For the first 6, almost 7 years of her life, Joohyun lived peacefully. Her mothers - an author and an artist - brought her up in a small cottage atop a quiet slope, overlooking a quaint town with friendly villagers. Naturally introverted, she spent most of her days with her mothers, learning everything she knew from them, and only on Sundays did the blissful family of three pay a visit to the town’s Sunday marketplace. There, her mothers would sell their work pieces while she played with the town’s children. It was a happiness they all wished would last all their lifetimes, but it was a wish that only her parents knew could not be fulfilled.

There was a beautiful spring just behind their house, equipped with ever-active nozzles casting rainbows regardless of the angle of rays shining upon the area. She was forbidden from ever approaching it too closely, but Joohyun was just as curious as she was obedient. Oftentimes, she’d perch atop her tiny purple stool and stare out the full-length window, watching as the water rippled from the soft breeze and shifted the sparkles from the sun rays, little diamonds dancing on the pristine surface. But occasionally, one or both of her mothers would gently shoo her away to spend her time elsewhere as they headed out to the spring. While she knew she should be heeding her parents’ wishes, the growing distress in their voices every time they went out to the spring worried her and she couldn’t help but to attempt to eavesdrop each time.

This afternoon was no exception as she hid behind the sofa, head slightly peeking to glimpse through the full-length windows. It was nearer than she’d ever dared to venture during her sneaky escapades, but curiosity had finally gotten the better of her and it rewarded her with the view of a shimmering image of a woman in the mist, moving as if a projector were shining upon the sheet of minuscule water droplets. She gasped as the unfamiliar yet strangely familiar woman spoke, soft voice ringing out.

“I’m afraid it’s almost time, child. We can’t divert their attention for much longer.”

Despite having their backs facing her, Joohyun could sense her mothers’ dejection as their shoulders slumped a little.

“Can we just have 2 more weeks? It’s almost Joohyun’s 7th birthday and we were hoping to go on a little road trip to the neighbouring town. She’s been looking forward to the annual book festival there,” her mother pleaded the woman in the mirage with a strained voice; Joohyun could sense a tinge of desperation and a shot of worry was further pumped into her veins.

Sighing, the lady placed a steadying hand on her right temple as the mist shimmered a little brighter. She contemplated for a long moment, her mothers waiting with bated breaths, before grudgingly replying.

“1 more week, and not an hour longer. Even Hecate’s Mist manipulating abilities can only hide you three for so long. Don’t take any further risks - it would pain both Aphrodite and I to lose any of you.”

The stern voice laced with concern rattled Joohyun as her mothers solemnly nodded, the mirage shimmering and fading away. They shared a hug afterwards, one that spoke of consolation, assurance but also anxiety, and Joohyun crept away to her room, trying to process the conversation she’d overheard.

Exactly a week later, their family of three packed only their essentials into their new sedan car, headed for the nearest airport.

A month after that, in a country a thousand odd kilometres away from her home, their family of three dwindled to two as one of her mothers dashed away from the hulking giants with Joohyun in her arms, desperately screaming out for her other mother who stood in place with a forlorn smile and tears streaming down. The words I love you were mouthed before her eyes turned resolute as she drew a sword and a dangerous pink glow seeped out, her mother’s determined back which steadily grew smaller making up the last memory she would ever have of her. 

A year after that, Joohyun felt the deja vu as she was whisked off by a satyr, his lean arms attempting to but failing to be as comforting as her mother’s as the woman stood with her back facing a horde of giant arachnids this time, but with the same forlorn smile and pained tears marring her face. Her sword and shield glowed a steady grey this time, reliable yet resigned, just like her mother. She mouthed those three words as well, tearing into Joohyun’s heart as she pleaded even more desperately.

And for a brief moment, it looked as if her mother might change her mind, faltering a little as she moved to take a step towards them. Tiny tendrils of hope curled within Joohyun as she perked up a little, drawing in a steadying breath to call out to her mother once more, before the force of a voice racked her entire being.

Sleep, child.

And with a faint pink afterglow in her vision, Joohyun’s eyelids drooped as her eyes attempted to sear the strong but minute back of her mother into memory, eventually closing shut.

When she woke to two women standing by her bed in the infirmary, so reminiscent of her mothers but so, so different, she knew.

1 year, 2 months and 2 weeks was all it took for Joohyun to go from a peaceful family of three to hollow solitude.