They were leaving soon. Jinsoul was off saying her goodbyes, but also tending to the injuries she still needed to heal. It wasn’t hard to see that her people still cherished her abilities, as well as just having Jinsoul near. She was patient and almost always seemed calm. 

She was a stable presence here, even if she wasn’t there for multiple stretches of time. 

Then Jungeun heard the soft crunch of sand off to the side. 

She looked up. Lanah was walking along the side of the ocean. She had a similar pale hair to Jinsoul, but made even lighter by the sun. 

Jungeun made to stand when she got closer. 

“Stay where you are,” Lanah said. “I only came to give you this.” She held something out. 

Jungeun took it. It was a dagger, one with a pale blade and a strange rock as the hilt. The base of it glowed a pale blue in the later afternoon. 

“The blade is pearl, charmed not to shatter,” Lanah explained. “The rock is from the very base of the sea. The blue is the glow you only see among the creatures in the deep.” 

“It isn’t from them, is it?” Jungeun looked at it. Jinsoul was always so energised when she spoke of the animals. She was also fascinated when she spoke of the deep sea. Killing anything from there for a blade felt wrong. 

“The Astra aren’t the only ones who can gather light,” she replied. There was a small smile on her face. “It’s a gift.”

“For me?” Jungeun tried not to frown. She hadn’t done anything. 

Lanah looked back to where the elves still were, where Jinsoul was, eyes softening. “She trusts you,” she said the words lightly. Too lightly. 

Jungeun swallowed the lump that’d settled in . She kept her expression neutral. 

“I’ll admit, I didn’t think she would for a long time.”

“Me neither,” Jungeun said, feeling oddly small. There was a quiet sort of intimidation she felt here on the beach in front of Lanah.

“She already did a decade ago.”

Jungeun shook her head. “I’m not sure if that—“

“I knew,” Lanah said. “Or do you think I would’ve misread such a thing?” 

“No.” 

She smiled. “If you didn’t believe that she trusted you, shouldn’t you have argued with me now?” 

Jungeun stared at her. 

“Either you’d like to avoid arguments, or you know that I’m right.” Lanah pointed at the knife. “You don’t think you should have that, do you?”

She didn’t say anything. 

“You could give that to your newcomer if you wanted to. Tell her it’s a gift from the sea.” Lanah’s smile grew ever so slightly. “Even with what little she’s told me, Jinsoul’s come to respect her quite a lot.” 

Jungeun nodded. “So have I.” She already knew Yerim would love it. If she’d use it was another question. 

Her brow furrowed then, a familiar gesture. “I’m guessing you’ll pass it on then?”

Jungeun grimaced. “I’m sorry, is that—”

“Don’t apologise.” Lanah waved a hand. “I was quite sure you wouldn’t want that.”

“How?” Jungeun’s face warmed. What else was she supposed to say to that? She’d apologise if she hadn’t already been told not to. 

“You’re surprisingly similar.”

Jungeun shook her head. “We aren’t.”

Lanah only smiled. “Have a nice journey back, Jungeun.” She turned around and walked away. 

There was a sour taste in . The reasons why Lanah was wrong were all caught in . She pushed them down. 

Jungeun looked back at the knife. Yerim would love it. She’d been interested in hearing about the times Jungeun had trained to use certain mortal weapons. Moonlight was much lighter than any metal weapon, as well as any out of wood. Jungeun wondered if Yerim would ever want to train with a dagger. Most didn’t need it, but Yerim liked to push herself. She was also someone who wanted something to do. 

Maybe she’d even start training to use it. 

“Jungeun?” a voice called, one that Jungeun heard perfectly over the constant rush of the sea. 

She knew where to look to, only to see Jinsoul jogging along the beach, two packs on her shoulder, including Jungeun’s own dagger, hanging from its straps around her wrist. 

“I’m guessing you’re ready to go?” Jungeun asked. 

Jinsoul smiled and handed over her pack. “They gave us some food for the way. That’s in your bag, because you didn’t pack as much as I did.” She looked at Jungeun’s dagger once before giving her that as well. “I’ll never get why you use these when you have two types of magic, one of which can make one just like this.”

“I have to concentrate to make it,” Jungeun said. “And even with the light, it’s not what I practiced with. The metal, real weapons, they’re heavy and need a specific balance to them.” 

“Did you have to use them, or did you want to?”

As if on cue, the two of them started walking. The sand still felt warm from the sun. Jinsoul had told Jungeun that her feet hurt when it was too hot on the sand. The water she wore on her feet was a sign that it was still too hot. 

“I wanted to,” Jungeun replied. 

Jinsoul was still looking at her. She knew there was more to that. Jungeun almost smiled. 

“Fire was difficult to control sometimes,” Jungeun said. “If I was angry, the flames burned a little faster. If I was tired, they sputtered out.” She shrugged. “They weren’t reliable at all when I was younger.” She strapped the dagger to her arm. 

Jinsoul’s eyes were on her other hand now. “She finally gave you that?” 

Jungeun frowned. “This?” She lifted the knife of pearl and bedrock. “Finally?”

She smiled slightly. “It takes some time to get that much pearl out of the sea.” She met Jungeun’s eyes then. “And I might’ve told her you’d like something you could use.” 

Jungeun couldn’t have hidden her surprise, not even if she’d wanted to. ”What?” 

“She asked me what to give you,” Jinsoul explained. “She wanted to thank you for being the reason I—" She didn’t continue. 

Jungeun couldn’t help but want to hang onto the words, but also to the silence that followed.

Jinsoul was looking down now, brow furrowed as she was looking for the next words. They’d come, but not yet. 

They reached the forest now, a route they’d taken so many times. It was one Jungeun would’ve never taken twenty years ago, or even twelve. 

“You helped make the Astra a home for me,” Jinsoul said. “I don’t know how I’ll ever thank you for it properly.” 

Jungeun almost stopped walking. She didn’t, because Jinsoul was still keeping a faster pace. 

“Did I ever even say that to you?” Jinsoul asked. 

She didn’t remember. “You didn’t have to.”

“I did.” Now Jinsoul stopped walking, gently catching her arm. “Thank you for everything, for taking the time to, well, bothering with all of it.” A pause. “With me.” She let go of Jungeun then. 

Jungeun chuckled. “You’re not a hard person to deal with.” 

