[title tracks: NFWMB - hozier, sorry - the rose, baby - the rose, audio - labrinth, sia, & diplo]
[20k.]

epilogue;

She wakes up in her old room in the castle—the one Kris made her sleep in, in the beginning—feeling both disoriented and sore. She knew it was her old room because the map Chanyeol gave her was still right where she left it, on the bedside table. For a moment, everything that had transpired feels like a distant nightmare, completely unreal, but then every single feeling, every single crystal clear memory of what had happened hits her all at once and she needs to choke back the sobs welling in her chest.

She remembers the way she had stepped off that bridge and saw all those dead creatures, innocent people coerced by Yeonma, torn apart at her feet, most dead, some whimpering for help, for someone to put them out of their misery. Jongin’s hand had tightened around hers and she looked up, only to see Zitao on his knees, Sehun dragging his hands through Zitao's hair and across his face, his pale fingers trailing through the streaks of blood dripping from his eyes and nose. And then there was Junmyeon, unconscious—maybe even dead, though she can’t fathom that, she can’t—Kris kneeling beside him, his dragon curled protectively over his shoulders. She remembers jumping, startled, when Chanyeol pressed a hand against her shoulder.

She remembers asking, “What do we do now?”

Chanyeol had stared off in the distance, in the direction of the Temple of Dreams, and responded, “We put ourselves back together.”

And then she had collapsed. She could feel the adrenaline ebbing out of her and the exhaustion of using her powers so intensely creeping right into her bones. It must have all just accumulated right then because everything had gone black almost instantly and she had collapsed without warning, someone grabbing her before she hit the blood-soaked ground.

Now here she is—hours, days, maybe even weeks later—her limbs stiff, the pain in her muscles making it hard to move at all. Still, she rolls out of the bed, glancing down, and she’s glad she’s not wearing what she had been during the fight, that she’s in a fresh pair of clothes even though—she freezes at the thought, the very idea that she’s seen him wear this shirt and these shorts before. She freezes, and she steels herself, despite the prickling at the backs of her eyes.

She knows she shouldn’t hold back her emotions, because she’ll have to let them out eventually, but she also knows she needs to assess the situation she’s in first. She needs to process everything first. She needs time; distractions. Besides, this room is too ing silent and she hates it.

She steps out into the hall, wincing with each step, and it’s like the aftermath of the battle has caught up with her right then. The left end of the hall has completely collapsed in on itself, the lights lining the walls shattered remnants of the what once was It’s too dark in the castle and her skin crawls a little at the feeling of it. There is dust and debris covering the hall floor, sticking to her bare feet as she walks. She has to watch for shards of glass. She finds she doesn’t mind; it keeps her brain occupied. She notices that the parts of the hall floor that are broken beyond belief have been rebuilt with hastily assembled wood. She doesn’t know what to make of that. It’s like someone’s decided to make the part of the castle she used to stay at with Baekhyun accessible, while the rest of the castle isn’t.

She follows the poorly rebuilt floor until she steps into the great hall, the sound of voices bouncing off the walls echoing in her ears. The sound is soft. None of the voices are louder than a whisper, really, but it’s comforting somehow, as if the world hasn’t ended and she hasn’t been condemned to silence. The world is still going, despite everything, and it makes her both happy and sad.

She pads into the room, feet cold, to the sight of so many people wrapped up in bandages, others flitting about and checking those injuries, wrapping and unwrapping wound dressings. It’s sort of like a makeshift hospital, right in the great hall of the castle. The voices do not quiet down when she steps into the room. No one even spares her a glance. She finds that she likes that more than anything.

Still, she feels a bit awkward standing there, fiddling with the hem of shirt, when—

“You’re awake!”

She swivels on her heels and it’s Yixing, looking harried and tired, though his smile is soft, genuine. He has about a hundred different individual bandages on his face and one wrapped around his throat, but he looks well, otherwise. She blinks at him, staring for much too long, probably, because Yixing grins at her expression and says, “It's nothing. Jongdae just used a whole box of bandages on me because he was worried.”

“He’s alive.” She breathes out. She was worried. She can’t feel anyone in her head anymore and she was so worried.

Yixing’s expression softens significantly at whatever he sees on her face. He moves forward, beckoning her to follow him, and she does. He leads her out the great hall and into a smaller room, more private than the others. “Yeah, he's alive, but just barely.” Yixing breathes out as he gestures at the cot laid out in the corner.

Jongdae’s wrapped up, head to toe, in bandages. Even his head is bandaged. All she can see is his face.

Jongdae’s awake, though, blinking languidly up at them. He blinks before he breaks into a grin that only makes him wince. “What do you mean? I feel great! I’ve got my y doctor boyfriend patching me up and everything. It's a dream come true.”

His joke falls a little flat when he winces, his grin faltering. Still, Yixing rolls his eyes. Someone groans from the cot beside him. Hyemi looks up just as they pull back the curtains put up for privacy, Junmyeon's side-eye and look of distaste visible. He also looks extremely haggard, though she’s just glad he’s not dead. Her face lights up at the sight of Junmyeon and Junmyeon waves weakly at her, smiling slightly, before his expression morphs back to his original look of distaste, eyes on Jongdae, “Please, stop. That’s the three hundred and thirty sixth time I’ve heard you call Yixing y.”

“So?” Jongdae raises a brow. “He is y.”

Junmyeon’s scowl only deepens and Hyemi can’t help the way a small laugh bubbles up from her lips. Jongdae glances at her and he is smiling, self-satisfied. Even Junmyeon is frowning less, though the sight of a put-out Junmyeon makes it hard to suppress her giggles completely.

Junmyeon pouts at her, totally playful this time, “Are you laughing at me? What did I do to deserve this?”

“It’s because you don’t find Yixing y.” Jongdae stage whispers.

Yixing rolls his eyes so hard, they might fall out of his head. She laughs louder, until it hurts, her sore muscles tensing, and she abruptly stops, flinching at the pain. That seems to sober up the atmosphere immensely, especially when Yixing descends on her, checking for injuries, his palms lit up as he fusses over her.

She blinks at his movements. There’s something so melancholic about the atmosphere of the room, she notices. Jongdae watches Yixing fret from his bed, the corners of his curly lips turned up a little bit, and Junmyeon leans back in his cot, the curtain still pulled back. She meets Jongdae’s eyes first and there’s something almost empty there, something that matches the emptiness she feels deep, deep in her chest, despite his smile.

She speaks, finally, her voice scratchy from disuse, “How—how long was I out, anyway?”

Junmyeon is the one to answer, always smiling so kindly. She wonders if he ever gets tired of that. “It hasn’t been long. Maybe a day or two?”

She blinks, “Oh.”

She wants to ask how she can help, what she can do in this mess all around her, to make up for those lost days, but she can’t really get herself to say anything.

Still, Jongdae seems to understand her silence because he speaks up, “Kris is out on the castle grounds directing recovery efforts and—I think the others are somewhere out there, right, Xing?”

Yixing nods, but he seems to be hesitating, his fretting hands stalling on her aching hands.

Junmyeon adds, eyes filling with something akin to deep sadness, “Jongin and Chanyeol are looking for Kyungsoo.”

She blinks, “What do you mean by looking for Kyungsoo?”

Junmyeon sighs in resignation, his brows furrowing together as he lays back on the cot. He looks frustrated and she momentarily wonders what kind of damage he had taken on. The curtain covers the bottom half of his body. “He disappeared, and I think Ba—I think Kyungsoo is actually buried alive somewhere. We can’t find him.”

Her stomach flips at the thought. Her head is filled with silence, which means the connection has broken off, but—but she’s connected to the Tree still. She could help, she could—

She gently pushes Yixing’s glowing palms off her. “I can help them. Where are they? I can—”

Yixing grabs her by the elbow, stopping her from swiveling on her heels. The frantic feeling in her chest that had been escalating seems to deflate immediately. She half-heartedly glowers at Yixing. Yixing’s eyes are apologetic, but there is a stern turn to his lips as he says, “Calm down, first, okay? Please.”

She blinks, a rapid movement, before she nods, quickly, “Okay.”

“And don’t beat yourself up over being out of commission.” Junmyeon adds, tone stern.

Jongdae rolls his eyes, “You should follow your own advice.”

Junmyeon scowls, “That’s different.”

“Not really.”

Yixing sighs, pushing her gently towards the door, “Okay, just go before they start arguing again.” There’s a pause before he adds, “And don’t overexert yourself. You need to recover properly, both mentally and physically, okay?”

His words make her freeze up a moment and she’s sure everyone catches the hitch in her movements. But, then, she pulls it together.

“Okay.” She nods, a quick movement, before she heads out, maneuvering her way out of Yixing’s grip and out the door before he can say anything else. She doesn’t really think—doesn’t want to—as she makes her way through the makeshift hospital in the Great Hall. She picks up a pair of slippers on her way out. There are a line of cots along the wall with people lying in them, all covered from head to toe in white sheets. She tries her best not to look at them, or the people crying and clutching at the sheets, fists curled tightly. She tries not to focus on the pain and death surrounding her, instead exiting the castle as quickly as possible, nearly tripping into a giant crater right in front of the castle in the process.

She shouldn’t ignore her emotions, especially not the emotions of death that so heavily occupies the back of her mind and her surroundings. She shouldn’t.

But she does.

She focuses on looking for Kris and she hears his voice before she sees him. She focuses on the present, so acutely, she knows it’s unhealthy.

(She knows emotions don’t make her weak, but they do hurt. She doesn’t want to feel that hurt right now. She doesn’t think she’s ready. She may never be.)

“Hey.” She raises her voice so Kris can hear her over the sounds of soldiers clearing rubble and manually repairing the nearly irreparable looking holes in the castle. Kris has even released his dragon to help clear the rubble, it’s expression nearly identical to the expression Kris levels on her once he turns to look at her.

“What the are you doing here?”

She blinks, “Uh, nice to see you’re alive and well, too. Thanks for asking.”

Kris scowls.

She scowls back.

And then Kris sighs, “Did Yixing tell you about Kyungsoo?”

“Yeah.” She nods, letting her scowl fall away as well. Kris just looks tired as he drags a hand through his messy hair. He looks extremely tousled, which is surprising because he always looks impeccable, no matter the situation. She blinks at him, noticing instantly that Zitao isn’t anywhere near him. She distinctly remembers the trail of blood-tears streaking his face and she shivers, stomach flipping. “He hasn’t told me about the others and—and I can’t feel anyone in my head anymore, so…Are they okay?”

Kris turns away from her, peering upwards at the castle. His thick brows are pulled down into a furrow and his expression is stormy. However, there’s also a tinge of something else there, something like concern and anxiety, maybe even fear.

Kris murmurs, “Zitao is—he’s stuck in a space time loop. It used to happen a lot when he was younger, but I guess after everything that Ba—that happened to him, he lost control again. He’s stuck somewhere in time and who ing knows when he’ll be able to find his way out.”

“How do you know he’s stuck like that?” She frowns.

“It’s happened before.” Kris shrugs slightly, clearly trying too hard for nonchalance. It doesn’t work at all. He cares too much and it’s incredibly obvious. “And there’s a giant ing warp hole back at that meadow. That’s what happened last time.”

“Maybe we could—”

“We can’t. It’s all up to him.”

“But—what if he doesn’t com—”

“No.” Kris’s head snaps to the side, his dark eyes boring into hers. His dragon’s head snaps up to stare at her, too. His tone is so sharp she doesn’t bother continuing her sentence. “No, he will find his way back.”

She blinks at his insistence, her chest feeling heavy, “Okay.” She nods, thinking of Zitao, how young he seemed. She didn’t talk to him much, since he always seemed to shadow Kris, until the end when he spoke to her with such a shaky, fearful tone, but his presence in her head had been just as constant as everyone else. She’s still worried for him, and she decides she will follow Kris’s lead and think the best of Zitao’s situation. He will free himself. He will. “What about the others? Sehun, Jongin, Chanyeol, and—is Luhan okay? What about Minseok?”

Her words spill from in a frenzy. Kris blinks at her, surprise twisting his features just a bit.

“What?” She frowns, suddenly defensive.

“You really seem to care a lot about them.”

Hyemi stares at Kris for a moment before she murmurs, “And you, too.” Surprise blooms through Kris’s expression again before he turns away, staring at the reconstruction, his face hidden from her. She can still see his ears reddening and she smiles a bit at that. She adds, tone lighthearted, “I guess that’s what happens when you suddenly develop a mental link and are forced to see everyone’s deepest thoughts and secrets.”

