Yunho didn't even have time to run.

Serafia's words had shook him to the core, her steel cold gaze was the moment he knew there was no escaping this. He remembered his hand reaching for the knife on his plate, suddenly it spazzed mid-air, the cutlery clattering on the floor. And just like that, he couldn't move and was glued to his seat. He watched Serafia stand up and walked behind him, feeling her hands slither to rest on his shoulders and he felt cold all over.

"Tsk-tsk," Serafia clicked her tongue. "You're just as pesky as I remember from when you were a foolish child, though I would've preferred if you stayed my lovely, unassuming puppet,"

He could still move his lips. "You're a monster," the words tumbled out haphazardly. 

Serafia chuckled, "And the exact same words you said to me years ago before I put you to sleep. Do you remember that, my boy?" her finger traced Yunho's jaw, she was smiling when she looked at him at eye-level. "You must know how hurt I am you still haven't come around to accepting me as one of your own," she sighed. "That was your father's dying wish,"

A stabbing ache throbbed in Yunho's chest, he barely remembered his father. Only brief glimpses crossed his mind, like most of the things in his mind that were foggy. Laughter on swings, a warm protective smile, bedtime stories. There wasn't much to remember, but there was an instinct in him that told him he was supposed to be sad and angry. That like most things, his dad too, had been taken away from him. He now realised so starkly clear, the absence in the house all this time.

He blinked back tears, he refused to cry here, in front of Serafia. "Why us? Why my dad? Why me?" he breathed, every word lingering with pain. "You can have the money, take it and leave. Just stop," he was surprised by how defeated he ended up sounding, like he had already come undone. 

For a split second, a change of expression seemed to flash across Serafia's face. She proceeded to cup his face with her hand, like he was a precious jewel. "It would've been a marvelous offer before, but there is something else that I want from you,"

"What do you want from me?" he could feel his throat closing up, he was losing consciousness. 

"Something money cannot buy," she said. "Something only you can give me."

When it came to Jongho, Mingi always felt a sense of groundedness to him. That no matter the circumstance, he'd be the one true north of the situation, the person with the solutions. 

And yet seeing him growing weaker by the minute, Mingi genuinely felt scared.

The pain hadn't been apparent earlier when Jongho could still walk, not too far away from where Elise had said was the closest Faerie entryway. He had a hand clutching his side, but Mingi didn't think much of it—until he collapsed as they were in front of the entryway. Elise had gasped, her necklace glowing blue the closer they were to the space between two trees behind Houdini's Magic Palace, the glowing portal hadn't been there before, Mingi was certain.

And he was surprised when she draped Jongho's limp hand over her shoulder before he even asked her to, and she looked at him like he was stupid and willed him to get moving. It was four in the morning, and he wasn't in the right state of mind. The three had stumbled through the Portal, landing near what looked like brick walls of the Rose Court palace. Mingi couldn't quite determine the exact timezone of Faerie, only that it was breaking dawn soon. 

Then the guards spotted them and were about to attack, until Elise displayed her necklace, and of course when the guards noticed the person they had in tow was their unconscious prince, they gave way for them to enter. Within minutes, the servants had hoisted him onto a stretch out of thin air and only Mingi could see just how blue Jongho's lips were, sweat beaded on his forehead and eyebrows furrowed as if he was withstanding the pain.

He didn't want to look weak, until no one even noticed the puncture wound on his side, until the blood seeped through his black shirt. 

No one stopped him or Elise from following from behind into the infirmary, where he spotted Hongjoong yet very much awake and there, out of all places and times, equally shocked at the sight of Jongho. The healers laid him atop a bed and ripped off his shirt, where the injury was clearly displayed; It didn't look as serious as it seemed, a fine line of scarlet trickling along his skin but the surrounding areas were reddening for worse. Mingi didn't realize Hongjoong had hovered over to his side. 

"Mingi, what are you doing here?" Hongjoong demanded, bewildered. 

