Jungeun saw the moment the water began to flow towards Jinsoul. There were small ripples in its surface, while the edges of the pond rose up the sides of the ground, rising higher the closer Jinsoul got. 

Her pull on the element was less prominent than Yerim’s, but still noticeable, if you knew what to look for. 

Jungeun knew she pulled on fire, but much more when she was angry. If she unconsciously pulled on the flames, it usually wasn’t a good thing. 

Jinsoul insisted they make a fire now. 

“This’s about the water,” Jungeun protested. “You like the silence, you like it like this.” She waved at the night before them. 

“If it’s me enjoying myself,” Jinsoul pulled her down to the ground with her, “then we need a fire as well.”

“Are you cold?” Jungeun asked, letting the air around them warm. It’d taken a while to manage that, but she was able to do it gradually now. 

“Not really,” she replied. “I’ve got you here.” A pause. “But you feel better when you’re near one.”

Jungeun felt the beginnings of a smile forming. Of course Jinsoul would tell her something like that.

“I'll make the fire later,” Jungeun replied. “But until then,” she opened her arms, “come here.” 

The smile she got in return made the breath in her lungs catch. 

Jinsoul moved closer, wrapping her own arms around Jungeun’s waist. The sound she made then almost sounded like a giggle. “You’re warm.” She tightened her grip. 

Jungeun tried to slow her breathing. She couldn’t do anything for her heart, but she tried to keep calm. Being so close to Jinsoul still made that ache stronger. That made her even more aware of what was happening. It also replaced the original pain. 

“You’re glowing too,” Jinsoul pulled away slightly, her eyes scanning her face, “you don’t know how much I needed to see that.” Then her brow rose. “Also for you to be okay—you know—for you as well.” She looked away. “And that you’d feel like yourself again.” Only when she blinked did Jungeun see a tear slide down her cheek. 

“This better be a happy tear,” she said, wiping it away. 

Then lips pressed to her forehead and temple. “Sorry.” 

The ache twisted, crawling into . She wanted to pull away. She also wanted to stay where she was. Her skin felt like it was burning. It was almost ironic. 

“We’ve spent the whole day and night together.” Jungeun forced a laugh. “And pretty soon, you’ll get sick of how warm I am.”

She shook her head, a smile forming. It faded immediately after. A distant look came over her. It was framed by exhaustion. 

“What is it?” Jungeun asked. 

Jinsoul shook her head. “It’s not fair,” she said. “You’ll only—” She faltered. “I can’t—”

“Just tell me,” she brushed their foreheads together, “it’s okay.”

Silence. Jinsoul was looking between her and the pond. When she looked back to Jungeun, there was something even more vulnerable in her gaze. 

“When I saw you in the forest, I thought you were dead.” Her blue eyes were still glassy. “And then when you said you couldn’t see, I felt you—you were gone.” The next tears fell. They had a pale blue sheen, like dull sapphires that'd melted. 

Jungeun pulled her closer. Jinsoul’s head settled on her shoulder. The tears still flowed, but Jinsoul was letting them. So Jungeun didn’t say anything else. Sometimes she just had to be quiet. Jinsoul usually managed to get herself out of whatever she was falling into. Sometimes she needed to be alone, other times she needed someone beside her. 

Jungeun could felt the tension slowly leave the other girl. She ran a hand through her hair. 

She knew Jinsoul wouldn’t be letting go of her any time soon, so she kept lightly massaging her head. 

It took a few minutes, but the tears eventually stopped, but Jinsoul’s breathing was still shaky. The fear from before was back, along with some echoes of grief. That alone made Jungeun hold her tighter.

She didn’t know what she could say. 

I’ll never leave you wouldn’t ever work. She was immortal, but she could still die. She could still lose. So often luck had been at her side, either her opponent had been slightly weaker, or distracted by their own emotions. Or she’d reached the healer in time. 

Or Jinsoul had come to her in time. 

You don’t even know what’s happening! I’m supposed to be dead by now. 

She wished she could take those words back. She didn’t want to think about how Jinsoul had felt in that moment, but she had to. 

“I’m sorry,” Jungeun said. 

Jinsoul pulled away immediately, her eyes suddenly hard. “Don’t say—”

“I have to.” She took her hand. The skin was warmer, but still cool. Like it always was. “I gave up.” She remembered pushing herself through a snow storm, her magic gone and her breathing slow. She’d been so tempted to just let the storm take her. 

And that’d been exactly the reason why she’d kept going. 

The only reason she’d survived was the search party that’d been sent out for her. Her father had feared her being caught in the snow. He’d been right. 

“And I shouldn’t have,” Jungeun said. “Everything I told you then, I meant it. And I wish I hadn’t said any of it.”

“It’s okay,” Jinsoul whispered. "You didn't want me to get hurt." She leaned forward so their heads were leaning on one another. She closed her eyes, before she sighed. “I heard you and Jiwoo. Earlier.”

She wanted to be surprised, but she actually wasn’t. She did wish she could take some of the things she’d said then back as well, but it was too late for that. 

“Nosy.” She aimed a light jab at her side.  

Jinsoul shook her head, opening her eyes. “I shouldn’t have—”

“‘Soul,” Jungeun said. “It’s fine.” She smiled at her. “You know what I was—am afraid of, you can tell me too.”

She looked at her, not saying anything. It was a gaze Jungeun couldn’t hold. She busied herself instead with their linked hands. 

“The way I help is my magic,” Jinsoul said. “Healing.” Her voice wasn’t shaky anymore. “I didn’t know how to help you. Whatever I did, it wasn’t helping.” 

“You were able to take the pain away,” Jungeun replied. “And a lot of the light I have now is yours.” Even if she didn’t want it, she knew Jinsoul would never let her give it back, so she didn’t try. 

