Hyunjin was back on the cliff again. She was starting to hate it. She wasn’t supposed to move much. The light she got was supposed to go to her heart, not any of her strength. That was something that didn’t speak for the Astra. If they didn’t have any light, they were weak. Even though it was rare, if anyone attacked them, they did it during the day and when the moon was either gone, or in its late or early stages. 

Hyunjin felt that weakness now, but so much more pronounced. She had no light at all. Briefly, she wondered what would happen if she had no light whatsoever. Hyejoo had lived most of her life that way. She’d found ways around it. 

But what happened when if you suddenly lost that part? What would Hyunjin do if everything she did was based on the light? Every good and bad thing she’d done had been through the light. Without it, would she be of any use? Would she hunt animals instead of spirits? Would she become a messenger, instead of going on patrol or even guard? 

She shook her head. She’d had this before. When she’d first come into contact with a bright spirit, she’d lost the light for a day. That’d been terrifying, but Yooa had reassured her that it would returned. And it had. 

This had lasted several days and she wasn’t feeling any signs of it coming back. Still, she needed to hope. The light did give her some relief. She was still tied to it in some way. She had to hope that connection would strengthen. 

“Did you already eat?” 

That voice. It still eased the tension in Hyunjin’s shoulders. It still made her want to smile. 

It also reminded her of days filled only with one other person, when they’d spoken about all that they loved. That had included each other. 

Hyunjin stiffened. She wouldn’t smile. She wouldn’t relax. They couldn’t talk about that stuff anymore. 

“Yes,” she said. “And I don’t need anything else.”

“I didn’t bring anything,” Heejin replied. 

“But you would’ve gone back,” Hyunjin finished. And gotten her exactly what she liked. Her tastes hadn’t changed much in the past century. Neither had her feelings. 

Her stomach twisted. She hated that she hadn’t changed how she’d wanted to. She’d hardened over the years, but that was all. She’d only grown a better shell. She hadn’t been able to grow any stronger otherwise. 

There were footsteps, gentle and tentative. Heejin was coming closer. 

Already, Hyunjin could feel the ease that threatened to overcome her. Another reminder that it would be so easy. She could fall back into laughter and smiles, even embraces. Heejin wouldn’t oppose it. She’d welcome it. And so would Hyunjin. 

But no one else would, she told herself. As always, the thought filled her with disappointment. It brought back the pain of having a love she couldn’t pursue. She was almost pulled into a state of self-pity. 

Hyunjin drove those feelings down. She just thought of wanting to be alone. 

“What’re you doing here?” She didn’t look up. Meeting Heejin’s eyes just made it worse. 

“You need as much light as you can get.”

“I don’t need it,” Hyunjin said. “So if there’s something else you need to do, then do it.”

“Am I not allowed to be here?” Heejin asked, a hint of defensiveness creeping in. 

“What do you think?” Hyunjin snapped. “We’re not going to be training until this is over.” She didn’t bother hiding her scowl. 

If the tone had hurt her, there was no sign of it. “So what now, I can’t see how you are? I can’t give you what I can spare?” It was the voice she used in discussions. The one she used when she was pretending. 

“I’m being helped already,” she said. “And there’re others. You’re not visiting any of them.” She sighed. “People notice.” Why could Heejin not notice that herself? Did she just not care? 

“You’re worse off than them,” Heejin replied. “The others are healing.” 

Hyunjin spotted worry then. She looked away. “I’m feeling better. The healing’ll come later.” 

No response, but Hyunjin knew she was trying to think of one. She knew Heejin’s brow would be furrowed. She knew the exact sort of doubt and concern that would be looking back at her. 

“Honest,” Hyunjin said. “Stop worrying.” And stop coming here. 

Briefly, she wished she could let Heejin stay. She wished she could accept whatever soft looks would be sent her way. She still couldn’t believe that there was still room in Heejin’s heart for her. 

Then she chided herself for that. When she’d realised that Heejin loved her as much as she did her, she’d been ecstatic. And that joy still lingered. She knew Heejin had loved her. She knew she still did in some way or another. Hyunjin still loved her, just as much as she had then. 

And that shouldn’t have been. 

There was a small glow to the side. Hyunjin watched as a large piece of light was laid down beside her. 

“Don’t tell me you don’t need it. The healers say you need a lot more than you’re getting.” 

“You don’t have to be the one to give me that.”

“So should I get Arin?” Heejin asked. 

Hyunjin looked at her. The tone of voice irked her. She didn’t know why. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“I’m not blind, Hyunjin,” she replied. “And I have ears too.” The hurt was very clear in her eyes. 

Hyunjin scoffed. “I’m not sure if you’re allowed to be jealous here.” It wasn’t fair. Heejin was bound to someone else. As far as Hyunjin knew, there was no one. She was almost glad. It wouldn’t be fair to them. 

Heejin flinched. It made Hyunjin regret her words, but she bit back her apology. 

“I’m glad if you have someone,” she said slowly. “So I can go get her if it makes you feel better.” 

“You don’t have to get anyone.” Hyunjin forced herself to look up at the sky. She wished Heejin would go. She needed her to leave. Years of frustration were bubbling up. No one was supposed to see that, least of all Heejin. “I just need to be alone.” 

She wanted to tell her that Arin was a friend. Someone she was occasionally closer to than a friend. Hyunjin could see them being more, if she wasn’t constantly reminded of someone else. 

But she couldn’t say that. She couldn’t say anything that would heal the distance between them. 

“I’ll go,” Heejin said. “But take the light first.” She pushed the moonlight closer. Hyunjin could feel its warmth. She longed to reach for it. “It’ll at least get rid of the cold.”

The unyielding gentleness in her voice. The way it was genuine now and not joined with forced patience. Something in her snapped. 

“I don’t need your help,” Hyunjin snarled. She took it and threw it away. It hit a tree with a sharp crack. “I didn’t when I left and I don’t now.” 

Heejin didn’t reply, but she was looking at her. She hardly seemed phase. 

