“She’s dangerous…”

“No, she’s my sister. I don’t know what that Air did to her…”

“It’s for her safety; your safety; everyone’s safety.”

Jisoo drifts in and out of her consciousness. Her head is heavy and tight as if wrapped, every inch of her skull throbbing. Her entire body aches horribly, paralyzed to the bone with agony. The conversation comes in fragments, toiling to piece them together to create context.

“Did you see the devastation?”

“She wasn’t in her right mind.”

“Joohyun, are you even listening to yourself?”

“But —”

“You saw it. For earth’s sake, the bodies are still there. They’re having trouble cleaning up all the — parts.”

A sob. It’s muffled but rings heartbroken as clear as day.

“We need to lock her up. Chief’s orders. Village’s demand. You know I can’t say no.”

A pause.

“She’ll be alright, right? She’ll come home safe, right? Junmyeon...”

Silence.

“I’m sorry. I can’t promise anything.”

Rope roughly binds Jisoo’s wrists in front, chafing her skin. Hands lift her up on her feet and practically drag her half-conscious state by her arm. In the distance, Joohyun cries.

The gravel and dirt under her soles don’t provide the same hearth. The fresh air turns to ash, tarnishing her dry tongue with its vileness. The regards from her neighbors and friends change from fondness to repulsiveness at the sight of her. Their glares are daggers.

“That’s the crazy girl.”

“My brother is in the infirmary because of her.”

“What’s up with her and that Air?”

“I always knew there was something wrong with her. She was the one that crippled Jiwon, after all.”

Squeezing her eyes shut to ward off their stares and tune out their gossip, Jisoo focuses on staying on her feet. However, her had longer strides than her, prompting her to stumble and trip from her shorter ones. The incline eventually dips; the grass changes to cold stone and the air dampens, sticky on her skin. The torches lined along the stone walls crackle and echo through the dim corridor of cells. Warmth has no place here — the dampness overpowered the heat of flames as she passed.

Jisoo has never stepped foot into these dungeons. She knew of their existence (she had always wanted to explore down here, being the curious child that she is, but it was always off-limits) but had never witnessed them in use. Crimes are never committed as far as she knows. The worst anyone had done was swipe an apple from a pile without the owner’s consent. That, or… or…

Crippling someone.

Or…

Murder.

A giggle escapes her chapped lips and earns a weird look from her .

A jingle of keys accompanies the groan of a rusty iron door. He shoves her into the cell and she lets herself crash onto the rigid floor, her left shoulder taking most of the blow. The door shuts behind her with a crash and the click of the lock.

“Get up,” he says from the other side of the bars. “I need to cut the ropes.”
 

Jisoo doesn’t move.

“Girl, if you don’t want to have your wrists bound, get up and let me cut them.”

Silence.

A sigh. “Fine. Suit yourself.”

Footsteps cease down the corridor.

Truth be told, Jisoo would’ve liked these ropes off her, but she is too tired to move. The stinging from falling is nothing compared to the cold and utter fatigue. She lays there for a while, embracing the stone kissing her scraped cheek, incapable of anything else but giving in. The numbing is bliss.

No energy left, no more tears to cry, no more hope for the world.

Should I just die here? The floor is so comfy, and I’m so sleepy…

Before the rapid darkness consumes the last of her humanity, a voice echoes. Muffled and faint like it’s underwater, but it has that raspy undertone that sounds a lot like…

“Jisoo… Jisoo…”

Sounds like Jennie. Another giggle tumbles out her lips, the corners curling upward. It hurt to smile, the skin split. It hurts but she can’t help it. I wonder how she’s doing. I hope she’s doing well.

“Jisoo, wake up…”

It becomes clearer — more real by the second. The water lifts. Jisoo’s heart beats steadier as a warmth that fire can never replicate surges all over her body from the voice that never fails to cast butterflies in her stomach. The ember on her lower back returns and stokes the flicker of hope that perseveres through and through for one person.

“Jisoo.”

Her eyes crack open and, through parallel iron bars, meets cat-like ones staring at her from a cell across the corridor. The world is sideways. The girl sits sideways and it looks funny.

“Jen… nie…?” Jisoo murmurs, her vision of an unfocused lens struggling to fathom the latter.

Jennie crawls to the bars and wraps her fingers around the metal, face pressed against its rust. Her right arm is limp by her side, her shoulder once straight now crooked. “It’s me, Jisoo. Please get up.”

