“Jiwoo?” Jungeun’s brow furrowed. “Are you okay?” 

Chuu laughed. Jungeun had nearly died and she was the one concerned. And Chuu hadn’t visited her until now, not properly at least. She’d been asleep every time she’d come. “That’s something we can talk about later.” She smiled at Jinsoul and Yerim who were both sleeping at Jungeun’s side. “Tell me how you are first.”

“Better,” she said, sounding so relieved. It looked as if the weight of the world had left her shoulders. “So much better.” Then the smile on her face faded. She looked to Yerim, then Jinsoul. “But I’m not sure how they’re feeling.” 

“They’re okay,” Chuu replied. Their paths were fine. Jinsoul’s had continually darkened as Jungeun had gotten worse. “Promise.”

Jungeun relaxed, but not much. 

“Yerim told me,” Jungeun said quietly. “You told everyone you were a seer.” 

She nodded. “I’m not even sure if it worked.” All she’d done was reveal the secret she’d been hiding all her life. And it’d probably brought nothing. 

“Maybe it will soon,” she told her, “and someone who might’ve needed to hear it did too.” 

Hyejoo. Someone she’d lied to before about her magic. Someone who’d been a part of her family just as much as her mother was.

“I can tell you now,” Chuu began, “I don’t think she’d realised how much I’d lied.” She remembered the confusion that’d showed through on her face. “So it might just get worse.”

Jungeun’s brow furrowed. “Did you talk to her?”

Out of habit, she looked around. 

But they were only in the tent Jungeun shared with Jinsoul, Yerim, and Hyunjin. And Hyunjin wasn’t even there. 

“Chaewon went to the forest. Hyejoo saw she was there and went to her.” Chuu still didn’t know how she was supposed to see that moment. She’d never been scared of Hyejoo. Those feelings had been left in the past, but she’d been scared of what that encounter would mean for both of them. Chaewon had broken down the moment Hyejoo had been out of sight. 

And Chuu couldn’t forget the way Hyejoo’s expression had been torn between hatred and something very close to desperation. She’d not stopped trying to find out what had happened to Chaewon to make her light look like it did now. 

“How’s Chaewon?” 

Chuu felt a wave of emotion threaten to overcome her. Chaewon’s eyes were still swollen. They still caught her eyes drifting to the space in front of her, shame overflowing in her eyes. 

“Does she need time?” Jungeun asked. “Or company?” 

She could only shake her head. “I don’t know.” Once they’d been able to get through to Chaewon by sheer perseverance. Now, she didn’t know if they’d be helping her or just making everything worse. It clawed at her heart that she didn’t know what to do. 

“Think she’ll want to talk to me?” Jungeun asked. “It’ll take a little bit of convincing, but the healers’ll let me go,” her voice dropped, “but if she’ll feel cornered, I won’t do it.” 

“She’ll feel cornered no matter what you do,” Chuu said. She sat down on the chair beside the bed. It’d probably been for either Yerim or Jinsoul, but neither of them would’ve wanted to be too far away from Jungeun. For obvious reasons. 

She nodded. “I’ll try.” A weak smile. 

Chuu wanted to take her hand. She wished she could hug her. Even if so much of the darkness had been taken away, Jungeun’s still had long shadows stretching far into her present and future. That was why there was a small chance that Chaewon would listen. Whether or not anything came from it, Chuu had no idea. 

“And how’re you?” Jungeun’s smile had faded. “Everything’s a mess right now.”

Chuu laughed, putting a hand to to stifle it. “I’ve no idea what I’m doing,” she admitted. Tears came to her eyes in that moment. 

Immediately, Jungeun was untangling her arms from the people beside her. She reached over Jinsoul, holding out her hand. 

“I didn’t come here for this.” Chuu tried to wipe the tears away. “Sorry.” She took Jungeun’s hand. The skin was warm, a reminder she needed. There was at least something that’d gone right. 

“It’s okay,” Jungeun squeezed her hand, “these two’ve been sleeping deeply lately.” There was a hint of guilt when she said that. 

She wanted to tell her that whatever she was thinking, it probably wasn’t true. 

She didn’t, because she was the last person to be talking to anyone about guilt. 

“Did you want to talk?” Jungeun asked. “Or just have company?”

“Both?” 

Silence fell. There was a fire burning in the middle of the tent. It’d warmed the entire thing, even though a chill had started to settle in the air. It was very clearly a fire Jungeun had conjured. Normal ones had a hard time keeping the cold out completely, but the fire elf’d managed it. 

“You don’t have to know what to do,” Jungeun said slowly. “It doesn’t even have to work. If you try to talk to her, maybe she’ll shut you out, but that won’t make it worse.” She held Jiwoo’s gaze. “You also can’t think you’re not capable of helping her.” 

Chuu looked away. “It’s worse than before, Jungeun.” She looked at her tear-soaked legs. “Time didn’t help. Nothing I did helped.” 

