"Voices strong"
The first demon lunged from her left, claws outstretched, shrieking with hunger.
Yena pivoted on her heel, her combat fan snapping open with an ethereal hiss. She parried the strike with the reinforced edge, redirecting the momentum and slashing across the demon’s chest in one fluid motion. Sparks flew as the runes on the fan ignited, searing the creature’s skin.
The second came from behind.
Without turning, Yena inhaled sharply and released a sharp, rising vocalization, “Ah—ah—ah!” each note a precise pitch that vibrated through the air like a tuning fork.
The lifeforce energy responded instantly, coiling around her like a protective veil. The demon’s claws struck the barrier mid-lunge, rebounding with a shriek as the sound-woven shield flared with light.
Yena spun, her fan slicing upward in a crescent arc. The motion was elegant, almost dance-like, but the impact was brutal. She severed the demon’s arm at the elbow, sending it crashing into a row of seats.
The first demon recovered and charged again, faster this time.
Yena dropped low, sliding beneath its swipe, then kicked off the floor into a backflip. Mid-air, she sang a descending trill. “La-la-la-laaa” and the Honmoon threads shined in waves, clamping shut anymore possible cracks.
She landed behind it; fan closed like a dagger. One thrust to the base of the neck and the demon dissolved into ash.
The second tried to flee. Yena’s voice dropped into a low hum, resonant and commanding. The threads pulsed once again, catching the creature mid-step. It convulsed, trapped in a web of light with no chance of escape. She boomerangs her fan towards the demon as it collapses into dust.
Only one remained. The feathered demon.
She hissed, wings flaring wide, talons gleaming. “You think you’ve won?”
Yena didn’t answer. She advanced slowly, fan still open, her voice now a soft, steady harmony—calm, controlled, but laced with power. The Lifeforce energy circled her like a storm held at bay.
The demon lunged once again. Yena sidestepped, her fan slicing through one wing as the creature screamed, crashing into the aisle. Before it could rise, Yena was on it, her foot pressing down on its chest, fan at its throat.
The demon snarled, but its eyes flickered with fear. Yena leaned in, her voice low and cold. “You’re not here by accident. Who sent you?”
The demon spat black ichor, but Yena pressed harder. “I said... who?!”
It writhed in pain, then finally rasped in its response, “The rifts... are opening again. He wants your voice silenced, forever.”
The demoness writhed beneath the glowing threads, her feathered form twitching with every pulse of lifeforce energy. Her once-snarling mouth now twisted into a pained grin, black ichor dripping from the corner of her lips.
Yena crouched beside her, fan still drawn, eyes sharp.
“Gwi-Ma,” she said quietly. “That old demon king doesn't know when to quit.”
The demoness chuckled, a wet, rasping sound. “And yet... here you are. Singing again.”
Yena’s gaze darkened. “What does Gwi-Ma want?”
The demoness tilted her head, feathers rustling like dry leaves. “You think this is about you?” Yena didn’t answer but waited.
The demoness’s grin widened. “It’s not just your voice they fear, little huntress. It’s all of you. The whole flock. The stage is set. The lights are warm. And your precious girls... they’re already in the spotlight.”
Yena’s heart skipped, but her face didn’t flinch. She stood slowly, fan still at the ready, her voice calm but edged with steel. “You’re bluffing.”
“Am I?” the demoness rasped. “You were the easiest to isolate, but the others? They’re louder. Brighter. So much more... tempting.”
Yena’s grip on the fan tightened. She thought of the girls for a second, knowing that they were on a flight to their concert. The way they’d screamed in joy just hours ago. She wouldn’t give the demoness the satisfaction of her doubts.
Instead, she smiled. A slow, dangerous smile.
“You know what’s funny?” she said, stepping closer. “Three of you and there's one of me, and you still couldn’t get the job done.”
The demoness hissed, writhing at the annoyance of the glowing threads.
Yena raised her fan, the glyphs along its edge glowing white-hot. “Tell Gwi-Ma,” she said, voice low and lethal, “Next time, send someone who doesn’t vanish like smoke.”
And with a single, fluid motion, she slashed downward. The demoness screamed before dissolving into ash.
Silence returned to the cabin as Yena stood alone in the aisle, the last echoes of her voice fading into the hum of the engines. Her fan folded shut with a snap. She exhaled slowly.
The cabin lights returned to their usual soft glow, the hum of the engines steady and unbroken. The flight attendants reappeared as if on cue, pushing carts and offering warm towels, their smiles oblivious to the supernatural battle that had just taken place.
Yena returned to her seat in silence.
The seats across the aisle were still empty.
She stared at them for a long moment, jaw tight. There was nothing she could do now. No way to explain the missing passengers without raising questions she couldn’t answer. Not yet.
She’d have to report it when she landed. The girls needed to know, but not over the phone.
Not like this.
She pulled out her laptop, fingers moving automatically as she opened her soundboard app. The screen glowed against her face in the dim cabin, casting her in soft blue light. She slipped on her headphones and began layering beats—soft synths, a pulsing rhythm, a melodic hook she thought Zoey might like.
It was easier to focus on the music. Easier than thinking about the demon’s words.
They’re already in the spotlight.
She adjusted the tempo, added a harmony, then a bassline. Her mind drifted to Zoey’s voice—bright, playful, sharp when it needed to be. She built the track around that image, sculpting something that felt like armor disguised as a dance anthem.
A notification popped up in the corner of her screen.
[HUNTRIX OFFICIAL] — NEW SINGLE ANNOUNCEMENT: “GOLDEN” — COUNTDOWN BEGINS NOW.
Yena blinked.
She clicked the link. A sleek teaser page loaded, complete with a ticking countdown and a blurred image of the girls in silhouette. The release was set for tomorrow.