It filled Hyunjin with two different feelings. One wanted to smile at Heejin’s patience. The other wanted to yell for her to leave her alone. 

She did neither. 

“Please take it.” Heejin held out her hand. The moonlight floated onto her palm. It'd broken into two pieces. “Or I’ll get someone else to come, but that’ll take longer.” She was avoiding her eyes. 

Hyunjin looked at it. It was too much. She shouldn’t have been receiving the half of it. 

She put her hand on top of one piece and drew in half of that. It warmed her immediately. She felt the weight in her chest lighten. It was as if she could breathe again. Not even the light in the waterskins was able to do that. 

“Thanks,” she said, taking her hand away. “Keep the rest. Or give it to Jinsoul for the others who’ll need it.”

Heejin didn’t look like she agreed. Of course she didn’t. But she took the light back. Her eyes glowed brighter, as did her skin. It made her look more ethereal than normal. 

Hyunjin looked away. Her eye caught on something. 

In the distance, a subtle surge of light took form. 

Hyunjin watched it. The figure held a mixture of darkness and light. The darkness wasn’t anything dangerous. If anything, it seemed a lot like what the benevolent dark spirits held. And the light was always gentle, never too bright. 

She knew exactly who it belonged to. 

“Darie’s here,” she said. 

Heejin followed her gaze. She’d still been looking at Hyunjin. 

“Let’s go see her.” She got to her feet. Her hand stretched out, before it fell. 

Hyunjin pushed herself to her feet. What she’d said to Heejin before came back to her. How she'd actedd...

She’d been unfair. She’d let the darkness get the best of her. And she’d snapped. 

She was tempted to apologise, but it looked like Heejin was focusing on reuniting with the fairy. 

So Hyunjin started walking in that direction. Maybe it was better if she didn’t apologise. Maybe it was better not to correct Heejin about Arin. 

She wasn’t sure. And she didn’t want to think about that now. 

_____

Haseul knelt down, plucking a few herbs. She looked over to Yeojin’s side to see her squinting between two different plants. 

“Right is the one for the sleeping draught,” she told her. “Left one stings. We don’t need those.”

Yeojin took from the right one and put it in her bag. 

They were gathering for Yerim’s elixirs. The potency of naturally grown crops was usually more than her own, so Yerim always ended up gathering by herself. Usually, gathering was left to Jungeun and Jinsoul. 

But Jinsoul was tending to the next round of the injured, while Jungeun didn’t have enough light to be away from camp. 

Yerim had planted several different areas with the plants she wanted. She’d never left them in one place. Apparently, that took up too much of the energy within the earth. They also had to be further away from camp for that reason. Haseul had never understood that, but she hadn’t questioned it either. Jinsoul had explained that the effect was actually there when compared to the plants within the camp. It didn’t apply to fruits or vegetables, only herbs with ‘magical’ properties. 

That meant that most of the gathering just involved going to the little outcroppings of Yerim’s massive garden. 

Yeojin had volunteered to do it. Haseul had had the time to go with her. They hadn’t done much together in a few months. 

“How’d you do it before?” Yeojin asked. She was moving on to the little bush with leaves and strange looking berries. The leaves were mixed into potions. The berries were used for a healing salve. How Choerry had kept all of this in her head was a mystery to Haseul. All she knew was which ones were the most important. And that was all they needed to gather tonight. 

“Before Yerim?” She straightened, stretching out her back. Her body was capable of a lot, kneeling on the ground, bent over several plants, wasn’t included. She’d have to work on that. “We traded much more than we do now. It got less when Jinsoul came, but we get by even better when Yerim came along.” That wasn’t the only thing the two brought, but Haseul was sure Yeojin knew full well why it was good to have the two here. 

“So the light doesn’t really heal everything?” Yeojin’s voice was level. Haseul didn’t know what to make of that. 

“No,” she said. “We survive a lot, but we still need help.” 

Yeojin didn’t respond. She was just looking at the ground now, an unreadable look on her face. 

Haseul put a hand on her shoulder. “We should get to the next area.”

Yeojin stood, but the movement was slow. “Did you ever think the moon knew that they’d help us this much?” she asked. “All three of them. Jungeun’s patrols and protection, Jinsoul’s healing, and Yerim’s magic?”

And that was a tricky question, one that went straight into what you believed the moon was capable of, even what exactly it was. Some believed it was sentient, others thought it was just a force of nature, like time. Haseul was stuck somewhere in the middle. 

“I didn’t know why they got the light,” Haseul admitted. “Why were we born into the Astra and not a different clan?” 

Yeojin started walking. The light around her had dimmed. 

“What’s bringing this on?” Haseul asked. She wished she could take her hand, but Yeojin wasn’t in the mood. She just needed to let out her thoughts. 

“I want it to make sense,” Yeojin said. “The moon, Yerim,” she sighed, “Hyejoo.” She looked †o Haseul, doubt evident in her expression. “If we have people who can see the future, that means it’s set. So why were Yerim and the rest meant to come here. Why was Hyejoo supposed to get darkness instead of light?” 

The words were pouring out. Probably countless times spent remembering that day and wanting to know how it had gone wrong. How they had gone from being a family to something fractured. Haseul had had those same questions. 

And she hadn’t gotten any answers. 

Yeojin’s gaze softened. “I know,” she said. “None of us know the answer to that.” She scoffed. “I don’t even think the seers do either. They just know that it’s happening.” Pause. “It’s what they all do with what they know about the future. If Hyejoo’s future is dark, then she’s not supposed to be alive, but she is.” Anger was filling her eyes again. “We didn’t know what it really meant, but we were going to stand by her. Alluin was banished and now he’s the reason why people are dying, but they didn’t know that then.” 

Haseul glanced around to see if anyone was listening. She’d be able to salvage that. While people were used to Haseul saying things like this, they weren’t exactly as accepting of Yeojin doing the same. Even if what she was saying was right. 

