Jinsoul woke with a start. Her chest ached, the feeling crawling all the way to . She sat up, taking deep breaths, trying to still her heart. Had she had a nightmare and just not remembered it? 

She set to packing her things, listening to what was happening around her. 

People walked by, their conversations ranging from blood elves, the Astra, to the meeting this morning. 

“Left before we could even get a team together,” someone said. 

Jinsoul straightened. 

“She’d never let it happen,” another replied. 

She stopped listening. Had Jungeun really just gone to the meeting already? Was this that same confidence Reyna had had? Or the same reason why she didn’t hide her name from people? 

Jinsoul shouldered her bag and went outside. 

The sun was near blinding from where it stood in the sky. Jinsoul flinched. Even with the short time spent in the night, she was starting to find the sun almost too bright. 

She realised then she didn’t know where she was going. She was also getting hungry. She’d lost her appetite yesterday. 

Then she remembered the words she’d said to Jungeun. Jinsoul grimaced. So much for breakfast.  

She walked to where there were less people. 

Few looked her way, most probably focused on getting breakfast. Jinsoul was grateful for that. 

“Jinsoul?” It was Thea, slipping away from the people passing by. Jinsoul hadn’t even spotted her before. “Were you going somewhere?”

Now people were looking at them. Were Jungeun’s parents elders? She’d hardly talked about them. She hadn’t had a reason to, but no one else had mentioned just how renowned Jungeun and her family seemed to be. 

“I don’t think so,” Jinsoul admitted. “I didn’t really know where to go.” 

“I was going to go into town,” Thea said. “Care to come with?” 

She nodded. “Why’re we going?” She almost needed to jog to keep up with the woman’s long strides. Jungeun didn’t really share that. 

“We’ve been spoiled with good bread,” she replied. “This’s the daily order.” 

Jinsoul frowned. “And people don’t wonder why?” 

“If we’re regular customers, the mortals usually don’t question that.” They stopped at the house Daran had showed her yesterday. “Put your things there. Jungeun has hers ready for when you leave as well.” 

The mention of Jungeun just reminded her even more of what she’d said. She wondered if Jungeun was type of daughter who’d tell her mother these things. 

Thea smiled. “We’ll talk more when we’re out of earshot.”

Even if Jungeun hadn’t told her, Thea definitely knew something. 

Jinsoul steeled herself for that moment. 

_____

The walk out of the camp was filled with Thea asking her surprisingly harmless questions. She asked about Jinsoul’s magic, if it was only water. She asked if Jinsoul’s people had really been the closest to the elves under the surface. Jinsoul shook her head. “There’s too many like me there,” she said. “Fresh-water Arcsa.” 

Thea raised a brow. “They make much of a distinction there?” 

“Some of the sea elves have a bit of a superiority complex.” 

She laughed. “And then you’re sent to the Astra.” 

Jinsoul smiled. “They’re not as bad.” 

She should have expected that Thea would be good at making her feel at ease. She wondered if the two had planned it. If, after they’d realised how things actually were, they’d decided the order in which they’d approach Jinsoul about it. 

It would’ve been funny had Jinsoul not been at the receiving end of both. 

“The fae say that red is the colour of anger,” Thea said. “For us it’s simply the colour of blood.” 

Jinsoul knew exactly where this was going. She swallowed every word she could’ve said then. She wouldn’t say those things now, not to Thea, not after yesterday. 

“She was born to a blood moon, born with red eyes, and fire in her blood.” There was no pride in her eyes. Jinsoul couldn’t decipher what it was that she saw. “You’d have thought we were trying to fulfil a prophecy with how her life began. We had a mental fae to block her magic for the first years.” 

Jinsoul grimaced. “And that helped?” 

“Her own flames burned her,” Thea replied. “She learned how to resist that when she was four.”

Jungeun had told her she’d needed to focus to not be burnt. Was it now a reflex for her? 

“Why’d you ask me to come with you?” Jinsoul asked. “Was it to tell me this?”

Thea laughed softly. “Don’t want to gradually find it out?” 

“No,” she admitted. “Her friends have already tried to do that. They take too long to get to what they’d wanted to say in the first place.” 

She simply smiled at that. It wasn’t clear if she was agreeing or preparing to say all the reasons why Jinsoul was wrong. “I’m not here to excuse what she’s done. She wouldn’t either.”

“But many here applaud it.” Jinsoul decided then that she wouldn’t hide what she was thinking. Thea knew about at least some of her opinion. Jinsoul also didn’t feel like lying to the woman would help either of them. 

Thea nodded. “Is that what bothers you the most?” 

“No, I—” Jinsoul broke off. Impulse had gotten her nowhere, even if she did believe what she said. “It did yesterday.” 

“You did only hear the most vocal of our people.” She kept walking, stepping over a rock as she did. “We’re not all fighters, nor do we all glorify violence.” She held up a hand. “For most, it’s as simple as her being the one there to defend us, to fight those others wouldn’t be able to.” 

“So they see her as a hero?” Even saying it, the words felt wrong. The Astra seemed to share that view as well. 

“Some do,” Thea said. “And most forget why she’s the one we sent to fight those battles.” 

We sent, the mere phrasing twisted Jinsoul’s stomach. “Did she want that?” Jinsoul asked. “At the start.” 

“She was born to a blood moon,” she replied. “With red eyes and fire in her blood.” Her eyes went to the sky even though it was bright blue. “A child either marked for death or destined to be the cause of it.” 

Ice settled in Jinsoul’s stomach, twisting it. Did Jungeun really think her only purpose was to fight? If they’d said that she was destined for it since she was born, of course she did. “It didn’t have to mean either of those things.”

“She adored the training,” Thea said. “She loved learning how to master the flames and when,” she hesitated, “from the moment she could hold a weapon, we started her training. Then she started wanting to train even after she’d hurt herself.” She glanced at the ground before looking back to Jinsoul. “You would’ve thought we were worse than she was if you’d seen that. Her parents and her other trainers, she was training when her arm broke, when she’d gotten back from a fight, when she was freezing, when she was sick, I—“ She broke off with a strained laugh. “I probably shouldn’t even be telling you all of this.” 

“Then why are you?” 

It made sense. Jungeun had been applauded for working through her own pain in the past. Jinsoul wondered where what Reyna had told her was supposed to fall. Maybe Jungeun really only applied that expectation of strength to herself. It wasn’t healthy, but here it was seen as admirable. 