Mingi gaped his mouth, "I was about to ask you the same. What the hell are you doing here for? Ara-"

"What happened to Ara?" Hongjoong held the other boy's sleeve frantically. "Mingi, what happened?"

Mingi was at a lost for words. "I...I don't know either, we were at the Square when we saw Jongho-"

"Oh be quiet both of you!" it was Elise who snapped at them as she approached, her arms folded in annoyance, the sleeve of her hoodie stained with a bit of Jongho's blood from where the wound had came in contact with her. "The healers are tending to him now, so you all can quit the infernal rackett," and she pushed back her hair. 

"Do they know what happened to him?"

"Iron poisoning," she replied, shaking her head. "Iron is toxic to faeries. Even halflings can get affected by it," she stared back at Jongho on the bed. "Whatever wounded him did it on purpose, the knife was made of iron laced with salt, also harmful to faeries. It entered his sytem and..." she pursed her lips. "They're trying to minimize the damage,"

Hongjoong pushed forward, "Nono, Jongho..." he closed his eyes, pained. "Surely there's a way to save him,"

"He was taken here just in time," it was Septimus who approached their circle. He looked exhausted, which was a first from him, sweaty and clammy from the medic area. "The treatment may take days, and he'll be in and out of consciousness for the time being. It's a difficult process but luckily, and I didn't think I'd say this, he's only half-fae so it won't kill him like it'd do to pure-bred fae. Thank you, for saving my cousin," he gazed at Elise and Mingi. 

Mingi wasn't sure how to reply, "He's my friend too, of course I'd save him,"

Septimus sighed inwardly, "I can't imagine how Lady Auraline would react to this sight, let's hope she doesn't return earlier than expected. With that being said," he walked towards Mingi, his gaze intense despite his demeanor being collected. "I hope you've prepared an explanation of the events this morning, my cousin left not too long ago with Araminta; And yet now she's missing, my cousin is gravely injured and frankly this is the most dramatic incident that has happened in the Rose Court in years,"

Mingi ran a hand down his face, "Look, there's a lot to explain,"

"Well then, start explaining."

After so many days, Ara had a feeling that she was not quite getting it right.

She had lost count after a week; the dark, damp hallways of the Witch Elm made it difficult to keep track of time or when the sun came up or down. The only slither of natural light peeking through a hole through the roof where it directly shone on Edith's pond in her study, which now, was currently where she spent most of her training sessions.

Yesterday's session had been the worst so far. 

It started off easy the first few times. Edith presented her with an object belonging to someone long dead, a bloodstained locket, a strip of ribbon, a Raggedy Ann doll and she'd be instructed to communicate with the spirits. Ara had found that easy, she had been doing that her entire life. 

Then controlling them was difficult for her.

The simpler tasks, like telling them to move or speak the truth against their will were bearable. The banishing of the spirits of the hall to whatever hellish realm was still haunting her somewhat, Edith hardly cared. All she wanted was the end product. 

When the ghost child had retrieved something from the nearby graveyard, Edith had beamed and clapped. "Yes, very good, poppet. Very nice work,"

The ghost child had looked at her like she was a monster manipulating her, her black hollow eyes haunted her as she faded away.

Which wasn't entirely false.

But it was the session today that truly pushed her to the edge. 

Like always she was escourted from her private room in the early morning to Mother Edith's study, flanked by two familiar witches. They had been the closest she got to servants (apparently something that past Corpsewitches would have), and they'd make sure Ara didn't forget to wear her cloak.

She sat at the table, eyeing Edith who came in seconds later, in her hand holding a black leather pouch. She dropped it in front of Ara and it landed on the desk with a thud, Ara eyed it suspiciously. It was vague, but Ara knew better than anyone - the stench of death. 

"What is that?" Ara asked, beckoning at the thing in front of her.

Edith grinned, "Our training material for today," and she pulled up the pouch from under. 

Ara gasped in horror.

