tried to seek you out, tried to find out why you were suddenly gone, tried to win you backâbut it was difficult for him to get to you when usually you were the one who would go out to meet him in the forest at night, away from prying eyes. He couldn't approach you when you put others in his path and so he tried to express himself through gifts and flowers that he would hide in your home, hoping they would help him gain back your favour.
His gifts were beautiful and preciousâa stunning bouquet of wildflowers, an iridescent stone adoring a delicate ring, valuable ingredients for your potions⌠all carefully thought out and picked just for you which made you feel all the worse for rejecting them but you had to. This had gone on too far and for too long. You had both grown too attached to each other and you needed to end it. He must not think he has a chance with you. It was not fair to either of you so it was best to end it quickly, even ruthlessly.Â
And so you threw his gifts awayâyou cut up the bouquets, scratched the jewelry and burned the ingredients, leaving them out in the woods where you knew he would find them and get the message that you wanted nothing to do with them.Â
And he did get the message, for shortly after you stopped receiving any more gifts. The boy fading back into the unknowable abyss where he belongs. For years he stayed there. For years you knew peaceâa guilty, lonely peace but a safe, secure one. He wasn't there to light up your nights anymore and you werenât there to make him smile, but you were also spared the rumours and gossip that had long surrounded him and were threatening to infect you.Â
It hurt you more than you liked to admit to lose him but it was necessary. There was just no future for you together and he seemed to finally understand that.Â
Until now. Now it seems like those once familiar black eyes were watching everything you do once more, but you no longer had silly fancies about any imagined lost innocence in them. Instead they scare you the same way they scare everyone else, maybe even more. He has grown somber and serious without you. You havenât seen his smile in years. He has abandoned his familyâs legacy of fighting and heroism for the feared but respected path of foragers. It fit him. After all, he was always in that forest doing the gods only know what and now he has made a tenuous but necessary place for himself in the tribe by it, wading into that same forest to harvest or hunt for things and creatures unknown from treacherous regions that no one else dared to wade into.Â
As part of the mysterious foragers profession, he has made himself indispensable to your people as they depended on him and his few peers to bring them the rare and crucial supplies that numerous factions of the tribeâthe priests includedâdepended on in order to do their job. And he was the best of them. He could get you anything you had need or want for, no matter how remote or dangerous, for the right price and as long as you didnât ask any questions.Â
This, of course, caused more rumors to spread around him than ever before, the tribesâ people coming up with all sorts of tales about how he managed to find these things and what he had to do to procure themâwhispers of dark pacts, evil ceremonies and dancing with demons dominated the imagination of your people, but no one dared to say anything directly to him. Not anymore. Not now that they needed him. Â
You on the other hand were scared, not just of him but for him. Every time he would disappear for days on end in that wretched forest, you would wonder if he would come back, wonder if this is the last time you would ever see him as he inevitably makes his last trip into its dreary darkness like many other foragers have done before him. Itâs a perilous, lonely life and so many do not make it for long. Yet he does. He always comes back, and youâre always relieved and scared to be met with his handsome face, the shadows under his eyes taking on a new layer of darkness every time.
What does he see when he goes in there? What creatures does he encounter? What horrors does he face? How close does he come to death and how does he manage to outwit it?Â
You do not know for you could not ask him. He hasnât even met your eyes in years following your pointed rejection of him. Even when he would drop off supplies at your temple, he would keep his eyes downcast as if meeting your gaze would reveal all his secrets to you.
Yes, he has avoided your eyes for years, which makes his recent unwavering stare all the more unnerving. Something has seemingly flipped in him overnight and now youâre the one hiding from his gaze that never falls off of you whenever youâre around him.Â
You think you know what he wants. It is the summer fertility festival. Itâs a time when those like you and him who have just come of age are encouraged to reach out and start looking to find a companion. You have already received multiple gifts from other boys in the tribe, most of them loudly claiming them and boasting about what they have managed to buy or trade or hunt for you.Â
But one gift was unclaimed, the most precious of all, nestled in a nondescript wooden box with a delicately carved wildflower on top of it, and inside⌠inside was a night bloomer, a sacred plant that flowers only one night a year that the ancients would consume to aid in their divination. It is an integral part of your religion, a powerful tool that once upon a time allowed your people to peer into the future and speak to the gods, but after the great Gija rebelled against the gods and was smote down, the knowledge of where to find it and how to harvest it has been lost and so did the flower.Â
No one saw it for centuries until it became the stuff of legends to the point that some of your fellow priests doubted its very existence, preferring to view the mentions of it in religious myths as a symbolic tool to signify how close the ancients were to the gods through their strong belief and how they lost that connection when they betrayed them.
Yet there it was, a bloomed flower sitting in your hands. And there can only be one person who couldâve found it for you.Â
You shouldâve rejected it. You should have given it back to him so he could give it to someone who will take him, but you were too selfish for that. How could you pass up this once in a lifetime opportunity? You would never get the chance to use a night bloomer again and you could not find it in you to do the right thing and return it to him. You needed to find out for yourself if it really was as powerful as all the legends described it. So you eagerly made it into a tea and drank it, ready to use its power to gaze into your futureâanother sin of yours. You were told over and over again not to use the powers gifted to you for your own gains. Theyâre meant to be used to guide and protect the tribe and not for your own selfish desires, but once again you couldnât resist, and maybe thatâs why you were punished so brutally.
The visions the flower brought you were horrific. They were twisted and bloody and dementedâfilled with death and gore and terror. In them, you saw everyone you knew and loved die in the most gruesome of ways. You saw them cry out to you for help as their skin melted off their bones and their eyes leaked out of their skulls. Their charred hands reached out to you, begging you to make it stop but you couldnât. You could do nothing but stand there and watchâthe smoke stinging your eyes and blackening your lungs. You couldnât even look away or get yourself to wake up. You were trapped in the ugly visions for what seemed like eternityânone of them making much sense to you as visions usually donât, but the smell of burnt flesh and the anguished cries needed no explanation, and throughout it all you felt watched, like someone or something was doing this just to see you suffer.Â
The visions went on and on in a loop until you felt you would be trapped in them foreverâperhaps a punishment for your misuse of this onerous giftâbut slowly your vision cleared up and you could see the world around you again.
You found yourself burning up, covered in layers of animal fur as your mother tended to your feverish body. You wanted to throw them off but couldn't spare any energy to move your arms. You couldnât even speak, the only thing that came out of your mouth was dry deathly whispers that immediately got carried away by the wind before they could reach your confused mother's ears. You lay like that, sick and immobile, for days, your muscles stiff as if the fire had burned off all the water in them as your mother nursed you back to health. For weeks after you'd be caught out by a sudden whiff of smoke and your heart would pick up and panic would flood your body. You quickly had to make every effort to cover up your visceral reaction to anything fire or burning as it attracted too much attention and threatened your place in the temple. Nobody wanted a hysteric apprentice to train or a frightened priestess to protect them. Youâre supposed to be the personification of calm and strength. You would lose everything if people found out that the mere smell of ashes secretly sent you into a ball of terror.Â
So you covered it up. You pretended that you didn't want to run and cower under your covers every time fires would be lit to warm up or make a simple meal. It was ridiculous. It was weak and laughable but you couldnât help how your body reacted to it, and you could no longer stomach the taste of meat anymoreâa bite of the cooked flesh would send you into a heaving and retching mess. You had sworn off it since then, much to the confusion of others and the irritation of your family. They never liked it when you did anything to draw the curious attention of others. You were not supposed to step out of line except to excel in your training. As their only child, your performance reflected directly on them, and they did not appreciate the strange way you've been acting since you had consumed that cursed night bloomer. Â
Did he mess with it somehow? That canât have been what the ancients used. This can't be your future. You refuse to believe it. He must have tricked you somehow.Â
Your mother had attempted to enquire about what has happened to youâshe pushed and prodded but you remained steadfast in your insistence about it merely being an illness brought about by eating spoiled meat which conveniently explained your newfound aversion to it. She didn't believe you, of course, but you also knew she preferred to be ignorant of anything that would indicate any brewing trouble, a crack in her perfect daughter, only telling you to get yourself together and not do something stupid to ruin your future. It was a clear order. Whatever it is that you had done, you better fix itâit meant.
Thatâs why you must stop whatever advances Beomgyu is trying to make on you. He can only bring you pain and trouble. Just like right now.
As soon as the prayer is done, youâre strong-armed back to your home by your chagrined family who were less than happy about your embarrassing performance tonight.Â
âWhat was that?â Your father hisses at you as soon as you are tucked away in your shared abode, away from prying eyes. âHow could you disgrace us in such a way in front of the whole tribe?â
âI am sorry, father. IâIââ You hang your head down, hesitating for a moment as your tongue falls almost paralysed under the weight of what you were about to reveal. âI saw something fall from the heavens. I saw a star die.âÂ
You choose to omit the part about the boy. Your family doesn't know about your brief secret friendship with him. They donât know about everything youâve told him. They donât know about the blasted gift you have accepted from him. They canât know. They might cast you out if they did.Â
âWhat?â Your mother whispers fearfully, a tinge of denial in her voice as if she does not wish to believe youâagain hiding away from the ugly truth.Â
âIt was big and bright and beautiful butââ You gulp, wrapping your arms around yourself to stop your body from shaking at the memory. âBut I saw it flickering in the throes of death as it bled across the heavens and crashed to the earth.â You finish fearfully, and that fear latches onto your parents immediately.Â
Your father strides towards you and grabs you by the shoulders roughly, face pale. âAre you certain, child?âÂ
âAs certain as death. I saw it with my own eyes.â I saw it pointing straight towards him.
Your father casts you away as if you were stricken with pestilence and paces around the room, passing back and forth in front of the pale and ghastly figure of your mother.Â
âFather. Mother. Tell me the truth. Tell me what this means.â You ask hesitantly, not certain you even want to hear the answer. You knew it was bad, of course, but their reactions were heightening your anxiety to intolerable levels.Â
âThe stars are supposed to be eternal watchers, the guardians of the heavens. If one of them falls then the ranks have weakened.â Your mother explains fearfully, âSomething has managed to get in or out of the heavens.â
You shudder. What could that be? And what does it have to be with the boy who will forever be your one regret?  Â
âOnly you saw it?â Your father asks and you gulp. âI think so.âÂ
âGood. We do not want to cause a panic unnecessarily, especially this close to the climax of the fertility season.â He proclaims, trying to compose himself but the pallor of his face gives him away. âThe leaderâs boy seems close to making a proposal for your hand.âÂ
You frown. Is this really what you should be focusing on right now? Certainly, you have been more than delighted to garner Kaiâs favour and, prior to tonight, you have not been thinking about much else, but surely this star issue trumps trivial earthly matters of marriage and ranks.Â
You know your family is pushing for this marriage to go through and you understand how monumental this would be for your position in the tribeâto marry into the ruling family would raise you to the top of the ranks and bathe you in the riches only available to them, but that does not mean you can neglect your duties as priests and priestesses. This fallen star could be fortelling a catastrophic future to befall the entire tribe and you need to set aside all your selfish desires to protect your people from this mysterious fate.
âBut the starââÂ
âMake no mention of it to any soul.â Your father cuts you off sharply. âNot until we find out more about it. Your mother and I will consult the templeâs ancient inscriptions. You just focus on winning that boy over. And make no repeats of that disgraceful display today.âÂ
You look down to your feet. You hadnât meant to embarrass them. They would understand if they knew about your new shadow, but they must not know. No one must know. He is like a pestilenceâanything he touches withers and dies and you will not let yourself be one of the ghosts hanging around him.Â
You may not know what this dark omen means but you feel in your heart that it is related to him and you have to stop him. Maybe then you can avert this calamity from occurring.
So you meekly accept their admonishment and warnings, keeping your head down and waiting until your parents are well on their way to the temple before you slip out yourself, following in the direction you know he would be, along a trek you should have never have allowed yourself to get familiar with and are now determined to sever from your life.Â
The path takes you out of the settlement and into the dark woods. The chill in the air didnât suit a midsummer night, and it only grows more frigid once you spot the boyâs hunched over figure on the ground, digging for something with his bare hands. Your heart beats rapidly as you watch him pull weeds out of the ground as if heâs gutting the earth and for a second you consider turning around and running back to the safety of settlement. You donât know what heâs doing out here at nightâthe once familiar, sometimes even welcoming forest now a strange and bizarre landscape of terror to you. He could be up to all manner of unsavoury things out here and there was no one around to protect you from him. Maybe you could find a way to speak to him in the morningâŚ
But before your feet can move, he cranes his head back to look at you, his dark gaze rooting you to your spot, and just like that you cannot move a muscle.Â
âWhat are you doing out here, flower?â He asks softly, voice deep and saccharine, bathing you like a fly in honey so you wonât escape. You resent yourself for being so improperly affected by itâstill feeling a silent pull towards him despite your better judgement, but how can you convince your eyes to deny his beauty? How can you get your ears to shut away his honey voice?Â
What you can do is contort your face into an ugly scowl. He doesnât get to call you that anymore. You should have never allowed him to get close enough to have affectionate names for you.Â
âWhat are you doing here?â You throw the question back at him, needing answers to quiet your worrying mind and time to gather your courage for whatâs to come. Â
âGathering supplies for my soup.â He tells you readily, and your scowl loosens a bit at that. Of course, how can you forget his soup? Youâve tasted it many a times to the point that just the mention of it has a remnant of its memory tickling your tongue and making you salivate at the reminder. âWould you like to come home for a bowl? You haven't had any in ages.âÂ
You curse yourself for how much you suddenly crave it which is then followed by a sinking feeling in your gut as you question why exactly youâre craving it so much. Yes, it was one of the most delicious things you have had the chance to taste in your short life but why was it so? Did he do something to it the same way he did to the last âgiftâ he gave you?Â
You shudder as you think about the countless bowls of soup he had made for you over the course of your brief friendship and what he mightâve slipped in them. No, you would not like to try strange soups from the strange boy, no matter how much your body craves it. âNo, thank you.â
He frowns, looking upsetâalmost hurtâat the rejection. You would laugh if you werenât so scared of him. âYou donât visit me anymore.âÂ
You canât, however, hold back your scoff at his whiny proclamation, as if you owed him that acquaintance. âIt is not proper for an unwed woman to meet strange men in the night.âÂ
âYou meet Kai.â He retorts simply and anger and dread wrap around your cold form. What does he care about Kai? Does he really think he and Kai are on the same standing when it comes to you or anyone else for that matter? Has he forgotten himself?Â
âThat is not your concern.â You hiss at him, scared that he might do something to ruin your tentative relationship with the leaderâs son. He has expressed his interest in making you his wife by providing you with the most luxurious gift during this fertility festival. You would be crazy to turn him down and even crazier to let whatever delusional fancy Beomgyu holds for you ruin your chances with him.Â
âWhy did that make you angry? Are you letting him do things to you that you know you shouldnât?â Beomgyu confronts you, expression unnervingly blank. âAre you letting him under your skirts?âÂ
You stalk towards him, raising your hand up and slapping him, then watching a red handprint bloom across his handsome face. You immediately regret it. Youâre now within arms reach of the dark boy and he looks angry.Â
Before you can step back and run, he reaches out to grab the arm that you struck him with and pulls you to the ground with him. You try to fight him off, using all your strength to attempt to push him away but that just makes him climb on top of you so he can still your thrashing arms and pin them above your head, his body holding yours down as he presses you against the cold mud.Â
He was surprisingly strong despite his lean frame, though you suppose you shouldnât be so surprised given his warrior background even if he quit that path years ago.Â
You stare up at him, his dark eyes almost swallowing up the stars above. You donât dare speak or move. You just lay still as he uses one hand to keep your wrists above your head so he can free up the other to cradle your face, his muddy hand staining your skin.Â
âDo you let him kiss you?â He asks you, face blank apart from a muted curiosity. He was so close you can see every individual eyelash framing his gorgeous dark eyes, every tiny blemish on his otherwise flawless skin, the elegant slope of his nose, the firm but soft pillowing of his lips.Â
You stay quiet, too scared to speak, too scared to unintentionally set him off. What if this is what the star meant? What if it was warning you of your untimely demise and that is why you were the only one to see it?Â
âSo you have.â He takes your silence as affirmation, swiping his thumb across your bottom lip. âThen itâs only fair if I get a taste too.âÂ
Your breath catches in your throat as he leans down and meets your lips with his. They feel unfairly good against your own, fit you too well and you hate it. What is this inexplicable hold he has on you? What has he done to you?
In defiance, you command your body to stay still. You may not be able to fight him off but you won't give him the satisfaction of responding to his unwanted advances. So you just lay there and let him mould your mouth to his. He is incessant but surprisingly soft, pushing and coaxing until you unwillingly find yourself whining lowly, and when you open your mouth to let out a small gasp, he uses the opportunity to press his tongue in.Â
He tastes so sweet fruits, honey and milkâall things you remember he loves so much and that you always used to provide for him just to see that smile that you now have not seen in years.Â
How is it that he tastes this good? What unnatural magic is he using to entice you? He must be because you could not possibly be this inclined towards him.
Your doubts are further confirmed when you detect a hint of something bitter hidden underneath all the sweetnessâa sharpness that prevents you from falling completely into him and keeps you on alert.Â
Beomgyu lets out his own small moan as his tongue caresses yours and you should be disgusted to be so engulfed by the dark boy, to let him force himself over the boundaries you have put up to keep him away, but the heat radiating off him feels so good against your goosebumps afflicted skin, his small stuttered breaths and whimpers make your body tingle and sizzle and you have absolutely no control over it. You begin to fear you will be trapped here forever under his spell.Â
But when his mouth leaves yours to make its way down your neck, you are allowed reprieve to gaze at the sky above and focus on something that isn't him. That's when your eyes stray to the spot where the fallen star was, naturally drawn to it like a tongue is drawn to a missing tooth, and with the phantom taste of iron in your mouth, you snap out of the spell he put you under.Â
What the hell are you doing? How can you lie there and let him slither his way back to you? You're a disgrace.Â
Disgusted at your weak self, you use that repulsion to fuel you as you gather all your strength and try once again to push him away, but all you could muster is enough power to unlatch him from your neck, exposing the wet freshly kiss-laden skin to the frigid air and making you shiver.Â
He gazes at you with a farce concern as he gently cups your cheek, his warm hand like the soothing touch of honeyed milk to your skin that once again compels you to let your guards down, but his blown-wide pupils and his laboured breathing keep them up.Â
âHey, it's okay. I got you, my flower.â He tries to soothe you, bending back down to catch your lips again, but he only manages to freak you out more.Â
My flower? No! You must stop this.Â
You bite down on his lip harshly, tasting blood, and he reels back, cursing in pain. âWhat the fuck?âÂ
In his shock, youâre finally able to push him off and scramble to your feet. âStay away from me. I do not want you. I have chosen him so stop whatever the hell youâre doing. I will never be yours.â
He levels you with a dark look, the little bit of blood dripping down his chin making him look even more chilling. âWhy not?â He asks bitterly. âI can do good by you. You don't have to pay mind to the rumours about me. You know me.â
You shake your head vehemently. âNo, I do not know and never wish to know you. You are unwell. Stay away from me.â You proclaim with all the conviction and strength you could muster, before you turn around and dart back to your home.Â
You didnât want to give him the chance to challenge you. You do not know what he's capable of and you have disgraced yourself enough already.Â
Your heart hammers in your chest as you run, and you whip your head around constantly to make sure he isn't following you. You feel as though he is, gooseskin prickling at the back of your neck at the feeling of being watched, but every time you whip your head back, certain you'll meet his dark eyes, you find nothing there.Â
Your family is not back when you reach your home which is both a relief and a grievance. Youâre glad they are not there to question your whereabouts or your dirty frazzled condition but you do not wish to be left alone in case he comes to find you.Â
In order to soothe yourself, you cast a protective spell on a powerful talisman and hold it to your chest, burying yourself under heaps of fur and praying that is enough to protect you from whatever evils linger around the dark boy. Â
_____________________________
A/N: so excited for this series, let me know what you think please!
there's something out there... and it wants to come in.
