"But how do we get in?" Jongho whispered to Ara the second the two witches they had been following, disappeared behind the curtained door of the wooden house. Its structure was balanced on stilts, three bull skulls adorned the porch along with a variety of other relics and charms Ara had never seen before. From afar, it'd look like a village home if not for the eerie mist surrounding it. 

There was no sign, Ara would have missed it upon first glance. 

She pulled Jongho by the sleeve until they were beneath the house, dodging any passersby by hiding behind the stilts. To their luck, they found a crack between the floorboards, where the voices could be heard above from where they stood.

"If she so desperately needs our assistance, why is she not here?" a lilting voice asked. "Why has she sent her lowly servant to deliver this message?"

"She has other issues at hand, she thinks it's...ill-mannered to forfeit her promise for a meeting. Serafia sends her regards, Witch Mother," the other voice answered curtly.

Ara locked eyes with Jongho. Serafia again.

"Might I remind your mistress again that without our bloodline, she would never have accomplished anything that she has now. We can wait no longer, she must pay the price of it!" the Witch Mother hissed, it was accompanied by a flurry of more angry chatter. "She may be half-fae, but there are things not even the fair folk can do."

"I understand that very well, Witch Mother," the voice answered back, with equal calmness. "But tread lightly on your words because that almost sounds like a threat, and you know how Serafia doesn't like to be threatened. She will not fall back on her word, as long as your coven do as she asks because we all know you need her more than she needs you."

There was a long pause.

"Very well, run along now and tell your mistress she has my word. The hex lasts only until the end of this full moon, she must come to me if she wishes to keep the boy under the spell."

Ara's heart pounded at the mention of this boy, she knew it was Yunho. He was alive, somewhere out there and trapped. She listened to the footsteps of the unknown person leave the house, turning into a silhouette disappearing further away. She was about to turn to Jongho and tell him something important, only to find him walking mindlessly towards the entrance of the house. 

"Jongho!" Ara hissed, horrified. But her friend wasn't listening, as if put under a spell. He probably was, but why wasn't she affected by it?

And worst of all, this meant they were caught.

Jongho walked straight into the house, and from inside Ara could already hear cackling. Frantically, she threw the door open—and was greeted with a dagger to the throat. The witches dragged her in, slamming the door from behind and Ara could see at least twenty of them had filled in the space, that looked oddly bigger than from the outside. 

"Well well, look what we have here," the Witch Mother careened from her armchair, surrounded by her followers, equally having murderous looks on their faces; They all wore cloaks with peculiar runes embroided on the fabric, Bathilda and Yvgeny were in the corner of the room, Ara wondered if they knew from the start that they had been followed, and she was the one who was the fool all along.

The witches worked fast, already having Jongho bound by his hands and gagged with a cloth, despite him being stronger than normal. It was as if there was something holding him back from breaking free. He was struggling to break free, Ara could hear his muffled grunts of protest. She had to do something, unfortunately being cornered by a coven of witches made it difficult to think.

To her very left, a with with red hair was muttering in an unknown language, looking at Ara directly in the eye as if something was supposed to happen. The other members of the coven seemed to be looking at Ara skeptically as well. The Witch Mother studied her, "She must be from Maevwick, they've sent foolish children to spy on us!" she cried aloud before glaring at Jongho. "And one reeks of fey blood!" she spat.

"Let him go," Ara mustered up her courage, but the Witch Mother only bared her yellowish teeth at her, more mockingly than she was actually interested to listen. 

"I don't know what orders are you under, girl, but I assure you," she examined her long, dirty fingernails, dark crescents that Ara didn't want to guess what it was. "I have no probelms with killing, even if they're young and pretty," she said with malice. The house was wide but dingy, like a dungeon and the walls had talismans and paintings so gruesome; a trio of women circling a bonfire, their backs arched inhumanely, cursed tapestries bloodied by corpses, Ara had to look away while she shuddered.

Jongho kicked and screamed, but to no avail. Ara was on her own, and she needed a plan to work instantly. Show, then tell.

"I'm not from any coven," her voice came out ragged. "Now I'll say it one more time: Let my friend go, or else,"

It only produced laughter from several of the witches, cackling at the girl who claimed to be a threat. The Witch Mother eventually joined along, though her eyebrows were raised in question—she still regarded Ara with caution. Ara knew this was her chance. 

"Or else what, little girlie?" it was Bathilda who spoke, her voice just as raspy as before. "Should we try our luck and see?"

