One body convulses first, then a second, and a third; juddering in rapid, sputtered fits from a sudden, unseen backlash. One by one they fall, blood oozing from their orifices as they hit the ground, twitching impotently.

Seo Hee snaps back from the projection as well, though mostly unharmed. Only mostly, because something wet and red was leaking from her nose, and her hands were still shaking. The slave mages had taken the brunt of the assault, but even so, she had felt the backlash through the layers of safeguards. 

That shaman was a deadly wild card. Unpredictable, and dangerous. Most of their defences had already been taken down during their rampage, and while she couldn’t guess at how badly depleted the enemy mages were at this point, Seo Hee wasn’t too optimistic about her remaining options.

They had been driven into this area after the system went rogue earlier, her father taking the essentials for what he needed to continue his research even during the strategic withdrawal. He had seemed mostly unconcerned, despite their circumstances.

She, on the other hand, had been left to coordinate the defences, and while Seo Hee would really rather have preferred to make an escape, they were unfortunately sealed down here, with the exit routes cut off by the rogue A.I. that had taken over. It was a nasty little situation, even with the hard system reset they managed to pull before barricading themselves into the research wing.

Fortunately, there had been plenty of experimental weapons they could deploy from the research wing, though not all of them were particularly effective or even tractable -- she had been a little disappointed that Subject #7612 hadn’t been able to at least get rid of one of them, though it did slow them down significantly.

Seo Hee had not wanted to trigger the failsafe in Yerin’s collar if she didn’t have to, but with them getting closer, she needed a way to bargain, and to possibly stall them. The threats hadn’t worked, nor did they take the deal she had offered them. She had been a little surprised, actually. She had not expected the shaman to turn down a chance to save Yerin, not when she had demonstrated time and again how much she cared for the rogue assassin. 

Yuju’s threat still lingered at the back of her mind, and Seo Hee shuddered. It felt too much like having a predator zero in on you, ready to run you down. She was more than ready to evacuate, especially if the system reset earlier had worked as intended. External communications were still down, and they couldn’t call in reinforcements at the moment. If she could but get out long enough to call in the cavalry, they could crush that impertinent squad like the annoying bugs they were, instead of cowering in fear as they were now.

Fear was something her foes had to feel. It wasn’t right that she had to deal with it, and she lay the blame squarely at their feet. 

“Father, we need to leave.” She had used a good portion of her guards to ambush and slow the mercs down, leaving only a skeletal crew to them. Now there was only her father and his research team still busy with their work. She didn’t understand the obsession, and she felt a small, simmering resentment at it. She had always taken second place to his research all throughout her years growing up, and it still stung at times.

“Are you still not done with our little problem?” There was a hint of irritation and disappointment in the director’s tone, all too familiar to the young woman in red, who stiffened instinctively, shoulders set into a defensive hunch as she replied.

“No Father, their mages are more powerful than we expected. They even managed to dispose of the flesheater without any casualties.” She kept her tone even, neutral. Her father seemed to favour her, but it was rare for her to actually feel that concern. More common was the respect he demanded from her, and the expectation for excellence as his progeny. 

Others saw only the indulgence he granted her whenever she decided to do something wildly inappropriate, but she knew it was just a matter of saving ‘face’. Only the best for his daughter would do, and she was always free to choose from an array of pleasures,  but had that really been enough? Sometimes, she just wished he would care just a little more about what she wanted, instead of shoving what he felt was best onto her.

“You’re telling me we cannot handle a bunch of girls playing at mercenaries?” Director Han shifted a disapproving glance at his daughter, who pursed her lips into a thin line.

“With all due respect Father, they did successfully infiltrate Mireu HQ and take down a dragon before,” Seo Hee had to give them that much credit. “If our system had not malfunctioned earlier, I could have called for reinforcements but…”

“They’re just kids,” Director Han interrupts, gesturing at the unconscious Sowon on the platform. “The only real warrior they have is right here, and you can’t take them without their leader?” He pauses thoughtfully. “Even with our little assassin on their side, she’s a spy and not a warrior. Overwhelming force should do the job.”

Seo Hee wanted to remind her father that Yerin did in fact have command experience in small unit tactics, and had consistently wiped the floor with her foes during various simulations, but it didn’t seem like the right time to contradict the old man. She had to try a different tact.

“The shaman is ridiculously overpowered, and their fire mage is using dragon fire.” Seo Hee grit her teeth. “Father, we have to withdraw. The system shutdown should give us enough time to make it topside without the automated security targeting us like before. We can trap them in here and send in a cleanup crew.” She paused, trying to figure out a way to persuade him.

“With sufficient backup and a planned extraction, we could even take them alive for you to study.” That should do it, hopefully. His research always came first.

“Ridiculously overpowered, you say?” Director Han seemed far more interested in Seo Hee’s assessment of Yuju. “My Angel has been hiding things from us…yes, it would be a pity to just kill them.” His face though, hardens after a second.

“You do realize how much of my work has been wrecked with this little escapade, Seo Hee? Even with the combat data we’ve gathered, they’ve ruined promising prototypes. I cannot condone this...lapse.” He clacked his tongue against his teeth, considering.

“However, we don’t have the means to move our current prize here, without sufficient backup. I am not losing valuable data.” 

Seo Hee clenches her fists behind her back. Were their lives not more important? Was this research paramount above all else? She could order her guards to take him and leave, but she knew her Father had enough magical safeguards on his person for that to be a risky maneuver. She couldn’t afford a direct confrontation with him right now, not with outside enemies on their doorstep.

“I don’t have any more soldiers or weapons to spare, Father.” Seo Hee sounded exasperated, and probably justifiably so. She had spent most of the last half hour throwing everything she had available at the intruders, and outside of disabling Yerin thanks to the failsafe in the collar they had installed earlier, she hadn’t even managed to bump off even one of the weakest links of the team. It was a humiliating realization, but she was in over her head.

Director Han shot her a chilling look.

