When Jimin was born, 2 years after his sister, the Yelibi Inati of Menigišiti, and he first opened his eyes, the alignment of the planets could be seen in his eyes. His parents didn’t know what to think- how could they have birthed the Promises of Yino?

When Jimin was born it was said that Yino rejoiced – the strength of her promise true and strong in him. Her light was pure and bright, flaring so bright that the skies were washed in her pure radiance.

But despite his fabled birth and the circumstances of it, Jimin was raised ordinarily alongside his sister. He was not raised alone in some faraway and secretive palace, taught restrictive and difficult teachings, trained until his body was sore. No, Jimin and his sister were raised nearly entirely the same as other children their age up until their parents died- and they found themselves Children of Menigišiti. They continued to live in their family home, and gradually, teachers, scholars, mentors- and of course, the Wenedi came along to visit.

They knew of their birthright, of their calling almost as soon as they were able to understand the concept of it. Jimin would be introduced to his team of guards as a soft and slightly pudgy youngling- they would help him at the farm, digging the fields to sew their harvest, and at night would burn off pent up energy by running around the streets. Both Jimin and Tsirin were studious by nature- so when the scholars came, with lessons based on the archived summaries of Menigišiti as written down by past scholars, they poured their souls into it, learning all that they could.

Responsibility and accountability was something they were made aware of ever since they were young- not because of lessons on morals or ethics- but simply as a result of watching their parents interactions, their values, their actions- and most of all, their kindness.

They were a farming family, a part of their local community- they worked hard for what they had, exchanging what extra they had for other necessities. Their mother had a weak heart, a condition that developed slowly as she aged- it ran in the family apparently. She couldn’t work at the farm after a while, only working simple tasks like preparing seeds and tubers and roots for the next season. Something she took the time out to teach them.

Their mother would rub soothing plant gel on their skin after a sunny day of work. Tsirin loved to collect small pretty pebbles she would find in the fields, bringing them back to their mother. Later, their mother would take the pebbles and press them into talc-clay, forming decorative tiles for their halls.

Neither Jimin nor Tsirin are there when she dies – something that caused Tsirin to completely breakdown. Their father continued to stay on in their home as Tsirin and Jimin were taken on weekly visits around Menigišiti, as a way of introducing them to the System they would need to be intimately familiar with.

Tsirin is the one who finds their father in his bed after she returned early from a trip, feeling uneasy and worried.

‘They died alone,’ is all she said at the funeral.

Since then, Jimin and Tsirin stuck together.

The Fate and the Heart bound together not just because of their blood- but out of fear of loss.

Where Jimin went, Tsirin went too. And where Tsirin went, Jimin followed right behind.

Tsirin’s fear of losing Jimin, and subsequently Jimin’s fear of losing his sister, had them acting almost as one. They would both share their thoughts on lessons, on scholars, on mentors, on advisors, on trainers, on the Wenedi, on hopes, dreams, nightmares- Tsirin knew Jimin just as Jimin knew Tsirin.  

The Heart and the Fate of Menigišiti were never this close before. 

And Jimin would know. He’s heard of the past Fate, of the past Heart- their relationships turned sour, hostile, even aggressive. However their work and their roles towards Menigišiti was never lead astray.

Jimin vowed to himself to never look away from Menigišiti – that even if it wore him out, even if he had no strength left in him- as one of Yino’s children, he would give his all as the Yemenifesi Ch’inik’eti of Menigišiti.

When they move to the Hall of the Great Council permanently, they are the first of their title to do so. The Hall of the Great Council was open to all – its archives, libraries, gardens, kitchens, and places of rest were open to all of Menigišiti. This was where the Great Council would come to meet to discuss each of their respective planet’s news, agenda, development, needs, and progress.

Tsirin and Jimin both felt that it was a waste of time for them to continue to live in Ma‘ikelawī and keep travelling all the way to Awọ’nle, where they generally spent most of their time anyways. They both choose to live near the gardens- and alongside the gardeners who took the time to maintain the vast gardens of the Hall, Tsirin and Jimin could be seen working there when they had the time or when they needed to think.

It wasn’t surprising for the Beings of Menigišiti to see their Fate and Heart working absolutely ordinary jobs. The Fate born previous to Jimin had been a carpenter for most of their life- the dining chairs they used today at the kitchens were made by them.

When asked why they chose to work out in the fields, or in the gardens, Tsirin had said it was a way for them to remember their parents. But for Jimin, he sees the result of his actions- sees the fate he gives his plants blossom or wilt before his eyes.

He convinces Dehin to garden with him. Dehin was not the most patient when it came to gardening, but he agreed anyways, because Jimin wouldn’t stop dropping passive aggressive hints.

‘What’s the fun in digging through dirt for like, flowers,’ he had frowned. Dehin was only a little older than himself but he behaved as though he were Jimin’s father at times.

‘There’s a process,’ Jimin rolls his eyes at Dehin, ‘You need to understand how much goes into just a flower.’

‘I preferred it when we were planting actual crops,’ Dehin complains in a mumble. Jimin flings some soft dirt at him.

‘My clothes!’ he shrieks in an ungainly fashion.

‘Why?’

‘You can eat crops,’ Dehin grumbles, dusting off the soil from his jacket sleeves, ‘You can’t eat flowers, they just- they just die.’

‘We can’t all be useful, now can we?’ Jimin raises an eyebrow.

Dehin squints at him.

‘You’re about to make this really philosophical aren’t you?’

‘Each single flower here- even the weeds, even the pests- are all here to serve a purpose – whether that purpose be grand or not, doesn’t make their link to the motion of what balances us any less meaningful.’

‘Now you’re just going to make me feel bad,’ Dehin looks around, ‘I need Yagal to be here instead she’s better at listening to this sort of thing-‘

‘I am trying to make this into important lesson can you please just let me finish,’ Jimin groans.

‘Yes yes oh great and powerful Fate,’ Dehin sighs heavily but there is no malice, no pretense. Jimin knows Dehin well enough to know when he was uninterested.

‘These are not just flowers- I mean they are, but their role in the motions of this garden, of this plateau, of the valley around us, of this planet and thereby the rest of our System is infinitely greater than what we imagine.’ Jimin tells him, ‘Just because it doesn’t serve an immediate purpose to what you think is important or what can benefit you now doesn’t mean it lacks worth or the dedication required to see it grow. Sometimes, sometimes a flower is just a flower, and that’s enough. Isn’t it?’

‘Sure,’ Dehin shrugs, idly picking up a small shovel and jabbing at the soft soil Jimin was mixing into the compost.

‘First, you make sure the soil is fertilized,’ Jimin explains, ‘You make sure the conditions are perfect, understanding that sometimes, some seeds may not grow because it just wasn’t meant to- that they were never alive to start off with- and you create the perfect environment for them. You heed the water, the weeds- the light, the warmth, the cold- you understand what it needs, and then you watch it blossom- and then…and then it dies.’

‘That’s the most depressing I’ve ever heard,’ Dehin grumbles, frowning down at a small shrub dotted with faintly glowing blue-drop flowers.

‘That’s how I see myself.’

‘…as a dying flower?’ Dehin asks, incredulous.

Jimin snorts in an unbecoming way.

‘No, you mugwump-.’

‘-I am not a mugwump excuse you-‘

‘-yes you are,’ Jimin sticks his tongue out at Dehin, ‘-but like I was saying, I do not see myself as a dying flower specifically- we all are.’

Dehin gives him a blank look.

‘Hey, look- aren’t we all flowers to someone? Background colour and decoration- something hopefully at least pretty to look at, something that might momentarily brighten a dreary day- and then after that, basically forgotten?’

‘Is this supposed to make me feel better- wait, have you been drinking with Gut’yun again how many times do I-‘

‘No!’ Jimin groans in frustration, ‘What I’m saying is, these flowers are a metaphor! A metaphor that regardless of what purpose is served or given, we all deserve to be treated with care, have the same admiration without the weight of a preconceived worth hanging over our heads as a marker of our place!’

