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Kwan paled, horrified as Gumiho’s claw swiped down. He called for Hisa, blinded in the instant that his soul responded. It didn’t put him at ease. Not in seeing Hisa in a new danger. A Juneun soul wasn’t something a mortal body could contain. He struggled to stand, using Bird Song to carry his weight. He had to get to her. It was killing her—his soul, was killing her!
He caught her, acting desperately. Even in retrieving his soul, she fell limp, fast growing cold. Staring, he looked for any sign that she wasn’t...
Fury churned in his gut, a scowl consuming his face. Kwan turned to Gumiho, the tiger dissipating and leaving her in a pant.
“How far you’ve fallen,” mocked Gumiho. “All this, and for what? A human?”
He laid Hisa down, gentle, a silent promise.
“This was your champion?” continued Gumiho. “And you gave her your heart. How precious.”
Kwan stood, wordless, taking Bird Song back in hand, and walked towards her. He ignored the battle between his brothers and Urekkato, keeping his sight fixed on his own enemy. The one who threatened the life of the woman he loved.
“Did you swear yourself to her as well? The same as you did to me?” a cold laugh left her gleaming teeth.
Now whole, his injuries mended effortlessly. His muscles thickened, tensed, and his pace picked up.
Gumiho growled, bluffing confidence.
Kwan charged, sword singing a sharp war cry as it cut the air. Leaping with abandon, he deflected her swipe, assuming his primal form to match her ferocity—claw for claw. He pressed his weight, meeting her every counter. A scratch to his face. A bite to her arm. Teeth to his cheek. Paw crushing down on her neck.
She slipped from him, reverting to her feminine form to better maneuver past his larger body. He matched her, steel against steel.
“You’re awfully worked up over a mortal,” taunted Gumiho. “A lover? Even by your standards, it’s ridiculous.”
Kwan said nothing, grounding his measure. A singular goal.
She vanished in a shadow, forcing him to pause and search her out. And ambush from behind, stopped by Seong’s blade. Glancing, Kwan caught sight of Yuz carrying Hisa to safety, Kwang with Feng.
Outraged, Gumiho gave ground, creating distance and casting a spell to send spears of ice flying. Kwan swung a wide arc with Bird Song, shattering the creations as its metal sang out. A second glance, fretting over the safety of his family, he noted his father’s presence, carrying off an unconscious Beom as he directed Juro, shouldering a limp Urekkato.
Calls, from one family member to the other, unintelligible to Kwan’s ears.
A mist blanketed the area, bringing a sickly glow around the flames defiantly burning through it. Kwan stole Seong’s attention, bidding he protect their family and the prince.
Seong didn’t protest, heeding his brother’s concern. “The Sho and Samjos have her legion held off.”
“Keep Syaoran and Hisa safe,” said Kwan, steadfast and final as he raised his sword.
Seong squared his jaw, relenting soon after. “I’ll look after them.”
With that, Kwan dashed into the haze.
Quiet.
The sound of his breath and the war drum of his heart breaking the stillness.
Fox fire sprang forth. He shielded with a spell, holding his hand in a steady gesture. Renewed silence. Assassin’s needles flew at him, deflected by the swing of his blade. Noiselessness followed. Kwan centered himself, blade straight, ready.
She charged, again in her fox form. He countered with a spell of lightning. An illusion. Swift, he held Bird Song to parry behind him. The scratch of steel echoed.
“You loved me too,” said Gumiho, frustrated and falling back into the mists. “And you didn’t fight for me.”
“I loved who I thought you were,” said Kwan, collected. His eyes peered through the wisps of water, seeking out shadows.
“It was always going to be this way...” said Gumiho.
Kwan didn’t answer.
“Fate brought us together. And gods drove us apart.”
“Hatred drove us apart,” said Kwan. “Yours. And mine.”
Silence.
“Was there no part of you that could’ve loved me as I am?”
Kwan held up his sword, placing a palm to the back of it. “Was there no part of you?”
Quietude fell over. “Then there’s truly nothing left of us. Only dreams and nightmares. Mist, and fury.”
An echo of pain pricked at Kwan’s heart. “Aera...” He said her name, the one he’d always known her by in times before hatred.
Black threads raced to tangle him, cut by Bird Song’s edge. She sprung from the haze, blade meeting blade, over and over. The bite of each sharp edge ringing in the desolate air. He caught only glimpses of her as they collided before falling back into shadow. Kwan bided time, his senses keen to distinguish her from illusions.
He left himself open, feigning a fault in his defense. Her blade found him; and his to her gut. His hand caught behind her neck, pulling her in for a kiss. The other released Bird Song, and pressed against her breast. In understanding his attempt, she thrashed, unable to break free from his strength.
At last, he pulled from her, and her soul followed in his breath. He snatched it and shoved himself away from her. Bird Song clattered to the ground. Gumiho stumbled, falling in a heap. In every detail, as the mists cleared, Kwan fixed his eye on her, prying her dagger from his side.
Bloodied, and her soul in hand, he walked to reclaim his sword. She scooted back, bleeding and fearful.
“Heel,” commanded Kwan.
Gumiho stilled.
“My sister’s soul,” he picked up Bird Song, “return it.”
“I already told you, twice,” panted Gumiho.
Kwan looked down, standing over her. “You will tell me where Syaoran’s sister is hidden.”
Rigid and reluctant, her hand fished out a bead, glowing, from beneath her silk layers. At Kwan’s gesture, it floated from Gumiho to his palm. He placed it carefully into his own layers, holding fast to Gumiho’s soul.
“In the Hyeon Mountains. Under the Crane Stone. If you can open it,” said Gumiho, giving a cruel smirk. A gambit. Something to bargain with.
“Urekkato’s soul,” said Kwan, ignoring her bluff, “return it.”
Again, her resistance and sneering did nothing. Like before, she reached beneath her silks and produced the Cat prince’s soul. Repeating his own gesture, Kwan tucked it safely into his shirt.
“I suppose your next demand is that I grovel,” said Gumiho. “That I serve you as pay—”
Kwan cut the side of her neck, letting blood flow freely in rivers.
“The soul is useless to you if I die,” barked Gumiho in a hurry, eyes pleading.
Kwan watched, stony. “Useless?” He held it up. “It will tell me you are dead.”
Her expression faltered, the finality of it setting it. “Kwan... I love you...”
He said nothing.
Slow, she fell unconscious. The bead in his hand, like the end of a candle, began to fade soon after. Unhurried.