Ara pressed forward, somewhere inside her she tried to do as before, the summoning and calling for something distant, unwilling to leave and to do her bidding. She had hoped for a witch house to have at least one unrest soul to present themselves, as easy as the ones she saw on a daily on the street, like the German lady in her own home. There was a very dark presence in the room, unmistakenable to Ara as the feeling of vengeful, unstable and yet—no ghost in sight.

"You can try to hurt me, you'll regret it," she blurted as Bathilda pushed past her murmuring comrades, either entertained or surprised by her taunts. 

"I'd like to try," Bathilda began. "But I detest the fey more," and she brandished a knife in Jongho's direction.

Stop.

"NO!" the shriek that came from sounded unlike her own voice. It pierced through the air, like a collective choir screaming into the void; The force directed towards Bathilda and she was flung against the wall of the house, her knife tossed into a corner as she lay crumpled on the ground. And now the entire room seemed to shake in response, numerous paintings were knocked over, their glass frames shattering while the indistinct, angry muttering carried on.

Ara could see it on the witches' faces, this was not what they had expected. Another one advanced towards her, rather impulsively, and the spirits that had knocked Bathilda unconscious did the same to her: Under Ara's command (or lack thereof), they were having her in a chokehold and she gasped for air. "Please..." she hissed, clutching . 

Ara could care less, she felt detached, as if whatever was doing the haunting in the house was an entirely different being, channeled by her body as the vessel and her emotions their energy. She felt consumed by sorrow and fury, for whatever these witches had done to them. Oh they would be sorry.

A third then a fourth continued to attack her, and now a fifth witch who stepped forward after the fourth witch had been flung against the mirror, now discarded in shattered pieces on the floor. Her eyes were wide with shock, like she had made a revelation. Still, the spirits were in control and Ara let them continue their rampage.

"Ara," Jongho had somehow broken free from the bonds and had advanced towards her, now he was holding her hand, his knuckles were white. "Ara!" and he shook her awake.

She snapped from her trance, when she realized what was happening. After taking three deep breaths, she closed her eyes and things seemed to calm down. The quaking of the house had stopped, and evetually all that was left was silence. Dead silence.

Remnants of the angry souls still lingered in her, she could feel the strings attached on her fingertips like a reign. This had never happened before.

The witches had retreated behind the Witch Mother, all eyes weary and scared. But the Witch Mother only wore an expression of awe. At long last she stood up, she was abnormally tall after rising from her seat, her head almost touching the ceiling. If it weren't for the ghosts' angry emotions inside of her, Ara reckoned she would have ran away crying for help. Up close, the Witch Mother looked horrifying, wrinkled leathery skin, frizzy greying hair and too wide, as if the corners had been pulled and sliced apart. 

"You, who are you?" she asked calmly, though the edge to her voice said otherwise.

"My name is Araminta," Ara spoke, this time it was her own voice, and surprisingly steady. "And my mother was the Corpsewitch."

"There seems to be a blockage in his mind," 

Mingi did feel slightly bad for dragging Yunho to a magic salon, only to be looked in the eyes by a lady with cat eyes. Elise sounded like she knew what she was doing by taking them down the twisting lanes of Aurora Square, ones Mingi never had the chance to explore since the radio silence from Jongho and Ara. 

Speaking about them...

"Hey um," he had tapped on the shoulder of a unassuming vampire lady who was carrying a brass tray, with tongs and linens. "Do you happen to know Choi Jongho?" 

The lady raised an eyebrow, "Master Choi's grandson? Yeah,"

"Have you seen him around lately?"

The lady proceeded to snort, "As if it's any of my business!" then she side-glanced at Yunho was was still seated and examined, she grinned. "Though, I suppose I can lend an ear or two if that cute friend of yours is free tonight?" 

Instinctively, Mingi blocked her view. "That...won't be necessary," he said gruffly.

"Ugh, you're no fun!" she rolled her eyes and sashayed away, behind the curtains where her customer was awaiting. 

He turned back to the counter where Yunho sat on a stool, his long legs dwarfing his seat as the cat-eye lady (a warlock, Elise had explained) examined his up-close, her hands hovering on his face with a wave of what looked like purplish light; Elise was also studying it all with great curiosity, while her hand was outstretched towards another warlock, a man with fluorescent green hair and horns who was giving her a manicure during the midst of it all.

"What do you mean, Zoya?" Elise asked her.

"Usually I have no problem picking apart the thoughts of my client's brain," Zoya said, her yellow eyes glinting with interest at Yunho, who was blinking in confusion. "But someone has put an enchantment on his mind, I can't even see his sorrows," 

Serafia, Mingi thought darkly. "And is that the reason he's not entirely there most of the time?"

