Chapter 12

fate leads the willing and drags the unwilling

Yongsun was tired, incredibly so; there was that sinking feeling in her chest, that painful ache in her bones, that burning sensation that wrapped around her body whenever she felt too much. The pendant around her neck glowed. Yongsun had no idea how it had happened (and it had all happened so fast), how had she ended up like this?

She was so unsure, her destiny was all but a blurred picture! Curse the Faith of Cosmos, and the stars, and destiny, and fate, and every thing that was connected to it!

Yongsun muttered prayers as she buried her face in her hands, as she shivered and shook on the steps leading up to the magician’s room. She hoped and prayed, and told herself what a good, obedient Angel she was. She convinced herself that all would be fine, it was just a terrible, terrible nightmare and she would soon wake up in the Sleeping Quarters in Heaven.

But hope was a dangerous thing for someone like Yongsun who hoped for the most impossible things.

Tears streaked down Yongsun’s cheeks, she let out a little sniffle when she heard the latch open. She looked up and saw Moonbyul standing at the top of the stairs. Moonbyul stared down at Yongsun with a mixture of emotions: Yongsun thought she looked exhausted, serious, tired, or perhaps it was all a facade?

The magician was a mystery. Yongsun’s life was a curse. Nothing went right. All that was left was Yongsun and a pool of misery that she was drowning in. Yongsun felt so very small and fragile when the magician stretched out her hand, waiting for Yongsun to take it.

She wiped her nose on her sleeve and stood, giving in and taking Moonbyul’s hand. Moonbyul gestured for Yongsun to take a seat on her bed. Yongsun bit her bottom lip, wrapped her arms around herself and sat down. She could not muster the courage to look at Moonbyul because she thought she begin to cry again.

Yongsun felt a sharp pain in her chest. She let out a quiet sob as she turned her head away and looked at the latch, thinking of making an escape. Yongsun felt embarrassed, pathetic and utterly useless. Something burned deep inside of her, something wanted to be let free, but Yongsun suppressed that feeling (unfortunately, Yongsun had become terribly good at doing just that).

«Who am I?» she croaked.

She heard and sensed Moonbyul walking around the room. Then, Yongsun felt a pair of cold hands on her own; Moonbyul was slowly peeling away Yongsun’s hands from her face. They were close. The magician was kneeling in front of Yongsun, Yongsun could feel Moonbyul’s breath against her lips.

«Am I like you?» Yongsun whispered.

«Are you a magician, you mean?» Moonbyul asked and tilted her head. «If that’s your question, then yes, you are like me.»

Yongsun sighed, something tugged at her chest. She looked down at her lap and saw that her hands were still entwined with Moonbyul’s.

«I fail to understand how that is even possible.» Yongsun shook her head. «How did your father even know I was the one ?»

«He must’ve heard the stone calling for you.»

«Heard?» Yongsun asked, biting her lip.

«The reason I crashed through the wall of the infirmary was because I heard your pendant, the magician stone —I heard it crying, begging to be let free. I think my Father must’ve heard it as well, when he first met you… At first I thought you had stolen the stone, that’s why I attacked you. Only later did I realise that you were the one. »

«Your father was a solider during the Great War.» Yongsun said, looking straight at the magician.

Moonbyul diverted her eyes, not able to handle Yongsun’s intense gaze. Yongsun heard Moonbyul gulp. Moonbyul pulled her hands away from Yongsun (and it would be a lie if Yongsun said she did not miss Moonbyul’s touch).

«He was originally deployed to Ironsmith.» Moonbyul looked down at the floor, furrowing her brow and narrowing her eyes. She took a deep breath. «But I later learned that he had been relocated to Kingston. The King’s order, apparently.»

Yongsun looked at the ring on Moonbyul’s finger, watching as it glowed a faint blue.

«What did the King want from your father?»

Moonbyul heaved a heavy sigh and scratched the nape of her neck.

«Yongsun, what happened was that the King summoned all the magicians, witches and wizards in Couronne to the Royal Palace in Kingston. He made them pledge their loyalty and allegiance to the throne. Then he took the magicians’ magician stones and forced all the witches and wizards to consume the stones so that they could become warlocks, because warlocks are bred for war.»

Moonbyul looked away, a scowl crossed her face. «None of the magicians who went to the Royal Palace survived, they couldn’t without their stones.» she said quietly.

«Magicians cannot live… without their stones?»

Moonbyul snapped her head towards Yongsun, her eyes were glowing, blue scales crept up the magician’s neck covering her chin. Yongsun could have sworn that she saw the tips of Moonbyul’s antlers poking out from the top her head.

«A magician’s stone is not an accessory, not something you wear around your neck like jewellery!» Moonbyul spat and stood. «I witnessed the greatest magicians of my time be called upon by death himself! One by one they flocked to the palace and let themselves be slaughtered like animals!»

