#Witch Yoongi

[lilprincegoo]

peek-a-boo by wildlikeawolfpack

yoongi/taehyung/jungkook

Alternate Universe - Witchcraft, Established Kim Taehyung/Min Yoongi, Kidnapping, but like it goes wrong, and they're very sorry about it and they didn't mean to, Witch Kim Taehyung, Witch Min Yoong, Fluff and Humor

13.4k words

rating: T

yoongi and taehyung mess up big time when they kidnap jungkook to sacrifice his soul to their local demon���it's too pure, too good, too precious for this world, and he has such pretty eyes... in their attempt to make it up to him, jungkook gets more than he could ever wish for.

[chimcess]

→ Chapter Eleven: Following Rivers Pairing: Jimin x Reader Other tags: Werewolf!Jimin, Witch!Reader, Shifter!Reader, Shifter!Jimin, A/B/O Dynamics, Alpha!Jimin Genre: Supernatural!AU, Werewolf!AU, Angst, Mutual Pining, Fluff, Smut, Word Count: 16.1k+ Synopsis: Within the four realms of Lustra lay the Bangtan forest home to the Foxglove pack of the south and known as the “land of magic.” It is also home to the Bridd, a powerful witch from a cursed bloodline who is one of the sacred guardians of the forest. Y/N is the newest Bridd, a young girl who was given her position too early. Now a woman, Y/N is revered amongst the wolves as the most powerful witch they have ever known, but hiding under the surface is a woman who has to battle between her duty and her heart. Warnings: ANGST, strong language, PTSD, flashbacks, self-hate, self-depreciation, talks of death, everyone is going through it, getting to know some more characters, love-triangle, Jin is being kind of a dick, I promise we'll start seeing more Jimin as this goes on but he's just really depressed right now, Sam is a HUGE flirt, Kook is a vibe and I love him, Secrets to be reveled later, disabilities are going to be a huge part of Yoongi's life now and his arc so bear with a lot of that being in his povs, he's my favorite person in this series (so far, later you'll meet by baby for life), possibly wrong medical terminology, sexism and misogyny will be hinted at, everyone is going through it, lots of grief and heartache, Babyboy just wants his best friend back, mourning her life she's dead, let me know if I missed anything... A/N: Thanks for reading <3

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Yoongi's POV

The night was too loud—everything was loud—like the world had turned up the volume just to drown me out. Crickets chirped incessantly, their sharp songs digging under my skin. Somewhere in the darkness, the witches chanted, their voices twisting together like secrets I wasn't supposed to hear. I sat on the porch, my fingers tracing the worn grooves in the wood. It used to calm me when I was a kid. Now it just felt... empty. Everything did.

The stars above were a blur, smudges in a sky that once looked like magic. Now it was just a cruel haze—a kind of blindness that let me glimpse shapes and light but never enough to truly see. The battle with the elves had left me like this. Half-blind, half-alive. And I didn't know which half was worse.

My porch used to be our refuge. I could almost hear Y/N beside me—her laughter mingling with the fireflies dancing around us in Moland. But I couldn't picture her smile anymore, and that hurt more than anything else. Her memory was slipping away along with my vision, leaving only empty outlines where something bright used to be.

There was a party going on somewhere in the yard. The witches were celebrating Wendy's new role as head witch and our recent win against the elves. We would've done it sooner, but after Cordelia's death, any idea of joy felt wrong. I thought it was still too soon for something like this, but Wendy seemed up for it, and Jin went into full planning mode the moment she smiled. Their laughter and shouts made my head hurt. Some of them had offered to hang out with me back here, but I didn't want the company.

Pretending to be happy with near strangers wasn't something I could do.

I heard footsteps approaching—slow, hesitant. It was my mother. She didn't say anything at first, but I felt her warmth beside me. I avoided looking at her; everything looked like an old black-and-white film from Northorn, and it broke my heart every time I saw her without color. "Yoongi," she said softly, her hand resting lightly on my shoulder. So light it was almost not there. But it was. Everything felt heavy now. "How are you holding up?"

I exhaled, the sound shaky. "I'm not," I finally said, the words coming out more bitter and broken than I intended. "I don't even know why I should try to hold on anymore."

Her hand tightened on my shoulder. "We've been through so much," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "But we're still here, Yoongi. That means something."

Does it? I thought. I didn't say it, but the weight in my chest felt suffocating. Carrying it another day seemed impossible, and the thought made me want to scream. "I miss her," I whispered instead, your name lodged in my throat. "She always knew what to do."

My mother sighed, her fingers brushing my arm. "She did," she agreed quietly. "But she wouldn't want you to carry this alone. You've still got people who care about you. Jin—"

I flinched at his name, cutting her off. "He doesn't need me. Not when he has Wendy to think about."

"That's not true," she said firmly. "You don't have to do this alone, Yoongi. Let him help you."

"Wen's mom died," I reminded her.

"I understand that. Dee meant a lot to me. I've known her my entire life. But you're hurting, too," she replied thickly. "You've been doing your best to make him happy through all of this. He's just lost right now. Bring him back."

I stayed silent. The idea of reaching out felt impossible—a weight I wasn't ready to lift. The silence stretched between us, her hand on my shoulder more burden than comfort. "I'm tired," I muttered, leaning forward and resting my face in my hands. "I don't know if I can do this right now. Or ever."

I groaned, rubbing my eyes. The blur gave me migraines. "I don't think I can do anything anymore."

"You can," she insisted, her voice steady. "You're stronger than you think, and it's okay to let others be strong for you."

I didn't argue, but her words felt hollow. Letting people help me wouldn't prepare anyone for the war. Wouldn't fix the shining. I wanted to tell her how empty it all felt, how each day was a battle to find a reason to keep going. But what would that change? She couldn't fix this. No one could.

And the last thing I wanted was to worry my mother more than she already was.

Footsteps again—lighter this time. Wendy. Mom kissed my cheek, patted my shoulder, and headed back inside Mi-Jeong's house. If there was one good thing about staying here, it was how close Mom and Hoji had gotten with Jimin's mother. Even I had to admit I liked her. She made me laugh and went out of her way to make the house easier for me to navigate while we figured out a way to fix my eyes.

Once Ji-Hyun left to stay with Callisto's family just outside the gates, things got a bit quieter. Jin and I hadn't spoken much since everything settled; he was too busy helping Wendy take over as the head witch of her coven. Before Ji-Hyun left, we'd teamed up against the wolf a few times. His wife was the only reason we didn't confront him more.

Callisto was sweet and gentle, fiercely loyal to her husband and his whims. Ji-Hyun held a grudge against Y/N for reasons he wouldn't share. His wife, despite his silence, didn't let him off the hook if he even thought about saying something rude about her. He'd calmed down considerably before they moved out, but I had a feeling it was more for his mother's sake than any real remorse.

"Yoongi?" Wendy's voice cut through the thick silence, cautious. She stopped a few feet away, her figure a blur of gray against the darker gray of the night. "Are you okay?"

I almost laughed—a bitter, hollow sound. "No," I said flatly. "But I guess that's just how it is now."

She moved closer, her presence warm but almost suffocating. Everything was shades of gray, like the world had been drained of color. My eyes were still healing, leaving everything hazy and indistinct. "We're here for you if you need anything," she said, echoing my mother's words. "Jin and I—"

"Don't," I interrupted, my voice low and rough. "You know just as well as I do that Jin isn't here for me as long as you're around. So spare me the speech."

Her silence hurt more than any response could have. She sat beside me, her shoulder just brushing mine. I kept my gaze down; the porch beneath us was a washed-out gray, the wood grain barely visible through the blur. "He cares about you a lot, Yoongi," she said softly. "Even if it doesn't feel that way. Even when he's being... difficult."

I wanted to believe her. I wanted to feel something—anything. But all I felt was the same hollow ache that had settled in since that night. I nodded slightly, enough to make her think I was listening, but my eyes remained fixed on the indistinct, grey shapes at my feet.

Laughter drifted over from next door—too bright, too alive. It sounded out of place in this monochrome world. All I could do was sit there. It was so pathetic I wanted to cry.

"You know," Wendy said gently, her voice tinged with hope, "I've been trying to get him to talk to you more. Maybe if you put in a little effort, it could help. I know he misses you."

"Doesn't matter how much he loves and misses me," I muttered. "You're his top priority now, Wendy."

"But you should be, too," she insisted, her fingers lightly touching my arm. Her hand was a pale shade against the darker fabric of my sleeve. "Promise me you'll at least try?"

I nodded again, a mechanical gesture more for her benefit than mine. "Okay," I murmured, the word scraping out of my throat. "I'll... try." It was a lie, one I didn't even believe.

Wendy's hand rested on mine, warm against the cold that had settled into my bones. It should have been comforting, but now it was just... there. The lack of color made everything feel distant, unreal. Wendy had been a great comfort to me when we were younger, but now, after everything that happened, it just felt wrong. She shouldn't be here with me. If there was any hope that Jin and I could remain friends, she needed to stay as far away from me as possible.

But Wendy either didn't know or didn't care. When I talked to Jungkook about it, he said she was just naïve. Sam called her selfish. That made me laugh. It was something Y/N always said about her, too. I think everyone had at one point or another. Even Cordelia.

The name sent a shiver down my spine. It was ironic that I was calling Wendy selfish when her mother had died just weeks ago, and she was here comforting me. Jin was right. I was a bad friend who only thought about himself.

"You're not alone," she repeated, her voice steady.

I swallowed hard, my throat aching. Alone? I'd never felt more alone. Even with her beside me, it didn't change the hollow ache inside. The world around us was a blur of grays, shadows without definition. "I feel like I am," I admitted, the words slipping out before I could stop them.

"Don't say that," she said firmly. "You're still part of the family. You're still you."

Still me. What did that even mean anymore? The person I was before felt like a stranger. My fists clenched, the grainy image of my hands tightening in my lap. Frustration bubbled up. "Wendy," I began, my voice rough. "What if this is it? What if we never find a cure? What if I'm stuck like this forever? Then what?"

"Then we'd figure it out," she said softly.

"There is no 'we,'" I snapped, taking a deep breath to steady myself. The motion made the hazy edges of my vision swim. Thankfully, no one seemed to notice my outburst. "Mom would have to move back to Bangtan, and while everyone else is playing house, I'd be stuck as the blind cripple who needs his mommy."

