Nine Tailed (Realm of Four Kingdoms, #1)

by Jayci Lee

They had to live as man and wife for one hundred days. She only had to hide that she was a gumiho, a nine-tailed fox spirit, for one hundred days . . . then she would become human.

Magical beings of the Shingae—the world of gods that I hail from—walk among the humans and lead ordinary lives on the surface. Humans vastly outnumber us, so it’s not too difficult to melt into the chaos. But we always abide by the rules of the Shingae: Never expose the world of gods. Protect the magic. Keep the Amheuk, an ancient force of darkness, at bay.

“May I join you?” The low timbre of the vaguely familiar voice sends a shiver of awareness down my spine.

“Ben and I told you—no, begged you—not to follow in his footsteps.” The words are out before I can stop them. “You’re so smart. You could’ve been anything you wanted. A doctor, a rocket scientist—” “You’re right.” His winning smile disappears, and a hard, unyielding glint enters his eyes. “I could’ve been anything I wanted, so I became the only thing I wanted to be.”

I was growing too attached to Ben and Ethan, and it terrified me. I swore to never care about anyone again—to never grieve a loss again. I had to cut ties before it was too late. I left before the sun rose the next morning. But . . . leaving them hurt.

The good thing about being a nomadic loner who gives zero fucks is that I can do whatever the hell I want, when I want.

“He was delirious, rambling about not being able to serve me anymore.” Ethan scrubs a hand over his face. “Then he gripped my hand and looked me straight in the eyes. And I thought he was going to tell me who did this to him, but all he said was to break the stone and something about tears. Break the stone of tears, maybe? Those were his last words. Just gibberish.”

“Don’t underestimate the wisdom of our ancestors.” The mother returned to gathering herbs from beneath a young cypress tree. “Sometimes stories are more than just stories.”

I find a small slash in the center of his shirt. I tear his shirt open to check for the wound, but there is none. Not even a scratch. “But I saw her stab you,” I say weakly, his face swaying in and out of focus. “You stopped her before she got me.” He gently settles me back onto the floor. “No, I wasn’t fast enough.”

Much like the not-aging thing, I first noticed the power after I came to the United States. It’s almost as though I’m a Blessed, but I don’t recall being accepted into the ranks of the almighty Suhoshin. All I know is something happened to me when I blacked out the night Daeseong came for my mother and me.

In the days of old, people in Korea worshipped the Seonangshin, a deity they believed to be the patron god of villages. They would consecrate a tree by hanging strips of blue, red, yellow, white, and black fabric on its branches and building rock cairns around it. At these tree shrines, called seonangdang, the villagers would pray to the deity to ward off evil, bring them good luck, protect loved ones, and whatever else humans prayed for.

Having a near-death experience via weird-ass shit must make humans more open minded toward weird-ass shit.

“But you think they’ll try again.” He doesn’t phrase it as a question. He probably figured it out during his brooding session. “That’s why we’re running.” “We’re not running. It’s a strategic retreat until we figure out exactly what we’re up against.”

No one in the worlds would forgive him for using the talisman. But none of that mattered, because he would become the most powerful being in all the realms. The shaking in his hands ceased as the ghost of his humanity dissipated—burned to cinders by his insatiable need for power. And as his mouth formed the terrible words, the dark magic erased the last of the man he had once been.

“I got plenty for both of us.” His arms are filled with bottles of water, protein bars, and bags of trail mix. Ugh. “Great. Let me grab a couple more things.” I need animal protein. Full-fat milk, the last two hot dogs spinning in the machine, and a fistful of Slim Jims should do.

He steps forward and peers down the cliff. “How far does it go?” “Pretty far.” I gulp. He rakes his fingers through his hair. “And how do you plan on climbing down?” “Very carefully.” I’m not being flippant. I truly intend to go down very carefully.

“You would have died,” the lone cypress says, “and you still didn’t change. You would rather die than accept your destiny?” The Seonangshin just confirmed that I can die. It’s reassuring to finally know for sure. But yes, I was willing to die rather than take my gumiho form. Fuck destiny. Besides, what does my choice of going furry or not have to do with my destiny?

“Daeseong has returned. Even we could not interfere with his resurrection, because he has drawn from the powers of the Amheuk.” “The Amheuk?” I gasp, the hair on the back of my neck standing. The Amheuk—a force of true darkness—was defeated to end the Endless War and was banished to the edge of the worlds. How can this be possible? “But the price . . . so much blood has to be shed. How could he pay that from the beyond?” “His followers,” she answers.

“We sensed the first dark ritual immediately, but it was too late because it was also the last. Daeseong’s followers had synchronized the blood sacrifice down to the second and performed it at the exact same moment. Five thousand humans, including the newborn, took their final breath as one.”

“Will their sacred ashes be enough?” “Nothing might be enough to forestall the coming of the Amheuk.”

“I left Korea and came to the US when I was eighteen. I’ve been roaming the country for over a century,” I say. “I move from city to city every few years before anyone can suspect that I don’t age.” He breathes in and out through his nose. “You’re a hundred-something-year-old gumiho who doesn’t age.”