Dehin doesn’t say anything, studying him with his sharp eyes for a long few seconds.  

‘Wow, you take one lesson from the Be’iji Wenedi and you suddenly think you’re so philosophical-! JIMIN!’

Jimin launches himself at Dehin, causing the gardeners to look about in panic at the high shriek.

Tsirin later gives them both unimpressed looks and orders them both to wash themselves immediately when they trudge into the Hall covered in mud and bits of leaves. 

But it’s difficult to govern a garden as such- no matter how hard Jimin tries, no matter how hard Tsirin tries, there would always be unhappiness, discontent, and bitterness. It was often complicated- complicated, heavy and draining work. While their System was content in their balance, in their motions, all life was born to stir strife and discontent. Not all the planets abided by the same rules and laws of governance as each other, and though the proximity of the planets, their shared reverence for Yino, and respect for the Great Council. Many of the planets in Menigišiti were orbit-locked or tidal-locked, this limited the amount of livable land in each planet. Sometimes, Yino’s accretion disk would pulse out stronger, causing those closer to her to evacuate to neighbouring safer planets. This often caused issues – as the last time this happened, 3 planets were temporarily vacated for nearly 2 whole generations- some even born and dying in a planet not their own.  

Complicated issues of local governance, business systems, and the slowly increasing resentment born from a sense of jealousy from many towards the Akraman for their creations, or how Megibīya was ostracized by the rest of the planets, many not even considering them to be a part of Menigišiti. Or how Eimili lacked freshwater sources, and would rely on Dzmbaal for supply despite how Eimili was surrounded by an unstable asteroid belt, causing many transport ships to crash, and in the past, many native Dzmbaalek to perish in the process. The Dzmbaalek often nicknamed the Eimil water-blooded- a reference the latter did not appreciate. Fear of the GLA was ever present- all news and reporting from Megibīya was accessible to all, unedited, unchanged- nothing was kept from those who dwelt in Menigišiti. Fear of servitude, fear of raid, fear of pirates – the GLA were feared and regarded as unsafe; and the interaction of those in Megibīya with the GLA were considered traitorous by many.    

But they did their best.

Tsirin listened to each and everyone- when she wasn’t meeting in the Hall with the Great Council, she and Jimin often roamed through the cities of the planets, speaking to every and anybody.

And Jimin knew that they were not always met with politeness or joy- Jimin does not expect it. His role as the Fate was in many ways, simply a way to honour and remember the promise Yino made so long ago. He understands how many rued him his posting- Tsirin’s posting. Of the power they held but did not quite wield. Sometimes he was met with hostility, sometimes he was met with reactions of disappointment, apathy, and bitterness.

Sometimes he’s met with fear.

Jimin knows better than to hope to create a change for the better for everyone- that happiness was something he could give to everyone. It didn’t mean he didn’t try. It didn’t mean they didn’t try.

In the past, the Fate and the Heart carried far more responsibilities, as well as more power. All of Menigišiti revered them to the point of worship- but this gradually faded out, as more and more Beings saw little to no use for such dedication or devotion. And Jimin, as well as Tsirin and the past Fates and Hearts agree with this. The past was tumultuous and yet the past was made to be looked back on so that you could look forward to look ahead.

He and Tsirin often cried in the safety of their rooms, holding hands after a particularly difficult meeting or harsh words from the Beings they were doing their best to listen to, to understand, to help.

And Jimin knows there’s not much he can do- what he can say. Not when many Beings averted their eyes from him. He tries his best not to seek only the company of his sisters and Guards. He didn’t want to limit himself just for his comfort.

But he was not alone in this either.

Because Tsirin thought the same, and would smile at him in that way; a smile that reflected what he wanted to convey to her- it was like looking into a mirror.

When they first realize that there was a gap in their camouflage, of their protection around Akramana compromised in a way none of them could have foreseen- a fault that was so obscurely unlikely to happen, that its occurrence could only described as something fated, the Great Council does not panic.

In the extremely unlikely yet still plausible possibility of Akramana being compromised, the Great Council had many plans at the ready.

They were quite young when Jimin and Tsirin watched over the proceedings that would later permanently cement their Treaty with the GLA, signed and authorized in Akramana.

The Treaty was straightforward and to Jimin’s surprise, rather compliant with what they wanted. The Great Council had stated directly that they would not partake in the GLA, and refused all offers of trade, aid, and cultural documentation. The GLA agreed, and asked that they, Menigišiti, would not interfere or act illegally upon laws set out by the GLA outside of Menigišiti’s borders. Megibīya, or Bhumi to them, was a different deal though. While it had previously been an ignored planet, forgotten by most and unknown to nearly all, the Great Council understood that it would be wise to reinforce stricter laws regarding the exposed planet. Jimin had argued against the Great Council, stating they could not allow the distant planet to be left outside of their protective barriers. However, to his surprise, Prat’tna and Yyna, the Megibīyan Wenedi, both agreed with the rest of the Great Council that this would be a more appropriate step regarding Menigišiti as a whole. So they allowed for the GLA to set up what they called a “Dock”, allowing some access of communication channels, as well as access to the GLA database. Jimin had disapproved, but he was outnumbered in this regard. It was also the first decision that Tsirin did not take on his view.

‘This all sounds strange to me,’ Nineti had remarked when Jimin discusses this with his guards in the peacefulness of the gardens. ‘I don’t think we should take what they’re saying as face-value.’

‘We’re lucky they actually listened to what we had to say,’ Yagal comments at once though, ‘If you read into their policies regarding the refusal to join with the GLA, you’ll see that this is normally how they proceed with treaties like this.’

‘That maybe so,’ Iraṇṭu frowns, ‘But how many of these Systems or planets suffered as a result?’

‘There is no direct correlation though,’ Dehin observes.

‘Causation or correlation?’ Gut’yun asks quietly.

Jimin is silent, gnawing at his lower lip as he thinks through the long meetings he sat down on just an hour ago. Tsirin looked exhausted, and Jimin feels it too. His heart is heavy, his mind numb.

‘At least we can all agree it was the only thing we could have done,’ Nineti sighs, ‘Doesn’t mean any of us have to like it.’    

Neither Tsirin nor Jimin were physically present for the signing of the Treaty- rather the Great Council take over the situation, as unanimously agreed upon by all of Menigišiti. But they watch it all happen with bated breath, concentrating on every word, every action, carefully translated and relayed by the S’wezete named Ndica.

‘I don’t like him,’ is Yagal’s remark, ‘He does not remind me of the S’wezete – at least, not the ones we know and understand- he…he exercises too much power.’

‘What do you mean?’ Nineti asks curiously.

‘There is thirst in his eyes,’ Yagal explains simply, ‘I do not trust it.’

Jimin doesn’t remark on the fact that most of the Great Council, including Tsirin, found comfort that a S’wezete had been present to settle the Treat. S’wezete when they were born, were great healers- precious and beloved of Yino and all of Menigišiti. But Yagal has never once been wrong about her impressions which sometimes makes Jimin uncomfortable, knowing that she did not like Tsirin’s guards or a vast majority of the Great Council.     

Resonances and Cycles go by and they’re pretty much left alone for most parts. There is a rise in visits in Megibīya, as well as news of Megibīyan sometimes flying out out of their space borders. It always leaves Jimin uneasy, a strange burning sensation in his stomach at the thought of Yino’s children so far away.

It’s the first time he has an argument with his sister- not a sibling quarrel or one of jest; a real and loud and uncomfortable argument that their guards try their best to keep calm.

Jimin reasoned that by excluding Megibīya and not having her under the general protection of Yino, they would be risking exposure of not just Menigišiti as a whole, but also compromising the comfort, security, and stability of Megibīya herself. Jimin has traveled extensively in Megibīya; when he was a youngling, he lived in Megibīya for almost a quarter of a cycle – he could see all too well how deeply they were ostracized, and somehow, so neglected despite not being too far away from the rest of the planets. Akramana was also quite similarly positioned and yet they were prioritized greatly.

