Guards met them in the forest. Jungeun had spotted their armour and immediately stopped to cast an illusion over her hair. Ever since she’d been born with pale hair, she hadn't been able to change it at will. She could with her eyes, but not the hair. 

Only after she’d sought out a witch had she finally learned a spell to darken her hair. It didn’t go completely black, but to a brown colour. That shade was still light enough to be considered odd, but not enough to stand out completely. It was if she was meant to have lighter hair. She wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. 

She’d also discovered that even in the west and north where paler hair arose, she wasn’t able to blend in at all. Her facial features were the issue there. What few expectations those people had made the light hair even stranger. 

Now, with brown eyes and hair, she and Yerim stumbled onto the path. They held each other's hands tightly. 

“Stop!” A sword clanked at the guard’s side. 

The group strode over, coming to a stop a metre before them. Their torches burned. Even though Jungeun could call on those flames and Yerim could open up the earth beneath them, the two of them huddled together, trembling. To give the mortals peace of mind, they almost always had to give them a sense of control. Whether that meant acting afraid, naive, or lost, they’d learned how to fall into these masks. 

The other elves hadn’t quite gotten that. Most mortals ended up thinking they were bizarre, arrogant, or both. Some were charmed, as the light often seemed to have a comforting effect on them. There was also the fact that many elves moved with undeniable confidence, pairing it with grace or power. That captivated mortals just as much as magic did. A fair amount of elves were also remarkably attractive. 

Of them, only Hyejoo, Hyunjin, and Chuu had managed to leave that behaviour behind. Jungeun had always hoped that Hyejoo still retained that, both to hide the turmoil that surely ate away at her and whatever magic she’d received instead of light. 

Jungeun remembered the cold and faint sweet scent of darkness then. Why she could recall it so well, she didn’t know.

A gruff voice jolted Jungeun from her thoughts. 

“What purpose?” The guard in the centre was slender, his armour light. He carried himself as an experienced fighter did. Even a mortal knew that heavy armour wasn’t always the best option. 

Yerim spoke first. “We only wished to pass though, sir.” Her voice was small, but still bright. “My sister and I were lost, but now,” she trailed off, “for us to see we’ve found someplace safe, we—” Another falter. Her lower lip trembled. 

Jungeun knew she was tapping into her worry for Hyejoo and how tired she actually was for this performance. Even so, she was surprised at how convincing the younger elf sounded. 

The guard’s eyes softened. “You must stay the night, miss. It’s only safe indoors tonight. Especially now.”

Jungeun buried the worry that shot up then. “We’ve been able to escape animals, sir. Not many at this time.”

He shook his head. “There’s certainly cruelty on these roads, miss. And recent events mean there’s a curfew. Temporary, but with good reason.” He actually sounded regretful. He didn’t ask their reasons for being here. Perhaps his guesses about what their current state was ensured he didn’t want to. 

Yerim’s eyes widened. “What happened?”

Another guard raised a hand. “Nothing to repeat.”

The first guard smiled meekly. “Come with me. I’ll you to the inn.”

Jungeun managed a smile. “Thank you, sir.”

His own smile warmed. He also straightened. “Of course.”

They began to walk. Jungeun felt their eyes follow, while the man kept looking over at her. She was glad he didn’t stare at Yerim. Though she was older than all of them, she was still far younger than Jungeun. And she knew enough about how others, specifically mortals saw them. She’d rather ensure those gazes weren’t turned towards Yerim. 

So, giving Yerim a look, Jungeun walked a bit faster towards the guard. He saw her approach and slowed. 

“You can’t tell us anything else?” she whispered, knowing full well that Yerim would hear it. “We’ve walked for hours. If we’re truly not safe, then,” she broke off. Doubt and worry was easy to put on. She was hardly pretending. 

He grimaced, but Jungeun knew he was considering. 

“Please,” she leaned closer, dropping her voice further, “we’ve run from worse than cruel men on the street. I know these woods well.” Which was true. “I’ll take my sister to the next town tonight.”

A shake of the head. “This is no cruel man,” he hesitated, “we hardly know what it is. Some men doubt, but we don’t.”

Jungeun nodded, but didn’t speak. 

“There,” he met her eyes, before nodding as well, “there was a threat to a man’s life. He's near mad with terror. All thought it was lunacy of some other cause, but I saw the house. Where the wraith came in.” He shuddered. “Never have I felt something so false in my life.”

Ice trickled down her neck. Only a few times had she heard of deaths that felt ‘false’ in that way. They were deaths caused by darkness. Only once had Jungeun seen the body. That’d been before the darkness had reached Hyejoo. But if something had happened here because of her?

A threat to a man’s life. It hadn’t been carried out. 

“Was he hurt?”

A shrug. “No one may see him, save healers. He sent his family away. I think he fears they’ll return.”

“And his guards?” Wealthy and powerful mortals always had them. 

“They saw nothing,” he said. “All relieved from duty at the house, but not fully from his service. A few're here.” He glanced at them. "Best not to ask them." 

