Jungeun’s anger had faded the moment she’d turned around. Being at angry at Jinsoul almost never made sense. Not when she was usually right. 

Except this time, she still wasn’t sure if Jinsoul was right or if she’d misunderstood something. Or maybe she’d realised something Jungeun hadn’t yet. 

She sighed and kept walking. Every now and then, her legs still felt weak, as if her muscles had stopped wanting to hold her weight. 

She wondered how she’d run with them. She also wasn’t supposed to be walking for longer treks. How was she going to get back to patrol? 

And if there was another threat, how was she going to fight? She would’ve been able to today. She’d already felt the energy she always had before a fight. She’d been ready for it. 

Except there hadn’t been a fight. The four girls were safe and Jungeun was torn between exhaustion and the need to find a fight something else. Maybe that was why she’d been so defensive with Jinsoul. 

She felt a pang of guilt then. They’d talk tonight, not tomorrow. To leave off where they had, it wouldn't help either of them. 

Jungeun spotted a fire, pulled on a piece of it. It jumped straight into her hands. Once, it’d burned her. Now, it danced across her skin. 

She kept walking. 

Some people stopped to speak to her, telling her they were glad she was alright. They thanked her for everything she'd done, with genuine gratitude in their eyes. 

To say it was surprising was an understatement. It also pulled at her anger. These people had just voted over what would happen to Hyunjin, Hyejoo, and Yerim. They hadn’t once opened their mouths to defend her, or any of the rest. Not even Chaewon, not really. 

What had held her back was that some had changed. All of them had voted against Hyejoo the first time, but all of them had voted to save her and the other three this time. 

Jungeun forced herself to smile and thank them, not trusting herself to say anything other than that. She’d gotten good at that over the years. 

She wanted to get to a place where she was alone. All of this was getting overwhelming.  

The next people she saw brought tears to her eyes. She forced them down, keeping the smile on her face. 

“I’m sorry we haven’t seen you yet.” Short pause. “But I’m sorry,” Yuqi said. “I should’ve never even thought you’d turn on us.” 

Jungeun shook her head. “It’s good you did.” She chuckled. “Wouldn’t have worked if you’d been confused.” The hurt she’d felt in that moment was gone. Those feelings of betrayal had gotten them out of harm’s way. For the most part.

Shuhua suddenly pulled her into a hug. “I’m so happy you’re okay.” She leaned away to look at her. The side of her face was still scarred. It’d be smoothed over in a week, but Jungeun’s stomach still twisted at the sight of it. She’d done that to her. “And don't even think about feeling bad for this.” Shuhua tightened her grip. “You saved my life.”

“So did you,” she replied. Then she looked to Yuqi. “You too.” If Jinsoul hadn’t come when she had, if no healer had found her and it’d just been Shuhua, Jungeun would’ve died the first time. 

The reality of that didn’t scare her. As questionable as it might have been, she’d learned to be ready to risk her life. 

That same mentality wasn’t shared here. The Astra didn’t let anyone think they had to risk their life. If someone had fought before, they’d be allowed to sit something out. 

Haseul was an exception. She was the one most had wanted to keep out of danger, but she hadn’t listened. It was what she believed was right, but most of the time, neither she, nor Hyunjin for that matter, went into a fight accepting that they wouldn’t come out of it. Jungeun was so glad none of them went into anything with that mindset. 

She’d tried not to have it. She’d tried to force her thoughts to change, so that her instincts wouldn’t be circulating around the fighting. She managed it only when her head was clear.

“But why did you make us leave?” Yuqi asked. “We could’ve made sure it wouldn’t have gotten that bad.” 

“I didn’t want to risk three people,” Jungeun said. And neither of them had killed someone before. She knew they would in the future. The chances of never killing in their lives were slim, but Jungeun didn’t want to make those bigger. 

“But you took them on by yourself.” Shuhua frowned. 

“I’ve had a lot of experience.” Something she didn’t want to tell them about. “And practice, just like you’ll be doing once I’m feeling better.” She put a hand on both their shoulders. 

Yuqi hugged her next. 

tightened. It was all too much. 

“I’ll see you later,” she told them. 

They nodded, saying again how happy they were to see her walking again. Everyone seemed more relieved than they’d have normally been.

Was it because the seers had actually all seen that she was dying? Maybe all the other times she’d thought she’d gone too far, she still hadn’t. She’d still had a good chance to survive. 

Or maybe she’d been close to that before, but no one had said anything. Jungeun would have to tell them to avoid spreading the news that she'd been so close to dying. It'd save her from this. 

“Jungeun?” 

She looked over to see Vivi. Her hair was orange now. 

“Hi.” 

“Hungry?” Vivi asked. “Jusr finished making it. There‘ll definitely be enough.” 

Jungeun nodded, stunned at the situation before her. 

When she’d come here, Jinsoul had been hugely reluctant to eat. Yerim had eaten with the two of them, but not with the rest for a few months.

And here Vivi was, making food for the others and inviting Jungeun to join her. She was also the person who’d made it possible for Hyejoo to even come back. Jungeun wouldn’t say it yet, but she owed Vivi her life. 

Jungeun sat down. She was handed a bowl of stone and light. 

“Is something wrong?” Vivi asked. “You look like you’ve just realised something.” 

“I’m just surprised,” she admitted. “You’re doing a lot of things sooner than we did.” 

She raised a brow. “Haseul told me you all managed to control the moonlight pretty fast.” 

“I didn’t mean that,” Jungeun said. “You’re joining in on meals, you’re involved with what’s happening in camp.” She smiled. “We weren’t that open to it.” 

“So I’ve heard,” Vivi started eating, “Jinsoul told me a bit about it.” She paused. “Did they really make you light fires?”

She nodded. 

Vivi‘s mouth twisted into a scowl. “How’d you move past that?” she asked. “I’d been treated better than that, but I still held grudges anyway.” 

That meant her people before the Astra. Immediately, Jungeun knew she’d have to let Vivi talk about that another time. It wouldn’t be something to ask her directly about. 

“It wasn’t all of them,” Jungeun explained. “And at one point, Sooyoung and Haseul just told me to stop and just refuse.” She cringed, thinking back to it. All she’d wanted was to not be hated. It didn’t matter if she got them to like her or not. “If they hadn’t, I would’ve probably kept doing it for a few years.” She finally took a bite of the stew. “Oh wow.” It was spicy, but rich too. “This’s amazing.” 

Vivi smiled slightly. “Thank you.” Then she looked thoughtful. “I didn’t think you were,” she grimaced, “this’ll sound offensive.”

Jungeun laughed. “I’ve heard worse. Say it.”

“Well, I didn’t think there was a time when you lacked a spine.” 

She snorted. “Believe me, that wasn’t the only time.” She moved the spoon around in the food, the sound of the stone scraping against moonlight was almost comforting. “Just because I can fight doesn’t mean I’m—well, it didn’t mean I’d fight back.” 

To her surprise, Vivi nodded. “But why still help them? You do a lot for the Astra, but you also have a backbone now.” There was a hint of teasing in her voice now. 

“They never tried that again,” Jungeun said. “Not with me, or any of the others who came.” She shrugged. “As for what else they did,” Hyejoo’s bloodied form came to mind, “I won’t forgive that.” 

“But?” 