“That isn’t true.” She sat up, gently easing Yerim’s arm away from her waist. “You got her back to patrols and hunts. You got her back to laughing around the fire.” Her voice dropped in volume. “That isn’t nothing.” There was a flicker of pain across her face. Then it vanished. 

She wanted to tell her she was wrong. She wanted to tell her about the times that Chaewon had gone to the forest to clean those swords, her tears soaking into the dirt as she spent hours trapped in her guilt and self-hatred. 

“And what you always did,” Jungeun folded her other hand over Chuu’s, “was make sure she still felt loved. The three of you didn’t break apart because of what happened.”

“We couldn’t,” Chuu replied. And she would’ve never left Chaewon or Sooyoung alone. Sooyoung wouldn’t have done that either. “It would’ve made things worse for all of us.” All of their other friends had either hated them, or sided with them. And the ones who’d sided with them were wrong. 

“That was something,” Jungeun said, her voice a lot firmer. “That helped all of you through this. You weren’t going to be able to heal that fast, you—” Her grip on Chuu’s hands loosened. 

“We might’ve never healed?” Chuu finished. “I know.” The admission hurt more than she cared to admit. Not only for Chaewon, but Sooyoung as well. It was different from grief, because it hadn’t been inevitable. The wounds had been made by their mistakes. 

The look in Jungeun’s eyes broke, but she was clearly trying to keep it hidden. It made Chuu feel worse, but it reminded her that few understood this better than Jungeun. Even though it would’ve been better had Jungeun not been able to understand. 

“You just have to make it bearable,” Jungeun whispered. 

Her eyes were burning again, threatening to overflow again. 

“I’m sorry,” Jungeun said. Before Chuu could even start to ask her what the hell she meant by that, she continued, “we should’ve just left you alone after. We just made it all worse.” She wasn’t looking away, but the shame was so clear in her eyes. Normally, she hid that. 

“Don’t say sorry for what happened,” Chuu said. She still remembered the disgust in their eyes. She remembered the barely concealed fury in Jungeun’s eyes and the rage that’d been burning in Haseul. She remembered the hatred that Heejin had sent their way. “You weren’t wrong to do it.” 

Jungeun shook her head. “They weren’t. I was.” trembled as she smiled. “You’re still one of the most important people in my life, Jiwoo,” she said. “And I did that to you, to Sooyoung.” Her jaw tightened. “And to Chaewon.” 

Chuu tried to think of what she could say to reassure her. Jungeun had always known what to say, but Chuu’s mind was still fogged with emotions. 

“Don’t try to tell me I’m wrong,” she lifted a hand, “because I know I’m right this time. Haseul and Heejin knew Hyejoo like a sister. She was—is my friend, but so are you.” She closed her eyes. “I should’ve been there for you.” Her voice was shaky. “I’m here now. For all of you.” 

That held a lot of weight. It was more than a reassurance. It was a promise. 

Chuu looked to the two girls still sleeping. ‘All of you’ meant them. It would probably mean Yeojin too. 

But it also meant Chuu, Sooyoung, and Chaewon. 

Somehow, that meant more to Chuu than any apology. She was still shocked that Jungeun would still be thinking about that night, a night when she’d been taking out her anger on the people who’d most deserved it. And Jungeun had been there for her after. It’d taken a few years, but Jungeun had broken the distance that’d been between her and the three of them. She’d come back to camp one night, stopped by their fire, and told them about a new vampire coven that’d been forced from their home. She’d told them Sooyoung was going to have to see for herself if they were dangerous, that the other two needed to come, and she’d be with them. 

It’d been straight to the point, it’d caught them all off guard, but it’d been the start to mending one of the many broken bridges. 

“You were there for us,” Chuu said. She stood and pulled Jungeun in for a very awkwardly positioned hug. “It doesn’t matter that it was later, but you were.” She was careful not to pull on any of her injuries. “I was prepared to never talk to any of you again.” She pulled away. “And all I ended up getting was a few scratches on that day.” 

Jungeun gave her a look and a strained chuckle. Tears had started to seep out of her eyes. “Don’t underplay that.” 

“I will when you stop joking around every time you get mauled by a werewolf.” 

The corner of her lip tugged up. “Those’re my best.” 

Chuu gently swatted her arm before sitting back down. She felt lighter. Her head was hurting, and she still couldn’t forget the look in Hyejoo’s eyes, or the pain in Chaewon’s sobs, but she could smile. 

_____

Jinsoul was good at pretending to sleep. A lot of the time, the people who’d needed the most supervision, hated if they knew they were being watched over. It reassured them so much more if the other people in the room were distracted, or just sleeping. 

So Jinsoul stayed where she was now, listening to Jungeun’s steady heartbeat, as well as the soft conversation between the two of them. 

She almost wished she could force herself to fall asleep. She was hearing things she knew Jiwoo wouldn’t want others to hear. 

But she knew that waking up would mean she’d leave the tent to give them their privacy. 

She didn’t want to leave Jungeun’s side. 