“I was then.” 

“I’ve dealt with worse,” Jungeun said. “I mean that. Not just the people who actually hate me, but with the Astra, my own people too.” She could’ve told Jinsoul of the people she’d wanted to hate, of the people she’d wished she could've taken her anger out on. She didn’t. 

“But I added to it,” Jinsoul shot back. “I never gave you a chance.” Her other hand was fiddling with her sleeve. “I held everything I’d heard about you against you.” Her voice went a lot quieter now. “I still do sometimes.” 

They targeted her. Is that how you did it?

It’d stung, but only because it was true. Jungeun knew how to kill them quickly, leave them so they were just barely alive when the healer came, or push them so close to death that no healing magic could save them. All of it was something she knew how to do, and had done so many times. 

“You heard a lot about me,” Jungeun said. “A lot of it was true.” Before Jinsoul could reply, she continued, “and there’s still things you don’t know about.”

Jinsoul frowned at that. 

Jungeun felt a small jolt of dread. Had she not told her enough? Or had there—

“But I know things I didn’t before,” Jinsoul replied.

Jungeun didn’t know what she was supposed to make of that. Jinsoul hadn’t known a lot of things before. She still didn’t. 

“How does that make a difference?”

“I know you now,” Jinsoul continued. “I should’ve made an effort to know you the moment I met you and I didn’t.” 

Jungeun shook her head. “A lot of people don’t do that. Not just with me.” She held her gaze. “That isn’t a bad thing.” 

“So you wanted it to happen?” Jinsoul asked. “You wanted me to keep treating you like I did?”

The words almost felt sharp. The answer was no, but it felt like a mistake to say that. 

But Jungeun remembered the way Jinsoul had looked at her before. She’d had that same look yesterday, if only for a brief second. 

Jinsoul's voice softened. "Then don’t tell me I was right.” 

“Just because I didn’t want it to stay that way, doesn’t mean you weren’t justified,” Jungeun said. 

“You’re saying that because you agree with what I'd thought,” Jinsoul frowned, “and I don’t anymore.”

She looked away, ready to keep walking, but Jinsoul took her hand then. As always, her skin was cool, but Jungeun warmed at the contact. 

“Why don’t you want to hear that?” Jinsoul asked, almost carefully. 

Jungeun grimaced. Of all the things she didn’t want to hear, someone being cautious around her was high on the list. She hated it if people were afraid their words would find some weak spot. So many were like that. Even her family.

They avoided talking about it to her, because they thought they’d hurt her. They thought they’d create more cracks, when they’d just put a bit of pressure on them. Just letting it be was one thing, trying to ignore it was avoiding it. 

It was hypocritical, because Jungeun preferred to avoid those things herself. 

“It’s actually pretty easy to justify what I’ve done,” Jungeun said. She kept walking, gently pulling out of Jinsoul’s grasp. “I did it for my people, for the Astra. I did it to get money, to get rid of the threat, to save someone else, or a group of people.” She shook her head, keeping her eyes ahead. “Or I did it because I was raised to do it. I did it because it’s what I’m destined to do, or because it’s who I am.” 

Jinsoul was walking beside her. Even looking out at the forest, Jungeun knew she was looking at her. 

“And all of that feels like an excuse, blaming it on something I can’t control when I can.” 

“You could’ve controlled how you were raised?” Jinsoul was still frowning. 

“Maybe.” Jungeun shrugged. “I always did what I was told,” she said. “And then I got good at doing what people wanted without them having to tell me.” 

“And the things you want to do?”

“It all mixed together at one point,” she replied. “There’s contradictions that I can’t be bothered to get rid of.” 

“Contradictions?” Jinsoul repeated. 

Jungeun wondered if she already knew. “I want to stop—I wanted to stop from the beginning.” She looked down at her feet. “But every time I had the choice, every time someone was telling me I could—should do something else, I didn’t.” 

No response. Jinsoul’s arm brushed Jungeun’s every now and then. She wasn’t moving away, but Jungeun didn’t dare look at her. 

She kept talking. She wondered if she’d ever said any of this to someone. “There’s always something I can't handle. If I know I’m close to it, I’ll see if I can get myself back together. Then I get to the point where there's something else.” She paused, the words were almost coming too quickly. “And then it keeps going.” 

Jinsoul was still at her side. 

Jungeun found she didn’t have anything else to say. Was that it? All that she’d thought about? She’d spent so long trying to think through her life. There was something in her mind, something that let her put all of it at a distance. She’d made sense of it, but she knew it couldn't be understood. No matter if she tried to explain it or not. She wasn’t sure if it was supposed to make sense. 

“So that’s why you leave?” Jinsoul asked. “To heal before you get to that point?” Her tone was something unfamiliar. Jungeun wasn’t sure if she wanted to know what that was. 

Still, being honest was the only option she had. Jinsoul was almost always honest with her, no matter what that truth might've meant for either of them. “I leave so I can come back.” She risked looking to the side. 

Jinsoul was looking at her, neither with confusion or anything close to distaste, but there was still something that she couldn't place. 

“So when you went to the Warsa,” Jinsoul began, “even though it was for a few years?”

“I never planned on staying there,” Jungeun admitted. “And unless a mental fairy gets involved, they can’t keep me anywhere.” Another time, she might’ve been proud to say it. She had her fair share of weaknesses, more than most, but there were ways she could work around most of them. 

“But you still went,” she said. “You liked being there.” 

“I stayed because it wasn’t home,” Jungeun replied. “I left for the same reason.”

“And your people had to come get you.” 

Jungeun was more than slightly surprised that Jinsoul remembered. 

“How long would you have stayed?” Jinsoul asked. “If they hadn’t made you come back?”

“Not much longer,” Jungeun said. “Maybe five years, or even less.”

Her brow rose. “Really?” 

“I was pretty much alright by the time they—Reyna came.” 

“Pretty much,” Jinsoul repeated. “You went because you thought you were supposed to be there.” 

“I was,” Jungeun said. “Both for me and for them.”

“The Warsa?”

Jungeun shook her head. “My people.”

Jinsoul frowned. “But they wanted you back.”

“They didn’t want me there in the first place,” she said. “But they wouldn’t have liked it if I’d stayed either.” 

The confusion just got stronger. 

“They were scared,” Jungeun said. 