She almost smiled at how Vivi could ease out answers from her. It was also a pleasant realisation that Jungeun trusted her enough to say what she was going to. 

“I don’t forgive myself for a lot of things,” Jungeun said. “And I live with it. I had to do that with some people before, and I have to do it here now.” 

“And the Astra,” Vivi began, “do you think you belong here?” 

Jungeun knew this train of thought. Both Jinsoul and Yerim had had it too. They’d wanted to know if Jungeun found a new home. If she’d started to feel like an Astran after all this time. 

“Most of the time I do,” Jungeun nodded, “but it’s complicated, even now. It’s like that for Jinsoul and Yerim too.” Especially Yerim, she thought. Recent events hadn’t helped. Yerim hadn’t come to either of them yet, not much even before the darkness came. Jungeun would have to go talk to her. 

Vivi didn’t respond, instead looking at her bowl. Jungeun wasn’t sure if she’d said the wrong thing or not. 

Then again, Vivi seemed like the type to value honesty on top of everything, so she was probably just processing it. It could be a hard thing to stomach. 

“Have you tried?” Vivi asked then. “Forgiving yourself.”

Jungeun felt her stomach twist at the thought. 

“You can’t forgive what I’ve done,” Jungeun said. “But I won’t spend my entire life dwelling on it.” 

“So you forget?” 

Jungeun shook her head. “I can’t.” She chuckled. “I’ve had the chance to, but no.”

Vivi frowned. “Are you sure you want to remain in the middle?” 

She nodded, hoping they’d drop the subject. 

“But we live forever, in the best of cases,” Vivi continued. “You’re fine with living for all that time, regretting most of what you’ve done?” Her brow rose. “I’ve seen people justify a lot to themselves. It’s the only way they’re able to go on.” 

Jungeun didn’t know how to reply to that. She’d done it in the beginning. She’d felt a lot better too. 

“It’s probably different if it’s justifying most of your life, isn’t it?” Vivi asked. “Those people usually stopped doing what they hated.” 

“I only hated it sometimes,” Jungeun admitted. “A lot of the time I could tell myself I was helping my people.” She shrugged. “And when that didn’t work, I used to tell myself they deserved it. Everyone else around me believed that too.” 

“But?” Vivi repeated. 

“Well,” Jungeun laughed, “it became a problem when the people hunting me down were using that same logic.” She grabbed a piece of fire and moulded it into a ball in her hand. “Became an even bigger problem when I started thinking they were right.” 

“Do you still feel that way?” 

Jungeun gave her a look. “Trying to figure something out here?” She tapped her own head. “Because I’ve been through this a lot. You can just ask what you wanna know.” 

“Do you hate yourself?” 

She could only stare. Then she chuckled. “Wow.”

Vivi smiled slightly, but her eyes were slightly cautious. “You wanted a direct question.” 

Jungeun sat back, looking at her bowl. People had asked her that question before. She’d avoided longer discussions by just saying she didn’t. It’d been a lie a lot of the time. And then when she’d stopped feeling that way, something had ended up happening, dragging her back into her hatred. That made her volatile, but most people didn't know that. Most didn't need to know that either.

“I did. Many times,” Jungeun said. Then she sighed. “But I don’t right now, and if I’d never let myself get out of that,” she felt cold the moment the thought came to her, “I’m not sure I’d still be here.” 

Vivi was quiet then, looking at her with a surprisingly thoughtful expression. Other people who’d heard that had usually started to panic, or just immediately tried to dissuade her from doing anything drastic. It was almost always unnecessary. 

“And you‘re here,” Vivi said. Then she shook her head, slowly. “I can’t say I understand it fully, because I’ve never come that far. Ever.” 

Jungeun laughed. “Good.”

She smiled. “But I have been used.” 

Jungeun held her gaze. This was one of the times to not say much. 

“It’s not impossible for a half-fae to be born, but if they are,” Vivi trailed off, “then you’re only half of what they are.” She stared at the fire. “It took me a long time for them to even see me as anything more than a halfling,” she said quietly. “I fought their battles for them and I spent all the time I wasn’t fighting trying to further my magic, turning it to liquid, trying to control more materials, everything. Just so that the first thing they’d think of when they saw me wasn’t my heritage.” 

“For how many did it work?” Jungeun asked. 

“Enough.” 

Then it was quiet. 

“And when the light came?” Jungeun tried to say it carefully, to leave enough room that Vivi knew she didn’t have to answer her. 

“The ones where it hadn’t worked me completely,” Vivi said, meeting her eyes. They were both angry and sad. “I was finally the outsider they needed me to be, and an actual danger this time.” 

Jungeun thought of Yerim then. Her people had sent her away before anyone had been sent to get her. Yerim had been alone for days, chased down by spirits she hadn’t known how to fight. All because they’d thought she was too dangerous. 

“I knew it was dangerous,” she continued. “But a part of me wishes they would’ve taken the chance.” 

“So that you could’ve stayed,” Jungeun finished. 

Vivi laughed dryly. “In all those years, I never thought I’d be homesick. I’d wanted to leave my people before. I did at times, but I always came back.” 

Jungeun could only nod. 

She looked at her with the strangest gaze. Not as if she was a puzzle, but instead as if she was trying to uncover something else. 

Jungeun smiled slightly, putting down her bowl. “Want to know something else?” It was probably also Vivi’s way of dropping the subject. 

Vivi opened , but then hesitated. After a few seconds, she finally asked, "how thick’s your skin?” 

“Very." She chuckled. "Ask whatever you want.” 

“Why’d you never stop?” Vivi asked. “If you hated it, if you regretted it—“

“Why keep doing it?” Jungeun stretched out her legs. Vivi was being honest in her questions. If what Jungeun said now turned her away, then so be it. “I was trained to fight, taught to kill, and then sent wherever they wanted me to go.” She nodded at the sky. “It changed after that, but I still fought for the Astra.” She thought of what’d been said to her once. A few times actually. “I stayed someone’s weapon and I’ve been fine with it. I think I still am.” 

“As long as it’s you doing the killing,” Vivi finished. “You do that, because you’ve already killed so many.” Her brow furrowed slightly. “You’re used to it.” Understanding filled her eyes.

Jungeun was surprised to see it. She'd probably underestimated her. Then again, she didn't know much at all about Vivi. "Your people before,” she began, “did you have designated fighters?”

Vivi nodded. “I was one of them.” 

“Then what was your view of my people? Some of us were used to defend the Warsans, wipe out the threats, and fulfil any other contract sent our way.” 

“You were mercenaries,” Vivi said. “And occasionally warriors for your people and others.” 

Jungeun had to laugh. The others were warriors. They'd volunteered for those things.

“You know you’ve saved many lives as well,” Vivi began. 

“That doesn’t say much.” 

“I believe it does,” Vivi replied. “Death is brief. Life isn’t, sometimes it’s even endless.” 

“Loss isn’t brief. It can be endless too." The warm smile of her mother came to her mind immediately. That grief hadn’t lessened. She’d only grown numb to it. 

Realisation filled her eyes. “So that’s one of the reasons why,” she murmured. “Did you ever meet their families?” 

Jungeun couldn’t meet her gaze. She wished they could drop it. 

And then Vivi did something she didn’t expect. She dropped it. “Were you one of the people where you weren't immune to your own magic?" 