Thea looked at her. “Because when you see her, you see the same person the rest do. My people applaud her, you abhor it.” The smile she gave her was even more strained. “So does she. She has since she first took someone’s life.”

“But she didn’t stop.” Jinsoul thought of shame she'd seen in Jungeun's eyes, as well as the turmoil that was either buried, or just below the surface. From the way Thea described it, there were very clearly people to blame. 

“I sometimes wish she had,” she said quietly. The guilt there was familiar, but not as strong. It didn’t help that she’d used the word ‘sometimes’. “I only realised why she hadn’t years later.”

Jinsoul tensed, wondering if this would be Thea’s attempt to convince her. 

“Knowing of her birth, what it meant, that’s stayed with her for years.” Thea shook her head. “And she does find some sort of solace when she fights, when she can use her magic freely.” 

Jinsoul couldn’t help but shake her head. “So you’ll just accept those things? Let her believe she was born to do this? You’ll admit there’s a part of her that wants to fight? To kill?”

“We wanted her to allow herself an escape,” Thea said, a hint of harshness to her voice. Or was it just frustration? “We’re responsible for who she is, what she did. We believed in the signs.” The frustration faded. “She should’ve blamed the rest of us, blamed the moon even, for being red that day.” 

Again, Jinsoul saw pain in red eyes. Defeat joined it, along with shame. 

“But she only blames herself,” Jinsoul said. “Did you ever actually tell her what she was supposed to blame? Of all the things to convince her of, why couldn’t it have been that?” It felt wrong to say, as though somehow it was taking away from Jungeun’s actions, making them somehow acceptable. 

But even then, for a young girl to take on the role of a warrior, before she even knew what killing meant—that felt even worse to think about. And it'd already happened. 

Jinsoul thought of the pained expression on Jungeun's face as she’d fought that elf.  She thought of the guilt that bubbled up repeatedly. She thought of how Jungeun barely managed to sleep without a nightmare reaching her.  

Thea held her gaze, even though the guilt was stronger now. It reminded Jinsoul too much of yesterday. 

She was about to tell her it was alright, but it wasn’t. Jungeun didn’t blame her parents, or any of her people. Jinsoul hadn’t seen a trace of resentment. If anything, she’d seen exactly the opposite. 

“Was there a time where she did blame you?” Jinsoul asked. She thought of the sheer amount of love in Jungeun’s eyes when she’d seen her parents. She thought of the fondness in them when she’d spoken of her people. 

“In the very beginning,” Thea said. “And then she saw how people grew afraid of her. At the same time, we’d called her a hero, while the rest called her a monster.” She regarded Jinsoul with those pale blue eyes of hers. 

She felt a burst of shame. And the urge to apologise. She could also feel how the woman was struggling to hold back her tears. 

“Some do it rightfully,” Thea said. “They lost family to flames and Jungeun has never been ruthless enough to not consider that.” Her smile faded. 

Jinsoul didn’t know what to say. She also didn’t think she was supposed to say anything. She wondered if Thea had always thought of Jungeun’s past like this. And why she’d continued to keep her on that path if she felt such sadness for it. 

She was also at a loss for reasons why Thea would tell her. 

“Jungeun kept fighting, because she was becoming the best at it. She kept fighting, because she stopped fearing those she fought.” Thea shook her head, worry and something close to anger flashing across her eyes. “And she fights now, because it would be impossible to forgive her for all that she’s done.” 

The same disgust of yesterday returned. Jinsoul forced it down. “You mean she grew numb to it.” Even as she said the words, she knew they were false. Jungeun wasn’t numb to any of it. 

Thea seemed to know Jinsoul didn’t believe her own words. “It’s easier to kill ten if you’ve already killed twice that many.” Her voice was thick, while her eyes were glassy. “That was what she usually said, but the numbers got larger, until—” She was quiet then. 

Jinsoul didn’t want to let those words sink in. She didn’t want to hear any of this. 

“You have fought before, haven’t you?” 

“Of course I have.” Jinsoul knew she sounded sharp. Was Thea going to try and—

“We have a fair amount of people who haven’t. As do the Astra.” 

“And what does that have to do with me?” 

“Because you know what it means to end an endless life." 

Jinsoul flinched. 

Thea’s gaze softened. She didn’t fill the silence that followed either. Was she trying to say that Jungeun knew how it felt to do that countless times? Jinsoul already knew that. To Jungeun, fighting as she did was normal. She pushed down her guilt, but she’d never stopped feeling it. How she’d pushed through that, Jinsoul still didn’t know. Was it because a part of her needed it? Or because a part of her believed it was her purpose? What was Thea trying to tell her? And why couldn’t she just say it outright? 

The sounds of a human carriage reached Jinsoul’s ears then. 

She cast the illusion over her hair, colouring it black. 

Thea’s turned a chestnut brown. Like her daughter, it made her seem more human. 

“Now,” whatever tears Thea had held back were gone, “time to get the bread.”

The rest of the walk was silent. Jinsoul was also starting to get used to that. 

______

Bread for an entire people meant a great deal of sacks and a large cart. The baker had frowned as he’d stared at the bread, but it’d faded completely when he saw them. As well as the gold Thea had brought. The baker hadn’t even baked all of it, some having been ordered from other parts of the region. 

Jinsoul pulled the cart with one hand and held a sack with the other. The cart was so full that not even one could have been added to the pile. 

“How did you know?” Jinsoul asked. “How’d you know that we weren’t—that I,” she trailed off, not knowing how to finish that. 

“That you were somewhat critical of her?” 

Jinsoul had to laugh. “Somewhat?”

“Neither of you have—” She shrugged. “Well, the two of you did come here together.” 

“She offered,” Jinsoul replied. Already, she dreaded the journey to her home. 

“You agreed.” 

The next moment felt like a long one, but it only lasted a few seconds. Thea’s brow had risen ever so slightly, without her gaze giving much else away. 

“Yesterday,” Jinsoul began, “I said some things I wish I hadn’t. 

“I thought as much.” Thea nodded once. “But she’s very forgiving.” 

“Not with this,” Jinsoul said. “Not with what I said.” 

“You regret it,” Thea paused in her steps, “and she’ll see that.” 

She stopped walking as well, careful not to tip the cart. “Had you heard, if you knew all that I’d said, how I acted.” That shame was still there, growing heavier. 