“Of you?” Jinsoul turned then. She looked so surprised. 

“When I wasn’t able to keep going,” she explained, “they tried to help me—fix what’d happened.” 

Jinsoul didn’t ask it, but it was pasted across her features. What happened?

“It was something I’d done before,” Jungeun said. “They send me after a group and I have to take—kill them all. These were vampires.” She almost laughed. “They’re the ones I’m supposed to have no problem with. They're not supposed to be human the second human blood touches their lips.” 

“But they’re still human at heart,” Jinsoul finished. 

She nodded. “After, they all reminded me they weren’t human, told me that I’d had to kill them, all that.” She looked back to the trees. “But before I attacked, I saw how one tried to push another away, telling him to run.” It was always difficult to catch a vampire, but with a quick enough reaction and the right attack, she always could. “I didn’t let him.”

Jinsoul was quiet. Jungeun didn’t look her way. Not this time. 

“What scared them, Reyna, Pollux, the others,” Jungeun gnawed on the inside of her cheek, “was the way I’d been after that—that it’d been vampires that’d pushed me past my limit.” 

She saw how Jinsoul turned to her, how she almost said something, before pulling the words back. 

“You can ask me,” Jungeun said. “Whatever it is.” 

“Didn’t they know that all of it was hurting you?” 

Jungeun frowned. “I don’t think that—”

“Did they know you didn’t want to keep going with that?” Jinsoul asked. “That you wanted to stop?”

She shrugged. “They found out when I left if they didn’t before.”

This time Jinsoul frowned. “So they just thought that you’d be able to keep doing what you were doing, without a problem?”

“There're so many others like me,” Jungeun replied. "They pushend through it."

“Except you were sent out each time,” Jinsoul said. 

“Because I wanted to be.”

“And they should’ve known it was too much.” 

Jungeun chose not to reply to that. They were close to the river. She sped up a bit. 

“Did I say something wrong?” 

Jungeun shook her head. “Nothing.” 

“Jungeun.” 

“I don’t know,” she turned around, “I should’ve been able—it doesn’t matter. That was years ago.” 

Jinsoul took her arm again, pulling her back. “But what about now?” Her brow was arched upwards again. “What do I do if it comes to that? Leave you alone? Talk to you?”

“You’re,” Jungeun started, “you’re not supposed to do anything. You don’t have to.”

“I want to.” Her voice was soft. 

Jungeun felt a bit of the tension leave her at the words. 

“I’m not saying you have to tell me when something’s wrong,” Jinsoul said. “Just that I know when you need some time away. Yerim’s getting adjusted, and I’ll be there for everything else.” She moved her hand to take Jungeun’s. 

She couldn’t speak. A small ache settled into . 

Jinsoul squeezed her hand. Then she let go. “Just tell me what to do if it comes to that.”

Jungeun forced together the words she wanted to say. “I don’t think I’ll be going for a while.”

“But if you do?” 

“Just let me go?” She let herself smile. I’d come back, she wanted to say. 

Except that was a promise she didn’t want to make. She could tell her she’d try. 

Jinsoul smiled back then. “Okay.” 

They kept walking after that. The ache hadn’t gotten much stronger, but it hadn’t faded either. 

_____

The camp was in sight now. The two of them had stuck to lighter conversation for most of the way back. Jungeun had asked her where she’d want to go if they’d go anywhere. Jinsoul had told her either the desert or the frozen oceans. 

And it’d gone from there. All of it simple. 

Now they were here. Jinsoul felt nervous, close before a decision that might’ve been a mistake. 

They’d stopped walking. Jinsoul wasn’t sure if Jungeun had stopped first or if she had. All she knew was that Jungeun was waiting for her to say something now. She knew. 

“I have to go to Nuala,” Jinsoul said. 

Jungeun met her eyes. “Yeah?” The second question was plain, even if she didn’t have to ask her. You're sure?

She nodded. Jungeun had once told her she didn’t have a duty among the Astra. In some ways, that was true. 

But it also wasn’t right. Jinsoul needed to help here in the best way she could. 

The smile that spread across Jungeun’s face was breathtaking. 

"You were already helping us a lot," she said. "But the Astra'll be lucky to get you as a healer."

“It’ll be lucky if they trust me enough for that.” Jinsoul shrugged. “Even if they know what I can do, it’s still a leap of faith.” 

Jungeun chuckled. “You’ll have Nuala watching over everything in the first weeks,” she said. “Or maybe even less.” There was so much conviction in her voice. 

Something in Jinsoul grew lighter just hearing it. “I’ll see you soon.”

Her smile softened. “See you.”

When Jinsoul walked away, she felt the slow wave of familiar emotions. She couldn’t discern them, but they were there. 

She kept walking. 

_____

“Jinsoul, enough!” Jungeun dodges her hands. 

“You need something on your head too!” Jinsoul shot a look Yerim’s way. “Help me, please.” 

Yerim lifted a hand. 

Moonlight wrapped around her legs several times, before embedding itself into the ice. Had it not been to trap her, she would've been proud. Then Jungeun kicked the light off her legs, hoping they wouldn’t hear whatever she was muttering under her breath. Jinsoul had already slipped the hat over her head.

“Don’t you dare burn that off,” Jinsoul said. “I knitted it myself.”

Jungeun’s brow rose then. She closed too. Now she definitely couldn’t burn it. 

Jinsoul and Yerim exchanged a look. It looked more than a little suspicious. 

“You planned this?” Jungeun narrowed her eyes at the both of them. She was shivering. She had been for a while, but she’d been trying to hide it. 

They didn’t respond. 

Jungeun rolled her eyes, before adjusting the hat. “You’re both being—”

“Every year, you’ve gotten a cold no matter how warm your clothes are,” Jinsoul said. “The best you ever had was a simple hood, but you never wore a hat.” She tucked Jungeun’s ears into the hat. “And the cold gets into your head just as easily.”

“I don’t like having my ears covered,” she muttered. 

Jinsoul untucked one. Jungeun was almost certain it looked ridiculous, with one pointed ear sticking out the side of the hat. 

“We’re here though!” Yerim smiled. “So don’t worry about that.” She glanced at Jinsoul. “You can sense movement on snow, right?”

“If I concentrate.”

“So concentrate.” Yerim slapped her back before bounding across the snow. “It’s so quiet here!” She laughed, hopping around the northern ice. It'd been a few months since they'd first spoken about it, but they were finally here. 

