This trial didn't bode well.

“Nay.” “Nay.” “Nay.” “Nay.”

Baekhyun. Sehun. Lay. Tao. Four Guardians out of twelve voted against the majority advocating for my abdication from this lonely throne. Three abstained: Chen; Chanyeol; Kai. 

“Yea.” “Yea.” “Yea.” “Yea.” “Yea.”

Kris. Xiumin. D.O. Luhan. Suho. Quite notably those of trustworthy opinion in the past. Judgement passed a second time. Baekhyun and Sehun flipped under the insistence of Suho’s stare — brothers to the very bone. 

“Yea.”

Kai raised his hand high on the third verdict. With his following ruling, Suho set the decision in stone, “Henceforth, the 70th Seeress of Exo is expelled from the Hall of the Guardians for acting in the name of self-interest and indulgence.”

“Is it too late to call for a mistrial?” I joked, smile tight on my face.

“Any and all prophecies proclaimed by the 70th Seeress of Exo will be assumed biased and capricious pending substantial fact-checking.”

Guffawing, I poked holes in his argument, “How exactly will you go about testing the validity of an event that’s yet to happen?”

"The Guardians of the Sun will aptly respond to the immediate needs of Exo Planet during the absence of the Guardians of the Moon. All Guardians will conduct themselves freely and unabashedly outside of this primary need."

Which meant he knew. Suho knew well enough what midnight dealings I made to accomplish my goal. Kai held his head high. I did the same. Freely and unabashedly.

“Are we done here?”

Three hundred fifty days, twelve hours, and seven minutes left. 

Operation: Stalk the Seeress.

Kris insisted. Chen went along begrudgingly. They were only supposed to watch. The last time Kris ignored his instinctual tendency to worry unnecessarily, she died. Chen promised not to sue.

First came a walk to the subway station in Sector A. While plucking dandelions, an inquisitive child approached. “Why is your hair yellow?” The boy wondered out loud. It’s a gift from a dear friend, she said with a smile. Holding the bundle of weeds to his mouth, she told him to make a wish. Spores went flying high as though she commanded the wind itself, carried in a sudden breeze. “Will my hair be yellow now?” Who knows? But wasn’t that awfully fun, she laughed. 

Second came a visit to Kalil and Derek: the couple Kai saved from a collapsing tunnel years earlier. The pair recently had a baby girl. She spent the afternoon in their home. When she left, she had a skip in her step. If being forcefully evicted from her position of influence over the Guardians affected her, she didn’t show it. 

Third came a quick stop at the Two Moon Bar. Chen refused to follow; the smell of smoke permeated the night air. Kris didn’t ask why. Zhoumi walked out with her moments later, having waited for her there. After a series of turns, Chen noticed her heading for her old apartment complex. No one lived there anymore. The door opened to greet her just the same. 

“Let’s go back.” Chen urged, left unsatisfied by her nonchalance. Kris shook his head.

“Wait.”

“The Gardener is with her.”

“Wait.”

“She doesn’t need us anymore.” 

There it was — the reason Chen joined Kris in his fruitless venture. Not once did she falter in her stride. Turn. Anticipate eye contact that never happened. Two years. Two years of waiting only to be cast aside.

“Look.”

Chen turned. Looked. Saw her standing on that decrepit stoop. Dandelions gathered in a bouquet, she pursed pink lips. Made a wish. Blew. Florets scattered. Chen choked on the breath he forgot to take.

“We should respect Suho’s request.” Kris commented, words seeming to soar away like those small seedlings. 

Chen applied thumb to temple, electrotherapy to bring him back from the afterlife, “Talking to yourself is a bad habit.”

“She’s not wearing jeans.” Kris ached after her retreating form, pastel-colored dress aflutter across her bare legs. Mere seconds before she was gone for the second time. Neither Guardian moved from their spot. The door clicked closed without incident.

Operation success.

“Let’s go back.” 

Chen repeated. Kris’s habit was contagious. 

Twirling. Twirling. Twirling. The stem between my fingers spun round and round. My wish had been made. Who knows if it would be granted? It’s awfully fun dreaming just the same.

A clatter came from the kitchen; modern cooking utensils took some getting used to for Zhoumi. I challenged him to grill chicken . The vegan declined, deciding on salad for not only our appetizer but both our main course and dessert.