“I haven’t,” she said, “but Jungeun has.” A flicker of sadness appeared in her eyes. “Whether or not I agree, she won’t hold a grudge for any of that.” 

Jinsoul wanted to ask why she was so certain. She had no idea how Jungeun had looked yesterday, when Jinsoul had thrown so much of her life, her regrets, back into her face. 

Thea kept talking before she could even start to describe it. “If I’ve wanted one thing to come from meeting you, from talking to you, it’s this.” She turned to face her fully. “I’m not asking you to excuse the past, I know how far that is from what you actually believe. And I can’t act as though I don’t hate others for the same reasons they hate her.”

Jinsoul couldn’t hide her surprise. Unlike Daran, or the Astrans, there wasn’t the subtle (or not so subtle) hint that Thea thought she was wrong. 

“I only ask that you try to keep her from being stuck in the past.” 

The words wrenched at Jinsoul’s heart. She’d failed to do that. “I don’t—I can’t—" She could’ve slapped herself for not having a better response. 

Thea smiled. It was too warm. “If you don’t have the patience, or even the will, I understand,” she said. “But even if it’s as small as waking her when she,” she faltered. Something was very much strained in her eyes. Jinsoul knew that look. “When she has those dreams,” she finished. “Then just waking her is enough.”

The understanding in her voice, coupled with the way her voice trembled—Jinsoul knew those things very well. Even after such a short time. And then with Daran, even if the outright stoicism wasn’t familiar, Jinsoul could piece together what Jungeun had inherited. She was also beginning to understand what seemed to belong wholly to Jungeun. 

“Either way,” Thea straightened, a warmer smile appearing, “they’ll be waiting. The bread deliveries have succeeded in making most practically spoiled by mortal kitchens.” Her eyes twinkled. “Even if none of them would ever admit it.” She hefted the two large sacks in her arms, before setting off. 

Jinsoul adjusted her own grip on the overflowing cart and followed, her mind almost entirely flooded with what Thea had told her. What she’d asked her, knowing well enough that Jinsoul was far from the person who should’ve known any of this, it seemed unfair. 

While also reminding her of how unfair she’d been to Jungeun. 

It wasn’t that Jinsoul felt worse now. She just had more questions, as well as more reason to regret everything she’d said yesterday. 

The more she listened, the more she questioned what exactly people were talking about when they said she was wrong. Was it the words she was saying, or something else? She still wasn’t sure. 

And it seemed Thea wasn’t finished, because she turned to Jinsoul again. 

Jinsoul prepared herself for the next onslaught of information. 

“You have a freedom Jungeun didn’t have,” Thea said slowly. “Few who hate you, not many who fear you, but so many who admire and respect you. She told me that your departure was dreaded and that you were missed.” 

“She told you?” Jinsoul repeated. 

“A lot can be spotted in a day,” Thea shrugged, “as I’m sure you’ve been watching out for everything you see here.”

She felt a small blush rise up her neck. She counted herself lucky that Jungeun wasn’t as prying as her mother. 

“She never said you were a healer, did she?” There was that searching look again. 

What I mean is you don’t have to get stuck on one thing again. Well, not stuck, but—I mean—

“She tried to make it really clear I could choose what I did for the Astra,” Jinsoul said. “Because she didn’t just have to fight for the Astra, she could help people too.”

“Even heal them.”

Jinsoul stumbled.

Thea caught her, a slightly amused smile on her face. “I was surprised as well.” After a short pause, she added, “Reyna told me.” 

“Me too,” Jinsoul said. Maybe Thea would make some sense of what Reyna had been trying to tell her.

“Probably without much of an explanation?” 

“She said Jungeun changed and wanted to know if something had happened.” 

“And?” 

“Nothing happened,” Jinsoul said. “There’re other reasons she would have changed. Before me.” 

“So Reyna thought you might’ve been the reason?” There was that expression again. The one she could barely read. 

Jinsoul shook her head. “Change doesn’t occur in a matter of months.” 

“It can,” Thea replied. “Perhaps more drastically for mortals, but we can live in the present just as intensely as the do. Some would say more.”

“We don’t change anywhere near as quickly,” Jinsoul said. “That takes a lot more time, especially something like that.” 

“Like that?” Her brow rose higher. 

Jinsoul wondered how much of this afternoon had been to simply pressure Jinsoul into explaining herself and listening to reasons why Thea thought she was wrong. 

“Willing to heal wounds she would’ve forced herself to fight with, or getting rid of the infection, or pain.” Jinsoul shrugged. “Everything that should be dealt with, no matter if you’re a healer or not.” 

Thea just smiled. There was a flicker of something, almost as if she was pleased. 

Jinsoul steered the cart out of the way of a rock. The one they’d seen earlier. 

And then Thea spoke again. “Did you heal her?” 

Jinsoul fought a sigh. “I’m not a healer for the Astra.” A part of her wanted to add ‘yet’, but she bit it back. 

“Does that mean you haven’t healed anyone since the moon chose you?” 

Jinsoul peered at her from the corner of her eye. “I have,” she said. “Some of the people I've been on patrol with. Jungeun too.” 

Thea hummed once. “And she let you?” 

She frowned. “Can I ask why this is at all important? To you, to Reyna?” She looked at her fully. “You’re both making it seem a lot bigger than it actually is.” 

“It's a big change when you know what Jungeun is like.” 

Jinsoul nearly said she did, but held that back. 

“She’s stubborn enough to get sick every year and not move to a warmer place for the winter. The longest she would’ve spent resting would’ve been the sunrise.”  

I know, Jinsoul thought, thinking of how she’d threatened to tie Jungeun to the bed if she kept trying to leave for patrol. It’d taken two rounds of threatening her and making a tea they both knew would make her tired for Jungeun to stay in bed for most of the day. 

“And she’d rather get an infection than waste time cleaning the wound.” 

Saw that too. Jinsoul thought of how Jungeun had let her wounds soak into her clothes, how she’d walked all the way to see Yeri before she let Jinsoul heal her wounds. 

“Well,” Thea let out a small sigh, “other than that, it’s not important, I suppose.” Her step quickened. She was well in the lead as Jinsoul continued to drag the cart across the forest floor. 

And finally, it seemed as if Thea had decided to leave all matters of Jungeun for the day. Jinsoul highly doubted she’d be returning here any time soon. 

______

Jungeun was already there when they arrived. She was talking to her father in a hushed voice. People were still listening in. No one looked very reassured. 