⡠genre, warnings. MATURE. supernatural horror, angst, suspense; swearing, graphic depictions of violence and gore, character deaths, yn does hunt animals (sustainable hunter, only small game), stalking, kidnapping, a lot of dead animals and some animal cruelty mentioned, obsessive/manipulative behavior, it takes place in a past not too long ago? (they use landlines lol), implications of purposeful self-inflicted harm (not by yn), a certain level of stupidity from the mc TT but it wouldn't be a horror fic without it, faking d*mestic violence for sympathy, death by drowning, no smut (it's rated mature bc it's intense and dark)
DISCLAIMER: what you are about to read is dark and somewhat disturbing. this is NOT a romance. my depictions in this story do not represent these idols in any wayâit is just fiction. please remember to READ THE WARNINGS, as you are responsible for what you consume.
⡠word count. 24.6k
⡠associated tunes. white winter hymnal (i always found the lyrics somewhat ... unsettling), carol of the bells, every breath you take (the police) (for obvious reasons)
⡠this is my submission for the nightmare before christmas collab hosted by @jinkoh and @blizzardfluffykpop !! thank u both for hosting; this fic was such a fun challenge <3
a/n: okay to be so honest w y'all idk if this can actually be considered horror, but it's certainly /dark/ anyway hope u enjoy nonetheless!
one. the forest remembers
There were footprints in the snow.
Not even a mile into the woods, blanketed in white, you already caught onto a trail. From what you remembered, it wasnât out of the ordinary to find wildlife so abundant in these parts; you simply didnât count on finding anything so soon. These tracks in particular were not as defined in the soft snow beneath your feet. However, you could make out the two toes and their heart-shaped nature by comparing the different prints.
There was no doubt about it. Youâd stumbled upon a deer.
A familiar thrill rushed through your veins, the blood pulsating against the thin skin of your throat. The excitement that came with knowing there was an animal nearby was a feeling you hadnât experienced in years. Your instincts were rusty, but they were slowly returning to you.
Your gloved fingers tightened around the neck of your bow. The crossbow your aunt and uncle owned remained in the warmth of the cabinâthat was something you needed more time retraining yourself with. Your intention wasnât to come out and hunt; your intention was to refresh your archery muscles, and maybe explore the surrounding woods a little. To actually find animal tracks thoughâtalk about beginner's luck.
Eyes darting between the footprints and the surrounding area, you swiftly and carefully picked your way deeper into the forest. Your breaths came out in short, visible puffs, nearly blending in with the abundant snow. An overcast sky hung over your head, high above where the evergreens and birches stretched.
The tread marks you left behind were light, quiet. The snow was fresh from the night before, soft, not icy.
You told yourself you only wanted to see the deer. There was nothing quite like catching sight of one in the wild.
It wasn't denied to you for much longer, in fact.
Several meters ahead, you spotted the light brown fur of a doe. Her lean form was bowed toward a patch of grass sprouting up through the snow. There were delicate, little white spots dotting her side, not quite at her belly.
You kept your shoulder pressed to the nearest tree, the bark scratching against your jacket and your cheek as you marveled at the deer ahead.
You nearly jumped as the animal suddenly whipped her head up.
Your hand tightened on your bow, your entire body tensing to keep from making a sound. It was as if the deer had sensed you watching it, exceptâŚ
Her head wasn't turned in your directionâshe was turned slightly to your right.
The hairs on the back of your neck stood erect and a chill crept down your spine despite the thick jacket keeping out the winter cold. You turned your head in the direction of the doe's gaze, staring out into the white wintry woods.
What had she sensed?
It was as if the whole forest had gone silent while lying in wait. Or perhaps, even the birds had abandoned this neck of the woods, for fear of what predator they'd spied. Not a single chirp was heard nor breath was seen.
You and the deer held still for a moment.
And then another.
After the third beat of silence passed, you decided it wasn't worth finding out what an animal's survival instinct had picked up on. You tried not to make a sound while running back to the cabin.
Your estranged aunt and uncle had entrusted you with their cabin for a month. They were a couple whom your relatives enjoyed gossiping about, with the occasional comment about their reclusiveness and their âuncivilizedâ nature because they were hunters. You found it rather hypocritical, really. After all, several of them were trained to hunt, too, including yourself.
You kept in touch with your aunt and uncle the most out of your relatives, which was why you suspected you were their first choice to cabin-sit for the month of January. After a stressful season at your investment firm, you were ready to become your own sort of hermit in the mountains. Where else better than the secluded wintry wonderland of your youth?
The chains looped around your car's tires clinked together as you rolled into a parking spot along a curb in town. Your cabin was one of the farther ones out, but the drive into town wasn't terrible. The only issue would be if you were snowed in, but that was what the radios were for.
Despite the temperature being below freezing, the small town was a-buzz with people. They all seemed to know each otherâwaving hello, stopping to chat, helping one another on their way, and the like. Everyone in town was close-knit, including your aunt and uncle. It had been several years since you were last here; would any of them recognize you?
As the bell twinkled above the cafĂŠ door, warmth swarmed every inch of your exposed skin. The air was perfumed with the smell of cinnamon and butter, leading you straight to the counter as if you were hooked to a fishing line. Stepping inside was like being drowned in a cup of hot chocolate.
âWell, I'll be damned,â said a deep voice to your right.
Your head turned in that direction, tearing away from the baked goods behind the glass display. There was a blond young man seated on one of the stools at the counter, cheekbones smattered with freckles, lips stretched in a smile that glowed like the sun. You felt your memory twitch. He seemed familiar.
âI'm sorry,â you said with an awkward smile. âDo IâŚ?â
The man's smile didn't even budge. In fact, it seemed to widen. âIs this what working on Wall Street did to you? Fry the memory of your old partner in crime right out of your brain?â
Partner in crime?
Then it clicked.
Your eyes shot wide open, and his own twinkled in a mischief that made you a little too nostalgic. âNo way,â you gasped. âIn my defense, I didn't expect you to look like a fried chicken, Felix.â The last time you saw him, his hair was still its natural color.
He threw his head back in a laugh before lifting his palms up in surrender. âAlright, fair enough,â he relented. He patted the open stool beside him. âCome, sit! It's literally been ages.â
âIt definitely has been,â you agreed as you took the spot he offered up.
The older woman stationed behind the counter arrived before you, and you requested one of the pretty-looking raspberry danishes from the display, as well as a cup of coffee.
As she left to retrieve your order for you, you turned to Felix. âAnd by the way, I don't work on Wall Street.â
âAll finance is the same to me,â he said, shrugging his shoulders and lifting his cup to his lips.
You shook your head, then thanked the woman as she set down a piping hot cup of coffee and danish in front of you. âThat's exactly what my aunt and uncle say to me.â
They were always rather supportive when you spoke to them, but they hadn't the slightest interest in what you did for work. What interest could they possibly have when they lived in such a quaint place? They lived the perfect little life up here.
Felix brightened. âOh, speaking of your aunt and uncle,â he piped up, âI was so surprised to hear they were actually going out of town. They aren't the sort to opt for a tropical vacation, if you know what I mean.â
âYeah, I know what you mean,â you mused. You took a bite out of your pastry, dusting the crumbs onto the plate. âThey won some sweepstakes trip to an island. I don't think they would've considered it had I not agreed to watch their place for them.â
Your companion gave a knowing nod. His parents owned a cabin up here, as well, which was why you knew each other in your mutual youth. Spending one's childhoods together bonding over snowball fights and cookie-baking was a friendship that was difficult to forget.
âYeah, my folks rent out our cabin most of the year anyway, and it was hard for me to convince them to pick someplace else to vacation this year. Truly though, they had a bucket list of places. It wouldn't kill them to see new things.â
âFor sure,â you agreed wholeheartedly.
âBut you knowâ âhis voice dropped a little lower and he leaned in slightly, eyes glancing around as if to ensure no one nearby was listening too closelyâ âmaybe it's best that they're all away this year. People have been saying that we've got a bit of a wolf problem now.â
Your brows twisted together, heart kicking in your chest. âA wolf problem?â you echoed. You knew it wasn't unheard-of to see a wolf here and there deep in the woods, but their population was never an issue. âWhat do you mean?â
Felix's expression had gradually fallen into something solemn and serious, a strange look for a man whose smiles were his resting face. âWell apparently, a pack of rogue wolves migrated into the area at the tail end of last winter. They hunt, like, all the time and they've nearly decimated the local wildlife population.â
Oh. A frown etched itself into your face.
Since however long you'd known this place, you knew that there was a pack of gray wolves that already occupied this territory. Predator species were usually no trouble; in fact, wolves were the keystone species of this ecosystem. They held up the natural order.
But for there to be a new group of wolves in town? How could they possibly coexist?
You mulled over the new information Felix told you. But hadn't you just seen a doe earlier today? âThatâs unfortunate to hear,â you murmured. âHas the town leadership tried to do something about it yet? Maybe call in an external wildlife group to help relocate them?â
âI think they did, but it might not have worked out,â he replied before taking another sip of his beverage. âI just wanted you to know to be extra careful if you're out there.â
âI appreciate the warning, Felix. Thanks.â
The doe from earlier⌠had she sensed a wolf? But a wolf wouldn't have waited that long to go after the deer, and the deer would've run sooner.
None of it quite made sense to you, but maybe your hunting logic was still a tad unseasoned.
You finished up your coffee and pastry, passed the waitress the money to cover your bill, and promised Felix you would give him a call once you got back to your cabin. It was comforting to know that at least one person remembered you, and that one person just happened to be one of your friends.
You tightened your jacket around you, yanking up the collar around the lower half of your face to brace for when you returned into the cold.
The bell above the door gave another chime as you exitedâa more aggressive jangle than the one before, just as an aggressive and frigid gust of wind blew past.
âGood grief,â you muttered with a wince.
You shoved your hands into your coat pockets and continued to trudge down the street. There were a couple errands you needed to run before you could return to the cabin, and that included stocking up on emergency supplies and figuring out what you would eat for dinner.
As a second unforgiving gust of wind rushed you, you slowed your movements and raised a hand to shield your face against some of the icy particles.
You weren't able to see the person walking opposite you then, and you felt your shoulder ram into the hard muscle and bone of someone else's.
âOwâoh, sorry! I didn't see you there,â you said as you turned to address the person you bumped into.
Your footsteps and breathing faltered as a pair of sharp and dark eyes pierced into you like twin shards of ice. You weren't expecting immediate and direct eye contact. He was a lean and limber young man, about your age perhaps, with short blond hair and a prominent nose. There was a mole beneath one of his eyes, something that drew your attention away from his lack of layers. How he could survive such temperatures with only a thin overshirt, you would never understand.
âNo, it was my fault entirely,â he replied. His mouth pressed into a small smile and he clasped a hand onto the shoulder he collided with. âAre you alright?â
His tone and expression were friendly enough, and you took your increased heart rate as a sign of pleasant surprise. He was rather handsome.
âOh yeah, I'm fine,â you dismissed with a chuckle. âDon't worry about me.â
He withdrew his hand from your shoulder and cupped it over the back of his neck in a sort of sheepishness. âThis is a little embarrassing, but⌠you're new around here, right? I could've sworn I haven't seen you here before, but I could be wrong.â
You gave a slight shrug, grinning at him. âSomewhat. I'm housesitting for my aunt and uncle, but I haven't been up here in ages. I suppose you can say I'm new.â You stuck your hand out to him. âI'm Yn, by the way.â
The man slid his palm against yours, thumb locking your hands together in a handshake. âWooyoung,â he said. âPlanning to stay here long?â
âA few weeks,â you answered. âYou?â
âOhâ âhe gave a shrugâ âI'm here all year 'round. My brothers and I⌠we've got a place nearby.â
You nodded. âThat sounds nice. I've always liked being here.â
His head cocked to the side at your comment, and you thought you saw his eyes narrow, but perhaps that was just the icy wind blurring your vision. âYou have, hm? Well, we could always use more pretty faces around here like yours. You should stay all year long,â he said.
His lip twitched upward at the corner and you took that as a sign that his words were light-hearted. His compliment didn't go unnoticed by you, though, and you were glad it was cold enough to prevent yourself from feeling too flustered.
You laughed. âI wish! If I could retire early, I would, then Iâd move up here to live out the rest of my days.â
The sound of regular chatter and jolly laughter drew your attention away from Wooyoung momentarily, and it reminded you of your agenda further down the street.
âDo you happen to hunt?â
Your head swiveled back to Wooyoung, who's stare never left your face. âHunt?â you parroted back. âI do. I'm a little rusty though, if I'm being honest.â
He stuck his tongue in his cheek, smile widening. âNo worries, it's just like riding a bicycleâI don't really know how to ride a bicycle, but⌠y'know.â
âI understand you completely,â you reassured. âListen, it was really nice meeting you, Wooyoung, but I'm afraid I've got some errands to run. I'm sure we'll bump into each other in town again sooner or later.â
Something flickered across his face, but he nodded. âIt was really nice meeting you, too, Yn. I hope it's sooner rather than later.â
You were already beginning to step away, but you lifted your hand in a wave. âCount on it!â
You turned on your heel to continue on your way, shoving your freezing hands back into the safety of your coat pockets. The entire time you walked, you didn't know why, but the hairs on the back of your neck pricked up like they had in the woods earlierâback when you were in the midst of a predator.
There was fortunately still light outside by the time you returned to your cabin later that afternoon. It was light enough, in fact, that you returned to the woods several feet from your back porch, to try your luck once more.
Felix's words from earlier rang in your ears again, and that was partly why you rather wanted to go find that deer.
Did she happen to get away safely, you wondered, as you picked your way through the ice-covered dirt and lifted tree roots. The last couple hours of light filtered through the thin, dark trees, like bars in a prison. You promised yourself you were only curious and would turn back before it grew dark.
But the deeper you ventured into the woods, the more that sinking feeling grew in your gut.
Your feet came to a halt at the sight of a dark lump lying by the foot of a tree.
Even from a slight distance, you knew what a dead body looked like. An animal's dead body.
The doe's eyes were so wide you could still see the light reflect off her black pupils, her mouth open in fear or a frozen snapshot of her screams. Her entire middle had been eviscerated, flesh torn, ribcage cracked open with the bones bloody and red-brown. The snow around her body was a murky shade of rust by now.
A wave of heavy acceptance washed over you. So there was a wolf here earlier, and she hadn't gotten away.
Just as you decided to wait here for a moment in silence, that distinct weight of a stare fell upon you.
It raised the hairs and goosebumps on your skin, made your heart quicken in your chest on its own.
Right, it would be foolish of you to linger out here for too long. That deer carcass wasn't exactly old. Before you could scare yourself anymore, you turned tail and headed back to the safety of your cabin.
two. a learning curve
âYou ought to have the cabin checked out, honey. I know your aunt and uncle haven't secured their locks in awhile, but you're livinâ up there alone.â
A good-natured laugh tumbled out of you as you hugged a paper bag of small household appliances to your chest. It had been a few days since you arrived, but everyone in town treated you like family, especially once they realized who you were related to.
This was only one such instanceâyou met Mr. and Mrs. Hawkins in one of the stores in town while you were grabbing some extra batteries, matches, cleaners, and the like. They once ran a small business of installing security systems for cabins and homes before they retired. Most of the security was to ensure bears or mice couldn't get in, but on the offhand a wolf or something was near, they assisted with that, too.
Mr. Hawkins held the door open for you as you and his wife strolled out of the store. âCharlene is right, y'know, Yn,â he said. âWe could give the cabin a quick once-overâfree of charge.â He made a gesture with his hands before hooking his thumbs into his pockets. âI know I would be anxious about our daughter living in a cabin so close to the woods on her own.â
âI appreciate it, Mr. and Mrs. Hawkins, butââ
âIt's not that we don't think you can take care of yourself,â Mrs. Hawkins cut in with a tender gaze. âReally, with all of these wolf attacks lately, it's better to be safe than sorry. What'd'ya say?â
You bit your lip. âWellâŚâ It wouldn't hurt, would it? They were the best in town and friends of your aunt and uncle's. âAs long as it's no trouble.â
The couple smiled warmly at you as your trio stopped next to their truck. âNo trouble at all,â she assured you. âAre you headed back now? We can drive up in our car behind you.â
âOh, yes! My car's parked just down the roadâthanks a bunch, Mr. and Mrs. Hawkins.â
They nodded their understanding and promised to be right behind you.
You hugged your bag of purchases to your chest with one arm while you fished around in your pocket for your keys. You hurried over the icy snow to your car, a block's walk from the store you just visited.
As you spotted your car in the near distance, your eyes also snagged on a familiar blond making his way down the street toward you.
It was strange, really. It was a rather small town but you truly didn't think you would see Wooyoung this much. It seemed like every time you were in town, the two of you would just so happen to bump into one another.
At this point, it was too frequent to be coincidence.
âHey Yn,â he greeted you as he practically jogged the rest of the way to you.
There was a certain energy about him today, a wildness in his eyes and in the wideness of his smile. His lips were slightly redder, making the white of his teeth all the more apparent.
âHey Wooyoung.â You clutched your keys in a fist and pulled your arm out to hold your bag with two hands. âFunny seeing you here,â you jested.
He laughed. âIt really is a small town.â His eyes flickered down to your car keys and the paper bag. âYou heading home?â
You nodded, absentmindedly glancing at all of the stuff you bought. âYeah, just about toâŚâ your words trailed off as you lifted your gaze. A smudge of dark red on the collar of his shirt made you pause. Your eyes shuttered, blinking. âBeen out hunting recently?â you asked. That was the only explanation for what looked like blood on his clothes.
He seemed to perk up at that, straightening. âYes,â he said with a grin. âIt was a good exercise in patience, if you know what I mean.â
You supposed you did know what he meant. âYeah, of course,â you said. âWell, uhm, I should be on my way.â You jabbed your thumb in the direction of your car.
âDon't let me keep you,â he said, raising his palms with a grin.
You pursed your lips together, lifting your fingers in a gesture of goodbye, then making the rest of the way back to your car.
You dumped everything into the passenger seat, cranked up the heat, and scanned the road for the Hawkins's truck. Sure enough, you spotted their black four-wheeler lingering across the street, with the couple inside waving at you.
You returned the gesture and began to peel away from the curb.
Just as you turned the steering wheel, instinct had you turning your gaze back to the sidewalk. Wooyoung was no longer there. In fact, he wasn't anywhere along the street anymore.
He's probably gone into one of the shops nearby, you thought to yourself, almost chidingly.
You thought nothing much of it afterwardânot the blood on Wooyoung's clothes, the speed at which he disappeared, nor the fact that there were no indications that he was even there at all.
The familiar sight of your aunt and uncle's cabin came into view about fifteen minutes into driving. Your chained-up tires crunched along the icy road as you carefully steered the car up into the driveway.
You killed the engine in a swift tug, jamming the keys into your pockets and hurrying to meet the Hawkins as they parked beside you.
âWow, it has been quite a while since I've been out here,â Mr. Hawkins chuckled, shaking his head as he marveled at the cabin. âJoanna and Ethan sure keep this place looking cozy.â
You smiled proudly up at the log cabin. âThey do,â you agreed fondly. âIt looks like not a day's even passed since I was a kid and it was winter break.â
âWell,â Mrs. Hawkins chirped and trudged over the snow beside you, âwe'll test out the doors and windows, then be out of your hair, honey. We'll let you know if anything seems troubling.â
âSounds great,â you said sincerely. âThank you again, by the way.â
You and the couple began walking toward the front of the cabin.
âIt's not a problem, really. Weââ Mr. Hawkins's words came to an abrupt halt.
You all saw it at about the same time.
âOh dearâŚâ Mrs. Hawkins murmured.
There was a pile of fresh snow littering a section of your porch, right before your front door. The snow being out of place wasn't the problem; it was what physically blocked the entrance to your house that was troubling.
Lying upon the snow like it was the prized game to be carved at a feast, was the body of a deer. It was clearly only recently killed, with its blood still a deep red as it dribbled from gnarly gashes in its side. It hadn't yet begun to smell because of the cold, but it didn't stop the horror curdling in your stomach.
Finding dead animals on one's porch tended to elicit such a reaction.
âI'm glad we came up here when we did, Yn,â Mr. Hawkins said grimly, glancing between you and the corpse at your door. âI don't know who thought this would be funny, butâ âhe shook his head, a crease appearing between his browsâ âyou just be extra careful, alright?â
Your fingers suddenly became deadly frozen. âI will,â you muttered, nodding shallowly. Who, or what, could have done this? Surely it was sending a message.