“Why are you here, Zhoumi?” I asked. Outside of cooking me dinner, of course. Despite Suho’s claims, I believed everyone should be granted freedom from my company.

He didn’t answer. Typical Zhoumi. Responding only when it suited him. He hadn’t changed one bit. Good for him. We all need the confidence to be ourselves. Yellow hair or not, I’m still me. “It’s still me.” I talk to myself; a habit I can’t break.

Knock. I hear over Zhoumi’s frantic lettuce chopping. Knock. I sit up from my bed to see his emerald twisters glancing back at me. Knock.

When he opens it, I try to see past him. Unfamiliar mumbling and familiar thoughts team up to arm an assault against my senses. I know who’s there. Zhoumi steps aside, leaving us alone together. Life’s joke has gone too far.

Luhan stood, still at the entryway. Car horns blared through the windows. Neon lights flashed across his frame. Masked. Muffled voice managing to rise above this wretched state of being with a single utterance.

I didn't let him start.

“No.”

It’s frightening: discovering how you really feel. What wanting to reach for this reality really meant. Acceptance is a hard thing to earn. Luhan desired to grant me all of it.

“Kai alone cannot provide the catalyst you require for your visions, your highness.”

Bile tickled at the lining of my stomach. A pleasantly disgusting sensation reminding me of what I’ve done to get here. I expected Kai to come waltzing in. Arms open. Ready and willing to accept me — for his own reasons. Cold fingers. Colder actions.

Heat exploded across my chest.

“Privy to our activities as you may be, I’m no outlet begging for a plug.”

Blissfully preoccupied by some unspeakable goal, he ignored the harsh metaphor. “The Moon Guardians leave for Court tomorrow. Considering your arrangement with the Council, this may be the last time I can speak privately with you. At the very least, grant me this moment.”

He was right. Luhan was always right. The line between common sense and fatal stupidity stretched thinly across his balanced words. Chosen precisely for this moment. Practiced to the point of premeditation. His goal: to purposefully sweep me off my feet.

He was good at that. He was always good at that. 

“You have the floor.” I sat on my hands impulsively; the opposite of his confession.

“I’ve recently created a bucket list of sorts. Calling you by name is number five.” He kept shoveling coal despite my obvious distaste for where this train of thought was headed. “Whenever I attempt this — seemingly minuscule — feat, my tongue wags foreignly within the confines of my mouth. Almost as if I’m testing its syllabic meter. Its distinct noise.” 

A siren’s cry sounded off; Luhan couldn’t be bothered to obey the speed limit.

“Yet I’m unable to manage it. As skillful as a Moon Guardian can be, I lack the aptitude to even begin to know how to approach you.” He took the metaphorically small step. The figuratively giant leap. Flag ready and waiting to plant itself. “Despite the impossibility of the task, I find myself living to solve this conundrum.” 

I watched him, enamored by his blurred image beneath dimmed lights. Who knows how to even begin to reach for such a fleeting thing. Fortunately, I had the Tree of Life given gift of foresight.

“This rubik’s cube would very much like you to leave.” The solution was clear. “These feelings of yours are lethal.” 

Luhan emphasized with an almost contagious aching, “I am not Xi.”

“I’m Ela.” One. “I’m Marlon.” Two. “I’m Alline.” Three. “I’m Jule.” Four. “I’m the Seeress of Exo with a duty to this planet and its people. Your ego, your envy, your endless persistence has killed me before.” I refused to be the fifth name added to this piteous list. “I don’t have a day to give to death.” 

A strangled “your highness” slipped between his lips; number five on his bucket list remained intact. Defeated, character defaced by a past not belonging to him for the umpteenth time, he left. Zhoumi reentered minutes later, my hands numb beneath my thighs. 

“Why are you here, Zhoumi?” I asked again.

“Seeing is believing.” 

He repeated his new mantra, stepping aside to reveal a pair of familiar faces. Victoria Song, eraser extraordinaire, and Henry Lau, leader of the — infamously extinct — Board. The two had come to align themselves with the mighty Seeress of Exo once again. However, before either could relate their grand scheme, I drew attention to the enormous elephant in the room.

“Care to explain why you killed me, Henry?” Standing tall, hands free, I said, "You have the floor."