“I’m not going back.” Hyejoo’s eyes weren’t reflecting the flames. “You know I can’t.”

“I know why you don’t want to,” Haseul replied. It hurt to hear the lack of hope in Hyejoo’s voice. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t. Not when you can help us.”

She just shook her head, already resigned to whatever decision she’d made. 

“You’re the only one who can help,” she continued. “The healers, Jinsoul, they don’t know what else they can do. We’re gathering light and putting people in huts of earth.” 

“Yerim?” Hyejoo’s eyes both lit up and filled with a bit of dread. 

“She healed,” Haseul replied. “But she can’t use any light.”

“Neither can I,” Hyunjin said. 

Hyejoo closed her eyes. 

Haseul wasn’t sure if she was supposed to say anything. She decided not to. They weren’t leaving any time soon. Neither was Hyejoo. 

“The Astra were hunting me,” Hyejoo said slowly. “There are still people after me.” She narrowed her eyes. “Because you—they think I’m the reason why everything’s wrong.” 

“Is it Alluin?” Heejin asked. “Did he say anything about what he’d been doing? Or trying?”

A moment passed. Briefly, Haseul wondered how Hyejoo saw the man. If he’d stepped into her life after the banishment, there had to be some sort of attachment. She knew she would’ve been the same. 

“He wants to use it to his advantage,” she said. “But he never said anything where I thought he’d been the reason.” Then her brow furrowed. “But maybe the way the spirits change is different if he turns them?” She glanced at the wolf beside her. “I don’t know what’d happen if something changed here. If Ikopar’d be able to hurt you.” She looked so unsure, younger than she had this entire night. 

Haseul shook her head. “When you turned those spirits the first time,” she held her gaze, “the first thing they did was run. They didn’t fight their way out.”

“They wouldn’t have been strong enough.”

“The malevolent ones always try to fight,” Heejin said. “Just like how we’ve all seen dark spirits that don’t attack.” 

Out of the corner of her eye, Haseul saw that Vivi was looking at the fire. Vivi’s expression was thoughtful, something Haseul had seen in many fairies. She either knew something, or she was about to come to a conclusion. 

Haseul had been around enough fairies to know not to interrupt that process. 

“Maybe,” Hyejoo sighed, “but who’s going to believe that at camp?” Her eyes hardened. “There was a vote to kill me, because I turned two spirits. Almost everyone wanted me gone. What if it's the same now? What if it's worse?"

The air around them seemed too cool. Haseul could see Hyejoo’s darkness ripple with the emotion in her voice. 

Hyunjin stiffened then as well, but her eyes weren’t on Hyejoo. She was looking at the space in front of her. Then she looked at Hyejoo. 

“But now we need you,” Heejin told her. “They’ll know we can’t do anything without you.” 

Hyejoo narrowed her eyes. “You’re putting a lot of faith in them.” 

“We’ve lost three people in the last month,” Haseul said. “Nuala’s not going to risk losing any more. Neither will Jinsoul.” 

The words at least reached her, because Hyejoo’s gaze softened. But she hadn’t changed her mind yet. She didn’t say anything. 

No one else did. The fire was just burning, lightly crackling. There were also the sounds of distant animals, even an owl, though it made the night more sombre than beautiful. 

Vivi spoke then, filling the silence none of them had been close to breaking, “Jungeun’s hurt and I think it’s only been getting worse. She won’t be the last person.” She leaned forward, the thoughtful look in her eyes gone, replaced with one of absolute certainty. “And if Alluin does attack us and he brings whatever spirits are his own, we’re going to lose much more than three in a month.” 

We. It struck Haseul then of how much change Vivi had witnessed within the Astra. She’d left once after hearing about their past, but she’d come back. She’d decided to stay. 

And she’d done more for them in less than a year than any of them had done in half a century. 

“It doesn’t have to mean you’re back in the camp,” she said. “I can’t tell you how many times my people used to bring witches to our home. We never trusted them, but we needed their magic. Some we let stay in the houses on the periphery. Others we had stay well outside of it, only ever coming during the day.” 

Hyejoo didn’t reply, but she was holding Vivi’s gaze. 

“You don’t have to be near them,” Vivi continued. “Just close enough that we can get you if we need your help.” 

Hyejoo nodded once. “And I’d have to be there until Alluin attacks?”

“Or until we sort something else out,” Haseul said. “You won’t have to stay for long.” Her heart hurt at her next thought, but she had to say it. “And you’re not stuck there. You can leave if you ha—want to.” 

Hyejoo stood then. For a moment, Haseul thought she’d pushed too much and that she’d leave now. 

“I’ll help Jungeun,” she said. “And the rest.” A muscle in her jaw tightened. “But if I decide I’m not staying, you’re not stopping me.” Her eyes had turned cold. 

“I won’t,” Haseul replied. 

“But,” her gaze softened, “if something would happen, I’d still let you find me.” 

______

“Thank you.”