It might’ve been one of the most childish things she’d ever been, but the thought of leaving Jungeun’s side for longer than an hour reminded her of the worst moments of the past weeks. 

Weeks. This had all started in the past weeks. Vivi had come only a month ago, maybe two. They’d gone from barely knowing about Hyejoo’s situation to having her back in camp. Yerim had finally told her she was a seer. Jungeun had gone from being completely unharmed to a breath away from death. 

Their lives had all changed. And Jinsoul prayed that the moon would let them all change for the better. 

But now, she wanted nothing more than to take Jungeun and Jiwoo into her arms. She was far from being good with her words. She relied on showing reassurances instead of saying them. 

She wanted to tell Jiwoo that things would be alright, that she’d be there for them too, and that she didn’t blame them anymore. 

Jinsoul knew why Jiwoo had come here. Even if she hadn’t ever tried to comfort someone with as much guilt as Chaewon had, Jungeun knew guilt like that. Jinsoul knew it probably wasn’t the main reason Jiwoo was coming here—it probably hadn’t even been a conscious decision, but this was something Jungeun would understand. For better or worse, Jungeun also knew self-loathing well. 

That realisation stung, but it also made her heart ache for Chaewon too. She still didn’t understand how Chaewon had done that to Hyejoo, how she’d turned away from her—but she knew that if Chaewon had had some moment of clarity then, or someone to bring her back to reality, she’d have never made that decision. 

Something had gone horribly wrong and Chaewon thought she was the sole reason for it. She was one reason for it, but Jinsoul knew that didn’t matter to her. The same applied to Jiwoo. She was just hiding how much everything was affecting her, focusing instead on keeping Chaewon from drowning in her own guilt. Sooyoung was definitely not much different. 

“But is there something I can say to her?” Jiwoo broke the silence. She sounded so tired. “Anything I could do to help her? Actually do.” 

Jungeun was quiet. Jinsoul knew exactly the expression that she had on. She also knew there’d be a flicker of anguish, but one she’d hide. Jungeun had always been good at hiding what she really felt, but she wasn’t always good at keeping the cracks from her expression. 

“What did you do the first time?” she finally asked. 

“We didn’t let her sleep alone,” Jiwoo replied. “We put the bedroll away and some other things, but,” she paused, “she didn’t let us get rid of some things.” 

Meaning Chaewon hadn’t wanted to forget. 

“What did she let you do?” Jungeun shifted ever so slightly. Her fingers brushed across Jinsoul’s side, lingering there. “She let you be there, but she didn’t talk about it?”

There was a silence, but Jinsoul heard the slightest amount of shifting. Jiwoo had probably shaken her head. 

“Sooyoung tried once, but she got angry.” She sighed. “And it’s happening again now, but worse.” 

“What does it look like?” Jungeun asked. 

Jinsoul had no idea what that meant. She waited for Jiwoo to reply. 

“It changes,” Jiwoo muttered. “Sometimes it’s completely black. Sometimes there’re pieces of grey in it, or even threads of silver, but that’s it. It’s—it’s,” she took a deep breath, “it’s always going to Hyejoo, but it never reaches her.” 

The meaning of those words flooded her with dread. They’d had a bond. 

And it was gone. 

“She doesn’t have the other piece?” 

“No,” Jiwoo said. “At least I don’t see anything. Maybe she does and I can’t see that—maybe she’s hiding it, or—” 

“Jiwoo,” Jungeun broke her off, “you don’t have to know everything about this. Most people barely understand bonds that’re intact.” 

It was quiet then. 

“Is there anything that helps her?” Jungeun asked. “Was Dahyun able to take some of the pain?” 

“Yeah,” she said. “But she gave her the brightest of the emotions. She’s not going to be able to feel that now.” 

“Then we could ask for more,” Jungeun replied. “And maybe her being here again could be good for Hyejoo too.” 

“Darie won’t understand,” Jiwoo mumbled. “She got a headache just trying to understand why the bonds even exist, let alone why we think they’re important.”

Jinsoul felt Jungeun laugh. She wondered if that was because she was the same. She didn’t know what to make of that. 

“She’ll understand why it hurts.” The amusement had left Jungeun’s voice. “Even if she doesn’t understand what happened, she might know what Chaewon’s feeling better than she does, maybe even the same with Hyejoo.” The hand on Jinsoul’s back stilled. “She understood what was happening to me.” 

Jinsoul felt a surge of worry then. It was coming from Jungeun. 

“That isn’t the same,” Jiwoo said, her voice a bit stronger now. “She took the darkness away, yes, but she had much more light left in her. And whatever did go to her heart isn’t there anymore.”

They were talking about her. 

“I told her not to take it,” Jungeun’s thumb was drawing light circles, “what if Hyejoo hadn’t come? What if she’d taken too much?” 

She was asking the wrong questions. 

“She was never in the same place you were.” There was movement. Jiwoo was probably leaning forward. “She could afford to take that. She needed to take that from you.”

