Chapter Nine

la·va

/ˈlävə/

noun

a mixture of molten rock, volatiles, and solids that is found above the surface of the earth.

November 21^st, 5692

Jongup was pleasantly surprised at how easy it was to walk compared to the last time he'd been on his feet for more than a minute or so. The heavy boots were annoying and weighed him down, though. His thin leather ones would have been a much better choice for travel.

Jongup wondered what had become of his clothes. Did the man who ordered him captured still have them? Maybe they were thrown away, or burned. And those were his best hunting clothes, the fit was perfect, the fabric soft but not heavy. They had been very expensive. He briefly wondered if suing was an option, and then realized that the government in Equidem was probably completely different than what he was used to. Nobody on the surface really knew what was going on down there, at least not that Jongup knew of.

Based on what he'd seen of the place so far––Himchan and Junhong's house, the buildings and roads, the scratchy clothing––, and heard about their employer, he had to assume it wasn't an ideal economy for the common citizen. Probably some form of failed popular capitalism. He couldn’t see this place lasting another fifty years.

Either way, the boots were heavy. There was metal on the bottoms and a thick zipper on the sides, which Jongup found completely unnecessary. The jacket and pants were heavy, too. And it wasn't even cold; the place was far too warm and dry during the day, but he noticed the past couple of nights (his time spent outside of that capsule in the power plant) that the temperature dropped drastically. The place seemed to work kind of like a desert; but the fluctuation in temperature was probably determined by when they burned the most fossil fuels. Surely using so much during the day would generate plenty of heat, and then vice versa.

It was easy to sneak out of town. Jongup would have liked to say goodbye to the doctor and thank her for everything again, but it was early and she wasn’t in yet.

There was nobody out; the streets were completely silent. According to Youngjae, after they reached the border wall and got past it––which shouldn’t be difficult, according to him––, they would be walking through pretty much nothingness for an hour or so. He could spot what he figured was the wall from where they were now. It looked only about half a mile away, but Jongup couldn't be sure. It was so hard to see underground.

Jongup used to be very good at hiding pain.

Even though his lack of voice kept him quiet, he still wasn't doing a great job this time. He tried to take long, slow breaths to steady his panting, but that just made him dizzy and they stopped for a water break.

He was slowing the others down, he knew that. He had to keep reminding himself that they––well, Junhong, at least; and Himchan, he seemed concerned, too––were doing it for him.

He was regaining energy slowly but surely, though it certainly wasn't at its normal strength. And the magic still wasn't back, either. He tried not to think about the possibility of it being gone for good. Jongup wondered how Kim had even managed to extract his magic energy when there was nothing down there to feed it. Had he hidden a bunch of potted plants in the room or something?

Jongup shook his head to himself. This was ridiculous. Another piece of broken glass crunched beneath his shoes, and suddenly Jongup was thankful for how thick and heavy they were. It was still near impossible to see when the light's setting was so low in the earliest hours of the morning, and he guessed his vision would be worse than everybody else's down here, anyway, when it came to seeing in the dark. The junk yard that Youngjae was leading them to as if he was a mother duck with her young trailing behind her looked massive.

Ducks. Jongup missed those.

He used to visit a pond nearby the fort in the Verde Silva forest, where the mages would go to hunt a few times a year. Where he had been captured. Altiorans didn't eat duck much. It was considered more of a back-up, a common bird that the poor relied on, in the case of a bad hunting season. So Jongup would sit with the ducks, instead, and when they would quack at him he would quack back.

He would give anything to be able to quack again. The doctor told him chances of that were high––well, not for quacking, specifically, just his whole voice in general––, because whoever had done the procedure on him––that nervous nurse who had been with Youngjae––seemed to have kept the damage to a minimum as best they could. Hopefully he would be able to speak again, but there was still a chance, albeit a small one, according to the doctor, that it wouldn't happen. Even despite that, Jongup was hopeful he'd get his voice back. After all, he had been able to get some words out the other day, back on the train. Well, they had been more like wheezed-out whispers, but it was something, so Jongup clung to it. His vocal chords would heal faster if he didn’t strain them.

The border wall turned out to be extremely underwhelming––just a long, old fence that was only tall enough to reach Jongup’s shoulders. They climbed it. Junhong, being the tallest of the four, was elected to go last so that he could give the others a boost. Himchan went first so that he could spot Jongup, whose turn was next, and as soon as his feet hit the ground on the other side Youngjae hopped over. Junhong climbed the fence with ease, all long arms and endless legs.