Tsirin creates a compromise that would allow for Megibīya to not only set up additional charges across the entire surface of the planet, but also create additional Sanctuaries for protection. Jimin refused to call it a compromise.

The charges are built, following the ley lines across the planet, and 2 additional Sanctuaries are constructed.

‘This is not the fate of Menigišiti,’ Jimin had argued, the Wenedi all uncomfortable as they witness the first major dispute between the siblings. ‘Yino did not create Megibīya to be a sacrificial offering-‘

‘-Megibīya is not a sacrifice-!’

‘- then what logical reasoning or argument do you have that can support this? What argument do you have that supports and would further divide the negative and damaging views the rest of Menigišiti have with Megibīya- do we really want to reinforce this-‘

 ‘-because my heart tells me we have no other choice in the matter!’ Tsirin exclaims back, ‘Jimin! We cannot undo what has already been set and done! I have no intention of exposing Megibīya to the rest of the Universe- like we’ve discussed, with both Prat’tna and Yyna who, might I remind you, are in favour of this, we will be setting up stronger and better defensive systems-‘

‘-and what is the point of an armor if the bones are already broken?’ Jimin demands. ‘An armor forced, and a bone broken by their fellow-‘

‘-enough!’ Tsirin proclaims, slamming her hands down on the table, the clear ring of light on her forehead rippling with light that makes everyone but Jimin flinch. ‘I understand that you have a soft spot for Megibīya, do not think I am blind to how Megibīya is regarded – I am the Heart, I can feel it! But long gone is the time when Yino blanketed us all with her cloak of light- long gone is the stability we read about. We need to change in order to maintain what we have-‘

‘-what we have?’ Jimin repeats. He’s shocked at Tsirin’s words but even more so with his reaction; he understands what Tsirin was saying, but everything feels wrong. He gestures to everyone around the table. ‘What we have is the responsibility of this System- to keep her safe, together- what we have is definitely not what Megibīya has, or has been allowed to have. So what we have is useless unless we are willing to fight to keep it,’ Jimin spits out and then promptly turns on his heels and walks out.

Tsirin and Jimin never resolve this argument and for the first time, Jimin separates himself from his sister. It wasn’t anything drastic- only he would arrange his schedules for himself, invite the Wenedi he wished to speak to, and not just comply to what his sister thought was best.

His guards stand by him, encouraging him in this new step forward. It hurts Jimin, but he also finds that Tsirin’s determination to convince him that this was a good idea and to admit it hurtful and, in the depths of his heart, makes Jimin wonder how much of what he did and said was actually a result of what he thought and wanted, or simply, a compromise, he unknowingly agreed into without realizing it.

They do not speak for a long while- Jimin stays in Megibīya for the duration of the construction of the additional charges and is the one to connect the Sanctuaries to the rest of the active Menigišiti. Yyna is with him, and when they walk together, Yagal cannot be persuaded to leave Jimin by himself. Jimin still does his duties as the Fate, still maintains his presence in meetings, but Tsirin has secluded herself he’s told. The Akramanan Wenedi tell him that she’s in Akraman. Jimin reasons that they both decided to go to the planets they loved best. He contacts Tsirin’s guards to ask of her wellbeing. They tell him she’s well, but just deep in thought, in silence.

After some time, she returns to the meetings. She doesn’t push to talk to Jimin, and neither does he. The Wenedi are uncomfortable by this, but they learn to adapt eventually.

‘I think one thing I don’t quite like in this,’ Nineti tells him as pause by a great lake, a towering waterfall in the distance roaring in the distance, ‘Is how there is somewhat a divide.’

‘We will reconcile eventually,’ Jimin tells him, ‘We would have already, if I had simply agreed to her words- but I stand by what I said- what I believe.’

‘That’s good,’ Nineti nods before he crouches down on the banks, staring out into the water idly, ‘We will support you whatever you do, you know that right?’

‘And I am infinitely grateful for that,’ Jimin nods as he crouches down too.

‘But it’s not that I’m worried about,’ Nineti confesses, ‘I was speaking to Kāval on the eve.’

Kāval was like Nineti to Tsirin- not quite the captain of the guards in official terms, but definitely captain in unofficial terms.

‘What did he say?’

Nineti looks uncomfortable.

Jimin’s guards were not always there for protection. In many ways, his guards were pivotal and important figures in the decisions that lead up to what was discussed or finalized in the Council. Jimin’s guards brought information, researched, verified, and transcribed much of the complicated issues Jimin had to handle. They would also go and study and even live in some places- his own agents, as they were sometimes referred to by others, to listen to what was being said in the general masses.

‘He said that he was worried that Tsirin was choosing only to listen to some of the Wenedi,’ Nineti explains, ‘They’ve come to visit her, which I realize is very different to what we’re experiencing here-‘

‘-it’s because we’re here,’ Jimin snorts, gesturing to the planet as a whole.

‘-and she’s only speaking to certain Wenedi.’

‘Did he mention who?’

‘No,’ Nineti shakes his head, ‘It’s not for him to tell me really.’

‘And what did you tell him in return?’ Jimin smiles.

‘That you are displeased with the lack of support we’re receiving here,’ Nineti laughs.

‘Well, you’re not wrong there.’

After the additional constructions are completed, Jimin returns to his home planet and there lives alone in his family home for a while. He tells his guards that they should take a “holiday” – something they’re confused by. But understanding Jimin’s need to be alone, but also not wanting to leave him alone, they simply protect him from a distance. Jimin can sense them, but it doesn’t matter. He spent most of the day outside, excluding his thoughts out of everything he’s set them on, and instead simply watches the skies.

The sky is filled with a myriad of beauty – Yino’s bright accretion disk ripples in waves of beams of light, absorbed and funneled safely into Sanctuaries that gleam like physical stars. The asteroid belt shimmers like water, which though abundant in this strange System they call home, is rendered invisible but only observed in strange movements across the expanse of stars. And sometimes Jimin liked to watch the clouds of passing planets- trace the lines of the continents, trace his paths through the settlements that cluster across the night, synapsis of an existence he was responsible for.

During an eclipse, of Dzmbaal and Űy’ler, Tsirin comes to find him.

Jimin opens the door for his sister and they both sit on their seats at the dining table. Their parent’s seats are still there- unoccupied even though it was more convenient to sit on their father’s seat to access the cooking pit.

‘I am sorry,’ is the first thing Tsirin says as she slides over a small powdery blue pebble towards him.

‘I am too,’ Jimin replies.

‘I do not know what the Council might have felt-‘

‘-did you not say you felt it all?’

Tsirin bows her head.

‘I said that without thought,’ she admits, ‘I said that without thinking- only fear drove me then- and it still drives me now. It’s what drove us all as we watched over the Treaty.’

‘This is not something we could have ever learnt about- not truly,’ Jimin remarks in admittance, ‘Of course we would be fearful- it would be unwise not to be.’

‘You’re disappointed in me.’

Jimin feels guilty.

He struggled so intensely with how he was feeling, the revelation of his thoughts that felt incredibly wrong and intrusive- and yet, he was struggling to understand: the Council often said it was impossible to detect where Tsirin’s thoughts started and where Jimin’s ended – that they spoke and thought as though they were one. But Jimin now wonders how much of that was simply him just…existing within the perimeters set up by Tsirin.

He came back to his home not just to visit his home once more, but to really think through the changes he went through, the changes Tsirin went through, especially after the deaths of their parents.

He wonders how much of his own inability to cope with his sorrow and loss was then wrapped around Tsirin’s inability to cope- and how if they both found a strange balance- a motion that worked out of loss and sorrow and responsibility around the two of them: taking Tsirin’s need for control over what she held dear so that she won’t lose it, and Jimin’s desire to be guided through what he held dear, so that he wouldn’t have to discover its loses.

And maybe as younglings it would have worked for a while- had they changed, become stronger and independent, growing out of their sorrow and coming to understand, then maybe the strange dependency they had on each other would have abated naturally.