“Must I deal with everything myself, daughter? With all the tools I left for you, and your only response is to run?” He shakes his head.

“No matter. It seems we’ll have to put our latest prototype into field trials earlier than expected. I had hoped to have more stable conditions for a combat test…” He turns to one of his lackeys.

“Are we able to initiate a transfer of the combat protocol from the network? Even with the shutdown.”

“With the central core malfunctioning earlier, we’ll need to do a thorough sweep if we’re to ensure there won’t be any residual bugs…” The lab tech with the scraggly beard frowned.

“The slave protocol should have prevented this from happening…”

“I’m not asking for a system diagnosis, Lee,” Director Han makes an impatient gesture with one hand. “I am asking if we can transfer the core to power the prototype.”

A deeper frown. “Sir, if we do that without confirming the stability of the core, we would have a bigger problem on our hands if it goes out of control again.”

“I know that,” Director Han makes a cutting motion to silence the tech’s objections. “I came up with the theorems myself. The control protocols were always just a temporary safeguard until we could root out the problems at its source.” He paces restlessly, stopping by Sowon’s motionless body.

“If only we had more time… ”

He stills then, going deathly quiet, and everyone present who knew him well enough understood that this was a sign that the mad genius behind Project ARIA was coming up with some brilliant, probably completely amoral solution again. Ethics never slowed the man down very much, and it led to some very...out of the box thinking at times.

Off to one side, Seo Hee felt a chill run down her spine, and wondered if it wouldn’t be too late to just leave her father to his machinations and make her own escape.

She should have just left perhaps five minutes ago. That would have been ideal. 

But hindsight is always perfect, and no one could predict the future. By the time things hit a tipping point, it was usually already too late.

Seo Hee never did know how to defy her father. And she never had time to learn.

She probably never will have the chance to again.

There was really no good place to do this, but Yuju had little choice at the moment. They found themselves within the original containment chamber that had held the flesheating shapeshifter, the one place that was ‘clean’ in terms of magical interference, ironically.

The circle she improvises would safeguard them further, but there were so few materials on hand. She would have preferred to bleed more for it, blood being the best medium, but she was still a little faint from her last jaunt. She was no longer immortal, and even then, she had never been invincible. She knows this now, keeps it close to her heart.

She couldn’t just burn her life away recklessly, especially not on some feckless attempt at redemption for the souls of those who had passed on where she hadn’t. Guilt and shame had driven Yuju further on in her desperate attempts to rescue everyone she could, if only to make up for all those she couldn’t, once upon a time. She had buried those memories so deeply, split up in herself to deny the pain of the truth, that it had taken a whole soul intervention by Eunha to bring her out of it.

Knowledge was always painful, the tearing truth of self-awareness drawing sharp splinters through her soul as the reality of her past was pieced back together, piece by painful piece. The knives that had cut her was pain relived and renewed, the helplessness of a child bound and bled for unholy experiments, unable to live and unable to die.

She had chosen to forget it once, terror and trauma bearing down on her as she fled from the burning facility after summoning Charlotte into existence out of fear and pain. She had barely been twelve years old at the time. 

It was easier to hide, to pretend it wasn’t real. She had been a child then, Yuju thinks, not without bitterness. Even now, the dark memories cut at her, brittle obsidian shards that seemed almost fragile in its recalling, but no less damaging in its edge. This was the tapestry from which she had been woven, and even in her forgetting, had still stained through to color the fabric with its influence.

She had been ready to die once. Been ready to do it over and over again, to sacrifice herself for others, recklessly and without thought, if it could save but one person. No more deaths. I won’t lose anyone else. That had been her unspoken, unrealized determination, deep within the core of her soul. Yuju knows why now, with the context of her recovered past. It had only hardened her resolve with that understanding.

With a single caveat. If she had once lost herself to despair and terror, she had only managed to regain herself with love. The unwavering support from Eunha, her own devotion to Yerin. Her heart, battered and bruised as it was, filled with aches and pains from a million cracks, no longer beat only for herself. 

I have someone to live for now. Her gaze flickers down to Yerin, peaceful in the temporary stasis she had placed her under. It wouldn’t last forever, but it would slow the corruption. They needed the time it would give. She would not waste that time.

Eunha’s steady gaze was still making Yuju just a little on this side of uncomfortable. She loved the fire mage deeply, but it was the devotion to a trusted friend, to someone who understood her mind and craft, a faith in their shared understanding of the magic that made them who they were. Eunha would always be special to her, there was no doubt about that.

Which was what made it so difficult. Yuju had already known of Eunha’s feelings before, of course, courtesy of SinB letting her in on it, in what felt like a lifetime ago. So much had happened since, and Eunha’s affection for her had only grown more obvious after bringing the girl back from her magically induced coma. 

It had been extremely flattering, of course, and somehow a little unnerving at the same time. Yuju did not consider herself very proficient with emotion, even with Yerin’s unwavering patience by her side for all those years. 

That steady companionship had done wonders for her, even if Yerin hadn’t always been all that forthcoming herself either. Both of them had been deeply hurt by their shared pasts, and that was a cross no one else could bear for them, or even begin to understand. They only had each other, and no one else could step into the shared space of their inherited trauma.

But that hadn’t been healthy at all, had it? Damaged as both of them were, they could only cautiously at their own wounds, keeping each other warm by staying side by side, but could make no progress beyond that. It had taken acceptance into the pack, via Sowon’s invitation, before Yuju could begin to even breathe, making her first connections with people who were not Yerin.

It had made all the difference. The gruff, almost motherly care from Sowon; the easy, playful banter with SinB; the studious exchanges in their different fields with Umji, the joy of sharing magic with Eunha, who could experience the world the same way in which she did, see things that could only be too poorly described by her tangled tongue. These too were bonds, familial and welcome, building blocks upon which Yuju started to repair herself with. She had needed them more than she had ever realized.