Mrs. Hawkins rubbed her hand over your upper back, eyes sympathetic. âWe'll help you get it out of the way. Don't you worry.â
In all your years of life, you'd never once read or heard about something like this happening. When there were wolves out in the woods hunting down all the wildlife, then what could have left their perfectly-dead meal at your doorstep instead?
It was almost like an offering. A rather morbid one, but an offering nonetheless.
Or a warning.
What else could it be?
The wind whistled through the cracks in your windows as you stepped out of the bathroom, rubbing a towel furiously through your wet locks. A healthy fire crackled in the main room, helping greatly to keep your body warm. Outside, white wispy flurries whipped past your windows in the dark; there was definitely going to be a fresh layer of powder on the ground by tomorrow morning.
Sleep had yet to tug at the corners of your eyes and you settled onto your couch to pick up your nightly bout of reading.
Just as you were settling in, a loud trill rattled through the cabin. You leapt out of your skin slightly, head swerving in the direction of the rotary phone spasming to life on the end table.
You crawled over the cushions and latched onto the phone, tucking it into the crook of your neck. âHello, Ln Residence.â
It was rather late to be getting a call.
There was the sound of a hitched breath from the other sideâthen, âYn, it's uhm Mr. Hawkins.â
Oh. You shifted into a more comfortable position on your current couch cushion. âHi, Mr. Hawkins. What can I do for you?â
âAh, rightâIâwe, Charlene and I, were talking.â His words trudged along low and slow, as if they were creeping along the surface of a frozen-over lake. âAnd we realized that, uhm, we were being a little overzealous with our examination of the cabin earlier.â
Your brows furrowed. How odd. âSo you're sayingâŚâ
âYou're perfectly safe in the cabin, and, ahâyou shouldn't need to worry about upgrades.â
âMr. Hawkins, I don't think I understand,â you replied, tugging your knees to your chest. Frankly, you were deeply confused and rather concerned. âEarlier, you and Mrs. Hawkins were adamant about putting higher security measures in place, especially after seeing that dead deer at my doorââ
âWell we were wrong!â
You heart slammed against your throat, and you thought you heard what sounded like a low growl in the background.
Mr. Hawkins's voice came back stammering even more violently than before. âIâI apologize. I didn't mean to yell at you, Yn. It's⌠it's been a long, uhm, day.â
Your fingers clutched the phone in a tight grip. âI understand,â you replied softly. It was clear to you that there was immense strain in his voice. He sounded like he was distraught or stressed. âMr. Hawkins, is everything alright? Are you and Mrs. Hawkins doing okay?â
Had something happened to them after they disposed of the deer in the woods?
He cleared his throat loud. âYes, we're doing perfectlyâperfectly fine, Yn. We're sorry for, ah, wasting your time earlier. You don't need to expect us tomorrow morninâ.â
âYou weren't wasting my time, Mr. Hawkins, I assure you.â You twisted the phone cord around your fingers, tightening them into a slight fist. You worried your bottom lip between your teeth, eyes darting in the directions of your front and back doors. âBut the more I've been thinking about those security measures, the more I'm sold on them. Would you and Mrs. Hawkins possibly be able to still install them for me? I'll pay you for the trouble.â
âNo.â The word slugged you in the chest. âThat won't be necessary. You'll be fine. Goodâgood night now.â
He wasn't giving you much room to argue. What happened to all that talk about being a young woman living on the edge of the woods alone? You couldn't help but frown. âYeah, alright. G'night Mr. Hawkins. I hope you both have a nice evening.â
The phone hung up with a click and steady dial tone.
You set the phone back onto its receiver and stared at the rotary dial for a long moment. Maybe they changed their minds about installing all that stuff for free and didn't know how else to refuse you. But still, hadn't you offered them compensation?
It was so⌠strange. And Mr. Hawkins's voice over the phone sounded so uncertain of himself. He was stressed, or perhaps, nervous about something.
Should you go check on them tomorrow?
âWould it be neighborly of me to do?â you asked yourself aloud while reaching for your book again. They'd been so eager to offer you a helping hand, only to take it away so suddenly.
Could it have been that they were made anxious about you?
Stranger danger in a small town wasn't exactly a foreign concept. At one point, you were bound to feel like an outsider. You just couldn't take it too personally.
You didn't see the Hawkins couple in town after that day. You wondered what someone could have possibly said to make them avoid you like the plague, orâperhaps more terriblyâcould something have happened to them?
âSomeone mentioned that their house is empty,â Felix said to you offhandedly one morning over a donut and hot chocolate.
The two of you sat opposite one another in the bakery-cafe to breakfast together. You were plagued by concerns over the Hawkins's, as well as the continued appearance of dead animals at your door. Only the first time was the animal left at your front door; every other time since then was at the back.
It was consistently larger game, like deer and mountain lions, that you didn't enjoy hunting. You were a small game hunter and only hunted what you knew you could utilize all of.
There were no tracks and no traces left behind. You'd checked.
The concept of leaving dead animals at one's door had to be an omen of some kind. If a human was doing it, it was bound to escalate from a warning or threat. But if it was another animal doing it⌠you shuddered to think what animal was large enough and had the intellect to constantly drag offerings to your door like a cat bringing dead mice and insects to their owners.
This was a problem you didn't disclose to Felix. You had a lingering feeling that it was why the Hawkins couple so suddenly changed their minds.
But you did ask him if he'd heard anything about them recently.
âReally?â you voiced aloud, suppressing the amount of interest you had in their whereabouts. âAnyone know why?â
He shrugged. âApparently they left a note at the door saying that there was a family emergency, and that they'd be gone a few days.â
Ah. Your shoulders visibly deflated, and you started picking at your breakfast. That meant they were likely just stressed about their family emergency.
(Then why didn't Mr. Hawkins just say that?)
Felix considered you from over the rim of his cup. âYou seem relieved to hear that,â he noted.
âYeah,â you let out a laugh that you hoped didn't sound as anxious as you were, âI just chatted with them the other day, and⌠haven't seen them since. You know how it's a small town.â
Your companion seemed to buy your statement and gave a nod. âUnderstandable. People seem to be disappearing at a moment's notice a lot these days.â
âIs that so?â
He lifted his shoulders half-heartedly. âWhat can you do, y'know? Don't stress too much, Yn. People up here can handle themselves.â
You pressed your lips together. âEven after your warning to me about wolves?â you couldn't help but ask.
Felix smiled around his last bite of pastry. âThis town's thrived for so long already; the wolves are concerning, but someone must have it handled, I'm sure.â
Must. If no one else was freaking out about them constantly, then you didn't need to either, right?
Wrong, a voice echoed in your head. You lifted your cup to your lips.
With your free hand, you reached back to hold the nape of your neck where the hairs had risen once again. Over the past few days, your body was constantly reacting as if there was something lurking behind you. You couldn't sit still, couldn't feel comfortable in your own skin.
One moment, it felt like ants crawling beneath your flesh; the next, it was as if someone was gently blowing their breath over you.
You weren't about to say you'd grown used to the feeling of being watched, but it was certainly becoming more frequent than you'd like it to be.
One might think that the constant stream of dead animals on your porch would make you lose your appetite for a hunt, but you hadn't gotten the chance to brush up on your skills since you arrived.
The name of the game was rabbit, and rabbits in winter were just as tricky to catch as rabbits in the summer.
Armed with a crossbow and quiver of arrows, you staked yourself up in a perch on a low-hanging tree branch. The evergreen was a welcomed respite from all the slim and frail-branched birches around you, and it provided you with adequate cover to wait for your prey to come.
Guns were usually the weapon of choice to go huntingâthey were efficient and convenient in their execution and use. But you didn't often need a rifle to kill something as small as a rabbit; plus, it had been awhile since you'd last used crossbows and bows. They were efficient enough to reach their target when aimed correctly, as well as deliver a quick and painless death.
You didn't have much hope for a rabbit stumbling across your field of vision, but you hoarded a sliver of it still.
A bolt was already loaded up into the barrel of your crossbow. Having it primed would mean one less small noise to spook your flighty prey.
Somewhere in the distance, as you waited, a crow's caw echoed in the weak afternoon sunlight.
As the minutes ticked past, you remained ever vigilant and ever patient. You reasonably had about three hours left of daylight before you would consider heading back, so there you stayed.
It was nearing the one hour mark when you spotted it.
The rabbit was a grown adult, with light brown fur that looked almost like dirty, matted snow. It snaked through the snow-covered leaves, bouncing from tree to tree in search of vegetation that hadn't yet become food for the decomposers.
Nature drew it right to your doorstep.
There was a small patch of grassâweak, little tufts reallyâpoking out of the snow several meters to your one o'clock. The rabbit sniffed the grass before nibbling its way down the stalks, each one disappearing faster than the last.
You brought the scope to level with your eye, finger curling around the trigger, but not yet pulling.
Once the rabbit's body was within the cross hairsâ
SNAP!
You didn't flinch as badly as the rabbit, but your head nearly turned away from your target entirely.
The rabbit's head raised from the grass, no longer tempted to stay in this one place. You swore under your breath as it darted to the right, aiming to head deeper into the woods and farther away from you.
You moved the crossbow with its movementsâand fired.
The bolt whizzed through the air.
And pinned the rabbit into the snow.
You could barely believe your aim had been true. If you hadn't let your instincts move your arm, you would've been going home empty-handed today.
Carefully, you dismounted the branch in the evergreen tree, eyes scanning your close surroundings. What in the world made that noise? No predator would have done such a thing, not when there was a rabbit so ripe for the taking in front of it.
You frowned after finding nothing and no one in the vicinity.
It wasn't like you imagined it; the rabbit reacted to the noise, as well.
You trudged over the snow to where the poor rabbit was staked against the ground, crimson staining the white beneath its body. It was definitely dead upon impact, you decided, while examining the entrance and protrusion of the bolt.
âSorry, bunny,â you murmured under your breath, squatting down next to the body to begin preparing it to take back with you.
A few minutes later, you had the bunny strapped to your belt and a bloody bolt between two fingers.
You straightened, body turning in the direction of your cabin. A familiar wave of foreboding fell over youâthe weight of eyes, of a phantom presence. The hairs on the back of your neck stood again and gooseflesh littered your skin despite the warmth of your hunting jacket.
As nonchalantly as possible, you made another scan of your surroundings.
It was so quiet, even the crows couldn't spare another caw. By all rational definitions and observations, you were alone. But if you had to ask the demon on your shoulder⌠It would be a different answer entirely.
three. they simply couldn't be helped
After the day you caught the rabbit, the bodies at your back door grew smaller.
It seemed that whoever (or whatever) was leaving you these⌠offerings had figured out your preference for smaller game. (You didn't want to admit how they would have discovered this. You certainly had not been alone in the woods that day.)
Nonetheless, you were sure half the reason this area was losing its wildlife population was because of whoever was doing this to you. And you didn't know how to fucking stop it.
You'd even gone and lined your entire property with a tripwire. If someone came by and triggered the alarm, you would know. Though, if there really was someone watching you, how effective would it be if they'd seen you set it all up?
This morning, you trekked about a mile into the woods to find a place to deposit the latest bodyâanother rabbitâin a place where some other animal could have it. If you weren't going to make use of it, the best thing to do was to give it back to nature and let the circle of life run its due course. About a mile in would give some berth between them and your cabin; plus, you usually didn't venture in this area of the forest.
On your way back, you were stopped by the ceaseless sounds of shrill chirping.
Your head swiveled to and fro in search of the noise. It was clearly the strained helping of a bird, but where�
Down by a pile of snow, dirt, and mulch was a creature just about the size of your palm. It had a round, black-colored head and wings, and a white body that was matted with muck.
âChicka-dee-dee-dee,â it tweeted up at you as you slowly and carefully crouched before it.
âI'm not a danger to you,â you assured it quietly, keeping your palms facing toward it. You wondered if it understood. Birds were intelligent creatures, and chickadees in particular were known to warn other birds of fast-approaching predators. They were the fire alarm in a building, except instead of blinding lights and high-pitched buzzing, it was a chorus of infamous chicka-dee-dee-dee's.
Your eyes narrowed on its body. It must have been grounded for some reason since they usually stash their burrows higher above the ground in evergreens.
The chickadee's round head cocked to the side, beady black eyes assessing your danger level.
With cupped hands, you reached out toward it.
When the bird didn't express any disapproval, you scooped its body into your palms. âHuh,â you hummed to yourself, spotting a difference between its wings. One was far more crooked than the other. âI think I can help you with that, bud.â
You stepped over the mulch and a protruding tree root, keeping your bird friend cupped in your palms. âThis isn't kidnapping, by the way,â you said aloud. âImagine me as the Emergency Medical Services for birds. We're on our way to the infirmaryâmy house.â
The bird made a peep sound in reply.
The cabin appeared not far ahead; the air fogged up with your sigh. You lifted your foot so as to not hit the tripwire. âI don't know why I'm talking to you either.â
The back cabin door closed behind you and it took eleven seconds for the locks to click into place on the other side: shunkâthat was one; clinkâmarked two; schickâthere was the third.
âThe wolfâ always counted.
The only reason it took you so long this time was because of the hitchhiker you'd carried right into the warmth of your home. Who knew it would be the most annoying sound in nature to be granted entrance first? It was⌠infuriating. And yet, enlightening.
A shadow lingered upon the edge of the wood, sinking behind the large trunk of an evergreen. âThe wolfâ kept one eye pinned to your disappearing and reappearing form in the back window. In one morning, you had taken yet another of his offerings, left it in the forest for some other undeserving creature to feast upon, and took in an injured, living body to aid.
How interesting. âThe wolfâ finally understood.
For a moment, he could not leave the sight of you. He could not bear to leave your vicinity, to part with the familiar scent of your musk and blood for long. But the thrill beating in his chestâthe wild excitement of finally understandingâwas a lure strong enough to tear him away. It was all for you, after all. Everything, ultimately, was because of you.
He was careful not to nick the tripwire on his way out.
The forest was deadly quiet as he stalked through the trees. Silent, but never empty. The woodland, even in winter, was stocked full of birds to choose from.
If you wanted one, he could retrieve for you a set. Didn't humans collect dolls?
Once he picked the bird to pluck from its nest, all they would see would be a blur of teeth and wild eyes.
And all that the rest of the forest would hear were the screeches of birds and a sickening crunch.
If birds made noise when danger was abound, so too did people. The town buzzed with an energy akin to the particles of water in a tea kettle as it boiled. You could hear their chatter and gasps and murmurs even through the windows of your car. Everyone milled around in groups no smaller than three, eyes darting from one another.
Despite the commotion, their faces were solemn. There was a distinct weight that had fallen over the town. Something serious must have happened overnight or this morning.
You parked your car along the curb by the town pharmacy and clinic. In the distance, you spied Felix's bright, wheat-colored hair amongst the frenzy. It was the first time you'd ever seen his face lacking a smile, his lips pulled into a flat line and his brows scrunched in a concerned furrow.
âFelix!â you called to him as you made your way over.
He and the older man he was speaking to glanced up in your direction. Recognition sparked in his eyes and he waved at you, beckoning you to join them. âYn,â he greeted, âboy, am I glad to see you. Did you hear?â
You shook your head, speeding up into a jog to reach them. âNo, I didn't hear,â you said. âWhat's going on? Did something happen?â
You recalled the name of the man whom Felix was withâMr. Ly, one of the town's teachers at the nearby grade school. He folded his arms over his chest, sighing. âSomething happened, alright,â he murmured. âIt was a terrible tragedy. Do you know the Hawkins family?â
âThe Hawkins's? Yeah, I⌠I do.â What in the world happened to them?â
You met Felix's eyes, and his expression softened. âWe were just talking about them the other day, Mr. Ly,â said Felix. âBut Ynâsomebody found their bodies this morning.â
You blinked, heart stopping clean in your chest for a second. âWhat?â Bodies. That meant they were dead.
âJay Raiden, one of their friends,â Mr. Ly explained, âwent over to their house to borrow their toolbox from their garage, 'cause he's got a key. You heard about the note they left, right? About their family emergency? Well, both of their cars were still in the garage.â
âThey never left,â you filled in aloud, lifting a hand to cover your mouth in shock. âOh my god.â
âJay went 'round back and saw dried blood through one of the windows. He called the sheriffâthey broke in andâŚâ Mr. Ly's voice trailed off as he rubbed his face with his hand, distraught. He sighed again, fingers pressing into the corner of his eye. âThey think it was some wild animal attack.â
âOne of the new wolves,â Felix added.
So the rogue wolves really were a danger to the town. You were right to have harbored some worry about them.
But Mr. and Mrs. Hawkins⌠You gagged a little at the mental image of what exactly Jay and the sheriff walked in on. Perhaps, had Mr. Hawkins sounded so stressed during his phone call with you because they saw wolves outside their house? That would explain the growling sound you believed to have heard.
Why wouldn't he just say that then? Why wouldn't he tell you to get them help? They never gave you the impression of being too arrogant for their own good.
A hand warmed the place between your shoulder blades and you leaned your forehead against Felix's shoulder. Your eyes fluttered shut. âI feel so awful for them,â you said quietly.
Felix wrapped his arm around you in a small hug, squeezing your arm as he did so. âYeah, me too.â
âWe all just need to be a little more careful.â Mr. Ly thumped his hands onto your shoulder and Felix's shoulder. âLook out for each other, and keep your radios on. I think the sheriff's gonna start up a volunteer watch group.â
âShould've started one a while ago,â you muttered.
Mr. Ly gave a helpless shrug, though he seemed like he agreed with your statement. âTake care of yourselves, you two.â
âSee you, Mr. Ly,â you and Felix said as he made his departure down the street.
And then there were two. You and Felix lingered there for a moment in a rare bubble of quiet. All around you, the machinations of small town word-of-mouth ran like the motor on a speedboat. The news was a wildfire and this place might as well have been kindling.
Felix was the one to break the silence. He gently nudged you with his fist. âHey, you got a radio?â
âA radio?â you echoed.
âYeah,â he chirped, âlike one of those ham radios.â He gasped, snapping his fingers as the thought came to him. âYou still got a walkie talkie?â
Your eyebrows flew up. âDo I?â You gestured for him to follow you back over to your car. Despite the grim atmosphere, the simple mention of walkie talkies brought back even a sliver of lightness to the air.
You opened the passenger side door of your SUV, popping open the glove compartment beneath the front console. You dug around for a moment and rifled past all of the motor vehicle papers and registration untilâ
âAha!â
You emerged from the car with a pair of walkie talkies, brandishing them with the pride of your seven year old self.
Felix's face brightened immediately. âNo way,â he gasped.
âYours, my friend,â you said, extending one to him.
He accepted it swiftly. âYou're a blessing.â
You snorted. âYou're welcome.â You fiddled around with the walkie talkie you kept for yourself, thanking the energy gods that the batteries in this thing still had juice.
Felix shifted beside you and the two of you bowed your heads, hunching over in a miniature conspiracy huddle together. âWhat channel are you configuring it to?â
âThey should be configured to one another. I haven't exactly used them inââ
Your words were cut off with the sound of a hissing click and chime.
âWell,â you laughed, âthere you have it.â You kept your finger pressed against the 'Talkâ button on the side. âTesting, one, two. Testing, one, two. Do you copy, Felix? Over.â
Chk-chk. âLoud and clear,â you heard from beside you and faintly through the device in your hand. Felix grinned. âOver.â
He lifted his thumb from the button. âThis is sick,â he marveled. âI forgot how cool these were.â
âCool and useful,â you chimed in while hooking the device onto a belt loop. âThey should be able to span across several miles.â In an emergency, and when phone lines were down, they could save a life.
Felix expressed his thanks to you as you locked up your car again, and the two of you headed back onto the sidewalk and into the pharmacy. The warmth from the radiator in the corner of the room hit you in a hot wave to the face, nearly making you fumble backward.
You could already feel the sweat begin to bead on your forehead.
