“Two emotions are correct,” Dahyun frowned at the screen, “three if you count the happy one’s dress.”

“She’s pretty excitable too,” Chaeyoung said. “Do the creators get points for the colour they made her skin?”

“Perhaps.” Dahyun watched as purple fear took hold of the controls. In the film, fear was an emotion that protected. If she were to imagine that the creators had known the true connection between purple and fear, its behaviour in the film would make sense. She’d ‘give points’ for that as well. 

The film continued with more focus on the emotions than Dahyun had expected. Sadness remembered only the negative of a memory. 

Correct, Dahyun thought.

It kept going. Anger was far more explosive than what she knew. Disgust was green and Dahyun still vehemently disagreed with that colour choice. Fear was more annoying than it was realistic. Joy was intense. Sadness was frequently hopeless. Dahyun imagined that all were realistic to one person or another. It was likely unfair of her to be so critical of it. 

And then the film delved into the shame felt by Sadness. Dahyun felt tempted to tune out, but it was in these moments where one had to push on in fictional stories. Even if a plot ended in flames, its meaning would be seen in the smoke. This would be the same. Despite it being for children (mostly), the insight within the film was admirable. 

The film ended. Joy had come to realise the value of sadness and the other emotions, while Sadness had needed to recognise that of herself. 

“Tissue?” someone asked. 

Dahyun blinked, feeling teardrops roll down her cheeks. 

Tzuyu gave her a gentle smile. “Here.” She handed her the packet. It was already open. 

Dahyun responded with a small smile. It came more easily now. Oddly enough. 

There was concern directed at her, but also relief. 

There were also eyes on her. Dahyun looked up and saw Sana by the kitchen counter, her eyes purple. In her hands, she held a bag. 

Dahyun nodded at her. She did the same.

In the past few days—had it strayed into weeks?—Sana had given her a great deal of space, both emotionally and physically. Dahyun knew it was difficult for her to do so. She saw how her emotions rose and fell when Dahyun spoke or remained silent. She wished she wasn’t the source of those changes, but she was. Being close to another now and then was tolerable, but if it was consistent, joined with the comparatively overwhelming amounts of love, it became too much. 

“Did you like it or hate it?” Jeongyeon sat on her other side. In her lap was a fresh bowl of popcorn. “Share?” She put it on her lap. 

Dahyun huffed, but ate a piece. “It was an insightful film,” she said. “Quite empathetic.”

The other girl laughed. “That was terrible.” 

She smiled. “I know.” 

A lightness came into the room. Dahyun basked in it. The uncertainty in the air was not gone, but it had been superseded by humour and curiosity.  

“Another?” Dahyun asked. 

“You choose,” Jihyo said. 

That meant a great amount of freedom. Nothing frightening. This night was the best she'd had since waking up again. She intended to keep it that way.

“What was the sequence with little monsters?” Were any of those things the right words? “There was a ball that absorbed them.” Dahyun looked at Sana then. “You said I looked like one?” There'd been a picture of an orange one with fire coming from its tail. 

Chaeyoung jumped up. “Gotta catch ‘em all!” She rushed over to the sofa and sat on the floor in front of her. “You’ll tell me who’s your favourite, I’ll buy you the plushie, and then we’re playing the game.” 

“Alright,” Dahyun patted her head, “we’ll do that.”

Mina sat down beside Tzuyu. “Movie or the series? Both are corny, but a good time.” 

“What comes first?” 

“Series.”

“Then that,” Dahyun said. 

Mina smiled. “Good choice. Just so you know, the voices are really high.” 

They started watching. The voices were indeed high, but the story was largely lighthearted. Dahyun imagined it would be a welcome change from the day. 

They watched five episodes. None of the girls were tired and Dahyun found herself trying to commit each new little monster to memory. Few times had she ever thought to use the word ‘cute’, but she saw its effects many times with the rest. There was excitement, a light form of happiness and love, forming an instant feeling of care. It was interesting. Dahyun felt a tug on her lips each time she saw an endearing Pokémon. 

Then she felt a change in the forest. Very faint, but she felt it still. 

Dahyun did not think. She reached into the emotional world, pulled the calm into the physical world, and made it wrap around them. 

The effort ricocheted back at her. She was thrown from the emotional world and a wave of cold overcame her. She hissed when some of it pierced her blood vessels. 

Tzuyu gasped beside her, while Mina jumped. Dahyun tried to rein in the fear that seeped into the room. The effort made the ice in her blood expand. 

Sana was in front of her. “Is someone here?” 

Something had changed. Sana was now much more attuned to Dahyun. Certain changes in her own mood seemed to resonate with Sana, despite Dahyun not allowing those changes to show. 

“Y-yes,” Dahyun said. She reached for the presence in the forest again, but could not. “By the river."

“We’ll go,” Jeongyeon stood, “can I?” Her hands hovered above Dahyun’s arms. 