Jungeun frowned. This human wanted to maintain all of his protection. 

“Forgive me.” The guard lowered his head. “Nothing you’d like to know, I understand.”

She didn’t correct him. She only nodded. From him, she’d heard enough. 

______

Choerry forced a gap between the bushes. The leaves and branches withdrew under her influence, either curling inwards or growing back into their stems completely. 

“These better not whip me,” Jungeun muttered. 

She smiled. “They’ll try their best.”

She hadn’t come to the Astra with the best grasp over her magic. She’d all but mastered control over earth, but plants hardly obeyed her. Jungeun and Jinsoul had taught her about light and how to broaden her original magic. 

But of course, that hadn’t been enough. She’d had to develop an eye for the future as well. 

As a child, she’d always found it amazing that there were elves, even witches, who could use their magic to predict the future. 

But for her, instead of reading the stars or having specific dreams (though those also came now and then), she read the ground and people. It was almost never neatly presented to her and mostly consisted of feelings about the future, ranging from unsettled to calm, sometimes even excited. 

She rarely liked what she saw. She didn’t like having to hide it. And she didn’t like how it made her feel. 

Like now, she saw the darker path, more grey than anything else. That darkness seeped into the other paths along the ground and the stone wall. Hyejoo must've climbed it. 

Seeing it now, she could only remember the day the light had abandoned Hyejoo. The day they'd voted her into exile. 

Choerry hadn’t been able to see then. She was glad she hadn’t. Otherwise, she’d have seen how ruined a bond could become between two people.

But if she’d had the magic then, could she have followed Hyejoo? Could she have gone with her wherever it was she’d gone? 

Time and time again, Choerry had heard that darkness corrupted. Those who said it repeated it, describing how it was the night that allowed dark spirits to be born or created from bright ones. 

She was almost certain that they repeated it to reassure themselves that they’d made the right decision. If you believed that evil was inevitable, that made dispelling any trace of it easier. 

Ironically, Chuu had been one of the main people to deny those beliefs. She’d left the camp with Yves once to go to the emotional fae, some of the most reclusive individuals in all of existence. There they’d asked about light and darkness—big steps for any non-fairy. Choerry could barely tolerate the lessons of the Astra, let alone the ramblings of almost any fairy. 

There, they’d learned that the light could be different kinds of emotion: happiness, calm, excitement, and even love (though how love was supposed to be one emotion, Choerry didn’t know). 

Darkness contained hatred, grief, anger, and fear. It also held sadness. 

Chuu had told her that the benevolent dark spirits probably hold sadness and other non-aggressive emotions. Some might have even had good hidden within them. 

She’d also said that might be the very darkness Hyejoo had. 

But the darkness she saw now held anger. It wasn’t explosive, but it was potent. She could almost imagining the feeling was her own. Almost. 

“Let’s go,” Jungeun whispered. “Her magic’s still on him.”

For a moment, Choerry wondered how Jungeun knew that. Then she remembered that the past and present were much more accessible for the rest. Sometimes Choeryy had trouble seeing what was and what had once been. Chuu has said that Yves had an excellent eye for the past. 

They cut into the hastily repaired wall. The light they used warred with the darkness still within the wood. Each tried to destroy the other. 

Being so close to the darkness now, Choerry realised that the guards weren’t patrolling this part. It seemed an oversight, but she now knew that they felt unsettled here. She wondered how the man felt with the darkness still clinging to him. 

Their path had grown even more pronounced. When they got into the house, she began to follow it. 

Their steps were soft on the floor, but not silent. 

“Who’s there?” The voice trembled. 

Choerry looked to Jungeun, a panic settling in. They weren’t in danger, but how would they do this if he though they were dangerous?

Jungeun just shook her head. “People who can help,” she said. There was no trace of surprise or fear in her eyes. 

No response. 

They kept walking. Choerry could hear his quickened breath and heart. 

She looked at the pouch at her waist. They’d probably have to use that. 

They stopped at the door the path had led them to. Nothing had changed. He wasn’t going to attack them. Probably. 

She opened the door. As a child, she’d loved to go to mortal towns. They’d made countless constructs of wood. The first time she’d come, she’d learned that most people grew terrified of magic if they saw it. Especially if it involved sights they could hardly reconcile—bending trees, fast-growing plants, churning dirt, and deformed doors. 

“Stay there,” the man snapped. He was gaunt with large bags under his eyes. In his hand, he held a sword. His arm shook. His eyes flickered between them, hardly focusing. He looked both furious and terrified. 

“We told you,” Jungeun said softly. “We can help you.”

Choerry saw the darkness wrapped around him. It crept up his legs and was wrapped around his throat. Some was even near his heart. It was both familiar and foreign. Happier memories came to mind, but Choerry was also even more unsettled about what had happened. 

“Help me how?” He raised the weapon higher. He was too far away to be any threat with that. They’d still have to make him feel as if he was one. 