“Both times,” Haseul said, hoping what she said wouldn’t be misunderstood. “People not knowing meant they were scared.” 

Yeojin opened , irritation entering her expression. 

“Wait,” she lifted her hand, “that never meant it was right. We weren’t afraid of Hyejoo. We knew she wouldn’t do that. They would’ve too, if they’d bothered to listen.”

“And the others?” Yeojin shot back. “Gowon knew Hyejoo better than any of us. She should’ve known that Hyejoo would’ve never hurt us, but you’re telling me she was scared?”  

Haseul remembered the way Gowon had looked after that spirit. She hadn’t been scared when they’d taken the three into that clearing. She hadn’t even looked scared when they’d left them. It was only after she’d seen that one spirit. And Haseul still didn’t know what had looked back at her. 

“I am,” she said. “And I know that everything they were thinking wasn’t right, but they weren’t doing it because they hated her.” She still didn’t know exactly why, but she was sure that the warnings of other people, elders or seers, had played a part in it. Haseul rarely truly listened, something that had made things more complicated than she’d expected. 

“So you didn’t drag them out at the end of the night, because you hated them?” Yeojin asked quietly. Her face didn’t suggest what she felt about it.

Haseul froze. 

“After Hyejoo escaped,” her brow furrowed, “I followed you to the clearing.” She paused, her brow furrowing further. “They deserved it.” Her expression turned into one of an intense anger. 

Haseul didn’t like seeing it. It also reminded her of how much more she should’ve done after they had exiled Hyejoo. She should’ve pushed down her anger and helped Yeojin handle hers. Instead it had been left to fester. 

“I,” Yeojin trailed off, “I almost wish you hadn’t gone to help them.” 

“What?” Haseul’s heart sank. “Don’t think like that.” 

“I don’t,” Yeojin said. “Not anymore.” Her gaze was fixed on the canopy above them. “But at the time I had. That means I’ve got a darker side, don’t I?” 

“It just means you were angry,” she told her. “And that you’re still angry.” She brushed some of Yeojin’s hair from her face. “And I am too.” 

“But at them?” she asked. “They kept what you did a secret. You still treat them fine.”

“I’ll never excuse what they did,” Haseul replied. “But it doesn’t make sense to make enemies out of them.”

Yeojin sighed. 

“You’re allowed to be angry.”

“I looked for her,” Yeojin said. “I went to the village and the city near that.”

She knew that. Hyunjin had followed her. Yeojin had snuck out multiple times. Haseul had always assumed she'd been trying to look for her. Either Hyunjin or Yerim had gone after her. Sometimes Heejin as well. And Yeojin hadn't gotten into much trouble with the humans, only ever with spirits and the occasional wolf or vampire.

“And then it was a few months later that she killed those humans,” Yeojin said quietly. “You never told me.” She scowled. “But you let me find out about everything else. Now.”

“We didn’t tell you that,” Haseul replied. “Because,” she trailed off. 

She gave her a look. “You can’t even tell me why?” 

“I didn’t want to believe it.” None of them had. Hyejoo had never been a killer. She’d preferred to help Jinsoul and Yerim when it came to healing. “And I knew you wouldn’t either.” She saw it in orange eyes now. The confusion. The pain. It reminded her of that day. The day when those eyes had been filled with horror. 

“And then there was that human,” Yeojin murmured. “I asked around. People told me he’d deserved it.” 

“People don’t deserve to die,” Haseul said. Of all things that could happen now, she didn't want Yeojin's thoughts to go there. “Maybe they deserve to be hurt, or maybe they don’t.”

“And if they cast someone out?” she asked. “Where’s the justice for someone who’ll just escape those mortal prison? Where’s the justice for the people who’ll keep suffering if they’re left to act?”

“You still don’t kill them,” Haseul shot back. “What if the spirits were actually alive? Their darkness spurs them to kill one of our own, so do we kill it?”

Yeojin looked lost in her own thoughts. About killing and when it was supposed to be allowed. When had this happened? How had Haseul not noticed it before?

“But these are humans,” Yeojin replied. “They can’t be changed by giving them light.” A pause. “They’re also mortal. They change a lot in that little time. These ones changed for the worst.” 

“You can’t take either away.” Haseul took her hand. 

She pulled away. “And what about you? Or Jungeun?” Her brow rose. “Both of you've killed more than Hyejoo has, but no one’s saying you’re monsters.”

“Not here,” Haseul replied. “But there’re elves and fairies who tried to kill me the moment they saw me. They’d wanted revenge for what I’d done to their families.” She brought them both to a halt. “And don’t forget how they treated Jungeun when she came here. Don't forget that people tried hunting her down," she forced Yeojin to look at her. "And remember what we thought of her coming here. Remember that she was the one who broke that image." 

Of all of them, Jungeun had probably faced the worst because of her past. She was still up against it if they came across the wrong people. She also carried the burden of that, even if others had decided to move past it. 

And none of them were numb to that. Not Yves, not Haseul, and definitely not Jungeun. Even Hyunjin, whose time with Hyojung’s group had had its own share of violence, was followed by something. She didn’t seem like she was close to talking about it, but Haseul hoped she would eventually. It never did well to keep that bottled up. 

“I did what I did, because the ones I was fighting would’ve killed me,” Haseul said. “I wish I’d never had to, but it was the only thing I’d been useful for.” She’d never told this to Yeojin. She’d only ever opened up to Jungeun about it. “And now I can kill people more easily than you could.” 

Yeojin didn’t say anything. She was just looking up at Haseul with both confusion and something else. Was it horror?

“If we’re following the paths the moon gives us, then I was just following mine. Jinsoul was meant to heal the people she did. Jungeun was meant to protect the ones she did. And Hyejoo was meant to leave us,” Haseul paused, watching as the words sank in. “Some of those things could've been destined, but I hope it wasn't all set in stone. I hope we can actually make our own ways instead of just listening to seers and following the light.” 

