Prologue
In her fading memories, Fox Valley was always summer green fields, blue skies, warm winds, and laughter.
Even though many seasons had passed, in her mind the valley never changed.
But now—
She was trapped in a freezing cave, surrounded only by ice and ghosts.
- Heheh.
- Pathetic little fox.
- We’ll kill you, tear your flesh, choke your neck.
- Stupid one.
- So pitiful.
Their cruel voices cut into her ears like knives. The pain and curses were endless.
This was the torment forced upon her—nothing but suffering.
The one who stood before her was Seok Jaun, second son of the Black Tortoise Clan.
The clan, weakened after losing their guardian beast’s power, had kidnapped Soha, a fox from the servant tribe. They wanted one thing only—
To use the fox’s ability to summon ghosts, twisting it into fake divine power.
And the method? Torture.
Pain makes it easier to call ghosts. That was enough reason to break her, again and again.
Jaun asked coldly,
“Will you just die here?”
Soha whispered,
“If you’ll let me, yes.”
But they would never let her die. They healed her, only to use her again.
Her black eyes glinted with icy blue light, death’s aura swirling around her.
Jaun felt the chill of fear, but Soha only smiled.
“I’m no longer the naive child who begged to live. If I begged now, it would only be for death.”
Ten years—ten years of a life worse than death.
Soha touched the ghosts drifting around her, though they could never truly be touched. Her movements looked almost otherworldly.
She remembered a story she once stole from Jaun’s bookshelf—
The golden goose killed by human greed.
She limped forward, laughing bitterly.
“That’s the fate of your Black Tortoise Clan.”
The cave trembled. The sacred place itself was cracking under the weight of the evil energy they had forced upon it.
“Soha, what are you doing!” Jaun shouted, but she only looked back once before turning away.
The ghosts screamed:
- The fox will die today!
- Who will call us now?
The cave collapsed. Rocks and ice rained down.
At the deepest wall, Soha saw the carvings of the Four Divine Beasts—Vermilion Bird, Black Tortoise, Azure Dragon, White Tiger.
To her, they were not holy protectors only monsters with different names.
She lifted the ritual dagger, and with the ghosts’ power, drove it into the sacred core of the Black Tortoise.
The wall split open, white light poured out, and her body froze rapidly.
Pain consumed her then silence.
The voices of ghosts vanished.
For the first time, there was peace.
Darkness filled her vision , but within it she saw green fields, flowing water, birds singing.
As she fell, encased in ice, she dared to wish:
Let me be buried in Fox Valley.
A fox always longs to return home.
But she knew—it was a wish that would never come true.
