Silvern (The Gilded Series) (4 page)

“Where are we going?” I ask, popping the last of the steak into my mouth and wiping my hands down with a wet wipe.

“Yonsei,” Marc says.

I freeze. The wipe grows cold in my palms. “The Council meets at the university?”

“Shh. It’s supposed to be a secret.”

We duck into the now jam-packed sidewalks where university students are browsing the stalls that line the road. The sidewalk is so full that we have to squeeze ourselves into the throng. It also doesn’t help that almost everyone is going down into Sinchon, while we are going up to the university.

The neon lights illuminate the night, and the steam from the pushcart vendors curls into the sky. We pass by an
odaeng
cart, the fish skewers all neatly arranged in stacked rows, and another cart selling fresh juices. People are laughing and shoving themselves into coffee shops, and I can’t help but think how every night feels like a festival in Sinchon. I grab Marc’s hand, wishing we were ducking into one of the karaoke rooms along the street rather than heading to meet the Council.

It doesn’t take long to make our way back under the pillared entrance and onto the Yonsei University campus. Now that it’s dark, the campus has sunk into a stillness it doesn’t know during the day. The shadows stretch in twisted angles, and the buildings have become looming giants.

I eye the bushes lining the path, knowing they are perfect hideouts for creatures to lurk. I jump at every noise and shadow as we cut across the diagonal of a garden maze near the back of the main campus.

We come to a small courtyard flanked by the back of Underwood Hall. The ivy growing along its stone walls reminds me of snakes crawling up its side. I shiver in the cool night air. Marc wraps his arm around me and suggests we sit on the bench for a while.

“Why are we sitting here?” I ask, trying not to laugh. “What happened to your desperate hurry to get there? Don’t tell me you want to stop for a quick make-out session?”

Marc’s face leans close to mine. “Tempting, but I think we’re being followed.”

I peek over my shoulder and spy a shadow before it blends in with the lamppost. “Perfect. What are we going to do? Sit here all night?”

Marc runs his other hand through his hair until it looks even wilder than before. “Good question. You could beat the guy up.”

“Funny,” I say dryly. “Why don’t we just run for it? Then we’ll be too obvious for him to follow us.”

In the end, we decide to backtrack and take a new route. We choose a wooded dirt path that follows a low stone wall bordering the university. It runs along the edge of a pine grove. The damp air clings to my clothes and skin. I can’t stop myself from continually glancing over my shoulder, waiting for dark shadows to leap out.

I stop and squint in the dark, trying to figure out where we are. If we were to turn right, we’d end up hiking all the way to the top of Ansan Mountain. I know the back side of our school butts against Yonsei University, but I’ve never been so close to this side of the wall before. Here I thought school was so removed from all of this Spirit World insanity, but in fact, I’d been right in the middle of it all along.

We continue along the path, the ground uneven and root infested, and pass through a small cemetery. The cold stones glint silvery under the moonlight. I pause and study this forgotten nook of the forest. It’s rare to find a cemetery in Korea, since most people are cremated, and it’s even stranger to find one tucked away on top of a hill.

“An old missionary and founder cemetery,” Marc says. “Most people don’t even know it exists.”

Once we round back down to the main buildings on the Yonsei campus, Marc hesitates, concealing himself behind the bushes and giving the area a swooping glance. Then, dragging me along, he bolts up the stone steps to the back door of the building in front of us.

Just as he reaches for the handle, the blast of a motorcycle’s engine shatters the night.

Headlights flare in the gloom around us, and I cover my eyes from the blinding brightness. The rider cuts off his engine and slides off the bike. Wearing all black leather, he practically blends in with the darkness except for the lines of silver crisscrossing his helmet. I try to push past Marc to get inside, but he doesn’t budge.

“We can’t let anyone see us enter,” Marc whispers.

I stiffen and hold my breath.

The rider lifts his helmet and tucks it into a compartment in the back of his bike. Then, after a salute of his gloved hand, he strides to where we’re standing. Marc stiffens and clears his throat.