“It is you,” Jisoo hums and smiles. The pain on her lips reduces to a searing burn from smiling so much. “Jennie, I’m so tired,” she sighs, the words a mere whisper. “I’d like to take a nap.”

“Please. For me.”

Fingers and their dirty, broken nails twitch. Every bone and muscle screams in agony, but the cardiac muscle in her chest is enough to overdrive all of their protests. Teeth grit, Jisoo drags herself with her elbows across the stone floor until her hands meet the cold iron. She rests her forehead against the bars and looks through. Really looks through — from the bird's nest that is black and blonde hair to the tattered pants. The dried blood, dirt, bruises, swelling, and scratches would naturally ruin anyone’s face, but Jennie retains all her charm in spite of it.

“There’s,” Jisoo croaks, “something on your face.”

Jennie blinks, silent in a moment of disbelief before her lips tug in amusement; the smirk she always fashions. “Right here?” she giggles softly, pointing to her temple where an angry blotch of purple resides with a streak of dried blood.

“Yeah,” Jisoo wheezes, the infectious mirth leaving her breathless. “It’s all over your face.”

“Does it make me ugly?”

“Of course not. You’re always pretty. The prettiest.”

“You have something on your face too.”

“Where?”

“All over.”

Jisoo’s fingers brush over her cheek and pull away for her to examine the tips. The dim lighting catches a reddish-brown streak smeared on the soiled skin — a very alien sight. Strange, there isn’t any open wound anywhere on her face. The spot she touched doesn’t hurt. Where did this blood come from? Maybe her head? She lowers her head for her hand to reach the back, and pain instantly flares with one touch on the wrapped spot.

“Uh oh.”

“Don’t worry,” Jennie whispers. “You’re still very pretty too.”

Although Jennie has proven to be laidback, Jisoo would have never expected her to stay laidback in this kind of situation. Or maybe she had already given up. Just like Jisoo, no energy is left to even be angry.

But her words still make Jisoo’s heart flutter.

“Thank you,” Jisoo says. “I was worried about that.”

“Worried about not being pretty?”

“Worried that I’d be too unpresentable. Especially in front of you.”

“You don’t have to worry about that. You don’t — you don’t have to do anything for me, even looking presentable. Nothing at all. But,” she swallows, “I’m grateful for everything you didn’t have to do but did anyway. Just to let you know.”

The conversation ceases, but not like those nights on the cliff. Instead of the iridescent moonlight, it’s the orange hue of torches and their ominous shadows. Instead of the fertile earth, it’s a cold, stone floor. Instead of the lapping of waves, it’s the crackling of the fire.

But one thing stays the same: Jennie is with Jisoo.

Frankly, that is all that matters.

☯⚏☯⚏☯⚏☯⚏☯⚏☯⚏☯⚏☯⚏☯⚏☯⚏☯⚏☯⚏☯⚏☯⚏☯⚏☯

One thousand and two sheep. One thousand and three sheep. One thousand and five sheep — no, she skipped one — one thousand and four sheep…

How many hours have passed by? Her back hurts from the stone wall. She would lay down, but it takes too much energy to get back up to eat and drink water. Plus, Jennie would’ve been sideways.

There is no window to the outside. The walls trap the humidity, suffocating with no cycle of fresh air. Jisoo never thought she’d go this long without the kiss of the sun. Occasionally, a scout comes by to hand them bowls of water and acorn paste through the flap of the door. She smiles at the irony. She was just smashing them earlier. It reminds her of Joohyun, Yeri, and Sooyoung.

How are they? Do they think I’m crazy too? Like the rest of the village?

Her heart twists with turmoil, but one glance at Jennie untwines it. She always has that effect; her simple presence is calming. She has just drunk the water bowl, her cracked lips to lap in the stray drops before noticing Jisoo’s gaze.

Are you okay? Jennie seems to ask with her head tilt. She had managed to pop her shoulder back into its socket with much difficulty, but it needs proper care. She doesn’t say it — dismisses it, even — but Jisoo can see the pain from the wince of every movement. It’s upsetting to watch.

Yes, Jisoo mouths. She thinks she says it, but it comes out more like a ragged breath.

She misses Jennie’s voice. The effort to talk is too great for their deteriorating bodies, their strength out by the stark interior. They settle for body language, a form of communication they are familiar with anyway, but it doesn’t satisfy the longing.