Jimin wants to shrug off this answer- to smooth this rough patch over. To simply give in.

But he holds firm. He can’t.

‘I am.’

Tsirin looks a little taken aback by his response.

‘There are things, certain things, we cannot just abide by,’ Jimin tells her calmly. ‘What happened in Megibīya, what has been written in this Treaty, are things I cannot accept.’

‘What would you have done then?’

‘I would not have allowed for Megibīya to be let go so easily,’ Jimin replies at once, ‘I have never thought having her outside so casually to be safe or at all, a necessary action. We could easily maintain a protective shield around her the way we do with Akramana. Why are we so willing to let Megibīya go when it was Akramana that was sighted?

And with the Treaty- I am content with the basics of trade here- we do not seek them, and they do not seek us. We are left to our own devices, we are not interested in theirs. However to have scheduled meetings with them? What for? We have never wanted them in the past, have never needed them- why do we do it now?’

‘You know we cannot persuade what is already overturned to something we personally want that’s not how things work.’

‘I am not saying that,’ Jimin throws his hands up in the air, leaning away with a huff.

‘Yino is getting smaller- it has been for ages- our cycles are getting shorter- you’ve seen this!’ Tsirin huffs, ‘Or would you have us fall into a fate of darkness and doom just because of your fears about what is beyond us?’

Jimin is so appalled he cannot form a response.

‘-and we have so much we could learn- have you not seen what they find in Akraman, of the findings of their studies and discoveries in the Universe? Things we can use and apply here as well- we can learn so much to help us her-‘

‘How can we learn what is beyond us, when we cannot even grasp what is around us!?’ Jimin demands.

‘I cannot believe you would say this to me,’ Tsirin frowns at him in a way that makes Jimin want to squirm with guilt but he holds fast. ‘Do you even know what you’re saying?’

‘Do you?’ Jimin retorts, ‘Do you even hear yourself? What could we possibly learn from them, that would apply to us, here, unobserved, hidden, and safe-.’

‘We tend to assume that something doesn’t exist because we do not observe it,’ Tsirin tells him, almost as though not hearing him. ‘Unless we assign meaning or value to something that isn’t related to our immediate reality, who are we to say these values and meanings actually exist?’

Jimin frowns at that, ‘Just because something is not observed, doesn’t mean it’s not there.’

‘I know,’ Tsirin nods, sighing quietly.

‘What are you trying to say?’ Jimin demands, leaning back on his seat, frustrated and sad. ‘You’re not even answering my questions or replying to what I’m trying to discuss-‘

Tsirin looks around the homey space for a while instead and asks, ‘What do you think it would be like, if anu and apa were still here?’

‘What?’

‘What would they be doing?’

‘…apa would probably still be working out in the fields, and anu, if she is strong, would be readying the irrigation channels for the eastern fields.’ Jimin haphazardly guesses.

‘What would they say about what we’ve been unable to reconcile with?’

‘They would have nothing to say because if they were alive we would not be having this discussion,’ Jimin frowns before adding, ‘Tsirin, anu and apa died- there is nothing we can say or do or hypothesize that will bring them back or reverse what happened.’

‘Well there’s nothing you can say or do or hypothesize about the Treaty and Megibīya that can reverse what happened either,’ Tsirin suddenly snaps.

Jimin cannot help but just gape at his sister.

Tsirin seems taken aback by her own words, looking down at the table with wide eyes.

‘I’m sorry,’ she sounds different from before- suddenly tired and fatigued. It reminds Jimin of how she was when their mother had died. He gets up slowly and walks over to where she sat. He gently places a hand over her head and she starts to cry.

‘I try to stay strong,’ she sobs, ‘I try so hard, to do what’s right, to do what- what is needed, what is required- and- it’s so hard-‘

Jimin’s eyes burn and tear up as well. Tsirin’s arms loop around him and Jimin cradles her head in his arms.

‘You’re all I have,’ she chokes out, ‘You’re all I have and I can’t lose you- please, please don’t leave me too.’

Jimin holds his sister tighter.

He wonders if she would ever see it. How she’s been unable to unravel herself from a grief she was unable to shake off, how she’s been approaching everything with that same fear.

Jimin wonders if Tsirin sees it as that at all.

They never speak of it again.

Tsirin is back entirely to her normal self. She expresses sorrow and voices her disappointment in Jimin choosing to do a lot of things by himself in a way where Jimin feels guilty. But he doesn’t budge. It causes Tsirin to sometimes lose composure and express irritation but she covers it quickly.

Gradually she lets it go, and things go back to normal- at least almost normal. Tsirin spends more time in Akraman than she does in the Hall or even on their home planet. Nineti also tells him that she doesn’t travel with her guards anymore. And Jimin often finds them, stationed at the Hall, unsure with what to do. Jimin expresses maybe speaking to them, to bring some form of comfort of maybe even a kind word but Yagal always responds with a slight frown. So he asks Nineti to see if there’s anything they can do for them instead.

The answer is no.    

‘I think,’ Yagal tells him quietly, ‘I think they blame you – for the changes they are now observing in Tsirin.’

Jimin had expected this. He also experiences this from some of the Wenedi.

When the time for the first meeting with the Treaty panel from the GLA and the Great Council comes, Jimin, as previously agreed, does not reveal himself. However, Tsirin does.

Jimin travels there too of course, but just doesn’t sit for the meeting.

He watches over the proceedings through a real-time projection of the entire space below the room Jimin was occupying.

‘There are 2 S’wezete,’ Yagal observes, ‘This one looks younger.’

‘And creepier for sure,’ Dehin remarks causing Iraṇṭu to smack his head.

‘Who is the one with horns again? From what department?’ Okorima tilts their head slightly to the side. ‘Also why do they have so many departments- having this many regulations must be more harmful than any good.’

‘That’s K’mara,’ Nineti explains, ‘From what I’ve been able to find through accessing their database archives, she’s from a very very ancient planet called Khol’isa. It’s dead – has been dead longer than the GLA has existed. She’s been alive since.’

‘She’s what?!’ Yagal demands, looking aghast.

‘Shh, they’re talking,’ Jimin hushes them, leaning in to walk into the projection of the wide circular table. ‘It’s starting.’

The Treaty Panel consists of an unnervingly large host of Beings- but the only ones who speak are Ndica, K’mara, and a Being who seemed to hold themselves in very high regard- he apparently represented the Venture Unit, another branch of the GLA, but one that was involved in what Nineti described as more nefarious activities the GLA didn’t want to sully themselves with.

He’s very tall, his skin a pale-blue but with a very generous spread of white dotted patches on the high points of his face- his hands are slim, three-, ending in sharp looking dark blue talons.

‘His mate is not here,’ Gut’yun remarks, ‘She was here in the first meeting.’

They’re exchanging news of the GLA to the Great Council and Tsirin.

‘I don’t know if this is supposed to make us want to join them,’ Okorima muses, ‘Because all this about worlds falling apart, of illegal trafficking networks? What the if you’ll pardon my language.’

‘I don’t get it,’ Dehin agrees, ‘Wouldn’t you want to highlight or push for an agenda that would make you seem like you are doing incredibly well- supported and provided for? Make others want to join in on your stability.’

‘That’s because the GLA does not boast of stability, they boast of unity,’ Nineti answers quietly, ‘Unity, togetherness, connection.’

‘Yeah well, that’s a ed up attempt at showcasing that as well,’ Dehin frowns.

‘No,’ Jimin shakes his head, ‘It’s smart.’

‘What do you mean?’

Jimin pauses as he turns his gaze away from the Panel towards the Great Council, towards his sister.

‘Because this way, they don’t appear as a threat,’ Jimin replies, ‘They know how to address the Great Council, how to address the Council- and they know right now, that sympathy and fear of abandonment will trigger the most reaction.’

Nineti sighs out quietly, like he had been thinking the same.

‘What can we do?’ Okorima asks quietly.

‘We can’t do anything because there is nothing to be done,’ Jimin replies reluctantly, ‘We can only listen, and think ahead.’