The walk to the junkyard taught Jongup one thing: the West District was a wasteland compared to the North. There was nothing but empty space and sandy dirt, and everything stood so still. That was a good thing, though. The lack of people out here gave Jongup more hope that they would make it.

There were junkyards in every district of the city. They lined the outskirts just past the border walls, though nobody who didn't work in waste disposal would ever have any reason to visit one, so Junhong had never seen one up close before. As they walked, he found himself gaping up at the gigantic piles of scrap metal and broken appliances.

They all stayed close together, a small pack of four, carefully shuffling through the junkyard and trying to be as quiet as possible. It was as hard as it sounded, what with there being––well, junk everywhere. Jongup had already tripped multiple times, usually catching himself with the arms and shoulders of Junhong and Himchan, who walked on either side of him, gripping their arms and then popping right back up, recovering quickly. It wasn’t a priority to stay quiet as much as they had thought it would need to be––Junhong was surprised at the lack of patrol compared to the Northern District. It was almost like people just didn’t go to this part of the city.

He and Himchan were both in charge of carrying their supplies, which mostly just consisted of water, stale food, and a few bottles of that drink the doctor had given Jongup that would give him nutrition without further damaging his throat. They actually all had one in place of breakfast before leaving the clinic, since there hadn’t really been an alternative as they rushed to get out the door. Junhong thought it was absolutely absurd that Himchan had enjoyed his. The rest of them had pretty much gagged through it. But Jongup was grateful for them; he seemed to have actual energy for the first time since they’d met, and Junhong could tell he was excited for the fact alone that he could walk around without constant assistance again.

Jongup was to be left in charge of the book once they made it into the caves, serving as Youngjae's back-up guide. The tunnels drawn on the map looked more complicated to him than Youngjae had described them to be, and he wouldn’t deny that it made him nervous. Not to say that he doubted Youngjae's confidence, but he doubted Youngjae's confidence. He wouldn't even be half surprised if Youngjae led them right into a trap, if he would open the door to the base and Kim's smiling face would beckon them inside.

But that book. It was obviously stolen; there was no way the city provided its people with real, paper books like that. Youngjae had taken it. Junhong didn't know from whom or where, but it did tell him that Youngjae probably hadn't been lying when he'd said that his only interest was in himself. His assisted kidnapping of Jongup that he claimed he had done to "keep his job" also stood as strong evidence.

Junhong wasn’t sure if Youngjae’s sole self-interest was a good thing or not. As they navigated carefully through the yard, he managed to determine that he was leaning toward not.

"This is it," Youngjae said, breaking the bubble of silence that had formed around them all. He was pointing at a large, broken down bus. A big transport one, the kind that Junhong used to ride to and from work every day. Those could fit about fifty people inside. It was half-sunk into the ground, bits and pieces fallen unhinged and broken apart, the front dipping lower than the back, which was crunched against the wall of rock that marked the edge of the city.

Junhong didn't recognize the outside of the bus at first; the logo that donned all of the ones he'd ever seen was missing, leaving the metal empty and blank, rusted over. There were other bits of scrap pushed up against it, giving a sad, droopy look to the vehicle. There were no tires, either, just empty axels keeping the whole thing stuck unbalanced. The jagged wall of rock seemed to go up forever, stretching so far Junhong couldn't see the top, just fading into empty darkness.

There had been the occasional lamp after they hopped the border. Not nearly as many as there had been in the town, but enough that they weren't falling all over each other. By the time they had reached the junkyard, Junhong had noticed it was beginning to slowly get brighter. The light was coming back on, and that meant that time was ticking even faster now.

After a minute of Youngjae refusing help as he tugged at the jammed folding doors of the bus, Himchan decided to take matters into his own hands. He stepped in and nudged Youngjae off to the side and earning himself a glare before gripping the edge of one half of the door and wrenching it open with a horrible metal screech. Junhong cringed quite physically at the noise, looking uncomfortable. Himchan stepped aside and gestured for Youngjae to go in first. His lips were pursed, and his mouth pinched shut as he slid past Himchan and jumped up the two large steps leading into the vehicle. Himchan rolled his eyes and swung around, hand still wrapped around the edge of the door, following him inside and waving for the other two.

Every panel of metal he stepped on creaked under his weight, and the boots they all wore made hollow clangs thud behind them.

"This is it, huh?" Himchan mused, spinning around to take in the sights. "Nice place." He frowned when a small rat scuttled over the toe of his boot before vanishing between a collapsed set of seats. "Evidently, it's infested," he pointed out.

"This isn't the base, you idiot," Youngjae grumbled at him. "It’s just the entrance. Over here," he said, taking the handle of the emergency back exit and hefting it upward with a grunt. The door swung out with a heavy creak.

