All airports smelled the same, of old and new, a strange place where time did not flow naturally. Even though seconds ticked away on clocks and notices came over speakers, airports never ceased to make Luhan uncomfortable.

“You’ll be delayed again?” asked Yixing, crystal clear through the phone. Free wifi was a blessing for international calls.

“Actually, we’re getting there earlier than expected. Plane lands at 2am, Incheon airport.”

“I’ll be there.”

“And if a fire mage and an earth mage approach you, please don’t try to kill them.” There’s another headache building at the base of his skull. “Park Chanyeol and Do Kyungsoo. I’ll explain it when we have more time.”

“What do they look like?”

“Um. One’s really tall with big ears and the other is shorter with big eyes?”

“You are as eloquent as always.” Yixing’s tone was dry and humorous, no sign of the humming, distracted mage from yesterday. Luhan took that as a good sign.

“And you’re as sarcastic as always.” Sarcasm was better than insanity. “Feeling better?”

“Infinitely. The master’s magic has receded for now – it is no longer distracting.”

“Do you know why?”

“If I did, I would not have called for you.” Luhan could imagine Yixing’s soft frown. “The master becomes more powerful with every surge, I cannot handle him on my own.”

“Could his power be caused by a lot of deaths? Because, Yixing –” Luhan glanced at Tao and Sehun sprawled out beside him on waiting chairs, asleep. “We found this kid from nowhere, getting hunted down by SM. The group of trainees he was with were killed and he doesn’t know why.”

Yixing sighed and Luhan wondered if headaches could be transmitted through phone calls. “Have you heard of the Philosopher’s Stone?”

“Of course I have?” As far as magic pushed the boundaries of reality, the stone was never more than a fantasy. “In stories.”

“Theoretically it could be created.”

Luhan froze, mind trying to compute the vast amounts of magic that would require. “That’s impossible – Yixing, it’s a stone that gives you immortality without anything in return. It doesn’t just break equivalence laws; it’s literally taking an axe to every single rule we have, hacking them to bits then setting them on fire.”

“The chances are slim, not impossible.” Yixing paused. “Especially considering his blood magic.”

“Why the hell are you only telling me this now?”

“I came to this conclusion only a few hours ago.”

Luhan frowned, “please don’t tell me you called us a week ago on nothing but a hunch.”

Yixing’s laughter bubbled through, a familiar sound Luhan hadn’t heard for a long time. Yixing didn’t hang up. Even when they weren’t face to face, Luhan could feel his need to ask something more, so Luhan waited for his friend to speak again. 

Yixing was a lot of things but ‘vocal’ wasn’t one of them.

“How is Zitao?” There it was. Laughter gave way to strained speech. Luhan tried to keep it as short and painless as possible.

“Tao is perfectly fine.” This topic was a goddamn minefield and most of the time, Luhan was the only one navigating it. “It won’t hurt to talk to him?”

“He was absolutely terrified of me the last time I saw him.”

“You weren’t helping.” Luhan pinched the bridge of his nose as his headache swelled. By the end of this he could probably pinch his nose off his face. “Just talk to him, Yixing. Please?”

“I’ll see you at Incheon.” Yixing ended the call with nothing more.

 

Luhan’s magic spiked, a slip of annoyance, and the phone screen spiderwebbed with cracks.

“.” He must have hissed it too loudly because big hands squeezed his shoulder. Luhan relaxed under Tao’s worried frown. “You’re supposed to be sleeping.”

A stream of cold air blew straight into Luhan’s ear and he jumped, shuddering. Sehun stifled a laugh, “Says the old man who was also supposed to be sleeping.”

“I’m not tired – where are you going?”

“Toilet.” Tao eased off his seat and stretched. “I won’t be long.”

 

Luhan watched until Tao was lost in the crowd. How much had Tao heard? Luhan wouldn’t put it past him to lock himself in a stall and cry for a while, but even if did do that, there wasn’t much Luhan could help with. As much as Tao liked physical comfort, there were some things he liked to deal with alone. Maybe Tao had picked up the habit from Luhan.

“Hey, Luhan?” Air coiled by Luhan’s ear again and he hurriedly covered it before Sehun could send another shiver-inducing blow. “Who is Yixing?”

“I already told you that.”

“I meant, who is he to Tao?” asked Sehun. “Did they… like each other?”

“Maybe.”

Sehun nodded, too understanding for Luhan’s liking. “How old is Yixing?”

“Yixing’s age,” he poked Sehun between the eyes, “is none of your business. They’ve got some problems and those are very personal problems.”

“Holy , did they almost kill each other or something?”

“What the – no! Well…” Luhan winced at the memory. “Not really.”

“So what’s the problem? Does it have something to do with their magic? Did Tao give Yixing a time problem and Yixing give Tao a blood problem?”

Luhan scowled, ready to shoot Sehun down, but caught himself at the last second. The poor kid ing killed someone earlier that day and Luhan could see through the mask he was putting up. It took skill to shove your thoughts in a box and lock it away and it was a skill that took time to perfect. Sehun talked to fight the silence, a strategy that Luhan knew well, so he played along with it. This was the most tactful Luhan had been in a while – not including his interactions with Tao.

