Silvern (The Gilded Series Book 2) by Christina Farley

Author:Christina Farley [Farley, Christina]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Skyscape
Published: 2014-09-22T23:00:00+00:00

Chu-won hires a driver to take Marc and me to the Onjeonggak rest area. There we get out and start our trek. For the first time in days, Marc and I are alone. He takes my hand, and even though it hurts to walk, a smile creeps across my face. I hadn’t realized how much I was craving this.

The narrow path is canopied with overhanging trees. We skirt around rocks and fallen branches. I breathe in the fresh air, full of pine and bark, and I’m amazed at the sharp contrast this tourist area is compared to where most North Koreans live. After a little over an hour of brisk hiking, I hear the rush of falling water, and I know we can’t be far from the falls. The woods close around us, and a thick mist from the waterfall trickles along the path as if joining us in our journey.

“I’ve been acting ridiculously immature about the whole Kang-dae thing,” Marc finally says. “What he did back there at the observatory proved how wrong I was about him.”

“Kang-dae has that effect on people,” I say. “Making everyone hate him. But I’m glad he’s okay and coming back.”

Marc’s face almost smiles, and I know we’ve crossed a barrier and somehow we’re closer because of it. A concrete bridge carries us over a dry riverbed where a thick mist curls through the rocks. After passing through a small tunnel, the sound of roaring water shatters the silence of the forest. The path bends around and the tree line breaks, revealing Kuryong Falls.

“It’s lovely,” I whisper.

The water plummets as if waves are rushing down, frothing until it races over the edge and dives forever into a storm at the bottom. Swirls of whites, blues, and grays push into each other. I love the power and energy it all creates. I take a deep breath of the pine air and feel a sudden urge to move closer to the water. My blood pumps faster, and the muscles in my back loosen, almost as if the pain is receding. It’s a familiar sensation, and at first I can’t place it.

“What is it?” Marc asks.

“There’s something in the air that feels familiar,” I say. “Do you notice anything?”

“Yes.” Marc’s gaze narrows to the falls and then to the pond beneath it. “Yes, I do. Let’s go up to the pavilion. Maybe we can get a better view.”

Up in the Nine Dragons Pavilion, we have a breathtaking view of the falls, which sit between two sharp mountain peaks. Its beauty almost makes me forget the needles of pain in my back. It’s one of the tallest waterfalls I’ve ever seen. Water sprays up, creating momentary crystals before tumbling into the foaming pond. The area has a rugged, worn feel, as if it’s seen and endured too much.

“They say that a trip to Nine Dragon Falls is a trip your heart always remembers,” Marc says.

Whispering sounds swirl around me. Spinning on my heels, I notice the paintings of dragons on the pagoda.

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