[insp: entertainer - zayn, waterfall - undertale ost, breathin - ariana grande]
[Trigger Warning: mentions of suicide, though nothing is explicitly described, it is heavily implied, so please read on with caution!]

chapter 32;

“I tried to tell you.” Jinri whispers, right next to her ear, and she blinks up at her, at her pretty, ghostly form, through her blurred vision. She floats there, her image faded, a memory of what once was. Her white dress is rimmed with dirt, mud, and blood. She looks so so sad as she looks past Hyemi and directly at Baekhyun. “We all did.”

Hyemi feels an acute sense of pain and dread building in her chest, one that has been building all this time, only for it to be out of her, taken, and she feels—she feels violated somehow. As if someone is reaching into the wounds in her heart and digging into them, dragging out feelings and emotions that are hers, should be completely and utterly hers to behold and no one else’s.

Jinri’s smile is so so sad and she reminds Hyemi so distinctly of Pretty Hyemi from her nightmare visions. Will that be her fate, then? Will she die?

She turns to look at Baekhyun, blinking away tears. Will he be the reason for her death?

Somehow, the safety and security Baekhyun’s always brought her—it turns to dread and horror and this distinct feeling of no longer being safe. His pretty lips stretch out into this beautiful smile and her heart still flutters, her stomach still flips.

She loves him and yet—her vision flickers and he is replaced by a hooded figure, that same hooded figure that has been haunting her all this time. Slowly, so very carefully, the hooded figure reaches up and slips the hood from his eyes, and it is—

It’s Baekhyun. It’s always been Baekhyun, hasn’t it?

“Baek.” Her voice is soft, quiet, cracking on the single syllable. Her chest rises and falls and she shakes her head, a rapid movement that his eyes follow. The emotions welling in her chest ebb out of her, seeping into the ground, into the ruins around her. “What’s going on?”

It’s quiet and she notices that he is glowing, gleaming so brightly, like the sun itself.

Slowly, Baekhyun tilts his head to the side and he murmurs, “Haven’t you figured it out yet, sweetheart?”

She blinks at him. The panic and dread in her chest are being taken from her. The ruins won’t let her experience her own pain, internalize it, process it, numbing her further, and she doesn’t want it. She doesn’t want this.

She still can’t stop the tears. She can’t stop the pain coursing through her. Logically, she knows exactly what’s going on. Her brain throws together a list, compiles moments she tried so hard to ignore, of Yixing and that funeral, of all kinds of objects changing colors throughout her journey to this point, of so many people telling her so explicitly not to trust him, of Taeyeon, of just a while ago when Irene spoke of eight of them instead of the nine that were actually there, of Jinri—Jinri looks so sad hovering next to her, as if she can somehow save Hyemi from all this, despite being a mere ghost, a memory, that can do nothing but watch. She thinks of the castle, how Baekhyun held her so close but she had caught glimpses of a funeral surrounding her. She thinks of her vision from so long ago, of Jongin looking for Baekhyun, of Baekhyun crying out so desperately before he changed. She thinks of Baekhyun’s family’s home, of what his uncle had said, of—

She’s shaking her head, desperate now. “I trust you, Baekhyun. I—”

“Don’t say it.” She looks up at Jinri. Jinri’s expression twists with a distant emotion as she floats there, her eyes narrowing the longer she stares at Baekhyun. “He is thriving off your emotions. Don’t let him win. Don’t tell him you love him, Hyemi.”

And, perhaps, that is what breaks her most.

Baekhyun’s pretty face twists with amusement and he seems like an empty caricature of her best friend, her Baekhyun. It’s him, so very him, but he is pale and twisted, a glint to his eyes that is too piercing, watchful, calculating. He laughs, cold so so cold, and his voice echoes all about them in the empty ruins, sending shivers down her spine, “Maybe, you are more of an idiot than I thought you were. So young and so riddled with emotion, despite everything. But, you’re doing everything so perfectly now.”

She stares, repeats, “Now?”

The ruins burn with intensity all around them and those flowers she had seen from her vision, the ones she had thought to be so beautiful once, are everything but. They cling to the walls and they pulse, coming to life before her. Everything is so alive around her, crystal clear, as if someone’s taken a rag to her sight and wiped away all the dirt and grime that’s built up for years. It adds a new dimension to the world around her. It’s Exo Planet and the ruins of the Temple of Dreams, but it is also a sharp image of powerful magic, of parts of her stolen from deep within seeping into the cracks of the ruins. There is nothing serene about this place anymore. The doors spun of gold are gone. The flowers, once pink and blue and bright, sunny yellow and nearly six feet wide in diameter, are now a translucent silver-white, their veins protruding from them and their petals glassy. They remind her of skeletons. The red-brown walls are ashen grey, as if someone’s set the place of fire and let the ashes settle for decades. Despite how ruined this place feels, there’s still a warmth beneath her skin, different from the sharp pains of the magic around her clawing at her insides and taking her emotions from her, a parasitic violation that leaves her sick to her stomach.

(She can still feel the pulsing magic of the Tree of Life at her fingertips. Deep in the recesses of her mind, she can hear the voices of the thousands who have become mere memories the Tree of Life keeps safe, all whispering to her. She can almost hear a voice, a singular voice, whispering to her, beckoning her here, giving her that same feeling she had when she last came to the cliff and felt that insatiable need to cross the bridge.)

She tries to think, tries to think back on how Baekhyun could be—how could this be her Baekhyun? How is this possible? What does he mean by now, as if this wasn’t the first time they’ve done this? As if this isn't the first time Baekhyun betrayed her like this?

Baekhyun steps towards her then and his footsteps reverberate off the walls. It’s jarring, to see him coming towards her, wearing that hooded cloak that had haunted her up until now. It’s jarring to feel so safe, yet so unsafe around him. Her panic builds, only to be taken, clawed out of her, and she wants to cry.

It’s overwhelming. This is all too overwhelming.

Jinri—she hovers closer, reaches out for Hyemi, but her fingers flit right through Hyemi, unable to make contact.

(Despite everything Jinri had said, she is alone, she really is so alone.

Baekhyun lied. Jinri couldn’t keep her promise. She is alone.

The skeletal flowers around her are awash by a bright light, glowing the same way Baekhyun’s skin does.)

Baekhyun smiles as he steps towards her.

It takes her a minute to move, to step back.

He takes another step.

And then she’s tripping over her own feet in her haste to get away. His steps are steady beats against the stone floor and she is a fretful staccato, broken, horrified.

(What has she become?

What has he become?)

The magic steals—takes—from her. The numbness spreads from her finger tips to her toes.

Her back hits the wall hard and he is just an arm’s length away when he comes to a sudden halt. His eyes are alight with amusement and something else, something dark, terrifyingly dark, the same kind of darkness she had seen in Luhan’s eyes, the same kind of darkness she had seen in her visions when those eyes would appear and swallow up the whole sky.

“His illusions never worked on you, not until I came along.” Baekhyun’s voice sends chills down her spine. It’s cold and it reminds her of the coldest of winters, of frost biting at her skin, warning her to find warmth soon. Baekhyun shakes his head as he reaches out. She can’t tear her eyes off of him as he carefully traces a line down her cheek.

Her breathing picks up and this time, it’s from fear. This isn’t Baekhyun. This isn’t Baekhyun and it’s terrifying. She has never, not once, felt so utterly terrified of Baekhyun touching her, but now all of her nerves are tensing up and she wants to run far, far away. She wants to cry, but she can’t. The ruins are not letting her cry. The numbed feeling is only growing worse and everything is so overwhelming, so acutely painful, that she thinks she will break under the pressure. The panic that twists at her chest is a different kind of panic, the kind when her mind is on overdrive and the whole world is spinning and she’d need to remind herself to breathe, just breathe. “But, even then, it still wouldn’t quite work. You’d see things. Why is that, sweetheart? Why must you be so difficult?”

Baekhyun’s smile grows and grows and she half expects it to swallow his entire face whole, tearing him in half. She thinks, maybe, that would be a relief, and she wouldn’t have to see her Baekhyun look at her like this, like her panic is amusing and—

“I’ve spent too long putting you through illusion after illusion because his powers would never ing work on you, not completely. I’ve tried everything, manipulating the things around you, the people, but you kept seeing through it and my patience has been growing thin.” He grips her chin then and it hurts, but the surprise of it, of Baekhyun hurting her, causing her physical pain, is so great, she barely registers that pain in the first place. She doesn’t even know how she’s supposed to react, even as he grits out, suddenly so angry and so full of rage, his fingers cold. Then he smiles again, tilting his head to the side as his grip loosens and he her cheek with his thumb. “Until I learned just how perceptible you are to him—to me—and your pathetic little emotions. To the emotions of everyone around you. It’s almost beautiful, how much you care, and how easy it was to ruin you. ”

He is laughing and Hyemi can’t seem to breathe. Her vision blurs and Jinri is floating close, her ethereal gaze locked on her. She is shaking her head, but Hyemi can’t stop the painful twisting in her chest or the tears filling her eyes as she tries and tries to make sense of these cruel words coming out of Baekhyun’s mouth.

(Deep down, she knows exactly what’s happening. She knows Baekhyun is—that this isn’t Baekhyun. But she doesn’t want to acknowledge it because, if she does, it will all become devastatingly real.)

“Now, here we are. At long last.” His grip softens, his fingers flitting along her jaw, feather soft. He adds, “It’s time, sweetheart.”

(“Look around you, Hyemi. Look.” Jinri whispers to her and Hyemi wonders, for a brief moment, if maybe the ghost of Jinri is her last tether to the Tree of Life outside of these ruins.)

“Hyemi.” Baekhyun’s voice is soft, gentle, and his thumb drags along the skin of her jaw before he gently tucks back a stray piece of her hair, his finger stilling at the skin at the side of her neck. For a moment, all his warmth is back, and his eyes are filled with a deep adoration, as if she is the both the moons and all the stars, and she understands the look in his eyes, as if he’s built a home where her heart is and he has long since taken up residency there, with her. She feels the same about him, like he is her home, and that feeling , that dependency, is so intense, right then, it crushes her. “You’re the only one who can restore the seeds. The Wolf left that power for the Vessel. Can you do it, my love? For me? Can you let everything go?”

Her bottom lip trembles, and the ruins hook onto her emotions, yanking it away from her, a painful tug that has her gasping, and Baekhyun brushes at the tears spilling down her cheeks, leaning closer. His hands are still so cold but the warmth radiating from his little smile and his honey brown eyes takes away from that coldness. He whispers, “Oh, baby. It’s okay. It won’t hurt anymore. If you do as you’re told, I’ll make sure nothing ever hurts or scares you again. I’ll make sure they all—Sungyeol, especially—pay for putting you and your mother through all this pain.” He leans in, breathes out, “I’ll protect you.”

(Deep down, she knows this is not her Baekhyun. Maybe, just maybe, this was never her Baekhyun.)

The bracelet on her wrist glows brightly, the warmth of it against her skin a striking contrast to the coolness of his fingertips and the ruins around her. She jolts, out of his grip, her back hitting the ruin walls hard.

(There was a funeral, she knows, and the symbol she had thought to be so familiar that had adorned that coffin had been his insignia, the same one she drew into the dirt with the other eleven.

Her gaze flutters past his loving, honey eyes. Jinri floats there, a pretty wisp of an image, and she nods, encouragingly, though her eyes remain anciently sad, pitiful.)

He reaches for her again and she is shaking her head. He doesn’t stop trying to touch her, the way her Baekhyun would have. She doesn't want him to touch her anymore.

(Everyone adored him, Jonghyun had said to Minho in one of her visions. Taeyeon had showed her the immensity of the sadness she felt on that day, the pouring rain, the anger and blame she then directed at Minho. She had taken Minho's powers away. He had let her and then exiled himself and became the monster he thought he was. She remembers everything.

She remembers that coffin.

Yixing had looked at her and then over her shoulder and said, so filled with grief and horror-stricken, You shouldn’t be here.

It was him.)

She manages to reach up and grab Baekhyun’s cold hand, pushing it away. Her fingers tremble as she croaks out, “This won’t work on me. I won’t—I won’t do it.”

(No matter how much you try to ignore it, you’ll always be a child of the dark, Baekhyun’s uncle had said.

And there is so much darkness radiating from him. The glow may be heavenly, but it is backed in darkness.

In Death, really.)

For a moment, Baekhyun’s brows furrow together, a familiar movement, but then his fond eyes grow cold, sinister, and his lips curl into a vindictive sneer, “I want you to do this willingly, Hyemi, but it seems you’re hellbent on testing my patience, my benevolence.”