“Is the ice thick enough?” Jungeun asked, wondering if they’d have to drag her out of the ice water. 

Jinsoul was already looking at the ice. “I can sense water a few metres down. We’ll be alright.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever understand how you two stay warm,” Jungeun said. She watched Yerim as she ran across the endless planes and had to smile. 

“Summon some fire,” Jinsoul said, huddling a bit closer to her. “Just because I’m not shivering doesn’t mean I’m not cold.”

She did, a sharp tug in her chest when the flames appeared in the air. Making them grow was easier, but summoning them in the first place was always difficult when it was cold. She just had to maintain the flame for as long as she could.

“My goal is that you don’t get sick,” Jinsoul continued. “Or at least don’t get a horrible lung infection.” She adjusted the scarf she’d already given to Jungeun last winter. It’d started with the dagger Lanah had given Jungeun, but Jinsoul was starting to give things more. It wasn’t much, but nothing Jungeun could overlook. 

The only consolation was Jinsoul extending that to Yerim too, who was currently sporting a scarf and gloves Jinsoul had managed to knit. It was something Jungeun had known she could do, but she’d never really seen her do it. Except now. 

“I think the reason I get sick is just winter,” Jungeun replied. “You’re fighting nature.”

“And it could be a fight we win!” Jinsoul’s eyes were sparkling a little more, stunning in the sunlight that bounced off the snow and back. 

Jungeun found herself staring for a few seconds longer than she should have. 

And then Jinsoul caught her, the corner of her lip tilting up slightly. 

“I’m the best person to have on your team for a snowball fight,” she said. “Should we gang up on Yerim?” 

Jungeun blinked and spotted the way humour shone in Jinsoul’s eyes. “I think it should be a free-for-all.” She immediately gathered some snow and threw it Jinsoul’s way. It hit her shoulder. 

Immediately, there was a surge of snow beneath her feet, almost making her land on her back. In any other situation, Jungeun would’ve been scared. She laughed now. 

“Yerim!” Jungeun called. “She’s attacking me!” 

She saw how Yerim gathered snow herself, before lobbing two snowballs Jinsoul’s way. 

Jinsoul shot her a look of betrayal. “I thought we had no teams!”

Jungeun’s legs were buried in snow and ice then. 

She grinned as she melted it with the fire she still had in the air. “You’ve got an unfair advantage,” she replied. “I’ve got Yerim.” She tossed a large snowball at her back when Jinsoul turned to face Yerim. In the same moment, two hit Jinsoul, one in the face, the other in the chest. 

“This isn’t fair!” Jinsoul screeched. The snow rose from the ground, gathering in two massive spheres. 

“That isn’t fair!” Yerim scrambled over to Jungeun. “Melt them!” 

Jungeun made the air around them heat up, but Jinsoul was still controlling the water. When she flung them at them, Jungeun ducked, taking Yerim down with her. She felt the water on her face, but both balls sailed above them. 

And the fight went on, until the first gave up. Surprisingly, it was Jinsoul, the one who’d probably been dominating the entire thing. 

Jungeun felt the melted snow that’d soaked into her clothes warm before it disappeared completely. She knew the same happened to Yerim, because she looked at her clothes with surprise. 

“Truce,” Jinsoul said, pulling them both to her sides. “Just as long as you two know I could’ve buried you both in the snow.” She wrapped her arms around their shoulders. 

Jungeun brought the fire back to the air in front of them, warming the air around them without melting the snow or ice. 

“You would’ve never done that,” Yerim said. Just from the sound of her voice, Jungeun knew she was grinning. 

“No,” Jinsoul admitted, “but I would’ve pelted you both with an endless amount of snowballs.”

“Except we would’ve both gotten terrible colds,” Jungeun elbowed her, “I’m right, aren’t I?”

“You still might,” Jinsoul grumbled. “Let’s start making dinner.” 

“Already?” Yerim frowned. 

“Already,” Jinsoul left them to get the bag she’d dropped, “and you’ll be making a fire.” She held it out to Jungeun. 

She looked into it only to see there were several blankets rolled into the top. Jungeun barely knew what to make of Jinsoul’s giving side, nor the one that would lug this many blankets for days, and stop a snowball fight even though they were very clearly winning it. 

“And make sure you’re warm,” Jinsoul said, looking surprisingly stern. 

Jungeun fought a smile in return. 

_____

”Now we wait,” Jungeun said, a smile already on her face. “Might come now, or only when it gets dark.” 

Yerim looked over at her then, confusion crossing her features. “You’ve been here enough to know?”

“I like it here,” Jungeun replied, looking out over the ice and snow. “It’s quiet.”

All three of them were huddled together beneath a large fur blanket. Jungeun was in the middle so they could keep her warm, but also to bask in the warmth still radiating from the fire elf. The lingering pain in her head had finally started to fade now. It was either the ice around them, or the cold. Something had helped. 

Jinsoul reached out beneath the blanket and looked for her hand. She brushed her knee first, before finding her fingers. Jungeun gently squeezed her hand, the skin still warm, but it didn’t feel like the air around a fire. The north still drained her. 

“It’s weird not having the earth near me,” Yerim said quietly. “Except for traces across the ice and the ocean floor, I can’t feel anything.” 

“Is that good?” Jungeun asked. 

“It’s weird,” she replied. “But I like it.” She huddled a bit closer to Jungeun as well. “Means I can just focus on what’s around us.” She looked out at the ice. “It’s beautiful.” 

Jinsoul watched as Yerim and Jungeun both began to smile. Yerim’s was in awe, while Jungeun’s was both relieved and happy. She was particularly aware of Yerim’s mood. Maybe because Jungeun was always looking to see if she was alright, if the homesickness would make an appearance, or if Yerim was withdrawing into herself. 

Except now they were here. Yerim’s smiles were almost always open now. 

They sat, quietly talking about the other times Jungeun had come to the northern or southern parts of the world. It was more than Jinsoul had thought (more than Jungeun had told them before too). She’d never been afraid of it like she’d been scared of the sea, even if it could be more dangerous. 

Jinsoul couldn’t keep her mind from dwelling on how at ease she felt with Jungeun and Yerim with her. She couldn’t stop thinking about how Jungeun was at an almost normal temperature (even if she should’ve been cold by now, though by Jungeun’s standards, she was). 