“What if it hadn’t worked?” Jungeun’s sounded a bit sharper. “What if I’d died and she’d have had to live with what she’d taken?” 

“That didn’t happen,” she said calmly. “Neither of you have to live with that darkness.” When Jungeun started to say something, Jiwoo didn’t let her. “You were dying,” her voice didn’t waver, “if you think she would’ve let that happen without trying everything to stop it, then you don’t understand how much you mean to her.” 

Jinsoul was stunned at Jiwoo’s words. She was also so grateful that someone else was telling Jungeun things like this—that someone else could keep her head from descending into yet another mess of guilt and doubt. 

“And don’t even try to argue with me, because I know you’d do the same for her and if anyone tried to tell you to stop, you’d never listen.”

Jungeun didn’t reply, but Jinsoul knew she was trying to think of a counter. 

“That’s another thing,” Jungeun muttered. Her hand moved to Jinsoul’s arm, lightly tracing the skin there. “I want to do the same, but I can’t.” Her fingers were shaky. “I can’t take her pain away. I can’t heal her if she’s hurt—I tried that, you know, but the healing runes don’t even help.” 

It took everything not to take Jungeun’s hand then. It took even more to not tell her she was wrong. 

“Stop.” Jiwoo sounded frustrated. “Just because you can’t help her one way, doesn’t mean you haven’t helped her. Do you forget everything else you’ve done when you get like this?” She sighed. “If Jinsoul heard you, she’d be able to list off everything you’ve done for her. I could talk for an hour about a fraction of those things.” 

Jungeun was still quiet. 

“Why can’t you see that?” Jiwoo asked. “That’s far from being humble, and it’s not you being considerate to her either.” 

Jinsoul felt Jungeun’s hurt at that, but also how she deflated. She knew Jiwoo was right. Whether or not she’d take it into account was a different question. 

“Sooyoung’ll be back soon,” Jiwoo said. “She took Chaewon on patrol.” By the sound of it, she’d stood up. “Thank you, Jungie,” it sounded like she was smiling, “I’m here for you too, you know.” 

“Yeah,” Jungeun said. “I know.”

“Just,” Jiwoo was further away now, “don’t forget about yourself.” A pause. “And when I say that, I don’t mean the shadows.” 

It was quiet when she left, save for the fire. It started to get warmer. 

Beside her, Jungeun stayed where she was. 

Jinsoul wished she could just ‘wake up’ and take her into her arms. 

But she also knew that Jungeun needed this time to think. She also couldn’t give away that she hadn’t been sleeping. 

She heard Jungeun breathe in deeply, before slowly letting it out. She was either trying to clear her head, or trying not to cry. 

This wasn't unusual. Over the years, Jinsoul had heard Jungeun wake up, only to spend the rest of the day thinking. At first, Jinsoul had just pretended to keep sleeping, occasionally hearing Jungeun get up and leaving the tent, or tossing and turning. 

As time went on, she’d gotten up and spent the day with her. Sometimes it was obvious when Jungeun didn’t want someone around, but other times she hid it. Jinsoul was still learning, but whenever she wasn’t sure, she didn’t go to her. Jungeun had never shut off to the point of being cold, unless that’d been the darkness taking hold of her. 

But she started feeling trapped if someone tried reaching out to her too fast, or making her speak her mind when she hadn't even made sense of her own thoughts. Jungeun feeling trapped was something Jinsoul always wanted to avoid. It didn't take much, and sometimes Jungeun pulled away when she should've been opening up. Finding that balance was hard as well, but Jinsoul was learning how to find it. 

Jungeun shifted then. She laid down. She didn’t move anymore, but it was exactly the kind of silence that came when she was thinking. 

She didn’t stop thinking after an hour. 

Jinsoul turned around, one of her bones cracking. She groaned. 

Jungeun let out a soft huff of a laugh. 

She didn’t open her eyes, but she moved her arm, settling it over Jungeun’s abdomen. 

To her relief, she felt Jungeun relax. 

They stayed like that for a long time. Jinsoul couldn’t fall asleep. Her mind was filled with what both Jungeun and Jiwoo had said. How much there was still left to solve. 

And she could still feel pieces of what Jungeun was feeling, even as her breath finally slowed to the lull that came with sleep. She could feel her doubt and worry, but also relief. There was also something else, but couldn’t place the feeling. It felt warm. Familiar too. 

______

Yeojin saw Yerim filling two bowls, each of them held aloft by a tablet of earth. 

She spotted her. The smile that came was tired. She looked it too. 

And it wasn’t worrying, but Yeojin wasn’t really reassured either. 

“You’re up late,” Yerim said. 

“So’re you.” 

She chuckled. “I know, but,” she shrugged, “our schedules are pretty out of it.”

“Does it change back so quickly?”

Yerim shrugged again. “Jinsoul says it’s natural. The rest of you are mentally awake in the dark. People like us aren’t.” 

It sounded like there was a double meaning to that, but Yeojin had no idea what the second would be. 

“How’re you feeling?” Yeojin asked. 

