Lu Han woke up on the morning of his tenth birthday to a knock at the front door. He understood.

He got up, dressed and hugged his bewildered mother goodbye before leaving with the monks in coarse black cloaks. They were tall and somber but they did not frighten him the way they did his mother. He had seen them coming the night before after all. The night before, as Lu Han transitioned from nine to ten years old, he was shown his destiny,  the edges blurred by sleep, but apparent regardless.

“I will study at the Temple and become a Guardian.” He left his mother those parting words.

She was too shocked to cry, face paralyzed. He could feel her large eyes following him long after he had walked out. He was vaguely aware that families were generously compensated for bearing Guardian children. Maybe his mother could finally leave this land, marry and start over again, no longer the town’s harlot.

His heart clenched for one painful beat. This would be the last goodbye. He did not look back.

The Elder Council sitting spread out on the stone semi circle in front of Lu Han was pleased as one monk from the party recounted the happenings. As a future Guardian Lu Han was expected to be void of emotional attachment, even the small cord that once connected him to his mother’s flesh. As it was cut the day he was born, Lu Han was now separated from all mortal ties.

“To set down the loads, is to truly be free.” The Elder in the middle spoke, voice low and raspy, the jagged syllables bouncing off the closed walls and dragging themselves down Lu Han’s spine.

He made one tight fist to stave a bout of shudder. He bowed his head further from his kneeling position, feeling like a candle fire extinguished by the maelstrom of fate.

The lessons came easy; he had learned them all before. No matter how foreign the concepts, Lu Han absorbed them in no time. The monks revered him while the high priests knew better: Lu Han was truly on a pedestal, a child fortunate enough to have received knowledge and wisdom from generations past and foresight from years yet to come. The day he successfully elevated and smashed a boulder with mere hand gestures, barely a year in, the other prentices gasped and the masters whispered. He was born to rule, they said.

Rather than making friends, the young prentices often formed companionships. Friends were too much of a luxury and would prove to be liabilities as prentices became Guardians. Lu Han forged no connection with his classmates. It wasn’t something he could not afford, but something he knew he would not be able to set down. The visions came to him often, always a grey solitary scenario. What Lu Han had to do, he was meant to do alone. The power simply could not be divided, the responsibility not shared, for the Gods were selfish. Within each generation, one man and one man only watched over all and shouldered the fate of the worlds.  

The elemental prentices were clumsy during their first field lessons, struggling to exert and control their abilities. Oftentimes they got themselves in a mess of mud and leaves and giggled at each other behind the masters’ backs. Lu Han wondered how long their playful naïveté would last.

The messengers in training were impatient, disappearing in black smoke and materializing only one or two paces away, disoriented. Lu Han slowed in his walk to his lesson, looking out from the corridor at one boy who had reappeared completely , clothes caught in the in-between. The girls shrieked and turned away shielding their eyes while the boys howled in laughter at the dazed prentice unaware of his accidental indecency. He stopped all together and peered as another boy disappeared into thin air and came out moments later next to the boy and dropped a set of black clothing into his hands. He smirked at the master standing a few feet away.

“Well done, Jongin.” The monk said with the barest hint of surprise.

Jongin shook dark bangs out of his eyes and helped the fellow prentice up and back into his training clothes. He turned around and for a moment locked eyes with Lu Han. Lu Han bowed slightly in courtesy, Jongin just smiled and quickly turned back to his lesson. He was young, young in the way he was showing off to his classmates and in the easy manner of his smile. Maybe one or two years younger than Lu Han. And already showing talent in manipulating the in-between.

Filing Jongin’s smile away, Lu Han resumed his pace, walking toward the high tower where he alone trained alongside the Elder to master the Eyes.

Prentices of past generation, even the Elder himself, were usually not allowed into the high tower until the Eve of their eighteenth birthday, when they were deemed ready to accept the title of Guardian of the Eyes, the Elder reminded Lu Han outside of the high wooden doors. He was not wearing the usual priest black cloak, rather, he was draped in white silk, the cape held together at his left shoulder by a metal pin, its shape indicative of his position and power – the pin that one day would be Lu Han’s.