“We’ll only know once you tell us what happened.” Jungeun’s hands were empty. She held them out in front of her, palms up. “We might have some answers for it.” 

He still looked between them with wide eyes. The anger was almost gone, but he looked close to falling into hysterics. 

“We can get rid of the cold,” Choerry said. If a dark spirit ever caught a mortal and they survived, an Astra could get rid of the darkness, while a mental fae took the memories. They couldn’t live their lives normally if they still had one of those things. 

His hands stilled. “How?”

She looked to Jungeun. Would they really tell him about the light? He was already going to have his memory of magic erased, but it could still overwhelm him now. Even more than he’d already been. 

“Just know that we can,” Jungeun gave him a gentle smile, “and that you’re safe here.”

He nodded. The sword was lowered. 

“What happened?” Choerry asked. She could force a smile, but it was almost too bright for moments like this. Jungeun had the softer touch there. 

Luckily, he replied. “I didn’t hear her come in. And when she did, the room turned cold a-and then I couldn’t talk, move—I could barely breathe.” Whatever bravery he’d had left completely. He was only a scared man. “She put something here,” he pointed at his mouth, “and then something here.” He touched his throat. “Said she’d k…kill me if I screamed.” Tears welled up in his eyes. He wasn't mad. He was traumatised. 

Her chest tightened. She gritted her teeth. This wasn’t true. It couldn’t be true. 

“What did she look like?” Choerry asked. 

His brow furrowed. He was quiet for a few seconds. “There were black patches on her skin. She was wearing only dark clothes.”

“Her features,” she said. 

Jungeun shot her a questioning glance. She’d raised her voice too much. 

“I,” he stammered. “Black hair and eyes. Unnaturally so.” His eyes flit between them and the room. “White skin, but like marble, with the darker lines and–” he sat down, deflated, “that’s all I can say, I–I—”

“It’s alright,” Jungeun said. 

It wasn’t enough, but how could they expect him to describe her perfectly? All the other rumours had been about a dark-haired girl and they’d known then that it was Hyejoo. 

Here Choerry also knew it was her. She didn’t want to be right, but the evidence had been at the wall, in the house, and in this man. 

“Why didn’t she kill you?” Jungeun asked. The tender look in her eyes went against the sharpness of her words. 

“I don’t know,” he shook his head, “and I don’t know why she was going to, just–just,” he closed his eyes, “she was sent here.”

“By who?”

“I don’t know.” Another shake of his head. It looked more like a twitch. “I don’t even know what she was.”

Jungeun walked over then. “Keep still now. I’ll take the cold and fear away.” She lifted her hands. “She gave you darkness. I’m going to give you light.”

He nodded. With his eyes as wide and fearful as they were, he looked like a child. 

Choerry felt a brief flash of pity then. The question of who Hyejoo had been set by still remained. And she wanted to know why. Why order this man’s death in particular?

She took her bag and pulled out what she needed. 

“You think that’s necessary?” Jungeun muttered the words in crosesh. Her skin glowed, but her eyes were still brown. She wasn’t risking exposing him to red eyes. 

Choerry nodded. She had to know why. And if she knew why, maybe they’d know more about why Hyejoo hadn’t gone through with it. 

She made sure she had the right things and walked over. Before coming to the Astra, she’d been told to spur the growth of different plants, ground their leaves and roots into powder, or draw out their sap to mix into something else. As she’d gotten older, she’d learned what those mixtures were actually capable of. She’d remembered each and gone out to witches, other elves, and even fairies to learn more mixtures. 

If they ever dealt with more difficult or distrustful mortals, she used them. If she wanted to give Teveril or someone else a few problems, she used them as well. 

“This helps with what we’re doing,” Choerry murmured. “You’ll still be able to move and everything.” 

He hummed. Moonlight had different effects on people: euphoric, calm, giddy, and more. His was combination of two. 

She opened a small wooden box and held it beneath his nose. The powder there would help calm him further. She uncorked a flask and poured some into his mouth. It wasn’t an elixir of truth, but most mortals became more forthcoming through it. Others would call her mixtures drugs. 

Jungeun flinched then. Choerry watched as darkness latched onto her fingers. It shot up Jungeun’s arms, sinking into her skin. Some lingered around her heart. There was still darkness there from a previous spirit. It should’ve been gone by now. 

“Do what you have to.” Jungeun’s tone was too sharp: the darkness had been of anger. Choerry knew why there was so much anger, but knowing it hardly made her feel better. 

“Can you hear me?” Choerry squeezed his shoulder gently. 

“Yes,” he said. He was drowsy, but lucid enough. 

“Why would someone want to hurt you?”

“Many reasons.”

Annoyance flared in her. “What are they?”

“What I’ve done with my wealth, what I’ve achieved and how, my use of power.” He sighed. “But not one could’ve gotten someone like her here. I’d never seen her before. Her face was one I’d remember.”

More forthcoming. He was practically calling Hyejoo pretty, despite what she’d nearly done to him. 

“Would they hate you enough to pay for your death?” 