The meeting ends with the schedule for the next meeting, as well as another invitation to the GLA which is politely refused. Jimin doesn’t understand why he was holding his breath before the Council’s unanimous response.

‘We shouldn’t have allowed Tsirin to go,’ Nineti says as they watch all the Beings around the table stand. Ndica heads straight for Tsirin and they speak to each other, all smiles, hands clasping together.

Jimin feels uneasy.

The next meeting Jimin partakes. He doesn’t speak much, just to give his greetings. This time, only Ndica, one of the leaders of the Venture Unit, and the other S’wezete are present from the main authorities of the Treaty. Ndica tells them that K’mara is unable to attend and sends her apologies. If anyone is surprised to see Jimin there, no one acts it. Jimin suspects his identity is not a new one to those of the Treaty.

In the past cycles that have gone past since the last meeting, things have not changed. Not quite in a way most people would even bother to remark about it. If you were from Menigišiti, existing simply, doing your part in your life, and living as you saw best, there was nothing truly amiss.

Only that Jimin, no matter how he was raised, or what he believed, knows that he’s not quite allowed that simplicity. And he’s not bitter about it. However, in the past 6 cycles, though not unheard of, he has had to deal with 7 separate attempts at assassination, a few sudden mob uproars, one of which broke Yagal’s leg as she protected him bodily, and strange sightings and reports of masses gathering in a movement against the Great Council, against the Fate and the Heart.

Tsirin is targeted several times too- she’s injured in one of them, causing a deep fracture to spread up one entire leg. This takes place a little before the meeting and Tsirin is well, but pain occasionally flares up through her body.

Ndica notices this immediately and before anyone can say a thing, reaches forward to touch the spot a little to the side of Tsirin’s forehead.

Jimin leaps into motion, yanking the S’wezete’s hand away from his sister, holding his own hand up defensively.

‘Jimin!’

Tsirin’s sounds aghast, almost embarrassed.

Jimin looks around and finds that nearly everyone is looking at him as though he was behaving in an uncouth manner- as though his action to defend his sister, right after a very recent attempt at her life during which she sustained an injury, to be something shameful. He sees a few of the Beings from the GLA snicker behind their hands, as though finding his behavior to be stupid and comical.

Ndica smiles at him, ‘I am not going to hurt your sister-‘

‘-Jimin let go at once,’ Tsirin doesn’t even look at him, instead reaching out a hand to Ndica, ‘Forgive my brother, recent events has lead him unable to let go of his unease.’

Jimin feels heat under his skin- a strange anger, shame, doubt- all flooding him at once. He sits down, nearly unable to hold his head up but he does.

He takes a steady breath and watches with unrelenting and unmasked suspicion, as Ndica heals Tsirin.

He’s met with applause.

Jimin does not move.

They continue the meeting, and Jimin feels as though he’s not even there. Almost as though he were back upstairs in the secondary meeting room, watching this on a projection. He’s practically ignored, disregarded. But Jimin doesn’t let it daunt him. Doesn’t let it weigh him down.

Ndica asks about their System, and how it has stayed protected for so long- so hidden. And again, for one panicked moment, Jimin thinks Tsirin will tell him. Will reveal them to the Universe.

But she doesn’t.

‘Oh, it just had to be my fate to know enough but not all,’ Ndica remarks in jest.

There’s a strange sense of awe that permeates the room, in regards to Ndica and what he has to say, what he does. Jimin does not recall such a reaction to any S’wezete in their past records. They haven’t had one in many cycles now, but Jimin still finds this unsettling.

‘Oh I think we know a little about fate,’ Tsirin smiles, reaching over to take Jimin’s hand in hers.

Suddenly everyone looks at him.

‘We thank you again for this time,’ Tsirin pulls her hand away.

‘Will you reconsider?’ Ndica directly addresses her as opposed to the Great Council who, by all means, were supposed to be answering this question in the first place.

‘It is not our fate,’ Tsirin replies with mischievous smile.

Ndica laughs at that, and so do the others around him almost immediately, followed by a few of the Great Council.

‘I would like to say that that is not your fate,’ Ndica smiles.

Jimin feels a chill run down his spine. He feels a few pairs of eyes on him but he can’t tell who is looking at him.

‘Is it fate to give in to illness? To die, when you could save someone?’ Ndica continues, ‘Life is precious, it is treasured, no matter who you are, what your purpose- your life is so precious, it cannot be narrowed to the confines of what is presumed to be fated.’

Jimin feels sick.

‘But! A choice is made, a path taken,’ Ndica stands and everyone else follows suit. When did that happen? When did they follow the order laid out by this S’wezete?

Jimin leaves immediately, uncaring of protocol or decorum. Outside, his guards await him, expressions serious as they immediately notice Jimin’s.

‘What is it?’ Nineti had asked. ‘What did they say?’

Jimin glances back briefly- no one is looking for him, no one is attempting to call him back. Tsirin is in conversation with Ndica, a glass of water in her hands, laughing about something.

‘I don’t know what to think,’ Jimin confesses, ‘There’s…I felt like I looked into a universe I did not understand, filled with Beings I did not know.’

His guards take up their usual formation around him, Dehin, Gut’yun, and Yagal behind him, Iraṇṭu and Okorima on each side, lead by Nineti.  

He quietly and quickly recalls the whole meeting to them- he finishes by the time they reach his temporary quarters.

‘Something doesn’t feel right,’ Nineti says at once.

‘I know,’ Jimin nods in agreement, ‘There’s something else at play here-‘ he pauses as he remembers something Nineti had told him some time ago, ‘I need you to do something for me.’

‘What is it?’

‘Remember when the Sanctuaries were being built in Megibīya? And you spoke to me about what Kāval told you?’

Nineti nods at once. The other pay rapt attention.

‘I want you to find out who the Wenedi my sister specifically sought- who she speaks to specifically,’ Jimin tells him before looking at Yagal and Iraṇṭu, ‘And if possible, access the GLA Database to find out more, if possible, about this S’wezete. What we can with what we can access.’

‘Just us?’ Yagal clarifies, ‘What about asking some of the Megibīyan captains who handle the GLA relations?’

‘I just want it with us,’ Jimin explains, ‘I…-I don’t know what to think, and what to believe- I just…I feel incredibly lost- right at the precipice of something I do not understand or possibly come to comprehend. I just-…I just need to be able to see this.’

It’s not an easy task. And it takes time before they can find any information or data remotely interesting or connected to Ndica. However, they do narrow down the list of Wenedi Tsirin confided in or spoke to the most. But Nineti comes with information unexpected and extremely troubling.

Jimin storms into his sisters quarters.

‘You have speak on a regular basis with S’wezete Ndica?’

Tsirin jumps at the sudden intrusion, looking around in alarm at Jimin. Her expression changes from shock to the expression Jimin has started to hate- one of benign patience, as though regarding Jimin and his actions and words as something childish. As though indulging him to feign regarding him with importance.

‘I have,’ is all she says.

‘On what topic?’

‘Just casual conversation about life in the GLA – they are addressed as Yisheng – an interesting title don’t you think? It sounds nice,’ Tsirin tells him earnestly.

‘Is it strictly necessary to do so?’

‘Why are you interrogating me?’ Tsirin sounds amused turning back to the tile she was setting up together with talc-clay and pebbles.

‘I’m just surprised I’ve never heard about this before,’ Jimin states as evenly as he can, ‘This S’wezete is not from Menigišiti and represents the GLA- something we do not want to be a part of- is this not against Treaty regulations?’

‘Causal conversation is not against regulations,’ Tsirin rolls her eyes, ‘It’s not like you’re not reading through information on the Treaty Panel yourself- I prefer to speak directly to the Beings I want to know more about.’

Jimin feels anger flare through him. The desire to grab Tsirin by her shoulders and shake her is strong in him.

‘Sister,’ Jimin begins, softer than he thought he was capable of at the moment, ‘Won’t you tell me what is wrong?’

Tsirin looks back at him in shock, ‘I don’t know what you mean?’

