RIPPLES OF JI-OK

Heaven Lake, Baekdu Mountain,

Samjiyon, Ryanggang,

North Korea

"IT HAS BEGUN."

The words slipped from her lips like a whisper, audible above the stillness of the water. Heaven Lake stretched before her, a mirror of glass so pristine that it seemed to hold the very sky within its depths. The cerulean surface reflected the silver crescent moon above, unbroken, undisturbed—a perfect illusion of tranquility. The air, cool and crisp with the late-night stillness of early summer, carried the faint scent of pine and fresh earth from the surrounding mountain peaks. The temperature had dipped to a comfortable chill, a welcome contrast to the summer warmth that would blanket the day ahead. A light breeze stirred the air, rippling the surface of the lake ever, but it was as though the world itself held its breath, waiting.

The sky above was a vast, ink-black expanse, punctuated only by the scattered brilliance of distant stars and the faint glow of the crescent moon. The night felt endless, suspended in a timeless moment. Yet, even under this quiet beauty, there was a sense of something ancient, something deeper, woven into the stillness of Heaven Lake.

Millennia of training had sharpened her golden eyes, so the deception was obvious. Beneath its calm exterior, Heaven Lake was a breathing, living threshold, a portal threading through the very fabric of existence.

She stood at the water's edge, her gaze unwavering. With flowing white robes embroidered with ancient symbols of creation draped around her, she exuded an aura of quiet authority. Her silver-streaked hair cascaded down her back, framing a face lined with wisdom and time itself. A staff of gnarled wood, adorned with jade and gold, rested in her grasp, humming with the power woven into its core. A gentle breeze swept across the lake, carrying the crisp scent of pine from the mountain slopes and the distant, almost imperceptible undertone of sulfur—a reminder of the fire slumbering deep within Baekdu's core. The mortals who hiked these sacred lands believed it to be a paradise, a place where heaven met the earth. How little they knew.

To the gods, this place was both gateway and fortress, a double-edged blade capable of bringing salvation or utter destruction. Its waters did not reflect, but revealed. To those who wielded divine authority, it served as a looking glass to the vast dimensions tethered to the Korean pantheon. It was an entryway for the highest deities and those unworthy? A trap, an endless maze of realms that could swallow them whole. One misstep, one unsanctioned passage, and they would be lost—perhaps even hurled into the abyss of Ji-ok itself, a place from which only the favored could return.

She had stood here before, countless times, but never with the weight of such foreboding pressing against her chest. The lake had shown her what had transpired in London. She had commanded it to reveal the fate of the foreign soul she had long ago reincarnated, ensuring his destiny remained in place. She had expected turbulence, but not this.

Not the cracks in the seal. Not the malevolent force slithering through the cracks like poison into an open wound.

A sound disrupted her thoughts—heavy, hurried footsteps crunching against the frost-kissed earth. The presence was a storm in itself, pulsing with barely constrained frustration. She did not turn.

"What do you mean, you don't know?"

The voice—sharp, laced with barely contained rage—belonged to Mireok. The Korean creation god stood tall and imposing, clad in robes of gold and deep blue, embroidered with celestial patterns that shimmered in the dim light. His long, raven-black hair was tied back with a silver band, highlighting the sharp angles of his face, his golden eyes burning with restrained fury. His presence burned like a sun behind her, radiating golden energy that made the very air hum with tension. She closed her eyes briefly before opening them again, watching as a ripple distorted the lake's surface. He was agitated enough to unsettle even the water.

Silence.

"You came right up here just to tell us there's a disturbance at Ji-ok and all the gods residing there don't even know who or what caused it?"

The second presence, much lighter but riddled with nervous energy, faltered before responding. Paritegi. She was draped in flowing robes of deep indigo, embroidered with silver constellations that shimmered like distant stars. Her long, midnight-black hair was woven into intricate braids, and adorned with tiny jade charms that jingled softly with every movement, a subtle echo of the souls she guided. The Korean underworld goddess, who served as the messenger, bowed her head low, hands clasped together tightly, her breath visible in the cold air.

"Most revered Mireok-nim," she began, bowing her head even lower, her voice laced with humility and deep reverence. "I prostrate myself before your divine presence with great shame, for I come bearing incomplete news. Ji-ok is in turmoil, its guardians on high alert, and the restless dead stir. Yet, despite our relentless search, we have failed to uncover the source of this great disruption."

Mireok exhaled sharply, his irritation crackling in the air. "Seokga," he spat the name like a curse. "That trickster must have had a hand in this. It reeks of his mischief."

At last, she turned. Her gaze met his—storm against the storm.

"Mireok."

Her voice was gentle yet firm, a mountain standing unmoved against raging winds. His jaw clenched, his divine aura flickering as he reined in his anger.

"Calm down," she continued in her motherly voice. "It is not their fault that they don't know. Only a select few among us here know that there are creatures detained in Ji-ok. Even the underworld guardians know nothing about. This is one of them."

Her eyes softened as they fell upon the underworld guide. "My child, you have done your duty. Rest assured, we have received the message."

Paritegi nodded, lowering herself even further in deference, her nervousness easing slightly under the overwhelming presence of the most revered matriarch of the Korean pantheon. "Most exalted Mago-nim, if it is your divine will, shall this humble servant return and deliver your sacred decree?"

The creator goddess inclined her head. "Yes. Tell the underworld sentinels to triple-check their territories. Ensure that every passage connecting the mortal realm to Ji-ok is fortified, and every seal upon them is reinforced. There is no room for leniency or error. We are facing an adversary yet unseen, and we must be prepared."

Paritegi bowed deeply, then vanished in a blur of divine speed, the wind left in her wake carrying the scent of sandalwood and ink.

Mireok crossed his arms, exhaling slowly, his anger cooling into something more measured, more dangerous. "Eomeonim, care to explain what you meant earlier?" His golden eyes narrowed. "Only a select few know of the creatures detained down there, and clearly, I'm supposed to be one of those few."

The matriarch who created the earth turned back toward the lake, the surface now eerily still.

"I will." Her voice was distant, thoughtful. "But not now. I need to make sure first it is what I truly think it is."

A long silence stretched between them, the wind whispering through the trees as if carrying secrets neither of them were yet ready to hear.

The water rippled once more, the reflection of the moon distorting.

Something had shifted in the balance of their world.

And they had only begun to understand just how much.