Jungeun shot her a warning look. 

Choerry ignored it. “What have you done to be so hated? Are there many who’d hire someone, or just one?”

His trembled. “My,” a long pause, “my wife would hate me.”

“They’re not here,” Choerry said. “Your family.” Horrible thoughts came to mind. Hadn't he sent them away?

“No.” He opened his eyes. They sparkled a bit more than normal now. His pupils had constricted. “My first wife.” He blinked once. 

“Did you kill her?”

His eyes widened. 

Jungeun’s hand now gripped Choerry’s shoulder. 

“Did you?” If he had, then that told them even more. If this was the work Hyejoo did, then was she seeking justice for others? Wrongly, but Choerry could better see the reasons why Hyejoo had come all this way. 

“As good as.” A tear fell. “Made her return home in the middle of winter. She’d a carriage, but it was caught in the storm.”

Jungeun stiffened. “Why did she go?”

Choerry recognised the shame in the man’s eyes. She’d seen it plenty of times. She’d felt it as well. 

“Couldn’t have children,” he slurred. 

“So you abandoned her.” Choerry could barely keep her voice from trembling. 

Jungeun didn’t give her a silent warning this time. 

He nodded, looking completely at ease. Did he deserve to escape the fear Hyejoo had given him? She'd given him his life. Wasn't that enough? 

Choerry couldn’t know if this was the reason why Hyejoo had come, but she’d heard enough.

“Others will come,” Jungeun said. “They’ll help you more.” 

“She said others would come too,” he sighed again, “they’ll not reconsider.”

A part of her wondered if those people's success would be a good thing. A part of her felt he deserved it. 

As the thought crossed her mind, Choerry saw the little light in him fade. The sight created a pit of sickness in her stomach. Was it because she wished him dead? Or that the 'others' had decided they were coming in this very moment?

Choerry shoved her thoughts down. His fate was set. They weren't the ones supposed to protect him. He had guards for that. Mortal guards. 

Both of them were silent as they left. Neither said anything as they passed through the town, the inn the guard had found for them forgotten. They just made their way back into the forest, deep in thought. 

There was a dark path leading towards the man’s house. It wasn’t Hyejoo’s, but another’s. Choerry didn’t tell Jungeun what she saw. Her stomach writhed around in response. 

If Hyejoo had known that story, she would’ve come straight here, itching to right a wrong that was similar to hers. If this man had died that day, the justice Hyejoo had sought would’ve been there. 

But he hadn’t. That meant something too. She wasn’t the monster the Astra painted her to be, nor the ‘wraith’ the mortals had deemed her as. Choerry knew this as well as she saw the paths before her now. 

So even if Hyejoo had been enraged by what she’d heard, it hadn’t driven her to kill. 

What did that mean if the man’s fate was still wreathed in darkness?

_______

Olivia stopped where she was. She stared at the two figures in the distance. One had pale hair, the other dark. One was surrounded by a soft light with red streaks in it, the other with purple. She even recognised the way they walked. Jungeun had a stronger stride, while Yerim hadn't lost the light spring in her step. 

Just seeing them called on her anger. She felt how the shadows stretched out towards them. Immediately, she reigned them back in. Of all people, these two were undeserving of that.

Just the thought made her pause. If she saw someone who truly filled her with rage, would she make the shadows crawl to their heart? Would she subject them to the same pain they had her? 

Much of her said yes. 

Olivia swallowed down her discomfort at the thought. She looked at the two figures again. They’d seen her. They'd begun to run. 

Would she run or stay where she was? So much of her wanted to run as well. And the rest wanted to stay and greet them. 

Why were they here? 

They’d realised what had happened. Someone had sent them here. A seer? Or had the news reached the town faster than she’d thought? And they now knew why she was here in the first place. Now all of them would know. 

Alluin had told her that even the Astrans who’d not hated him for his magic had eventually turned against him. Olivia hadn’t known he existed until he’d come to her. Neither Jungeun nor Yerim knew of him either. 

Olivia knew very well how even loved ones could turn away from a person. She knew how quickly it could happen. 

Another decision came then. She made it easily. 

As the two approached, Olivia summoned a blade of darkness. She held it at her side, its point directed at the ground, but she’d drawn a weapon nonetheless. 

Because even if they could be trusted, even if she still loved them, she never wanted to feel the sting of light on her skin. She’d never be surrounded by bars of light. 

“H-Hyejoo?” It was Yerim who spoke. They'd stopped running at least twenty metres away. 

Olivia didn’t respond. She waited. She needed to see them properly. She needed to see their faces clearly and not vaguely as she did now. 

“It’s us,” Jungeun said. “Jungeun and Yerim.” 

“I know,” she rasped. Despite having had her fair amount of exchanges with that damned wolf, she still sounded as though she’d recently shouted herself hoarse. 

Both stiffened. 

And then they were close enough. Jungeun’s red eyes flicked between Olivia’s face and the blade. Yerim’s were only on her. Both sets of eyes were filled with disbelief and relief. Neither of them were afraid. 