"Don't talk about yourself like that," Wendy said sharply. "Even if it doesn't feel like it, you matter to us. You're still the most valued person here. What do you think everyone is celebrating right now?"

I stayed quiet. Her words didn't reach the part of me that felt like it had crumbled to dust. The grayscale world around me felt empty, lifeless. It was easier to retreat into the numbness, to hold onto the pain because at least it was familiar.

"You, Yoongi," Wendy's grip on my arm tightened. Her face was a pale blur, but I could sense the intensity in her gaze. "You single-handedly took down more elves than anyone here. You sacrificed your body for us. Why do you think Jin's being a jerk? He feels insecure and inadequate next to you. You've never known how incredible you are, have you?"

I wanted to tell her I hadn't, but I kept my mouth shut. We were treading dangerous ground, and I prayed no one else heard what she said. The sea coven was full of gossipers, and I worried Jin would hear about it. I didn't want to fight with him.

"Thank you," I whispered eventually, the words thin and weak. The night pressed down, the grayness seeping into everything. My thoughts drifted to Y/N—her laughter, her vibrant presence that seemed to bring color to everything. Without her, everything felt impossible. Without her, I felt... nothing.

I knew if she were here, I'd be doing a lot better right now. Y/N and I had a bond deeper than any other I'd ever had. Samanya was becoming a close second, but we had a few cultural differences that made it hard to get as close. She was also one of the most beautiful beings I'd ever seen, her image in my mind a vivid contrast to the muted world before me.

There were only two others who'd ever made me feel the same way: Delta and a man here I refused to acknowledge existed half the time. The impossibility of that relationship made it easier to pretend that just the sight of him didn't make my heart race. Like I didn't watch him like a stray dog hoping for scraps. He never noticed. Of course he didn't.

Wolves didn't practice homosexuality. When I asked Jungkook about it, he said it was viewed as a mental illness. Mates were for breeding, and a wolf who didn't want to continue the bloodline was so out of the ordinary they didn't think it could be natural. Y/N had explained something similar before, but she didn't know all the ins and outs like the young omega did.

"I miss her," I muttered, my chest aching. "She made it all easier."

Wendy's voice softened, her grief barely hidden. "We all miss her. But she wouldn't want us to stop living. She'd want us to keep going."

"Going where?" I asked, my voice cracking. "What's the point if everything just ends?"

"The point is we're still here," she said gently.

I didn't answer. The world around me was a sea of gray shadows, the party sounds muffled and distant.

"Yoongi," she said after a moment. "I know it's hard. I know you feel like you've lost everything. But you haven't. You're just... hurting right now."

I wanted to argue, but the fight was gone. I just sat there, staring into the hazy blur of a world I couldn't fully see, feeling like a stranger to myself.

The night stretched on, Wendy beside me—a flicker of warmth in the endless gray. I didn't know if I believed her, but for now, I'd let her stay. For now, I'd let myself breathe. It was all I could do.

Eventually, Wendy stood up, leaving me alone. The party was still in full swing, a large bonfire crackling, casting shifting shadows in shades of gray. A group of women gathered around it, their figures indistinct. I watched Wendy find Jin, saw the way she fit under his arm—their forms blending into one another in my blurred vision. Either he hadn't seen us or was choosing to ignore it.

I hoped it was the latter.

I leaned back against the rough wood of the porch, every nerve weighted down by a relentless exhaustion. It wasn't just my body that felt broken—it was everything. The world, my place in it, me.

I'd lost count of the nights spent like this—stranded in the dark, drowning in thoughts I couldn't escape. For the first time, I felt like I understood Y/N's nightmares. When they were at their worst, I'd sleep in her bed to wake her up, and she'd spend hours telling me how horrible and guilty she felt for being so angry and upset all the time. She never called herself a burden, but now that I was in her shoes, I knew that's what she meant.

I knew she was fine and alive out in Lustra somewhere, but it didn't stop my mind from mourning her as harshly as I'd mourned Cordelia at her memorial service on the shores of Syrena. Maybe even more. I loved Wendy's adoptive mother, but I didn't know her as well as I should have. Y/N was my best friend, and her absence was gnawing away at whatever sanity I had left.

Minutes—maybe hours—dragged by, each one heavier than the last, until the soft sound of footsteps cut through the quiet. They were barely there, and if my ears weren't so tuned in to what was happening around me, I wouldn't have heard them at all. Then I caught the faint scent of mist and wet grass. I knew who it was before she spoke.

Minutes—maybe hours—dragged by, each one heavier than the last, until the sharp sound of footsteps pulled me from my thoughts. They were barely audible, but I'd become attuned to every little noise. Then I caught the faint scent of mist and wet grass. I knew who it was before she spoke.

"Mind if I sit?" Sam's voice was brisk. When I looked up, her face was a pale oval against the darker grays of the night. I wished I knew what color her eyes were. They were the only thing I wasn’t confident in my guesses about. They were light, but I could not tell you what shade they really were. She'd always been beautiful, but tonight there was something different—something that made me appreciate her even more.

Her eyes were a soft gray, her hair a dark shadow framing her face. I knew that if I ever got my full sight back, she'd be even more striking. But for now, it was nice to be around someone when appearances didn't really matter. She didn't seem to mind helping me navigate or putting up with my bad moods, either.

Sam was nearly perfect. It was just too bad I had someone else in mind when we weren't together.

Those dimples were so deep I could make them out from the porch anytime he walked by...

"Go ahead," I muttered, nodding toward the spot Wendy had left.

She settled beside me with an ease that felt out of place next to my stillness, her energy humming softly between us. "You look like hell," she said bluntly. "What's got you in pieces this time, Yoongi?"

I let out a hollow laugh, the sound harsh even to my own ears. "This time?" I echoed, shaking my head. "It's always the same stuff." I gestured vaguely at the night—at nothing and everything. "Take your pick."

Her smirk faded slightly, and for a moment, I thought she might soften—but Sam wasn't the soft type. She never sugarcoated things, never pretended it would all be okay. Part of why I didn't push her away like I did the others. Yet, anyway. I'd already drawn the line about romance with her in my head, but I knew I was weak, and she made me feel comfortable. She reminded me so much of Delta...

No, I couldn't go there.

"Yeah, it's bad," she agreed, her voice steady. "But sitting here feeling sorry for yourself isn't going to change anything." She leaned closer, her breath warm against my cheek. "Staring at them will make Seokjin angry, you know."

I snapped my eyes away from the fire. I hadn't been looking at Jin or Wendy, but it wouldn't surprise me if Jin thought I was. He'd become more paranoid and distant these days.

I turned to her, bitterness bubbling up, unable to hold it back. "What do you want from me, Sam?" I didn't care if it made her uncomfortable—she'd chosen to sit here.

Then I felt bad again. That wasn't fair.

Sam didn't flinch. If anything, her gaze sharpened, unwavering and direct. "You think you're the only one feeling this?" she asked, her voice low. "You're not. We're all carrying it, Yoongi. The war, the losses, the uncertainty—it's wearing us all down."

"Then why don't you look like it?" I snapped, my fists clenching. "Why do you still act like there's something worth fighting for?"

"Because the alternative is giving up," she said simply. "And I've seen what that looks like. It's worse than this."

I scoffed, shaking my head. "Doesn't sound so bad right now."

She was silent for a moment, and when she spoke again, her voice held a rare gentleness. "You're not the first to feel that way. And you won't be the last. But giving up? It doesn't end the pain, Yoongi. It just spreads it. You think Wendy's okay? Or Namjoon? Or the rest of us?" She paused. "We're barely holding it together. But we're still here. And so are you."

The mention of his name made my pulse quicken, and Sam knew it. She only brought him up to get a rise out of me. Her spending time with him didn't help. The thought of both of them together—breathless, naked, sighing—was the first thing that had truly distracted me all day.

He was so... captivating.

I pressed the heels of my hands to my eyes—not that it mattered. Everything was just as hazy and muted as before. It was better at night. I could see things a little clearer. The sun made my eyes burn and itch, and I couldn't leave the house without shades. Taejin was kind enough to give me a few pairs.

"I'm not here, Sam," I whispered. "Not really. Without my sight, I'm a terrible fighter, and without that, what's left of me? I don't serve much use here."

She sighed softly. "You're still you, Yoongi. Maybe some things are different, maybe you're feeling lost. But you're still here. And as long as you are, you've got a chance to figure out who you'll be now. Life doesn't stop just because you want it to."

I wanted to argue, to push her away, but there was a stubborn truth in what she said.

"What do you want me to say, Sam?" I asked, the question slipping out more like a plea than I'd intended. "That I'm so messed up I can't even use magic? I keep trying, and nothing happens."

"You don't have to say anything," she said quietly. "I don't want anything from you. But maybe you should want something for yourself. You've lost a lot, but you haven't lost everything. You still have your mother. That's more than many here can say."

Guilt gnawed at me for snapping at Wendy earlier. It wasn't just Wendy, either. Jin had almost lost his father. Enver had nearly been killed multiple times in that fight. Sol, as much as I hated to admit it, had lost the only person she ever knew as family, and no one seemed to care. Taehyung, maybe, but I knew they weren't talking much. Countless others had fallen as well. Sam wasn't wrong—I was lucky to have my mother.

It didn't erase the fact that my life felt irreversibly damaged. I was the only witch with a permanent disability, the only one no one could heal. Maybe I had the right to feel a little bitter.

"I don't know how to do that," I murmured, barely audible. "How to want anything anymore."

She nodded, her expression unreadable in the grayscale blur of my vision. "Then start small. Want to survive. Want to see tomorrow. Want to believe things can get better. And if you can't want it for yourself, then want it for the people who still care about you."

I couldn't respond. Couldn't argue. After a while, Sam shifted closer, her movements deliberate but careful, like she was approaching a wounded animal. I didn't turn my head, didn't acknowledge her beyond the faint scuff of her boots against the porch. I didn't have the energy.

"You know, Yoongi," Sam said, her voice lighter than it had any right to be on a night like this, "I've always thought you were handsome."

"I know," I mumbled, barely more than a whisper, my voice worn thin. "You know how I feel about you already, just like every other person you’ve sunk your teeth into."

