Let me come with you. 

How Jungeun wished she could’ve said yes. She only really ever saw Jinsoul when she got back from patrol. The other elf always worked until then. And she was always there if Jungeun ever got hurt. A part of her wondered if Jinsoul waited to see if she was needed or not. She sometimes was.

And they usually never ate together either, so each time they did see each other, both of them were too tired to really say anything. 

Except for yesterday. They’d spoken more than they had in weeks. And it'd been a conversation Jungeun had wanted to avoid more than anything. 

Jungeun heard rustling then. She let fire course across her fingers, her other hand ready to summon moonlight, but she had to use that sparingly. She still felt drained since the last injury, but a day and a half had passed since then. The spirits really were leaving lasting marks on them.

Between the leaves, Jungeun saw red. It wasn’t a dark spirit, nor an aggressive light one or else it would’ve attacked by now. More rustling. 

The owl hopped out then. It looked up at her with those strange blue eyes. It recognised her. 

“Hi?” Jungeun frowned. This one had left her side on the way back to camp. Spirits didn’t have memories, but whatever recognition they did have of the person who turned them faded after a few hours. 

And this one had come to her more than a day later.  

She kept walking, one eye on the spirit. It followed, flapping its wings now and then. 

Her next idea might’ve been laughed at by everyone at home, but she held out a tiny chunk of moonlight. 

The owl looked at it for a long moment. Then it took the piece with its beak. Jungeun felt its warmth as it did so. It was warmer than most bright spirits who usually had a good balance between warm and cold. 

And to her surprise, the owl ate it. It hooted once. There was a flicker of light that went down its gullet. Then it went to its wings, the tips of its feathers properly sparkling. 

Jungeun could only stare. The spirits remembering, eating. She’d already had an awakening when she realised that spirits felt pain. That’d been when she’d first been chosen by the moon and that‘d been years ago. 

“Nothing on my side,” Chuu said. “But we—“ She cut off when she saw the spirit. “I knew there’d been something weird about that one.” 

The owl hooted again. It looked at Chuu. There was curiosity in its eyes. 

“You knew a spirit can remember things?” Jungeun turned to her. “It even eats!”

Chuu raised a brow. “You’re not afraid of it, are you?”

“No.” She looked back at it. “Just a little.”

The other elf knelt down in front of it, tilting her head as she did. “It’s connected to you. Not in that way, but a little bit.” She smiled slightly. 

Jungeun was lost at how easily this came out of Chuu’s mouth. As if it were so natural that a spirit was acting more like an animal than ever before. If the others heard about this, they’d laugh at her, as they had in the beginning, and tell her she was imagining things. 

And then she remembered when she’d first turned the owl. When she’d wondered aloud about how it felt like the spirits could think. 

“The spirits,” Jungeun began, “you said they’ve always been like this?” This as in sentient, unnervingly so. 

Chuu shrugged. “There were a few times when I think it proved that.” Her eyes had a degree of hesitance. She also hadn’t talked about this a lot. “And it’s not just that every hunt involves us causing them seconds of a lot of pain. They actually make judgements about us, like the way this one trusts you.” 

She frowned. “Then why does everyone think they’re mindless?”

“Not everyone,” Chuu replied. “We just don’t think much into it. We turn the spirits, but if they linger, we just think they’re attracted to the light, and then if they’re in pain, we just know it’s because the light’s destroying the darkness.”

“Did you ever,” Jungeun wanted to be careful with how she asked this, “see something with them? Something else?”

“Well,” Chuu began. She pursed her lips. “When I was little, I’d run off, following a trail. It was one of the first ones I’d seen.”

The trails left by the moon, the ones that showed where you were going to step next. Those sometimes changed, but not always. 

“I found a dark spirit and turned it,” she said. “And after that day it always came to me when I was alone.” The longing in her eyes came around. Had that spirit become something close to a companion at the time? When Chuu had felt the most scared of her abilities?

“What did it look like?” 