Yerin had been her entire world ever since she followed the older woman out of the wilds, but even with the teasing affection Yerin showed her through those years, there had always been something guarded about her rogue. Yerin was still hurt, deeply so, and she had never opened up about the circumstances that led her to be driven out, wounded and bleeding to the point of death, and Yuju had never asked. Did not even know where to begin, really, and could only clumsily do her best by staying loyally by her side.

They had both been so awkward, it was truly a miracle that they had managed to come so far. Yuju was well aware of Yerin’s flaws, but could not help her own attraction to her brooding assassin. Something in Yerin was familiar -- but of course it was, now that she remembered the little girl that had taken her hand and led her out of the cell for the first time -- but more than that, Yuju wanted to protect Yerin. To soothe the hurt in her eyes, chase away the nightmares she knew still haunted the older woman. To make her smile, not just the glamour Yerin would put on to charm anyone who didn’t know her, but a real one, beyond the illusions and falsehoods, coming from her heart. 

However, Yuju had been too comfortable with their dynamic for all those years, willing to just let things stay as they will, confident that nothing would ever change, wrapped up in the conceit that they would always be together -- and it had taken Eunha of all people to shake her out of that unconscious complacency. 

It was easy being with Eunha, of course. The fire mage obviously liked her, and they had magic, something so important to both their sense of self, in common. Yuju liked Eunha, enjoyed her company, had even been inordinately curious about what it really meant for someone to like her that way.

It was new and refreshing and maybe a little scary. Yuju remained uncertain around Eunha, wary of this entirely new emotion she didn’t know how to parse, trying to figure things out in her head even as she spent time with her new friend.

What even was love? Yuju could not understand. Not until Eunha kissed her, and her first response had been sheer, utter panic. It didn’t feel right, like something was missing, like she didn’t know how to react, and she couldn’t even muster a response to the depth of emotion Eunha was presenting to her.

It was as if something in her had been fundamentally broken, and it wasn’t until now, in the light of her unlocked memories, that Yuju fully understood what had been missing. 

A part of her had held on to that little girl’s promise to come back for her, but the girl never had. She should have known better, really. No one ever came back. Only she remained. Even to the end, while everything was burning, she had been waiting, but she remained alone. So alone.

No one had come for her then, and a little part of her shattered that day, along with the pieces of the same memory, tucked deep into the folds of that dark space beneath conscious thought. She did not remember that betrayal at the time, but it didn’t mean it never existed. It traversed a winding path through her soul; a deep, unseen hurt that coloured everything it touched.

Eunha’s declaration of love had felt like a sun’s rays exposing that raw, festering wound to the light, and the Yuju of that time could only cringe back, terrified by the sudden exposure, feeling all too vulnerable and open to attack. It was too much, too soon. She had not been ready.

She had not meant to hurt Eunha, but she had, had she not? Yuju takes in a deep breath, centering herself. She owed a deep debt of gratitude to her fellow mage, far beyond anything she could conceivably repay. The shaman could not forget how Eunha had comforted every single broken piece of herself, gathering them and lending her the strength to face her past, yet asking nothing after everything she had done to help. Be happy, that was Eunha’s only plea. Be safe, and that is enough for me.

And now Eunha was risking herself to help Yerin here. Soulfire was difficult to conjure and control, and Eunha was trusting her to guide the flame. It should have been impossible; she was no hermetic mage to twist the aether to her control, and they were not Bonded partners for Yuju to share that knowledge, that instinctive ability to channel a flame that could burn away the life of the caster themselves.

But they had undertaken a spiritual journey not so very long ago, and Yuju could still feel echoes of Eunha within her soul. Regardless of intent, it had been a deeply intimate and personal experience, and Eunha trusted her enough to completely let down her guard, something Yuju was still amazed by. She could not have done it herself as easily.

Yuju did not know if she deserved that measure of love shown to her, but here it was, and she could not reject this offer of help. Her love needed it, and if this was the only way, Yuju would take it, and damn the consequences.

They had to be so very careful though. Both magic users were already stretched to their breaking point after the constant combat, and even with the elixirs they had taken to give them a quick, temporary boost to focus and continue, it couldn’t truly substitute for actual rest and recovery. Any mess up at this stage wouldn’t just mean Eunha’s life; soulfire would burn everything and anything within range until the caster’s life force expired, and who knew how having a draconic soul would affect that? It had to be properly controlled, just the faintest wisp, enough to sear the corruption away from Yerin’s body.

Which was where Yuju came in. With her as a conduit, Eunha’s gift of soulfire wouldn’t hurt Yuju’s Bonded partner. Eunha couldn’t use it directly on Yerin herself without running the risk of burning more than she was supposed to, but Yuju had less risk on that front. With their souls entwined the way they were, Eunha’s sharing with Yuju was an indirect sharing with Yerin. It was a circuitous way of dealing with things, but a clever loophole they could exploit.

Provided, of course, Yuju didn’t mess up the process and end up killing all three of them at the same time. The trust placed in her was staggering, but Yuju was determined to make it work. Both Eunha and Yerin were women she loved, albeit in different ways, and their lives were in her hands. She would not dishonour either of them.

SinB and Umji were outside standing guard, because if not them, who else?

Yuju did not need any interruptions, could not afford them. The meager protection the unlikely pair provided would have to do, and Umji felt about as comfortable as a fish out of water about that. The smaller pistol Eunha had lent her earlier was heavy in the technomancer’s hands, but she was determined to be of use this time, with SinB far from operating at her best right now. 

It was a minor miracle that there hadn’t been any more ambushes since that horrid woman’s remote threat, but Umji had a sense that the threat had been emptier than it implied. No follow up action, despite Yerin being obviously incapacitated. This should have been the perfect time to strike to break them, if their foes knew what they were doing.

Which likely meant that they were pushing close, and the enemy had very little left to throw at them. This was a relief, since they were all close to breaking after running the gauntlet of trapped rooms. Skilled as they were in their various fields, it was still a very unpleasant experience to be thrown headfirst into a situation where they had no foresight, no plan to execute, no backup forthcoming. There was a reason why information came at a premium in their line of work; it was how they plotted a course to survival when the odds were so tilted against them.