Neither of them said anything then. Jungeun was fully content with just staying that way, but she wondered if it was the same for Jinsoul. Were her thoughts still spiralling through the past few days? Was she still thinking about what might’ve happened?

Then Jinsoul closed her eyes again, leaning a bit further into her. For a moment, Jungeun wondered if she’d close the distance. She was torn between pulling away and letting it happen. 

But she knew Jinsoul wouldn’t do that. Jungeun also didn't know if she was supposed to be disappointed or relieved. She might’ve been both. That ache made the two feelings even stronger. It seemed to amplify a lot of things. Or it just made her more aware of them. 

Jinsoul let out a long breath. It was silent, but it seemed to drag her down. 

Jungeun’s heart sank. She knew that even if Hyejoo hadn’t come, even if the light hadn’t worked, Jinsoul wouldn’t have given up. She’d have kept giving Jungeun light. She might’ve been worse off than she was now. 

That tore at her as much as Jinsoul’s pain now did. It was something she didn’t want to be true. If Jungeun ever got into that position again, and Jinsoul was with her, there’d be little that she wouldn’t do to save her. 

That scared her. 

“So,” Jinsoul looked at her with reddened eyes, “you even try to leave for patrol and I’ll trap you in a ball of water.”

“I’d drown.”

“You'll be able to breathe.”

Jungeun forced another laugh. “How considerate.” 

“But I’m serious,” Jinsoul said. “You can think of any excuse and I’m not buying it. You’re gonna be at my side until you can hold more moonlight than I can and have enough fire to burn the entire forest down.” 

“You’re not gonna make me prove it, are you?”

She laughed. “No.” A long pause. “But you do know I mean it, right?” She looked up. “You going out now to do anything is dangerous. It’ll be like that for a few weeks.” 

And Jungeun knew very well that Jinsoul would be fighting to contain her worry. Even in a year, those worries would probably linger. Even though they should’ve never been there in the first place. 

"I'll be safe," Jungeun told her. "And I'll try to listen to you more."

"You better." Jinsoul's voice was teasing, but there was a stubborn glint to her eyes. There was also hope. 

One of the knots in Jungeun’s stomach eased just seeing it. She wondered if they'd be getting away from this subject. She hoped so. She didn’t want to see any more of how much Jinsoul cared, or how far she’d go to keep her safe. 

She’d already seen too much. 

But Jungeun also knew they needed to talk about this. She knew Jinsoul needed to talk about it, and that she wouldn’t go to Yerim for it. She probably wouldn’t go to Sooyoung or Haseul either, especially with everything else happening. 

“Except for the other things you’ve done for me,” Jinsoul started, her head sinking to Jungeun’s shoulder, “you just being here helps me more than any ray of light or drop of water could. You don't have to do anything for me." After a short pause, she added, "except listen to me when it comes to your health." 

The ache was back in , but still she smiled. It wasn’t one she needed to force. Jinsoul was usually the reason for that smile. 

“I don’t know how any of what you were going through felt.” Jinsoul’s fingers traced along hers. “But I know it was hurting you and I know you weren’t always telling me that.”

Jungeun hadn’t. For good reason too. The cold, the way her mind had been darkened—it’d put a weight on every thought she had. There were moments when she’d wanted to turn away from all of them. She remembered snapping at those who’d never deserved her anger. She remembered wanting to hurt someone, hardly caring who it was. 

And for a short moment, she thought of Hyejoo. That darkness was in her. She lived with it. She’d had those same thoughts, that same heavy mind, but even more so. And she’d gone through it alone. Until Alluin had found her. 

But she’d also helped people, helped those who didn’t deserve it in addition to those who needed it. She’d turned back to them again to help when she hadn’t needed to. 

“Tell me what’s flowing through that head of yours?” Jinsoul pulled away slightly. Her hand reached out and she brushed a few strands of hair away from her forehead. The touch was cool. Soothing, but it also succeeded in tugging at whatever was drawing Jungeun closer. The weight in her chest grew heavier. 

“The darkness was never bad,” Jungeun said, stuck between leaning into the touch and moving away. “Hyejoo’s proved that without trying and the evidence is there wherever we look.” She held a hand up. It cast a shadow in the glow that came from their skin. “But having it in you, it hurts. It made me think things I didn’t ever want to have in my head.”

“It was changing you,” Jinsoul finished. 

She nodded. “And the change in her. I don’t know how much has been what we did and how much was the darkness.” The memory of bright black eyes flashed across her mind. They’d looked like obsidian once. Now they were like the depths of a chasm, even when she smiled. 

“I’m not sure if we can separate it that easily,” Jinsoul replied. “She was lonely—she still is, she’s still angry,” she frowned, “and I’m very sure there’s a lot of hatred still left for the Astra. It’ll be even worse with Alluin.”  

And the darkness could feed on that, morph it. Or it could just fester. Anyone could turn bitter through their anger. They wouldn’t need darkness for it to begin to consume them. How many times had that been proven in the past years? They’d even seen it with Haseul and Heejin. Jungeun knew it was in her as well. It had come to the forefront through the darkness, but it hadn’t faded. 

“Hey,” blue eyes were in her vision then, “thinking hurts you.” 

Jungeun fought a smile. “That’s a little insulting.” 

“But true.”

She closed her eyes. “I’ll stop.” 

“If we can help her like she did us,” Jinsoul’s head was on her shoulder again, “we’ll figure it out.” 

“Later?” 

“Later.” 

Jungeun was caught off guard by how comfortable she felt. It wasn’t as if she’d never felt comfortable around Jinsoul. She almost always had, but there were several other things that made her want to keep away. But even then, she never could. Jinsoul had become one of the most trusted people in her life, and she'd managed it in half the time that some others had. And with Jinsoul being Jinsoul, she never failed to make the time spent with her meaningful. It didn't matter if it was spent in silence or not. 