Yongsun felt as if that was directed at her, for she had worn the magician’s stone like jewellery around her neck. Yongsun felt hurt, Moonbyul’s words were a knife that had slashed at her heart.

«A magician’s stone is ancient, and fragile, and mysterious —it is the heart of a star, it is the heart of a magician. A magician’s stone is a magician’s very life and they would cease to exist without it.»

Moonbyul’s voice lowered to a whisper that sent shivers down Yongsun’s spine. Yongsun watched as the scales and antlers disappeared. Without thinking, Yongsun took Moonbyul’s hand, immediately letting go when she remembered Moonbyul’s alleged feelings for her, as Yongsun did not want to lead the magician on.

Yongsun stared wide-eyed at Moonbyul, hung open in shock. She looked away, a deep blush painted her cheeks.

«We magicians wear our feelings on our sleeves.» Moonbyul said, and Yongsun was not sure if the magician was speaking to her or just thinking out loud. «We’re horrible at keeping things that are close to our hearts a secret. It’s a curse, really.» 

Yongsun nodded, slowly. She felt her chest burn with fervour. She chanced a glance at Moonbyul, who was staring down at her. Moonbyul was not smiling, her face looked tense but there was something behind her expression, something soft, something delicate and innocent.

«How old were you when your father left for the war?» Yongsun asked before she could stop herself.

«I was 16.»

Moonbyul sat down on the bed again, making sure to put some distance between herself and Yongsun.

«How old were you when the war began, if I may ask?»

«I was 17.»

The next day, Yongsun woke up in Moonbyul’s bed. She had slept on top of the covers, and when she raised her head from the pillow, she noticed that she had fallen asleep in her clothes. Yongsun looked around, wondering where Moonbyul had gone. The latch was open and Yongsun carefully gathered herself, trying to remove the wrinkles from her skirt and silk blouse, her hair was a mess on top of her head, looking like a crow’s nest. Yongsun sighed as she tried to make herself look more presentable.

Yongsun found Moonbyul leaning over the wooden table, eyes fixed on some blueprints that Heeyeon had left behind (Heeyeon had left rather early that day, as she had to deliver some blueprints to the Royal Palace, apparently).

Moonbyul looked up when she heard Yongsun making her way towards her. The floorboards creaked, Yongsun suddenly felt very insecure and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. She looked at Moonbyul, smiling softly.

«How are you feeling today, Angel?» Moonbyul finally said, her jaw was clenched, her face was stoney and serious, but there was something soft and yielding behind her exterior.

«Fine.» Yongsun replied and drew a sharp breath before she quickly said: «How do I become a magician?»

«You already are one.» Moonbyul said, quick as a whip, and went back to looking at the blueprints.

«How do I… cast magic?» Yongsun asked, eyeing the magician.

Moonbyul seemed rather distracted, not even glancing at Yongsun as she spoke.

«You’re already doing it.»

«How?»

This time, Moonbyul did look at Yongsun, who had furrowed her brow, her eyes narrowed. Yongsun gave Moonbyul a confused look, tilting her head, and Yongsun must have looked rather funny since Moonbyul let out a soft chuckle.

«Heeyeon told me you used to wear glasses. Now you don’t.» Moonbyul shrugged. «You’re obviously healing yourself.»

Yongsun went to touch her cheek, suddenly coming to a realisation. She wondered what else she unconsciously repaired within herself.

«But be careful. You don’t want to accidentally use dark magic.»

Yongsun’s blood froze in her veins, a terrible chill shot through her spine. Yongsun shivered and looked at Moonbyul, eyes filled with worry. Moonbyul’s expression softened, her face less tense.

«How will I know? How will I know I am using dark magic?» Yongsun pleaded and tugged on Moonbyul’s arm, desperately.

«You lose a part of yourself that you never knew existed, and your heart begins to ache for reasons you can’t quite explain —that’s how you know.»

Moonbyul directed all her attention to Yongsun. Yongsun loosened her grip on Moonbyul’s arm and took a step backwards.

«First lesson, magic is not power, it is a form of art.» Moonbyul said, pointedly.

Yongsun was a bit taken aback by Moonbyul’s words. She had never viewed magic as art, magic had only struck her as violent, coarse, and tyrannous. Moonbyul must have noticed the frown on Yongsun’s face as she tried to understand.

«Art is the imitation of creation, of Life and the Living.» Moonbyul said, surely. «If you think back to Aquila and Altair, how they created the Universe and the World, never once did they misuse their magic, never once did they dominate over any one or cause any harm.»

«What about Alshain? What about Antares?» Yongsun said, peering up at Moonbyul.

«Alshain and Antares were no longer magicians, they were Shadowless Men spreading darkness.» Moonbyul said, solemnly, and went back to sorting through the blueprints.

Yongsun’s mind was unkind to her, her memories cruel and unyielding: they were sharp blades that sliced through her, unraveling her, exposing her. Steadily, one by one, a memory of her childhood would pass through her mind and, piece by piece, Yongsun would fall apart.