Chapter 25

Matters of The Mind

It was past midnight. Yongsun was still awake, despite how tired she was, her mind was restless. She was stuck in the outskirts of Sector 13, near 12, where an Altairian air raid had struck civilian homes leaving the houses in ruins and many of the citizens in dire need of medical treatment. The Angels had been deployed within an hour, and Yongsun, along with her trainees and a few Infirmary Angels, had set up a temporary infirmary in an old and abandoned textile factory.

The citizens who had managed to make their way to the makeshift infirmary had only been scratched by flying shrapnel. The Angels had to scout the area for the other wounded citizens who could barely move or had little strength left. Some were trapped beneath piles of bricks, planks and stone, others had managed to drag themselves out onto the streets but not made it any further.

The Angels had to choose who lived and who died. It was not an easy task, especially for the youngest Angels who wanted to save everyone. The youngest had great ambitions with the best intentions, but they were naive and knew little, they denied the truth that shone clear as starlight — they could not save the unsalvageable, nor could they mend all the broken, yet neither could they send them away.

Medicine, bandages — even ingredients for brewing healing potions were scarce and hard to come by, especially now when most of the resources were sent to the frontline. The resources left in Kingston had to be distributed wisely, only the strongest would live.

Yongsun, one of the oldest and wisest Angels among them, took it upon herself to look for survivors in the most damaged areas. She knew the truth; that all would not make it, and so Life and the Living were left in her hands. She had searched the ruined areas, treading carefully over broken glass and unsteady cobblestone, a vial of Silent Flower attached to her hip. If she found someone fatally wounded, she would give them a kind death, a merciful death.

The stars had watched Yongsun all night as she searched for broken bodies, then faded away when the sun rose above the capital. Yongsun continued to search, and when night fell, the stars came back to watch her once more. Yongsun had returned to the factory with an empty vial and a heavy heart. She was tired and needed rest, they all did, but sleep, it seemed, would not come to her.

She had been sleepless ever since leaving Port City, and needed to find the source of this restlessness. She had closed her eyes, venturing deep into her mind only to find an empty abyss, devoid of Light and darkness. There was nothing there for her, and so she conjured things she wanted to see, little wishes and yearnings.

It was a magic trick, one of the few Moonbyul had not taught her (Moonbyul had taught Yongsun a great deal of things, but nothing about the mind — the mind was a place Moonbyul would not touch, therefore Yongsun never learnt). And Yongsun saw illusions, fragmented memories of what had once been true and untouched.

But there was always a Shadow, standing there, watching her as she walked through her mind. Whenever the Shadow got closer, the ground slowly covered in frost, Yongsun would wake with a gasp.

The other Angels were asleep around her. The mattress Yongsun was lying on was so thin that she could feel the floorboards digging into her back. If she listened carefully, she could hear the soft voices coming from the infirmary in the room beside them, and the raindrops pattering on the roof. Yongsun closed her eyes and sighed, willing herself to sleep.

Irene stirred beside her. Yongsun turned her head, slowly opening her eyes. She let out a small gasp when she saw Irene was awake and watching her through the dark. Irene’s face was pale, not with sickness but with beauty, and many envied or loved her for it. Her hair was dark and sparkled a deep blue when struck by sunlight. It was prettier than Yongsun’s which was black like coal, never shining.

«Can’t sleep?» Irene whispered, placing her hand on Yongsun’s shoulder.

Yongsun bit her lip, then shook her head.

«You must get some rest. There’s still much to do tomorrow.»

«I know, Irene. I am exhausted,» Yongsun admitted, placing a hand on her forehead and closing her eyes, «but…»

«But?»

«I cannot. I have these… dreams or nightmares, I do not know which, that come to me. They are never too happy, never sad, they are just there, and I cannot escape them.»

Irene slowly drew back her hand and turned to stare up at the ceiling.

«I have them, too. But I know they are nightmares.»

«How so?»

«Because a nightmare never ends. A good dream is one that ends by morning, when you wake up. A nightmare follows you into morning, into noon, and into night again. It never leaves.»

Yongsun heard Irene sigh, then she heard her breath hitch, a sob was stuck in , disturbing the lull around them.

«My nightmares are about death, because I am afraid of dying.» Irene whispered quietly, wiping away her tears with the sleeves of her shirt. «A man came to me once, he said I was afraid of death, not necessarily my own, but just death — the thought of suddenly vanishing, it hurt, hurts still. He saw right through me, like magic, like a wizard, and he spoke the truth.»

