Note: the scene that starts with "Gowon had taken the job alone." will include some violence, but ends with "Gowon moved away"

_____

Haseul found her sitting by the river, staring into the water. There's once been a time when Jungeun had never gone to the river unless it was to wash. Even then, she’d just gathered water into a basin, warmed it, and bathed somewhere else, further away from the water, or where it was shallow. 

Then it'd changed into a place of solace for her. Calm.  

“Thinking of swimming?” 

Jungeun looked up. Her eyes weren’t dim, but they were filled with exhaustion. “Not tonight.” 

“Can I?” Haseul gestured to the spot beside her.

Jungeun nodded. 

She sat down beside her. She reached into the water. “It’s freezing.” 

“I won’t push you in,” Jungeun said. “Probably.” 

Haseul smiled. 

“So what’s happening?” Jungeun asked. “What’re you planning?” 

She blinked. “Huh?” 

The corner of her lip tilted up. “I know that look.”

Haseul should’ve known. “I’m leaving soon. Vivi and Yeojin’ll be with me. We need to know more about Alluin’s people.” 

Jungeun looked at her for a long time. She didn’t look like she was going to tell her to stay, or even that she’d come along with her. That wasn't surprising.

Still, Haseul braced herself. What if Jungeun insisted on coming with her? She was persuasive enough to be convince Haseul of at least half of what she was thinking right now, even if there was no chance Haseul would ever let her come now. 

“You’re sure this is a good idea?” Jungeun asked.

“No,” Haseul admitted. “But I’ve got to go.” 

She nodded. 

“What,” Haseul raised a brow, “you’re not going to tell me I’m being reckless?” 

Jungeun laughed. “You think I’d be the one to tell you that?” 

Haseul smiled. “I thought you’d be seeing sense.”

“I’d doubt it.” She leaned forward. “What should I do?” 

Haseul stared at her. Sometimes Jungeun liked to skip ahead to the rest, even if there was a normal conversation to be had. 

Jungeun grinned. “I’m glad you came to me for this, to tell me.” She glanced at the bag at her waist. “But I should know what you’re wanting me to do first.”

It had been like this for a long time. Jungeun had always been able to read her and expect almost exactly what she’d do. Haseul had as well. Usually. 

“You’ll need this.” Haseul drew out a talisman. “It’ll get cold when I need your help.” 

Jungeun frowned. “Do you have one for Hyejoo too?” 

“She won’t turn on him.” She shook her head. “Or she shouldn’t.” 

“Would you want me telling her?” Jungeun asked. “Or anyone else?” 

“They’ll know,” Haseul said. “But you’ll probably find out before.” 

“And Yerim?” Her brow rose. “She knows something’s happening.” 

“I don’t know what’ll happen,” Haseul said.

“But?” Jungeun tilted her head. 

“But I’ll make sure you’ll know when you have to come. Or the others you’ll tell.” 

She grimaced slightly. “I can find you with it?” 

“Either Doyeon will,” Haseul said. “Or a seer could find me. Unless it’s blocked.” She pointed at the talisman. “For the first part of it, they won’t know I have it.” 

“So you think they’ll catch you?” Jungeun asked. She took her hand. “Or is that the plan?”

She could barely look in her eyes. 

“You want to know what he’s like, don’t you?” 

“What it’s all like,” Haseul replied. “He sent the ones who want us dead.” She shook her head. “Etera doesn’t. Hanna didn’t. I know there‘re more.” 

Jungeun nodded. “And what’ll you do? Convince them while you’re in the camp? Assuming he doesn’t just kill you there?” Even then, she winced. 

“If he kills me, then you’ll know something else about him too.” Haseul grimaced. “What else do we do? Try peace talks?” 

“And what happens when we know exactly what he wants?” Jungeun asked. “Who do we give up? Who gives themselves up? Do we run? Or do we just end up fighting?” 

Again, Haseul was finding herself wishing Jungeun could've been chosen to be an elder. She'd gone to her so many times over the years for that reason. Sooyoung as well, before the banishment. 

“We’ll find out.” 

Jungeun sighed. “I could still come with you, be a good distance away, but I’d come sooner.” 

“I don’t think Jinsoul would let you,” Haseul said carefully. She knew Jinsoul try to stop her from following. She'd try to go herself, but Jungeun wouldn't let her to do that either. 

She watched as Jungeun’s expression closed off, before she sighed. Whatever mask she’d tried to make also fell away. She just looked guilty. Haseul felt the same, but if she hadn't come here, things had the potential to get much worse. 

“I know.” Jungeun's gaze drifted back to the river. “But I also know that the moment Yerim thinks, or knows, you’re in danger, she’ll go after you. Hyunjin and Hyejoo‘ll be with her.” 

Haseul nodded. 

“You know I’ll follow her,” Jungeun said. “Do you think I’ll outrun her?” 

“You’ll try.” 

Jungeun chuckled. 

Haseul pushed herself to her feet. 

Jungeun rose with her. “I’ll come after you, don’t worry.” She gave her a tight hug. “But if you’re not careful,” she started. 

“You can’t threaten me,” Haseul shot back, patting her back. “Because I know you won’t follow through.” 

She grumbled quietly. “Be careful.” 

“I’ll be as careful as you’d be.” Haseul gave her a smile. 

Jungeun gave her a look. “Then survive long enough until I get there.” 

She winked at her. “Or I’ll save myself first.” 

Haseul hoped Jungeun would never have to follow. She wanted to come back here and she wanted all the rest to be alright. There was so much she still wanted.

It was then that she understood more than ever why Jungeun never said she'd come back. It was too painful of a promise. 

_____

Heejin still felt dizzy from travelling through the ground. She’d gone with Freya, so it hadn’t been that bad, but she still couldn’t wait to sit down. She also really wanted to get some space from the elder, even if she had agreed to Hyunjin and the others staying. It shouldn’t have been a possibility in the first place. 

They were getting closer to the camp. Already, she could feel the tension from before falling away. She wanted to see Hyunjin. 

“Thank you for coming with me,” Freya said. She was still massaging her temple, wincing every now and then. She'd let the fae comb through her mind. “I wouldn’t have blamed you if you’d said no.” 

Heejin frowned, looking back. “I had to be there. I know them best.” They’d gone to meet with mental fae, partially to alleviate the memories of mortals who’d had even more encounters with spirits, but also those who lived too close to the sights of the murders. 

Freya nodded once. “You do.” She almost looked pleased. Her eyes were fixed on the camp ahead. “Good.”

“Good,” she repeated. She looked around. It almost felt like someone was watching them. Freya hadn’t reacted yet, so she didn’t pay much mind to it. She couldn’t see much around them. 

Another nod. “You’ve always been able to set aside your fears and resentments,” the elder said. “I know the mental fae were not the ones you wanted to see. Few ever do, but you did.”

Heejin shook her head. “That doesn’t mean I’ve set aside anything,” she said. “All of that was still there. They could still hear it.” 

“And I can see it,” Freya said. 

She almost stopped walking then. She kept looking at the forest in front of them. 

“You either hate me, or you’re very close to it,” she continued. “And I don’t think anyone could fault you for that.”

Heejin didn’t answer that. She almost said that she didn’t hate Freya. She’d wanted her to pay for what she’d let happen, but she hadn’t been able to hate her. She’d come to respect her too much over her life. That respect was still there, even if she’d never forgive her. 

“But that’s why you will be an elder.” Freya spoke slowly. “I don’t know when you want to be one, but both you and Haseul will have the voices to change what happens here. That could be tomorrow, or in a week, or month. It doesn’t matter when, but you will be heard.” 

The timeline of their lives was always a difficult one. Freya herself had been like Heejin and Haseul for almost seven hundred years. She’d been involved in larger-scaled conflicts between the elves and fairies, but also wars with the witches and vampires of the time. Specifically, she’d been responsible for a lot of the peace between the Astra, forcing in the necessity to help the others when it came to turning the spirits near them. 

“What about Sooyoung?” Heejin asked. 

Freya’s eyes widened. “Sooyoung?”

She felt ashamed at the surprise in her eyes. What had happened to Chaewon hadn’t changed how she saw them. She still blamed them for Hyejoo’s banishment, but the hatred was slipping away faster than she could hold onto it. It’d started to go when her outrage had faded. 

“Aren’t you going to give her the same?” 

“She won’t want it,” Freya said. “She’s never wanted it.”

“But she’s done everything ever asked of her,” Heejin replied. “The only mistake she ever made was Hyejoo’s trial.”

“Which will be a lifelong regret for her,” Freya finished. 

“Is that why you won’t make her an elder?”

Freya shook her head. “It’d be one reason I’d make her one now,” she said. “Because she knows well, too well, how damaging such decisions can be.”

“Then why not?”

“She’s ashamed of what she’s done. She’s lost so much of the confidence she had before, not only because of the mistake she made, but because she’s found out too much of what she didn’t know before.” Freya sighed. “There will be more of that. Especially now.”

Heejin frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Alluin was only one of our mistakes.” The shame in golden eyes was clear. “You’ll learn what the others were soon, or perhaps even see ones we didn’t.” Then she stopped walking. 

Heejin did as well. Was this supposed to be a secret?

“I hold our past,” Freya said. “Eline our future.” She took a small breath. “And all of you will see both at one point in your lives,” a pause, “most decline to see the future.” 

“I would too.” The words were easy to say. “I don’t have to see what I can change.” 

She lifted a brow. “I thought the same.”

“Now you’ll tell me I’ll learn to accept it?” 

“Something like it,” Freya smiled slightly, “or you work with the seers. Like I have.” 

“Have you ever seen the future?” Heejin asked. 

“Once.” She nodded. “But never again.” 

“Didn’t like what you saw?” 

“The moon didn’t give me that magic for a reason,” Freya said. “And it also didn’t give me the strength.” 

Heejin bit back her retort to that. “How would it happen? Ritual for the past? Sharing of dreams?”

“The fae have a way to bind our minds.” When she most likely saw Heejin’s face at that, she added, “temporarily.” 

Heejin found it in her to nod. “Does everyone accept?” 

“Some don’t, only choosing to have the truth given by thought,” Freya said. “Yuol only accepted dreams. I took one day. Eline accepted weeks of watching the past.” 

“Weeks,” Heejin nearly laughed, “I doubt anyone except for her could.” 

Freya’s eyes were back on the camp then. “The decisions we come to in the next months,” she started, “you’ll have the same say in them that the other elders do, even before we let you know the past. We can announce that now, or later.” 

“Later,” Heejin said immediately. “Not now.” It was too volatile. People were too nervous and an announcement of a new elder wouldn’t alleviate that. Any sort of celebration wouldn’t work if they were too nervous of someone being picked off at the edges of camp while the rest were distracted. “When we have peace again.” 

She nodded. “But I will make sure the other elders know.” She started walking. “I think there’s someone who’d want to see you before you go back.” 

Heejin looked around, wondering if this was where one of the seers tried to talk to her. 

Then she saw the small yellow cat with shadows across its coat. Heejin knelt down. 

“Aeong?” She held out a hand. 

It went over to her with quick steps, immediately nuzzling into her palm. It was both warm and cold to the touch. That she could even touch it was still unexpected, but that was what things were like now. The spirits could hurt them with more than just light or darkness, but more people could also fight back. 

And there were spirits who helped them too. 

“What’re you doing here?” Heejin asked, lightly its head. It almost felt as if it had fur, but she couldn’t feel the individual hairs. It wasn’t unnerving, but just strange. 

The cat looked up at her with bright pink eyes, before closing them, lightly purring. 

Still, the colour made her pause. Could that have been a coincidence? Or a very twisted tug of the moon on their lives? It wouldn’t have been the first, if that all came from the moon. 

She wondered if seeing their past would change her view on that, or on the moon itself. Would she be as reverent as the elders were? Or even more critical? Would she grow hateful again?

Then she heard the rustling sounds of feet stepping over the forest floor. 

Heejin looked up and saw faint swathes of light held within shadows. Then a figure appeared from those same shadows. 

She felt the rest of her thoughts fall away. 

“Sorry I eavesdropped,” Hyunjin said, stepping over a few roots. “Hyejoo showed us how to hide in the shadows.” 

“So now you can sneak up on me?” Heejin smiled. She gave Aeong one more scratch behind the ears, before going to Hyunjin. She wrapped her arms around her waist, tucking her head into Hyunjin’s neck. The skin there was still cool, but she liked it. “I thought someone was there, but I hadn’t really known.”

“We could practice you finding me,” she replied. “Might be good training.” 

Heejin looked up at her. “Training?” 

She gave her a look. “Did you think we were done with that?” 

“Sort of?” Heejin turned her head away. “It might’ve been an excuse to see you.” 

Hyunjin laughed softly. “And we were actually making some good progress, so you’re not getting out of that so easily.” She tilted her head up and pressed a light kiss to her cheek, then her lips. “Deal?” Her eyes were still grey, but just as beautifully bright as they had been before. 

She kissed her again. “Deal.” 

When Hyunjin pulled away, she took a deep breath. Her eyes drifted to Aeong. 

“What,” Heejin asked. 

“He’s got your eyes.” 

Heejin was both surprised and slightly relieved she wasn’t the only one to see it. “I saw that.” 

Hyunjin nodded, looking between Heejin and the cat. She wondered if there’d be comparisons now. 

“Can you give me some light?” Hyunjin asked.

Heejin almost thought she’d heard her wrong. “It’ll burn you.” 

“I’m not sure about that,” she said. “Look at her. Properly.” 

“Her?” 

“Aeong’s female.” Hyunjin went over, holding onto her hand now. “I think.” She knelt down in front of the spirit and patted her lap. The cat jumped onto her legs and then settled down. She looked extremely pleased with herself. “You know how she saved me?” 

“Took some of the darkness,” Heejin said. She started petting Aeong again. She couldn’t forget the state Hyunjin had come back in, or anything that’d come after, but she’d forgotten how the spirit had been a part of that. 

“The darkness that changed my magic,” Hyunjin replied. “But she still has your eyes.” 

“It could just be a coincidence.” Heejin felt like a hypocrite, but she couldn’t let something like this be based on the colour of a spirit’s eyes. What if her light hurt her? 

“Maybe,” Hyunjin nodded, “but we don’t know that.” She held out a hand. “Do you want to do this?”

“Not really,” she admitted. “I don’t want to hurt you.” 

“Even if it does hurt, it won’t be you,” Hyunjin said. “It’ll be the light.” 

“My light.” 

"Then blame me for asking you to do this."

“I’d rather blame the moon.”

Hyunjin held her gaze. “I know.” Her voice was slightly hushed, fitting for the blasphemy

Heejin looked back at her hand. Then she summoned a piece of light. Carefully, she put it in Hyunjin’s hand. 

The moment the light touched her skin, Hyunjin gasped. Then she cried out. 

Heejin didn’t know what to do. She reached out to take back the light. 

