They’d put them in the same tent. Jinsoul had been directed to one a bit on the edge of camp, but still encircled by at least ten others. 

It was Jungeun who’d come to her before she’d gotten there. Her ears were tinged with red. 

“You’re going to that one, right?” She pointed to one with silver ts. It was shaped more like the top half of a sphere, whereas the others were more square. 

Jinsoul nodded. 

Jungeun’s mouth pressed into a line. “I’m sorry,” she muttered. “I can change if you want.” 

It took a few seconds for Jinsoul to realise what that meant. 

“It’s yours.” 

Her ears were a bright red now. “I’ll switch to Haseul’s. They probably still have space.”

“Is there anyone else in this one?” Jinsoul pushed past the front curtain. The tent was warm, but the heat dispelled the moment she walked in. 

In the roof of the tent was a hole that let the moonlight in. Beside it was a disk of wood, but nothing attached to it that’d close it. 

The actual living space was clean, meticulously so. To one side, there was a bed with furs. To another, there was something close to a chair, but it didn’t exactly have the form of one. Beside it was a small table. It had burn marks all across its surface. There was a chest beside it, almost a metre wide. 

“I’m not usually here,” Jungeun said quietly. “Either I have patrol or I’m,” a small pause, “somewhere else.” Her eyes were fixed on the floor of the tent. There was a severe lack of confidence in her now. The red ears didn’t help. 

Jinsoul sighed. “I’ll sleep over there.” She pointed to the far end, opposite the bed. 

Her eyes widened. “What?” 

“I’m not going to be in here that much either,” she said. Then she put her things down on the floor. 

Jungeun just nodded, her expression still one of disbelief. “Well,” she glanced to the ceiling, “have a good day.” 

Jinsoul frowned. “You patrol during the day?” 

She shook her head. “Guard.” Then she was gone. 

_____

Days passed and Jinsoul felt how the light was starting to settle into her magic. It’d never been painful for her, but every now and then, it’d felt uncomfortable. Either it flowed into her blood, an unusual warmth she’d never felt, or she began to feel an unusual amount of calm. It wasn’t bad, but it was foreign. She still didn’t trust it. 

“Don’t expect it to come all at once,” Haseul was telling her, “it takes time.” 

She’d been trying to teach Jinsoul how to summon moonlight. 

“I know,” Jinsoul snapped. Then she sighed, trying to soften her voice. “It took years to actually learn my magic.” Simply tugging on it had been easy. Shaking, freezing, or moving it around had taken longer to master. Healing had taken twice that amount of time. 

The other elf just nodded. She didn’t seem phased by Jinsoul’s frustration, a bit like Jungeun, except Jinsoul had an easier time trusting Haseul. 

“For a long time, all I could do was absorb light,” she said. “They thought it was all I’d be able to do.” 

Jinsoul didn’t reply. Instead, she tried to absorb more light. It worked. She watched how her skin started to glow. 

“So all I was useful for was fighting with those metal weapons. I glowed, but that was it.”

“Are you telling me that because you think I’ll have the same experience?”

Haseul shook her head. “You already summoned a little, didn’t you?”

Jinsoul frowned. “How do you know that?”

“It’s a good thing. It’s progress.” Her brow furrowed. “Was that supposed to be a secret?”

“No,” she said. “But I’d feel better if the entire camp wasn’t hearing about what I can and can’t do.” Despite being in the same tent, she’d barely seen the fire elf, only briefly around certain fires. Sometimes she was with Sooyoung and the girl with no light in her eyes. Other times, she was with Haseul, the rest with other girls of the camp. It seemed like people liked her. Jinsoul wondered if they’d fully recognised all the things Jungeun had done. Or if they’d chosen to ignore it. 

There were other times that Jinsoul had seen her. During the day when she couldn’t sleep. Jungeun was almost always never in the tent then either. She was usually at a nearby fire pit, basking in the sunlight. Or she was trekking through the forest, usually with a sack, either empty, or full when she was coming back from somewhere else. Probably a town. A few times, Jinsoul had seen her emerging from another tent. She never wanted to know more than that. 

She’d never spoken to Jinsoul, but had always met her eyes. Thankfully, she’d kept her distance too. 

“I’m one of the people responsible for you to learn this magic,” Haseul said. Her expression had hardened. “Of course she’ll tell me if you’ve already got a grasp on something.” 

Jinsoul looked at her hands. The glow subsided. 

“Yes, there’re people here who know who you were to your people. They know, just as Nuala does. Then there’re the ones who have a little idea about what you will do, but that doesn’t mean much.”