She nodded, getting to her feet. 

Hands gripped her arms, lifted her slightly off the ground, and then they were off. 

The sound of rushing water filled her ears. Dahyun’s feet met the ground. She looked for where the calm came from. Not in sight, but the person was still restrained. 

She reached again, pushing past the ice that surged within her, and pulled on where the calm that had coalesced in the area. 

The same push happened. Or was it a pull?

Dahyun stumbled, but did not fall. Two pairs of hands caught her. Tzuyu and Nayeon. She knew her skin would feel like ice. Tzuyu flinched. 

“I think you can let go,” Chaeyoung said, looking at the person Dahyun had brought towards them. 

Dahyun did, letting the pale blue return to the forest. That did not hurt.

“You could’ve given us a warning,” Jeongyeon said. “A call, or even a letter.” 

“For that I must have and understand information in a language I don’t know,” Gerst replied. He got to his feet. His eyes were gentle as he looked at Dahyun. 

The resemblance to his daughter was great. Dahyun felt the urge to look away, but she did not. He could face her. She had to be able to do so herself. 

“You reclaimed some emotions,” he said. A smile began to appear. Then a vast blue cloud formed in the air. “This is yours as well.” 

The gentle warmth came over her. The calm that was felt in a forest, in the safety before sleep, and the focus of solitude. It was calm, but not the one that made up Dahyun. It was the one she’d felt throughout her life. Another piece of herself. 

“Thank you,” Dahyun said. Yet she knew why he had come. “Please don’t make me go back.” She didn't say the words in English. 

“I must try,” he replied. “You could come back home.” 

“Mind speaking in a language we know?” Nayeon asked, a slight raised eyebrow. “Life-changing decisions shouldn’t be made in secrecy.” 

Dahyun felt a small pang of shame. 

Gerst spoke first. “There is a chance that Dahyun could could be pardoned.” 

“What do we have to do?” Jihyo asked. 

Dahyun felt the hope of eight rise. She needed to quell it. 

“It doesn't matter,” she said quietly. "I won't take it."

The hope did not disappear, but it was enveloped by shock. 

______

Tzuyu didn’t know what she could say. Should she ask why? A part of her felt as though she didn’t have to. She’d mentioned this once before. They’d talked about this before. Was the guilt still holding her back? 

Maybe. She still didn’t have to ask what pardoning Dahyun meant. There might have even been a chance of getting more parts of herself back. Yet the prospect itself was unthinkable for Dahyun. 

“Why not?” Momo asked. She looked confused, almost desperate to hear an answer. “It could be a chance to get back what they took, right?” She looked to Gerst then. 

Dahyun shook her head. “I won’t, I–I can’t.” They all heard her take a deep breath. “The risk is too great.” 

“Risk of what?” Jihyo asked. “Do you think it’s a trap?” She spoke in Korean then. 

The grey in Dahyun’s skin pulsed. It circled her neck, the black joining it soon after. 

Then the air turned sour. 

Tzuyu felt the change herself. The ice in her mind started to spread. 

Then the ice was replaced by a gentle warmth. The scent became that of forests. 

“I’m sorry,” Dahyun whispered. “But I won’t do this.” She looked at Gerst then. “They don’t need me for proof.” The words came out as a hiss. “They can go to either of the places we were and they’ll know what happened.” 

Tzuyu half expected her to turn away then, but she stayed where she was. The fairy’s eyes seemed a brighter grey than before, the smoke underneath her skin still writhed around. Tzuyu knew what half of that felt like. She knew that Dahyun would be reliving the memories attached to that fear and other ones still in her life. Tzuyu had felt the fear of being hunted, both her own and of another, as well as that of nearly dying, also from her own experience and that of another.

That fear latched on to other memories like it. The only mercy was that it let up, coming back only in waves or with certain triggers. And if it caught you, it didn't happen in the absolute forefront of your mind. Tzuyu was always able to see the real world, but she barely managed to get through the surges of fear. 

“They need to know your role in it,” Gerst said. 

“They don’t already?” Nayeon asked, her eyes hard. “Like she said, it’s not hard to find that out.”

“Those defending Yrest or those impartial to it all must know the full story. They won’t settle for what we’ve already given them," he replied. 

Tzuyu almost didn’t want to hear anymore. Their system was so skewed. Could they not see that it was all so very clearly wrong? Or did some just not want to accept it? Were there people who believed that it was Dahyun’s fault for starting the conflict? Was that it? 

Sana spoke up then. “Did you just come here to tell her that?”

Or had he come because he wanted them to convince Dahyun? 

“I came because I didn’t get a response to the message I sent.” His eyes flicked between Sana and Dahyun then. Tzuyu saw confusion in his expression, but a flash of gold in his eyes. There was something different between the two. She’d suspected it herself, as Sana was always extremely attentive to the state Dahyun was in. Even if she didn’t approach her as much as she used to. Dahyun's eyes were still grey and her expression tended to rarely change, yet Sana knew if she was struggling with something. 