Haseul started walking to the next patch of plants. Yeojin followed, but with a few steps delay. What she'd said would've had her slapped across the face once. She had been slapped for voicing that. And it had only cemented her beliefs. She wondered where Yeojin stood there. 

“If we can make that path, then one day,” Haseul continued, hoping that admitting this to Yeojin wasn’t a mistake. “We’ll have Hyejoo back in our lives. It doesn’t matter if that’s what the moon wants, but if she’s supposed to be in Korea again, we'll have the chance to get her back.” 

“And if she doesn’t want to come back?” Yeojin asked. “I wouldn’t want to be back here.”

“Darie isn’t in our coven,” Haseul said, kneeling down again to inspect the mini garden. As always, it was laid out in the form of a sigil. The one for growth. It made sure that they could gather every few days, as opposed to every few weeks. “But she’s a part of our lives.” And the fairy, Dahyun was her real name, had proven to be an actual friend instead of someone who provided occasional help. 

“Haseul,” Yeojin called. 

She turned, hoping she wouldn’t find that Yeojin’s view of her had changed. 

It had, but orange eyes were looking at her with something Haseul could’ve almost thought was respect. 

“I’m sorry I don’t know enough about this,” Yeojin said quietly. “I’m lucky that I haven’t had to do the things you have, but it means I don’t understand the world like you do.” 

“You don’t have to,” Haseul started. 

“I do,” Yeojin cut her off. “I saw it with Vivi. She doesn’t know any of us, but she understands things more than I do. If she’s really done all the things like what I’ve heard, then she’ll get our people more than I do.” She shook her head, an empty laugh leaving her. “I didn’t like Choerry because I didn’t get why she did the things she did.” She sighed. “But I do now.”

Haseul didn’t say anything. She was building up to something. Haseul wouldn’t interrupt that. 

“I want you to help me,” she said. “I want to find what I’m supposed to actually do here.” 

I want to be useful. That was what Haseul heard in that. It was because Yeojin had gone off on her own, before both Hyunjin and Yerim had followed. It was because they’d gotten hurt and Yeojin hadn’t been able to help. 

If she went deeper, it was because Yeojin hadn’t been able to help Hyejoo. She hadn’t even been able to speak up for her on that day. She’d been too distraught by what she’d seen. 

“I’m on patrol tomorrow,” Haseul said. “We’ll start with that?”

The smile that Yeojin gave her was as bright as the moon. And it was joined with all the knowledge that Yeojin had about what Haseul believed, and what she’d done. 

_____

The fairy was, to put it simply, gorgeous. Her hair was a myriad of two shades of blue, one pale, one deep, like the early night sky. Her eyes kept changing from gold to silver. If an elf’s eyes were unnerving, an emotional fairy’s were otherworldly. Their eyes revealed their emotions. Those fairies could put up illusions to cover their eyes, but they rarely did that. 

It was an interesting type of selflessness there. Those fairies could see all of their emotions and know a lot through that, but they also let outsiders see their own feelings. 

Well, you’d know them if you knew how to read the different colours. 

As far as Hyunjin knew, Haseul, Heejin were the best there. She remembered Chuu and Yves being very involved with that as well, also having learned the nuances between different shades of green, grey, and even more. They’d been taught by this fairy in particular. 

In turn, they’d given her light and led her to different spirits, be it a bright one or a dark spirit in the process of turning. The fairy had learned about light, darkness, and their emotional components. On the other hand, they’d learned about how to read the emotional fae. To a small extent at least. 

“I’m Dahyun,” the fairy gave Yerim a smile, “I’ve seen these sorts of injuries before.” Her crosesh was lightly accented, but nothing compared to most fairies and elves. 

“Did you heal them too?” Jinsoul asked. 

The fairy nodded. “But you’ve got to know what I’m offering first.” A mixture of dark blue and yellow appeared. “You may not like it.” She glanced at Hyunjin then, her eyes turning a soft shade of silver. Caution. 

“It works,” Hyunjin said. 

Heejin looked up then. Hyunjin almost wished she wasn’t there. But even then, they needed her here. 

There was just an increased risk that Heejin would learn more about the years they’d spent apart. 

Hyunjin was ashamed of what she’d nearly done then. She’d been desperate. The only person who’d actually pulled her back from that had been Dahyun. And even though the fairy had never been in Hyunjin’s position, she had understood the desire to rip a piece of yourself out. 

And that was exactly what Hyunjin didn’t want Heejin knowing. It didn’t help that Dahyun and Heejin were surprisingly close by elven and fae standards. All it would take was a question and Dahyun would tell Heejin about those years where Hyunjin had sought her help. Things that could very well break her heart. And as much as Hyunjin wanted to be free of the situation, she couldn’t stand hurting Heejin more than she already was. 

“What is it?” Yerim asked, breaking Hyunjin from her worries. That was good. Getting Yerim healed was more important than any sad story of the past. 

“I need to give you this.” Dahyun held out a hand. A chunk of dark blue had formed. 

“Sadness?” Heejin frowned. “Is that necessary?”

Jungeun and Jinsoul shared the same expression of concern. The former even opened , not doubt wanting to protest. 

“It absorbs the light,” Dahyun replied. “Sadness tugs at a lot of emotions, especially ones like she has.” She waved there. “This holds excitement, a twisted form of desire, a strange giddiness, as well as fear.” Her eyes turned a dark gold. Curiosity mixed with concern. 

“Numbing?” Jungeun’s frown faded. There was a strange look in her eyes. Hyunjin recognised it, but for a different reason. Both of them had taken on a strange form of darkness. Both of them were facing a different type of pain. It looked like Jungeun was handling it better than she was, but Hyunjin had known her for long enough to know that this might’ve not been the case. 

One look at Jinsoul showed her that she’d also understood. The concern on her face had strengthened. 

Hyunjin watched as Jungeun glanced at her, before looking away. The look in her eyes vanished, replaced by concentration. 