"Er yes, but there's also something else," Zoya shot a glance at Elise, and the message was received. Swiftly, Elise put her arms around Yunho. "Hey buddy, I think that lady with the fruit basket is waving at you. Why don't you go chat with her?" and without asking Mingi, she steered him towards the waiting benches, where the aforementioned fruit lady sat (though upon closer observation, the fruit basket was, in fact, not a fruit basket but it was the lady's hat). 

Within minutes, Yunho was already happily engaging in conversation with the ladies. Something about how pretty they were, and it calmed Mingi's nerves a bit. 

"Were you going to tell me your friend here is missing some part of his soul?" Zoya asked under her breath, only Elise and Mingi heard it.

Mingi's brows furrowed, "I don't understand,"

"And I can see that it's been picked apart before," Zoya continued, the casualness in her voice was gone. "I'd tell you more, but you lot are taking up my working time—"

"Zoya," Elise interrupted. "Your job usually involves calming someone's nerves and elevating their serotonin levels," and from her purse, she fished out her credit card. "Consider this a favour to me, I've never missed a weekly appointment here for a manicure when I'm in town. Won't you help out your sweet, loyal customer?" and she batted her eyelashes.

Zoya rolled her eyes, but there was affection in it. "And tell me again why are you so keen on helping him?" she gestured towards Mingi, when he was obviously there. 

"Because I like him and I want him to owe me enough so that he can't turn down the offer to date me," 

Mingi choked. 

Zoya seemed entertained enough to comply. "Oh alright," and she leaned across the counter. "Magic is tangible with the soul and spirit, especially when it involves life and death. Your friend's soul has been extracted, split into pieces and put back into his body," 

"Is something wrong with him?" Mingi's voice shook. 

Zoya clasped her hands together, "Imagine everyone's soul as a...mirror of ourselves, what makes us, essentially–us. Now imagine what happens when that mirror is forcefully broken apart and you wish to put the pieces back together, and one of those pieces goes missing," she paused. "Souls weren't meant to be split apart, it's like trying to fix a broken mirror and expect it to look as it once had,"

Elise flicked away a speck of dust on the counter, but she looked concerned as well. "Which part of him is missing, Zoya?" she asked.

"Generally speaking, the Soul is composed of the mind—the ability to think, emotion—the ability to feel, and will—the ability to act. When I said there was a blockage in his mind, I meant someone has put a barrier so he's unable to access some of his memories. As for the missing piece, emotion is connected to the heart, and that is inexplicably lost as well,"

Mingi swallowed, he knew well enough this was something out of his control. "Please, is there anyway to fix it?"

Zoya shook her head, "I can't even if you pay me more, this is advanced magic," she displayed her hands in helplessness. "I don't pick apart a person's soul, that is a cruel act no one should commit. I'd recommend a visit to Spodge's Clinic down the street but—"

"Wait a minute, where's Yunho?" Mingi stood up, his eyes searching for his friend alarmingly. 

Elise glanced around as well, "He couldn't have gone out, we would've noticed," 

Brashly without giving a care, Mingi went around the parlor, pushing past each blind startling the customers in the middle of the procedures despite Zoya's protests. Until he came to the last row and threw open the blinds, and found Yunho lying on the velvet couch—seemingly unharmed, with the vampire lady from earlier baring her fangs in utter surprise as she hissed.

"Oh hi, Mingi!" Yunho said merrily. It would've been reassuring, if not for the two clear puncture wounds on his forearm, lines of blood trickling down. 

The vampire's eyes met his, "It's fine, I swear!" she squeaked. 

Elise appeared next to him and saw the sight, "Oh dear!" and she rushed to Yunho's side, pressing a cotton bud from the brass tray to stop the bleeding. 

"What the ?!" Mingi demanded. 

"Lydia, what did I tell you about non-consensual biting?" Zoya didn't seemed particularly concerned, a hand on her hips. 

"I did ask! He was happy to let me do it!"

"It was quite nice actually," Yunho added as a matter of fact. "A bit ticklish, she applied anaesthesia,"

Mingi hoisted Yunho up, who seemed slightly lightheaded. "Are you okay?" he asked him.

Zoya clicked her tongue, "People come here for services like this all the time, blood- is actually quite therapeutic. Increases your alertness appparently."

Mingi glared, "So he's not going to turn into a vampire too?"

This time it was Lydia who giggled, "Of course not! It'd take more than a little bite to do that."

Yunho squinted at his friend, "Mingi, am I dreaming or are there tiny people dancing in the air?" 

"Okay, we should get you out. Maybe a blood transfusion too." he grumbled.