âSo what did you need from here?â he asked as he trailed behind you, a chick following a mother hen; his eyes were wide as he peered at all the same things you did on the shelves. âAre you restocking your first aid or something?â
âNo, not exactly,â you drawled distractedly. You scanned the items in front of you before picking up a roll of gauze to examine. âIt's kind of a weird story, really.â
âCan't be that weird.â
You cocked a brow at him, then returned to scrutinizing the label on the gauze. âI need something biodegradable. Y'know, I found a chickadee in the woods this morningâitâs wing was broken. I brought it back to my cabin to make it a little sling, but I realized it would need something more suitable when I eventually let it go.â
Felix lifted his shoulder up as he nodded. âOh. That makes sense. What's so weird about that?â
For a moment, you hadn't remembered Felix had no idea about why you'd been out in the woods this morning in the first place. That was the truly strange part. âCan I,â you said to him softly, biting your lip and glancing around to ensure no one was nearby, âtell you something?â
His brows scrunched together. âYeah, of course,â he replied with a nod. Concern twisted his features as he took a step closer, angling his body slightly so you could speak into his ear and he could keep one eye on the lookout. âWhat's going on?â
âThere's been some⌠things happening.â
âYn, what things?â
There truly was no easy way to say it, was there? âI think I'm being stalkedâor something.â
Alarm flickered across his face, his eyes widening. âYou what?â
âShhh!â You patted his arm with one hand and fisted the roll of gauze with the other. âI'm not sure, but there are signs. I don't know if it's human or an animal.â
âYn, we both know it's not an animal,â he scoffed. âThis is crazy; you wouldn't say it if you weren't sure.â
You licked your lips, pushing out a breath of frustration. âIt's just thatâeverywhere I go, I have this weird feeling. You know that feeling when someone's staring at you, even when you're not looking?â
He nodded.
âAnd thenâŚâ
Felix cocked his brow expectantly. âAnd then, what? Yn, please tell me. Tell me so I can help.â
You absentmindedly picked at the roll in your hands. âFor the past several days, something has been leaving dead animals at my doorâfreshly killed, and lying on a bed of snow like they were trying to preserve them or something. I don't know. It sounds ridiculousââ
âNo, Yn, that sounds terrifying.â Felix placed his hands on your shoulders, keeping your attention on him. You weren't about to escape this talk. âWhen did this start? Have you reported it to Sheriff Lang?â
âThe first time was the day I told you I spoke to the Hawkins couple. They actually were the ones who moved the deer carcass for me.â You added, âAnd no, I haven't told Sheriff Lang yet.â
Felix swore under his breath, a hand on his hip. âWell, shoot. You have to tell him, especially if you're being stalked and you're being threatened.â
âI justâ âyou slowly began moving to the other end of the aisleâ âdon't know, Felix. There's something else.â
âWhat is it?â he asked, clinging to your heels as you scanned the shelves for some extra cotton balls and medical tape.
You grabbed the items and scooped them into the crook of your arm, against your chest. âThe bodies so far had been larger game, like deer and mountain lions; but the other day, I went out and killed a rabbit. It was the first time I'd gone out hunting since I got here. The next day, instead of deer or cougars or goats, it was another rabbit.â
Felix pinched the space between his eyes. âWait a second,â he said, âso what are you trying to say here?â
âIâm saying that it isn't cut and dry.â You waved your hands in the air, uncertain of what to think or how to articulate your thoughts. âThese bodies left at my door weren't eaten or torn to shreds or anything. They were mostly killed by blood loss.â
âPuncture wounds? Knife marks?â
Oh, he was going to hate this. âMore like⌠claw marks?â
Felix lifted a hand and let it fall against his leg. âYou're shitting me.â
âI could be wrong.â
âI'm going to hope you're wrong.â He pursed his lips, the sides of his mouth digging into his cheeks. âI don't want to say it has to do with our wolf problem.â
You shot him a pointed look, turning to head to the register. âBut you will.â
âWell, what else am I supposed to think, Yn? You said claw marks.â
At the cash register, you and Felix both mutually agreed (through eye contact) to not mention anything about your issue around the pharmacist ringing up your total. Pleasantries were exchanged, bills were given up, and your items were bundled in a cozy, little paper bag in no time.
Felix fell into step with you on your way out of the pharmacy, piping up, âSo what? Do you think these are some kind of twisted offering?â
âI don't know what to think, Lix,â you admitted.
He jammed his tongue in his cheek, his stare pensive. âWell then, what do you say if I came up to make sure your cabin was properly locked up? Maybe I can see if there are tracks left around. Did they leave anything behind today?â
You nodded. âThey did, but I brought it back out to the woods. And, would you? I would really appreciate that,â you told him, glancing over while you reached for the door blindly. âI think a second pair of eyes is exactly what Iââ
You felt the door's swing come to a stop, its surface reverberating as it hit something solid. You glanced up, only to find Wooyoung standing there, mouth pressed shut and eyes screwed tight in a wince with his hand grabbing the edge of the door.
âOh my god, I'm so sorry,â you blurted out. âI wasn't looking.â
He let out a small chuckle, lifting his hand off the door to show you his palms like it was okay. The movement, however, drew your eyes to the crimson red blooming beneath the thin material of his overshirt sleeve. âYou're fine, Yn, really. Iââ
âAre you alright?â you asked.
âHm? Oh,â he said sheepishly, grabbing his forearm with his opposite hand. âThis?â
Felix sucked in a breath through his teeth as he watched the blood seep through. âMan, that looks pretty bad. You should get that checked out.â
Wooyoung didn't even pass Felix a glance. âDidn't really notice it until now, to be honest.â
âWell, maybe you should see the pharmacist about it,â you suggested, jabbing your thumb back in the direction from where you just came. âI'm sure they'd be glad to help you out.â
âNo, it's okay,â he insisted. âReally, it's just a scratch.â
âWooyoung,â you chided, âit's going to get infected or something. It's already ruining your shirt!â
He smiled. âI appreciate your concern, Yn.â
Felix gave you a nudge with his elbow, and Wooyoung's eyes whipped over to him. âDon't you have a first aid kit in your car, Yn?â
It was like a lightbulb had gone off behind your eyes. âOh! Oh, you're so right!â You turned to Wooyoung, fixing him with a firm look. âYou're coming back to my car. If you're not gonna see the doctor, you'll at least see me.â
âSee you?â
You sniffed. âI know first aid,â you defended. âCome, come. I won't take no for an answer.â
With a flick of two fingers, you beckoned him to follow. The three of you trudged across the snow-covered sidewalk, peppered with shoe-prints, toward your car parked nearby. You popped open the passenger side door once more, leaning in to dig through the middle console for the first aid kit you kept stashed there. The kit had served you well plenty of times before, even while you were living at home in the city.
You stepped down from your SUV and gestured for Wooyoung to roll up the respective sleeve. Felix lingered by, his hip and shoulder leaning against the car door for the back seats.
âAh,â you grunted as you took his arm by his elbow to inspect the gash there.
The smooth, pale skin there on the underside of his forearm was marred by a nasty scrape that cut through skin. It likely formed on accident as there were differing levels of depth to the woundâone area was far shallower, with only the top layer of skin disturbed and peeled up; whereas the other, deeper portion looked to be where all the blood had gurgled out from.
It was strange, though. For all the blood you saw seeping through, there wasn't a whole lot of it now. In fact, the wound looked as if it was already healing over.
âHow's it look, Doc?â Wooyoung asked, peering at you through his lashes, tongue wetting his lips.
You glanced at him, then twisted around to crack open your first aid kit. âYou're lucky it's just a surface wound,â you told him. You ripped open a packet for an antiseptic wipe. âThis might sting a little.â
You gently pressed the wipe to the cut, cleaning up as much of the exposed wound as possible. You heard the tiniest hiss from his mouth and murmured an apology.
As you worked, you couldn't help but let your mind wander to one of the other times you'd bumped into Wooyoung. âWas this from a hunting trip?â you asked him. âI feel like I'm always seeing blood on you.â
âYou could say that,â he said.
âDo you go out hunting a lot, Wooyoung?â Felix chimed in.
Wooyoung's eyes darted to your friend, then to you, and finally back to Felix. âYeah.â
âI hope you're careful out there then. You've heard about the Hawkins couple, haven't you?â
Wooyoung stared at you, but you kept your eyes on his arm, carefully placing the stitch bandages over the gash. âI haven't,â he drawled. âWho are they, again?â
You raised your head to share a look with Felix. âThey were found dead in their home this morning,â you told him. You reached behind you to grab a roll of bandages from the kit and began wrapping up your handiwork. âFolks think it was a wolf attack.â
âOh. Right.â
When you released his arm back to him, Wooyoung ran his thumb over the section of bandage that the scrape was hidden beneath. âThank you.â
You shot him a small smile as you packed up the plastic kit box. âNo problem,â you said. âI hope it heals over fast.â
âI'm sure it will.â He chuckled, âI feel like it's already halfway there.â
âYou're a regular medical professional, Yn,â Felix joked. âI mean, first the bird, and now a person?â
Wooyoung's eyebrows flew upward. âA bird?â
You shot Felix a look, but couldn't help the sheepish grin on your face. âYeah, I found a bird in the woods near my house earlier with a broken wing. I'm trying to fix up a sling for it while it heals.â Swiftly, you tossed the kit into the open middle console, wiping your hands over the surface of your jeans. âSpeaking of, we should probably start heading out now. Felix?â
Felix pushed off the car. âRight! Should I meet you there?â
You paused in thought. âMaybe I can drive you?â you suggested. The last time someone offered to come inspect your property, it was the last time anyone ever saw them again. You massaged your lips together to calm your worries. âI'd be happy to drive you back to your car afterwards.â
âSure, whatever you're most comfortable with.â
âHeâs going with you to your cabin?â Wooyoung piped up. His face had become a rather unreadable slate, an unusual and uncanny state to find him in. At least, for you.
âHe's, ah, helping me out with some cabin maintenance.â You stepped away from the passenger side door to make way for Felix to climb in. âI'll see you around, Wooyoung. Take care of yourself.â
âYeah, see you, Yn.â
You jogged around to the other side of your car and clambered into your seat, your whole body shivering from the stagnant cold outside the door. Felix cranked up the heat as soon as you started the car up. It seemed you both had the same idea.
âSoâŚâ Felix dragged out the word, leaning the side of his head against his fist as he looked at you. There was an impish smile dancing on his face.
You pulled out of your parking space, eyeing him suspiciously. âWhat?â
âHe seems⌠nice.â
You snorted. âNice? That's all you can say?
He hummed, straightening out in his seat. âI mean, what else can I say? He didn't talk to me a whole lot. I'm pretty sure that man only thinks you exist.â
âOh, please.â You'd noticed that Wooyoung was a little short with Felix, but you figured it might have been because he'd never met Felix before. Then again, your own memory contradicted that observation. The first time you met Wooyoung, he had been the one to initiate a proper conversation. He'd spoken freely and smoothly. âMaybe you give him a weird feeling.â
âMe?â your friend squawked in indignation, shooting up in his seat as if you'd shocked him with lightning. âMaybe he gives me a weird feeling!â
Your brows creased together and you casted him a brief look. âDoes he?â
Felix sobered and scratched the place behind his ear. He blew a breath of air from his mouth. âShoot, I don't know. He seemed to treat you alright, so I'm guessing he's not a raging misogynist.â
âWe can only hope,â you joked.
You couldn't help but glance through your back windshield in the rearview mirror. Even from down the street, you could still see the sidewalk outside the pharmacy quite clearly. There were different shades of white and gray where tire tracks and bootprints cut through the snow. Townsfolk continued to mill about with the latest news and their own errands.
But again, Wooyoung had seemingly disappeared from the vicinity immediately.
The only thing you could do with your thoughts about him was to brush them under a mental rug. After all, you and Felix were heading to your cabin with an express purpose.
There was still a healthy amount of winter sun left in the sky as you pulled into your snow-covered driveway. The sounds of the car doors slamming reverberated off the facade of the cabin and the nearby trees; you and Felix trudged through the snow side by side, low murmurs exchanged between you about your plan of action while he was here.
âMr. and Mrs. Hawkins and I found the first deer hereâ âyou motioned to your front door with the hand that wasn't holding your bag of fowl medical suppliesâ âand that was also the last time the bodies were brought to the front. Every other time since then has been on my back porch instead.â
Felix climbed the steps onto the front porch, eyes squinting as he considered it. âHuh,â he muttered. âYou said the Hawkins's were the ones who moved the carcass for you?â
âYep.â
He glanced back at you. âMaybe I'm reaching, but it could be that moving their offerings to the back ensures that less people see it.â
A chill spider-crawled down your spine. You nervously moved a strand of hair from your eyes as a breeze blew past. âI never even thought of it like that,â you stammered out.
Something troubled contorted your features as you stared at the floorboards of your porch. It wasn't like they were hurting youâyet. Whoever, or whatever, they were, their approach could change at any moment. Who cared if they changed their game from big to small based on your preference? It could have been that they had hunted all of the big game to the point of scarcity already.
âYour locks seem to work fine,â Felix said as he wiggled the front door knob. He shoved his shoulder and body weight into the door, the wood and metal holding firm against his force. âHinges and door, too.â He scanned the doorframe, fingers running over the linings as if it had all the answers.
âWhat could all of this possibly mean?â you wondered aloud. âI mean, what did I do to provoke this kind of behavior? I just got into town.â
Felix frowned, eyes softening sympathetically. âIt's not your fault. I don't believe it could've been anything you did on purpose. All of thisâitâs sick, really. I'm telling you, Yn, you should just report this to the sheriff. He'll want to help you.â
Your gaze shifted from him to the forest on your left, then back to him. You knew he was being the voice of reason. There was a large part of you who knew that the sheriff needed to know about this. âOkay, yeah. You're right,â you relented at last. âWhen I drive you back into town, I'll let him knowââ
âWhat on god's green earth?â Felix mumbled, hopping down the stairs and tilting his head toward the sky.
The chirping rang a few bells in your head. âWhy would the chickadee be alerting if it'sâŚ?â
You and Felix both froze. The realization came at once, your eyes meeting as it didâa mutual agreement passed between you, and the two of you crept back over to your car. You always left a small handgun in the glove compartment; you were licensed to carry, and you had been for over a decade now.
Felix was handed an emergency flare. It wasn't just to signal for help; used a certain way, it could be a weapon on its own.
Together, you both moved toward the back of the cabin, in the direction of the ceaseless chickadee calls. It couldn't have only been the chickadee inside your cabin, you realized. There had to be more out there. And they were seeing something that made them afraid.
As you rounded the structure, you held the pistol out in front of you, your finger steady on the trigger. The sound of your blood rushing thrashed wildly in your ears, your heart palpitating in your chest with every step you took. Whatever was out there, you would get to them before they got to you.
You kept your back to Felix and covered the woods. You weren't able to see his movements, but you could hear him and a mixture of bird calls somewhere behind you.
A beat passed. There was nothing in the forest that you could see. No sudden movements, no rustling branches.
âUh, Yn?â
âYeah?â you called back. When you cleared the woods for any immediate danger, you whirled backward and joined Felix on the back porch.
He stood stock-still over a section of it just beneath the back window sill. At his feet was the source of all the yelling.
There were three birds grounded on the floorboards of your porchâanother chickadee, a robin, and a crowâall an assortment of horribly crooked, broken wings; all alive, but mutilated.
You couldn't decide if this was better⌠or so much worse.
four. don't you ever listen?
âHit me.â
âThe wolfâ watched as one of his eldest brothers fixed him with a strange look. âYou've said weird things before, but this isââ
There was not a single trace of mirth on his face. He opened up his limbs, spreading them away from his middleâan open target. âMake it look bad.â
His brother stood slowly from his seat. âThis is aboutâŚâ
âThe wolfâ nodded. He'd watched you and that damned human boy take those broken birds into your home. It was so easy. It was too easy. And it had been there the whole time. He was almost giddy at the prospect of finally crossing this threshold of your relationship. He'd observed, tested his theory, and was prepared to apply his findings.
âIf you insist,â his brother murmured, head cocking to the side. His eyes narrowed into a predatory sharpness and weighed his options while examining the body before him. What would leave the worst impression?
âThe wolfâ watched as his brother reached over to his desk drawer and pulled out a pair of thick, leather gloves. âWhat are those for?â
His brother's response was to don the gloves before fishing out a pair of pure silver knuckles from deeper within the drawer. The accessories winked in the low lamp light. He grinned. âTo make it last longer.â
âYou should just come stay at my place, Yn. Your aunt and uncle's cabin is so isolatedâitâs not safe at all,â Felix insisted over the phone line. It was something he'd been saying since the two of you left the sheriff's office earlier this evening. As planned, you and Felix went to report your escalating issue to the police, only to be told that because you had rid yourself of the dead bodies (evidence), they couldn't do anything.
Furthermore, the only other witnesses to any of the slayed animal carcasses were conveniently dead.
(Well, screw you then for cleaning up your own cabin. Birds didn't just break their wings en-masse either.)
You rubbed a hand down the side of your face as you sat hunched over your knees on the couch, the phone receiver pressed against your ear. âI would, Lix, trust me. But I don't want them to start showing up at your house, too.â
This evening was not one characterized by the fall of snow. There were only dark clouds shrouding the night sky, casting a rather ominous shadow over the community. You didn't particularly enjoy the way it aligned with everything happening.
âI don't really care about all that, Yn. I'm much more worried about your safety.â He let out a sigh, before saying, âListen, we don't know what this guy's next move is. How would you feel if I came over and just slept on your couch?â
Your eyes went to the empty bedroom your aunt and uncle usually occupied. Now that you thought about it, it wouldn't be terrible to have another person over here with you. Maybe just for the night. âAlright, but you're sleeping in my aunt and uncle's room, and not on the couch.â
He laughed. âIâll take it. In the morning, we'll finish putting out the rest of the traps like we planned. You've activated them, yeah?â
Your head dipped in a small nod. âThey should be activated.â Absentmindedly, you glanced over to the birds you'd set up close to the back window sill. They were close enough to the hearth to feel the warmth of the fire, but far enough to not be burned. Felix had helped you put the birdsâ wings into makeshift slings and casts; they all quieted down rather fast once within the safety of the cabin.
Any time you weren't taking care of the birds had gone toward setting up traps around the perimeter of your house. The tripwire could only warn you when someone was coming. At least traps might buy you more time.
âI remember turning on the front ones after you left, but I'm gonna go check on all of them, too,â you said and stood up from the couch, lifting the landline as you did to keep the phone cord from pulling.
âMaybe you should wait until I get there,â he suggested. âItâs quite dark out tonight.â
There was an impenetrable wall of dark blue-ish black outside your window. The only reason you could even make out the eerie silhouettes of the trees were because of the glow of your house lights. âYeah,â you murmured in agreement. âJust knock when you get here, alright?â
âSure. I'll just be ten or fifteen minutes while I pack some stuff.â
You nodded. âNo problem. I have extra toiletries,â you replied. âThanks again, Lix.â
His voice was warm even through the phone. âNo need to thank me. See you soon!â
After reciprocating the goodbye, you reset the phone onto its dial and returned the entire machine to the couch's end table. The birds warbled and cooed amongst themselves, peering at you curiously through beaded eyes as you made your way over to the back window to stare out into the cold night.
Who knew this place that had filled your childhood for the holidays could become such a nightmare?
You folded your arms over your chest, jamming tongue into cheek. A single shot hunting rifle leaned against the opposite sofa, beneath the window sill. It was only several feet away from the back doorâif you moved fast enough, you could arm yourself before an intruder could reach you.
As long as they came in through that door.
An abrupt shudder rippled down your spine. It was probably a good idea to get ready with a coat on for when Felixâ
You stopped short as the small radio box on the end table lit up.
One of its bulbs had gone from a dull red to a bright maraschino cherry. Every fiber in your body went taut.
That was the tripwire.
Something had just set it off.
You launched yourself over to the other sofa, ducking behind it as you grabbed the rifle. The box of ammo was tucked just behind the leg of the sofa, and you sat up against it to load a bullet into the chamber.
Carefully, you peered over the ledge of the sofa and the window sill, out into the abyss of ice and darkness.
The tripwire wasn't too far out on this side of the house, but you weren't exactly sure which side had been triggered.
You swore you could hear the sound of a voice, muffled through the wooden infrastructure and glass. It carried like a human voice, one that sounded suspiciously like a cry forâ
âHelp! Help, someone please!â
You leapt to your feet. That was someone calling for help. And it was coming in this direction.
You craned your eyesight, pressing your nose against the cold glass in an attempt to better see into the woods.
Lo and behold, you could make out the shape of a man running for his goddamn life. It wasn't just any manâit was Wooyoung.
