As we moved deeper into the glen, the forest swallowed us whole. Mist curled from the undergrowth like slithering spirits seeking solace in the living. I would have bolted if I hadn't seen the smoke machine earlier. Even so, my pulse quickened with the primal instinct to flee.
Ahead, a monastery emerged from the veil of fog. Its stone-carved facade was bathed in shimmering light that twinkled like starlight.
I stretched out a hand, fingertips grazing the air as if I could catch the glittering fragments drifting around us. How did they manage this effect? Whoever was tasked with cleaning up all this glitter would surely be irate.
A scent spiralled through the air, a strange mix of floral notes I couldn't place and something ancient. Whatever it was, it invoked memories I couldn't quite place.
At the temple gate, I sensed an unwelcoming aura. A figure cloaked in heavy robes stood motionless, its face hidden beneath a deep hood. Even from a distance, the weight of their gaze pressed against me. Around them, silhouettes scurried, darting in and out of the temple like ants under a magnifying glass, as though they feared our arrival.
"Excuse me?" I called out, recognizing one of the performers from another part of the palace. The sixteenth century sounding scholar. My voice drifted into the mist, swallowed without a response.
Behind me, the man on horseback shifted, his frame filled with exhaustion. He slid from the saddle, landing heavily, his head bowed. "You shouldn't have come," he said.
"And you shouldn't have let those lunatics—" My words trailed off as his gaze met mine. The reflection of torchlight flashed unnaturally in his eyes. A shiver crawled down my spine.
"What has been set in motion cannot be undone without cost. You must follow me."
I took a cautious step back, ready to bolt in an instant if he touched me. "I'm just an observer. Not really cut out for ... whatever this is." My gaze flicked to the path behind us, calculating the quickest escape route.
His expression hardened. "You misunderstand."
"Oh no, I think I understand perfectly. This isn't my fight. I-" My heel scraped against the stones, one step away from sprinting.
"Run, and you'll die."
His words struck like a hammer on cold iron. I recalled the scars crisscrossing his arms and the dried blood staining his clothes. If he survived whatever had left those marks, who or what could frighten him now?
"Um... not to ruin the mood, but aren't we a bit off script?" I tried to laugh, though it came out strangled and thin.
He frowned. "Script? I know not this word."
My uneasy attempt at laughter faded. This actor was either method-acting to an insane degree or something else entirely. The latter worried me more than I cared to admit.
Another figure beckoned wordlessly from the temple's shadow, gliding like a ghost across a threshold.
"You must do as they say. Dress in what they provide. Speak little. We'll be separated. Pay attention to their robes that should silence your foolishness," his words fell harsh.
Mouth dry, eyes wide, I followed the feminine figure, further unsettled by the finality in my companion's tone. The underlying meaning of his words shook me, and for once, I listened.
My gaze wandered to the outline of being shrouded in robes that led me. The whispers of silk parting as they walked meditatively created a deep sense of calm, reminding me of the serving staff in my great-grandmother's home.
Until I looked more carefully, as my injured companion instructed, I stifled a scream. The garment was stitched with the fine gauze of a thousand tortured souls. In what appeared a twinkling of an eye, the serenity of the figure melted away to a spectre of impossibility. A d-d-dragon!? I clapped my hand over my mouth, a shiver coursing through me.
"What have I gotten myself into?" I whispered to myself.
The figure led me through a maze of corridors, each room more intricate than the next, until we came to an antechamber wreathed in soft golden light.
A garden of strange, blooming plants enclosed a large pool, its waters reflecting the chamber like a mirror.
The attendant broke the long silence. "Wanghu Mama, please disrobe and enter the cleansing bath."
I blinked. "Excuse me, what now?" What in the actual f- I stopped myself short. What was it about this place that made me want to curse a blue streak?
The woman didn't repeat herself. She stood there, waiting, her gaze impassive.
The insistent voice of the wounded man rose from memory. "Do as they say. Speak little."
I swallowed hard, tugging at the tight collar of my hanbok.
I wish they wouldn't stare at me so. Tears pricked at the edge of my eyes as I peeled away the layers, each motion feeling like I was stripping away my pride.
Down to my underthings, I hesitated, glaring suspiciously at the shadows. For the love of everything holy, let no one be filming this.
"Bare yourself completely," a woman's voice commanded.
I crossed my arms tightly over my chest, hissing under my breath as I slid the last garment away. The last bit that had stood between me and my dignity.
"Hurry, woman," she snapped. Her eyes flicked to the mist, urgency sharpening her tone.
Teeth clenched, I descended the steps of the mirror-like pool, its warmth enveloping me in deceptive comfort. Ripples spread across the surface, distorting my reflection as I submerged. One thought burned brighter than the rest.
Soo-yeon, I swear I'm going to strangle you.