SinB was being uncharacteristically silent, but Umji could read the nervous tic in the gunslinger’s cheek. Worry for Eunha, certainly, but also that unvoiced concern towards Sowon. SinB had been even more reckless in combat than usual, and Umji knew it was because the other girl was worried, wanted to get to Sowon faster. There had been a few unnecessarily close calls, and if Eunha hadn’t also been watching SinB’s back the whole time, the gunslinger would probably have been wounded way worse.

The suspicious lack of additional reinforcements was actually bugging Umji more than a little, not to mention her fuzzy memory in between getting knocked out and being revived by Yuju earlier. The danger of infiltrating big corporations had always been how much manpower and resources they could call upon to crush any single team caught on their grounds, but this had been almost too easy, as if someone had isolated them here on purpose and cut off external communications to level the playing field. Umji had cautiously determined that despite her thundering headache earlier, before they entered this magic infused space that disrupted her abilities.

So what was she missing? They had tied her down, sedated her, but she had never completely lost consciousness, had she? Something else had happened, something she had done…would have done if she had the strength to…

Don’t lose yourself, kid.

She was forgetting something, Umji was certain now. Someone had helped her, helped them. Umji could only hope that whatever she was forgetting wouldn’t come back to bite her in the later. They had too much on their plate now, and the stakes were just too high.

“We’re going to be okay. We’ll get to Sowon, kick , and everyone of us is going to make it.”

SinB speaks up suddenly then, placing an awkward hand on Umji’s shoulder, wincing suddenly from the movement because she had used her injured arm (because of course she would). The gunslinger must have sensed her unease, and Umji smiled back gratefully. None of them ever gave SinB enough credit for being observant, as loud and full of attitude as she usually was, but the gunslinger always saw more than she let on.

SinB would be good for Sowon, Umji reflects in this moment, which was probably not the best time or place for it, but her mother figure’s happiness was always of great importance to her. Sowon was too hard on herself, and SinB never let anyone get away with that kind of self-deprecating bull. Someone needed to call her out, and Umji certainly wasn’t going to be that person, not with Sowon babying her all the time. 

In a way, she would always be the child Sowon picked up, and some things just weren’t her place to bring up and question. Sowon did trust her, treating her with the respect she deserved as a grown individual, but in so many respects she would always be Sowon’s baby girl. 

Umji was pretty okay with that. Regardless of their actual status, Sowon would always be her mom, and the rest of the team her family. Even Yuju, whom she really needed to apologize to at some point, Umji realizes with a gulp. They had acted on the best information they had at the time, and regardless of whether it was the right decision, she had still taken that shot. She had hurt someone she cared about, and the knowledge of it wormed through her uncomfortably.

Yuju was still Yuju, even with her occasionally scary moments, Umji could see that now. The same kindness, the fierce protectiveness, the righteous determination driving her -- all of that was the Yuju she had come to know and respect. 

If anything, there was something more raw about her now, with the flashes of anger and negative emotions she managed to pick up earlier. Yuju had always been a little too nice before, too lacking in temper, too passive even, and this was Umji of all people giving that verdict. It was almost too perfect, too polished of an image to be real. Yuju, oddly enough, seemed far more human now, even with the eerie blood spirit at her command. 

All things considered, this Yuju was flawed and grounded and seemed more real, more like the rest of them. It made her feel closer to the other girl somehow, and Umji hoped Yuju would eventually be able to forgive her for the hurt she had caused. She didn’t want to lose a friend.

There was a sudden heat on their backs, and SinB flinches instinctively next to her, frown lines knotting the space between her eyes. Umji’s grip tightens on the gun, even as SinB voices out her thoughts in a tight, terse tone.

“They’ve begun.”

There were never any qualms or even hesitation about letting Yuju into her mind, and Eunha gives way gracefully, her physical body seated directly opposite Yuju, Yerin comatose between the two of them. This would have been more difficult for anyone else, and maybe even for the her who hadn’t seen her past life memories before, but Eunha, as she was now, would always let down her guard for the shaman opposite her. 

It was the kind of trust you gave to someone you loved unequivocally, with your whole heart. In fact, it was Yuju who hesitates first, as always, and Eunha had to reach out quietly, soothing her. 

I give willingly, freely and without obligation, from my heart.

There would be no debt incurred here, no lasting bond beyond the experience of sharing itself. Eunha was handing control of something very personal to Yuju, but the magic still came from her, and she could cut it off at any moment, because Yuju was merely borrowing it for the duration.

It was a fragile, easily disrupted connection, unlike the permanent Bond Yuju shared with Yerin, and normally, this would not be possible except between partners who knew and trusted each other well enough to open up that type of channel. Even then, it was still rare, because how many magic users truly trusted another enough to hand over control of their powers? The slightest hesitation or distrust could shatter such a connection, and in this particular case, any loss of control could be the death of them all. It was never done lightly, and only in confidence.

Even worse, this was Eunha’s first time to try summoning soulfire, having only ever heard of it from rumours and was even now working on mere theory. Dragonfire had come to her instinctively in her scaled form, an unconscious knowledge that unnerved her the more she thought about it. A lot more had gone into her than merely the power of the shattered orb, and she never really thought about unpacking that in its entirety all this time.  She didn’t know if she could really do it, now that she thought about it seriously, and it made her nervous.

But Yuju was here with her, and who else better understood the concept behind burning one’s essence away for power than a bonafide blood mage? Something sparked between them then, a different kind of sharing, as Yuju touched Eunha’s mind carefully, even reverently, to hold the threads of fire wound into her soul. 

It burns… Yuju comments almost idly, not quite handling the magic laid out before her, choosing to study it a little first. It was unfamiliar to her, of course. She didn’t really do magic the same way Eunha did, and it was always strange to see the energies twisting, forced into unnatural shapes by the caster’s will. It was powerful and quick and efficient, but not how she saw the world. Fierce and angry...I see why you feared it.