Even though Jungeun seemed unharmed. Jinsoul was almost relieved it hadn’t been a trap, even if Jungeun had gone into it without much consideration beyond I’ll be ready. 

“And?” Thea pushed the sacks of bread into someone’s arms. “Take that up,” she said to the next person, nodding to the cart. 

Jinsoul was grateful that she didn’t need to balance the thing anymore. She was positive that one of its wheels was close to falling off. 

“Nothing happened,” Jungeun said, but her jaw was tight. “They paid with gold, more than the others do,” she pointed to the bag Daran still held, “and the rest of the payment,” her frown deepened, “was information.” 

“Information where we still don’t know if it’s true or not,” Reyna said. 

Jungeun’s eyes flicked to Reyna then. Jinsoul was surprised at the irritation she saw there. 

“What was it?” Thea asked. She was looking between the two, before she glanced Daran’s way. There seemed to be a short conversation then. “Have you already sent someone to ask a witch about it?” 

“I don’t think we’ll need to,” someone else said. She was quite short, even in comparison to Jinsoul. 

Jungeun shook her head. “They told me something’s being planned for here and we should be ready.” Her eyes went to her parents then, the worry in them clear. 

People shifted, some looking uneasy as they looked at Jungeun. Clearly, that expression, the worry in general, wasn’t something that they usually saw. With what Thea had told her, it said something that Jungeun’s worry could have such an effect. 

“They could just be trying to scare you,” Reyna said. 

“You don’t send me to kill one of their own, someone they should’ve been able to take on themselves,” Jungeun looked at her, “and then try to scare me.” 

“Then we see if there’s been a change,” Pollux shrugged, “and if there is, we’ll prepare.” 

Jungeun’s breath came out in a small sigh. It was as if the energy had left her. 

Jinsoul couldn’t help but wonder why that was. It’d happened quickly as well. 

Jungeun looked up, only to meet Jinsoul’s gaze then. 

She suddenly felt the urge to look away, but she forced herself not to. 

The smallest of smiles appeared. 

“Tell me what happens when you know,” Jungeun said then, looking to her parents, as well as people who looked like they were the elders. “We have to go.” 

“Already?” Reyna looked to Jinsoul then. 

“Already.” Jungeun nodded. She was already pulling away from the crowd. “See you all next time.” A warm grin spread across her face. Then she was already walking away. No other goodbyes.

Jinsoul had no choice but to follow her as well. 

Jungeun didn’t say anything once Jinsoul was near, but she did send her an actual smile. It actually met her eyes. 

She knew she probably looked confused when she saw it. 

Whether or not I agree, she won’t hold a grudge for any of that.

Jinsoul couldn’t quite bring herself to believe that smile. It barely made any sense. She must’ve been relieved that nothing had happened with the witches. 

“Jungeun,” Jinsoul started. 

“Do you still want to do it?” Jungeun asked. She opened the door of the house and slipped in. She handed Jinsoul her bag. “I can still pretend we got a call to go back ho—back to camp.” 

Back home. Jinsoul decided not to comment on that. “We'll see what happened, and then see what we do.” She fiddled with the strings at the top of the sack. “Do you still want to go?” 

She shrugged. “If we manage it now, there’s still a chance they just have to be sent away.” She slipped past Jinsoul and to the door. “And then we’ll go to your people,” she said over her shoulder, “sound good?” 

Jinsoul spotted the hesitance in her gaze, but there wasn’t any other sort of strain there, or discomfort either. 

“Good,” Jinsoul said. 

Jungeun smiled. 

Jinsoul couldn’t help but look away then. There was still that weight on her chest. Jungeun could be easy to read, but not always. 

As they walked, Jinsoul couldn’t help but think she was missing something.

______

Jungeun had managed to silently put Jinsoul into the lead. She waited a moment too long when they arrived, letting the person they talked to look to Jinsoul instead of her. Then she asked short questions in between.

They learned that the elves did indeed a leader, one who’d been born with a magic over both healing and blood itself. She’d employed the help of witches over the years to find others like her, or even with only abilities over blood or other parts of the body. She’d trained them to better control that part of their magic, trying to bridge the gap between the destructive and healing components of that magic. 

She’d stayed as a healer for a long time, but began to join in on battles. There she started to exercise the blood magic. For a short time, it’d been rejected, but then the elders had accepted it. 

Until it had gone too far. She hadn’t recognised that she’d started to enjoy using that magic. Some of her students had come to share that. All magic gave the user a feeling, sometimes good, sometimes better than that. Jinsoul couldn’t help but wonder if the blood magic gave them the same feeling she had with the ocean. She wondered if there was an allure she hadn’t considered with it. 

They’d attacked a coven of vampires, many of whom hadn’t been killed, only heavily deformed by the blood they’d consumed. It’d been a horrifying display of cruelty. The main clan had called on the help of mental fae to keep control, for some sort of help that still wasn’t clear. The blood elves had fled after killing two fairies. 

A group of a group of Warsa had been sent after them, both because of the pleas for their help, as well as their own opposition to what had happened with the vampires. 

They’d been killed. Only two of ten elves had survived. They’d been left scarred.

Very few had gone after them. It was a combination of fear and leftover sympathy for the once healers. Some still respected the leader, as well as some of her followers, still unable to understand how things had changed. Others were terrified they’d succumb to the same fate if they tried. 

So they’d reached out to as many elves as they could. Many had rejected it. 

The mental fae also didn’t want to risk their people, not when the blood elves weren’t attacking anyone else. Not yet at least. 

Jinsoul had recognised the name then, as well as remembered the face to it. Ildra had been one of the few elves to offer training to other clans. It'd been many years ago, but Jinsoul had still learned more than enough, especially about healing that didn't need actual magic. 

“What do you do when someone leaves?” Jinsoul asked. “And they're like that? Dangerous."

“We,” Jungeun paused, “I go after them. Sometimes Reyna or Pollux are with me, or others. It defends on who they were.” She shook her head. “But we've only had that happen three times.” The same flicker of guilt came then. 

Jinsoul shifted her attention to the sky then. “We send a group of volunteers. Usually those under the sea come with us if it’s a blood-wielder.“

“And they didn’t know about this?” 

“These aren’t Arcsa.” 

Jungeun frowned. 