"You're my favorite," she chuckled softly. "You haven't even let me get that far yet. And your skin, those eyes..."

I rolled my eyes. No one ever liked me for my face, and I knew Sam would say anything if she thought I'd give in just a little. My body buzzed with anticipation that I forced down. I didn't know if I could handle something like that right now, even if it might feel good.

Sam's laugh faded, and her tone shifted. "I'm serious, Yoongi. You've got this whole mysterious, brooding thing going on. People like that."

I let out a bitter breath. "What people?" I muttered, shaking my head. Then, a faint smirk tugged at my lips. "I'm a blind guy who can't do magic. Who's lining up for that?"

"You'd be surprised."

I turned slightly toward her, a sigh escaping my lips. "You're relentless, you know that?"

"It's part of my charm," she said, and before I could respond, I felt her shift closer. Her breath was warm against my cheek, and then her lips brushed mine—soft, tentative, giving me a chance to pull away.

But I didn't.

Instead, I leaned into her, my fingers brushing against her arm as I kissed her back. It was brief, just a moment, but it felt like a small light flickering in the darkness. When she pulled away, I could still feel the warmth lingering, and it made me feel... something. Something other than emptiness.

"Thanks," she whispered, barely audible. "For letting that happen."

I swallowed, my throat tight, and nodded. "Thank you," I said softly. "For wanting it to happen."

She smiled—a gentle curve I could almost see in the hazy grayscale of my vision.

Silence settled between us, comfortable for once. I watched the party slowly disperse. Jin and Wendy passed by on their way back inside. Jin glanced down and grinned at me. He was probably happy to see Sam's head leaning on my shoulder. I didn't look to see Wendy's reaction. It didn't matter.

The ache in my chest didn't go away, but I did feel a little better than I had earlier.

Eventually, the last of the witches were gone, and the fire began to burn low. Sam was unusually quiet, but I think she knew I needed time to think. Watching the smoke curl up into the night sky, I tried to keep my mind off the sadder thoughts that seemed to be on repeat lately. Sam deserved better, and I was exhausted from it all. I needed a break.

The sharp creak of the front door pulled me from my thoughts, and Jungkook's familiar voice broke the quiet—loud and bright, just like always. I couldn't help the smile that tugged at my lips. He was exactly what I needed, even if I wasn't sure I could match his energy tonight.

"Guess who!" Jungkook called, bounding onto the porch, his grin as wide as ever. "Hope you two haven't died of boredom without me!"

Sam smirked, standing up and leaning against the railing, arms crossed. "Not yet," she shot back. "But the quiet was nice while it lasted."

I chuckled softly but stayed quiet otherwise. The silence had been nice, and I wasn't quite ready to let it go. Jungkook's energy filled the space, bright and insistent, but I could already feel how drained I was from earlier.

"Perfect!" Jungkook plopped a couple of bottles on the table with a clink. "That's why I brought reinforcements. Drinks to celebrate surviving another day in this lovely mess we call life."

"Getting drunk sounds nice," I muttered under my breath, the words tasting bitter. I didn't feel like we were surviving all that well—maybe it was just me. But alcohol? Alcohol I could manage.

Sam glanced at me, her expression unreadable, then turned back to Jungkook. "And you think drinks are going to solve everything?"

"No," Jungkook shrugged, undeterred. "But they won't make it worse, right? And besides, who says no to a little fun?"

I let out a hollow laugh, the sound cracking in the still air. "Fun," I said, shaking my head. "Don't know if I'll be much help with that."

Jungkook's grin faltered, his eyes flicking toward me, then away. "Hey, come on," he said, his voice softer now. "You're still here, Yoongi. That's gotta count for something."

The words landed like stones in my chest. I gripped the bottle he handed me, the cold glass calming me for a moment. "I guess so," I said, barely above a whisper.

Sam straightened, her teasing demeanor fading. "Yoongi..." she started, but I shook my head.

"I'm fine, Sam," I said, my voice sharper than I intended. "Just a rough day. Can we just crack open whatever the kid brought and have a good time?"

Jungkook shifted uncomfortably, his bottle clinking as he set it down. "We all have bad days," he said steadily. "You’ve been having a tough time lately, and I don't think it's fair for anyone to make you feel bad about it. I can leave if that's easier. You two seemed fine before I got here."

"It's fine, Kook," I chuckled, touched by his thoughtfulness. "It's not your fault I'm so..." I trailed off, unsure how to finish.

Jungkook's expression softened, and he reached over, giving my shoulder a gentle nudge. "Hey. We're all in this mess together, right?"

Sam sighed, stepping closer. "You're too busy shutting us out to let us help," she said quietly. "But we're not going anywhere, Yoongi. We're here."

I swallowed hard, my throat tight. Their words didn't fix anything. They didn't make the weight on my chest any lighter or the darkness any less suffocating. But for the first time in a long time, they made me feel less alone.

"Now, come on," Sam teased, nudging my shoulder just enough to pull me out of my spiraling thoughts. "You're being so depressing you've got Kook acting serious. That's a first."

"Hey, I can be serious," Jungkook protested, though his usual smile was back, not quite reaching his eyes. "But right now? I'd rather laugh with my friends than sit around dwelling on things I can't change."

I raised my bottle in a half-hearted toast. "Sometimes, laughter is all we've got."

Jungkook lifted his own bottle, grinning. "To laughter, and to the best friends a guy could ask for."

Sam rolled her eyes, but her smile was genuine. "Yeah, yeah. Don't get all mushy on us now."

We clinked our bottles together, the sound echoing softly into the night. The weight on my chest didn't disappear, but it felt a little lighter.

"I'll kick Chief Kim's ass for you in a heartbeat," Sam joked after taking a sip.

"And I'll turn Bo into a goat," I added, trying to keep the mood light.

Sam giggled. "We'd actually get some use out of her then."

"You two are so mean," Jungkook laughed, shaking his head.

"It's part of the charm," Sam shot back, her grin widening.

We finished our first drinks quickly, and Jungkook was more than happy to crack open a few more. The night was young, and the smell of the bonfire still lingered in Mi-Jeong's backyard. I used to love that smell, but now it brought back memories I didn't want—the kind that made me squeeze my eyes shut and remind myself that I was safe. That nothing bad was going to happen.

"So," Jungkook said, leaning forward, a mischievous glint in his eyes, "what's next? More drinks? Truth or dare? I want to make things interesting."

"Let's not get too wild," Sam warned, though the curiosity in her smirk betrayed her. "We've got enough chaos in our lives. Don't think we need any more drama."

"True," Jungkook agreed, his grin softening. "But hey, we might as well have fun while we can. Those bastards will be back eventually."

Sam's expression shifted, a playful glint in her eyes. "How about a round of 'Devil's Lie'? Ever played, Yoongi?"

I raised an eyebrow, the corner of my mouth twitching despite myself. "Who hasn't? Are you sure you're ready to lose?"

Sam laughed, leaning in so close I could feel her breath. "Try me," she challenged.

Jungkook let out a playful hoot. He'd always said he wanted Sam and me to end up together, something about "eternal happiness" for his only friends. Sam and I just laughed it off. She didn't do the whole marriage and kids thing, and I was perfectly happy without any strings attached.

Jungkook tilted his head toward the house. "Hang on. I'll go see if Momma Park has a deck lying around." He disappeared inside, leaving Sam and me in the warm night air.

A moment later, Jungkook returned, holding a slightly battered deck of cards in one hand, a triumphant grin on his face.

Sam helped me over to the small table on the porch. I could see it was a shade of a mid-tone grey, but the design—a dark shape curled up on itself—was still a bit blurry. I settled into a chair, trying not to cringe as Sam's chair dragged loudly against the wood.

"Alright, game refresher," Jungkook announced, setting the cards on the table. "The rules are simple: play a card face down and say what it is. If no one calls your bluff, the game moves on. If someone thinks you're lying and they're right, you drink. If you're telling the truth and they call you out, they drink. First to lose all their cards wins."

Sam's eyes lit up as she grabbed her drink. "Finally, a game I was born to win."

I smirked, picking up my bottle. "We'll see about that."

Jungkook shuffled the cards with surprising dexterity, then dealt them out. "Let's make it interesting," he added, grinning. "Every round starts with 'I bet the Devil,' because why not?"

Sam leaned forward, her grin mischievous. "Oh, this is going to get ugly."

Jungkook went first, laying down a card. "I bet the Devil... this is a seven of spades. Also, I had a crush on a teacher once."

Sam groaned. "Seriously? That's your big confession?"

"I think he's lying about the card," I interjected, squinting at him.

Jungkook turned it over with a flourish—it was a seven of spades. "Drink up, Yoongi."

I groaned as Sam burst out laughing. "I'm going to be so bad at this. I can't see your faces that well without the moonlight."

"I can get a lantern," Jungkook offered, but I shook my head.

Fire wasn’t as bad as direct sunlight, but my eyes were sensitive enough right now that it added some strain.

"I'll manage."

"My turn," Sam said, sliding a card down with theatrical flair. "I bet the Devil... this is a king of hearts. I've never been with a woman before."

I squinted at her, trying to gauge the truth. "The card's a lie," I said confidently. "And that story is complete bullshit, too."

She flipped it over—it was a king of hearts. "Nice try, Yoongi. Bottoms up!"

"What about the story?" Jungkook asked.

"Oh, a complete lie," Sam replied, already reaching for her drink.

Jungkook leaned back, watching us with a grin as I took a reluctant sip. "This is going better than I expected," he admitted, placing his next card. "I bet the Devil... this is an ace of clubs. And I never snuck out at night."

Sam snorted. "You're full of it. No one makes it to your age without sneaking out."

“Card?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Bullshit,” I said.

“Think he’s being honest about the card,” Sam waved me off.

Jungkook flipped the card over—it wasn't an ace. Sam cursed under her breath and took a long sip while Jungkook gave us a smug look. "Told you I've got a good poker face."

"Good boy," I teased, sticking my tongue out at him.

"Mom's favorite," he shot back with a grin.

Jungkook had some of the brightest smiles I'd ever seen. The only flaw was his slightly too-long front teeth, but even that suited him. Namjoon's were a close second, but I didn't see him smile enough to compare.