“That’s a question you’ll have to ask Tao, but I don’t think he wants to talk about it.” He nudged the conversation somewhere else. “You also asked about Kris before?”

Kris was a topic both he and Tao found ease with. Sehun had already shown interest at their mentions of another wind mage and now was no exception. He perked up in interest. “Is he older than you?”

“Younger, actually. By half a year.”

“Is he strong?”

“He’s… controlled? Imagine the eye of a storm, deadly stillness.” Luhan ruffled Sehun’s hair. “Neat as a pin. Precise. I didn’t think he was a wind mage at first.”

“You’re an .” Sehun whined as he fought Luhan off and the air returned his hair to semi-tidiness. “But what happens when he gets pissed?”

“I dunno he just – he gets quieter.” Luhan blinked and a scene flashed into mind, corpses found dead in their beds, suffocated to death. Kris had been a silent killer, one of the master’s favourites. “But when he’s happy he turns into a goof.”

“He’s in trouble now, right?”

“He is.” The same protectiveness he usually experienced with Tao crept over him. There had to be some reason Sehun was asking this. “Why?”

Sehun went still and his magic copied his emotions, nervous. “I’ve been thinking about something stuff. You guys said I won’t be able to live near SM anymore, right?”

“Only if they’re still after you.” Luhan spoke carefully.

“They will be.” Sehun twisted his fingers together. “Afterwards I want to help you guys.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Your chances of dying will double with every one of us you meet.” One of us. Escaped mages. Hunted mages. “And you’ve already met Joonmyun and Minseok.”

Sehun opened his mouth and Luhan braced himself for an argument. Then Tao returned with a too-bright smile and they backed off to make room for him. “What were you two talking about?”

“About Kris.” Luhan eased over the bump in their previous conversation and Sehun followed suit. But from the way Sehun’s mouth was set, Luhan knew they’d be talking about it again soon. “Did we ever meet Chanyeol before?”

“Only once. When they moved to Beijing.” That was nothing more than a short meet up at the airport, Kris and Chanyeol barely awake enough to speak. Luhan remembered it perfectly, but he’d asked for the sake of Sehun. “He was…” Tao floundered for the correct Korean word, “sunny?”

“What sort of magic?” asked Sehun, blatantly curious.

“Fire.”

 

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Five years ago, Chanyeol would be handing over his number. But gone were the lonely days of uncontrollable fire and wary stares, so he smiled politely and took his coffee order from the Starbucks barista. Her magic followed him as he walked away, miffed at the rejection. 

He weaved past tables and chairs to the back corner where he’d left Kyungsoo in pursuit of coffee. People filled the café chain to the brim, most of them workers from nearby offices coming to spend their lunch break.

“Here’s yours.” Chanyeol put down their drinks carefully and sat next to Kyungsoo. He didn’t bother waiting and took a sip from his, unaffected by its heat. His satisfied exhale steamed in the warm air, dissipating as he leaned over to see what Kyungsoo was doing. “Did the brothers send us something?”

“No but…” Kyungsoo turned the phone so Chanyeol could see better. “Does this look like the face of a thirty-four year old?”

It was the same photo from yesterday, Zhang Yixing staring straight through the camera to study them. Then Chanyeol registered Kyungsoo’s question and frowned, picking up the phone and tilting it as if that would make the man in the picture look older. “Thirty-four?”

“Yeah, I only just checked but he doesn’t look like he aged a day over twenty-five.”

They fell silent, contemplating. They could trust the brothers and the brothers could trust their own source of information, but what if their information at its core, was wrong? “The brothers said he healed easily, right? Maybe he’s just really healthy.” 

Kyungsoo laughed, picked up his cup, and froze mid-motion. Earth magic weighed down Chanyeol’s shoulders and he tensed. “Soo?”

“Do you feel that?”

“Not when you’re acting up.” Kyungsoo’s magic relaxed and Chanyeol opened up, searching with his own magic. Wispy fragments of energy brushed against him, flowing with the light itself. Light. “Yes I do, how close is he?”

“Close enough – probably inside the mall. It’s strange though, if he wanted a fight he’d have blown out all the lights, gone invisible and stabbed you.”

“That’s… not very reassuring.”

“Sorry.”

Chanyeol took another sip of his coffee. “Maybe he’s coming to talk?”

 

They kept their senses peeled, but it wasn’t them who spotted Baekhyun first. It was the barista. Unintentionally hyperaware, Chanyeol had been picking up on her magic as well and her startled zap of energy turned his head.

 

Ordering at the counter was Byun Baekhyun, smile glittering as bright as his earrings as they caught the light. He didn’t hide his contract at all, bending over the counter, chatting with the barista and drawing out a shy giggle. Kyungsoo stiffened and gripped the table.

“Stay cool, Soo.”

“Working on it.”

Baekhyun drifted away from the counter, waiting for his order by the looks of it, and nothing could prepare Chanyeol for the intensity of his stare. Baekhyun’s eyes sparkled – a dark kind of sparkle that threatened violence.