The Elder spoke slowly in his aged, low voice, naming all the Eyes of the past and emphasizing how honorable and venerable Lu Han’s future task was, that one such as him was favored by the Gods only every hundred years. At such, in form of thanks, he was to devote the rest of his life guarding the universes the Gods had created.

“I humbly accept.” Lu Han placed his right hand over his heart, eyes fixed on the Elder’s pin. My place as the Gods’ watch dog.

And thus at fifteen, Lu Han set one foot into his future, witnessing for the first time the sacred room that would be his kingdom. The grey stone wall ran around in a circle, meeting at the smooth, imposing double door. The roof stretched far and came together at a point right above the center of the room, where the Elder was now standing, beckoning for Lu Han. He was surrounded by twelve columns of light, pouring from the square glass windows high on the conical roof top. The wall was bare save for carvings of twelve symbols. One was of the Eyes, eleven others of the elements. Of them all the Eyes’ symbol was the largest. It was positioned across from the door, so that it was the first thing Lu Han saw stepping over the threshold.

“What do you See?” The Elder asked.

The room was empty, Lu Han shook his head.

“Lu Han, look closer.” The master tipped his head upward.

Following his gaze, Lu Han squinted at the ceiling and gulped. At once, the previously empty space was occupied by numerous floating crystal spheres. They oscillated up and down gently, flashes of people and places swirled inside. Lu Han could see the Temples, far below and contorted as if seen by eyes of the birds. He saw faces of prentices, Jongin one of them, observed carefully through the masters. There were foreign worlds: deserts with sandstorms, calm, lonely beaches, cities with strangely constructed buildings, places clearly not of his world.

The Elder tapped his cane on the floor and one ball floated down before them. Inside, a ball of ice and dust slid along the brightly dotted violet space.

“You are familiar with heavenly bodies.” The Elder spoke again.

“Yes, Elder. This is a comet,” Lu Han extended one hand toward the crystal ball. Within an inch, he felt coldness and gradually a layer of frost spread up his arm. Suddenly, he was assaulted with images of a ball of fire descending from the sky and destroying the southern Iceland. He gasped, “We have to stop it!”

The Elder looked at him, “Correct. You will stop it.”

For a moment, Lu Han was paralyzed. The crystal ball in front of him stilled in midair, as if awaiting an order. Then, quickly and without warning as the vision had come, power surged in Lu Han’s hands. He lifted both arms, body moving too fast for his mind to fully comprehend, and placed his palms on either side of the sphere. It shook violently, trying to escape his invisible hold. Inside, the comet slowed. Eyes widened in concentration, Lu Han pressed in and the sphere went completely white, the light inside so intense it illuminated the entire room.

When Lu Han opened his eyes again, the ball was breaking into thousands of pieces and the dust vanished as it fell to the floor. He breathed deeply, trying to calm his shaking body.

“Excellent work.”  There was no affection in the Elder’s voice, just cold factual acknowledgement.  “As expected.”

He tapped his cane once more and another ball flew down, showing images of gruff-looking men in dirty, patched clothing with swords and arrows in hands, laying in wait behind bushes. In about an hour a carriage would pass by and the party would be massacred, their cargo looted.

“A group of bandits has assembled in the Northern woods, disturbing trades and endangering many citizens,” the master recounted matter-of-factly.

Lu Han eyed the men – their faces obscured in the dark – and felt an inexplicable fury. He had never been to the North, never met these men, never interacted with the Northern inhabitants, and their fates were in his hands.

“Unscrupulous threats must be eliminated,” he said, his tone matching the Elder’s. “Send the nearest Guardians. The thieves are to be erased completely.” He made a fist and the ball turned into five butterflies. They scattered and disappeared out of the high door.

Lu Han looked after them, face schooled into that of a statue. The Gods were selfish, and they have robbed him of his life, but they also granted him power in truth greater than his visions ever showed. Now more than ever, he understood the Elder’s words.

The wooden door closed after the last butterfly with a drawn out groan.

