Chapter Four

sed·i·men·ta·ry

/ˌsedəˈmen(t)ərē/

adjective

Solid fragmented material, such as silt, sand, gravel, chemical precipitates, and fossil fragments, that is transported and deposited by water, ice, or wind or that accumulates through chemical precipitation or secretion by organisms, and that forms layers on the Earth's surface.

November 12^th, 5692

            Only the mages were allowed to hunt. Those without cloaking abilities would be in immediate danger if they were to wander any further than the surrounding meadows.

            Winter was approaching fast––faster than normal––, and Jongup shivered as he slung his bow back over his shoulder. It had been snowing on and off for the past week. He should have known to wear a heavier cloak, but the irrational part of his brain just wouldn’t shut up about how much the thicker material restrained his shoulders.

            His group had split up a little over half an hour ago, in hopes that maybe they would have more luck covering more ground. Jongup hoped that the others were doing better than he was, because there had yet to be a single pheasant or deer in his path. He was beginning to grow tired as he pushed his way through the brush of the forest. As the archer of his team, he was supposed to make a post in a tree somewhere and wait for something made of meat to pass him by. He could usually let down his cloaking shield while he hunted that way, too, being far enough off the ground that none of the deadly beetles or snakes would be able to sniff him out. He could put more of his magical energy into his shots.

            After making his way into a small clearing, he skirted along the edge of the area before selecting a tree to suit his assignment. After tightening the straps of the gauntlet on his right forearm and readjusting his leather gloves, he scaled the tree with practiced ease, and settled with his legs straddling a relatively thick branch about halfway up the trunk.

            “Ex clipeum,” he mumbled with a swift exhale, and the cover around his body broke, the magic energy that had sustained it returning to his body quickly.

            He only sat in silence for a few minutes before his ears picked up the sound of rusting from behind the brush opposite him and across the meadow, and he silently drew back the arrow he had strung into his bow before. He lifted it in the direction of the noise and held steady, waiting as the noise grew louder. A small, brown rabbit broke through the bushes, and Jongup sighed, but didn’t relax his arms. Better than nothing, he thought. The arrow whistled through the air and pierced the rabbit through the eye with a soft thunk, his shot going straight through and pining the dead animal to the ground by its head. All of this was well and normal, and Jongup would have simply reloaded his bow and reset himself to continue the hunt from where he was, if not for a loud, voice-cracking yell that pierced through the meadow the second the arrow landed nestled in the dead grass, coming from the same area of brush that the rabbit had emerged from. The sound startled Jongup, ringing through his ears painfully, and he jerked backwards, losing his balance and falling gracelessly out of the tree. Luckily, he managed to absorb most of the impact into a tuck and roll, but he still groaned in pain as he stood up. Most of the force had hit his knees, and he stumbled a bit trying to stand. His right ankle buckled under his weight, though, and that was when he felt the pain. He must’ve landed on it the wrong way. It would be fine, probably just a twist. He bit his tongue to muffle a pained groan.

            Had one of his fellow hunters strayed from their assigned path? He backed up, limping, and crouched behind the trunk of the tree that he had been in not even a minute before, and lowered himself down carefully, only to perk up when a voice filtered through the reddening leaves.

            “––hear that?”

            He didn’t know that voice. But who else would be out here besides the hunters and mages? It was far too dangerous for someone who couldn’t cast a thing.

            “Must be the source this stupid thing is going crazy over,” another voice said.

            Two? Maybe more? Jongup had no idea what was going on, but he wanted out. Getting up would make too much noise, though, so he elected to stay hiding, and he held his breath when he heard a pair of footsteps break into the clearing. He could hear three voices, now, all talking to each other, but he wasn’t paying attention to anything that actually left their mouths. He could make out a fast beeping noise and the sound of metal scraping against metal.

            “Well, go on, then, follow it. The source is obviously around here somewhere.”

            “Which way?” The second voice sounded a little shaken.

            “The way the arrow is pointing, .”

            Jongup hugged his knees to his chest. “In clipeum,” he said softly, and let the magic flow out of him to surround his body, sealing him off from the world.

            The beeping stopped, and the footsteps paused, only a few feet away.