“I know,” Jinsoul nodded, “they don’t care much if it’s a landed threat. As long as they can’t come below the surface.” She remembered going on trips to the depths, only to be turned away because their problems weren't 'important enough'. 

Her brow smoothed over. “Well, we don’t know much of anything about the threats down there.” She snorted. “And the ocean’s the last place you’ll find me.” 

“Are you afraid of it?” 

“It’s a lot of water,” Jungeun said. “And I can’t breathe under it.” 

“And swimming?” 

“I stay away from water.” 

“You came to the sea before. You’ll be going there again.” 

“The chances of a wave dragging me in are slim.” A pause. “I hope.” She glanced Jinsoul’s way. 

“They are,” Jinsoul said. “I could tell them to launch you back to the surface if you want. Or tell the creatures to push you back.”

A small chuckle. “Would that work?” 

Jinsoul raised a brow. “Most dolphins enjoy saving people. Makes them feel even more superior,” she waggled her fingers, “even if they’re often envious of these.” 

Jungeun looked at her. “Even more superior?” 

“Their sense of strategy, communication, and reasoning matches ours. I know some that’re smarter than I am.” She could almost hear how a lot of people would tell her that wasn’t hard. 

Jungeun didn’t look like she’d made that connection. “Wow.” She leaped over a fallen tree. It was as wide as she was tall. “Is that a language you learn or a part of your magic?” 

“Both,” Jinsoul replied. “It’s a sort of telepathy I have with the creatures, but at a longer range, I can’t really make the right sounds. The Arcsa underneath can.” 

She nodded. “But actually talking to them,” she chuckled, “that’s incredible.” Then she paused, before turning to face her. “You said the Arcsa can speak with them. Is it peaceful there with the creatures?” 

“Mostly,” she admitted. “It’s a sensitive thing. Even if I know a shoal relatively well, I can’t quite save them from a shark or other predator. Not only am I stopping them from eating, but I’m also upsetting the order that’s supposed to be there. Just like we can take food from the ocean sometimes, but not excessively.” 

“Balanced,” Jungeun said. “I’ve never heard of that being present on land.” 

“There’s not enough people who can speak to them,” Jinsoul replied. 

She nodded once. 

They kept walking. Jungeun hadn’t mentioned anything from before, not this entire time. It'd been two days. There also hadn’t been any extremely uncomfortable silences either. They hadn’t been very comfortable either, but it still wasn’t what she’d expected.

Jinsoul still had questions, both about Jungeun herself, as well as her home. She wondered how many answers Jungeun would have, or how many she’d even be willing to give. 

“This might be a mission we don’t come back from.” 

“All missions are ones people might not come back from,” Jungeun said. “They’re also ones we might come back from.” 

Jinsoul frowned. “Isn’t that obvious?” 

“It depends,” Jungeun nodded once, “if it’s an easy one, we believe more in one outcome. If it isn’t, we’re afraid of the second.” 

“So what is it? You’re not scared anymore?” Jinsoul thought of what Thea had told her. How she wasn’t afraid of those she’d fought. 

“I didn’t say that.” She smiled slightly. “I’m just scared of both kinds.” She ducked under a branch. 

“Wait.”

Jungeun turned around, stopping. 

“Do you think we’ll fight them?” 

“I think we’ll have to,” Jungeun nodded, “but we can—or you can, try talking to them.” Then she bit her lip. “We could let them stay where they are,” she said. “Or we let them know we’re coming. Give a warning, a place to meet.” 

“Have you ever done that?” 

“No.” 

Jinsoul was surprised. She probably looked it too. 

Jungeun laughed softly. “Might’ve been a good idea at other times.” She looked at her hand, a small frown appearing. 

She started walking again. Jungeun was a few steps behind. 

“We’ll send the message,” Jinsoul said. “Should they know you’re here?” 

“They’ll take it a lot worse if they find out at the meeting,” Jungeun said. “I could also,” she trailed off. Stay behind.

“It might be better if you come,” Jinsoul said. “If they have any idea who I am, they’ll keep us away from water if they want to fight.” 

“But you don’t want one?” 

“I never do,” Jinsoul replied. 

Something flickered in her expression at that. Jungeun nodded again. 

After they wrote out the passage and sent it off, Jungeun didn’t say anything else. 

Jinsoul didn’t either. 

Once again, there was silence. Slowly, but steadily, it was getting better. Even then, it was still strained. 

______

It was quiet before they attacked. Jinsoul hadn't heard anything, save for the rustle of the trees. 

And then Jungeun’s scream tore into the air. It clawed at Jinsoul’s ears. 

She saw her cradle her hands. There was no blood, but they were both mangled. 

Fire appeared in a ring around them. 

“Two in our left.” Jungeun was struggling to stay upright. Tears were streaming down her face. “One’s behind us. The rest,” she winced, “they’re coming.” 

“Stop!” Jinsoul yelled. “We’re not here to hurt you.” She searched the light. She could feel the magic start to pull on her blood. She’d felt that before. 

She searched for water and seized it. 

There were loud crashes as it went through the trees. She didn’t let it snag on any person, but she did wrap some around Jungeun’s hands and all across her own skin. Light flooded the space around them. She hadn’t meant for the moonlight to come. 

The tug of the blood magic faded. She’d caught them by surprise, or else they would’ve taken her arms, legs, or just killed her then and there. 

“We took the contract,” Jinsoul said. “But we’re not here to fight, not unless you give us a reason to.” 

“Then why bring the fire elf?” someone called. “In case we would fight?” 

She looked down at Jungeun, only to see her looking back at her. Even with all the pain, Jinsoul could see that Jungeun would stand back for all of this. Unless Jinsoul needed her help. 

“She won’t hurt you,” Jinsoul said. “I wouldn’t be here with her if she was going to.” She didn’t mention that they’d known Jungeun was coming. They’d had a warning. 

“Did they give her a leash?” Someone else scoffed. “Who are you?” 

“A healer from the southern Arcesh,” Jinsoul replied. “From the surface, not below it.” She let the water around them subside, making some of it flow back to the river. At least they’d let them meet in the area of one. 

The elves were starting to show themselves. Most looked at Jungeun, hands raised in warning. All of them had come. 

Jinsoul tried not to look afraid. She’d faced blood wielders from below the surface before, ones whose magic was even more advanced, more dangerous. 

Jinsoul made the water coat Jungeun’s skin, giving her what she hoped was a reassuring look. There was still light there. The magic within the water would defend against the first surge of blood magic. They’d be able to push through it, but they weren’t yet. Jinsoul hoped the moonlight would strengthen that magic, not weaken it. 