Yerim’s brow rose. Then she smiled. “I’m good,” she said. “Jinsoul and Jungeun,” her voice faltered for a moment, “they’re both okay now. They’ll both have to heal, but they will.” A short pause. “We all will.”

“Does that light still affect you?” 

“No,” she said. “Hyejoo took it.” She looked around. “It’s something else.” 

Just the way that was said, Yeojin felt cold. 

“I still can’t control any light,” Yerim said. “The rest works,” she sighed, “I don’t know why, but it doesn’t work.”

Pause. 

Yerim grabbed both bowls. The dirt platforms crumbled. Either one of the other two was asleep, or Yerim wasn’t hungry. Yeojin wasn’t sure if she should even ask that. 

So she asked something else. “Are you worried?” 

She shook her head. “I’m lucky enough that I’ve got my other magic,” Yerim said. “Not everyone gets that.” She looked somewhere else, a frown on her face. 

“If you need help,” Yeojin said, “you can always tell me.”

Yerim nodded once. “Same here. If you need me.”

Then she was going off. Yeojin nearly went after her, but she held back. It was hard to tell with Yerim when she wanted to be left alone and when not.

But there was something else too. Something else was brewing, not just with Yerim. It was more than a little unsettling. And she was worried. 

______

“Where’re you planning on going?” Vivi asked. “I mean, we.” 

Haseul grimaced. “This’s where you’ll tell me if you’re coming with me or not,” she said. “We’re first going to the witch. Then I’m going after Alluin’s people.”

The words felt like a blow to her sternum. “You’re what?”

“Well,” she looked away, “not directly, because his entire camp could kill me, or he’d be able to do it.” She shrugged. “I’m trying to find any followers he’s sent out.” Her expression looked put on, too poised. Was she trying to seem confident? 

“People he’s made sure hate people like you.” Vivi really didn’t like that idea, let alone the fact that Haseul was doing this without an actual team. “Wait,” it struck her, “was that last patrol also a search?” 

“Yes and no,” Haseul said. “We’ve got a lot to do for the mortals, but I did follow a trail here and there.” One that'd clearly left her drained, both of light and energy. 

“You followed it,” she repeated. And Haseul had been completely on her own, barely giving the rest notice. They wouldn’t have known if she was in trouble until it was too late. 

“Yeah,” Haseul frowned at her, “and don’t start trying to convince me not to.” Some bite had crept into her voice. Instead of a poised expression, she was starting to look trapped. 

“It’s not like you’d listen,” Vivi said. “But,” she tried to gather the words, “Haseul, that’s something with a lot out of your control. And it just takes one thing going wrong and then you’re either a prisoner or left dying on the ground. Or in the river.”

“You’re describing normal life there.”

It was an attempt at a joke, one used to evade. 

“I understand why you want to go,” Vivi said. “But going alone is more than a risk. It wouldn’t even be a surprise if you didn’t come back.”

Haseul winced. That was at least a sign she was listening. “And who do you think’d agree to this?” she asked, her voice sharp. “I don’t want more people! I know some of his followers will be like Hanna, but others’ll be like the lightning wielder. Or worse,” she spat. Then she dropped her gaze again, regret clear in her eyes. She was blaming herself for something, taking on a responsibility she didn't have to bear. 

“But is there anyone you would take?” Vivi asked. 

When she spoke, her voice was softer. “Well I agreed to you coming,” she said. “But because of what I just said, if you don’t come, that’ll be fine with me.” A pause. “But Sooyoung can’t come because she needs to be with Chaewon. I’m not sending Hyejoo after people who’d taken her in, and there’s no chance Jungeun or Hyunjin could come after what they’ve been through.”

“And Yeojin?”

The response was immediate. “No.”

“Because she’s too young?” 

“She’s never been in a situation like this,” Haseul snapped. Then her expression softened. “Sorry.”

That was another thing Vivi was learning about her: Haseul always managed to reign herself in, her feelings. As an elder, in negotiations, that was probably perfect. But between the two of them, it didn’t fit. 

“If ‘like this’ means cruelty, then you’re wrong,” Vivi said. “I don’t know much about her life, but she was there when Hyejoo was banished.”

As usual, the thought of her made Haseul look away, even though Hyejoo had come back. 

“And she saw what he’d done to that mortal,” she went on. “She saw that, and if the worst does happen to this camp, sheltering her would be a mistake.”

“That’s not sheltering her,” Haseul shot back. “And don’t tell me this’d be something to prepare her for later, because Jungeun trained all her life.” Then she kept going, not letting her say something. “She fought when she was sick, when she’d been freezing—when she was bleeding out, just so she’d still be able to fight at her worst.” She ran a hand through her hair, her eyes welling up with tears. “And she still almost lost this time.”

Vivi took a moment to process that. It made sense why the rest were so adamant that Jungeun needed rest. It also made her think back to when Jungeun had defended Hanna. She’d nearly killed the other elf, while being left on the brink of death herself, but she’d insisted that she live. Most others wouldn’t have objected to an execution, not even Jinsoul or Yerim. Especially not them. 