She groaned softly, dragging a hand down her face. “Rumi...”
Of course, it was her. The strategist. The quiet engine behind Huntrix’s momentum. Overworking was one thing, but Rumi knew how to grind hype like a blade. Yena could already imagine her calmly explaining the rollout plan while Mira and Zoey tried to sneak snacks during the meeting.
But Yena also knew why this was happening so fast.
Because she’d seen it.
When she woke up the 3rd time during the flight, the Honmoon shimmered into view, out of nowhere, there had been a flicker. A faint, golden tint woven into the threads.
That only happened when something ancient stirred. Something divine or something meant to be sealed.
She closed her laptop slowly, her reflection staring back at her in the darkened screen. The countdown had begun.
The wheels of the plane screeched softly against the tarmac as the aircraft touched down, the cabin jolting forward with a familiar thud. Yena exhaled, her fingers tightening briefly around the strap of her carry-on.
She was back in Seoul.
The city she had once called home, and the one she had quietly fled.
The terminal buzzed with early morning travelers, but Yena moved like a shadow among them. Hood pulled low, sunglasses perched on her nose, and a black mask covering the lower half of her face. Most of her hair was tucked beneath the hood, save for a few strands that curled against her cheek.
She dragged her suitcase behind her, the wheels clicking rhythmically against the polished floor.
Her phone buzzed.
[Rumi]233Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡbnG6f9Ph3J
We’re prepping for promo shoots today. Sorry we can’t meet you at the airport. But dinners on me tonight. Reunion time. 💜
Yena smiled faintly beneath the mask. Of course, Rumi was already in work mode. She always had one hand on the schedule and the other on the pulse of the fandom.
She typed a quick reply, Got it. I’ll head straight to the building. Then slipped the phone back into her coat pocket.
Outside, the city greeted her with a familiar chill. The sky was overcast, the streets slick with last night’s rain. She hailed a cab, ducking into the backseat and giving the driver the address without hesitation.
The ride was quiet, but her mind wasn’t.
As the cab turned onto the street that led to the Huntrix building, memories surged like a tide she hadn’t braced for.
Late-night dance practices. Bobby was always yelling through a megaphone. The girls collapsed in a heap on the studio floor, laughing until they cried. Her voice echoed through the halls during a midnight recording session.
She swallowed hard. Guilt pressed against her ribs. She had left them. Even if they said they understood, even if they welcomed her back, she had still walked away.
The cab slowed to a stop. Yena blinked, pulled from her thoughts as the familiar glass-and-steel tower loomed before her. The Huntrix building. Sleek, modern, and still humming with the same quiet energy it always had.
She paid the driver, murmured a thank-you, and stepped out into the cold.
Dragging her luggage behind her, she approached the entrance. The automatic doors slid open with a soft hiss.
Inside, the lobby was warm and bright. Staff bustled past with clipboards and coffee cups, but no one stopped her. No one questioned her. They knew.
Security gave her a nod. The receptionist offered a small smile. Yena returned it with a slight tilt of her head, then stepped into the elevator. As the doors closed, she caught her reflection in the mirrored panel—hooded, masked, hidden.
But not for long.
The elevator chimed softly as it reached the upper floors. Yena stepped out, her boots echoing faintly against the polished tile. The hallway was quiet, most of the staff were likely in the lower studios or out on errands. She passed familiar doors, each one a memory: the vocal booth where she’d first harmonized with Zoey, the dance room where Mira once tripped over her own shoelaces mid-choreo, the break room where Rumi used to hide her favorite tea.
She stopped at the end of the hall. Her old room.
The door creaked open with a gentle push. Nothing had changed. The same scuffed floor, the same wall-length mirror, the same faint scent of lavender from the diffuser someone had gifted them years ago.
Yena stepped inside, set her luggage down, and exhaled. The silence was comforting. She peeled off her mask, her hood, her sunglasses, layer by layer, until she felt like herself again. Or at least, the version of herself that still lingered in this room.
Jet lag tugged at her limbs. Her body ached from the flight, her mind heavy with everything she’d seen. She lay down on the desk near the window, curling into herself, letting the warmth of the room lull her into sleep.
233Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡrjAxXU6R4a
She stood in a field of golden grass, the sky above painted in soft hues of rose and amber. A breeze danced through the air, carrying the scent of wildflowers and the distant sound of laughter.
The world was quiet.
Peaceful.
She turned—and there they were.
Rumi, Mira, and Zoey, dressed in white, their faces lit with joy. They waved at her, calling her name, their voices light and free. No stage lights. No demons. No fear.
Just them.
Together.
Safe.
Yena took a step forward, her heart swelling.
But then—
The sky cracked.
A jagged line of black split the horizon, and from it came a voice—low, guttural, ancient.
“You dream of peace... but you were born for war.”
The field withered.
The sky bled.
Her friends vanished in a gust of ash.
Yena turned, heart pounding, but the golden grass was gone, replaced by scorched earth and a sky choked with smoke. Shadows slithered at the edges of her vision, and the voice came again, closer this time.
“You cannot run from what you will become.”
She tried to scream, but no sound came.
Only silence.
233Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ62F2MczeZO
Yena jolted upright, breath ragged, sweat clinging to her skin. The room was still.
The sun had shifted, casting long shadows across the floor. Her phone buzzed softly beside her.
[Rumi]233Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡAyQ2g7Mo37
Dinner’s in an hour. We’ll meet you at the usual place. Don’t be late.
Yena stared at the message for a moment, then slowly stood. She wiped her face, gathered her things, and looked at her reflection in the mirror. The dream still clung to her like smoke.
ns216.73.216.250da2
and then Add to home screen.