Another step.

(Maybe, all this time, her Baekhyun was never ever there.)

“What did you do with Baekhyun?” She asks it because she needs to, to keep her sanity, the little bit of peace, hope, she has left.

(Maybe, all this time, her Baekhyun had really left her years ago and never once thought to come back.)

“I am Baekhyun.” He says, his pretty pink lips curling up, teeth bared. “Or rather, Baekhyun is me.”

(All this time, her Baekhyun has been dead.)

“Wh—what did you do to him?” Hyemi repeats and her heart swells, her eyes prickling painfully. She can’t stop the choked sob spilling from her lips as reality clings to her with its sharp claws, spears through her just as the ruins bleed her dry of her feelings, of her reaction, her grief, her betrayal, her absolute horror. It hurts worse than when Soojung tore her heart out. Perhaps, in a sense, Baekhyun is doing the same thing Soojung did. He is tearing her heart out and using it. “Baek—Baek—what did you do?”

(Jinri is shaking her head. Maybe, the ruins and this Baekhyun—perhaps, really truly her Baekhyun—bleeding her of her heart is a good thing. Maybe that’s why she can concentrate on the way the ruins flicker behind Baekhyun. The skeleton flowers dissolve into stone walls, chains, and a set of stairs on the far side of the too-small room that leads up into a dark abyss.)

She is clutching his shirt, it tightly. He looks down at her with sheer amusement. “Baekhyun’s parents—my parents loved each other so very much, so they made a deal with the devil. Mother wanted to walk in the sun so badly and live with her handsome little prince. She couldn’t kill him as I asked, even though I was kind enough to give her the ability to walk in the sun. At first, I was planning on taking her life that night, but they fought so hard for each other. For their love. So instead, they promised the soul of their firstborn to me, to use as I see fit, to appease me.” Baekhyun keeps on smiling, grin boxy, “I was destined to be a monster anyway, by blood, by nature, so I guess they figured they had nothing to lose.”

(There’s anger coursing through her, then, because this is yet another instance where she must hear of parents ruining their child for their own gains. The ruins take her anger as well, but it’s slower on the uptake. It doesn’t hurt as badly. She wonders if there’s a reason for that.)

She stares at him, fingers still clenched around the collar of his shirt, “You’re the real Yeonma.”

She states it rather than question him about it because, all this time, a small part of her knew that Luhan wasn’t the real Yeonma. There was something stilted, puppet-like, about Luhan's movements. All this time, she knew a dead Baekhyun wouldn’t be here unless he was controlling Death itself.

(She is angry at the circumstances that have brought them all here, at the parents who unwittingly put them in this mess with each decision they made.)

“But I am also Baekhyun, Hyemi, and Baekhyun does love you.” Baekhyun stares at her, doesn’t even bother unlodging himself from her grip, “I love you."

She hates how her heart skips a beat, despite everything.

“Shut up.” She bites out, releasing his collar as she shoves him away from her. His eyes melt into pools of warm chocolate. She hates the obvious show of manipulation he keeps attempting on her, hates how they both know it’s working because, deep down, she’s too ing emotionally dependent on him.

(She steps forward because they are not in the ruins anymore, not really, and she wonders if that place was an illusion. Still, she can feel the ruins growing around her, taking and taking from her, and the way it taints her is something she is acutely aware of, but too numb to do something about.

Perhaps, this is what Soojung had been warning her about.

She walks past Baekhyun. He follows behind her, each step loud, grating, and the hairs at the back of her neck stand on end.)

“It’s not fair that you were dragged out here to pay for the sins of your mother. It’s not fair that you’ve suffered like this for a world that treated your mother like dirt, despite everything that happened to her. It’s not fair…what happened to me.” Baekhyun keeps talking. She keeps walking.

“Shut up.” She repeats, tone slightly shriller this time.

She moves, feet on the stairs, and she looks up. The dark abyss isn’t quite an abyss anymore. It’s a field of flowers, situated upside down, riddling the sky with bright pinks and blues and yellows and reds.

He grabs her wrist and his grip is bruising, “The few times you’ve killed someone—I watched your reactions closely, Hyemi. You enjoyed it. You like the power, the feeling of it, don’t you, sweetheart?”

“Shut up.” She tries to tear her arm out of his grip, her voice shaking. 

“Take that anger and help me destroy everything, Hyemi.” His grip is so tight on her wrist, keeping her from moving forward. She yanks at his hand but he doesn’t relent.

(A small part of her, the horrible side of that has been so numbed to everything, that really did find something powerful—that really did find control—in killing people, in hurting Baekhyun’s family, hurting those NCT Hunters, that monster that turned out to be Rin, whispers maybe, he’s right. She could destroy everything and be done with it, alongside Baekhyun. She could do it.

Anger grows and grows, infesting her very being, and the ruins don’t take it all at once.

Another voice that sounds strangely familiar cautions, That’s what he wants.

He wants her angry so she will agree.

She is tired.)

She shouts, then, and all the energy, rage, and anger, bursts out of her as he voice echoes all around them in the strange cave room, “Leave me alone.”

She feels as if she’s bursting in two and it hurts, it hurts so bad, and her heart is heavy with anguish and anger, at herself, at Baekhyun, at the stupid Tree taking Jinri’s shape, at everything and everyone. Her bracelet floods the world gold, gold, gold, brighter even than the sun.

The last thing she hears is Baekhyun laughing.

~.~.~.~.~

She opens her eyes to the stars twinkling down on her, glittering stars laid on to a dark blue-black, inky sky endless. For a moment, it feels like she’s back home, with Mina, and they’re just lying on a blanket at the beach, stargazing as they talk about everything and anything that they can think of. For a moment, time itself is suspended into this single moment of serenity. For once, everything is of the utmost clarity and she doesn’t feel angry nor upset, not betrayed nor overwhelmed, not numb. She is just her and she is at peace.

She wonders if, maybe, she is dead.

“You’re not.”

She sits up so fast, she’s afraid she’s pulled a muscle. She blinks around her and it takes her a second too long to recognize her surroundings. At least until she sees the Tree of Life, in all it’s wilting, broken glory before her. The grass around her is brown and faded, dead. The gates Junmyeon had let her through so long ago glints in the bright lights of the stars above, but they seem so far away; unreachable.

“You’re not dead.” The voice is coming from her side and she turns, swiveling on her .

There stands Yixing, his profile illuminated by the bright stars, his neck craned as he stares up at the tree. He looks real, too. Hyemi’s hands drop to the dead grass, the scratchy roughness of it tickling her palms, and she feels a tinge of energy running beneath her palms, an energy that reminds her instantly of all the dead souls she felt here before. They’re not screaming at her anymore. They’re just there, lingering, distant, waiting.

She feels slightly detached from all this. Maybe, she is.

Maybe Baekhyun has taken all her emotions from her and all that’s left of her is this husk of a person, useless and left to rot alongside the already broken, already rotting Tree of Life. Maybe this Yixing isn’t even real either.

“I am real.”

Hyemi grimaces at him before turning to face the Tree. “Stop doing that.”

Even her voice sounds detached to her. She feels so out of touch with her body and surroundings and it’s disconcerting.

“Doing what?”

“Answering my thoughts like that. It’s weird.”

Yixing snickers, then, and she tears her eyes off the tree to grimace at Yixing. The movement in her expression hurts. She wonders why that is. Yixing says, “I guess this is how Luhan used to feel, huh.”

She blinks, then, and there’s a surge of—of something in her chest. She doesn’t have enough time to pinpoint the emotion before it seeps out of her. “Used to?” She repeats, her voice pitching up an octave in question. Or maybe, something else.

Yixing turns to face her then and she sees a— “Yixing.” She gasps, scrambling to her feet. The emotion of worry spikes inside her and suddenly the sky brightens, the stars shining a brighter gold than before. “What happened to you?”

There is a weapon—a sword—protruding out of Yixing’s torso and cuts littering his face, all in various phases of the healing process. The stars illuminate the cuts, glint off the hilt of the sword, emphasizing each of his wounds in a way that makes her stomach churn in horror.

(Horror. Horror doesn’t seep away. The world brightens and brightens, almost whitening.)

She is reminded, horribly so, of her vision of Yixing in the white room with wounds just like this all over his face and tears in his eyes.

She expects him to scream at her, like before, and tell her this is her fault. In fact, she braces herself for it.

But, he doesn’t.

He just looks sad as he looks down at the hilt of the sword protruding out of him. Her gaze follows his, watching as he grasps the hilt with both hands. Some of his fingers are bent at strange angles. Broken, she realizes, moments later. They were broken and reset badly. She shakes her head, trying to shake away the imagery that thought brings with it.

(Trepidation. It fills the air.)

“My body will never let me die.” Her eyes flicker up to meet Yixing’s dark gaze. He is smiling so sadly. It pains her to see such sadness, such grief, in his eyes. “And, he won’t kill me.”

(Pain. Misery. It wells inside of her and it doesn’t disappear.)

“He can’t kill me.”

Yixing yanks at the sword, the movement sudden, and she reaches out for him, a loud shout slipping from her lips as she tries to stop him. She’s too late, though. He stands there, staggering with a blood-dipped sword in his hands, blood seeping from his torso, one of his hands clutching his center, blood dripping down his fingers. The contrast between the scarlet red and the pale skin of his hands is too much and she’s reaching forward, pressing her fingers against his wound, flinching violently when he gasps in pain.

“What the , Yixing.” She gasps, her breathing growing ragged as she tries to staunch the bleeding, the liquid sticky beneath her fingertips.

(Fear. Fear is tangible, and it drips from her very being. Her fingers are shaking.

It isn’t snatched away from her, either.)

Her fingers tremble and they are both covered in Yixing’s blood as Yixing drops to his knees. She drops down beside him, her knees too shaky to hold her up. She pulls up his shirt and she can see the wound healing, the skin knitting itself shut, a sight that makes her queasy. Despite the relief at the sight, there is still so much blood. She is covered in his warm blood, the metallic smell nauseating. She whispers, “You can’t—you can’t just do that. Jongdae’s going to kill me if yo—”

She cuts herself off at the thought of Jongdae and the way Yixing’s expression crumples the moment his name slips from .

(Guilt. Guilt, guilt, guilt.)

“If he can’t kill even me, then do you think Jongdae’s still alive out there?” Yixing whispers, his eyes glassy, faraway.

Her eyes start to sting.

(Sadness.

It isn’t stolen from her, torn out from her insides by an invasive hand that won’t stop taking while Baekhyun looks on with an expression that is anything but the Baekhyun she thought she knew, the one she loves.)

She doesn’t know why she nods, giving him hope. Yixing’s expression breaks when she does, though, and her heart aches for him.

(Heartbreak. It’s joins the guilt.)

The stars above them shine so bright, it’s like the sun itself is shining brightly.

She can feel the energy beneath her, less distant and more pronounced, now.

“Yixing?” She murmurs, tearing her gaze off the blinding stars twinkling above them so she can look Yixing in the eye. She takes a deep breath.

Yixing peers sideways at her, “Yeah?”

“What’s happened to you? To everyone?” She pauses, “To…to Baekhyun?”

Yixing visibly flinches at the name. She watches as a cut, slow and steady and dripping blood, forms straight across his cheek, appearing from thin air. Her breath catches in as she reaches up for it, her eyes widening with so many questions. But then—then it starts to close, healing itself, the skin skittering towards each other, easily reforming into scarred skin that will heal perfectly in no time. She is almost in awe at the sight, though there is still fear and trepidation coursing through her. Yixing sighs, whispers, “You really don’t know yet, do you? You never did, all the other times I saw you as well, but I thought by now, you would.”

“The other times?” Hyemi’s confused now, more than ever.

Yixing scoots away from her and she watches a deep gash form right down the side of his face, through his eye. Her heart slams against her ribs and her stomach flips at the sight. He cries out, clutching his face. She can’t do a thing but reach out for him. He shakes his head, gently shrugging her hands off him. Her fingers curl into trembling fists, her heart pumping in her chest as her gaze remains fixed on Yixing’s bent over form.

Blood spills out from between the spaces of his fingers as he murmurs, voice muffled by the heels of his hands, “This is punishment for allowing you to see his insignia on that coffin when you went into my head.” Yixing looks up at her, then, with his one good eye, “The more I spoke with you, the more I was punished. I—You’ve done this whole journey a handful of times already. His illusions don’t fully work on you and he needs you alive for your connection to the tree and your powers, so he’s made you relive this journey repeatedly until the outcome he wants happens. Every time you’ve failed, he just punishes me. And—and if anyone else is alive, maybe them, too? We thought—I thought maybe the resets wouldn’t work on you, like Baekhyun’s original reset back on Earth before all this didn’t, but it did. They do.”