‘You’ve been…you’ve been acting strange- what is it? What are you keeping in your heart-‘

‘-come and look,’ she beckons to him to her workbench.

She doesn’t say a single word, continuing on her tile as Jimin just stands there- at a loss as to what to say, what to do. After some time he walks over to his sister.

The tiles are similar to the ones their mother used to make- no actual texture or pattern, just pebbles pushed into soft talc-clay to form flat hexagon discs.

‘I think I’m understanding it better,’ she tells him, ‘I’m seeing that there is a pattern after all.’

Jimin looks at the pebbles on the clay but doesn’t understand it.

‘Do you?’

Jimin shakes his head slowly.

‘It’s okay,’ she tells him, reaching around to give him a side hug, behaving as though Jimin hadn’t literally just come to her quarters to discuss something greatly important. ‘You’ll see it one day too.’

Jimin cannot talk to his sister- not about anything related to this in a straightforward manner at any rate. Tsirin was still Tsirin in the sense she still behaved as she did in meetings with local leaders, with farmers, with architects, with engineers- she still laughed at funny remarks and jokes made by the gardeners when they walked out, still complaint about stomach cramps despite knowing she couldn’t digest certain foods but she just loved them so much. Tsirin was still Tsirin and Jimin wonders if it wasn’t her who changed but rather, it was himself that changed.

On the day they receive the news from Megibīya, the message received from Ndica, Jimin cannot quite explain what he’s feeling, what he’s witnessing, and how much of what he did before the Great Council as well as his sister, was very much an act.

Tsirin had been so much like her past self- so genuine in her worry- as though after all, what she needed was grief and worry to ground her again.

Jimin doesn’t know why the idea of Tsirin going to Megibīya, something she hasn’t done in a very long time- not even to check the new Sanctuaries, was unsettling to him. As the Wenedi set about to informing all local leaders around the System of an emergency situation as well as orders for Akraman, Tsirin leaves in a worried rush to set out for Akramana. But before she does she reaches out to Jimin once more.

‘No matter what happens, we are in this together, always,’ she tells him, eyes wide and earnest, ‘I do want you to be alone, but-

‘I am not,’ he tells her, taking her hand up to his chest- right over his heart, ‘Are you not always with me?’

She takes his hands, kissing it before turning away to leave.

As he steps out into the hallway again, concluding their actions regarding what they would do about Megibīya, his guards are waiting for him, ready and alert.

‘I think we need to prepare for the worst,’ Jimin tells them quietly, looking behind him to see the Wenedi of Megibīya and Be’i making their way out as well, clearly to follow after his lead on this situation. ‘I do not think this is a random occurrence-‘

‘-do you think the GLA have done something? Have planned to do something?’ Iraṇṭu asks.

‘I don’t know, but I don’t trust it- any of it,’ Jimin shakes his head, ‘We must prepare to leave at once- but before that, I think we need to get ready to have some of the Sanctuaries destroyed.’

‘What?’ Dehin looks shocked.

‘This has all started because we were seen,’ Jimin tells them, ‘This has started because we were too slow to act- I will not see it happen again. Contact those we can trust, and see that they receive the message to be on alert. And to disconnect the Sanctuaries in the borders- if at least we can contain ourselves in even for just some Cycles, we can recover what we have left and understand what is happening.’

‘I’ll prepare the ship,’ Gut’yun announces at once, taking up his unofficial position as pilot and navigator at once, ‘Shall I arm us?’

Jimin pauses, thinking hard before he nods once.

Gut’yun doesn’t seem surprised, instead a grim and serious expression settling on their sharp features.

‘I do not want to say that I think we’re doing the wrong thing here,’ Yagal begins carefully, ‘But is it wise…to send Tsirin to Akraman? To meet with Ndica right now?’

Dehin looks slightly disturbed at the question but Nineti looks at him as though he too wishes he knew the answer.

‘I’ve failed Megibīya before,’ Jimin explains, ‘And the very idea, of Tsirin going there, does not bode well with me. I cannot explain it I just-,’ he pauses in his pace and his guards stop at once too, ‘-I believe something terrible will happen, if she were to go there.’

No one questions him.

‘We need to maintain ignorance- especially you six- on any suspicion or indication that we believe something is amiss- I need us to treat this how we would a planetary anomaly,’ Jimin explains quietly, ‘We cannot trust anyone outside of us seven- not yet.’

The Wenedi of Megibīya, Akramana, and Be’i catch up to them and within the unit, they are heading for Megibīya.

‘I would beg you,’ the Akramanan Wenedi begins the moment they’re in earshot. ‘To allow me to come – I believe we will need to make use of the Sanctuaries, of the cells, and of the charges- I can work faster.’

Jimin nods- he knows he’s being curt, and that the Wenedi have been regarding him with some hesitation as well as confusion for some time now but Jimin cannot care to mind. Not anymore right now anyways. Besides, in a strange turn of events, according to Nineti’s report and Gut’yun’s continuous observations, Tsirin did not speak to the Akramanan Wenedi too frequently. It’s strange, and yet in a sense, Jimin finds some comfort there.

‘There cannot be a greater upheaval, than what they must be feeling,’ the Be’iji Wenedi tells him quietly as they clear the asteroid field just past Gorebēti. Jimin glances over at the Megibīyan Wenedi.

Their grief is palpable- grief, anger, betrayal.

Prat’tna is at the Comms, constantly trying to connect a channel through with the Akramanan Wenedi, eyes vacant in their desperation.

‘The charges that were created will protect them,’ the Be’iji tells Yyna who has been in a state of shock. At these words she looks up at the Be’iji and quietly says, ‘They are bleeding us dry.’

‘What is your advice?’ Jimin asks his guards as they sit to discuss what their strategies would be.

‘Send a patrolling unit,’ Nineti fills his role as strategist at once. ‘Keep a safe distance, scan the area to make sure it’s secure, and then only approach. We cannot conduct a rescue mission if we are under attack.’

‘How can we know if they are indeed under attack,’ Dehin speaks up, probably too on the nose on the questions he’s asking but it’s effective. ‘Though Megibīya is a tidal-locked planet, it still rotates on its axis at a very slow pace. Perhaps it is a planetary disturbance?’

‘No it is not,’ Yyna is quick to reply. ‘There are different messages sent out for such situations. As well as monitors to trigger any such changes to notify not only Megibīya but the Council as well.’

‘I will lead a small unit from the gateway cells,’ Jimin declares- they would reach the outermost Sanctuary soon before hitting their new borders that excluded Megibīya from Yino’s protection. ‘We will fly off the radar, completely invisible. When we are sure we are secure, then you can come in. Any frequency detected?’

‘None, we can report nothing. There is nothing out there. Not a single radio single, not a single radioactive wave- it’s just empty.’ The Akramanan Wenedi reports back immediately.

‘How close are we to the first border?’

’10 more minutes,’ Yyna replies at once. ‘I have the repairs ship at the ready.’

‘Good. Can I speak to you for a moment?’ Jimin asks, nodding towards the doorway of the Mast.

The Megibīyan nods, standing up from her seat. Jimin leads her close to the stairs before turning to address her.

‘I don’t think any of us here think this is simply an issue with radioactive waves or some weather problem,’ Jimin says in a quiet voice as the Megibīyan nods in agreement. ‘If there is indeed an issue with the cells powering the gateway, please fix it. Fix it, and if I cannot control the situation in Megibīya, then shut it down, and block all other gateways. Whatever this is, the GLA, some foreign invasion, it is clearly here for war. And we will not risk the safety of our home.’

The Megibīyan holds Jimin’s gaze for a long while, disturbed and moved, mourning for what Jimin cannot predict, burying what Jimin will now start to lose. Her eyes are filled with terror, horror, and-

‘I understand,’ she nods slowly. ‘But I do not think the rest of the ship will agree.’

‘Which is why I must entrust you with this,’ Jimin pleads quietly. ‘When I heard that message- the description, the words they used. That, and the fact that the GLA were the ones who sent us this message- I cannot help but imagine the worst.’