âOh shit,â you swore, cocking the rifle as the shell casing fluttered onto the ground. You flew for the back door, ripping it open and letting the winter night swarm you.
Wooyoung was running, but his gait was unsteady, one arm wrapped around his middle as one leg went faster than the other. He kept glancing behind him, over his shoulder, running from something.
âWooyoung! Wooyoung, keep running!â you shouted at him, raising the rifle up to prepare to aim at whatever was chasing him.
His wide eyes made contact with yours. âDon't shoot!â
What?
And there, emerging in the swell of darkness behind Wooyoungâas the man tumbled through the bramble of forest to your cabinâwere a pair of eyes. They seemed to glow, even from deep in the confines of the woods, even in the moonless swath of night. Unforgiving, unforgettable.
They pierced into your memory and etched themselves there for eternity.
âYn?â
Wooyoung's voice snapped you from your fearful stupor. He wasn't glancing back at the predator who had stopped chasing him; he was now gazing up at you on your porch, your rifle loose in your grip.
That was when you saw themâa whole lot of them. Wooyoung's once flawless skin was now blooming with dark purple splotches. There was a particularly nasty one beneath his right eye, one that busted his lip open, one swelling at his cheekbone. He still had an arm clutched around his stomach as he limped toward the steps.
âOh my god,â you gasped, hurrying down to meet him. Your head whipped backward to see where the eyes had goneâonly to be met with an empty forest. Your heart would not cease as you scooped Wooyoung's arm over your shoulder and helped him up.
The back door slammed shut behind the two of you, and you deposited him onto the closest couch before locking up the door. Your eyes darted feverishly between the window and Wooyoung; even after you yanked the curtains closed, you couldn't stop your eyes.
The birds were chirping and cawing and making a ruckus. You tried to put the noise to the back of your mind as you rested the rifle up against the sofa again.
âOh my god, are you okay?â you asked Wooyoung, crouching before him as his body sank against the couch cushions. âWhat was that out there? Did that⌠did itâŚ?â No, these injuries were not something an animal could do. These wereâŚ
A lump formed in your throat as you drew your eyes down his form. These were very human.
âIt was just chasing me,â he rasped. He winced, reaching up to gently run a finger over his throat. There was purple there, too. âSmelled my blood. I think I got cut at some point. Gagh.â He tried to sit himself up, only to fall back onto the cushions.
You leaned forward swiftly, gently pushing his shoulder down to keep him there. âDon't move; it's gonna hurt more.â You tucked your bottom lip between your teeth. âI should call the clinic in townââ
âNo!â He stammered to reply to the confused look you shot him. âIâI don't want any trouble. It's already bad enough that I ran onto your property, but if people found out thatâŚâ his voice trailed off, and you thought the wet gleam in his eyes was something wobbly like vulnerability.
âWooyoung,â you said softly, settling yourself next to him on the couch. âWho did this to you?â
Behind you, the birds would not stop screeching.
Wooyoung pressed his lips together, eyes squeezing shut when he remembered his lip was busted. âIt wasâone of my brothers can get really aggressive when he drinks. It was just a bad night.â He was swift to add, peering up at you imploringly, âDon't tell anyone. Please. We're already outsiders around here, and I don't⌠I don't want any trouble.â
Your chest twisted violently at this news. It was a wonder that not many people knew him around town. He'd never seemed hurt before, but you should've known that he would have hidden it well. It would explain why he was so nonchalant about the scrape he got earlier today. The dressing was still there, dirty and unchanged. âI'm so sorry,â you murmured to him in earnest. âIs there anything I can do for you?â
âI just need a place to lay low for the night. I'll be out of your hair by morning, I promise.â
You shook your head. âYou can stay until you're better, Wooyoung. I can't let you go back there in good conscience. Look at what he did to you.â Your eyes swept over his visible injuries again, your mind filling in the gaps. It didn't leave much to the imagination anyway.
He must have had to flee as soon as he could, because he wasn't even wearing an overshirt anymore. No, you definitely couldn't stomach sending him home in the morning.
âYou're really too sweet.â
Your mouth pressed into a sad smile, hand warming his. âIt's the least I can do. I do think that calling the town doctor would be best though. I don't know how to properly handle all of your injuriesââ
His hand on your arm stopped you from moving. âI,â he said, âknow how to treat them. I just need a little help.â
Oh. You wanted to give this guy a hug. âOf course,â you replied, shooting to your feet as you nodded. âI'll grab my medical supplies. You just wait right here.â
Just as you were about to go, you turned on the ball of your foot and went over to the birds in the corner. They turned their beady eyes and loud beaks toward you, hobbling around on unsteady feet. You fixed them with a stern look. âGuys, I need you to relax a little. Whatever's in the forest is gone now,â you said, scooping up the birdsâ makeshift nest. âAt least, I hope.â
You carried the birds out of the main room and left them in your bedroom, where they mercifully quieted down as you hustled to find all of your medical supplies.
Wooyoung was waiting patiently for you when you returned, head perking up when you came back into view.
âOkay, I hope all of these will be enough,â you said to him while rifling through the box. âI can get you an ice pack once we're done here, too.â
He nodded, screwing up his face in an attempt to sit up again. You were quick to lean over and guide his back into an upright position, arms curling around him without putting too much pressure anywhere. âThank you,â he exhaled out. âI think my ribs are just bruised and my ankleâs a little twisted, so we can treat the other areas for now.â
He said it so calmly, it startled you.
âRight,â you stammered. You ripped open an antiseptic wipe and raised it up to his face. âSorry, this is gonna sting like before.â
He didn't react as physically as he had earlier. He was quiet while you workedâhyper-focused even. You had to scoot closer to him on the couch, knees brushing as you did so, hand taking his chin to give you better access.
As you dabbed some ointment over his black eye, you found the little mole beneath his other eye again. His eyes were asymmetrical, you came to realize the longer you were focused solely on him.
âYou have pretty eyes,â you muttered absentmindedly. Your fingers swiped over where his cheekbone was swollen with the ointment. It would hopefully lessen the swelling overnight.
There was a glint in his eyes, and the corners of his lips tilted upward. âThanks,â he chuckled. âI don't usually get compliments on 'em.â
âWell, you should.â
Wooyoung's lips parted as if he was about to respond, but no sound came out. Instead, he sat still and the lift of his lips slipped off his face like melting snow on a mountainside. It was like he'd heard something, sensed something. There was a change in the air that you couldn't pick up on and he wasn't too pleased with it.
Moments later, a frenzied pounding rattled your front door.
You leapt out of your skin, hand jerking back from Wooyoung's split lip. âChrist.â
âYn, it's Felix! Can you get the door? It's freezing out âere!â
Your eyes shot open and you cursed. âHow could I forget?â you whispered to yourself. The memory must have slipped your mind in all of that chaos. You set the used cotton pad on the lid of the box, standing up to get the door. âDon't worry, Wooyoung,â you said to him from over your shoulder, âFelix will be discreet about this. I invited him over earlier because I was⌠I was feeling anxious.â
You didn't hear if Wooyoung answered, but you thought you heard him grunt in acknowledgment.
After a quick peek through the peephole, your fingers deftly undid the locks on the front door. A shivering Felix bumbled in through the doorway, hands jammed into his pockets and face practically hidden in the collar of his jacket. His nose and cheekbones were already bitten red from the cold. As mentioned, he had a bag slung over his shoulder with anything he needed, as well as a hunting rifle that rivaled your own.
âThanks,â he said with one, last violent shiver. âSheesh, it's cold out. It wasn't even this cold earlier; I swear it's like a gust from the Arctic Circle just arrived.â Felix's smile turned into something confused as he lifted his gaze and made eye contact with Wooyoung on the couch. He instinctively took a step backward. âWhat a surpriseâwoah. Are you alright, man?â
You tugged at the collar of Felix's coat. âHere, give me this so I can hang it up.â Your eyes flickered between one man and the other, hesitating. âIt'sâ âyou bit your tongueâ âcomplicated.â
âAh.â Your friend didn't need you to say anything else.
You tucked Felix's coat into the closet by the door before returning to Wooyoung's side. His jaw was clenched, you noticed, and he was eyeing Felix with the resolve of a wounded animalâno, not a wounded animal. It was something far more calculating.
You didn't want to label it. âI know I said I'd give you my aunt and uncle's room, Lix, but I hope you'll understand if I let Wooyoung stay in there tonight.â
Felix nodded readily, lowering himself onto the couch across from you and setting his backpack on the floor by his feet. âYeah, of course,â he said. âI completely understand.â
âI'm not intruding, am I?â were Wooyoung's first words since Felix arrived. He didn't need to physically gesture between you and Felix for you to understand.
âNo, no,â Felix replied with a shake of his head. âYn's been having some issuesâwell, I'm just concerned for her safety, is all. So I was going to at least stay the night.â
Wooyoung's eyes shifted back to you, a crease forming between his brows. âAre you in danger? Why would he be concerned for your safety?â
You licked your lip, sharing a glance with Felix. He only shrugged at you helplessly. This would be your decision, whether you wanted to tell Wooyoung about the troubles plaguing you recently. But there was a feeling prodding at the back of your mind.
It made you stop and think about it for a few moments longer. Maybe it wasn't something you should tell him, at least not tonight.
âIt's nothing for you to worry about,â you reassured him. You stood and collected the medical supplies into their box. âI think you should get some rest now. Let me help you into my aunt and uncle's room.â You inclined your chin down a small hallway to your right. âIt's just down that way.â
Wooyoung gladly let you sling his good arm over your shoulders again, and used you as a crutch to get down the hall. Every small movement was followed by a labored breath or a barely-audible hiss. It became a reminder of everything Wooyoung divulged to you earlier.
You helped him to settle onto the edge of the made-bed.
âI'll grab you the bandages and things so you can dress your ribs and leg,â you told him. You raised your pointer finger as a thought came to you. âOh, and an ice pack or two. Are you sure I can't help you with any of your other injuries?â
Wooyoung smiled up at you, a sheepish, little thing. âYouâve already been so generous, Yn. I'll be okay.â
You nodded, then promised to be quick.
In a few minutes, you had set Wooyoung up with an abundance of supplies so he never had to get out of bed if he didn't have to. The bedside table was covered in an array of bandages, ointment, painkiller pills, and water. There were a couple bags of frozen vegetables there, as well, for him to prop under his ankle and to press against the bruises on his face.
You lingered in the room for a second, uncertain why you felt awkward in your own cabin. He kept his eyes on you most of the time without speaking as much. You chalked it up to his exhaustion.
âWell,â you drawled by the door, hand over the knob, âI'll just be down the hall if you need anythingâand Felix is in the main room, too. I'm sure you'd like some alone time.â
âWait.â He stopped you from closing the door completely. âCould you leave it open?â
You considered him again, tense shoulders softening. âOf course,â you said quietly. âGood night, Wooyoung.â
He shot you a smile. âGood night, Yn.â
You lifted your hand from the door and disappeared down the hallway, out of his sight. As you entered into the main room again, you found Felix lingering by the mantle, his gaze buried far within the burning embers in the hearth.
âRead any prophecies in there?â you murmured in jest, leaning against the opposite side of the mantle from him.
He spared a grin. âVery funny,â he said in his low voice. He cleared his throat, his expression suddenly sobering. âSo what did I miss?â
You pursed your lips and glanced down the hall in the direction of Wooyoung's room. âHe was running from home,â you told him. âHe stepped on my tripwire and I was alerted to it. I thought it could've been something or someone else, but I heard him screaming out for help. When I looked out, I saw that he was being chased by something.â
Felix's brows twisted in concern. âCould you see it?â
âNo.â You paused, then amended, âI saw a pair of eyes. My cabin lights must have reflected off them or something, because they looked like they were glowing.â You shook your head in disbelief. It must have been a trick of the light.
âWell, shit.â
âYeah, no kidding.â
Your friend carded a hand through his blond hair. âWeâre both probably super tired and I don't think it's safe right now to go tend to the traps, even together. I'll just be vigilant.â
You sent him a look. âDon't lose sleep on my account, Felix.â
âThat's why I'm here, isn't it? To make sure nothing happens.â He flashed you a grin that was far too upbeat for a situation like this. âAnd I can't exactly do that if I'm snoozing.â
He had a point, but it didn't mean you had to like it. You'd survived this long; you could survive one more night, right?
âOh, by the way,â Felix piped up while clearing his throat, âwhere are the birds from earlier?â
The birds? âThey're in my room. I had to move them there because they kept on alerting even when Wooyoung and I were safe in the cabin.â
A pensiveness possessed your counterpart's face. âHuh. They were able to sense danger even from all the way in here?â
You gave a half-hearted shrug of your shoulder, but nodded nonetheless. âThey were going berserk. Y'know, they could probably see through the back window,â you said, inclining your chin in that direction. Felix followed your gaze. âHe came from that direction anyway.â
There was a long beat of silence.
Felix's voice seemed to drop off a cliff in volume. âYn, no one lives out there in that direction. It's just forest for miles and miles.â
That thought sank in.
âAre you sure he came from that direction?â
Your eyes flitted down the hall, then back to Felix. âI'm sure,â you whispered. âI know what I saw, and I know what he told me. He was running for his life, Felixâyou saw the damage.â You flung your arm out in the direction of where you'd left Wooyoung; you wouldn't be able to unsee those bruises and the vulnerable sheen in his eyes ever.
He seemed hesitant to agree, but eventually, he bobbed his head. âAlright,â he relented. âIt could make sense if he came from the direction of the road and got lost, then somehow ended up on this side.â
âRight,â you chimed in.
Even if your own brain was actively poking holes in this theory, there was still rationality to it.
Wooyoung was an experienced hunter and likely knew a lot of the woods around his home, but it was dark and he was in distress. Humans weren't known for their ability to move in straight lines, and that wasn't about to change while they were running for their lives.
(Felix's hesitation nestled itself deep in your brain, though. After what you knew about Wooyoung, you wanted to believe him. It could have just been fate that brought him to your door.)
You kept your gaze on the floor, arms folded loosely across your chest. âWhy does this kind of feel like I've been offered another sacrificial lamb?â you thought aloud. It was a morbid kind of musing, but in times like these⌠One of your hands came up to unconsciously rub the nape of your neck. Why were your hairs standing on end?
Felix's mouth was set in a line. âMaybe the pattern you think you see actually is a pattern.â
The hearth was ash and the main room was dark when âthe wolfâ emerged. It had been a few hours since the fire died out and the human boy fell asleep. One did not need supernatural hearing to know that his breathing had fallen into a shallow, steady rhythm characteristic of sleep.
While the entire cabin slept, including you and the birds in your bedroom, âthe wolfâ remained awake.
The silver pill he'd swallowed down earlier had been a nightmare to deal with. As it ran its course through his bloodstream, he'd been practically chained to that bed, sweat matting the hair against his forehead and dripping down to the mattress beneath him.
The room he was given smelled only slightly like you. It was enough to drive him mad, having you only a thin wall away when you were so close to him earlier. He could recall the smell of your skin, the shared space of your intermingling breaths. Your compliment of his eyes rang clear as bells in his ears.
It almost drowned out the deafening rage that accompanied the conversation that you and the human boy shared.
Felix was his name, wasn't it?
Despite âthe wolf'sâ success, it shattered as soon as Felix arrived.
âThe wolfâ could move without disturbing even the dust in the air. It was an important skill for hunting. He loomed over the back of the couch that cradled the sleeping humanâyour so-called guardian.
How pathetic.
He wrestled down the growl trapped in his throat. The root of his problems now manifested in this creature. âThe wolfâ glared down at Felix's sleeping form, watching his nose twitch.
Wolves eat chickens, âthe wolfâ mused lightly to himself.
He gripped onto the backing of the couch to steady himself as a wave of silver-induced nausea swept through him. The silver kept his natural regeneration and strength from kicking in. He knew you weren't yet ready for his true identity and purpose, but once you understood all that he had done for you, it wouldn't be hard to convince you he was your perfect match. That he was your perfect mate.
When the nausea passed, he considered the human beneath him in a slightly new light. Tonight would be the last time Felix would ever come between the two of you.
If there was anything good to come from this situation, it was putting a human in his place.
five. what was never just a wolf
You decided that Wooyoung was to remain at your cabin until he fully recovered. Even after sleeping on what you and Felix discussed, it didn't change your immense sympathy for the man. How could one forget horrible things that have happened, especially when they were so blatant?
The next morning, you fixed up a quick breakfast for the household before getting dressed to head out. Felix was also up-and-at-em, blinking the sleep away as he stood over the coffee pot to pour himself something bitter and dark. He did end up falling asleep last night; you didn't blame him, and all three of you were perfectly fine.
Whether the perpetrator had left something at your door yet though would be another thing to check for.
You announced your arrival to Wooyoung with a light knock on the doorframe.
He was seated upright in bedânot for lack of struggle, of courseâa mug of piping hot coffee cradled in his hands. He peered up at you quietly, and in the morning light, he almost seemed docile. The coloring on his face and neck were still angry purples, but the swelling was nowhere near as bad as it was last night.
âHey,â you greeted him quietly with a small smile.
He reciprocated the expression, nodding his head. âHey. Thanks for the breakfast and for letting me stay.â
âNo worries.â You stepped into the room and looked for where he'd put the box of medical supplies. It was left in the corner of the room closest to you, on the far side of the nightstand. Huh. It was a rather inconvenient place to have it if he couldn't move very well.
You picked it up by the corner and brought it with you to the bed. Settling on the edge, you said to him, âCould I help clean and redress anything before I head out?â
Something flickered across his face. âYou're leaving?â
âOnly for a couple hours,â you assured him. âFelix and I were going to put out some traps, but we'll be as quick as we can, and we'll be close by.â You examined the injuries on his face more now that you were closer. âThe bruises look a bit better,â you said. âThe swelling went down a lot last night, which is good.â
âThey just needed some tender love and care,â he chuckled.
You let out a small laugh. âMore like a good night's sleep,â you mused.
There was something needling at the back of your head. You were forgetting something.
âOh!â You snapped your fingers together as it came back to you. âI have an extra radio to give you. You can use it if you need to get in contact with me.â
With hurried steps, you shot out of the room and down the hall, nearly sliding into Felix as you did so.
This morning when you and Felix finalized your plan, you'd dug out an extra walkie talkie from your aunt and uncle's electronics box. It worked well after you plugged in a fresh pair of batteries. At least with the radio, Wooyoung could still have a way of getting in touch with you if the phone lines were down.
âReady to go yet?â Felix asked just before you turned on your heel.
âYeah! Just a sec.â
You returned to Wooyoung's room with the walkie talkie in hand, and extended the device to him. âHere you go. Have you used one of these before?â
Wooyoung set his coffee down and fiddled with the switches. âOnce or twice.â
âIt's pretty easy once you get the hang of it,â you said. You tapped your finger against the side of the device. âThis is the talk button; hold down on it while you talk, but you have to release it in order to hear the other people on the line. The volume buttons are hereâthen this is the dial to change the frequency, but it should already be in tune with mine and Felix's.â
He glanced up at the latter mention. âIt contacts both of you?â
You nodded, propping your hands on your hips. âWe're all on the same frequency; it's just easier that way.â
âOh,â he replied, attention wandering back to the walkie talkie as he bobbed his head in understanding.
âAre you sure there isn't anything else I can do for you before we go?â
Wooyoung met your eyes once more. âNo, thanks. Stay warm out there.â
âI'll try,â you chuckled. Satisfied, you left Wooyoung to his devices and went to get Felix.
Bundled up in a warm hunter's jacket, scarf and gloves, you led Felix out to the garage where you'd stashed all of the leftover traps that hadn't been put out yet. Your aunt and uncle liked to use the garage as a miniature workshop, fitted with conventional tools and all of their ammo and weaponry. You slung a crossbow and quiver over your shoulder, and attached an ax to your belt. The cabin was in desperate need of firewood.
Felix equipped himself with his hunting rifle and fresh ammo, then grabbed the box of traps to rig. Both of you brought along your respective walkie talkies; the forest was much less intimidating in soft sunlight, and splitting up to get the job done faster was an enticing endeavor.
As you made the trek through the fresh snow toward the back of the house, you lifted your gaze far out in the direction you'd seen the glowing eyes last night. From your position, the only thing that could be seen were miles upon miles of trees.
