•~○Cursed castle[NCT]○~•

○~'▪︎

Chapter 13

Stone tasted like old promises. The cave mouth breathed cold air that smelled faintly of rain and rust. Jisung turned the rough rock over in his palm like a talisman and scowled.
“Electricity? How are we supposed to get that here?” he asked, half incredulous, half terrified.

Renjun didn’t look up. He was already kneeling at the lip of a nearby cavern, fingers working with a practiced calm. “We have scraps. Cables, coils—if I hook the lines from the nearest cave, we can route it.” The plan was simple enough that the hope in his voice felt dangerous.

Leeteuk’s face brightened at once. “Perfect.” Two words, but the kind that split a crack of light into the dark.

Yang and Renjun sprinted toward the first cave together; their boots struck sparks from flint-stone and the sound counted the seconds. Lucas hung back and watched them go, then turned to Jeno.

“Why the rocks?” he asked, eyes on the jagged pieces they’d rolled into a circle.

Jeno knelt, tracing a finger along one. Micro-fractures glowed faintly under his touch. “The electricity will cage itself inside the stones. Once charged, the rocks will feed power into our veins — just long enough, five minutes maybe, for us to use our abilities and force the entrance.” He didn’t say if they’d make it back. He didn’t have to.

Yuta’s question cut the air. “Will all of us be able to go?”

Silence licked the group. Leeteuk’s hand brushed the nearest stone as if steadying both rock and soul. “Only those with gifts can cross,” he said, gently. No flourish. Just fact.

Johnny’s mouth tightened like a snapped wire. “Wait. I can’t just leave the princes.” His voice had steel in it now — not bravado, worry. Protective. Raw. He swallowed. “I can’t just—walk away.”

Leeteuk’s eyes held him for a long, sorry second. “I’m sorry, Johnny. The barrier only takes the powered. Unless—” his lips curved with a sad, cruel humor, “—Ten chooses you as one of his. Or the cage takes you.”

“Excuse me?” Johnny’s hand went to the little knife at his belt. It was a reflex. He didn’t want it to be a decision.

Mark stepped forward, voice a rock. “We won’t let that happen.” The princes’ reassurance was pure armor; Johnny felt it, but it didn’t warm him. He wanted to argue. He wanted to go. He wanted to keep them safe by staying right beside them, not watching from the edge.

Behind the bravado, the question hung heavy: if you can’t cross, what do you do when your people need you in a place that doesn’t take your kind?

Sicheng’s soft, distant question cut through the worry. “Has anyone ever summoned the devil?”

Leeteuk answered, matter-of-fact as if reading a page from a weathered book: “It’s simple, stupidly simple. Chant ‘rise to me’ five times. Slit your wrist afterwards as a sign — a foolish sign of peace.” He said it like a warning; his hands kept moving, steady and careful, arranging talismans.

Yang, returning with cables knotted into a useful coil, muttered, “Shouldn’t it be harder to call the devil?”

“Not when he writes the rules,” Jeno replied, and Lucas just hummed in agreement.

Johnny’s voice was low. “So that’s it. I don’t go. I stay.” He pushed the little knife back into its sheath. His jaw worked. You could see the fight in him — duty vs. terror vs. love — three wild animals snarling under skin.

“No leaving without a proper reward,” Jeno tried to lighten it. “We’ll tell your family, get you something nice.”

Johnny shook his head. “It’s not a prize I want.” His voice broke a touch. Then, softer, to Mark: “If you don’t come back, they’ll—” he choked the rest off. Protective men spoke like that; it meant he’d rather die than see them fall.

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By the time Renjun and Yang returned, the rocks were alive. Electricity crawled along their crevices in blue veins, like cold lightning trapped inside stone. The charged stones hummed a tone that made teeth ache but pulled courage forward by the throat. The whole tableau was terrifyingly beautiful — like watching a storm dressed as a ritual.

Leeteuk took center, face calm as lake-surface. “Hold your breath. When I say ‘ohdaerhwa’, release. You’ll feel something pull — part of your power will ebb. Don’t panic; it will flow back once we’re inside.” His voice wrapped around the group like a promise.

Jisung snorted. “That’s it?”

Leeteuk gave a small smile. “Precision is the point. Not theatrics.”

Johnny stepped closer to Mark, voice tight: “Please—be careful. Really careful.” The look he gave the princes was a promise. It said more than words did: if you don’t come back, I will come for you.

They formed the circle. Fingers met fingers and the touch felt like lightning — quick, exacting. Leeteuk’s incantation rose, syllables shaped by old air and older power. The cave drank the words and echoed them back like distant thunder.

Then came the syllable that made them drop their shoulders: ohdaerhwa.

They exhaled as one, and something uncoiled in them — a pull, as if some invisible hand was tugging at the raw edges of their souls. Breath left lungs in a whoosh and the cave light stuttered. Jeno staggered, feeling a thread of himself slide away like a ribbon pulled through a narrow ring. Panic rose for half a second, then fell; Leeteuk’s voice steadied them.

When the hum died, the stones quieted. The cave mouth had changed: once dull and pitted, it now shimmered, a seam of dark pearl and blue flame, the sort of threshold that promised both deliverance and doom. The air at its lip thrummed like a plucked wire.

“Let’s go,” Leeteuk said softly.

They ran—fast, not because they were chased but because they knew time had teeth. Villagers and allies lined the path, faces pressed with gratitude and fear. Renjun’s eyes held a look that seared Jeno’s chest: thank you, and be careful.

They didn’t linger. Each wave toward those on the cliffs was a promise. Each nod a prayer. Johnny stayed at the last shadowed edge, heels dug into the earth like an anchor. He watched until silhouettes swallowed by the shimmering mouth blurred into the other world.

In his hand, almost against habit, he cradled a small charm he’d pocketed earlier — nothing special, a scrap maybe — yet it felt heavy now, loaded with a quiet decision. He didn’t look like he was leaving. He looked like he was planning. If the way forward demanded powers he didn’t have — well. A plan doesn’t need a single path. It only needs a stubborn heart and a bad sense of timing.

The cave swallowed them whole. The hum faded. Johnny kept watching until even the shimmer smudged into stone.