What if that was because they knew that they’d find her here? What if they had turned against her in the last years? What if they realised they had a good reason to?

“Why’re you here?” Olivia asked. 

Yerim’s brow furrowed. She opened , but Jungeun spoke first. 

“We found out why you came.”

One question answered. When Olivia looked to the darkness, she saw it in Jungeun. There was both her own, as well as that of a spirit. It was still in her. Olivia felt the urge to take both away, but she forced it down. Not yet. 

“You saw him,” Olivia said instead. She consciously tightened her grip on her blade. Would she really use it? Would she be able to hurt Jungeun and Yerim? 

If they tried to chain her, she knew she would. She knew how capable Jungeun was as a fighter and that Yerim wasn’t that far behind. She knew there’d be a fight if they tried something. 

Jungeun nodded. “And you didn’t go through with it,” she’d stopped looking at the weapon, “we know that now.” 

Even though the words were the truth, Olivia was caught off guard. Her expectations left her. Perhaps it was the time they’d spent apart, perhaps it was that she’d expected Jungeun to be here with Jinsoul and Yerim to be smiling brightly. Perhaps she’d expected them to act as if nothing had changed, to act in a way that would justify Olivia’s anger. 

She’d expected them to turn on her now that they had a reason too. 

And nothing was to her expectations. 

She absorbed the blade. Both sets of eyes went to her hands. They’d see the darkness crawl up her hand and coat her skin. 

Olivia expected fear. 

It didn’t come. 

“You got it under control?” Yerim took a small step forward. 

“I had a teacher,” she admitted.  

Jungeun’s brow furrowed. “How?”

They didn’t know Alluin existed. He was hidden in the same way Olivia would one day be. 

Her anger returned. 

“I wasn’t the first to be cast out.”

Yerim’s eyes widened. Jungeun’s didn’t. 

Olivia repeated her question. “Why're you here? Did the seers know? Or did you hear a rumour?”

Yerim and Jungeun exchanged a look then. It wasn’t secretive, but it was a silent conversation. 

Olivia didn’t feel unnerved by it. How many times had she watched Jungeun and Jinsoul have a similar exchange? Or Heejin and Hyunjin. How many times had she herself had those with another?

Her hands formed fists. Having two reminders of home brought other memories to the forefront. They reminded her of why she’d been tempted to run. 

“I’m a seer,” Yerim said. “It started after you were—after.” 

Olivia didn’t need to ask what that meant. “So the moon led you here,” she frowned, “to me.” 

Another nod. “No one else knows,” Yerim’s voice was reassuring, “not until—”

She cut her off. “No one else can know.”

Again, Yerim looked surprised. “What do you mean?” 

Olivia frowned. How could she not see it? Olivia was about to snap those very words at her that when she realised how her frustration had spiked. 

She took a deep breath. “Astrans tried to chase after me once.” And if they hunted her down, then something would happen. She knew that much. 

Yerim looked to Jungeun then. Years had passed and she’d grown more serious. But now it seemed as though those years hadn’t passed. Olivia still remembered how she’d looked that day. She remembered the horror in Choerry's eyes. 

“Okay,” Jungeun said. Her gaze was sad. “But are you okay?” She also walked closer. Two steps this time. 

Olivia was tempted to back away. No one had come this close unless it was in a fight. She’d not come so close to someone unless it was to threaten them. 

She didn’t. 

“Are you eating properly?” Jungeun’s brow rose. 

Olivia snorted. “That’s what you’re asking me?” She could feel the corners of her lip tugging up already. 

She shrugged. “Are you?”

“I will be.” Today she’d make a proper fire. Then she’d have a good dinner when she got back to the cave. 

Both of them seemed to want to ask something else. 

Instead, Yerim leapt forward, wrapping her arms around Olivia’s shoulders. 

She couldn’t help but stiffen. She expected Yerim’s skin to burn her. She expected her own anger to rise and her control over the darkness to falter. She expected the cold to surge. 

All that came was the warmth of Yerim’s arms. Then came a second pair, even warmer than the first. Olivia would’ve known who it was any day. 

“You’re freezing,” both said. 

Of course she was. The darkness held no warmth. She’d grown so accustomed to it. It’d made fires far warmer than before, while sunlight and summer had become more than uncomfortable for her. 

They both tightened their grip on her. 

It was then that Olivia felt a strange lightness settle over her. To be held again and so close to people she’d known so well—it was a dream come to reality. 

But dreams had their ends. So would today. 

Olivia patted their backs and pulled away. The cold returned to her. She saw that Yerim had begun to cry. Jungeun’s eyes looked glassy as well. 

Olivia’s eyes were dry. 

They remained as such when she broke the peaceful silence. “Don’t try and find me again.”

Yerim’s brow furrowed. She opened , looking more lost than she had before. 

“How will we know you’re safe?” Jungeun asked. 

“You don’t have to know,” Olivia replied. “But can’t seers tell that sort of thing?” She glanced at Yerim. 