Fire was volatile, and never truly controlled, only channelled. Eunha relaxes into Yuju’s probing, despite the invasion it should have been. There was something soothing about being open like this, and especially feeling Yuju close to her in ways that could never be fully explained to someone who had never experienced such a sharing. 

It was both like and unlike the journey she had taken before, deep into the recesses of Yuju’s soul memory, except this time Yuju was fully conscious and aware of her as well. It should have made her at least a little shy or awkward, but this was Yuju. Eunha had never loved anyone more, past life and present. If she was not going to be Yuju’s choice this time, then, at the very least, she could enjoy this closeness while it was available to her. 

There was a flash of doubt flickering from Yuju’s end for a second, but that waver of her resolve did not last long in the face of her determination. The stasis on Yerin was flickering, and they only had one shot at this. 

Through Yuju, Eunha could vaguely sense Yerin’s haunted moans echoing as if from a great distance, and despite Yuju’s best efforts to guard her lover’s privacy, the occasional image slips through, those impressions and feelings that make up memory. It was sort of inevitable, with Yerin unable to guard herself and Yuju too focused on making this whole ritual work to do more.

A small girl strapped to an operating table, runic whorls carved onto skin as something was grafted in, the knives sharp as they ink flesh with the blood drawn from beneath it. Eyes wide open, forced to remain awake, through something that could only be described as ritual torture.

Eunha in a breath, sympathy overflowing from that single, broken image. Yuju had gone through worse, actually, with way more blood and cuts because of the damage she could take and heal through. But what had been done to Yerin was efficient and practiced, probably a result of all the...experimentation...that had been done to Yuju first. 

We are the same, she and I. I belong to her, and she to me. Yuju’s voice was very quiet, but Eunha could sense the deep empathy and love flowing across the two bonded souls. There was no apology from Yuju in this, only a honesty that almost made Eunha want to cry. She couldn’t touch that level of emotion, not like this. 

But she had known that already, hadn’t she? Eunha had made her choice, back at the crossroads when the blood spirit offered her that option. She would not betray that now.

We’ll bring her back, Eunha promises quietly, her inner flame rising at her declaration. Yuju looks at her gratefully, and no words pass between them this time, as the shaman tangles her metaphysical hands into the strands of Eunha’s magic, willingly given over to her.

Fire was all around them, but when Eunha calls for flame, she draws from herself to ignite that which was around them. A magical fire was never truly reliant on oxygen and fuel the way a physical flame was, the only fuel it required being mana, either the caster’s or that which was ambient. It was always easier to generate flame when there was more to burn, but this wasn’t what they were going to do this time.

Like dragonfire, soulfire was entirely innate. It did not spark into existence to feed on ambient mana after being channelled by a caster who understood the flame. No, it came from within, though sustaining dragonfire was always easier after it had something to burn and feed upon once it manifested into the physical plane.

Soulfire though, felt different somehow. This was Yuju’s first impression upon trying to understand how the fire lived within Eunha. It wasn’t entirely physical or tangible, but it was real nevertheless, and oh, how it burned, lively and full of spirit, much like Eunha was like as a person. The fire was representative of her in a way, just as Yuju echoed Wolf in her own way. 

Understanding that was the first step, and as Yuju wraps her hands around that fire, she is once again struck by the purity and innocence that blazed like a guiding torch in the darkness. This was Eunha, something indelibly part of her and just as inextricable in essence to the friend and partner she admired. 

The flame flickers playfully around Yuju’s fingers, almost joyfully, as if it recognized her. It was the truest reflection of how Eunha felt about her, unconscious and uncontrolled at her core, and Yuju was once again deeply honoured by those feelings. She couldn’t reciprocate in the same way, but she respected them nevertheless. It was entirely selfless of Eunha to do this, and there was pretty much nothing Yuju could do that would equal this gift, but Eunha had never expected anything of her from the start.

Freely, and without obligation. Those words meant a great deal. Yuju took in a deep breath, centering herself. Eunha might not have asked for anything, but Yuju would still owe her this. Owed her more than that, really. But that was a bridge to cross in the future. Right now, they had to do this somehow, manifest the soulfire that was Eunha, and not just a mere magical flame any old adept could spark into existence.

These flames were real, joined as they were in this shared space, but it does not burn Eunha herself, nor Yuju, whom it recognized as a friend. It is streaked with blue, legacy of the dragon orb’s touch, and a minor flash of memory-thought from Eunha suggests that it has not always looked like this before. As if on cue, the dragonfire leaps out as if it were summoned, and Yuju has to withdraw a little to avoid the heat that skips past her fingertips. Not as friendly then. They would have to investigate this later, when they had the luxury of time. 

If the soulfire did not burn her here, what did it burn then? Experimentally, Yuju guides it towards the oozing wound at Eunha’s ankle, and the flames leapt sympathetically towards the injured area, engulfing it like a scorching tide, but not before Yuju noticed the way it swept away the beginnings of an infection before it could take hold.

I see now. Magic protects the user’s body in its own way, and in Eunha, that came from her inner flame. Everyone’s core expressed itself differently, with different results, but this was why they healed faster and better than mundanes, could recover from illness sooner. This fire was special though, even by the usual standards. Yuju now understood why it could burn all things, if given the impetus. Eunha’s pure heart was the key to the cleansing flame they could use.

There was a pained gasp from the other end of her Bond, and Yuju grimaces, abruptly reminded of her task. The stasis was wearing off. They had to do this or die trying. The fire recognized Yuju, but would it recognize Yerin? Yuju did not want to gamble, but she had no other choice. Yerin was her other half, and for her, she would do anything.

At least the fire would follow her, another sign of Eunha’s implicit trust in her. Yuju is humbled by this, and guides it with due reverence, allowing it to creep over from Eunha’s end and into her, wincing a little as it encounters Charlotte, the blood spirit issuing a high pitched and angry squeal when the soulfire sears it, as if on purpose.