“Wait,” Hyunjin said. Her jaw was clenched. “It’s not,” she groaned, “don’t—don’t take it.”

“It’s hurting you.”

The moonlight faded into her skin.

“It’s doing more than that.” Hyunjin’s eyes were closed. “It doesn’t feel like a poison. It almost feels like it used to.” Her brow furrowed. 

Heejin wanted to know what that meant for later. Would the light start eating at Hyunjin the way the darkness had before? Or would it shift into something more dangerous? 

She wasn’t sure how she’d manage that worry again. 

“Heekie,” Hyunjin held out her hand again, “it’s okay.”

“What if my skin just makes it worse?”

“It didn’t when I changed,” she said. “It won’t now either.”

Heejin carefully took her hand. It wasn’t cold anymore, but it wasn’t warm either. 

Hyunjin squeezed her hand. 

And then Heejin felt some of her light start to drift to Hyunjin. She made to pull her hand away. 

Hyunjin tightened her grip. “Wait,” she muttered. 

“I could hurt you,” Heejin retorted. “I’m not—”

“You won’t hurt me.” More light was going from Heejin to Hyunjin. 

She opened her eyes again. 

Heejin gasped. 

Her eyes were both yellow again. They had threads of black and grey circling in them, but they were yellow. 

“Something’s happening,” Hyunjin said softly. Then she chuckled. "Sorry, that was a little obvious." 

Heejin could still feel her light. It was almost at Hyunjin's wrist. 

“It’s alright,” Hyunjin nodded, “It won’t hurt.” She gave her a small smile. 

“If it does, you have to pull away,” Heejin said. “Please.”

Another nod. 

Then the light flowed into Hyunjin’s arm. Heejin felt a small ache form in her chest then. 

She stiffened, but didn’t flinch. 

More light came. 

Heejin tried to keep it from going to quickly, but it felt as if the light wanted to go to her. The ache got stronger, but it never became a pain. 

Hyunjin’s eyes were glowing now. 

Heejin didn’t feel scared, but she didn’t know what any of it meant. “What’s happening?” 

Hyunjin slowly pulled her hand away. “I’m warm again.” She smiled, a bright one that Heejin was only now starting to get used to seeing again. “The cold’s there, but that’s not all that’s there.” She pulled Heejin into her arms. “Thank you,” she whispered. 

“I didn’t do anything.”

“You did.” Her arms tightened ever so slightly. “For one thing, you trusted me.” Another small chuckle. 

“I didn’t really know what was happening,” Heejin replied. “So I think I had too.”

“You didn’t.” Hyunjin pulled away. Her eyes were so bright, even with the tendrils of darkness still there. She pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I think,” she said against her skin, “I think I have the light again. Or something like it.” She felt her start to smile again. 

Heejin could almost feel her glee. It was almost radiating off of her. 

“Maybe try it?” Heejin asked. “Or I can summon something and you try lifting it?”

“We’ll see.” One of Hyunjin’s arms was still around her shoulder, but she shifted. She looked at her hand, frowning at it. “I might not be able to control it,” she said. “But I can feel it again.” Her brow relaxed. She looked relieved. 

It wasn’t hard to know why. Hyunjin had had it all her life. Losing it felt like losing so much of her strength. Even if she’d had the darkness, that wasn’t what she’d always had. Even if she hadn’t changed, Heejin knew that Hyunjin felt like a different person. 

And then something appeared on her palm. It was a small shard, partially grey, partially white, and a few slivers of darkness. Heejin knew which part was hers. 

Hyunjin laughed once. The piece left her palm, drifting up to her face. “I can’t believe it.”

“But what’s it mean?” They’d had four people’s magic change. Was this the magic changing back? Or shifting into something else?

“It’s a bit like Chaewon,” Hyunjin said. “She has both.” Then she frowned slightly. “But not like this. At least I don’t think so.” 

“There’s not as much anger.” Heejin looked at the moonlight. Would it be moonlight and shadows? “But it’s calm like hers.” They’d once had Chaewon give them pieces of her moonlight just to see what would happen. Hyejoo and Hyunjin had both fallen asleep immediately, while the rest of them had been left in a daze until Chaewon had taken it back. Surprisingly, she’d never used it against them, even when they’d had smaller wars of slipping sleeping potions into each other’s foods. 

Heejin immediately thought of the elders. She felt slightly sick then. If Hyunjin showed them this, they’d start to warm to her again, but only because she had the light. Not all of the elders were against the three. They’d grown more sympathetic. Freya was a prime example of it. 

Even so, knowing that Hyunjin had some light again—the rest would be less scared of her, but only once they saw the light. 

“Hey.” Hyunjin poked her cheek. “Are you okay?”

Heejin put on a smile.

She gave her a look. “What is it?”

“When will you tell them?" 

“Don’t know yet.” Hyunjin pulled her closer. “But I’ll think about that later.” She kissed her cheek. “We're now.”

Heejin smiled. This one came easily. 
_____

Yerim found Yeojin at the river, filling the waterskins. Jinsoul would’ve been doing that if she hadn’t needed to tend to the latest injuries. The spirits were more aggressive and there’d been other attacks too. Not from Alluin’s people directly. It was almost as if he was hiring others. 

She made the trees rustle to make sure Yeojin knew it was her. 

The other elf looked up. In the second before she hid it, Yeojin’s expression betrayed her fear. It wasn't exactly fear, more dread. 

Yerim was tempted to tell her to just stay, but Yeojin’s path stubbornly followed both Haseul and Vivi’s. She couldn’t see much farther than that. 

And it wasn’t as though Yeojin was likely to listen to her. 

“Here to stop me?”

“No,” Yerim replied. “I’m here to give you this.” She walked over and gave her a leather pouch. “Remember Nuala’s healing drills?” 

"Most boring things of my life." She snorted, but opened it. “I see you’re pretty optimistic about this?”

“Anything could happen,” Yerim said. “You know it as well as I do.”

Yeojin gave her a look, but there wasn’t any venom in it. 

She smiled. “Well, half as well as I do.”

Yeojin laughed slightly, pulling out the vials of healing draughts. “When did you make these?”

“Yoojung made them, I just brought her back the ingredients she’d need to restock them.” There were at least some who weren’t scared of her. Yerim forced herself to remember that every time someone else flinched when they saw her. 

“Thank you,” Yeojin said. “Thank her for me too. After we’ve left.”

Yerim nodded. She almost told her to be careful, to not do anything noble, to do what Haseul told her to do. She knew all of those things would just make Yeojin angry. She didn’t want to see that anger return to her eyes. Not now. 

“You don’t think we should go,” Yeojin was frowning at her, “do you?” 

“I think it shouldn’t just be the three of you,” Yerim said. 

“And if it was you, Jungeun, and Jinsoul?”

Yerim couldn’t help but laugh. “Fine, I’m a hypocrite.” 

“No you’re not,” Yeojin said. “All three of you’re powerful. You don’t have a weak link.” 

For a moment, Yerim was at a loss for words. Was Yeojin really admitting that? Now? 

“Neither do you,” Yerim replied. 

Yeojin shook her head. “I’m the youngest by so much,” she said. “Haseul’s never needed me with her for anything and she doesn’t need me here. Even if Vivi hasn’t had the moonlight for long, she’s had years of using rock. She’s fought for a long time. I’ve barely fought.” 

“No one'll ever be able to compare to Jungeun,” Yerim said. Few were supposed to be. “And Jungeun’s never actually needed us for the fight.” Only after. It’d been hard to accept in the first place. Jungeun had always been the one who’d saved them if they’d been in danger. She’d almost never been caught off guard, but even if she had, Jungeun had saved herself. Jungeun hated the word and so did Yerim, but she didn’t know how else to describe it. Jungeun always ‘won’. She didn’t ever come away unscathed, but the one she fought always lost. They survived because Jungeun spared them. 

Yerim was glad she wasn’t as powerful as Jungeun. 

And Yeojin was still there, waiting for her to explain. Patient. 

“It’s everything around it that matters,” Yerim told her. “We’re there if she’s hurt, or if she’s exhausted.” There were other moments too, but she wouldn’t say them. Some things had to be left between the three of them. Yerim knew there were things Jungeun could tell her and not Jinsoul, but she also knew there was just as much that Jungeun could tell Jinsoul, but not Yerim. Yerim had that same division of information between the two. Her sight had been the prime example and she still wished she’d told Jinsoul earlier. 

She wasn’t sure where Jinsoul herself fell there. She seemed keep the same things to herself, and if she was going to tell them something, she told them both. 

“But Haseul doesn’t need me for that either,” Yeojin said. “I’m not someone who helps, or can put on a smile when someone else needs it.” She was looking at the healing draughts. “I’m not like you.” 

“Like me?” Yerim repeated. 

“I don’t mean the magic.” Yeojin’s eyes were slightly panicked, as if she was afraid she’d said the wrong thing. “I mean you like who you are. People look to you for help, either because you could give them the light the moon couldn’t, or you were able to heal them too.” 

She’d not seen this sort of insecurity in Yeojin, ever. Even if she hadn’t known her well, she’d still been here for long enough. Was this new or had Yeojin just been hiding that too? 

“Haseul’s looking to you for help,” Yerim said. “Why else would you be leaving with her?”

“Because she wants to help me,” Yeojin shot back. “Or she feels guilty.” 

“If she was trying to make anything up to you, it wouldn’t be through this,” she replied. “If she wanted to help you, she’d probably just have you stay here.” She knew the words sounded harsh.

By the surprise in Yeojin’s eyes, they were. She didn’t look hurt by it. 

She saw Yeojin’s path continue on with Vivi and Haseul’s, brighter. Yerim got a headache looking at the three paths, trying to see where they went. She stopped. 

“What do you see?” Yeojin asked. 

“Just the three of you,” she told her. “I can’t see beyond a part of it.” Was it the moon blocking her? The limits of her sight? Or just something else, because it wasn’t certain what would happen? “But I know Haseul trusts you for this,” Yerim said. “And we all have to trust that she knows what she’s doing.” There was a lot she still didn’t know about Haseul. Her leaving like this wasn’t something she really understood.

Except she did know Jungeun and the years spent here had taught her that Jungeun and Haseul understood one another. At some times, more than Jinsoul and Jungeun understood each other. 

Yeojin nodded then. Her smile was a little shaky. “Thank you, Yerim,” she said. “I’ll see you when we get back.” 

The paths didn’t change when she said that, but Yerim was glad to hear the promise. Jungeun never promised anything. She wondered if Haseul would.

_____

Haseul decided to leave the next afternoon. Most were asleep. She didn’t have to pay much mind to the rest. She hadn’t told anyone she was leaving today. The seers would know, but no one was there to stop her. Either they were letting her or they weren’t looking along her path. She’d like it better if they were just not looking. 

She’d sent Yeojin and Vivi ahead. Someone was waiting at their usual fire-pit. It wasn’t the one they’d sat at for half a century. 

“Morning?” Haseul went over. 

Sooyoung looked up. Exhaustion framed her features, as it usually did now. Before too, but for different reasons and it’d been another kind of exhaustion, a more content one. 

“Jiwoo told me you were leaving today,” Sooyoung said. “I just wanted—” She got to her feet, grimacing. “Be careful.”

Haseul smiled slightly. “Jungeun already told me that.”

“And you need to hear it twice. Maybe more.” Then she looked away. She was going to say something else. She was just looking for the right words to say. 

It was almost funny. Sooyoung hid so much when she had to, but when she didn’t, Haseul could easily read her. 

That she could now meant Sooyoung still trusted her. The thought stung as much as it warmed her heart. 

“You’re not going in my place,” Haseul said. “So don’t even try.” She looked to the ground beside her. “You packed a bag?”

Sooyoung looked slightly embarrassed. “Just in case?” 

“And how can I be sure you won’t just follow me?” 

“Jiwoo and Chaewon’re here,” Sooyoung replied. “And I know Chae gave you something.” She tapped her head. In her eyes was a promise, as well as a certain stubbornness. If anything happened, Sooyoung would come as well. 

Haseul’s throat suddenly felt thick. She then pulled Sooyoung into her arms. It was the first time they’d been this close since the banishment. 

Sooyoung’s head sank to her shoulder. Haseul felt tears soak into the fabric in the next moment. Her own followed soon after. 

“I’m sorry,” Sooyoung whispered. “All of this, it—it was my fault.”

“She would’ve been banished anyway,” Haseul said. Each of the three took on the sole responsibility. They all knew that the others had played a role in the banishment too, but that didn’t seem to matter. It hadn’t to Haseul either. Not until now. 

“No.” Sooyoung’s voice was weak. “I’m the reason we fell apart.”

“And I’m the reason we didn’t come back together," Haseul replied. 

Sooyoung pulled away. The answer she had to that was written all over her face. 

Haseul patted her cheek affectionately, wiping away the tears that her shoulder hadn’t soaked up.  “There were two sides to this,” she said. “Even if yours was heavier, I could’ve still made mine lighter.” 

Fresh tears were welling up in dark red eyes. Haseul had only rarely seen Sooyoung this way. It only then really sunk in that Sooyoung had been feeling so much of her own guilt, but weighed down even more by what she’d done to Hyejoo. 

“Or just smashed my face in,” Sooyoung said. Her bottom lip protruded a bit. This was an expression she recognised. 

“I probably should have.” Haseul laughed and wiped her own eyes as well. “Bet you missed getting a broken nose from yours truly.” 

“I did.” Sooyoung’s expression was completely open, showing the earnest behind those two words. 

“Me too.” 

Then Sooyoung snorted. “You mean breaking my nose, or me?”

Haseul smiled. “Both.” She pulled away then, but not before squeezing her shoulder tightly. “I come back, and we’re having the best dinner ever here.” 

The look in her eyes was worried, hopeful, and sad all at the same time. They both knew that Haseul had left out the ‘if’ in that sentence. 

“We’ll do it.” Sooyoung nodded. “You’re bringing the wine.”

Haseul left then. She heard Sooyoung sit down, a long breath leaving her. She knew there’d be more tears. She knew she’d worry. She knew a lot would worry. 

But if this worked, then they’d finally be a little bit safer. If she came back, they’d find a way to bring back the paths they’d lost.

______

In her dreams, Sooyoung saw Chaewon. It felt like a normal fight, one where she wielded two blades, one of moonlight, one of metal. She drove it into someone who’d come her way. She wore an expression Sooyoung knew, but had never liked to see. There was the cool numbness that a fight usually brought out, especially when a kill was made. 

And then Chaewon shrieked. The shadows at her feet rose up, piercing her legs. Her skin glowed grey and the darkness melted away. Chaewon stumbled away, barely managing to deflect a bolt of darkness sent her way. 

Sooyoung saw someone coming up behind her. Just by their eyes, she knew what they were. An emotional fae, red and black alive in his eyes. 

Sooyoung wanted to cry out the warning, but she couldn’t. 