 

Neither of them broke eye contact until Baekhyun collected his order and weaved the same path Chanyeol did towards their table. Baekhyun took the seat across Chanyeol with a confidence that begged to be challenged. 

“Good afternoon, Soo.” Baekhyun set his elbows on the table. “Hello Chanyeol.”

Whatever history Kyungsoo had with Baekhyun was redundant. This was Chanyeol’s fight and Chanyeol would be the one to lead it. That didn’t stop the fire mage from finding support in Kyungsoo’s solid presence. “Baekhyun. We never got a chance to properly introduce ourselves.”

“Is there really a need for that now?” Baekhyun asked, putting more weight on his elbows as he slid forwards. “Let’s skip the introductions and get to the good stuff, hm?”

“What do you want?”

“I want you, baby.” Oh that was so incredibly wrong, the way Baekhyun used the endearment. It sparked an uncomfortable prickle across the back of Chanyeol’s neck. “Come back with me?”

Chanyeol clenched his hands into his knees, heating up his magic enough for a seasoned mage like Baekhyun to get the message. Don’t mess with me. “The answer has been and always will be a no.”

Baekhyun sighed, long and drawn out. “You’re no fun, totally not what I expected, Kris talked a lot about you.” His smile sharpened into a grin. “You love being called baby don’t you?”

The uncomfortable prickling sensation morphed to dread, weighing heavily in Chanyeol’s chest. Either Baekhyun landed a lucky guess or SM had ripped that particular piece of information out of Kris. Considering SM’s master, the latter was far more likely.

Chanyeol chose silence as his retort. There was nothing to be gained from speaking – it wasn’t like Baekhyun could tell him anything of importance – and if Baekhyun wanted to try and get under his skin, he’d have to grit his teeth and deal with it.

“He’s alive, but of course he misses his baby very much.” Baekhyun leant even closer, their noses almost brushing. “Come back with me and I promise you’ll see him again. Alive too, isn’t that a plus?”

Silence continued, Chanyeol wiped all thoughts of captivity, torture and pain, away.

“You know, the master didn’t say you had to be dead, but if you stay out here, he’ll kill Kris. He’ll slice Kris open and bleed him to death. Maybe he’ll use all that blood for some magic spell.” Baekhyun pouted at Chanyeol’s impassive face, the corners of his mouth turning down cutely. It clashed with his words and rubbed Chanyeol the wrong way. Did Baekhyun enjoy this? “Wow, no reaction? You’re so cold for a fire mage.”

Baekhyun closed the distance and kissed Chanyeol, a mere brush of contact. Chanyeol didn’t have to try and stay still this time. He was shocked into a statue-state, uncomprehending as Baekhyun smirked and leaned forward again. Soft lips pressed desperately against Chanyeol’s, wetness between them, searching for entry. Chanyeol’s body caught up with his brain and he flinched so violently, his chair screeched as it scraped the floor.

 

Heat lashed and Baekhyun recoiled, clutching his cheek and laughing like Chanyeol’s expression was the funniest thing in the world. Fire simmered in Chanyeol’s chest, held back only by the grip Kyungsoo had on his knee.

“That didn’t help convince me.” He hoped he didn’t sound as shaken as he felt.

“Aw, are you sure?” Magic rippled across Baekhyun’s features and Chanyeol tensed, expecting an attack, but none came. “Do you really love Kris, Chanyeol? Or did you just spread your legs for him because he was a ticket out of SM? Maybe instead of baby he should have called you a .” The word slapped Chanyeol in the face. Baekhyun’s grin warped into a snarl. “If you really love him you’ll follow.”

 

Chanyeol swallowed his fire, quenching it, and whispered so Baekhyun wouldn’t hear his weakness. “No.”

“Hm?”

“It’s still a no, Baekhyun.” Said Chanyeol, breathing in and imagining Kris was there with him, a calm and cooling grace. “I’m sorry, but I think you’re done here.”

“Suit yourself.” Baekhyun shrugged and pushed his drink over. It wasn’t the drink that caught Chanyeol’s attention but the sentence written on it.

You don’t care, do you? It was last thing Kris said to him before he stormed off with his barely-packed bag and headed for Seoul.

“I’ll see you two again.” Baekhyun tucked his chair in and went back the way he came, taking his magic with him. Chanyeol stayed stiff, transfixed, until Kyungsoo turned the cup so that the message was out of view. No one else in the café seemed to noticed their little episode.

Able to move again, Chanyeol carded his fingers through messy hair. “That went great.”

“I’m going to beat the out of him the next time I see him.” Kyungsoo let go of the cup before he could accidentally crush it, as close to angry as Chanyeol had ever seen him. “What is wrong with him?”

“You tell me.” The thoughts Baekhyun seeded were dangerous, Chanyeol knew as much, but they festered despite his efforts.

“Yeol, I can literally see you thinking about what he said. I don’t know which part exactly, but stop.” Kyungsoo gestured at the drink Baekhyun had left behind. “You drinking that?”

“Do you think he poisoned it?”

“Can’t say for sure.”

Chanyeol wrinkled his nose, sure that the words written on it were poisonous enough. “I’ll throw it out later.”