Be good, Yuju scolds her petulant familiar, and the blood spirit goes off to sulk in a corner of Yuju’s mind, avoiding the invading flame with a huff. The tinkle of Eunha’s laugh trickles across the  still open connection, and Yuju catches a flash of when Eunha had threatened to burn Charlotte before, her own lips twisting into an unconscious grin at that memory. The fire mage was just keeping her promises, as always. Never any harm in a little payback.

But this was hardly the time to distract herself. As she once more opens her senses to Yerin’s condition, Yuju winces again, seeing in vivid detail the pulsing purple that had sunk twisted, corrosive claws into her lover. It was like poison, but not any kind of natural toxin she had encountered before, and it was causing Yerin to relive her worst memories over and over in an endless cycle of agony, without end.

It was traumatizing the unconscious assassin on multiple levels, and Yuju could feel her own rage building in response, Wolf threatening to spill over in anger, but Eunha’s flame caresses her cheek, reminding her of her duty. Yuju lets out the breath she does not remember holding, and carefully teases the flame, just a tiny tendril of it, over to the ugly corruption ripping through Yerin’s body and mind.

She almost loses control when Yerin screams, that same pain echoing within her soul, and distantly Yuju feels Eunha coming over to hug her, the rest of her flame wrapping around the shaman’s anguished soul howling out in sympathy with her mate’s desperate cries. 

This gives Yuju just enough composure to continue, and she steels herself with a grim expression as she encourages the flame to feed upon the corruption, even as she sends soothing waves to Yerin as the cleansing continues. 

I am here, you’re not alone, I am with you.

The unnatural purple threads wither on contact with the purifying flame, leaving angry red scars in its wake, and Yuju pours from herself everything she has left, repairing what damage she could. The whole process is slow, painstaking; every inch an agonized screech tearing open old wounds that had never truly healed to begin with. 

Yuju is reminded once again of the night of their Bonding, of the way Yerin had opened herself for the first time, wrapped in guilt and shame and exposing the vulnerable side she had long kept so assiduously hidden until that day. She had accepted the flaws then, pledging to share that burden with her lover, but how does one unpack all the hurts of a lifetime in a single day? 

The truth is, you don’t, but Yuju had been willing to try. They had been willing to try, to make it work. Love alone couldn’t heal everything, but it made them want to heal, to be better for each other. It made them believe that anything could be possible, so long as they remained together.

That night had only been a beginning, and they had only just begun to slowly work on those things before Yerin had gone away again, ostensibly to find a cure for Yuju’s condition, but more than that, Yuju knew Yerin had too many old ghosts to lay to rest. Yuju could silence the nightmares as long as they were together, but the true source of those nightmares had never been dealt with, and it was not something she could heal with magic or a loving heart.

Yuju would protect Yerin forever if it came down to it, gladly chase away old ghosts like the loyal guard dog she was, but Yerin was no fragile princess to be isolated in an ivory tower. The assassin was a warrior herself, and she had agency in her own decisions. She would not be a victim forever, and it had only been a matter of time before the woman would take things into her own hands.

It had broken up Yuju more than a little to let Yerin walk her own path, but it had been inevitable. It wasn’t like she could not stop her then either, not when she had barely the strength to combat her own demons ( Excuse you I’m not a demon! ) , and ultimately it was something Yerin had to do alone. All Yuju could do was be patient, and wait for her to return.

Guard my heart, so I can find my way back to you.

Yerin had begged her for that, and Yuju could never say no to her. And she had kept her promise too, had she not? She might have been a little late, but she had brought her lover back.

And really, even if Yerin had been years late in finding her again, wasn’t it also true that eventually, the assassin had come for her, just at a different time and place than she had expected? A reunion was still a reunion, and in this moment, having come to this realization, Yuju quietly forgives Yerin for not having been there when she needed her most, feeling a weight lift off her shoulders at the same time, a sigh of relief at letting an old hurt go. She would not miss it. Some grudges were best cut out instead of being left to fester.

They had both been suffering in their own ways, torn apart and put through hell, lost and alone. Despite all that, they had found each other in the end. This was the last time she would let Yerin be hurt this badly, Yuju pledges to herself, even as the cleansing flame sweeps away the last of the infection, burning away the old scars and exposing raw, new hurts. 

Those could heal in time, with patience and with love, but Yuju is more thorough; she chooses to wipe all evidence where she could, leaving nothing behind wherever she could touch, determined to return Yerin to the best state she could. Because I love you, I want you whole.

As the physical wounds close up, a new crack appears in Yuju, but she ignores it and presses on. Never again. Enough was enough. They would start afresh here. With a silent gasp, Yuju lets go of Eunha’s magic abruptly, letting it snap back to the source as pain spasms through her body, every cell on fire as she keels over, blood leaking through tightly shuttered eyes and flared nostrils. 

Too much, too far, a quiet assessment in a corner of her brain, even as Yuju curls into a ball over Yerin’s still form, the steady rise and fall of the unconscious assassin’s chest a small comfort to the shaman who had overexerted herself trying to heal her lover. It felt as if her skin was turning inside out, the flesh rubbed raw and exposed to a harsh, unyielding world.

Someone was calling out to her, the words indiscernible, but Yuju is spiralling away, into the abyss beneath her feet, falling endlessly into herself as her body convulses against her own will. 

Desperately she reaches out, trying to touch the person she had tried so hard to save, when a fierce light engulfs her, blinding her in its intensity, and even as she is swallowed whole, her grasping fingers brush against something familiar, and then someone takes her hand, arresting her fall from the other direction as she loses consciousness entirely.

Eunha gasps aloud as she tries to rein in her own fire, raging out of control at Yuju’s sudden rejection earlier. It wanted to go back into the shaman, and Eunha has to wrestle it down at first, until she realizes that Yuju had collapsed in the meantime, bleeding from every orifice as she fell twitching over Yerin’s body. 