And now, Jungeun was enveloped in a clear feeling of warmth. After weeks of only feeling cold, the warmth she felt now kept her where she was. Even if her chest still felt sore, as though her injuries hadn't healed. 

“Thank you,” Jinsoul said. 

Jungeun looked at her, leaning away ever so slightly.

Her smile was warm. “You should’ve been mad at me.” 

Jungeun laughed. “I couldn’t have gotten mad at that. You were right next to me when we were talking.” 

Jinsoul pouted. “I should’ve been asleep.” 

She shook her head. “It almost feels as if you’re trying to convince me.”

Jinsoul just shrugged. 

Jungeun didn’t know what to say to that. Jinsoul sometimes expected her to be upset at things that didn’t exactly call for her to be upset. She kept thinking that Jungeun was upset over the way Jinsoul had acted in the beginning, no matter how often she told her it was fine. Jungeun also knew she expected Yerim to be upset that they hadn’t talked properly about the latter being a seer. Jungeun made a mental note to tell her that Yerim was over the moon, because Jinsoul finally knew the truth. 

“You don’t really talk to me like that,” Jinsoul said softly. She was looking into the water again. “You can tell me if you didn’t like that I’d heard all of that.”

Like that? "How do I talk to you?" 

Jinsoul didn’t lift her gaze. Some of the light had left her eyes. “You don’t always let me know what’s going on with you,” she whispered. “Like Dahyun, what did she mean with that ache? Why is it similar to Chaewon?” Someone whose bond had been broken. Someone whose heart was part darkness and part light. Or, someone whose heart was littered with holes, devoid of both darkness and light. 

She didn’t want to tell her. She realised what ‘like that’ really meant. 

But she couldn't tell her about the emptiness that was still there. She couldn't tell Jinsoul that it probably wasn't going to leave her, because she'd try to find a way to fix it. 

“Do we have to talk about this now?” 

Jinsoul’s expression softened. It always ended up doing that. Except this time, the resolve in her eyes didn’t lessen. “Yes,” she said. “Because this’s the only time we’ll be able to for a while.” 

Jungeun wanted to protest, but she couldn’t bring herself to do that. 

“Or you ask Darie when she comes.” Jungeun had already spoken to Haseul to send the message. “She’ll probably be able to explain it.”

“But you don’t want her to.”

She didn’t say anything. 

Then Jinsoul’s breath caught. Realisation flickered across her face. 

Jungeun closed her eyes. 

“Holes,” Jinsoul said. “She said Chaewon had them.” 

Silence. She didn’t want to fill it. 

“But you had them too?” 

No. This wasn’t what she'd wanted to happen. She didn’t want Jinsoul knowing any of this. 

“Have them,” Jungeun corrected. 

Jinsoul was very quiet, but Jungeun could almost feel her confusion, as well as her dread. It was almost like it was her own. 

“How does it feel?” Jinsoul asked. 

That hadn’t been the reaction she’d expected.

“It isn’t cold for me anymore,” Jungeun said. “But I know something’s missing.” 

“And it hurts?” Jinsoul asked. “Not a lot, but just a bit?”

For the first time since she'd been healed, Jungeun felt cold. 

“That one—I mean, it’s doesn’t hurt anymore.” Jinsoul squeezed her hand.

“When did it start for you?” Jungeun asked. She hoped it wasn’t what she was thinking. 

“After—”

“You healed me?” Jungeun finished. 

The small nod sent a crack through her. 

Jinsoul immediately ran her hands up and down Jungeun’s arms. “That wasn’t you,” she said. “It wasn’t you at all.” 

“You gave me too much,” Jungeun shook her head, “and you took some too.” 

“I needed to,” she told her, her hands going to cup Jungeun’s face. “If there was a chance I could get you back that way, I’d take it. I did take it.” 

She couldn’t look her in the eye. She’d see how they didn’t glow as brightly as before. 

It made sense. Jinsoul’s exhaustion, the lack of light she’d had every now and then. She was in pain because of what she’d taken. She had that same emptiness Jungeun did. She had it because she’d tried to help her. 

“Jungeun,” Jinsoul’s voice was a bit louder, “I could’ve waited for Hyejoo. I could’ve gotten someone else to help me, but I didn’t.” She forced her to look up, thumbs brushing over her skin, trying to be soothing. “I needed you to be okay.”

“You didn’t.” Jungeun knew her voice was shaking, but she couldn’t stop it. 

Blue eyes stared back at her. “What?”

“You don’t need me to be okay,” Jungeun pushed her hands away, “you don’t need to help me, you never needed to.” She nearly fell into the pond as she got to her feet. “What if none of it had worked?” She didn’t dare look at her again. "What if I’d died, Jinsoul? What then?" 

“But you survived,” Jinsoul started, ”you—”

“What about next time?” Jungeun shouted. “You won’t always be there, and if you are, you can’t put yourself at risk for me! That’s not worth losing pieces of you, that isn’t—” A sob fought its way to . 

“We’ll deal with that when we get there.” Her voice was steady, completely calm. She came into her view, her hands outstretched, but she didn’t come any closer. “And I told you, it’s not hurting right now.” Pause. “That means it’s not too much.” 

“It’s never going to go away,” Jungeun threw back. “And what if I hadn’t made it? You would’ve taken more than you did, you could’ve made it so much worse. And for what?” She felt heat crawl into her arms and forced it back. “You can’t fight for me. You’ll just—“ 

“What?” Jinsoul raised a brow. “Get hurt?” she asked. “You can’t tell me that.”

She frowned. “Are you serious?” 

“Of course I am,” Jinsoul’s voice wasn’t sharp, but Jungeun could feel a flicker of her irritation, “you got into this because you were protecting Yuqi and Shuhua. And how many times have you gotten hurt because you stepped in for somebody else?” 

“That’s not—“ 

“It is the same,” Jinsoul snapped. “You do it all the time, but the moment someone steps in for you, they're crossing the line.” 