“Can't say I was,” Jungeun chuckled, “they got me to learn how to keep it from burning my skin before I turned five.” 

She nodded. “Stone made my body ache even if I didn’t touch it.” She sighed. “Apparently I was actually moving the stone with my body when I started."

“That makes no sense to me.”

Vivi laughed. “I won’t go into the solution then.” 

Jungeun smiled. “Please don’t.” She’d ask her another time, or tell Jinsoul to try. She was always been more interested in the workings of things than she had. Yerim was also like that too. 

They were quiet again. Vivi was looking at the fire, still with that inquisitive look in her eyes. 

Jungeun wondered how much more there was to her. She’d only said a small part tonight, but there were centuries that none of them knew about. Over the next years, they’d probably hear brief stories, or catch small references, but that’d be it. 

There’d be some things they’d probably never know of. Vivi didn’t owe them any of those and they’d only find out they existed after decades of trust had been built up. 

Jungeun found herself looking forward to those years. 

______

“Hey,” Haseul said softly. 

Chaewon looked up immediately. “Jinsoul was just here,” she said. “Were you looking for her?” She was looking away now, her eyes only an echo of what they’d been before. How had they not realised sooner? 

“I’m here for two reasons.” She sat down across from her. “The first is that I need your light. The second is to, well, just talk to you before I leave.” 

Chaewon frowned. “Leave?” Dread filled her eyes. 

“Not like that.” She shook her head. Hopefully not. “I have something I need to do. Yeojin and Vivi are coming with.” She leaned forward slightly and lowered her voice. “I’ve been trying to find out what I can about Alluin and his people.”

“And you’re going after them?” Her frown deepened. “You know what they’d—“

“Do if they catch me and capture me,” Haseul finished. “I have an idea.” 

Chaewon looked at her for a long moment. “And you need my light in case they take you. In case they have another mental fae.” 

Haseul nodded. “You don’t have to. What I did before—if asking you for this is—“

A massive piece of light appeared, illuminating the entire forest around them. 

“What happened doesn’t need to be forgiven,” Chaewon said. The colour in her eyes was so faded, but they were still gentle. “What I did, it deserved a lot more than that.”

“You were already suffering,” Haseul replied. “What I did, that was because I couldn’t do anything else. I didn’t go after her when I should’ve. Instead I tried to take out all my anger on the three of you, and it wasn’t all your fault either.” 

Chaewon was shaking her head. 

“I mean that,” Haseul said. “I’ve seen how much this hurts you, not even all of it.” She squeezed her shoulder. “I’m far from being someone where the apology’d matter,” she paused, “but I do forgive you.” 

The look in her eyes broke her heart. “I never apologised.” 

“Not out loud,” Haseul tried to give her a warm smile, “but I know you wanted to. You just didn’t know if you were even allowed to.” 

Chaewon looked surprised. Then the guilt made its way back. 

Haseul knew why. As much as the forgiveness of the others would mean to her, it didn’t take away the fact that Hyejoo was far from that. Chaewon had probably completely given up the hope for her forgiveness. Haseul wouldn’t say it, but she also didn’t think Hyejoo was anywhere close to that. 

She didn’t have to be, but even if she’d be right to never forgive her, Haseul she wasn’t sure if it was good for either of them. Still, it wasn’t her place to say anything. 

“Is it too late for me to go in your place?” Chaewon asked. “They’d actually let me into the camp. And my magic isn’t like his, or what ours should be.” 

“If your path went that way,” Haseul frowned, “they’d think you’d betrayed them.” She wanted to ask what Chaewon meant by ‘should be’, but held back. 

She looked away. “I know,” she said. “And that’s probably why it’s too late. After,” she trailed off. Then she shook her head. “I’ll give you some light for Yeojin and Vivi too.” Two more large pieces appeared. 

“Isn’t that too much?” 

“Maybe,” Chaewon said. “But nothing’s hurting.” She pressed them into her arms. “They don’t know, right? Hyunjin, Yerim, H-Hyejoo—they don’t know, do they?” Her eyes grew cautious. 

Haseul shook her head. 

“They shouldn’t. They’d follow and never be allowed back, even if they left to save you.” 

She wanted to object to that, but it was probably true. Even someone from Alluin’s people being sent to them was taken as a reason not to trust the three. 

Except it was four people whose magic had changed. 

“That’s why you’re not going,” Haseul said. She'd seen Chaewon's mentality before, but a bit different. “You think they’d turn on the others if they already thought one of you was a traitor?” 

Chaewon winced. “A part of the reason they let us stay was their shame. Another part was because some realised how wrong it is.” She glanced at her hands. “But some of them were only convinced because I still have the light.” 

Haseul grimaced. “I know.” 

There was a longer silence then. Chaewon was fiddling with a rock, pinching it between her fingers every now and then. 

Haseul thought to the night they’d dragged them out of the camp, how they’d left them to be bait. 

“Can I ask you something?” Haseul asked. “You don’t have to tell me.” 

Chaewon’s smile was weak, but it was at least genuine. “I wasn’t ever angry at you,” she said. “You should really get that in your head.” She gently flicked the rock at her. 

She felt a knot in her chest unwind then. Chaewon hadn’t spoken to her like this in years. 

“When the spirits were coming,” Haseul started, “you were terrified. Was it the spirit?”

“No, it was—" She shook her head. "It was like when Hye—her magic had changed.” She’d picked up a small clump of dirt next, crumbling it in her hands. “I saw some of my memories, felt the things I had then, and then what had filled the spirits, each of them.” Her hand went to her chest. “I could always sense those things like I could the light, but I think after Hyejoo—” She closed her eyes. “When it happened, I think I changed too. Instead of controlling darkness, I could sense it even more.” 

“That happened when Hyejoo’s darkness came?” Haseul asked. “You felt,” she hesitated, “what you did then?” She hadn’t forgotten the scream that’d ripped from her. She hadn’t forgotten how Chaewon had looked afterwards either. How whatever she'd seen had haunted her.

“It was,” she broke off. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Would you tell her if she asked?” 

Chaewon looked up, a protest seeming to stop just before it hit her lips. Then her brow furrowed. The hand on her chest curled into a fist. 

She nodded. 

Haseul took her hand. The skin was cold. “When I come back, we’ll see what we do next.” 

“We?” Chaewon frowned. 

“I’ll be working to get my friends back.” 

Her eyes widened. She opened , but a tiny croak only came out. 

Haseul smiled. “Somehow, it’ll work.” She gave her hand a final squeeze before she started to pull away. 

“Wait,” Chaewon’s grip on her hand tightened slightly, “thank you. You didn’t have to say any of that, you didn’t have to ever say it, really.” 

“I did.” 

Chaewon shook her head. Then she let go of her. “Stay safe,” she said. “If you need help, I’ll be there.” 

It warmed her heart to hear it. Even if she hoped it would never come to that. She knew how people fought when guilt took up most of their minds. She also knew the people acted when they hated themselves. She knew someone else who’d fought with both those things in mind. 

No matter how capable they were, or how genuine they were in helping the people around them, there was still plenty of reason to worry. 

______

“Okay,” Hyejoo grabbed the spirit, “this’ll make it angry, but it can’t hurt you like it could before.” It was growling. 

“Both of us?” Hyunjin looked at it. It was a small bear, one that would’ve been endearing had it not stared at them with rage in its eyes. She could feel the anger and fear that’d made it. It tugged at her heart, urging her to feel the same. She could feel her mind starting to slip into memories she wanted to avoid. 

