There was one thing the 70th Seeress of Exo feared more than anything: death. 

The 56th: arachnophobia. Killed by the bite of the thing she trembled at the sight of. Ironically. Slightly Moronically. A trip to Dunai during the planet’s longest sandstorm? Not the best time to challenge ones fears. 

The 32nd: selenophobia. She always thought the Moon would swallow her whole, and subsequently force her to live in its stomach for the rest of her days, if she looked at it too long. Nonsensically. Unfathomably. Believing the Sun’s rays would bestow upon her a shield against the Moon’s tyranny, she baked herself alive on the roof of the People’s Court one hot, summer day. 

Death? 

It was a reasonable, understandable fear to have. She was young. Single. Nothing to her name but a title left unfulfilled. Everything left unfinished.

Cera liked her. The Tree of Life liked her. Neurotic and physical disorders aplenty, when the dice is rolled you rarely get a sane Seeress of Exo. The 70th was one of the good ones. One of the lucky ones.

But an example had to be made. 

The Council put in the spotlight for its own crimes. EXO Planet’s current state their stage. Disillusioned Exotians — with hearts that ache when young girls die — their audience. Who would be standing in the middle of the power vacuum when the murderous scoundrels were tossed aside? The Boards? Both their ranks and morale lay decimated in the aftermath of the explosion that acted as a diversion to it all. Who, or what, else but the almighty Tree of Life?

Zhoumi, native to the village of Alberos, was a learned man. Tanned complexion covered with tattered cloth, hood pulled over eyes like two seas of emerald, he made his way through the creaking doorway of the abandoned tower. Fire damage went without repair. Demolition crews gave up clearing out the scorched debris almost two years ago. As expected, the elevator in the Lobby was out of order. Slowly but surely, he scaled the stairway. 

The higher he went, the more thick, green roots claimed every purchase of concrete the building still had left. He ran a hand along their sticky, moss covered surface, exerting more pressure for each floor he climbed. Tired didn’t begin to scratch the surface of what he was by the time he reached the very top: the ballroom. Despite the ceiling giving way long ago, there was still something oddly beautiful about its melted ornaments and charred decals. It all even seemed to sparkle beneath the high-rising moon.

A trick of reflective glass. 

Still a marvel to behold. 

Zhoumi took more than a moment to observe the stars beneath his feet. He had trekked for weeks to reach Jingxi without rest. Right then and there, even Alberos’s eternal spring paled in comparison to the magnificence of what used to exist in the now broken city of Jingxi. Sirens brought him out of his reverie, reminding him of the urgency with which he traveled with. 

His shoes crushed stars as he walked towards the rooftop garden. Little things like these are destroyed easily. Big things? Big things are much harder to kill.

She appeared through the growth when he reached the scene of the crime. That marble fountain had persisted against all odds. Made bare by the nature that restored her, golden tresses fell over her body in loose waves seeming to ebb and flow like the sea towards the moon it adores. Despite tragedy, she survived.

Ela Nektor.

Apathy was contagious. 

Luhan still couldn’t pick up even a hint of another Guardian being born to take his place — their place. It didn’t help that he was limited by technology in ways he hadn’t been before. No matter how many codes he put into place, Sehun regrettably informed him of the phone call that came from the Council just this morning. 

“This is your third warning. Stop snooping.”

Sehun himself thought the word “snooping” was an odd to use. As though if Luhan snooped long enough, he’d find something. And oh how he wanted to find something. Anything interesting to fill in the return of their mundane, directionless days. 

Still, he took the message to heart and laid down another set of firewalls. The only way to stop him was to kill him. Considering the overwhelming pressure of millions upon millions of Exotians now turning to the Council for answers after the Seeress’s death, murdering a Guardian was most surely on the list of things not to do when you rule over the entirety of EXO planet. 

Right after taking bread out of everyone’s rations. Because starving people are angry people. Angry people don’t care about answers. Answers: another odd word to use. 

“Everyone wants answers, but no one’s willing to look for them.” Luhan commented once to Chen in passing.