He gets out of the car, and I follow suit. Sure, there’s a homicidal megalomaniac after us, but my instinct is screaming that Ethan is the person I don’t want to cross right now. It makes no sense, but he is vibrating with a tightly controlled strength I don’t want to see unleashed.

The queen’s hands shook as she placed her son in her friend’s outstretched arms, knowing she would never hold him again . . . never see him again. She clawed at her throat as a sob tore from her. She was saying goodbye to her baby—her everything.

“Why don’t you settle down?” the suhoshin suggests. “Why don’t you go fuck yourself?” I say, mimicking his gratingly calm voice. “What do you want from us?” Ethan steps in front of me, shielding me with his body. I gasp, wondering how the hell he broke free from the binding. The suhoshin stumbles back half a step before he catches himself. Something like wonder and fear flits across his face. His stoic mask slides back into place as he says, “There is no time to talk. You must come with me.”

The gi of the people around me thrums in my ears and in my veins. My breath whooshes out of me. Ethan. His life force is . . . There’s another layer of gi pulsating beneath the quiet tendrils of his life force. I don’t understand. Human gi doesn’t have any discernible color—their gi is as faint as a soft breeze—but I can sense . . . something. A color. Or . . . colors? I can’t make it out. It’s obscured. What is that?

She smiled, her eyes misting. Sometimes she couldn’t believe he existed—this miracle—grumbling about school and eating cookies like any other boy. She couldn’t believe that she got to be his mother. She spun away from him and turned on the faucet when her tears threatened to fall, overcome by the memory of another mother’s tears. She washed the lone coffee mug in the sink and turned back to the boy, her emotions under control once more. He didn’t need to know any of that yet. The heartbreaking sacrifices already made for him and . . . those yet to be made. No one person should bear the weight of that responsibility alone, but it was his to carry one day.

“A beast like you wouldn’t understand honor, but I am a man of my word.” He digs his cold, dead fingers into my mouth, and I gag, tilting my head away. “I will take your tongue, as I promised.” “And I will take your hand for touching her,” Ethan says in a steely voice I hardly recognize. The undead assassin’s mouth gapes wide in a soundless scream as a golden axe slices through his shoulder in one powerful strike.

“The tale goes that the Spirit of Mountains gave the woodsman both the golden axe and the silver axe to reward him for his honesty.” That isn’t the real ending to the story. At least, not the way my halmeoni told it. What was it? I chase the faint memory, but it floats away—again and again—just out of reach. It doesn’t matter. It’s just an old story. Ethan has gone still next to me. “Are you telling me that the Spirit of Mountains left me those axes?” I realize that’s exactly what I’m telling him. Then what does that make Ethan? Nothing. It doesn’t make him anything. Ethan is just . . . Ethan. I shake out my fur and say with forced nonchalance, “All I’m saying is that someone out there is looking out for us.”

Thoroughly winded, I stop with one hand against the wall and the other on my side. Ethan doubles over with his hands on his thighs, wheezing like he can’t get enough air into his lungs. But he’s right there beside me. I didn’t hold back, even when my injured thigh burned like hell. I hear the rush of blood pounding in my ears. The nagging suspicions I’ve had since his appearance at Roxy’s . . . could they be true? It makes zero sense, but that doesn’t mean I’m wrong. Then what does it mean?

But before I go back to the why me? of it all, I have to accept one thing first. Even though I had my suspicions, especially after our run through the tunnels, I didn’t really believe it. But there is no other explanation for it. Only beings of the Shingae can see the gods and . . . Ethan saw Samshin Halmeom.

“Please don’t hurt him,” I beg, more afraid than I’ve ever been in my life. “He doesn’t know the ways of the Shingae. He meant you no disrespect.” “Oh, the boy meant me disrespect.” The deity snorts. “Don’t fret, child. His destiny has yet to play out. I will not interfere.”

“You must run, Daughter.” They skidded to a stop, steps away from the plunging cliff. “You must never stop running.” The mother knew her daughter couldn’t run from her destiny forever. She only hoped that the girl would find happiness along the way to sustain her through the devastation that would follow.

A memory claps through my head like thunder, and I remember how the lore of the woodsman ends. Ethan can wield the axes. My mind scrambles with the knowledge, its significance taking root. Oh, gods. I can’t begin to fathom what that means—what it means for him.

How old is Ethan? The answer appears on the page just below my question. It’s in Korean, but the book obviously understands English. Cool. “It says twenty-four. Is that right?” I think it is, but I want to make sure. “Yeah, I just turned twenty-four.” Ethan and I grin at each other, giddy like children. He shifts closer and leans toward the book. I try not to breathe in his scent. I fail. “Ask it . . .” But the book isn’t done. The second evolution of the dragon.

I chew my bottom lip as I write out the question, Who is Ethan Lee? As we watch, black ink splatters onto the page like fat drops of rain. I glance at the ceiling, expecting to see a black cloud hanging ominously above us, but there’s nothing there. But the ink keeps falling until the entire page is drenched in black. I desperately flip through the book. Every page is drenched.