She shook her head. “I only knew this path existed a few days ago. Before that there,” she faltered, “there was nothing.”

Immediately, there was a curl of darkness. Yerim had lied. Did Olivia need to know what the truth was?

No.

“Why can’t we see you?” Yerim asked. “We just found you again. All we ever heard were stories.”

“A lot of them true,” Olivia finished. Hadn't they called her a wraith? 

Yerim's brow furrowed again. She was worried again. Not disgusted. Neither was Jungeun. 

“You start coming to see me and others will notice.” She sought out the darkness in Jungeun and Yerim. She held out her hands. “I'll take away what you took from him. It doesn't hurt me." 

They did. Without asking. They trusted her. 

She took the darkness back. Some of it was familiar. The other part of it something she could bear. Thin black trails slithered over her fingers and up her wrists. It made her anger shift where it sat. Her grip on their hands tightened. She let go. 

“If you keep coming, someone may try to follow.” Olivia paused. She couldn’t bear Yerim’s wide purple eyes. She couldn’t hold Jungeun’s warm gaze either. Both reminded her too much of home. Both reminded her of everything she’d lost. “And I don’t know what I’ll do if I see them.” 

Them. That could’ve been anyone of the Astra, save for a few people. Her fingers itched at the prospect of wrapping someone in darkness, of taking hold of an Astran’s shadow. 

She closed her eyes. 

“And if we do come?” Yerim asked. “They’ll know of what happened soon, if they don’t already. What if Yeojin wants to know you’re alright? What if Heejin or Haseul need to make sure you’re safe?”

Olivia flinched with each name. “I’ll leave.” Again. But even as she said the words, she didn't know if she'd truly leave. She'd evade, yes, but not run fully. 

“But—” 

“I’m not coming back,” she snapped. 

This time, both of them winced. 

Olivia looked to see if the darkness had reached them. It’d strengthened, but no trace of it had fallen onto the two elves. Had her tone scared them?

“Go back,” Olivia muttered. “Don’t follow me, don’t consider the direction I’ve gone.” She held each of their gazes. “And get people to that town quickly. There'll be another attack.”

She didn’t add that even if his memories of Olivia were erased, he’d still be a target. Years could pass and he’d still not be safe. Maybe even a human assassin would carry out the job. Either way, his fate was set. 

“Who was it who sent you?” Jungeun asked. She still looked disheartened, but there was also some unease. 

Olivia wondered if it mattered if she said it or not. Would it be considered some sort of betrayal? Did that matter?

“He’s like me,” Olivia said. She quickly looked around the forest. No spirits had been alerted by her anger or the distress of the other two. Not yet. “His name’s Alluin.”

There was no recognition in their eyes. Just confusion. 

“He helped me.”

Jungeun’s question had an edge. “Then why’d he send you to kill someone?” 

“They help mortals do what they cannot,” she replied. “That includes killing.”

The elf’s lip twitched at that. Olivia briefly thought of what Jungeun had done in the past. The Astra still had use for her capabilities, but they hadn’t needed to use it for a while. Except for Jungeun’s patrols. 

Olivia turned around. 

“Wait,” Yerim called. Before Olivia could even stop, her question came. “Why’d you leave him?”

Because she didn’t want to kill someone? Olivia had realised that she could’ve gone back if she’d wanted to. She knew she wouldn’t have been banished for not doing something. 

No, there was a reason, one that wasn’t an excuse. 

“I didn’t need to stay.” She’d learned what she’d needed to. She’d seen what she’d needed to see. 

Neither of them said anything. 

Olivia kept walking. 

Neither of them followed. She heard them start to walk the other way instead. 

A part of her felt disappointed. While she would’ve hated if they’d have followed, she did long to be going back with them. They were going home. 

She dismissed that notion. Their home was no longer hers. To go back would be to subject herself to bars. To go back would be to see those who’d her. 

As she walked, she searched the forest for spirits. There were some bright ones nearing the two, but they were the benevolent kind. Nearing her were two darker spirits. The wolf spirit was nowhere near. It’d actually remained in the cave when she’d left for the town. She’d heard how the news of her attacking the mortal had spread around the town. She’d watched the guards begin to patrol the edges of the town and along its roads. All because of her and who else may come. And all of it would be ineffective. 

If Jungeun and Yerim had managed to sneak into the house without alerting any guards, then the mortal had no chance. 

Then she felt it: a sense of something wrong in the air. It was familiar to her. It was the darkness that came with death. 

Olivia didn’t know how it worked, nor what her limit was, only that she knew someone was nearing. Their intentions were shrouded in shadow. She’d learned that feeling it to the extent she did now meant something less than ideal. 

Keeping one eye on the light to her back and the other on the new presence, she walked on. She vaguely recognised them. Not enough, but the hairs on her neck stood on end. 

She summoned another blade. Alluin had once said the one thing he’d never do was turn against one of his own. He’d also said she was free to go whenever she wanted. She didn’t know if she still fell into the first camp after leaving it. Was this another precision-based wordplay that the political mind enjoyed?