A blade of grief sank into Chaewon’s back. 

She woke screaming. 

“Sooyoung!” Chaewon shouted. “It’s alright, you’re safe.” 

She was alive. Unharmed. Instead of pain and fear, there was only worry. 

Hands held her arms tightly. She was shaking. 

And then she saw Jiwoo, right beside her, eyes glazed over. Her brow was furrowed. She looked pained. 

“What happened?” Chaewon asked, pulling her into a tight hug. “You were tossing around in your sleep. Then you started screaming.” Her voice dropped. “You were terrified.” 

Sooyoung closed her eyes, focusing on Chaewon being there, unharmed. 

“Nightmare,” she whispered. hurt. “It’s over now.” 

Chaewon rubbed her back up and down. “I’m still waiting for the leftover panic to settle.” 

“Can you feel that?” Sooyoung asked. 

A small nod. 

And then Jiwoo gasped. She fell back, eyes focused again. 

Both Sooyoung and Chaewon went to her side. 

Jiwoo was looking around with pain evident in her face. Almost exactly the same fear Sooyoung had felt. She could feel it coming from Jiwoo now. 

Because she’d seen what Sooyoung had. She’d seen the nightmare. 

Then Jiwoo was staring at the ground, before looking back at Chaewon. Her eyes were searching for something. 

“Did you see it too?” Chaewon asked. “If you’re bound, you can see each other’s dreams, can’t you?” She glanced at Sooyoung, a flicker of hesitance there. 

She’d told her they’d spoken about it, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t still an unsteady topic. 

Many things were. Sooyoung still hadn’t told them that Haseul had gone. They’d both been asleep when she’d gotten back, drained, but also terrified. What if something happened to Haseul and they didn’t know? Was that why she’d dreamed of what she had?

Then Jiwoo let out a short breath. 

“I think that’s what just happened,” Sooyoung said to Chaewon, before reaching for Jiwoo’s hand. “Are you okay?”

Jiwoo gripped her hand tightly. “Are you?” Her brow furrowed and the fear faded. “That won’t happen,” she said then. “It won’t.”

“What won’t?” Chaewon was frowning. “What did you see?” 

Jiwoo squeezed her hand once. Her eyes flicked between them. 

Sooyoung could still read that look. Tell her. 

But how was she supposed to? The dream still took over her mind when she looked at Chaewon. She could still see where the blade pierced her body. 

A thumb brushed over her hand then. A simple gesture with a clear message. Or should I? Jiwoo's gaze softened. 

Sooyoung squeezed back. 

“You’re fighting someone,” Jiwoo said. “There’s darkness, and then there’s an emotional fae.” She winced then. “He stabs you.”

Chaewon looked between them for a long moment. Then she pulled them both into her arms. “It was just a dream,” she told them. “No matter how real it felt.” 

Sooyoung just let the reassurances fill her ears. She didn’t want to think about how the darkness could’ve very well been Alluin’s, or that the fairy could’ve easily been in his group. 

She just focused on how it felt to have these two close to her. Safe. 

“As you can see I’m fine.” Chaewon pulled away, looking Jiwoo’s way. She looked calm, her hands still holding onto both of them. There was no sign of the doubt, or self-loathing. All of that had been replaced by silent reassurances and a small, but gentle smile. 

“All I see is that you’ll,” Jiwoo’s eyes sank to the ground, “I’m not sure if you want me to say it.”

“But you still should,” Chaewon patted her arm, “that’s how we’re doing it here now, right?” 

Jiwoo looked back to her. She didn’t look scared, only sad. That meant it didn’t have anything to do with the dream. 

“Jiwoo,” Chaewon gave her a look, “you’re telling me.”

“You’re going to see Hyejoo.”

Chaewon looked away, deflating slightly. 

“You told me to tell you,” Jiwoo said quietly. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Chaewon waved a hand, “there’s no use being scared of seeing her.” She was looking at the far end of the tent, beside her bedroll. “The worst part was already said.”

“Already?” Sooyoung repeated. 

“I told her about the bond,” Chaewon muttered. “She wanted to know why she was still feeling traces of it—knowing what was happening to me, or sensing a part of it.” She shook her head. “So I just told her it was broken.” Her fingers traced the air. “I can still see it. It’s still got the grey pieces to it, but that’s it.” She didn’t sound defeated by it, only numb. 

Sooyoung wasn’t sure if that was worse or not. 

“She wasn’t angry,” Chaewon continued. “I think she was just confused. How we had one in the first place and we didn’t know it.” Pain flashed across her eyes then. “How we lost it without her really knowing it.” She stood then, letting go of both of them. She went to her bedroll, pulling out the blades beneath the blanket. “But she left it at that.” 

“Did you want her to?” 

“I want her to move on,” Chaewon said. “She would’ve if she hadn’t needed to come back here.” She straightened then, the swords in hand. 

Sooyoung wanted to think that they’d be able to fix what happened. 

Except what they’d done couldn’t ever be mended. All four of them knew that. 

But did moving on mean forgetting their entire lives beforehand? It probably had to. 

For them, it was their life with Hyejoo. For Hyejoo, it was the love and the trust she should’ve had in each of them. 

“Don’t worry about your dream,” Chaewon said. “But have this next to you when you go to sleep.” She summoned a piece of darkness and light. “Can you hold this without it hurting you?” 

Sooyoung took it. It was like warm ice. Jinsoul had once tried to make that, but it’d only ever lasted a minute, if even that. Except this felt like that. It didn’t sting either. 

There was a calm she hadn’t felt in a long time, one that came with walking beneath the night sky, quietly laughing about Hyejoo and Chaewon’s snide comments thrown their way, before sending back one of her own. It was staying by Jiwoo’s side, while the latter tried to defend her with a bright smile. 

Sooyoung’s eyes burned just holding it. 

“Darie said that might work like her sadness,” Chaewon said. “And that keeps away dreams.” She walked to the entrance of the tent, before looking back. “Was I going to her now, or later?”

“Tomorrow,” Jiwoo replied. A pause. “Or the night after.” 

Chaewon smiled slightly. “So it’s that easy to change my fate.” Her eyes went from Jiwoo to Sooyoung. “Remember that.” Then she was gone. 

_____

Haseul walked in front of both of them, eyes only on the forest. 

Yeojin resisted the urge to tell her to slow down. She looked Vivi’s way instead. 

She was fiddling with an emerald. The shape of the gem went from round to sharp in a matter of seconds. 

“Those count as rock?” Yeojin asked. 

Vivi shrugged. “Not sure if they are technically, but I found out how to shape them too.” 

“You’d make a fortune in the mortal world.” 

“I know.” She nodded. “Also made for a good trade when the emotional fae started making emotions physical.” 

“How?” Haseul turned so she was walking backwards. 

“You’ll trip,” Yeojin said. 

She laughed. “Probably.” 

Yeojin caught the fond smile Vivi had watching them. She actually hoped something would happen between those two. 

That would mean the three of them would make it out of this safe. 

“They’re trying to see if they can put emotions into them.” Vivi held the emerald up to her eye, peering into it. “The theory’s that the colours would match up, you know, green with happiness, red with anger, all that.” 

“But they can’t do it?” 

“Not enough’re trying it,” Vivi replied. “It’s not exactly useful yet.” She handed Yeojin the gem. “But some keep trying.”

“You mean Darie,” Haseul finished, finally turning around when she stumbled for the third time. 

“Her and the other two. They’ve got a lot of projects between them.” 

“Do you have a project?” Yeojin asked. “Or have plans for a new one?” 

Vivi looked surprised. Then she smiled. “I do actually. I’ll be seeing if I can make the light a liquid.” 

She tried not to look too confused. “Why?”  

Vivi laughed slightly. “I know, it doesn’t sound useful, but,” she lifted a hand, “what if I could make an actual mixture of moonlight and stone?” 

Haseul looked up at that. “You think it’d work better?” 

“No idea.” 

Yeojin snorted. “Good thing you’re honest about it.” 

Vivi shrugged. “But sometimes combining the light and the other magic actually does something, doesn’t it? Like Jinsoul’s healing magic.” She frowned at the ground. “I’ll just see if it does anything to the stone.” 

“We’ll see,” Haseul said. Her eyes were bright. Yeojin barely recognised that look in her eyes. 

If they hadn’t been on a dangerous mission where they needed the numbers, Yeojin would’ve probably gone home then and there. She settled with making a face at the two of them. Still, the bigger part of her was happy to see that Haseul was. 

_____

Olivia had heard the sound of clinking metal. It was coming closer. At first she’d thought back to stray soldiers who’d come to her in the same way. 

She swallowed the shame thinking of what’d happened. 

And when she looked for the person, she found she recognised their shadow. The light pulsed weakly from them. 

She was torn between turning her away, taking hold of her shadow and doing it herself, and waiting. 

She listened for the sounds to stop or get further away again. Neither happened. 

Several minutes passed and she was a lot closer. Olivia tried not to dwell on her grey hair or the severe lack of light. She tried not to dwell on the empty look in her eyes. 

So she looked to the source of the clinking. It didn’t help. 

Her swords. The scabbards were well tended to. The hilts gleamed as if newly bought. 

“I just came,” Gowon began. Her voice was quiet. “To give these back.” She put them down on the ground beside the fire she’d made. 

Olivia could hear the barely contained tension in her words. She knew that if she looked up, she’d spot that same strain in Gowon’s eyes. She couldn’t bear it. Maybe it was because she’d get angry if she saw that. Or maybe because she wouldn’t. Was that weak of her? 

Then she heard the steps, this time without the sound of metal.

Olivia looked, to see that Gowon had turned away, her shoulders almost slouched, but her steps quick. 

“Wait.” 

Gowon froze. 

“You came all the way here to give me those?” 

She nodded once. 

“Why didn’t you get rid of them?”

Gowon looked at the swords, an expression somewhere between hurt and shame on her face. 

Olivia waited. She tried to look for the anger. She could find it, but she’d have to draw it out to feel it fully. 

She wouldn’t now. 

“I couldn’t.” Gowon’s voice was still hardly a whisper. “But you can now.” 

“Did it hurt?” Olivia knew she didn’t have to explain what she meant. She’d never had to before. 

She smothered the pain she’d already started feeling. She avoided thinking of Gowon having been in as much pain as she had the day the darkness took her. She avoided thinking about Gowon being in pain for longer than she had. 

A long pause.

“Yes.” The attempted calm Gowon was trying to keep was faltering. 

“Does it still?” Olivia knew she was pushing her again, but she was allowed to do that, wasn’t she? It shouldn’t have mattered. 

“No.” 

Olivia frowned. She knew Gowon’s tone when she lied. In that moment, the grey-haired girl wiped at her cheek. She stopped when she caught Olivia’s eye and looked away. Shame appeared in her eyes. 

“Don’t lie to me.” 

She saw how Gowon’s mask slipped completely. 

“It’s been getting less,” she muttered. Then she turned away fully. “Is that all?” 

Olivia could only nod. 

Gowon left then. 

She went to the blades. Hers. Still in an Astran camp. 

She unsheathed one to find it shining and sharp. Beautiful even after so many years. 

_____

Yeojin saw the light before she heard the flames. 

“Get down!” She tackled Haseul, while sending a large chunk of moonlight at Vivi’s legs. 

The flames sailed above their heads in three streams. 

Jungeun would’ve sent a large wall of fire, not leaving any room for them to duck. 

Haseul scrambled to her feet, a shield of moonlight appearing in her arms.

Yeojin did the same. 

When the next fire came, a wall of stone rose up from the earth. 

“There’s two,” Haseul said. “Other one’s to the left. I’ll take them.” Then she leapt over the stone wall. 

Yeojin heard the next bout of flames. 

“So we’ll take this one,” Vivi crouched down, “I’ll come at them from the side.” She whispered something in fae. She started to blend into the stone and the forest behind her. An illusion.

“I’ll handle it,” Yeojin nodded, “let it fall.”

The wall fell. 

Yeojin dashed to the next tree, almost stumbling as she avoided the next swathe of fire. Jungeun had given her some training for it, but she’d never actually used fire on her. At least nothing that would've ever had the risk of burning her.  

It was weird not being on the same side as the flames. 

She looked to the light, finding both Vivi and the fire-wielder. She sent a stake of light low across the ground and started running again. 

The curse told her they hadn’t managed to dodge it. 

Fire cut across her leg then. Yeojin fought a scream. 

She heard someone else yell out in the distance. It wasn’t Haseul. 

And then the fire-wielder screamed. 

Yeojin looked up only to see she’d been trapped in stone, but only half of her. 

Then the fairy's body was engulfed in flames. 

Vivi jumped back, avoiding the fire sent her way. 

Yeojin forced herself to her feet. 

The fire-wielder was melting the stone. There was an opening. 

Yeojin sent the next blade of moonlight threw it. 

The fire stopped when the knife pierced her side.

Yeojin leapt at her and slammed her head into the stone behind her. There was a sharp crack. Her skin burned where she'd touched her.

Her eyes went cross-eyed and blood started to run down her neck. 

“Give her this.” Vivi was holding up a vial. Her sleeve had been burned away, the skin underneath bright red, some of it white. “Don’t worry about that.”

Yeojin grabbed the potion and poured it into the fire-wielder’s mouth. Her ears were pointed, but they weren’t that long. Her eyes weren’t like crystal either. She was a fairy. 

“Doubt she’s that old,” Vivi muttered. “Definitely inexperienced.” 

“This one wasn’t.” 

Yeojin turned, only to go straight to where Haseul was limping over from. She was dragging the other attacker by the leg. He had a gash on his head, his arm was bent wrong, and one of his knees looked like it’d been stabbed. 

“You,” Yeojin started. She couldn’t look away from the branches sticking out of Haseul’s side, leg, and the long gashes on her arm. 

“I had him,” Haseul smiled weakly, “don’t worry about it.” She dropped him in front of them. “I’m just glad he couldn’t control the earth like Yerim can.” She drew out a black dagger from her belt. “And that he didn’t get to use this.” She grimaced at it. Then her skin started glowing. The blade shattered. Some of the darkness went into her skin. 

“Wait,” Vivi said at the same time Yeojin tried to take it away. “Couldn’t you have just left it?” 

Haseul shuddered, taking a deep breath. “Not for this.” She sat down, summoning a piece of light and holding it to her chest. “That kind of darkness stays. It’ll be the reason a spirit turns. That doesn’t mean it’ll always turn violent, but they still turn from what they were before.” 

Vivi handed her another piece of light. 

Haseul frowned at it. 

Yeojin put her own piece of light on top of it. “Take it. Don't be an .”

She raised a brow, but took it. She sighed softly when she absorbed them. “So what should we do with them?” She frowned at the two people. “I don’t think they’re heartless murderers.” 

Vivi looked to the fire-wielder. “I just gave her one for the pain, it’ll subdue her, but we can wake her.” She thumbed through the pouch she’d brought with. 