“I don’t—I don’t get it.” Hyemi whispers. “Is none of this real then?”

“It is real, of course it’s real. Baekhyun can create illusions and manipulate what people are seeing. But, he can’t create an entire world, Hyemi, even he’s not strong enough to do that. The God of Death could, but the Tree of Life has been keeping him from doing so. So Baekhyun’s created a fixed timeline that you’ve had to go through, using Zitao’s powers most likely—maybe that’s why the resets work so well on you since it's inherently Zitao's power of time control and now Baekhyun's illusions—and changed the variables slightly to manipulate your decisions and behavior every time. But the Tree of Life kept interfering and you never end up doing what he needs you to do. At least, not until—not until now. This time, the Tree has become too weak and he’s—he’s found your weakness, too.”

“My emotions, right?” She whispers it and she can feel all those emotions whirling inside her. She is not so numb anymore and she’s glad she has the time to process them, that they don’t just disappear from her grasp the moment they come to her. Nobody is taking anything from her and she’s glad. She does not feel violated, her skin crawling with each invasion, like she had felt before.

“No.” Yixing shakes his head. Yixing knows all about emotions and if he says that’s not her weakness, then she knows it’s true. His good eye grows dejected, “It’s Baekhyun. The influence he had on you when he was alive. The impact he left on you. He is your weakness.” There’s a long long pause before Yixing adds, voice cracking slightly, “He is a weakness for all of us.”

Hyemi doesn’t know what to do with that information, with the knowledge that her dependence, her love, her need and want for Baekhyun is what became her downfall. “You keep saying—he can’t be dead, Yixing.”

She doesn’t know why she focuses on just that. Maybe it’s because of how terrifying the thought of it is. Maybe because it’ll make everything that much realer. Yixing pulls his hands from his face, wiping at the obscene amount of blood, and the more the silence grows, the heavier her heart is. His injured eye is swollen closed and there is a reddish-pink scar that goes right down his forehead and cheek. Still, despite that, he looks so serious, so painfully sincere.

“He’s been dead this whole time, Hyemi.”

Hyemi shakes her head, her fingers curling at her sides. She wants to be vehement about her rejection, but she knows Yixing isn’t lying to her. She has to bite down hard on her bottom lip to stop it from shaking so hard. Yixing’s expression softens a bit as he sighs.

Yixing’s voice is quiet, barely a whisper, “His death was an accident. Still, no one knows what happened, really. Apparently, Choi Minho was there and—everyone adored Baekhyun, Hyemi. You have to understand that. His death—it broke us all. And—well—he was so sad after he came back from his assignment on Earth. He had this little photograph in his pocket—”

She can see it, then, in her mind’s eye. The tree provides her a vision that is so utterly real, so clear, that she knows it is nothing but the truth. It is crystal clear in its clarity and she has to bite down on her bottom lip even harder to keep from letting out any sound of despair.

There is Baekhyun’s pretty fingers clutching a photograph, folded up into a tiny square, worn and torn at the edges and creased beyond belief—a photograph of the two of them in the school courtyard in their uniforms, his uniform messy and breaking every single one of their school regulations. His tie is too loose, and his shirt is untucked, but he still looks so beautiful, his boxy grin wide, and his fingers forming a cheesy heart that makes her smile, even now, despite the circumstances. She has an arm hooked in his elbow, caught mid laugh, her head thrown back, and she looks so happy, so utterly carefree, even though her uniform is immaculate compared to his. His head is turned in her direction, and his eyes are pinned on her and there is a sort of adoration and care in his eyes that she remembers so distinctly from him when they were in high school. The photograph is faded and creased white at the folds. He sits on the steps of the Brotherhood’s home and he stares at the photograph. Judging from the wear and tear, he’s done this plenty of times, enough she thinks for it to become a habit. There is a sadness in his eyes she’s never seen before, like a part of him is missing, the same kind of look in his eyes she saw in her own the months after he left.

And then it morphs to Taeyeon ruffling his hair and him smiling, though it never quite reaching his eyes. She’s never seen Taeyeon so happy before, so carefree. She looks at him like she adores him and Hyemi doesn’t know if the adoration is romantic or platonic, but it is a deep fondness that makes everything she had seen from Taeyeon’s life make sense right then. The funeral that had torn everything apart for Taeyeon, the screaming at Baekhyun Taeyeon had done, the horror in her eyes before they left Soshi City, it all makes sense.

Baekhyun’s hair is a little too long, falling into his eyes, and she is reminded of the times she had helped him cut his hair. She watches as Baekhyun teases Taeyeon about a tall, handsome man who dotes on Taeyeon often, wiggling his brows at her in a way that makes Hyemi’s heart swell with nostalgia. Taeyeon smacks him over the head.

Then there is an image of Jongdae and Chanyeol, younger and more alive than she has ever seen them, confronting Baekhyun and his sadness. It’s been so long since he’s left Earth and the sadness shouldn’t be so there anymore.

“It’s different.” Jongdae’s usual smile is gone, nothing but a stern, motherly look. Chanyeol fiddles with the bracelet on his wrist that hides his King’s Mark.

There’s discomfort in Chanyeol’s expression when he looks up and Baekhyun keeps smiling, keeps on smiling and smiling, yet it still doesn’t reach his eyes. Baekhyun’s words slip out so easily, as if they are rehearsed. “It’s all right, I'm fin—”

“It’s lingering.” Chanyeol interrupts, deep voice merely a murmur. "It's not all right. You're not fine."

The Tree shows her the visions of Chanyeol setting himself and his home on fire to join the Royal Guard, overlayed over his expression. It shows her the true conditions of going down the path of the King’s Guard, the path that is not the Brotherhood, is to be able to do anything for the King. Including the ability to cut off all obligations outside of the King with one’s own hands. It’s why, she realizes right then, Minseok refused to join, instead choosing the Brotherhood, where they did not have to kill their connections to the world, but they had to turn their backs to them. She doesn’t know why either is an option. They’re both so horrible. Chanyeol was recruited though and his sister was so vehemently against it, which may explain why she was the first to die in that burning house. The military and the King found his powers useful, powerful, and they forced the fire out from him. At least that’s what Baekhyun believes. Chanyeol believes he lost control, that it was his own fault. Nobody really knows the truth. The Tree doesn’t show her, either. Hyemi can see the lingering grief and guilt emanating from Chanyeol’s eyes as he looks at Baekhyun. There is understanding there, too, understanding and concern mixed in with the guilt and grief. Hyemi has to look away from the intensity of Chanyeol’s gaze.

It seems Baekhyun can’t even look Chanyeol in the eye, either, even as he admits, melodic voice low, “Okay, so maybe you're right. I'm not...I'm not fine.”

“We know.” Jongdae replies and there is nothing snarky about the way he says that. He is all sincerity and care. “We all know that.”

Baekhyun blinks rapidly at Jongdae, his gaze wavering before dropping to the floor. “It’s just…on top of—of my life in Earth, I—I met my mother’s family. They said—they said—”

It’s quiet, but Baekhyun’s mouth is moving. He is telling them how he feels, his hands finding the back of his neck—a nervous habit he used to have even back in high school. His eyes never quite meet any of theirs. Chanyeol speaks then, too, though his words are inaudible, lost to her, and Baekhyun’s eyes grow heavy, glassy especially when Baekhyun reaches forward and clasps a hand over Chanyeol’s. He used to do this with her, too, where he would redirect conversations on her so he wouldn’t have to talk about how he was feeling. Chanyeol doesn’t fall for it. He shakes his head as he speaks, eyes determined. Despite watching the conversation go on, the Tree doesn’t seem to deem the conversation important enough for her to hear. Or, perhaps, she thinks it’s not something she needs to hear because there is an intimacy to that moment that she thinks deserves privacy. She shouldn’t listen in. It’s not right. Maybe, the Tree knows that’s how she inherently feels, so all their words are inaudible. Slowly, she closes her eyes.

The quietness morphs away and she can’t get the sight of Baekhyun’s glassy eyes and Jongdae reaching out to clasp both hands over Baekhyun’s trembling fingers out of her mind. She can’t shake the way Chanyeol reaches over and pulls Baekhyun into a big hug, engulfing his smaller frame so thoroughly, from her mind. It’s etched into the backs of her eyelids, the way Baekhyun’s chin trembles a little. He looks so vulnerable, so different from the anchor he made himself out to be, for her.

And, now, she is looming over Jongin and Baekhyun in a dark cave that casts long shadows over their faces. She watches Jongin take a seat beside Baekhyun, plopping down beside him on the cold stone floor. Baekhyun’s hands are visibly trembling and he looks thinner, paler, somehow. Hyemi knows this cave. She distinctly remembers having a vision of Jongin and Baekhyun in this very same cave once, a long, long time ago. She remembers the way Baekhyun's voice had changed in that vision.

Jongin sits quietly, patiently, his gaze lingering on the side of Baekhyun’s face. Baekhyun stares at his hands. He is slowly turning his hands over, back of his hand to his palm and back again, pausing to trace the mole on his thumb with his pointer finger, The entire time, he is unable to meet Jongin’s gaze at all.

Finally, finally, Baekhyun speaks, his voice echoing all around them.

“I’ve been having nightmares.” Baekhyun whispers and the tone of his voice is heartbreaking on its own, mere fragments of the soft, confident, melodic tone she knows so well. Jongin watches Baekhyun, long and hard.

“Okay.” Jongin nods, slowly, before he takes a breath and continues, “It’s just…you can’t just—just disappear like this, Baek.”

Baekhyun’s brows furrow as he bites down on his bottom lip, “I know. I’m sorry.”

It’s quiet for a moment before Jongin sighs, nudging Baekhyun’s shoulder with his. Baekhyun winces a little, his eyes flickering up to meet Jongin’s.

“I get nightmares, too, you know.” Jongin is quiet for a moment as he fiddles with his fingers, gaze averted. Baekhyun doesn’t tear his gaze off Jongin’s fiddling fingers or his averted gaze, “There are ways to cope with them…with—with that sadness and pain you’ve been feeling.”

“It’s not just sadness. It’s—I feel numb like—like—I can’t even explain it. One moment I'm laughing, and the next I'm looking at myself outside of my own body and I can't feel anything. Everything just...it just—”

“Hurts?” Jongin turns to Baekhyun then, smiling reassuringly, sweetly almost. Baekhyun swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing, before he nods, a quick, tiny thing. Jongin is still smiling as he murmurs, “I can show you how to cope with that, too. We all can. You can…You can talk to us, Baek.”

Baekhyun’s smile reminds her so horribly of the past, of the Baekhyun she once knew, a boxy grin that makes her heart skip a couple beats as it slowly forms on his face. His expression brightens the tiniest bit, though there’s still an inkling of melancholy there. Baekhyun leans sideways and knocks his shoulder against Jongin’s, too, and Jongin lets out a sweet laugh, even as Baekhyun nods, says, I’d like that, Jongin. Thank you. Her heart crumbles in her chest just at the very image of him smiling brightly the way he is, even though, at that moment, it never ever, not once, reaches his eyes. His eyes are crumbling, too, she notices, the same way her heart is.

And then her vision shifts to a dark scene amidst fuchsia pink rocks, flowers blooming in the darkness, right along the edges where the fuchsia rocks morph into brown, dead grass. Baekhyun is wearing a bracelet that glows bright gold, the very same one as hers. It could even be the same one he gave her, she notes, eyes widening slightly.

Baekhyun is crouching at the edge of the rocks. Despite the darkness, she can see his expression clear as day. His eyes are vacant. Her heart—it pumps hard in her chest and fear creeps up her spine. Suddenly, she is so afraid of what will be revealed to her. The fearless Baekhyun she always knew looks so afraid and tired, right then.

Baekhyun’s voice echoes in her head, sometimes, some memories are best left in the past.

Yet, this memory keeps going. She will have to see it, even if it terrifies her more than anything else she’s experienced and seen thus far.

Still, there’s something so ethereal about the sight of him there, his silhouette a dark contrast against the bright fuchsia color of the rocks. There is something whimsical about it all, as if this is not the moment where Baekhyun’s death will become final, where his life will end and all the people who had adored him so much will have to stand in the rain and watch his coffin slip by.

(She thinks, maybe, this is where he’ll fly. Where he’ll fly to the moons and the stars and he will find peace.

But, it isn’t.)