I wished I could see him smile more. He was always so... compelling.

The night carried on like that—the game quickly evolving from simple bluffs to playful confessions and outright ridiculous lies. By the end, we were leaning into each other, laughing so hard that tears pricked at the corners of our eyes. It wasn't perfect, but it was enough for now.

The dim light filtering through the tavern's grimy windows felt like tiny knives stabbing at my eyes, even from where I was tucked away in the corner. Without sunglasses, stepping into full daylight wasn't even an option—the pain just wasn't worth it. I hunched over my excuse for breakfast: rubbery eggs and toast so dry it could double as a coaster. Hunger insisted I try, but every bite tasted like last night—greasy, regretful, and tinged with the bitterness of too much ale and too little honesty.

I pushed the plate aside with a metallic scrape, wincing at how sharp the sound was. The murmur of voices around me tangled together, a blur of lives I wasn't part of, just out of reach. Conversations mixed into a static hum, like I was behind some invisible barrier, listening to a life that wasn't mine anymore.

The creak of the tavern door broke the monotony, a cool draft brushing past as it opened. Two voices followed—one light and easy, as familiar as home. Hoseok's laughter rang out, warm and effortless, undercut by Hyuna's softer chuckle. Their voices cut through the haze like sunlight piercing storm clouds.

"Mind if we join you?" Hoseok asked, his tone as laid-back as ever, though I could hear the weariness beneath it.

I gestured to the empty seats, managing a small smile. "Go ahead. Just a heads-up—the food's as bad as it looks."

"If Yala cooked it, I can imagine it's bad," Hyuna said, eyeing my plate with a smirk. "Greasy, stale, and questionable at best?"

"Pretty much," I muttered, pushing the plate farther away.

Hoseok chuckled, but the sound lacked its usual spark. "Hey, at least it's not rations out of a tin like the copiae are getting in the field. I'd take overcooked eggs any day."

We shared a weak laugh, but the moment was fleeting. The weight of everything we'd been through, the constant worry, crept back in—thick and heavy. Hoseok leaned back, his eyes drifting somewhere far away. "Bridd saved my life in that last battle," he said quietly. "I don't even know how, but she did. I keep thinking... it should be me out there instead of her, alone."

Silence settled over us, broken only by the clinking of glasses and low murmurs from across the room. A pang shot through my chest, the reminder of Bridd's absence cutting deep. She'd been our anchor, the one who kept us steady. Without her, it felt like we were all just... floating.

"You miss her," I said softly, voicing what we all felt.

Hoseok nodded, his face tight with worry. "We all do. But Jimin's taking it the hardest. He's been beating himself up since that argument they had before she left. This war... it's tearing us apart."

Hyuna's expression softened, her eyes distant. "I keep thinking I should've said something to her, thanked her for everything. But I didn't. None of us did, really."

"We didn't either. Barely saw her after she woke up," I swallowed, my voice rough. "She's the heart of our families, and I don't think she ever realized how much she held us together."

Hoseok's hand rested on the table, his fingers tapping lightly. "I can't even imagine what it'd be like if she doesn't come back. Jimin's trying to act strong, but he's falling apart."

"He's been so distant lately," I murmured. "He doesn't know who he is without her anymore."

"Namjoon's been keeping him company," Hyuna nodded, her voice quiet. "He's hardly around here anymore. Only talks to people when he has to."

"I've been trying to keep an eye on him," Hoseok muttered. "He's easy to find—training, Bridd's place, or scouting. He's here all day, then slips away when things get quiet to spend time at her house. He's been fixing it up."

That brought a small grin to my face. It was nice to think it'd be ready for her when she got back. Unless, of course, something happened to it again. I doubted the elves would bother returning to the clearing. The witches who'd gone to Clarcton to find family said everyone thought Y/N was dead when they found her cottage destroyed and 'the Bird' gone.

We didn't correct them until they were back in Foxglove. Y/N's whereabouts were classified now.

"I'm worried he might hurt himself if something happens to her," Hyuna whispered.

"He might, even if he doesn't know," Hoseok replied. "We're not meant to be apart from our mates for this long. He must be going insane."

Their words echoed the fears I'd been trying to bury. I clenched my fists under the table, feeling the rough wood grain beneath my fingers, focusing on the tavern's hum of voices and clinking glasses. Out there, life went on, uninterrupted. But here, in our little corner, everything felt like it was standing still.

Whether we liked it or not, the three of us would be on the front lines.

And everyone knew I might not make it.

No one wanted to admit it.

Hoseok broke the silence with a sigh. "Yoongi," he said quietly, "have you thought about what happens after all this? After the war?"

The question hit me harder than I expected. Survival had become everything—the only thing. Thinking beyond it felt strange. I wasn't sure I'd see the end of it. With my eyesight the way it was, I felt weak, at a major disadvantage. Magic was helpful, but without the confidence to use it, it was useless.

Most of my spells fizzled out lately, and I was too frustrated and upset to keep trying.

"I know with your eyes, fighting might be tough," Hoseok continued, not noticing how still I'd become. "I'd understand if you wanted to stay back, maybe help out at the palace with Sol. She's a bit immature at times, but she's a sweet girl. You'd be good for her."

I stopped listening.

I couldn't be stuck on the sidelines. I wasn't meant to be there. I was a strong fighter—the best at night by a long shot. Jin might have more brute strength, his energy electric and full of fire, but I was just as deadly.

I could make the ground split in two. I could turn blades of grass into vines strong enough to break steel. I could summon a hurricane with a whisper. I could do so many things if they'd let me.

If I could let myself.

Then the sound of screaming rushed in my ears, and a cold sweat broke out across my skin.

I needed air.

I managed to get outside, bumping into a few chairs and tables on the way. The cool breeze hit my face, and I leaned back against the weathered wall, letting the cold ground me. It cut through the fog in my head, the chilly morning a relief from the tavern's stuffiness.

The smell of blood and ash had filled the air, screams and the clash of steel blurring together. I remembered the weight of their stares, how hard it was to breathe, the sharpness of their blades. The elves had charged us swiftly, mercilessly. I'd fought, felt the sting of cuts I barely noticed through the adrenaline. I could still see the glow of that elf's purple eyes as he reached out and covered my face. And then, in one blinding moment, all I felt was searing, burning pain.

I had bested him in the end, but fighting after that had been nearly impossible. The only reason I'd been able to call out to Y/N was because things hadn't gotten as bad as they eventually would. While I was in the palace with Enver and Namjoon, everything went black. The small bit of vision I'd recovered was thanks to the countless healing spells everyone had tried on me.

I met Sam during that time—when everything was blurry and upside down. She told everyone the "shining" had its advantages, but that my body needed to heal on its own. Not many survive the initial burning, she'd said, and we'd have to wait and see what became of me. It took months for the full effects to settle in, but she could already tell my vision was adjusting to the dark. Each day, my eyes became more metallic, turning silver as they healed. She said the grayscale was a good thing.

I didn't believe her. Not at all.

Sam befriended me out of some morbid curiosity about what would happen to the little witch who survived elf magic. Now, she wanted to sleep with me. Quietus were strange creatures, but I'd come to adore Sam and all her odd quirks.

"Yoongi?"

I turned, steadying myself against the rough wall. Hoseok's footsteps were careful, like he didn't want to startle me. I hadn't even heard him come outside.

"Are you okay?" he asked softly, concern threading through his words.

"I just... needed a minute." I tried to keep my voice steady. "I'm easily overwhelmed lately. Apologize to Hyuna for me. That was really rude."

Hoseok was silent for a moment, then I felt his hand on my shoulder—warm and grounding. "We're all carrying more than we should," he said gently. "You can talk to me. Maybe it'll help. What does it feel like?"

A bitter laugh slipped out before I could stop it. "What are you referring to? My eyes or the nightmares?"

"The nightmares." His voice softened. "I know enough about your condition. I just want to know about you right now."

I shook my head, pushing my glasses further up my nose. The sun was bothering my eyes even more out here, but I barely noticed. Everything was too bright, too sharp.

"It feels like they never stop," I admitted. "Even when my eyes are open, they keep happening. Sometimes I don't know what's real anymore. It's... frightening."

Hoseok took a deep breath beside me. "Hyuna's been having the same issue," he said, leaning against the wall next to me. "Waking up screaming my name. When we got separated, she barely noticed, but seeing me hurt like that was horrible for her. Her friends died. Both of my parents died. It's been really hard."

I hadn't realized he'd lost his family. I knew his older sister was still around the village. The Jungs were good at covering their pain, it seemed. I reached out, my hands fumbling until they found his shoulder—maybe a bit too close to his neck, but he didn't pull away.

"I'm sorry," I said, feeling his fingers brush against my hand before enveloping it. His hands were large and warm—scorching, almost. I didn't know how Y/N dealt with it; it felt like I might melt. "I didn't realize. I would have gone to the funeral."

He shook his head. "We couldn't have proper funerals for anyone. Too many bodies. They burned them and gave the ashes to Ji-woo. We're too afraid to display them right now. They could get destroyed in another fight."

"I can charm them," I blurted out. "Make the porcelain sturdier. I can't make it unbreakable—charming isn't really my specialty; that's Y/N's thing. But I'm good enough to give you some peace of mind."

"We'd appreciate that," Hoseok said, squeezing my hand. "Thank you."

Bridd's absence gnawed at me. If she were here, she'd promise Hoseok and anyone else with a vase of ashes that they'd never break again as soon as she got her hands on them. Funny—we used to tease her and Wendy for struggling with defensive magic. Wendy said she didn't believe in violence but knew enough to defend herself if needed. Y/N was even less into it, but she was so resourceful she scared even the best fighters among us.

I'd never seen someone make fire so quickly and easily before. A natural talent, my mother had said. It was her only truly offensive attack, but even I could admit her protective spells were where she truly shined. Healing, shields, and all the strange and whimsical spells she made up to escape quickly and quietly—they were fascinating.

My heart felt heavier.

"What happened between Bridd and Jimin?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. It was a question that had haunted me since she left.

We all knew the gist: an argument that got out of hand, and Y/N had a really bad day. She left in a flurry of emotions and disappeared. Many of us were quick to blame Jimin for her leaving, but when details about Sol being the catalyst emerged, that blame shifted.