Jungeun was trembling, but her eyes didn’t give away anything. Neither fear, or even pain.

“Jinsoul, isn’t it?” The voice was one she recognised. Only from fleeting encounters and barked orders. 

Jinsoul met Ildra’s gaze. Her eyes were a warm orange, but her magic was still on the edges of Jinsoul’s.

Had it just been Jungeun, Jinsoul was almost certain she’d have died going after them. Unless there would’ve been another approach. 

Maybe that approach could've let Jungeun avoid getting hurt.  

“Did you come because of our deeds or our magic?” 

“Because of what you did before you really started using that magic,” Jinsoul said. “You saved so many lives, and you still could.” It was a longer process, but the elves beneath the surface used it too. They didn’t want it on the surface, only with a few exceptions. 

Ildra’s lip curled. “When they found out, it was difficult for my people to even let me be near. What makes you think anyone’ll let us near an open wound?” 

“What’s the alternative?” Jinsoul asked. “There’ll be more sent after you. Those under the surface won’t yet, but if you keep using your magic against the living instead of for them, then they’ll come.” 

There was a sudden pressure on Jinsoul’s leg. 

She called on the water. The press of the magic eased. 

No more attacks came. It’d been a warning. 

So Jinsoul let the water hang in the air as well. The elves eyed it, a hint of fear there. 

Ildra was looking at Jungeun now. “You’re honestly the perfect one to have been sent after us,” she laughed, “you see the hypocrisy yourself, don’t you?” 

“I didn’t take the contract,” Jungeun replied, her voice shaky. “Not really.” 

Ildra looked at her. “You mean we’d be dead otherwise?” 

She didn’t reply. Jinsoul noted that she didn’t look smug, or even cold. There was something in between. And she was still in agony, but somehow not bent over in pain. 

“From where I stand, you’ve given up every chance of slaughtering us this time.”

Jungeun didn’t flinch, but Jinsoul knew the words had hurt. 

“You knew we were coming, you chose this place,” Jinsoul said. “Why agree to it?” 

“She’s an excellent bargain,” Ildra replied. “And someone else wants the pleasure of killing her.” 

Jungeun groaned in the next moment. She raised a ruined hand to her head. Were they controlling the blood in her brain?

“We’ll let you go,” Ildra said. Her hand was curled into a loose fist. “If you let us go with her.” 

Jungeun fell to the ground, eyes open, but unmoving. She was looking around frantically. The fire around them had vanished. 

Then red eyes met Jinsoul’s. The fear left them. The smallest hint of warmth appeared there, but there was something else as well. That expression was familiar, with an element of defeat to it now. 

It was all Jinsoul needed to make her decision. 

She took the water from Jungeun’s skin, the water that she’d let slowly drift towards the river, before launching it at every single person around them. She summoned the water she’d sent away. It still shone with water.

Something yanked at her chest, but the moment she engulfed Ildra in water, it faded. 

Her leg was twisted, before it snapped, but not before Jinsoul filled each of their lungs with water. 

Then the pressure of the blood magic faded. 

She looked to Jungeun, relieved to see that their focus had only been on Jinsoul and not her. 

Jinsoul took the water away. 

Ildra fell from the glittering whirlpool, hacking out her lungs. The others coughed as well. 

“You won’t be able to try anything else,” Jinsoul said, wrapping their arms and legs, before freezing the water. 

“I’m surprised you didn’t kill us,” Ildra spat. Her eyes were red around the edges. 

Jinsoul looked back to where Jungeun was, only to see her taking deep breaths. Her eyes were filled with agony. She met Jinsoul’s eyes, breathing ragged. 

“Tell me why I shouldn’t have,” Jinsoul pulled herself over to Ildra, “you’ll be going to the only Warsa who won’t execute you.”

“To be prisoners?” One of the others rolled over, while another threw up on the ground. 

“It’s not a prison,” she retorted. “You’ll be alive. You’ll have the training if you want it.”

“We’ll have the fae in our minds,” another said. “We’ll be theirs until we’re tamed.”

“You won’t—” Jungeun coughed. “You won’t be prisoners.” 

“And I’m supposed to believe you?” Ildra asked. “You would’ve killed me, on any other day.” 

“But not today.” Jungeun heaved herself up, a strangled cry leaving her as she put weight on her hands. “Worse people have gone to them. Worse people have been allowed to live.” 

Ildra laughed, but it was harsh. “I’d rather die.”

Jinsoul gripped her shoulder. “You’re not the only one suffering this fate,” she hissed, forcing her to look to the rest still trapped in ice. The people who’d followed her here. “And you can still do good with your magic. You have to at least want that. Some of them have to.” 

The elf looked at her for a long moment. “What I’ve done,” she whispered. “It was unforgivable.”

“The rest only followed you,” Jinsoul said. “You won’t decide what will become of their lives. They could still be spared.”

“Then you’ll kill only me,” Ildra closed her eyes, “and make them go.” 

Jinsoul fell back. “No.” Not to someone like her. Someone whose magic had only changed, not them. At least not in the beginning. “I won’t do that.” I can’t. 

“Then let her do it,” she looked to Jungeun, “I’ll tell the rest to go. And you’ll have it.”

“You don’t have to die.” 

There were sounds in the distance. People. 

Jinsoul tightened the grip of the water around her. 

“They’re—“ Jungeun took a deep breath. “It’s the Warsa.”

“What?” Ildra stiffened. 

Jinsoul remembered Jungeun writing a note. She’d thought she’d been writing to her home. 

Jungeun met Jinsoul’s eyes. “To make sure you get there safely.” Then she looked to Ildra and the rest. “You’re exiles and you’ll have to stay there, but you won’t be prisoners, let alone slaves.” 

The elf looked afraid. 

“What you did,” Jungeun began, holding her gaze. “It wasn’t unforgivable. If that’s why you think you should die, then I won’t do it.” 

Ildra narrowed her eyes. 

“You lived a life that did more good than anything,” Jungeun said. “What you did now, that doesn’t erase it.”

Then all of the elves’ eyes rolled back into their head. Their heads fell to the ground. 

“You can release them,” a new voice said. The accent was distinctly Warsan, both clipped syllables and a slight musical intonation to the words. Jinsoul knew there was a way to describe that better in a melody, but it didn’t come to mind. 