“That means a lot,” Jinsoul replied. “I’ve never been close to anyone who knew of my future.” It was daunting to think that time had a set course. Even if you made a decision and the exact path changed, there was still a path. The Astra seers could still follow that. They’d still know where Jinsoul was going if she decided to leave. 

“But I don’t know your future and only a little about your past,” Haseul told her. “All I know for sure is your age and where the light in you is focused.” She shrugged. “And Jungeun’s the last person who’d spread information about you in the camp.”

That was interesting. Did that mean Jungeun was still closed off? Or did she not trust them either? 

“Did you,” Haseul started, “do you have a history with her? Or indirectly?”

Suddenly, Jinsoul felt caught, as if she had to justify something. 

But that was ridiculous. Her reasons were justified. 

“I’ve healed many of the people she’s burned,” Jinsoul said. “I watched some of them die. Others could never be around an open fire for years, or until a fairy helped them.” Either by wiping their memory of the fight, or soothing they fear. 

The green-eyed elf was quiet for a moment. The judgement in her expression had softened to something else. Was it understanding? Or doubt? “I understand.” Her voice had become much quieter. “But if you’re going off of that, you’ll have to start treating me the way you do her.” A crooked, yet sad, smile appeared. “I’ve broken families too. And the wounds I gave people couldn’t even be healed.”

She knew those victims too. “You have to put them far away from any light,” she said. “And you wait.”

Haseul nodded. “So you’ll stomach being around us, but not her?” 

“I don’t have a choice with you,” Jinsoul shot back. 

She looked at her for a long moment. Jinsoul was sure she’d gone too far. If Jungeun was anything close to a friend of Haseul’s, Jinsoul had as good as insulted her. 

But even then, what had she done for Jinsoul to excuse her actions? 

“Try summoning the light,” Haseul said then. “Push it into your hand.” She held her own out. Atop her palm, a small ball appeared. 

They kept at it for hours. Haseul gave no indication that she thought lesser of Jinsoul, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t offended. The uncertainty was the worst part. Of all the Astra, Jinsoul was actually starting to respect Haseul. 

But no, the elf only told her stories of people’s beginnings with the light. Not once did they talk about Jungeun. 

When Haseul let Jinsoul go, she asked if she was hungry. 

“Hyunjin makes a really good stew. We also got fresh bread from the town.” 

Jinsoul shook her head. “Not hungry.” When she saw the disbelief in Haseul’s face, she added, “my body still has to adjust. I never even had midnight snacks before.” 

Haseul shrugged. “We’ll save you a bowl.” Then she smiled. “We’re right outside your tent too.” 

Jinsoul knew that. She’d heard them chatting with one another, teasing one person about her strange love for baked goods, while another person was the brunt of many age jokes. Sometimes she heard Jungeun join in. Often, she heard people about falling asleep at the fire. 

_____

“Was it you?” 

Jungeun looked up, seemingly perplexed. It was day time. She was eating something that looked like wheat with milk. She looked tired. 

“The light in the forest,” Jinsoul said. “Did you put that there?”

The response was her chewing. Her hair was down. It struck her that this also didn’t fit the stories. 

But they’re not just stories, she thought. People had died. Others still wore the scars, even after the burns had long been healed. 

“I—” Was she stammering? “Should I not have done that?” Suddenly, she seemed more insecure than anything else. 

“If you hadn’t, I’d have met Nuala in a very different state.”

Jungeun nodded, but she still looked uncertain. And now she looked away. 

“Why did you think I’d need it?” Jinsoul asked. “Did you know about the spirit?”

More confusion entered her eyes. She looked up. “Going alone like you did is a risk we all have. And I wasn’t sure how well you knew the forest. I just knew you’d gone to the river.”

Jinsoul expected to hear something she wouldn’t believe, but she didn’t. 

Both of them were quiet. Jungeun didn’t look as uncertain as she had, but she kept looking down at the bowl in her hands. 

Jinsoul wasn’t sure why, but she didn’t feel like leaving yet. 

“Hungry?” Jungeun asked then. “I’ve got extra.” The fire strengthened, heating a pot with that wheat/milk mixture. “It’s a breakfast they have in the west.”

Jinsoul shook her head. “I’m not hungry.” But she did wonder why Jungeun had made so much when only a fraction of the Astra were ever awake during the day. 

“Okay,” her gaze fell, “then I’ll finish it.” A tiny smile settled on her face as she went closer to the pot. “But if you want to sit, sit.” She filled her bowl to the brim. “I’m going in an hour. Then you’ll have the pit to yourself.”

“The fire won’t extinguish when you’re gone?” 

Jungeun’s brow knitted together. “Does it with others?” 