            “The hell?” There was a rattling sound and then a thunk, and Jongup held his breath. “It’s gone,” the second voice announced.

            “What? Give me that.” There was a small scuffle and then a grunt. “No, that can’t be possible. A conductor like that can’t just disappear. It must be this stupid machine. Let’s still have a look around here.”

            “Well, what exactly is it we’re looking for?”

            “Gee, I don’t know, maybe whatever you think a giant power conductor would look like?”

            Jongup heard more shuffling, and then the second voice spoke again: “wait, what about that animal?”

            The other man scoffed. “Don’t get too hung up on it, Jae––”

            “Don’t call me that.”

            “––everything dies.”

            There was a groan. “No, I mean, look. It’s dead. There’s a… pointy, sharp thing through its head.”

            “And?”

            “And, that means something killed it. There’s somebody here.” Another beat of silence. “Just, be careful. They obviously have weapons.”

            “Well, so do we.”

            “Whatever.”

            Jongup held his breath as the shuffling crunch of leaves came closer, seeming to approach the tree he hid against. He looked to the ground and realized that he had left his bow laying in the dirt next to him, quite visibly. It was too late to apply the spell to it; he’d have to undo everything, grab it, and then recast, and there was no time for that. He would just have to hope that whoever was over there would assume he ran, and left it behind.

            Sure enough, someone rounded the line of bushes at the base of the tree trunk. He was young; couldn’t have been much more than a few years older than Jongup. The first thing Jongup noticed that seemed off about him was his dress. It seemed the white material of his jacket was smooth and shiny, and there were strange metal bands around his forearms. His pants were also shiny, but black, and seemed far too tight, fitted like a second skin to his legs. He wore a thick belt, too, with multiple things secured to and dangling from it, all looking like they were made of metal. One was a gun.

            Guns were illegal, no matter the type. They had been outlawed long before Jongup had been born––deemed too dangerous to be put in the hands of the public––but he knew enough about them that he could recognize the holster. How had this man gotten a hold of one? As far as Jongup knew, most, if not all, previously manufactured guns had been long confiscated and dismantled, the material melted down and repurposed.

            Jongup shook his thoughts away as the man moved closer, seeming to have spotted his bow lying on the ground. He held his breath as the man approached, and knelt next to him, unknowing of his presence. He picked it up hesitantly by the string and Jongup wanted to shout at him to put it down, because he might break it.

            “What is this?” The man mumbled to himself, holding it a safe distance away as if it might suddenly lash out and attack him, or something. “Weird,” he muttered, and tossed the bow back to the ground. It hit Jongup’s leg, and landed on the ground in front of him, half propped up by his shin. This would be all fine and normal if he wasn’t invisible.

            The man stumbled back. “W-what,” he stuttered.

            Please leave, please leave, Jongup chanted in his head. He was cornered, and if the man touched him, the spell would shatter. Figuring it was his best shot at scaring him away, he kicked the bow back at the man, who shrieked and leapt backwards. Jongup probably would have laughed at him if he didn’t have a gun on his hip.

            Run away, Jongup encouraged mentally, then cursed in his head when the man stepped forward to nudge the bow with his foot carefully. When it didn’t jump out at him, he kicked it to the side, and Jongup winced. He scrambled back when the man suddenly pulled the gun from his holster. His back hit the trunk of the tree, and the man raised the gun. He looked more scared than anything, but that didn’t really make Jongup feel any less so himself. The man returned to the ground, on his knees, right in front of him, mere inches away. There was a moment of stillness as Jongup held his breath, and then the man reached forward. His fingers landed on Jongup’s cheek, and he flinched away, but it was too late. The magic barrier around him seemed to shatter in slow motion. He could see the eyes of the man before him flash through a series of different emotions before settling on defensive, and he raised the gun to Jongup’s head. Thinking fast, Jongup brought up his arm and knocked the gun out of the man’s hands easily. Inexperienced.

            “Wait, no!”

            Jongup pushed himself to his feet quickly, stumbling when his ankle protested at the weight it was put under. A hand shot out and wrapped around his calf, yanking his foot out from under him, and he fell back to the ground with a grunt.

            “Hey, Jae!” The other voice from before suddenly echoed through the meadow, and Jongup froze. “This thing just kicked up again. Did you find anything?”