“This’ll get rid of the burning?” Jungeun asked. Dahyun nodded. “I’ll be able to make a thin coating for the entire leg. Should only be an hour or so.” The piece of emotion melted into a short shimmering length of dark blue. It settled over Yerim’s still glowing ankle. “If this feels truly terrible, we’ll try something else.” Then she stood and left the earthen hut. 

Yerim was looking at the sadness on her leg. Her brow was furrowed. “It’s cold.”

“Yeah?” Jinsoul leaned forward, taking her hand as she did. Her eyes were fixed on the emotion as well. 

“And it lives uptimes to what it means.” She gave them a smile, but it sagged at the edges. 

It was only slight, but the scent of fruit had lessened. The flowers were starting to hang from their stalks. 

“You get used to it,” Hyunjin told her. “And it works fast.” She got to her feet. She was already missing the light. 

Maybe Dahyun would have a solution to the cold. It’d barely faded for her. When others were around, it lessened. 

But once she was alone, she felt as she had after first taking the darkness. If anything, she felt worse. 

She heard someone follow. She didn’t look back. 

“Did you find a lot of bright spirits?” Heejin asked. She was a little bit behind Hyunjin, as if walking beside her would be worse. No, walking together in the first place wouldn't look right to people. 

Hyunjin nearly turned her away completely. She didn't. She still felt guilty for how she'd acted earlier. 

But she didn't plan on apologising. Even if she was feeling better because of the light. Heejin's light. 

“We came across more,” Hyunjin said. She looked up at the moon. She still couldn’t call upon the light. If she tried, something in her started to hurt. It was in both her head and her heart. She could only hope that it’d fade once the darkness subsided. “After we cleared houses and,” she caught herself, “other things.”

“Other things?”

Hyunjin remembered that Heejin could easily ask another person, ranging from Hyojung to Mimi, even Jiho. 

“Mortals fight,” she replied. “A lot.” And usually dark spirits struck. Most not in the form of animals, but they terrified anyone unlucky enough to cross their path. Oftentimes, their already frayed emotions got worse. 

Hyojung followed rumours, as well as indications of the moon. That was either through Jiho’s sight or the divination of witches. Sometimes both. They either fought the spirits or came to the affected after. 

And then there were times when the bright spirits braved an attack. Especially if one of them was weakened. 

“Can Dahyun help you?” 

The question made her pause. She looked over. 

It was almost irritating how the moonlight illuminated Heejin. It made her skin glow softly, while her eyes seem even more alive, the light, dancing within the irises. 

Heejin raised a brow now. “What? It’s not like I forgot what happened.”

“I’m asking her now.” She kept walking. She hoped Heejin would remember some duty of hers and leave. 

Hyunjin fought a sigh. She shouldn’t have been wanting Heejin to leave. She didn’t really want that. She just wanted to speak to Dahyun without worrying about the past being brought up. Especially not to someone who’d be deeply hurt by what she heard. 

But of course, when they reached her, the past had already been brought up. 

Gowon was sitting beside Dahyun. Yves was on the other side, while Chuu sat across from them. 

She felt Heejin stiffen. 

Hyunjin held up a hand. They both stopped. Good, she wanted to avoid a clash. Especially in front of Dahyun. The fairy would see it as a problem she'd want to solve. It'd be out of care for all of them, but this wasn't something an emotional fairy could solve. 

“The grey relates only slightly to the emotion,” Dahyun said. “Because you aren’t really afraid of it.”

Gowon’s voice was unrecognisable from its usual youthful pitch. “Not anymore.” 

“All I see is what hurts you,” she said. “And it draws on none of your emotions, so they aren’t being drained from you.” A pause. "Just not properly felt." There was an edge to her voice. Worry. 

Yves straightened then. “You’re here tomorrow too?” She’d seen them.” 

“You might have to wake up earlier than normal.” There was a little bit of teasing in Dahyun’s voice. She usually told them they were missing out on the day by sleeping through it. Dahyun, of course, didn’t sleep much at all. Apparently, excitement kept her well rested. 

“We will,” Chuu stood, “do you think there’s a—”

“Happiness or calm could soothe the pain,” Dahyun replied. “Try it.” She held out her hand. “You’ll have a faint amount of mine, but most of what you have from before will be brought to the forefront, if that’s alright.”

Gowon got up as well. “We’ll see.” She looked in Hyunjin and Heejin's direction. “Later.” 

Dahyun looked as well. As they neared, Hyunjin saw that her eyes had turned a deep blue. She’d heard as much about Hyejoo’s banishment as Vivi did, but Dahyun had actually known her. She also knew the fallout—almost as well as they did. She knew what each person felt about it. 

She also hadn’t grown enraged at the three who’d turned away. She saw what they felt now. Something none of them could—or would, even if they had the chance. Those who held grudges against Gowon and the rest wouldn’t want to know what guilt they felt. The three in question wouldn’t want to know the extent of Heejin’s anger either. 

Looking at them now, Hyunjin was tempted to tell the three to stay. Whatever the problem with Gowon was, it seemed like a burden to her. And both Chuu and Yves were worried about her. 

But they were already leaving. Hyunjin didn’t want to start another disagreement. And that was inevitable if Heejin looked one of them in the eye. 

Not for the first time, she wished she could mend this bridge. Heejin had been involved with fairies who’d killed their own kind and negotiated with elves they’d fought with. She’d been able to tolerate the sight of them, but couldn’t look past the mistakes of old friends. 

They’d been terrible mistakes, of course, ones Hyunjin hadn’t been able to forgive them, but they’d been made. And in an immortal life, grudges weren’t supposed to be held. At least that was what Hyunjin believed. 

“What happened?” Dahyun was staring at her. “I saw it earlier, but now,” she trailed off. She looked to Heejin then. Someone who Hyunjin had told very little about a lot of things, including her current state. 

Hyunjin almost sighed. As much as she liked Dahyun, the fairy was terrible with social cues, including certain secrets. “I took care of the massacre in the northern town.”