Vivi looked beside her. She’d been getting lost in the monotony of the walk. “I didn’t do anything.” 

Haseul smiled. “That’s definitely wrong,” she winked, “you’re the reason we found her. And you,” she glanced back once, “you managed a few other things too.” 

For some reason, her face warmed at the gratitude. She looked away. 

“You were probably leaving a home with a few messes of its own,” Haseul continued. “And I know the last thing you probably wanted was to get dragged into ours.” As with everything, she looked genuinely apologetic. Everything about Haseul was genuine. 

“Actually no,” Vivi said. “I didn’t even think that’d be happening here.” She chuckled. “I thought the Astra would be simple. Sort of.” 

She laughed. A beautiful sound. “And I thought you were the cultured one.” Her eyes glittered, brightened by amusement. It was a big change from the worry that’d been lining her face in the days before. 

Vivi felt herself smile. “But even then, I didn’t do that much. Your seers would say it was destined.” 

Haseul shrugged. “But they also tell us the future is flexible. You could’ve always decided not to help and I don’t think I would’ve blamed you.” 

She raised a brow. “You can’t tell me you’d have been alright with that.” 

“I didn’t say that,” Haseul nudged her side, “I said I wouldn’t blame you, not that I wouldn’t have gotten back at you.” 

“I’m glad I told you then.” And if it was also the reason for bringing smiles to Haseul, Heejin, and Hyunjin’s face, then she was even happier for it. 

“Me too.” She nodded. “Clearly.” 

“We’re going to the town first!” Heejin called. “Hyejoo just told us about a bakery they have.” 

Haseul’s brow furrowed. “Of all days you could choose?” she asked. “Yerim and Yeojin are waiting.” 

“They’re sleeping,” Hyejoo said. “They’ve never been able to stay awake. We tried.” 

And then they were off. 

Haseul had watched them go, disbelief evident in her face. 

“Want to go with them?” 

“They’ll get more than they need.” Haseul shook her head. “We can at least walk slower now.” 

And that was when Vivi realised that they’d been left alone. They hadn’t been like that in a while. Vivi had told Haseul they didn’t need to train as much, because the elf clearly had other priorities and worries. 

Now Haseul had someone important to her back in her life. Now her hope was strengthened. 

And it showed so clearly. Vivi hadn’t realised how big the burden Haseul carried was until some of it had been lifted off of her. 

The elf’s entire expression had brightened. Her posture seemed stronger. And her eyes were shining. 

“You want to get there sooner?” Haseul asked then. 

Vivi could only shake her head. She hoped the other elf didn’t want to hurry. 

She smiled. “Great.” Her pace slowed. If Vivi wasn’t imagining it, she’d inched closer. 

They kept walking, the new pace just easy to go along with. 

Vivi liked this sort of silence. It was the one she always sought when doing her research. It was also the one she needed when things went bad. 

And now it just gave her comfort. 

“You look happier.” Haseul paused. “Or at least more comfortable.” 

Vivi’s smile grew. “I could say the same thing about you.” 

Her brow rose. “You think so?” 

She nodded. 

“Oh,” Haseul tilted her head to the side, “I guess you’re right.” 

“You guess?” 

She shrugged. “Do you always stop to think about how you are?” 

“It’s one of the first things I do,” she replied. “It’s made even better by looking at what light and dark I have.” 

Haseul grinned. “You really are incredible.” 

Vivi didn’t know what to say to that. 

Something softened in her gaze. “I don’t think you’ve been complimented enough, have you?” 

“Compliments about the person, maybe not,” she said. “But there were those about what I knew. What I found.” It still made her proud to think of the moment she’d first melted stone. She’d spent days at a time thinking about what else to do. The elders had even joined her to help that along, occasionally remarking at how incredible the discovery was. 

“So you prefer those more?” Haseul asked. 

Vivi shook her head. “As long as it’s genuine, both work, don’t they?” 

She nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind.” The little smile she wore had Vivi looking away. 

She didn’t even wonder why that was. It was clear. 

But it’d been a while since she’d been around someone like Haseul. She’d grown apart from that first person. 

What would Haseul be like? Did she even see Vivi in that light? Or was this just the kindness of someone wanting to help? 

“Mind telling me what you’re thinking about?” Haseul had come a little bit closer. Their arms brushed now and then. 

“How things are now,” Vivi admitted. “How a lot has changed since I arrived, including my view of the lunar people.” 

“And?” She raised a brow. “We started as arrogant idiots.” 

“And some still are,” Vivi chuckled, “but more of you are a lot wiser than I expected.” 

Haseul laughed. It reminded Vivi of the first time she’d heard Haseul’s voice. Her ears had focused only on the sound. And she’d felt lighter just hearing it. 

“So how does it look with you staying here?” She wasn’t looking at her. She sounded slightly uncertain. 

“I already told you I was staying.” 

“But I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to go.” Haseul shrugged. “You’ll even be able to travel the world once you’re capable. There’s a few groups you may join. Jungeun has gone with them, as has Hyunjin.” Her brow furrowed. “I think Yeojin will too one day.” 