Yongsun turned again and saw that Irene had buried her face in her hands and her shoulders were shaking with each heavy sob. Something horrible lingered in Irene’s words, something that clung to Yongsun and proceeded to dig its way towards her mind.

«We could have died yesterday. We could have died today. Tomorrow. We never know.» Irene whispered once her sobbing had ceased. She wiped at her eyes with the sleeve of her shirt.

Tears streaked down Irene’s face. Yongsun saw the pain, the terror, the loss of hope in Irene’s eyes. She took both of Irene’s hands in her own and held them tightly. «It is not death you must fear. You must not lose hope, Irene.» Yongsun’s voice was quiet, but no less insistent and urgent. «It is war, we could vanish any day. But we must not lose hope —hope is the most powerful thing we have right now, even more powerful than magic. Hold on to it and do not let go.»

It was perhaps strange for Yongsun to say this now, especially since she had not believed in hope, not for a long time. She had thought it childish and foolish, fickle and small, only for those with nothing at all. But hope had found her, in a time when Yongsun had not known she needed it, and it had not taken much for Yongsun to realise that it was the most powerful thing she could possess. In one of those odd and inexplicable ways, Yongsun had saved herself with it; to hope was to have wings, and Yongsun had travelled far, indeed.

«Yongsun.» Irene whispered. The two Angels looked at each other then, it reminded Yongsun of the Great War when they were both younger, both trainees, staying up late, talking until dawn because they were both scared of what lay ahead. «What do you hope for?»

«I hope to go home.»

«To Heaven?»

Yongsun bit her lip, then shook her head. Irene frowned, confused. Home was no longer a place, it was a feeling, one that was hard to come by, but by sheer chance Yongsun had found it in this World, and she held on to it with all the strength she had.

Irene closed her eyes for a while, Yongsun thought she had fallen asleep and let go of Irene’s hands. She stared up at the ceiling, listening to the rain. The night was cool, but it could not soothe Yongsun. She could feel the fire swirling inside her like a deep and endless pool. The magician’s stone around her neck pulsated like a heart, it flickered like a star. Yongsun shuddered, feeling the need to break free, to spread her wings, the urge was there; Yongsun knew she had a purpose to fulfil, a place to be (and it was not here).

«Blessed be the Stars, I hope we all get to go home when this is over.» Irene muttered, eyes still closed. She her side, cradling her head, and quickly fell asleep.

«The Stars…» Yongsun muttered, closing her eyes and thinking of home.

Yongsun knew she was asleep, but even in sleep her mind was restless. She saw, more than she dreamt, she felt, more than she saw. Yongsun stood on the moor somewhere in the World of Arah, the wind at her back, the cold nipping her skin. The sky was purple twilight, the grass was a swaying ocean that stretched far and wide. She took a step and did not sink into the ground like she used to whenever she ventured into her mind.

She wrapped her arms around herself just as a strong gust of wind blew past her. She looked down and saw a red scarf around her neck. She touched the scarf, the material was thin and cold against her fingertips. The pattern on the scarf was one she had not seen before and she wondered where the scarf had come from.

The wind whipped her again and Yongsun shivered, burying her face in the scarf. It smelt of coarse dirt and lavender, Yongsun knew it was not Moonbyul’s because Moonbyul smelt like the ocean. And Yongsun was reminded again how much she missed her, how she wished to hold her, feel Moonbyul against her like sunlight on skin.

Yongsun took off across the moor not knowing where she was going only that she could not stay. The Shadow would be able to catch her, and Yongsun would wake, greedily gasping for air. Nothing grew on the moor, it was an imitation of the Plateau, and like all illusions, it was not real. The trees and shrubberies were gone. There were only rivers and puddles.

Her feet grew sore and she eventually removed her shoes and trod with bare feet over the pointy grass that pricked her soles. Twilight turned to day, but the stars did not disappear. They all watched her now and Yongsun felt small under their gaze.

The wind grew stronger, nearly knocking Yongsun to the ground. Yongsun could smell smoke and brimstone in the air, she scrunched her nose in distaste. Dust swirled around her, it made her teary-eyed, she blinked to rid the irritation in her eyes, but it made her vision worse, she could not see through her own tears.

There was a roar, one that shook Yongsun to her core. She looked up and though her blurred vision she saw the Azure Dragon in the distance. Yongsun’s hair blew in front of her face, she stumbled, then looked up; the dragon was watching her carefully, the way a predator watches its prey.

«Moon Byulyi.» Yongsun called out.