I felt bad for the girl. She didn't think Y/N would run off and hurt herself. I understood she was trying, in some ways, to get her to stay by making sure the one person who could convince her not to go was extremely against the whole idea. Unfortunately, she didn't know my friend all that well and ended up sending her packing even sooner than planned.

Sol was a child. Eighteen was barely an adult, and she'd been pampered and treated like a princess her entire life. What did anyone expect? For her to be mature and handle things like a seasoned warrior? Not likely. Especially not when she had such a sweet and bubbly husband like Taehyung, who just wanted to please her.

They still were hardly speaking.

Hoseok sighed heavily. "It's complicated," he said. "They argued about Sol, about her leaving. Bridd was trying to protect him, and Jimin pushed for answers. Things got heated, and they both said things they regretted. But Jimin..." He paused, his voice dropping. "He's a mess without her. Regret doesn't even cover it."

"I know. I guess I'm just trying to figure out what everyone is doing about the elves. Thelma hasn't been very helpful."

"The council meets daily, but we can't get on the same page. Namjoon, Jungkook, and I are doing most of the talking. Jimin's making hundreds of war plans for every scenario you could think of. There are so many maps in that room. Bo and Kim are trying to ease the minds of the older folks. Taehyung is shockingly level-headed, working with Jimin to iron out details."

"And Sol? Is she just hiding while we pick up the pieces?" I couldn't help the sharpness in my voice.

No one had seen the Luna since her wedding. It wasn't a good look, and when we heard about Jungkook being her personal guard through all this, we nearly stormed the palace to demand why she thought she deserved special treatment. Heji had calmed us down, but dissent for Sol spread through the village like wildfire.

Hoseok's grip tightened on my hand. "It's not that simple, Yoongi. They're keeping a close eye on her in the palace. She's trying to keep her family safe and deal with everything she's set in motion."

"That doesn't excuse her," I snapped, anger spilling over. "It doesn't excuse any of this. We're out here fighting while she sits behind walls. And Y/N..." My voice cracked, the ache in my chest almost too much to bear.

"Yoongi." Hoseok's voice was firm, cutting through my anger. "We're all in this mess, every one of us. The girl is having a mental breakdown in there. She can't even get out of bed anymore. Taehyung won't speak to her, and she's miserable. She tried... harming herself a few days ago, and now they have guards watching her around the clock. Blaming Sol won't bring Bridd back or make this any easier."

"I know." The anger faded, leaving only emptiness behind. "But it feels like everything's falling apart, and I'm completely useless. You know no one expects me to survive the next fight."

Hoseok let go of my hand, and I dropped mine from his shoulder. I could see his silhouette leaning back against the wall beside me. The light made everything an overwhelming flood of white and gold, edges blurring and details lost in the glare. I hoped I would find something better than these stupid human inventions with time.

The edges allowed sunlight in depending on which way my head turned and the coating on them wasn’t as dark and thick as I would have liked. Yet another thing Y/N would have figured out how to fix. She had the most creative spell ideas out of everyone I had ever met.

She might have even been able to find a way to get my eyes back to normal given enough time.

"You're stronger than you think," Hoseok said gently. "You made it through that battle. You're still here, and that means something, even if it doesn't feel like it right now."

“I’m here for now,” I rebuttal, unhappily.

“You heard Samanya, sooner or later your eyes will be better than any of ours at night. Then, you’ll be the most useful person in the entire village.”

“Sure.”

The street around us was still, the morning quiet making me far more unnerved. Birds did not chirp anymore. Most of the deer were in hiding. Insects and the occasional frog were the only sounds. At that moment, it felt like we were in a bubble, the noise and weight of the war held at bay just for a second.

“Is Sol alright?” I asked.

“Doing better,” Hoseok huffed. “She’s not really sure what she’s supposed to be doing, and no one is willing to let her help with anything now. Bo isn’t letting her in on any of the war meetings, Namjoon’s father thinks she’s too stupid and frail to be any help, and I think Tae’s just too overwhelmed and overloaded to step in between them.”

“Still not talking?” I asked.

Hoseok shook his head. “He talked to her last night, and he’s been trying to spend more time with her, but Sol’s not being very receptive to him right now. Koda has been with her mostly, and she said Sol hasn’t eaten or spoken for days. Weeks if you want to count her just sipping on water and force feeding herself crackers and bread. She looks horrible.”

“And Taehyung?”

“Worried,” Hoseok cleared his throat. “Sorry, I have a cough. He’s just spread too thin right now, and no one is being very helpful. Jimin, maybe, but he’s too distracted to really give much advice. It’s why I think you going and being around Sol might help.”

I laughed, “And why would I be the ultimate solution to all of their problems?”

“Because you’re nice, and Sol needs a friend.”

I shook my head. The thought of spending time with the girl who was the reason my best friend left was not appealing to me, but I did understand where Hoseok was coming from. Even if I did not particularly care for her, it wasn’t nice to hear that she had attempted to take her own life. No one should feel like that is their only option.

Maybe I will stop by one of these days. See if I could get the girl a decent meal. Gods knows she was already skinny enough before. Has to be practically wasting away now.

I heard the tavern door open and slam shut. Heavy footsteps fell and were coming for the two of us. A good guess was that it was Hyuna. Peeking over Hoseok’s shoulder, I saw his wife.

She was tall and slim, just as skin and bones as her husband, with long hair. I remember meeting her once or twice before, but couldn’t remember the color of her hair. It was brown, not too light or dark, but that was all. Her skin was dark, the color reminded me of a bronze-gold Viola. She was pretty. I remember thinking she was pretty.

Right now, she just looked like a stick figure drawn in ink that was smudged with the side of a hand.

Hyuna’s voice broke the silence as she joined us, her tone steady and sure. “Are you alright?” Her hand found mine, warm and solid. “You looked shaken up.”

I swallowed hard, nodding as some of the tightness in my chest eased. “I’m alright, Hyuna,” I said, my voice thick. “Just a few things I’d rather not think about.”

“I have those, too,” she replied, her eyes kind.

The morning air was crisp and biting, but with my friends beside me, I felt a spark of warmth, a small flicker of hope breaking through the shadows. We’d lost so much, and there was still more to face, but standing there, I felt like maybe we had enough to hold on to.

“Come here, baby,” Hoseok muttered, grabbing hold of his wife. Hyuna melted into his side. He looked back at me. “We need to get back to the palace. Hyuna’s scheduled to watch Sol in an hour and I need to get back to the council room before Jimin rips Bo’s head off.”

“No problem, man.”

“Will you be alright?” Hyuna asked.

“Always am,” I replied.

They each gave me a small hug before heading off towards the palace.

I leaned against the cold, rough wall of the building, trying to catch my breath as my mind spiraled through everything weighing on us—the war, the losses, the unknowns stretching out like an endless road. I closed my eyes, hoping for a moment of peace, but the darkness clung to me, seeping into every corner of my mind.

The sound of footsteps pulled me back to reality. I turned toward them, and a flicker of relief went through me when I saw Sam and Jungkook. I couldn't see if they looked as rough as I did, but it didn’t really matter to me. We had fun last night and I felt bad for possibly ruining that light atmosphere we’d been able to hold onto for a few hours. Hoseok and Hyuna had most likely run into them on their way out. It was the only way either of them would have known I was here.

“Hey,” Sam said, her voice soft. “You okay?”

I forced a small smile, though it felt like it could break at any second. “Just needed some air,” I replied, my voice sounding as worn out as I felt. “How about you two? Holding up?”

Jungkook shrugged, his jaw tight, his usual spark dimmed. “Same as everyone else, I guess. Just… trying to make sense of it. Hangovers don't mix well with war meetings. Happy Jung is relieving me. I hate seeing my cousin like that.”

Sam took a small step closer. “Hyuna told us you were here,” she said gently, her voice carrying the same sadness that weighed on all of us. “She told me what happened. Are you sure you’re alright? She made it seem like you freaked out.”

I swallowed, the ache in my chest tightening. “Yeah,” I managed, barely above a whisper. “I’m just… everyone keeps talking about Bridd, and it brings back a lot of memories. I hate that she’s not here right now. The witches aren’t united and nothing is getting done. I’m pissed off and sad.”

The three of us stood there, caught in a silence heavy with grief. Y/N had been more than just a friend to me—she’d been my anchor, hope, and strength when I needed it most. And now, that strength was gone. She had made me feel like I was worth something. Like I could be something more than a conquest. She was the only person that we grew up with who made me feel like I was more than just a piece of meat. Nixie and Delta had been helpful as well, but the romance always left room for doubt in my mind. With Y/N I knew she just really loved and cared about me with or without strings attached.

She was like that with all of us. The most well-respected and adored little witch as far as the eye could see. And we all knew it. Jin, Wendy, our families, and the little witches—big and small—were all aware of the gaping hole we kept avoiding talking about. We needed her here right now, and nothing Thelma or anyone else did could change that fact.

The fact that Enver and Thelma might have known she would leave prior to any of this happening made my stomach churn uncomfortably.

“Have I ever told you I talked to Jin before?” Sam finally broke the silence.

“No,” My face scrunched up. “Why would you do that?”

“It was back when your vision was at its worst. Before Bridd even woke up.”

“Oh,” I said back, dumbly. Jin never acted like he even knew Sam existed half the time. The fact that he’d spoken with her at all was news to me. Wendy couldn’t have known about it. She would have told me. She wouldn’t have been able to help herself.

Wendy was bad with secrets. Jin, too.

Huh. Maybe I didn’t know him as well as I thought I had.

“What’d he say?” I asked.

“I told him I was worried about what would happen to everyone if she never woke up,” Sam’s voice was like butter. “That hope within your people would die out as quickly as it went in. He told me that Bridd used to say hope was like a stubborn weed. You could try to pull it out as many times as you wanted, but it would always come back, even stronger.” She let out a soft laugh, more sad than happy. “She woke up, of course. The whole conversation didn’t really mean much of anything afterwards, but I can’t help but think about that sometimes. Because she was right. You could see how defeated she was—her eyes couldn’t lie, but she still clung to the hope of finding something better and bringing it back. An impossible task and she looked at it with nothing but mild annoyance and disdain.”