Lu Han met Oh Sehun on his sixteenth birthday during circumstances quite similar to his encounter with Kim Jongin.

He walked alone down the corridor leading to the high tower, taking deliberately slow and small steps as he watched the prentices practice using their powers. The present class had many unfamiliar faces, wide-eyed children listening intently as the master explained the steps to manipulating air currents. The monk raised one hand, flicking his wrist and to the students’ amazement, the pile of leaves lifted off the ground and spiraled in the air. One overexcited girl attempted the trick with both arms and managed to summon strong gusts of winds that flew away leaves, branches and small insects nearby. Her classmates squeaked and shouted and the master called twice for order then put them in rows to practice basic hand movements. As the children arranged themselves in formation, a boy stayed in the back.

He looked around and tried to dig into a bush, cheeks turning light pink in determination. Finding his effort futile, he backed away and breathed in, gingerly raising one hand and flicking his wrist the way the master did before. From within the bush small leaves rose  in a gentle swirl and in the middle a butterfly flapping its wings excitedly. The boy smiled as the butterfly circled once around him and flew away.

“Oh Sehun.” The master called and the boy, Sehun, ducked his head and quickly brushed the dirt off his clothes. He ran to his place, wobbling a bit as he slipped on fallen leaves.

Lu Han froze in his steps. The butterfly Sehun had rescued landed on his shoulder; the first act of kindness Lu Han had witnessed in six years, extended towards a creature of little significance. More than anything, Sehun’s expression of joy, pure and utterly sincere, filled Lu Han’s mind. At once he was jealous, bitter, and somehow oddly at peace.

One monk, a master from Lu Han’s early years at the Temples, had said Guardians let go of selfish, centered love so they could practice loving the world as a whole, such was the foundation of their powers. One could not hope to protect without the ability to feel. Lu Han had found his teaching contradictory, regardless, a small part of him held on to those words. The very same part that was now holding onto the name Oh Sehun.

Sehun approached him one day in winter.

Lu Han pulled on his wool cape, hastening to the high tower when, from behind, a voice timidly called out his name. It was strange, his name being called by someone other than the Elder, by a clear, much softer voice, and it had him standing on guard until Sehun jogged up in front of him, cheeks pink from the winter breeze.

Sehun stood panting for a moment while Lu Han’s entire body tensed in an attempt to slow his wildly beating heart.

“Hello.” Sehun offered lamely.

Lu Han nodded in response.

“Ah. Yes. My name is Sehun.” The boy his lips and stuttered on, “I...I’ve just joined the Temple. Actually it’s been about 8 months. And. Ah. The monks, the masters talked a lot about you. Um. Lu Han. I hope it’s OK to call you Lu Han.” He stopped and looked expectantly at Lu Han.

It took a while but Lu Han eventually registered, “It is fine.”

“Ah. Ok. Great.” Sehun smiled, still flustered in his speech but his expression has softened, “Ah. Lu Han. They say you are the strongest Guardian of this generation. And I’ve been studying, but I’m not as good as my classmates. So Lu Han. If it’s convenient of course. Can you. Would you help me with my studies?” Sehun blurted the last part and for a moment was extremely embarrassed as his ears pinked and his nostrils flared.

Lu Han looked at the junior in stunted silence. No other prentice had dared come up to him before, let alone asking for his assistance. He was at a loss for action. He was half way to the high tower; at the rate Lu Han would most likely be late. At the back of his mind, he remembered the Elder’s first words, to truly be free.

Sehun his lips again and fidgeted with the ends of his grey scarf.

Lu Han cleared his throat, “I meditate by myself after lessons on the first, third and fifth days of the week. You may come find me at the big tree behind the high tower.”

“Oh you mean the Tree of Life?”

Lu Han quirked an eyebrow and Sehun laughed, “Ah never mind, it’s a joke between my classmates. Thank you. I will see you tomorrow.”

Sehun bowed deeply and ran the other way, blowing hot air into his hands.

Lu Han turned away, feeling nostalgic warmth spread in his stomach.