For a moment, she sees flashes of memories. She sees Kyungsoo threatening to knock Baekhyun out with one of his rocks with a playful, adoring expression plastered across his face, she sees Kris and Baekhyun arguing until they’re red in the face and then suddenly Baekhyun snorts and Kris joins him until they’re both laughing, Junmyeon offering Baekhyun tea, hovering for hours, when Baekhyun’s eyes are too vacant, too sad, Zitao playfully arguing with Baekhyun and Baekhyun grinning all the while, Minseok rolling his eyes as Baekhyun shakes his hips and does the ridiculous dances Hyemi used to find so funny at Minseok constantly, Luhan and Baekhyun sitting in companionable silence and talking about everything and anything, both their eyes bright, Baekhyun trying to bite Sehun at the most inopportune and inappropriate moments, giggling all the while, Yixing chiding Baekhyun for accidentally breaking an ankle because he decided climbing onto the roof of the castle was a good idea. It takes her a moment to realize that these are not memories she’s seeing from the Tree but the things Baekhyun is thinking about.

He’s thinking of Taeyeon chasing him down across the streets of the capital for calling her short all while he cackles as he runs, head thrown back, there’s Taemin and Jonghyun and Minho and Kibum doting on him, there’s Jessica and Yoona and Tiffany, and there’s even a brief moment where her own face flashes before her eyes. It’s jarring to see such a thing, the image of herself through the eyes of someone else. She looks so happy, right then. Light glitters in her eyes in a way she has never seen in herself before. There is a beauty to this image of her that she never sees when she looks in the mirror. She is seeing herself through the eyes of Baekhyun and she is surprised to see the warmth radiating off her, the feeling of security racing through him. He looks at her, she realizes, the same way she looks at him. She is laughing, and she looks so ing happy. Her chest tightens at the fact that he remembers her this way, as someone so full of life, so carefree, someone with a certain kindness in her eyes, a warmth that she never thought she radiated so profoundly. But then, she senses remorse from him, an underlying current that blurs the edges of that image of her until it becomes a wave that crashes over her all at once, engulfing her in emotions—his emotions. It’s a swimming pool of guilt, fondness, and an overwhelming surge of sorrow, worry, and concern. She knows she’s not imagining the twinge of regret. It’s there on his face, in crystal clear clarity that burrows itself into her brain. She doesn’t think she will ever forget the look on his face, the way tears fill his eyes, how they spill over and down his face as his bracelet glows and glows, blindingly bright. The way his face seems to shatter into a million pieces as his thoughts race through a million memories of everyone he loves, memories of his friends, of her, of his life. From profound moments to the littlest things. She sees it all. 

There is something so utterly final about this moment and her heart pounds against her ribs.

He is a perfectly crafted photograph of a moment suspended in time, a moment she wishes that would not transpire the way she knows it will. The wind blows through his hair, mussing it up every which way. He can't stop wiping at his eyes. At that moment, all she wants to do is run to him and smooth out all the stray pieces of hair, to brush the tears from his eyes and tell him everything will be okay. It might not be, but that's what he needs to hear right now, that everything will be okay eventually, and there are people who love and think he has done so well up to this point and will do even better for years to come.

She can’t though, and that’s the horror of all this. She is stuck here, watching and waiting.

The gusts of wind are so fast and loud, a whirlwind that makes Baekhyun’s steps a little unsteady, his shirt flapping sideways against his body. He hiccups, then, softly, before he drags the heels of his hands across his cheeks, sniffle echoing around all around, despite the loud winds. The sound of his tiny, broken sobs lodges itself deep in her heart. It will stay with her, she thinks, for the rest of her life. He sways in place, too close to the edge of the cliff. It doesn’t sit well with her. None of this sits well with her. She wishes someone would come, pull him into a hug, and tell him it’s okay to hurt, that despite all this pain he's feeling now, one day he'll feel something better, happier, even if he thinks it's impossible. She’s afraid of his proximity to the edge of the cliff, of the whimsical fuchsia color seeping into the darkness, how it only emphasizes the immediate dip of the cliff inches from his toes. Her heartbeat quickens. His own chest is heaving, up and down, up and down, up and do—

"Baekhyun!"

There is a shout from behind her and she spins, sees Choi Minho tearing through the forest, grey, ashy trees ripping at his skin. He is uncaring of the scratches forming on his forearms as he rushes forward, straight through her.

But the shout—it startles Baekhyun. It startles Baekhyun and the gusts of wind are too strong, the fuchsia rocks are too loose, and he is too ing close to the edge of the cliff.

Baekhyun’s foot slips. Minho screams.

His back blocks her view, but she still squeezes her eyes shut.

She can’t watch this, she can’t she can’t she can’t.

The scene changes, she can tell from the sounds around her, but blood is rushing in her ears and she can’t open her eyes. All she hears is Taeyeon shouting obscenities at someone. Shouts and anguished screams that break midway, lilting up before breaking off into this defeated little whimper that is heart shattering. Hyemi can’t stop her own tears from spilling down her cheeks. Taeyeon is screaming this is all your fault and she thinks it might be Choi Minho she’s shouting at. Minho doesn't resist Taeyeon's anger. Minho never once denies Taeyeon's accusations.

It’s no one’s fault. It was an accident. Maybe, it wasn’t supposed to be, at first. Maybe, Baekhyun meant for it not to be an accident, at all, but his foot slipped, and it turned into an accident, and now they’re all grieving and angry. They want someone to direct their anger at.

So, they choose each other.

Kris and Junmyeon argue and argue. Chanyeol buries himself in his work. Minseok gets into more trouble with the law. Luhan can’t stand listening to the thoughts of everyone around them. Zitao becomes quieter. Sehun clings to Junmyeon. Jongdae hides his emotions behind jokes, too many jokes. Yixing feels too much. Kyungsoo takes on too many shifts guarding the king, isolating himself more and more. Jongin disappears for days on end. She hears snippets of everything, too much, building and building and building in her head.

Hyemi can’t listen to any of this anymore. She can’t listen to everyone fall apart when she feels like she’s falling apart as well.

She opens her eyes, tears herself away from the visions in her head, and Yixing is staring at her, a deep, fleshy, bloody hole drilled into his jaw, a gory sight that Yixing is practically ignoring and Hyemi can’t tear her eyes off of. The longer she stares, the more her eyes and nose sting. Her head is empty, quiet. She’s afraid to allow herself to think, to process what she’s seen.

Her fingernails dig into her palms so hard, she’s probably tearing at skin. The stars illuminate each and every one of Yixing’s scars and cuts, bared out for her to see.

She should admit it, shouldn’t she? She should make herself say he’s dead, Baekhyun is dead.

Yet, she can’t.

Still, Yixing nods, a gentle, tiny thing that is filled with an immense amount of empathy and care. “He’s no—”

She yelps, stepping back in horror, as Yixing’s throat is slit and he gurgles, fingers curling around his throat and blood spurting out, splattering over her face. Her eyes widen as Yixing tries to say something, anything, a wet song that makes her want to puke, before he completely disappears, and she is left there with nothing but Yixing’s blood on her hands and covering her face. She is left alone.

Until a voice echoes from behind her, familiar and amused. “There you are.”

She spins and Baekhyun stands there, grin tearing his face in two, robes hanging off his frame. His eyes light up and the bracelet on her wrist warms against her skin, a gentle, soothing warmth that calms her nerves a bit, allows her a moment to think straight.

It’s strange to feel all those out-of-control emotions swirling inside her, but not being so overwhelmed by them. Maybe, that memory of Baekhyun’s death had flipped a switch in her. She doesn’t feel so turbulent anymore. It’s like all the grief and pain of the loss of her best friend has manifested into this determination, this resolve inside her. For what? She doesn’t know. But, somehow, the emotions inside of her are less hectic and more profound, the same way the stars are up above her and the energy pulsing through the ground, the planet, around her is. Suddenly the numbness isn’t so horrifyingly there and she is in control. She is in pain, immense pain, but she understands it. It is hers and she knows she will be able to process it.

Her heart pounds, devastation at the sight of Baekhyun like this, as the God of Death’s true master, as someone who is not her Baekhyun and never ing was, swirls within her, settles under her skin, and she can feel it buzzing in her fingertips. She isn’t so overwhelmed anymore. She is just angry at this version of Baekhyun, at Yeonma Baekhyun, and what he has done to her and to Baekhyun.

She is just determined, now.

Baekhyun’s expression twists a little. For a moment, it softens, turns into this horrible reminder of what she once knew, before it screws back up into the twisted amusement of Baekhyun, the True Master of Yeonma, the True God of Death, as he analyzes her and the look in her eyes.

“So, you won’t join me, will you, my love?” Baekhyun steps towards her. She stands her grounds, despite how afraid she is. She’s always been stubborn; Baekhyun always used to admonish her for it. But she won’t stand down. She’s gotten this far and she won’t let Yeonma Baekhyun win. Not after everything. There is a darkness emitting from Baekhyun that swallows him whole. His eyes are piercing and that feeling of violation returns tenfold, knowing that all this time, she was being manipulated by someone who had taken Baekhyun’s soul and used his body as a vessel for his nefarious plans. He had pretended to be Baekhyun and touched her. He had made her believe her Baekhyun was the one who loved her. She shivers under his gaze, but she remains rooted to her spot, allowing the itching beneath her skin to manifest into the powers he had helped train her in as determined anger flares in the pit of her stomach.

(For a moment, she hears a soft buzzing in her head. But, then, it disappears. Her bracelet only glows brighter and brighter.)

“It’s too bad.” Baekhyun breathes as steps up to her, right in front of her. He reaches out and tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear. She jerks away from his touch, clenching her fists. Baekhyun grins, that same boxy grin she loved so much, though it is nothing but a caricature, an empty husk, of what it once was. Still, her feelings remain strong. They will always be there, she thinks. She can’t stop it and she shouldn’t. Her emotions are there for a reason and it’s okay to feel everything so strongly the way she is. It’s okay to love him, despite everything, as long as she knows that she loves Baekhyun as the Baekhyun she thought him to be. It’s okay to allow her heart to break for all the people she’s met on this journey—even for those she met on every single journey Baekhyun had put her through to get to this moment right here. It’s okay to feel all these emotions. It doesn’t make her weak.

It’s okay.

“You’ve already helped me find the seeds I was looking for and I don’t need you so…alive to use you to restore them.”

It’s okay.

Baekhyun’s grin only stretches and stretches, as his dark eyes linger on her, his gaze unsettling, twisted. “I only need your heart to beat just enough.”

It’s okay.

Warmth settles at her fingertips and she feels alive at the way her power flares inwards, before gushing outwards, spiking. The buzzing in her head turns into this loud banging before it settles, and she hears—

Hyemi?

She could cry at the familiar voice in her head, how it morphs into ten other voices, the same voices she had wanted to stop crowding up her head so badly earlier. Yet now, at this moment, it only brings her immense joy.

(Happiness, happiness settles over her and it feeds into her powers, causes her toes and fingertips to tingle as the bracelet around her wrist glows so brightly Baekhyun stumbles back in surprise, his eyes widening.)

Hyemi, what’s going on? Jongdae’s voice echoes in her head, a quiet distant echo tumbling through her head. She could almost cry at the sound. She can feel their confusion. She can feel everything, but, this time, it’s—it’s okay.

(For a moment, there is a tiny smile playing on Baekhyun’s lips, a satisfied smile that looks out of place on the rest of his angry, vindictive expression.)

Destruction builds around her, a bubble that surges outwards, and it takes her a moment to notice the way the sky above her seems to crumble, the inky black morphing into something bright pink, the same fuchsia as that cliff. The Tree is next. It shatters, shards of light, of images of an ancient, withered tree trunk, gives way to red-brown walls and giant flowers spilling from the ceilings that no longer look like skeletons, the whole world cracking like a broken mirror. It takes her a moment to realize exactly what she’s destroying. Her eyes widen just as Baekhyun starts to glare, stepping away from her, blinding white light flaring all around him, a darkness streaking through the white light that unsettles her to her bones.

“What do you think you’re doing?” He bites out and she can’t help but flinch at the sheer fact that Baekhyun is shouting at her. But she still stands her ground.

Yeonma Baekhyun’s expression turns dark as he lunges for her, only for her bracelet to light up, the light within it seemingly shoving him back. Her power surges out of her and she can feel her bubble of destruction expanding, scattering every which way, up, up, up. She’s destroying his illusions. Everything Yeonma Baekhyun has created to disillusion them is shattering before his eyes and he can’t do a thing about it. He screams. She’s never heard Baekhyun scream before. It’s loud and jolting, shrill. The volume of the sound, the intensity and anger of it, makes her flinch. The cave and chains fall away, flickering back to the Temple of Dreams and the bridge over the ravine.