 

They were finishing their coffees when Kyungsoo’s phone rang, the caller ID reading ‘Joonmyun.’ Kyungsoo put it on speaker and they bent closer so they could hear over the general noise of the café.

“Kyungsoo?”

“Hey Joon, nice to hear you’re still alive. What’s up?”

“It’s about Yixing.” Joonmyun said, sounding like he was gearing up for a huge explanation. “He’s not going to be at the hospice today. He’ll be at Incheon airport.”
Chanyeol exchanged a glance with Kyungsoo and shoved all thoughts of Kris, Baekhyun and SM out of his head. “We’re listening.”

“Do you happen to remember a mage called Lu Han?”

 

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Nearing sunset, his bags were packed and his room uncharacteristically tidy. Jongin couldn’t leave without speaking Baekhyun. He imagined Baekhyun returning to an empty room and no explanation. Choosing Kyungsoo again. With nothing to do but wait, Jongin sank to the floor and sat in silence. 

Until his phone rang and scared the crap out of him. 

“Hello?”

“It’s me.” Jongdae said. “I need you to come in, right now. It’s important.”

Teleporting to his feet, Jongin was already looking for a pair of shoes to put on. Whenever Jongdae dropped his usual, playful tone of voice, were times of great worry. “What’s the problem?”
“The master summoned you.”

Jongin froze. “That is more than important.”

“Jongin.” He said, static crackling for a second before dying down. “You said you’d give yourself three days to leave and your three days are up. So if you’re doing what I think you’re doing – don’t stop. You need to get the hell out of here, but you know how impatient the master is when he summons.”

“How impatient?”

“If you don’t show up within an hour, you’re probably gonna die.” Jongdae’s voice dropped to a soft whisper. “You can’t leave until you’ve seen him. Listen to me very carefully. He. Does. Not. Know about Kyungsoo. He might have his suspicions but he doesn’t have any proof. So do not, under any circumstances, let him manipulate you into a confession. Do you understand me?”

“Jongdae –”

“Do you understand me?”

“I do.” Jongin’s simple words wavered. “I just… Jongdae?”

“What?”

“Thanks.”

 

Jongin got his shoes on and magic swirled around him. He could talk to Baekhyun afterwards. The first thing he saw upon arriving at SM was Jongdae at the front desk, who nodded once in greeting. Jongin tried for a confident smile. He failed.

 

No one could access the top floor, where the master lived, via magic and Jongin was no exception. He waited for the elevator to arrive, jamming his finger into the call button a few more times than necessary. The ride up took an excruciatingly long time and Jongin’s heart throbbed in his throat the whole way. He was close enough to sense the master’s magic, heavy and suffocating, like the air in a coffin. He could do this. He hadto do this. 

He didn’t expect the doors to open on the top floor and reveal Kris. 

Paler than a ghost, the wind mage dipped his head and shifted slightly so Jongin could pass. There was none of the aggressiveness from their previous meeting, only tiredness. As Jongin walked by, Kris laid a hand on his shoulder, not holding him back, merely resting.

“Yesterday.” His whisper fluttered against Jongin’s ears. “I apologize for my reaction.”

There was none of the aggression or fear from their previous meeting. Jongin nodded. “You don’t have to explain.”

“I won’t – I can’t – but I regretted not asking you this.” Kris’s lips were cracked and bloody. “How is Chanyeol?”

“He’s alive and well, with minor injuries.” Stab wounds were comparatively minor. “He says he’s sorry. And he loves you.” Jongin swallowed, his mouth dry. “Do you want me to tell him anything?”

A shadow of a smile graced Kris’s features. “What can I say other than; I love you too?” Kris released him and something passed between them, a mutual understanding of the suffering that came from love that laid out of reach. “Be careful, Jongin.”

Kris stepped into the elevator and Jongin nodded as the doors closed between them, cutting him off from escape. Without Kris’s presence, blood magic filled his senses one more. He steadied his breath, patted sweaty palms on his jeans, and continued towards the master.

 

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Baekhyun stomped home, turning the lights on with a snap of his fingers.

 

He peeked into Jongin’s room, checking to see if his friend was sleeping in there, and stopped. No one. In Jongin’s place was a locked suitcase, standing to attention at the foot of Jongin’s bed. It was an old, battered thing, following them since a time before SM.

Baekhyun had always known Jongin wanted to leave, and he hated himself for wishing against it. 

There’s no Jongin around now. When he closed Jongin’s bedroom door, Baekhyun could believe he was already alone. He drew all the curtains shut, turned off the lights with a click of his fingers, threw himself onto his own bed and surrounded himself with the darkness of pillows and blankets.

 

Leave with Jongin? What a joke. Baekhyun squeezed his eyes shut and Chanyeol’s horrified face swam into view. The fire mage would be the newest in a very long list of names. Jongin didn’t know how long that list really was. 

For Baekhyun, darkness was as powerful as death and with it came the nightmares. Sometimes he believed he sensed phantom hands reaching for him from the Spirit Realm, desperate to avenge themselves. Nothing existed outside of SM but loneliness. With the loneliness came the dark.