“Like we’re any different.” Chen replied, mood still soured by the grief he was never given time to feel. He took it all harder than the others. Luhan would begin to argue it was due to his closeness to her, but would then remember they were all close to her in one way or another.

“She kissed me.” Chen revealed the other level of closeness he had with her one day during breakfast. Over eggs and pancakes was not the best place to drop such a bomb. Unsurprisingly, not the brightest conversation followed. A few punches were thrown his way, many of which Chen reciprocated. Explanations, answers, came after the fact. 

No one talked about it again.

“Is it selfish to say I’m glad she’s gone?” Kai asked a handful of months later. Egg yolks slipped from lowered forks and slices of toast fell from gaping mouths. Momentary irritation washed over  the eleven there to witness his almost pungently disgusting, self-serving revelation. Replaced soon after by a few nods of agreement from certain persons and grumbles of discontent from others, breakfast went on as usual. 

“I never realized how tired I was until she died.”

“Maybe it’s for the best that she didn’t live to see what the world looks like now.”

“I was thinking of clearing out her room later today. You know, to make room for the new Seeress.”

“You’re all a bunch of ing idiots.” 

What was it about breakfast that gave them the courage to say such things?

No one seemed to care anymore.

Apathy was contagious.

Stale rubber skimmed against his temple, sending his knees buckling in his attempt to avoid a follow-up strike by his sparring partner for the day: Xiumin. The boy was fury sealed to bursting in a small body. I’m not small, I’m watch-your-back-if-you-insult-my-height-one-more-time sized — Xiumin would say, features contorting half in disdain, half hurt. Though he’d never admit it, there was only so much belittling he could take before he cracked. 

Chanyeol was walking on thin ice with him already after their argument this morning. Something about the appropriate amount of cheddar slices a grilled cheese should have. Escalated into a childish bet on who would beat the other at arm wrestling. Both their manhoods and “manly pride” on the line over an otherwise harmless breakfast item, they took their disagreement to the training room.

Oddly enough, Xiumin was anything but disadvantaged by the loss of his Moon-given abilities. The absence of what once slowed his offensive advances and defensive guard allowed him to put his short stature to good use. In other words, he was fast. 

So fast that Chanyeol — who would, before, make up for his lack of speed with sheer, instant firepower — could barely keep up. But, a firm believer of the two-slice rule, he fought on for the sake of grilled cheese sandwiches everywhere.

Xiumin, a one-slice, simple kind of guy, blocked the following leg swipe on Chanyeol’s part. He stumbled back, grumbling beneath his breath as he beat his boxing gloves together. Underhanded tactics: what else could he expect from a two-slice advocator?  

Undeterred, he moved in again. Chanyeol threw a jab right between his eyes. He caught Xiumin’s ear with the shocking blow instead. The ex-Ice Guardian’s rattled senses — overcome by a continuous, high-pitched ringing — settled only after he managed to hook his ankle behind Chanyeol’s lanky own. His relief spread across his face, pearly whites all Chanyeol could see as Xiumin took him down. 

Faced with a heavy weight on his chest, suffocating him to the point where he could barely squeak out surrender beneath an onslaught of punches, Chanyeol’s eyes began to tear. He was a single second away from throwing out both manly hood and pride for the sake of calling out to a mother he never knew. The revelation of one-slice superiority was simply too much for him to bear.  

Before he gave up in the face of the higher power that was Xiumin’s fist, a low growl hummed at the pit of his stomach. Chanyeol became hyper aware of the cold sweat that poured from Xiumin’s face onto his. Trailing down his collarbone with an itching slowness that made him wince. Searing into heated skin like cheese to a frying pan. The saliva in his mouth seemed to turn to ash; a dry and chalky sensation that had him convulsing. 

He almost threw up.

Within seconds, Chanyeol erupted into flames.

A/N: I'm sure you have a lot of questions. If you would, ponder on them in the comment section below. (Don't just ask them, show you put some thought into them for the sake of exercising your brain. Think of the children. Making no sense is one of my favorite pasttimes.) Also, the 70th Seeress of Exo is the one who is murdered via drowning (in case you forgot the events of the last two chapters).