“Don’t think about the emotions too much,” Hyejoo told them. Yerim looked sick. She was also feeling what the spirit was. “And you’re not taking much. So both of you do it.” 

Like she had earlier, Yerim stepped forward first. Hyunjin was surprised at how quick she was to do it. She’d handled earlier a lot better than she had. 

Hyunjin focused on the darkness in the spirit. She felt the anger start to fill her, a lot more potent than what she’d been feeling. She pulled. 

The darkness came easily. It didn’t make her feel much colder than before. It didn’t hurt either. The anger made her blood boil and she cursed at the sudden surge of it. 

Then it was gone. 

“It just goes?” Yerim asked. Her right eye was black again. 

“In these amounts, yeah,” Hyejoo nodded, “we can tolerate it.” Then her arms were coated in darkness. The anger in the spirit’s eyes faded, but it didn’t change colour. It looked up at them, expectant, almost hopeful. “You just have to learn how to control it better, and to stop the aura of it from affecting you too much. It won’t be normal, and you’ll think you can take a lot, but you still have to be careful.” 

Hyunjin focused on the darkness she’d just taken. She drew it out of her and onto her palm. It felt cold against her skin. “Can we get rid of it or does it just come back to us?” 

She smiled then. “The effects fade for us naturally, but you can force it into something else. I always use a shadow.” She brought one over. “But people’ll feel that something’s wrong for a while.” 

“How?” Hyunjin looked at it. She could feel the anger Hyejoo had placed there, but subdued. 

“Force it to merge with it,” Hyejoo said. “I can’t really explain how it happens.” 

It took two tries, but when it worked, the cold left her hand. She could still feel it if she held her hand over the shadow. 

Hyejoo brought another spirit. They did it again, but she had the two of them turn the spirit fully. That involved giving it some of their own darkness. It felt weird doing that. Hyunjin hadn’t realised how much she held. It was as if all the light she’d had before had been replaced, along with more in spaces she hadn’t realised were empty. The shadows around them were another source. She only had to touch them to regain what she’d lost. 

It wasn’t that she felt stronger, but there was a vastness to the magic. It hadn’t been one she’d ever felt with the light. 

“Is this how the earth is?” Hyunjin asked. 

Yerim was creating a flower from the shadows, lacing the petals together in dark smoke. “Endless?” Even then, she still had a brightness to her. Her purple eye still sparkled, which Hyunjin still didn’t understand. Were her own eyes like that? 

She just nodded, looking at the shadows. 

Hyejoo was watching the spirits they’d turned, throwing them tiny pieces of darkness. They ate them all, as though they were treats. 

“Yeah,” Yerim’s flower melted back into her hands, “but with the earth, I always knew there was a limit.” She set her palms on the ground. It trembled slightly. “Me.” She ran her fingers along the earth, both shadows and moss curling around them. “But with the darkness, I don’t feel that. I can’t tell where my limit is.” 

“You'll find it,” Hyejoo said. “And then you push it.” 

“What happens then?” Hyunjin asked. “Is it a headache? 

She shook her head. “It’s too much of this.” She waved at the darkness. “It’s feeling even colder." Her hand fell. "When it started, I could barely feel the warmth of a fire, not until I held my hands right over the fire.” She sighed. “I know this doesn’t sound good, but—”

Hyunjin cut in. “We need to know.”

Hyejoo nodded once. “I got nightmares in the first year. A lot. More vivid than I’d ever had them.” 

“Did anything help?” 

“Alluin offered me this.” She made a veil of darkness. Hyunjin felt a slight weight settle in her stomach just looking at it. It was heavy, but not overwhelming. “I only took it after that year.”

Hyunjin took it. It made that heaviness more pronounced. She recognised the feeling. She passed it to Yerim who gasped. 

“It’s like Darie,” she said. 

“Really?” Hyejoo frowned. “How?” 

“She gave me sadness after the bright spirit,” Yerim explained. “It helped the burn. Even if I had any visions when I slept, they weren’t that bad.” She held it over to her. 

“Keep it,” Hyejoo said, making another. “Both of you should have this for the day. Just in case.”

Hyunjin held the silk-like darkness. It didn’t immediately seep into her skin. 

“Thank you,” Hyunjin said. Yerim nodded, a sweet smile appearing. 

Hyejoo’s mind was already elsewhere. Hyunjin could practically feel the question forming. 

“Did you see?” Hyejoo asked. She looked both sad and annoyed. “Did you know something was happening to her?” 

Yerim looked Hyunjin’s way then. She looked torn. 

“I wasn’t looking,” Hyunjin admitted. “I didn’t care.” She’d stopped after that night. She’d at least told herself she had. 

Hyejoo winced. “I didn’t either,” she said. “I didn’t think they would’ve either.” 

Hyunjin thought of how quiet the three had been after that. Jiwoo might’ve been one of the loudest people she’d known, matched only by Sooyoung when she was in the mood. Chaewon’s light and airy laugh had usually accompanied that, along with several remarks that usually had no bite. 

And then it’d all stopped. 

“But they did,” Yerim said. Then she was shaking her head. “I’m not telling you that so you feel bad, I’m—”

“You’re telling me so I know,” Hyejoo finished. 

That they cared. They still care. 

A nod. “Jiwoo didn’t know what to do when it started. Sooyoung didn’t either, and Chaewon wasn’t giving them a chance to help. She didn’t tell them much and they found out about the darkness when the rest of us did.” 

Hyejoo just looked at her. Her expression wasn’t stony, but it didn’t give much away either. 

Hyunjin felt guilty for not having cared enough. She needed to now. 

______

Olivia almost didn’t want to believe it. When everything had still been good, Gowon had told them everything, so had Olivia. Yves had as well. They’d always known that Chuu hadn’t said everything, but she’d said enough. 

Except for the part about the future. 

“They should’ve seen it coming,” Olivia said. “Ji—Chuu should’ve seen it.” 

“I should’ve too,” Yerim shot back. 

Olivia closed . “Sorry.” 

She shook her head. “No one did. We had all the signs, and we didn’t see it. Now we know. Now Hyunjin and I have changed too. That’s it.”

“That’s it?” she repeated. “You lost your magic. They almost us.” 

“But they didn’t,” Hyunjin said. “We got something else instead.” She levelled an almost stern gaze her way. “And I don’t think it’s sunk in yet that you being here is the best thing that’s happened in the last fifty years.”

Olivia felt a flicker of warmth then. She couldn’t hold either of their gazes. 

“We can’t change what happened,” Yerim said. “But only what came later.” A short pause. Then she took a deep breath. “I didn’t think you’d ever come back. I never saw our paths crossing again, until things started shifting.” 

Olivia looked up then. “How?”

“Some of the things you did,” she replied. “I didn’t know what they were, but things shifted, especially this year. Then Chae—" She faltered, before glancing at Hyunjin, then the ground, and back at Olivia. “Something was changing on her side too, even more when the paths started to reform. In some of them, I saw her path fading away. In others, I was seeing it get brighter.” 

“And what is it now?” 

Yerim’s eyes glazed over. After a few seconds, she frowned. 

“What?” Hyunjin leaned forward. “Something wrong?” 

