The kingdom of the north had, at long last, fallen.

The nation famed for its carefully-guarded healing practices and revered arts had finally been torn down ruthlessly and overrun by its neighbor, the kingdom of the west, known for its invincible militia and Spartan culture. The war that had spanned 136 long years, beginning from the time of King Eric, 129th sovereign of the West, had ended in the death of Prince Max, the 230th and last ruler of the North and the destruction of the marble palaces, white stone houses and mile-long orchards of the once great nation.

The conquest of the North had been a plan first initiated by the ambitious King Eric, who had foreseen the nation as a threat to the West after the previous king had denied him an alliance of forces against a much stronger enemy, the South. This was the story told amongst the citizens and the lower ranked officers, that the North had had to be subdued for refusing the West aid and for choosing to ally itself with the South.

The West citizens, more or less raised with the idea of the Northerners as devil practioners and witches who toyed with mortality and youth, had been fueled by the anger and fear instilled into them from birth into destroying the country of healers, sages and bards. Six generations of Westerners, four kings and millions of lives lost had finally born fruit for the West and victory had finally been grasped.


The real reason behind the war, however, was a secret shared only by the king and his closest, most loyal guards.



Commander Wu surveyed what was left of the North from atop the White palace. Behind him the body of the prince lay lifeless, scarlet blooming from the wound on his chest where he had his sword only minutes hence.

He was used to it, the smell of burning, rotting flesh and the sight of once great infrastructures reduced to blackened heaps and debris. He felt nothing, not even fleeting happiness and sense of triumph for having attained victory for his country and achieving what thirteen decades of predecessors could not. The war had been a task instilled into him since birth and now that he had finally won it for the West, he moved on just as quickly to the next assignment at hand.

Another figure clad in the black uniform typical only of the most elite soldiers of the entire Western army appeared behind him moments later. “Commander Wu, we’ve found the target, sir.” The soldier bowed low, kneeling on one leg with a hand placed obtrusively above his heart as he waited patiently for the commander to acknowledge him.

The commander turned away from the horrendous scene to face Jongin, the youngest of his personal guard. Jongin, along with Zitao, Chanyeol, Jongdae and Baekhyun, were the only members of his guard, handpicked amongst the hundreds of thousands who consisted the West army and remain loyal only to him. “Where did you find her?”

“In the south tower, commander. It was Zitao and Chanyeol who discovered the target’s location. It appears that the target had been carefully hidden in a room protected by spell traps and enchantments, sir.” Then Jongin hesitated for a moment, just briefly, although not brief enough for the commander not to notice.

“What else?” He asked, voice terse.

“It seems that the initial report had been incorrect, commander. The target is male, not female, and appears to be fairly young, sir, unlike the one described in the data given by the king,” Jongin reported, head still bowed.

If the commander was surprised by the information, it did not show on his face. It was inevitable that information about one of the North kingdom’s most sacredly guarded secrets would turn out to be false or misconstrued somehow. The task that the king had given him was to find the target, the one called Seer amongst the Northerners, and bring her—him—to the West but there was little information about the target acquired from even the West King’s most talented spies.

It is essential for him to bring back the right person and consequently, it has now become his task to affirm the identity of the target before he can return to the West.

“Lead me to the south tower at once,” the commander ordered. Jongin nodded his head once, answering a quicksir yes sir before striding out of the prince’s chambers first.

The commander followed swiftly, mouth set in a grim line as he replaced thoughts of his previous task with the one at hand.



---





Yixing shuddered once more, wincing in time as bombs hit the city one by one and destroyed buildings and homes along their wake.

The tower he called home was impenetrable to the point that it was completely dislocated from the outside world but he could feel it nonetheless, the rumbling of the ground beneath him and the cries of the townspeople who had been caught in the middle of the senseless war.

There were no windows in his room and the light he’d grown up seeing had all been artificial, created for him by the most skilled mages of their nation. He’d only seen the North Kingdom and its people in his dreams and visions, in the same manner he was seeing and feeling them now being slowly gobbled up by fire and swords.

He knew this day would come inevitably, just as the days before had, but seeing it happening inside his mind had and actually feeling it come to reality were not the same. It was proving too much strain for him to bear that he had to clear his head by force, lest it be consumed by the pain of the citizens and drain him completely.


He muttered a prayer under his breath, the song of his predecessors and one that only appeared in the dreams of the children of Seer blood. Still, it failed to calm the thundering of his heart.


“Yixing, Yixing, we have to go. The city has fallen,” Lu Han said, fear in his voice and marring his slight countenance.