“Have you?” 

“I see enough of the world with,” she trailed off, “I wouldn’t call it work, but it’s sort of that.” She looked to the ground. “I don’t even know how to describe what we do.” 

“You’re doing the work of a leader,” Vivi said. “Maybe you don’t have the full authority, but how often have you been the lead for a discussion on how to deal with other clans?” 

She laughed softly. “You put it nicely.” She shook her head. “We organise more than we lead.” Then she puffed out one side of her cheek. “But that’s also got its own merit.” 

“But you’d stay with that instead of exploring the world without those responsibilities?” 

Haseul just nodded. 

“Really?”

“What if I told you to go to the southern-most islands, but you couldn’t ask any questions of the world there?” 

“It’d be a terrible trip.” 

Haseul gave her a knowing look. 

“You’re saying you like that?” 

“Like isn’t always true,” she corrected. “But I’ve loved parts of it and my life feels right with it.”

“With organising.” Vivi could very well see what Haseul was getting at, but she wanted to hear her say it. 

She rolled her eyes. “Doing something useful for us,” she bumped her hip against Vivi’s, “that’s what I love.” 

“Alright.” She nodded. It was amazing how the absence of a part of the burden affected the elf. Then again, if years of uncertainty and regret were lifted, something like this was definitely to be expected. 

“What?” She cocked an eyebrow at her. “There’s something else you’re not quite agreeing with.” 

“Where’s the time you take for yourself?” Vivi asked. “The time where you don’t have to do something useful for the Astra.” 

Haseul was silent. Vivi felt a bit concerned at that. Was there nothing? 

“Right now,” she said. The corner of her lip tilted upwards. “Either when I’m alone or with great company.”

Vivi nodded. Then it clicked. “Oh?”

Haseul smiled fully. “Yeah,” she glanced at the ground, “surprised?”

“A bit.”

She shook her head. “Don’t be. I,” she trailed off. 

“You?” Vivi felt a small knot form in her stomach then. It’d been a while since she’d felt nervous around someone. 

“I meant what I said about you. You know, incredible and everything.” She laughed. “With everything that’s happened, all I really know is what I’ve seen, which is great,” she put a hand to her slowly reddening face, “but I don’t think I even know you’re favourite colour.” 

Vivi couldn’t keep the smile off her face. “Green.” 

Haseul’s brow rose. “Really?” The teasing edge was back. “Mine’s blue.” She winked. “But pink isn’t all that bad.” 

______

“You’re a seer,” Gowon said. Somehow, it wasn’t a surprise. She was more annoyed that she hadn’t guessed it before. 

Jiwoo nodded, the guilt so very clear on her face. It made Gowon feel like she was the one who’d been keeping a secret all her life. 

“I should’ve told you sooner, I know, but,” she hesitated, “the honest reason why I didn’t—”

“It was easier to lie,” Gowon finished. “I get it.” 

Her brow furrowed. “You get it?”

Gowon’s chest twisted, the pain strengthening. “I told everyone why I’d turned away from her. I told myself I’d made the right choice.” She forced a smile. “And it hurts to think about the truth.” She’d made the worst decision of her life. She’d been scared of the person she loved most. She’d turned her back on that person when they’d needed her. “I can barely say it.”

Another nod. Jiwoo looked worse. She’d also been grappling with that truth. 

Then it hit her. “What did you see?” Gowon remembered how shaken Jiwoo had been, but also how sure she’d been in that moment—the moment she’d told them to listen to Freya. 

“She didn’t have a path,” Jiwoo said. “All I felt was cold anger. I,” her breath hitched, “there’d just been death.” She closed her eyes. “I thought it was true. I thought we’d lose her. I didn’t want any of us to be there when it happened.” 

Gowon was sure her heart would’ve been broken further if they’d seen something like that. But she would’ve at least been at Hyejoo’s side when it happened. 

“But it never happened.”

Jiwoo shook her head. Tears seeped out of her eyes. “It’s my fault.” More tears came. “I’m sorry.”

Gowon didn’t know what to do. Seeing Jiwoo like this, now without secrets, was nothing she’d ever seen before. It hurt. 

She went over to her, wrapping her arms around Jiwoo. “It’s not all your fault.” She remembered what Jiwoo had told her after Hyejoo was gone. “I was the first person who ran,” she told her. “And the other seers saw the same thing. Even if you’d given her a chance, she’d still be gone.”

“But we’d be with her,” Jiwoo murmured. “We could’ve been the ones to help her learn.”

And not Alluin. Hyejoo might’ve never been turned to stealing or nearly forced to kill a human. She would’ve never been sent to torment and hunt the other vampires and wolves she’d gone after. 

“But we didn’t,” Gowon said. “So we have to live with what we did and didn’t do.”

Jiwoo didn’t reply. She’d stopped crying, but the light around her was threaded with shadow—the guilt of lying and being wrong. 

