Tzuyu was the first to come—the first in many years, at least—not that Sana ever learned her name. 

 

Sana kneeled on the ground, plucking the tomatoes from their vines, the apples from their trees, the oranges from their stems, and gently placed them in her hand-woven basket. The breeze swept her locks into fresh air and her breath across the island, all the way from the quaint collections of her home to the calm waves of the shore. It wasn't until she traced the path of the wind that she noticed the struggling body on the sand.

Brushing the dirt from her legs, Sana watched as the figure stood amidst heaps of destruction. 

 

Salvaging what she could, Tzuyu dragged logs across the sand and tethered them with rope, fashioning a manageable excuse for a raft. She had no idea where she was and no idea how she got there, but she did know who she was and what she had to do. Time wasn't on her side; she had people to rescue. 

So, as quickly as she arrived, she was gone. The water carried her away before she even got the chance to look back. Just one glance, and Tzuyu would've seen the woman staring longingly at her in the distance. 

 

But Tzuyu didn't see her, and Sana supposed it was for the best. It was easier that way.

 

---

 

Jeongyeon arrived one week later. At least, Sana thought it was a week; she didn't exactly have the need to keep track of the days anymore. 

 

With how Sana perceived time, she counted two days before gave passage to the urges and she was confessing her love right then and there, on the rocking chair by her bedside.  

If there was one word to describe Jeongyeon's expression, it would've been sympathetic. And if there were two words Jeongyeon could've said to tear and patch Sana's heart all at once, it would've been "I'm sorry." So she said exactly that.

And Sana could only nod. She was stupid to hope for anything more, but she found solace in the apology nonetheless.

Time traveled slower that morning on. Still, the rest of their days flashed in the blink of Sana's eyes.

In reality, only one more day had passed before Jeongyeon was ready to depart. Sana didn't even realize the raft had been built until it was time to say goodbye; she spent most of her time indoors, too weak to bear even remote proximity to Jeongyeon without breaking down completely. She always hated this part. 

 

A handshake was what Sana got. A handshake, followed by a smile, and then some. 

Jeongyeon pointed at the garden, to a plot of new land sectioned away from the fruits and vegetables. "I planted something for you," she revealed. "Flowers. I noticed you didn't have many around your home, so I picked some out for you. To bring small joys to your island." 

Their hands fell apart and Jeongyeon mounted her ride.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome." The waters dragged the raft away slowly. The speed was almost taunting, but Jeongyeon was the furthest thing from sinister. "Thank you as well, Sana. Take care."

The last word was hers, because Jeongyeon was too far from earshot when Sana allowed herself to reply. 

 

"You too, Jeongyeon. Goodbye." 

-- 

Agriculture came bountiful on her island. The weather mirrored a perpetual spring, and the flowers blossomed in no time—no time, because time always stopped for Sana after every hero was lost.

Her ritual extended to the flowers now, too. It wasn't a lot, but it was something to remember Jeongyeon by long after she'd left. It wasn't a lot, but it was something to soothe the ever-budding pain she felt in her chest, if only a little bit. 

 

---

 

Nayeon came with a storm. It was the first storm in a century to reach her island, but even after the storm passed, Nayeon moved so much like one, Sana couldn't keep up. 

Every time Sana would try to clean the cuts on Nayeon's body, Nayeon would deflect her aid, instead aiming herself headfirst into the trees in search of timber. And every time Sana would try to cook a proper meal for Nayeon, Nayeon would snatch the uncooked ingredients and take them raw, eating away the limited time they had together bite by ferocious bite. 

It was an incredible change of pace for Sana, but different was nice. The feeling wasn't as recognizable as it was with others, but Sana knew it was love on their last day. 

Nayeon was frantic, running on and on about the people she had to save and the quests she had to fulfill. Her urgency was so visceral, her thunder so vicarious that Sana didn't register the hammering between her ribs until the raft was assembled, Nayeon had sailed away, and Sana was aware once more of the unbroken ache in her dull, dull body.

 

---

 

Momo was unconscious the night she drifted upon her shore, so properly, Sana dubbed her sleeping beauty. 

On the rocking chair by the bedside, Sana was there every moment Momo wasn't, anxious for her to awaken. Eventually, Momo's eyes fluttered open in tune to morning's daybreak. 

Without words, without the need for words, Sana brought a bowl of soup to Momo's lips and carefully poured the warm broth down . Momo accepted the act gratefully, never once breaking eye contact with Sana. 

The rest of the day was spent in autopiloted silence, with nothing more than an exchange of names and the calling of birds to disrupt it. Washed up belongings were gathered and strung up to dry. Rope was set over a crosshatching of logs but yet to be tied over them. More greens were harvested for future meals. 

Again, they ate in quiet, then continued on to resume their previous tasks for as long as daylight would shine the way. 