“Kang-dae,” Marc says. “I see you received the summons, too.”

“Indeed,” Kang-dae says with a slight British accent. Then seeing me, he smiles.
“Annyeong haseyo. Eereumee muhyehyo?”

I don’t know how to respond. Am I allowed to tell him my name? Who is this guy? And why do I feel my face burning under his intense gaze? I’d be blind to not notice how hot Kang-dae looks. Chiseled high cheekbones, piercing dark eyes, thick eyebrows, and perfect gel-styled black hair. I can already imagine Michelle and Lily swooning.

“We should get inside,” Marc says. “You’re supposed to be discreet, not blast up in a motorcycle.”

I hurry after Marc, Kang-dae trailing behind us with easy long strides.

“Discreet?” Kang-dae laughs. “Your ridiculous slinking about in the bushes was hardly discreet. You both screamed secret mission.”

Marc scowls at Kang-dae as we enter an elevator. The doors clamp shut, and Kang-dae slips a thin key into a small panel under the elevator buttons. He’s wearing the same ring Marc and Grandfather wear—a gold band with the imprint of the Tiger of Shinshi on the top. When the panel flips open, Kang-dae presses his ring into the small circle in the center. The elevator jerks and begins descending.

“You still haven’t told me who our guest is.” Kang-dae leans against the back of the elevator, arms crossed. “I do hope you’re not breaking protocol. It’d be unfortunate to lose you as a fellow brother.”

“This is Jae Hwa,” Marc says. “She’s the one who defeated Haemosu.”

“Ah.” Kang-dae’s eyebrows rise and he grins. “A descendant of the gods. How does that feel?”

“It pretty much sucks,” I say as I focus on the numbers above the elevator doors, wishing they would move faster. But the numbers are stuck on number one. “Are we even moving?”

“The Council meets in the ancient caves,” Marc explains. “It’s approximately four stories below ground level.”

“And this elevator is about as ancient as those caves,” Kang-dae adds.

Finally, a bell rings, but the elevator still doesn’t open. It’s hot and stuffy in this small space even without the stifling tension between the two guys. We’re all supposed to be on the same team, but from the tense conversation and the lack of eye contact, I know there must be something else going on. I decide to ask Marc about it later.

A panel slides open just above the elevator’s numbers. A remote eye pops out and moves, making a quick scan of the elevator as it washes everything in its path with a crimson red.

“Wow,” I say. “That’s high tech.”

“We can hardly have just anyone strolling into our headquarters, can we?” Kang-dae asks. “Even someone as gorgeous as you.”

Marc’s scowl deepens, if that’s even possible. Thank God the doors groan open. I rush out of the claustrophobic elevator, which was becoming more cramped by the second. But when I step outside, I stop in surprise. We’re in some type of cavern, empty except for a metal bridge that leads to a single wooden door. Spotlights illuminate the stone walls. Bands of lights glow from inside the bridge as if leading the way to the other side. I peer over the edge of the bridge’s railing. The bottom is lost in emptiness.

With a swoop of his hand, Kang-dae motions for me to go ahead. “It probably won’t break,” he says. “But just in case, you go first.”

“If you’re trying to scare her,” Marc says, grabbing my hand and leading me to the far door, “you’re wasting your time.”

“Ah yes,” Kang-dae says from behind us. “She is fearless, then. Intimidated by nothing.”

I frown at both of the boys. “You two give me too much credit,” I say. “I’m neither. I’m just me. Nothing special.”

“Obviously.” Kang-dae’s mouth quirks.

We reach the wooden door, which is carved with the picture of the Tiger of Shinshi. Its eyes stare down at me, and the memory of meeting him as he guarded the golden thread between the worlds tumbles back through my mind. The Tiger of Shinshi had warned me that the only way to win my battle with Haemosu was through sacrifice. I hadn’t believed him until that time came.