“I don’t blame you for that,” she continued. “And I understand why you didn’t tell us.” She squeezed once. “But if you’re deciding to be honest now, you’re gonna have to actually tell us what’s going on with you.”

Jiwoo looked up, a frown starting to form. “What do you mean?”

“You never told us what was bothering you because it was connected to your sight,” Gowon said. “Now you can.”

She looked away. Gowon knew an excuse was already building. 

“I tell you when I’m dealing with something. Sooyoung tells us when she’s got something. You should come to us too.” She rubbed her back. “We’re family.” On another day, she would’ve never said something like that. Tonight, she hoped it’d get through to Jiwoo. 

Jiwoo sighed. “I don’t think Sooyoung’ll be talking to me.” Her expression closed off again. “I’m not sure I’ll talk to her either.”

Gowon knew why. Sooyoung finding out could’ve gone two ways: she’d either try to understand the whole problem or pull away completely, hurt by the lying. 

“Did you tell her or did she figure it out?”

“She realised after Hyunjin got hurt.” Jiwoo looked to the sky then. “And I told her something else.” She took a deep breath, then paused. She looked scared of what she was going to say next. 

Gowon felt her jaw fall slack when it clicked. Jiwoo had been able to see exactly what’d been wrong with her before—with Hyejoo. She’d seen the mess of black and grey that’d left Gowon. She’d seen the tatters of the bond. 

“The light bound you both.” 

Jiwoo’s expression crumpled. 

Gowon’s heart sank. It made sense. So much sense. Jiwoo had never been smooth with her excuses and lies. It hadn’t bothered Gowon as much as it had Sooyoung. She’d seen the hurt in Sooyoung’s eyes when she’d seen it. Each excuse had been a small cut, each lie a stab. One of the main things Sooyoung wanted was for Jiwoo to actually open up to her. 

And the entire time, Jiwoo had been actively working against that. She’d let it be obvious that she didn’t want to confide in Sooyoung. 

Then she’d always pushed Sooyoung to the next suitor, even if her own feelings had never been completely hidden. Even if it should’ve been obvious that Sooyoung had always felt something for her. 

“You wanted to break it?” Gowon felt at her own heart. The space was cold. She’d grown numb to the ache over the years, but that didn’t mean the pain had lessened. 

Jiwoo’s eyes widened. “Not break it.” She took Gowon’s hand. “I wanted it to change, or fade, but I never wanted to break it.”

“Why?” Even if it made sense, that didn’t mean she thought Jiwoo was right. Not if she was pushing Sooyoung away. Not if she was making an extremely important decision without Sooyoung. Not if Sooyoung didn’t even know that there was a bond in the first place. 

“She never wanted a bond,” Jiwoo said. “You know that.”

“You don’t know if knowing about it would’ve changed what she wanted.” 

She shook her head. “Not with me,” she muttered. “She wanted a say in who she loved. Never a path to that person. We started close too,” she sighed, “the bond makes all that meaningless.”

Gowon frowned. “That doesn’t make you deciding for her right. Trying to get rid of it even after you told her,” she held her gaze, “you’re still taking that decision away.”

“She won’t want it.”

Gowon wanted to scream at her that she was wrong, but the sheer defeat in Jiwoo’s face made her decide against that. She needed a different approach.

“When you told her, did she tell you she didn’t want the bond?” But even if she had, Gowon knew she wouldn’t have meant it. Not really. 

“No, but that—”

“Then you’re not doing anything until she tells you what she wants.”

Jiwoo nodded, but she didn’t look like she agreed. 

“I mean that,” Gowon told her. “Because all she’s wanted is for you to tell her what’s happening. She always wanted you to be there with her—when she goes to the Arcsa, the other Crosa, and always with the fae.” She needs you with her, she added in her head. 

Jiwoo looked away. 

“You’ll be talking again. She’ll understand why you didn’t tell her.” She squeezed her hand. “But you have to let her have that time. You can’t take that away, because you think you know what’s best for her.”

Jiwoo didn’t reply, but she’d been listening. Gowon figured that was the best that could happen. For now at least. 

______

All Olivia wanted to do was enjoy the few hours she had with a reunion she’d wanted. Being with hyunjin and Heejin gave her that. The way they danced around their feelings was nothing new, but it was both sad and still pretty funny. 

What was new were the occasional reassuring smiles Hyunjin kept sending Heejin, even though she’d been the one who’d been hurt. 

Then again, maybe it was exactly because of that. Hyunjin knew she was okay, but it hadn’t sunk in for Heejin. She still had that fear of loss. 

The next time the two snuck a glance at one another, Olivia looked away. Those moments—their feelings—were all completely between them. They were a secret kept from the other Astra, even if Heejin had never managed to actually hide her feelings. She hadn’t even been able to do that in the beginning, before she’d even realised she’d fallen in love with Hyunjin. 

“So do you always have this much money with you?” Hyunjin asked. 