Jungeun looked away. 

Her voice softened. “It’s unfair,” Jinsoul said. “I can’t heal people without giving something away, or taking something else. I needed to take what was hurting you to heal you.” A long pause. “And maybe I hurt myself because of that, but I don't regret it.” She hesitantly stretched out her hand. It was trembling. “Not when you’re still standing in front of me.” 

Jinsoul’s voice still sounded strong, but Jungeun had known her long enough to know when that was just a front. One she always put up to keep others calm, or just oblivious to what she was feeling. 

Jungeun took her hand. 

She felt the relief in Jinsoul in the next moment. 

Guilt clutched at . She wasn’t the one who needed to be reassured, or talked down in some way. She was the one who was supposed to be level headed, the one who needed to be there. And she wasn’t being that. 

“You mean so much to me,” Jinsoul said quietly. “You probably don’t even want to hear that, but I need you to.” 

Jungeun couldn’t bring herself to look up. The warmth in her chest felt suffocating. The ache didn’t hurt, but it’d spread from to her head. 

“You’re important to all of us.” She squeezed her hand. “You’re worth all of the light you got and so much more.” Jinsoul took a small step closer. “I know you don’t think so, but I do.” 

“I know you do,” Jungeun muttered. And she didn’t understand why. Beyond her abilities, she was someone who could kill without relishing in it, or breaking down the moment she realised what she’d done. She just fought and she was good at it.

“I need you to stop trying to convince me that you’re not important,” Jinsoul took Jungeun other's hand, “because it‘ll never work.” 

Her chest seized at the words. She fought a groan. It came out as a strained hum. 

“What happened?” Jinsoul’s voice was immediately alert. 

Jungeun forced herself to keep upright. Falling would just make things look worse. 

“Nothing bad,” she got out. “Promise.” 

Jinsoul’s grip on her hands was tight. Jungeun could feel the dread starting to form in Jinsoul. 

“I don’t even know what that was,” Jungeun told her, “but I know it wasn’t bad.” It was true too. She had no idea what it was, only what the reason was. She didn’t want to face that reason, but that was impossible. 

She looked up, knowing the light in her eyes would calm Jinsoul down. 

The fear she saw in Jinsoul broke something in her. She forced that pain down and smiled instead. 

“See?” Jungeun freed one hand from Jinsoul’s grasp. She lifted it to her face. The skin was a bit colder than before. “I’m okay.” 

Jinsoul’s eyes held hers. “You’re sure.”

She nodded. “It’s already gone.” That wasn’t exactly true, but the ache hadn’t spiked. It'd just extended to her fingertips. They itched to do something other than carefully brushing the hair from Jinsoul’s face. 

Jungeun pulled her hand away, but took Jinsoul’s again. 

Jinsoul nodded, her head dropping slightly. She looked both relieved and exhausted. 

Jungeun wished she wasn’t the reason for it.

“Can we,” Jinsoul began. Then she shook her head. “Is it okay if,” she broke off. 

“If what?” Jungeun squeezed her hand, telling her it was alright. Whatever the feeling she had now, even if overwhelming, she needed to ignore it. 

“Can I hold you?” Jinsoul glanced away from her, her lip jutting out slightly

Instead of an ache, Jungeun felt heat rush to her face. “Yeah?” 

“You’re not sure?” She glanced up. 

“No, no,” she shook her head, “we can—you can.” 

Jinsoul sat down, still holding her hand. She looked up, both hopeful and hesitant. 

Jungeun joined her. 

Immediately, she was pulled close. Now it was her head on Jinsoul’s shoulder. The arms around her were loose, but tight enough to keep her securely there. 

Jinsoul relaxed then, humming softly. It was as if all she’d needed was this. 

Jungeun closed her eyes, feeling them start to burn. 

Neither of them said anything, but she felt like she needed to break the silence. Otherwise they’d just leave another discussion behind them, only for it to come up again later. 

“You know you’re one of the most important people in my life,” Jungeun said. She focused on the slow rise of Jinsoul’s chest. “And the thought of ever losing you terrifies me.” 

Jinsoul’s breath hitched. 

“I don’t know what my life would be like without you.” tightened. “I can’t imagine it.” She forced down the emotions threatening to come. “But I know there’s so many people where you’re a huge part of their lives, or you’re going to be. You’re so important to Yerim, and I know you don’t think you’ve been there for her enough, but you have.“ 

It felt like Jinsoul was going to speak. Her grip on her had tightened ever so slightly. 

“My people knew from the moment I was born that I couldn’t be a constant in their lives. My friends and family were still the same, but they always had it in the back of their minds.” She searched for the right words. They’d all known that there was a high chance that she wouldn’t make it back. She was one of the people they sent in for that reason. The risk of losing many was minimised that way, and the rest didn’t lose themselves to dread of grief either. 

Jinsoul hadn’t said anything yet, but she was lightly tracing Jungeun’s shoulder. She was listening. 

“Here, none of you have that. A lot of people see me as invincible. It’s a surprise if I don’t win, and that’s,” she trailed off, “that’s not how people should see me.” 

Jinsoul’s thumb swiped across her cheek. A few droplets of water left with it. They formed a small cube, before flying into the pond. 

Jungeun laughed. 

“Keep going,” Jinsoul said gently. 

Jungeun felt a slow wave of warmth then. She’d expected Jinsoul to start protesting the moment she thought she was being self-deprecating. 

“People have relied on me, but they’ve—“ she stopped herself. She had no idea how to say that. 

And Jinsoul gave her time to think it over. Of course she did. 

You don’t really talk to me like that.

It was true. Jungeun had quickly learned that being open with Jinsoul was the best way to go about things, even if she didn't always like the things she heard.

But she'd always put a limit on what to say. Sometimes she'd done it to avoid forcing Jinsoul into a perspective she'd rejected at the time. Other times she'd just done it to keep parts of the past where they were supposed to be. Buried in the darkest places of her mind. 

