There were few things that Sungjoo hated more than rain. Oh, he had grown up with it, knowing that it was an inevitable part of life in the area of the world that he was from, and yet he didn't have to like it. The way that his shaggy brown hair stuck to his forehead like some sort of ridiculous hat frustrated him nearly as much as the fact that his brown cloak didn't do its job as well as it should have. His shirt underneath was soaked and he had finally stopped trying to travel for the day, giving in to the overwhelming downpour and taking shelter underneath a rock.

The space wasn't very large, just big enough for him to curl up inside of with his arms wrapped around his legs and his small pack tucked in behind him, but it was still out of the water and that was what counted. Half a day, wasted sitting there: he couldn't help but to grind his teeth in irritation.

"You don't have to waste the day," Siakera told him, piping up for the first time since he had woken that morning. "Since you have to stop, you can practice entering the halls."

He stifled the groan that threatened and shook his head; the raindrops that fell from the curling ends of his hair splattered across his high cheekbones and made their way down to dip inside of his shirt collar. "Where have you been?" he asked her instead of taking her bait. "I would have thought you'd be there this morning to tell me all that I had done wrong last night."

Her hesitance to answer was unlike her, and he felt a cold chill run up his spine that had nothing to do with the rain. Finally she spoke. "Yixuan was killed last night. I... was too wrapped up in helping you to help him."

Sungjoo sat in stunned silence, too surprised to respond for the moment. Yixuan, dead? The kind priest's face flickered through his mind, the small smile that had no hidden motives behind it. "How?" he asked, even as the answer came to mind. "Wenhan!"

"Yes," Siakera answered, pain in her mellifluous voice as she acknowledged his words. "I am afraid that we did not account for how dangerous he is."

Sungjoo knew all too well how dangerous the pretty man was, and he shifted uncomfortably as he felt guilt settle over him. He should have killed him when he had the chance, should never have left the other Hand with Yixuan. He should have known better than that! "Fires take me," he snapped, shaking his head roughly as he slammed a fist to the ground beside him. 

"Do not blame yourself," Siakera told him immediately, her voice at once soothing and a reprimand. "You did as you were asked, I am the one who is at fault. I should have been there for him in that moment-"

"-Instead of with me, trying to show me how to transition to your realms. Eldrie," he added as a curse, trying to keep his mind from imagining what Wenhan would have done to the man. He had never been known for his kindness, had always taken pleasure in boasting of his kills and accomplishments. "Did he..."die quickly? But he was too afraid to ask that, too afraid to hear the answer, so he changed the question. "Can't you bring him back, like you did in the Temple fight?"

During the fight for the White Temple, Yixuan had been dying from a wound Wenhan had inflicted, and yet Siakera had brought him back. Couldn't she do it again?

"No," she answered softly, her voice like a whisper in his mind. "It doesn't work like that, Sungjoo. I am the goddess of healing, not of death. I can heal even a mortal wound as long as there is a breath of life still within, but if I am too late, then..."

A frown came over Sungjoo's thin face, and he lifted a hand to pinch at the crease between his brows. "Kergisa has him now, exactly what she wanted from me in the first place. I'm so...!" He stood, unable to sit there under the rock with this new found knowledge running through his mind. The rain pelted him immediately but he could ignore it now, his blood hot with anger and self-loathing. He should have killed Wenhan, then this would never have happened.

Siakera blessedly stayed silent, allowing him to run through his anger in his own mind. She had already said her piece, told him that it wasn't his fault, but they both knew that Sungjoo would never see it like that. 

The slender man pulled his pack out from underneath the rock, pulling it over broad shoulders before setting off down the slick trail once again. He couldn't just sit there and stew in his thoughts, and so he might as well continue his travels. Anything to try and keep his mind off of his guilt.

He slipped at least half a dozen times before he learned how to avoid the shinier mud and step into the puddles of water or onto clumps of grass. Traveling in the wild mountains was so unlike the streets of Atherpefta that once again he was struck with how far out of his element he was. The world had changed all around him with the downpour, the trees looking nearly unrecognizable with the way that their leaves drooped under the weight of the water. The trail was still visible, thankfully, mostly because it had become what seemed a stream, water at least a hand deep flowing down the way and covering any signs of human life.

It was because of the rain that he almost walked straight into more travelers. If not for the quiet call of someone ahead of him, he would have blundered right into their midst. As it was, the call stopped him in his tracks and he took a mom