            The man holding Jongup’s leg moved up and grabbed him around the waist, but Jongup jerked his elbow into his stomach powerfully, hearing a soft wheeze behind him as the arms around his torso loosened. Ignoring the flares of pain his ankle was shooting up to his brain, Jongup regained his footing, and he stumbled into the clearing of the meadow. He wouldn’t be able to outrun this man. And there was another one, somewhere. He would try to talk with them, and, if not, he’d be forced to fight. Jongup tried to swallow his nerves. He had yet to even see the other man, but he felt surrounded; trapped. He moved to the middle of the clearing, not turning his back as the man who had attacked him followed quickly.

            “Wait,” Jongup said, holding his hands out in front of him. Still moving, the man only a few yards away and closing in on him, he suddenly collided with something, back-first. Hands seized his shoulders from behind, and he immediately kicked backwards, trying to turn around. He managed to hit the legs behind him several times, but the hands on his arms didn’t slip, only moving down to pin them together at his sides. Forcing himself to settle from the initial panic, Jongup stopped moving.

            “Hyunwoo,” the man who had finally caught up wheezed with a cough.

            “Nice job, Youngjae. You found a person,” Hyunwoo congratulated him.

            Youngjae, with one hand pressed to his stomach where Jongup had elbowed him before, rolled his eyes. “Who are you?” he asked, turning back to Jongup.

            “Who are you?”

            Youngjae blinked at him. “I’m Youngjae.”

            “You think he might know where it is?” Hyunwoo said, speaking as if Jongup wasn’t there, squirming in his hold. “The detector is going crazy, but there’s nothing here!”

            Youngjae narrowed his eyes and stepped closer, inspecting Jongup. His eyes lingered on the tattoos across his neck. “What are those?” he asked, pointing. “And how did you do that before? When I couldn’t see you.”

            Who were these people? How could they not know? Were they just messing with him?

            “My… it’s my classification. As a mage,” Jongup explained carefully.

            “A what?”

            “Mage?”

            Youngjae and Hyunwoo spoke at the same time, equally confused. Jongup stayed silent, not sure what to say, until the obvious explanation dawned on him.

            “You… you’re from the underground,” he said, jaw going a little slack. “Aren’t you?”

            “Are you not?” Youngjae tilted his head to the side.

            “No, I––”

            “Enough small talk,” Hyunwoo said, tightening his grip on Jongup. “We came here with a job to get done,” he hissed at Youngjae. “This dumb thing,” he paused, letting go of Jongup with one hand and pulling something from his pocket, “says it’s right here. Hey.” He spun Jongup around so that he was facing him. “This remote,” he held it up and waved it in Jongup’s face, “leads us to a significant source of energy. A generator.” He tossed the remote to Youngjae, who fumbled with it but managed to keep it from falling to the ground. “And it’s here somewhere. I need you to tell me.”

            Youngjae cleared his throat. “What makes you so sure he knows?”

            Hyunwoo laughed. “Look at him!” He jerked Jongup back around by the shoulders to face Youngjae. Jongup stumbled as his ankle gave out again, and he was sure he would have fallen to the ground if he wasn’t being held up. “He’s not normal; he must know something.” He adjusted his grip on Jongup, pulling his arms back with his hands wrapped around his elbows. “There wouldn’t happen to be an abundance of coal or oil here, would there?” he asked, getting a little too close to Jongup’s face for comfort. He leaned away, shaking his head.

            “I haven’t seen anything unusual. Please just let me go. I can’t help you.”

            “Would we find anything if we dug up this area?” Hyunwoo's fingers dug into Jongup’s arms painfully.

            “Yeah,” Jongup said. “More dirt.”

            There was a growl behind him, and he looked at Youngjae. “Look, I said I can’t help you,” he said. “Why are you even here? You’re from the underground. How did you get up here? I don’t even understand what you’re looking for. All our energy is hydraulic. We don’t use fossil fuels.”

            “We?”

            “Fossil fuels?”

            Jongup ignored their questions. He needed to get away. If he could get far enough fast enough, he could re-enable his cloaking and hide. His shift in the meadow was supposed to last for a whole hour, and it couldn’t have been more than fifteen minutes since he had arrived. Nobody would be looking for him.