“We’ll need them restrained,” Haseul replied. 

Stone wrapped around their legs, arms, and chests. 

“That solves it.” Haseul shrugged. “But first.” She summoned two coils of light. They weren’t hers. 

“Is that—“ Vivi’s eyes widened. 

“Chaewon’s.” Haseul nodded. “It’ll buy us a little time before they start using their magic on us again.” She wrapped them around the two’s necks. She still had the branches in her body. 

“Why do you have her light?” Yeojin asked. 

“I’ll explain later.” Haseul took the little box from Vivi. Then she opened it and held it under the fire-wielder’s nose. 

She gasped, struggling against the stone in the next moment. It was weakened by the moonlight, but she was still scared. 

Her eyes were a pale orange and yellow. They met Yeojin’s first, then went to Vivi. They widened. 

“It was you,” she said. It was in fae, musical even in her panic. Yeojin was glad she’d bothered to learn from those lessons. “Why are you involved with any of this? With them?” 

She knew who Vivi was?

Yeojin nearly slapped herself for wondering why. Of course she would. Vivi was one of the few who had the blood of both the fae and the elves. 

“That’s what we want to ask you,” Haseul said smoothly. “But first, what’s your name? Or what shall we call you so no one finds your name out?” 

Yeojin fought a frown. Why was Haseul even leaving room for that? 

“Sarsa,” she said, gritting her teeth. 

Haseul looked at Vivi then, who nodded. 

“Were you here to kill anyone? And I don’t mean just us.” 

Sarsa shook her head. “We had a different job. One time to threaten, another to get information from a witch.” 

“Who did you threaten?” Haseul asked. “A little mortal who needed some coercing? Needed a bit of a push when it came to your politics?” 

The fairy grimaced. 

Threatening a mortal? With their magic? With something else? And for what politics? Mortal leaders changed so often, even the empires they built didn’t last long. 

“What do you get from it?” Haseul leaned forward now. “Power? More knowledge? Respect? Family?” 

“Somewhere I’m safe,” Sarsa said sharply. She looked to Vivi then. “You know who I am, you’ve fought me before, and you spared me then too. You know what I ran from.” 

Vivi just held her gaze. ”I do,” she glanced at them, “but that won’t justify what he’ll ask you to do.” 

She looked away. 

Haseul was slowly pulling the branch out of her shoulder. Her jaw tightened, but she didn’t make a sound. “You know what that is, don’t you?” she asked. “What he’ll want you to do?” 

“You killed some of ours.”

“Because they came to take the lives of ours.” Haseul narrowed her eyes, “or did you think they just innocently came and sank a knife into someone’s chest?” 

“She's killed at least four times as many as any of us had,” Sarsa retorted. 

“And what about the others who’d been with her? The earth-wielder who’d been with her before? Or us?” 

“He told us that if we ever saw you—he said you’d be weak.” 

Haseul raised a brow. “And don’t you think that’s idiotic? What if we’d killed you?” She waved her fingers. 

Yeojin watched as the moonlight tightened around her neck. 

“He’d have sent you to your death here.” Haseul leaned back, taking the branch out of her leg. “You call that safe?” 

“What are you trying to do?” Sarsa asked, voice growing harsh. “Turn me to your side?” 

“I’m trying to keep my people safe,” Haseul said. “And I’m trying to keep the people like you alive.” 

The fairy stared at her. “People like me.” 

Confusion flit across Sarsa’s face. Yeojin was feeling a lot of the same thing. These two had come after them. They would've killed them.

“You’re not a murderer.” Haseul tossed the bloody branch away. It made a sharp crack on a tree. “You didn’t go to Alluin because you hated us, or because you wanted to force yourselves into the life of mortals.” She paused. “You went because you were alone. And he gave you a place that you could see yourself calling home, didn’t he?” 

Sarsa was looking between Haseul and the places she’d taken the branches out of her body. She looked both scared and confused. 

“How many people are like that?” Haseul asked. “How many are like you and Hanna? And how many are like Maven and Taegen?”

“Hanna,” she repeated. “You killed her too.”

Vivi frowned. “We sent her to the mountains.” 

“No,” Sarsa tried to move against the stone, “he saw her body.” 

“Did anyone else?” Haseul narrowed her eyes. “We just sent Maven back. I know we killed him.” 

She was quiet. 

“Hanna told us she was from the Alps,” Vivi said. “She left because they were unjust. She thought the Astra were too, and they are, with many things, but not all of them.” She bit her lip. “You do know Olivia is with us now, don’t you? Did he tell you she was a prisoner? Or that she’d come to help us?” 

She didn’t say anything to that either. 

“How many,” Haseul repeated. 

“Why?” Sarsa glared at her. “What good will it do you? You attack us, it won’t matter if you don’t kill the people like me, they wouldn’t turn on him. They wouldn’t turn on the others either.” 

“And what’s the chance of there being no attack?” Haseul asked. 

She laughed harshly. “He hates you. He has for centuries, and he's worked for all of that time to have a hold in both worlds. You think he’d let all of that fall away?” 

“And the rest of you?” Vivi‘s voice was quiet. Was she angry? Or something else? “You’d let yourself be pulled into that hate? Would you die to settle his grudge?” 

Sarsa‘s eyes locked onto her. “Haven’t you been dragged down with the Astra? You’re here, chasing someone you’ve got nothing to do with.” Then she sneered. “I thought that was your limit.” 

“I had nothing to do with it at the start,” Vivi replied. “And then it changed.” 

The fairy clenched her jaw. “Then why can’t it be the same for the rest of us?” 

“Because some of us weren’t even alive when Alluin was abandoned,” Yeojin said. “I didn’t even know he’d existed until the people I love started to get hurt.” 

When Sarsa looked at her, Yeojin was taken aback by her eyes. They were so unlike Jungeun’s, but it still felt like there was something familiar there. What was different was that Jungeun had never seemed scared, or frustrated, even when she had been. Those things were plain to see here. Sarsa wasn’t hiding it. 

“You’re practically his soldiers,” Yeojin frowned, “and he told you we were the enemy.” 

She saw the fairy’s gaze falter ever so slightly. She saw what Haseul had. She saw why Haseul was even talking to her like she had. 

“I don’t have anywhere else to go.” Sarsa’s voice was small. “Neither does he.” 

“You could go to the mountains,” Haseul replied. “Not as prisoners, but on your own accord.”  

“And be there how long?” Sarsa asked. “A century? More?”

“Long enough to find people who won’t send you to kill,” Haseul said. “They’ll know who you are, what you can do, and they still won’t be scared of you.” 

Again, something changed in her expression. If she’d been uncertain before, she was vulnerable now. 

Maybe there was something common among fire-wielders, no matter if elven or fae. Sarsa wasn’t experienced, but she still saw her magic as something to be used for one thing. Jungeun didn't have much to do with others whose magic was fire. Training wasn't an option and as strong as Jungeun was, Yeojin was sure that seeing the doubt and fear a fire-wielder had towards their own magic pushed past even her own limits. 

“You’re not going to convince the rest,” the fairy said then. “You can’t make all of us leave him. We’d be abandoning him. Again.” She shook her head. “And even if we wanted to do it, he’d come after all of us. He could kill them before any of that happens.” Then she narrowed her eyes. “And you knowing what happened to him. Would you really kill him?”

Haseul didn’t reply. 

Yeojin almost didn’t want to see the look in Haseul's eyes. Their focus had been on finding out more, on protecting the camp. Had it been an unspoken truth that they’d kill Alluin? Or had they just not thought about it in the first place? 

“If you’d spare the fire elf,” Sarsa frowned, “and you’d spare Hanna, then I don’t think you’ll do it.” 

Yeojin looked. 

Haseul was staring at Sarsa, jaw tight. 

“Send us to the Warsa,” the fairy said. “I’ll explain everything to him. He may come back, but I won’t.” 

Were they supposed to trust her? What if she sent word to Alluin? What happened if they were ? 

Then Vivi lifted a vial. Another sleeping potion. 

Haseul looked at it. “Do you want to be awake or asleep for it?”

Sarsa’s eyes darted between them. Flickers of fear were starting to cross her expression. 

Then Haseul shook her head. “Then awake. We’ll make sure no spirits come.” She summoned a staff of moonlight, got to her feet, wincing. Then she started to carve into the earth. 

“Wait,” Vivi stood as well, “what is this?” She pointed at the two. “What’re you not telling us?”

“Even if it isn’t the truth, it doesn’t matter.” Haseul was limping as she walked. 

“It matters.” 

Yeojin got up as well. “You shouldn’t be on your feet. You should clean those wounds too.” She reached for the moonlight. The pouch of healing draughts and ointments was still intact too. 

Haseul shook her head, but she smiled. “Since when’re you the healer?”

“Since now,” she replied. She held it up. "And neither of you have a kit." She didn't count the potions Vivi had brought with her. 

Vivi was watching Sarsa and the other elf. She was frowning. 

Haseul finished the first circle, before looking Vivi’s way. “It’ll be fine,” she said. “Trust me.” 

“I do.” Vivi turned away, adjusting the rock around both. “But this,” she trailed off. 

Sarsa wasn’t looking at either of them. She looked both ashamed. The fear was back full force. 

Haseul finished the rest of the circle. 

The earth began to crack. 

And then Haseul sank back down to the ground, leaning against a tree. There was a sheen of sweat across her face. Her face had drifted to her side. The branch was still there. More blood had soaked into her clothes. 

“Before you go,” Haseul called then. “Why did you have the dagger with you?”

Sarsa looked her way. Her jaw tightened. 

“It was just in case you saw us, right?” Haseul asked. “Does everyone get one when they leave?”

She nodded. 

Haseul sighed. She winced again, hand going to her side. “He should’ve given you arrows.” Then her skin started to glow brighter. 

She looked back only to see the moonlight around Sarsa and the elf fade. Sarsa looked more awake then. 

Yeojin tensed, ready for the next attempt to get free. It didn’t come. 

Sarsa just closed her eyes. Tears seeped out of them. 

And then she sank below the earth. 

Haseul gasped then. Her hand was around the branch. Her eyes were teary. 

“Wait,” Vivi went over, “stop.”

“Don’t give me anything.” Haseul grabbed her wrist, before she pulled the branch out with the other hand. A stifled scream left her. She swore. Several times. 

Vivi took her waterskin and handed it to her. 

She immediately took it and drank. She was trembling. 

Yeojin tore a piece of fabric from her sleeve and soaked it in moonlight-infused water. “This might hurt.” She pressed it to the wound and started to wipe away the bark that was still there. 

Haseul didn’t make a sound, but her eyes were squeezed shut. 

“Why’d you leave it in there?” Vivi asked. “And you should be taking something for the pain.” She looked to Yeojin. 

Haseul shrugged. “We might need it more later.” She summoned a piece of light and held it to the wound. “And I’ve got this.” She sighed, both in relief and somehting that sounded close to frustration. 

Yeojin exchanged a look with Vivi then. She looked both confused, frustrated, and worried all at the same time. 

“Relax, both of you.” Haseul narrowed her eyes at both of them. “It was just a few twigs.” 

“That practically stabbed you,” Yeojin finished. “I’m really relaxed.”

“It could’ve been worse.” She shrugged. “But I think we’ve deserved a little break. We just have to walk a little more and then we’ll make camp.” Then she pushed herself up, using the tree to steady herself. 

Vivi took a step towards her. 

“It’s fine.” Haseul lifted a bloody hand. “I can walk with this.” 

“Just because you can doesn’t mean you should.”

Haseul gave her a look just short of frustration. “But I will.” 

Yeojin held out the stick of moonlight, partially in the hope that Haseul would use it as a stick. 

She just absorbed it, sending her a small smile. “Thanks.” 

Then she started limping through the forest. 

Vivi and Yeojin looked at each other again, before following. 

_____

Jungeun was at the river again. 

The medallion hadn’t changed temperature once. It almost made Jungeun even more nervous. 

Haseul hadn’t sent anything back, because of course she hadn’t. It was almost inevitable that they’d be watching her movement, especially if there’d been some small sign that Haseul was either nearby, coming their way, or asking too many questions. There were so many ways she’d be discovered. 

But Jungeun also knew that Haseul was aware of almost all of them. She knew what she was risking. 

She just hoped that Vivi and Yeojin would see what would have to be done and when they’d have to. Haseul cared for her too much to put either of them in outright harm’s way.

And Vivi was there to make sure that what needed to happen would. She understood that, maybe even more than Jungeun or Haseul did. At least Jungeun hoped she was. 

“You already ate?” 

Jungeun turned her head, only to see Jinsoul trudging over the forest floor. She’d let her hair loose from whatever knot it’d been in before. It fell messily across her shoulders. Jungeun couldn’t help but stare as she came closer. She felt the ache strengthen. Again. 

“I liked that dish tonight.” Jinsoul sat down beside her, curling into her side. She was warm, but not much warmer than Jungeun. Not this time. “Might’ve needed a bit more broccoli.”

“I cook for you,” Jungeun aimed a light jab at her side, “and you wanted broccoli.”

“You don’t eat enough of it.”

“I eat other vegetables.” 

“Still,” Jinsoul shifted so her cheek was now on Jungeun’s shoulder, “you need variety.”

“Not sure if ‘need’ is the right word.”

“‘Should have’ then.” Jinsoul elbowed her. “Don’t start this debate again.” 

Jungeun laughed slightly. “Alright.” 

Jinsoul stayed where she was, sighing once, before sinking a little more into her side. 

Jungeun felt a small flicker of anticipation. She wasn’t sure if it was hers or not. 

So she waited for Jinsoul to ask what she wanted to. Jungeun already had several suspicions of what it was. It’d been two days since Dahyun had gone back to her people. This was the second night without her there. Jinsoul had already looked confused when Dahyun had left. She’d looked concerned the next night. 

And now Jungeun wasn’t sure where exactly those worries lay. 

“What do we do with the fairy,” Jinsoul asked. “The one who lost his son?”

“I don’t know,” Jungeun said, thinking about what Haseul wanted to do. She'd try to find out what they'd 'have' to do. “It was a long time ago, but his pain won’t have gone.” If anything, the fairy would feel it more than they did. As far as she knew, he wouldn’t have gotten rid of the grief, because it’d been so closely to his son. Or he’d taken it out of himself for that reason, leaving only the outrage. “Except he isn’t taking his revenge on them.”

“But on us,” Jinsoul finished. 

“And he knows Alluin’s cruelty just as much as his hatred,” Jungeun continued. She bit the inside of her cheek. Did she even have the right to say any of that? “But we almost did the same thing they did to him. Twice.”

What happened if he tried to get into her head? The fae who tried that wanted to drive her mad. They almost always hurt their own minds first, but there was always the chance they’d succeed. She’d always killed them before they could push her too far. 

Jinsoul only nodded. She didn’t retort that they hadn’t been alive then, or that they’d been the ones who’d voted for Hyejoo. 