He watches her expression, notices the spikes of fear heightening within her.

The Megibīyan Wenedi nods slowly hesitantly unsure filled with doubt crumbling at the edges, before she says, ‘Perhaps it will simply be a matter of radiation spikes.’

‘I can only hope so.’

Jimin studies her carefully- and Yyna seems to flinch, shrinking back though she stood so much taller than himself.

‘You’re not telling me something,’ Jimin states quietly, ‘What is it? Please, tell me, help me understand. What is happening?’

Yyna shakes her head, eyes wild with fear and yet there is a stubbornness in her Jimin cannot explain but one he has become increasingly familiar with in the past cycles.

‘Jimin!’ Nineti yells, his voice strained with urgency.

Jimin turns to run back into the Bridge.

Menigišiti had no pure satellite, large enough to be called a moon. They had some asteroids that were quite large here and there, but they had no moons. Jimin has always wished for a bright silvery moon in the sky- constant in their waxing and waning, but never truly gone. Like the children’s story of the Sun and the Moon. But what loomed over the reddened and enflamed Megibīya could not be described as a moon.   

Soon after he orders Yyna to destroy the cells and take out the Sanctuaries at the edge of their borders, both old and newly constructed ones, they head straight towards the planet.

Gut’yun does the most they can to avoid the debris of ships and transportations and other massive shrapnel from satellites- but something is wrong with Megibīya- everything is wrong, to its spatial borders, to its atmosphere, to its gravity.

Gut’yun doesn’t survive the crash landing.

Out in the frozen tundra in the darkness of Megibīya’s harsh land of night and ice, they slowly make their way to the red horizon, bleeding more than just blood as they reach it. 

‘I’m sorry,’ Yyna whispers, skin splotched with frostbite.

Prat’tna is lost in a forceful icy gale and each step just takes and takes.

‘I’ve always hated the cold,’ Dehin complains as his legs no longer want to move. There is a strange rapid dip and rise in the temperatures that follows a horrendous shock of magenta light, the grounds shaking for units and units.

Dehin could no longer move, and Nineti could no longer carry him. Jimin quietly tells the others to walk ahead, maintain their warmth and momentum. Okorima’s tears are frozen, flakes of ice that crumble to strange ash tinted as though bloody.

‘The charge,’ Dehin tells him quietly as he attempts to rub warmth into Jimin’s hands with his frozen ones, ‘They did not set off.’

‘They haven’t,’ Jimin doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know what to do.

‘I’m sorry.’ He whispers, eyes half shut because his lashes are frozen together. Jimin carefully cradles his body, as cold as the air around them, as quiet as the shadows around them.

‘Don’t,’ Jimin can barely speak. ‘I’m sorry, I’m so sorry-‘

‘Don’t- do not apologize to me- to us,’ Dehin mumbles, barely audible, ‘You hear me? Flowers are meant to die after a while, right?’

Jimin cannot answer.

‘Am I a pretty flower?’

‘The prettiest.’

‘Not a mugwump.’

There is no end to the limit of loss, Jimin learnt a long time ago. Nor was there a duration, an announcement, a reason, or hope for comfort. Jimin carries his loss until he is full of it- empty, and yet burdened.

When Nineti does not return, Jimin steps out into a Megibīya does not, cannot, and will not recognize.

He understands that he is being observed- that there is a sense of being measured, being weighed- but Jimin is heavy. He is so heavy- each step through the strangely diminishing forests a thunderous roar of all the hearts that no longer beat in his chest.

He hears the Red Evil do things- the sky flashes with cruel forks of lightning, occasionally sending down fiery remains of debris from Megibīya’s spatial borders. The sky is aflame and Jimin is parched.

In a strange attempt to regain some form of routine, maybe a sense of action, Jimin sets to find the charges. And he finds the charge easily enough- but he senses a great rift, a powerful one. Yino was angry- she was scared- something was wrong and the sanctity of her promise, of her love, her sacrifice, was breaking.

There was nothing powerful enough to do this- to try and do something like this without Jimin knowing, without Jimin realizing- without him seeing it.

‘Do you finally see it now, little one. Do you see what comes from losing yourself?’

Or maybe he has always seen it- maybe he has always heard it, maybe it’s me who has changed, and not you.

When he first senses them, Jimin is at the edge of Udāvana, watching carefully as they land. The ship is not large- not at all like what Ndica and his followers came on.

Jimin has half the mind to charge ahead, to walk up to them, numb their minds and hear all their truths, all of their sins and hatred. But he keeps himself hidden. Keeps himself in the shadow.

He understands that the Red Evil is not an expected force being faced by these new GLA pawns. In fact, they genuinely seem confused. Jimin can sense confusion, fear, caution, and most of all, a quiet and resilient strain of unity within the small team.

They don’t separate- sticking together as a team. Jimin realizes that the Red Evil either has not noticed them, or is, like himself, observing this strange team.

Rather than anger, Jimin is now filled with the desire to know who these Beings are, and why they were here. The language would be an issue, and of course, there would be distrust. But Jimin has not been a unofficial diplomat for this long to draw back.

He notices, the closer he gets as he watches them, observes them, the same effects on these Beings as what happened to Nineti. To Dehin, to Iraṇṭu, to Yagal, to Okorima.

A strange fatigue gnawing and corrupting at the purity of their souls- their hearts, their minds, their bodies.

All but one.

There is one among them- the least imposing or noticeable at first glance. He’s not taller than Jimin, and didn’t appear to possess any traits of strength or unique skill that would particularly set him apart- at least none Jimin can immediately observe.

While his friends and peers and fellow team mates were slowly wearing down, their souls dragging, his seemed to shine- just as bright as when he had arrived. Yes, he was tired- his body weak, his mind slowing. Yet somehow there is a strange consistency around him- a stability that was unwavering.

Jimin finds that though not frequent, he sometimes stepped to the side, looking and watching the surrounding forests, a thoughtful and worried gaze in his eyes, clearly unsettled by what he and his team had walked into. He appeared to be closest with another Being, not his own species, but a tall gangly Being who rarely put down his satchel.

When they pause close to the edges of the mouth of the river, the Being with the bright soul takes a moment to step away, quietly basking in the light of the sun.

For some reason, Jimin understands that he can trust him. That he can rely on him.

And so he does- he reaches out.

And when he turns around, eyes meeting his for the first time, Jimin knows he has made the correct choice.    

Even if that meant that he would be filled with more loss- and maybe now he can sense that there is finally an end to all of this loss- and the recklessness that comes with that knowledge spurs him in anger, the skies around him exploding in light just like how they said it did when he was born.

And maybe it was true- or maybe it was simply a reflection, a prediction, a warning, of what would come to him at the very end.

Do you finally see it now?

Taeh’yung’s words echo in his mind- but it’s not like he’s never heard it before.

It’s what he closes his eyes to- and what he opens his eyes to.

Jimin steps out into the faded and dying planet that was once Megibīya. The light of Yino is cold, distant; changed and forever gone, no longer who she once was- no longer holding the weight or warmth of a promise of devotion, love; because loss has no limit, and clearly, it did not abide by time either. 

‘Jimin.’

Jimin looks upon his sister and registers the cruel irony of familiarity and comfort so overwhelmingly contrasted with the void of life in her.

Jimin and his sister always bore a rather high resemblance- they were almost the same height, with Tsirin just a little shorter, something that Jimin always gloated about. The colour of their hair was the same, and warmth of their skin the same hue. The slope of their noise, the roundness of their cheeks, the point of their chins- some Beings even mistake them for twins at times.

And yet now, Jimin cannot see himself in her. He cannot find what they once shared between them anymore.

Tsirin appears oddly diminished- not thin or suffering from malnutrition. Like something about her felt disconnected- lost, just a mirage, an echo left of what once was.

‘You’ve come back home,’ she smiles at him.

She’s in the same clothes as the Verktaë, but she carried no weapon. She didn’t need to. Jimin quietly drops his own Heliords. 