“I’m sorry I dragged you into all this.” It’s easier to apologize—to make myself vulnerable—with my eyes closed, cocooned in the soft darkness of my own making. “I don’t think you did,” he says after a long pause. “If I’m really a being of the Shingae, then maybe I was meant to be a part of this all along. Besides, you didn’t drag me into anything. I chose to be with you.”

“You have proven your integrity.” Sanshillyeong nodded, his smile growing. “Take the golden axe and the silver axe. I have been burdened with them long enough.” “Burdened? Are they too heavy for you?” The woodsman rushed to take the axes from the spirit’s hands—to take the burden off him. “You have proven your compassion.” The Spirit of Mountains laid a hand on the woodsman’s shoulder. “Now you shall rule the Kingdom of Mountains.”

“Your jade disk,” I gasp. “Where is it?” “It must’ve fallen off in the fire.” His eyes flit away to the remnants of my old home. I spin toward the house, ready to launch into the hot embers, but he grips my arm. “Let go, Ethan.” I swat at his hand. “We have to find it. It was your mom’s.” “My mother’s,” he murmurs, not loosening his hold on my arm. “It’s no use. I looked for hours while you were out. I couldn’t find it.”

“Ethan.” I reach for his hand. “We have to run.” Chilling power, roiling with violence, emanates from Ethan as he stretches out his free hand in front of him. I don’t know what he’s about to do, but I can’t wait to find out. I grab his arm and bodily drag him behind a tree. “Don’t hurt them.” As I say the words, I realize that he can hurt them. His power rolls off him and reverberates through me like the pounding of a war drum. “They’re human. Feel their gi. They’re just some North Korean soldiers who think they’re doing their job.” “They tried to kill you,” he snarls. His eyes. They’re swirling with silver-and-green fire.

“Of course you enjoyed killing him,” Ethan continues, as though the assassin hasn’t spoken. “But not as much as I’ll enjoy watching you die. First thing first, where is your master?”

“Sunny.” He reaches out and covers my hand with his. “The villagers lived. Daeseong and his followers died because their humanity was too far gone. The rest of the people woke up in the morning with no memory of the night before and went back to living their lives. You didn’t hurt them.”

Long ago in the days of old, a lovely seonnyeo—an angel of the heavens—and a handsome prince lived in the Realm of Four Kingdoms.

In that moment, the seonnyeo understood the prince’s dark nature—saw his cruel, brittle heart. But he held the honor of her family in his greedy hands, because of her foolish choices. Her beloved father would bend his knee to the prince to protect his only daughter. “I will marry you,” the seonnyeo said in an unwavering voice. She might have dishonored herself, but she would not be quelled by the prince. She wanted to cry. She wanted to laugh. Her impulsive sojourn to the Kingdom of Mountains—her small act of rebellion, her little adventure—bound her to a bleak future she’d never dreamt possible.

“I’m going back to the Mortal Realm,” I tell him. “I’m going to find Ethan. With or without your help.” “He can take care of himself,” Jihun says quietly. My breath catches in my throat. So my hunch was right. “You know who he is.” He nods once to confirm, even though it wasn’t a question. “It is not my story to share.”

“It wouldn’t make sense to delay the audience for longer than a few days.” His distaste for the council’s games is palpable. “If they hold off much longer, their power display would become redundant.” “Sure,” I drawl, my voice as dry as a well-done steak. “It’s okay for them to be dicks, but they wouldn’t want to be redundant.” The corners of his mouth quiver. “We’ll just have to make good use of our time until then.”

I sense the danger even before I feel the breeze from the open door. My brother is coming later in the evening, but this isn’t him. Thank gods it isn’t him. He has less than two weeks until his coming of age—the time I’ve been desperately waiting for . . . the time he’ll become powerful enough to fulfill his destiny.

“Do not do this,” my bonded brother speaks in my mind, his words a desperate plea. “Find another way.” “There is no other way,” I tell him. “I can die with my eyes closed, knowing you will be there for him.”

“Forgive me, Your Highness. I can no longer serve you.” I focus my gaze on his beloved face one last time before darkness edges in. “Break . . . the stone. You must break the stone . . . of tears.” It’s time to join my mother and father. I protected him with my life as they protected him with theirs. We have served him well. That is all that matters.

“It’s gone,” she whispers and looks at me with round eyes. “Sunny, it’s gone.” “What’s gone?” I croak. “And . . . what the fuck, Minju?” “This blade is a relic of the Endless War.” She raises the dagger for me to take a closer look, but I instinctively draw back. Who says she won’t stab me again? “It had been contaminated by the Amheuk. I, and every historian who came before me, have been working on purifying the dagger with hopes of understanding how to defeat the ancient darkness. Many of us became obsessed with finding the answer, but none of us have succeeded. Until now.”

“Jesus, Sunny,” he roars, flipping us over and pinning me to the ground. “You don’t play very nice, do you?” “E . . . Ethan?” My voice breaks on a sob.