Days pass without any news from above. The scout doesn’t tell them anything. Jisoo wants to ask him to cut her ties, but he leaves too quickly. Can’t be blamed, she wouldn’t want to stay down here any longer than necessary. No one else visits them. Jisoo can’t sleep; she drifts in and out of restless slumbers as whispers and rasps seeping through the nooks and crannies of stone entertain her ears. Insanity would’ve dug its claws into her mind at this point if it wasn't for Jennie’s company. Or perhaps it already has dug into her mind and made itself the host? She can’t really say for certain. But with the weird voices, it’s not out of this world.

The dungeon takes a clear toll on the Air girl. Her cheeks have lost their fluff, her rosy lips cracked and blue, her eyes dark and sunken. Most of her injuries have ebbed to bruises and swells, but the dried blood remains.

Her blood, or the others?

It dawns on Jisoo, and she looks down at her own hands. A thick layer of dirt fills the crevices of her peeled, dry palms. Absolutely filthy. She has never been so filthy. The red smear still resides on her fingertip, now a grimy crimson and one with the dirt.

Did I really…?

The revelation remains incomplete when a clatter of footsteps disrupt the otherwise silent prison. Jisoo doesn’t care to peek down the hallway, letting the dozens of feet come closer instead to figure out who they are. The leading person is none other than the Chief. He gives Jisoo a nonchalant glance before focusing on Jennie.

“Please be cooperative or we will have to use force,” he says.

Foreboding spikes Jisoo’s heartbeat and she scoots toward the iron bars to see the other girl from between everybody’s legs. Jennie seems to think twice about it, the hatred evident in her expression, yet she raises one arm submissively. They bind her wrists behind her, careless with her shoulder injury from her low hiss, and shoves her out of the cell.

“Where are you taking her?” Jisoo demands. It’s the first words she has spoken in a long while, so it comes out as a croak.

The Chief regards her with resentment, lips stretched in a thin line. “Judgement Day.”

Without another word, he turns on his heels, beckons to his scouts, and walks away. Jennie is pushed forward and stumbles, not before locking eyes with Jisoo one more time. Between them rushes unspoken emotion. A million emotions, a million words. But they don’t have a million seconds to express them all.

Time is running out.

Don’t do anything you’ll regret, Jisoo, her eyes begged.

Jisoo only returns a knowing smile.

Don’t worry, Jennie. I’ll keep my promise.

☯⚏☯⚏☯⚏☯⚏☯⚏☯⚏☯⚏☯⚏☯⚏☯⚏☯⚏☯⚏☯⚏☯⚏☯⚏☯

For once in the span of her duration in the dungeons, Jisoo is calm.

With legs crossed, back straight, and shoulders relaxed, she sits in front of the flap of the iron door for her food and water. There is peace in the ghostly whispers; they’ve grown on her. Although she doesn’t understand them, she has considered them her friends now that Jennie is no longer here to catch her at the brink of insanity.

The dampness no longer irritates her skin. The darkness no longer scares her. The crackling of flames becomes music.

She sits and waits.

And waits.

One thousand and three hundred sheep.

And waits.

One thousand and three hundred and one sheep.

And waits.

One thousand —

Her prey arrives.

The scout has two bowls in his hands per usual. He casts a weird look at her, uncomfortable with the atypical behavior. Nevertheless, he kneels to open the flap and places the bowls through.

“Can you cut these ropes now?” Jisoo asks, tugging at her wrists.

The scout narrows his eyes, yet unsheathes his knife from his belt. He beckons Jisoo to bring her wrists closer. With one slice, the ropes surrender to the sharpness and fall apart.

It feels good. Jisoo feels free.

Before he can retract his arms, slender fingers swiftly grab his wrists and yanks him forward, the bars rattling from the impact. In surprise, he drops his knife by Jisoo’s feet.

“Hey —!”

His next words are stolen when Jisoo seizes the collar of his tunic and smashes his face against the metal.

“Agh —!”

Again and again. She claws at his hair for better grip and uses all the strength her tiny body can muster to smash him against the bars until the iron drips red. The whispers are laughing now, intermingled with the cracking of skull and mangled cries. They like it. His hands swing wildly, grabbing at her gown and trying to pry her hands off him.

Crack!

Crack!

Crack!

He doesn’t look handsome anymore. A crushed nose, dented forehead, and red fountaining from his mouth like dragon cherry sauce. Is this someone’s brother that she’ll send to the infirmary too? No, he’s mutilated beyond repair. There’s no saving him. He isn’t putting up a fight anymore, yet Jisoo continues her assault. She’ll put him out of his misery.

Crack!

Crack!

Crack!