Kris blinks, but he doesn’t acknowledge her words verbally. He’s still embarrassed at her admission, and her smile widens (she would be embarrassed, too, but his expression trumps her own embarrassment), even as he coughs, tone serious, and says, “Sehun’s okay. He’s shaken, though, especially about Zitao, but he’s helping Chanyeol and Jongin look for Kyungsoo. Luhan, though…he’s recovering. There’s—no one knows what the extent of the damage done to his mental state is and he’s extremely weak right now, but he’s recovering. Sometimes, he disappears. You can see it in his eyes. Minseok needs some time for Yixing to fix him up, but his arms will never really be the same.”

She takes a deep breath, slowly processing Kris’s words. She wants to help someone, in some way, and her brain focuses on look for Kyungsoo. It’s the only thing she can see herself doing that will actually work. The rest—they involve emotional labor she doesn’t think she has at the moment. She murmurs, “I can help find Kyungsoo.”

Kris takes one look at her steely expression before he nods. Suddenly, there’s a huge gust of wind, dirt billowing up, and some of the soldiers groan, complaining loudly. Kris rolls his eyes as his dragon rises, giant wings flapping back and forth, before it lands right in front of Hyemi. Hyemi jumps. Kris snorts.

Hyemi makes a face. “I am not getting on that.” There’s a low growl and she tacks on, “No offense.”

“I have no idea where exactly they are, but my dragon’s good at finding people. At least people who are not buried under ing ground.” He mutters the last sentence under his breath, annoyance riddling his features. Then he appraises Hyemi quite seriously. “I promise he won’t toss you off. At least, he’ll try.”

She scowls at him, glancing sideways at the scaly beast whose appearance is so similar to Kris’s, it’s uncanny, despite it being a giant dragon, dark scales glistening. There’s something in Kris and the creature’s expressions that makes them resemble each other.

Still, it only takes her a moment to give in, nodding despite every cell in her body screaming for her to not get on the back of that dragon. “Fine.” She mumbles, squeaks out really.

Kris grins, amused by her tone, his gums showing. “Cool.”

She climbs onto the dragon’s back, clutching so tightly, the scales dig into her palms. The scales also scratch at her exposed calves and she winces as she settles in and the dragon rises off the ground, striking up another cloud of dust and dirt.

And then Kris’s dragon shoots off and she screams all the while, her hair whipping all around her and her eyes watering at the speed. She can faintly hear Kris’s laughter in the distance.

~.~.~.~.~

What feels like a lifetime later, Kris’s dragon lands in a clearing and half-tosses-half-drops her onto the brown dead grass before its wings begin to flap and it ascends yet again, despite her waving her hands at it while shouting, where the hell are you going? there's no one here! The wind gusts its wings create make her sputter, her hair and other debris flying into and her eyes watering. The gusts are so strong, she tips over onto her back, groaning.

And then it flies away, leaving her sprawled on her back in the clearing, her palms and the exposed skin of her legs stinging slightly in pain. Her chest is heaving still at the intensity of the journey as she tries and fails to catch her breath.

“Hyemi?” A familiar voice cuts through to her and she sits up. She knows she must look a mess, her hair is in knots and she’s probably covered in dirt and dead grass.

Still, Sehun, Chanyeol, and Jongin are all blinking at her, varying degrees of confusion plastered across their faces. They’re seated in a circle, halfway through a meal, and the instant her eyes land on the food, her stomach rumbles loudly into the silence.

She forgot she should probably eat.

(She also needs a shower.)

She smiles, sheepish. “Uh, hey…sup?”

Then her stomach rumbles even louder than before and to her dismay and embarrassment, Chanyeol starts to laugh, his deep tone rumbling through the silence, even while Jongin pats at the empty spot between Sehun and him, the two of them grinning widely as she reddens at Chanyeol’s laughter. She’s hesitant as she drags herself to her feet and makes her way to the spot. Chanyeol keeps laughing, now practically folding in on himself, and she tosses a handful of dead grass clumped in her hair at him as she sits down. Sehun flicks his wrist and makes sure the handful of dead grass veers straight into Chanyeol’s open mouth. Chanyeol sputters. She laughs, despite the pain shooting through her.

“Why did Kris send you out here?” Jongin’s frowns at her, clearly disapproving. “You need to recover.”

“I asked to help find Kyungsoo—Sehun, I can’t take it.”

Sehun rolls his eyes, “Your stomach is literally growling. Eat it.”

Her stomach rumbles again and she sighs as she takes his food, thanking him as she takes a couple bites, sighing as her stomach settles. Jongin is frowning, but Chanyeol is the one to say, “We can handle it, Hyemi. Besides, you need to recov—”

“What is it with all of you telling me I need to recover? I want to help!”

She notices that Sehun, Jongin, and Chanyeol do not meet her eyes. They can’t, even as the silence between them stretches on for much too long. She frowns, “Are we doing this again? This whole let’s-keep-vital-information-from-Hyemi thing?”

Her tone is much sharper than she intends it to be and she chalks it up to the mere exhaustion she’s feeling. Or, maybe she’s just sick of being told what to do. She thought this was long over. She thought after everything that’s happened, that she’s had to do, they’d stop withholding information from her. Apparently not.

“It’s not that.” Chanyeol shakes his head, holding his hands up in the air in a placating manner.

“It’s what, then?”

They all glance at each other and she scowls at the three of them, Sehun shakes his head, Chanyeol points at Jongin, and then Jongin grimaces before he is finally the one to break the silence and whatever silent conversation they’ve just had, “I guess we’re all just…worried about you?”

Hyemi’s brow furrows, “Is that really it?”

Chanyeol’s expression grows serious, his eyes almost haunting in its familiarity. He looked at Baekhyun the same way in her visions. She tries not to flinch, though her eyes flicker away, unable to meet Chanyeol’s gaze. Chanyeol rests his elbows on his knees as he leans forward, a few strands of loose hair falling into his eyes, and he murmurs, “You had to kill—Yixing says you could be in shock and we’re—”

“I’m fine.” She interrupts, cutting him off, her insides churning.

"Don’t say that." Sehun grimaces, “Don’t downplay your feelings like that. He did that, too, you saw it, Hyemi.”

Hyemi immediately deflates at that, at the way Chanyeol’s gaze remains fixed on her face and the way Jongin is frowning so hard, the way Sehun is shaking his head. She thinks of Baekhyun and her—her chest feels heavy. Her fingers tremble and she puts the food down on her lap, curling her fingers into tight fists. “Okay, I’m not fine, but—but all I want to do right now is help you guys find Kyungsoo.” Chanyeol opens his mouth to say something, to no doubt tell her off, but she shakes her head and talks over him, “I’ll—I’ll address it and what—everything. I’ll deal with it, but after we save Kyungsoo, okay? I promise I won’t bottle it all up inside.”

(It’s probably unhealthy to compartmentalize her feelings like this, but she’s still not in the clear. There’s still Kyungsoo and figuring out how to fix the tree, and then dealing with Kris’s father before finding a way home. There’s still so much she needs to do.)

Jongin leans forward then, so close she can see the faded bruise on his cheek, his eyes sincere as he peers at her expression. She holds his gaze and he murmurs, “Promise?”

“Promise.” She nods. Jongin smiles a little, a sad smile, and she matches his expression, holding his gaze for a moment longer, before she adds, “I just need a distraction, right now.”

There’s a long, long pause, before Sehun murmurs, “Okay, then how do you plan on helping us find Kyungsoo?”

They all look a little anxious when they stare at her, expectant, and she figures it’s because Kyungsoo is most likely suffocating somewhere as they speak. Baekhyun never actively tried to kill any of them, so it’s safe to assume that Kyungsoo isn’t suffocating enough to die, but they don’t know how long it’ll take until death becomes a reality. Or, they could be too late. They don’t know if their assumption is even correct at this point.

“I’m going to ask the Tree.” Hyemi says, casually. At least, as casually as she can when she feels so anxious about Kyungsoo and his fate. She finishes off the last bite of Sehun’s food before she rubs her hands together, taking a deep, deep breath.

And then she kneels in her spot and presses her palms to the dead grass beneath her.

Jongin mutters, tone immediately skeptical, “Didn’t you just use up all your powers during the fight?”

She wonders where that Jongin that believed in her has gone, expression twisting into a grimace.

“Can you shut up and let me work?” She mumbles, eyes shut tight.

“But—hey.”

Sehun cackles. Chanyeol mutters, guys stop. She can feel gusts of wind around her, the breeze lifting her hair.

(She can’t help the small smile at their goofing off. Despite the circumstances, the aftermath of Baekhyun, the fact that Kyungsoo is in danger and they’re clinging to the small sliver of hope that he is still alive, she still manages to find warmth in their interactions. She knows they’re goofing off because they’re also afraid. It’s hard to maintain such seriousness when the circumstances are so morbid. She gets it. She’s a bit grateful for it, though she thinks Kyungsoo will probably kill them the minute he finds out they're being anything but serious on their quest to find him.)

She digs deep inside her, finding her connection with the Tree much more easily than she had before. It’s so much more present, settled more at the surface than before. It runs closer to the surface of her skin and she can sense the golden warmth it gives off, almost enjoying the way it envelopes her in a way that feels so, so secure. She taps at it, hesitant, despite everything. Uh, hello? Testing, one, two, three? Hello, Tree? Can you help me, please?

(She really needs to figure out how to address this Tree thing, because she just feels stupid when she does it this way. Still, it seems to work.)

The Tree’s power seems to surge, in a strange way that makes her toes and fingertips tingle. She can feel tendrils of energy in her palms, in every part of her body that makes contact with the ground. It’s both strangely grounding, but also makes her feel disconnected, the same way her visions did. She doesn’t like that feeling of disconnection, that reminder of her visions, and her body attempts to reject it, seemingly trying to protect her from the trauma it remembers so distinctly. She pushes past that hurling sensation at the pit of her stomach, gripping the dead grass as she delves deeper and deeper and deeper into the ground, until—

Hyemi?

The relief in Kyungsoo’s tone is palpable and it makes her stomach flip. He sounds breathless, as if he’s been running for miles already. She finds it strange that she can hear his voice in her head; she was just getting used to the silence in her head and the idea of having her own head to herself.

We’re looking for you, Kyungsoo. She murmurs back, even as she wills the energy she can feel filling the planet to the brim into a distinct line, a distinct path she can use to find Kyungsoo. It’s a slow process. The energy tightens, recoiling, and she can feel the tension in all her nerves. It hurts, her sore muscles only hurting more. There’s a pinching along each of her nerves, like someone’s taking needles and pricking at her skin nonstop, and it’s painfully uncomfortable. She squirms, her fingers curling into fists, nails digging into her palms. Her vision spots a little and she knows she’s using too much of her energy—something she barely has in the first place because she hasn’t recovered fully yet—and her limbs feel heavy. It feels like someone has tied heavy anchors to her limbs and she’s sinking through the dead grass beneath her, like there’s a visceral need for her to become one with the dirt beneath her and join Kyungsoo wherever he is buried. Still, she digs and digs, forcing herself to stay afloat, above the line, and eventually the energy in her palms condense, weaving into a thick, scratchy rope-like tether. She grasps at it, ignoring the way it scratches up her palms, and, with all her might, she yanks at it. It takes her a couple tries, but eventually she manages to get a good grip, tearing it out of the ground, dirt and dust clouding the air, tickling her nose.

She coughs, falling back onto her .

Her eyes shoot open and she’s gasping for breath, sweat beading along her neck and hairline. She’s on her back, staring up. Her gaze lands on a worried Jongin, Sehun, and Chanyeol all hovering over her, all of them appearing as if they don’t know what they’re supposed to do. She takes a deep, deep breath as she pushes herself up into a sitting position, chest heaving as she tries to catch her breath.

Chanyeol stares at her, big eyes wide, “Did it work?”

Hyemi looks down at her hands as she sits back on her heels. Her fingers are wrapped around a tree root that looks as if it has sprouted out of the ground itself. It’s thick and sturdy, but it looks new, alive. It's a creation of hers, not something she destroyed, and her emotions grow awry at the mere implications of that. She grips the root so tightly, her knuckles are white. She lifts it up, eyes following the root, and she notices that it trails out past the clearing and into the woods.

Thanks, Tree. She thinks, even as she says, “Yeah. You’re welcome.”

Chanyeol grins, holding out a hand to help her to her feet. She sways, black dots spotting her vision. Sehun sighs, “You used way too much of your powers. You’re at your limit.”

Hyemi nods, weakly, “Yeah, I guess I did. But, I heard Kyungsoo. He’s alive.”