“If this goes how we want it to, I’ll be moving,” Olivia replied. “I took all I have with.” She’d just left her makeshift boxes. She’d take some of the things she wanted from the camp. 

“Well if it gets me this, we’ll be going to town a lot.” She took a generous bite from her third piece of bread. 

“You’ll go as long as Jinsoul lets you.” Heejin elbowed her. 

Hyunjin wrinkled her nose, but nodded. 

Olivia smiled. “That easy to keep you in check?”

She got a half-hearted swipe at her head in return. That turned into a surprisingly tight side hug.

“You should see Jungeun,” Hyunjin whispered. “Jinsoul says one thing and she’s all wide-eyed, following every word.”

Olivia chuckled. “She was always like that.” Even when things had been difficult and Jinsoul hadn’t adored her like she did now. 

She sensed a remark coming then, but it never came. Hyunjin didn’t even start to stay it. Her eyes had just gone to the forest floor and her grip on Olivia had unconsciously tightened. 

And she could easily guess why. Teasing that would’ve been so easy a few decades ago was now something very different. 

She felt both angry and scared at the thought of finally seeing the girl whose eyes had both comforted and haunted her. A girl whose eyes were the same as a wolf spirit. 

What would happen when she saw her again? How long Olivia was with the Astra depended on that moment. She hoped the drive to attack former friends wouldn’t overcome her. 

She’d be able to stomach seeing the rest, even the elders. They’d her, but they hadn’t abandoned her. Not really. 

“We can make it so you don’t have to see them,” Heejin said then. 

Olivia shook her head. A large part of her needed to see the others. She wanted them to see her too. If they’d see the person she’d become, then all the better. 

“I’ve been through worse.”

They both nodded, but neither looked comforted by the words. 

“But I’ll hold you back if I have to.” Hyunjin winked. 

Olivia nodded. “If you can catch me.”

Heejin quickly came to her there side. It’d been years since she’d been close to someone in this sense, let alone two. Normally, she’d been that close to people she’d been fighting. She’d been close enough to that mortal to terrify him. She’d been close to a vampire she’d interrogated. 

“Hyejoo.” Hyunjin was looking at her, something right in between understanding and concern in her eyes. “You probably won’t have to be there long.” 

“But often,” Hyejoo said. “The spirits’re more aggressive. And if Alluin comes during a new moon, or maybe even an eclipse, if I’m not there, I—” She couldn’t even bring herself to finish that thought. It shouldn’t have bene hard. It should’ve been easy to say. At one point, she’d wanted there to be an attack. She’d wanted to be a part of it. 

Not anymore, she thought. Not again. 

Even if she hated them. 

Most of them, she corrected. 

______

Jinsoul felt the moment the darkness in Jungeun surged. 

She went to her immediately, only to hear a small cry. 

Jinsoul shook her. “Wake up,” she said. 

Dark red eyes opened. Jinsoul knew she should’ve looked away, but she didn’t. 

The memory flooded her mind. She felt the blistering heat of the flames, but it didn’t burn. She watched someone collapse, their legs were burning. Their voice had been broken by the screams, now only coming out in choked shrieks. 

Then her vision cleared and silence greeted her again. She was looking to the side. A hand was on her chin. 

“I told you never to wake me up like that,” Jungeun said, the frustration clear in her voice. The darkness in her heart seemed to swell with each word. 

“How else am I supposed to know how to help?” she asked, keeping her own voice level. 

She sat up, her gaze set firmly on her lap. “You’re not supposed to be helping with this.”

“But I want to.” 

Jungeun didn’t reply. She was still looking at the ground. Even without her magic, Jinsoul could tell she was fighting tears. This dream had been especially bad. 

“Come on.” Jinsoul took her hand. Her skin felt like ice. “We’re going to the river.” 

“Are we swimming?” Her brow furrowed. 

She shook her head. “Unless you want to?” 

Jungeun wrinkled her nose. “Winter is coming.” 

Jinsoul pulled her into her arms. It still bothered her how cold Jungeun was. She gave her a bit of light. Jungeun still smelled lightly of ash, but also the tea Yerim had been giving her. Some sort of massive mixture of light, ginger, lemon, and other herbs that were supposed to speed the healing of Jungeun’s lungs up. Jungeun loved it. 

She tightened her grip on her, but she made sure not to press on anything that’d hurt. 

“Don’t give me too much,” Jungeun said, slipping her arms around Jinsoul’s waist. “I don’t need it.”

“Not true,” Jinsoul mumbled. “You’re still not better.”

Jungeun only sighed. That meant it was true. She wasn’t even trying to reassure her. Jinsoul’s chest tightened at the realisation. 

“I think you’re crushing me,” Jungeun muttered. 

Jinsoul pulled away immediately. “Did that hurt?” 

She smiled slightly. “No,” she took and squeezed her hand once, “but I don’t usually get hugs like that.”

Because you’ve never been this bad, she thought. 