“You can’t make Jungeun the standard,” Vivi finally said. “Hyejoo wasn’t chosen to fight like she was, nor Hyunjin, and neither was I.” She resisted the urge to reach out and wipe those tears away. “And I don’t think you were either.”

Haseul shook her head. “Don’t do that,” she whispered. “Don’t make me feel like a fool.” A tear rolled down her face. She put her face in her hands. 

“It’s not a bad thing,” she replied. “Not always.”

“Great,” she lifted her head, “you actually do think I’m being an idiot.” Even though there were tears on her face, she looked harsh. She threw up her hands, turning away. Her step was faster now. 

Vivi quickened her own pace. ”It’s because you’re ignoring something.”

Haseul stopped, turning on her. “If you say I’m not thinking about my safety, you can stay here.” Her eyes burned with anger. “There’ve been many times where I could’ve not come back, but every time I left, I was actually doing something that helped us.” She took a step forward. “Wasting time discussing who’s a risk, who’s in danger, and who isn’t gets us nowhere.” She narrowed her eyes. “And if the reason I should stay behind is that I’ll be their leader in a hundred years, someone else can have my place.”

By the way she said it, Vivi knew Haseul had been thinking about this for a long time. Had it started with Hyejoo's banishment? Or before then? 

“And what about the people who’d want to help you?”

She didn’t respond.

“I’ll not go if you don’t want me with you.” Vivi took a step back. “But I need you to know that your responsibilities aren’t just keeping the others safe.” She let the silence hang for a few seconds, leaving time for a retort. It didn’t come. “You’re a friend to many, already a leader to even more, and you have an understanding about a lot of things others don’t.”

“Like what?” She still sounded frustrated, but the actual sharpness was leaving her words. “Because I can give you a list of people who have all of that, and they took those same risks.” 

“But they aren’t you.”

Haseul’s eyes filled with surprise. Then confusion. 

Vivi knew she’d just stepped onto a sensitive topic, but she’d already been walking along some very unsteady grounds tonight. A few more steps weren’t going to hurt. Much. 

“You’re one of the only people Hyejoo can trust with her life and you can get through to her too,” Vivi said. “You’re as good as a sister to Yeojin and the one thing she’s been wanting is for something she does to matter.” She wondered if any of that was getting through to Haseul. “You’ve been the one to help Jungeun, Jinsoul, and the others feel like they have a home here.”

“I only actually helped Jungeun. She was the one who took care of the rest,” she sighed, “but it was difficult each time.”

“If more come, both of you will be needed. Especially if you’re always swapping the person who’s putting their life at risk.” 

To her surprise, but also relief, Haseul cracked a smile. “Sooyoung’ll also be there this time. Jinsoul and Yerim too.” But even that was said with a bit of hesitation. 

“But you were there for me.” Vivi felt a weight lift from her chest saying that. A new one replaced it. Had she said too much? Or not enough? 

“I still am,” she said quietly. 

Not if you’re gone. 

It looked like Haseul realised the same thing. She turned her head away, teeth digging into her lip. She didn't looked trapped anymore, but she did look exhausted. Again. 

“I want to go with you,” Vivi continued. “But this,” she waved at the forest, whatever path’s going to appear better be one that you considered, and one that you’ll be careful on.” And all for the right reasons, she added. Saying it would be something for another day. Or never. 

Haseul was looking at her with that same look from before—one filled with frustration, but held back by the tenderness she naturally had. 

Finally, she broke the silence. “I’ll ask Yeojin.” Then she started walking back to camp. 

The tension in her stomach eased.  

“Don’t be smug yet,” Haseul elbowed her, “you don’t even know what she’ll say.”

“I do.”

Vivi laughed as she dodged the sharp elbow thrown her way. 

Haseul laughed as well. 

The sound filled her with pride, and a warmth like the light they controlled. That weight was still in her chest, but with the new sense of lightness, she didn’t mind it. 

______

“Did you eat?” Jungeun asked. She was looking from her plate to Jinsoul, a frown slowly starting to form. It was probably the way she'd looked earlier, while talking to Jiwoo. 

What'd been said then still drifted in and out of her head. 

Jinsoul nodded before she was finished making that face. “You were sleeping when I did.” She’d realised their own sleep schedules had become mismatched. She needed so much sleep now, while Jinsoul was left exhausted by the time Jungeun woke up. 

“Oh,” she shook the first bite, “I’m sleeping a lot.” The frown came back. “Is that supposed to be normal?” She fiddled with her fork. 

“Your body’s been under pressure for weeks,” Jinsoul said. Maybe years, she thought. “Same with your mind,” she tapped her cheek, “of course it’s normal.”

Jungeun kept eating. There was a very clear relief all across her features. The weight that’d been on her shoulders had lifted and the change was noticeable. 

Jinsoul loved it. Even though there were other burdens, ones Jungeun still hadn't been able to free herself of, she was healthy again. And to see Jungeun bright again, so relaxed—it felt like a gift. 