“Haseul was just with Chaewon,” Yerim replied. “And now her path’s going away from camp.” 

“Chaewon’s?” Hyunjin frowned. 

“Not now,” she said. “But later.” Then her frown deepened. “Haseul’s is going that same way a lot sooner. Yeojin and Vivi are with her.” 

“So it’s a patrol?” Olivia asked. 

“Probably,” Yerim muttered. “But I can’t see much else. There’s nothing bad,” she bit her lip, “but I don’t see where Haseul's path is going after that. The other two come back.” 

“And then Chaewon goes after her?” Hyunjin looked in the direction Yerim was looking. “Anyone else with her?” 

“Not yet,” Yerim replied. “But that could change.” She shrugged. “I just saw this. Haseul’s path was staying here, at least it looked like that until now.” 

Olivia couldn’t help but feel uneasy. Why were they going? Why now? With how everything was, this was exactly the time Haseul would try to stay and keep things held together. She’d always done it like that. Even when she’d needed to go away for a bit, she’d practically demanded regular bits of information to know how things were. When they’d needed her, she’d come back. 

Olivia would be lying if she didn’t want Haseul here, both for the three of them and to help her get accustomed to life among the Astra again. Haseul had done that for Jungeun, Jinsoul (with the help of Jungeun), and Yerim to an extent. She’d done it again for Vivi. Was it selfish that Olivia wanted Haseul to help her as well? 

Then Yerim shook her head. “There’s nothing to worry about yet,” she said. “Sometimes these things change back to how they were before. I just have to keep an eye on it.” She put on a smile then. It looked real, but Olivia could feel the worry that still clung to her. 

She felt Hyunjin looking her way. She looked both curious, but also reluctant. 

“What is it?” Olivia asked. 

She shook her head. 

“Ask me.”

Hyunjin grimaced. “How were things in the beginning? Before and after Alluin found you?”

“Lonely,” Olivia admitted. “And I was getting used to the magic.” She’d felt powerful, but it’d been too much. She’d been able to control so much, sense almost too much. “It didn’t get better or worse with Alluin.”

“Just less lonely?” Yerim was hugging her knees, eyes going between being glazed over and focusing on Olivia. 

She nodded. “Except I didn’t exactly have the best company out there.” She closed her eyes. “There’s probably only one person there I liked, and she barely spent time in camp either.”

“And the things they sent you out for,” Hyunjin started, “was it all work for the mortals?”

“Most of it,” Olivia nodded, “a lot of the humans wanted some advantage over the rest.” Then a pit started to form in her stomach. “What were you hearing? About me?”

“That you were stealing,” she replied. “And some other things, but most were always just dismissed as little stories starting, ghost stories.” Her eyes were almost unreadable. “And a few things I think were just because the superstition was getting out of control.” 

“Not all of them,” Olivia said. The pit was growing. “Hyun,” she clenched her jaw, “just ask me about it.” 

Hyunjin’s jaw also tightened. She didn’t want to ask her, but she’d still brought it up. Was it because she wanted to believe it hadn’t happened? 

Olivia felt even guiltier then. 

“What happened with those humans?” Yerim asked. She looked apologetic. Like Hyunjin, she hadn’t wanted to ask the question, but they both needed to know the answer. 

Olivia felt the need to look away. Thinking about that day was hard. She’d pushed it to the back of her memory most of the time. 

“You don’t—“ Hyunjin began. 

Olivia raised a hand, cutting her off. She’d tell them the truth. They deserved that. “I didn’t lose control.” She drew on the shadows. “At least not at first.” She let them fall back into the air. “They followed me, they could feel my magic. It terrified them.” 

“They tried to kill you?” Yerim asked. 

“I think they wanted to,” Olivia said. “But I don’t think they would’ve. Not if they’d realised.” She hadn’t given them the chance to see what they were following. They hadn’t been able to run.

Neither of the two said anything. 

To kill a mortal, it was more than frowned upon, it was cruel. To end a life so much shorter than theirs, to hurt those who couldn’t heal as they could. 

“You felt the murder of the darkness around them, didn’t you?” Hyunjin asked. “Then with the fear they also felt, it was overwhelming.”

Olivia frowned. “When did you ever feel that?” Had Hyunjin had an advanced sense before as well?

“I felt it when I took in the darkness,” she replied. “Not just the last time I did it, but the first times too.”

Yerim looked over. “When you were away?”

So Hyunjin had done that before? Rid a house of darkness. And she'd recovered beforehand fine?

Olivia's throat tightened. There'd been signs, even before Olivia had even gotten the darkness. 

“Was it that fear?” Hyunjin met her eyes. 

“I wanted to hurt someone,” Olivia said. “What those soldiers felt—they saw me as a monster.” She looked away from both of them. 

And she’d given them that. 

“And you were scared,” Hyunjin said. “Scared something would happen again. And you weren’t powerless that time.” 

Olivia couldn’t help but wince. 

“Sorry,” she said quickly. 

Olivia shook her head. “If I can’t hear that, then I shouldn’t be here.” How would she ever face someone like Jungeun if she couldn’t face what she’d done? 

“When you said you hadn’t lost control at first,” Yerim pursed her lips, “what’d you mean?” 

Olivia saw the way their eyes had filled with shadows. She remembered how their terror had surged.

“I couldn’t stop,” she said. “My magic had gone to them, and I hadn’t been able to pull it back.” Then she realised how that sounded, probably to both of them. “I never had magic before,” she added, “I didn’t know how to keep control of anything like that.” 

Hyunjin still looked worried. Yerim didn’t, for some reason. 

“It’ll be okay, Hyun,” Olivia reached over and lightly pinched her shoulder, “you managed tonight without the magic surging the way it would’ve with me. You’ve got a control I didn’t have.”

“I wish we could’ve been there with you,” Hyunjin said. “I wish our magic had changed sooner.” 

Olivia stared at her. That hadn’t been one of those things someone said just to comfort you. Hyunjin had actually meant it. 

“You’re here now,” she said, her voice thick. “And that’s enough.” 

Hyunjin finally smiled then. Her eyes grew a bit brighter too. 

Olivia looked to see if she found any light. It was there, but only in flickers. Yerim had the same thing. 

She didn’t stop to wonder why that was. 

The other two didn’t let her either, because they both tackled her in a hug. 

______

She was already sitting by the fire. The fire reflected in her eyes, turning them from blue into something almost like orange. She looked exhausted. 

Jungeun went over, still wondering what she was going to say. Was she even going to say anything? Talking to Chaewon might’ve been completely draining. Seeing someone like that, it could take a lot of you. Jinsoul could handle it, but she also had her limits. 

Then Jinsoul looked up. She stood immediately. 

The words Jungeun wanted to say left her. 

“Hey,” she said, “I’m sorry about earlier.” She came over. “I shouldn’t have—“

“Soul,” Jungeun lifted her hands, taking her arms, “it’s okay.” 

Jinsoul was already shaking her head. “I was wrong.”

She shook her head. She slid her hands down to take hers. “You were right.”

Jinsoul was thinking of a response, her brow furrowed. 

Jungeun squeezed her hands. “Have you eaten yet?” 

The fold in her brow hadn’t faded, but she shook her head.

“Come on.” Jungeun pulled her down to sit at the fire. "I'm still hungry."

