Kim Taehyung, 20.

Time of death: undetermined.

Cause of death: undetermined.

I never had much of a conscience for troublemakers.

The Court of Seers is quiet.

Three grand, hooded figures seated on their respective thrones raise their hollow heads to look at me.

The first offers a hand to me; reaches out across the infinite plane. I dare not move, for fear of fatal consequence. "Seeker," Regret moans woefully. "Seeker. Have you found not the soul full fraught with disproportion and ugliness? Do you know nothing else at all of this gruesome creature? Second and last of the Anomalies, escaped as a wreath enchained by flowering crown?"

The second places interwoven hands into he-she-its lap. The fingers are grotesquely crooked, and stained a shadowless black. "Behold this," Wrath rumbles angrily. "Not one but two abominations. You send them away in dishonour, straight from this place of custody, where on ones' arrival and the others' nostalgia, they are to endure the sufferings that are fitting, without guidance. A fool of blood, Redemption, not common but expected nonetheless."

The third grips a cane the size of a tree in a crude metal gauntlet. The cane is made of a knotted wood, engraved with ancient runes foreign to my eye. "You, who of my sons is not yet free from death," Redemption murmurs softly. "Why, while royalty lives, must your eyes behold her not? She must tax not the Awakening with the strength of her own birthright, nor the devils of the past with the death of her own blood, or she will meet a fate far worse than death."

Their voices wind together, not in chaotic harmony, but in beautiful discord.

"Do you seek from this master of justice a firm sentence of the law?"

I take a breath. Perhaps the last one.

Where are you now, Queen?

"I seek from this master of justice a firm sentence of the law."

And the Trial begins.

You never had much of a conscience for troublemakers.

Unfortunately for you, five out of seven people in the room are exactly that.

The boy called Taehyung raises his head to acknowledge you, and as soon as he does, you wish you could look away.

His eyes are dark and framed by a soft border of eyelashes. Your eyes glaze over the stubborn chin, and the perfect slope of his nose. The hair on his head is a surprisingly normal shade of dark brown, damp bangs hanging just past the folds of his eyelids. On closer inspection, there are a few rebellious strands of dusky gold hidden beneath the darker hairs. His wrists are inflamed, ugly welts rising from his pale, sweat-slicked skin. The varsity jacket thrown haphazardly over his shoulders has a logo over the left that reads, 'Bulletproof Boyscouts'. It's also soaking wet, droplets of water peppering the ground around his low-topped shoes. The silvery-purple waterlogged scarf wrapped around his neck is tied in such a way that it fills the space left open by his jacket perfectly.

Other than that, he looks like a complete and utter mess, like he's been dragged through a bramble-thicket backwards. There's a strip of what looks like soggy tree bark stuck to the side of his thigh. A myriad of dried-up leaves, plastic scraps and several pieces of torn-up newspaper adhere to the knees of his jeans.

But something about him makes you feel as though you're exactly what you are – a wolf in sheep's clothing.

The only person in the world living in the past tense.

Being 'undead', in the worst sense of the word, had never felt so wrong.

Something in your chest, in that empty spot between your lungs, clenches painfully as you remember why his name sounds so familiar.

Baekhyun's grin begins to waver as the silence stretches itself like a cat under the afternoon sun. Chanyeol looks at you worriedly, the muscles in his jaw tightening and relaxing as he clenches his teeth. You wish you could say something, anything, to break the unbearable tightness squeezing at your chest, but your voice seems to be clogged halfway through your lungs and it's getting hard to breathe because –

"You have a little something," you blurt.

The words are out of your mouth before you can think to stop them. 

A self-conscious flush brews in your cheeks as Taehyung blinks at you, and then he smiles, somewhat uncertainly – a mere shadow of the boxy grin he'd shown you only moments before. You tell yourself that it's only normal – who would trust someone like me? – as he answers, awkwardly:

"Ah."

Ah? Ah?! Are you serious? Is that all you can think of?!

You swear every single person in the room jumps at least a metre into the air as Minseok claps his hands together decisively. "Alright," he declares, squeezing your shoulder threateningly – or hearteningly, you can't tell. His mouth is contorted into a somewhat demented attempt at a smile as he takes your hand in his and pulls you to the couch, pushing you down into a sitting position. You let him. "Bacon, get Taehyung out of here," he orders, releasing your wrist dismissively. "You heard me. Get him to Bi-an's cafe, and get him some new clothes while you're at it. We'll meet you there later." Baekhyun looks like he's about to protest, but then Minseok twitches sporadically and suddenly Baekhyun's nodding, mouth opening and closing like a marionette. The white-skinned boy taps Taehyung on the shoulder urgently. Chanyeol jumps into action, holding the door open with his foot. 

The tallest of the three sends you one last troubled frown before shutting the door behind him with a final click.

Then you have to pretend not to notice as Minseok and Suho engage in an intense telepathic conversation. For a second, you contemplate interrupting. Then a growling, guttural sound emanates from Minseok's throat, and you quickly reconsider.

Kyungsoo clears his throat, just loud enough for you to hear. You turn as he seats himself beside you, somewhat apprehensive."Kim Chaeyeon," he murmurs, in a voice that doesn't sound remotely close to the usual lilting drawl. If Kyungsoo wasn't Kyungsoo, you would have said that he sounded concerned. For you.You shake the idea out of your brain as he considers you, head slightly tilted to the side. "You're absolutely crazy, you know that?"