“But my answer is final,” Dahyun said. “There’s no waiting for a response or any convincing you can do,” she shook her head, “I won’t do it.” And that was when she walked off. This time it was in the direction of the city. 

“Dahyun?” Sana’s voice was quiet. Uncertain. 

“I’ll be back,” the fairy murmured. "I promise." Then she was almost completely out of sight. 

They waited until her footsteps had faded almost completely away. 

“Does this clear Rila’s or Yrest’s name if she refuses?” Chaeyoung asked. 

“It only affects the terms of her exile,” said Gerst. “She could come home.”

Come home. Tzuyu would never want Dahyun to abandon her first home, her people. She knew the longing that homesickness bred. But she also wasn’t sure if she could stomach Dahyun leaving again. Hadn’t she found a new home with them? Maybe she’d go back and forth? If she even let her memories be examined. What exactly did that mean? How bad was it, or could it be, that she completely refused it?

“And her emotions?” Momo crossed her arms. “Could she get them back?”

“Not all of them,” he sighed, “some of the ones she would want back have already been consumed, while I’ve been barred from taking any more than the calm I had with me.” 

Tzuyu felt revulsion rise in . They’d deny that in addition to her exile. 

“Are you gonna stay here a while?” Jeongyeon asked. “I’m not sure if we can change her mind, but what if we could?” 

“I was hoping for that,” Gerst nodded, “my plan is to look around this area a bit, though I will stay in the forest.” 

“Not looking like that,” Jihyo pointed at his bare feet and hair, “right?”

He smiled slightly, before presenting a leather sack from his back. “I have managed to buy shoes and,” his hair turned dark blonde, his eyes green, while his ears rounded off, “blending in is possible.” The look in his eyes reminded Tzuyu of how Dahyun often was during movies. Interested, but always with a lot of concentration behind it. “I wanted to see the libraries found here.” Then a piece of gold appeared in his hands. “This can be used to contact me wherever I might be. If you direct your thoughts at it, with the notion of me in mind, then I will know you wish to speak.” He walked over to Sana and pressed it into her hands. “And I’ll know where to find you.” 

“The stores aren’t open yet,” Mina said quietly. 

“Oh?” He put on the shoes, as well as a thin down jacket. It didn’t exactly go with the pale green clothes he wore. “I’ll wait for them too then. Still with that look in his eyes, Gerst turned around and began to walk in the direction Dahyun had gone. 

“Home first?” Jihyo asked. Then she was off. 

Tzuyu followed. 

They were in the living room. The minds of Jeongyeon and Momo seemed to already be made up. Sana was staring at the gold in her hands. Curiosity. 

“I don’t get it.” Chaeyoung sat down, running a hand through her hair. “She could get pieces of herself back if she took that risk. She’s exposed herself already,” her breath hitched, “and that was riskier than anything else.”

“She’s had enough,” Nayeon replied. “This's years of being scared of your own people. And she doesn’t have the same feelings she had for them. That means no real friendship or trust. Not anymore.” 

But she trusted them. That couldn’t just be from the small amount of love they’d given back to her. Or was Tzuyu just too hopeful? 

“Too much has happened,” Chaeyoung nodded, “but maybe there’s a way to work around it? She won’t try, but what if we figured something out?”

“Like what?” Jeongyeon was drinking from a blood bag, her eyes green, but Tzuyu doubted she was happy. “They could have proof slap them in the face and they probably wouldn’t bat an eye.” She tossed the empty pack into the trash. It made a much louder sound than it should’ve. “There has to be some way we can convince her.” 

“But she doesn’t want to be convinced.” Mina had curled up on the sofa, Sana beside her. “We can’t force her to face anything.”

“And if it’s the only way to help her?” Momo asked softly. “What if she thinks she doesn’t deserve to get those emotions back? That she doesn’t deserve to be accepted by her people? Those're the wrong reasons." 

They were all silent then. It was a fear Tzuyu had as well. If Gerst had said that other fae would be helped by this, she was sure Dahyun would have showed the rest her memories. Except this time, because it only affected Dahyun, she wouldn’t do it. It showed her selflessness, while also proving that this was one of the few moments where she wanted to spare herself of pain and risk.  

Tzuyu closed her eyes. She thought back to the night when Dahyun had first told them her story. 

Even if there was peace, I would never be allowed to return, not even as a corpse.

But her clan would let her return if she opened her mind to them. Then again, because of the protection her sadness had given her, Dahyun had never been completely exposed to a mental fae. It was the same thing that had protected Tzuyu from being taken over. It was the same thing that had led to Rila using fear against her instead. 

Dahyun had been overcome by that fear. It was joined by the fear of being exposed to someone who could torment her again. 