She wasn’t ready to talk about the rest of that yet. And even with the dish she’d gotten from Vivi, she was still hungry. Maybe it was because the weakness was finally starting to fade. 

Jinsoul let go of her hands, before going to the pot over the fire. Two bowls of moonlight appeared in the air, before she started putting food in.

“Did you cook?” She found herself leaning forward. 

Jinsoul chuckled. “Don’t worry, it’s spicy.” 

Jungeun smiled. She got up and hugged her, careful not to collide with her hands. She rested her head on Jinsoul’s shoulder. “How was it with you?” 

Jinsoul was quiet for a few seconds, looking her way. She searched her eyes. 

Jungeun felt the ache return. She fought the urge to look away. 

Something flickered in her eyes. “I’m scared for her.” A pause. The strength in her eyes faded. “She’s broken, Jungeun. The wrong things keep happening to her and it,” her voice shook slightly, “she’s losing herself more and more.” 

Jungeun gently leaned her head against hers. 

Jinsoul relaxed a bit. “I just don’t see how we can fix this,” she said. “Even if Alluin isn’t a threat anymore, Chaewon still won’t be whole. She’ll still be in pain.” 

“Is it just her guilt?” Jungeun asked. She moved them back to a sit down. “Or her magic?” 

“Both.” Jinsoul lifted one of the bowl. “Eat.” 

Jungeun took it and started eating. It was awkward avoiding Jinsoul’s head, but she didn’t seem to mind it. She leaned her head on her chest, eating slowly from her own bowl.

“We don’t know how the three got their magic,” Jungeun said. “But we know how Yerim and Hyunjin lost it.” 

“They just lost their magic,” Jinsoul replied. “They didn’t lose themselves.” She was looking into the fire. “She tried to get rid of the darkness. The kind that was hurting Hyunjin, the one that almost took you.” Her grip on the spoon tightened. “But it’s a part of her now.” 

“Can she live with it?” she asked. “Not like before, but do you think there’s a chance we can make it bearable?” Because that's all you could sometimes do. Once it was bearable, then you could start working to another solution. 

“How?” An edge of hopelessness was coming into her voice. 

Jungeun wished it wasn’t there. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “But we know about five people whose magic changed. Three of them had the light as their magic, two didn’t.” She finished the bowl and set it down. She wrapped her arms around Jinsoul properly, careful not to collide with her hands. “Two of the three lost control over the light, but it’s not completely gone.” She’d seen it in both Hyunjin and Yerim. “It hasn’t been long, but I don’t think it’s hurting them to have both.” 

“You think there’s a chance Chaewon could be like them.” 

“We have to hope there’s one,” Jungeun said. “Otherwise I don’t know what else we’d do. Not yet at least.” 

Jinsoul nodded. She’d closed her eyes, the bowl having been put back to the ground. 

A silence came over them. There was the talk around the camp and she knew people were looking over at both of them. Jungeun ignored all of it. She didn’t want to hear them talking about earlier tonight. She didn’t want to know what the people thought who’d voted against the four. She still couldn’t believe there’d been that many who’d voted for them leaving. 

What she wanted was to try and pull Jinsoul from the place her mind was. 

“About earlier,” Jungeun began, “you know my limits. Maybe not all of them, but some.” She focused on her arms that were still wrapped lightly around Jinsoul. “But I’ve been a patient for a few weeks too long and people’re suddenly telling me they were worried about me.” 

Jinsoul opened , probably to tell her exactly what that was. 

“They tell me how happy they are I’m alive. Others are thanking me for what I’ve done here.” She thought of how even Nuala had been so much more attentive, going as far as mentioning that she owed her a lot for keeping some injuries from getting even worse.

“They’ve thanked you before.” 

“Not like this,” Jungeun said. “Not this many.” 

“You don’t like it?” 

“I don’t get it, it’s—“ She nearly cursed. Was it foolish to get angry at this? Was she wrong to not want them to say what they were saying? 

Jinsoul was looking at her with that imploring gaze. “They realised how much they need you here. How much you’ve actually done for them.” She lifted her free hand when Jungeun started to speak. “And before you say anything, you can’t tell me you haven’t been one of the reasons a lot of them are alive.” 

Jungeun needed to look away then. “I don’t want their thanks,” she admitted. “I don’t need them showing me what they’ve realised, not when they’re still going to vote whether or not to keep people here.” 

“I know,” Jinsoul said. “But it’s all coming from a good place and I think it’s good that you’re hearing it.” 

She fought the urge to counter that. Once again, the words for that protest failed to match what Jinsoul would respond with. 

“Did they never thank you?” Jinsoul’s voice sounded cautious. She was leaving the question open. Jungeun didn’t have to answer it. 

But she would. “I got to take time away,” Jungeun said. No one had thanked her for what she did. They’d celebrated their victories, her actions, but never thanked her, unless it was purely for taking the job, or bringing the reward back. She’d been grateful for that. 

Something deflated in Jinsoul then. 

Jungeun wrapped her arms around her a bit tighter. “What is it?”

Jinsoul’s lip was starting to quiver. She wasn’t teary, but she was close to it. 

“You’re going away again,” she said after a long moment. “After all this is over?” 

Jungeun nearly said she was, but as she opened , she saw how Jinsoul was trying to get herself back together. She was trying to keep herself from showing that she wanted Jungeun to stay. 

Jinsoul would let her go. She always had. 

Going away was easy. She could be completely alone, focusing only on getting from one place to another. She’d done it all her life. When she’d gotten to the Astra, she’d still done it. 

When Jinsoul had come, and later Yerim, she’d still needed to go away at times. Something had changed then. She’d started sending them letters. At first, it’d only been because Yerim had asked her to, but then it’d become something she’d done just so Yerim and Jinsoul would know she was alright. She hadn’t ever needed to do that before. 

And now the two of them were even more worried. For her. 

“Not for a while,” Jungeun replied. She lifted a hand to Jinsoul’s cheek. “Not this time.” 

She felt how she relaxed into the touch, relief washing over her features. 

It convinced Jungeun that staying would be the right decision. She’d have to go on longer patrols, some of them alone, or with Hyunjin, but they’d have to do. 

“We still have to go somewhere together again,” Jinsoul had a small, content smile on, “you, Yerim, me.” 

“Then we’ll do that,” Jungeun smiled, “I still have a lot of places to show you.” 

Blue eyes met hers then. They were sparkling more now. “I’d love that.” 

The ache got stronger. Jungeun knew she couldn’t look away, even if she wanted to. She was the only one feeling this, and Jinsoul catching on to that would only make her worry.

But there was something else looming over them, something Jungeun couldn’t place, but it scared her. It reminded her of the bridges the Warsa had scattered across the mountains, ones that shook with every breath and swayed with each step. They always threatened her with a fall that even an immortal probably wouldn’t survive. 

“But you can still go whenever you want. Don’t start staying just because we’d,” Jinsoul trailed off, “you know.” 

“You’d worry.” 

“Who said you’d be out too far?” Jinsoul winked, but it lacked the usual teasing. “I’d organise a very low-key guard duty for you.” 

Jungeun laughed. “Better than being tied to a tree.” 

Jinsoul rested her hand over Jungeun’s. “If you start straining yourself, Yerim’ll help me.” Then she leaned her head on Jungeun’s shoulder again. 

“You do know I’ve never had any healers as strict as you, right?” 