Sehun was imprudent. He spoke his mind and spoke to Lu Han at lengths about absolutely everything. He made up nicknames for his masters and classmates, complaining about their rigidity and stubbornness. As a senior prentice, it was Lu Han’s job to reprimand and mold Sehun into a dignified model, something akin to his own image, but he didn’t. Lu Han did not – could not – show it, but he took great interest in Sehun’s stories. After stressful training sessions with the Elder, Sehun helped him unwind, in ways that were utterly defiant and thrilling.

They studied little during their times together. Sehun often pulled Lu Han under the shades of the Tree of Life, as Sehun called it, and they would be cloud gazing. Lu Han learned that Sehun came from a long line of Guardians, and before he joined the Temple, Sehun was raised on the principles of the noble and compassionate Guardian.

“I want to be like my Grandfather. He passed away during the last great earthquake. Father said he went down while protecting our city.”

“You are from a clan of Guardians, the only one in this entire continent. How did that happen? We are not meant to love, let alone build families of our own. Don’t you think, that’s too selfish?” Lu Han spoke toward the sky, purposefully not looking at Sehun.

Sehun turned to him, voice fervent, “That’s wrong. You don’t really think so do you? We hold all these special powers, meant to help others-”

“What we’re protecting,” Lu Han raised his voice, still looking at the same patch of cloud, “is more than mere humans. We look over the land, the universe.” He turned to Sehun. “And sometimes, small sacrifices are necessary to maintain the natural balance. That’s why we distance ourselves. That’s why we’re extraordinary.”

It must have been the afternoon heat, for his words tumbled out in the raspy deep voice of the Elder. Lu Han suddenly felt dizzy, a lump lodged itself tightly in his throat.

        Sehun looked at him for a long time before whispering, “I am. I’m not. I’m not just a small sacrifice to you, am I?”

Lu Han said nothing.

They still met three times a week, but Sehun no longer spoke about his family or his philosophy. He asked Lu Han about proper techniques to gather their power, about a Guardian’s expected state of mind, about etiquette in front of the Elder Council. Sometimes, he asked about Lu Han’s mother, about the things Lu Han remembered about her, which was not a lot. Lu Han realized he no longer remembered her face.

“She had long hair. Very long,” he stated.

Sehun looked at him with something akin to pity, and that, more than the fact that Lu Han could not remember his own mother, was upsetting. It unsettled him, that he had forgotten the concept of self-pity and had to rely on Sehun’s sympathy.

Before they parted that day, Sehun reached for Lu Han’s hand. The heat from where they touched was foreign and Lu Han did not know what to do.

Sehun squeezed his fingers. “You are kind.”

“Why?”

“You listen. You don’t laugh at me.” Sehun blushed. “You are a good friend.” He let go and jogged toward his quarter.

Lu Han brought his hand over his heart, the lump in his throat returning.

Lu Han was six months away from turning eighteen when Jongin was brought into the high tower. He glanced at the Elder as Jongin knelt in front of them.

“This is Kai. From now on, he will train with you in order to become your personal messenger.” The Elder gestured toward Jongin. “He possesses an extreme affinity to the in-between, much more than any other before him. He will be useful to you in the future.”

Jongin, now Kai, stood up and bowed to Lu Han. He had grown much since the last time they locked eyes, but the mischievous manner of his smile had not changed.

Lu Han nodded, “Kai. The gate. How apt.”

Kai lifted one corner of his mouth, “My pleasures.”

So they trained together, Lu Han showing and sometimes sending Kai to corners of the world where his black butterflies could not penetrate. During extreme times, Lu Han sent Kai to dispose of potential threats where no one would find them ever again. Kai questioned nothing and never uttered a protesting word, not even when he returned bloody from missions.

Lu Han grew comfortable with their dynamic, but the presence of another body in the high tower, usually forbidden to all but the Eyes, made Lu Han wonder if he could convince the Elder Council to promote one Oh Sehun into his personal Guard.

