Wonshik never could have guessed that the last face he saw in the mortal realm would be Hakyeon's. 

He was lying face up in the marshy soil, mud clinging to his clothes and blood pooling around his body from the wound in his midsection, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes as he thought of everything that had gone wrong. Then the fog around him parted and a man bent over him, skin like caramel and eyes glowing a pale blue as he studied the prone figure. Wonshik's eyes struggled to focus on him through the death haze, opened his mouth to ask what the man wanted, but then the face became clear and the only word he was able to choke out was his name.

"Hakyeon..."

The man jolted with surprise and he bent closer, his eyes now focusing on Wonshik's face as if studying him, then he gave a soft chuff of amazement. "Of all the mortals," he mumbled to himself, then his pale eyes darted down to Wonshik's wound. His face firmed up immediately and he stooped to gather Wonshik into his arms, lifting the larger man as easily as if he were a child.

"Well. I am not supposed to steal adults, but I can't leave you."

Then he turned and began to walk, slowly so as not to aggravate Wonshik's wound any more than necessary. And as they went, the fog closed around them, shining briefly with an ethereal blue light.

Wonshik could still remember the first time he saw Hakyeon like it was yesterday. His family was new to the village of Terin, having moved because the town's thatcher had been kicked in the head by a horse and was no longer able to work. Wonshik's father had heard wind of it, picked up everything that his family had (though it wasn't much), and moved right away. He had been an apprentice long enough, he said; it was time to strike out on his own.

The inhabitants of Terin accepted them readily, happy to have a new thatcher especially with the winter coming on. There was always work to be done on the roofs and expertise was greatly appreciated. Wonshik was ten at the time, old enough to help his father at his work, and so he barely got any time to play. As such, the other children in the new village didn't accept him so readily as the adults accepted his family; Wonshik was an oddity to thee others.

It didn't take long for him to realize that there was another oddity among them, though this one was not because the boy was new. No, Hakyeon had grown up in the village, born to a local farmer and his wife. Or so the story went, but one look at Hakyeon and everyone could tell he was different. He was eleven years old, with skin several shades darker than any of his so called relatives and features too delicate to seem real. The whispers that followed him said that he was a changeling, a name that made a chill run down Wonshik's spine, but nothing could be proven until Hakyeon's twelfth birthday. 

The whispers kept Wonshik away from Hakyeon, though he couldn't help but to watch the older boy from afar. There was something so enchantingly beautiful about him, in the way that despite how everyone treated him, he was so quick to laugh. His smile could brighten up a room, and that alone left Wonshik wondering: could he really be a changeling?

They were monsters, everyone knew. The evil Fae would come and steal away human children from the cradle and leave a Fae baby in its place; the Fae would get a slave raised from childhood, and the humans would unknowingly raise another Fae to join the ranks when it was old enough. After all, it was easy to tell a changeling once they hit twelve years old. For their entire life, they would have an affinity for music and a grace that seemed unreal, but while those were Fae traits, they could be human as well. When they hit their twelfth birthday they would fully come into their power, though, and when that happened there were three things that would hurt them.

Salt: It would make their skin blister if they touched it or ate it. 

Rowan wood: they could not cross a doorway that had rowan wood over it, neither coming in or going out.

Iron: they could not touch iron without a welt rising on their skin.

Yet none of these sure tell-tales showed itself until twelve. Wonshik could see why the villagers called Hakyeon a changeling, could see the easy grace that the beautiful boy had and the way that he danced as he walked as if to music only he could hear. And yet, as he watched the other as the weeks passed and winter drew near, he wondered why something so beautiful caused such fear. Even if he was Fae, he was raised by humans; wasn't that enough? When he brought it up to his father, though, the older man had shaken his head and turned to look Wonshik in the eyes.

"It's in their nature to be evil, Wonshik. The outward beauty of a Fae hides the inward ugliness on purpose. They look beautiful and sing wondrous songs and play tantalizing music, only to draw young humans into their grasp so they can enslave them. Even a changeling will not be able to deny the call of blood. So," he added, reaching out to ruffle Wonshik's hair, "Stay away from that boy. We'll see what he is come spring."

He obeyed his father... for the first few months.

One day after winter had fully arrived, Wonshik was playing in the snow, building a small village to pass the time. There was not much work for a thatcher in the winter, with the snows coating the roofs, so he had a lot of time  to spare. The other children still looked at him as an outsider and so he had no one to play with, but he had built boys of snow that he talked to as if they were his friends. He tried not to admit that he was lonely, but he did miss his life in his old village. His sister didn't work with their father, and so she had actually been able to befriend several of the other children, once again leaving Wonshik all alone.

This day would be different though. He returned to his makeshift snow village with a large snowball in his hands, planning to start construction on another snow friend, and found to his surprise that Hakyeon was crouched in the midst of his buildings. The older boy had smiled at him as he approached, but stood and turned as if to leave - he obviously knew he was not welcome. Yet as Wonshik set his massive snowball down, he considered his options. He could obey his father, and spend his time out there alone in the snow talking to imaginary friends, or...