Her eyes flooded with silver—worry. Wonderful 

“What?” Heejin leaned forward. “What’s wrong?”

“There’s anger, rage even,” Dahyun said. “And grief.” 

Hyunjin watched as the fairy’s eyes went from golden confusion to a deeper shade of curiosity. Then dark blue and silver. 

“I don’t feel those things.” Sometimes she felt irritable, even empty. 

“No,” Dahyun nodded, “but do you feel drained?”

Hyunjin wondered what colour her shock was. 

“But your light soothes it?” Dahyun glanced up at the sky. 

She nearly said she couldn’t call upon it. She bit down on her tongue instead and nodded. The light other people gave her eased the ache, before it returned fully again. 

A bit of gold appeared. She didn’t believe her. Not really. 

Thankfully, the fairy didn’t say it aloud. Even then, if Heejin had caught that, she'd definitely remember it. 

“But can we get it out completely?” Worry was starting to enter Heejin’s voice. 

Hyunjin nearly took her hand. 

Dahyun shook her head. “I can’t draw such a thing out, even if it is emotion. Time is always the solution.”

She had tried in other cases. Even tried against the spirits directly. Had Hyunjin and the others not been there during one of Dahyun’s experiments, it would’ve ended a lot worse. Emotional fairies were able to turn the spirits, but the cost of that was a lot. It involved giving away your positive emotions. The more powerful an emotion, the better it was to turn a spirit. Dahyun avoided giving up the stronger emotions, like love and happiness. Most of the emotional fairies avoided that. 

Dahyun had once told her that giving up anything as strong as love or happiness needed to be avoided at all costs. 

While it’d been in response to a very different question, Dahyun had explained the costs of those things. For everyone but the emotional fae, losing an emotion meant becoming incomplete. They either lost entire memories, pieces of their minds, or portions of their soul. Dahyun’s kind could handle it, but that had its own consequences, ones she didn’t even know herself. 

In short, Dahyun had told Hyunjin that giving up a piece of herself would be the most idiotic thing she could do. Fairies could be blunt when they wanted to. 

It won’t get rid of your pain, she’d said. And if you loved her once, you’d just love her again, but you’d not be fully yourself. 

“I can make you a mixture,” Dahyun said now. “Bring some of your own emotions to the forefront and have a few trace things of my own there.” 

“What about mine?” Heejin asked. “Can you give her those?”

Dahyun’s eyes turned sad again, but there was also dark green. That meant she was happy at the same time. About what? 

“It’s unwise for you to share like that. Especially if it doesn’t help.”

“Doesn’t help?” she repeated. Her brow was furrowed. The worry was slowly becoming desperation. 

Hyunjin put a hand on her arm. “We’ll wait to see what happens.” As far as she knew, very few had gotten the darkness of a person stuck in their hearts. They’d only ever dealt with that of spirits and sites of devastation. 

Heejin held her gaze. Hyunjin felt a slow warmth build in her chest. Was it because of Heejin? Or was she just sending her light that way. Again. 

“What happens if it doesn’t work?” Heejin’s brow was on its way to forming a deep furrow. 

I don’t know, Hyunjin thought. “I’ll find something.” 

“We’ll find something,” she said. 

A small burst of warmth came then. Hyunjin had to smile at the determination there. She turned away then. 

Dahyun’s eyes had glazed over. In her hands was a blue cloth the length of a hand. Blue kept being added to it, coming from thin air. Looking at it, Hyunjin felt a weight settle over her shoulders. She looked away from that too. 

“I can at least say that the ache fades around those closest to you,” the fairy said. “The emotions directed at you, as well as the ones you feel yourself, will be largely positive.” A small smile. “So no use isolating yourself.”

Hyunjin snorted. “You’re one to talk.” She’d met the fairy after she’d temporarily left her clan. Something about a new core emotion forming. Hyunjin didn’t understand it and she hadn’t asked either. Dahyun had a habit of unconsciously tearing a concept apart, like the soul or moonlight. She’d make your head spin and she’d smile while doing it, completely entranced by what she was talking about. Hyunjin usually came away, closer to a crisis than she liked. 

Dahyun grinned. “And I’m now highly social.”

She chuckled. The warmth spread. Then she frowned. “Are you doing that?”

Dahyun shrugged. “If it helps the cold, don’t question it.”

Heejin sat down. She looked up at Hyunjin, half hopeful, half expectant. 

“This’ll be a half hour work,” the fairy said. “Then we go back, hope the sadness doesn’t become terrible for her, and then bind the wound. I’ll discuss what Jungeun’s issue is, tell Jinsoul what other healing methods could help, and then reconvene with your newest addition.” 

“You know Viian?” Hyunjin knew she shouldn’t have been surprised. Dahyun was truly a social fairy. A huge exception when it came to just about all of her kind, but social nonetheless. When she’d left her clan, she’d gone around to many different groups, learning more about their language, as well as their customs. She’d even gone as far to teach them of her magic. 

It was during that time that she’d discovered how to make emotions a physical thing. Just like how the Astra could make light something tangible. While a lot of that magic was kept secret, Dahyun had taught elves like Heejin and Yves about the colours. She’d also been a bit more generous with helping the Astra, because of how similar their two kinds of magic were. Apparently, light was filled with emotion, so was darkness. While Dahyun couldn’t control it, she understood light surprisingly well. 

“I know her well,” Dahyun said. “A bit more than I know the rest of you, actually.” She smiled then. “She helped me adjust to mortal systems. Specifically one that had courts and strict laws.”

“The one where you stole those books?” Heejin asked, a smile playing on her lips. 

Dahyun’s eyes flashed orange. Amusement. “Perhaps.”

Hyunjin laughed. She hadn’t expected Viian to help with something like that. They really did need to bring her further into the fold. Haseul had told her that Heejin was slowly getting away form that baseless resentment. Hyunjin was relieved. A part of her was also proud. 