"," Youngjae cursed. "It's dark as down there." He sighed. "I'm gonna have to find the light switch… it should be just inside," he said, mostly to himself. Nobody stopped him as he took a step into the near-pitch black. There were a few thumps and a muttered "ow" before the passage suddenly lit up.

"Found it," Youngjae rejoiced monotonously. He looked back at the other three, who were staring at him. "What? Come on. There's gotta be a flashlight in here somewhere we can take with us into the tunnels. Let’s look around."

Himchan had fully expected the structure to be built from metal, but instead the walls were made up of uneven, vertical panels. He ran his hand over one, only to jerk it back immediately. He hadn’t expected the surface was rough and scratchy, and something sharp dug into his palm. Had he injured himself by touching a wall? He held his hand against his chest for a moment before pulling it back again to take a look.

At first he was confused, because he didn’t see anything that could be causing pain. He looked at the wall, which was just as bare of dangers, then squinted back at his hand before bringing it closer to his face, and then he saw it. Buried in the callous below his thumb was a tiny piece of… something? The tip just protruded, barely poking out of his skin, but it didn’t hurt too bad. He stared until Jongup, who had been behind him, bumped into his back, having not noticed when he stopped.

 “Sorry,” Himchan mumbled, looking over his shoulder and offering Jongup a smile. He dropped his arm back to his side; he’d take care of his hand later––except Jongup had grabbed his wrist and was pulling him back around.

“What?” Himchan asked. “What is it?” Then he noticed that Jongup was inspecting the inflamed area of his hand. He squinted and then looked up at Himchan.

 “… what?”

Jongup just gave him a small smile, his head tilted a little to the side, before looking back down. With his other hand, he splayed three fingers around the area surrounding the small sliver, and pushed into the skin. Himchan immediately flinched, jerking back with a light gasp, because, wow, that hurt more now.

Jongup tightened his grip around Himchan’s wrist and pulled him closer, squinting as he dug the tips of his fingers deeply into the rough, calloused skin.

Himchan grimaced at the uncomfortable pressure, but he let Jongup do his thing, and leaned in to get a closer look. He could see that when Jongup pressed his fingers down, more of the little thing stuck out. Jongup suddenly pushed down harder, and before Himchan could even wince, he had plucked the small object out of his palm.

“––what the hell?” Himchan gasped at the twinge pain the motion brought. Jongup flicked the thing away and let go of him, before taking his shoulder and spinning him back around. He brought his hand back to his own face, investigating the slightly-reddened skin. Sure enough, there wasn’t a trace of the small, dark sliver. He stared at his hand until Jongup gave his back a push.

“Thanks,” Himchan said quietly, grinning when Jongup’s response was to deliver a shower of pokes to the back of his shoulder.

Now knowing to not touch the wall, Himchan kept moving, jogging a little to catch up to Junhong and Youngjae, who were stalled at a cabinet while the latter of the two sifted through it. “What are you doing?” he asked.

There was a grunt from inside the cupboard, where Youngjae had stuck his head and was rustling around. “I’m––” a loud thunk “––ow––trying to––” Youngjae gasped for fresh air when he emerged, and ran a hand through his hair, which was dusted in… well, dust. “I’m trying to find a flashlight,” he said after coughing a couple times. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the counter. It was then Himchan noticed that they seemed to be in some sort of kitchen. Several pots and pans dangled from a structure attached to the ceiling, which Junhong had to bob and weave through in order to avoid taking a hit to the head.

And then Jongup––who Himchan hadn’t realized had fallen behind again to poke around––strolled up to the counter and leaned back on it, casually tossing a small flashlight back and forth in his hands. He looked––smug? Jongup had a lazy grin on his face, and his eyes shone with a sort of confidence that Himchan hadn’t seen the potential in him to possess. He still looked a bit sickly, but the fashion in which he cocked his brow had Himchan second guessing himself. Was this what Jongup was usually like?

“Jongup found a flashlight,” he blurted awkwardly. Jongup pouted at him, and Himchan honest to god couldn’t tell whether he was trying to exaggerate the look and make him feel bad or if it was all natural.

Jongup ended up tossing the flashlight to (throwing it at) Youngjae, who caught it and proceeded to lead them up a creaky flight of stairs. The place had a strange smell to it, almost moldy. They entered an empty room, and Youngjae led them to a padlocked door, which he was able to unlock with just a few tries. Outside that door, the ground turned back to rock. The air was damp and cool, the smell of mold dissipating, and there was a slight draft, but it was dark. There were dim lights embedded in the rock every hundred feet or so, but the group mostly relied on the flashlight and tripped a lot, both over the uneven ground and each other.