Sam laughed in disbelief. “And then she went off on her own like a fucking lunatic. She left this place thinking that her fiancé hated her, her friends betrayed her, and that she would die out there one way or another—and she still went. She wanted all of us to live even if she died. She had hope that she’d make it far enough to find Naida and whatever happened after didn’t matter.”

“She believed in that hope, even when we couldn’t,” Jungkook added, his voice raw. “She made us believe, too.”

I nodded, the sharp ache of missing her settling deep. “She wouldn’t want us to give up,” I said, feeling the truth of it in my bones. “She fought for this—for us. I can’t let her down.”

Sam reached out, her hand resting on my shoulder, grounding me. “Your friend is as crazy as Queen Terra was, and that woman stood tall against the elves. A mass genocide and she was still screaming. That’s what your girl is doing, and we will be doing the same.”

Jungkook moved closer, placing his hand on my other shoulder, his grip strong. “For Bridd,” he said, his voice filled with quiet determination, “and for everyone we’ve lost.”

Bridd had given everything she had to protect us, to stand for something bigger than herself. And even though she was gone, her spirit lived on in us, in the bonds we shared, in the strength that kept us going. The road ahead was dark, full of uncertainty, but we’d walk it together.

As the sun slowly rose, casting light across the worn cobblestones, I felt a hint of warmth—a reminder that dawn always comes after the darkest nights. We couldn’t change the past or erase what we’d lost, but we could honor Bridd’s memory by holding onto hope and fighting on. She’d left us with that much: a spark of resilience even in the deepest dark.

“For Bridd,” I murmured.

And for once, the light didn’t bother me so much.

I stood by the river, watching as the last of the sunlight hit the water. The river sparkled, flowing east where it would inevitably end up in the Talay Ocean. Around me, the sky was deepening. I had never realized how much I had taken sunsets for granted until I could no longer watch the colors swirl together. It was twilight now, and the sky would be streaked with crimson and plum. Sunsets this close to the water were always the most beautiful.

I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and tried to reach for my magic. It used to come so easily, just a flick of my wrist, a thought. But now, it felt like pulling teeth. The light that once danced at my fingertips was nothing more than a weak spark, flickering out before it even formed. Frustration twisted in my chest, sharp and tight.

Nothing really was the same anymore.

Clashing metal, the roar of flames, blood, wolves at my feet, swirling smoke clouding my vision, white hair, violet eyes, burning, and then the screaming.

Always the screaming.

I tried to shake off the memory, forcing myself to focus on the gentle sounds of the river. It was a futile distraction at best. Bridd’s face surfaced in my mind, and I felt the sting of her absence all over again. I could almost hear Jin’s laughter, taunting me with each failure, each flicker of magic that sputtered out.

“Not so hot now, Min,” his voice was distorted and dripping with more malice than my friend was capable of.

I clenched my fists, trying to channel the frustration into something useful—anything that might remind me I hadn’t lost myself entirely. I flicked my wrist. Nothing came.

“Come on,” I muttered under my breath. “You can do this.” But all I got were a few faint sparks that faded into nothing. Every failure widened the hollow ache inside, gnawing at my resolve.

The riverbank was too quiet. I wondered if it was as lonely as I was. I groaned, kicking my feet and connecting with a few stray rocks. The sun had finally set, and I ripped the stupid glasses off my face. With each passing day, things became clearer. Tonight, the lines were sharper, and the details between the trees a bit more noticeable. Of course, still no color had come back. Cadoc said it most likely never would.

Tears welled up in my eyes. My entire chest tightened with all the frustration, anger, and hopelessness I felt deep within me. I was a failure. I was nothing. I was...

I wished someone was there to break me out of my own head for a while.

A rustling in the bushes made me jump, my body tensing instinctively. But it was only a bird, flapping away, leaving me alone again. I sighed, looking up at the sky. At least I could make out the stars again. I looked around, hoping to find Scorpius.

I found it tucked away, forming a ‘J.’ I smiled. Antares was the easiest to spot, a faintly red and brightly lit star. The only thing that could rival the other star called Mars. I was not sure how they got their names, or when, but it was interesting to look at them all. This, at least, I could still do.

“Today is a new day,” I mumbled, tearing my eyes away from the sky.

I tried the spell again, but again, nothing happened. Again. A faint spark. All I wanted to do was a very simple, very basic electricity spell. Each failed attempt felt like a punch to the gut. I hated being reduced to this weak and pathetic state where the very thing I was born to do felt impossible.

I flicked my wrist. “Leohtfæt.”

A white-hot bolt shot out, but instead of flicking out like it should have, it exploded in a small burst just after leaving the tip of my index finger. I shouted, pain shooting through my arm. A murder of crows flew up from the surrounding trees in a flurry. None of them made a sound.

I couldn’t hold it in anymore, and I let out a shout—raw and loud, breaking the quiet. I kicked at the dirt, wishing I could do something—anything—to shake this feeling. I was in a cage, a small songbird, and I couldn’t figure out why I wanted to sing anymore. Beside me, the river kept flowing, steady and indifferent. I stood beside it, stuck.

“Get it together,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “You’re stronger than this.”

I didn’t believe myself.

I took a few steps back from the river’s edge until I felt the solid ground under my feet. It felt more reassuring than the wet mud had. My magic was still somewhere inside of me; I just needed to shake off the fear and regroup. I was able to make a bolt.

It blew up in my face, but it was more than I’d been able to do in a few weeks.

The river glowed underneath the moonlight, the world around me softening, muted. I leaned against a twisted tree, still caught up in the mess of my own frustration, when I heard her voice.

“Yoongi?” Sam called out.

It was soft, like she wasn’t sure if she should interrupt. I turned toward the sound and was struck by how much clearer she looked tonight. Her hair cascaded down her back, dark and perfectly straight, and she was wearing some kind of loose-fitting dress. I had never been able to see her features so clearly before. Bathed in a gentle, dream-like glow, she stood out against the trees like some sort of goddess.

Humans might even mistake her for one of their angels.

“I thought I might find you here.”

I tried to smile, though it probably looked tired. “Hey,” I said, my voice as worn as I felt. “Didn’t realize I’d been out here that long.”

Her footsteps were soft as she came closer. She was taking great care not to startle me. Footsteps and loud noises sometimes brought me back, and I’d be unable to speak for a few minutes. Her lips were pulled down into a half-frown. They were plump and full, and I rejoiced in being able to know that about her.

Such a far cry from a few days before on Mi-Jeong’s back porch.

“I just came from Jimin’s. He’s... well, he’s managing. Sort of,” she said quietly. “Namjoon and I kept him company for a while, but he ended up slipping out a few minutes ago.”

I swallowed, guilt biting deeper. “Is he alright?”

She hesitated, and I saw her shifting uncomfortably, searching for the right thing to say. I had never been able to see her squirm before. “Not really,” she admitted. “But he’s trying.” She found a rather large rock near the river’s edge and sat down. “Doesn’t sound like the magic training is going very well.”

I nodded, going over to sit beside her. She made room for me before leaning her head against my shoulder. Her small touches of affection were growing more common between us, but they did not bother me. In fact, I welcomed them. Even if I knew she had just been with Namjoon—I flushed as I thought of him—it never made me feel uncomfortable. If anything, it only made me want her beside me more.

It was almost like touching him.

“Nothing?” she asked, so gently that I almost wanted to cry.

“Yeah,” I said, lifting my hands. “I got a few sparks here and there, but it’s hit or miss. I need to start testing a few of the other simple spells and see if it’s just my defensive magic that’s clogged up.”

She didn’t speak right away. Her head stayed on my shoulder, and her hand came to claim one of my own. She pulled it down to rest in her lap. Her legs felt cold against my skin. Her thumb gently traced my knuckles.

“That’s better than before,” she said finally. “I think your body is still a bit afraid after what happened. Might be trying to keep you safe.”

Frustration spiked again, making my voice come out sharper than I intended. “It’s not that simple, Sam. Bodies don’t do that.”

She didn’t pull away, didn’t flinch. Instead, she squeezed my hand a little tighter. “No, it’s not simple. None of this is, but your body is far more complex than you think it is.”

I felt her lips against my neck. They were cold and wet. I shivered.

“It happened to me just after the Sarkan invasion,” she whispered in my ear. “I was a young girl, but I remember how afraid I was. I couldn’t do anything for years afterward. I felt just as human as the people who stole our land. So many of us were deeply affected.”

She sighed, shifting back to rest against my shoulder again. “I don’t think you’re all that different. King Castor, who wasn’t a king at the time, told us that our minds like to play tricks on us to protect themselves. Fear is the most powerful weapon in the universe. Have I ever told you about my time with the dragons?”

“No.”

She chuckled. “A story for another time, I suppose. They’re strong and brave people, but they understand much about the body that the rest of us don’t. His wife, Queen Affra, said she knew why iron hurt the fae people but no one ever believed her. It’s too long ago now to remember it, but I wish we’d taken them at their word sooner. It’s the only reason their numbers were able to recover so quickly after the end of the war.”

“I was always told it was because they fucked like rabbits.”

“Well, there’s that, too.”

We both shared a quiet laugh.

She slid her hand up my arm, her fingers tickling my skin, before she took hold of my bicep. “Being strong doesn’t mean you’re not scared,” she said. “It just means you keep going anyway.”

“Are you scared?” I asked, looking down at her face.

It was even easier to see it now. Her eyes were hooded, her nose too pointy and thin, and her face a perfect oval. She reminded me of a very beautiful fish. I leaned down and kissed her between her eyes. She hummed in contentment.

“More than I’ve ever been before.”

I swallowed, her honesty touching something deep inside me, a part of me I hadn’t let anyone near. “I don’t want to drag everyone down,” I said, my voice breaking.

“You’re not dragging anyone down,” she said, her voice fierce, eyes blazing. “Not me, at least. You matter, Yoongi. More than you even realize.”

Something warm flickered in my chest. “I just… I don’t want you to feel like you have to carry me.”

She kissed my cheek this time. “I care about you, Yoongi,” she said. It sounded like a promise. “And that’s not something you get to decide for me. I’m not going anywhere.”

I let out a shaky breath.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

She smiled, and I wished that I knew what color her lips were. Were they like strawberries or the dusty roses in my mother’s garden in Clarcton? “You don’t need to thank me,” she said softly. “Just let me be here, okay?”