Chanyeol grins a little, his grin only widening when Jongin makes a face and slips a hand around her waist, supporting her. Even Sehun lights up, his usually stoic expression melting into one of glee. “Let’s go find him, then.” Jongin mutters, quietly as he supports all her weight. She nods, slowly.

She holds the tree root and they all follow it. She is exhausted, a bone deep exhaustion reminiscent of that fight with Baekhyun, but she is also relieved. They follow the rope. She pulls it from the ground, following the rope like it’s a bread crumb trail Kyungsoo left in his wake. Jongin’s basically dragging her along, at some point, while she pulls at the rope. It easily slips out from the dirt and she's grateful. She doesn't think she has the energy to yank it out all the way there. Chanyeol fusses over her, muttering about how she should have been careful.

They find Kyungsoo quickly, when the rope comes to an end and as she tugs at it, it barely moves, pulled taut to something directly under them.

“Here?” Sehun glances around. Chanyeol shrugs a pack off his shoulder, one she never even noticed, her eyes drooping because of her bone deep exhaustion.

“Yeah.” She says. She stares at the forest floor, the dead grass and cracked, dried out dirt looking rougher here than in the other clearing. “This is—this is where he’s buried.”

She shivers at the thought, even as Jongin settles her against the trunk of a tree and Sehun pats her head like she’s a child. She wonders why exactly Sehun always does that to her. Still, she watches as Chanyeol pulls out collapsible shovels from his pack, tossing one to Sehun and Jongin, before throwing the pack beside her. She feels bad but before she can even attempt to get up to help, Chanyeol settles a stern look on her, “Don’t you dare get up.”

She snorts, settling back, and watches as they dig for Kyungsoo, the tree root in her hand shining brightly, strangely enough. She makes herself feel better by pulling out water and those little energy bars and offering it to them when they look too tired.

As the neon orange sun begins to set, settling into a soft peach that casts a low glow over the clearing, and she listens to Jongin, Sehun, and Chanyeol playfully converse (“Ugh, I wish Kyungsoo was here. This would be so much easier.” “Technically, Kyungsoo is here.” “Can he hear us? Hey, Kyungsoo, if you can hear us, knock three times.”) she settles into her swirling thoughts, into an overwhelming part of her brain that she had wanted to drown out with distractions. She doesn’t delve deeply into it—everything is still meticulously compartmentalized at the moment—but the peachy undertones of such a grave moment coupled with the boys’ easy voices reminds her immensely of him.

Of Baekhyun.

She can’t compartmentalize the sharp pain in her chest and overwhelming feeling that something—someone—is missing. She can’t stop thinking of him and she doesn’t think anyone else can stop either. She watches Chanyeol pause in his digging, sweat glistening along his brow as he tilts his head back and stares up at the sky. The sun is a gentle peach color and the sky is a deep fuchsia settling into a midnight blue. She can’t help but think of it as an ode to Baekhyun. Chanyeol smiles, softly, sadly. He probably thinks the same. Sehun’s eyes don’t fill with laughter, even when the rest of his face does. Jongin seems to be running too fast, functioning at a speed that won’t allow him time to sit still. Hyemi can’t stop thinking.

She misses him. She doesn’t know how she will move on from this. Maybe, she never will. She never moved on from the first time she lost him, how will this be any different?

Her eyes fill with tears, then, and it takes all her effort to stop the tears from spilling.

Thankfully, Sehun shouts, “I’ve hit something!”

She stumbles to her feet, watching as Sehun uses wind to slice into the dirt, carrying the dry dirt out faster, until there’s a peek of—

“It’s a coffin.” Chanyeol’s deep voice is thick with emotion.

Jongin ignores it, reaching for his shovel as he digs the coffin out.

Eventually, Sehun manages to dislodge it, pulling it out of the hole with artful maneuvers of the wind. Jongin brushes the dirt off it, knocking his knuckles against it, and it doesn’t sound hollow the way wood does when one knocks a knuckle against it.

“It sounds like plastic.” Hyemi says, her voice carrying through the clearing. She momentarily wonders, plastic exists here? She says, out loud, “Which is probably why he couldn’t get out.”

Chanyeol doesn’t waste anytime finding the padlocks lining the coffin, casing it shut, all plastic, melting it, smoke and red-hot heat drifting up from his hands. He snaps the locks off, throwing off the lid, and—

Kyungsoo shoots up, gasping for breath, “About ing time.”

Kyungsoo heaves for air and there’s a moment of silence between all of them before Chanyeol throws his gangly arms around Kyungsoo, Sehun and Jongin joining a moment later. Kyungsoo is startled by the hugs, big eyes widening. His gaze locks with hers, over their heads, even as he pats their backs back awkwardly. There must be a look in her eyes, as their eyes meet, because Kyungsoo lifts a hand off Sehun’s head and gestures for her to join. She does, nestling under his wing, and he gently rubs her back, up and down. She has to hold back tears at the care in his touch. It reminds her of Baekhyun.

When she pulls back, Kyungsoo’s big brown eyes are filled with tears, his usually stoic expression anything but.

“Thank you.” He murmurs, with such deep sincerity as he looks at each and every one of them.

She can’t stop thinking about Baekhyun. None of them can.

~.~.~.~.~

She tries to help clean up, even after they get Kyungsoo to Yixing. Kyungsoo’s lips are blue and his breathing is still raspy and when Yixing sees him, he wraps his arms around Kyungsoo and fusses over him until Kyungsoo’s cheeks are a soft, rosy pink from embarrassment. Yixing makes her sleep, but when she wakes up—feeling more refreshed than ever really, especially after she showers—she has this strange jittery feeling in her limbs, a restlessness itching under her skin and beneath her feet.

(She doesn’t know if it’s just her or the entire planet that’s restless. She doesn’t know what that means.)

She notices something in the atmosphere after that, something almost morbid. She ignores Yixing’s pointed gaze, grabbing bandages off the carts and helping his volunteers make their rounds. She thinks she sees Taeyeon, at some point, conversing quietly with Minho, the space between them reminding her of the crumbled walls Kyungsoo has yet to release from around the castle. Minho keeps dragging his hands across his face, rubbing away tears, and Jonghyun holds his hand. Taeyeon looks very, very sad, regretful almost.

She doesn’t interrupt.

The next day, she wakes up extra early and visits Luhan, the bags under his eyes so prominent he looks sick. He’s pale, ghostly pale, but he’s in the forest, helping the group Jongin enlisted to find all the dead bodies—the creatures from beyond the wall that have been turned into those awful creatures and then left to die in the forests, all alone and probably terrified. She joins that group, ignoring the way Chanyeol had leveled her with a very serious look, Junmyeon's distinct look of concern, or the way Yixing said, “I recommend you don’t do that.”

She waved a hand, dismissive, and said, “I’ll be fine.”

Yixing had raised a brow, as if he didn’t believe that, but he never tried to stop her. No one does. It’s refreshing.

Anxiety titters under her skin, like ants crawling over her skin. She can feel it in all her extremities, especially her toes and fingertips, and she can’t help but wonder if it’s her own anxiety or something else entirely.

(She knows, deep down, that it might be something else entirely. It might be the planet trying to tell her something.)

She knows she hasn’t fixed the Tree yet. The trees seem to look deader than ever all around her, as if they are seconds from turning to ash the same way—she doesn’t think about that, not now. Dead leaves hang by a thread from the ashen branches, some littering the withered ground, crunching like bones beneath their feet. It's truly a forest of skeletons, now.

Luhan murmurs, “I know where everyone is located.”

His voice is weak, faraway, just like his eyes. There’s almost an explanation hidden there, beneath his words, despite no one in the group asking for it. He gestures in multiple directions and she watches some soldiers, courtesy of Jongin, follow his instructions without so much as a complaint. The way they glance sideways at him, at Minseok and Sohee, at her, makes her think that these people are not Children of the Second Moon and they’re terrified of them, perhaps because of what they’ve heard from the battle. Or, maybe, because they know Minseok’s a convicted murderer.

“He has a bit of reputation.” Luhan says, smiling ever so slightly.

Hyemi jumps, surprised at Luhan answering her thoughts.

“Sorry.” He adds.

He’s been saying that a lot lately.

He turns to look at her, then, expression so very serious, the most emotion, she notices, he’s conveyed since the battle, since the almost catatonic state he’s been in since she stopped Baekhyun. It’s almost a relief, to see an expression that isn’t just vacancy on his expression. She’s forgotten what he looked like with life in his eyes. “Seriously, Hyemi.” He starts, voice low, serious, “I’m—”

“Don’t apologize. There’s no reason for you to apologize.” Hyemi interrupts, voice firm. He opens his mouth to argue and she adds, countering the words she knows will come out of his mouth, “It’s not your fault, at all, and you know it.”

For a moment, Luhan just blinks at her, languid, faraway again, but then he returns from wherever his mind went and he mutters, “Maybe, you’re the actual mind reader here.”

She grins a little, shrugging nonchalantly, “Maybe.”

Sohee laughs then, loud and boisterous, the sound making Minseok tear his interest off the sky and towards the three of them. Hyemi is tempted to tell Minseok that he’s awful at pretending not to eavesdrop. Luhan smiles, hearing her thoughts. Sohee nudges Luhan’s side lightly, her hammer still strapped to a holster at her side as she says, “See, I told you you need to stop apologizing. No one blames you, idiot.”

Luhan pouts at that, a weak small thing that seems to take too much effort on his effort, but it brings the softest, fondest smile to Minseok’s lips, even as little pieces of ice form and flake off his skin, glittering as they drip to the ground, coating the dried out leaves with much needed moisture. He’s still recovering, too, his torn arm hanging in a sling, but there’s a happier look in his eyes, for once, that Hyemi can’t help but smile at. Minseok locks eyes with her, his icy eyes glinting, and he nods at her, an acknowledgement of sorts she doesn’t really know what to do with. When she looks over at Sohee, she is happier, too, closer to the younger Sohee Hyemi had seen in her visions, rather than the jaded one she had met. It’s nice, Hyemi thinks, despite the tinge of melancholy, despite the way Luhan’s fingers shake and how, sometimes, he disappears into the vast fields within his head for too-long moments, to places they will never know of.

(Hyemi thinks of Zitao, then, thinks of him trapped in that purple warp hole, somewhere in time, at some unknown point. It’s terrifying to think about. It’s heartbreaking.)

Hyemi looks around her, at the dying planet, and she thinks of Baekhyun more than she had allowed herself earlier. Her chest is heavy, too heavy. She doesn’t allow herself to dwell, not yet.

~.~.~.~.~

They hold a remembrance for the lives lost in the same place, in front of the castle, where Kris had allowed the public to derail an illusion of her not too long ago. The atmosphere is significantly different. Hyemi had lingered at the stairs within the castle—the one set of stairs that hadn’t been destroyed—and she had wondered if she should go back up there, to the room where her mother was forced to spend her days when not in the forest with the Tree. She had been looking for a way to get to the Oracle Room, but every path there had been demolished and blocked off, and it had felt so definitive, as if the debris clouding the way there was a way to tell her that she could never find her way home.

(She had started to think, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad here, but there’s something so painful about everything around her, something so melancholic, as if she is emerged in an ocean of ghosts, sinking viscerally into all the memories she can't forget, drowning herself in ghosts.)

In the end, she had ended up attendint the memorial service, watching Kris address his people—shimmering cubes hung above him that apparently projected his speech around the Kingdom. It makes sense. Certainly the few hundred people standing before him couldn’t be all he had left of his Kingdom.

(She had leaned over and asked Jongin, just in case, and he had shook his head, a vigorous movement, and murmured, no, no, we didn’t lose that many. It was a relief somehow, despite everything.)

She noticed that no one spoke of Baekhyun directly. It was Yeonma this, Yeonma that. She isn’t sure if she’s grateful for that or…or angry, disappointed.

(Why would she be disappointed or angry, anyway?)

It’s after the memorial (maybe, this is a funeral, and maybe the disappointment and anger, the jittery feeling under her skin, is just another stage of grief she’s entering?) when she sees Taeyeon again, Tiffany at her side. Jessica isn’t there. Taeyeon looks tired.

“I’m leaving for Soshi City.” Taeyeon announces, without so much as a greeting.

Hyemi blinks, “Oh.”

Taeyeon reaches out and grasps Hyemi’s fingers, her big eyes unblinking, almost unsettling in their intensity, “This isn’t goodbye. My promise is still up in the air. Come to Soshi City and the portal will be waiting for you.”