“It had dark eyes, a bit like cherry wood,” Chuu replied. “And it’s skin was a paler red, but even at that time, I knew it wasn’t pink.” A pause. Her eyes grew more distracted. “I didn’t know what animal it was. Only when I went to the north once did I learn where it might’ve come from.” She then put her arms out to her sides and waddled. “Walked like this.”

“They’re called penguins.” Jungeun laughed. “But how did it get all the way here?”

She shook her head. “I’ve no idea. My feeling’s that it came here because of the way it was tied to me.” Then she sighed. “But I haven’t seen it since my sight got stronger.” 

“Could you find it if you wanted to?” Jungeun asked. The spirits didn’t exactly disappear, but their light faded over time. That usually took a long time. Again, no one knew why. Maybe Viian would figure it out. Or they’d ask an emotional fairy. They were the only others who could actually turn a spirit. 

“I think it’s been turned,” Chuu muttered. “Twenty years after it disappeared, I felt something sting here.” She tapped a hand to her heart. “And then nothing after that.” Her eyes turned sad. 

“But if you’re tied together,” she took her hand, “then who’s to say you won’t stumble across it again?”

It earned her a smile. “I’m always hoping I will. I liked her.”

“Her?” Jungeun repeated. 

Chuu nodded at the owl. It was still following them. “After a while, you start to pick up on things. For me it was just a feeling. Like how she was actually understanding what I was saying.” 

Jungeun's brow rose. “So that one theory where they’re what’s left of a person.”

She shrugged. “Might actually be true.” 

Jungeun didn’t respond. She needed some time to process that. The spirits might’ve technically been having their own thoughts and feelings. They understood more than people gave them credit for. 

“We’re far enough for this,” Chuu said. They were still holding hands. Jungeun was glad. “The western Crosa had to deal with calming down a group of men.” 

Jungeun didn’t reply. One encounter with spirits might’ve been the most monumental piece of a mortal’s life, but for them, especially Chuu, it was trivial. There was something else to this one. 

“It was a wolf and a dog. Both bright spirits.”

“And they attacked.” So this really was spreading. Spirits who would’ve normally avoided mortals and never attacked were now aggressive. And all that meant was that more patrols were needed. But they couldn’t somewhere so far away. They didn’t even speak the language. “So we’re bringing light over?” 

Did they even have enough for that? 

“That,” Chuu nodded, “but it’s not why they told us.”

Jungeun waited for the elaboration. There was no need to rush her. And she liked the time Chuu took to form her thoughts. She was also sure the other girl preferred it as well. 

“A pale girl in black turned them dark,” she said. “And they didn’t attack.”

“Hyejoo?” Jungeun turned to her fully. “In the west.”

“That week, the places where they stored valuables, gems and metals, were raided and another house stormed. By humans.” Chuu frowned. “And apparently those were on papers stolen on the day of the attack.” 

And it sank in. Theft. Again. In the beginning, Jungeun had gone to towns further away from theirs. Asking after a dark haired girl hadn’t brought much, not in this area where it was the norm. It was only when she’d found her way to taverns that she’d heard mortals raving about a thief going around.

No one knew who they were, only that they stole food. Two weeks after she’d heard the first accounts, there’d been bright spirits attacking. All of them had been turned to benevolent dark spirits by a slim figure wrapped in darkness. Sometimes it parted to reveal her features, but those who had seen her had been too terrified to remember much. Hyejoo hadn’t had control over it then. 

And then those accounts had faded into stories told to excite newcomers. The theft of food had turned into this dark figure claiming the secrets of a house and their children. It depended on who told it. 

The more Jungeun had gone around, the more the stories seemed to worsen. There seemed to be glimmers of truth, but they didn’t say anything Jungeun or the others had wanted to hear. Hyejoo only came to the towns to steal, not to fight humans.

The last story she’d heard had been of a minor battle between influential mortals. Towards the end of it, when the sun had fallen away, the soldiers had reported the sound of shrieking animals. Both sides had followed the sounds. Two of them had died, their eyes black. 

The implication of it terrified Jungeun. 