Then Jungeun caught her eye. She smiled at her. Jinsoul was once again struck by her beauty. 

Then it came again, a gentle ache in her chest. 

“You’re sleeping enough, right?” Jungeun shifted her food around. “You also need time to rest.”

“Don’t worry about me,” she nodded at her plate, “eat.”

She raised a brow. “I’m going to worry,” she replied. “And I’ll stop once you don’t look exhausted.” 

Jinsoul didn’t answer, choosing instead to prop up her chin and watch her eat. 

She still felt cold, but that was nothing compared to everything that’d come before this. There might’ve been a strange, separate pain that felt like the hole in her heart, but that was alright. Jungeun was right there. Healed. They'd be able to figure out the rest. Maybe not tonight, or tomorrow, but soon. 

“What’re you thinking about?”

Jinsoul smiled. “What makes you so sure I’m thinking?”

Jungeun laughed, shaking her head. Her red eyes were sparkling again. 

The memory of dark grey eyes came to her then. She felt a small surge of panic. 

She blinked and there were Jungeun’s jewelled red eyes again. They were filled with concern. 

“Everything okay?” 

Jinsoul nodded. “Just got distracted,” she replied. Then she reached over and took her hand. Her skin was warm. Finally. “I’m so happy,” she said. “Really happy.” 

A broad smile broke out across her face, her gaze filled with a relieved joy. 

How Jinsoul was able to get a smile like that still annoyed her—that she was someone who could make Jungeun happy. 

The ache got stronger. 

“Good,” Jungeun said softly. “I mean, great.” She looked away. “It’s just,” she pursed her lips, “it's really great to hear that.” She squeezed her hand. 

Jinsoul could’ve leaned in then and there, but she held herself back. Again. 

The realisation struck her then. She didn’t want to hold back what she felt anymore. 

That didn’t mean she’d stop giving her space. She still needed to. She couldn’t shove Jungeun into anything, especially if she wasn’t ready. 

But she needed to make sure Jungeun knew what she felt. They’d been trading so very carefully around in murky waters for years. They were both supposed to know how each of them felt. Jinsoul didn’t really hide it. She couldn’t. 

She was also quite sure that Jungeun had let some of that slip through as well. 

But even then, Jinsoul was still doubtful. Had anything changed? Had they left the murky waters and strayed closer to the shore now? She barely even knew what that shore looked like. 

“Can we go to the river?” Jungeun asked. 

Jinsoul looked at her. “You want to go there?” She thought of Jungeun collapsing in the forest, of her eyes losing their colour by the river. 

Concern flooded her features. “We don’t have to,” she said hurriedly. “I thought you’d want me to be there. Clear your head.” 

“Oh,” Jinsoul nodded, “yeah.” She could still feel the darkness she’d taken from Jungeun, even though Hyejoo had already taken it. She still felt the sharp pain in her chest. She remembered the moment Jungeun had started to fade away. “What about the pond?” It wasn't nearly as peaceful as the river, but it was closer to the camp. And not by the river. 

Immediately, Jungeun nodded, getting to her feet. 

“We’re walking slow,” Jinsoul told her. 

“I know,” she nodded again, “let’s check on Yerim first.” 

Jinsoul followed her as they walked, their fingers still loosely connected. She walked a bit faster just to close the remaining distance there. 

“I hope she’s sleeping,” Jungeun muttered. “Not dreaming,” she added. 

Right, Yerim also got visions of the future. Not that often, if she’d understood it right. 

And if she got flashes of the past as well—

“I hope so too,” Jinsoul said. 

They reached their tent, only to see Hyunjin and Yerim sitting across from one another. 

Hyunjin jumped, but Yerim only smiled. 

“We’re going to the pond,” Jinsoul said. 

Yerim nodded. She already knew. 

“How’re you feeling?” Hyunjin asked. “Both of you.”

“Good,” Jinsoul looked at Jungeun, “both of us.”

Hyunjin nodded, a small smile on her face. Her eyes were a bit dim. Even though she still had light. 

“Yeah,” her smile faded, “but Yerim said she can’t control the light either.” She looked between them. “Any idea if that’s supposed to happen or not?” It became clear then that both their eyes were dim. 

Jinsoul just shook her head. “It could be that your magic was exhausted. That can happen.” Either through overuse, trauma, or immense pain—sometimes all three. 

“It happened to me a lot,” Jungeun said then. “Not just with the light.” Her eyes flicked once to Jinsoul’s. When she looked away, she spotted the beginnings of shame there. “It came back, but not because one problem got fixed. I had to be completely back to normal first.”

“So you’re saying we’re still odd?” Yerim lifted a brow. Jungeun winked. “Aeong.”

Hyunjin tossed a grape at her. 

Jungeun caught it, chewing on it, amusement glittering in her eyes. 

“Go to your pond,” Hyunjin muttered. “Take all the time you need.” A smirk. 