Hyemi blinks at the sincerity in her tone, even as Taeyeon drops her hand and murmurs, “Anyways, I must go host a ball for my fallen people. I’ll see you soon, Hyemi.”

She smiles, sweetly, and then she spins, her white dress fluttering behind her, and Hyemi isn’t quite sure what just happened. Typically, interactions with Taeyeon leave her that way, but this time her brain is slow to process things. She isn’t sure why, though a small, logical part of her whispers grief. Still, she spins and she catches Minho staring after her. Hyemi’s heart skips a beat in lingering fear at his gaze and the memories it trudges up. Hyemi doesn’t think that lingering fear and distrust will ever go away.

Minho tips his chin upwards, his eyes flickering sideways, to where Yeri, Joy, Seulgi, and even Irene stand huddled together. Seulgi is covered in bandages and Irene has both a broken arm and leg. They both glance at her. Seulgi nods, begrudgingly, and Irene rolls her eyes. Minho calls out, “Thanks for keeping the kids safe.”

She nods, but she doesn’t offer him words. She can’t stop thinking about that memory, about the fuchsia cliff, and the way Minho’s eyes settles on hers, right then, tells her he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about it either. But he doesn’t bother moving closer to say anything to her.

She figures he won’t really apologize for what he did to her, or maybe he can’t. She doubts he'll acknowledge that moment with Baekhyun either, not to her. She finds she doesn’t mind. It would have been strange if he had, after everything. Jonghyun appears at Minho’s side, fingers curling through his limp hand. He, at least, allows her a wide grin. It still makes her heart jump in fear. She rolls her eyes, despite the way her stomach churns. Jonghyun laughs.

And then she turns away and she catches Kris’s gaze over everyone’s head, where he’s sitting, fingers tapping away against the arm of his makeshift throne. They’re outside and the castle is in absolute ruins, the broken castle behind him emphasizing how empty his spot on the throne is. Without Zitao or Chanyeol there, he looks lonely. Kris raises a brow at her, but there’s something there, in his eyes, something that reminds her of what she hasn’t been able to stop thinking about, throughout the cleanup.

The Tree is still dying. Her gaze flickers up to the broken castle, to the tower where King Sungyeol resides, another part of the castle that’s surprisingly not broken—or maybe they made sure to fix it up first, so the King could go back to his chambers, imploding and exploding in comfort as if he deserves any of that.

She could do it. She could leave this memorial and go to Soshi City. She could go to Taeyeon and ask her to get her out of here and never look back.

But Hyemi’s made friends here, despite everything. She had lost a friend, but she had gained so many more. She’s not responsible for cleaning up her mother’s mess, she never was, but she doesn’t think she could leave this planet, or the people she's come to care about, like this.

(She can’t allow Baekhyun’s home to perish in her wake like that. Despite everything the people in this planet has done to Baekhyun and to his friends, she can’t leave in good conscience knowing that her departure could kill their home. They, at least, don’t deserve that.)

Her gaze flickers back down to Kris. He’s still watching her, a careful, almost knowing look plastered across his face.

One thing she could do, to avenge what the people on this planet had done to Baekhyun, to her mother, to all her boys, is to let it burn. Maybe, the fact that Exo Planet and Earth are connected had been lies, too. She could bank on that because Taeyeon wouldn’t have made that offer to her, otherwise, right?

Her earlier anger, that vindictive side of her that enjoyed causing pain, relishes in that.

But, there are innocent people on this planet. Not all of them are King Sungyeol and the ones who had hurt Baekhyun, her mother, her boys, they’re dead and gone, now. What would she accomplish from destroying a whole planet just to spite a few dead people and a man who is moments from dying?

But a small voice at the back of her head tells her what she doesn’t want to know, what she doesn’t want to acknowledge.

You won’t be able to leave.

Everyone had hinted to that already.

She spins on her heels and Kris doesn’t move from his throne. He doesn’t stop her as she starts to walk, in the direction of the forest, but he watches her go.

Maybe, the real choice had never been to kill Baekhyun, because Baekhyun had never been her Baekhyun in the first place, not really. Maybe, the real choice is this.

She can choose to save the Tree or not. If she doesn’t, she can go home to her bed. She can hug her father and eat a whole chicken with Minah. She can find out if she failed her chemistry final. She can go back and she can curl up in her bed and she can cry, she can let herself feel the pain and anger, the ache in her chest, because Baekhyun is gone, Baekhyun is gone, Baekhyun is gone. She can let herself feel and she won’t have to save anyone but herself, like she had always done. She could handle it all, alone, so alone, and then she can move on. Her eyes sting at the thought.

Or, she can choose to save the Tree and remain tethered to it. Taeyeon and Tiffany can help her, after, perusing their pretty underwater library for a way for her to go back home without harming the Tree, without stealing its life source. She can pretend like they'll find something that'll work, when they all know they won't, and live out the rest of her days in a planet with her new friends, boys she has come to care immensely about, though she’ll always be surrounded by reminders of Baekhyun, of her mother, of the ghosts that riddle this planet. She will become one of those ghosts, won’t she? She will be left to aimlessly walk the planet until she dies and her duties are passed down to another, perhaps to a child of hers who won't deserve the burden either. Still, she doubts Jongdae or Yixing or Chanyeol or Jongin or Sehun or even Kris would allow her to deal with her grief, with the loss of Baekhyun, alone. But, she would remain stuck here, lingering in the past, despite the support.

She could choose to save the Tree or to let it rot. She could choose to save herself, or let herself rot.

(Her feet drag, the dried leaves crunching beneath her feet, and she catches sight of a beautiful fuchsia cliff in her peripheral vision. She does not stop to look at it. She keeps walking, drawn sideways and through the forest, as if she’s being pulled along by an invisible force.)

She will have to choose.

Again.

She opens her eyes and it feels like she’s opening them for the first time in a long, long time. Her fingers wrap around cold, rusted metal, scratchy against her palm. The air around her is surprisingly cool. She hadn’t noticed it earlier, the cold.

Everything before her is particularly clear, bright, despite the dark sky, appearing in sharp clarity. There’s the clearing and the Tree, right through there, it’s once might branches drooping heavily, withered and broken.

She pushes slightly on the gate and it drifts open, the creaking sound of rusted metal echoing all around her, signaling her arrival in an eerie way.

Somehow, the anger from earlier has turned into something less angry and more resigned, tired, prepared. Maybe, she is profoundly sad, too. Maybe, she is still disappointed.

(She feels broken, inside, but that’s nothing new, is it?)

With each step into the clearing, a pulse runs from the bottom of her feet and right through the ground. The pressure is strange, as if she is walking on a tightrope and constantly about to tip over. She can hear voices, very very faint voices.

Jinri appears before her, floating there, her dirty white dress drifting around her. She is smiling, kindly, and her eyes aren’t so full of pity anymore. It’s a relief, almost, to see no pity there. She's tired of that. Jinri doesn't follow her, though, she just watches, just like the other ghosts of the planet.

With each step towards the Tree, she feels an immense sense of calm, as if this is where she should be. But, she also feels overwhelmed, as if with each step, the weight of the world is being placed, piece by piece onto her shoulders and she will be driven into the ground, six feet under, because of it.

Still, she walks and walks and the cool air engulfs her, embraces her really.

Slowly, she places a palm on the trunk of the tree, it’s edges rough against her skin. Her skin buzzes. Then she places another palm over the tree trunk. She feels energy and then her bracelet starts to glow, suddenly, and she feels this intense warmth all around her. She had forgotten about the bracelet, or maybe she hadn’t wanted to think about it. Still, the warmth that engulfs her makes her feel as if she is curled up in her blankets back home, safe and sound. She can sense so many souls around her, the same way she had when she was last here, but they are not screaming at her. They are not trying to convince her either. For once, the Tree wants her to make her own choice, of her own volition, and she thinks it’s a little sad that she’s grateful for something like. It should have been a given, since the beginning.

(She hears a soft humming, low and familiar, and her heart skips entirely too many beats in that moment.)

Slowly, she looks up, her fingers curling against the rough trunk of the tree, and she is—she—

“Baekhyun?” She whispers it, her voice raspy, tight.

Baekhyun is there, sitting on one of the low hanging branches of the tree, his feet swinging to a rhythm only he is privy to.

She blinks, she doesn’t know what to say, his image a faded memory of what it once was, more faded than even Jinri had been. He isn’t even a ghost, she realizes with a jolt, he’s just a wisp of a memory, a mere remnant of what he once was. One too many heavy breaths could blow him from existence. It makes her heart drop to her stomach.

(She realizes, right then and there, that it’s too soon to face him and the feelings he dredges up. It’s too soon. She’s still in the anger phase of grief.)

He smiles at her and it is soft and sweet. He looks the same as he did in high school, before he left, lanky and a little awkward, but soft, his cheeks puffing out sweetly when he smiles, and his eyes filled with immense happiness, even here. He is the Baekhyun she remembers so fondly, untainted by the events of what had happened.

“Hi.” The low timber of his voice shocks her more than anything.

Her neck hurts as she tilts it back to look at him. Her heart pumps so hard in her chest, she’s afraid it’ll leap out and she’ll drop dead. “You’re—you’re not real.”

She’s shaking her head. She’s afraid this is another trick, but she can sense the Tree’s warmth, the way the bracelet around her wrist glows, golden and soft, and she knows that, though he is not really alive, this moment right here is real, somehow, someway.

His expression softens immensely. She can see it even from down here. He leans back, teetering on the branch, his neck craned as he looks up, “This is the realest I’ve been in a long, long time.”

The way he says it, with a wavering tone, has her heart in a tight grip. “Why are you—why are you here? Shouldn’t you be, like, partying it up in heaven or something?”

She tries to keep her tone light, but her voice catches on the lump in . Baekhyun laughs and the sound melts into the cool air around them. It’s just as she remembered.

“I don’t want you to make another choice for me.” There’s a pause before he murmurs, “I came so you can go home.”

She takes a deep, ragged breath, “How is that possible?”

Baekhyun doesn’t quite look at her and the tone of his voice is edged, resigned, “My soul is stuck here. I—I haven’t moved on and I don’t think—I don’t think I can. So, I’ll take your place and then you can go home. It’s the least I can do, right?”

The weary way he says that makes her skin prickle. “No, you don’t need to prove yourself to anyone. I already told you that what happened to you wasn’t your fault, right? You’re a victim. You were used by him, Baek.”

“So were you. You’re a victim, too, and I was the one who used you.”

“It wasn’t you.”

“Still, you shouldn’t have to pay for the sins of your mother.”

“But, how the hell is this crazy plan of yours supposed to work, anyway? If we ignore the fact that you’re dead, you still don’t have the same power as me and you don’t have the blood of the vessel in you.” She shakes her head, confident, “It won’t work.”

“See, Yeonma groomed me since I was born for this. I still have a bit of his…his energy and I think—I think it’s the reason why I can’t move on. Because I’m tainted by darkness.” Her heart twists at that. She just wants to give him a hug, her eyes pinned on his expression, listening intently to the way his tone remains matter-of-fact, but his eyes reveal his true feelings. He’s never been that good at completely hiding his emotions. His eyes would always give it away. “Besides, I was meant to become a vessel that could control the new Tree so we wouldn’t have to rely on a vessel tethered to the rules of the Wolves or the Kingdom. That’s what Yeonma wanted.”

She can’t help but look at him skeptically, her brow furrowing and eyes narrowing, hands on her hip. It’s so easy to fall into their natural dynamic, despite the circumstances, despite the tight feeling in her chest at explicitly hearing just how much Yeonma used Baekhyun. She’s only half-kidding when she says, “Is this another evil plot of yours?”

(She can’t help but second-guess him, just a little bit.)

Baekhyun takes it in stride, laughing easily, the sound loud as it fills the clearing around them, breaking the slight tension there. She finds comfort in the sound, like she always did. She fiddles with the glowing bracelet around her wrist as he finally jumps off the branch of the tree, hanging from it before dropping to the ground, the sound of his feet hitting the ground soundless.

He lands next to her and studies the Tree of Life before them, his neck craned and his eyes soft. “The Tree wouldn’t have let me be here if it was.”

Still, she can’t wrap her head around it. Or, maybe, she can’t allow him to sacrifice himself again. “But, you’re dead.”

“I am very dead, yes.”

“Then, how will this work?” Hyemi pauses, her voice tiny, even to her own ears, “How can I live with myself if I—if you—”

“I won’t be gone. I’ll be here, in the Tree, in the planet. I’ll be everywhere.” He turns to look at her, his eyes melting to the color of chocolate, his lips quirking up into the tiniest smile, fondness radiating from him in a way that has her stomach twisting. He points at her head, and then her heart, “I’ll be here, too, Hyemi.”

