Legacy of the Light - The Star of Birahng

The forest was silent, the humid air muffling all sound but Dara's own ragged breathing. She quickened her pace, anxiety gnawing at her. It had been too long since she last left a message. Spotting a familiar boulder, she stopped, her chest heaving. As she reached out to move the rock, a voice, low and menacing, startled her.

"You're late."

Dara gasped, spinning around. Cheon Hwan stood before her, his presence unexpected. She had only ever left messages at this drop site, her occasional face-to-face meetings always with Jang'gyeong Yoon or Geumpyeong Hui. The last time she had seen Hwan was the night he had attacked House Myeonghyeon, before he left Wicheong Palace. That night, she had been captured along with the Myeonghyeon siblings, too terrified to even look at him. But she recognized him now, his features sharper, his skin tanned from years at sea. His sudden appearance, though unexpected, wasn't entirely surprising, considering the recent events surrounding the Crimson Star, the Guardian, and the princess.

"Why the delay?" Hwan asked, his gaze piercing.

Dara, flustered, lowered her eyes. "The High Councilor has been at Yeonyahng. I couldn't slip away."

Hwan held up a small bamboo tube, the message inside already read. "It says Yoon is being held captive in the Dahnian camp. Explain."

Dara's heart pounded. "The siblings went to the Dahnian camp with gifts," she explained, her voice trembling. "The princess's Royal Attendant led them astray, to the tent where Lord Jang'gyeong is being held. They didn't recognize him, of course, with his... disfigurement."

Hwan settled onto a nearby tree trunk, a sigh escaping his lips. Dara's brief explanation was enough to paint a grim picture.

"That was no accident," he concluded.

"I don't know what happened after that," Dara admitted.

"Yoon must be suffering. Is there any way you can reach him?"

"He's inside the Dahnian camp. If there were a way, he would have contacted me. I've been there countless times with the High Councilor. Give up on saving him. The princess's Royal Attendant is a spy for Sung. They won't let Yoon go, not while they believe he knows something."

"A spy for Sung?" Hwan echoed.

Dara, still flustered by Hwan's sudden appearance, handed him the new message tube. He retrieved the message and read it. The recent events surrounding House Myeonghyeon and the princess were detailed on the small slip of paper. Dara hadn't heard about the sphere or the reinforcements, so that information was missing. But the news that House Myeonghyeon was stalling for time, playing to the princess's whims, and their entanglement with Hongyoo, was both intriguing and troubling. A subtle smile played on Hwan's lips as he finished reading. He remained silent, and Dara, sensing his displeasure, spoke up.

"The princess favors the High Councilor. With Lord Jang'gyeong held captive, there's nothing you can do. Unless we reveal the High Councilor's true identity, and that of Wicheong Palace..."

Hwan scoffed. "Of course, they'd all listen to Ryang over Yoon."

Hwan rested his forehead against his fist, his eyes closed. He couldn't be sure whether Yoon had blundered into this predicament through his own foolishness or had been outsmarted by Ryang. But one thing was certain: Yoon, who had endured the agony of a melting face for him, was now in grave danger.

He took a deep breath, and the memory of Ryang's face surfaced from the depths of his mind. His cousin. The loyal descendant of House Myeonghyeon who had saved the last prince and the High Emissary on the night the palace burned. The current head of the house, son of Myeonghyeon Seung, the uncle he had killed. There were reasons, fleeting as they might be, to keep Ryang alive a while longer. Four years ago, leaving the siblings alive, he had felt no lingering attachment. He had been certain that one day, Ryang, or perhaps both siblings, would either submit or be eliminated. Has that time finally come?

"They cling to life like stubborn weeds," he mused.

He looked at Dara, his eyes narrowed. "Where is Ryang?"

"Why do you want to know?" she countered.

"Just answer the question."

Dara, sensing danger, fell silent. A slow smile spread across Hwan's face.

"Such defiance. I'm intrigued."

Dara shook her head. "I've betrayed them enough already."