            Jongup watched as Youngjae puzzled over the remote. The beeping had slowed––though only just a bit––since Hyunwoo had thrown it to him. He turned a full circle, watching as the tiny red needle on the screen stayed trained on the spot where Hyunwoo stood, holding Jongup still. Suddenly halting, Youngjae looked up at him, and came closer. The beeping accelerated with every step he took.

            Jongup shivered as a breeze swept through the meadow, gently pushing around the hair on his forehead, and Youngjae studied his face.

            “Where does your magic come from? How does it work?”

            Jongup shook his head. “It’s not something I can explain. It just comes to me. From the ground, the sun, the plants… the earth.”

            Youngjae squinted. “You’re a conductor.”

            “I’m a what?”

            “You channel the energy of the earth through you, and expel it in the form of magic. Am I right?”

            Jongup swallowed thickly. How did Youngjae know that? He had a hunch he knew where this was going, and he his lips, choosing not to answer. He should never have said anything in the first place.

            “Why are you looking for a generator?” he asked, instead. Maybe he could distract them somehow and get away. “Running out of coal to burn down there?” He didn’t bother to hide his distaste. The burning of fossil fuels made him, and most other mages, ill, quite literally. It had a tendency to weaken their magic, and cause high fevers for them; even the triggering of lung diseases and infections had never been too uncommon. That was why it had been outlawed in the first place, but there was a feud within the body of the government, and it split in two. The larger portion migrated elsewhere, and the mages and their families stayed on the Great Plains.

            “Actually,” Youngjae said, ignoring Jongup’s question and looking over his shoulder, at Hyunwoo. “I think this is what Kim was talking about. You saw the set-up; I don’t know why we ever thought it would be some sort of machine. That thing is fit for a person.”

            “How the hell would that work?” Hyunwoo asked. “And why wouldn’t Kim have just told us that?”

            “Doesn’t matter,” Youngjae said.

            Jongup looked around frantically. What could he use to get away? Were they really going to try and take him? His magic was primarily defensive and enhancive, so it wouldn’t do much to impair anybody directly.

            “I’m sorry.”

            Jongup chanced a look at Youngjae.

“What’s your name?” Youngjae asked.

            “Jongup,” he answered, exhaling more shakily than he’d like to admit.

            “Well, Jongup,” Youngjae said, moving closer to him. Jongup jerked in Hyunwoo's hold, but his grip didn’t budge. He wracked his mind for spells, something, anything. “I’m sorry, again. I need this job.”

            “Wait,” Jongup pleaded, now sure of where that was going. “I can help you some other way. We can show you––”

He nodded his head at Hyunwoo, and Jongup closed his eyes, crying out silently when something struck his head, hoping that he would see the scene of the meadow around him again, peaceful.

November 19^th, 5692

            Junhong could barely see under the dim lighting in the train car, but he could make out enough to know that Jongup wasn’t getting a restful sleep. He was curled up on the cold floor, using his lap as a pillow as he twisted around unconsciously. Junhong didn’t want to wake him up, since he obviously needed the rest, especially after the struggle it took just to get to the train loading station, but he hated the way his face scrunched up. It was the same way it had been before they had detached all the cables and wires from his body.

            He laid a hand on Jongup’s forehead, frowning at the light sheen of sweat that covered it. His skin felt hot. Junhong sighed and, hesitantly, ran his fingers gently through Jongup’s hair. The color still had him marveled, and he found himself captivated in the shine, though dull in the car.

            He looked up at Himchan, who was trying not to pass out against the metal crates he leaned his weight against. The train car rocked, swaying from side to side. The lights dangling above them swung, and Himchan grunted as he planted a hand on the floor to keep from being knocked over. He didn’t seem too keen on speaking to Junhong anytime soon, so he looked away, and kept to his thoughts. They would be on the train for about two hours. That gave him plenty of time to beat himself up about what happened, so he settled for that.

Himchan beat him to the punch.

            “I can’t believe you would just throw away everything we had.”

“And what exactly did we have?” Junhong challenged after a pause, holding Himchan’s eye, even though he knew that he was right.