“I guess they never needed me to come back,” Jungeun said. “And I learned not to really expect that either.” Then she realised how bad that sounded. “But we hoped for it. There were celebratory dinners when I got back from something messier.” 

“Messier,” she repeated, a bit of humour in her voice. 

“Well, I was a mess when I got back,” Jungeun replied. “Then I cleaned up and it was great from there.” 

“We can have fun.” Jinsoul pressed her cheek to the top of Jungeun’s head. “You’re not a mess now.” 

She laughed again. “It's not a mess you can see.” 

“No,” Jinsoul said. “Sometimes you're hard to read and even when you aren't, it's complicated.” A kiss was placed onto the top of her head next. “But not a mess.” 

“Yeah right.” 

“If I can make sense of it, then you’re not messy.” 

Again, the wave of warmth came over her, but even slower. It eased some of the ache too. Somehow. She ignored it. 

“You can make sense of it?” Jungeun forced herself to look up. 

“Of you?” Jinsoul smiled slightly. “After years of knowing you, I think I understand a few things.” 

Her face was still warm, but the way Jinsoul looked at her didn’t help. 

“I know you love being here, because you can do things other than fight. You can help people without using fire.” The tenderness in her eyes got stronger. “But you still think that’s all you’re good for, even if you know that’s not true.” Her hand rose to brush across her cheek. It fell away soon after. “And because of that, you don’t want people caring about you too much. You don’t want them thinking you’re a constant, because you think it’ll hurt more if—” Her face fell. "If you don’t make it back.” 

Jungeun had no idea what to say to that. 

“But you’re not consistent,” Jinsoul continued. “If you really believed all that, you wouldn't have stayed here. Not really. Jiwoo, Haseul and the others all started to think you were here to stay." She took a deep breath. "You wouldn’t have reached out to Yerim and stuck with her as long as you did either." Her smile was both warm and slightly weak. “And you wouldn’t have stayed with me after,” she trailed off. 

She didn’t need to finish that. The memory of that day hadn't left her.

Jungeun looked away, shame replacing whatever nervousness she’d had. It hadn't left her mind either. it probably never would. 

“But I’m so happy you did. Maybe I don't really know why, but you stayed in our lives.” Jinsoul was lightly tracing her knuckles. “And I'll try to keep you in it." Her smile had a sad edge to it now. "It doesn't matter if you’re here or if you have to go away again.” 

The knot in Jungeun’s throat tightened. This was exactly the reason she’d even stayed in the camp. Yerim was another big reason, but Jinsoul was too. It was almost funny in its irony. They'd been the reasons she’d wanted to leave as well. 

Jinsoul was quiet. Was she waiting for a reply? Jungeun didn’t know what she could give her. 

She glanced up. 

Sparkling eyes looked back. They were searching her own. 

“You’re right,” Jungeun said. 

A quirk in her lip. “But?” 

“But,” she sighed, “I don’t know what I’m supposed to say to that. What I’m supposed to, well, do.” And how would it ever make up for all this time? 

“Nothing,” Jinsoul said. “At least not right now.” She finally smiled. It was the same one that always came when Jinsoul was being patient. She was always able to do that. 

Jungeun frowned. “I’ve been doing nothing for a long time.” She wasn't sure what they were talking about exactly, but it looked like Jinsoul did. 

“Not true,” she replied. “And tonight we finally talked about this. About you.” She pulled her closer. “We can stop talking about it if you want.” 

“You don’t want that.” 

Jinsoul was quiet. Her gaze was distant again, hesitant too. 

“Don’t say it’s okay,” Jungeun said. “Because I know it won’t be.“ Especially now that she’d heard what she’d heard today. Jinsoul had held in a lot of frustration and worry. She hadn’t even let all of it out today. 

Because she could push it down. Jungeun couldn't. 

Jinsoul's brow started knitting together. 

Jungeun brushed her thumb over it. “You said I don’t talk to you like that. I don’t tell you a lot of things.” She felt a surge of guilt just thinking about it. She hadn’t realised that Jinsoul had noticed that. “I told you that you could tell me everything. I should probably be trying the same.” 

Jinsoul’s eyes were wide as she looked at her, lips parted in a small ‘o’. Then she smiled. As always, it was beautiful, but there was something else to it. She looked completely elated. 

And Jungeun was absolutely sure the smile was because of her. She couldn’t believe it. 

“Thank you.” Jinsoul’s voice came out as a whisper.

“I didn’t do anything.” Jungeun couldn’t look away. The warmth was overwhelming, the ache once again present from through to her fingers. 

She shook her head. “You did.” One of her hands cupped her face. “I mean that.” Her eyes were glowing even brighter now. 

Jungeun knew that look. She wanted to look away, but she didn’t. Not when Jinsoul looked so happy. 

But as she held her gaze, she felt a lump grow in . 

How could Jinsoul feel this way around her? What had she ever done to be able to make someone like her smile like that? 

Jinsoul’s expression softened. It made whatever Jungeun felt worse.

She could feel something changing. It was something that’d already shifted before, but Jungeun hadn’t been able to face it then. 

She wasn’t sure if she wanted to now. Or even if she could.

But Jinsoul was the last person she wanted to turn away from.

Jungeun's heart sank. It was those same warring thoughts that had led them to be in this place for years. 

“Don’t think too much,” Jinsoul said then. “Let’s go back?” Her hands fell away from Jungeun’s face. They lingered on her shoulders. “I’m hungry.” She stood, grabbing her hands and pulling her up. The smile was still there, but it wasn’t overwhelming anymore. That didn’t calm Jungeun’s nerves, nor the mess of thoughts she had. 

Jinsoul also knew that something was wrong there. She’d experienced that too. Neither of them would forget it, but they’d never brought it up. Another thing that ‘everything’ might include. 