Jinsoul watched as Jungeun straightened, wiping her eyes with her padded sleeve. She watched as the actual facade came into view. She looked like the person Jinsoul was used to, even with her hands and heart that seemed to stumble over itself. 

The Warsans had come in a group of five. Two of them had the characteristic metallic grey hair and eyes to match. The other two only had the eyes. The last one, with slightly shorter ears and eyes that weren’t metallic nor crystalline, was the one responsible for the unconscious elves.  A mental fae. 

“Let them catch you off guard?” The person from before was frowning at Jungeun’s hands. “I thought you were more capable than that.” 

Jungeun shook her head, a crooked smile on her face. It was almost unnerving how easily she’d slipped out of how she’d been before. 

“You do know how risky this was,” another said. “Right?” He looked at Jinsoul’s leg pointedly. “You could’ve been in a worse state if we hadn’t been closer, you know.” 

“We knew.” Jungeun nodded. 

“And she wanted you to kill her?” The first raised a brow. She looked both disbelieving and almost amused. 

Jungeun stood, not using her arms at all. 

Jinsoul looked to the mental fae, whose yellow eyes had stayed on Jungeun since they’d arrived. She wondered what she was seeing. “Should we have spared them?” 

The fairy looked up, as if surprised that Jinsoul was even speaking. “I can’t say that for certain.” 

Jinsoul tried not to let her frustration show. 

When the fairy chuckled, she realised she’d been stupid to even try. “I think so. They hadn’t planned on killing you,” she said. Then she frowned at Jungeun. “You, however.” 

Jungeun shook her head. “Don’t tell me.” 

The fairy shrugged once. 

“So,” Jungeun was holding her hands at her side, almost behind her back, “should everyone believe they’re dead. Or know they were spared?”

Jinsoul frowned. 

“Either to see if we risk them being hunted more and a proper trial with the risk of execution,” the fairy said. “Or if we let them exist peacefully with a luxury many others don’t have.” 

“Thanks for that,” Jungeun muttered. 

“Hani’s still trying to see how things’ll work out with their people,” the first elf said. “As far as I know, they didn’t kill any of their own?” 

Jungeun shook her head. “But will the others be alright with you taking them in?” A flicker of worry appeared. 

She waved her hand. “Might not look as great when we start swapping out between camps, but until then, we’re obligated to give at least one of them hell.” 

A frown appeared. 

The Warsan patted her arm. “It’s that mortal place they send all the bad ones to,” she said. “And I was mostly joking.” Then she waved her hands and the ground below the sleeping elves rose to encircle each one. “Thank you,” she looked at Jinsoul, “I’m Junghwa.” A smile slowly formed. “If you either made a mess, found a mess, or need one to be avoided,” she winked, “you’ll either tell me or any of the rest here.” She waved at them. “We’ll come as long as it isn’t a suicide mission.” 

With that, the rest all nodded at them. The mental fairy’s eyes still lingered on Jungeun, a question in them. 

“They told me to stay out of your head.” The fairy sounded distant. There was something between wonder and horror in her eyes. It was replaced by something close to concern. That wasn’t typical for mental fairies, especially if they were peering through your thoughts. 

“Listen next time,” Jungeun hissed, her eyes surprisingly cold. 

The fairy turned around and left, but not before she looked Jinsoul’s way. She felt the briefest of presences in her mind, before it left again.  

Neither Jungeun nor Jinsoul said anything. The group wove through the trees, slowly disappearing behind the leaves.

Jinsoul felt the fatigue settle in then. Her chest felt oddly cold. 

“You want to take care of that leg, or should I?” Jungeun asked. “I can give you light. You used a fair amount of it.” 

Jinsoul thought of how the water had been filled with light when she’d used it. 

“I think your hands need more help,” Jinsoul said. She tried to go over to her. The moment she put more pressure on her leg, she fell. 

She felt the water fall away. Then the pain came. 

She groaned. 

Jungeun was at her side then. Her left eye turned white. 

Jinsoul felt the pain in her leg ease almost immediately. 

“Since when does your light numb?” Jinsoul asked. 

Jungeun only shrugged. 

Jinsoul watched as Jungeun wrapped her leg in a thin stretch of moonlight. Then two posts of light appeared on either side. 

“Am I doing that right?” Jungeun asked. 

“Yeah.” Jinsoul grit her teeth when she put her hands over her leg. With a sharp movement, she straightened it, biting back a scream. 

The two pieces of moonlight attached to her leg then. Some of the pain eased. 

Jinsoul almost sighed in relief. She was able to call on the water still close to them and wrap it around her leg again. It gave her enough clarity that she could carve the rune into the ground. 

Now she relaxed. 

“You work fast.” Jungeun chuckled. 

“Just takes practice,” Jinsoul replied. Reyna and Thea had both put so much weight on the fact that Jungeun was healing people. “Give me your hands.” She reached for them. “And some moonlight. Water’s best for wounds like this.” 

Jungeun looked at her for a few moments, before she gave over her hands. A piece of moonlight hovered above them. 

Jinsoul absorbed the light, feeling the cold in her chest ease as she did. 

“Not with wraps of light?” 

Jinsoul shook her head. “You need to use more healing magic for it that way. The water can be a bit more flexible in righting the fingers.” As she said it, she enveloped both of Jungeun’s hands in water. 

“Ah.” Jungeun pursed her lips. 

“It’s not a bad solution,” she told her. 

“But the water’s better?” 

Jinsoul just nodded. She slowly let the moonlight flow into the water. Haseul had started showing her how, but it was still slow-going now. 

“Thank you,” Jungeun said, her voice quiet. 

Jinsoul couldn’t help but find something off to the words. 

She thought of how Jungeun had looked less than an hour before. 

“Did you think I was going to let them take you?”

Jungeun was looking at her hands, watching as the water filled with moonlight. It reflected in her eyes. The glow in her left eye was gone now. 

She looked exhausted. 

“Jungeun?” 

“Would’ve been alright if you had,” she said slowly. “Especially if the others hadn’t been on their way.” 

Jinsoul frowned. “Alright?” she repeated. “That would’ve been far from alright.” 

“Didn’t you hear her?” Jungeun asked. “She thought what she’d done was unforgivable and she’d wanted me to kill her for it.” There was a sharp breath through her nose. “And once we know who they would’ve taken me to, I bet—”

“Jungeun,” she said, “that wouldn’t have been right. Even if they had a ‘good reason’.” 