Jongup was tingling with excitement, all thoughts of how Youngjae could still double-cross them forgotten for the moment. He knew it had only been one week, but it felt like months had passed since the last time he felt the sun on his face, and he was getting antsy.

"Holy fu––"

Himchan's curse was censored by Junhong shouting as a swarm of bats flew past them, swatting at the air around him with his eyes squeezed shut.

"Oh my god," Youngjae said. "They're just bats. Calm down."

Junhong stilled, and slowly lowered his arms. "I didn't know rats could fly," he said, a tremor in his voice. He turned to Himchan. "Since when can rats fly? It's not like they've always been able to and I'm just somehow the only person ever who didn't know, right?"

"Bats, not rats," Youngjae interrupted. "They're different."

Junhong trotted back to pace with the others. "How?" he asked. “What’s a bat? They looked like rats. Just. In the air.”

Youngjae sighed. "Rats can't fly and they eat crumbs. Bats can fly and they drink blood. Well, and they eat fruit, too."

There was a beat of silence.

"They what?" Junhong hissed at him, glancing around again like he way making sure there were no lurking creatures.

Youngjae snorted. "Not all of them. Definitely not the ones around here. And even the ones that do don't drink human blood," he clarified.

"How do you know so much?" Himchan asked, narrowing his eyes at Youngjae.

"I told you, I've been to the surface before. I had to do some reading, first. Plus, we ran into bats on our way up, too."

Himchan raised an eyebrow. "Doesn't sound much like your boss to make you educate yourself before a mission," he said.

"I never said he told me to," Youngjae muttered. "I just took advantage of the access I had to his office."

Himchan didn't trust Youngjae at all.

He found himself looking over his shoulder constantly to make sure Jongup and Junhong were still behind him, paranoid that some shadowy figure would jump out and steal them away, while also feeling responsible to keep an eye on Youngjae in case he tried to pull something on them directly. His neck was surely going to ache after all this.

After all this what? Himchan still had doubts about the surface. Of course he'd heard rumors floating around as he grew up that they weren't the only people here––that there were others, who lived in some mysterious land far away or whatever––, but none of it sounded right to him. He didn't believe any of it for a second; why would he when he was perfectly content with his life as it was?

And then when he woke up one night to the sound of the front door opening and Junhong and Yongguk came into their bedroom carrying an unconscious man, he started to second guess himself. Jongup just looked different enough that he couldn't possibly not be from some mythical land or something. People couldn't change their hair color. Nobody had… dots on their face. And no one had weird-looking designs drawn on their neck or hands, either––definitely not. And on top of all that, the education system made certain that every child learned how to read and write in the simplified language at a very young age, but somehow Jongup hadn't even seemed to know that there was a simplified language.

Not to mention that Youngjae claimed to have been to what he kept calling “the surface” before. It just… it was overwhelming. Himchan decided that he should stop worrying so much. Jongup, at least, seemed genuine enough. Though in Himchan's opinion he trusted strangers far too easily. Actually, then again, if Himchan had been held captive and tortured for a week, wouldn't he be rather willing to go with anybody who wasn't actively hurting him? He supposed he didn’t know.

Most of the walk––after the bat incident, at least––was boring and filled with steep, shifty inclines and the occasional drop of water from the ceiling, so that was nice.

Junhong wasn’t sure if it had been a gradual change that he hadn’t noticed or if it had just suddenly appeared, but that didn’t matter; there was light in front of them. Seeping into the tunnel from an incline Junhong couldn’t see the top of. It was dim, but enough that slight shadows formed around them and that he could look down and see his own shoes for the first time in a while.

Ahead, Youngjae clicked off his flashlight. “This is it,” he said. “The exit is just up here around that corner.”

Jongup, who was in front of Junhong and behind Himchan, stood on his toes to look over Himchan’s shoulder. Junhong could tell that, even despite his obvious excitement and how antsy he was acting, he was exhausted. Jongup had basically refused help the entire journey, which, Junhong could say from checking his watch, had so far taken them at least two hours. And if Junhong felt worn out (he did,) there was no way Jongup could possibly be feeling exactly filled with endurance, all things considered.

Suddenly Junhong was jerked backwards by the force of a hand on his forearm. He didn’t have time to react before something cold and metal hit his wrist and he was spun around, then both of his hands were pulled out in front of him and cuffed together before his mind even caught up and he realized what was happening.

He yelled out belatedly, surely drawing the attention of Jongup, Himchan, and Youngjae. Junhong squinted, looking down at the man before him, and he swore he nearly fell right into him when the recognition hit.