âHey, lookâ âFelix inclined his chin toward the back porchâ âit's empty.â
You followed his gaze, and sure enough, there were no dead animals, and no injured ones either. You released a breath. âI don't wanna get too excited,â you murmured back in response, âthey've been delivered later in the day before.â
Felix frowned. âOh.â
âI appreciate it though.â You nudged his side with your elbow. Truly, you needed some optimism at this point.
You resumed the walk into the woods, stepping over invisible lines and checking that the traps you'd set last night hadn't been triggered.
They were all untouched, it seemed.
âHe ran from this way,â you said suddenly, raising your arm in alignment with the path you remembered Wooyoung had run. âThere aren't any tracksâit must have snowed sometime last night.â
Felix hummed. âInteresting. There really aren't any properties out that way, Yn, at least that I know of.â
You weren't quite sure what to do with that information. It could've still been as you hypothesized last night: Wooyoung had veered off course due to his own human nature and fear.
At this point in your hike, Felix set down the box of traps to pick out a couple to set up in this area. You were going to take the few left in the box out north; once you'd emptied the box, you could at least use it to collect small pieces of firewood.
âRadio me if you need anything!â you called to him over your shoulder as you departed.
He waved to you with a sunny grin. âAnd if I need to bother you?â
You only laughed in response.
Snow crunched beneath the soles of your heavy boots, leaving footprints in the hills of white. Though it was rather quiet out here, the sound of birds trilling and chirping echoed from nearby. You'd nearly forgotten why you were out rigging traps around your property.
For the first time in weeks, the peace you felt while being in these woods returned.
A sigh flew from your mouth in visible smoke. This situation was taking too much out of you. Any ounce of relaxation seeped out of your body, replacing itself with skittishness and anxiety.
You were waiting for the other shoe to drop.
But it never seemed to come.
Half an hour later, you were crouched by the base of a tree about a mile out from the spot you originated from.
Three down, one to go, you thought to yourself as you straightened from your position. The knees of your pants were cold with a wet spot from the snow, and you brushed any remaining bits off your clothes.
You brushed a bead of sweat from your forehand with the back of your hand. Once you were done with this last one, you could start making your way back in Felix's direction.
Chrr-click!
âShit.â You definitely skipped a heartbeat there. You snatched the walkie talkie from your waistband just as Felix's voice travelled through.
âHey Yn, I just finished my set. Over.â
You lifted the radio to your mouth. âI'm almost done, too. Over.â
âI might head for a walk in the direction you were interested in. I probably won't walk for long, but if I do end up being gone longer, I'll radio you.â
The direction you were interested in? Right, Felix knew that Wooyoung was on this line, too. The organ in your chest gave a kick. Why did this feel treacherous? âCopy that,â you replied. âLet me know if you see anything, Lix. Just be careful. Over.â
The device clicked once more with Felix telling you the same before you were hooking the walkie talkie back into place.
You finished rigging the last trap in a couple minutes, and soon, you were hiking back in the direction of the cabin in search of firewood. There was a part of you that wondered if you should check on Wooyoung. But the other part of you didn't wish to bother him.
He was fine, you assured yourself. He was probably asleepâsleep was good for his injuries, after all. It was best not to disturb him.
The walkie talkie chirped again.
âYn, where are you?â
You felt your brows twist together in confusion as you yanked the device up to your mouth. âHeaded your way. How far out are you? Also, whyââs something wrong? Over.â
Felix's breath came through in light pants as if he had been jogging. You could hear the awe in his voice. âNo, nothing's wrong, per se. I just didn't realise there was a lake out here. Did you know there was a lake out here? Over!â
In your memories somewhere, you fished out the vague scene of a body of water, frozen over. There had been a couple of boating accidents in the spring following your first and only trip out thereâyour parents were far too worried to let your aunt and uncle take you there ever again.
You'd completely forgotten about it.
A skip in your step launched you in that direction with giddy speed. âIt slipped my mind,â you admitted. âBut I think I know where it is. I'll meet you thereâover.â
âRoger that. You know, it's strange.â
âWhat's strange?â
âI get that feeling you described beforeâthat someone's watching you.â You heard him chuckle again. âIt's kind of unââ
The line broke so abruptly, you nearly skidded to a halt.
Your eyes went wide as you smashed the âtalkâ button. âFelix? Felix, do you read me?â
No answer.
âFelix. Felix, are you still there?â
Panic began to rocket up your throat with every passing moment of radio silence. You dropped the box in your hands and took off in the direction of the lake.
You grabbed the axe at your side and ran with it gripped tightly in your hand, letting its heft launch you forward. Blood thundered in your ears as you bolted through the forest. Even with the snow a couple inches deep, you had to keep your feet moving, had to get there fast. Every single bad scenario in your mind projected itself before you like a Nightmare's Greatest Hits marathon.
The crossbow at your back clattered with its weight, and you stripped it off without a single thought. It was one less thing to weigh you down.
You tried the radio again, its chirping an empty sound next to your ragged breaths. âFELIX! Felix, answer me!â
With each silent second that passed, your heart dropped further into your stomach.
At last, the wide, frozen body of the lake appeared through the curtain of trees. It was a solid gray mass lying still in the winter landscape. Just looking at it made a cold chill pinball down your spine.
You skidded down the embankment, eyes widening and noting the other pair of tracks that led to the edge of the lake.
But the blood was something you could not miss.
Scarlet stained the white snow by the frozen shoreline where Felix's footprints ended. Drops of blood trailed out onto the middle of the lake before disappearing completely. Like he'd been snatched straight out of reality.
âFelix!â your voice carried across the lake. Your head swiveled in search of any life. Not even his hunting rifle was visible.
Fear coursed through you, pure and unfiltered.
Where had he gone? There weren't any other footprints here, so what happened?
Your lungs scorched as you cupped your hands around your mouth and screamed, âFELIX!â
Something banged up against the iceâbeneath you.
Your feet jolted into action as a blurry mass hit against the ice again. It was⌠it was a hand.
âOh my god,â you croaked. âOh my god!â
Felix's blond hair fluttered out around his head as his face contorted in an inaudible scream. Bubbles flew from his mouth, hand banging up against the ice. His eyes were wide, movements frenzied.
âFelix, oh fuck,â you cried. You lifted the axe in your hands over your head. âFuckâjust hold on!â
The axe crashed down against the ice.
Hit after hit after hitâseconds passed. Then a minute.
Tears streamed down your face now, your hands sweaty and raw from your axing. Shards of splintered ice flew into the air, some slicing into your flesh to leave angry, bloody gashes in their wake.
But the ice was too thick, your axe far too weak. The dent you'd formed wasn't enough.
Felix's hand continued to bang up against the ice. You kept your own eyes pinned to his pleading expression, features contorted as if he was crying.
You could save him you could save him you could save him YOU COULD SAVE HIMâ
His eyes rolled back.
A cry slipped from your throat, raw and guttural. Adrenaline bullied its way through your system as you brought the axe down like a strike of lightning.
He choked on a lung full of water.
(Fear, you knew. Fear would be the last thing he felt, and you would be the last thing he saw.)
âNo!â Your vision watered as his hand fell away from the ice. âNonononoââ
The axe clattered to the frozen lake, and pain shot up your legs as your knees slammed against the ice beneath you. You pummeled your fist against it in a delusional attempt to keep fighting.
You kept punching, scraping, clawing at it until your knuckles were split open, until your nail beds tore, until your blood spilled over the ice to join the last bits of life Felix left.
The reality of it wasn't just hittingâit slammed into you. Your entire body trembled as you hunched over the pathetic divot you made in the ice.
All of your energy was spent; and yet, in the back of your mind, you could feel that someone else was there.
But it didn't matter.
You couldn't save him.
They said it was a freak accident.
You thought differentâknew different. The last remnants of Felix's voice echoed in your ears like a goddamn church bell; every time you closed your fucking eyes, he was there, banging up against the ice, scared.
He didn't deserve to die scared. He didn't deserve to die.
There was a hole in the ice found on the surface of the frozen lake. His walkie talkie and hunting rifle were abandoned in nearby shrubbery. No one could tell you what really happened.
Your eyes stared into the fire flickering in your hearth, but you weren't truly looking. Anything to not feel the chill of the ice between your fingertips anymore.
What are his parents going to say? you wondered horribly. You wondered if they would blame youâin a way, you hoped they did. You would, too. After all, the whole reason he was remotely close to that lake was because of you.
âCan't sleep again?â
Your entire body jerked.
And then there was Wooyoung.
Something had shifted, not only in you, but in your newest house guest, after Felix's death. You didn't want to confront it, but when it didn't dissipate after the first day, you weren't sure what to think.
His mood was⌠lifted. Easygoing. His ankle healed magically, and he could walk around the house without limping. There was constant energy behind his facial featuresâno solemnity or dread. He didn't mention Felix, never uttered his name.
You liked to believe it was out of respect for you, but deep in your chest, you could feel the vine begin to tighten.
âNo,â you rasped, clearing your throat of the hoarseness trapped there. You brushed your hair out of your face as you turned back to the fire, letting its warmth curl over you.
You felt the couch dip beside you. âI'm sorry to hear that.â
The two of you sat by the crackling fire with nothing to say. Your hands, wrapped up in your own biodegradable bandages, clasped one another in your lap, willing the trembling to go away.
âCan I tell you a story? To help you fall asleep?â
His words drew your attention back to him. They were the first normal sign of human comfort he'd exhibited thus far, but when you looked at him, the firelight reflecting across his face was far from comforting.
You decided it was something about his eyes. Beautiful, but terrifyingly sharp. It wasn't that beautiful things weren't allowed to hurt, but there was a glint in his irises that scraped at your skin.
He took your silence and your staring as a sign. His lips curled into a smile. (When had his busted lip healed over? How had the purple gone to sallow yellow to normal skin so quickly?) âMaybe you should lie down,â he said softly, voice curling into your ear, a cat crooning. His hand cupped the side of your face and gently guided you to lean on his shoulder.
His fingers danced among the strands of small hairs by your ear. They were warm, but rough at the pads. Your body remained stiff as a board, but you let your eyes flutter shut in an attempt to relax.
Wooyoungâs hand continued to pet the side of your head. âMy brothers and I were adopted together by a woman we called our den mother. Every night, without fail, she would tuck us into bed and tell us the origins of a creature called the werewolf.â
Werewolves? How fitting, you thought. After everything that happened, you'd forgotten that this town was infested with rogue wolves.
âThe werewolf was a creature trapped between two formsâman and wolf,â he continued. âUpon the full moon, wolves newly born to their dual forms shed their human skin for the body of a wolf. By morning, they would have no recollection of what transpired.
âThey said that werewolves were bloodthirsty, carnal creatures, ruled by their basest needs and desires. Their teeth were as sharp as knives for a reason. They were more animal than they were man.â His fingers paused on the side of your head, before picking a lock to twirl around his index. âBut what man did not know was that the werewolves were conscious and intelligent; they were imbued with divine purpose.â
Though his storytelling wasn't conventional, you clung onto every word. Your hand gripped the fabric of your pajama pants, eyes remaining shut.
Wooyoung's nose nudged the side of your head. âThough their bodies were a curse, their abilities could be used to find their blessings. The universe tends toward balance, after all.â
âA blessing?â the two words slipped from your lips, barely audible.
But doubtlessly, he heard it. You couldn't see the very wide smile on his face at your interest. âYes, sweet girl, a blessing,â he said, brightened. âEach soul, born to the body of a werewolf, was given one divine mate. A soul that made theirs whole; a soul made exclusively, mutually, for each other.â
The organ occupying your chest gave a hard thump against your bones.
âAnd it was the werewolf's divine duty,â he murmured against your hair, âto find this soulmate and do everything in his power to have her.â
Your heart throttled in its cage and your eyes flew open. All feeling bled from your fingers again; they were as numb as the moment you watched Felix die.
Because of you. He died because of you.
You lifted your head from Wooyoung's shoulder, ignoring the burn of his gaze and the way his fingers curled into your hair like he was going to root you in place if he had to. âIâI think I've actually become quite tired,â you stammered, knees shaking as you stood.
âYnââ
âThanks, Wooyoung.â You flashed him a smile that would convince no one, but it faltered when you caught the look on his face.
Maybe it was the angle of his body positioned against the fire, but a dark shadow had fallen across him. His features were unreadable againâno, just unfeeling. Calculating. You couldn't ignore it this time, nor could you ignore the near-painful spike of fear that pierced your chest.
That glint, that flash of steel in his eyesâyou should have known by now what light reflecting off the edge of a blade looked like.
It took everything in you not to run.
six. there's something out there in here
You didn't sleep a wink. The nerves in your body remained taut and uncomforted, fueled by the presence of your house guest. You waited in your bedroom for the feeble rays of winter sun to lift night from the sky. As soon as the dark sapphire lightened to a shade of frozen ice, you got dressed.
It gave you too much time to think and mull over everything that had happened recently.
The rational side of you couldn't put stock behind Wooyoung's supposed bedtime story. And the rational side of you also knew that one didn't have to be a fucking werewolf to pull off any of the messed up shit you'd endured the past few weeks.
Right?
Nonetheless, the five injured birds you kept harbored away in your room were to be freed todayâfully recovered or not. They needed to get out. You didn't know why the urge suddenly consumed you like wildfire, but you would set them free before something prevented you from doing so.
The birds sat together in their makeshift nest, chirping up at you as you slipped out of your room and into the hallway.
You swiveled your headâleft to rightâmarking no presence of your house guest. The other bedroom door was ajar as it always was, but you knew he didn't need it to be able to get around without a sound.
(You should have known something was wrong when you suddenly felt that the eyes were in your house, too.)
âDon't start yellingâI mean it,â you chided all of your birds as you continued out into the main room. They seemed to still at once, as if sensing that they had left the safe haven of your bedroom. You could relate; a tingling sensation cascaded down your body from your shoulders, down your spine, and curling in your toes.
The main room was dark, but you could smell the distinct char and bitterness of roasted coffee beans from the kitchen.
âSleep well?â asked Wooyoung from where he stood behind the coffee maker, arms crossed over his chest, the corners of his mouth curling upward.
âUhm yeahâyesââ
The birds started their symphony.
You jerked as they each bellowed their individual calls, beady eyes transfixed upon the man who stood in your kitchen, across the room from you. It wasn't a trick of your eyes or ears when you witnessed Wooyoung narrow his gaze and pull his lips back in a snarl.
A dull thunk sounded from the couch's end tableâyou didn't know how you noticed it.
âWhat the hell?â
The tripwire had just been triggered again. There was absolutely no time to fully digest everything that was happening. There were too many things happening.
You could deal with the birds later, you decided. Them and you were all on the same page about your house guest, but there was something out there trying to steal away your attention.
âWait here,â you voiced out instinctively, marching over to grab the rifle leaning against the couch. You didn't wait to hear Wooyoung's response over the sound of the birds.
The back door slammed shut behind you, wooden slabs rattling against its wooden frame. The cold bit your cheeks as you cocked the rifle. Your boots sank into the snow and you stalked along the first rows of trees around the perimeter of your home.
It could be that regular wildlife just happened to set it off this morning. That would be the best case scenario.
Then what's the worst case? you asked yourself, keeping the rifle level with your eye, finger wrapped around the trigger.
You didn't want to admit that Wooyoung's story from last night flashed through your mind. It was only a children's bedtime story; it wasn't real.
It couldn't possibly beâŚ
In the stagnant winter morning, not a soul could be heard. Only your fears and your breath kept you company as you weaved yourself through the trees.
You made sure to check any traps you came across, your heart pounding in your chest with each empty one you found. Whatever it was, it tripped the wire, didn't get trapped, and showed no signs of being around anymore.
(You knew someone like that.)
You had almost made a complete circle around the property when something blurred past in your periphery.
You whirled, muzzle aimed in the direction in question.
Ba-bump, ba-bump, went your heartbeat echoing in your ears. Ba-bump, ba-bump.
The bark of a tree dug into your arm as you held position for another minute, and then another.
Until finally, in the distance, you watched in thinly veiled horror as a shadow emerged from between the trees. It was a large, hulking silhouette, black as a winter's night.
You swore to god it took the shape of a massive wolfâuntil it moved a little. It might have been a wolf. And then it turned its head toward you, and your stomach dropped clear into your chestâdefinitely not a wolf.
It was gone as quickly as it came. One minute, its yellow eyes, a pair of glowing amber stones, pierced your soul in an all too familiar way; the next, it stepped out of sight, as if it had walked between the folds of the trees to disappear.
Your hands trembled as you brought the rifle down. The wolfâthat thingâwas certainly still out there. It was a feeling that wouldn't go away, the heavy, phantom weight of an unwanted gaze. You didn't believe you could kill it or hunt it down.
Your next best option was to head back and perhaps call the sheriff. There was a good chance he wouldn't take you seriously again, but you had to try.
Setting a fast pace, you slung the rifle across your body and made your way back to the cabin. Every so often, you would glance over your shoulder expecting to see even the phantom glow of those eyes.
When you let yourself in, you shucked the rifle off and went straight for the landline on the end table.
The rifle butt thudded as you set it down and replaced it in your hand with the phone.
Your finger stopped while going toward the dial.
Why was it so damn quiet?
Your eyes scanned the room first for Wooyoung. He was (arguably) the easiest to spot. He was nowhere to be found, but your makeshift nest of birds sat on the kitchen counter by an untouched pot of coffee.
You set the phone down and stepped over to the nest. Dread began to seep into your bloodstream, a ship with a leak in its hull, slowly filling with seawater.
Bile lurched up your throat at what you saw.
There was far too much blood everywhere for such small creatures. There was too much meat, tendon, and bone showing; too much for any of it to be considered remotely humane.
They were dead. Every last one of them.
Wooyoung was not in the house. He had left sometime during the night or early morning when you were locked up in your room, âsleeping.â He left without a sound, without a trace.
The only way you knew he'd left was because you looked.
Your heart thundered in your chest and you feared it was so loud, it might start echoing within the silent cabin. You grabbed a handful of clothing from the dresser to throw into your bag. There was little time to loseâyou didn't know when or if Wooyoung would be back, where he had gone. For all you knew, he could have walked down the road and was on his way back now.
You buried the birds in the forest a few minutesâ walk from your back porch. Cleaning the blood from the basket and the wooden table had been misery-inducing. Your hands wouldn't stop shaking.
Youâd cleaned animal remains before, but you had never seen it done like thisâtheir tiny throats removed, like a pair of fingers had torn them out by the vocal cords. Their dark, beady eyes stared up at you as soulless glass.
He'd smiled at you when he walked into the main room. I thought you'd like some peace and quiet, was what he said. There had been something dark reddish-brown staining the bed beneath Wooyoung's fingernails. His disposition had grown even lighter in the absence of all the noise.
That was the moment you decided to run at the first opportunity.
There wasn't much for you to pack, despite the original intent to housesit for a month. Everything could be replaced in due time; nothing was worth lingering here any longer than you needed to.
You yanked the zipper closed and slung the strap over your shoulder.
In the living room, you found the hunting rifle leaning against the couch as it always did. You picked it up and checked the cartridge, scrambling onto the floor to find where you'd discarded that box of ammo all those nights ago.
With ammo, gun, and bag in your possession, you practically launched yourself toward the front door.
Your breath came out in sharp, white puffs in front of your face as the winter air snapped its cold fangs at you. You hobbled through the snow to your car in the driveway, praying to any being watching over you that this would be a smooth drive down the mountain. There hadn't been a terrible amount of snowfall lately; if anything, any powder on the ground was now old, sludgy ice.
But as you reached your car door, you patted down the pockets of your jacket, your pants, your bagâ
âShit,â you muttered, abandoning your bag on the hood and jogging yourself back into the cabin.
Your keys. How could you forget your fucking keys?
You cursed yourself all the way back up the porch steps and while shouldering into the cabin. The keys were not on the counter by the front door, nor were they on the kitchen island, or the end table by the couch, or on your desk in your bedroom.
The longer you went without finding these damn keys, the stronger your heart palpitations became. Ba-bump. Ba-bump.
You could feel your extremities numb and quake as you strapped the gun across your back, so you could rifle through the kitchen drawers with both hands.
The entire drawer of silverware clanked together as your hands jerked with the rest of your body, head whipping up far too fast to be normal. Every fiber of your being stood on edge.