She put some more into her skin, giving some of it to Jungeun. 

“You don’t need to do that,” Jungeun muttered. 

“But I still will,” she whispered, moving a little bit closer. It should've been strange how easy it was to be close to her. Jinsoul knew she would’ve once never even wanted to be closer than a metre. 

Now there was only a small amount of air left. 

“I know.” Jungeun’s voice was soft in the silence around them. Jinsoul wanted to hear more of it. 

Just the thought made her look up. Jungeun was already looking her way. There was a gentle fondness in her gaze. 

Yerim gasped. “There!”

Jinsoul looked away first, turning her attention to the slow crawling light in the sky. She couldn’t draw on it, but a part of her could almost feel it. Her breath caught as she watched the wisps of green and yellow travel across the sky below the stars. It was all slow, but they sat through them, watching them travel along, changing shade ever so slightly, before disappearing and being replaced by more. 

“They told me they were blue,” Yerim said. 

“I think they can be?” Jungeun shrugged. “Any sort of colour.” She laughed softly. “Maybe one day we’ll know why.” She squeezed Jinsoul’s hand once. A question, as if she'd know the answer. 

Jinsoul looked back, only for the words to grow heavy in . 

She’d seen Jungeun when she was tired, numb, scared or excited. She’d seen her smile, both the fake and the real one.

This was different. 

There was a small hint of uncertainty, but with all of it was a calm that Jinsoul had only rarely seen. She looked happy. 

Jinsoul couldn’t look away. There was something so different about seeing the gentle greens reflect on Jungeun's skin, paired with a gaze that held nothing but warmth. Even if she was beautiful without those things, she was captivating now. 

She thought of what Jungeun had told her before. Of how she’d left only so that she could come back to face her life again.

And a lot of it had been so that her people wouldn’t see her suffering. Jinsoul wondered how it must’ve been for Jungeun’s lack of strength to have been such a deciding factor. 

Either that or Jungeun just didn’t want people to see her that way, no matter if they wanted to or not. 

Then Jungeun ran her thumb over Jinsoul’s hand, a small question in her eyes. 

“What do the mortals think of when they see this?” Yerim asked. Her eyes were wide as she watched the sky. “Do they think souls are in the light? Or that it’s a god’s acts?”

Jungeun looked away and Jinsoul felt a pang in her chest. She turned her attention back to the display of light in the sky. 

“Some think it’s a creature in the sky, or a type of spirit, or heavenly fire,” Jungeun explained. “My favourite is the belief that the souls of the dead dance in the sky, that they’re happy even in death.” Her eyes were slowly filling with awe as they looked up at the sky. 

That was a new expression. It felt like Jungeun actually wanted to believe in that. 

“So that could be true?” Yerim asked. “We still don’t know what really happens to the dead, do we?” 

“Not really,” Jungeun replied. “It’s something we want to think we know, but we don’t always.”

Yerim shifted so that she was looking at them both. “You don’t think your people are right? Or the Astra?” 

“I don’t know if anyone’s right,” Jungeun said, looking up at the sky. “We know souls, or something like it exist, while the humans don’t. Even then, they still believe a part of them will transcend. Some think they’ll be reborn, others think they’ll go to a place more fitting of the lives they lived.” She pointed up. “And some think there’s different paths to those places.” 

Jinsoul wanted to ask what she believed in, but she held back. “We believe our souls go back to the water. Mine would flow back to freshwater, probably the river where I learned how to swim.” She paused, wondering if even talking about this would be helpful. “That’s one of the reasons we think the water has so much magic within itself—why it can give life.” 

“And what about the rest?” Jungeun asked. “Would I go into flames?” 

Jinsoul almost felt ashamed for what she’d say next. “I don’t know.”

She smiled. “You don’t have to.” She looked to Yerim. “Do you?” There was a lightness in her expression, even with the subject on her mind. 

“No,” Yerim said. “I want to, but I’ve seen so many who believe a different thing, each of them just as convinced as the next.” She shook her head. “So I don’t know.” 

“I don’t either,” Jungeun replied. “More than a few mortals would call us heretics for that.” A small chuckle. “Chae and Hyejoo told me I should toss a coin. Sooyoung suggested I sit in on one of the mortals’ ceremonies to see if it works.” 

Yerim’s brow rose. “Have you?” 

She nodded. “I even looked to the really old gods, the ones they worshipped before we were alive.” Then she smiled. “There’s moon goddesses, as well as ones of the fire, but neither of them said I’d be going to the fire. Instead, they described a world under the ground, with different places to go depending on your life.” She frowned. “But there was nothing really to be said about the afterlife of the gods’ predecessors, or even the gods themselves.” 

“You looked?” Jinsoul asked. Even her own interests in what the mortals created didn’t stray into their beliefs. Not when she had her own. Especially not when their stories and beliefs held nothing on elves, fairies, or other beasts and magics that existed. 

“I did.” Jungeun looked a bit embarrassed. “Didn’t really find much, but I could tell you a lot about their pantheons and how most see death.” 

Jinsoul struggled to find what else to say. Jungeun was very aware of the limits to her immortality. The first months spent around her had taught Jinsoul that. The first years had shown her that Jungeun still lived normally even with that mentality. 

Jinsoul had never stopped to think of what Jungeun thought of what came after. She’d thought she’d either believed what the Astra did, or what her people before had. 

“Sorry,” Jungeun said again. “Not exactly the best topic, I know.” 

“It isn’t something to normally be worried about.” Jinsoul made sure to keep her voice from being too sharp. 

Jungeun didn’t seem hurt by it. “Most don’t have to.” 

“And does thinking about it long enough help?” Yerim asked. “Or does it make it worse?”

The corner of her lip tilted up. Why, Jinsoul had no idea. 

“Probably worse,” Jungeun replied. “But thinking’s never really gotten me anywhere good.” She looked to the lights again. “I’m fine with being in the dark about what might happen. Can’t say it isn’t scary, but there’s nothing I can do.” She shrugged. “I spent years trying to see what everyone believed in, and I ended up seeing that people just find peace with it at some point. Either it’s ignorance, or there’s something else I haven’t found yet, but those people can keep living without fear because of it.”