Jungeun felt a small wave of panic at that. Then she felt ashamed. She was such a coward. Jinsoul had to know that too, but she was still here. 

How can you love someone like me?

Jinsoul squeezed her hand, tugging her along. “I meant what I said earlier. Stop thinking,” she said. “It hurts you.” 

“That’s a little insulting.” 

“But true.” She threw a wink over her shoulderm but it lacked a lot of its normal playfulness. “Come on.” She pulled her until she was at her side. Both her arms slipped around her waist. She hugged her tightly, her lips brushing across Jungeun’s temple. 

Suddenly breathing felt difficult. 

“You’re amazing,” Jinsoul whispered. “You won’t listen to anything else I say about that, but I’m telling you now.” Then she pulled away, her step almost a skip as she went back to camp, Jungeun in tow. 

Those words echoed in her mind. The ache had gotten stronger. She hadn't been able to push it down this entire time. She hadn't been able to ignore it. 

_____

“You’re serious,” Olivia felt herself start to smile, “you can see all that?”

Yerim nodded, laughing slightly. “It’s not all great, but the sight’s got a few good things.”

“But sometimes really frustrating?” 

She hummed. “I see that bond get stronger when they’re close to each other, even more when they’re talking.” Her expression turned sombre for a moment, before the smile returned. “But it’s not an actual bond yet. They didn’t really have a set one before, I don’t think.”

“You mean it came later?”

“I’m not sure,” Yerim replied. “Never really asked Eline about it, but Jiwoo—” she broke off, looking apologetic. 

Olivia ignored the anger that rose at the name. She nodded instead. “What did she say?”

“Their light kept drifting together, starting to tie together after Jinsoul started to see past,” she pursed her lips, “the rest.” She looked confused. 

Of course she would. Yerim hadn’t seen what Jinsoul had been like in the beginning. She’d seen Jinsoul’s hesitance, but not what had come before. 

“And none of the seers’ll say anything?” Olivia asked. She couldn’t help but think about the disaster that’d been—and still was—Heejin’s bond. 

She shook her head. “From what I can tell, most either can’t see it or don’t really believe it.” 

She scoffed. “Don’t believe that?” It took a few minutes to see what those two felt for one another, a few seconds if you spotted how they looked at each other. Especially Jinsoul. 

Yerim smiled. It didn’t look as tired as before. “I have a feeling they’ll see it. Nuala realised it and she went straight to the seers, telling them to keep them from any ceremony.”

Olivia couldn’t hide her surprise. “Why? Why would she care?”

She shrugged. “She sees a lot, you know. She’s worked with Jinsoul for years too.”

“But this has nothing to do with that.”

Yerim looked at her. “She isn’t heartless. And as hard as it is to see, she does care about all of us.” 

“You,” Olivia corrected. “Not us.” But even as she said it, she remembered the sheer relief and gratitude in Nuala’s eyes. 

She just nodded, looking away. 

Olivia felt guilty. Even though she loved Yerim no less than before, things had also changed here. Yerim had lost some of her unbridled enthusiasm, while Olivia was the person she was now. 

“I asked Hyunjin to stop by,” Yerim said, a small smile coming back, but it was hesitant. “She’s bringing something to eat, but we both have to talk to you about something.” 

She felt a small sense of unease then. 

“It’s nothing bad!” Yerim added hurriedly. “At least, I don’t think so.” She leaned from one side to another, hands fiddling at her side. 

“Okay,” Olivia muttered. She wondered if it was to do with the strange combination both of them seemed to have. It wasn’t exactly darkness, or light. Was she supposed to say it was tied to shadows instead? 

Hyunjin came a few minutes later, food in her arms, along with three metal bowls. 

“You know I’ve got these, right” Olivia summoned a plate of darkness. “And you’ve got something too.” 

She nodded. “I don’t have anything.” She said it nonchalantly, yet she eyed the plate. Not with fear, but hesitance instead. 

Olivia felt a pit open in her stomach. “What?” 

Yerim grimaced. “We were supposed to get to this later, maybe right before dessert?” She gave Hyunjin a pointed look. 

Hyunjin took a bite out of something. It was a pastry sprinkled with pieces of plum. “Now we got to it.” She sat down, started filling the bowls. “Neither of us can use the light. It started after we were both injured, Yerim by a bright spirit. Me when,” a haunted look came over her expression, “I took the darkness.”

“And you were also attacked by the bright spirit,” Olivia said. Already, she could see what was happening. That pit in her stomach grew. 

She frowned. “But that didn’t—” The realisation dawned on her. “I don’t think it changed anything.” 

There were two options. Stop this conversation immediately and make sure it was never brought up again. 

Or she could try something that risked a lot more than just a lack of magic. 

“But I still have the sight,” Yerim said. “And there’re two spirits who’ve been changed too.” 

“They both saved us,” Hyunjin added. She looked hesitant. There was a thin cloud of fear around her. 

Olivia still felt caught. What was she supposed to do? What if she ruined something for them? What if they lost something else? All because of her?

“Hyejoo,” Hyunjin was looking at her intently, “what’s wrong?”

She realised then that Hyunjin seemed restless. Hyunjin only had her magic, while Yerim had the earth and flora still under her control—what she’d been born with. Olivia had been born without her magic. 

“I don’t know why,” Olivia said. “But I think I know what’s happening.”

Both leaned forward. Yerim looked hesitant, almost as if she suspected the answer, while Hyunjin looked hopeful. 

She made sure her voice was hardly a whisper. “You might be like me.” It made no sense. Yerim had been chosen later. Hyunjin had been born with moonlight. 

And yet they’d been attacked by both types of magic too, in short amounts of time. Jungeun had gotten hurt as well, but only by the darkness. 

What about the spirits? Where did they come in? That made even less sense. 