Yixing opened his eyes to see his dearest friend and most loyal companion on his knees in front of him, tears shining in his eyes.


Like himself, Lu Han had known little about the outside world and had grown up within the four walls of the tower, forced to remain pure and clean at all times in order to serve the Seer. And like himself, Lu Han had been forced to part with his family and friends at a very early age in order to be a servant of the gods.

It was an honor, they had said, for Lu Han to be chosen as his companion but Yixing had long since wished that the boy, older than even himself, had been given a choice at freedom instead. For even though he would not hesitate to admit to himself that there are times he would be lost without him, Yixing would sooner wish freedom for his friend than to wish for him to be chained in his prison with him.

He could see it, Lu Han’s future, and he could not help the sad smile that touched his lips.

Yixing shook his head gently. Lu Han looked at him, confused for a moment, before his eyes widened with unbridled panic.

“Yixing, Yixing, what are you saying? We have to go, we have to escape, quickly,” Lu Han’s voice trembled with each word. He clutched at Yixing’s robes, knowing any direct touch to his skin would trigger the Seer’s visions, but his grasp was tight enough for Yixing to feel his desperation.

“Lu Han, it is not my fate to leave here,” Yixing said and Lu Han looked up, horror in his expression. Yixing touched his face briefly, as pale and soft as it was ten years hence, cradling a cheek with his hand. He could see it, clear as day, Lu Han’s future and happiness. “But it is your fate to live and be free, Lulu. I can see it.”

Yixing smiled as Lu Han unconsciously leaned into his touch, human physical contact for them a rarity of rarities. But the context of Yixing’s words seemed to dawn upon him belatedly and Lu Han quickly moved away from his touch.


“I don’t understand what you’re trying to say, Yixing.” Lu Han shook his head. “No, I don’t want to understand it, I don’t.”


“Lu Han, listen to me. You must take heed of what I say,” Yixing urged. Lu Han continued to shake his head, as though trying not to hear Yixing and continued tugging at the Seer’s robes.

“We must leave Yixing, I know a secret path leading underground, away from here.” Lu Han’s voice shook as he spoke. “Please, please, Yixing. I won’t let you die here, I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“Lu Han, listen to me.” Yixing took his gloved hands in his, urging the older boy to look up. Lu Han’s face was twisted in anguish when he did, eyes pleading silently.

“Lulu, you have to be strong for me, do you understand? You have to escape from here and live; you must go to the East, that is where your future lies.”

Lu Han was shaking his head the entire time Yixing spoke, whimpering softly. “No, no, no, I can’t, it’s not, no,” he muttered brokenly. “You cannot mean this, Yixing, you cannot.”

Yixing shook him lightly by the shoulders then harshly when the older boy continued begging him to leave with him. “Lu Han, it is not your fate to die here. They—they will come for me soon and if they find you here, you will die and if they do not find me, they will ravage the East next. Please, you must leave now and head for the East.” Yixing insisted.

Lu Han stilled, hands gripping Yixing’s cloth harshly. “What? They—will come for you? What do you mean?”

Yixing let out a ragged breath, plagued with conflict and despair. “They—the West—they know of our country’s secret. They know of the Seer’s existence, that’s why they’ve come.” He explained as realization dawned on Lu Han.

“But—but how? How could they—“ Yixing shook his head; he had no words to explain to Lu Han that this was all part of fate’s plan for he himself had not yet seen it in his visions.

“They will not kill me, at least not until I have served their purpose but you, they would not hesitate to kill you, Lu Han.” It was Yixing pleading this time, gripping Lu Han’s cloak. “Please do not let me be witness to your death, please.”

Lu Han lapsed into quiet despair, heart heavy with the pain of the decision he must make. He had spent his entire life, a short-lived 20 years, listening and following Yixing’s requests and orders but this was the first time he could not find a willing bone in his body to comply. “I cannot be without you, Yixing, I cannot.”

Yixing wiped away the tear that had rolled down a pale cheek, only to have it replaced by more. He could not stand seeing Lu Han’s despair but to be the reason for Lu Han’s death, to deprive him of the future he deserved, was unacceptable.

“Yes you can, Lulu, I have seen it in my visions. You will find freedom and happiness in the East, you can play the lyre to your heart’s content and you can travel as you’ve always dreamed of,” Yixing said, smiling softly, genuinely happy for his oldest friend. For all his life, he had been Lu Han’s entire world, living and breathing only for Yixing’s sake, he understood that Lu Han needed to come into terms that this was not meant to last forever.