Jinsoul stood up instead. She pulled Jungeun up as well. 

“I’ll see you outside,” she whispered. “Just gonna get us blankets.” 

When she came back, her arms full with the warmest blanket she could find, Jungeun was looking out at the camp, a small fire hovering right beside her head. Her eyes weren’t reflecting the flames. 

“Did you ever wonder why the bright spirits don’t come here?” she asked. “They’d actually be the safest here.” 

Jinsoul pushed down her surprise at Jungeun being curious about that kind of thing. 

“It’s not natural?” Jinsoul suggested. “They take the shape of animals. Different animals.” She shrugged. “They might have their own partners, but other than that, they don’t gather. Just like most other animals, unless they’re a pack or herd.”

“I found a group once,” she replied. “Two wolves and three sheep.” She frowned. “Not natural either.” She started walking in the direction of the river. 

“Or maybe it is,” Jinsoul said. “But in a weird way.”

Jungeun raised an eyebrow, but there was a small smile on her face. 

  “They’re linked in the natural world, but one’s hunted by the other. With that group you found, they coexist, because the wolf doesn’t eat the sheep. It doesn’t have to.” 

People watched them as they walked. Jinsoul was sure they were looking at Jungeun. They’d see the sheer lack of light and wonder how she was still standing. 

“And if they’re corrupted, all of them become the hunter.” It wasn’t a question. Jungeun was focused on the ground. “Same for the dark spirits. Even if they are aggressive, they’ll usually flee if there’s too many.”

Jinsoul nudged her side. “What brought this on?”

She glanced at her once. Then she shook her head. 

Jinsoul felt a twinge of hurt, but she didn’t ask for more. 

They kept walking. Jinsoul’s chest had started to hurt again, but Jungeun wasn’t showing that she was hurt. 

“How’re you feeling?” Jinsoul asked. 

“Fine.” 

Jinsoul frowned. “Lying to me won’t help anything.” 

Jungeun didn’t reply, her eyes still on the ground. A muscle in her jaw had tightened. 

“What’s hurting the most?” She reached for her hand. She did it carefully. If Jungeun ripped her hand away, it’d hurt more. 

Thankfully, she let her take her hand. 

“My head.” She sighed. “And it’s not the lungs, but it doesn’t feel like it’s the heart either.” Her hand went to her chest. Then she gave Jinsoul a sharp look. “But don’t give me any light. I don’t need it.”

“That’s not true,” Jinsoul said. 

Jungeun glared at her. “Don’t start being stubborn.” 

“You’re telling me that?” She pulled her closer. “I’m not attacking you.” 

Jungeun deflated, set into a thin line, but the guilt was clear on her face. 

Jinsoul didn’t say anything else. The pain in her chest had increased. It felt like it was spreading too. 

But Jungeun hadn’t winced. If anything, she seemed indifferent to it. 

Then again, she had a high tolerance for pain. She often hid it too. 

The sound of the rushing river reached them. Jinsoul felt a bit of tension ease within her. 

“Sorry,” Jungeun said as they stopped. “I shouldn’t be attacking you.” She closed her eyes. Tears were forming. 

Jinsoul dropped the blanket. “It’s okay.” She tugged her closer, taking her other hand. “It’s the darkness.” 

“That’s not an excuse,” she muttered. “It’s something,” she trailed off. “I have to control it.” 

“You don’t have to.” 

Jungeun’s eyes met hers once. “Not true.” The corner of her lip tugged up. “I lost control when I didn’t have that kind of darkness.” She looked away again. 

Jinsoul made them sit down. A fire appeared above the ground, just by the edge of the river. 

“Be honest with me,” Jinsoul said, wanting to be careful with those words. “Did you spare her life because you wanted her to live?” The sound of rushing water filled the air. “Or because of something else?” She didn’t want to accuse Jungeun of wanting to escape her guilt or mend her past, because that was never the case. Not actively, at least. 

Jungeun didn’t reply immediately. Her eyes weren’t distant in thought, but they were fixed on the riverbanks. 

So Jinsoul inched closer. They were far enough away from camp that no one would hear them, but close enough that few would think to look for them. They’d also be safe. Jinsoul had absorbed more light than might’ve been necessary, but she was a beacon. Most spirits wouldn’t want to attack her. 

And she’d be able to protect Jungeun if she had to. 

Jungeun glanced at her once now, before looking away. She sighed. “I think I just wanted someone to survive.” The hint of that dark look returned. 

Jinsoul took her hand. It felt like ice. She let a bit more light into her skin. 

“And she didn’t die.” Jungeun’s voice had fallen to a murmur. “If the fire had hit her wrong, she’d be dead and we wouldn’t have been having this conversation.” 

“We’d have something like it.” She moved so that she could pull Jungeun’s legs over her lap. Then she took out the blanket she’d brought with, putting it over both of them. 

Her eyebrows pinched together. “Something like it?” 