Unless that was related to why Ikopar had followed her. Maybe the same applied to these spirits. 

“As in,” Hyunjin leaned back, stunned, “like you were before? Or now?”

“Both.” At first she’d been without the light. Then the darkness had come. 

“We don’t know that,” Hyunjin shook her head, “what if it’s just a matter of time?” 

Olivia felt a pang of hurt, but she knew why Hyunjin was acting like this. If she was right, did the two of them still have a place there? Were they even still Astra? 

She summoned a piece of darkness and set it between them. Both eyed it, neither of them moving. 

“Hye,” Hyunjin began. “I don’t,” she stammered, “I’m sorry, but—”

“It’s okay.” Olivia tried for a smile. “This’s just to see if I was right.” And she was. She didn’t want to be. 

Yerim reached out. 

“Don’t,” Hyunjin said. “You don’t know what’ll happen.” 

“I know I’ll be okay,” Yerim replied. Then she took it, gasping the moment she touched it. The darkness surged over her skin, coating it before sinking in. 

Olivia remembered the moment darkness had taken her. She remembered the pain. She cursed. 

She scrambled over to her just as the air turned cold. The darkness went over Yerim’s heart, before crawling away, leaving her heart lined with darkness. There was still light there. Somehow. 

Yerim’s right eye had turned white. Then it filled with darkness as well. 

She cried out. 

“Yerim!” Hyunjin tried to go to her. 

Olivia pushed her back. “Don’t touch her.” Whatever was happening to Yerim would jump to Hyunjin. 

Hyunjin’s eyes were wide with panic. She also looked as if she’d punch her, but she hung back. 

“I’m fine,” Yerim said. “Cold,” she shook her head, “and my entire brain hurts.” She put a hand to her forehead. “But I’m okay.” She opened her eyes. Her right eye was black, a thin white crescent at the base of her iris. Beside the purple, it seemed wrong. “Hyun?” She sat up. “What is it?” 

Olivia looked. Her heart twisted. 

Hyunjin was shaking, her eyes on Yerim, but searching for something. She looked scared. “He was right,” she muttered. “,” she put her head in her hands, fingers scraping across her skin. “No.” The word came out as a whimper. 

“Hyunjin.” Olivia took a careful step forward. 

“Don’t give me any,” Hyunjin snapped. “Please,” she looked away, “I wasn’t thinking. All that should’ve killed me and it didn’t.” She threw one of the plates at the tree. It dug into it with a sharp thud. “I didn’t even think this’d trigger something. I thought he was wrong!" There was both desperation and anger in her voice. 

Olivia felt the shadows leaning over to her. She wrenched them back. 

“What are you talking about?” Yerim went over to her, but kept her distance. “What do you mean you weren’t thinking?” 

She looked up. Tears were running down her face. Even when she’d had the light running through her, she hadn’t ever looked helpless. She did now.

Hyunjin stood. “I need to go.” She looked at Yerim. “Be careful.” Then she ran. 

“Where is she going?” Olivia turned to Yerim. 

“Back to camp,” she said. “But I don’t think she knows that yet.” She looked at her hand. 

“I shouldn’t have done that,” she couldn’t forget the despair on Hyunjin’s face, “I’m sorry.”

Yerim shook her head. “Don’t say that.” She grimaced then. “I don’t think it made anything worse.” Her dark eye hadn’t gone back to purple yet. Would it? 

“It hurt you. I—” 

“Hyejoo,” she sent her a sharp look, “the fact that this worked, it means we lost the light. It wasn’t going to come back.” She looked after Hyunjin. Then she took her hand. Her skin wasn’t warm, but it wasn’t as cold as Olivia’s. “She knows that. We just have wait until she,” a pause, “once she figures out what else that was.” 

That look in her eyes stayed It hadn’t been disgusted, or even directed at Olivia. Hyunjin had been terrified of something, but there’d been an actual reason for it, not just shock of the darkness or something like it. 

She wished she could go after her, but she knew Hyunjin needed to be alone. She always did if things got hard. She’d let it out then, before coming to her friends, but with a clearer head. 

She hoped Hyunjin would come to them. She also had no idea what Hyunjin would choose. It’d be between having darkness and having no magic at all. 

But when Olivia thought about what her own magic had brought her, how it’d changed her—what if not having magic was better? 

And then Yerim, why had she taken the darkness so quickly? Why had she been so ready? 

When she looked at her, Yerim was staring at her other hand. On her palm lay a small shard of darkness. It bloomed into a small rose. 

______

Olivia was back in the camp. She'd been called to heal someone and now she was walking past the Astra. Yerim had gone away, not ready for the change to her light to be seen.

Now it was time for dinner. She kept an eye on anyone who was even remotely similar to Hyunjin or Yerim. She also looked for Hyunjin, but found her nowhere. 

It was her fault. She should've thought of what could've happened. Reminded them of what being like her meant, even if it'd been obvious. She'd lived with her magic for a few years now. She'd learned to grow accustomed to it. Hyunjin had always had the light. Yerim had had it for a long time too. Olivia had never had it. 

And now Yerim had truly lost her light, while Hyunjin wasn't going to get it back. But how was the darkness going to affect them? What if it slowly poisoned them? What if neither of them would be able to handle the cold, the continuous drone of past regrets, memories, and fears? 

Olivia was broken from her thoughts when she felt a tug of something familiar. Hatred. 

She couldn't see it, but knew where to look. Her gaze landed on Yves and Gowon. Regret surrounded them both, but there were tendrils of anger around Yves, directed at herself.

Then she saw it. The anger that hung around Yves was drifting towards Gowon too. Their fire was low, casting long, yet faint shadows. Those shadows were leaning towards Gowon. 

No. It couldn’t be. She couldn’t be a part of this too. 

Olivia blinked, trying to look again, to see if maybe her perspective had shifted. What if she was just seeing something that’d only been Gowon’s? 