Momo wished her goodnight at the end of their work, and in the moments before sleep overtook her body was when Sana realized: Momo didn't panic. 

-- 

A dichotomy of yesterday, they spent the entirety of the next day indoors and in sound. Momo tackled the core of an apple as Sana fidgeted with stiff orange peels.

The smell of citrus became overpowering, and Sana stopped her trifling in favor of someone more important.

"So what brought you here?"

The last bite of the apple was swallowed and Momo wiped in content. "There's someone I have to save."

Sana chuckled. It was dry, but she liked to think a fraction of it seemed real. "Of course you do. May I ask who it is?"

"Yeah. My fiancee." Momo threaded her sticky fingers through her hair. "Her name's Tzuyu."

"Oh." There was a slight tug in Sana's chest at Momo's answer, but Sana wasn't sure what it was from. She knew she should've been disappointed at the mention of a fiancee, but she'd lived most of her life in disappointment anyway, so it couldn't have been that. Rather, though she'd never heard the name 'Tzuyu' before, for some reason, Sana felt a connection to it. Still, the mystery of it was soon replaced with another curiosity. "If you have to save her, why aren't you more in a rush? In a panic?"

Gusts of wind found their way through the open windows, and surprisingly, Momo smiled. "I'm not sure, actually. I don't know who you are, and I don't know where I am, but fate brought us together anyway, didn't it? So I thought the least I could do was to carry out what fate intended." She paused, and in the back of her mind, Sana dared to hold her breath. (She couldn't mean?) Then Momo took her hand. "For the time being, at least."

Sana converted the momentum of her aching into a weak nod. "Aren't you worried about Tzuyu, though?"

And at her name, Momo's eyes lit up. Sana tried to ignore it. "Tzuyu's a tough girl. She can hold out a little longer."

"Right. I don't doubt it." And magically, Sana's sob manifested itself as a laugh. "Thank you."

Momo tilted her head. "What for? Shouldn't I be thanking you?"

"No." Sana shook her head, and the momentary cloud she floated upon condensed into rain. "No. You shouldn't thank me."

-- 

One week. One full week went by after that. And Sana had laughed on every one of those seven days.

There was something about Momo, from her carefree demeanor, to her subtle resilience, to the way she just clicked with Sana—something unique that Sana just couldn't quite place her finger on. The burning sensation in her veins felt distinct compared to the others. It felt better. Hopeful. 

Maybe it was because of the mentions of her fiancee and the way Momo listed trait after trait of all the things she admired most about Tzuyu, or maybe it was because they could spend hours of silence in perfect harmony. Either way, Sana concluded that Momo was more than another fleeting love. Sana thought that Momo transcended the hierarchy of standard romance. Sana believed that Momo was her soulmate. 

And the best part was when Momo told her she felt the same.  

 

So when the week was up and it was growing increasingly obvious that Momo needed to scratch her itch to leave, Sana had no problem giving her up.

"It's okay. You can go."

 

Atop the raft, Momo reached down to cup Sana's hands, bringing them up close to place a chaste kiss on her thumb. Sana relished every second of it.

Sana's breath caught when Momo stared into her eyes with the closest thing to love she'd ever witnessed.

Momo smiled. "I won't forget about you." One more kiss. "I promise."

And somehow, that was enough.

The wind carried the raft away, and for the first time, Sana smiled back as she watched Momo, her soulmate, disappear into the horizon. 

 

And that night, she fell asleep in the comfort of knowing that a part of her would stay with Momo forever, wherever her journeys might take her.

 

---

 

No more visitors landed on her shore for a while, but Sana didn't mind. Making busy with her garden of constants, the days were peaceful and the sun was beautiful. 

To satisfy her loneliness, all Sana had to do was daydream back to all the heroes of yesteryear. There were a lot, and considering the fact that the first one dated past the countable months, Sana was preoccupied from her mornings to her nights. She was almost too preoccupied honestly, seeing as she didn't even notice the presence of new life until there was a decided knock on her door.

-- 

Jihyo was like a goddess. Sana thought she surely must have gone crazy by then, but from the way Jihyo's skin literally glowed, the peculiar way she suddenly appeared on the island, and her intellectual look of all-knowing, Sana really shouldn't have been surprised when Jihyo revealed that she was, in fact, a goddess.

 

"Why are you here, then?" Sana asked, not bothering to hide the bite in her question.

"I just wanted to give you company," Jihyo swallowed. "Until the next."

There was no movement from either of their rigid bodies.

Swirling circles at their feet, the wind currents stirred with them an emotion Sana wasn't fit to tame, foreign from disuse. She clenched her jaw. "I don't need your pity."

"I know. But I'm here anyway."

Sana's stomach twisted, and she wished those words didn't have that effect on her. "How long?"

"What?" 

Sana also wished it was satisfaction she felt to be the cause of a goddess' falter. "I said, how long. How long are you here?"