Jinsoul felt a flicker of unease then. She usually did when they got close to this topic. It reminded her that one of Jungeun’s aims was just to keep living. She made the most of it, but it still left Jinsoul wondering what else Jungeun could have if she let herself live with a bit more freedom from her past.

It wouldn’t ever happen. Jinsoul had learned that over the years as well. Ironically, or maybe it was expected, Jungeun had a strong sense of morality, one that was the strictest for herself. Jungeun would never excuse her actions, or explain them away, not even for a reason even Jinsoul would agree with. 

Jinsoul watched how Yerim’s eyes fell slightly then. Like Jungeun, she hoped for something certain. Jinsoul was already surprised that the two were similar in that way, but there were still differences. Yerim hoped for a bit more than Jungeun did. 

“No one knows for certain,” Jinsoul said. “Not really.”

Jungeun raised a brow at her. “Are you saying you’re doubtful?”

“I’m hopeful,” she corrected. “I hope that if, or when, I die, I’ll go to the river, and maybe be swept out to sea. I don’t know if that’ll happen.” 

Jungeun’s smile was gone. The hand holding Jinsoul’s tightened slightly. Yerim also looked discomforted. 

“What?” Jinsoul looked between them. 

“Hearing you talk about it,” Yerim started, moving a bit closer to be in front of them, “it feels wrong.” 

“Agreed.” Jungeun wasn’t looking at her. 

Jinsoul squeezed her hand and stretched her leg out to lightly nudge Yerim beneath the blanket. “I don’t think I have to tell you both that you’re being hypocrites.”

Yerim grimaced. “I guess not.” 

They were all quiet for a bit. She wasn’t sure if it was a good sign if both of them were more affected by talking about Jinsoul’s afterlife than their own. Then again, Jungeun was also fine with going off on her own and coming back to tell her about another person's attempt on her life.

“To be honest,” Jinsoul started, “I don’t think about the mortal’s beliefs when it comes to the afterlife. I look at what they think about the world instead.” 

Jungeun’s brow furrowed slightly. “You mean their philosophies?” 

“Sort of,” she shrugged, “I try to keep up with what I can when it comes to numbers. What they can do with them.” 

“Numbers,” Yerim repeated. “Is this their economy or the mathematicians?” 

“Mathematicians,” Jinsoul smiled, “I barely understand how finances are supposed work.”

“Me neither.” Jungeun shrugged. “But I’m also a fool when it comes to numbers.” 

“It’s actually really simple.” Jinsoul spread her hands. “I learned with these.” She waggled her fingers. “And I listened in on lessons for nobles.” 

Both of them stared at her. 

“Lessons?” Yerim repeated. 

Jinsoul nodded. “It took some time, but I managed to get a handle on what they had by around the twelfth century. I still have to go back and see what they’ve come up with by now.” 

If their stunned expressions were anything to go by, they probably weren’t going to burst out laughing at Jinsoul’s expeditions into the mortal world. Hopefully. 

“And what can they do with the numbers?” Jungeun asked. 

Jinsoul blinked. “What?” 

She smiled. “You said you tried to learn what they can do with them? What do numbers do other than combine with each other?”

“Create,” Jinsoul replied, the surprise falling away quickly enough. She hadn’t known either of them for long, but she’d seen enough to know when Jungeun was genuinely interested. She also had an idea of what Yerim looked like from the days and nights spent answering her questions. Oddly enough, both wanted to know more now. “So much of what they do is possible because they can calculate the right things.” 

Jungeun nodded, but her brow was furrowed. 

“It doesn’t make much sense without context,” Jinsoul said. 

“Nope,” she grinned, “but that’s fine.” 

“Is it really?” Jinsoul couldn’t help but frown. “You’re fine with not understanding how the calculations work?” And not knowing what comes after?

Jungeun laughed. It was one of the gentler ones, not as brash. “I like languages more.”

“Right,” Yerim gave her a look, “what was it, you can speak Warsan, Arcsan, Korean, English—what else?” 

“Latin, Greek,” Jungeun replied, "and I can understand a few more, but only specific dialects.”

“Was that all from when you went away?” Yerim asked. 

“Pretty much,” she said, smiling. “Want to try it?”

Yerim wrinkled her nose. “You put yourself into a new place, maybe with a few illusions, and then learn that way.” She frowned at her. “I’m fine.”

Jungeun leaned over and pushed her gently. “Maybe I’ll convince you in the future.” 

There was an eye roll in response. 

Jungeun just laughed. It wasn’t the loud one, but there was a warmth to it. Even with where the conversation had gone, Jungeun didn’t seem to have been dragged down by it too much. 

Jinsoul found herself wanting to stay here. She wanted to watch Yerim tease Jungeun, or the other way round. Even if Jinsoul sometimes ended up being a target for both, mostly for her aquatic friends, she didn't mind that at all.

They kept watching the lights. Every now and then, there were portions that were blue. 

Jungeun had warmed the air some more around them, so they stayed there for hours. 

Until Jinsoul started to yawn, followed by Yerim, and Jungeun started to build the tent. She ignored both of them when they wanted to help.

_____

Jinsoul fell asleep surprisingly quickly. Jungeun wondered if it was the healing that made her so tired. She hoped that wasn’t it. Jinsoul had dived straight into healing for the Astra, trying to learn everything she could from Nuala, as well as try out other ways to use her healing magic. She was busy the entire night and some days she spent sleeping in the healing tent to make sure everything was fine with the people she was tending to. 

It’d been four months of that, broken by some patrols that Jinsoul insisted she could still go on. Elves weren’t supposed to get tired, at least not in the way that Jinsoul had been. 

So Yerim had suggested they go somewhere without a contract. 

Jungeun had suggested going to the North Pole. 

And now Jinsoul was finally sleeping. 

Yerim shifted a bit to drink more tea. 

“Hungry?” Jungeun asked. 

She looked at her. “Are you?” A smile was starting to appear. It was coming a lot easier. With each passing month, Yerim smiled more. She still didn’t have a lot to do with the rest of the Astra, but she talked more with Hyunjin and Hyejoo (by extent Heejin and Chaewon too). It wasn’t perfect yet, because Yerim still outright refused having much to do with any Astran outside of their smaller group. Yerim also preferred being awake during the day. Jungeun had the sneaking suspicion she was still clinging on to what separated her from the Astra. 