The snowball hit Hakyeon in the back of the head, startling the older boy. He turned with shock painted all over his face,his eyes wide as he looked to Wonshik, but the younger boy merely shrugged and smiled with his hands spread wide. "Do you not want to play, then?" he asked, and Hakyeon's expression changed into one of joy. He swiftly scooped up a snowball to lob at Wonshik, making the smaller boy shriek in laughter and dash to get ammunition of his own.

It didn't take long for them to become inseparable, at least, when they were out of the village. When they were around the others, though, Hakyeon told him not to speak to him. Wonshik didn't understand at first, thought that the older boy was ashamed to be his friend, but he soon realized that it was because Hakyeon didn't want Wonshik to be tainted by association. Just that knowledge made the younger boy angry, but he respected his friend's wishes and kept his distance in the village. It served to make their play time even more precious.

Wonshik turned eleven during the late winter months, a small time of celebration for his family. His friend gave him a small necklace made of braided twine and with two stones secured inside side by side: it showed their friendship, Hakyeon told him,  and it was the thing that Wonshik held most dear.

When the snows began to melt, his mind returned to what his father had said about spring holding answers. Hakyeon seemed increasingly nervous as the weather warmed, and when Wonshik asked him about it, he confessed his feelings. That he was afraid of what they would learn come the end of June, that while he didn't know if he was human or if he was Fae, he felt as if something had been calling him for the past several months. The fear that ran through Wonshik at that had nothing to do with the question of his friend's humanity; instead, he was afraid of losing him.

Less than a week before Hakyeon's birthday, the two boys were playing outside of the village when Wonshik's sister Jiwon found them. She had screamed and thrown a fit at the fact that Wonshik was playing with 'the changeling', and before either of the older boys could catch her, she ran back to the village to tell on them. Wonshik's father came to fetch him a short time later, and Wonshik said a tearful apology to Hakyeon as he was pulled away. For the next several days he was confined to his house, and though his sister tried to speak with him, he would have none of it. It was all her fault, after all. The necklace was of little consolation, the blue and green stones seeming to lose their shine in the shadows of his home.

He knew when Hakyeon's birthday came, if only because of the cry that the villagers raised. It woke him from his sleep in the early morning, an angry mob shouting to kill the changeling and be done with it, and his blood ran cold. His parents were gone, but Jiwon was sitting at the table, her hands clutching a cup of water as she listened to the voices in scared silence. She didn't even try to stop Wonshik as he slipped out of his house, his father's work saw in his small hands. 

The crowd was gathered with Hakyeon's family, all demanding that they be rid of the Fae creature who had lived amongst them. Apparently one of the suggestions being thrown around was burning down the house with him inside, since he could not pass the rowan braided over the top of the doorways, but his parents were arguing with that. To Wonshik's disgust, it wasn't for love of the boy they had raised for the last twelve years, but because they would lose their home. He overheard Hakyeon's father say that it would be better to kill him with an iron knife, and just hearing that made Wonshik feel sick.

He hurried to the back portion of Hakyeon's home, across from where the crowd was gathered in the early morning light, and, with the small saw clamped between his teeth, climbed the side of the house. His time working with his father had made him a skilled climber, and within moments he had scaled the thatch side and was up over the rowan lashings. He didn't know if this would work, not for sure at least, but he had to try.

Settling down in what seemed the weakest spot, he took the saw from his teeth and began to cut away at the thatch roof, determined to open a hole. It was taking far too long for his liking, but just as he was beginning to wonder if he should try something else, he heard the voices of the villagers quiet down. It seemed that they had come to an agreement of sorts and that they had decided on how to get rid of the changeling within their midst, and Wonshik's heart began to race. They couldn't kill Hakyeon! 

He set to the roof with a renewed energy, cutting the thatch with the saw and using his hands to pull away everything he could. He didn't think he would manage in time, but just as the sun rose fully over the village, his small fingers struck wood. The lathes! All thatch was bound to a frame made of thin wooden lathes, and now Wonshik set to work with the saw once again. It cut through the wood easier than it had the thatch, and it didn't take long for a hole to open up, large enough for Wonshik to slip through.

He dropped to the floor of the house, afraid that he was too late, but as his eyes adjusted to the candlelight he saw that he was still alone in the main room. "Hakyeon!" he called softly, not wanting his voice to carry to the mob outside. The older boy came immediately, his beautiful face shining with fear, but the fact that he trusted Wonshik enough to come out of hiding meant the world to the young boy.

"What are you doing here?" he hissed at Wonshik, eyes darting fearfully toward the front door. "I am a changeling, Wonshik. I can't pass the rowan. You shouldn't be here."

"You're my friend," he said stubbornly, and pointed at the hole in the roof. "Now step on my shoulders and get out of here before they hurt you."

Hakyeon looked up at the hole then, seeming to notice it for the first time, then he was shaking his head. "But where am I supposed to go?" he asked softly, fear and sorrow thick in his voice.

Wonshik reached out to grab the taller boy's shoulders and s