“Yes,” Jinsoul tried not to frown, “if the source is magical, it fades when that’s gone. If I freeze something or shift the position of a river, it’ll return to how it was when I’m away from it.”

“Ah,” she said. “As far as I know, my fires keep burning. At least longer than,” the words caught for a second, “an earth-wielder’s dirt can hold after they leave.” A small shadow had crept into her expression. 

Jinsoul let herself see the light then. It was harder during the day. Her head usually started hurting when she tried it. 

There was light in the fire, the food, and then Jungeun. All of it was familiar, as thought Jinsoul’s experience in the forest had attuned her to Jungeun’s light. 

Then she saw how a portion of the light around Jungeun had turned a light grey. She felt a small amount of anxiety from it. 

She stopped looking at the light then, her head throbbing. 

There was a story behind that grey light. Something that bothered Jungeun about an earth-wielder. A past encounter? Was that earth-wielder still alive? Or had Jungeun gotten her revenge? 

“So you didn’t train that aspect of your magic?” Jinsoul knew she was getting technical—too technical for an elf. 

Jungeun shook her head. “Everything I trained was to better the strength and reach of the flames.” Her eyes fell. The shadow remained. “Lasting flames weren’t what helped me.” 

Jinsoul was torn between looking away, and finding a new subject to talk about. She didn’t want to see the echo of whatever Jungeun was feeling, let alone feel some of it through the light. 

Her stomach twisted then. Why didn’t she want to see that? Because she didn’t believe it? 

Or because she didn’t want to believe it? If one of them was true, she wasn’t sure which would be worse. 

_____

Not for the first time, Jinsoul couldn’t sleep. It seemed as if Jungeun couldn’t either. She wasn’t even in the tent. That was a frequent occurrence. Jinsoul couldn’t even remember a time when Jungeun had been sleeping in the tent. Did she go to others for that? 

Then again, that could’ve also meant she was in another tent. It was impossible not to notice the way Jungeun looked. It seemed as if other Astra had been drawn in by that. 

Jinsoul looked to the ceiling of the tent. The disk of cloth had been drawn over the hole, but she could still tell it was day. 

She silently cursed the Astra for being nocturnal. Then she got up and left the tent. 

No one was there, except for further off in the distance. The guards for the day. She wondered if she should just be a guard every day. She’d be able to sleep at night and see very few Astra during the day. 

On the one hand, it was perfect. On the other, it was lonely. 

Jinsoul made her way through the camp, nodding at one elf who seemed at the end of her waking capabilities. She had a relatively small frame, but that never meant much when it came to the strength of an immortal. Her eyes were a deep blue, darker than even Jinsoul’s, but they still caught the sunlight perfectly. She had brown hair that fell just below her shoulders. 

“I’m always amazed at how you daylighters do it,” she said in a hushed voice. A weird thing to hear in broad daylight. 

“We were born into it,” Jinsoul replied. “It’s like how you can stay awake the entire evening.”

The other elf shrugged. “I’m Sua.” Then she chuckled. “But I guess you don’t have to introduce yourself to me.” She winked.

Jinsoul smiled slightly. “I guess not.”

“Can’t adjust yet?” she asked, waving to the sun. 

“It depends,” she said. “If I practice with the light, I sleep fine.” But even then, she still stayed much longer than she should have. Either due to her thoughts, or simply not being able to sleep when the sun shone above her. 

Sua nodded. “That’s normal, I think. You can’t just get into the rhythm perfectly.” She waved at herself. “When we’re out there, the day-night cycle adjusts with where the moon’s at above that part of the world.” She sighed. “I’d never been awake a whole day until we’d gone west.”

“Why were you there?” As far as she knew, the only reason the Astra had been there was because they occasionally changed where the camp was located. But even that was rare. 

“There’s always a few groups out there,” she explained. “We deal with the problems out there if they have to be dealt with. Sudden rogue vampires, freak spirit attacks, but mostly new werewolves.”

“And the other elves?” Jinsoul asked, knowing she sounded eager. This sounded as good as staying awake during the day. Even better. 

Sua grinned. “They usually let us stay over. I’ve got friends and,” she laughed softly, “others in a bunch of clans. Even the fae don’t mind us much. As long as we help them out a bit.”

Jinsoul felt a bit of hope then. She knew it showed on her face. 

The girl’s eyes softened. “Once you’re better with using moonlight, you can come along.”

The hope strengthened. “Any other conditions?”

She smiled, a hint of teasing there. “You have to actually like your group, because you’re usually stuck with them. And we’re with each other for a few years. One minimum.”

Jinsoul fought the urge to grimace. She’d have to live with that. She could. 