“Y-Yongguk,” he stammered out, not even glancing back to see if the others had noticed. “What are you––what are you doing here? Why are you––I-I thought you were gonna…”

Yongguk didn’t spare him a glance, just keeping his gaze locked forward as he dragged Junhong along with him just a short ways away. When Junhong saw the other people Yongguk was leading him toward, his stomach dipped and then vaulted before dipping again and staying there. “What’s going on?” he asked meekly, pretty sure he knew what might be going on. Yongguk was pulling him toward Daehyun––Junhong had to suppress a surge of anger when he saw him––and his old boss, who stood beside each other, flanked by a few other scary-looking men and women whose faces were covered by masks. His stomach continued to twist and turn. This was bad; this was the worst possible kind of bad they could encounter. He resisted the movement, but Yongguk was stronger than he looked and merely tightened his grip on Junhong’s arm, then pushed him in front so that he could shove him forward, instead.

“Oh, no,” Himchan said quietly. Youngjae nodded in agreement. The three of them had turned around to Junhong’s shout in tandem just as they had all exited a narrow pathway and entered a more open, rounded area. They were practically right next to the exit at this point; Youngjae could feel the draft growing stronger. Jongup had turned to Youngjae, looking accusatory immediately, and Youngjae didn’t blame him in the slightest for assuming it had been his fault.

But no matter who was at fault, this was definitely an oh-no situation. He had stopped moving, and they all stood still in a sort of crooked line, facing Kim Hyunshik, Daehyun, Yongguk, and Junhong. Youngjae couldn’t help looking at Daehyun. He was obviously scared and anxious, with his hands clasped together in front of him and his bottom lip between his teeth, chewing. Of course Kim would drag him along. And Yongguk… had he been caught? There was no way he would have turned himself in; they must have captured him. But why was he here with them, clearly choosing to go against them? Yongguk was holding onto Junhong’s arms tightly, and there was a pair of handcuffs around his wrists. The sight brought on a sinking feeling of dread. He could stew about Yongguk later.

Youngjae took a moment to compose himself, holstering his flashlight in his pocket and folding his arms over his chest, doing his best to look as unconcerned as someone who was probably about to receive a death sentence could look.

“How did you get here without us noticing?” he asked. “There’s only one entrance.” Time, he needed time to think of a plan. Don’t look at Daehyun.

“Ah, well, you see, that’s not true,” Kim said, a grin playing on his face, “we took the stairs.”

“The––stairs? Of course, the stairs, never mind, doesn’t matter.” Youngjae wasn’t especially surprised that there was an easier, hidden route. Stop looking at Daehyun.

“Now boys, listen. I just want to be civil about all this. My terms are simple.” Kim pointed to Jongup, who was still behind Himchan, looking small, but, surprisingly, not at all timid. In fact, it was more like Himchan was holding him back than trying to defend him, keeping him from lunging after Junhong, despite how much he himself must have wanted to. Himchan’s eyes shined in the soft light with an intense fire Youngjae had never seen them hold before. It reminded him of the sun. What he’d seen of it, anyway.

“He comes with me, and I’ll give you your Choi Junhong back.” Kim said, drawing Youngjae’s attention back to him. “You will all return to your regular lives back in the Upper Northern district, with no penalties. All charges will be dropped, and we will all forget any of this ever happened. We’ll go right back to the way it was. I will have contracts written up for you all to sign, to make sure you stay quiet about all this, of course.”

Nobody moved at first. Daehyun’s face was flashing with an obvious nervousness and Yongguk’s expression remained neutral but Junhong was struggling against his hold.

Youngjae could hear Himchan speaking quietly to Jongup, something about not doing anything before he suddenly raised his voice, addressing Kim.

“What happens if we say no?” he asked.

Youngjae rolled his eyes. What did Himchan think would happen if they said no? They would all be punished, that’s what. How exactly, Youngjae didn’t know. He glanced at Jongup again. Was he supposed to just choose Junhong’s freedom over Jongup’s? He didn’t care at all about either of them, other than their potential consequences. Even if he chose Jongup’s, there was no way they would get out now, anyway. No doubt Kim would just kill them anyway.

It was obvious to Youngjae that there was only one way to preserve his chance of getting to the surface. He would have to lie. He would cheat and turn the situation in the direction of his favor.