Baekhyun lifts his hand and suddenly the world distorts and she feels herself falling into nothingness. She’s not strong enough to completely destroy his illusions, but she can keep them from affecting her and everyone connected to her so thoroughly like earlier—at least that’s what she’s going to tell herself until it becomes true.

She hears Junmyeon in her head, Baekhyun is—he’s dead. That’s—

She closes her eyes, takes a deep deep breath to steady herself, preparing herself briefly for what she will see when opens her eyes. She almost expects more gory imagery of yet another tortured, pained boy that she feels responsible for. Instead, she grasps at the grass and sticky, wet dirt beneath her, taking a brief moment to steel herself, before she looks up, chest heaving, and finds she is staring up at Kyungsoo, who is kneeling beside her, brows knit together in concern. He blinks down at her, his eyes owlish as his stoic expression softens immensely at whatever he sees in her eyes.

She should say something. She knows she should. Yet, she can’t form a proper sentence. Kyungsoo doesn’t seem to mind though, hand outstretched towards her. With his other hand, he twists his fist and a circle of boulders fly through the air, crushing a crawling, dark creature before he uses his rocks to catch it and lob it right back over the wall.

She takes his hand and he helps her to her feet, his eyes focused on the crumbled wall and the monsters hobbling towards them, their teeth bared and their eyes red, demonic, and angry.

“I think he has me buried underground.” Kyungsoo says, suddenly, his wide eyes not once drifting from the monsters before them as he flicks his wrists in powerful angles, forming caskets of rocks around each individual monster that gets too close to them. “Except I can’t use my powers there. I can feel the earth around me, but there’s a layer of…of something else that I can’t tear out of. It’s getting harder to breathe.”

She peers up at his stoic expression and she notices a minuscule frown at his lips, a furrow to his brows, and a shine to his eyes, a deep, desolate look she senses he is trying to hide away. Kyungsoo, she realizes, is more affected by all this, by Baekhyun’s betrayal and his punishments, then he lets on. They all are. She can sense it in the connection at the back of her head.

Kyungsoo finally turns to look at her, “Which one is real? The version of me talking to you here or the one who has been suffocating underground all this time?”

She really doesn’t know. These are Baekhyun’s illusions and they are trapped in them. Only he knows the truth; the true timeline. If they want to fight him, they will have to fight both him and his illusions, and that includes whatever illusions he’s trapped them all in. She’s afraid to find out what the other boys are going through, if Yixing and Kyungsoo’s are this bad.

She doesn’t say anything; she can’t. Kyungsoo’s expression grows more unyielding this time. His nod is brisk and curt.

“Then we’ll have to find out, won’t we?” Kyungsoo’s tone is resigned, almost disappointed. He turns back to the monsters, flexing his fists, and he calls out, “You should keep destroying his illusions.”

His voice echoes in her head and she can hear the others, their distraught thoughts matching Junmyeon’s and Kyungsoo’s. She can also sense underlying agony—most likely from whatever illusion Baekhyun’s set on each of them. There’s agony and shock, disbelief that Baekhyun could do something like this to them. It all meshes with the chaos that is their emotions and thoughts from remembering everything at once, when she broke Baekhyun’s illusions earlier.

The sheer amount of pain emanating inside of her head is nearly overwhelming, but she embraces it, allows it to settle before passing through her, allows herself to feel it and fuel her powers. They run on her emotions, they always did, she just never noticed it until now.

Her fingers curl into fists as her power of destruction warms up her blood, rushing to her ears. She nods to at Kyungsoo’s words, speaking hesitantly, “Maybe I can weaken him like that.”

“You can weaken him.” Kyungsoo smiles, ever-so-slightly, tone blunt, as if he doesn’t believe anything else but that, “And while you do that, we’ll fight his army off. We’ll help you. Right, guys?”

It’s completely silent in her head for a moment, until Chanyeol speaks up, his words a fitful staccato that reminds her just how close he and Baekhyun are—were. “We will. We’ll stop him.”

(No one suggests killing him. Maybe, it’s because he’s already dead. Or, maybe, it’s become none of them can fathom doing such a thing, even if this Baekhyun isn’t their Baekhyun.)

She takes a deep breath, steadying her erratic heartbeat as best as she can, distinctly sensing the other boys in her head in that moment. This time, there’s something very unified about their presence amongst her thoughts. They’re not distracting or overwhelming, their presence is just normal. Maybe, she’s finally okay with it, with them being mentally connected to her like this.

There’s a low rumble up ahead and her eyes flicker upwards, to the dark grey clouds that seem to be expanding in fast forward overhead, looming over them as it casts a dark shadow over Kyungsoo and her. She glances to the side and for a moment, the images of the other boys, of a bloody Sehun, a wide-eyed, catatonic Luhan and Minseok holding his head to his chest, of Junmyeon staring up at the sky, of Kris ignoring something his father is saying to peer over the edge of the airship, of Jongdae with frantic eyes, Yixing with cuts all over his face, with Zitao’s eyes a pure black and his expression blank, Chanyeol eyes set ablaze as he stares at the same clouds she and Kyungsoo are looking at, and Jongin holding a defensive position in front of Joy and Yeri. Their images flicker beside her before disappearing and she’s sure it’s the work of Baekhyun’s illusions. There’s another rumble up ahead and she watches as the dark grey storm clouds pulse bright, blinding white lights. The pulses set the whole world alight and her eyes burn slightly at how utterly bright the light is. It reminds her of both lightning and the high beams on a car.

But then, the light morphs into a streak of lightning, cutting straight through the sky, a loud crack resounding a few seconds later, just as the jagged lightning bolt hits the tip of ashen grey tree and it catches on fire. Jongdae gasps, falling to his knees, Yixing’s thoughts going frantic.

She sees Yixing kneeling beside Jongdae, right next to her and Kyungsoo, one moment, and then suddenly Yixing is gone, Jongdae remains, and Yixing's thoughts grow more desperate than before.

Baekhyun’s laughter bounces off the storm clouds around her, skittering through the tension. Baekhyun is standing before her. One moment it’s Baekhyun before her and the next, it’s Junmyeon leaning back against a concrete wall, his eyes deader than she’s ever seen them, one knee drawn up to his chest and the other leg sprawled out. Water rushes in from all sides. She blinks rapidly because the water seems more than real. She just has no idea where the hell that much could be coming from and the water only seems to be gathering upwards, growing into giant tidal waves all around them. She isn’t sure if Junmyeon is doing this because of something Baekhyun is showing him, or if this is all Baekhyun’s illusions. Her heart lodges in and she tries to make sense of the giant tidal waves coming at them from all sides, foaming at the top, a picture perfect wall of water that only gets higher and higher, casting a shadow over them. Her vision flickers, then, to Kris on the airship, King Sungyeol shouting words Kris does not hear, not when he’s pulling himself up and over the edge of the airship, his crown abandoned somewhere on the deck and his robes flapping all about him, the sound of rushing air all around him. The wisp of that dragon she had seen earlier manifests into a creature that is larger, wilder, as it claws at Kris’s shoulders, slowing down his freefall. He doesn’t even look fazed by the phenomena, as if expecting it. He probably was.

And then Kris seems to look at her, right in the eye, and he snaps, Pay attention.

She jolts, eyes opening, and Kyungsoo has both his feet spread wide into a wide squat, his fists clenched as he lifts giant walls up from the ground. It’s not enough.

She exhausted already, because despite her training, it was still too brief, and it was never enough for a fight like this, but she can’t just not try. So, she digs deep, grasping at straws as she drags her powers out from under skin, under her veins. She feels the familiar warmth of her powers instantly, the sense of control it always brings her bursting from her. Kyungsoo has the sense to form a thick layer of rock between her and him, dropping to the ground, and she tries to be more strategic this time, aiming for the tidal waves and Junmyeon’s deadened expression.

It seems to work because Baekhyun’s eerie laughter cuts off almost immediately.

He appears, then, right in front of her. And they are back in the crumbling Temple of Dreams. He snarls, his handsome face twisted into a mocking sneer. He is right there, mere inches from her. She’s startled, her powers slipping from her grasp once again, and Baekhyun tries to grab at her. She stumbles back, kicking him in the knee. Her leg goes straight through his image, even as his lips stretch and stretch beyond the beautiful smile she remembers, his limbs morphing and extending into long, spider-like limbs that remind her of his terrifying family and his uncle. Her heartbeat quickens in her chest.

Baekhyun’s pretty face glows, the normalcy of it so utterly jarring in contrast with the dark spider legs and the reddening eyes. “Just give up, sweetheart.”

He raises his spider legs, bringing them down on her, and she scrambles back, her chest heaving with fear, with the memories of that house and what his family had tried to do to them.

“I’m exactly the type of monster I was supposed to become and so. Are. You.” With each of the last words, he crawls closer and closer and she kicks out at him. One of her kicks make contact and actually hits him, but it doesn’t do a thing. His spider legs come closer and closer and little pincers come out, just below his pretty face, and she can help but shake her head because of the fear it reminds her of, the horror of that house.

But then, a rock wall sprouts up between them, knocking Baekhyun in the face, blood forming at his face as his spider-legs return to normal and he’s sprawled out on his back. Rocks curl around Baekhyun’s sprawled out limbs.

She ignores Kyungsoo’s outstretched hand, hauling herself up on her own as she brushes dead grass off her. She needs to do better. She knows she does. She can’t get so scared of Baekhyun, not now.

“He’s setting us against each other.” She says, quietly, watching as Baekhyun rises to his feet and wipes the blood from his nose with the back of his hand, a sharp grin still dripping from his lips. He looks almost inhuman now, as if Death itself has manifested itself in Baekhyun’s features, marring the innocence and softness she’s always loved about him, turning him sharp and cold.

“Yeah.” Jongin appears beside her, so suddenly, she jumps in her spot. He grins at her, but it never reaches his eyes. Kyungsoo smiles a bit, but his gaze is pinned on Baekhyun and there’s melancholy there, mixed in with perpetual determination and resignation in his dark gaze.

“If he uses Zitao’s and pulls a reset—”

“He won’t.” Jongin shakes his head, a quick, almost imperceptible movement. “You may have destroyed the other seed, but the actual Tree of Life still exists. If he can get you to merge with i—”

“He won’t.” Hyemi copies his tone, smiling slightly.

Jongin grins a little and Hyemi feels lighter, somehow, at the trust and belief in his gaze. She never really thought she’d see the day Jongin would come to believe in her like this.

Kyungsoo rolls his eyes, “So, as usual, we’re going with my plan.”

Jongin makes a face, before he disappears, no doubt to find Zitao. Baekhyun’s eyes follow Jongin’s movement, watching as he disappears in a puff of smoke.

There’s a huge roar that echoes all around them, the sound sending a chill down her back. Baekhyun, for a moment, looks startled, and she knows it’s not from him.

Kris. Junmyeon’s voice is soft, careful.

You were probably right. I'm not my father. Kris responds and she can imagine his dismissive hand wave as he says it.

And then she sees the quivering image of Kris frozen in a block ice, his dragon—a majestic creature that towers above him, it’s scales a beautiful disarray of color—frozen as well. His eyes are moving, though. She can see Kris following her movements, but otherwise he frozen there and Hyemi is afraid to find out what Baekhyun shows him.

Still, there is something strange about all these punishments.

She doesn’t know if it’s the hope in her noticing it, or if it’s real, but she notices that Baekhyun isn’t doing anything more than severely injuring these boys. He hasn’t killed anyone. She can sense it in her head; the presence of all of them, even Luhan whose mental presence is just a wisp of what once was, due to whatever Baekhyun’s done to him.

He hasn’t killed anyone.

Why would the God of Death not kill any of them? He only needs her, technically, not any of these boys.

Suddenly, Baekhyun lunges and she dives to the side, using what Minseok taught her to kick at him, catching him in the back of the knee. Baekhyun swivels. He makes a move to use his power, to blind her no doubt, but then her bracelet surges with its own power, blinding him. He stumbles back, clutching his face, and there are tears of blood trickling down his face. She instantly feels guilty for hurting him. His eyes are white when he looks up at her. He uses her hesitancy against her, grabbing her arm. He lifts a hand on her and she flinches. From out of nowhere, fire flares out, bursting and crackling loudly, Chanyeol’s image glistening as the rocks Kyungsoo had formed melt into the ground. The entire world surges and she sees monsters darting over the fields, limbs outstretched, hanging in strange angles, one of them baring its teeth before rearing its head and tearing its teeth into Minseok’s arm, nearly yanking it right off. His arm hangs by a ligament and cold, glittering ice, Hyemi's heart dropping to her stomach at the sight, even as Minseok glares, his icy eyes glinting. The monster lunges again, it's scythe-like limbs slashing at Minseok, and she thinks oh God oh Go—

“Get your together, big brother.” A familiar voice cuts through the tension, the snarling, the disgusting sound of torn limbs.