Jungeun didn’t think it’d have been possible to feel more for Jinsoul than she already did. There was a name for that feeling. For all of them. 

“Can I ask you something else?” Jinsoul’s hand found hers. 

Jungeun smiled slightly. “Is it personal?”

She lifted her head. Her eyes were filled with hesitance. It hurt to know that was because of her. 

“You can ask me anything,” Jungeun said. And I’ll try to tell you everything. 

“What did you mean earlier?” Jinsoul asked. “About her helping you?” She was trying to hide it, but she already looked worried. 

Jungeun fought the urge to close her eyes. She needed to answer her. 

Jinsoul’s voice grew even quieter. “What happened?” There was a small tremble to her voice. 

tightened just hearing it. She thought about what Yerim had told her. 

Jungeun reached out, taking her hands. “It was a while ago.” 

“And you didn’t tell me?” 

She almost said that Jinsoul knew. 

“Soul,” she started. 

She shook her head. “Jungeun, I need to know what happened. Not just how it happened, but what did it do to you.”

Jungeun didn’t want to. 

And she knew that Jinsoul knew it. She normally didn’t push her. She’d almost never pushed her. 

But this time was different. Jinsoul was at her limit too. It was barely pushing. She just needed to know. 

“I’m sorry.” Jinsoul’s voice was barely a whisper. 

Another apology. Jungeun almost laughed. She pulled her into her arms. 

Surprisingly, Jinsoul wrapped her arms around her waist. She kissed her cheek lightly, but lingered for a few seconds. 

”They took my anger,” Jungeun said. “And when I killed them, I lost it.” 

Another kiss, this time on her temple. 

Jungeun found herself pulling her a bit closer. 

“You told me they just made it all more vivid,” Jinsoul whispered. 

Jungeun shivered at the breath that brushed her skin. “They did that too.” 

She leaned away, looking at her. 

Jungeun couldn’t hold that gaze. 

“So that entire time?” Jinsoul paused. “You just,” she trailed off. 

“It wasn’t that bad,” she replied. “Things were,” she shrugged, “less.” 

“How?” 

Jungeun bit her lip, starting to shake her head. 

Except when she risked a glance up, Jinsoul’s eyes were just short of pleading with her. Jungeun could see how she was trying to stay patient. She was trying. 

“They didn’t take the worst of it,” Jungeun said. “I saw how it burned them even then.” She thought of when the anger had finally faded into the background again. It hadn’t exactly been holes, but she’d known exactly that something had been missing. It’d been a dull pain, one she could usually ignore. 

Jinsoul didn’t say anything. Her hand fell away from Jungeun’s cheek to rest on her shoulder. She was still close enough for Jungeun to see each little change in her expression. Another time, she would’ve said she was too close. Not this time. 

“Dahyun says I can handle it because of my eyes.” Jungeun could’ve laughed. “And that I survived losing it, because I’d already had too much from before.” 

Jinsoul only nodded. There was so much understanding in her eyes. 

“And I didn’t tell you, because I barely ever felt it. I had enough light, I had enough of the rest too.” 

“Until now?” Jinsoul asked. 

“Even now I’m okay,” Jungeun replied. “I wasn’t before, but you made sure I had enough.” 

“That wasn’t—“ 

“It was you,” she said. “Even when you’re here, I don’t feel any of what I had before. It’s probably the light you gave me.” She chuckled. “Besides, Darie said just being happy helped, which I have been,” she told her. “For a while now.”

Jinsoul’s gaze softened and a smile started to appear. 

Jungeun let herself watch it. There was one reason: exactly that smile. 

Then she was pulled back into a hug. Jungeun could almost feel the way Jinsoul was trying to say all her reassurances through her arms. 

“I—next time it starts getting bad, tell me?” Jinsoul’s voice was hesitant now. 

“It’s usually not for long.” And she didn’t know what Jinsoul could do to help. Even if she’d try. 

“But still,” Jinsoul sighed softly, “I’d want to know.” A pause. “If you want to tell me?” 

“Soul,” Jungeun propped her chin on her shoulder, “I’ll tell you.” She felt a pang of guilt. “From now on, I will.” She couldn’t help but think of Alluin’s people. There’d be two emotional fairies there. If the medallion turned cold, Jungeun would need to meet them as well. 

“Yeah?” 

“I promise.” 

Jinsoul pulled away. Glowing blue eyes met hers. Jungeun didn’t look away. “You’re sure?” 

“I,” Jungeun started, “I should’ve told you before. I didn’t—” Was she even supposed to say it? “I still,” she hesitated. 

“You still don’t want to?” Jinsoul finished. She didn’t look hurt. “I know, and you don’t have to.” 

“I do,” Jungeun said. “Don’t just let me keep doing this, you—“ She wished she could force herself to say everything she wanted. “I just need you to ask me, Soul.” 

She held her gaze for a long moment. Then the corner of her lip tilted up. “You just need a push?” 

She remembered how the moonlight had all but scattered around Jinsoul, how the ocean had surrounded her, illuminated by the glow of her skin. She remembered Jinsoul’s constant reassurances. 

“Yeah.” Jungeun smiled. “A push, or tug, whatever works better.”

Jinsoul nodded once. She had that look again. The one Jungeun couldn’t meet.

For a moment, she thought Jinsoul was going to ask her something. She wasn’t sure if she’d be able to answer it properly. 

And then she just pressed a light kiss to her forehead. “You’re wonderful.” 

Jungeun looked down, a blush making its way into her face. “I’m supposed to say that.” Denying it would get them nowhere. Jinsoul would know she wanted to anyway.

“You still can.” A teasing lilt had leaked into her voice. 

Jungeun was relieved to hear it, even if it didn’t help her gather her words. “I will.” 

Jinsoul smiled. 

And Jungeun needed to look away. If she had to leave as well, that smile would be gone. 

“Is something wrong?” Jinsoul asked, a tinge of concern there. 

She shook her head. 

“Really?” 

“It’s just,” Jungeun kept her eyes down, “when you look at me like that, I can’t—” It’s too much.

“Like what?” Just by her tone, she knew Jinsoul was frowning. 

“Like—“ Jungeun couldn’t even finish that. Coward. 

Jinsoul took a step back then, starting to let go of Jungeun’s hands. 

“Wait,” Jungeun said. “Wait.” She wondered if she was even supposed to open that subject. What if she left? What if she just made this worse? 

She waited. 

It shouldn’t have been hard, but she needed to force herself to look up. She hated it. 

“It’s okay.” 

“No it isn’t.” Jungeun bit back a curse. “You said it was okay before, but it wasn’t.”

“Yes it was,” Jinsoul retorted. Her eyes weren’t sharp, but there was an insistence there. “It is now too.”

“You shouldn’t be waiting.” 

“But you told me to.” Despite the quip, Jinsoul’s gaze grew gentle again. 

She had to say something. Anything that wouldn’t hurt her— anything that would help. And it had to be honest. 

“The way you look at me,” Jungeun started, “I wish you were looking at someone else that way.” 

“I’m not.” A pause. “And I won’t.” 

Jungeun felt a lump growing in . What if you have to?

“Why someone else?” With the way Jinsoul asked it, the question could’ve been easy to answer. 

When she looked up, Jungeun saw that Jinsoul knew exactly that it wasn’t a simple question. 

But she wanted to hear the answer. 

Jungeun wanted to give her one. She just didn’t know how to say it. The press of the metal on her skin didn’t help either. That she was waiting for it to turn cold was only a reminder, but she couldn’t tell her that. 

“You’ll argue with every reason I give you.” 

“Because most of them will be ones I disagree with,” Jinsoul replied. 

Another time, that would’ve annoyed her. This time it made her laugh. 

Jinsoul smiled slightly, but she wasn’t going to drop it yet. 

Jungeun was almost glad she wasn’t. The other part of her wanted to go back to the camp, where there'd be people who'd try to eavesdrop. Neither of them would say anything like this if they were there.

“Why can’t it be you?” Jinsoul asked. Her voice trembled slightly. “There isn’t anyone else I’d look at that way. I don’t want there to be one either.”

The words felt weighted. They pressed down on her. Jungeun wished they wouldn’t. They were supposed to be words she wanted to hear. 

Silence.

“Unless it’s not—” Jinsoul looked more uncertain than Jungeun had ever seen her. 

And that wasn’t supposed to happen either. This was the last thing Jinsoul should’ve been doubting. 

Jungeun forced herself to speak. “No, that isn’t—it’s not what I want.” 

“But you wish it was different?” Jinsoul’s brow furrowed. 

I know it doesn’t make any sense. I know I could say all this better. There was also something hanging around her neck, something she could show her to explain. Except that was only one of the reasons. There were more she could say, weren't there?

Then Jinsoul was wiping at Jungeun’s eyes. “It’s okay.” 

“It’s pathetic.” Jungeun pulled away, forcing the rest of her tears down. “I can barely even look at you without—“ She stopped herself. She was just making it worse.

Jinsoul only nodded. Her expression was almost too understanding. How could she understand when Jungeun didn’t? 

“It’s not pathetic,” Jinsoul said. Her hands were at her sides, but they kept nearly reaching out before pulling away again. There shouldn’t have been that hesitation. “That’s never a word I’d use to describe you.” 

Then I’m a coward, she thought. Jinsoul shouldn’t have been reassuring her. 

“If you don’t want—if the thought of me scares you, tell me.” It didn’t show in her expression, but Jungeun knew Jinsoul was nervous. Even if the stammer was lighter than anything Jungeun would’ve had, even if her eyes were almost perfect in hiding it, Jungeun knew. 

“I’ve never been scared of you,” Jungeun said. “No matter how intimidating you were at first.” 

Jinsoul gave her a painfully weak smile. “Then I can wait.”

Her eyes were still burning. “You shouldn’t.” 

“I’ve had years to look somewhere else, but I haven’t.” 

Jungeun could practically feel how Jinsoul wanted to say something else. 

She closed her eyes. “I’m not worth that time.” She said it quietly. Mortal ears wouldn’t have been able to hear it. Jinsoul’s had. 

“You are,” Jinsoul said. “You’re worth all the time we'll have.”

The words sent a pang through her chest. She tried not to wince. There was the chance they’d all come back if Haseul needed them. All Jungeun could do was make sure they would. Could she say the same about herself?

“I mean it,” Jinsoul continued. “You know I do.” 

“Don’t.” Jungeun shook her head. “You know what I’m capable of, you know what I can do. You know—” Her voice was shaking. She moved away. Coward, she repeated. “I know how much I’m hated. It’s not hard and it’s not wrong.” Taking the next breath was hard. “Everyone who’s killed someone I’ve loved, I hated. I killed most of them too.” She could’ve laughed at the hypocrisy, but everything else that came with that thought destroyed any humour there was to be found there. “And whoever tells me that’s justified, has to accept people killing me too.” 

Jinsoul hadn’t moved from where she stood. Of course she hadn’t. Jungeun could feel a tug on that ache in her chest. She ignored it. 

“But it doesn’t work like that,” Jungeun continued. “I know it doesn’t, because people can’t live like that. My family couldn’t, the others couldn’t, and none of you can either.” 

“But you can.”

Jungeun almost jumped at the sound of Jinsoul’s voice. It was shaky. 

“That’s why?” Jinsoul asked.

She didn’t answer that. She knew Jinsoul disagreed with almost every word she’d said. 

"Yes, I know what you're capable of." Jinsoul took her hand again. “But you’re still good.” 

Jungeun turned her head away. 

“You are,” Jinsoul said. “I don’t know why you can’t see it. Everyone else does.” 

Jungeun scoffed. “Them being grateful doesn’t mean they don’t see what—”

“You saved their lives and you’ve helped us all more times than I can count,” Jinsoul said sharply. “So if you’re going to be stuck in the past, at least see every part of it.” 

She risked another look up. 

Jinsoul’s brow was furrowed. She didn’t look frustrated, only confused. “You put your faith only in your magic and the rest of it you put in Yerim, Haseul, and the others.” Another pause. “I need you to see that you’re more than your magic. You’re more—”

“Don’t say that,” she said. “Please, Jinsoul, don’t.”

“I don’t love your magic.” Jinsoul’s voice broke. “I—” Then she stopped talking completely.

The unsaid words clawed at her. She knew what Jinsoul wanted to say. She didn’t feel panic, but the feeling was halfway there. She could’ve cut her off with others. Jinsoul had said their names already. What if she told her what was happening? She could have.

Except the thought of those words still had her frozen. Jungeun should’ve been able to hear them. A part of her thought she shouldn’t have been surprised to know that they could be said. 

“What you said,” Jinsoul was looking more and more confused with each word, “I know that. I’ve known you for—” She broke off. “We’ve been—it’s been like this for years,” she said. “What changes?” The doubt in her voice was growing. 

“It’s not a bad thing, it—it’s exactly what people should have, what they should dream of. It’s what I want you to have, but—“ Jungeun couldn’t bring herself to finish that either. 

Jinsoul was looking at her. Her eyes were glassy. 

Jungeun was the reason for that. 

“You don’t think you deserve it?” Jinsoul asked. “Because you do, Jungeun. Any of us could tell you that.” 

“I can’t give you what you want.”

Jinsoul blinked. “You’re not giving me anything.”

“You don’t understand.” Jungeun felt weak—fragile, as though her head was spilling over. 

“I want to,” she said softly.

Jungeun breathed in. The medallion hadn’t changed temperature, but she still felt cold. She was trembling. “I’m always a risk,” she said. “It doesn’t matter if Alluin’s sending them or if there’s someone else, there’ll always be someone who wants me gone.”

“I know that,” Jinsoul said, voice getting a bit sharper. “I’ve known that since the beginning. How does that make a difference now?” 

“I should be promising you that I won’t leave you, that I won’t ever scare you the way I did, but I can’t.” Jungeun could feel a tension building in , but she needed to say this. “I can’t promise you that I’ll always be here or that I’ll always come back, because I won’t believe that.” She couldn’t look at her. She couldn’t watch the words sink in. “And the things I want to say to you are promises. Even if the words themselves don’t say it, they are.” 

“Jungeun,” she started, “I don’t—most promises are breakable.” 

“I know.”

“Then why are these so different?” 

“They’re fragile,” Jungeun said. She couldn’t tell her why. Not with that look in Jinsoul’s eyes. 

“And how's that different?” Jinsoul’s mouth trembled, but she was still asking, carefully trying to tug out the answers. “What could someone else promise me that you can’t?”

“Time.” She lifted a hand to take Jinsoul’s. Her skin felt cool. “And I know no one can promise that, but you could trust their words more than mine.”

“I don’t want their promises and I don’t need yours either.” Jinsoul’s grip on her hand tightened. “I don’t need you to promise me you’ll stay, or that you’ll come back.”