It is only until his entire complexion is painted crimson that Jisoo releases her grip and lets him crumple on the floor. Her hand reaches through the bars and pets his hip where the key resides. She picks up the knife. When the door gives way — her bloody handprint on the handle — she steps over his body without another glance and makes her way up to Judgement Day.

☯⚏☯⚏☯⚏☯⚏☯⚏☯⚏☯⚏☯⚏☯⚏☯⚏☯⚏☯⚏☯⚏☯⚏☯⚏☯

It’s incredibly bright.

Jisoo’s hand shields her squinted eyes, adapting from the dark dungeons to the vivid outside. Despite the red mist, she can tell the sun is radiant and the sky is clear of clouds. A breeze blows. Standing here brings a wave of nostalgia. The time spent underground has robbed her of such essentials that she takes for granted. A perfect day by her definition. It would’ve been the perfect day to show Jennie the forest.

No — it will be the perfect day to show Jennie the forest.

Jisoo wipes her hands on her dress, adding to the dirt stains a bloody touch — blood from the other bodies that tried to stop her from leaving. How can they all fall to one small girl? Grown men versus a tiny child, the notion entices an unhinged giggle.

They deserved it, the voices would tell her.

“They deserved it,” she’d repeat, looking down at the mangled corpse. She makes sure to disfigure their face first; it makes killing them a lot easier when they are unrecognizable. It could be her neighbor for all she knows, which she’d rather not know.

The village is quiet as Jisoo passes through, save for a little boy who squeals and runs away from the sight of her. Everyone must be at Judgement Day from the looks of it, leaving the children at home. The inference proves correct when Jisoo finds a large audience at the clearing where the event is traditionally held.

Jisoo stands a few feet behind the crowd, on an elevated ledge that allows her to see over all the heads. On the wooden platform are three people: the Chief, the executioner, and Jennie who is on her knees bent over a stump, and with disheveled hair draped over her face. Prepared like a lamb for slaughter.

“This is the Air that trespassed onto our territory,” booms the Chief as he paces back and forth across the stage, with animated hands and a grim expression. “She has proved herself a menace… responsible for the deaths and injuries of...”

No one has noticed Jisoo yet. Doesn’t she stick out like a sore thumb? Filthy, scrawny, and bloody.

They’re all too busy enjoying the show.

Her stomach twists at the sight of faces intently soaking in the Chief’s words like a sponge.

“... we don’t show mercy to our enemies, for the safety and survival of our tribe.” He faces the crowd. “Thus, the judgment has been settled. Unanimous.”

He points toward the executioner wielding a steel axe half the size of him. The sleek metal glares from the sun’s reflection, blinding. It has been extra polished for this moment. The conviction marches through the Chief’s lips, and the world stops.

Jisoo’s heart stops.

“Off with her head.”

Cheers rumble within the crowd. They’re celebrating; they’re happy. Each round of applause only digs Jisoo’s nails deeper into the meat of her palms. The executioner heaves the axe, swinging it side to side for momentum. Jennie’s face is relaxed, fate accepted, lips mouthing a prayer.

Why aren’t you fighting back, Jennie? Jisoo wants to scream. You didn’t do anything wrong, but they’re killing you. It’s not fair.

Jennie opens her eyes and scans the crowd from beneath the curtain of hair until she finds Jisoo. Against all odds, she finds Jisoo. Her words resonate in Jisoo’s head.

It’s always the same cycle of disparity… Their animosity overcomes the possibilities they can achieve if they love. Like touching the stars.

Nothing is impossible. Naive words from a naive girl.

You’re too optimistic for your own good.

Something breaks inside. Her lips tremble, her fists clench, her shoulders shake. It cracks and breaks and collapses against the tsunami of truth.

The only crime Jennie has committed is being different.

The executioner raises the axe, its apex glinting white. Everyone watches it. The harsh steel whistles as it cuts through the air in a perfect, linear path down the neck. Jennie closes her eyes and lets loose one final breath for the end.

Jisoo exhales, the wisp from her lips snuffing out the flicker of hope.

She gives in.

She’s done pretending.

Thud.

A flutter of birds’ wings flies up to the sky.

☯⚏☯⚏☯⚏☯⚏☯⚏☯⚏☯⚏☯⚏☯⚏☯⚏☯⚏☯⚏☯⚏☯⚏☯⚏☯

Dreams are just dreams.

Even if you’re in mine

It can never be just us in the real world.

It was too good to be true.

I only have myself to blame.

Thank you.

After all, all dreams must come to an end.

It’s hard to let go.