Sohee has a welder’s hammer in her hands and she easily bashes the monster’s head in before it can take another chunk off of Minseok, spinning before she knocks the monster sideways, making it skid a couple feet away, it's legs twitching in the air like a dead spider's. Luhan kneels behind Minseok, his eyes so big. Sohee blinks at Luhan as she slowly lowers her hammer, her eyes widening.

Minseok stares, both in shock and awe. “So—Sohee?”

“Who else would save your sorry like this?” Sohee asks, raising a brow.

Before Minseok can respond, ice rapidly clinging to his arm, staunching the blood pouring from it, there’s shouting in the distance and she sees arrows exploding, all along the perimeter where the monsters bloom from the flower fields still scampering out from the depths of the grey forest, coming out one at a time, seemingly never-ending in their ascent. She spots a familiar head of silver hair, in the distance, bow in his hand. There’s another familiar face behind him, guarding his back; it's Jonghyun and Minho. They've brought more Hunters.

Minseok frowns at the Hunters, clearly recognizing them immediately, his jaw tensing. Sohee, though, just grins, waving in their direction, her icy eyes glinting in amusement at Minseok’s expression. “Oh yeah, I brought friends.”

“Friends? What.. when?” Minseok’s astonished, his brows lifting. Sohee ignores Minseok’s questioning, sidestepping him in lieu of kneeling beside Luhan and placing a hand on his head.

“What happened?” Her fingers grip Luhan's back but she's staring at Minseok intently, frown only deepening.

“It’s a long story.” Minseok mutters, eyes softening as he stares at Luhan.

"Well, when we finish this, you're telling me everything." Sohee tells him, her eyes flickering over his shoulder. She rises, clutching her hammer. Minseok smiles, the tiniest bit. So does Sohee.

And then the image dissolves into Baekhyun standing before her in the Temple of Dreams. This time, she’s better equipped at pulling her powers out of her. She’s sweating from exertion, but her powers slip out of her more easily this time, though it’s still just as hard to maintain it. The only reason, she thinks, she was able to maintain it for so long all those other times, was because it was triggered by bursts of emotions and exhaustion. Now that she’s in control, it’s harder than ever. Still, she’d rather be in control. If she loses control, she could easily hurt or kill someone she doesn’t want to hurt or kill.

“But you like that feeling, don’t you?” Baekhyun’s voice is a soft caress, gentle in its delivery but sharp edged. “The feeling you get when you hurt some. Kill someone.” Baekhyun grins and it sense shivers down her spine. “I’ll give you one last chance to join me willingly, my love. Otherwise I will drag you to the tree myself and get what I want out of you.”

She vaguely wonders why the God of Death wants her willingness so badly.

(Her vision blurs and she sees a familiar figure stepping past an exhausted Chanyeol, flicking her hands easily and watching as the monsters before her drop. Chanyeol’s blazing eyes gets snuffed out by his shock and wonder.

“T—Taeyeon?” Chanyeol murmurs, his eyes wide. His face is covered in soot and blood. Taeyeon turns to look at him, before her eyes slide to the left, landing right on Hyemi.

Hyemi blinks in surprise at the unsettling way Taeyeon looks at her. “We’ve come to help.”

“But you said you’d never come back here.” Chanyeol rumbles.

“Yes.” Taeyeon says. She shrugs then, her blond plaits falling off her shoulders and down her back. “But, duty calls and all.”

Chanyeol blinks before he lets out a little snort, the humor he clearly wants to inject into it falling a little flat. “Last I saw Jessica, she was at the castle. Does that have anything to do with this?

Taeyeon blinks, her big eyes widening slight. Then she shrugs, nonchalantly, and responds, "ily swooping in and saving the day in front of Jessica may or may not be a part of the plan. That you will never know.”

Chanyeol laughs, an exhausted sound, but welcome in the tension she’s been feeling this whole time. Taeyeon smiles slightly in response, though her cheeks are a little red, even as she shrugs again.)

Baekhyun is staring at her, seemingly waiting. There’s a smirk plastered across his face and she wonders if her pause made him think she was seriously contemplating his words.

“Why do you want me to join you so badly?” She asks, her words steadier than she thought they’d be. His mouth twists, but Baekhyun doesn’t answer. For a moment, she thinks he hesitates.

(Alarms start to go off at the back of her head as she stares at him. Why would the God of Death allow her those chances to speak to Yixing and find out the truth, in the first place?)

He moves as fast as lightning and she barely catches the movement. Suddenly, his pretty, cold fingers are wrapped around , digging into the skin, and she can’t breathe. She reaches up, clawing at his fingers with her nails, but he doesn’t let up. He glowers at her, teeth bared as he bites out, “This useless vessel of mine cares for you so—”

Yeonma Baekhyun cuts himself off, slamming her hard against the wall, her head knocking so hard against the stone wall that her vision grows spotty for a moment. Still, she can’t help but focus on his words. He’s speaking as if—as if there’s a part of Baekhyun still in there, peeking through. As if Baekhyun, though dead, is not entirely gone.

“You’re useless, too. I’ll make you wish you agreed to my terms. I'll kill you, over and over, until you agree.”

And then he—she screams when he tosses her aside, grasping for something, anything, to stop her from dropping over into the ravine. She hears a shout and she thinks she can sense Jongin trying to get to her. But, it’s too late. Her vision goes black. It’s too late.

~.~.~.~.~

She opens her eyes to a breathtaking image, fluffy white clouds looming overhead, floating on by in the lazy summer breeze all around her. She blinks down at her feet and she isn’t even surprised to see that there is no ground. She is floating in the sky, surrounded by picturesque fluffs of white clouds—it’s the first time in a while she’s seen white clouds and blue skies. Suddenly, she is so incredibly homesick. She misses Mina and her little apartment. She even misses her father’s occasional visits, how he still tried to reconnect with her, despite everything he put her through. The sun shines in the horizon, the bright yellow settling into soft, dusty pinks and a gentle gold—reminiscent of the sunsets at the beach. The pinks, golds, soft oranges, and twilight blues would melt into each other and it’d leave her with peace and tranquility. She’s always loved the sunsets at the beach the most, and now she is up close and personal to one. She feels light, drifting there amongst the clouds. She feels like, with a flick of her wrist, she could very well disappear. She vaguely wonders if she is, in fact, dead.

She feels her presence before she hears it. It doesn’t startle her, this time around.

She turns, a cloud drifting through her, her vision hazy, unfocused, for a moment, before her mother comes into view. She looks exactly the way she had when Hyemi had first seen her. There are burns running up and down her face and her strange eyes—the same eyes Hyemi has—are shining so bright, like they are their own individual suns.

There’s a glow all around her that makes her think that this isn’t some kind of illusion Baekhyun is showing her. This is a real vision. This is a true memory of her mother.

Maybe, Hyemi's not dead.

The way her mother’s expression is set, a softness to her furrowed brows and her tight smile, reminds her of all the pain her mother’s been through. All her life, she’s always wanted a mother to be there for her, to share in moments that one can only really share with a mother figure, and some days, she’d be so overwhelmed by that intense need that she’d find herself crying. Somehow, all those feelings, that intensity, that need, that feeling that something is missing, morphs into a giant knot at the pit of her stomach. She stares at her mother and she feels both overwhelmed and scared.

There is a definitiveness to this moment, in the way the tension has accumulated all around them coupled with the look in her mother’s swirling eyes.

(Maybe, Hyemi really is about to die and her mother is here to see her off. Why else would her surroundings seem so heavenly? Why else would the sun be setting so beautifully around them, casting shadows over them, darkening the world like this?)

Hyemi can’t help it, though, when she blurts out, “You knew about this, didn’t you? About—about Baekhyun?”

She doesn’t sound nearly as accusing as she wants to be.

Her mother presses her lips into a thin line, her eyes softening even more than before. Slowly, she nods, “I tried to tell you.”

“You told me not to trust him.” Hyemi whispers.

Her mother smiles, though there’s nothing amusing about it. “I should have been less cryptic, but he was always there, stopping the Tree...me.”

“I—” Hyemi takes a deep, deep breath, glancing upwards. She blinks away the tears forming in her eyes. She can’t stop the pressure building in her chest. “It doesn’t matter. I should have listened to you.”

Her mother shakes her head, a quick movement, a wry smile lifting the corners of , “No. I should have known you never would have. You’re just like me and your father and you really had no reason not to trust him. He was the only person you knew on this planet.”

The silence that follows her words is filled with nostalgia, with years missed and long-lost memories. It is a broken family and lost decades. It’s filled with the knowledge of what will happen after this moment, suspended in time. Hyemi will have to fight Baekhyun and she hasn’t forgotten the visions and her mother telling her she had to make a difficult decision. She will have to—she can’t even fathom the idea, but—

Hyemi whispers, “Mom?”

Her mother looks startled by her tone and the word mom. Hyemi's heart keeps on breaking. “Yes, Hyemi?”

“Mom, I don’t want to die.” Her voice cracks at that last word. She thinks of the alternative, though, and she doesn’t know if she can do that either.

"You won’t die." Her mother’s eyes are gentle, and her smile is even gentler. “You can do it.”

“But—” Hyemi blinks back more tears, her eyes pinned on her mother. Her mother looks almost sad right then, as if she knows what Hyemi’s going to say before she ever says it, “But, I can’t kill him, either.”

Hyemi’s mother doesn’t say a word.

Hyemi whispers, “That’s the decision, isn’t it? This won’t end unless I kill him. And if I—if I don’t kill him, I’ll end up dying, instead, won't I?”

Her mother nods, slow, tired, smile still so gentle, “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. You shouldn't have to—you shouldn’t have to do this, but it’s the only way."

Hyemi can feel the tears welling in her eyes and threatening to spill over. Her chest feels so so tight and her fingers tremble at her sides, forming loose fists. She opens to respond, to formulate words she hasn’t been able to really, truly admit this whole time, but her words get caught in .

She tries once, twice, blinking away more tears, the tremor in her hands growing worse. Finally, finally, she manages to speak up and finally admit it out loud, her voice low, soft. “But, but—but I love him.”

(It’s the truth and it has been a reality since forever, perhaps even before Baekhyun ever left her in high school. She loves Baekhyun. She loves him. She always has and—she doesn’t know if she can do it.)

Hyemi can feel her heart breaking when her mother seems to surge forward, stepping closer to her, though she doesn’t respond right away. There’s a deep sadness in her eyes as she watches Hyemi, unable to touch her or hold her like she looks like she wants to—at least Hyemi imagines that’s what she wants because that’s what Hyemi wants, too. At that moment, Hyemi truly hates this world and what it is doing to her. She can only see her mother, but she can’t touch her. At that moment, all she really wants is a comforting hug from her mother. She wants her to tell her everything will be all right.

But her mother can’t touch her, and she won’t tell her everything will be all right.

It’s not realistic.

Hyemi knows this.

Asha wipes at her face with the back of her hand and Hyemi does the same, fingers still curled into tight fists as she takes deep breaths to steady herself.

“No matter how much you love someone, you have to save yourself first. Love is…sometimes, it’s just not enough. All by itself, it’s useless. It’s not worth sacrificing yourself for someone who wouldn’t do the same for you and…Hyemi, this version of Baekhyun? He’s not the Baekhyun you love. Sacrificing yourself for him won’t be worth it.” Her mother’s face is gentle and knowing, though it is filled with immense pity and understanding. She thinks of King Sungyeol and Jia and Hyemi feels her heart breaking, more than it ever was before, than it ever had.

(Her mother is speaking from experience, from the trauma she went through for what she believed to be love. Hyemi wipes at more of her tears as she tries to formulate her thoughts into coherent sentences.)

“Is that why you left?”

Hyemi thinks of King Sungyeol confined to his castle, Jia’s framed photograph above his dresser, Heechul saying that maybe Jia died from grief or guilt or something after her mother ran. Her mother loved the two of them in different ways, Hyemi knows. Sungyeol, she thought she loved him because the alternative, the idea of being used the way he had used her would break Asha more than anything, wouldn't it? But, Jia—

“Yes.” Her mother murmurs, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. The longing in her voice is tragic on its own. Hyemi’s thoughts settle on that, how despite different circumstances, her mother and her share some of the same pains—Jia was her mother’s best friend, despite everything she’s done to her and turned a blind eye to Sungyeol for.