Even if she was staying, Yerim probably still didn’t feel like she was one of them. She was grateful that Yerim didn’t really include her and Jinsoul into that. It’d been the three of them for the past year now, and then a few months added to that. It didn’t feel like such a short time. 

“Yep,” Jungeun replied, putting on another serving. They had enough food with them that they didn't need to ration much. Jungeun also ate a lot more when she was cold, so she'd packed twice what she'd normally have with her. 

“Is it the cold that does that?” Then Yerim shook her head. “Never mind, you’re always hungry.”

She chuckled. “My mother always said it was because I was like a fire, always drawing on the air or wood.”

Yerim smiled. “Except you use food. Light too.”

Jungeun started eating. 

“I’m glad you took us here first,” Yerim said. “It was everything I’d imagined, and more.”

“Yeah?” She paused. “Not too cold?”

“Freezing,” Yerim laughed, “but that’s how it works here.” She nudged her. “It’s also so quiet,” she added. “I wouldn’t have ever wanted to come here alone. Only with—” Her voice paused. “Honestly, only with the two of you.” 

Jungeun’s heart warmed. She put down her bowl and then wrapped Yerim in a tight hug. 

“Don’t crush me,” Yerim muttered, but she hugged her back. She smelled like the forest, but also a combination of fruits and flowers. None of it was overwhelming, but Jungeun couldn’t distinguish between the scents. 

They’d hugged before, but not really like this. Jungeun probably wouldn’t ever forget the first time. Yerim had been homesick, but angry at herself for feeling that way. The anger toward her people had numbed over time, but it hadn’t disappeared completely. How could it have?

Jungeun and Jinsoul had sat with her. For one of the first times, Yerim had cried in front of them. 

Jinsoul had asked if they could hug her. 

Yerim had responded by wrapping them both in her arms. She’d thanked them for being there this entire time. She’d thanked them for being so patient with her. She’d also thanked them for trying to make a new home for her. 

“I’m not there yet,” she’d said, voice still heavy with emotion. “But I know I will be. Someday.”

“The cold really does take a toll on you, doesn’t it?” 

“Am I cold?” Jungeun asked, warming her skin a bit more. 

Yerim shook her head. “But you’re normally a lot warmer than this.” She pulled away just enough so that her head was on Jungeun’s shoulder. “What’s it feel like for you? Do you feel weaker? Or just cold?”

“The fire won’t come as easily,” she told her. “But the light doesn’t change.” She focused a bit more on her magic, what was there. “So I’m weaker, yeah, and a lot of my energy isn’t really there anymore, but that comes around every winter.” 

“And you’re fine with that?” Yerim asked. 

Jungeun laughed slightly. “Pretty much.”

Yerim held her gaze, a tiny frown appearing. 

“Don’t believe me?” 

“I do,” Yerim said. “But I didn’t expect that.”

Jungeun couldn’t help but frown. “Why?”

“A lot of people don’t like being where they aren’t at their strongest,” she shrugged, “I couldn’t be here longer than a day or two.” She flexed her fingers. “Not stranded like this.” 

“I think she’ll think the same when we go to the desert.” Jungeun looked over at Jinsoul then. Her expression was completely calm, devoid of any tension. She usually slept soundly. Jungeun was always the one who stirred in her sleep, or there was something where she needed to be woken up. Jinsoul always did. 

“Can I ask you something?” 

Jungeun smiled. “You don’t have to ask, Yerim.” 

“I know,” she bit her lip, “but it might be more personal.” 

“Just ask.” Jungeun dug an elbow into her side. 

“What actually happened?” Yerim asked. “When Jinsoul came to the Astra?”

Of all the questions, that was one of the last she’d expected. 

“You don’t have to tell me, I’d just heard some things—” She then broke off. 

Jungeun wondered if Hyejoo and the others had said something. Whatever it’d been, she could clear it up. Most likely. “What’d they tell you?”

“Jinsoul hated you?” Yerim looked at the elf in question. “I didn’t exactly believe that.” She frowned. “At all.”

Jungeun almost felt flattered. “You might have to ask her, but she definitely didn’t like me before.” 

Her eyes widened. “So they were telling the truth?”

Jungeun nodded. “All Jinsoul had known about me was what I’d done before. She’d healed people I’d hurt too.” She took a small breath. Even thinking about it still stung. “And with everything Jinsoul stands for, can you be surprised that she was like that at first?”

“Yes.” 

Jungeun blinked. “What?” 

Yerim glanced at Jinsoul again, who was still fast asleep. She coughed once, probably to check, because Jinsoul had once been almost too aware of people’s sickness if it came to it. 

No reaction. 

“You’re both selfless,” Yerim said. “And you push yourselves too much to get better at something.” She pursed her lips as she looked at the sleeping figure. “You went to the coldest places possible, she does this whole thing until she’s exhausted and—” She stopped. 

“What?” Jungeun asked. 

Then she was shaking her head. “Nothing, I mean—”

“Yerim.” She gave her a look. 

“She was getting headaches.”

Jungeun felt the smallest of pang in her chest. 

“That’s the main reason I wanted us to come here,” Yerim said. “Be around water, technically ice, and being somewhere where the only person she has to potentially worry about is you.” 

Jungeun must’ve been making a face, because Yerim was waving her hands. 

“You’re different,” she said quickly. “I don’t think it’s all that stressful for her to make sure you don’t catch a cold.” She smiled slightly. “And that’s probably funnier than you think, because, you know—” She nodded at her. 

“I’m dumb?” Jungeun smiled as well. 

“No!” Yerim was waving her hands again, her eyes starting to form crescents. “Well, maybe that too, but I meant that you don’t really let people take care of you.” 

That made her pause. “I do.” 

Her brow rose. “You barely let people cook for you, let alone watch your back on a patrol.” Then her smile grew. “And your family doesn’t count.” 

Jungeun sat back. “What about Haseul?” 

“Haseul takes care of everyone.” Yerim’s brow furrowed. “But even with her you probably end up doing most of the look-outs, right?”

“I do that with Jinsoul too.” 

“Except she helps you too, gives you tea, occasionally cooks when it won’t be terrible, and she’ll heal you.”

Jungeun shook her head. “She heals everyone.”

“But you’re always together.” 

Jungeun almost denied that when she realised it was true. 