 

Baekhyun held up a finger and a tiny spark of brightness glowed from its tip, glinting off his earrings and soaking him in comfort. He liked bright things. Slowly, he peeled layers of colour from the white light. Violet and purple went first, then blue and green. He left himself with glittering yellow and orange and red, smiling softly at the warmth it implied. It wasn’t fire but it was close enough, filling the emptiness of the apartment around him. Jongin would come back.

 

That was how Baekhyun finally drifted off to sleep, light fading away until the darkness returned. At least now he wasn’t awake to be scared of it.

 

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Blood on the floor, a terrifying amount, painting the wooden floorboards. It was a dream and Luhan knew it, but he could never wake up no matter how much he tried. His view was familiar, a past home, but that wasn’t what he focused on.

“Hurry up.” Luhan muttered to himself. As if on cue, the wailing began.

He blinked and Tao appeared, short and young and thirteen years old again, limp on the floor. Red plastered his clothes to his body. Another blink and Yixing faded into existence. There was a source for the wails now. Yixing screamed so loudly, Luhan’s ears hurt. But he didn’t have the hands to block out the sound. A dream. That was all.

 

Luhan settled in with his non-existent dream body, dread coursing through him, and tried not to look too closely. The horrible sounds Yixing made were easy to ignore – Luhan learned how to the first few times – but the view was something else. It changed frequently. There were so many ways Tao could get hurt, so many ways Yixing could have killed Tao that fateful night, and Luhan had thought of them all. He’d end up looking like he always did and –

“Luhan?” Soft, but strangely loud in the cacophony of his dream. A hand patted his cheek, the sensation dragging Luhan from sleep. “Lu – wake up.”

Luhan did, becoming aware of soreness in his neck and back. Tao’s face was inches from his, knitted into a scared frown. Luhan yawned and knocked their foreheads together, eliciting a yelp.

“Luhan.”

“Zitao.” Luhan imitated his whine, laughing at Tao’s disgruntled pout. He shifted, intending to get up and stretch, until he registered the weight in his lap.

 

Sehun, tall as he was, took up two seats when he curled up and his fluffy, dark-haired head rested mostly on Luhan’s right thigh. He briefly considered easing out from underneath, but as he tensed to move, Sehun sighed and the air responded with dreamy swirls. Luhan gave up and let the kid sleep.

“Why didn’t you wake him up instead?” asked Luhan, feigning offence. “Do I not have perks of seniority?”

“You didn’t look very happy.” Tao was still talking in Korean, his vocabulary limited, an adorable scrunch to his nose. “What were you dreaming about?”

“I forgot.” If there was anyone who could tell when he was lying, it was Tao, but Tao didn’t push for an answer. Luhan wriggled the toes in his right leg and winced at pins and needles. “How long has he been on my leg?”

“A few hours? It’s almost 8 o’clock.” Tao was more reliable than any clock in the world. “We should eat.”

Then Luhan had slept way longer than he thought he would. There’s a plan on the tip of his tongue, some subject of matter concerning food, but he found himself distracted, brushing Sehun’s hair back. The way it poked at his face made Luhan feel itchy himself.

Tao’s quiet laugh brought him back. “Lu…”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“No, tell me!” Luhan cut into a whisper halfway through his sentence, Sehun stirring and stabbing his thigh with a sharp cheekbone. “Taoooooo.”

“I forgot.”

Dammit. He’d totally left himself open for that one. “Fine, then. Don’t tell me.” Luhan sniffed and turned his head away, the turn on his lips haughty. Tao’s laughter continued and Luhan grumbled when Tao leaned on his shoulder. Now well and truly trapped in his seat, Luhan groaned. Quietly though. He didn’t want to wake Sehun.

“Hey, Lu?” Tao shifted and his chin dug into Luhan’s neck. “When you talked with Yixing. Is he still angry at me?”

Luhan thought for a long moment, knowing how important it was to answer this right. His fingers brushed neat lines into Sehun’s hair. “Xing is… troubled. He’s always got a lot on his mind, we already know that.” 

“You’re dodging the answer.”

“No, Tao, he wasn’t angry.” Yixing never was. Uncertain yes, and scared, but never angry. The next question would push the push the line with Tao but Luhan asked it anyways. “Are you still scared of him?”

Tao leaned heavier onto Luhan’s shoulder. His silence answered well enough.

 

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“He’s not answering.” Distracted, Kyungsoo wobbled as the train stopped. Incheon airport. Chanyeol fiddled with his lighter, remembering all too well what had happened here a few days ago.

“Text him?”

“Already done that. He doesn’t usually go this long without checking.” They stopped inside the airport, pressing to the side so they didn’t block anyone’s way. Kyungsoo tried calling Jongin again.

Chanyeol was close enough to hear the faint beep that indicated the end of the call. Kyungsoo’s uneasiness was infectious, like a mutated fungus that ate away their hope. “I’m sure he’s fine, Soo. Leave him a voice message?”

There’s a moment of silence as Kyungsoo dialed Jongin again. “Jongin, we’re not at home at the moment but we’ll be back by four tomorrow morning at the latest. Stay safe.” He coughed and Chanyeol pretended to not listen. “I love you.”

