✔Sacrifice || ENHYPEN FF

𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 139

~yooooo guysssssss folow me on tiktokkkkkk~

~i make edits thereee (i just recently started tho)~

~My usernmae is    Tisa2.6   ~

~besides we can talkkkk thereeee... and ull also get a face reveal technically (my pfp is  me)~

-Start of Chapter 139-

The snow burns against my skin as I drag myself up, every muscle screaming in protest. The wind has softened now, but it's colder—quieter. Too quiet.

My breath fogs in the air as I look around. Nothing but white. Endless, suffocating white.

"Sunghoon..." I whisper, voice cracking. There's no answer. No echo. Only the whisper of snow falling over his name.

I don't know what happened—where he went, where the others disappeared to. They didn't die. No, no—they couldn't have. They just... vanished.

I press a trembling hand to my chest, forcing myself to breathe. I have to find the witch's son... That's the only thought that anchors me, the only direction left. But how?

I turn, stumbling through the drifts, my boots sinking deep. Each step feels heavier than the last.

And then—through the blur of white—I see it.

A shape moving slow and steady, dark against the snow.

"The horse..." I breathe out.

He's standing by a patch of earth where the snow has melted thin, head bowed as he munches on a stubborn patch of grass. When he lifts his head and spots me, his ears twitch, and he lets out a soft, familiar whinny.

Something in me breaks.

I stumble toward him, half-running, half-falling, and throw my arms around his neck. My face buries in his mane, warm and rough under my cheek.

The tears come without warning. "You're here..." I sob, my voice muffled. "You're actually here... I thought I was completely alone..."

The horse shifts slightly, his breath misting in the air, but he doesn't pull away. He stands still—steady, patient—as I cry into his mane.

~~~~~~~

The cold gnaws at my skin like teeth.

Hours blur into one another as the horse trudges through the storm, his breaths coming out in white clouds. The world is nothing but gray and white, the snow biting, slicing, relentless. Every gust feels like a whisper warning me to turn back.

But I can't. Not now.

My hands tremble on the reins as I lean closer to the horse's neck, the wind stinging my face. "Am I doing the right thing?" I murmur into the night. My voice sounds small, fragile, almost swallowed by the storm. "What if he isn't the witch's son? What if I'm wrong? What if I get caught and all of this—everything—was for nothing?"

The wind doesn't answer. It only howls louder, pushing against me like it wants me gone.

I close my eyes for a second, forcing the fear down. No. I have to try something. I can't stop now.

The horse keeps moving, step by step, until the snow begins to thin and the dark outline of the dungeon walls comes into view—cold stone half-buried under the moonlight.