I nodded, and we let the silence settle around us. The river murmured, the leaves rustled above, and as night crept in, I felt the gentle hum of life moving forward. Faintly, the crickets were beginning to chirp.

The darkness wasn’t gone—it never really was. It still hovered there, the screams clinging to my mind. But with Sam’s hand in mine, something shifted, and I could vaguely see through the cracks in the trees. They weren't very big, but they were just enough to let a little light in. I took a deep breath, letting the cool night air settle me, and felt more sure of things than I had in a long time.

“You’re right,” I said quietly, my voice a little stronger. “I’m fucking terrified and I don’t know what to do with all of these feelings. I’m so lost and scared, Sam.”

“One step at a time, okay? You’ll figure it out eventually.”

I nodded, feeling gratitude I couldn’t put into words.

After a moment, Sam’s tone shifted, her voice taking on that playful edge I’d come to know and love. Did I love Sam? I couldn’t be in love with her, but I guess I did feel something akin to love. “So, I’ve got some gossip for you,” she said.

My curiosity sparked, tugging me out of the heavy thoughts weighing me down. Shifting, I bent over. Sam giggled childishly. I dipped my fingers into the river, feeling the cool water wash over them, and the residual ache from the spell was gone. I heard her shuffling around until she leaned in beside me, her warmth pushing back against the chill of the night.

Sam wasn’t as warm as me, and nowhere near as warm as the wolves, but I expected an air elemental to be freezing. She said when she “merged.” That’s what they called it when they became more air than solid. Merging with the atmosphere, or whatever Cadoc had said.

I rarely spoke with him, and when I did, I didn’t pay attention. He was nice enough, but boring to converse with. Sam said he wasn’t around much anymore since he was the official diplomat between Queen Nerezza and the Elder Council. Lorcan was their link with General Drystan, and Sam was Jarisa’s, the King’s Consort’s, closest friend. A few other quietus had joined us here in Foxglove, but they were the least experienced warriors they had. From what Sam told me, her king and queen were still wary of working closely with the wolves. Y/N fleeing only added to their suspicion. If she were able to come back with Naida or Khione with her, the rest of the quietus would come as well.

Where Naida went, it was far more likely for the fire dragons to come as well, though no one seemed particularly confident that would be the case. Fire elementals enjoyed keeping to themselves.

“What’s the tea?” I asked, my tone lighter.

“Turns out Ji-Hyun was the one who tipped Sol off about Bridd,” she said in a low, conspiratorial voice. “Taehyung only confirmed it when she backed him into a corner. She didn’t really believe him until then, but whatever he told her is what she must have told Jimin. I’ve met with Taehyung a few times and he seems too sweet to make up lies.”

“Why would he do that?” I muttered, not really expecting an answer that would make any of this better. “I’ve never understood his disdain for Y/N. No one she’s ever met has disliked her so quickly, and even if they did, they’d get over it once they talked to her. She’s quite likable once you get past the quick temper and awkwardness.”

Sam leaned in closer, her breath warm against the cool air. “Lorcan overheard Ji-Hyun arguing with his wife,” she whispered. “Ji-Hyun’s best friend died in the siege, and he blames your little bird for not warning them. He just assumed the worst from the beginning, and he’s too stubborn to squash the beef. He’s angry, Yoongi, and telling Sol was his way of lashing out.”

I clenched my jaw, feeling bitterness rise. Ji-Hyun’s grudge was like poison, and his need for revenge was threatening to tear apart everything we’d fought so hard to hold together. “Great,” I muttered sarcastically. “Just what we need. Another reason for everyone to turn on each other.”

Sam sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly. “Exactly. Everyone’s already on edge, and Lorcan thinks Jimin doesn’t know yet. He’s been around his brother too often for him to think he went behind his back in that way.”

I stared out at the river, watching the water flow. I could picture Jimin’s face once he learned the whole truth of things—the anger that would rise up in him, fierce and unchecked. “If Jimin finds out,” I whispered, the weight of it settling on my chest, “it wouldn’t surprise me if he killed Ji-Hyun. And that would be the end of whatever stability we have left.”

“That’s why we can’t let it get to that point,” Sam said, her voice sharper now. “We have to handle this carefully. One wrong move, and everything could fall apart.”

I let out a long breath. “But what can we really do, Sam? The Parks aren’t exactly known for subtlety, and Ji-Hyun just has to say the wrong thing at the wrong time, and he’ll have to deal with Jimin and whoever else feels some type of way about Y/N leaving.”

“Maybe,” she admitted, her tone softening. “But we can watch, we can listen, and we can wait. If the opportunity presents itself, we’ll talk to him. Unfortunately, this is the smallest little village I’ve ever been to, and I doubt anyone can keep their mouths shut for that long. Wouldn’t surprise me if he already knew and was just saving face.”

I turned toward her. “It would explain why he’s staying away from his mom’s house.”

She nudged my shoulder, a smile clear in her voice. “Look at you being smart.”

A real smile crept onto my face. “No one’s ever liked me for my rugged good looks.”

“Well, then it’s a good thing you have both, Mr. Min.”

After a beat, I snapped out of the lovestruck, dumb, idiot stare I was in. Was I in love with Sam? No, Yoongi, you’re just infatuated with a girl who’s being nice to you. Not rocket science.

“So he’s punishing Y/N for something she couldn’t control?” I shook my head. “If you haven’t noticed, my jaw is still firmly in place.”

Sam nodded, her expression hardening. “Yeah, but he’s misjudged how this will play out. Callisto isn’t taking it lightly either. If she finds out about Ji-Hyun’s involvement, things could get… ugly.”

That made me laugh. “If there’s anything that girl can do, it’s shit-talk with the best of them. I miss having her at the house.”

“One of the more entertaining people I’ve met here,” Sam agreed. “The other morning she called Namjoon an ‘absolute walnut.’ And then when Ji-Hyun laughed, she made the funniest faux-surprised face I have ever seen and shouted, ‘Oh my God! It Speaks!’ Lorcan and I were cracking up.”

“Damn spitfire,” I chuckled.

“You’d think she was a dragon the way she talks to these wolves.”

“Brave little human.”

“Brave, indeed.”

The evening deepened, stars twinkling brightly above us. It was quieter than usual. The crickets were a small hum in the background, and the frogs were giving us some space. The birds were in the trees, sitting silently and watching. I wondered if Jin and his family had spoken with them. We’d know when something was nearby that way. It would be smart strategizing. I’d talk to my mother about that and see what she knew.

Maybe I could go with Thelma and see what I could do to help. Being Sol’s babysitter popped up in my head, but it didn’t feel like it would be much help. I glanced at Sam and felt my heart melting.

She really was the most important thing in my life right now.

“Thanks, Sam,” I murmured, my voice catching as I looked away. It didn’t feel like enough, but I meant it. “For sticking with me through all of this.”

She gave the back of my head a gentle peck. “No need to thank me, baby,” she said, her voice as steady as ever. “We’re in this together. Besides,” she added, a little smile creeping into her tone, “you’re the only thing that makes me want to come back to this shitty little village anymore. Honestly, I would have only come to see Joon and leave. Leave Cadoc to do all of the bureaucratic bullshit.”

A laugh escaped me, breaking through the quiet. “So we balance each other out, huh? Fire and ice?”

“Fire and ice,” she echoed, her eyes gleaming with that familiar spark of mischief. “But honestly, I think you’re more earth, and I’m made from… you know, air.”

“Smart ass.”

“Shut up and kiss me.”

And I did.

I stared into my drink, the amber liquid swirling in slow circles, like it was trying to keep up with the chaos in my mind. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was still there, still in that battle, still surrounded by everyone I loved. But it wasn’t real, it never had been. It was just a nightmare.

In my dream, I was the last one standing. Everyone else had fallen—one by one—until it was just me, surrounded by their bodies, faces twisted in pain, fading into the smoke and ash. I’d thought I could protect them, thought I could stop the inevitable. But then the elves charged, all of them, eyes cold and faces unforgiving. I fought, I fought until my muscles gave out, but it was no use. Alone, I couldn’t stop them. And I couldn’t save the people who mattered most.

I didn’t want to think about it. I didn’t want to remember how I felt, standing there with my sword in my hand, a useless piece of steel against the weight of the world. But it kept creeping back into my mind, dragging me back into the nightmare, every little detail too vivid, too real. I didn’t know how long I’d been walking, but somehow, my feet had carried me to the tavern in the middle of the night. The place was dark, almost empty, just the kind of place I could lose myself in.

I ordered a drink. And then another. And another. The whiskey burned going down, but it didn’t burn enough to erase the feeling of emptiness in my chest. The same emptiness that had been there in the dream, the same cold weight of knowing I was the only one left.

The tavern was its usual self—a loud, dim blur of voices and clinking glasses, the smell of stale beer hanging in the air. But none of it mattered. I could barely hear it over the pounding in my head. The world outside seemed far away, like I was in a different place entirely, a place where none of it had ever happened, where I hadn’t failed them all.

I watched the glass in my hand, the whiskey still swirling in lazy circles. No matter how much I drank, it wouldn’t stop the dream from coming back. It wouldn’t bring them back. It wouldn’t fix what was broken inside me.

Then the door swung open, and a familiar laugh sliced through the noise, grating and sharp. I glanced up to see Ji-Hyun stepping into the dim light, his mouth twisted into that smug, careless grin he always wore. He spotted me right away, and instead of looking the other way, like any decent person would, he headed straight for me. My chest tightened, and I could already feel my hand curling into a fist around my glass.

“Well, well, look who’s here,” he said, sliding onto the stool beside me without an invitation. “Didn’t expect to find you out, Yoongi.”

I forced the anger down, keeping my eyes on my drink. “I don’t expect to find you anywhere.”

Ji-Hyun laughed. “Cali keeps me on a tight leash, I’ll admit it. Got lucky tonight, though. She’s helping her momma knit some new clothes for the copiae, and I was able to sneak out.”

“Poor me.”

“I’m not that bad, hyung.”

The honorific was a surprise to me. As long as I had known the kid, he had been a walking dichotomy. Arrogant and condescending, but respectful and always keeping his manners. Still, he had never been quite as kind to the witches. I think our loyalty to Y/N didn’t make his life much easier, especially when his camp of dissenters quickly grew scarce and then disappeared altogether. He was the only person in town besides Bo who didn’t like Y/N, and even he sometimes was quick to criticize Bo’s more “ridiculous” reasoning for being so anti-Y/N.