“But—but how would I be happy without you?” The break in Lu Han’s voice pained Yixing more than he ever let on.

“We will meet again, someday, outside of these walls. I promise you,” Yixing said. He stood up and pulled the distraught Lu Han, hands gripping the older boy’s as tightly as he possibly could. The vision of Lu Han’s future, the one without him but with the freedom and happiness they have always longed for, was the only thing holding him intact and preventing him from breaking down.

His future was uncertain in the hands of their conquerors but he would make sure Lu Han would not have to suffer the same fate.

“Yixing, Yixing,” Lu Han continued to utter brokenly, as Yixing pushed him towards the trap door. When Lu Han made no motion to open it, Yixing did so for him and forced Lu Han down with all the strength he could muster.

“Yixing, Yixing, don’t do this. I can’t do this, I can’t.” Tears streamed endlessly down Lu Han’s cheeks this time, unhindered and unashamed.

Yixing avoided his friend’s eyes. “When you enter the East, you will find a traveller, a dancer, who will aid you. You must not speak about the North and you must forget about my existence, it is important that you do not ever speak of your connection with me Lu Han, that will be the only way you can be completely safe.”

Yixing stilled when the sounds of the war entered his mind’s eye once again, his guard lowered by his distraught feelings. Someone had killed the prince, he could sense it and soon, they were coming for the tower, for him.

He had pushed Lu Han halfway down so only his head was sticking out the secret trap door but the older boy would not budge, crying as he refused to leave.

Yixing got on his knees and took Lu Han’s face in his hands, pressing his forehead against Lu Han’s. He focused his mind on Lu Han’s future until it was all that he could see and hear then made Lu Han privy to this vision. It was the first time he had done this, allowed another person into his mind but he was desperate and he needed Lu Han to understand.

Lu Han jerked back, eyes wide with surprise. “What—what was that?”

“That was your future, the reason why you cannot stay here,” Yixing looked into his eyes this time, begging him to understand. “You must make this come true, do you understand me Lulu? You must live for the both of us, I will not forgive you if you do not.”


Lu Han wept harder than ever.


Yixing felt something jerk him to the side and he looked to the entrance of his room. The enemies were upon him, destroying the enchantments safeguarding the tower as they spoke.

Yixing took off the ring the king had given him and pressed it against Lu Han’s hand. Lu Han looked at it then eyed him with alarm and despair. “Yixing, Yixing, please, do not do this,” he pleaded once again.

He ignored Lu Han’s protests and quickly got up and took hold of the trapdoor. As though an afterthought, he pressed his lips against Lu Han’s forehead, a blessing for his friend’s journey. “I will always be with you, Lu Han, in heart, mind and soul, always,” Yixing whispered before closing the door and shutting it tight, his name upon Lu Han’s lips muffled by the thick wood.


He pressed on it hard with both hands, fumbling with the lock as Lu Han continued to pound relentlessly from the other side.

“You must live, Lu Han. I am so sorry for this but you must,” Yixing said, letting out a shaky breath as he managed to secure the lock and pulled the carpet over it. He let his own tears fall freely the moment Lu Han left his line of sight.

He could still feel his friend’s presence, his sobs echoing through his mind like a prayer and he listened carefully, desperately trying to hold on to what little of Lu Han was left. He had lied to him, about them meeting again in the future but even then he still wanted to believe it was possible.

It was only when Lu Han’s and his own sobs had died out completely that he got up and walked over to his seat in the middle of the room and did the only thing left for him in the midst of his circumstances.

He waited.





---





From afar, Commander Wu could see the rest of guards crowding in front of a large, golden door. Zitao, Jongdae, Chanyeol and Baekhyun bowed low when he came into their view, stepping aside to let him pass.

“Is the target behind this door? Report your progress.” He ordered, eyeing the intimidating door then his subordinates.

Jongdae was the first to speak up. “Commander, we have succeeded in undoing all the enchantments guarding the entrance. We acquired the aid of one of the Northern mages in order to do so, he has also been disposed of appropriately after the task had been accomplished. The door itself can also only be opened by magic, Baekhyun proved to be sufficient for the task. There is a young man in the upper room but we have not yet confirmed his identity, sir.”

The commander’s face remained grim, brows furrowed ever so slightly but not enough to create any noticeable change in his expression. “And why is that?”