The newcomer had come to a stop. Were they expecting her?

Sure enough, she saw them in the next minutes that passed. 

“Ho, deserter,” they said. He was a fairy, but his crosesh was exceptional. His eyes were a deep blue. She knew him to be Taegen. 

“Why’re you hear?” Olivia asked. Not for the first time. 

He shrugged. “Straight to the point.” The corner of his lip tugged up. “There’s still money to be had. That wench’s angry at the delay and newfound attention, but she’ll still pay.”

That meant the mortal woman truly wanted him dead. 

The darkness around him made more sense. The realisation made her heart sink. 

“You killed him.”

Taegen didn’t respond, but his smile remained. It didn't make him truly cruel, she'd learned that over the years. It just meant that human life was worth very little to him. 

And his presence here meant that Olivia's actions hadn't mattered. No matter how many would've spared him, the mortal had been dead. 

“He had a family.” Had they been in the house as well? Were they also dead now? She hadn’t seen their faces. 

His brow rose. “You care for that sort of thing?” he asked. “Had they not died, your parents would’ve also thrown you out.” A hum. “So I’d always assumed you were an orphan. Makes for a less tragic story." 

The words tugged at an older wound. Although he was right, the light tone made her angry. She let it grow. 

“Did he send you?” 

“For the job,” he smirked, “not after you, Olivia. If you feared today was your end, it isn’t.”

She only nodded. 

His eyes went one way. Olivia knew what he looked at. “Who’s over there?”

“Elves.” 

The darkness around him made her feel even colder. Then it surged. 

“Astrans.”

“No.” It was both a truth and a lie. 

A smile. “Light smells.” His eyes narrowed. 

“They weren’t born with it,” she said. Too quickly. “One has fire, the other earth magic.”

“Then I’ll take the sapling,” Taegen replied. “You’ll have the flame.”

She couldn’t believe her eyes. 

He looked perplexed. “I know what they did. And with lesser numbers, that group of bigots get weaker.” 

Briefly, Olivia wondered why that would matter. 

“You won’t be able to fight them.” Not if he wanted to win. 

“You will,” Taegen drew out a blade, “and they won’t be able to fight this.”

Then he was off, his footsteps soundless. The illusions of the fae. She’d started learning a spells for that in Alluin’s camp. From another fairy. 

She watched the darkness sharpen. She watched it extend itself, wrapping around two elves. He’d made a decision. 

So had she. 

She grasped his shadows and wrenched him back. His arm clipped the tree. 

He looked stunned. “Let me go,” he hissed, “and he’ll not learn of what you’ve just done.”

Amazingly, she knew he meant it. 

Olivia reached out to the blade of darkness. It was Alluin’s. It held only rage. It drew on Taegen's own darkness. 

It flew into her hand. Her lip curled. She fed it even more darkness. 

“Fight me for it.” 

Taegen growled.

The air turned static. A bright light streaked through the air. Too quick to dodge. 

It struck her chest. She flew back. Her skin burned. 

Blood coated her tongue. She’d bitten it. 

She forced his shadow to solidify. She drove it into his legs. 

He screamed. 

Olivia scrambled away. Another bolt hit her back. Mortals died if struck by lightning. She just burned. 

Her jaw was numb. All that left her now was a groan. 

Keep moving. She started running, feeling disconnected from her body. She let the darkness coat her skin. She forced Alluin’s blade to break into several shards. 

She threw each of them, spacing them out to catch him if he dodged. 

Taegen summoned lightning. Deafening cracks broke the silence. The sparks shattered the darkness. Not all of it. 

Olivia twisted the remaining shards. One sliced his cheek, while the other buried itself into his shoulder. 

He snarled. The anger would help to blind him. 

She dove to the side, rolling across the ground as she did. A bolt caused a tree behind her to explode. She stopped behind a larger one, letting the darkness spread across her fingers. 

Another crack. The sound of wood shattering followed. 

“Afraid?” His voice was a hiss. 

Olivia smiled. She reached for his shadow. Rather than taking hold, she poured more darkness into it. There’d be fear and anger there. 

A sharp gasp. 

She stepped out from the ruined tree. 

His hands trembled and his eyes were wide. He looked at her, stunned. Then he lunged for her, fingers crackling. 

She let him come, before driving her fist into his chest. The impact sent a jolt of pain up her arm. She heard ribs crack beneath her hand. 

He lay on the ground, breathing in short bursts. 

Then his legs hooked around her own. She was brought to the ground. She summoned another blade and landed the next blow. She heard him cry out, but didn’t know where she’d gotten him. 

A hand caught her wrist. The sparks across it seared the flesh. She clenched her teeth to stifle the cry. It didn’t work. Instead, it came out as a strangled shriek. 

She forced the darkness of her blood to seep into his skin. 

He recoiled, but she didn’t relent. It kept flowing. She had much to give. 

He began to scream. 