She has to fight back tears as she argues, trying to remain logical, “But, the vessel is passed down—”

“It doesn’t have to be. I can give back all that power to the planet, where it belongs. The Tree,” Baekhyun glances back at the Tree, reaching up to press his pretty fingers against the trunk, “Doesn’t want to be connected to anyone either. It’s not right. It’s not natural, it never was. The last Wolf tethered a vessel to the Tree because the rights of their people were taken away and they lost everyone and everything. It was partly because of revenge—though I don’t blame them for it. It was genocide. But, still…it’s not how the relationship between the Tree and the planet is supposed to be. I can set it right. I can free the Tree from this prison, too. I think that’s why the Tree sent me here.”

She thinks it’s funny, in a morbid way, that even the Tree is self-serving in its motives. Still, Hyemi doesn’t know how to rebuke Baekhyun’s words. Baekhyun just looks so determined and it breaks her heart more than anything, to know that Baekhyun is so adamant in setting things right, despite everything.

After a long, long moment of silence, Baekhyun adds, “You can always visit, you know. But I will set everything right so you won’t have to stay here anymore. You can finally go home.”

(He says it as if he doesn’t know that a part of her has built a home with him a long, long time ago, and she still isn’t sure how she’s supposed to let that go. But, his gaze on her is meaningful, gentle, and she wonders, if maybe, he does know that and this is his way of telling her to let him go.)

Still, all she can do is nod, slowly, hands shaking, as she whispers, “Okay.”

What else can she say without choking up?

It’s quiet again, dead leaves rustling in the distance, until Baekhyun says, very very quietly, “It’s okay to cry, Mi Mi.”

She shakes her head, though she jolts at the familiar nickname, her nose stinging slightly at the memories it dredges up. A few tears escape, and she brushes at them. His eyes sparkle, too, and she wonders once again if ghosts-slash-souls can cry. She hopes they can. They have a lot to cry for, she thinks. She says, attempting to sound dismissive, “I’m always crying in front of you.”

He chuckles softly, shaking his head, “For good reason. Those guys were , by the way.”

“So were you.” She says, pointedly, tone light.

“Yeah.” Baekhyun stares at his hands, “I’m sorry about that, you know. I’m sorry about leaving you like that. I’m really, truly sorry.”

She blinks at him and she doesn’t have it in her to be mad anymore. So, instead, she says, “We had this argument before. Let’s just skip it and makeup again.”

Baekhyun blinks at her, his ashamed expression still there, mixed in with immense amusement and surprise. He laughs, the sound bubbling up from within him, catching on his throat. She thinks the sound of his half-laugh-half-giggle is the cutest thing she’s ever heard. She can’t help but smile. He says, “We did, didn’t we? That’s so…weird.”

“Evil Baekhyun got to have all the fun, dramatic scenes. You missed out.”

“Ugh, multiple times, too. What a head.”

“Okay, now that’s weird to think about. The whole multiple times thing.”

“It’s not that weird. We’re talking about the space time continuum here. Quantum space theory and ? I explained the whole thing to you freshman year.”

Hyemi grimaces, “Dude, maybe the Big Guy didn’t let you move on because you’re still a nerd. I distinctly remember falling asleep during that.”

“Hey!” Baekhyun pouts and she laughs, loudly, at his expression and the way his cheeks puff up just the way she remembers.

She sighs, still smiling, “I should have just asked Evil You about the Halloween Fiasco. He would have blown his cover right then.”

Baekhyun reddens, “We promised we’d never talk about that. Do you want me to bring up Halloween Fiasco Part Two?”

Hyemi immediately clamps shut at the memories. There had been a lot of clams involved. She doesn’t like thinking about it. She shushes him, a little too franticly.

He bursts into laughter and it’s so contagious, she’s quickly joining him. She can’t touch him—she hasn’t tried but she doesn’t want to get disappointed the way she was with her mother—but she finds immense comfort in his presence and their conversation. She wishes this moment could remain like this, forever.

His gaze is distant as he brings up yet another past memory and they recount their past lives as if it had just happened yesterday. She missed him. She misses him. She can’t help but focus on his expressions, the tiny ticks of face when he says certain syllables or makes certain expressions, the way his brows furrow, the little mole above his lip. She can’t take her eyes off him. She finds she is memorizing his face, one last time. She didn’t really get the chance before.

Time passes, she thinks, too quickly, because suddenly they’re just staring at each other and no one is speaking. She’s memorizing his face and she thinks maybe he is memorizing hers, too.

She can feel it, heavy on her shoulders, on her heart: the end. Nothing ever really lasts forever and she can’t stand painful way her heart clenches at that thought.

His voice is low, feather soft, soothing as the pitter patter of rain against a windowsill late at night. Baekhyun, her Baekhyun, is the first to break the silence, to finalize that there is in fact an ending to all moments, even those that feel like they’ll last forever.

“Remember what I promised you when we first went to the fair together?” Baekhyun’s utters, the low intonation burrowing itself under her skin, calming her beating heart.

She nods and her hands tremble. He looks down and he reaches out, fingers hesitant. He doesn’t quite touch her. He knows he can’t. They both look at each other, longingly, and she thinks this is most unfair of all. She just wants to be able to touch him, hug him tight, and tell him everything will be okay before she never sees him again.

“Best friends until the end.” Baekhyun says, so very gently. She thinks back on that day, when she won a giant teddy bear he had been trying to win for her on her first try and handed it to him, how he had thrown her a boxy grin and exclaimed that very thing, we’re going to be best friends until the end.

She can’t really hold back the tears anymore. They spill from her eyes, blurring her vision, and she hates it because she can’t see him. She wants to be able to see him until the very last second.

“Until the end.” She repeats, nodding, her voice cracking, lilting up and dropping away at the last word.

Baekhyun reaches up, hands hovering over her face.

She wishes so badly to be able to touch him. She tries, reaching up to grab his hand, but her hand just passes through and her heart breaks and breaks, despite everything. Baekhyun, she notices, is also crying, the tears on his cheeks shining.

She can’t help but reach out and try to brush it away.

She can’t touch him.

So, she rubs the tears from her cheeks and takes a deep, deep breath.

“Forever and ever and ever.” Baekhyun says it cutely, the way he would when they were younger, puckering his lips at her as he pitched up his voice an entire octave until she’d let him have a bite of her food or respond to him after a fight.

She laughs, the sound a mixture of a giggle and a sob, even as she grimaces playfully. “It’s still as gross as before.”

He beams at her, wiping at his tears with the heels of his hands, his ghostly cheeks tinged red. “So is your crying face.”

She hiccups, unable to stop the chuckle from bubbling up. The air grows colder and the golden light of the bracelet at her wrist dims a bit. She blinks down at it before she looks up at him, a little desperate because she wants to hold on longer. There is no more time though, it’s ending and it’s time to let him go. “I think—I think it’s time.”

Baekhyun nods, love and adoration setting his ghostly eyes aglow. “You can do this.”

It’s quiet, so quiet, as she musters up the courage to touch the Tree. She faces it, Baekhyun beside her.

Slowly, she presses her hand to the tree and Baekhyun, after a moment of hesitation, reaches out and settles his hand through (over) hers. It looks strange to her, but she can feel a wisp of warmth from this ghost of a touch, at least. It’s calming, serene, her heart slowing back to its normal heart rate. She glances up at Baekhyun and his eyes start to shift colors, morphing into a familiar disarray of brown and green—just like her and her mother’s eyes. The Tree seems to hum under their palms, the space around them pulsing with sudden energy and tension, flowing out of Baekhyun, the Tree, and her.

She watches as Baekhyun starts to glow, as if the sun itself is trying to escape from deep within him. It seems to burst from him, burstng from deep within the confines of his very essence, and his head tips back, golden light spilling from his open mouth, dripping from his eyes, shooting up into the dark sky. It doesn’t seem to be hurting him and the tension in her shoulders disappears at that observation. His eyes are alight, a soft honey color that she doesn’t think she’ll ever forget. Her skin tingles where his hand is still pressed over hers. She can’t feel his touch, but the sentiment is there. He holds on to her. He doesn’t let go. It makes her want to cry, especially when he presses his other hand onto the Tree and the Tree seems to swallow him up whole, his hands sinking into the trunk, right up to his elbows, just like the Tree had done to her in her visions.

It’s strange to see his elbow going through her hand, but there’s something comforting about the fact that he doesn’t move his hand from over hers. He holds on.

And she will stay with him, until the very end. He knows this. He doesn’t doubt it at all.

Still, she can’t stop the stray tears. She can’t help but feel like she is killing him all over again. He’ll disappear, living on as the Tree she was supposed to give herself up to, just so she can go home. Doesn’t that mean he’s sacrificing himself for her?

His head whips to the side and he is a fantastical sight to behold, a star set aglow, golden beams of light pushing out of his mouth, his eyes, setting him alight from the inside. She hears his voice, both faraway and right in her ear, as he says, Don’t you dare blame yourself, idiot.

Maybe, it’s an ideation of her own, or maybe it’s really Baekhyun scolding her. Either way, it makes her smile, even though she knows it’ll take her a long time to get to that point where she stops blaming herself. He sinks further and further into the Tree, tears blurring her sight as she watches him melt away, slipping from her fingertips until there’s a bright white flash of light, blinding in its intensity.

And then, there is nothing left but the Tree.

Baekhyun is gone. This time, her chest is heavy with grief, but there is closure. This time it doesn’t hurt nearly as bad as it did the other two times.

This time, she can sense Baekhyun’s presence in the Tree, in the soil beneath her feet, all around her, just as he said. It’s a golden warmth that makes her want to smile, despite the urge to sink to her knees and cry. She spins on her heels, watching as the mighty branches of the Tree begin to perk up, sparkling as its withered branches smooth out, growing taller. She stares at the ground, at the way the brown, dead grass starts to change color, green luscious grass taking its place. She squints at the forest all around her, sensing the way the ashen grey trees seem to come to life, slowly, bit by bit, falling into place. As the planet around her comes to life, her connection to the planet seems to wane the tiniest bit. She wonders if that means Baekhyun accomplished what he meant to accomplish. She wonders if she is finally free of the Tree and the Tree is finally free of her. She wonders if Amber and Soojung are free, too.

As she spins on her heels and walks back to the castle, the world blooms to life. There is something so beautiful about the sight, about experiencing it firsthand. She can almost hear Baekhyun’s laughter in the breeze that follows the flowers sprouting to life from the branches of the trees along her path. Colors burst from the ashen branches—pinks, blues, bright, sunshine yellows—the same way someone would splatter paint all over canvas. She can almost hear Baekhyun’s low whispers when she passes that fuchsia cliff, moss sprouting from the fuchsia rocks, forming a barrier along the edge. Her heart swells at the way everything just blooms all around her, bright and colorful like Baekhyun.

She can almost believe that Baekhyun isn’t gone and he is living on in the planet around her. It’s a comforting thought.

~.~.~.~.~

There are trees riddled with multicolored leaves. There are even some leaves with thick fur coats and polka-dotted tree trunks. It’s the strangest thing she’s ever seen.

It’s all she can focus on when she finally makes it back to the castle grounds; the strangeness of the foliage and the bizarre sounds filling the dark night. The door to the castle is open and the guards don’t even give her a second glance as she trudges in. All her boys, Jongin, Chanyeol, Jongdae, Yixing, Sehun, Minseok, Luhan, Junmyeon, Kyungsoo, even Kris, are waiting in the castle sitting room, away from the makeshift hospital. She imagines even Zitao is there, even though he’s trapped somewhere in time, her heart still twisting at the thought of him trapped all alone in a warped timeline somewhere in the universe. The windows are thrown open—the first time she’s ever seen them open in the castle—and the gardens outside bloom so brightly, she can see all the colors, despite it being dark out.

When she steps into the room, Kris jumps to his feet. Something in her chest twists at the worry in their eyes when they look at her.

Jongin teleports in a plume of dark smoke, only to appear beside her, scowling as he catches her around the waist before she can collapse from exhaustion—the kind of exhaustion that isn’t from using her powers, but from being emotionally and mentally fried.

Sehun is the one to say, in a very small tone, “We thought you left for Earth, but then the planet—it—it did that and…”

She blinks, languid, tired, “I wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye.”

(She doesn’t say how originally, that’s exactly what she meant to do. She doesn’t think that’s something they need to hear. No one needs to hear something like that.)