 

Chanyeol shivered as Kyungsoo tucked his phone away. It wasn’t magic that triggered the reaction but…

“Someone’s watching us.” The chance that SM already had their mages out for them was higher than Kyungsoo’s apartment block.

“Fantastic.” Kyungsoo said dryly. “Were you expecting them not to be?”

“No.”  

 

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Together, Joonmyun and Minseok were unstoppable. One’s strengths covered the other’s weaknesses and vice versa, a perfect team.

 

Separation never ended well.

 

They needed it to save time. Minseok stayed behind to pump the car with gas and its tires with air. Joonmyun crossed the street and entered a mini mart, shivering at its warmth. He preferred the chill, had gotten used to it with his brother, and heat took away the comfort it brought.

Joonmyun bought enough food to fill the basket, then two twelve-packs of water bottles. Driving to Beijing should only take a day, but it couldn’t hurt to be sure. Money they had, the one thing they didn’t have to worry about right now, and it would be easy enough to access help from local Guilds. All they needed to do was avoid SM, which, Joonmyun thought, was a lot easier said than done.

 

The woman stood in front of the exit, arms crossed loosely, no hint of magic in her aura. Then she curled her hair over her ear and revealed the hexagonal mark of SM’s contract. Joonmyun set his groceries on the floor, plastic bags crinkling, and flexed his fingers. He could see Luhan’s car – now their car – through the windows, oblivious to the new player on the field.

“Where is Amber?”

Joonmyun dipped his head and the bottles shivered, water swirling. “Dead.” He pursed his lips. “My condolences.”

She scoffed, sounding painfully close to a sob, and tilted her head back, blinking rapidly. “What of her target?”

“Her target is gone.” He spoke softer now. She seemed young, younger than Tao even, and with youth came pain. “Your job here is done.”

“And what if I said my next target was you?”

The bell to the store tinkled and Minseok stepped inside, water freezing over. He levelled a cold glare at her, a coldness Joonmyun could never bring himself to achieve. Minseok was, after all, older. “Then we’d have to ask for your name.”

Magic surged for a moment, her face darkening. Shelves of the store rattled. Then it was gone, dissipating along with the tension. She reached into the pocket of her jeans and produced a USB, tossing it to Joonmyun without a word.

Joonmyun caught it. “What is this?”

“Something I have no more use for.” She shoved past Minseok, practically running as soon as she was out the door. They didn’t stop her, keeping watch until she disappeared from sight under the streetlights of this cold night.

 

There was no ‘are you okay?’ or ‘did she hurt you?’ after her departure. Minseok picked up the bag with the water bottles and Joonmyun the other, the two of them returning to the car. Thinking with the same mind, they pulled Minseok’s laptop from their belongings and plugged in the USB.

 

The first thing they notice was the USB’s labelled name. Jung_Krystal. Was it hers? A double click revealed sets of files, documents written in a form they knew to be unique to the SM Guild. Going through it invoked a sense of emptiness. Two days ago they’d been writing exactly the same sort of reports, mostly their findings on Zhang Yixing, but these ones were…

“Oh spirits.” Minseok murmured as they clicked open the most recent document and got a screenful of Sehun’s face. He scrolled down, “fourth attempt? Succeeded in amassing the required amount of magic despite a missing subject – what in the Realms is this supposed to be?”

“Whatever it is, Sehun thought they were supposed to be a training group.” Joonmyun scrolled further, all the way to the bottom of the document where he knew the location and time should be recorded. “Zaozhang. That’s not far from here.”

“No – Joon we’re not doing this.” Minseok took the laptop and firmly shut the screen. “We left because we wanted to get away from this madness, not to jump into it again.”
“This is more than madness.” Joonmyun cupped Minseok’s cold face, just like he always did when they were children. “We met Luhan and Tao for a reason.”

“What if she was lying? What if this is a trap?” Minseok unplugged the USB, looking like he wanted to hurl it away. “What if this reason gets us killed?”
“You know we can’t just leave this.”

The temperature dropped, ice crystals creeping over Minseok’s cheeks and latching to Joonmyun’s hand. Minseok closed his eyes and gently pulled his brother away. “I know.”

 

>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><< 

 

Boring as it was, Jongdae took the front desk job gladly. Less risk of getting blown up equaled a happy mage. It also handed him a load of gossip and information that upped his chances of survival. Lack of input bothered Jongdae to no end.

It had been hours since Jongin took the elevator up. Too long. It was nearing midnight already for spirit’s sake.

Jongdae slid off his seat and stretched, skin pulling around the remaining scabs of his burns. Electricity buzzed at the slight pains, yearning for a rematch with Chanyeol’s fire, and Jongdae ran fingers through his hair to comb out the static. When it puffed up he knew he looked like a clown.

 

Casually, like this wasn’t the most stupid thing he’d done in a long time, Jongdae jammed his thumb into the elevator call button. He could make an excuse, say he had something to report. He prayed on the spirits that he wouldn’t arrive on the top floor and find bits of Jongin exploded everywhere. That was a scene he’d witnessed before and it wasn’t one he wanted to witness again.