And Olivia felt herself begin to smile. 

Next, she made his shadow tangible. She wrapped it around his arms, legs, and neck. He whimpered. 

She leaned over him. “Afraid?”

Wide blue eyes held hers. The darkness around him held fear and hatred. She still saw the ties leading to death. He still wanted to kill Jungeun and Yerim. 

Olivia called on the remnants of Alluin's blade. She forced them to form a dagger. She lengthened the blade with her own darkness. If Alluin found him, he'd know it was her. And she'd let him. 

She said nothing. No questions, nor threats. 

Instead, Olivia drove the blade into his chest. It was easy. 

Only a whine left him. It was filled with pain. 

She left the blade there. She got to her feet. 

In that moment, she realised she wasn’t alone. 

She looked up. Instead of grey eyes, she saw pained purple and red ones. There might’ve been some sort of understanding in the scarlet ones. 

Olivia ran before she saw it. The shadows came to her readily. It was a cold and tight embrace. 

Her eyes burned. They weren’t tears for the fallen fairy, nor for the killing itself. He would’ve done the same. 

No, they were for what those two sets of eyes might’ve seen. There’d been horror in purple eyes. She’d seen sympathy and regret in the red ones. 

Briefly, she considered turning back. What if they could help her? What if Jungeun would tell her of her past experience in battle? 

Olivia pushed those thoughts away. She’d made each of her decisions. She’d already crushed whatever hope they’d had before of her coming back. She wouldn’t do anything to revive that hope. 

_______

They were left with the dying man. By the looks of it, he was a fairy, but in this moment, that didn’t matter. 

Olivia's words still in both their heads, they didn't follow her. Choerry had wanted to, but she knew Jungeun would've stopped her. 

Instead she looked down at the fairy. 

He’d wanted to kill them. Choerry had felt the moment his attention had shifted to them. She’d watched the light of others start to fade before, either on the day they’d been attacked or killed. She’d seen it before with the mortal. She’d never seen it happen to herself. 

The path in front of them had stopped some paces away. Jungeun’s light had flickered, but only that. Choerry’s had properly begun to leave her. 

And then it’d all stopped. The path home had reformed. Choerry had made them turn back, telling Jungeun to expect a fight. 

The sounds of said fight had reached them then. The taste of metal had been in the air. The cold had been immense. 

Then they saw them. Two figures, one wreathed in lightening, the other in darkness. 

How many stories had Choerry heard in villages and towns of the ‘wraith’? Some of them had actually been true, others fabricated out of the fear of mortals. 

When they’d seen the two then, Choerry had understood why they’d given her that name. She’d discovered why the man had trembled at the mention of her. 

Olivia had moved swiftly, her face partially obscured by shadow. Her eyes had held anger. All that Choerry had felt from the darkness, she’d seen on display in Olivia. 

The worst had been the faint smile. It’d reminded her of the special smiles Hyejoo had had before, as well as the rare grins and loud laughter she’d let out. And today she’d worn a hint of that before killing another. 

The fighting had ended before they could step in. Choerry knew she wouldn't have been able to either. 

And yet, as she looked down at the fairy, she didn't pity him, nor did she want to save him. Jinsoul would’ve. 

“When he’s gone, make the sigil to send him off,” Jungeun said. 

Choerry looked at her. “You’d give him a farewell?” Only then did she register Jungeun’s words: when she’s gone. Jungeun would let him die as well. 

“You want the people who sent him to come looking?” Her expression was unusually cold. Then she looked to the fairy. A muscle in her jaw tightened. She went over. 

Choerry could only watch as Jungeun knelt down. 

Gingerly, Jungeun took hold of the blade and wrenched it out. Blood sputtered from the wound. 

A strangled noise left him. Within seconds, the fairy froze. Dead. 

Jungeun dropped the blade. She flexed her hand. The skin was red and had black threads. They wound up her arm. Her face didn't change. 

Choerry watched as the darkness wound itself around Jungeun’s heart. Her light began to fade. 

______

Author's Note

A chapter very focused on one set of characters. A tad rare for this story, but it felt wrong to interrupt what was happening. Instead, I had perspective shifts and small jumps in time. I also really wanted to explore Choerry's character some more. When I say I love writing for these characters, I really mean it. Their stories are connected, but they all feel very distinct to me when writing. I can only hope they read that way as well. 

Thank you for supporting this story as you have, be it subscribing, commenting, or reading! In the times we're living in currently, I've found some light in it through writing. Sometimes, either intentionally or unintentionally, the way the world has been working (or not) seeps into my stories and their themes. Even though it's through a much more fantastical lens, prejudice plays a large role in this story. While that lens affects the way the characters act and their beliefs have their own reasons for existing (most of which are not applicable to our world), the world of TLotL is changing, just as ours is. I wanted to write about twelve characters living through that change, while exploring a new form of magic and different character relationships.

Would love to know your thoughts, either on how things will progress or what you think about what has already happened. 

Stay safe and healthy. See you next chapter!