“She’s one you can look too for help,” Dahyun said. “Even if she knows little of your magic and people, she knows very much about the rest of the world. More than most here.” Her gaze lingered on Heejin then. 

Said elf didn’t reply, but Hyunjin saw shame in her eyes. A part of her was also relieved that Heejin regretted how she’d acted. She didn’t know how she would’ve felt if Heejin had continued as she had. 

It might’ve even made the act of stopping to love her easier. 

But of course, Heejin had recognised she was wrong. She’d recognised that it was useless to keep acting as she had. 

It made loving her all the more easier. 

Something Hyunjin had once wished she could stop doing entirely. 

_____

Jinsoul eyed the blue bandage. It was eerie how it matched her own eyes. 

And it meant sadness. Was that a coincidence? Or purposeful? And was there something that decided that?

She looked to Yerim then. Purple was the colour of love. If Yerim had anything to give, it was exactly that. But she also spread happiness like she did light. And that was green. 

With Jungeun, red meant anger. As much as Jinsoul wished it hadn't been, Jungeun's life had been full of that. Either battle-induced rage, or early on hot-headedness. Jungeun had admitted to having that when she was younger, but when Jinsoul had met her, she'd been surprisingly level-headed.

And while she'd seen Jungeun lose control, but she’d also seen her forgive others before anyone else would. She could also be more patient than most others, even if the person she was talking to hadn't given her a chance. Jinsoul had seen enough of that when she'd first come to the Astra. The colour of their eyes couldn’t just mean one thing. 

Yerim sighed as the sadness was wrapped around her leg. “Better,” she said. “Much.” A weak smile started to form. 

“Take it off every hour,” Dahyun said. “Then hold this.” She took Yerim’s hand. Her eyes turned a deep green, like Haseul’s eyes, but without the gleam. 

A ball of the same colour appeared in Yerim’s palm. 

“That’s yours, not mine. You will rarely feel too much of your own emotions, but that can happen with the sadness I’m giving you. This’ll keep it from being too much for you to bear.” 

Yerim nodded. Jinsoul felt the beginnings of tear forming in the girl. It shouldn’t have been a surprise, but she still didn’t like that she was feeling so sad. 

“Thank you,” Yerim said. “Really.” 

Dahyun smiled. She’d been the main contact of the Astra for a reason. She was understanding of their differences, but looked past them enough to actually befriend a few of them. 

“I’ll leave you then." She looked to the two of them. "You should also give her some time to adjust. It’s a lot for the first few hours.” 

Jungeun stood up first. She squeezed Yerim’s shoulder. “I’ll come back later.” She glanced at Jinsoul. “We both will, probably.”

Yerim nodded again. Already, the light wasn’t as bright in her eyes. 

This will work, Jinsoul told herself. It had to. 

When they left, the scent of flowers was replaced with forests. It seemed stronger than normal. 

After walking for a bit, away from camp, Dahyun turned to Jungeun. “And you?” She looked worried. 

Jungeun looked caught. “I don’t need anything.”

Jinsoul heard the lie easily. 

“It may be less than what she has, but Hyunjin asked me to help,” the fairy held up a small pouch, “this may help, as I hope it will her as well.” 

Jungeun looked at it. “Which emotions?”

“In you, there's pain, a combination of grief, regret, and anger, as well as sadness,” she replied. “In here, there’s positive emotions. Small enough that you needn’t worry about getting sick, but potent enough to help with your other emotions.” Her eyes glazed over, now a combination of silver and gold. “Once they’re brought closer to that darkness, it may help soothe that,” she hesitated, “ache.”

Ache. The pause bothered her. The furrow in Dahyun’s brow also wasn’t reassuring. 

Jungeun was still staring at it. She was debating whether or not she’d take it. 

So Jinsoul nudged her arm. 

She jumped and took it. “Thank you.” She just stuffed it into her pocket. 

Dahyun stretched her arms out. Her eyes flashed yellow and she straightened. “Now I’ll find Hyunjin, do the same there, then help Chaewon and her own plight.” 

Jungeun frowned. “Is she hurt?”

The fairy shook her head. “She has been hurting for a time,” she said, eyes now purely dark blue. “While I understand little about your moonlit bonds, I can see how those emotions stretch between you.” Her brow furrowed. “And here the emotions have been stripped from her, leaving holes one shouldn’t ever have.” Her eyes flickered to the space in front of Jungeun then. 

“Holes?” Jinsoul repeated. She hadn’t seen anything like that. And since when did Gowon have a bond?

Dahyun grimaced. “It’s why I’ve never agreed to take away another’s emotion. It’s unnatural, to say the least, and to rid yourself of even one piece of emotion is to take away a precious part of your being.” 

“Then why do you do it to yourself?” Jinsoul knew how selfless some fae could be, but letting others have pieces of your soul went too far. 

“It’s different for my people,” she said simply. “The emotions I hold could never be felt by any of you, merely because of how much there is.” Her eyes remained blue. “It’s why they can become effective weapons and we can handle,” she paused. Her eyes turned partially gold. “Just as you can handle the light you hold, such a thing would drive me mad. The darkness you can handle couldn’t fade in me as it does in you.” She shrugged. “I can both hold a great amount of emotion, but I can also give away a fair amount too, while none of you can give much away.”

“So what happens to Gowon?” Jinsoul asked. If ‘normal people’ weren’t ever supposed to have those holes and Gowon did, what would that mean in the long run?

“She went years without it worsening. Now it’s fluctuated.” The fairy’s eyes were silver again. She was worried. “I’ve never seen anything like it, but I’ll try what I can.” Then she gave them both a warm smile—somehow she always managed to do that, even if her eyes were literally saying something else—and was off. 

One thing about the fae, especially the emotional and mental, was that they had no filter. If you were surrounded by people who knew either every thought or every emotion of yours, there was almost no point in lying. Apparently, no mental fae could read Dahyun’s mind. It was one of the reasons why they trusted her more than most. She’d also helped with those scarred by prior battles or spirit encounters that’d left wounds that couldn’t be healed by light. 