When they left, Jinsoul knew she wasn’t imagining the red lining Jungeun’s ears. It’d been a while since she’d seen that. 

______

“You think they’ll actually talk?” Hyunjin asked. “You can’t see that, right?” 

Choerry shook her head. She’d told her about the sight, also that it’d come back to her before the light had. 

Amazingly, Hyunjin had barely batted an eye. “But if you ever try saving my life again,” she’d said, “you better let me help.”

She shrugged. “I’ll try to keep that in mind.”

A light hit on her arm. “I’m serious. Your spirit saved you. I’m not letting you become a team of one here.”

Choerry smiled. “I’m not.” She had Jungeun and Jinsoul still. Hyunjin was also by her side. And Hyejoo was back. She wasn’t sure where Yeojin stood, but she was there. Chuu as well. 

An something they all had in common was that they all knew her secret. At first, Choerry’d wanted nothing more than to hide that. She’d managed fine with just Chuu and Jungeun knowing. 

But she felt so much more at peace with the future, knowing she could share it if the others asked. They knew well enough not to constantly ask her, so that helped. 

“Have you seen the—Hypnos?” Hyunjin asked. 

“Not lately,” she said. “But he’s always close.” Sometimes he went somewhere else, probably because another spirit was near. 

“Is he still with, you know, both light and dark?”

Choerry nodded. 

“Aeong is too,” then she snorted, “that sounds dumb.” Then she turned serious again. “I feel like that stuff’s connected,” she said. 

“Hypnos and Aeong?”

Hyunjin grimaced. “I know it sounds weird, but were you able to call on the light after he shifted from dark to light?”

Choerry’s stomach flipped just thinking about it. “And yours stopped after the cat?” She frowned. “But we were both hurt before that.”

She nodded. “I’ve been hurt before, so has Jungeun and a lot of others, but did they ever lose the light for this long?”

Choerry tried to think about one. There must’ve been one. 

“Or it comes back next week,” Hyunjin shrugged, “I’m hoping for that, but I don’t know.” She bit her lip. “It feels like it’s not there for me. At all.” 

Choerry knew full well that this was worrying Hyunjin a lot more than it looked. She had her earth magic, the sight too, but Hyunjin only had the light. Without that, she had only a few spells here and there. 

“But I got the sight back,” Choerry said. “That means the connection to the moon’s still there.”

Hyunjin smiled, but it was weak. “That’s why I’m not panicking yet.”

She took her hand, squeezing it once. “Have you seen Aeong since then?”

“Once,” she said. “She came up to me for a minute, wanting a scratch n his head.” Her brow furrowed. “I just don’t get it, how that worked.”

Choerry wasn’t sure anyone knew that. 

“We could try finding them,” she said. “Once I’m allowed to leave camp.”

Hyunjin snorted. “Since when’re you following the rules?”

“It’s actually great,” she lightly kicked her, “you should try it.”

The atmosphere fell into something more comfortable. 

Then Choerry noticed something. She felt something familiar with Hyunjin. It was like what she’d felt with Hypnos, Hyejoo, and even Gowon, though that was rare. 

She wondered what the connection was between all of them. Or if there was one at all. She couldn't see it, only feel the change. It didn't have to do with the light, or lack thereof, that they had. It also didn't have anything to do with what they'd all experienced, because Hyunjin's experience was nothing like Gowon's. It made no sense, but that didn't mean the connection didn't exist. 

______

Author's Note 

A lot of things happened in this chapter. At one point, I'd thought it'd be too much, but there's a lot of 'little moments' I need to happen. 

That being said, Haseul and Vivi's conversation was not a little moment. I feel like they've probably been left at the sidelines a bit, as well as Yeojin. Sadly, with twelve characters, putting them all at the forefront is extremely difficult. I love Yeojin's character, but to consistently write chapters for her would one, really extend the already long word count of this story, and two, force there to be plot-lines that aren't quite feeding into the story. The way I write, I've usually had certain scenes in mind from weeks to months ago and want to lead up to them. Or, I've opened the document, think about which character's next, or which arc needs development, and that comes to me.

At the very beginning, I was writing scenes from all over the story. The flashback chapter for Hyejoo's banishment was written at the same time her reunion with yyxy was written. Multiple scenes between Jinsoul and Jungeun were written around the same time, because there was a clear thread I needed to follow, as well as keeping up with how the darkness was slowly taking hold. 

My biggest hope is that this story is comprehensive and engaging, despite the large cast. Threads from seven to eight chapters ago are really coming into play now and I've got to say I'm really excited, but also a little nervous. 

If you've got any predictions, I'd love to read them. Seeing your thoughts on the story, be they about what's happened or what might happen, make me enormously happy and even more excited to keep writing. 

Times are currently quite tense and there's a balance to be had when it comes to reality and the outlets you may have (if you can't tell, mine is writing). However, I wish you all the best in what comes going forward and if this story, or any other has been able to give you some comfort, then I'm glad. 

Hope you're all doing well. See you next chapter.