How had he opened the door without so much as a peep?
Wooyoung stood across the main room from you at the back door, one arm crossed over his chest while the other dangled your car keys from his fingers. You didn't notice any visible weapons on him, only the unsettling amount of blood smeared across his cheeks and hands and torso. There was a luxurious fur coat hanging from his shoulders, and while he wore a pair of pants, his chest was bare. Slashes of white scarred the toned lines of his chestâyou didn't want to know what those were from.
âYes, I was actually,â you said, somehow managing to keep the obvious shaking out of your voice. Your hand went straight to your rifle. âCan I please have them? I was going to go into town toââ
âYou don't need to lie to me,â he said. A smile played upon his lips, but it wasn't the good kind. There was something amused about it, as if he found it entertaining that you would even try. âYou can have them back.â
Relief was still out of reach. It couldn't be that easy. âReally?â
Wooyoung shrugged. âSure, sweets. I'd give my mate anything she wanted.â
The terminology made your freeze as dread coiled itself around your ribcage and squeezed.
âAs long as,â he added airily, lifting his other hand to give his bloodied nails a cursory glance over, âyou can tell me you won't be leaving town. I'd really hate to take something as important away as your car, Yn.â
He raised his eyes to meet yours again. âOr any ability to leave at all, in fact.â
You swallowed. âI just want to go home,â you said quietly, hand tightening around the rifle body. You shifted the weapon in front of you, like doing so could shield you from him, could warn him from getting any closer.
âYou are home though.â His lips pursed into a pout, eyebrows creasing together. âWell,â he paused, the innocent expression fading away, ânot yet, at least. We've got a bit of a walk, but we're practically there. I'm ready to go whenever you are.â
What? âI'm notâ âyou bit your tongue before the words could slip out.
âYou're not what?â Wooyoung's head tilted to the side, that predatory gleam returning to his eyes. âDidn't you want to stay here forever? Live out the rest of your life in this idyllic, secluded place? You said you liked it here.â
Those were your words to him when you first met. He had taken them literally.
âAnd you know, I did everything I could to prove I would be a perfect mate for you,â he continued on, pushing off the door and beginning to take slow, stalking steps forward. âWhen you came back for that deer we hunted together, I found you another to eatâand when that man and woman took the body from you, I punished them for stealing what was yours.â
Oh god. The Hawkins'sâŚ
âI apologize for not realizing you liked the smaller animals better, but I fixed it! I paid attention. I got you what you liked.â Wooyoung stood halfway across the living room now, arms spread wide in gesture to his generous actions.
Your lungs weren't working. Something horrid crawled up your throat, bitter and acrid and terrible. âOh my god,â you croaked. A hand came up to cover your mouth. âOh my god, that was you.â
âYes, it was,â he said firmly. âYou understand, don't you? I told you the other night. I even waited until there would be absolutely nothing obstructing our relationship.â
The other night? He meant the story about the werewolves and their supposed, fated soulmates, then. And as for any obstructions⌠Oh, god you were going to be sick.
When you could only continue to stare at him, his expression fell into that blank slate again. âJoong said this might be hard, but I always pegged you as smart, Yn.â
âTell me you didn't do it.â
You knew the answerâit was as certain as if it had been clawed into the ice. If he had done all of that, then there was no question about it. Your voice shook as you said, âTell me you didn't kill him.â
Wooyoung stared back at you for a long second. âThe human boy?â he spat out like it tasted disgusting on his tongue. âI thought we were over this. Why does his death even matter? I did all of it for youââ
A sound expelled from your lungs, something on the verge of tears and a scream. âYou killed him for me?â
âYes! And I would do it again,â he snarled, lip curling over his gums to reveal the point of his canines. âHe kept getting in the wayâhe deserved it, really. You should have heard how pathetic he sounded when I dragged him out onto the ice. I don't understand what you saw in him, Yn.â
âI didn't see him like that,â you exclaimed. Tears watered your vision, lungs seizing in your chest. âHe was trying to protect me from you!â
âAnd some protector he was.â Wooyoung scowled. âIf he couldn't even protect himself, he couldn't possibly protect you. But I can.â
Felix died because he lost. He lost in some sick and twisted game he didn't even know he was playing. That wave of grief from before returned tenfold.
âThe wolfâ eyed you. âNow, it's time for you to take your place where you belong.â
âWith you?â you asked, scoffing at the absurdity still.
âYes.â His eyes narrowed, dropping your keys against the floor. The clattering noise it made nearly had you flinching. He began making long, purposeful strides toward you. âDon't be stubbornââ
You raised the rifle, the cocking mechanism reverberating throughout the cabin. His footsteps faltered. âStay away from me.â
âI really,â he murmured, movements slowing, âdon't think you want to do that.â
âI think I do.â You wrapped your finger around the trigger. âTake one more step and I'll kill you, I swear to fucking god.â
âYn.â His foot inched forward.
You didn't think, only squeezed the trigger. The shock from the shot vibrated through your entire body, energy traveling from finger, to arm, to chest.
His expression turned downward as if he was disappointed that you'd held true to your word.
BANG! You loaded another bullet and fired it. BANG! BANG! BANGâ
He stumbled back from the force before his body collapsed backward onto the wood floor of your living room.
Smoke wafted from the end of the muzzle as you lowered it from your line of sight. Your chest rose and fell rapidly, eyes glued to the body. Something dark, viscous, murky began to seep out from under him where the bullets had flown through: two through the heart, three through the lungs. You'd shot to kill.
You let the butt of the rifle hit the floor as you buried your face in your hands and sucked in about a dozen shuddering breaths.
He was dead.
He had to be dead.
And when you crept over, one small step at a time, his eyes were closed and the bullet holes were unmistakeable.
You pressed your fingers to your mouth and crouched down beside him to pick up your car keys. Don't feel bad, you thought to yourself. He killed Felix. He terrorized you for weeks. He was finally dead.
You stepped around the blood pooling on the ground.
The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end, goosebumps raising over your skin. Why did your nerves still feel as taut as a bowstring?
The danger was over, was it not?
You clenched the car keys in your hand and shifted the rifle across your back.
A low growl resonated through the room.
âI told you not to do that.â
Fear had you turning around.
Instinct wasn't fast enough to load your gun again.
A scream tore out of your throat as the creature pounced at you, and the sight that filled your visionâteeth, jaw, fur, and eyes that glared like warning signsâwas not a wolf.
It was cold, was the first thing you thought when your conscience came to. Your eyes couldn't open yet, and you could only feel the muffled friction of your body sliding over snow.
It was so cold, you were numb to it. The nerves attending to every junction and crevice of your body had been blocked. A ball of cotton had been shoved into your head; you couldn't breathe quite right. It smelled like a pennyâmetallic, heady.
One of your legs was dragging along the ground; the other was lifted up in the air, ankle clutched by an unwavering grip to the point that it was numb just like the rest of your body. But something throbbed, distantly. You couldn't pinpoint where it was, only that it pulsed with its own heartbeat.
When your eyes fluttered open, you squinted up at the blinding white sky above your head. The thin, wiry branches of winter trees passed through your frame of vision every so often; and the whistling⌠there was a soft, muddled whistling somewhere.
âOh, you're awake.â
Your body couldn't even react to that voice. That voice was supposed to be dead.
You didn't have strength in your neck to lift your head and confirm your fears, but he spoke again anyway. âI really didn't want to hurt you, Yn, but you didn't give me much choice. Bullets hurt, y'know?â
He chuckled, a sound that might have been warm if you didn't know him. âI forgot to mention that you can't kill me like that,â he said pleasantly. âIt was cute that you tried. Your aim was perfect.â
Where are you taking me? you wanted to ask, but couldn't. Your voice was trapped away inside your throat, body too numbed and in pain at the same time. The only thing you could do was let out a little whimper.
âIt won't be too long now,â he reassured you. âI think⌠just a little furtherâŚâ
His voice dragged out for a couple moments, then stopped when he physically halted.
Your leg was set down onto the snow with its partner, and your blurry view was captured by the face of a man whom you thought you killed. Your pulse began to race as fear and adrenaline were injected into your veins. He was wearing the coat still, but the bullet holes you were certain you saw were nowhere to be found on his torso.
âI killed a bear for this hide,â said Wooyoung while slipping the fur from his shoulders. He draped it over your body, wrapping you in its entiretyâa glorified corpse. Your body left the ground as he scooped you into his arms, and was pressed to him, his face in your clear view. âI figured you might be cold where we're going. Joong said it would be a great mating gift.â
Where� Your mouth moved, but no sound came out. What had he done to you?
âWhere?â he repeated after reading your lips. âHome, sweet girl. And don't you worryââ
He turned around and showed you the path from which you came from. Another round of bile crept up your throat. The white snow was marred by a streak of crimson red, undoubtedly your blood. There were remnants of footsteps within the dark sludge, but not enough to truly identify them. The bloody river snaked a path through the forest; you couldn't even see the cabin from here.
He leaned down toward you, nose nudging at your cheek with affection. ââtheyâll never find you.â
the end.
Sheriff Lang was at odds with the evidence before him. The evidence told a storyâalbeit, a vague oneâbut none of it made much sense.
According to what he was seeing, you were in the kitchen shooting at something or someone in the living room. You'd succeeded, in fact. The only issue was there was no body, and there were no indications that you or anybody else could have dragged it away. It was simply a puddle of blood.
Rifle shells were scattered over the floor where you had stood. He was slowly trying to piece everything together. None of this pointed to an animal attack; no wild animal was this neat.
(He didn't want to admit that it could've been the other way round: that somebody had been shooting you, and all of that was your life force, seeping into the wooden floors of your relativesâ home. With what you'd told him the other day⌠It wasn't that he didn't believe you or Felix; he just didn't want to risk it.)
A distraught sign fell from his mouth as he rubbed a hand over his face. âDamn it.â
What was he supposed to tell your aunt and uncle? You had already been missing for a couple days. Mr. Ly had been the one to find the pool of blood in your cabin when he came to check up on you. After the tragic death of your friend Felix Lee, he'd been concerned after you failed to answer your phone several times, only to be met with the smell of iron, death, and dread.
It was all just fucked up.
âSheriff Lang!â
The sheriff's body reacted before his own brain could. It was prey instinct, recognizing the sound of a predator.
ExceptâSheriff Lang raised his head and watched as a tall, young man stepped into the cabin. He was, by all definitions, normal; if a wolf in sheep's clothes could be normal. Outwardly, the man was not threatening. He had a smile that was infectious and a soft kind of laugh he employed to force an air of ease into rather uneasy situations.
He'd shown up in town eight months ago, and that was when all of Sheriff Lang's problems had begun.
He called himself Jeong. âMr. Jeong,â Sheriff Lang greeted him slowly, eyes scanning the lanky body of his counterpart to clock anything that could be considered a threat. âThis is an active crime scene, so I'm afraid you'll have to leave.â
How did he even know where to find him?
Mr. Jeong flashed him an easy smile. âNo problem, I only came to say that I'll be leaving soon.â
The sheriff could hardly believe what he was hearing. He couldn't help the twist of disbelief in his eyebrows.
Mr. Jeong laughed. âMy superior is very pleased with your cooperation, Sheriff Lang,â he said, that unnerving smile still plastered on his face. âAnd now that we have what we came for, we will be moving on.â
âMoving on, you say?â What in the world did any of this mean? Eight months ago, he didn't have a pack of rogue wolves terrorizing his town. Eight months ago, there weren't four people dead or missing. Eight months ago⌠What exactly had he and his party come here for?
A nod. âYes. Not to worryâyou won't be seeing me ever again. You and your family will have nothing to fear, as long as you adhere to our agreement. Your town and your life will return to the way it was before.â
âYou mean,â Sheriff Lang deadpanned, âbefore bodies started dropping dead?â
âWell, yes.â Mr. Jeong smiled again and clapped his counterpart on the shoulder. The sheriff had to try hard not to flinch. âGoodbye, Sheriff Lang.â
âSheriff!â A deputy poked his head in through the back door, eyes as wide as the moon. âYou need to come see this.â
âYou should probably follow him,â Mr. Jeong said. He turned on his heel, then walked out of the cabin without another word.
Sheriff Lang heeded the strange man's warnings and went after his deputy, but glanced over his shoulder to ensure Mr. Jeong had really gone away. When he was satisfied, he turned his focus to whatever his officer was calling him about.
They emerged onto the back porch, and the sheriff stopped cold in his tracks.
Well, that seemed to explain some things.
It could only be described as a river of blood. What was once likely pure crimson, was a trail of dark, murky brown-red winding deep into the forest. The path began at the foot of the back porch steps and disappeared between the trees.
Sheriff Lang let out a low swear, and he and his deputy could only follow the trail to find its end.
âThere are partial footprints here,â said the deputy, pointing out divots where the snow hadn't been levelled out. There were other, smaller animal prints occasionally, but they were rare; no animal wanted any part of whatever this was.
He felt his stomach tank.
A body. Only something as large and heavy as a body could have made this trail. The body had been dragged for this long.
The two continued onward, carefully picking their way around each wide bend and narrow curve of this wicked path. Whoever this was had to have lost a lot of blood. There was simply no way they were alive now.
About two miles into the woods, the pair were brought to a halt.
Sheriff Lang bristled. âWhere the hell is the rest of it?â
âIâI don't know,â stammered the deputy.
âWell, we have to find it! They couldn't have just disappeared into thin air.â
They set off in different directions in search of the conclusion they were missing. But as the minutes bled into hours bled into days, it was clear that there was no conclusion.
The bloody trail ended and there were no more footprints in the snow.
a/n: remember to comment + reblog if u enjoyed ! def not my typical fic genre but i hope you enjoyed it nonetheless :)
No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.
Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon, possible violence, illness, death, bullying, ableism, and other elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.
This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary: You are sent in the place of your ailing sister to marry a stranger. (Regency AU)
Character:Â Loki
Note:Â I'm so tireddddd.
As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. Iâm trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me đ
Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I havenât forgotten those!)
Love you all. Take care. đ
You might be keenly aware of your circumstance, off all the flaws in yourself and your surroundings, and of the uncertainty you walk towards. Still, you must confess that Friggaâs best efforts have not all been for not. Despite all fears, all your doubts, you feel closer to adequate than you ever have.Â
You hair is tamed beneath the feather pin and the lace gloves are a lovely addition. You emerge proudly, setting your shoulders and your courage for what comes next. As you reach the top of the stairs, you are struck by the first blows of the battle. Voices. Odin and Loki, just below.Â
You look down briefly. You see them there, waiting. Frigga keeps her arm hooked in yours and urges you down, step by step. Silence rises as only your short heels tap beneath you. You donât glance at your betrothed and see the disapproval in his eyes but you know he is watching.Â
âLadies,â Odin nears as you come to the bottom, âyou both are exquisite.â Â
He kisses Friggaâs hand, then your own. No oneâs ever treated you as such, not so genuinely. Manners and etiquette rule all but you can see through the empty gestures. You dip your head and bend your knees slightly in deference.Â
âMy lawd, thank you,â you say.Â
You might compliment him in turn if you werenât sure heâd take it as some egregious affront. As ever, he is refined down to aa single hair. Your betrothed is handsome from without but inside, you know him to be a snake coiling.Â
âYes, a fine prize for any man,â he keeps hold of your hand and guides you toward his son. You can feel the reluctance roiling off of Lord Laufeyson. He sniffs and offers his arm nonetheless. âIsnât she immaculate, son?âÂ
His response comes through a taut throat, âso she is.âÂ
Odin tuts and backs away. âMy wife, please, itâs been too long since Iâve been able to parade you around, show all of my fortune.âÂ
The elder lord takes his wife by her arm and sweeps toward the doors as two servants pull them open. Lokiâs arm is rigid against you, held so that he touches you as little as possible. You keep your head high and fall into pace with him as he follows his father.Â
Out of courtesy, only that which is expected, never genuine, he assists you into the carriage. You climb up and maneuver to sit on the bench. Odin and Frigga sit closely, content as they wait patiently. Lokiâs weight shifts the compartment as he bows through the door and sits against the wall. Far from you.Â
You turn your attention to the window as your husband-to-be thumps on the roof with his fist. The wheels roll forward and slowly build to a canter. The horsesâ hooves stave off the silence enough for you to maintain composure.Â
You see the manor ahead of you as you approach. Itâs lit up with lanterns hung on tall polls. The gates are open to visitors as the driver follows another carriage up the lane way.Â
As the wheels come to a halt, the door opens from the other side. A footman greets Odin as he emerges first, Frigga right behind him. You wait for Loki to lead the way and he does without hesitation. You step down beside him and peer over at him.Â
He is nothing less than dashing in black and silver. He has that bearing which can never look anything less than stringent. He is unbending but not unbothered. You are aware of his callous spite wrought into a withering silence.Â
He proceeds forward and you follow at his side. He does not offer his arm. You donât expect that much.Â
The foyer of the grand manor house has you in awe. Pristine ivory and draped azure, mother of pearl and silver, velvet and marble. You admire it all as you clasp your hands tightly.Â
âLord Odinson,â a tall woman in elegant lilac silver breezes forward, her skirts fluttering like a butterfly, âit is so pleasant to see you again.âÂ
âLady Kyrington, it is an honour, as ever,â Odin takes her hand and bows his head.Â
âMy lady,â the hostess greet Frigga with a courteous dip of her chin. âAnd your sons?âÂ
âWeâve brought the younger, Iâm afraid the elder is tending to his wife, expecting as she is,â Frigga explains.Â
âAh, Laufeyson,â Lady Kyrington swirls around the esteemed couple, âit is so unlike you to hide away. I hadnât even noticed you there.âÂ
He stiffly unhooks his arm from yours and parts. He greets her with a deep bow, âmy lady, so wonderful to have received your invitation.âÂ
You keep your straight, steeling yourself against his congenial tone. You never received that grace from him. Yet here is this woman with her elegant dark coif and bright blue eyes and she is treated as if she is queen. You hardly expect as much but a bit of humanity wouldnât be unwelcome.Â
âAnd youâve brought your betrothed. I did hear she arrived.â She turns to you with a pretty smile. âOh, what a unique colour youâve chosen. Rustic.âÂ
âThank you, my lady,â you say carefully. âAnd you... look splendid.âÂ
Laufeyson shifts, noting your choice of words. No Rs to underline your defect. Â
âI must offer my condolences,â Kyrington takes your hands in hers; smooth satin brushing over your lace-sheathed fingers. âI heard of your sister. It cannot be easy to brave so much change at once, but let us hope this deep loss gives way to a wonderful prize. I know you and Lord Laufeyson should be most happy at Jade Gardens.âÂ
âThank you vewy much,â you forget yourself and immediately blanch. You let her go and lower your hands to clasp over your bodice. Laufeysonâs sole scuffs and he sighs.Â
âAh...â Kyrington tilts her head coyly, âwonderful. I do hope you mingle and acquaint yourself well. We are all terribly excited to meet Laufeysonâs future wife. Never thought weâd see that day.âÂ
âYes, my lady, again, many thanks,â you hold your chin high.Â
âYes, let us not impinge upon your welcoming the rest of your guests,â Laufeyson gestures you away.Â
He keeps his distance as you step through the grand archway with its carved framed and peer out upon the party. Ladies in fine fabrics sip from stemmed glasses and gentleman toy with monocles and jacket buttons as they speak hushedly of sport or finance. Lord Odin and Lady Frigga have plunged into the fray.Â
You glance over at Laufeyson. He huffs and struts away from you without acknowledgement. Your heart sinks. Here, he can lose you in the masses. He can simply excuse himself that he lost you amid the social furor.Â
You are on your own. You rest your hand upon your reticule, hooked around your wrist. Edithâs pin is nestled there, to bring you her courage. She would not want you to wilt away. She always did mourn when the daffodils she picked began to droop.Â
Your chest racks tightly and you exhale through the wave of terror. You havenât any idea what to do. How should you approach any when it is upon Laufeyson to introduce you. He has abandoned you. You expect it wonât be the last time.Â
You wade into the chamber. You stay near to the wall but not so close that you might appear mousy. You catch an eye over a painted fan and another from beneath a hat brim. You search for any hint of your escort. He has expertly hidden himself amid the revelry.Â
âWhere ever did you find this shade of silk?â A tweet snares you in. âAnd the overlay, how keen.âÂ
You pause and face the speaker. A blond woman, willowy and decked in several jeweled necklaces. Her portrait neckline frames her bony shoulders as golden ringlets drape down her back.Â
âThank you, my lady,â you turn to her delicately, âmy motha acquawed it in Hausten.âÂ
Her lashes flick as the other women at her shoulders share a look. You steel yourself for mockery. For so long as youâve lived, youâve received the same, but not from so many. There are dozens here prepared to degrade you. Â
Be brave, for EdithÂ
âAh, and you hale from Hausten? Iâve never heard that accent though Iâve travelled there,â she challenges.Â
âMy fatha owns the vineyard in Kywi.âÂ
âKywi?â She echoes and the other women titter behind their fans.Â
âKy-wi--â you try to force out the proper enunciation, then attempt to spell it. âK-y-aw-i.â Â
âHm,â she sniffs thoughtfully and peeks between the other women and shrugs.Â
âI know Kyri,â a bold timbre intones as a man steps up. âIâve been. The grapes there are like plums.âÂ
âYes, my lawd, that is it,â you affirm.Â
âIâve not been in some time but I do have wine imported,â he drawls. âLady Gertrude, your father is from the other side of Hausten, is he not?âÂ
âSouth of it,â the blonde curls her lip at you.Â
âSouth, ah, it might explain the difference in etiquette,â he puts his attention to you, âtypically we are kind to newcomers.âÂ
âI was not uncouth,â Lady Gertrude insists. âI couldn't understand her cadence.âÂ
âIt was clear enough to me,â he girds. âForgive me, lady, I expound propriety and Iâve not yet introduced myself. Lord Heimdall, my estate is in Bifrost. Have you heard of it?âÂ
âUgh,â Lady Gertrude sends him a withering look which is unheeded. He bows his head and takes your hand in that courteous way gentlemen do and he pecks your knuckles. She stomps away with the other women in tow.Â
âDonât mind those sparrows,â Lord Heimdall says as he stands straight. He is near as tall as Laufeyson but broader in the shoulders. And his eyes, they are a peculiar shade of brown, so light they seem golden. âI thought to rescue you from their sharp tongues. They have a reputation for gossip.âÂ
âOh, thank you, my lawd,â you squeeze your reticule anxiously. âIt is kind.â You sway and look around. âYou neednât wemain. Iâm saw you have otha social obligations.âÂ
âYes, to socialize, as I am doing in this moment,â he insists. âYou are Lord Laufeysonâs engaged, from Kyri. Your banns were read on Sunday.âÂ
âYes, my lawd.â You avert your eyes, too embarrassed to look at him. âTwuly, I neednât pity.âÂ
âPity? Why?âÂ
âMy lawd, do not toy with me. I can haw myself.âÂ
âYour words? No, they shouldnât bother me. You are eloquently spoken, my lady.âÂ
Your eyes round as the flick to him. You consider him, trying to untie any thread of derision in his voice.Â
âYou are suspicious? I suspect others are not so accepting, but donât let it fetter you. No matter who you are, they will find a reason to whisper,â he shrugs. âIâve not yet seen your fiance. Is he not near?âÂ
You hold back a wince at the mention of Laufeyson. You swivel your head but do not see him amid the sea of caps and coifs. You muster a smile.Â
âI suppose he is on the hunt faw a wefweshment,â you appease.Â
âIs that so? I think, should I have a lady avowed to wed me, I might keep her close but I never did presume that all gentlemen hold the same priorities as I,â he harrumphs. âPerhaps, in claiming a refreshment for myself, I would see that she had one as well.âÂ
He gazes around the room and strides away confidently. He plucks two glasses from a servantsâ tray with some murmured nicety. He comes back to you and offers you one. There is a dried orange in the wine and a sprig of mint. You thank him.Â
âYes, and I know you likely tire of the reminder, but I must issue my condolences. I hear Lady Edith,was a very kind soul. I would see her sister is not much different.âÂ
Your eyes sting and you take a sip from the crystal. You nod and dab your lips with your knuckles.Â
âShe was... the best sista I couldâve asked faw.âÂ
âYou must miss her terribly,â he nods.Â
You stare at him, still wary. Yet, you find nothing but assurance in his stance, his gaze, his tone. He is entirely focused on you. He is the first person, aside from Edith, to ever pay heed to you. That does not treat you as some pest to be tolerated and nothing more.Â
âI do,â you confess, âevewy second.â You take a breath as you tamp down your grief.Â
âWhile it might feel a curse to mourn so deeply, it is truly a blessing for it is only that we had someone to love so succinctly that we feel their absence to our bones,â he says. âSo you should not evade that pain, my lady, but embrace it as you would your sister should she were here. That hurt is her memory, it is her being, to remind you always that she remains close.âÂ
Your lashes flick and you gently touch the brim of your eyes, âmy lawd.âÂ
âForgive me for drawing it to the surface,â he says. âI would say let us talk of happy things but I see she is those happy things.âÂ
You press your lips together and dip your head, âshe is, and I thank you, my lawd, for weminding me of that.âÂ
Warnings: This will include dark elements such as noncon, power imbalance, age gap, squirting, and depression. Please do not read if these elements or any dark elements make you uncomfortable.