“No one needs that,” Jungeun replied. “But they want to feel safe—sure that they won’t lose anything.” She winced. “Or anyone.” Even then, she prayed to the moon that she’d be able to come back if she had to leave as well.

“I know how easily I could lose you,” she said.

No you don’t, Jungeun wanted to say.

“I know that when you go away that you might not come back.” Her brow furrowed. “Don’t start acting as if I don’t.” 

“Just because you know it doesn’t mean that’s a good thing.” Jungeun shook her head, biting back everything else she could’ve said. “How can knowing how easily you—how I could—” She bit back a curse. Why couldn’t she say it? “How could anyone want that?” I wouldn’t even want that. 

Jinsoul shrugged. “It’s not something I want, but it’s what we have.” 

“It takes more time and I’m not giving you any—”

“None of that is what I want.” Jinsoul’s eyes searched hers. They weren’t desperate, but they were trying to find something. Jungeun couldn’t look away. “I want you,” she whispered, as if the words themselves were fragile. 

The words hooked themselves to Jungeun’s throat. The ache was still there, as was the medallion, but that wasn’t everything she could think of. She thought more about the hesitance surrounding those words and the doubt in Jinsoul’s eyes. 

“And maybe that’s too much,” Jinsoul said. “I never want you to feel like you have to say the same, or feel the same way, I—“ 

“I do,” Jungeun said. Even if the words were hard, she needed to say them too. “I do.” 

Jinsoul didn’t say anything then. She was looking at her, eyes wide and filling with confusion.

“I know it looked like I didn’t,” Jungeun forced herself to continue, “and a part of me almost thought it’d be better to—I’m sorry.”

Jinsoul’s brow furrowed. She was going to tell her it was alright when it wasn't. 

“I should’ve never made you think that it didn’t mean—that I didn’t—” Jungeun bit back another curse. It was ridiculous how the words kept catching in . 

Jinsoul slowly started to relax. “You don’t have to force yourself,” she said. “Don’t make yourself say something.” 

Again, she saw the ocean, how it stretched out around and below them. She remembered how much sound there was below the surface. She remembered how Jinsoul had glowed beneath the surface, her hair spread out throughout the water.

She’d pulled her into the water, because Jungeun had wanted her to. She hadn’t let go of her, no matter how little they’d known of one another then. 

And the water had gotten so much less frightening after that night. 

“I’m not,” Jungeun said. “I want to say this.”

“But?” 

“Nothing,” she insisted. There was no one else. The more she spoke, the more she wished Jinsoul could see the same thing she did. “If there’s anything wrong, it’s—“ 

“It’s not you,” Jinsoul cut her off. “Don’t blame yourself for this too.” 

“There isn’t anyone else to blame,” Jungeun said. “You’ve waited. We both—we know.” The ache was stronger again. “I should be able to—I should be better, and I want to be, but there’re people who’re already there.” People who’ll be able to stay. 

Jinsoul shook her head. “They’re not you. I’ve had years to know who it is I—I trust you, more than so many others. I know what makes me happy.” She rubbed the back of her hand with her thumb. “And I don’t want you to feel like you have to tell me anything. I’m happy where we are.”

“I don’t believe that.” 

“But I do.” The corner of her lip tilted up. “I might know what I want, but I’ll wait until you know what that is for you.” She gave her a smile, but something still looked hesitant. “No matter what that is.” There was still doubt. Did she not believe her? 

Jungeun’s heart sank. When had she ever really given Jinsoul a reason to believe the opposite? When had there been one, without a caveat of its own? 

“How can you be okay with that?” Jungeun asked. “How is waiting this entire time even worth it?” How could a risk like that ever be worth it?

“You could’ve loved Haseul,” Jinsoul said, hardly knowing what saying that name meant now. “You loved Reyna.” There was no flicker of jealousy, only something that almost looked like sadness. “And you didn’t let either of them in .”

Jungeun’s chest felt even heavier. Was it the medallion? Or something else?

“And Reyna loved you too.” 

“I know.” 

“Was that why?” Jinsoul asked. More hesitance. 

“There were a lot of reasons.” She shook her head. “And I don’t love Reyna anymore. Not like I—not like that.” She let out a long breath, closing her eyes. She pulled her hands from Jinsoul’s. “I hurt her,” she said. “And I let her waste time when she should’ve been looking somewhere else.” 

Jinsoul didn’t move from where she was. Jungeun could feel how close she was to saying something. 

Jungeun could only hope she could finish what she wanted to say. She’d never been able to say any of this, least of all to Jinsoul. “And she did.” She let a flame appear in her palm, the warmth a comfort she needed. It was also a reminder. “Someone she believes could be with her forever. Even if it isn’t set in stone, that’s more than I could ever give her. Or anyone.” 

“Jungeun.” Her voice sounded thick, weighed down by an emotion Jungeun didn’t want to place. 

She opened her eyes, only to see Jinsoul close to tears. 

“Why didn’t you leave me?” Jinsoul asked.

She lost the fire in her hand. Its remnants disappeared into the air quickly enough.

Don’t ask me that, she wanted to say. Not now. “Why—” 

“You could’ve gone back to Reyna,” Jinsoul said. “You never got closer with Haseul than you had been. You weren’t ever stuck here. You could’ve gone somewhere else, made me stay away, or–or something.” She was stumbling over her words, a few coming out in arcesh instead of crosesh, but Jungeun still understood it. “But you stayed with us. You let things stay how they were, even though they’d already changed.”

There was a finality in how she spoke. It didn’t make her nervous, but she knew Jinsoul had been waiting to say this. All of it. 

“You stayed for Yerim, didn’t you?” Jinsoul asked. “Because it’s always been the three of us?” 

Both of you, Jungeun thought. I stayed for both of you. “I wanted to leave both of you,” she said quietly. I might have to leave you soon. Except this time, Yerim would be too. That was why she’d need to go too. She had to make sure Yerim would come back. 

Jungeun watched the words sink in and how Jinsoul's face fell. She wanted to look away. She dug her nails into her palms instead. “We’ve spent more time together than I’ve ever spent around people. All of you knew what I’d done and you hadn’t known anything else from before.” Tears were forming again. “And it doesn’t matter how long it took, but you didn’t hate me. Even when you saw—when you knew more of who I was.” Jungeun stared at the ground. “I couldn’t leave.” She felt own her voice break. “Not like that.”

“Why?” Jinsoul sounded all too fragile. There was a reason for that. 

“Because it didn’t take long for you to become two of the most important parts of my life.” 

How could she have left? Her staying had been selfish at first, before it had become too late to leave. Any time Jungeun spent away hadn’t mattered after that. What did that mean now? 

“Maybe I’m here because I think I have to be. Or maybe it’s—“ Jungeun scrambled for the next words to say. “I don’t know.” The tears were there now. She fought to keep them back, even if Jinsoul knew they were there. “But everything else I said before, that’s all still here. I can’t tell you that I’ll still—”

“I know.”

They stayed there, stuck in a silence that didn’t get lighter. 

Jungeun found the flames again and let them form across her fingers. 

Normally, one of them would’ve changed the subject by now or used the silence to steer the conversation away. Jinsoul didn’t want to do that, she knew Jungeun did, but she couldn't. 

Jungeun felt drained by the words she’d said. She’d had to tell her what she could. She’d said more than she had before, but a part of her still wondered if she’d said enough. 

She wasn’t sure if she’d be able to stomach another question. It’d just make not telling her the truth even worse. 

“I still don’t understand,” Jinsoul said then.

Jungeun looked up once, before looking back to the flames. She’d let them rise just above her palm, creating a small ring of fire. 

“You tried to avoid me at one point,” Jinsoul started. “But then you said that we’d be the three of us again. When all this is over.” A ring of water formed. “Are we—is this different than before? Because you still think the same way you did then.” A long pause. “And I still feel the same.” A sliver of water rose from the river, curling to form a circle as well. 

Jungeun nearly lost her grip on the flames again. Instead, she let it rest beside the water. 

Jinsoul was looking at the two rings. “What do you want?” she asked. “What am I supposed to do?” 

The ache was there. It was stronger than before. 

“You don’t have to do anything,” Jungeun whispered. She almost told her about the medallion, but what would happen if Jinsoul tried to stop her? Or, even worse, what happened if she went with her?

Except there was an answer to one of those things. Jungeun would go, no matter what Jinsoul said. She had to. Haseul would come back, as would Vivi and Yeojin. If they did go, then Yerim, Hyejoo, and Hyunjin would return as well. Jungeun would need to as well. She wanted to tell her she would. 

The ring of fire opened and looped with the water.

“I always want to be by your side,” Jungeun said. “But I don’t want to ever hurt you. And I know I have a-and I know—I know I could still do that. It scares me.” A lot of things scared her. Haseul, Yeojin, and Vivi being out there, exposed to whatever Alluin could send after them terrified her. Hyunjin, Hyejoo, and Yerim following them if something happened, risking their own lives felt like a nightmare. Not coming back here with all of them frightened her too. 

Jinsoul moved a bit closer again, but now more on her side. Jungeun could still see her eyes, but they weren’t looking at her completely. 

Jinsoul took her hand again. 

Jungeun watched how gently Jinsoul held it. Her fingers traced lightly over her knuckles. 

She blinked. It was just a hand. Her hand. And Jinsoul somehow made it seem precious. 

“I’m scared too,” Jinsoul murmured. “But not of you. Never you.”

Jungeun risked looking at her. 

What she saw nearly made her look away. Again. Jinsoul’s smile was soft and her eyes purely gentle, but everything else was almost overwhelming. 

Almost. 

_____

They’d set up camp. Yeojin and Vivi had built the tent, forcing Haseul to sit by a fire. She hadn’t gotten worse, but there was something else hanging over her. Vivi didn’t know if that was the effect of the dagger, the fight, or what Sarsa had said. 

Dinner had been at a strange time too. The sun had been rising in the distance, slowly illuminating the sky. Most Astrans never stayed up until then, but Vivi preferred to see how the day started. She usually never managed to fall asleep again after that, but it still gave her comfort to see the sun rise. 

And she wouldn’t be sleeping now either. The day was when they’d be most vulnerable, at least that was how the others would see it. Either they didn’t know Vivi was there, or they’d think she’d adjusted fully to the sleep schedule of the Astra. The most she could hope for was that they'd underestimate her.

Vivi watched as the sun continued to rise, gradually warming the earth again. She’d continued to realise just how much some of the Astra mattered to her. She wanted to protect them to the best of her abilities. She just had to hope that would be enough. 

“Having fun?” a voice croaked. Just hearing it made her feel a bit lighter. 

Vivi turned to see Haseul leaving the tent. She was wrapped in a blanket. 

“Aren’t you tired?” It was almost late afternoon now. 

“Aren’t you?” Haseul threw back, a lopsided grin on her face. She shuffled over to her and sat down. “Watches like these're boring.” 

“Not when you have a lot to think about.” 

She squinted at her. “And now you’re saying I don’t think enough.” She bumped her shoulder. “I’d be offended, but you’re right.” 

Vivi raised a brow. “I’d say you think a lot,” she said. “Just very quickly.” 

Haseul was quiet for a moment.

Vivi wondered if she’d sounded too harsh. 

“I should’ve probably told both of you what I wanted from that, huh?” Haseul's expression was slowly going distant again. 

Vivi almost wanted to pull her back. “Maybe a little.”

“Do you think I did the wrong thing?”

“No.” Vivi almost didn’t want to say it. Would it sound worse than she meant it to? Still, it was better to say it. She had to. “We both knew what you’d wanted to do, but we found it out during, instead of before they attacked." 

Haseul nodded. She didn’t argue or protest it. 

Did that mean she was considering telling them more? Or just going to keep doing it?

“Did you know what would happen with those two?” Vivi asked. 

“No.”

“But you were ready to spare them?”

“Or kill them,” Haseul said. Then she sighed. “I don’t know, maybe I should’ve told you, but I don’t know what else would’ve come. If they were bent on killing us all, I would’ve gotten rid of the threat. If they just hated us because of what he told them, or because of something else, but the reason was something we would’ve had, then no.”

Vivi wondered if Haseul had already made this decision before. She’d gone to Hanna first too, all to see for herself if it was right to spare her or not. What about after that? When she’d gone alone before, trying to follow whatever trails could lead her to Alluin and his followers. Had she already been risking her life, all to see who she was supposed to spare and who she'd kill?

“Would you have stopped me?” Haseul asked then. She still looked tired, but there was a bit more clarity in her eyes. Caution too. Was she trying to figure something out about her? Would today change how Haseul saw her? Would Haseul find a way to send her back if she thought Vivi would be more of an obstacle than an aid? 

No. Just the idea of Haseul doing that made Vivi cringe. It felt wrong, because she knew Haseul wouldn’t send her away for a reason as simple as that. 

“I don’t know,” Vivi admitted. “I’ve come to trust your judgement for a lot of things.” 

Haseul’s brow shot up. “I’m not sure if you should.” She looked away. “I don’t always think all this through.” 

“I told you,” she said. “I’m quite sure you just do it quicker than I do.”

“That’s called being impulsive.” 

“But it usually works, doesn’t it?” Vivi asked. “You made the right decision with Hanna and the same here.” 

Haseul frowned at her. “Do you really believe that or are you trying to make me feel better?”

“Both.”

She blinked once. 

“I like to think of the actions themselves first. Most people do in the immediate sense,” Vivi said. “I leave considering the consequences fully for a little bit after.”

Haseul tilted her head. “You do both though, don’t you? You were considering what comes next earlier too.”

“But right now,” Vivi shook her head, “I’m glad you spared them, regardless of whether or not we’ll see them again.” 

“Why?”

“They didn’t deserve it.” Then she realised the wording and grimaced. “Then again, I can’t say who deserves it or not. No one can.”

“But we do,” Haseul said. “We’ll have to do it again.” There was the slightest bit of challenge there. Will you?

“I know.” 

Haseul was searching her eyes. Vivi wondered if she was also looking to the light. Haseul hadn’t usually been this thoughtful, at least when Vivi had been around. Was this how she usually was? 

Then again, as she’d said before, Vivi wasn’t really seeing any of them how they usually were. Not even Haseul. 

“If I ask you something else,” Haseul began, “can it be personal?”

Vivi frowned. “Haven't you been doing that?” 

She shrugged once. “Getting to know you and getting personal aren’t always the same thing.” 

“Just ask then.”

“What Sarsa said earlier?” Haseul’s eyes were on the sky. “You knew her before? You fought her too?” 

Vivi should’ve known she’d ask. She’d almost expected them to forget, with the fatigue from the fight and everything else Sarsa had said. 

“You don’t have to tell me,” she said then. “It’s a little early.” She wrapped the blanket around herself a bit tighter. Even though the day suited her just as much as the night did, Haseul looked a lot less like she usually did. Maybe it was the way she let the fatigue show almost completely on her face, or the dishevelled way her hair fell now, or how her skin had the warm glow of the sun instead of the cooler light of the moon. 