A drained smirk makes its way onto your face. "It doesn't look like I'm the only one," you reply bluntly. It's not a lie. A ghost of a smile flits across the boy's face, but it disappears so quickly that you wonder whether it had been a trick of the light. You raise your eyebrows at him suspiciously, but all he does is shrug his shoulders coolly. You straighten up, fists clenched. "Seriously, what did I ever do to you? You're intolerable," you snort disbelievingly, moving to get up.

Before you can push yourself off the sofa, Kyungsoo leaps forward, grabs your hand and pulls you back down. The base of your spine rams against something solid as you fall ongracefully onto your backside with an equally ungraceful yelp of shock. You open your mouth to reprimand him, but then his hand is pushed right up against your lips, stemming your words as they prepare to fall from your tongue. "Shut up," he commands. You direct a glower at him as he smiles venomously, retracting his arm before you can bite into the soft skin of his palm. His upper lip curls in slight disgust as he wipes his hand on his sweater.

His face abruptly twists into an expression of mute fury. "What do you mean, 'what did I ever do to you?' I think what you should be saying is sorry, and thankyou, because without us, you would have been arrested, you ungrateful bastard," he hisses, voice terrifyingly calm as he pulls the collar of his shirt down to expose the raw red scar eating at the sharp line of his jaw. It takes all of your willpower not to recoil from him as he breathes heavily. "Now we're all mixed up in your ! I sure didn't want to help, but Baekhyun and Chanyeol did. Honestly, I wouldn't have a single goddamn clue why, because you're the reason why he had a goddamn gun held to his skull!"

By the time Kyungsoo's finished, he's shouting at you like there's no tomorrow. Suho and Minseok are looking at Kyungsoo like he's gone insane.

The door to the store is swinging back and forth, slowly, rocked by the wind like a child's cradle. The sky outside is an endless expanse of inky blackness, punctuated by the occasional twinkle of a star, or the flashing red and blue lights of a plane. The smell of rain and dawn and misery slithers under the cracks of the door, filling the room with its suffocating chill.

But you don't feel any of that.

Because you're busy wishing Kyungsoo had been wrong.

Oh, do you wish he was wrong.

But he's not, and you know it.

You sit there with your hands in your lap and your back ramrod straight as Kyungsoo shoots to his feet, wordless in his fury.

And all your pathetic, insufficient brain can think to say is:

"I'm sorry."

Kyungsoo stares down at you, and for a millisecond, you allow yourself to imagine an impossible spark of forgiveness in the boy's face. It's so impossible that you almost laugh out loud at your own desperation. When did I get so weak? When did I get so pathetic? Why am I crying? 

You are crying; you can taste the telltale salt of your tears as they run down your face and into the corners of your mouth. 

I don't deserve to taste something so real.

"You're apologising to the wrong person," Kyungsoo says, eyes hollow. "Don't ever take advantage of Chanyeol or Baekhyun ever again."

And with that elegant parting repartee, he lets himself out of the room.

The Trial is over.

I do not cry out at the pain.

"Suffering is redemptive," roars Wrath. "Let this be a lesson, Seeker. Keep an eye on the girl, and we might not inflict the same punishment on your beloved vessel."

And then it happens.

Wrath extends he-she-its hand, holding it above and in front of my face. The screams of the undead, lunging at me from the abyss enclosed in the skin of he-she-its hand, reach deaf ears as a drop of iridescent water falls, as if in slow motion, from the tip of one of his claws, expanding until it reaches the size of a planet.

Within its infinite facets, you are reflected.

"Queen."

Wrath chuckles – a deep, thundery sound that resonates a thousandfold within the infinite chamber. "Queen," he-she-it repeats. "She is quite beautiful, is she not? Beauty worthy of her namesake. I would not be surprised if you longed for her too, Seeker."

I raise my head to glare at the two bottomless pits that are he-she-its eyes, hoping that I would not get lost in them. "Longing is a feeling unbeknownst to me," I reply smoothly. Movement in the corner of my eye draws my attention to the mirror once more. You are unusually still. Beside you, the silhouette of another human draws closer to your unmoving figure. Dread fills my veins, and I do the only thing I can think to do.

"I will bring her back."

At my words, Redemption stirs from he-she-its slumber. "State your terms, my son," he-she-it booms, raising the ancient cane in he-she-its grip. "Bringing her back will mean survival and safeguarding for all those involved. We Seers do not usually intervene in human activities, but if the occasion so calls for it, then we shall respond in like."

Such measures are usually made in bad taste, without regard for consequence.

But I have grown a conscience for troublemakers.

"Let me become a Collector," I begin. Wrath shifts he-she-its enormous girth as Regret begins to reform. That, for one, is definitely not a well-meaning omen. "Restore my status as a Collector, for as long as it takes for me to retrieve the girl."

"Success, as Redemption stated previously, will mean survival and safeguarding for all those involved."

"And if you fail?"

"If I fail? The girl is banished to the Fields of Punishment, and I relinquish all authority and serve the rest of my sentence in exile."

For a moment in time, I am almost able to identify the expression on Wrath's endless face.

It is glee.

Redemption appears to consider something. "You are aware that restoring you back to your current form has dire consequences. It may not be successful, even if you live long enough to return."

"I am aware."

"You will risk it?"

"I will."

To save you.

"Then so shall be it."

And it begins.

IT'S TIME FOR SEEKER TO REACH HIS FULL FORM SUPER SAIYAN AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

his power will be over 9000 i assure you i will make seeker the most badass character you have ever had the opportunity to read about

hope you're all okay~ life is good and the strawberries are coming into season (≧◡≦)

And as always, my gratitude for you is eternal, for reading and commenting and upvoting and subscribing~~~~~ ∑d(ﾟ∀ﾟd)

- Yukarin