Carved into the stone next to each corner of the door are the four immortal guardians of Korea: the Blue Dragon of the east in the bottom right corner, the White Tiger of the west in the top left corner, the Red Phoenix of the south in the bottom left corner, and the Black Turtle of the north in the top right corner.

Marc punches another code into a keypad and the door creaks open.

We enter another room; this one is square and not much bigger than my bedroom. The walls are carved out of the stone, and wooden beams in the traditional Korean colors of green, red, and yellow crisscross the ceiling. A man—a guard wearing a black robe with a massive sword hanging by his side—greets us by pressing his palms against his sides and bowing. A jagged scar runs across his forehead, and his hair is cropped in a buzz cut. From the width of his shoulders and bulk of his chest, I can tell he works out. He’s not the kind of guy I’d want to encounter in an alleyway. Still, I refuse to let him intimidate me. I lift my chin higher and snap a tight nod. A sliver of a smile crosses his face, but his eyebrows rise as if he’s still not sure of me.

“She’s exactly how you described her,” Buzz Guy tells Marc in Korean.

I glance at Marc. What has he been telling everyone about me? But Marc just gives me a mischievous grin. “Jae, this is Jung. He’s my trainer.”

We nod to each other as Marc grabs one of the black cloaks hanging on a peg on the stone wall and drapes it over his shoulders. As Kang-dae follows suit, I take in my surroundings and breathe in the stale, musty air. What is this place? Who carries swords around these days?

An eerie chill crawls over my arms as we head through a narrow corridor, also carved out of the rock. Candles are set into notches in the walls along the floor to light the way, but their light casts harsh shapes along the walls, which are full of paintings of Korean battle scenes, scenery, and animals. All I can think about is how much this is like something from a horror movie.

“This place is creepy,” I say. “You’re not going to sacrifice me or anything, right?”

“Of course not!” Marc says in a loud whisper.

“Tempting,” Kang-dae says.

At the rounded archway, my steps falter. This is all so strange and new, and yet seeing Marc’s confident strides, it strikes me that Marc has been here many times now. There’s a whole part of Marc’s life that I don’t really know. A whole part of him I’ve never seen.

The room before me curves in an oval. Soft lights line the bare walls. A mural depicting the origins of Korea spreads above us on the ceiling. Mountains, tigers, bears, kings.

On the far side of the room rests a massive hourglass, larger than me. Black sand trickles down its center while pairs of pewter dragons stretch up the sides of the glass, as if they’re counting the grains themselves.

A ring of maybe thirty emerald-colored cushions is arranged around a low wooden table inlaid with mother-of-pearl designs around its perimeter.

As we stride down the stone steps, a robed man moves toward us. I recognize him.

“Haraboji!” Relief floods me. When I first moved to Seoul, I thought Grandfather was crazy, because his stories about Haemosu seemed impossible. But now I know better. He’d do anything for me.

“Jae Hwa,” he says, patting my hand. “You are safe. When I received the messages from you and Marc, I was deeply concerned. The Council agreed it was time we met with you and came to the root of the problem.”

Other robed figures, most dressed in brown robes, are scattered about the room, speaking in hushed voices. They notice us and settle onto the cushions. I don’t recognize any of them except Marc’s dad. He sticks out like a bamboo tree among pines as the only non-Korean here besides Marc.

“Those dressed in brown are the Council members,” Marc whispers in my ear. “The thin, shorter guy is Mr. Han. He’s the head of the Council. The others wearing black like me are Guardians.”

I make a quick count. Only five Guardians. “What’s the difference between the two?” I ask.

“The Council members once were Guardians,” Marc explains, “but they have retired from the battles and missions. Now they mainly focus on the decision making. The Guardians do all the grunt work.”

Marc flashes me a smile and squeezes my arm, making me feel a little less overwhelmed. Meanwhile, Grandfather indicates for me to stand next to him.