“That’s why I can’t believe you didn’t like each other,” Yerim said. “Not when you work this well together now.”

“I always liked her,” Jungeun replied. 

Yerim’s eyes widened. So did her smile. 

“I’d heard some things before,” she added. “It was hard not to like her.”

“But then how’d you get past that?” Yerim asked. “How did things get like this?”

Like this. Jungeun didn’t really know what that was supposed to mean. Friends? Was that even the right word?

“I don’t really know,” Jungeun admitted. ”Time, maybe?”

“Time,” Yerim repeated. 

Jungeun nodded. “It should’ve been that the more she learned about me, the more she hated me,” she almost laughed, “but she didn’t.”

She frowned then. “It’s the opposite. For almost everyone who knows you.” 

Jungeun fought the urge to say something else then. She didn’t need to start a discussion. Not here. 

“But I think a lot of it was that we were here, doing a lot of patrols together. We always walked too,” Jungeun said. “And every now and then we’d talk.” The highlight might’ve been when the silences had become comfortable. 

Yerim nodded. She looked like she wasn’t finished. 

She smiled. “Any more questions?” 

“Chaewon said you don’t really like doing the same thing. That you take patrols out farther away, or something, when it is getting the same.” Yerim paused, looking at Jinsoul once, before looking back at her. “I like the patrols the way we do them, but isn’t that also doing the same over and over again?”

Jungeun could answer that easily. “It was never the same these last years with Jinsoul,” she said. “It hasn’t been like that with you either, and I don’t think it will be.”

She looked unconvinced, almost insecure.

Jungeun took her hand. “What Chae was talking about was me getting bored out of my mind with guard duty, or going with Haseul to those diplomacy talks or whatever those are.”

“Negotiations?” Yerim’s smile was coming back. 

“Those,” Jungeun laughed, “the way to and from there were nice.” She wouldn’t be explaining why here. “But the actual meetings weren’t anything I liked.” 

“And you like the patrols?” 

“A lot of the time, yeah,” Jungeun said. “But I,” she paused. 

Yerim was already nodding. “You?” She wanted to know. Was there a part of her that thought Jungeun would get bored?

“Patrols, the other contracts too—they changed when Jinsoul came,” Jungeun explained. “There were a few changes when you came along too.” She didn’t wait for Yerim to ask what those were. “I always just settled on getting rid of the target.” She grimaced. 

“We still do that.” 

“Not always.” She couldn’t help but smile. “We look for the reasons they’re hunted, check to see who really could have another chance to do something better.” She wondered if Yerim knew. “I didn’t do that for a long time. With you two, it’s natural.” 

Yerim frowned. “But you’re still the driving force behind a lot of that.” 

Jungeun wanted to refute that. 

“So much of what we do is because you’re the one trying your hardest to find ways we don’t have to fight.” Yerim tilted her head. “And you’re saying you do that because of us?” 

“Jinsoul never liked it,” she said. “The violence, the killing.” She held her gaze. “Are you okay with just killing someone without knowing why?”

Yerim didn’t answer, but the look in her eyes was enough. 

“I got too used to it,” Jungeun admitted. “I still am, but it’s always been better to do it the way we do it now.” 

Yerim’s arms went around her waist then. 

Jungeun was surprised. Was she supposed to be if they’d already hugged? It felt out of place after what she’d just said. 

“Don’t start thinking that it was just Jinsoul, though,” Yerim said. “Sooyoung told me you were already trying to do things differently when you came here. Not always, but you liked healing spirit wounds from the start.” 

She smiled at that. “And what else did Sooyoung say?” 

“Is it okay that I asked around?” Yerim looked up at her. “They pretty much told me what I already knew, but still.” 

“It’s fine,” Jungeun said. “They probably know me better than I do. Definitely better than some of my people before.” 

She looked surprised then, but that faded. “We’re going there after this, right? Your old home?” 

“You’re okay with that?” Jungeun asked. It was the first time Yerim’d see Jungeun’s people from before. 

“Of course.” She gave her a look. “I need to see if anyone’ll tell me some stories.” She winked. 

She pinched her arm. “I can always tell them not to.” 

“I’m persuasive,” Yerim threw back. “I need to hear about the days where you tripped over your feet, or something.” 

Jungeun laughed, hopefully quiet enough so that Jinsoul wouldn’t wake up. “Ask the right people, and they’ll tell you all about that.” Then she added, “I’m not telling you who.” 

She just grinned back at her. “I’ll find out.”

It didn’t take long for Yerim to start getting tired enough to go to sleep. Jungeun had expected herself to fall asleep quickly too, with how draining the cold always was, but she wasn’t. 

She quickly heated up some water, put in the leaves Jinsoul had brought, and waited for it to infuse into the water. All to stop getting sick. Apparently. 

Jinsoul shifted then, a soft groan leaving her. Her hair fell across her face and Jungeun almost wanted to brush it away. 

She turned her attention back to the tea instead and drank. 

Even with the ice all around them, she felt comfortable here. She still looked to see if anyone was coming their way, or if there were spirits wanting to try their luck, but there weren’t any. 

The ice had always been daunting, but she’d not needed to mind it so much today. She’d even had fun. She’d been in awe before at how endless it’d looked, but she’d never spent a comfortable evening beneath the skies. Now she had. 

_____

Author's Note 

This chapter was honestly a treat to write. I love having more of Yerim in the story and it's been so nice to write out the 'origins' of oec. Lipsoul being on better terms has also been refreshing to write, even if there's some things we haven't quite resolved yet (and if you've read the next part, it still takes some time for some other things to resolve). 

I'll be honest, this chapter could've been about 15k words. I've left the next part for another chapter, mostly because I'll have to connect some scenes I've already written. That chapter might come sooner than rather than later, but I can't make any promises. We'll both be seeing Jungeun's old home again, as well as the desert, so look forward to that! This's definitely one of the more light-hearted chapters and I can't promise it'll still be like that. If anything, they'll be like last chapter with a mix. 

This story as a whole has been wonderful to write and I'm so happy I decided to really dig into oec's 'background'. I'm still not sure how long it'll be, but it won't be as long as the other one (I'm 98% sure, ±0.5%). Still, thank you so much for reading this story like you have! 

Would love to know your thoughts! I hope you're all doing well! See you next chapter.

Twt: hblake44

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