Himchan made an exasperated noise. “Gee, I don’t know, our jobs? Food? Water? A home? Not being a wanted criminal and possibly charged for treason?”

“I’d hardly call that thing we lived in a home,” Junhong mumbled.

“And there’s my point,” Himchan said. “You never appreciate what you have, and now it’s all gone. This is what happens when you take things for granted.”

Junhong clenched his free hand into a fist, stilling the other where it was resting in Jongup’s hair. He twisted the strands between his fingers unconsciously and took a deep breath, closing his eyes and doing everything in his power to not let himself cry.

“Himchan,” he cursed his voice for cracking, “I really am sorry. I was stupid. I shouldn’t have forced you into this. I didn’t even stop to consider that.”

“I know,” Himchan sighed out. He looked at Jongup, who seemed to be shivering a little bit. “Is he okay?” He changed the subject, nodding towards the man on the floor.

Junhong frowned, and swept his hand through Jongup’s hair again. “I don’t know. He feels really warm.”

“Feverish-warm?”

“I don’t know. What’s the difference between really-warm and fever-warm?” he asked, pressing his hand back to Jongup’s forehead.

“Hold on.” Himchan grunted as he pushed himself up onto his knees, wobbling a bit as he half-crawled across the small distance separating them, and sat down on the other side of Jongup, facing Junhong. He pushed away Junhong’s hand and laid his own over Jongup’s forehead, frowning immediately.

“I don’t think it’s quite a fever,” he concluded, speaking slowly. “Might be getting close, though.”

“What do we do if he’s sick? What if he dies? Oh, God, what if this was all for nothing?” Junhong wiped his hands on his pants and then buried his face in his palms.

“Calm down.” Himchan put a hand on his shoulder. “He’s probably just having a bad dream, or something. Even if he was sick, I’m sure we could find someone to help him.”

Junhong took a deep breath and nodded. “Okay. Okay, yeah. There are doctors. Um, and we just get him home. Wherever that is.”

Himchan thinned his lips. “Yeah. We’ll do what we can. Now, please tell me you had something to cover your face while you were in there.”

“Of course,” Junhong answered immediately, pulling his hands away from his face and resting one on Jongup’s shoulder. “We paused the security cameras, too. They won’t automatically suspect me, but, well,” he shrugged, “they’d follow Yongguk’s tracks. They saw him. They knew him. But they won’t directly search for me. Maybe we could have stayed…”

Himchan shook his head. “Better safe than sorry. Who’s they?”

“Youngjae and Daehyun.”

“Youngjae is Kim’s secretary, right? And… Daehyun?” Himchan squinted.

“A medic. I think he’s the one they got to, well.” Junhong pointed at the bandage taped over Jongup’s throat. “Recently, too. Just yesterday, or, the day before… wait, how long has it been? I could hear him screaming. It was…” he sighed, not knowing how to continue. “I want to take a look at it, but I also don’t want to risk exposing the wound and getting it infected,” he said.

“You shouldn’t. If we end up needing to find a clinic for him at some point, they’ll take care of it. If not,” Himchan shrugged, “it’s probably fine. Kim wouldn’t hire someone who doesn’t know what they’re doing.”

“As much as I hate that man, you’re right. I don’t doubt he knew what he was doing.” Junhong returned his hand to Jongup’s hair.

“Now, this train’s last stop is in the town furthest to the Western end,” Himchan said. “I’m hoping we might be able to blend in there and find a place to live, maybe work, too, but away from the public and government’s eye.”

“West is pretty laid back, right?”

Himchan nodded. “Yeah, there’s not nearly as much patrolling.”

“What about him?”

They both paused, gazing down at the man asleep on Junhong’s lap.

“Just wait and wake him up in an hour or so. We’ll need to get more information from him, first,” Himchan said, and they fell silent again.

November 18^th, 5692

            The days were no more than a blur. Nothing but pain and fear. Jongup got used to the syringes quickly, as they came at least twice every hour, and the needle stuck to the inside of his forearm had ceased to itch a while ago. Sometimes he would look up through the glass, dazedly and with drug-induced blurry vision, and see people. He recognized the man whom he met in the meadow days earlier. There was another one, who always seemed nervous; afraid. Youngjae was always with him, seemingly only there to unlock the capsule he was in so that the nervous one could inject him with things and hold his wrist to measure his heart rate. He frowned deeply every time, and spoke to Youngjae often, but Jongup was too busy dipping in and out of consciousness or screaming to listen in. He learned that the nervous one didn’t seem to like his job very much, and Jongup could understand why. The man was obviously a nurse, or a medic, of some sort, and Jongup’s physical health probably wasn’t exactly outstanding at that point.