He entertained the thought until the visions woke him up in cold sweat one night. Rubbing both hands over his eyes, Lu Han got out of bed and made his way to the other prentice quarter. He stopped outside of Sehun’s room and turned his candle to the four priests who’d just arrived. If they were surprised to see him, they did not show it.

One spoke, “Lu Han, move aside.”

Gathering all his strength, Lu Han talked back, “Bring me to the Elder Council. Their business is with me.”

The priests glanced quickly at one another, then parted on both sides and once Lu Han was in the middle of all four, escorted him to the Council, where the Elder sat in the middle surrounded by the High Priests. None was surprised to see him.

“Lu Han, do you recall what I had said to you the first time?” The Elder spoke down from his stone table, voice amplified by the closed walls.

“To set down the load, is to truly be free.” Lu Han echoed.

“You are a fortunate child, granted great power by the Gods, along with wisdom and insight. You have not practiced your gifts well.”

Lu Han swallowed. “My allegiance is to the Gods.”

“Child, lying in the face of the great powers warrants serious consequences. Your heart is in doubt. Why were you at Oh Sehun’s quarter?”

“He came to me seeking knowledge. Is it wrong to have extended help?” Lu Han balled both his fists.

The High Priest on the right stood up abruptly from his seat and thundered, “Oh Sehun came from a problematic school of thought, that which contradicts greatly with our own traditions. Had it not been for a binding promise the Gods made to his ancestors, his clan would have been banished by now. It is unsightly and highly inappropriate for you, the future Eyes, to be associating with him. Worse, he had planted dark seeds in your mind, ideas that would have you turn against the Gods. He must be disciplined.”

Lu Han fell to his knees. “Then the fault lies in me, for having listened to his words. Punish me instead, so I can repent to the Gods.” His heart beat erratically as the High Priests turned to one another and started talking at once. The hysteric buzzing only ceased when the Elder slammed his cane on the stone floor.

The vibration carried to Lu Han and he trembled, glancing up at the Elder.

“So be it.” His master decreed.

The Elder made his way to Lu Han. When he looked up at his master, the Elder swung a heavy hand across his left cheek and Lu Han fell to the side, the echoes of the slap rang in his ears.

“You will spend the last four months before your coronation in the high tower. The Gods will judge your repentance and decide. Leave now.”

The four priests escorted him back to his room, where Lu Han climbed in bed disoriented but somehow relieved that Sehun did not have to suffer the horrible things in his visions. That was the last time Lu Han allowed himself to think about Oh Sehun.

Four months passed in the blink of an eye. On the Eve of Lu Han’s eighteenth birthday, Kai materialized inside the high tower and congratulated him on his coming coronation. Lu Han simply nodded.

“Are you nervous?” Kai inquired.

“Are you still nervous now when you pass through the in-between?” Lu Han pulled on his ceremonial garbs.

“That would be silly. I’ve done it hundreds of times.”

“Me too.” Fastened on the last of the many belts around his waist, Lu Han turned to Kai, eyes cold.

Kai bowed, “Indeed. See you at the Temple then.” He snapped his fingers and disappeared.

Lu Han sighed and reached out for a crystal ball. Inside, prentices and Guardians gathered in the main hall to welcome the new Eyes. Sehun was not among them. Sweeping the crowd one more time, Lu Han tossed the ball back to the ceiling and made his way to where he was expected.

At the foot of the high tower, he circled around to the back wood instead of taking the corridor. There was no stopping the inevitable, but he wanted to delay it as much as he could. As Lu Han passed by the Tree of Life, he glimpsed familiar brown hair and stopped in his track. Sehun was standing on an exposed root, running his hand down the tree’s massive trunk. At the crunching of dead leaves, he turned around and they locked eyes. Lu Han took a sharp breath.

He allowed Sehun to run to him, listened to his stuttered congratulations, and willed his body to relax when Sehun pulled him close and their lips met. The prentice pulled away just as quickly and Lu Han wanted to hold him back but his body was numb, as if the Gods had strained all of his energy.

A horn sounded from over the tree tops, Lu Han grabbed Sehun’s shoulder in one  trembling hand. “There is a boy named Kai, your age, a messenger in training. Befriend him, for he will know where I am.”