“Mom?” Hyemi thinks she’s sounds so tiny, so young, like when she was practically a baby and meeting Baekhyun for the first time so long ago.

Her mother just watches her, her eyes filling with a gentle fondness Hyemi has always dreamt of seeing, especially when she was a kid. “Yes, my love?”

Hyemi takes a deep, staggering breath, closing her eyes as she breathes out, “I really don’t think I can do it.”

“You owe it to him, don’t you think?” Hyemi’s mother looks her in the eye, even as she drifts even closer, until they are an arms length away. She raises a hand, her hand drifting right through her face. Hyemi wishes it wouldn’t. She wishes she could feel her mother’s touch on her cheek so, so badly. “You have the power to keep him from being stuck in there. You sensed it, didn’t you? That he’s still fighting in there, deep deep down. His love may not be enough for him to free himself, but you can do something. You can set him free and help him find peace he deserves.”

“Even if—” She chokes on the very thought of it, “Even if I have to kill him?”

She knows the answer to her question but she still asks, like a child looking for guidance. Her mother doesn’t admonish her or belittle her. She just nods, eyes solemn. “Even if you have to kill him.”

She thinks it’s ironic, really, because she’s always wished to have a mother to speak to about so many different problems when she was younger, when she was a teenager, when she had her first breakup, when Baekhyun disappeared, and—and now she’s getting it, that advice, that mother figure, she always craved so ing badly and her heart is both swelling like a balloon and breaking into a thousand pieces.

This is not the kind of topic she’s wanted to talk her mother about. This is too heavy, too painful. But, she knows she has to do this. If anything, she can stop Yeonma from using Baekhyun’s body how he pleases. She can let him rest the way he should.

“Okay.” She takes a deep breath and swipes at a few more tears, breathing ragged and her words shaky, “Okay.”

“You’ve grown up so fast, Hyemi, my love. I’m glad I got to experience you, everything you are, even if—even if it’s just through these memories. I’m sorry it had to be this way.”

Hyemi’s bottom lip trembles. “I—It’s nice, you’re nice. I wish I could have met you sooner, mom.”

Hyemi’s mother’s eyes shine bright and she glances away. Hyemi doesn’t know if ghosts can cry, but that’s what it looks like her mother’s fighting back, even more than she had before. Hyemi stares at her mother, thinks maybe she should try to memorize her face because this is the last time she’ll see her, she’s sure of it. Her mother stares at her the same way, as if she is memorizing each and every tiny detail of Hyemi’s face to take with her to wherever she will go after all this over.

After a moment, her mother’s expression grows determined, eyes encouraging, as she says, “It’s time for you to go back.”

Slowly, Hyemi nods, sniffling as she rubs her eyes, “Okay. I—Take care of yourself, okay? I don’t know how that works since you’re a—a ghost or something. Do you even eat? Sleep? Do you just float through time and space forever? I don’t know, it’s just—”

Her mother laughs, then. Hyemi thinks that’s the worst part about knowing someone because you will always miss their laughter the most. She’s only known her mother through these memories, memories of her as Asha, young and angry, and she knows she’ll miss her mother’s laughter the most. She doesn’t know how her father has been dealing all these years. Hyemi makes a promise to herself, right then, that she will make it through, go back home, and give her father a hug.

Hyemi’s mother whispers, “Please do that for me.”

Hyemi nods, not trusting herself to speak. She thinks if she opens , she won’t be able to stop herself from sobbing.

Hyemi closes her eyes, the memory of her mother smiling etched into the back of her eyelids and takes a deep breath.

“Good luck, Hyemi. You can do it.” Her mother whispers, her words trailing after her long after she closes her eyes.

She opens her eyes to the chaos of the battlefield and her mother’s whisper lingers in her head and Hyemi can’t help but smile anyway, newfound confidence and determination coursing through her. Not even the hectic battle before her can crush her determination. It only spurs her on, despite the way wet blood seeps into her clothes, a monster twitching inches next to her.

(Her mother had tossed her back to the Temple of Dreams, onto a bed of flowers (surprisingly alive—a product, she thinks, of her mother’s ability to create, no doubt—soaked in sticky, wet blood that smells strongly of iron, making her stomach churn. She clutches at the dead grass as she shoves herself up on her knees and drops at the sight across the rickety bridge and the ravine she had supposedly been tossed into, of Kris looming over Junmyeon’s collapsed form, the dragon clinging to his back roaring. Chanyeol is there, too, somehow. She isn’t sure how that’s possible—when had he appeared here?—but he sets the trees behind him ablaze as he walks, his hair singed, the ends emitting soft smoke. His eyes are focused on the Temple of Dreams—on Baekhyun standing ahead of her, watching as his friends—brothers—fight tooth and nail against a growing shadowed army. All she can see is his broad back. She can’t see his expression, but it must be something horrible. She can sense the faintest remnants of distress and agitation from the boys in her head, though her link to them feels muffled somehow—perhaps because she was thrown into the ravine so easily. Jongin had tried to save her, but he didn’t succeed. Maybe, they think she really fell to her death.

Her grip on the flower bed beneath her tightens and she accidentally tears at a few white flowers, uprooting them. They remind her of lilies, symbols of death meant for funerals back home. She stares at them for a moment and she thinks of what her mother had said. She looks up again and she watches as his robes flicker, from that deep, bottomless black, to a very subtle navy blue. The change is almost unnoticeable.

But, Hyemi’s bracelet warms against her skin, a gentle warmth that reminds her of how Baekhyun used to thread his fingers through hers sometimes, when they’d be in a crowd at the amusement park or at a fair and he wouldn’t want her to get lost amongst all those people. She stares and stares at the navy cloak, the way Chanyeol is slowly making his way through the field of flowers, towards Baekhyun, the way Kris is shouting something at him, even as he leans over Junmyeon, his gaze flickering between who she knows are the two most important people he’s ever had in his life, apart from his mother Jia, Zitao, and her own mother, Asha.

Baekhyun raises an arm and she watches the navy-blue change to a dark, forest green. She sees Zitao appear, his image fluttering into view. He looks disoriented, his cat-like eyes rolling backwards, the whites of his eyes showing. Jongin is clinging to him, seemingly talking him down.

The robes keep changing, flickering between navy blue, forest green, and black, while the warmth at her wrist grows and grows, the golden light emitting from it dim, but still so very obvious to her.

As she stares, her chest heaves and her fingers cling to the flowers under her, as if she can somehow hold her mother tight through these flowers of hers. But, she can’t. Her chest wells up with this horrible feeling of dread, pain, and resignation.

Maybe, it’s all just wishful thinking. Maybe, Baekhyun is truly just dead and gone, and she’s imagining these signs as a way for her brain to deal with the idea of killing Baekhyun.

But, maybe, this is him telling her it’s time.

The colors change and change, more urgently than before, and she knows it’s now or never. Baekhyun knows it, too. Not Yeonma Baekhyun, but her Baekhyun.

Slowly, she stumbles to her feet. She can’t stop the tears from filling her eyes. She doesn’t bother stopping it. She uses those emotions to dredge up the last bits of her energy so she can end this once and for all.

(Junmyeon isn’t moving. Minseok is nowhere to be seen. Yixing is trying so hard to calm Luhan down. There is lightning splitting the skies in half as it strikes the ground, the smell of burning flesh so very potent. Jongdae is a spark away from exploding. They can’t keep this up.

It’s time.)

She places a palm over her bracelet.

It’s time.

She takes each step carefully, watching as Yeonma Baekhyun raises his arms, shoots bright lights from his palms. He could blind all of them, but the light is not bright enough. It never is.

None of the attacks he enacts on them are deadly enough to kill. She’s noticed this since the beginning.

He fractures the image of Zitao, like glass shattering, and Jongin shakes his head quicklym desperately. Sehun shoves past Jongin, kneeling, but Zitao’s image seems to warp in on itself, as if he is slipping through into another dimension. He very well might be.

It’s time.

“You’re still in there, aren’t you, Baekhyun?” She speaks up, her voice ringing loud and clear, despite all the screams from around them, despite the thunder clapping and the roars of a dragon as it tears through and burns straight through Baekhyun’s army, all of them howling in pain, the sound reverberating all throughout, so loud that it’s nearly painful to listen to.

Yeonma Baekhyun spins and his eyes are a pure white. His grin splits his beautiful face in two, “Back for more, sweetheart?” There’s a pause as he steps towards her. She doesn’t cower under his scrutiny. She doesn’t even tremble. She just stares. He tilts his head to the side and his white eyes are unsettling, the blacks of his pupils completely gone, “Look around you, love. They’re all going to die. Of course…” He takes another step. She doesn’t step back and his grin slips the tiniest bit, “You can stop this if you do as I say. You have full control of the Tree. You can stop this.”

She blinks at him, at his proximity, the way he lowers his voice and speaks to her in that sweet, saccharine tone. She half expects him to reach out and touch her.

But, he can’t. Her bracelet gleams, forming a protective sphere of light around her. He can’t press into that bubble.

“You’re right.” She says, her voice softer, steadier than ever, “I can stop this, and I will.”

Baekhyun blinks, surprised by her tone and how she steps closer this time. His white eyes bore into her, seemingly analyzing her movements.

She lifts a hand and the golden light of her bracelet mixes in with the last inklings of her powers, forming a tight, swirling ball in her palm. Baekhyun blinks, rapidly, but he doesn’t move. He thinks she’s bluffing. She can see it in the twist of his lips, an ugly sneer that mars Baekhyun’s features. She takes a deep breath and she rushes forward. He reacts a second too late, knocking her hand aside as his image shatters like broken glass, only for him to reappear a couple feet to her side.

Still, she knows she got him.

(His own attack—the blast of hot light so bright it should have seared her skin and causes cancerous welts to form all over is deflected off the golden aura of the bracelet at her wrist. His forest green robes shift to a deep, ruby red. Baekhyun is—her Baekhyun whose restless soul is still deep inside this Baekhyun—is trying to fight him. She can see it in the way Yeonma Baekhyun winces, shaking his head slightly, his jaw tightening.)

He’s cradling his hand, gritting his teeth. When he pulls his hand away from his injured hand, ashes trickle to the ground. A bloody stump sits where his pointer finger once was—she really did get him. Her heart seizes at the thought, but she steels herself, tells herself this is what she must do.

She needs to kill him, and this is the only way.

Still, a big part of her can’t believe she’s hurt Baekhyun like this. Again.

Baekhyun plays on that.

His expression crumples with pain and betrayal, nothing like the twisted, mocking version of Baekhyun she had been seeing thus far—or rather focusing on. His tone is filled with horror as he whimpers, the pain so imminent that it only crushes Hyemi’s heart more, “Hye, how could you do this—why…why are you hurting me again?”

Slowly, she shakes her head, steeling her nerves, her emotions, as she ignores his manipulations. She’s had enough of that. Enough. “Baek.” She says, instead, ignoring the way Baekhyun looks up at her with big, wet eyes, vulnerability mixed with intense pain and betrayal. She shakes her head, “Baek, I know you’re still in there.”

For a small moment, Baekhyun hesitates, his expression freezing in place. But then, Baekhyun burns brightly, and she flinches at the intensity of the glaring white light, her eyes burning, making them water as she squeezes them shut. She doesn’t see him come at her until he grabs her by the hair, yanking her roughly. She gasps, eyes flying open as she wills more power, power that she barely has anything left of, exhaustion making it harder for her to even try to pull herself out of his grip, out from deep within her. She can’t concentrate properly, however, not when he jerks at her hair, her scalp stinging and the Temple of Dreams seem to flip on its head, glittering brightly as it morphs into the familiar sight of the Tree of Life. He drags her by the hair to the base of the tree and no matter how much she struggles, no matter how brightly the bracelet at her wrist glows, seemingly scorching through his skin until his bones are visible—clearly too angry to care about the pain—she can’t pull herself free from his grip.

As she grips his cold fingers, she can’t help but sputter, “I know you’re still in there, fighting him, Baek. I know it.”

She sounds so desperate, she thinks, even to her own ears.

Yeonma Baekhyun cackles from up above her, his grip on her hair tightening. The Tree—it’s not the Tree of Life, she senses, but the seed he wishes for her to restore, the seed he will use to destroy and then control everything, the seed she thought she destroyed. Somehow, it’s in front of her, disguised as the Tree of Life. At least that’s what she thinks. She doesn’t even know what the true reality of her surroundings are anymore, because that’s what Baekhyun’s powers are. They warp reality into whatever he wants and he wants disorientation and confusion. He wants control.