Baekhyun, the most talented magic user of his army, magic being a talent rare in Northerners, answered him this time. “Commander, the aura inside the Seer’s quarters itself is undeniably strong and it appears to quickly drain any man’s power once he steps inside. It seems ‘tis impossible for anyone else but the Seer himself to remain in that room for long, sir.”


The commander lapsed into thoughtful silence, expression unreadable. “And what of the Seer?”


Zitao and Chanyeol exchanged a brief glance before the latter spoke up. “Commander, the Northerner refused to speak to us when we came upon him. It is almost certain that he is indeed the Seer but—“

“I will confirm his identity. Open the door,” he ordered.

“Right away, sir,” Baekhyun nodded and quickly stepped forward to place a hand against the ornate door. Baekhyun began chanting the required prayer then paused in the middle of a verse, expression betraying surprise. He cocked his head to the side, as though listening.

Zitao and the others eyed him with confusion while the Commander asked. “What is the matter, lieutenant?”

Baekhyun did not move when he addressed him. “Commander, it seems that the man inside is communicating with me through our minds. He insists—“ Baekhyun moves his head slightly, eyes closed and in deep concentration. “—he warns us that bringing weapons inside his quarters will do us harm, sir. That doing so will trigger an enchantment and kill us slowly.”

“Could this be a trap to make us give up our weapons?” Jongin piped in, hand ready on his beloved rapiers that rarely, if not never, leave his side.

“’Tis possible, sir. Even without the aid of magic, even I, a normal soldier, had sensed the strength of his power when we came upon him earlier, Commander,” Zitao quipped, expression mirroring the older man’s.

Baekhyun glanced at Commander Wu, awaiting instructions. “Commander, that is what the man, the Seer, advices. He is adamant about forgoing our weaponry, sir.”

The commander remained for a few moments before unstrapping his sword and removing the few knives hidden in various parts of his uniform.


Zitao, Chanyeol, Jongdae and Jongin started almost simultaneously. “Sir!”


“Silence,” he cuts in harshly. “He is the Seer; ‘tis likely he has expected us long before this day and yet he chose to remain here and await us. We must value his advice at the very least in respect for his bravery.” The Commander handed his weapons to Jongin who looked appalled. He himself would sooner cut off his own tongue than give up his weapons, especially when about to enter an enemy’s abode.

Commander Wu regarded his men who all but Baekhyun shared Jongin’s sentiments. “Jongdae, send message to the king about the prince’s death and the fall of the North. Zitao, Chanyeol and Jongin, make haste to the troops and give orders to bury the dead. Baekhyun, you will remain here and guard the entrance until I return with the Seer.”

“Sir, yes, sir!” All five responded, the four given task to leave, bowing quickly before disappearing.


“Now, do it,” he ordered and Baekhyun nodded his head once more. Mouth set in a grim line, he continued murmuring the chant, hand pressed against the metal.


It took several long seconds and great effort on the soldier’s part to crack the entrance open slightly. “Sir, I cannot hold the spell for long.” He said, without breaking contact with the entrance.

The commander nodded briefly before slipping into the entrance, weaponry forgone. With resolve, he quickly made for the stairs which ended in yet another door, though this time white and just large enough to fit one person.

He felt something akin to lightning and flames jolt from his hand and travel all throughout his body the moment his hand touched the knob. It was undeniable, the Seer’s aura, as it reverberated strongly even at this distance.

He turned the knob with all his strength, expecting it to be difficult as with the previous door but the force he had exerted had proved too much and broke the knob upon opening. It seemed that there was no strong magic guarding this entrance, much to the commander’s surprise.


He entered the quarters, only to be greeted by a paradise-like universe almost as large and wide as the entire ground floor of the West King’s palace, the ceiling too high for even the soldier to see.

From outside, the tower had seemed deceptively depreciated and cramped, possibly to mislead foreigners from discovering the existence of the dwellers. Inside the room had been transformed by magic into a palace fit for a king, white marble and gold ornaments, flowers and greenery and every comfort imaginable adorning every inch of the impossibly large space.

He could feel it, the force pressing down on him as though subduing him where he stood but it was less strong than his guards had described it.

With caution, he stepped closer, surveying the area on instinct before something, a thought or a force he wasn’t sure, made him look to the side.


And there he saw him.


Swathed from head to toe all in white, the material almost translucent and seemed woven with the silvery light of the stars, the Seer seemed to blend with it, pale skin glowing in the bright artificial light. At first glance, the commander had the distinct impression that he was not looking at someone mortal.