When Jihyo didn't answer, couldn't answer, Sana scoffed.

"I'm not a charity case. And even though I sure as hell didn't deserve this stupidly cruel curse, I most certainly don't need you pompous gods to check up on me. You made everything perfectly clear when you decided to banish me to this sad excuse of a forsaken island. You made your move, now stick with it."

"Sana I didn't—"

"Save it," Sana cut. "I told you, I don't need your pity. So how about you do both of us a favor and leave?" She raised her voice to hide the trembles in her tone. "Now…please."

For a goddess, Jihyo succumbed to defeat too quickly, too easily. Maybe she shouldn't have, maybe things would've worked out in the end, but it wasn't like she'd ever get the chance to find out. 

"Right. You're right. I'm sorry." She sighed. "We won't bother you anymore."

"You better not." Sana closed her eyes. "You've done enough."

The door slammed shut, and ricochets of echoes bounced against the walls.

 

When Sana opened the door a minute later, she was met with the empty view of her familiar island.

She sighed, stepped out into the open, and screamed.

 

---

 

Someone, anyone, anything must have heard her cries, (not the gods though of course, they didn't care), because not long after, her savior came in the form of an angel, in the presence of Mina. 

 

One month. One month was how long Mina stayed. Sana had never been happier. It felt so much like a dream, Sana was capable of drowning out all of her pain during each and every one of those thirty-one days. An emotional cover-up was what it really was, but Sana never had the time to consider it. Mina's smile just had that effect on her.

 

They had fallen into a comfortable routine. A morning spent in bed, an afternoon of garden tending, an evening full of laughter, and a night of peaceful beachside strolls. Surreal, it was. 

 

Mina was a lot of things: elegant, graceful, beautiful. She was a lot of things, but her greatest mark of attraction was the way she could unravel the best of Sana's past bodies of love. The memories would come fondly with Mina—but there was one in particular that always brought Sana close to tears. 

  

There wasn't enough time to pinpoint it (there never was), but something about Mina's reckless abandon reminded Sana of Momo. Perhaps it was the way Mina always faced her with a smile on her lips, or perhaps it was the way Mina's eyes lit like a million suns every time they met Sana's own. 

In any case, Momo was with them for that month too, whether either of them knew it or not. It was the closest Sana had ever felt complete, so when the day came when Mina finally announced it was time for her to take her leave, Sana was more than okay with bidding her farewell. 

 

"For you," Mina smiled, soft, as she extended out a hand-woven vase full of vibrantly colored flowers. "I picked some from your garden. The prettiest ones, for you."

Sana took the bouquet in awe, mindlessly the petals as long-lost words found their way out . "To bring me small joys."

The sun arrived at its peak, and Mina gently cupped Sana's cheeks. "Exactly," she whispered, as she leaned in to press a goodbye kiss against Sana's cheek. Mina only backed away when she tasted tears on her lips. She wasn't sure who they belonged to. 

The sound of birds broke their bubble of isolation, and Sana opened her eyes to see Mina beaming. "Why are you smiling?" she asked.

"Because this isn't goodbye."

"What do you mean?"

It was only natural that Sana frowned, but any trace of doubt was soon washed away when Mina leaned in once more, pressing her last kiss to the corner of Sana's mouth. 

"We'll meet again, Sana," Mina breathed, barely standing a centimeter apart. "Maybe not in person, but I'll always be there with you. In your dreams, in your garden, in your heart. Always." Her hands wiped the tears dripping from Sana's eyes. (So that was who they belonged to.) "And you'll always be in mine."

Sana closed her eyes. 

"Always?"

Mina stepped away. 

"Always."

 

And when Sana opened her eyes again, Mina was gone.

But it was okay, because that night, after she set the vase of flowers down on her dining table, Sana dreamed of Mina. 

She dreamed of Mina every night 

Because, just like Mina promised, she never left.

And it was okay.

 

---

 

Chaeyoung was different. She looked excited to be there. Jumping like a little kid, she deftly gathered all of her belongings, blatantly disregarding the shipwreck she drifted over upon in obvious favor of drawing shapes on the beach shore. 

From afar, standing by her garden confines, Sana choked as she stared at Chaeyoung's figure, rendered utterly frozen. And in that moment, a part of her knew it—she was the one. 

-- 

The rest was a blur. They became friends fast, and Sana fell even faster. (Well, Sana always fell fast, but Chaeyoung was different. Chaeyoung fell too, and she fell just as fast.)

 

The garden was momentarily forgotten as Chaeyoung dragged her through miles and miles of empty beach, splashing puddles at every tenth step and pointing out the beauty of nature every ten seconds. It was nothing Sana hadn't seen before, something Sana had seen for centuries actually, but with Chaeyoung's decorative remarks and idiosyncratic tendencies, Sana was able to experience the monotones of her island in a whole new light. And for that, Sana was the most thankful. 