“You’re so ing pathetic.” Baekhyun leans forward, so close his face hovers right above her ear, and he hisses, “He’s dead and gone, sweetheart, and you can never get to him. I am in full control of this body. I was the one to come back for you. I made him care for you. I gave you everything you wanted. You should be grateful, you brat, and do as you’re told.”

The smell of burning flesh is strong, the warmth at her wrist intensifying into a heat that reminds her of when she'd accidentally touch the metal part of a seatbelt in a car on a hot summer’s day. It’s beginning to hurt. Still, she can hear the sizzling of skin, of the bracelet trying to protect her. So, of course, that’s what Baekhyun reaches for first, grip still tight on her hair as he reaches over to wrench the only thing protecting her from him off.

(Baekhyun had given it to her, the Baekhyun that was supposed to be Yeonma Baekhyun at that time, according to what he just said, except she distinctly remembers his confused frown when the bracelet reappeared. He didn’t recognize it. Maybe, her Baekhyun really had been the one to give it to her. Maybe he had broken through for a moment, despite everything Yeonma Baekhyun has told her. Maybe, it was her Baekhyun who hid the bracelet for so long, in the first place, for this final moment where she’d need the protection from him. Maybe, all those times objects and clothing kept changing colors, all those glitches, were brief moments where her Baekhyun was fighting the occupation of his body. Maybe that moment where he thought she was dead, after she first saw Yeonma at Labyrinth City, it was her Baekhyun halfway to tears, worried because he thought she was dead.

Or, maybe, it wasn’t, and this is all wishful thinking. Baekhyun is dead, after all.

Either way, she looks inwards and thinks of that ball of golden light Baekhyun had taught her to think of during training. She thinks of its warmth, of how it reminded her of Baekhyun, and she allows her powers to fester one final time, even though she is beyond exhausted. This is her final chance to stop him and she knows that once she gathers her last bits of power, there is no turning back. She will kill him or she will die trying.

His white eyes widen in horror when he realizes what she’s doing a second too late, his grip in her hair loosening just slightly.

She lets loose her powers, allows it to burst out of her, like she’s finally letting out a scream she’s been holding in all this time. The intensity of it is like no other. The adrenaline, all the emotions she’s felt up to this point, the warmth inside her, surges out of her, shooting out every which way, and it feels like someone is sticking her with tiny needles as all this happens. Her nerves prickle as everything just seeps out of her and she can distinctly feel objects being swallowed up into the bubble of destruction gushing out from every cell in her body. She can sense the way the remaining seed or tree or whatever-that-is deteriorates before her, can feel the way she manages to get a couple more fingers off of Baekhyun’s hands before he skitters back. She vaguely registers Baekhyun’s screams, the echo shrill, furious. She spins, her powers seeping back into her bones, coming back down as quickly as it came up, and the exhaustion is bone-deep this time. Her bones truly feel like they are aching. Baekhyun flickers and flutters, disintegrating for a moment, her breath catching in , before he is pieced back together, not disintegrating, somehow. She can’t make sense of it, especially not when the exhaustion makes her so slow to react.

Hyemi watches Baekhyun lunge at her in slow motion, shouting at her for being so ungrateful, so disgusting, and her chest twinges because, despite everything, Yeonma Baekhyun still looks and sounds like her Baekhyun. They are the same person, the same body. It hurts to be spoken to like that by Baekhyun, even if this is just his face and body and not really him. She can barely move and something tells her that maybe this is how it’s all supposed to go. Maybe, her fate was always supposed to be Pretty Hyemi’s from her visions. Maybe, she was never supposed to make it out of this alive. It’d only make sense, like some convoluted sort of poetic justice. 

She prepares for Baekhyun to kill her. He would have gotten her. There’s a knife in his pretty, uninjured hand; it could be an illusion, or it could not be one, she doesn’t know anymore. But then he jolts to an abrupt stop, his limbs coming to halt in this sickening, broken way that resembles the movements of a puppet being pulled by its strings. His expression flickers, switching between kind and cruel, back and forth back and forth, so fast she wonders if she’ll get whiplash just from looking at it. She can’t stop staring, even as the fingers of the hand holding the knife bends back, back, back, bending at a painful angle, until the knife finally drops, the dull thud too loud in the unnatural silence around them. Then the knife flickers into nothing, disappearing before her eyes.

Her gaze drifts from where the knife once was to Baekhyun, frozen there. The cruel look in his eyes is gone, replaced by kindness and…regret. She stares at the way his expression softens, the way his lips aren’t drawn up into a horrid snarl, and the way the pure whites of his eyes have morphed back into that chocolate brown she knows she’ll never forget.

Baekhyun, her Baekhyun, looks her in the eye and he says, very softly, “Kill me.”

She knows, right then and there, that this is her Baekhyun, and, somehow, that makes it worse. She can feel the determination ebbing out of her, unable to tear her eyes off him. This hurts, she finds, a thousand times worse than if she had had to look a cruel Baekhyun in the eyes as she killed him.

Baekhyun’s stutters, breathing strained, “I can only hold on for so long, Hyemi. You have to kill me now.”

She should give Baekhyun this. If she loves him, really loves him, she will set him free. She will give him peace. Slowly, mechanically, she nods, her body moving on its own accord, as if she’s on autopilot. She can still feel tendrils of energy, barely there droplets, left from her earlier attack. A huge part of her doesn’t want to gather her destructive energy. She doesn’t want to destroy anything anymore. She doesn’t want to hurt Baekhyun. But, she knows she needs to do this. She’s the one who must do this.

As she gathers her energy into the palm of her hands, a tiny tumultuous ball of destruction gathering at her fingertips, Baekhyun murmurs, the same way he used to when they’d stay up late and stare at the ceiling, whispering about everything and anything until the sun rises again, his voice hoarse, “I’m…I’m truly sorry for everything, Hyemi. I turned out to be the monster I was always supposed to be after all and—and I hurt all of you and—I’m sorry. I know this is—this is absolutely ty timing, but I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t.” Hyemi starts to shake her head, thinks no, no, no, her eyes welling with tears, “This wasn’t your fault. You’re not—you’re not him. You’re not a monster.”

Baekhyun trembles with the intensity at which he’s trying to keep control of his own body. But, he is nothing but a dead soul and his body isn’t his anymore. He won’t be able to hold on for much longer. Baekhyun’s gaze is distant, “The way I left you, the way I left everyone, what I put all of you through—I am.”

She furiously disagrees, shaking her head vehemently. She can’t—she doesn’t want him to go to wherever souls go after they are put to rest believing that he is some kind of monster for giving into thoughts and feelings that drove him to think of death in such an intimate way—a way she thinks no one deserves to think of death, especially not someone so young. He is not a monster for hurting so much. What happened to him—what he went through after he returned from Earth—and the events that followed was not one specific person’s fault. It was pain and circumstance that brought him to that fuchsia cliff. It was no one's fault, not even his. He was hurting and she wishes he'd have opened up to someone, but that's it. He's not a monster nor is he evil. She wants him to understand that.

“You were just hurting and you made a mistake, but it’s not your fault, okay?” She shakes her head rapidly, even as she steps closer and closer, her vehemence filling her veins with fire, “You’re no monster and you never were. Your parents made this deal that turned you into this. Your—your parents should never have done this to you.”

Baekhyun reaches up, then, and his shaking fingers flutter over her cheek. She sees it in his eyes, the beginnings of a stark change and Yeonma Baekhyun trying to claw through his consciousness, tearing him apart in the process. Hyemi takes a deep, deep breath, all while Baekhyun nods and nods, smiling encouragingly. Her hands tremble and Baekhyun reaches up and grabs her wrist. His fingers are ice cold as he helps her move her hand and the tiny ball of destruction, to his chest, until it is hovering right over his heart. She can sense the way the pressure of his fingertips change from gentle to something tighter, more sinister. Yeonma Baekhyun is returning. Her Baekhyun is disappearing.

Baekhyun nods to her, smiling sweetly. "You're probably right."

"I am."

He smiles, weakly. "I'm sorry you have to be the one to do this."

She shakes her head, "It's okay."

"It's not."

His expression flickers again, changing dramatically.

She takes another shaky breath as she presses her palm and the little ball of destruction, tiny but lethal, and watches it sink through his chest, grinding a tiny hole directly over his heart. She glances up, at his eyes, and they have already morphed back into the cruel, bitter eyes of Yeonma Baekhyun, white overtaking chocolate brown. He shrieks in pain, his grip on her wrist painfully tight, so tight there’ll definitely be bruises, and the sound settles in her chest, burrowing itself away to live there forever. She doesn’t think she’ll ever forget the sound or the way Baekhyun collapses in a heap in her arms, his full body weight too heavy for her to hold up, her wobbly knees nearly collapsing beneath her. But before it can, her fingers wrapped around him, gripping him, praying her won’t disappear, his body disintegrates into dust and ash, destroyed the same way Rin and those NCT Hunters had been.

She can’t stop staring at the ashes coating her palms. She did this.

She did this.

She is vaguely aware of the monsters Yeonma created collapsing one by one, the darkness surrounding them and warping their features disintegrating, revealing all the innocent people beyond the wall that Yeonma had recruited, perhaps even forced, into his ranks, all passed out or dead. She is vaguely aware of the distinct feeling of revulsion trickling into her shaken thoughts, of images of normal citizens of this planet with broken limbs or gasping in pain. She hears some of them whispering, please, it hurts. Some of them even beg for death, like Baekhyun had. No matter how many times she tries to look at anything but the ashes covering her hands, she can’t. Her knees give out and she lands in a heap in more ashes, in sticky blood from innocent-people-turned-monsters, and her chest only seems to tighten with each passing second.

She did all of this.

Everything is so silent, like a grave. She doesn’t expect anyone to come to her side. But, Jongin, of all people, is the first one to appear at her side, a wisp of smoke clouding up her peripheral vision. She barely spares him a glance, staring at her hands, staring and staring until her eyes start to burn. But, she refuses to cry. Or, maybe, she can’t.

There’s a moment of stillness, of silence, before Jongin slowly crouches beside her, a deep cut marring the side of his face, his hair a mess, matted down by dried blood, and one of his eyes bruised black and blue. She can’t help but stare at the cut on his face for a moment too long before she blinks back down at her hands. For once, her head is entirely silent.

Slowly, almost cautiously, Jongin reaches out and gently places a hand over the pile of Baekhyun’s ashes scattered in front of her. She blinks, watching as he closes his good eye and whispers, “May you find peace among the moons and stars.”

She can’t quite breathe properly as she fully collapses into a seated position, her hands still outstretched and covered in Baekhyun’s ashes.

Jongin doesn’t quite look at her when he says, “Do you want to go?”

Slowly, mechanically, she nods. Jongin nods, too. He hesitates before he reaches down and brushes Baekhyun’s ashes off her hands and her chest tightens, even more, like her heart has morphed into a black hole that's her in from the inside. She expects him to grab her hand and teleport them away, but he doesn’t. He must be exhausted, too. Instead, he just clasps her hand in his—both their hands are shaking so hard—and he leads her out the broken, ruined temple, towards the rickety bridge. Her legs are unsteady. She can see Chanyeol at the end of the bridge, kneeling with his head in his hands, staring blankly in their direction. She’s sure, she’d see the others, too, if she just looks around. But, she can’t stop herself from looking back over her shoulder at the ruins, at Baekhyun’s ashes, one last time.

She will never forget the sight before her, the red-brown temple walls, the jutting pillars surrounding the temple, and how broken the ruins look, projecting out how she feels in the inside. His ashes just lie there. Her stomach flips.

She finally, finally, whispers, voice hoarse as she stills at the center of the rickety bridge, unafraid of the deep ravine beneath them, "We can't just leave him there."

Jongin murmurs back, his voice sounding a thousand times louder than it really is in the emptiness that consumes her head, "We won't. We'll come back."

It's a promise, more than anything. Still, she can't tear her eyes off where his ashes lay, even as Jongin pulls her away.

He is dead. Baekhyun is gone.

---

a/n: oh boy. idk what to say... all we have left is the epilogue which i will post asap and then i'm gonna write a sappy note about how wild this whole journey (FIVE YEARS YALL) was so bare with me. There's a lot going on here and if it's entirely clear please let me know so I can tweak it, I'm not sure if the points I was trying to make came across well. but yeah...here we are, nearing the True Ending. thank you EVERYONe for all the support I love you guys so much!