I murdered several of my own kind, including Helen, who was younger than I was and not ready to die.

Yes, there was shame. Dahyun wasn't a killer, despite having killed. She carried those deaths with her. Even now, separate from the guilt for those fae, she’d still been overcome by the grief felt by their families. Whatever guilt had been taken from her, she’d probably rebuilt it immediately. Just as she still trusted them. 

But Tzuyu remembered the day she’d told her not to be controlled by her guilt. She hadn't taken her emotions back when she should have. 

I should have destroyed all that was there, but I was scared of what pain it would bring about and I did not want to go back to that place.

What if the way they’d go through her memories involved reliving those exact moments? What if it brought those emotions back full force?

“We’re not convincing her to do anything,” Tzuyu said. “If she knows what she’s avoiding. If she knows a way where she doesn't have to live through those moments of her life, then we let her avoid it.” 

All eyes were on her then. She felt very self-conscious, but it had to be said. 

“But she can’t keep living like this,” Jeongyeon replied. “It’s all been hell for her. You felt it,” she nodded at Tzuyu and Nayeon, “we still see it. And none of it’s faded. Not even a little.” 

“She never sleeps,” Momo added. “Her night's always filled with anything else she can do. Maybe catch up on her reading, or make new clothes, anything.” She met each of their eyes. “And she’ll find some excuse about her not being human, but it’s not hard to see that she’s slowly being drained by it. Again.” 

“I can’t sleep,” Tzuyu’s nose started to burn, “if I close my eyes, I can see what they did to Teresa. If it’s quiet, I hear her screaming. If I’m alone, I can feel what they did to Dahyun. And I always see what I was running from.” She pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes. Just talking about it made those very things seep into her senses, tainting them yet again. “But I can’t—if I had the choice between going through everything they did to me and going through cycles of something that might fade eventually, or not—at least not on it’s own,” if she had enough love in her again, maybe she could get Gerst or Dahyun to help her stamp the rest out, “then I’d choose living with what I do now.” 

Hands took hold of her own, pulling them away from her face. Jihyo appeared when Tzuyu opened her eyes. She smiled at her, but it was shaky. Still, her grip was firm as she held Tzuyu’s hands. Her gaze showed Tzuyu one thing. I'm here. 

Jihyo didn’t say anything, but that she was there at all alleviated the pressure building in Tzuyu. Physical contact, even simple conversations helped against what Tzuyu was feeling. She had to believe that it wasn’t imagined, that someone being there for her, someone loving her, and her loving them, was helping against the fear. And if it wasn’t, then at least it felt like it. She hoped that was the same for Dahyun. 

Tzuyu found her voice again. “I know you think she’ll never be able to feel the same again,” she said. “And I know she’ll not feel the way she deserves to if she doesn’t change her mind.” She closed her eyes. “But that’s her decision to make. We’re not pushing her to anything.”

Sana’s voice broke the next silence. “And the second she thinks she’ll be helping us instead of herself, she’d do it.” Her voice trembled. "So we can't let her think that." 

Tzuyu was relieved. Sana also knew what could push Dahyun to accepting Gerst's proposal. Sana knew it would be another decision made selflessly. She hopefully knew that Dahyun needed to be able to make decisions that were in her interest. Even if there was the chance that the choice wasn’t the right one, the fairy had already made plenty of choices for others that had brought her more pain than anything else. That had all been for the good of others. They had to make a decision that was good for Dahyun. 

“Exactly.” Tzuyu opened her eyes again to see that Sana’s were glassy.

Then Sana got to her feet. “I need,” she trailed off. “I have to go.” Then she was off. 

The rest of them went about doing what normal people were supposed to be doing—aside from the fact that it was only just reaching morning hours. They’d decided to fill yesterday evening with movies. Dahyun had agreed to it. It was either her trying, or actual progress. Both meant a lot. 

Tzuyu was in her room, getting dressed for yet another day of school. They’d be moving on to university this time. Tzuyu didn't want to go through high school again. She at least needed something in between that, which included a university degree and an actual job. 

That was when her phone buzzed. From Sana. To her, as well as Nayeon. 

Meet me at the river where we saw G. Don’t tell the others.

______ 

Sana clung to the piece of curiosity as though her life depended on it. In a way, a part of it did. 

Dahyun had said that Gerst and Rila’s curiosity could draw the disillusioned out of that state of mind. It had been that way for Sana. Though the scent of ice was overpowering and the constant warmth was uncomfortable, it gave her a focus like no other. Thoughts tied in for her more easily than before, drawing on connections she’d make in the back of her mind and expanding upon them. It was almost overwhelming. She felt lightheaded. She could only smell ice. It had snowed, but she couldn't differentiate between the scent of snow and curiosity. 

Now she needed to know if her idea was absolutely insane, a side effect o