            It was the strangest kind of pain Jongup had ever felt; the sensation flowing through his body in violent waves, taking his energy away from him before he had the chance to use it. He had tried to use his magic, but found that nothing would come to him. He was empty. He was barely fed anything, mostly supplements, and was hydrated with nothing more than an IV. He was only ever conscious for long enough to spend a few minutes screaming as the pain tore every shred of energy his body drew from the earth out of him. And that energy alone wasn’t much, anyway. He could feel that he was far away from any flora and fauna, so that which he could draw from them was only in the remainders of roots that stretched down, and the smaller insects that lived belowground. Jongup could feel that he was losing his voice, as well. His throat was parched dry, and every scream tore through it with agony. He grew to crave unconsciousness whenever he was awake.

            One night he was woken up to a sensation of sweet nothingness. There were no shocking waves of wrenching pain, only sore, aching muscles. His chest squeezed and cinched sharply with every breath, but it was paradise compared to before. He blinked slowly, eyes focusing on the ceiling above him. There was no glass over his head. He looked down to find that all of the wires and ports stuck to his body seemed to have been deactivated, laying limply. His biceps, wrists, thighs, ankles, and waist were still strapped down, and, when he tried to move his head, he could feel that there was something around his neck, as well, keeping him from being able to lift it. He flexed his fingers and winced at how stiff his joints were when several of this knuckles popped.

            Two people stood above him. He recognized them both; it was Youngjae and the nervous nurse. Or doctor, whatever, he didn’t know.

            “Youngjae, I really don’t––”

            “Stop it, Daehyun.” Youngjae cut him off harshly. “You know I don’t like it either, but we don’t have a choice if we want to keep our jobs, and our lives, at that.”

            The nervous man, Daehyun, sighed and looked down at Jongup, who was still just blinking tiredly up at them, not quite understanding all of their words in his groggy, confused state. Daehyun took a long, shuddering breath, and Jongup could hear metal clinking lightly before he reached up and injected something into the IV bag that hung above them, attached to a tube that was attached to Jongup’s arm by a needle.

            “Should only be a couple minutes,” Daehyun said.

            Jongup shifted his gaze to the needle in the soft of his forearm and he groaned as he was hit with a bout of lightheadedness. He looked back up at Daehyun, who was leaning over him, expression something that he couldn’t quite piece together a definition for. His lip was drawn between his teeth, eyes a strange mix of fear and worry.

            “Wait,” Jongup croaked weakly, staring at Daehyun, trying to fight away the dizziness that was clouding his mind, settling into a thicker fog every second. “Please…”

November 19^th, 5692

            “Jongup? Jongup…” Something was pushing on his shoulder. He was pushed away from the bliss of sleep, and he tried to fight the discomfort of being awake, but the voice persisted.

            “Jongup, wake up,” it said. The voice was so soft. It reminded Jongup of his brothers. His brothers? But he wasn’t home. As much as wished he could be in his own bed, in his own house, the floor beneath his body was cold and metal. But that under his head was… soft and warm.

            He sat up with a breathless gasp, nearly knocking foreheads with Junhong on the way up.

            “Whoa, whoa, it’s okay.”

            Junhong had a hand on Jongup’s shoulder, and Jongup’s gaze followed it, trailing up his arm and over his shoulder until it landed on his face. He looked worried, and Jongup realized that he felt hot. His hands were shaky, and breaths were coming out faster than they should be. He became aware of just how much pain was coming from his throat, and how sore the rest of his muscles were. He was tired. The burst of energy he had used to sit up so quickly faded away, and any that had remained in his muscles also slipped away as he fell sideways, into Junhong’s chest with a heavy exhale that hurt his throat.