“We’d still take you,” Sua told her. “Right now, we’re a group of seven again.”

“Again?”

“One of ours spent a bit of time with the Warsa.” The mountain elves. They were spread around the world, but their groups were closely knit. Usually, people went to them if they’d been exiled. 

“Oh,” Jinsoul tried to keep her voice light, “did she—”

Sua laughed. It was a bit of a unique laugh, as if each bit of laughter was partially a gasp. “No no, she’s as sweet and harmless you we get. She wanted to see how they managed all the rule-breakers.”

“And why’re you letting me join?” she asked. “When I’m ready,” she added. “You’ve known each other for years.” Adding someone they barely knew would change that group dynamic. 

“She said the same thing,” Sua said, a thoughtful expression now. “Couldn’t believe that we’d just let her come along. That we’d even give her a chance.” A bit of sadness came next. 

So Jungeun had also wanted to leave. “How long did she go for?”

“Two years. One with us, one with another group.” Then her expression brightened. “Not because she didn’t like us!” Then she sighed, her eyes dimming ever so slightly. She switched between those moods quickly, but it was all very clearly genuine. “People kept coming after her.”

“Why?” Jinsoul felt like she knew, but she needed to hear the actual reason first. 

“Assassins.” Her gaze hardened. “The cowards tried a lot, getting vampires and witches involved, or coming during new moons, anything to get her at a weak point. We put them in their place.”

“You killed them?” 

“Some.” Sua gave her a look. Very similar to Haseul. “A few would’ve kept coming back. Others were just jumping on the chance to get the closure they thought they wanted.”

“So she stopped, because it was too risky?”

She snorted. “Risk isn’t what she was avoiding. At least not the risk to her.” She shrugged. “Jungeun goes off alone all the time. A lot more in the beginning. Got her into a few close calls even then, not just with spirits.”

“But isn’t she a risk for the entire camp then?” How often would they have had to ward someone off? 

Sua’s brow shot up. “If we went by that logic, half of us would need to leave here.” She shook her head. “And there’s no way we’d make her leave because she’s got a reputation. It wouldn’t be right.” Something else flickered across her face. Then it was gone. 

Jinsoul looked to the light. A spike of pain hit her head. She saw an echo that wasn’t anger, but close to guilt instead. Then that vanished too. 

She chose not to ask about that. 

“But I’ll tell Haseul to let me know when you’re ready. Or you find me, as long as I’m still here.”

Jinsoul nodded. “Thank you.”

Sua smiled. “She could tell you a little about what helps, you know.” 

“Your friend?”

“Handong?” Her brow rose. “I guess she could, but I wasn’t talking about her.”

“I was.” 

Her smile faded. 

“I’m going to the river,” Jinsoul said. “Should I fill that” She nodded at Sua’s waterskin. “It’s almost empty.”

“How did you—” Her eyes widened. Then she laughed. “Right, yeah.” She held it out. “Thanks.”

Jinsoul left. 

As she walked, she spotted Jungeun emerge from one of the tents. She didn’t know whose it was, but judging by her disheveled appearance, it probably didn’T matter. 

Jinsoul turned the other way and quickened her step. She heard Jungeun’s step slow at one point, before it continued. 

“Morning,” Jungeun muttered. 

Before she could even wonder if it was directed at her, she heard Sua reply. 

“Morning.” A small laugh. “You weren’t going to spend the day there?”

“Not your business.” The words had no bite. 

Sua cackled. “I know who’s in there, so too late for that.”

“Then why ask?”

“Anything to get those ears as red as your eyes.”

Jinsoul remembered how they’d almost turned that red on the first night. 

Jungeun snorted. “Glad I’m a spectacle for you.”

“Always are,” Sua said, voice b with glee. “Can’t wait for the next person to see you like that.”

“Not happening,” she muttered.

“Right, you’ll never get to that point.”

“Nope.”

Jinsoul stepped listening and kept walking. She didn’t have to hear anymore. 

But one thing stayed in her mind. She could leave the camp without being alone. She could be elsewhere in the world without taking every burden being in the Astra had. 

She wanted that. All she needed to do was get stronger. 

______

Author's Note 

This story might be slow at times, but that's mostly because of the setup for this story. Unlike the other ones, I don't quite have a big external conflict building, only the one between our two main characters. I don't always have stories like this, but I have to say I'm really enjoying it. And with me (and some of you) knowing how they end up, it's been a lot of fun going back to the start between Lipsoul. Regardless of whether or not you're new to this world, I hope you enjoy that aspect of it as well. 

Let me know your thoughts for how this story is going! 

See you next chapter.