The Seer had his eyes closed, mouth moving wordlessly and solemnly as though in prayer as he sat in a makeshift bed which consisted only of the downy paillasse. The Commander strode closer to him until he stood merely a feet away, eyes unreadable as he took in the man’s appearance.


“Are you the North Seer?” His voice rung smooth but terse in the deafeningly silent abode. If the Seer could sense him, Commander Wu could not tell for he did not stop chanting nor did he open his eyes to acknowledge his presence.

The leader of the West army grew impatient and he stepped forward to grab the young Seer by the arm. The Seer, sensing his force growing closer, moved back instinctively, opening his eyes for the first time to glare at the soldier.

“Do not touch me,” he grated, unwelcoming. “You must think twice, soldier, if you want to make me privy to your thoughts and memories.”

The commander did not continue his assault and instead gazed into the eyes of the man in front of him. He knew, almost instinctively the moment he stared into the dark depths of his russet orbs that this was him indeed, the man he’d had had to dedicate his entire life into finding.

The Seer whom the West King coveted to the point of obsession, the man who would make the West a force to be reckoned with for the decades to come.

He had been taught that the Seer was a woman of wizened age, one who would not put up a fight physically but whose magic was limitless in power. He did not expect to find in her stead a very young man, pale, lithe and almost ethereal in beauty, and who now stared up at him with intense hatred burning in his eyes.


“I am Commander Wu of the West Army. Your kingdom has fallen and you are now captive and property of the 130th sovereign, King Yunho of the Great West Kingdom. You will obey me if you do not want to be dragged into the gates of the West by your hair,” the Commander’s tone was cold and final.

The Seer though seemed undaunted and stood up instead, chin jutting out in quiet, haughty pride. He barely reached the soldier’s nose in height but his glare was by no means any less icy.

“Did you truly expect me to go willingly with you?” His eyes flashed with anger and despise. “I would rather die and burn alive here with my people than serve your swine of a king.”

The Commander’s eyes narrowed. He stepped closer until only a hair’s breadth separated their bodies before forcing Yixing’s chin up. Yixing jerked at the contact, immediately closing his mind’s eye when images started filling his head but the commander held him firm. Their eyes met, cold steel meeting burning passion.

The Seer, with his cheeks stained lightly with red, was starting to appear less angelic and more human now, he noted silently.

“You are not as timid as you appear, I see, but defying me will not serve you any purpose. I will not hesitate to knock you unconscious, hoist you over my shoulder and parade you clothless as spoils of war through the West and then where will your pride be, Northerner?” The commander’s tone was biting, hitting Yixing hard in the gut. He was also under strict command not to inflict damage on the Seer in any way but he did not think the young man needed to know that.

Yixing brought a hand up to slap him but the soldier was quicker, clamping a large hand tight around the Seer’s slim wrist.

Images came rushing in waves into Yixing, fire, blood, sword gleaming under the moonless night and death, all dizzying and sickening. It was the first time he had touched such a man, the only other person he had ever knowingly touched being Lu Han who knew no darkness and despair other than a yearning for the outside world. This man who smelled of death and his citizens’ blood was however, very different. There was no reprieve, no hint nor glimmer of light in Commander Wu’s heart and mind.

He pushed against the commander as he could and the older man, sensing a change in his aura, let him.

Yixing heaved and inhaled harshly, his stomach churning with the force of the bloodshed he had witnessed. The soldier merely stared at him though he increased his guard as the Seer continued to create a distance between their bodies with the force of his will.

“You—what have you done? All those people—“ Yixing could barely get two words in, nausea still clambering up his throat as he clutched against his stomach.

The commander could read the horror in Yixing’s eyes and needed no further confirmation. “I will not touch you again but in exchange you will follow me out of this room with your own two feet.” There was no room for negotiation in his words.

Yixing did not make any indication if he’d heard him, his eyes growing dimmer as images continued to flash inside his mind. Even the commander’s mere presence triggered them and so he stepped backwards, as far away from him as he could possibly get.

Yixing lunged for an ornate drawer behind his bed before the commander could step forward, and took out a long blade, untouched it seemed from the way purity of its gleam.

The soldier advanced towards him then stopped when Yixing aimed the blade at his heart. “Do not come near me, soldier, or I will pierce my own heart and your quest would have been in vain,” Yixing voice broke but one could not mistake his seriousness and determination.

Commander Wu cursed under his breath, weighing his options quickly and methodically. The act of taking the Seer was proving more difficult than he’d first thought.

It would not take him more than four seconds to span the few feet that separated them, grab the blade from the Seer’s hands and knock him out but he could not gamble easily with his target’s life.


