The black sands of Caschaea appeared from behind the white fog rolling over the sea as though they had passed through the gates of the Underworld, a world that now no longer seemed so different from their own. Sehun sat next to Tao, the two of them in silence as the ferry bobbed in the water, Suho and Xiumin pulling the boat into port to dock. Taeyong rushed off the ferry, slowly walking the length of the dock towards land, to the place that always drew him closest to his father.

“Well, we’re in the right place,” Taeyong said, surveying the dark plains.

“It’s late. We’d do best to rest for the night,” Suho said, staying close to Sehun as they made their way off the ferry, the others going on ahead of them.

Tao made his way by Taeyong’s side. “Have you heard anything else from Jaejoong?” he said lowly, eyes on the Dragon’s Back in the near distance, the edges of the cliffs barely visible against the black horizon.

“I feel his presence more than anything. We aren’t connected enough--the connection isn’t stable enough for the two of us to communicate.” Taeyong paused, brows furrowed. “There’s a lot of chaos.”

Tao breathed. “That can’t be good.”

The decrepit shack near the dock had been blanketed in thorny vines, vines that had nearly consumed it, vines that had been growing long before the Red Force had arrived on Exo. Lay and Baekhyun stepped inside cautiously, Baekhyun supplying light as Lay grabbed what he could for firewood.

Tao stood on the outskirts of the group, eyes looking far into the growing darkness around them. He repeatedly glanced over his shoulders, unable to plant his weight firmly into the ground.

Chen stumbled off the ferry and onto the dock, head twitching and fingers shaking. He pulled his cloak tightly to his body and little hairs on the top of his head stood on end. He stayed close to Kai and Sehun, both of which seemed more like shadows as the days passed, though Sehun especially seemed hollow. He hunched over, his shoulders nearly up to his ears, his back like a hook curving over an ever-thinning belly.

Lay dragged the remains of an old table with only three legs out of the shack, Baekhyun following behind with a few weathered shelves , the two of them finding a spot several meters from the shore to build a fire. “It feels like we’ve only just gotten here and it’s already getting dark,” Lay grunted, adjusting the wood.

Taeyong walked over, hands in his pockets. “That’s because you’re on the island now. It’s always dark here. Dark as all the evils you lot are afraid of on the mainland,” he smirked, watching as Lay and Baekhyun fought to create a spark.

“What was it like growing up here?” Xiumin asked, dragging a rock up towards the bonfire, Suho following behind.

Taeyong sat on the rock. “Quiet mostly. There isn’t much here besides the nocturnal creatures you won’t find on the mainland.” He paused, eyes on the small flames that Lay and Baekhyun had finally brought to life. “I felt stronger—I feel stronger here. The quiet of this world lets me hear the noise from the other one. Nowadays, I only hear crying and screaming and pain. Father and my uncles, they’re doing what they can, but it’s not enough. The longer I listen, the more I think that pain is rooted in the Tree. Fix the Tree and you fix the Spirit Realm.”

Suho pulled up another rock, sweat beaded on his forehead and drenched in his hair. “Coming from the Tree? You’re sure?”

Taeyong nodded. Tao looked over his shoulder, eyes on Suho.

“That’s exactly what I’ve been worried about.” Suho sighed, running his fingers through his hair, slicking it down. “I don’t know if,” he stopped, staring hard at the ground. “I don’t know if we can even do anything without,” he trailed off.

“Taemin said the Tree was gonna die.” Everyone turned to face Kai. “If Taemin saw it, it’s gonna happen. The Tree is gonna die, there’s no way around it.” He kept his head down, glaring into the black dirt.

They watched as the flames began to reach higher into the sky, each of them unmoving and quiet.

“Is this a losing fight?” Baekhyun mumbled, mouth falling agape.

Minhyun stood close to Ren, the two exchanging a look before glancing at the rest of the Legends. “The Tree is definitely gonna die?” Minhyun asked.

Lay looked harder and harder into the flames. Then, he stared at Sehun, a constant reminder of the limitations of his Force.

Tao sat alone in the dark, the glow of the embers dim in the pit of ashes. He continued to glance over his shoulder with every crack or creak that echoed from the edge of the wood or from the caves high up on the Dragon’s Back. In the darkness, only his memories were vivid; the look on Luhan’s face before he died remained like a searing burn in his mind. The sobs Sehun choked on, the blood the bubbled in Luhan’s mouth, it was the throbbing that pounded against his temples with every beat of his heart.

Then he stood slowly, still trapped in haunting visions. With one breath, he turned towards the Dragon’s Back and let the darkness of the wood engulf him, leaving the others to sleep under the crying wind.

“He never came to sleep,” Minhyun said, watching as Suho gazed into the outskirts of the wood, staring deeply as if he were pleading with them.

“Good riddance,” Sehun’s hands were balled into fists.

Lay turned to him. “Sehun.”

“What? What has he done for anybody? Let him go and hide like a coward.”

“You don’t know anything about him.” Lay was suddenly stern.

“Well that’s his fault, isn’t it?”

“At any rate,” Suho began, “We should get going. We might cross paths with him on the island. Taeyong? Where to?”

Taeyong shrugged, then looked over the treetops. “The Dragon’s Back, I suppose.”

The messy blonde hair on his head was caked with dirt as was his face, expression like that of a grown man’s. His stubbly knees looked as though they would collapse beneath his tiny weight and his white shirt was full of holes. Tao had run deep into the wood, far away from his home. He could still hear his mother calling, her shrill voice echoing off the trees. Taking one last look over his shoulder, he climbed over the trunk of a fallen tree that blocked the path that crawled up the mountain.

His bare feet began to bleed as the sharpened rocks along the path cut into his flesh, his little voice hissing and eyes wincing. Somewhere at the end of the path was the opening of a cave, a cave he was sure he would find something magical like in the folktales his father used to tell.

Tao tossed his cloak aside into the brush, his shoes scuffed and dirty, his hair unkempt and the hem of his pants worn around his ankles. Thinner than ever, the wind blew right through him, and it howled and wailed around the mountain as he struggled to climb the path just as he’d done all those many years ago. The side of the mountain was so steep, though not as steep as he remembered it at four years old. Such an old memory that had so suddenly come back to him.

Finally, at the mouth of the cave, the Dragon’s Mouth, Tao leaned into the ledge, his throat raw. And then when he stared into the darkness, it stared right back.