But of course Yuju would push herself too far beyond her own limits. Eunha wasn’t doing so great herself, having let herself be pulled along for the ride as Yuju used her flame to burn away the encroaching corruption. She had been there, an unwitting but not unwilling passenger, as Yuju relives her own emotions in relation to Yerin, a silent twinge of envy colouring the fire mage’s self, but not enough for her to back off and snap the connection before they were done. 

The breadth and depth of Yuju’s feelings for Yerin staggers Eunha more than a little, and involuntarily, in the privacy of her own mind, she wonders if Yuna had felt the same way about her in the past. She willingly chose to save you and died in your place. Of course she did.  

That was a foolish question with no answer, best left buried in the past. Eunha pushes away the unwanted thoughts, focusing instead on trying to help Yuju. But how? Her inner flame struggles to reach back towards Yuju, and this time Eunha lets it flow towards the spasming shaman, hoping against hope that it could heal her somehow. 

She had absolutely no idea what she was doing, only blindly supporting Yuju with raw magical energy, when something snaps at her and yanks the shaman away, pushing her back out.

Eunha opens her eyes to see a newly awakened Yerin, now cradling the newly unconscious Yuju in her lap. Her eyes were haunted, but alert nevertheless. The weak, gasping victim she had witnessed earlier was nowhere in sight, but Yerin had always been good at hiding herself. 

Something was different though, somehow. Eunha stares at Yerin wordlessly for a long moment, still half sprawled over Yuju’s legs, and then realizes with a jolt that she was looking at the face she remembered from a long time ago, in a time when she had been Jung Eunbi, when Jung Yerin had been her fellow soldier and comrade in arms, and not a chameleon without a face.

This was Yerin’s true face, without the shifting illusions and glamour always present over it, until only her eyes and general demeanour were her only identifying factors to even her own team. I can’t turn it off even if I want to, Yerin used to say, and they had taken her at her word, accepting that she was functionally faceless -- all of them saw different things, for sure. SinB, Eunha and Umji had compared notes before. None of it had matched up. 

Only a camera could take a real picture, and that was what she was seeing now; no illusions, neither shifting impressions nor other suggestions woven into that deceptive face that was not. Eunha blinked rapidly, rubbing at her eyes, but it still didn’t wear off. 

“What?” Yerin snaps at Eunha irritably, even as she focused on her love, dreadfully weakened in this state. She had been aware, distantly, of what had been done earlier, and knew that she probably owed Eunha at least some form of thanks, but worry was eclipsing every other thought she would have had. Yuju was unresponsive, but thanks to their Bond, Yerin was aware her puppy was still alive. Barely. She had just managed to make contact in time.

“Did you always have eyes like that?” Eunha blurts out without thinking, wondering if she was just imagining the stormy grey flecked with what looked like gold dust in the assassin’s eyes. Yerin freezes for a moment, her head snapping back up to eye Eunha warily, even as her hands continue their of Yuju’s wan face.

There was something eerily similar in Yerin’s piercing gaze to Yuju’s introspective ones, and Eunha shivers, before turning her gaze back down to Yuju. 

“Never mind, is Yuju gonna be okay?” Eunha was keenly aware that Yerin had pushed her out somehow, despite not knowing any magic herself. The bond between the two was strong enough that it could repel outsiders, and Yerin must have instinctively blocked her off earlier.

“I can feel her. She’s alright, just exhausted.” Yerin shakes her head, a pained look on her face. Making contact with Yuju was exactly what the shaman needed, because her silly, noble fool of a lover had somehow decided it was a good thing to pull back and not draw from her energy reserves. What was the point of a perfectly good Bond if Yuju wasn’t going to take advantage of it? Yerin could feel the beginnings of a headache building. Yuju might be a fool, but she was her fool. This time though, at least she could share this burden with her.

“I can help too,” Eunha offered, and Yerin shoots her a scathing look.

“Don’t, bunny. You look like a ghost yourself. Rest first, you need it too,” Yerin pauses then, before continuing.

“And thank you. You didn’t have to.”

Eunha smiles wanly, tucking the wayward strands of her hair behind one ear. “We’re friends too, Yerin. I wanted to help.”

There was a moment of awkward silence as Yerin processes this, and then the assassin sighs, absently cleaning away the streaks of blood from Yuju’s face as she did. She had to do that a lot today, she thinks a little distractedly.

“You’re a better person than me, Eunha.”

“But Yuju chose you anyway,” Eunha says with a shrug, sinking back to sit down comfortably as she hugs her knees to herself. She makes a forlorn sight, just a little, a handspan away from where Yuju’s head was still resting comfortably on Yerin’s lap.

“Damn right she did,” a ghost of a smirk flashes onto Yerin’s face, though there were faint signs of strain there. Physically, she was well; Yuju had done an excellent job before passing out. But it didn’t mean she didn’t remember what she had suffered for the duration. 

It had been like watching a recap of the worst takes of her life; every single mistake, every decision that had haunted her being brought back in absolute clarity and with surround sound to boot. Every scar, every wound, everything that would cut her worse, magnified and given a darker twist. It would have been so much easier if it were only just pain. Yerin could deal with pain. But no, of course this had to go further than that.

Her own insecurities didn’t help. Echoes of doubt still gnawed away at her inside, and it most definitely didn’t help that Eunha was right there, being a perfect little saint, and even Yerin couldn’t understand how it was that Yuju hadn’t chosen the fire mage instead. Not that she wanted Yuju to, of course. Yuju was hers. She certainly wasn’t going to give her up to anyone.

Even if Eunha was indeed the better person. Yerin had blood on her hands, both literally and figuratively, but if there was one thing the assassin was certain about, it was that she would never let Yuju go. Not in this lifetime, or the next, if she had anything to say about that.

“The two of you fit together, I see that now,” Eunha takes in a deep breath, resting her chin on her knees. There is a contemplative look on her face, as she watches Yerin in a kind of half-curiosity, intrigued by the fact that she could actually read her expression in real time now, and not whatever it was the rogue wanted to project. 