He reached behind Himchan and grabbed Jongup’s arm, tugging him to his side with one hand and drawing a small knife from where it was strapped to the inside of his boot. Himchan reached out to stop him, only to freeze the second he saw the glint of metal in his hand. Youngjae met his eyes and looked away immediately, drawing Jongup’s back against his chest and pressing the knife to his throat, just below the bandage that covered his sutures. He could feel the way Jongup’s breathing stopped, and Youngjae did the best he could to give his back a sort of gentle pat as he moved the arm wrapped around his middle up to grab Jongup’s hair and pull his head back a bit harshly. His other arm was steady, the knife not even wavering in his grip.

“No hard feelings,” he said, quietly enough that only Jongup could hear him and barely moving his lips, holding back a wince when Jongup’s head hit his shoulder. “You’re my best card.” He met his eyes sideways for a moment, noted the panic in them, and turned his gaze back to Kim, standing across from them. He rose an eyebrow, the only movement among the group before Youngjae swallowed, and finally spoke.

“You need him,” he said, annoyed with himself for still needing to resist the urge to glance at Daehyun, who was still standing to Kim’s left, shifting on his feet as he watched.

Kim didn’t respond, and Youngjae his lips, hoping his nerves weren’t showing through too much. “If you let me go, I’ll give him back. And you can do whatever you want with Junhong, too. I just want out of here. That’s it.”

Youngjae ignored the quiet, hissed protests from Himchan. Junhong stepped toward him as if to stop him, but Youngjae shot him a glare and pressed the blade harder against Jongup’s neck. Not hard enough to break skin, but it was enough to subdue him, and he stopped, mouth a hard line, eyes dark and narrowed. It wasn’t like Junhong would have made it very far with Yongguk holding him, anyway, though. The threat was just for show.

“You want to leave? Interesting.” Kim hummed, then nodded at Daehyun. “What about your friend? Or are you two having a lovers’ quarrel about loyalty?”

Youngjae swallowed thickly. “Look, I’ll give you your generator back if you’ll let me go,” he repeated himself. “That’s it.” This was so stupid. It would be easy for Kim to simply agree and then go back on his word and take Youngjae anyway. In fact, why wouldn’t he do that? What could possible stop him from doing that?

Kim hummed thoughtfully again. “Are there not more like this one?” he asked. “I think he’s disposable.”

Youngjae’s face faltered for a moment, but he quickly glued it back together. “Would you be able to re-create the detector I built that found him? Because it’s gone now. I destroyed it.” A lie. The device was in Youngjae’s desk back in his office at HS Electric, but Kim bought it. Everyone seemed to. The older man scowled, and Youngjae rejoiced.

Jongup shifted slightly against him, and Youngjae’s arm strained from where it was wrapped around Jongup’s waist, caging his arms to his sides. It felt like he was holding up nearly all of his weight.

“Alright, I suppose that would be a bother,” Kim said with a sigh. “It was quiet an impressive device. Daehyun,” he gestured for the man beside him to step closer, but kept his eyes on Youngjae. “Let’s tip the scales a little bit then, hmm?”

Youngjae shifted on his feet, Jongup forced to follow his movement, still tense and shaking in his grip. Everyone was watching him and his ex-boss like they were hitting a ball back and forth at each other.

When Daehyun stepped forward, Kim to grabbed him by the hair and yanked him back, mirroring Youngjae’s position with Jongup. Except, the weapon in his hand wasn’t a knife, but a gun. He must have been carrying the entire time. How could Youngjae have not noticed that? . A gun most definitely did tip the scales, he would give Kim that. Guns were a luxury item, no longer actively manufactured, but also not illegal. Only the wealthy could afford them, and in limited quantities because of the price, no matter how rich they were.

The trade of Jongup for Youngjae’s escape to the surface was only supposed to stall for time while he thought of something that would actually work, but he’d only made everything worse. Now Daehyun’s life was on the line, and Youngjae didn’t know what to do. He scanned everyone’s faces. Junhong continued to look flighty, but he was standing still now, looking far more tense than before as his eyes darted back and forth between Youngjae and Kim. Daehyun was shaking, his fists gripping Kim’s forearm where it pressed into his throat. The gun was pressed solidly to his temple, Kim’s hand steady, relaxed.

There was enough light filtering down the main channel of the cave that Youngjae could see his shadow. They were so close. There was the option of turning and sprinting for the exit, but he’d just get shot at and followed. There was only one option Youngjae could think of that would get them all out, but it was impossible––

Suddenly there was a curse, and Youngjae’s eyes traced the direction of the sound just quickly enough to see Junhong––his hands still cuffed together in front of him––tackle Kim to the ground.

Oh. Well, that might work, too.