"True. You already have."

Hwan's voice was laced with a chilling malice, and Dara couldn't conceal her fear. But her words remained defiant.

"I won't do it."

It didn't take long for Hwan to understand the source of her newfound courage. His gaze lingered on her neck, then met her fearful eyes. He rose to his feet, slowly approaching her. Dara, feeling the weight of his stare, instinctively stepped back. When she could retreat no further, her back pressed against a tree trunk, Hwan reached out and lifted the necklace half-hidden beneath her collar. He recognized it.

"I see," he said, a cruel smile twisting his lips. "I believed he had better taste."

Dara's lips trembled, her fear battling with a flicker of defiance. Hwan, reveling in her terror, continued his taunts.

"He is so predictable, yet he surprises me sometimes. To think he'd fall for someone like you. His taste has certainly degraded. Though I suppose I understand. Proximity breeds affection."

His gaze settled on her face. "Or perhaps Ryang has a hidden, violent side I haven't discovered yet?"

Dara's hand flew towards his face, but Hwan caught her wrist effortlessly. Her hand, fueled by rage, trembled in his grasp. The amusement vanished from his eyes, his voice turning cold.

"Consider this a life debt."

He flung her hand away, sending her sprawling onto the dirt. She lay there, unable to rise. Hwan looked down at her with contempt.

"So blinded by love that you'd disregard your own father's life?"

Dara lifted her head, her eyes filled with a defiant rage. "Go ahead, threaten me. You need me, right? If you lay a finger on my father, I won't hesitate to retaliate."

Hwan knelt, his gaze locked with hers. Dara's breath quickened, fear rising in her throat.

"I can kill Ryang without your help," he said. "He's weak, incapable of protecting himself. Even if you run back to Wicheong and spill every secret you know, I'll find another way. Your cooperation merely makes things easier. But if you choose defiance, I'll reconsider my options. You're still useful, which means I need to break you."

"You..." Dara stammered, her voice trembling.

"Every night, I'll deliver a piece of your father to your bedside," Hwan continued. "A finger, an ear, a toe... until there's nothing left to send. Then, I'll capture Ryang and bring him to you, alive. I'll tell him exactly what you've done. I'll let you watch as his naive little heart shatters, as he chokes on his own blood. And when he's broken, I'll slit his throat and offer you his head as a final gift."

Dara's hands clenched, her nails digging into her palms.

"But if you cooperate," Hwan offered, "you won't have to witness such unpleasantness. He'll die regardless, but at least your father will live."

"How do I know he's still alive?" Dara cried out.

"Shall I bring you his hand? Would you even recognize it?"

"You're a monster."

Hwan laughed, the insult bouncing off him. He rose to his feet. "I'll give you three days," he declared. "Bring Ryang to me. If Ryang isn't brought, I'll bring you your father in pieces."

Dara remained silent. Hwan's hand rested on the hilt of his sword. The blade slid from its scabbard with a hiss, the tip pointed at Dara's face.

"Leave."

Dara, her legs trembling, forced herself to stand. She turned and fled, retracing her steps through the forest. When she finally dared to look back, Hwan was gone. The fading light of dusk offered little comfort, and soon, darkness enveloped her. She fumbled for a torch, the small flame a lonely beacon in the vast darkness. The tears she had held back finally spilled over, her sobs echoing through the silent forest.

It was past midnight when she reached the rear garden, slipping through the secret passage that led outside the fortress walls. The sounds of drunken revelry drifted from the inn. She pushed open the door to her quarters, her body heavy with exhaustion. A figure stirred within. U'nso, his shoulder bandaged, sat at the table, his face flushed in the candlelight.

"Where have you been?" he demanded. "The High Councilor isn't here."

"I had some errands to run," Dara replied casually.

"You've been absent quite often lately," U'nso pressed, his eyes narrowed with suspicion.

Dara's voice sharpened. "Since when did you become my keeper?"

"Since you started wearing that necklace," U'nso retorted.