But nothing like it had ever come again. If there had been anything related to Hyejoo, it was because of brighter spirits being turned dark. Not in the country they called Korea, but in other ones on this landmass. Occasionally, a girl wielding blades of black had gone against guards or groups of soldiers. None had died, but before their memories had been erased, they’d been near traumatised by what they'd seen. But even then, sometimes it wasn't a girl, sometimes it was more. 

Jungeun, and sometimes Jinsoul, had tried to keep all mentions of it away from the other Astra, but some had seeped through. And they’d only encouraged the elves about their decision. They were suddenly happy that they’d forced Hyejoo out. 

“Hey.” Chuu’s voice was soft. She used their linked hands to pull them both to a stop. “That’s all they had to say from their end.” She squeezed her hand. 

“But we’ll have to start preparing,” Jungeun said. That just meant putting aside chunks of moonlight, amassing a good amount of it, before a group of them would take it over. That group usually included Jungeun. She didn’t mind the travel process. 

Chuu nodded, a furrow in her brow. “And we need enough for us.” 

With the amount of injuries they were getting, not having enough moonlight could be dangerous. That just meant they’d all have to work even harder, maybe even cut the amount of people doing patrols. Which meant double shifts. 

“Did they tell you?” Jungeun asked. "About Hyejoo?"

She shook her head. “Freya told Eline. She told me.” 

Jungeun was slightly surprised that the elder would’ve told Chuu. Then again, they'd probably developed a trusting relationship over the years. And as seers went, Eline wasn’t intrusive, nor was she ruthless in what truths she told. Still didn't mean Jungeun liked her. 

This just meant that the rest would know it too. And there’d be murmurs about Olivia. Viian would pick up on it too. And telling that story would be painful. Jungeun didn’t want Haseul to have to do that, but she also didn’t want to do it herself. And if Heejin or Yeojin told it, Jungeun wasn’t sure if Viian would see Chuu or the others the same again. Had she even met the three? 

Jungeun shook her head. She wasn’t thinking about that now. Instead, she tugged on Chuu’s hand so that they kept walking. Then she let go and summoned a sword. She needed to find a spirit to turn. She needed a spirit. She needed the fight.
______

The woman studied her. She must've been what the mortals called 'middle-aged', with faint folds in the skin around her eyes and mouth. She carried herself with the typical posture of a noble. She hadn't given a name. When Olivia had first started doing more illicit jobs for the mortals, she'd learned how important those names could be. If they were known by the wrong people, the mortal would be punished for whatever act they had done.

Even though she'd spent a good amount of time in the mortal world before, Olivia still didn't know how their society worked. Still, she'd learned even more in the last few decades. 

“You’re younger than I’d thought you’d be,” the lady said. She'd not given her name. When she'd first started out 

Olivia didn’t even bother to correct her. She only watched her. This was a woman who'd wanted to hire someone to kill another. She was someone who couldn't bring herself to do it. She was also someone who'd been wronged. They had that in common. 

On the table between them, a fragile thing, lay a dagger and a paper.

“If you’re the one I think you are,” she lifted the piece of paper, “then you’ll be able to reach him with little resistance.”

Olivia didn't as about what she thought she knew. She knew it wasn't what she'd done, but what others like her had.

“And do what?” The words had a rasp to them. She'd learned that her voice scared people. To her, it was just a voice that had faded with time. 

The woman looked at her, an eyebrow raised. “You’re not going to tell me you’re above killing a man?” Darkness curled around her as she spoke. There was both that of ruthlessness and that of hatred. 

Olivia hadn't always been able to see that until she'd met Alluin. In that group, she'd first sensed immortal darkness that wasn't her own. That'd somehow given her more sensitivity to that in mortals. She barely knew why or how it was supposed to work, only that she saw it.

But now she wanted to hear those words from the woman. To hear how easily the thought came to her mind. And how the darkness would respond to it. 

Olivia wondered where she fell now. She'd lived many more lifetimes than this woman. A time when she should have become a person better than the one she was now. And yet she’d gotten worse. Had Olivia been a better person, she would've turned around now. She would've said no the moment Alluin had offered it to her. She hadn’t. 