But when she focused on the darkness, she could spot the turmoil in both, distinguish them too. Yves was frustrated and cloaked in guilt. Gowon also had guilt, but there was hatred, all of it directed at herself. And Yves’s darkness had begun to drift on to Gowon’s arm, lingering there. 

She remembered the horror in Gowon’s eyes that night, how she hadn’t been able to look her in the eyes, even then. 

No. It couldn’t be that. Gowon hadn’t lost her magic. She still had light. 

But technically, even though they'd lost control over it, so did Hyunjin and Yerim. 

Olivia's feet started moving,. She was torn on whether or not to stop or keep going. She let herself move. 

She’d told them not to come to her, but she was coming to them. 

Yves saw her first. She started to stand, frowning. 

Olivia took her shadow and made her sit back down. 

Her eyes widened, but she didn’t make another move. Hurt flickered across her expression. Olivia ignored it. 

Gowon looked up and dread came over her features. Did she know? 

No. She didn’t. She was just afraid of what Olivia was there for. Should she have been? 

“You really don’t know what’s happening to you?” Olivia's voice sounded smoother to her ears now. 

Gowon didn’t look away then. Her pale green eyes weren’t as vibrant, but they were still bright. They just weren’t filled with a gentle teasing anymore, but instead something sad, almost empty. “No.” She sounded tired, but she’d always been the one to stay up the longest. Along with Olivia. 

“Is that why you came here?” Yves asked. She was leaning towards Gowon, as if ready to shield her, as if she wasn’t being held back by her shadow. She'd be ready to defend her even though she knew Olivia could overpower her. That part of her hadn't changed. 

“You know what happened to Hyunjin and Yerim?” Olivia asked. “They couldn’t call on the light.” 

Something flashed in Gowon's eyes. Then it vanished. 

She said the next part in Korean. “What happened to your light?” 

Gowon’s jaw tightened. A shadow of the bite from before crept back into her voice. “You can see that." The darkness around her became more concentrated. "You don't have to ask me." 

Yves’ shadows drifted closer, wrapping around Gowon’s wrist. Could Gowon see that?

“I see that it changed," Olivia retorted. “But you’re not telling me what happened.” 

“Why do you have to know?” Gowon hissed. She stood. Her skin glowed, but Olivia felt the shift in the darkness. In her own too. “This doesn’t affect you, this won’t ever have anything to do with you, you’re free of it.” Her anger disappeared, replaced by a shaky voice and glassy eyes. “So just leave it.” Whatever resolve she had left looked like it was close to crumbling. 

Olivia didn’t feel the anger she expected to feel. 

She took a step back, feeling more tired than before, but also something else. It made the parts of her—the holes—feel more pronounced. 

Gowon looked away then. 

The feeling eased, but it was still there. 

“Hye—what’re you doing here?” It was Chuu. The bags under her eyes were the first thing she saw. Was it because of her visions? Did she dream of the future like some of the rest did? 

Olivia pushed the thoughts away. “Doesn’t matter.” She let go of Yves’ shadow only then, but the latter didn’t move. 

She walked away. 

It took a minute, then she heard it. 

“I don’t know!” Gowon’s voice was almost a snarl. 

“Chae,” Yves began. 

“Let go of me,” she said sharply. 

"Just tell us how we can help." Chuu sounded careful, but almost like she was pleading. 

"If you didn't know how to before, you won't know now," Gowon shot back. "So start worrying about yourselves first." 

“Talk to us first,” Chuu was saying. 

“There’s nothing I have to say to this.” Gowon was very quiet. Olivia had to strain her ears to hear her. “It’s never going to change and the two of you’re going to have to get used to that. I have.” Then she was walking away, her breath slowly quickening. She was close to breaking down. 

And the shadows followed.

______

Author's Note 

I am not exaggerating when I say I've been planning that conversation between Jinsoul and Jungeun from the beginning. My biggest struggle has been pinpointing the reasons why Jungeun has kept Jinsoul at a certain distance, but never actually pulled away completely. Writing their shared past has helped quite a lot, because Jungeun's character, as well as the contradictions in it, have become much clearer to me. From the beginning, I was writing a relationship where both characters are in love with one another and know they are, but haven't actually said it aloud. Something I've been playing with for a while is how things change the moment you actually admit it aloud. That can range from your feelings changing, to the entire status quo shifting as a result. The bonds are a big example of that, but the exact explanations and consequences of that will be coming later. 

In addition to a long-awaited Lipsoul talk, there's another aspect of the story that I've been waiting to uncover. That's the triplet line being tied to both light and darkness. Change had already been happening for a while, and I took a really long time to get to that, but it's still not fully formed. Yerim has had yet another change to her magic, but Hyunjin has run from it. 

One thing I'd like to briefly explain are "holes". If I had to describe it, I'd say it's like a cloth where you cut out a portion of it. You can sew it or patch it up, but that doesn't change that something's missing from the cloth. In this case, those holes are caused by various things, and I'll be getting to those later. 

Also, I tend to use the words heart and mind a lot more than I ever use the word soul, but in this story there's a link between them. I won't describe it, because that could just get too complicated, but the magic of the elves, specifically the light and darkness, is closely tied to the idea of a soul. Just like how being 'bound by light' can be called having a soulmate, there's a connection there. However, for the enjoyment of this story, you do not need to know those things. A lot of it ends up being for my sanity when I'm writing, because I'd otherwise be really unhappy with how the world was developing.

But anyway, I won't be making this chapter any longer than it already is. I really hope you enjoyed it. When I was editing this chapter, I really had to stop and think about how LONG it took me to get to certain plot-points. I'm happy with the progress, but I really want to know how it's like for you as a reader. That can either be your thoughts of the chapter itself, or what you've been liking, and not liking, about the story so far. And if you have any predictions, all the better. 

Thank you for reading. See you next chapter.