Jinsoul didn’t know how to explain it. Jungeun had always felt guilty about her actions. Jinsoul had needed to learn it over the years they’d known each other. She knew enough about her to know that the guilt wasn’t buried as much as it had been before. She was grateful for that change, but not for the fact that it hurt Jungeun so much. Even more so now. 

“We talked about Taegen,” Jinsoul replied. “We’d have talked about Hanna too.” She nudged her. “We can also talk about the other one.” The thought of both made her stomach turn. They were part of the reason Jungeun was like this now—why she could barely look Jinsoul in the eye, why she was getting lost in her thoughts, and why she winced with each breath. 

Jungeun shook her head. “I barely even noticed I killed him.” Then she looked lost. 

Jinsoul felt her heart twist. She hated seeing that look. 

She pulled her closer. “Don’t go there. You were defending yourself.” They wanted you dead, she added in her head. She tightened her grip, breathing in the scent of smoke that still clung to Jungeun. 

Jungeun chuckled. “Don’t start choking me again.” 

“I need to hold you.” 

Silence fell. Jinsoul knew where they were going. They weren’t there yet, but dangerously close. They’d been here before. Often, Jinsoul had been painfully close to saying what she wanted to, acting how she wanted to. 

But she couldn’t do any of that now. She needed to be there for Jungeun tonight. Everything else they could do later. 

So she just loosened her grip, but pulled Jungeun onto her lap fully. She was still cold. It didn’t feel natural. 

“’Soul.”

Jinsoul looked up. 

Dim red eyes looked down at her, warmth still there. “I’ll be okay.” The certainty in her voice made everything worse. She was comforting Jinsoul. She knew she didn’t think Jungeun would recover. "And if Hyejoo can help, I'll be okay even sooner."

“But—“

Jungeun lifted a hand to her cheek. “I’m staying right here.” Her gaze was tender, open. Jinsoul could see what she was feeling. She could almost feel the emotions herself. 

The ache settled into her chest again. It was a reminder. What she felt for Jungeun had long become something she couldn’t turn away from. What she wanted for them was something she’d wait for. She had waited. She’d keep waiting. 

“Don’t worry so much,” Jungeun whispered. 

Those words hurt more. Jinsoul looked away. “I didn’t when I should’ve.” 

“Don’t start thinking like that.” She gently pinched her cheek. “You sent Shuhua and Yuqi with me. Without them, I would’ve—” she broke off. “You still protected me.” 

A few responses came to mind. She wanted to tell her that Jinsoul should’ve been the one with her. The ice would never have gotten that far. She could’ve taken the water away immediately. She would’ve taken the darkness for herself. She could’ve drowned both of them. She’d learned that to protect others, she’d do that for Jungeun. She wouldn’t have hesitated. 

“Jinsoul,” Jungeun murmured. “I don’t want you blaming yourself for anything that’s been happening here. Not Elre, not Hyunjin, and not me.” Her eyes were locked on Jinsoul’s. “You helped all of us in every way you could. The rest wasn’t anything you’d have known, or could’ve still done.” 

Jinsoul closed her eyes. Holding Jungeun’s gaze was hard when she looked at her like that. She understood then why Jungeun was always pulling away. Why it could be too much. 

The only difference was that Jinsoul wanted to close the distance instead of making it bigger. 

“I know.”

Jungeun hummed. “But you’ll still go through all the ways you could’ve done something differently.” She brushed her thumb over her cheek. “That’s your burden. You take on more than what you need, and then some.”

Jinsoul had to smile at that. “So do you.” 

“Not enough.” Lips brushed across her cheek next. A shiver ran through her then. She wished she could lean forward. 

But it wasn’t the right time. 

Jinsoul opened her eyes. Just in front of her were red eyes, glowing softly. Glowing. 

She felt a burst of warmth. The ache grew stronger. 

“You’ve got some light again,” Jinsoul whispered. 

“Yeah.” Jungeun’s voice was soft. “I think it’s because of you.” She looked at her, eyes searching. “I—” she broke off again. Guilt flickered in her face. She swallowed. 

Already, Jinsoul knew that whatever she was going to say wouldn’t come. Already, she felt what hope had risen drop. 

Then there was a sound. Jinsoul felt a source of warmth, so much like how Jungeun usually was when she was near. 

She looked to the source. 

An owl was looking over at them. It was walking along the ground over to them. It glowed red, just like Jungeun’s eyes were supposed to be. Except its eyes were blue. 

“Oh,” Jungeun said. “She’s back.” 

“She?” Jinsoul repeated. 

She shrugged. “I can tell. Somehow.” She held out a hand. “She actually likes fire, but I can’t give that to her.” She was bathed in the light from the spirit. Her eyes caught the light, sparkling ever so slightly. 

The owl had come to Jungeun’s side, inadvertently Jinsoul’s too, because she was still holding her. It felt like being near a gentle fire—like Jungeun when she was relaxed. It nuzzled its head into Jungeun’s hand, blue eyes closing. 

