[CONTENTID2]A pulse. A breath. Still. Yet, her bones will not mend. Her open flesh will not close.[/CONTENTID2][CONTENTID1]

No fight left in her. Her body is weak.

So weak. Unable to sustain consciousness.

He picks her up from the blood-stained pavement. Her blood stains. While taking in the whole scene, he holds her like a precious treasure. The place is deserted. He looks at her and tells himself... she will be better. Her wounds will heal. Scars will disappear. She will be better.

His first thought is to take her home. But where? Where is home on this side of the Rift? He looks around him and back at her again. He will improvise. He will have to improvise. He will be her home. His body will be her sanctuary.

He hugs her tight. Tighter. Tighter. Tighter than he has ever hugged anyone... as if such skin ship, such intimacy would reawaken her, rekindle strength. To fight again.

"Please, Xinling. Wake." He opens himself to her, draping his soul upon her silent eyes. 

A pulse. A breath. Still. Yet, her bones will not mend. Her open flesh will not close. Her scars, every last one, will prevail. It is not enough to hope alone. How foolish he is, to believe. His mind floats from one possible solution to the next. Each one proving to be as useless as the one before it. So he sees, at last, it is impossible for him to remain as he is. 

He must be persistent. To love her harder. So long as there is still a pulse, a breath. He will persist. He has decided, has he not? On the other side of the Rift. To follow her, never lose sight of her, to remain by her side. 

On the wall, a diminutive silhouette stretches out a hand. A hand in dire need of relief. Searching for her comfort, only to be met by a voice, not unlike his own.

"What did you discover, brother?"

"They cannot heal. On this side of the rift, what's lost is lost. They're weak creatures... helpless." The shadow retracts his arm and allows it to fall limp against his side.

"If she cannot protect herself, then we must protect her. The favor must be repaid."

The two black masses sulking on the wall join to become one. "What is it you plan?" Abandoned cries. Discarded tears.

"You've changed."

Yes, so he has... but he is not alone. "I want to kill them, Jaejoong. Tear their beating hearts from their chest. Demolish their hopes of living. Is that too much to wish for?"

"Your wishes are understandable."

"You say you understand... but weren't you the one who intervened?"

"Indeed, I did. You would've granted them too merciful a death, brother."

"What is it you plan?" He speaks while taking his turn... to cradle the mess of flesh and blood rotting away in between.

"To purge this world. We will make it our own. Only then... only then will she no longer hurt. They are not difficult to eradicate."

"No... no they are not. If an entire race must disappear..." To protect her. Their precious. "So be it." Only then... only then will she return, will she be safe... to remain by their side. Even without a pulse, without a breath...

With a definitive purpose, they are no longer lost little lambs.

To be hopeful. Always.

→ In the Hour of Our Sacrifice ³

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