Character: August Walker, Nick Fowler
Summary: You live a burdensome life but canât seem to lift the weight off your shoulders. When your mother brings a coworker home, you find it even harder to bear.
Note:Â I hope I donât need to tag Auggy as mean bc thatâs what weâre getting.
Please reblog if you enjoy and leave some feedback! Muah đ
Nickâs place is nice. You canât help but marvel at the sleek design. Itâs like one of those movies where everything is just too perfect to be real. Surely no one can actually live in a place like this and it still be so sparkling and white.
He welcomes you in and you leave your shoes by the door. You nervously clutch your phone as he puts his hand on your lower back and guides you further. He smells nice. Fresh.
âJust in here, baby,â he coaxes as he turns you through a wide doorway.
Inside, thereâs a large TV mounted on the wall. Itâs gigantic! And the sectional couch has several matching square ottomans that make it feel like a bed. On the table between the footrests are several bowls. Chips, sweets, salsa, and all sorts of goodies. At the centre, thereâs two tall stemmed glasses and a bottle of wine.
âI wanted to keep things simple.â He explains. âAll I need is you, you know?â He pets along the top of your skirt. âAs much as Iâd love to show a pretty thing like you off, Iâm selfish, too.â
âOh, uh⌠itâs⌠nice.â
âPromise, sweetie, Iâll take you to dinner next time. Somewhere fancy. Oh, maybe I can take you out to pick out something special to wear.â His hand slips around your hip and he urges you further into the room. âI just wanna hold you close.â
âUh huh,â you murmur.
He takes you to the couch and turns to face you. He brings his hands to your shoulders and guides you onto the couch. Youâre uncomfortable as the dampness left over from Walkerâs long-distance torture lingers in your panties. He purrs and drags his hands up your neck, tickling your chin.
âGorgeous. I⌠this is bad, baby. I know youâre so young and sweet. AndâŚâ he draws his hands away and hums. âYour mother would be so mad if she knew. I bet sheâd fire me so⌠you wonât tell on me, will you?â
You shake your head. âNo, sir. Er, Nick.â
âNo, and thereâs no reason, cause all I wanna do is treat you right,â he coaxes. âShall we start with wine? Help you relax?â He brushes his knuckles along your cheek. âYou just gotta take it easy. Weâre just gonna watch a movie is all. Is that so scary?â
You gulp. âNo, Nick. Um, thank you. Iâm not⌠Iâm sorry, donât mean to be ungrateful.â
You flutter your lashes and he grins softly. âAh, baby, donât be sorry. Donât be sad either. You just be you.â
He turns and grabs the wine bottle. You watch his large hands as he grips the neck and pops the cork with his thumb. You jump at the noise. He grabs a glass and pours carefully.
âYou know, donât worry about the car seat. Iâm not mad. Actually, I gotta be flattered. Youâre that excited for me, huh?â
He offers the glass. You put your phone by your thigh and take it, then thank him. You look away, embarrassed. More so, youâre scared he might look at you and see the truth. It wasnât really because of him.
You hold the glass awkwardly as he fills another. He puts the bottle down and looks at you. He clinks his flute against yours. You wince and stare at the wine
He raises his and pauses. âYou donât like prosecco?â
You look up at him. âNever tried it. I donât⌠uh, drink.â
âReally? Well, sweet thing like you, I shouldâve guessed.â He winks.
You lower your eyes and bring the glass closer. You taste it. Itâs bubbly. It doesnât taste awful but you probably wouldnât choose to drink it yourself.
âMm, thanks.â You say as you nearly choke on a bubble.
He chuckles softly. âItâs an acquired taste.â
He sets his glass down and takes off his jacket. He drapes it over the far end of the couch and comes back to sit beside you. He grabs the slender remote and turns on the television.
âAny suggestions?â He asks.
You turn the glass by its stem and shake your head. âUh no⌠I donât really know⌠whatâs new.â
âNo? Well, itâs all the same, isnât it?â
You shrug, âyeah, I guess.â
You drink nervously, not sure what else to do. He flicks through the menu. All the titles are as good as gibberish. You donât know which is a comedy or action or drama.
âI hear this oneâs good,â he puts the remote down and looks around. âOne sec, baby.â
He gets up and circles around the couch. You crane to watch him slide down a switch on the wall. The lights dim.
âBetter,â he says as he comes back to you.
He leans back and stretches his arm across the couch. His knee hits yours and you slurp down another gulp. He chuckles and reaches to tickle between your shoulder blades.
âThirsty?â He purrs. âYouâre welcome to help yourself to more. Or some snacks.â
You stare at the glass then put it down. âIâm okay. I⌠Iâm sorry.â
âWhatâre you sorry for, sweetie?â
âNothing, I didnât mean to drink so fast.â
âDonât mind. I can take care of you,â he drawls.
You nod and cross your arms. He continues to rub your back as you stare at the screen. You donât know what else to do. Just get through the movie and you can go home⌠right?
You shiver and he shifts closer. He traces along your side and across your lower back. You blur your vision as you squeeze your arms.Â
This is all your fault. You let yourself get into these situations. Whether your mom finds out, or Walker, and you get in trouble, that will be your fault too. Because youâre a loser and you canât do anything right.
âYou alright, baby?â Nick asks. âWhy donât you sit back and relax?â
You slowly lean back. Youâre uncomfortable. You clear your vision and try to keep track of whatâs happening on screen. He nestles closer, his arm curling behind your shoulders. His other hand rests on your thigh.
âThis is nice.â He says. âI like this. You know, youâre just what I needed, baby. A nice girl. Iâm not used to those.â
You stare at the screen. You clasp your hands together tightly. You try to let yourself relax but you just canât. Itâs not just Nick, itâs Agent Walker. He canât ever know about this but you donât know if you can lie to him. You donât doubt heâll ask about why you didnât answer him faster.
Nickâs hand crawls up your arm and along your shoulder. He shifts behind you. You blink as you realise whatâs happening on screen. The actors are clinging to each other, kissing, beneath blankets, insinuating much more than just what you can see.
He tickles up your neck and you shiver. He angles to you and you wilt beneath the heat of his gaze. Your throat locks up as his fingertips press into your neck. He purrs.
âYouâre so beautiful, you know that?â He hums.
âThank you,â you eke out.
âI mean it. You are,â he insists. âYou donât think so?â
âUm. I⌠didnât think about it?â
âNo? You never looked in the mirror and saw the pretty girl looking back?â
You shrug. He runs his fingers up under your chin and lifts your head. He makes you look at him. He leans in and your heart pounds. Oh, heâs going toâ
He retracts his touch and reaches past you. âHave another drink. You need it.â
He takes the bottle and brings it over to you. You look at the long neck. He hovers it in front of your lips.
âGo on, have some more,â he urges.
âOh, butâŚâ
âDonât wanna waste it, do you?â He argues.
You put your lips on the glass and he tilts it. You choke it down, not wanting to spill and put your hand under your chin to catch the stray drops. He pulls it away and swigs it himself. He puts it back down, crowding you.
You feel something hard under your leg. You forgot to move your phone. You donât want to draw attention to it. You shrink away from him as he tickles your arm.
âCome on,â he hooks his arm around you and his other under your legs. âYou said we could snuggle.â
You never said so. He did, but you didnât dispute it. He brings you up over his lap and leans back with you against him. He slips his hand over your leg and rubs above your knee. He bows to kiss your shoulder.
You tremble and his lips creep up toward your neck. You twist your hand around your wrist nervously. His hand wanders between your knees and you clamp them together.
He snickers, âyou think Iâm that kinda guy?â
You shudder. âI donât⌠I onlyâŚâ
âYouâre shy, I got it. Thatâs cool.â He nuzzles your neck and presses his lips to your skin. âI just wanna kiss you, is that so bad?â
âI guess⌠not,â you squirm.
âNo, itâs not, sweetie,â he nips you softly. âItâs real good. Real good.â
Warnings: This will include dark elements such as noncon, power imbalance, age gap, and depression. Please do not read if these elements or any dark elements make you uncomfortable.
Character: August Walker
Summary: You live a burdensome life but can't seem to lift the weight off your shoulders. When your mother brings a coworker home, you find it even harder to bear.
Note: I hope I don't need to tag Auggy as mean bc that's what we're getting.
Please reblog if you enjoy and leave some feedback! Muah đ
You never claimed to know what youâre doing. You never really do. Youâve never had a direction, never any passion. Nothing but uncertainty.
You envy those who have something to work towards. Even just those who work. Maybe they arenât doing anything particularly grand, but they have a purpose. They are needed.
Itâs that needling fear that keeps you awake. Many say itâs laziness. It could be both. You donât sleep, knowing who you are, seeing no way out, so you just donât have the energy to try. And when you do try, nothing happens. Youâre unnoticed. Forgotten.
Except when you want to be. You pour a bowl of cereal, the avalanche of dried flakes and oats raucous in the silence of the house. You look at the sink and sigh. You promised your mom you would at least get to those. LaterâŚ
You stand at the counter and eat. You wipe your chin as milk dribbles down and lands on your sweatshirt. Thereâs also a stain from the canned pasta you had last night. Is that the mustard from two days ago?
Youâre a mess. You donât finish the bowl. Your stomach ties up in shame and self-hatred. You dump the leftovers in the toilet and flush it down. You stop to mask the dingy sweatshirt in your momâs perfume. Not much better.
You go back out and set your bowl by the sink. Dishes. You promised. You stand and stare.
Itâs not that much, is it? Not an impossible task. Youâre an adult. You do nothing else. You can do this little thing.
You sigh and pull up your sleeves. You turn on the faucet and hold your hand under until the temperature rises. You put the stopper in and place the dishes in the deep basin. You squirt in soap and watch the bubbles rise.
Your anxiety builds with the water level. Itâs so stupid to feel this way over doing dishes. Just get it done with. You grab the sponge and set to work.
Itâs your own mess, isnât it? Your mom works late, eats in her car. Almost like sheâs avoiding you. You wouldnât blame her.
Her voice jars you as if your thoughts alone brought her into existence. Her keys jingle in the front door. You turn to check the time. Itâs after six? You slept⌠all day? You didnât realise when you dragged yourself out.
You cringe and focus on the dishes. Sheâll be happy to see you working on them, right? You try not to make too much noise as you continues to yap. Work stuff. She must be on the phone.
You grab the hose and spray a pan. The water splashes back at you. You let go of the trigger and put the hose back. You let the pan sink back into the suds and turn to grab the dishtowel to dry your face.
âIt shouldnât take very long, I think. If Carlign would just listen, we wouldnâtââ Your mother saunters through the door and stops as she sees you. You keep the towel up, hiding half your face as her brows arch. âOh.â
Your eyes round. Sheâs not alone. You fidget as you see a man behind her, but not all of him. His shoulder, his dark hairline.
âHi, mom,â you lower the towel. âIâm just⌠cleaning.â
âMarvelous,â she says dryly, her lined lips drawing taut. âIâve some work to finish here.â
âOh, um, I can be quiet.â You assure her. âSorry.â
âYes, weâll be in the dining room.â She intones flatly. âWalker.â
She sweeps through to the dining room. You take a step back as the large man trails her. Heâs tall and burly and sports a thick line of hair over his lips. His blue eyes flick in your direction and narrow. You can tell by his lanyard he works with her at HQ.
You quickly turn and hide your nerves in the dishwater. You set the towel next to the sink and go back to scrubbing. You didnât expect company. That must be obvious to everyone.
You set the last plate in the rack and carefully dry each dish. You set them away with precision, sure not to clink too loudly. When youâre done, you wipe up the water splashed on the counter and do a once over just to be sure.
You hang the towel and look around. Should you do more? Maybe a sweep? Oh, you donât know. You should just go and hide. Your mother doesnât need you making an impression on her coworker.
âAhem,â the man clears his throat before you can flee. You glance over at him as he fills the doorframe. You blanch.
âOh, hi⌠sir?â You murmur.
âMaureen wants wine,â he says tersely. You stare at him. You donât touch the alcohol.
You nod and point to the rack against the wall. The bottom has little cubbies for each bottle, sorted by colour and region, and the upper shelves hold the crystal. He clucks.
You wait. He doesnât move. You wring your hands and go to the rack. You glance at him but not for long. His gaze makes you want to shrink into nothing.
âDid she say what kind?â You asks.
âYouâd know better than me what she likes.â He drawls. âJust bring it out to us. Weâre busy.â
He spins and marches away. You wonder how much he knows. You canât help but want to cry as you think about it. Does your mom tell everyone how youâre such a loser?
You grab a bottle and a glass and take it into the dining room. You tiptoe in as the man leans in to see your momâs iPad screen. She speaks lowly as she points to it.
You set the wine and glass on her other side. She tilts her head and sighs.
âBring another glass, girl.â She hisses.
âOh, sorryââ
She shoots you a pointed look and you wince. You back up and scurry away. You retrieve a second glass and bring it out. You donât say a word as you set it down. You realise then, it doesnât match. Your mom shoos you away with a wave.
As you retreat, your eyes meet those of the man. He looks agitated. Youâre sure he doesnât relish working overtime. Or dealing with you.
You leave and shuffle through the kitchen without stopping. It must be a surprise. Your mom is so driven, so established, and so good at what she does. And youâre none of those things. Youâre just a mess of a person and she has little tolerance for disorder.
âŞď¸
You keep the volume on your laptop low. Youâre not really paying attention as you can hear the drone of your mom and that man as they speak. Long spates of silence then some dialogue. You canât parse out their words but you donât want to either.
It always puts you on edge to have someone else in the house. As much as you avoid leaving your room and getting in the way, it still feels like an intrusion. You just canât settle.
You yawn. Itâs after nine and youâre tired already. Last night, you stayed up till three or so. It wasnât on purpose.
You leave your laptop on your bed. You pace around restlessly. You donât know why you do this. Wallow in your self-pity and do nothing.
Not nothing. Youâve been applying to jobs. You just donât hear back or when you do, youâre not good enough. Well, you wouldnât hire you either. Your resume is recycling at best.
Heâs still there. You just want him to go. Itâs your momâs house, she invited him, itâs not your choice.
You stand at the door and listen. You slowly ease it back on the hinges and step into the hallway. You sneak down to the bathroom and lock yourself in.
You could try to sleep. Youâll give yourself another headache but you almost prefer it to consciousness. You flush then wash your hands. You look at your reflection. Not for long.
Chapped lips, oily skin; itâs just all wrong.
You dry your hands and open the door. As you emerge, a hand slaps onto the doorframe. You squeak and hit the other side of the frame with your back. That man stands glaring at you.
âTook your time.â He snarls.
âI⌠sorry. I didnât⌠did you knock?â You fold your hands over your chest. You donât have a bra on. Even in the billowy shirt, youâre all too aware.
He grunts and doesnât answer. You sidle away from the door frame. He scowls. You donât mention thereâs a second bathroom. It wouldnât be very polite.
You drag your feet away, peeking back several times as you feel his gaze. He watches with that grizzly glare. You stumble just outside your room and hide behind the door. You snap it a bit harder than you mean to.
You sit on the edge of the bed. The laptop continues to babble with the show youâre not paying attention to. You hang your head, cradling it as your heart races.
You know you need to do something, anything to get yourself out of this. You just canât figure that out. It all feels like wasted effort, so why even try?