Nobody says anything else. Chanyeol just nods, slowly. Jongin is the one to say, without any venom, just a bit of relief and a small amount of fondness, “You’re not entirely an idiot, then. Good.”

She snorts with laughter and it’s like a chain reaction. Everyone starts to laugh, and she wants to say it’s not even funny, why are we laughing? But then she notices the glassy eyes and sniffles and the sleeves brushing at eyes. She realizes that her laughter sounds halfway to a sob.

She manages to say, “It was Baekhyun. He did this.”

There’s a brief pause at her words and she half-expects denial, disbelief. But, nobody questions her. There’s an understanding there and she’s glad. She feels like she’s losing her mind enough, as it is.

Instead, Jongdae rolls his eyes, breaking the momentary silence with an amused tone edged with sadness, exhaustion, “Of course, he did. The flowers were never this ridiculous looking before. I’ve seen pictures.”

Junmyeon nods, a fond, distant smile on his lips, “Yeah, I’ve seen pictures from my parent’s albums. This is…way different.”

“He’s so loud.” Chanyeol mumbles, his voice cracking slightly. “Even in death.”

Hyemi can’t help but laugh at that, snorting unattractively, and Chanyeol cracks a grin that only makes her burst into laughter. It doesn’t take long at all for her laughter to quickly morph into soft hiccups, barely concealed sobs. Nobody says anything. She catches sight of pursed lips, crumpled brows, and shaking hands.

Jongin pats her back gently. She can’t stop crying, but she knows it’ll be okay. They’ll all be okay.

~.~.~.~.~

Days later, she’s sitting in the green grass in front of the castle, propped back on her hands as she stares up at the castle. Kris had pointed out the section of the castle where the Oracle Room resides—the part of the castle completely destroyed by both her and the monster version of Rin. She watches as a bird with five wings soars overhead (it doesn’t caw like a bird, instead it opens its mouth and a low piano jingle emits from its beak) and she thinks it’s weird as hell—just like those weird creatures in the video games Baekhyun used to be obsessed with in high school. Or, like Pokémon, which, honestly, she wouldn’t put past Baekhyun either. She can’t help but smile, despite the predicament, the fact that the castle surrounding the Oracle Room has caved in on itself and Hyemi isn’t sure if it even exists anymore. She isn’t sure where Amber or Soojung are. Jessica is totally gone, too, and she doesn’t know what that means.

Maybe, she can go to Soshi City and use the portal there that Taeyeon had shown her. It makes the most sense and Taeyeon had already specified that it would be ready. It’s just—she’s the one who needs to pull her together, say goodbye, and make her way to Soshi City. She isn’t sure why she’s unable to do it.

(She doesn’t really want to say goodbye, but she needs to let go sooner or later, right?)

The rustling of grass reaches her ears and she tears her gaze off the ruined section of the castle, surprised to see Kris making his way towards her, the hem of his robes a discolored green color from the grass stains. There's no more dead grass. It makes her smile, before she notices his company.

It’s Taemin.

She frowns.

Her gaze flickers past Kris and Taemin and Sehun, Jongin, and Chanyeol seem to be hovering near the castle doors. She can just make out Chanyeol wringing his big hands together.

They stop inches from where she’s sitting, their shadows falling over her, blocking the bright, lime green sun from view (she’s seriously still amazed by all the color combinations the sky seems to take).

She blinks, “What’s up?”

Kris’s jaw is tense, and he isn’t looking at her, instead staring straight ahead in the direction of the surrounding forests. Taemin is the one to respond, “The King has a message for you.”

She blinks, “What?”

“He's declared that you’re not allowed to leave.” Taemin shrugs, very casually, his perpetual smile never faltering. It’s a little strange and it makes her wonder what he’d look like if he ever was actually angry or serious.

She scowls then, pushing herself to her feet so they’re not looming over her. Hyemi crosses her arms over her chest and snaps, “Uh, that.”

Taemin blinks at her, a bit owlish, and she expects his perpetual smile to slip from his face and for him to drag her up to Sungyeol or something. Taemin isn't even fazed.

He just shrugs and says, “Whatever.”

She blinks in surprise at that, biting her tongue before she lets the angry words she was going to say spill from her lips. “I—what?”

Taemin stares at her, head titled to the side, eyes appraising, “Personally, I don’t think he has any right to keep you here. You did everything you were supposed to do. You’ve fulfilled your obligations to the Kingdom and, ethically speaking, he has no right to keep you here.” Then Taemin glances at Kris before turning back to Hyemi, “But you’re going to have to see him either way. I’m not the only one who has to listen to the King.”

Kris scoffs then, “I don’t have to listen to him.”

“As long as he’s King, you do.” Taemin pauses, his tone clinical, logical, “And, I mean, you already ed up when you literally jumped ship earlier. You’re on a very short list with the King.”

Kris wrinkles his nose. Hyemi is hesitant when she asks, “Are you…are you going to get in trouble if I don’t listen to him?”

Kris rolls his eyes dramatically, but she can see through the façade pretty easily, surprisingly enough. Maybe, that’s what that mental link she had with Kris has left behind for her: the ability to read Kris very easily because she understands his way of thinking more than she or Kris would ever care to admit aloud. Sometimes, she pities him, but then he opens his mouth and her pity for him is the last thing she thinks about when she speaks to him. Kris states, tone indignant, “I’m the Crown Prince. I don’t get in trouble.”

Hyemi can’t help the snort.

Taemin hides a laugh, glancing between Hyemi and Kris as if he’s waiting for a fight to break out. He probably is.

Kris glares.

It only takes Hyemi a moment to decide, taking a deep breath before she states, “I want to talk to him.”

This time Kris looks surprised, his big brows flying straight into his hairline.

Taemin’s the one to say, “Is that a good idea? I was told about the last time you did that and—”

“I can promise that won’t happen again.”

Taemin purses his lips, “I mean, technically you speaking to the King might cause major health problems for him, which affects national security. The logical thing to do would be to throw you in the dungeons until the King decides what to do with you.”

“Throw me in the dungeons?” Hyemi scowls at Taemin.

“So, you can’t go back to Earth, of course.”

She decides she hates the way Taemin speaks, perpetually cheerful and logical, clinical almost.

Kris interrupts her, “Aren’t you all about ethics, though?”

“Yes, which is why the right thing to do would be to allow Hyemi a chance to plead her case with the King. But, moral responsibility dictates that it’s important to keep the King healthy, because a healthy King is a healthy Kingdom, especially after such a devastating time—”

“Didn’t Kant say that, ultimately, any action can be justified by the motivation behind it?”

“Yes.” Taemin’s eyes light up. “You know Kant?”

Hyemi tries her best not to burst into laughter, thanking her lucky stars for being forced to take that intro to philosophy class at university. She never thought it’d come in handy, but apparently people residing in alien planets find philosophy interesting? Instead, she says, slightly indignant, “Yeah, I know things!”

“What a surprise.” Kris mumbles.

Hyemi resists the urge to kick Kris in the shins, turning to Taemin, “Anyways, my reasoning is the King is a and I am motivated to tell him off on behalf of all of us. It’s a good, beneficial action for all.”

She expects Taemin to cuff her and throw her in the dungeons right then.

Instead, he nods as if she’s made a valid point. “Huh. You’re right.”

“I am?” She stares and Kris rolls his eyes. Hyemi amends her tone, “I mean, yeah! I am!”

“Then, let’s go.”

Hyemi blinks after him as he turns on his heels. She looks at Kris, eyes wide, and Kris shakes his head as if she’s an idiot.

She’s just glad Taemin doesn’t ask her anything else about philosophy. Kant and the trolley thing are all she remembers. After a moment of confusion, she hurries after Taemin, shaking her head as if to say I don’t know when she passes by Sehun, Chanyeol, and Jongin and they all stare at her in wide-eye confusion.

~.~.~.~.~

In her head, she had a whole speech planned out. Everything goes smoothly and she doesn’t choke up once.

But when she’s finally standing there, in the King’s quarters—the only section of the castle that looks exactly as it always had, as if the catastrophe outside had never set foot into King Sungyeol’s world (and perhaps it hadn’t, not really)—with Kris, Kyungsoo, and Taemin hovering at the edges of the room and Sungyeol standing with his back facing her, taking his time as he draws back his billowing white curtains to stare out at his kingdom, she finds that every hastily rehearsed thought in her head dissolves away and she is left with that same acute sense of anger and resentment that she had always felt towards Sungyeol. She can feel the recklessness taking over.

She just wants to yell at him, maybe even smack him across the face again, harder this time. She wants to tell him that he can’t do a thing to her, that she’ll leave, and she dares him to try to stop her. She stares at his back. There’s that buzzing sound again, like a fly hovering too close to her ear, and for a moment, she swears his image flickers. It makes her heart stop, until she remembers that that’s normal for him.

He turns to face her, and she thinks he looks worse off than ever. There are pockmarks covering his face, dark holes of the blackest of blacks that seems to surge within themselves, exploding only to reappear, the black morphing into his original skin tone. He is stuck in a perpetual loop of implosions, each cell, every atom, tearing apart from within just to reform. His eyes are angry, but they are more tired than last time.

Just one look at him tells her he does not have much time left. After all these decades, he will finally die.

She does not think he deserves that sort of peace. She does not think he’s suffered enough, despite everything. In retrospect, he never really will.

The way his eyes morph, dark and calculated eyes narrowing into slits, tells her that he is entirely aware of the direction of her thoughts.

She finds she doesn’t care. Maybe, she should be kind to such an old man. He is dying, after all.

But, she can’t find it in herself to procure any sort of respect for him.

Sungyeol tilts his head, staring at her with those same, horrible eyes that she remembers so vividly from her mother’s memories. “Is it time for your lesson in manners already?”

She gets straight to the point, ignoring his jab. “You can’t stop me from leaving. I fixed the Tree like everyone asked and I don’t have to be here anymore.”

Sungyeol rolls his eyes, leaning his weight against his ornate wooden cane, lips curling up into a belittling smile, his tone condescending, “Do you really think I buy your story of that Byun traitor helping you end the line of vessels?”

She blinks, anger flaring at the pit of her stomach at his words, at the fact that he’s mentioned Baekhyun at all. She snaps, “Yes.”

He snorts, “You are truly an idiot. Your story is clearly fiction. I should have you thrown in the dungeons just for lying to your King.”

She stares at him in disbelief, stomach churning. Her voice comes out quieter than she intended, her expression twisting, “You’re not my King. You’re not my anything.” Hyemi pauses, “I’m not something for you to control, .”

“You’re a child of Asha’s and anything of Asha’s is mine.” Sungyeol says, with a wave of his hand, arrogant and dismissive. Hyemi’s stomach flips at his words, at the entitlement there. His voice sounds like nails dragging along a chalkboard to her ears. Suddenly, Hyemi wants to punch him so ing badly. She can see Kyungsoo stepping forward, ever so slightly, in her peripheral vision, towards her, eyes wide. Still, Hyemi can’t help the fury twisting her expression with rage, her teeth grinding. Her powers bubble in her stomach, itching to burst out of her, but—but it doesn’t come, not even a little bit.

Her powers feel subdued somehow, strangely enough, sluggishly ebbing away inside her.

(There’s a cough from behind her, not subtle at all, and she glances back, locking eyes with Taemin. It only takes her a moment to realize oh, that is his doing, isn’t it? This feeling at the pit of her stomach as if her powers are located beneath sand dunes and every time she tries to get to it, she feels like she’s knee deep in the sand, trying to move forward though her limbs are aching at the resistance. Taemin’s power is to subdue, somehow, someway. She thinks it’s pretty cool and she wonders where the hell he had been when they were fighting Luhan, and then Baekhyun.)

She turns back to Sungyeol and Sungyeol is outright grinning now, his teeth bared as if he is a predator who has finally managed to catch his prey, despite his circumstances. She realizes what’s happening and she says, her voice unwavering and her fingers curling into fists, “Did you really think I’d use my powers on you?”

(In truth, she would have, but knowing she can’t, she realizes that maybe there is no reason to use it on him. If she does, she’ll instantly be condemned to the dungeons on charges of attacking the King. Maybe, Taemin isn’t doing this because of the King, but so she doesn’t get in trouble. Or, maybe, she’s thinking too much into it. Still, her anger subsides a little, just enough for her to be able to think and formulate words.)

“You’re your mother’s daughter, through and through, and she liked to play dirty, so.” He shrugs, trailing off, and the way his tone curls around his words, tainting each syllable with double edged meaning, has her blood boiling. He’s taunting her with his words, instigating her, and she doesn’t know why he’s doing it—maybe his goal is to make her snap and do something stupid, or maybe he just wants to belittle her because of some power trip of his, but she won’t allow him that satisfaction.