            “Are you alright?” Junhong kept a solid grip around Jongup’s shoulders, propping him up against himself in a sort of awkward, half-hug. Jongup nodded against his chest, still breathing heavily. He had forgotten until just then where exactly they were, which was… just on a train. Jongup had no idea where they were directionally. His usual sense of direction was completely muddled, nearly wiped blank. He could normally use the magic energy of the life on earth as a sort of map to follow, but right then, there was next to nothing there to guide him. They must be really far down. His head spun, not used to functioning without that energy. His eyes were getting harder to keep open, and he sagged more heavily against Junhong.

            “Wait, don’t go back to sleep yet,” Junhong said.

            Jongup exhaled in dissatisfaction, but fought the fatigue.

            “We just have to ask you something.”

Jongup had forgotten until then that they weren’t alone; he had forgotten about Junhong’s friend, Himchan. He looked over to find the man sitting across from them, elbows resting on his knees and his head held up by his hands. Jongup nodded at him, signaling for him to ask away, which he did.

“Where did you come from?” His voice was quiet beneath the rumbles and clanking of the train, but Jongup heard him clearly, and he frowned, unsure as to how he should answer. Would they even know of his home? Likely not. Urbs Equidem had probably cut education on the world above a long time ago.

Himchan ped his backpack and pulled out the tablet Jongup had used before, but he shook his head. That wouldn’t help. There was no way Junhong could recognize the characters for his home’s name, anyway. Instead, Jongup pointed up, towards the ceiling above them, and mouthed the words: Ad Altiorem.

Himchan blinked. Junhong tilted his head to the side, not able to see Jongup’s face from his position behind him, anyway. Jongup squeezed his eyes shut and swallowed, painfully, before forcing a whisper out of his mouth: “Ad… Altiorem.” The words were stiff and scratchy and painful to even hear, let alone speak. Jongup could feel his eyes watering at the stress it put on his vocal chords and throat. And that was only a whisper; none of his voice had actually been used. It hurt too much. What had they done to him? Both Junhong and Himchan winced at his words.

“Stop. Don’t try if it hurts,” Junhong murmured into his ear, rubbing one of Jongup’s arms with his hand in a soothing manner. It reminded Jongup of his mother.

“But that’s,” Himchan took a breath, “not a real place,” he said carefully, looking like he was worried he might offend Jongup.

Jongup shook his head, and his hand upwards more pointedly. There was a pause.

“How do we get there?” Junhong asked him. “We’re going to take you out of here.” He said it with such determination that Jongup felt the water he was holding back from his eyes thicken, threatening to overflow. He was already beginning to feel nothing less than exhausted again; the pain in his throat and the lack of energy was hitting him hard. He took a breath to respond, bracing himself for the pain of forcing whispers from his mouth, but fell into a fit of dry, scraping coughs, instead, which were each ten times worse than the one before. Junhong placed a hand on his back, moving it in small circles. The coughing didn’t last long, but Jongup still collapsed back against him again as soon as they faded away, spent from the convulsions in his chest and the ache in his neck.

“Water, Himchan,” Junhong requested. Jongup’s eyes were shut, but he could feel him lean forward and then back again. He took Jongup’s wrist and pulled his hand away from where it was still covering his mouth, and with the other pressed an open bottle to his lips. He managed to get a few sips down, which, despite being painful at first, helped a bit.

“Up,” he managed to whisper between sips. “Caves.”

“Caves?” Himchan’s brow furrowed. “Where?” He shook his head, puzzled.

Jongup took a breath but coughed again, and Junhong stopped him. “That’s enough for now,” he said softly. “It’ll be easier once we get off the train and find some place to stay.”

Himchan nodded. “We’ll be there soon. I’m sure there’ll be somewhere we can spend the night, at least.”

Junhong urged Jongup to finish the water. It took a while, but he managed to empty the bottle, and sighed tiredly as Junhong put it down on the floor beside them. Jongup became suddenly aware of Junhong’s arms around his middle, holding him securely, weighing him down like a tether to the world. Even though he was miles beneath his own world, the feeling was like home. It sent a pang through his chest, and he winced as his heart seemed to palpitate, but the feeling vanished as quickly as it had come.

well, there we go! a little bit of background for you guys. thank you for being so patient with me and my update "schedule." <3
please let me know if you enjoyed! :)