“Yes,” she huffed, “and have you noticed you’ve recovered faster?” 

”I did notice,” Jungeun said, “but I know it was because you‘re the better healer.” 

Jinsoul whined. “That’s just because you never gave those healers a chance.” She poked her side. Then her expression went serious again. “But about earlier,” she said, “I’m sorry.” 

“I get it,” Jungeun shook her head, “I would’ve seen something too much like me, right?”

And maybe Jinsoul was right. She didn’t know the pain that Chaewon was feeling, but she had a small idea. It wasn’t hard to see how much the girl was hurting. Jungeun had just decided to ignore it before. 

Jinsoul shook her head. “I didn’t mean that “ 

“You did,” Jungeun replied. “And you were right.” 

“No I wasn’t,” Jinsoul said softly. “I just didn’t want you to get hurt.” 

Jungeun nodded. “And how's that wrong?”

She frowned. “I was acting like you couldn’t handle it.” 

“We don’t know if I would’ve handled it or not, and now we’re here.” Jungeun tilted her head to the fire, making a small column rise into a neat circle around the pot. 

“You keep doing that with me,” Jinsoul muttered, watching the fire." 

“Doing what?” 

“Forgiving me when I’ve barely apologised.” 

“Because you don’t have to apologise to me,” Jungeun told her. “Not about that.” 

Jinsoul looked back up at her. There was an intensity in her eyes, joining the confusion and non-verbal protest. It was almost completely too much. “I still will.” She was also talking about those other things. 

“I know.” Jungeun wanted to look away. She forced herself not to.

Jinsoul didn’t say anything. She was just looking at her. It was a look Jungeun knew well. She knew what it was. 

But she didn’t want to name it. Just trying to understand it doubled the ache in her chest. It overtook her thoughts. 

“You know,” Jinsoul’s voice took her away from said thoughts, “you can tell me if it’s ever too much. If you need time alone, for me to stop worrying, just tell me.” 

It was almost funny how Jinsoul could pick up on what went on in her head. 

“I can’t tell you to stop worrying,” Jungeun replied. “You’d never manage a day.” 

Jinsoul softly shoved her. Jungeun’s hand fell away from her face. The ache faded ever so slightly. 

It returned just as strong when Jinsoul pulled her into a tight embrace. 

“Maybe I’d still worry,” she whispered. “But I wouldn’t tell you.” 

“Soul,” Jungeun fought a laugh, “that’s not my point.” Words from before came to mind again. They hurt to remember. 

I needed you to be okay.

Jungeun had lashed out after that. She'd acted that way a few times now. 

“I know,” Jinsoul said. She pulled away to look at her. Her eyes were teary now. “Sorry.” She wiped at her eyes, turning away from her. 

“It’s okay.” 

“It isn’t.” Jinsoul shook her head. The tears were flowing more now. “This shouldn’t still be happening.” She pressed her palms to her eyes. 

Was ‘this’ the worrying? Or the crying? 

Then Jungeun realised that it was neither. This was still from when the darkness had surged the second time. When Jungeun had been close to dying a second time. 

Jungeun reached for her hands, pulling them away from her face. “It hasn’t been that long since it happened.” She mightve come back from it alright, but it’d been worse for the people around her. Jinsoul was one of them.

I’ll never regret it. Not if you’re still standing in front of me.  

From what Jungeun could tell, Jinsoul was feeling better since then. The holes she’d had, they’d started to close. They weren’t draining her as much as before. 

“Talk to me,” Jungeun said. She used her sleeve to wipe the tears away. 

At the same time, some of the droplets were falling away from her eyes directly. 

Jinsoul pulled away then, her head facing away from her. “Can we go inside?” 

Jungeun stood up, pulling her with her. Jinsoul’s head hung down. More tears kept falling away to the ground. 

There weren’t many people around them, but others would probably end up passing by. Jinsoul hated people seeing her this way. 

Together, they went to the tent. Neither Yerim nor Hyunjin were there. 

Jungeun sat down, taking Jinsoul with her. She pulled her into her arms again. 

“I’m scared,” Jinsoul said quietly. “I keep seeing you like you were before. I keep seeing the moment I thought I lost you.” Pain filled her eyes. “And I know that’s not fair, because you’re right here, but I can’t—” She broke off. 

She took Jinsoul’s face in her hands again. She pressed a long kiss to the side of her forehead.

Jinsoul kept talking, switching between arcesh and crosesh, as though one language had a better fitting word than the other did.  

“I want to protect you,” Jinsoul said. “I know you don’t need me to, and you definitely don’t want me to.” She sighed. “I shouldn’t have tried to keep you from seeing her, but I couldn’t help but think it’d hurt you again.” Then she was shaking her head, leaning away. “It’s not the same, I know that, but it felt like it was going to be.” 

It was hard to listen to her. Jungeun didn’t want to hear it, but a part of her felt she needed to. Jinsoul had been bottling the last few months up again and maybe Jungeun had been too. Sometimes they did it for the right reasons, other times the opposite. 

“If I’d have seen you after that, to see you come back from hearing what I had, seeing what I had,” Jinsoul’s breathing was shaky, “I would’ve blamed myself for it. It probably would’ve been the wrong thing, but I would’ve.” She gripped the fabric of Jungeun’s clothes. It was probably to stop her hands from shaking. “And I’m sorry, Jungeun.” She closed her eyes. 

Jungeun nearly told her to stop apologising, but it would’ve definitely been the wrong thing to say. “For what?” 

Jinsoul’s voice was muffled. “Because I can’t do it,” she muttered. “I can’t just say I’m glad you’re okay and then let you go somewhere else. I can’t stop being terrified that the second you’re alone, someone will come. I can’t look at you and not think about how you were so close to being gone.” A sob left her then. “And I know none of that is fair to you. I know you don't want me to feel that way." 

Each tremor in her voice hurt to hear. Each sob she tried to hold back was painful.

Jungeun’s own eyes were burning. She’d known that the last weeks had been hard. She’d seen how they’d affected Jinsoul, but she’d only seen a part of it. Jinsoul had hid so much of it.

“You don’t have to be able to handle this,” Jungeun told her. “And you're doing better than I ever could’ve.” She didn’t even want to imagine how she’d have been if things had been reversed. "So don't be sorry for that. Don’t bottle it up, please.” She forced her own tears back. “I didn’t know how—” How what? How scared Jinsoul had been? How scared she was now? 

“I didn’t want you to,” Jinsoul mumbled. “You don’t want people to worry.” She pulled away. Her eyes were swollen. “You tried to avoid this at home, then you wanted to avoid it here.” She let out a short laugh. “And here I am, doing all that, and more.” She held a hand to her face, rubbing her eye. 

“It’s not that bad,” she said. “I’ve seen worse.” 

“But I’m too much,” Jinsoul retorted. Her voice was steadier now. “You don’t like how the others have started to show you they care and—and I know it scared you when you realised how how much you mean to me.”

“And that isn’t fair of me.” Jungeun looked down at her hands. “Not to them, and not to you.” 

Jinsoul’s hands reached for her own. “This isn’t anything to blame yourself over.”

“Then those other things aren’t bad either,” she said. “I had it easy. The darkness came, but then I was better. I wasn’t the one fighting. You were.” 

Jinsoul had pursed her lips. Jungeun didn’t know if she was listening, or trying to find something else to say. 