So, she reigns in her anger, fingernails digging deep crescents into her palms, and replies, injecting as much venom into her tone as she can, “You’re not worth it.”

Sungyeol looks taken aback, for a moment, at her words.

"You’re not worth it." She repeats, enunciating each syllable with sharp precision, “You’re not even worth a punch to the face, at this point.”

Sungyeol glares at her, advances on her, the anger and darkness in his eyes a stark contrast to the exhaustion lining his expression. He moves fast, though, despite his condition, just like a snake, and she barely catches the drop of the cane, just like last time.

This time, however, she has a few training sessions under her belt and enough anger to fuel a thousand suns. She catches his frail wrist midair, before he can touch her. His skin is burning under her touch, but his bones are flimsy, too soft. His eyes widen at her actions, flickering behind her, no doubt to Kris, Kyungsoo, and Taemin. She doesn’t give them a reason to intervene. Instead, she tosses his arm aside, the anger deep within her flaring into this sort of residual flare that feels like the glowing embers of the start of a fire. It is restrained, but it will not burn any less.

She wants to hurt him. She wants to yank him from that high horse he parades around on so easily, to make him understand that he is an awful, terrible person who hurt people for his own gains.

She wants to bring peace to the ghost of her mother wandering this castle. She wants Jia’s portrait removed from that wall. She doesn't want Kris to answer to him anymore.

Hyemi says, very slowly, “You won’t see it, will you? That you’re wrong? That no one agrees with you?” Hyemi takes a deep breath, watching as he grips the edge of the bed tightly, anger in his eyes. He is the epitome of pathetic and helpless. He lingers there, knuckles white from his grip on the sheets, because he can’t reach for his cane. The pockmarks—blackholes—of implosions continue, on and on, and he is nothing. “That you’re this…this miserable because of what you did?”

“You little bi—” He reaches out, swiping at her. She steps back, easily avoiding his hands. His insides are turning to stardust as they speak, but Taemin is subduing the effects. She thinks he doesn't deserve the beauty of turning to stardust, either. Sungyeol grabs the bedpost, lifts himself up, resilient in his pride. His eyes are filled with fire.

She wants to ask him why he did it. She wants to ask him the whys, so at least Asha and Jia can get the answers they’ve always deserved from wherever their souls linger. Maybe Kris can find comfort in it, too. Maybe, Hyemi can ease the memories that linger in her thoughts, the memories that will never really go away, despite them not being hers in the first place.

(She can stop feeling like a bystander, unable to do a thing as she watched so many horrible things unfold before her.)

But then, Sungyeol says, tone regal, cold, angry, “I did nothing but what was good for the kingdom. I did what was expected of me, as a King. Someone like you could never understand.”

Maybe, she is being selfish and wants peace of mind for herself, too. Asha and Jia are dead. Kris has moved on. Maybe, there is no need for closure, because sometimes, terrible people are just terrible, and they will never understand the harm they’ve caused others, because they don’t view it as harmful in any way.

He is broken and pathetic, forever confined to this room, meant to live with the woman he wronged until her dying breath staring him down as he explodes for the rest of his days. She doesn’t think it’s punishment enough for him, not when he still wholeheartedly believes he has done no wrong, but it is still a punishment.

The fight ebbs out of her the longer she stares at him. His expression changes at the look on her face, his eyes narrowing and anger flushing his features a deep, deep red. He doesn’t like the way she’s looking at him, she realizes, as if he is nothing.

But, she knows he doesn’t deserve a chance to answer the whys, to explain himself, because he will just excuse himself, as he is doing now. He doesn’t deserve the satisfaction of an argument.

He doesn’t deserve any type of acknowledgement. He’s an and he has no power over her, or anyone else, for that matter. He is a throne-less King and he knows it, she knows it, Kris knows it, Taemin knows it, they all know it.

“You’ll be dead any day now.” Hyemi murmurs, her voice echoing in the barren room. Jia’s portrait seems to stare down on them, bearing witness. Hyemi finds it fitting. Sungyeol opens his mouth to retort, grimace ugly, but Hyemi cuts him off, talking over him as she gestures at him, “Instead of this pathetic thing you’re doing to try and keep me here, maybe take the time to reflect on your horrible life decisions that got you to this point. Or don’t. I don’t care. I’m going home, and you have no say in it.”

She ignores the lack of closure at the pit of her stomach, relishing in the way he screams at her, embarrassment clear in the way his face reddens to the color of a tomato, “How dare you—”

He chokes on a ragged cough, halfway. She doesn’t dignify him with a response, spinning on her heels.

Sungyeol shouts at Kris, “What are you three waiting for? Lock her away in the dungeons until she rots.”

There is a beat of silence that is overbearingly loud in the barren room. Hyemi glances up, almost anxious to see what Kris will say. They lock eyes for a moment and there’s a look of agreement, solidarity, she never expected from him. It makes her heart swell in her chest.

Kris looks away first, over her head, and he shakes his head. His tone is firm, “No.”

“Excuse me?”

“Go to bed, father. You’re too sick to get so riled up this early in the day.”

“You ungrateful little—”

Kris rolls his eyes. “I said no.”

The finality in Kris’s voice makes Sungyeol pause. He blinks, his eyes widening almost comically. There’s realization in his eyes and she sees the eyes of a man who is just beginning to process the full extent of his powerlessness and what it truly means. He is getting a taste of how so many others felt around him. Those are the eyes of a man who was built on fragile privilege that is now toppling before him. She relishes in the look; she commits it to memory.

“I’m still the King.” Sungyeol stares at Kris, long and hard. His tone, however, is soft, an ugly caricature of caring that Hyemi finds more grating than his normal condescending tone. “Do you intend to usurp my throne, son?”

“No.” Kris says, shaking his head, “Not yet. Chanyeol would be upset.” Kris pauses for effect before he adds, "But, if you keep mouthing off, I might. And, no one will care."

Kris smiles then, quite pleasantly, and Sungyeol takes a seat on his bed, glowering though resigned, his hand trembling around the bedpost.

Hyemi savors the moment.

~.~.~.~.~

It’s not until she’s standing in the hall, Chanyeol hovering across from her, crouching down so his big eyes are at her level, that it hits her, all at once. She’s just confronted the King. She’s just—something wells up from deep inside her, and it’s like a dam has broken. Hyemi starts to cry, the sounds leaving full on sobs. She can barely breathe from the force of it, from the pain gathered deep in her chest, the knot it had formed.

She cries for everything and everyone, for her mother and Baekhyun, first and foremost, for Jia and all their parents and siblings and—

She sinks to her knees in the middle of the hall and Chanyeol sinks to his knees in front of her, his gangly limbs too big for hall floor. She can see the way Kris’s feet skitter back and forth, uncomfortable, and a laugh bubbles up through the sobs. It only makes everything sound worse.

Someone rubs her back—it has to be Kyungsoo kneeling at her side, silent but there, because Taemin stayed behind in the King’s chamber—and Chanyeol hands her a wad of tissues he procures from seemingly out of nowhere every ten seconds. Her head pounds, her hands trembling, and the tears truly don't stop.

Kris murmurs, after a long, long moment of her just sobbing loudly, the sounds of her sobs echoing up and down the hall, “You did great, Hyemi. Thank you.”

She cries harder.

~.~.~.~.~

She wants to go home, but it’s hard to leave everyone when they are all trying to pull themselves together again.

Jongin is the one to look her in the eye, when she’s sitting there, cross-legged on the makeshift hospital floor as the two of them sort through remaining medical supplies, and state, blunt as always, “If you wait until we’re all healed, you’ll never go home. I told your friend I’d send you back safe and sound, didn’t I, so what's the hold up?”

She stares at him in surprise. That conversation with Minah had felt like a distant memory, from lifetimes ago.

Jongin stares back until she squirms under his unrelenting gaze. She scowls, “Okay, maybe you’re right.”

He laughs. She is reminded, strangely, of Baekhyun.

(More than she usually is.)

~.~.~.~.~

She spends a few more days with them. She can’t help it. She figures trauma and ed up circumstances will always create an unbreakable sort of bond, especially when said people had taken up residency inside her head for weeks and she was forced to see their most defining life experiences alongside them through a magical vision tree.

She spends time in the fields with Sehun and Jongin, argues with Kris, keeps Jongdae and Junmyeon company to curb their restless jitters while they continue to heal, listens to Yixing tell her stories of his gang days, lets Chanyeol attempt to make her laugh, keeps Kyungsoo company during his guard duty, despite his insistence that she not because they’re right outside the King’s chambers and he doesn’t want her to be uncomfortable, trains with Minseok while Luhan and Sohee watch before Minseok decides he’s bored of watching her lose horribly and they grab some food and talk about everything and anything—in these moments, Hyemi’s most content with listening because she likes watching Minseok catch up with Sohee and Luhan piece himself back together. She even goes to the clearing and sits beside that deep purple warp hole that Zitao had disappeared into.

The next few days are spent letting go. She’s not very good at it and she only succeeds in growing more attached.

But, it’s time for her to go, and she is surprised how tightly they hug her, even Minseok hugs her, injured arm hanging at his side, and ends up covered in shards of ice and shivering, teeth chattering, while Minseok grins in amusement and Luhan apologizes for him. Sehun pats her head. Junmyeon is kind as always. Despite her insistence that she will come back and visit, everything feels too final.

Hyemi figures returning to visit isn’t really letting go.

A flower sprouts at her feet after Yixing and Jongdae peck her on opposite cheeks at the same time, grinning after, making her blush, and Kris tells her he absolutely won’t miss her with a smile he’s never really directed at her.

The flower seems to sprout up, up, up until its green vine tickles her elbow. She blinks down at it, watching as the end of the vine expands, uncurling the same way a flower would bloom. It spreads apart, the insides snaking and winding together in a flurry of reds and blues, until it begins to take shape, right there on top of the vine. They all watch in awe as the flower takes shape, straightening out on top until—

“What the hell is that?” Jongdae’s loud voice echoes all around them, his tone laced with surprise and amusement.

Sitting there, nestled in the single vine at her elbow, is a familiar figurine made of soft plants, it’s pointy red hat a clear beacon. She rolls her eyes, because honestly it was a horrible nickname and Baekhyun had called her it the first time he met her with so much sincerity, it was sort of infuriating. Now, she just can’t help but smile. “It’s a garden gnome.”

“A what?” Jongin mutters, brows furrowed.

“Sounds demonic.” Junmyeon mumbles, with interested eyes.

Hyemi laughs. Even in death, Baekhyun is the same as he always was.

She misses him immensely. She’ll miss all of them. Jongin takes her hand and she threads her fingers through his as she takes one last cursory look over these boys, Baekhyun’s friends—and hers, too.

She commits the sight of them to her memory and vows not to forget.

“Ready?” Jongin asks.

She says, “Not really.”

Jongin smiles. “Well, too bad.”

~.~.~.~.~

It’s strange to see Amber and Soojung outside of the Oracle Room, but there they are, waiting for her at Soshi City. It’s even stranger to get pulled into a hug by Jessica, of all people, first. She thanks Hyemi about a thousand times and Hyemi has no idea why.

Amber laughs, “You’re so cute when you’re confused.”

Jongin looks as confused as she feels, glancing between Hyemi, Amber, and Soojung, who is scowling at Amber blatant flirting, as always.

Soojung states, tone clipped, “You freed us from that stupid room. Sica's grateful. So am I.”

“It was Baekhyun.” Hyemi says, automatically.

Amber’s smile falters, slightly, and Soojung’s eye patch seems to slip. But then, that momentary lapse is gone, and Amber says, “That’s good. I’m glad.”

There’s a pause, then, a comfortable silence that stretches on and on. Hyemi realizes, then, that neither of them know how to say goodbye. It’s strange. Hyemi finds she doesn’t really like goodbyes, anyway.

So, of course, Amber’s the one to pull Hyemi into a tight hug, smooching Hyemi’s cheek dramatically. Hyemi glowers almost as intensely as Soojung, though she can't help the laughter bubbling up from her lips. Jessica and Jongin have matching expressions of amusement plastered across their faces.

Amber lets go, leaning back, and she just beams at Hyemi and it says more than words ever could, really, especially when all of Amber’s words had been so cryptic up until now. Even Soojung allows her a hug, smiling sweetly, and Hyemi’s heart is doused in melancholy and adoration.