Lying on the desk, was a dead mouse. More specifically it was a rat, paws stiff and outstretched, mouth gaping and eyes wide open. Ara had seen plenty of dead rodents, but she didn't like how Edith had presented it to her. "What are we doing with it?" she asked, ratherly quietly. She had a bad feeling about it already.

"You're going to revive it, poppet," Edith grinned menacingly. 

Ara widened her eyes, "I-I can't do that-"

"Of course you can. You're a Corpsewitch, that is your ultimate gift," Edith fussed. "You exceeded my expectations with each passing test of mine, this shall be a breeze for you. Do as you always do, let its soul speak to you. You will feel a thread, a pull you can grab on. Wring it to you, direct it. You'll know what to do,"

She wasn't sure if it'd be a blunt response. She blinked at the dead animal, "But it's a rat."

"Yes, I know it's a rat,"

"Do I like...squeak to communicate with it?"

"Are you playing with me now, poppet?" Edith snapped. "You understand perfectly what I'm saying, so do as I say,"

Ara sputtered, "But I don't know how, you never taught me!"

"I taught all you need to know, this is a cultivation of everything you have learned. Now, do it!"

Begrudgingly, Ara sighed and focused her gaze on the rat. She looked into its dead, set eyes, even though she personally had never tried to forge contact with an animal before. She couldn't understand how Edith would even think this work. 

Ten excrutiatingly long seconds later, she broke focus. "See?" she glared at Edith. "Nothing's happening,"

Edith merely rolled her eyes, a look she gave whenever Ara was annoying her (which Ara personally found mildly amusing at her response to it). "You're not trying hard enough. Again!" Edith snapped.

"How the hell am I supposed to-"

Edith's hand slammed onto the table, the dead rat rolled to its side and Ara flinched. Edith's yellowing eyes bore straight at her, like a demon cornering her. "You are resisting, it is not that you don't understand. I know your patterns and your moods, poppet," she cackled. "I've spent my whole life training your bloodline of our coven, all Corpsewitches have a tendencies to...act entitled. That is fine, long as you do as I say now,"

Ara crossed her arms, "So what? Do I just command it to come back from the dead? Just like that?" she asked incredulously. 

"Quit stalling, poppet..."

Ara wanted to yell at her—that she didn't understand how this thing worked but that clearly wouldn't be of much help, and so she tried again. She repeated the sequence, staring into the dead animal's eyes but this time she put a bit more effort into it. And when she closed her eyes this time, something brief did pass her mind. 

In the deep trenches of the darkness in her head, there was something faint swirling. Edith was partly right by theory, it was barely there, which was why she missed it during the first time. An invisible string only she knew where it was located, and she held onto it. It was only a mouse, inaudible, unintelligible and yet its life force was as dominant as any human being. 

Though Ara despised Edith and her lessons, what she did learn from it was useful in a way. She understood how this whole thing worked better, how all life was more visible to her, it was easier for her to grab hold on. But a problem with life was that, once it was free to go, doing the opposite of holding it back was tricky.

It was just a mouse, it still was tricky all the same.

Subsconsciously, she was struggling to wring that invisible string back to the living world, like a tug-of-war. It was like trying to swim against a flowing current, and any moment she could let it to slip away. Her eyes closed tighter, bringing more focus so she could utter the words.

I command you to live.

With a gasp, she opened her eyes and her head was slightly spinning. It was as if she had been holding her own breath the entire time of the ordeal, only now getting the chance to catch her breath. And the rat-

Edith clapped loudly, "Marvelous! Splendid job, poppet! I knew you could do it,"

In a horrified daze Ara stared as the once-dead rat began to twitch like a malfunctioning robot, one two three, then flipped on its feet like it had just woke from a nap and it scurried off the table and under Edith's rug. 

She had just ressurected something from the dead.

This was her truest form of power, and no matter how she wanted to push that thought of it being disturbing out of the way, she couldn't.

"Now let's see if you can do it seamlessly on humans as well."