“I don’t worry anymore,” Jungeun said. “And I know you don’t agree with that, and you’re right, because I should be.” She laughed slightly. “It’s normal to worry, it’s normal to be afraid something’ll happen again, because something actually happened to me.” She shook her head, another laugh coming. 

Jinsoul frowned slightly, brow curving upwards in the middle. 

Jungeun smiled. “I’m able to move on from what happened, because I’m used to it. That doesn’t mean you should have to and it definitely doesn’t mean you should be hiding the fact that you can't forget what happened.” She squeezed her hands. “People call me a freak of nature for a reason.” 

Jinsoul laughed, shaking her head as she did. 

“You’re not too much,” Jungeun said. “I’m just not used to this. Any of it.”

“It?” Jinsoul repeated. One eyebrow rose. 

A part of Jungeun wondered if Jinsoul knew what she meant and she was just asking to hear it said aloud. 

Then again, there were a lot of things that they’d left unspoken, but one of them knew what it was. If it wasn’t said aloud, it could be ignored. 

“You’ve had every reason to hate me, but you don’t,” Jungeun said. “You weren’t my family, you didn’t grow up with me, see what I was like before or anything like that.” She lifted Jinsoul’s arms, putting them on her shoulders. “Instead you’re this.” She grimaced at her own word choice. “You’re more than family to me. You mean just as much to me and I’d be lying if that didn’t scare me.” 

A few seconds passed. Jinsoul was trying to say something, but it wasn’t coming. 

“I’m scared too,” Jinsoul said. “And when it happened,” she hesitated, “both times. A–a part of me was breaking and it scares me how much that hurt.” She grit her teeth, looking away. 

Jungeun’s heart twisted seeing it. She could distinctly feel Jinsoul’s confusion. There was a reason she could feel that. 

She didn’t want to think about it. 

“It scares me how much you matter to me.” 

Jungeun didn’t say anything. What could she say? She probably didn’t need to. 

Jinsoul looked away. “I don’t know what to do,” she said. “You’re here, you’re better, but I know it’s getting too much again.” She shook her head. “I don’t want to be the reason for that, but if I am, tell me.” The exhaustion was back. “If I’m overbearing, if I’m,” she trailed off. Her eyes dimmed slightly, her shoulders drooping. 

“You’re not,” Jungeun carefully pulled her to the bedroll, “you’re never too much.” She gently pushed her back. “Sleep. We’ll talk more tomorrow.” 

“You didn’t even want to tonight.” Jinsoul looked up at her, eyes wide and open. 

“You did.” Jungeun leaned over and kissed her forehead. “And it was good we did.” She moved away.

She caught her hand then. “Stay?” Then her grip loosened. “Unless you don’t want to.” 

Jungeun dragged her bedroll over and settled down beside her. “I do.” 

Jinsoul rolled over and settled her head on Jungeun’s chest. “This doesn’t hurt, does it?”

“Hasn’t for a while.” 

She hummed once. “I—” A pause. “Thank you,” she murmured. 

From where she was, Jungeun only saw Jinsoul’s lashes move when her eyes fluttered shut. 

She listened as Jinsoul’s breathing began to even out. It threatened to turn into a snore, but Jungeun almost wanted it to. 

It meant she’d be sleeping peacefully, something Jungeun could only hope for her to have. 

Yerim came in. She met Jungeun’s eyes, a silent question there. 

“How’s Hyejoo?” Jungeun asked. 

“Better,” she replied. “She taught us a few things. Told us a bit too. About before.” She dragged her bedroll to Jungeun’s other side. 

Jungeun didn’t ask what she’d heard. Like Jinsoul, Yerim had been drained by what she’d heard. The vote from before didn’t help either, or even her magic being different now. 

“I’m so happy she’s here,” Yerim muttered, curling into her side. “Might not say it, but I think she needed it.” 

Jungeun nodded. “She’s home again. It won’t feel like it for a while, but the same people are here. Sort of.” 

Yerim’s arm went over her stomach. “Did you and Jinsoul talk?” 

“Yeah."

Purple eyes looked up at her, a bit of darkness was in her eyes, but also light. “Did it go anywhere?” 

Jungeun frowned slightly. “What do you mean?”

She gave her a look. “Did you just brush over things, or were you honest with her?” 

Jungeun took her hand. “I’m getting there. I think.” 

Yerim tightened her grip on her. “Good,” she said. “Was she honest with you?” There was something else in her voice. She looked a bit hesitant. 

“She was.” Jungeun looked to Jinsoul, who was definitely sleeping now, if the soft snore was anything to go by. “I thought she’d been before, but she’d been holding back then too.” 

Yerim nodded. “Good,” she repeated. "It's good she's telling you."

“Did you know?” Jungeun asked. “I knew it was bad, but I don’t know how—I mean—what happened.” 

She looked at her for a long moment. “We thought you were gone,” she said, her voice tight. “You said you couldn’t see anything, then your path was, and Jinsoul started screaming.” 

Jungeun didn’t remember that. She remembered trying to leave the tent, telling Jinsoul to stop trying. She remembered telling her that her death wouldn’t be Jinsoul’s fault. 

“Nuala told me to keep her out of the way, to calm her down somehow.” Yerim was staring at the roof of the tent. “I tried to, but she didn’t let me. She kept summoning light, trying to get it to you, but Nuala forced her to take it back.” She looked at her then. “It would’ve just gotten destroyed if she’d have given it to you then.” She blinked a few times. “So Nuala told me to keep her away, with the earth. I trapped her legs. The waterskins had exploded and Jinsoul didn’t stop yelling at us to let her go, to let her help you. Then Nuala gave her a calming draught. It took ten minutes to settle in.” 

“You had to,” Jungeun said. “She’d already gotten hurt. You stopped it from getting worse.”

“I thought she’d hate me for what I did,” Yerim said. “She was so angry. It felt like I’d betrayed her.” She was sinking further into Jungeun’s side. 

“She’d never hate you,” she whispered. “And I can guarantee she knows why you did it. She knows you were just trying to protect her.”

"But I should've let her go to you."

"You did the right thing, Yerim," Jungeun told her. "We're both okay now, and it might've not been that way if she'd tried to help me then."

Yerim nodded weakly. "She would've taken everything, if she could have."

Jungeun's chest twisted again. There was a massive pressure, and it wasn't because of Jinsoul's head resting there. "I know." 

_____

Author's Note 

My exam is finished and now I'm finally free for a while. Clearly, I've been writing a bit in the mean time, but a lot was mostly just in the drafts. However, I'm so excited to bring this story forward, so hopefully I'll be able to have more regular updates.

This chapter took a while to get back into. Certain conversations were ones I was waiting to have, like Vivi and Jungeun, as well as Haseul and Chaewon. Even then, the one between Jinsoul and Jungeun was probably the most difficult I've had to write so far. A part of me thinks it was too long, but the other one couldn't take out any huge pieces, because it didn't work that way.

Either way, this story will be moving forward. I can't say enough how grateful I am that you've been reading this story. This world is one of my favourites to write in and sharing that has been an absolute treat.

Hope you've all been doing well! I've also finally got a twitter account, where I occasionally have snippets for my story, as well as little ideas I end up having. 

See you next chapter.

Twitter: @hblake44

If you have any other questions regarding the au.