Daehyun, still in the man’s grip, had the misfortune of falling with them. They were lucky Kim hadn’t loaded a shot ahead of time. He let go of Daehyun to instead grab Junhong by the shoulders and shove him back, simultaneously sitting over him and readjusting his hold on the gun quickly before aiming squarely at Junhong’s face and firing. There was a frozen moment of fear that washed over everybody, but from this angle Youngjae couldn’t see over Jongup’s shoulder. He dropped his knife and shoved him at Himchan, who was still standing behind him.

Junhong had his hands around the barrel of Kim’s gun, arms shaking as he strained to hold it away from his face and to the side, just above his shoulder instead. There was a small stream of smoke rising from the rock that had been struck by the bullet, right beside his head. Kim grunted and wrenched the weapon free from Junhong’s fingers, then brought it down swiftly on his temple. Junhong jerked, not losing consciousness but also blinking and shaking his head like he couldn’t see straight, and he didn’t seem to be capable of lifting his arms back up to defend himself.

Daehyun had rolled out of the way as soon as Kim had dropped him. Yongguk was doing what he could to keep Kim’s three bodyguards from getting to him. Youngjae looked back over his shoulder, past Himchan, who was trying to steady Jongup. He could use the chaos as a cover to run.

He looked back again to see Daehyun kick the gun out of Kim’s hand and scramble to his feet. The man shouted out in pain, probably––hopefully––taking a few broken fingers. The weapon skittered away, toward Yongguk, who Youngjae was quite honestly surprised to see still standing, considering the fact that he was engaged with three people who were probably trained in combat. But he was fast, dodging and distracting them, and they didn’t seem to have any weapons besides their own fists, either, which was certainly helping. Daehyun was struggling to get Kim off of Junhong, taking a few hits to the face.

He looked over his shoulder again. God, but he was so close. Himchan was clearly panicking, undoubtedly wanting to go help Junhong, but also not willing to leave Jongup, who looked a couple steps from collapsing.

Knife in hand, Youngjae broke into a run. He needed to stop thinking so much.

Jongup’s legs weren’t working right. He was wobbly and stumbling all over the place, exhausted. Amidst the chaos, he could hear Himchan telling him to go, to run and leave them because they had done all of this for his freedom and goddammit if he didn’t make it out for all this trouble. Well, he said something along those lines. But Jongup couldn’t move. Everything was hurting and he feared he had pushed himself too hard before, foolishly turning down help from the others for the sake of his pride. And now everything was just… kind of fuzzy. Everybody around him seemed to slow down, and the walls of rock surrounding them started to close in. There was little more his body could do than stumble far enough so that he could brace himself against the wall. But the first step he took past that sent him to the ground, where he stayed and continued to think about how stupid he was for refusing to take a break or hold onto someone’s arm or something before. Now he felt like he could collapse and sleep for days.

With a grunt muffled to his own ears, Jongup pushed himself halfway back up, hands grappling for purchase, but instead of landing on hard, solid rock, his fingers sunk into something dry and gravel-like. He pushed aside some of the smaller chunks and immediately dug into the earth––it was dirt. Real, thick, damp earth. Jongup blinked at the sight before directing his eyes up again. The light hadn’t just been his imagination; they were closer than he had thought. Suddenly a powerful surge of need to get out flew through him, and he scrambled to the wall of the cave to press his palm against it. The rock was cool and seemed slippery, now. He couldn’t quite make out any colors––not like there had been many to make out in Equidem––but something at the crevice where the wall of the cave met the floor looked black, darker than the rock around it. When his fingers sank into something soft and damp, he inhaled sharply.

And then the cold left him, and he dug his fingers deeper into the moss, nearly ripping it right out of the ground as his senses dialed to eleven and left him gasping for breath. Suddenly there was too much input to his brain, everything he had been used to constantly having at his fingertips flooding back in too fast, a wave of powerful energy.

It felt like the ground was shaking under him. He didn’t realize that that it actually was until he looked back up to see the others stumbling around in a bit of a panic. He didn’t have time to be surprised that Youngjae was helping Junhong to his feet, but he would most definitely save it for later. Both of them fell, nearly on top of each other. Jongup squinted, the waves of energy making it difficult to really get ahold of his senses, as Junhong moved slowly to get back to his feet, one hand pressed to the side of his head. Youngjae braced himself on the ground, palms planted firmly amongst the shifty rocks. He coughed heavily, bits of debris dusting his hair. But Jongup saw his eyes land on Daehyun, and then he pushed himself to his feet, gritting his teeth as he tried to run and keep his balance on the shifting earth.