He was running a full course of dread when the elevator opened and out came –

“Jongin! Holy , what happened up there?” A brief spark of electricity jumped from Jongdae’s finger to Jongin’s shirt as his stress discharged into the air around him. “Hey…” Jongdae stepped back to give Jongin enough room to exit the elevator. “You ok? You’re really pale.”

Jongin blinked at him, face blank. It took a heartbeat too long for a response. “I’m ok.”

“What did the master want from you?”

“Nothing important.” Jongin waved his hand vaguely. “Just a talk.”

“That was a really long talk.”

Jongin shrugged and, without sparing Jongdae another glance, left. This was the first time in months Jongdae saw him used the exit instead of teleporting out.

 

Lightning cracked inside him, a storm of worry, but he gripped it tightly and forced himself to return to the desk without so much as a frown. He failed to unlock his phone on the first try. When he managed it, he scrolled through his contacts so fast they blurred. He tapped Baekhyun’s.

No one picked up.

“For ’s sake, come on Baek.” Jongdae’s shift ended in twenty minutes. In their world, that was a lot of time, and Jongdae wasn’t sure if it was his electricity or something else that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand. He rang Baekhyun again.

 

>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><< 

 

Featherlight touches against his lips pulled Baekhyun from the deep waters of exhausted sleep and left him to paddle in shallow consciousness. He thought it was part of his dream, Chanyeol’s mouth burning his, charring his tongue and searing his throat. He’d kissed Chanyeol to illicit a reaction and he’d succeeded. So why did he taste such bitterness?

 

What would it feel like to have someone love him like that? Someone who would die for him? Baekhyun rolled over uneasily and long arms looped around him, dragging him into warmth. His eyes snapped open.

“Did I wake you?” Jongin murmured in his ear, arms tightening.

 

Every single light in the apartment flicked on as Baekhyun wrenched himself free and scrambled off the bed. His heart pounded against his ribs.

“What are you doing?” Baekhyun backed up a step as Jongin stood. There was something strange in the way Jongin moved that rang a tiny alarm bell in Baekhyun’s head. He retreated until his back hit a wall.

He was too shocked to react when Jongin closed the distance between them and cupped his face for a kiss. And from the cold hardness of the wall behind him, Baekhyun knew it was real.

Jongin burned worse than Chanyeol did, with grief and frustration instead of heat. Baekhyun’s cry was muffled between them. He struggled weakly, torn between wanting and rejecting, until Jongin pulled away. In the following silence, Baekhyun whispered.

“I thought you were leaving for Kyungsoo.”

Jongin reached forward slowly, giving Baekhyun a chance to stop him, and Baekhyun’s cheek. The alarm bells rang a little louder at Jongin’s uncharacteristic display of confidence.

“I’m not going anywhere.” Jongin said, and Baekhyun clutched his shirt. “I went to tell Kyungsoo just now.”

Baekhyun went very still, the last wisps of sleepiness clearing out of his head. Jongin always had a sweet lilt on Kyungsoo’s name, but this time there was none.

“What did you tell him?” Baekhyun pressed closer, hands landing on Jongin’s waist and head resting on his shoulder. He searched with his magic, trying to find Jongin’s signature, buzzing energy.

“I told him that I loved you more.” That was Jongin’s voice, not an illusion or a shapeshifter. Baekhyun’s search brushed against the sickeningly sweet ooze of blood magic.

 

It took every ounce of Baekhyun’s control to not flinch. “You love me?”

“I do.”

Baekhyun lifted his head to look at Jongin’s face, only to see the master lurking behind those familiar eyes. “No you don’t.”

 

The lights died and darkness leapt forth, consuming them. Baekhyun stepped forward and rammed an elbow into the master’s gut. Even blind, Baekhyun sprinted away without smacking into anything. This was his home, his and Jongin’s home. Something thudded behind him.

He didn’t have his knives. Well, technically they were daggers but Jongin called them knives so much it rubbed off on him. Jongin also didn’t like them in the house, so Baekhyun always left them at SM.

He’d never really minded though. Now he did.

 

Kitchen knives weren’t double edged but they were good enough. He didn’t bother trying to keep quiet, fumbling around until his hand closed over the knife handle then slamming the drawer shut. The master would sense him, he was basically a walking container of blood. There was no use in hiding.

Magic popped and the lights flared back to life, just in time for Baekhyun to dodge under the master’s grasp. He stabbed, driving the master back. Baekhyun’s next slash should have cleaved the master shoulder to waist, but before it met its mark his contract exploded with pain.

It seared through his veins, weakening his muscles until the knife clattered to the floor. He screamed, dimly aware of his knees giving out. Pain of a lesser sort prickled into his scalp as the master yanked him by the hair. Baekhyun hit the floor snarling and writhing as weight straddled his waist.

A fist slammed into Baekhyun’s jaw, dazing him. He clawed at the master’s skin. Then the master held Baekhyun’s hand down, reached for the dropped knife and stabbed it through Baekhyun’s palm, pinning it to the floorboards.

 

Instinctively, Baekhyun’s hand tried to clench. The movement only multiplied his pain, whiting out his brain as he choked on another scream. Familiar fingers grabbed his chin, forcing him away from the sight of metal buried in his flesh, and he found himself staring into the master’s eyes. His contract dwindled to a deep ache.