‘I never wanted to leave,’ Jimin replies.

‘You really weren’t supposed to,’ she sighs out.

Tsirin has not really changed.

The only change in her is the disturbing absence of the glowing ring of light on her forehead. The promise of Yino broken and asunder, her children scattered and lost.

Everything just weighs down – a finality, a conclusion, everything that he knew, everything he was able to understand, everything he feared- all came down to this.

Yoongi knew Jimin wasn’t telling him everything- knew that he carried in him a singular fear, one that overpowered everything else. One that has broken him.

And now he was facing it. And everything tells him that it’s her- it’s Tsirin. And yet, Jimin still wishes this was a nightmare.

But he knows he won’t wake. There won’t be any wakening not when he has slept for so long, has closed his eyes for so long.

‘What have you done?’ Jimin wants to breakdown. ‘What have you done?’

‘I have broken us from the oppression keeping us in,’ she exclaims, as though it were obvious, ‘I broke us free, finally, as we were supposed to, as we were meant to.’

Jimin shakes his head.

‘For so long- for so long,’ Tsirin repeats agitatedly, her hands in fists, ‘We were just wasting away- just absolutely wasting away, and for what? For what?’

‘Maybe it was wrong,’ Jimin answers, ‘Maybe it was wrong for us to stay hidden for so long, and maybe we would have eventually spread out further beyond the protection of our borders- but why would you-‘

‘-did you even listen to our people?!’ she hisses at him.

There is no breeze, no sound, barely any light in this expanse worse than nothingness. Only the remains of a life so far away, a life nonexistent here- just a bare expanse mourning for what once was.

‘Do you know how many of them hated us? Hated the Council? Hated where they were? No matter what we did! No matter how much I gave and gave! They just wanted more! We could have expanded more, we could have reached out further, brought what we needed to us, helped others beyond us in need-‘

‘-is that what you think you have done?’ Jimin demands, pointing towards the faint remnants of Yino, ‘Our planets, our homes, our cities have been destroyed and in ruins because of what you did that day-!’

‘-I gave them a choice!’ Tsirin takes a step forward and a halo like ring erupts around; a strange unsettling light that seemed to shed darkness rather than light- saturating and weighing down the ashes of time that fell around them.

‘Is that what you think you’re doing? You abandoned Megibīya- used her, her people! I saw! I could see what happened to them! I saw them returning here because they could not come home- because you shut the gates, and they fell! They fell crashing down and you’re saying you gave them a choice?!’ Jimin is practically shouting, ‘You gave them a choice?!’

‘I gave them a choice- but they would not stay! So why should I try to convince them otherwise? Why should I try to convince those who would rather toil and complain in the drudgery of their own making?’

‘Do you even hear what you’re saying? You’re contradicting yourself-!’

‘I gave them a choice!’ Tsirin screams. ‘They wouldn’t give us the same!’

‘Wh-what?!’ Jimin cannot wrap his mind around what Tsirin was saying. ‘What are you talking about?!’

‘Did you know? That they killed our parents? It was all planned out- that’s our fate, that’s what we were supposed to experience, already written out for us before we were born,’ Tsirin spits out.

‘What are you talking about?’ Jimin pleads, ‘Tsirin- Tsirin please- anu and apa died naturally! Anu always had a weak heart, and apa overworked his- you know this-!’

‘It’s not true!’ she screams, truly looking deranged, ‘You don’t understand! You never will! They killed them!’

‘They?! Who?!’ Jimin demands, ‘Who would kill them?’

But Tsirin doesn’t answer, seemingly unhearing of what he’s asking her. Darkness seeps from around her- like the impenetrable depths of darkness found between distant stars, towards the edges of the universe, where time seemed to pause, unravelling from its loop, spiraling out into a chaos that cannot be understood.

‘Tsirin-‘

‘I am not Tsirin. I am Yino.’ She declares madly. ‘I am Yino, doing as she should have, not gone into hiding.’

She takes her first move forward and the whole world ripples.

‘I can break this- Yino split herself into the Heart, and into Fate- and I will combine it together again,’ Tsirin smiles, too wide, too sharp. ‘We were born siblings for a reason, -and we will never be alone again.’

Tsirin is beautiful and yet so void of warmth and love and everything Jimin wishes he could remember her as.

‘-you’ve been alone all this time- all this time lost and away and you’re finally home- we can just let it end- all of this. Aren’t you tired?’

Tsirin stands before him, hands help up. Her skin looks strangely stretched and glossy, yet with a decay that seemed to bring rot from beneath.

‘I am,’ Jimin whispers, closing his eyes.

He can see soft thin curtains, a breeze that holds the promise of rain breathing through the open windows. The light of the lamp is warm but his touch is warmer, his gaze is warmer.

Tsirin places her palms over her chest. Over her heart.

‘Am I not always with you?’

When Jimin first awoke, aware, lost, in a place Time mercilessly drove him to, he awoke without his Heart.

‘Listen to your heart,’ Yoongi places his hand over Jimin’s chest, palm warm and large. ‘And take your brain with you.’

Jimin takes Yoongi’s hand into his own trembling ones.

‘I can’t- I can’t feel my Heart right now-‘ Jimin confesses. ‘I can’t hear her.’

Yoongi doesn’t question Jimin’s exact meaning, but there’s an understanding in his eyes.

‘Then maybe for now, you can take mine.’

‘I was never alone,’ Jimin whispers, slowly opening his eyes to truly see his sister before him, ‘I was never alone, I always had you- but you left me. You left me the day we lost anu- the day we lost apa. I just never understood it- and neither did you. And now, all I have ever had, I have lost.’

Tsirin’s expression, familiar in the way she failed to mask her anger, frustration, madness is clear and outlined before him. Her expression that Jimin chose not to see for so long, because if he did it meant that he never truly had her. She was wrapped up in a grief she held onto, unable to see past it, move past it, recognize anything else that lay outside of it, and only perceived what happened around her through the lens of her grief.

It meant that no matter what he believed, tried to believe, all his life attempting to live in a constant state overshadowed by death, it would all be a lie.

Because if he did. It meant he would have to accept it.

‘This is the fate you have chosen,’ Jimin reaches up to take his sisters hand in his.

Light like the sun shines around them, the ashes of time flickering in its presence unsought and missed and forgotten and craved. Tsirin flinches from it.

‘And I have chosen mine.’ His grip tightens as he takes a step forward.

The darkness behind Tsirin flails and boils, flickering gaps tear through around them, a time present and a time yet to arrive, a time that was never meant to be, and a time that should have remained in the past.

His heart - borrowed, treasured, fragile, precious – beats strong in him, almost as though he was leaning in, ears pressed over his chest, arms cradling him close as he listens.

‘Sunshine?’

‘And you will not take it from me.’

*

Author’s Notes

This chapter has been a PSA against ing conspiracy theories and how they can you and your family up

Not necessarily inspired by the BS going on in certain countries but just in general

Actually that yeah its about America and how somehow that bull Qanon and alt-right views and extreme religious teachings combined are ing over with MY VERY MUCH NON AMERICAN PARENTS

Non-americans reading this, are you being affected by this?

Also gotta say man, people really process grief and trauma and guilt differently. Something ive realized starkly in the past couple of years and how it causes this strange…perspective? Mask? View? On how we perceive others and their behaviors – I kinda wanted to delve a little into that I guess?

And to any of my readers reading this, congratulations on getting rid of he who will not be named dip. Hoping not to hear too much American news now

Aslo for anyone who might have predicted that this started because of Tsirin then

Congrautaltions

I tried my best to put it out there, but without making it too obvious

And I hope I succeeded in that T_T

ALSO IT’S HOBI MONTH YAY

I will be posting a special one-shot fic in celebration of Hobi month, I hope you will look forward to that!

Hoping everyone had an okay new years so far and are staying safe!

(mugwump is a word my brother uses to call our dog Momo idk where he got it from but hey, i think it's cute and i'd like to think a mugwump was something that looked a bit like a frog)