“Greetings, you who are dedicated to the preservation of Korea,” Grandfather begins, speaking in Korean. “At our last gathering, we came to you with wonderful news. Haemosu was defeated by Jae Hwa, who today stands before you. The third orb of six was returned to its rightful place in the Heavenly Chest.”

A murmur of approval rushes through the room, and I stare straight ahead, trying my best to appear unfazed by all of the attention.

“We thought our worries had ended with Haemosu’s demise,” Grandfather continues. “Apparently we could not have been more wrong.” Grandfather motions to me to take his place. “Tell the Council what happened today.”

I rub my sweaty hands down my jeans. The weight of today’s events sinks deep into my shoulders. It’s only a matter of time before I buckle under the strain of it.

“Annyeong haseyo.”
I bow and then tell them what happened.

I wait for the Council to respond, but instead, the group sits in an agonizingly long silence. Oddly, it’s Marc who speaks first.

“Can’t you all see that Jae’s in danger?” he asks. “
Again
, I might add. We need to find a way to protect her, because what we’re doing isn’t working. Who knows if Kud will let her free next time? He’s only allowing her to live because he thinks she’s valuable. What if he one day decides she isn’t useful any longer?”

“If the dark god thinks Jae Hwa is useful,” one of the robed figures says, “we should take notice. She could be beneficial to us.”

“She’s not yours to control,” Marc snaps, clenching the sides of his robe.

I resist throwing glares at the robed ones. They act as if I’m some weapon they can use on a whim.

“Jae Hwa,” the thin man says, standing. He gathers his robes and positions himself before the group. His face is lined and heavy; dark circles ring his eyes as if he hasn’t slept in years. “I am Mr. Han, head of the Council. It is my role to keep Korea safe, and I do not take that lightly. You are a descendant of Princess Yuhwa. Whether you like it or not, you have powers in the Spirit World and you can use them.”

“Your powers are a burden you must face, but I will not allow you to face this alone,” Grandfather tells me, and then he stares accusingly at the group. “Nor will I allow you to become a pawn of anyone.”

“So does this mean I really need to leave the country this time to be safe?”

“That is an option.” Grandfather sighs. “It is one I suggested long ago.”

“If she leaves,” Kang-dae says, “we have no chance of retrieving this orb. She’s our best hope.”

Grandfather shoots him a sharp look. “You are too young to understand. She is not a Guardian. This is not her battle. We cannot put this burden on her.”

“It is the only way,” Mr. Han says. “Tell her our plan.”

Jung rushes to Mr. Han’s side, takes the offered remote, and holds it to the ceiling. The lights along the walls dim, and a three-dimensional hologram springs to life before us: six orbs as planets orbiting the sun.

“There were six heavenly artifacts, or orbs, brought to Korea at the beginning of time,” Jung begins. “Each orb gave the land power. There was a time when the land was peaceful and the artifacts were safe among the people. Until Kud, the dark god, captured the Red Phoenix orb for himself. The wielder of this artifact is gifted with great power when engulfed in anger. Thrilled with this newfound control, Kud began to seek the other orbs. This is why the Guardians of Shinshi were formed: to search for the orbs and prevent them from falling into the wrong hands.”

An amber orb radiates and enlarges above us in the hologram. “The Samjoko orb was the first to be secured safely in the Heavenly Chest, due to the help of Mr. Grayson here.”

I glance over at Marc’s dad, who nods gravely. Then the jade orb is enlarged before us. “The Chollima’s artifact, known for giving its wielder the power of flight, also has been returned to the Heavenly Chest.”

“Next we have the Blue Dragon’s artifact,” Jung says as the blue orb grows larger, swirling with cobalt bands. “It was discovered by Lee Jae Hwa after she defeated Haemosu. It, too, has been returned to the Heavenly Chest.”

“Finally, the two remaining artifacts we’ve yet to discover. There is the Black Turtle orb, which gives its owner the ability to stop time. Some believe it has been lost to us forever; we have yet to find any written record of it since the first century. And then there is the one that has been brought into question today. The White Tiger orb.”