“Millions have died for your sake, do not waste the lives of your people by taking your own meaninglessly,” he said, deadly calm so as not to provoke the other.

“You have killed them, denied them of their chance at life. It is not the same as dying for my sake, soldier,” Yixing spat.

“That does not change the fact that millions of lives have been lost in our nation’s quest to acquire your power and you will make all of them meaningless if you die here.”

Yixing shook visibly, more with anger than fear. "How dare you, you heathen. I've seen you in my visions, you--you come upon my nation and destroy it and yet there is no twinge of remorse in your soul. Have you noshame? Are you even human?" He sobbed, the intense shaking of his fingers causing the dagger to dig into his clothing.

The commander's face remained passive. "I doubt you are entitled to talk about the difference between human and monster, Northerner." He moved a step closer, making no other sudden movement. "Why? Do you feel guilty and pained for causing the ruin of your nation?"

Yixing faltered briefly, words stilled as he gasped for air.

“Do not—do not blame this on me, soldier, it is not—it is not my fault,” Yixing struggled to say but his words were stunted by his harsh breathing. “This is not my fault.” Yixing seemed to crumple in front of him, eyes unfocused and glassy.


The commander could read it, guilt and weakness welling up and wracking his body, and he quickly took his chance to disarm him and knock him into unconsciousness. The Seer’s body fell forward, limp and unmoving as the commander caught him by the arm. He wrapped the smaller man’s body with the white sheet covering his bed, careful not to leave any part exposed except the lower half of his face.

He carried the Seer’s lithe body in his arms as though he weighed no more than a sack of feathers as he made his way through the barrier and down the staircase. He pushed at the large golden door with his leg, relieved to find it easier to open from the inside.


The moment he exited the door, however, he felt all his energy drained and he stumbled to his knees. He had all but forgotten about the magic protecting the Seer’s quarters in his haste to retrieve the mage. His breath came out harsh and ragged, his body more abused and beaten in the five or so minutes he had spent in the Seer’s rooms than the countless days he had been fighting and battling in the actual war.


“Commander! Sir, are you alright?” Baekhyun inquired, quickly rushing to his side. He glanced from the leader’s weathered expression to the white bundle he held against his arms. “Has the Seer’s identity been confirmed, Commander?”

He nodded once. “Call for the rest of the guard, we leave for the West at once,” he ordered and Baekhyun is gone after responding with a grim sir, yes, sir.


All five assembled as soon as they were summoned, Jongin being the quickest on his feet, followed by Zitao, Jongdae then finally Chanyeol and Baekhyun who came together. They eyed the white figure in their commander’s arms wordlessly, waiting for instructions.

They stilled the questions at the tips of their tongues, disciplined enough to know better than to question when the leader’s eyes looked positively murderous.


“What of the Northerners?” He asked.


“The troops in the east and south gates have started the burial ritual, sir. They have been instructed to finish by dawn then retreat back to the West,” Zitao answered.
Chanyeol and Jongin nodded to say that the same went for the north and west gate troops.

“I have sent the messenger ahead, commander. The king should be expecting our return by nightfall,” Jongdae spoke up this time to report.

The Commander nodded his head once in brief acknowledgment. “The target has been confirmed and acquired. We return to the West at once, prepare the horses,” he ordered.

He strode forward and the other five were quick to follow as they made their way to the edge of the city, towards the gates that had now been reduced to blackened ruins.


“Commander, may I assist you with—with that?“ Jongdae put in, eyeing the figure in the leader’s arms, as he kept up with the Commander’s longer strides. As second in command as well the Commander’s childhood friend (at least according to Jongdae), he was more easygoing when it came to addressing the much taller man.

Jongin and Zitao also peered with interest while Chanyeol and Baekhyun exchanged glances.

“The Seer is surprisingly proud and feisty. It is not in your best interest to have him in your arms when he wakes up,” the commander advised succinctly, without sparing the soldier a glance. He did not, however, miss the look of amusement which passed through his guards’ faces.


They will understand soon enough, the Commander thinks to himself, as he catches Chanyeol and Baekhyun whispering as they mount their horses from the corner of his eye.

They have, of course, also been tasked to safeguard the Seer for as long as the King had need of him and he considered including the young man’s haughtiness and hostility in his report later when he would face the King.



He will find out for himself I believe as soon as this guy wakes up, he concludes, as he steals a long glance at the bundle in his lap, before barking out the signal to make for the West and leave the crumbling city, the once great nation, behind them.