“Good evening, Baekhyun.” The master said, using Jongin’s voice and frowning with Jongin’s face.

“What did you do to Jongin?” Baekhyun hated how shaky he sounded, the pain creeping into his throat. That was Jongin on top of him, there was no other explanation for it.

“He’s gone for now. My body was turning frail, and Jongin offered himself so willingly.” The master clapped a hand over Baekhyun’s mouth before he could speak. “From the way you looked at him, I thought you were the one. It would have been much easier if he loved you instead.”

Baekhyun growled and bit down viciously, breaking skin. The master slapped him so hard, his head whipped to the side.

“Thank you, for confirming it was Do Kyungsoo.” He continued conversationally. “Do you know of his location?”

Yes. He’d gleaned it off Jongin’s notes, hidden in the tight gap between desk and wall. Jongin never could keep all his thoughts together. “I don’t know.” From here he could blind the master, frying his eyes with light, but he held back. The master would have his blood painting the walls.

“Baekhyun.” The master dipped a finger into the trails of red that pooled on the floor. “We can agree there is no point in lying to me. Where is he?”

“I don’t –” It felt like shrapnel had burst under his ear. All reason shattered and he shrieked, spine curving as he arched off the floor. He thrashed uselessly, unable to hear anything past a high-pitched ringing, trying and failing to form words. His contract burned longer than before and, when it faded, Baekhyun gulped air.

The master ripped the knife free and Baekhyun cried out, the sound coming as a hoarse cough. He almost missed the master’s words. “We have all night, Baekhyun.”

Terror squeezed tears from Baekhyun’s eyes. He shifted weakly, trying to look at anything but Jongin’s eerily emotionless face. “I don’t know.”

The master hummed, making Baekhyun tense in anticipation of torture. In the icy silence came a faint buzzing. Baekhyun wasn’t sure if it was a real sound or something only he could hear, but the master stood up, Jongin’s weight leaving him, and went after the noise with a frown.

 

Escape was a pipedream, but Baekhyun moved purely for the sake of moving, as if it was a form of rebellion. He rolled onto all fours, making the mistake of putting weight onto his injured right hand. Gasping, he stared at it, transfixed by the gore of his own flesh. Dirty white showed through the red. He couldn’t move those fingers.

 

Distracted, Baekhyun didn’t notice returning footsteps until the master’s kick caught him across the face. Something crunched, warmth trickling over his lips, and he crumpled. He and tasted iron.

“Hello?” The master shoved Baekhyun onto his back, speaking into Baekhyun’s phone. “Yes, he’s right here… Me? I feel fine – maybe even better than usual.”

The thing was on speaker, but Baekhyun couldn’t think enough to connect the caller’s voice with a face. It reminded him of ozone and electricity.

“You want to talk to Baekhyun? Sure.” The master crouched by Baekhyun’s head and held out the phone. “Say hi, Baekhyun.”

Baekhyun opened his mouth, to yell or groan or cry, anything to warn Jongdae away. But as soon as he drew enough breath, the master gripped his jaw and dug cruel fingers into his contract.

 

Physical contact was ten, twenty – a hundred times worse. The master released him, let him fall, and Baekhyun couldn’t hear himself scream; he couldn’t feel the floor, couldn’t feel his own skin break as he clawed at the contract. This was it. The master was going to kill him and Baekhyun wanted him to, craving sweet relief.

The agony ebbed, enough for Baekhyun to sob – “please, I don’t know, I don’t know –” then it returned.

It consumed him, blinded him, deafened him until all he knew was pain. When it finally left, he found himself curled into a tight ball, like he was trying to hold himself together lest the master wanted to rip him apart.

“Baekhyun.” The master crooned as if he was speaking to a lover. “You care for Jongin, do you not?”

He did. He did so much.

“I have no need for his body if you bring Park Chanyeol to me.” Knuckles Baekhyun’s damp cheeks. “Either I have Jongin and Kyungsoo, or Kris and Chanyeol. Which one do you care more for, hm?”

Kris and Chanyeol were jobs. Like any other job.

“I’ll let you think about it.” The master stood up. “Your efficiency with capturing Kris was exemplary. If you bring me Chanyeol before I find Kyungsoo, then I’ll give Jongin back.” He dropped the phone within Baekhyun’s reach. The call to Jongdae was still on, muted. “I look forward to your report.”

Baekhyun’s contract throbbed and he whimpered, dreading another round, but nothing happened as the master left except for a cold gust of air.

 

Baekhyun inched his good hand for the phone, dragging it closer, too weak to pick it up. He tapped feebly, fingers slicked with blood, until he unmuted it. Words failed him for a moment and he coughed, the simple reflex morphing into a terrible hacking that shook his bones, fresh blood splattering the screen.

“Baekhyun? Spirits, Baekhyun can you hear me?” Jongdae sounded frantic. His hair must be standing with static. A laugh bubbled up in Baekhyun’s throat at the image, lost in his coughing.

“Jongdae.” He managed to rasp. “Help me.”