“No.” The human's lip curled upwards. “His name and where he resides are on here.” She placed the sketch back onto the table. "And his face." The darkness grew. 

Olivia walked to the table, watching as the human drew away. Afraid. She took the paper and the knife. 

“Why this?” Olivia unsheathed it, watching for the woman’s reaction.

She flinched. 

“You’ll leave it there.” Another surge of darkness. 

She narrowed her eyes. “Who's being framed?”

The woman’s brow rose a fraction. “I don’t think you’re in a position to ask such a thing.”

Olivia closed the distance between them and pressed the blade to . “Am I not?”

Her eyes widened. “You won’t have your payment.” She was alarmed, but not terrified. She was sure Olivia wouldn't do it. 

She was right. 

“You’ll tell me the reason,” Olivia said. “You’ll explain what your plan is and why I shouldn’t kill you for ordering the death of another.” She lowered the knife. The woman hadn’t called for help when she could have. How much did she know about her? Did she know her guards wouldn’t be of much use? What were the stories? Olivia had never wanted to hear them. She’d never wanted to relive them. 

The woman, a child if she were to compare their actual ages, put a hand to . She looked at her with something close to fury, but it was smothered by fear. 

“He’s of fourth senior rank,” she spat. She spoke of the target, not the one she was framing. “And my sister was married to him.” 

“And he had her killed?” 

“She couldn’t give him children.” Her voice was hardly a whisper. “He cast her out.” 

Olivia froze. She thought of loneliness, as well as the quiet outrage that followed. Sometimes it wasn't so quiet. 

“They tell me she’s dead, but there hasn’t been word.” A pause. “Years I’ve waited.” 

She hoped for something that would never come. That took its toll. 

“If there was a body, few might’ve recognised it.” 

The woman scowled. “You don’t think I know that?” A lighter form of the darkness rose: the anger that came from pain. 

“You don’t believe it,” Olivia replied. “Who am I framing?”

She waved a hand. “A supervisor of the area. One who gambles all he can away. Not one would be surprised.” 

She didn’t believe it. There were also Alluin’s words to consider. “I won’t frame another. You want me to do your work, then they’ll know it was me.” She set the blade on the table. It was a beautiful piece. She wondered how the woman had gotten it. Was she even trying to frame someone?

Or was it simply an attempt at something else? Would there be a proper investigation? Possibly. The mortals had strange hierarchies and rules. 

The woman stepped forward, but even that was hesitant. She'd heard enough of the rumours before the witness' minds had been erased. “You cannot deny what I’m asking you.”

“I have.”

This woman didn't know what it actually meant to kill someone in the way Olivia was being asked to do. She barely understood it herself. Alluin had explained to her that a blade of darkness had to be used and left there, not absorbed again. That led to the person being overwhelmed by it. Much like those Olivia had seen in the past—the ones who'd been killed by the spirits they'd fought. 

opened and then closed. “Then you won’t have your money.”

“And this man won’t die.” Olivia’s words sounded distant to her ears. She could feel the shadows gravitating towards her, lending her more strength. They were only drawn to her, because she spoke of death so casually. 

The woman stiffened. She looked up at her, eyes still hardened by anger. Even so, fear was bleeding into that mask. 

Olivia realised then that she was drawing on the human's shadow. That never felt right. Olivia occasionally had that effect on mortals and other elves. It was always the one she had on animals and the shadows of inanimate objects. 

“It’s a political move,” she said. “One that could benefit my husband.” 

The callousness of it wasn’t surprising, considering what Olivia had learned of their politics. They achieved their goals by using carefully crafted words and actions. Certain actions could only be made with money or using another person, often employed through money. Words and actions had also been important among the Astra, especially with other elves and the fae, but Olivia had always been kept apart from those encounters. Unless they were fights. 

“Don't explain.” Olivia knew she wouldn’t have been able to understand it. “I’ll take the knife.” She wouldn’t use it for the murder. She’d sell it. 

As she took up the knife, the woman seemed to relax. And then she looked at the space around Olivia. Her eyes widened, her calm expression vanishing.