A small chuckle sounded then. “Reminds me of you,” Jungeun said. She was smiling. 

“Then I think I should be getting the same treatment.” Jinsoul gently leaned her head on Jungeun’s chest. 

A hand made its way through her hair, lightly scratching her scalp. 

“Is it weird that it’s got eyes like you?”

A reason for why crossed Jinsoul’s mind. She didn’t say it. “I don’t think so.” She closed her eyes. 

She felt Jungeun laugh, before coughing once. “This isn’t the most comfortable way to do this.” 

Jinsoul looked up. Jungeun’s eyes were still glowing. She was smiling brighter too. 

And the ache got even stronger. Even her arms hurt. 

Jungeun looked from the owl to her then. Her smile stayed, while her eyes became brighter. They were so close to going back to how they usually were. 

Jinsoul wanted to pull her closer. 

“She was born—well, formed during an eclipse,” Jungeun said. There was an unspoken question in her eyes. 

She had to look at the owl then. Jinsoul had been born during an eclipse. The owl had blue eyes. 

“We could call her Eclipse,” Jinsoul replied. The owl was looking at her, tilting its—her—head ever so slightly. By the look in her eyes, Jinsoul almost felt as if it recognised her. 

“We?” she repeated. 

Jinsoul winked. “She and I have a lot in common. Shouldn’t I be involved with those decisions?”

Jungeun rolled her eyes. “Eclipse works.” She patted the owl’s head. Her other hand was still idly trailing through Jinsoul’s hair, teasing out any small snags she found. “Now let’s get a little more comfortable. You can’t be sitting this whole time.” 

She could only nod. As they moved to go to a tree, Eclipse trailing behind, the colours stuck in her mind. It couldn’t be chance. 

But if that was the case, it meant something more than just being born at the same time or having similar eyes. It meant a lot more than that. 

Jinsoul wasn’t sure how Jungeun would see that. She wasn’t sure if it would pull her closer or push her even further away. She knew that she could ask Yerim about it. She knew that she’d get the answer. 

But even if Eclipse being there meant something else, even if the colours were tied together by time, she didn’t need to know. She didn’t want to know. 

She made Jungeun lean back on the tree, a second blanket making up a cushion. Sitting upright would be better for her breathing. 

And it still let Jinsoul stay close. Jungeun opened her arms immediately, letting her lean into her side. 

“I’m not glass,” Jungeun grumbled. “You can put some more weight on me.” 

Jinsoul took to resting her head on Jungeun’s shoulder. She felt the tension ease away just by the way Jungeun wrapped her arms around her. There was no sharp intake of breath and she was almost warm. 

“I missed this,” Jinsoul said. The memory of Jungeun’s limp form came to mind, surrounded by ice and burned earth. She tried to stamp it out of her thoughts, but it stayed. She remembered the pain she’d felt then. It hadn’t been anything like the ache. 

“I didn’t go anywhere,” she replied. “I—” the words stopped. 

Jinsoul didn’t look up. She just listened to Jungeun’s breathing. 

“You healed me.” Jungeun spoke slowly. “Shuhua made sure I was alive until then.” 

She saw the moment she found her again. She felt the fear and desperation. She heard Jungeun’s screams. 

“I’m alive.” Jungeun’s grip on her tightened. “I’m right here.” 

“You almost weren’t,” Jinsoul said it through gritted teeth. “You nearly left.”

“And I didn’t.”

“What about next time?” This time, she let herself look up. “What happens if you’re alone and someone comes after you? What happens if no one gets to you in time?” What if I can’t save you? 

Jungeun held her gaze. Jinsoul almost expected her to look away. Except this wasn’t a moment where Jungeun would slip and avert her gaze. It was a moment where Jungeun would do whatever she could to reassure her. 

“Then I try to stay until that happens,” Jungeun said. “If I can’t, then you know what happens. If I manage that,” the corner of her lip tilted up, “then I’ll live.” 

And in that moment, Jinsoul realised something. 

Jungeun’s eyes had changed colour. Instead of red, they were the colour of unpolished silver. 

______

Author's Note 

Depending on how you see it, this was probably a more uneventful chapter. It's one of my favourites to write, because I get to spend a lot more time with the characters themselves. I hope that even if you prefer the chapters where a bit more happens, you still enjoyed this. 

On the one hand, Hyejoo is coming back to the Astra. On the other, Viseul are finally having a bit more alone time (which may or may not have been intentional from 2jinhye) and Jiwoo has finally told Chaewon the truth. We end with Lipsoul having a relatively important conversation, at least for the two of them. Jungeun's end of the conversation—what's haunting her—is a little bit more obvious than what's following Jinsoul, but they both have burdens they can't quite shake. They're definitely not resolved by the end of the conversation, but they've been addressed. 

Would love to know your thoughts! I've been pretty busy with uni, but this world is a wonderful change from that stress. One of my biggest hopes is that when you read this story, you get a bit of a change from the world too. 

See you in the next chapter!