She frowned, looking both surprised and confused. 

Jinsoul kept talking. “You came here to spare them, so they’d have another chance.”

Jungeun laughed, but it sounded forced. “That was you.” 

“Remember what you said?” Jinsoul asked. “You could’ve just ignored it. I didn’t even know there was a contract to be taken, let alone by either of us.” 

Jungeun was still frowning. She was now looking between her hands and Jinsoul’s eyes. She was still confused. 

Jinsoul found the words she needed to say then. “What I said to you,” she said. “I didn’t mean that. I was—“

“You meant it,” Jungeun cut her off. “And you were right about a lot of it.” 

Jinsoul shook her head. “I listened to what people said about you, what you told me yourself, and then I twisted it.” She’d made everything seem intentional, made it seem as if Jungeun had wanted the life she’d lived. Maybe there’d been moments she had, but if anything was clear now, it was Jungeun’s guilt. 

“The only thing you were wrong about is why we were going after those healers.” Her expression faltered. “I’ve got nothing to prove to you, Jinsoul.” She chuckled weakly. “Remember, everything you’ve heard about me is either true, or an understatement, and it’s not everything I’ve done either."

Jinsoul stayed quiet. She finished infusing the water with moonlight. She started to draw the healing rune. She made several. 

“We went after them, because of what they did before,” Jungeun said. “And if you being chosen by the moon taught me anything, one of those things was that healers are still devoted to helping. You didn’t lose your magic, but you,” she broke off. “Well,” she looked almost pained. 

“Just say it,” Jinsoul told her. “I’ll tell you if you’re wrong.”

She laughed, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Even if a healer loses their magic, or is pushed to something else, they won’t stop trying to fix what they can, help who they can.” She paused, her eyes flitting between Jinsoul’s. “You hoped that Ildra, that the others, would still be those people.” There was something else. Jinsoul could almost watch the thought enter Jungeun’s mind before it was pushed away. 

She had a good idea what the thought was. If Jungeun had ever lost her magic, she’d probably have kept fighting. Was that why she used weapons of metal as well? Why she'd trained to be strong enough to manage a fight without magic? 

“So don’t apologise to me,” Jungeun said. “Because most of what you said was true.” 

“I insulted you.” Jinsoul almost wished Jungeun would defend herself. “True or not, I shouldn’t have said any of that.” 

She smiled slightly. “It’s not exactly new to me.” There was a careful charm there. She was deflecting. 

“So you’ll just move past it?” When Haseul and Sooyoung hadn’t. And she’d said better things to them than she had to the actual person’s face. 

“Should I resent you?” Jungeun asked. “Go back to camp and never talk to you again?” Her brow rose. “Just because you made a few observations about who I am? What I’ve done?” When Jinsoul didn’t reply, she continued. “Even if it's friends, or my family,” she sighed, “even if they’d tell you you were wrong, you weren't. Not really.”

Jinsoul shook her head. “I wouldn’t be so sure.” 

Jungeun was quiet for a long moment. 

Jinsoul held her gaze. She couldn’t say all that she’d said was wrong. To an extent, a lot of it had been true. She just wished she hadn’t said it like she had. She wished she hadn’t said it at all, but where would saying any of that get her? She’d said all of those things and it’d hurt. She’d seen it. 

And now Jungeun was just accepting all of it. Jinsoul wished she wouldn’t. 

She should’ve blamed the rest of us, blamed the moon even, for being red that day.

But she hadn’t. 

“Should we wait until your leg’s healed a bit more?” Jungeun asked. 

“I can walk on it.” Jinsoul managed to push herself to her feet. 

Jungeun was looking at her hands. Through the fatigue in her eyes, Jinsoul saw a hint of amusement. 

“It looks like I’ve got shoes for hands,” she said, a small chuckle. It wasn’t forced. 

Jinsoul felt her lips tug up a bit at the sound. “I’ll make them look better before we get there. Until then, the more water’s there, the better.” 

Jungeun nodded once, before she started walking. It was in the general area they needed to go, but the wrong direction. 

Jinsoul frowned. “Where’re you going?”

“The river’s that way, isn’t it?” She raised a water-covered arm in the direction. “Would’ve thought we’d follow it to the sea. Unless you want to use the earth again, or a stick.” A white staff appeared in the air in front of her. 

“It’s a bit of a detour.”

“Not too long,” Jungeun shrugged, “unless you want to take the direct route?” 

Jinsoul grabbed the staff and tried a few steps. It wasn’t agony, but walking wasn’t comfortable either. 

And if they went the other way, she could be half submerged, half carried by the river. It would both ease the pain further and let the leg heal even faster. 

“We don’t have to,” Jinsoul said. “I’m fine with going the other way.”

“And I’m fine with this one.” Jungeun kept walking towards the river. 

Jinsoul’s protests faded the further Jungeun went. 

All she could do was follow, using the staff Jungeun had summoned to help her walk somehow. She wasn’t used to it, so she kept stumbling. 

“You’re supposed to have it on the other side,” Jungeun said, looking back. She’d awkwardly crossed her arms, as if to try and keep her hands from hanging down. There was a thin layer of sweat along her forehead. 

Whatever the case, she was still in pain. 

They reached the river then. Jinsoul practically dove in. When she surfaced, she heard quiet laughter. 

She looked up to see Jungeun smiling down at her. 

Jinsoul nearly returned it. 

______

Author's Note 

Luckily, this chapter didn't take too long to edit. I'd had a bit of time to write every now and then this past week, so I'm happy to have this here. I'm also really happy to say that Yerim will finally be coming into the story soon. Not next chapter, but still quite soon. 

I'd first thought that scene with Ildra would've had a bit more action, but when I'd actually gotten to it, that didn't seem like the right direction. As for the other conversations, the one with Thea had been planned for a while, I think I even wrote it a few months ago actually. I'd wanted Jinsoul to meet Jungeun's family for a while, but having it earlier had never seemed like the right time. 

Either way, I hope you enjoyed! I'm starting to use a bit more social media for my stories, but I don't really know how it'll be working out yet. Honestly, sometimes I feel like I've been in this 'old fantasy' setting too long. Either that, or I've written too many characters who aren't used to the modern world. 

Let me know your thoughts! See you next chapter. 

Twitter: @hblake44

If you have any other questions regarding the au.