“Of course we do.” There is a conflicted expression that flickers briefly across Yerin’s face, partly one of pain shared and remembered all too well, and more notably, a possessive pride, even as she laces her fingers with Yuju’s limp ones, running her thumb across the scarred knuckles restlessly.

“You still love her.” That was a statement of fact, not a question. Grey-gold eyes fixed onto the tiny mage, who stiffens a little at this. Eunha lets out a breath.

“Of course I do.” How could she not? “I always will. But I just want her to be happy.”

Eunha meets Yerin’s eyes directly, staunch and determined.

“As long as you make her happy, I won’t interfere.” A wry grin crosses her lips then, just a touch of mischief and a little challenge thrown in, as Eunha sits up straighter.

“But if you mess up and hurt her...I’ll always be around, you know.” So watch your back.

The not so subtle threat coaxes a laugh out of Yerin, breathy and light, something she hadn’t realized she probably needed. She lifts Yuju’s hand to her lips, kissing the back of that hand reverently, as if in promise. Eunha watches her, and nods. Yerin smirks then, suddenly.

“You’ve got guts. I like you. But I’m never giving you that opening, you know.” She presses the side of her cheek to Yuju’s hand she was holding, humming softly in . Deep within, she could feel Yuju stir, and the close contact helped. They were two sides of the same coin, and Yuju’s burdens were hers. Nothing was too much.

“Never say never,” Eunha chuckles, probably a little self mockingly. She glances over at Yuju again, still unresponsive on the surface. “How is she doing?”

“Well enough for me to give her a piece of my mind when she finally stops playing chicken.” 

Eunha snorts a little at Yerin’s somewhat flippant response, though she couldn’t help but agree with the assassin. Yuju really needed a good talking to about the concept of limits when they had the time. This couldn’t keep happening.

As if the shaman had heard them talking about her, there was first a twitch around her shoulders, then a gradual relaxing and shifting as Yuju stirred, still weakened from her latest exertions. Yerin tightens her grip around Yuju’s hand, her other hand massaging her lover’s temples soothingly. There was a quiet intimacy between the two, and Eunha closes her eyes. She couldn’t get between that, she wouldn’t.

And so she stands up then, prompting another glance from stormy eyes. The fire mage makes a simple gesture with one hand; she was leaving them some space to be alone. Yerin acknowledges it with a nod, and before she leaves, Eunha couldn’t help but comment almost offhandedly.

“You have really pretty eyes by the way. No wonder Yuju’s always staring into them.”

Yerin blinks at the unexpected compliment, registering first that it was a compliment, before quickly realizing that Eunha could actually see her. Not the disguise, but her. That fact was a little shocking, but she recovers quickly, plastering on a confident smirk.

“Better not fall for me then.”

Eunha snorts loudly as she waves it off, exiting the sealed area to reassure the two standing guard outside that they’d all made it. In the meantime, a slightly groggy Yuju looked utterly confused by the exchange. Had something happened between those two while she was out cold?

Yerin helps her sit up, and the two lean into each other, saying nothing for a long moment, just simply basking in the fact that they were here together. There is comfort in this, even in this situation. Yerin speaks up first, after Yuju’s ragged breathing has eased a little more.

“When we get out of here, we are going to have a long talk about how you take care of yourself.”

Yuju winces, making a soft whimpering noise as she reaches toward Yerin, who taps her on the nose like a misbehaving puppy. “No arguing.” Yerin’s voice was crisp at first, but then came the shift, a small crack in Yerin’s tone as she lowers her head, voice hushed.

“I thought I’d almost lost you…”

Yuju embraces her then, the pair sinking into the sheer reality of each other, desperate to confirm with all their senses that the other was really alive and well. 

I couldn’t lose you either, Yuju whispers in a raspy voice, still holding her lover close. Yerin wasn’t sure if the shaman had actually said it or communicated it through their Bond, but she could feel clearly the aching sincerity in those words, the desperate longing lingering heavy in the air between them.

Hands sliding against skin, fingers tangling into hair, breaths mingling as their lips sought and found each other; the two of them like desperate sailors cast adrift before finally finding safe harbor in a storm. They cling fiercely to each other even now, as if there was nothing else left in the world but them. Only them, every beat of their hearts, the scent and taste of each other, feeling and wanting and needing. Nothing else mattered.

After a long, breathtaking kiss, they rest their foreheads against each other, enjoying their closeness and this fleeting, temporary peace until they have to go out to face the world again.

“We’ll end this,” Yuju promises solemnly, and Yerin nuzzles into her cheek fondly, trailing a finger down Yuju’s neck to trace at the vivid spider tattoo at . Yuju grasps the wandering finger, a lump moving down as she swallows, and Yerin smiles lazily up at her, nothing but a simple faith and loving trust left in her eyes.

“No more nightmares,” Yuju murmurs, her own fierce gaze sinking into the whirling storm of Yerin’s eyes, before Yerin covers her lips with her own once more, her answer clear as day.

My only dreams are of you from now on.

DOWNLOADING SECURITY PROTOCOL

CORE TRANSFER COMPLETE

INITIATING CONTROL INTERFACE

…

…

…

SYNC INITIATED

13%...24%...47%...

SYNC ESTABLISHED

RIDER BACKUP ACTIVATED

CORE SYSTEMS CHECK COMPLETE

INITIATING…

INVADER ALPHA ONE ALL SYSTEMS GREEN

READY FOR DEPLOYMENT

“Time to see if our parameters are correct then. Invader Alpha, you have your orders.”

ORDERS ACKNOWLEDGED

CONFIRMING TARGET

TARGET ACQUIRED

PROCEEDING TO DEPLOY

Somewhere out there, a heavy step thuds down, leaving a hissing imprint in the ground. Glowing lines shone bright on pulsing flesh, looming large in the shadows. 

There is no thought, only the orders received. Simplicity in purpose, and the target was clear.

Search, and Destroy.