“I told you I fought for my people more often than not, didn’t I?” Vivi asked. 

“You might’ve mentioned it. Or the seers told me.” Haseul looked embarrassed. “I don’t exactly remember which.” 

Vivi couldn’t help but smile. “It’s alright,” she said. “But if we did go into any sort of fight like that, it was usually one with little mercy.” She felt a bit sick just remembering it. “We were well past negotiations if it came to violence.”

Haseul nodded. “Usually someone skipped the negotiations for ours.” 

“I went along with most of it. Asking for more usually made it worse, more for them than it did me.” She looked at her hands. “I liked to use my anger with my magic at the time.” The emotional fae always spoke of how it strengthened them. It'd helped when she needed to kill without wondering who the person was first, or if it was even right. It helped to let her believe they deserved it. 

Haseul was looking at her, understanding filling her expression. Vivi had seen that in Jungeun as well. Jinsoul and Hyejoo too, at least when she’d told them. 

“Sarsa was one where the anger hadn’t stayed,” Vivi said. “Even then, I’d known she was young. They might’ve tried to splinter away from their people, but even when we’d been sent after them, we'd known they weren’t there because they’d wanted to hurt. They’d just wanted to escape.”

“From what?” 

“Always furthering your magic,” Vivi replied. “Devoting time to remaining exempt from everyone else and when a rule is broken, or a crime committed, still being free from the constant invasion of your mind or emotions.” 

Haseul’s expression melted back into one of understanding. “Right.” 

“There were a few other things, but nothing that I thought warranted any of them being killed,” she continued. “So I made the rest spare them and let them go.” She frowned, wondering if someone else would have been in Sarsa’s place today. What would that have been like? What if they’d been like Maven? 

“Do you think any of them would’ve gone to Alluin as well?” 

Vivi shook her head. “I know they found a place elsewhere. Some worse, but not all.” 

Haseul nodded once. “Good.” Then she lowered her head to rest her chin on her knees. It was obvious then and there that Haseul had faced similar situations. 

Ones that had had less hopeful endings. 

“I know why they’d go,” Haseul said. “I know why Hyejoo went and stayed as long as she did. The more I see these people, the more I see they were just more scared of being left out there alone.” 

“But it looks like they’re just as ready to leave,” Vivi replied. “They have their limits. Hanna crossed hers and Sarsa wasn’t far from being pushed past hers. She wouldn’t have been able to go through with it, not after the first blow.” 

Haseul hummed once. She was looking at the ground. She looked a lot smaller than normal. 

“Is something wrong?” 

“Yeojin was able to handle herself, wasn’t she?” 

Vivi nodded. “Acted quickly. Saved us from some nasty burns too.” She looked to the tent, then at the light. She had no idea if Yeojin was sleeping, but she hadn’t moved from her bedroll. “And after she was alright.” If she remembered right, Yeojin had seen worse in that mortal town. The man who’d been slaughtered by darkness. Vivi felt sick just thinking about it. She hadn’t even seen it and was grateful for it. 

Haseul’s eyes were tight. Then the tension left her face. She was hiding it. 

“Haseul,” Vivi carefully put a hand on her arm, “is it too early to ask you about what you'll do?”

She snorted and shook her head. She ran a hand through her hair. “I’m not sure if you want to hear any of that.” 

“We’ve all been hearing things we don’t want to,” Vivi said. “And many things sound better on a beautiful day.” 

Haseul rolled her eyes, before looking over at her. “I didn’t think you’d be the one to turn sentimental.” 

“I was aiming for a joke.” 

A smile finally appeared. It also looked tired. “Worked,” Haseul muttered. “Kind of.” Then she sighed. “I’m worried about both of you,” she frowned, “with what happened earlier, I didn’t know what would happen after.”

“You’re not a seer,” Vivi said. “You’ve never known what happens next.”

Haseul chuckled. “I know,” she shook her head, “but I brought you both here.” 

And this was the reason why Haseul would send them away, one Vivi believed, but would never agree with. 

“If I’d have planned that attack,” Haseul started, “I would’ve used Alluin’s dagger first. It has the lasting effects. It’s our weakness.” She shook her head. “Because if they’d used it, one of us might’ve ended up like Jungeun and I’m not sure if we would’ve been able to hang on long enough.” Her jaw was tight. 

“Don’t start that,” Vivi said. “They didn’t use it and it’ll be the first thing we look for next time.” She moved her hand to take Haseul’s. “And we’ll get through that like we did this one.” 

“I know.” Haseul nodded. “There’s always going to be a fight and there’ll always be the risk that one of us gets hurt somehow.” She looked away again. “And I know you don’t need me protecting you, and Yeojin won’t need me either soon.”

“And she needs to learn,” Vivi finished. 

“But needs to learn,” she echoed. The corner of tilted up. Then she stood, pulling Vivi’s arm up with her. “Can we go to the stream. We have to refill the skins.” 

They walked through the forest. It really was strange to see it during the day again. She’d somehow gotten so used to the night. Was that because of the night? Or had it just been so easy to adjust? 

Haseul knelt down by the stream and held the waterskin against the current. “With what we’re actually here for, neither of you need to be put at more risk than you already are.” 

“We’re not leaving,” she told her. Then she did the same with hers. She watched for anyone coming their way. 

“I’m not telling you to,” Haseul shot back. “But we’re going to be more careful. We were lucky it was those two and no one else. They wouldn't have used that dagger like I would’ve.” Shame flickered in her eyes. 

Vivi stayed silent. She didn’t like where Haseul’s thoughts were going, but she wasn’t going to stop it. If Haseul wasn’t going to tell them to leave, what was she going to do? 

“They have people none of us can fight,” Haseul said. “I don’t think I’d stand a chance against Alluin. I don’t have rage like that. I don’t hate him.” Her eyes dimmed. “Have you ever wanted to make someone scream? To tear into them? And then had the chance to do that?” She closed the waterskin, but continued to look at the rushing water. 

“I’ve hated people,” Vivi replied. “But not like that.”

Haseul didn’t reply. I have, her eyes said. And I did. 

Vivi wasn't surprised, but that didn't mean she'd expected it. 

“And you think he’d do that to us?” Vivi asked. 

“That’s it. I don’t know.” Haseul shrugged. “He can take our shadows, keep us in place, or maybe worse. I don’t know what the shadows do for us.” A pause. “And I know Hyejoo can do a lot, but he was the one who taught her what she knows. He’s had so much time to hone that magic, everything that could kill us, either slowly or quickly and—” She stopped talking. 

“You don’t think there’s a chance he’d spare us?” 

“There is,” Haseul replied. “He’s angry and there’s so much hate for us, but he’s not blind enough not to know we had no part in it.” One of her hands was curled in a fist. “But I don’t know what he’ll do.” Her voice cracked. 

Vivi squeezed her hand. Of all the things to see now, Haseul close to a breaking point was more painful than she’d have thought it was. It’d felt like an impossible thing, ever since the first time they’d spoken. 

And then all weakness faded. Certainty overtook the doubt. 

“I need you to promise me something.” Haseul met her eyes. The green was bright, but bordering on harsh. Was this how Haseul looked when she was desperate? “No matter how bad it looks or how good our chances look, the first thing you need to think about is how to get Yeojin out alive.” 

Vivi opted not to say her first thoughts. “She’d never forgive me if I left you behind.” 

“You wouldn’t be leaving me behind,” she replied. “And she’d understand that.” 

She tried not to look too skeptical of that. “I wouldn’t forgive me either.” 

Haseul blinked, almost startled. 

“You weren’t planning on Yeojin being here in the first place,” Vivi said. “How would it have looked if it were just two people here? Would you have just sent me back early? Slipped me some sleeping draught so I wouldn’t follow you? Or give me some of Chaewon’s light to keep me subdued long enough so you could send me back to camp through the earth?” 

“I would’ve decided it then.” Haseul shrugged. “But I can barely do that with two people here, and the second she’d realise it, she’d just come right back.” 

“And you don’t think I would?”

“That’s why it’s good there’s two of you,” she replied. “And if you’d come back, you’d come back with help.” She levelled her with that sharp gaze. “You’d be able to get Yeojin to see that. And you’d make it back more easily.”

Because there’d be two of them. It was dangerous to travel alone through the earth, because no one else would be there to stop a spirit or anyone else from attacking. 

Except Haseul was trying to get all of those reassurances into her head. She was trying to make it look like leaving her was the best option. 

And it was the last thing Yeojin would allow to happen. Vivi hated the thought of it. 

“And then something happens to you before we get back, and she’ll blame me for the rest of eternity.” 

“She won’t,” Haseul replied. “Yeojin doesn’t hold grudges like that. She knows that you can’t always save someone. She knows that the best you can do is protect those you’re able to.”

“Don’t say that to me,” Vivi snapped. “You’re trying to make me see it your way, but I won’t. I don’t want to.” 

“But you have to,” she said. Her voice was calm, as if she’d already decided what she’d do.

“I don’t,” Vivi said. “Because if it'd come to that, we’d be able to fight our way out of there. Together.” 

Haseul stood. Her gaze was insistent, but not pleading. She wasn’t going to beg her to reconsider. Did she think Vivi would say yes? 

“You can’t make me do this,” Vivi told her, standing as well. “I won’t.” I can't.

“You’d come back.” This time, Haseul took her hand, holding it tightly. “But you’d do it with the people who’d come once they heard. You’ll send word to the camp. Some of them’ll already know, like Yerim and Jiwoo. They’ll be on their way.” 

Then it all fell into place. The hesitance, but also the deliberation that lined each of her words. 

Vivi pulled her hand away. “You’re planning to get caught,” she said. “You want them to find you.” 

“Quiet,” she warned, “she could still hear you.”

And that was why they’d gone to the stream. 

“She should,” Vivi hissed. “This could get you killed and if we have to stop you, we will.”

“No you won’t,” Haseul narrowed her eyes, “because you can’t fight these people.” 

“We’d fight long enough to get away.”

“And they’d follow. You’d only make it easier for them to kill both of you.” 

“I’m not—” Vivi was almost shouting now. She pushed her voice down to something that wouldn’t be heard by all animals near them. “I’m not going to just turn away from you.” 

“They won’t kill me,” Haseul said. 

“And if they do something worse?” Vivi asked. “What then? Are we going to get there just to see that the darkness is eating away at you? Just so we see that they’ve ruined your mind? Driven you mad with fear? Dragged you down somewhere we’ll never get you back?” There were too many paths that ended without her heart stopping. Someone would have to end Haseul’s life just so that she’d be free of whatever hell they’d put her in. “I've seen so much I wish I could forget. I've done so much I regret. Don’t make me the reason why you don’t come back.” 

Green eyes were cold now. Too cold. “Then we’ll go back now. I’ll leave the camp," she said. "Alone and you'll have changed nothing, except for the time they caught me."

Vivi winced. 

“It was a mistake asking you to come with me,” Haseul said. “And it was unfair.” Shame crossed her features, but it left them soon after. “One way or another, I’m going to get the answers we need. You can help me, or you don’t and I’ll get there another way.” 

“Why do you have to?” Vivi asked. 

“Because I can’t let these people die without knowing what they want. I won’t let him die without having ever known him.” Haseul’s voice wasn’t harsh, but it was so very close to it. “Hyejoo could’ve been him. If we’d all her, she would’ve never come back. If she’d been angry enough to start killing like he did, she’d have stayed with Alluin.” Her hands were shaking, but she was trying to keep them still. “If she’d had another century, or maybe even less, and she’d been anyone else—someone not as kind, someone who’d lost all love for the Astra after that day, I could've never blamed her for hating us that much.” 

Then it was quiet. Haseul wasn’t saying anything else. Either the words had caught, or she was waiting. 

Vivi realised it then. She wanted her to say it. “And if it was Hyejoo sending those people out and you had to face her,” she trailed off. 

“Killing her wouldn’t have been an option,” Haseul said. "I wouldn't let anyone hurt her either." A tear ran down the side of her face. She flicked it away. “I need to see what our options are here. I have to, Vivi. Let me find out what they are.”

Let me go to a place from where I may never come back. That was what she was telling her. 

“You said you’d go no matter what I did.” Vivi's own eyes were burning. “You wouldn't let us stop you no matter what we did." 

Haseul didn’t say anything. 

“You don’t know if he’ll let you live,” Vivi said. The words wanted to stay stuck in . She forced them out. “You don’t know if you’re coming back.” 

“I want to.” 

Vivi shook her head. “That’s not enough.” 

Haseul smiled. It was the weakest yet. “That’s all I can give you.” 

“And there’s no reason you’d stay? Not Yeojin, Hyejoo, Hyunjin, or any of the others?" Not me? 

“They’re all reasons I’d go.” 

Vivi’s eyes welled up with tears then. Haseul became a blur, one that quickly came closer. 

Arms wrapped around her waist. 

“Let me go instead,” Vivi forced out. “They need you.” They don't need me. They'll fall apart without you. 

“If everything goes the way I need it to,” Haseul began, “then you’ll all have me back.” 

It was so quiet around them. Vivi could only hear her strained breaths, as well as Haseul’s. They also sounded forced, as if she was trying to keep them slow. 

Vivi pulled away, but didn’t let go. 

Haseul was crying as well. Vivi could almost feel the turmoil then. She could feel the doubt, a sense of a loss that had yet to come, and hope. 

“If this works,” Haseul said, “then I’ll come back.” She lifted a hand to her cheek, wiping at the tears there. “I promise.” She kissed her cheek.

Vivi turned her head. Their noses brushed. She felt a flutter in her chest, one that joined the lightest of aches. It wasn’t the one she felt at the thought of never seeing Haseul again, but a different one. 

“You’ve based that on two large ifs,” Vivi muttered. 

“I know.” Haseul leaned closer, brushing their foreheads together. “But I mean it. I want to come back. I want to be here when the Astra become a new home for you.” 

A painful thought came to her then. Another followed. Too many. All ended the same, pulling at the words she needed to say. 

“Stay,” Vivi said. 

“I won’t." Haseul's words still held so much certainty. “I’m sorry.” 

“I won't forgive you," she replied. "Unless you come back.”

Haseul kissed her. Vivi pulled her closer. She could barely focus on the shape of her lips, or the surprising tenderness that Haseul kept leaning in with. 

Don’t go, Vivi tried to tell her. Stay.

With each little brush of her lips and each comforting touch, Haseul answered.

I can't.

______

Gowon had taken the job alone. That’d been the first mistake. 

It’d gone on too long on her own, but she hadn’t wanted Jiwoo or Sooyoung to be there. 

Even then, it’d still been easy enough. 

And she’d wanted to see what she could do when she wasn’t hiding her magic. 

She’d found the spirit pair, both bright. 