Dahyun had never lied when helping them. Some pieces of information may have been omitted, usually because they were too complicated, but she’d never hid something to hurt them. That honesty had been on full display here, but maybe not in the way everyone wanted. 

Because neither Jungeun or Jinsoul held a massive grudge against them, the fairy probably thought they could be let in on Gowon’s situation. 

Every now and then, Jinsoul had been tempted to ask Dahyun if she could answer some of her other questions. 

Two things always held her back. One, Dahyun had almost no comprehension of anything romantic. She didn’t even have the concept of flirting in her mind, if certain interactions were anything to go by. Two, and most important, it’d overstep a line that Jinsoul never wanted to cross. To break Jungeun’s trust was something she’d never done and would never do. Sometimes just telling a white lie was hard. 

“See,” Jungeun smiled at her, “it’s fine.”

”Fine?” Jinsoul stared at her. “What—”

“Look at what’s in here,” she unwrapped the string on the pouch, “nothing’s dangerous. We’ll just try and see if it works.”

In the cloth were four pieces of emotion: two pieces of calm, one of orange humour and one of purple love. 

“If it helps,” Jungeun continued. “Then maybe we just have to get more creative on how we heal this type of thing.” 

“By making sure you’re relaxed the entire time? Then making someone like you or Hyunjin laugh?” And getting the two of you romantic partners, Jinsoul added in her head. There were two options for Hyunjin, one wasn’t allowed, the other would make the forbidden person hopelessly jealous. And for Jungeun—

She pushed those thoughts from her head. 

“Maybe it’ll be worth a try.” Jungeun tapped the green shard. Then she smiled. Her eyes became slightly brighter. Anything was brighter than the dull red from before. “Definitely makes me feel better.” 

And that was what mattered. 

Jungeun hadn’t told her what the darkness felt like. Not really. She’d just worn a smile and given her reassuring words. There’d been the brief moment of something else, but when she’d woken up, that smile had returned. 

But now, watching as Jungeun relaxed, Jinsoul realised how much the darkness might’ve been affecting her. And if it was hurting, if these emotions were just soothing it without healing, then what else was there? Light didn’t work. Jinsoul had no idea what else she could do. She couldn’t even take the darkness from her. 

Or at least, Jungeun would never let her try. She’d argue that Jinsoul would get stuck with something she couldn’t heal. Even if that meant she’d be stuck with something that just got worse. 

And what about the ache Dahyun had mentioned? Was it related to the holes Gowon had? Or something different? If it was a hole slowly growing in Jungeun’s heart, what would that mean? 

“‘Soul,” Jungeun moved so she stood in front of her, “it might’ve not sounded so great, but this isn’t that bad. I’m the one feeling it and I’m telling you it’ll be alright.” Her expression had softened. It was exactly the one that could ease so many of Jinsoul's worries. 

Jinsoul wanted to share that confidence now, but she couldn't. She didn’t know much more than she had when it’d first started. More people were getting hurt in ways that didn’t heal that fast. They were losing numbers for patrol and guard. If Jinsoul didn’t find a way to heal all of that quickly, then more would lose their lives. 

A cool hand cupped Jinsoul’s face. Her head was tilted so it looked right into red eyes. While they were still dim, they looked better than they had in days. 

Jungeun smiled at her. A genuine one. The one she reassured people with. The one those people believed, because they saw how convinced Jungeun was. How sure she was that everything would be alright. 

“Let’s get something to eat, then bring it back to Yerim,” she said. “And we’ll see if it’s helping with her own light.” Jungeun took away her hand, only to grab Jinsoul’s. 

Jinsoul let herself be pulled back to camp. 

Jungeun looked back at her now and again. The darkness still clung to her chest and Jinsoul knew it was affecting her—hurting her. Dahyun had seen it easily too. 

And yet it was Jungeun in the lead. She didn’t know much more than Jinsoul did, but she was leagues more hopeful than she was. And one of her concerns was making sure that Jinsoul felt that hope as well. 

A small flutter of something formed in Jinsoul’s chest. It made her feel warmer and heavier at the same time. It gave her legs the strength to keep up with Jungeun. 

Said girl’s smile brightened when Jinsoul was at her side. Jinsoul watched to see if the hesitation would come. It usually did when Jungeun realised they were straying away from their years of friendship. 

It never came. Jungeun’s eyes were just a brighter shade of red and an easy smile had fully spread across her face. 

And even though Jinsoul was still worried about what tomorrow would bring, she let herself focus on the person beside her. She didn’t look at the darkness, only the brightness in Jungeun's eyes. 

I love you, she thought. 

The flutter in her chest started to ache.

She ignored it. 

_____

Author's Note

While this features a character in another story, I can safely say I haven't spoiled any of it. Not only is the story set quite a few years before that one, but it's also very unrelated to most of the content there. 

That out of the way, I hope the inclusion of emotional magic wasn't too confusing. It took me a while to get it cemented in the first place, but once I had it, the magic of the Astra was pretty clear to me when I started writing this story. Colours usually play a big role for me, not just in this story, but I always love using a variety of colours when I write. For this story, however, if any of the colours are really important, I'll probably reference that directly. If there are other colour references and they're not explained, it'll be because they're just smaller details. 

Back to the story in question, Dahyun will feature briefly again, but then she'll be off again. Depending on what happens, she might come back, but my focus is on the girls in question. This chapter in particular was more to get another perspective on the different characters, both regarding their past and current states. While the pasts of characters like Haseul and Jungeun won't be the focus of the story, they were important to shaping the characters in particular. 

I'm not sure when the next update will be out. Next week, I'll be free of studying for a bit, so I'll be able to dive into writing again. 

Either way, I hope you're doing well and do let me know your thoughts! Some of the insights I've seen have made me so much more excited to get to writing. Sometimes I'm distracted from movies and/or studying, but I have so much fun writing this story.

See you next chapter.