The human left, though her footsteps had a hurried edge to them. Outside, her guards followed. She hadn't wanted them to come in. Olivia wondered if she'd regretted that decision as the meeting went on. 

She looked at the paper. They'd given her his prominent features: bald, thin lips, and thin spectacles. There were the directions of where he lived, as well as his name. She’d have to ask the people there to tell her of the general area. Then she’d go. 

As she left, Olivia’s hands started to shake. She was in Korea again. She was going to go past the place she’d once called home. And she was going to kill someone. 

Someone who deserves it, she thought. He turned away someone. Left them to die.

When she got into the forest, hands were still shaking. The shadows had collected around her. They were starting to crawl onto her. 

_______

Yves watched as Chaewon’s hand drifted to her chest. Her brow furrowed. 

“More pain?” she asked.

It was never been hard to figure out that Chaewon and Hyejoo had been connected through the light. Before everything had happened, she’d seen just how compatible they were. While Hyejoo hadn’t been able to use moonlight, she’d been getting a hand at combat. She’d learned the human language Korean well enough to get mortal money together. Once she'd had the right amount, she'd bought weapons of metal. On hunts, Chaewon had covered them with moonlight so that Olivia could tackle one of the spirits, buying them all time until one of them incapacitated it. 

Those blades were always on Chaewon’s bed now, hidden beneath the furs. She’d kept them in the same condition they’d been since Hyejoo was banished. She’d gotten what she needed from the same place Hyejoo had gotten them, using broken Korean to find out how to do it herself.

Both Yves and Jiwoo knew about them, but Chaewon was still secretive about them. She always cared for them when she thought they were asleep. In the late morning, Yves would hear the light clinking of the swords in their scabbards as she got up and left the tent. 

In the beginning, she’d followed and what she'd seen had broken her heart even further. Chaewon had been polishing one blade with a cloth, handling it with more care than she did moonlight. The sunlight had done little to hide the tears streaming down her face.

Yves had known well enough not to go to her, nor offer to help. And both she and Jiwoo knew that Chaewon sometimes held them close to her when she couldn’t fall asleep. Neither of them ever commented on those blades nor spoke to her in those moments. Those were the moments Chaewon needed for herself.

It was only when she came to them, or faltered when she saw one of the benevolent dark spirits, that they’d properly show that they were there for her. That hadn’t been happening as often, but it didn’t mean that Chaewon had stopped missing her. 

And now this. 

“It doesn’t hurt,” Chaewon replied. “It just feels strange, like something’s twisting.” 

And might snap, Yves thought. She was scared for both of them. For Hyejoo, for what she might be doing that had led to this. What would the decisions she was making do to her? And what would happen to Chaewon if she lost that bond? It wasn’t just that they didn’t know what the magic would do to her, but they also didn’t know how it would affect Chaewon emotionally.

And now that she knew that the bond hadn’t faded between her and Hyejoo hadn't vanished completely, what happened if she lost it again, and for good? 

Hyejoo wasn’t going to come back to them. All three of them knew that. Chaewon wasn’t cleaning the blades, waiting for Hyejoo to return and get them. She was cleaning them because they’d been all she had left. 

“You don’t have to reassure me,” Chaewon muttered. “So let’s move on.” 

Yves could only nod. Chaewon’s maturity had come from guilt and loss, not time. She hated that this had caused her usual dry humour to fade, returning only when it was the three of them and rarely when they were around others. She hated that she couldn’t fully reach the girl. 

The two of them ate in silence. A way’s away, Yves heard Yeojin’s deep voice as she recounted an embarrassing first attempt at controlling moonlight. Probably telling that to the newcomer to ease her doubts. 

In spite of herself, Yves smiled. She would’ve given much to be able to sit at that fire again. To add to that story with Yeojin’s first attempts. Yves and Haseul had split up their lessons for her, Choerry, and Chaewon. 

But those times were well in the past, hidden by the anger and resentment of the rest. 

She wouldn’t be welcomed at that fire. Neither would Chaewon. 