She’d wrapped her arm in shadows and moonlight, letting one spirit bite into it. Its teeth had pierced through the light, but broke on the darkness. Her skin had been torn and she’d felt the burn of its light, but the spirit had fallen away. She’d sank a blade of grey and black into its head. 

The other one had been easy enough to handle. She almost could’ve believed it was scared of her. 

And then she’d turned it. 

Neither spirits had turned dark, but a mixture of it. They’d also run quickly when Gowon had used the light to start healing her wounds. 

The sky was already getting lighter now. Day was coming faster than she’d thought it would. She could already feel herself getting weaker. It hadn’t been like that before. 

She kept walking, letting her mind wander just enough. 

The light she’d given to Haseul was something she could still feel. Distantly, but it was there. She knew it was intact and hadn’t faded. 

Was there supposed to be a reason for that? Was she supposed to know or figure out why? Maybe Darie would know. 

Either way, Gowon had seen flickers of where Haseul had been. There'd been some conflict. She'd also felt a small surge in darkness too. It was the kind that would stay with her. 

Gowon didn't know what they'd do next. There had to be something, didn't there? Would she even be of any help?

She felt a flicker of cold then, coming through the air. It made her sick. 

She summoned a blade.

In the next moment, there was a flash of movement. 

Gowon leapt out of the way, looking for the shadows. They surged towards her. 

And then something slammed into her. She felt ribs break. She felt something tear in her back when she fell back. 

She cried out. 

Teeth sank into her neck. 

Gowon pushed them off, biting back a scream at the pain. 

She tried to roll away and get to her feet. She could barely bring herself to twist her body. 

A hand closed around her leg, dragging her across the ground. The pain lanced all across her chest and back. 

Already, the venom had made her head heavy. Already, she was weak. 

“You’re a cold one,” the vampire crooned. She looked so young, but she might’ve been as old as Gowon, or barely older than thirty. Gowon’s blood still clung to her lips. “But so very sweet.” 

Gowon looked for the light. It slipped away from her, even when she tried to call upon it. 

The vampire lifted her with ease, a crushing grasp on her arms, holding them in place. 

Gowon couldn’t move. The venom had coursed through her so much faster than it should have. 

When the pressure went back to her neck, the vampire held her almost gently. It reminded her of when it’d been just the two of them after a long night spent on patrol. Hyejoo had usually tucked her head under Gowon’s. Either that, or she’d insisted on massaging her head or something like it. 

To relax, she’d said. 

And then Gowon realised how much she was being drained. She also realised that the shadows were still with her. Almost stronger now. She brought her own shadow to the skin over her heart. Then she made it sink into the vampire. 

She tore from Gowon’s throat, teeth tearing further at the skin and muscle. Gowon fell, her legs too weak to hold her. She made the darkness spread further into the vampire. 

The vampire screamed, one that came from a place Gowon knew well enough. She reached for the vampire's shadow, one filled with the distinct foul darkness that came with death. She let it pierce her legs, driving straight through the bone. 

More screaming. 

Gowon pushed herself to her knees and spat out the blood that'd filled . She watched the vampire writhe around on the ground. She was clutching at her chest, clawing at the darkness she'd put there. 

Then Gowon pulled the shadows away. 

The vampire fell slack. She was trembling. She looked her age now. She looked horrified. 

"He—he," the vampire began to sob, "he said you were weak." She held her hands to her face. 

Gowon wrenched them away from her face. "Alluin?" 

The girl flinched when she met Gowon's eyes. 

"He sent you after me?" There'd been others who'd gotten hurt. Had those all been pointed attacks? 

When the vampire didn't answer, Gowon pressed a hand to her forehead. She let a bit of darkness flow in there. 

The girl whimpered. "Please," she was shaking even more, "not that again."

Gowon didn't even know what she was seeing. "Tell me."

"Yes!" she cried out. "He sent me. Others too—said you'd be the targets we could have."

Gowon pulled her hand away. 

The girl looked at her, eyes bright red and fearful. Gowon's blood was still on . 

Then she summoned more shadows and sank them into her heart. The vampire crumbled to dust in the next moment. 

Gowon moved away, but fell. She looked up at the sky. It was almost morning now. 

Slowly, she pushed herself back up.  Something was twisted in her leg, but she’d still be able to walk on it. The screaming was still in her head.

The light hadn’t come back yet either.

Gowon felt cold.

Her shadow was on the ground over the ashes. She held out a hand. It didn’t come. 

She stayed where she was, looking at the collection of darkness on the ground. On the ashes. 

Her eyes started to burn. Slowly, grew thick. Despite the pain, she took the shadow from a tree, made it into something soft in her hand. She held it to her neck. It wasn’t freezing, but almost soothing. 

Yet it started to bring back memories. So many she’d already relieved. They didn’t scare her or trap her in grief. It just added to the weight in . 

She took the darkness away and let it melt into the ground. 

And then she saw it. A wolf had settled into the ground beside the ashes. It’s eyes were set on Gowon. Their colour was familiar. Too familiar. 

And then it lowered its head, nudging away the ash. Then it was prodding her shadow. Gowon could feel the light pressure at the edges of her senses. 

The wolf stood, pushing it even more. The shadow started to move as well. 

“What,” Gowon started. "Why—"

Then it was in front of her. Gowon’s shadow was just in front of her feet. The wolf sat down, looking up at her expectantly. 

She put a hand to the ground. The shadow immediately drifted over to her, settling beneath her feet. She felt some of the weight lift from . 

And then the wolf nuzzled into her hand. Its snout was warm. 

In her mind, she saw a smile she’d not seen in years, joined by crescent eyes. 

Gowon pulled her hand away, the ache having returned full force. 

She saw her in the next moment. Actually in front of her, not in a memory. The way she'd looked at her was gone now.

Hyejoo looked from the wolf to Gowon. “I saw what happened.” 

Gowon could only nod. She started to step away from both the wolf and Hyejoo. 

“You didn’t fight,” Hyejoo said.

“The venom.”

“That was before it could work.” Her voice was so much sharper. 

Yet Gowon didn’t flinch this time. 

“Why didn’t you fight?” Hyejoo asked. “Did you want—“

“No,” Gowon snapped. “The venom worked faster than normal.” 

She looked like she didn’t believe her. 

“I didn’t want that,” Gowon said. It was the truth. It was a relief that she meant it. “I didn’t,” she repeated. A little bit more of that weight faded. 

Hyejoo’s expression barely changed. 

So Gowon looked away. She started to walk, limping past the wolf. Gingerly, she touched her neck, only for her fingers to come away bloody. What else had she expected?

“He sent her here,” Hyejoo said. “Alluin.” 

Gowon nodded. “Trying to pick us off.” 

“She knew you were here,” she continued. “She was hunting you.” 

Gowon leaned against the tree. She would’ve never thought that she wouldn’t want to be near Hyejoo. A part of her still found comfort in knowing Hyejoo was near and safe, but the rest was continually reminded of the loneliness she felt without Hyejoo by her side. It was made worse by the other reminder that she might’ve never needed to feel that if she’d made one decision differently years ago. She might’ve never felt the shattered bond if she’d had her own mind. If she hadn’t listened to what the rest had said, if she hadn’t been a coward, Hyejoo would’ve been able to tell her about the years they’d missed together. Gowon would’ve been able to share whatever burdened Hyejoo now, no matter how painful or great that weight was. 

Because Hyejoo had changed. While she’d seen violence before, this was different. Being alone and then among Alluin’s people had hardened her more than any fighting could. Gowon wondered if it was because Hyejoo hadn’t been able to say her doubts and regrets aloud then. They’d spent the greater parts of mornings talking about what they’d do differently the next time they went out to fight. Hyejoo would ask her to help see better which vampires they could spare, or that they focus on the werewolves they could still save. She’d never liked killing. 

Neither had Gowon. 

Hyejoo was still there. Gowon could feel her gaze, but she didn’t want to meet it. She leaned her head on the bark instead. The venom had made her mind heavy. She could still feel the terror she’d made the vampire feel. It’d been that same fear that she had felt. Fifty years ago. 

Her eyes burned more then. Not because of any pain. It didn’t matter that she’d been afraid. She’d been weak enough to run, to want to stop feeling it. It didn’t matter if she’d regretted it the moment after she’d voted. None of it changed that Hyejoo had been forced to leave. None of it changed the fact that Hyejoo had been alone. And nothing changed the reality that Hyejoo hated her just as much as Gowon hated herself. 

“Do you want me to leave?” Gowon asked. 

Silence. She still couldn’t look. 

“What?” 

“I’d leave if you wanted me to,” Gowon said. “I’d make it so you’d never have to see me again.” 

“Why?” 

She could’ve lashed out again. She wanted a part of her to snap only so that she didn't have to think.

She bit her tongue instead. Hyejoo only wanted answers. That was why she’d pressed her. Even after everything, Hyejoo wasn’t cruel. Of all the things Chaewon couldn’t give her, answers weren’t a part of that. 

“You’ll have the people you love here,” Gowon said. “You can help Hyunjin and Yerim find their magic and I won’t—”

“You’ll leave your home.” Hyejoo’s voice shook. Had she just made it worse for her?

Gowon looked up, torn between apologising and just keeping herself from saying anything more. 

Hyejoo’s eyes bore into hers. They weren’t teary, but Gowon knew that look. She hated that she was the reason for the pain in her eyes. Only one of them was supposed to feel that pain. 

“And you could have yours back.” Gowon felt a pang in her chest when she said that. Then the ache grew stronger. She winced. 

“What if I don’t want it?” 

“You—I,” Gowon stammered, “I think you do.” Was she overstepping? Would Hyejoo get angry? Or would Gowon just hurt her again? “You stayed.” 

“I had to,” Hyejoo said. 

Gowon didn’t say anything, turning her gaze away again. It’d been true before, but it wasn’t now. Hyunjin and Yerim would learn to heal. Then they wouldn’t need all three there. Not really. And if the threat of Alluin was gone, they wouldn’t need the protection either. Most likely.

Except there were others who needed them all there. Heejin, Jungeun, Jinsoul, Yeojin—it went on. Gowon thought of Haseul as well, of her anger when Hyejoo had been banished. She’d never seen her like that, not even in any of the fighting that’d come before. 

“And what makes you think leaving will make any of that better?” Hyejoo asked. “They’re scared of me. I can feel it.” 

“They could learn to look past that fear.” 

“Like you did?” Hyejoo’s voice pierced her ears more than it should have. “You’re afraid right now. You always are when I’m around.”

“I’m—” Gowon broke off. She couldn’t say that. 

“What?” Hyejoo had come closer. 

Gowon nearly backed away. 

“Ch—What is it?” Hyejoo asked. “Is it fear? Disgust? Your self-hatred twisting out of you?” Surprisingly, the words weren’t sharp, even if their meaning was. “Tell me.” 

She could see the plead in her eyes more than she heard it. Gowon saw her bound by moonlight again, bleeding from wounds she should’ve never had. 

She didn’t want to say it. It wasn’t anything Hyejoo should’ve ever had to hear. She didn’t want her to see her like this. It wasn’t fair. Hyejoo had already suffered. She didn’t have to see the one who’d wronged her suffer. Hyejoo wasn’t cruel enough to want that, even if she’d try to convince herself she was, even if the time alone had darkened her emotions. 

Hyejoo was still waiting for her to speak. It was the closest she’d been in years. Once they'd barely strayed more than a metre from one another. 

“I’m always afraid,” Gowon said. “Just like the cold, it’s just there.” She dug her fingers into the bark, letting some of it push under her nails. “And the cold’s something we—you can live with.” 

“But,” Hyejoo started, brow furrowing. Her eyes were slightly unfocused. “The darkness isn’t just fear. Yours isn’t either.” Her gaze was still cold when it met Gowon’s. “I’m not afraid. Not anymore.” 

Gowon had to close her eyes. She didn’t want to hear this. She didn’t want to say anything. 

But she knew she had to. Hyejoo had asked her why she’d turned away and she’d told her. How long had Hyejoo wondered why the people closest to her had abandoned her? 

And now what was she wondering? What did she want to find out?

Did it matter if Gowon knew?

“Darie doesn’t just feel that sadness she has.” Gowon wanted nothing more than to sink into the ground. It wouldn’t matter where she went, or even how long it took. “Just like I don’t feel what’s,” she thought of the still warring pieces of darkness and light, “I don’t feel all of that. Not really.” 

It was quiet. Gowon could hear Hyejoo’s breathing. It sounded careful. Her heart was also slow, but it was almost as if she were trying to tame it as well. 

Gowon’s own was even slower. She was still exhausted, if not more than she had been before. 

“So that’s why you’d go?” Hyejoo didn’t sound angry or hurt. That made it worse. "To stop feeling that?"

"I don't think it'll ever stop," Gowon replied. "And I’m going for many reasons." She opened her eyes, but kept them on the trees. “Most have to look at what’s happened to me now. It scares them, because they think it could happen to them.” It wasn’t really a reason, but it’d be one she’d tell someone she didn’t know well. Hyejoo wasn’t that to her. 

She knew it too. “But?”

They think I’m falling apart, Gowon thought. I know they want to help me, but all of us know they can’t. Staying here is just a reminder that what they do can’t help. Not really. “They pity me,” she said. “All of them.” And you don’t. A part of her was almost grateful for that. 

Hyejoo didn’t reply. 

So Gowon stepped away from the tree. She avoided putting too much weight on her leg and started walking away. Hyejoo didn’t stop her. 

She must’ve gotten ten metres away when Hyejoo broke the silence. 

“You weren't the reason I had to go,” Hyejoo said quietly. “I don’t want to be the reason you do either.” 

“You’re not.” Gowon kept walking. “I am.” 

______

Author’s Note

This update was probably one of the hardest things I’ve had to write for this story. For some reason, I had some huge block when it came to writing this. Mostly it was because of TSotL (you don’t have to read that to know what happens here) and the inspiration I’d had for that story. 

The leader-line scenes were quite sad to write about. They used to have such a wonderful bond and all I can do is allude to it in their scenes. There’s a few things, especially when it comes to the things outside of the main plot that aren’t romance-related, that I’d have wanted to explore more. However, without the extra A/N notes, this story is nearing 300k words, which I can barely believe. 

I'd like to say we're almost finished, but I can only really promise that when it comes to the main plot (more or less). Ending this story is something where I'm not yet sure just how long it'll be, because there's still things I have to bring to a close. A part of me had wanted to leave some of it for a small 'bonus' in case some of you don't really want to deal with a larger aftermath (not massive, but still relatively sizeable). BUT: a part of me thinks that if you've made it this far, you'll be alright with just a little bit more of a falling action and spending a bit more time with the characters.

Regardless of that, I know this chapter took a while, but I hope it was worth the wait, despite the heaviness that came with it. The next chapter will be another difficult one to write, so I can't make any promises on when that'll come. 

Do let me know what you thought of this chapter. I hope you're all doing well!

See you next chapter. 

Twitter: @hblake44

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