She barely registers them leading her to that room with the portal, the silence engulfing all of them. Jongin is the first to break it, when they arrive and see Tiffany with her hair in a ponytail and a wrench in hand and Taeyeon staring into what Hyemi can only assume is the portal.

It’s a deep purple color and it reminds Hyemi, strangely, of the purple warp hole that was left behind in Zitao’s wake. It has the same yellow sparks flickering deep within the portal, the dark purple forming a deep abyss Hyemi is intrinsically anxious of. It appears as if it’s a hole filled with nothing—an endless void—and she is terrified of the unknown, now more than ever.

(She’s had enough of the unknown to last her a lifetime.)

Jongin mutters, “Is that even safe?”

Taeyeon spins gracefully, her white dress billowing all around her. She’s grinning widely, clapping her hands together. Tiffany is the one to say, tone cheery, “Of course! I mean, there’s like an eight percent chance you could be torn apart atom by atom, but that is very unlikely.”

Taeyeon nods confidently.

Hyemi’s stomach churns. “Uh, eight percent is eight percent too many.”

Taeyeon seemingly floats forward, reaching for Hyemi’s hands. “It’ll be fine. You will be fine.”

Taeyeon’s big eyes are sincere and it’s comforting, more than anything.

Still, Hyemi mutters, “It looks like that time warp hole thing Zitao’s stuck in, so it’s making me nervous.”

Taeyeon purses her lips, “Does it?”

Jongin reaches out and squeezes her trembling hands, fingers light and hesitant, as if he’s unsure if he should touch her. She relaxes at the touch and he says, “We’re all right here, Hyemi. You just have to go through one last thing before you’re finally home.”

“Yeah.” Hyemi breathes, focusing on that fact alone. One more obstacle. That’s it. “You’re right.”

"Yeah, and water is wet.” Jongin replies before he lets go of her hand. She smiles.

“Watch out for my people down there. I’ll have them send you letters.” Taeyeon says, as Hyemi takes a deep breath and steps forward.

Hyemi frowns, “Your people?”

“The little ball of lights you all have floating around. The bugs. Sometimes you kidnap them in jars—which is quite mean, you know.”

“Fireflies? Fireflies are your people?” Hyemi’s so surprised, she pauses in her ascent to gape at Taeyeon.

Taeyeon rolls her eyes, “Obviously. They are strong warriors. I am happy your people celebrate them with festivals. It’s very sweet of all of you.”

Hyemi honestly has no idea what to do with that information, so she decides to file it away to process later, Jessica is laughing. Amber snorts, and even Soojung looks amused. Hyemi memorizes the moment, gaze landing on Jongin. He smiles at her, fondly, the opposite of how he used to, and waves, and she is reminded thoroughly of her Baekhyun.

She waves back, walking backwards. Tiffany waves a wrench at her.

“Goodbye.” Hyemi says, quietly, and then she turns and steps into the deep purple portal.

The air surges out from her lungs and her vision spots instantly, black dotting everything. She tries to scream, but she can’t because she can’t breathe. Everything is doused in purple, electric yellow, and a soft, warm, familiar gold, rushing at her so fast, her vision blurs, and she hears voices, familiar and unfamiliar, all of them whooshing past her ears. She swears she hears Baekhyun’s laugh in the midst of all of the unbearable noise, a cackle that sounds less and less like her Baekhyun and more and more like…like Yeonma Baekhyun. Everything melts together into a whole disarray of sound and light, images flickering and glittering all around her, until they become blinding beacons that remind her of—

Suddenly, everything turns to nothingness.

 

 

 

~.~.~.~.~

 

 

 

 

Hyemi’s eyes fly open, her limbs sprawled out around her, and she recognizes the layout of the room. It’s Baekhyun’s old room; it must be.

She groans at the pain shooting up her spine as she sits up, dragging her hair out of her eyes. She feels like she’s just been thrown off a cliff, which, in retrospect, may not be much different from being thrown off a planet and onto the floor. Why couldn’t they portal her to her bed? Hyemi opens her eyes, still gripping her side in pain, and she freezes because there’s a—there’s a—

Hyemi screams. The boy sprawled out on the bed above her is staring at her, eyes wide, and the moment she starts screaming, he starts screaming, too, until they’re both just screaming in harmony at each other.

Then the door slams open, banging into the wall, and Hyemi jumps, jumping a second time at the shrill shout that follows the door slam, “Taehyung, what the ? Are you ok—”

The boy in the room—Taehyung, apparently—just clamps his mouth shut and points at Hyemi. Hyemi blinks at the small flurry of a boy who had barged in, his expression morphing from concern to confusion to caution in about three seconds flat. His floral shirt is buttoned up all wrong, probably from barging in here in a hurry and his hair is mussed. His eyes are wide. There’s a lanyard and an ID card hanging from its end around his neck. Hyemi can just make out the name Park Jimin.

Park Jimin blinks at Taehyung, gesturing wildly at Hyemi, “Wha—”

“She literally fell out of the sky.” Taehyung says, gesturing at the ceiling. Jimin looks up, as if he expects to see a hole there. Hyemi looks up, too. Taehyung, then, says, quite sincerely, “Are you an angel?"

(Something about the boy, perhaps his nose or his mouth, reminds her immensely of Baekhyun. She can't help but stare at him.)

Hyemi splutters, though, after processing his words absolutely horrified, because Taeyeon and Tiffany’s portal really just dropped her into some random person’s room (though she swears this room looks just like Baekhyun’s) and she’s probably going to be arrested or something.

Before she can formulate a proper response, Park Jimin gasps, “Holy .” He’s blatantly staring at her like he’s in awe or something and she has no idea what the hell is going on. “You’re the missing girl.”

Hyemi blinks.

Taehyung’s mouth drops into a little ‘o’.

“What?”

“You’re Song Hyemi, right?”

“…Yes.”

“There are posters of you all over town. It’s been like, what, three years, Tae?”

Taehyung’s still looks utterly bewildered even as he nods, his deep voice rumbling through the silence as he confirms, “Um, yeah. It’s been three years, I think. Almost four.”

“What?” Hyemi shrieks, this time. Three years? She’s been gone for three years? How?

Park Jimin puts his hands on his hips and tilts his head, raising a brow, “Do you have amnesia or something? Because that’s pretty cool, not gonna lie.”

She just gapes at him in horror because, first, amnesia does not sound cool at all ever, and, second, she’s still trying to process the fact that she’s apparently disappeared for three ing years. She’s missed all her finals. She’s so behind in university. She can’t imagine how Minah must feel. Hyemi’s heart constricts at the thought of Minah, of her dad. She knew time ran strangely in Exo Planet, but this is just ridiculous.

She doesn’t respond to Park Jimin, the silence drawing out.

“Jimin.” Taehyung still looks dumbfounded even as he stage-whispers, “I think you broke her.”

Hyemi is still staring at the boys, wide-eyed and slack jawed. How the has it been three years already? “What the .”

Jimin blinks, approaching her with his hands out, as if she is a wild animal he needs to take caution with. She doesn’t necessarily blame him because she’s so confused, she isn’t sure what to do. She probably looks seconds away from losing it. Jimin says, very slowly. “Uh, yeah, um. Do you need to, uh, sit down? Should we call someone?”

“No, I just—I need to go.”

Hyemi skids past Jimin, dodging his hands, and she sprints right past a tall boy, who plasters himself flat against the hallway wall to keep from getting run over by her, blinking after her owlishly. She almost feels bad, but all she can focus on is getting out of this house—which is laid out just like Baekhyun’s. She nearly trips on the last step, but someone grabs her before she can faceplant. She shakes the helping hand and the concerned are you okay off, scurrying to the door, her fingers gripping the doorknob.

For a moment, the door in front of her flickers. She wonders if it’s a trick of the eye or if—it can’t be—no, it must be because she got up too fast after nearly faceplanting on the last stair and she’s experiencing vertigo.

She yanks the door open, only to freeze in her spot at the person standing before her. Her limbs seize up at the sight of a familiar boy with even more familiar mint green hair.

It’s so, so familiar. Everything about him sends her brain reeling.

Mint green hair.

Mint green hair.

She racks her name for the name, sorting through what feels like several lifetimes of memories (in a way, it is, since she’s internalized so many other people’s life experiences) and it bugs her that she can’t figure it out.

He’s frowning at her, scowling really, and she—she remembers him.

He’s from Yixing’s memories, she realizes with a jolt. He is that boy who tried to attack Yixing at that strange bar, who accused Yixing of hurting his friends. She’s hit with the distinct memory of pure white, fierce eyes and a stoic frown, him writhing on the ground because of Yixing’s abilities. His anger, the way he had hissed they’re addicted, blaming Yixing. It’s—

She blurts out, heart lodged in , “Mr. Min?”

The boy in question blinks at her, his stoic expression crinkling slightly as he wrinkles his nose, “My dad’s Mr. Min. I’m just Yoongi.”

Her eyes widen as she remembers the full name Yixing had mentioned offhandedly.

Min Yoongi.

Min Yoongi.

That’s what Yixing had called him.

And Yoongi? That name also sounds familiar. She stands there, racking her brain for the answer yet again, to pinpoint exactly where else she heard that name. She must look insane, at this point, but she knows this can’t be a coincidence, not after everything.

But, what could it possibly mean?

Maybe, just maybe, Min Yoongi is a common name and she’s just paranoid due to everything she’s been through. After all, this Mr. Min doesn’t have the pure white eyes the one from Yixing’s vision had. Maybe she’s wron—

It clicks, again, and her hands drop to her side, her eyes widening and a small gasp leaving her lips.

Yoongi.

The name Yoongi.

She stares and stares at him and she can’t stop, even as he purses his lips, frown deepening. Still, that name: Yoongi. It hits her so hard, she nearly gets whiplash from the revelation alone. She can just visualize the hazy image of Minho reading off a list of buyer names in that room.

Yoongi.

Holy .

(“Third place is someone who goes by the name Min. Seulgi—” Minho had said so easily back then. Hyemi can remember the sheer amount of horror that had been coursing through her. It seems to be coming back as she stares at this Min Yoongi in front of her and remembers Minho’s next words, how he had said, “She looked into him just to make sure he wasn’t a royal cop or something. His name’s actually Yoongi.”)

Her heart comes to a stop in her chest. She can hear whispering behind her from the other boys in the house, but she can’t tear her eyes off Yoongi’s boyish face. She can almost imagine the look of pure white eyes on him. For a moment, his eyes flicker and she really does see it. Or, maybe, she is imagining it and freaking herself out.

Could this boy in front of her be that person? How is that possible? All she can think about is how utterly exhausted she feels, right then. If this is him, can’t she get a ing break? What is he doing here? Why—

Yoongi tilts his head, his sudden movement making all her thoughts come to a screeching halt. His mint green hair falls into his dark eyes, a stark contrast that makes him even more unnerving. And then there’s a look in his unwavering eyes, an unsettling twinkle set deep within the dark color of his eyes that makes her take a small step back.

He doesn’t smile or morph into some terrible creature like she expects him to. No. Instead, he just grimaces at her, eyes never leaving hers.

There’s a beat of silence that seems to heighten the tension between them. Hyemi doesn’t know what to do. Min Yoongi doesn’t even blink.

After another moment, he audibly sighs, raising a brow at her. There’s an irritated twist to his expression, though she swears she detects the tiniest upwards quirk of amusement to his small lips.

(She swears, for a small moment, his form seems to flicker.

Her heartbeat quickens.

Maybe, this is all another illusion of Yeonma—of Baekhyun’s.

Truly horrible thoughts follow that terrible moment of doubt and Hyemi’s heart drops to the pit of her stomach, her hands trembling, dry.

What if the Baekhyun who had merged with the Tree was never her Baekhyun? What if the purple portal was really a time warp of Zitao’s? What if this is another one of Yeonma Baekhyun’s manipulated timelines?

What if she’s just being paranoid? What if Min Yoongi is just a coincidence? What if Exo Planet’s time really runs differently from theirs and that’s why she’s been gone for three years?

She doesn’t know what the truth is anymore and her head hurts.)

Her eyes widen when Min Yoongi speaks, his tone languid, commanding. She half-expects him to tell her to off. Instead, he rolls his eyes slightly as he levels her with a dark glare, despite the smallest quirk to the corners of his lips, an inkling of a smirk that leaves her on edge.

He says, “So, who the are you and what the are you doing in my house?”

“It’s a long story.” She manages to respond.

His smirk lengthens and either her nerves are way too ing frayed or she really did see pure white flicker in his dark eyes. She isn’t sure anymore.

Min Yoongi gestures behind her, into the house, and says, “We have time.”

---