Fascination was their days summed into one word. Chaeyoung, fascinated with the island's endless reserve of incomparable color; Sana, fascinated with Chaeyojng's endless reserve of incomparable adoration. 

 

For that night, Sana cut the chains around her shoulders and allowed herself one selfish hope.

But freedom of thought was always succeeded by the consequence of dreams. 

--

Sana awoke to an empty bed. Her shoes were abandoned when she stormed out of her house, trampling budding flowers under panicked feet and breathing dusty sand as she scrambled past the open beach. In a disoriented moment of prayer, Sana had the delusion to think Chaeyoung was waiting for her. 

 

"You're leaving already?" Sana made a fist. She didn't mean to sound so desperate. 

Chaeyoung remained impartial. "Yeah. I have a journey to finish, after all." Her brows creased. "You didn't think I would stay, did you?"

The part of Sana that believed Chaeyoung was the one shattered like thin glass. "No," she lied. "Of course not." She really should have known better. "You have a journey to finish, after all."

Chaeyoung nodded. "Right. Well, thank you for your hospitality. It's been a nice vacation."

"Of course." Sana's tone of desperation faded into something undefinable. "A vacation. That's all this was."

So Chaeyoung waved, and on a simple raft, she sailed off. She didn't even look back. 

 

And as the last strand of Chaeyoung's messy hair disappeared into black water, Sana was sure her breaking point was just one hero away. 

 

---

 

There was one year of silence. One year of infinity. One year of solitude. One year of false hope that someone, anyone, would save her from this eternal damnation. 

The flowers by her garden wilted halfway through, yet another reminder of how useless she was, how powerless she was rendered. 

 

She really should have been more excited to find a girl sitting on the shore, cross-legged as pools of ocean water lapped at her feet, but one year of nothing inevitably projected itself onto Sana's own outlook. 

 

Sana took tired steps, rehashing every past scenario as she worked up the armor to face everything all over again. 

Upon better inspection, the girl was for the most part unharmed. There were two bags by her side, and if Sana squinted, she could see the faint outline of a boat drifting in distant waves. 

Relying solely on instinct and countless opportunities to practice, Sana quietly took a seat by the girl. Staring at her features from so up close, Sana concluded that the girl was a riddle. 

At Sana's unannounced manifestation, the girl didn't flinch. At Sana's unashamed staring, the girl didn't look back. At the blinding winds of beachside phenomenons, the girl didn't tear her gaze from the faraway horizon. And despite all the factors that highlighted otherwise, the girl appeared calm. 

A familiar pull tugged at Sana's heart. She was starstruck. "So what brings you here?"

Sunshine kissed the girl's skin. "Nothing, really."

Sana frowned. "What do you mean?"

The girl shrugged, and in one smooth motion, she turned to meet Sana's eyes. "I mean I don't have a quest."

"How is that possible?" Confusion swarmed her. "You must be searching for something, or on your way to save someone. You wouldn't be here if you weren't."

The girl shook her head. "I mean, when you put it like that, I guess you could say I'm on a quest to save myself." Her smile included a hint of sadness, and Sana ached when she saw her own reflection in the girl's expression. 

"Save yourself how?"

"I don't know. But one day, I just had enough. Enough wars, enough drama, enough fighting. It was just too much." She chuckled. "So I left. I packed some food, stole a ship, and left."

Sana blinked, and her reflection shimmered even stronger, because that sounded a lot like something Sana would do—if she ever had the chance to, that was. "Just like that?"

"Just like that," the girl echoed. "I left. And somehow, I ended up here." She smiled. "With you."

"Wow," was all Sana managed to say.

The girl chuckled again, and it flew like the purest form of music. "I'm Dahyun, by the way."

"Sana."

"Nice to meet you, Sana."

"Likewise."

 

Silence engulfed them for a minute, but it was a comfortable silence. The consistent ebb and flow of ocean water offered a sort of therapeutic metronome, and the occasional chirp of a bird broke that so-called metronome. Sunset was nearing, but the changing colors of the azure sky didn't seem to symbolize an end for once. Instead, it took the shape of a new beginning.

Dahyun inhaled steady streams of salty air, finding her inner peace with every bout of wind that tousled her hair. The atmosphere seemed to consume her.  

And right by her side, Sana used this time to steel whatever dregs of courage she had left into, hopefully, something worth it. "So what you're telling me is that…you have nowhere else to go?"

Dahyun didn't miss a beat. "I'm saying I'd like to stay here, if that's okay with you?" 

The tug transformed into a push, and the incessant thrumming in Sana's chest translated itself into the unexpected form of a laugh. Sana laughed—for the first time on her own accord—and Dahyun laughed too.

It was the sound of her wish come true. 

Sana smiled. "Yes," she breathed. "It's okay. You can stay."