Vision tipping back and forth, Jongup looked back in front just in time to see a fissure travel up the side of the wall beside him and across the ceiling, shaking a rather large rock loose. Suddenly everything turned chaotic, and he could barely focus on even one person for more than a second. Dozens of bats––all squeaking and flapping crazily––navigated their way through the falling debris, a few getting crushed beneath larger bits, but Daehyun couldn’t move with such agility, and Jongup was sure that if Youngjae had reached him any later, hadn’t shoved him forward hard enough, the rock that broke over his shoulder would have killed him.

Jongup could feel his compass again. They were only a little ways from the mouth of the cave, which led directly into the forest. If he could just––

A loud crack interrupted his thoughts, and he quickly got back up to his knees to turn around, realizing he was the closest of them all to the exit. Youngjae was following Daehyun as he made his way closer to Jongup, and Himchan was helping Junhong, only a few feet behind them. Jongup couldn’t see the man who had been holding onto Junhong before, and Kim Hyunshik was struggling to stand, himself, much farther back.

A larger piece of rock crashed down in front of Youngjae, who didn’t have enough time to change his pace, and he tripped over it, falling down hard, still quite a ways back. Jongup could only watch the panic behind him, his breathing heavy and loud in his already-ringing ears as he tried to keep the black from creeping into his vision. It skirted just around the edges, and his head grew light, as if his soul was being lifted slightly from his body. Another jolt shot through him, leaving him completely breathless, and he couldn’t tell if the sound he heard after was from more rocks or his skull cracking against the ground.

All he could hear was a quiet, high-pitched ringing in his ears and his vision started to double; he was losing control. He had never ever actually witnessed somebody losing control of their magic, but it was a well-known hazard, and most occurrences could be blamed on either overwhelming emotions or life-threatening situations. He couldn’t let this happen. Mages who lost control of their magic could trigger natural disasters. Earthquakes, volcanic eruptions, tsunamis, tornadoes––anything of their element. And they were called disasters for a reason.

No, he wouldn’t lose his grip. It was just such a sudden rush of magic after being without it for a few days. All he had to do was reign it in. Was he even capable of that? He would have to be.

So he closed his eyes to eliminate the chaos his vision was giving to him, and lifted his head a bit to breathe in air that wasn’t full of dust. His entire nervous system was buzzing against his bones.

The first thing Jongup had learned when he had first started using his magic was control. The dangers of losing it, of letting go, had been drilled into his mind from the very start. People have died to rogue magic before, and Jongup was absolutely terrified that he might have already caused someone to get hurt. Even without magic he had caused people to get hurt. Junhong and Himchan had practically given up their lives for him, and now Junhong was in handcuffs, and had nearly been killed by Kim Hyunshik after saving the life of the man whose head he had the gun pressed to.

Junhong had just almost died, and it was Jongup’s fault. And now everybody was dodging rocks left and right for their lives, and, no, he wouldn’t let anybody else get hurt.

Get a grip, he heard his mother say. If you kill even one more flower you won’t get your books back for another week.

And that was all it took, the memory of his mother’s stern frown, and of himself, a child, being taught to only take limited amounts of energy from the flora around him. He had practically killed their entire back garden trying to practice.

One more loud crack made its way past the ringing in his ears, and then all Jongup could hear was the quiet. He took a few deep breaths as he reigned himself in, and opened his eyes, sitting back up. There was dust settling everywhere, fogging his view, but there was still enough light from the nearby exit to see that, only a small distance away from him, there was a wall that hadn’t been there before, blocking off the rest of the cave. Dread filled his stomach as he looked around frantically, pushed himself to his feet and spun around a few times. There was no joy for the fact that he had made it back to the surface, because as far as he could see in the dim, dark light, there was nothing but dust around him.

Well, there's the last chapter! There's a postface/preview of part 2 coming very soon! I'll be gone from August 1-4, but hopefully I'll get that up for you guys before I leave. Maybe the completion of this will even land on my birthday––that would be special :)

I'm so hecking excited to finally post this!! I wrote a huge portion of it that got deleted, and I had to re-write it, which was really hard and frustrating, but I did it! I'm looking forward to seeing all of your reactions! soooo many things happened in this chapter, and I'm pretty sure it's the longest one so far :D

 

I really want to thank those of you who have stuck with this whole thing, and I honestly can't believe I actually finished it, AND planned a sequel?? Who have I become! Thank you for leaving comments and being patient with me sometimes. This was honestly an idea that I almost totally scraped, but then I had an 11-hour flight to Japan, brought a notebook, and outlined an entire story. And then I… wrote it? The whole thing?

I hope everything in this chapter was clear. It's so hard for me to tell because I spend so much time with it––it's really all just a blur to me XD