The Astra were a large enough group that neither of them ever had to sit alone. When Heejin wasn’t with them, Priad’s group was actually theirs as well. Yves was well aware that most didn’t understand why Heejin hated the three of them. And they were foolish because of it. They barely even recognised that Heejin resented them as well, because they’d also voted against Hyejoo staying. 

Something lightened in Yves then. She knew the reason why well enough to know where to look and what to expect. The light of the person was always so bright. It could be felt from far away. And it always made her feel better. 

Jiwoo and Jungeun emerged moments later. They were talking about something, both with bright eyes. An easier patrol today. Good.

Then Jiwoo laughed. Even from where she sat, Yves could hear it. 

Should Yves have been happy to hear it? Yes. 

Jiwoo was smiling and laughing genuinely. Her eyes were crinkling exactly right. 

How often had Yves tried everything in her power to make that smile appear? She’d usually succeeded, but she’d had to try. 

Jungeun needed to only make a snide remark or throw a disbelieving look somewhere to get that smile. It was easy. 

And it had become like that ever since Jiwoo started to go on patrols. It was a decision that’d baffled others, so much so that they’d come to Yves to ask why. She hadn’t known, so she’d just said that Jiwoo had had ideas for how to improve the routes and durations of patrol. That’d made people happy. 

Until Jiwoo’s time on patrol had become something she’d done for a year, then two, and so on. She still came on hunts, but less frequently. And she’d started talking to Choerry more, something Yves thought was impossible, considering how deeply affected the purple-eyed girl had been by Hyejoo’s banishment. 

So many things in need of explanation. So many things where Yves had only gotten a few reasons. And then Jungeun and Jiwoo had resumed their friendship from before. 

All this, the laughter and mended relationships, should’ve made Yves happy. 

But all that was spoiled by her jealousy. 

She knew exactly how pathetic that was. That didn’t mean those feelings stopped. 

Even so, she looked away. 

“See you tomorrow,” Jungeun said. Her voice sounded gentle. 

“Yeah,” Jiwoo’s voice was also soft, “see you.” 

Yves could feel the shyness there. And she didn’t like how that made her feel. She also hated the fact that she felt that way. Especially when she had no right to it. 

When she glanced up, she caught Chaewon looking at her. There was a teasing edge there. In spite of how their conversations had devolved, Yves found herself smiling back as she blushed. 

In what felt like ages, Jiwoo finally came over to their fire. 

“How’d it go?” Yves managed to ask. She passed her a plate. Before a hunt, they always used actual cutlery. The less light they used now, the better. 

Jiwoo took a helping of the grilled fish. “Better than before. We actually fought together instead of Jungeun just handling it all.”

It was only for a moment, but Yves caught Jiwoo looking at the space in front of Chaewon. It was almost imperceptible, but she frowned.

“What changed?” Chaewon had brightened. The furrow in her brow was gone. 

“I think the healer at the time laid into her strategy,” Jiwoo replied. “And she did get hurt on the last one, so it stuck with her.” Then the smile faded a touch. “How's Elre?”

Yves shook her head. “Getting worse.” And the elf had gotten hurt weeks ago. It was a bad blow, one that had gotten her in the side of her chest. Maeral, another healer, had been speculating about why to Priad's group: the spirit's darkness had seeped in close to her. He’d talked about it a little too loudly and now people were even more worried. 

Jiwoo’s smile was gone. This was the expression Yves was used to seeing now. “Is it weakness or just pain?” 

“Both,” Chaewon said. “Nuala went around to get more light from each of us. It helped with the pain, but she still can’t walk for long enough.”

“Should I?” Jiwoo made to stand. 

Yves reached out to stop her, but the girl jumped before her hand even reached her.

“Sorry.” Yves pulled back her hand. It wasn’t the first time this'd happened. Jiwoo’s peripheral vision had always been incredible. “But if you want to come on the hunt today, you’ll not be spending any more light until then.”

Especially when the moon was only just becoming a proper crescent. It might’ve been better to tell Jiwoo to sit today’s hunt out, but Yves never liked it when their group of three was made even more incomplete. It unsettled those who left, while the ones who stayed behind were nervous for the entire time. Here, she’d just have to make sure that it was Chaewon and her who used the most light. 