Sehun looked distracted as another horn whistled, but he nodded vigorously.

Lu Han whispered, “Take care, Sehun.”

He walked away with brisk, frantic steps.

In the main hall, the Elder clipped the symbol of the Eyes over his left chest to the cheer of the crowd. Lu Han bowed to the past, current and future generation of Guardians whose lives, along with many others, were now his responsibilities. He felt nothing.

His world was grey, much like the visions he had first seen at ten years old, except Lu Han could touch it now, could push against the wall, trace the carvings on the stone, and feel the heat of the sun pouring from the windows on the roof.

Kai popped in and out, carrying Lu Han’s orders across the different dimensions. There were many worlds parallel to the one they lived in, with completely different people and cultures, all subject to Lu Han’s watchful eyes.

The Elder Council never conferred with Lu Han as they should have, but when Sehun was of age, the High Priests sent him to guard the desert land furthest from the Temples. Sehun was eager to dispatch, but Lu Han knew too well. It was a poorly masked exile.

The desert where Sehun sat and waited on orders was dowsed in perpetual twilight, the stars and the building over the horizons the only things keeping him company. Sehun was cut off from any human contact otherwise. The fact stirred a deep, silent rage in the pit of Lu Han’s stomach. For one such as Sehun, who thrived on interactions with others, being stranded at a desert and only called on to destroy was the ultimate punishment. Lu Han was Sehun’s only crime.

Lu Han watched as the smile gradually shed off Sehun’s face, until all that was left was an unfulfilled longing that Lu Han, strongest Guardian and powerful as he was, could do nothing about. He closed his eyes and flicked his wrist, moving the crystal ball in which Sehun sat alone behind his back.

If Lu Han looked any longer, he would not hold back.

It would be easy, entirely too easy, to crush the space separating them and bring Sehun in front of him again.

Instead, Lu Han persevered, not because it was expected of him, but because Sehun persevered.

“Are you sure you can’t just send butterflies to relay the order this time?” Kai drawled as he leaned on Lu Han, poking his face.

“Careful, Kai.” Lu Han glared, and any other Guardian would have cowered under the cold intensity of his eyes. Not Kai.

The Messenger skipped away with a pout. He stood in front of Lu Han. “Anything else, boss? Some red roses? Maybe a love letter?”

Lu Han sent a crystal ball flying at Kai’s head. The latter turned to wisps of black smoke and reappeared right after the ball flew past what would have been his head, smirk plastered on feline face.

“Right. I’m off.” Kai vanished. Moments later he materialized inside the clear ball in front of Lu Han, Sehun a couple of paces away. The latter looked up with the barest jerk of his head.

“Destroy fifteen degrees south, but don’t kill.” Kai said.

Sehun listened without moving. Kai lingered. They both lapsed into a long moment of silence during which, worlds away, Lu Han’s heart threatened to claw its way out of his chest.

“Kai,” Sehun began eventually, “if you see him, tell him I’m doing well.”

The sphere blackened as Lu Han let out a small sob. He gathered the crystal ball in his chest and hugged it tightly, body shaking. He cried until Kai returned and put a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, he said he’s doing well.”

“I know, Jongin. I know.”

Lu Han wiped his tears with his forearm, then willed the black sphere clear once more. Inside, Sehun sat alone facing the dusky horizon but no longer seemed lonely. Lu Han smiled and let go, the crystal ball floated up, joining the rest, each depicting a different scene with different people, all relying on Lu Han without knowing.

“What now, boss?” Kai draped an arm around Lu Han, looking up at the floating miniature universes.

“Well, we can’t let Oh Sehun get ahead of us, can we. You will travel to EXO planet to relay our invitation to an alliance one more time. Depends on their answer, you will either alert our Guardians or signal them to stand down. Then-”

“One thing at a time, Master Elder, sir.” Kai pursed his lips and disappeared.

Alone, Lu Han brought the crystal balls down around him. He smiled again.

Me too, Sehun. I’m also doing well.