Jiwoo held her gaze for a moment too long. Yves felt the same lightness that she had earlier. 

Then the other girl nodded and sat back down. “I wish we knew how to handle this better.” She looked at her plate. She hadn’t taken a bite yet. “And with the rest wanting us to give them some, we’ll have even less if more are getting hurt, or just need enough light to stop the pain.” With each word, she spoke more quickly, hardly stopping to breathe. 

“If the same things are happening out there, they’ll need it more than we do,” Yves said softly. Then she tapped the side of her plate. “Now eat.”

The corner of her lip tugged up. Jiwoo started eating, but the worry still remained on her features. 

It was one Yves understood well, but there wasn’t much they could do. Nuala, Jinsoul and the others responsible for healing had been scrambling to figure out what to do. With the dark spirits, both the 'normal' kind and the more powerful ones, the only solution was light. A lot of it. With some it helped immediately, with others it took some time. In the worst cases, the darkness ate away at the light still left in the person. The darkness always made a person succumb to either anger, sadness, or fear. If the darkness didn’t get taken away soon enough, they died with blackened eyes and frozen skin. 

Yves pushed those images away. Almost all wounds inflicted by darkness weren’t severe, because they were almost always able to turn the spirits fast enough. And if they were severe, they were almost always able to heal them. 

“Now you’re the one thinking too hard,” Jiwoo muttered between bites. 

Yves chuckled. “Yes.” She’d been thinking a lot. More than she had before. Was that how the years had shaped her? 

“You’re right,” Jiwoo said. “About the light being needed elsewhere. It’s just,” she bit her lip, “I’m not sure if we’re prepared for this.”

“No one is,” Chaewon replied. “Not even the seers can tell.” 

Jiwoo’s eyes shot to her. “You think so?” 

“They’ve been looking at everyone more often, probably trying to find what they’ve overlooked.” Chaewon shrugged. “Definitely doesn’t help keeping us calm, but no one says anything.”

Out of habit, Yves looked around for eavesdroppers. One person had glanced over then. Choerry. She looked away the moment Yves met her gaze. It sent a pang of guilt through her chest. 

Yves looked away before anyone else caught her looking. She didn't need another glare sent her way. Or someone else asking her to come eat with them. 

Jiwoo’s own eyes were on the fire. The deeper shades of orange complimented her peach-coloured eyes. She looked distant again. “Shouldn’t we start telling everyone not to go after the other spirits?”

Other spirits didn’t mean the aggressive bright ones. It meant the dark spirits that didn’t attack. Very few actually stopped to differentiate between them. The moment you made the first blow, the once friendly spirit did end up attacking. 

Now especially, they had to be careful with their words. One always did if surrounded by ears like an elf’s. 

Yves shook her head. 

At the same time, Chaewon said, “they won’t listen.” 

Because the spirits were dark. For that reason alone, they were convinced that the spirits would be overcome with the darkness of the malevolent spirits. Even the seers believed that, because they couldn’t see a brightness in the path the spirit was going to take. It was that same logic that Yves had once believed. And her shortsightedness had led her to making one of the worst mistakes in her life. 

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Author's Note

A three-parter to explore the different 'camps' of the story, save for Vivi's because that was in the last chapter. First we've got the more immediate reactions to Olivia, as well as the initial stages of her exile. There's also the current developments with the spirits where you've got four types: the 'good'/'bad' bright spirits and the 'good'/'bad' dark ones. And of course, a bit of development for Hyewon (though they're still very much separate), a slight bit of Chuulip, and a first for Chuuves. 

On the other side, we've got Olivia's current journey and the way it's affecting both her and Gowon. I hope you're liking how fate ties into this. I haven't ever gone too deeply into destiny and/or fate, but here it plays a big role. It's also in line with how I tend to think of fate: based on our decisions, our path can change. Certain decisisions won't change that path, but others can. For me, it's a flexible timeline. 

Hope you're enjoying so far! Would love to know what you think. 

See you next chapter.