Jealousy over someone else was petty. The death of a friend and three dozen village members was more than enough for Ji-Hyun’s open disgust at people like us who still loved her.

He was a very black-and-white thinker, and yet there was some space for nuance.

For example, he had never called me “Hyung” before, despite the fact that I’m three years older than him.

“No,” I took a sip of my drink. “You’re pretty fucking terrible.”

That only made him laugh harder. Had to admit, he looked a lot like his older brother when he did that.

“Only because you’re blinded by loyalty and I’m not,” he flagged down the bartender. “Not to Y/N at least. I am to my people, and I have a different opinion than everyone else.”

“Because you’re wrong.”

“No,” he stopped talking and gave Yala his order before turning back to me. “Think about it from my perspective. She saw the future, knew something bad was going to happen, and didn’t tell anyone but her loyalists. One of them being you. Don’t you see how that could piss off a guy?”

I had tried having this conversation with him before, but it had never gone this well. It was weird to think I’d thought this was going to be a fight. Maybe he was more like Jimin than I gave him credit for.

“She didn’t see the future,” I sighed, finishing off my glass. “Y/N can’t see the future. She was getting possessed by spirits who weren’t able to show her very much. It was vague, and she only told me because Thelma—the woman raising the real future-seer—came by and said something bad was coming. We should all be mad at Thelma if we’re using your metrics.”

“But she owed my brother that loyalty and respect, and she didn’t give it to him.”

Oh, that was fucking rich.

“You are such a fucking hypocrite,” I muttered, my voice low. I hoped he’d take the hint and leave, but he just laughed. “You don’t get to say shit like that and expect me to take you seriously.”

“Oh, I don’t?” He leaned in closer, his breath reeking of arrogance. “Last time I checked, I was free to say whatever I wanted. She wasn’t exactly the saint you all like to pretend she was.”

That was it. I couldn’t keep it in anymore. I straightened up, turning to face him, letting all the anger I’d been holding back show. “You’re one to talk. You want to talk about loyalty and respect to your brother? It’s your fault this entire shitshow went to hell in the first place.”

He rolled his eyes, leaning back, completely unfazed. “Oh, please, don’t put that on me. What did I do, exactly?”

I clenched my jaw, struggling to keep calm. “You told Sol about Y/N’s plan after you snuck around like the dirty rat you are. You went behind your brother’s back and fed lies to the most immature and naive person in this entire village to lie about his fiancé. It’s your fault the story was twisted, your fault she ran to your brother, and you sat back like a coward and let it happen. If you were so fucking loyal to your brother, you would have understood that he loved that girl and you would have been there with him.”

Ji-Hyun snorted, a bitter laugh escaping him. “Oh, so now I’m responsible for her choices? Bridd wanted to play hero. She got what she deserved.”

“What about when everyone said that about Callisto?” Ji-Hyun looked surprised. “Yeah, I heard all about your girl getting beat up by a few of the wolves in town after you mated with her. And you know who helped you out? Jimin. You are no better than a bully, and you ganged up on a girl who gave up her entire life and future to help your people, and then because you’re so fucking entitled, and it wasn’t good enough for you, you decided to ruin your brother’s life just to get back at her? You think we didn’t lose people? Cordelia was like a second mother to Y/N when she was younger, and she had to find her dead body. She saved Hoseok’s life!”

“And none of that would have happened if she had said something.”

And then I snapped.

My fist connected with his jaw, and for a split second, everything felt right again. Like I was myself. Ji-Hyun stumbled back, eyes wide with surprise, but it didn't last. His face twisted with anger, and before I knew it, he grabbed my collar, his grip like iron. Then his fist met my cheek, and the world tilted. Pain exploded, but weirdly, it felt good to feel something.

The tavern erupted around us—shouts, scraping chairs, breaking glass—but it all faded into the background. All I could see was Ji-Hyun, and the anger that mirrored my own. The satisfaction of hitting him still buzzed under my skin. I wanted to swing again, to make him hurt like I was hurting.

Then someone yanked me back. Strong hands pulled me away, and I spun around, fists still clenched. It was Jimin. His eyes were hard, jaw set in that way that meant he was beyond mad. "That's enough," he said, his voice cutting through the noise. It wasn't loud, but it didn't need to be.

He held my gaze, and I felt something inside me crumble. Disappointment. That's what I saw in his eyes, and it stung more than Ji-Hyun's punch.

Ji-Hyun wiped blood from his lip, smirking. "Keep your little witch on a leash," he spat before turning and storming out. His words hung in the air, heavy and poisonous.

Jimin's grip on my arm loosened but didn't let go. "What are you doing?" he asked quietly. I didn't have an answer. Couldn't find words that made any sense.

I pulled away, my cheek throbbing, and headed back to the bar. The room spun a little, or maybe that was just me. I sank onto the stool, ignoring the bartender's wary glance. My drink was still there, so I took a long sip, letting the burn distract me.

The whispers started then. People pretending not to stare while definitely staring. Great. Just what I needed.

Ji-Hyun's words replayed in my head. He'd called me pathetic. Said she didn't care about me. No matter how much I tried to drown it out, it clung to me like smoke.

Bridd would've smacked me upside the head for that stunt. Told me to stop acting like an idiot. She always knew how to pull me back when I was spiraling. But she wasn't here.

I felt the weight of Jimin's gaze before I saw him. He stood a few feet away, hands shoved in his pockets, expression unreadable. Part of me wanted him to say something—to yell at me, to tell me I'd screwed up. But he just sighed and walked away, leaving me with my tangled thoughts.

I stared into my glass, the amber liquid swirling like a tiny storm. Maybe Ji-Hyun was right. Maybe I was pathetic. A witch without magic is just... nothing.

The noise of the tavern pressed in—laughter, clinking glasses, snippets of conversations. It was too much. I needed air.

I slipped off the stool, the floor tilting a bit under my feet. Ignoring the curious looks, I headed for the door and stepped out into the night.

The cool air hit me, and I sucked in a deep breath. The sky stretched out above, stars scattered like thrown confetti. I walked until the sounds from the tavern faded, finding a quiet spot near an old oak tree.

I sat down on the grass, leaning back against the rough bark. The ground was damp and cool, seeping through my clothes, but I didn't care. Tilting my head back, I gazed up at the stars. They were blurry around the edges, but constant. Unchanging.

I closed my eyes, the fatigue washing over me like a wave. The fight, the anger, the emptiness—it all felt distant now. Out here, under the vast sky, I could almost pretend that things were okay.

Sleep tugged at me, and for once, I didn't fight it. I let the darkness wrap around me, pulling me under. Just for a little while, I could escape.

Taglist: @greezenini @adventures-in-bookland @kthstrawberryshortcake-main @zae007live @jimin-neverout @nikkiordonez12 @canarystwin @yamekomz @chimthicc @michiiedreamer @amorieus @mima795 @yunki-yunki-yunki

© chimcess, 2024. Do not copy or repost without permission.

[chimcess]

→ Chapter Ten: The Beyond Pairing: Jimin x Reader Other tags: Werewolf!Jimin, Witch!Reader, Shifter!Reader, Shifter!Jimin, A/B/O Dynamics, Alpha!Jimin Genre: Supernatural!AU, Werewolf!AU, Angst, Mutual Pining, Fluff, Smut, Word Count: 9.3k+ Synopsis: Within the four realms of Lustra lay the Bangtan forest home to the Foxglove pack of the south and known as the “land of magic.” It is also home to the Bridd, a powerful witch from a cursed bloodline who is one of the sacred guardians of the forest. Y/N is the newest Bridd, a young girl who was given her position too early. Now a woman, Y/N is revered amongst the wolves as the most powerful witch they have ever known, but hiding under the surface is a woman who has to battle between her duty and her heart. Warnings: ANGST, strong language, PTSD, flashbacks, self-hate, self-depreciation, death, fighting, blood, cursing, new character alert, we have so many characters already i'm so sorry, mauling of an elf, mind reader witch, Clarcton is pretty lame, drinking, drunkenness, nightmares, bonding, missing child (it's not that bad), fear, paranoia, insecurities, regret, guilt, shame, let me know if i've missed anything A/N: We're officially 1/3 of the way through our "little" story. Sorry it's been so long between updates. I've been working on so many things as the same time that TTW got placed on the backburner for a bit. Thanks for reading!

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I never expected Clarcton to be so plain. As a girl, I used to dream about escaping the swamp, imagining a world beyond my responsibilities—a world full of beauty and freedom. But standing in the little village’s town square, those daydreams evaporated like morning mist.

Stover, the tiniest town in Clarcton, was quaint and small, with cobblestone streets and wooden cottages that seemed to lean on each other for support. The townspeople moved with the kind of slow, deliberate pace that comes from a life untroubled by haste. Their eyes lingered on me, and I could feel their curiosity as they assessed the stranger in their midst. I stood out just by being different, my scars a map of battles they couldn’t fathom.

Through a day of shopping, I learned that Stover rarely saw travelers. The elves invading the northern tip had made the locals wary, and I could hear their whispers about my scars. Ignoring them wasn’t easy, but I’d be gone tomorrow. The market was a small square, stalls offering modest wares—fresh produce, simple cloth, handcrafted trinkets. Each vendor seemed to eye me with a mix of suspicion and pity.

Northorn still held strong, its capital unfallen. King Edward had called for aid from Whopping, a fishing town on the east coast. The wolves of Viridi Gramine had decided not to help the humans, heading instead to Bangtan to protect their princess. Hearing the townsfolk speak ill of Hyuna made my stomach churn. These people were ignorant, jumping to conclusions like humans always did since the Sarkans first landed in Lustra.

Starving, I dropped off my supplies and set out for food. Hannah, a kind woman who ran the inn, had pointed me to a tavern that promised a decent meal. However, I was low on money and too frightened to barter. Drawing attention could be dangerous, especially after hearing rumors of elves in town. I’d hidden in shops, body tense, the sight of white hair sending chills down my spine.

Elves all looked the same—pale, white-haired, with amethyst eyes. This party had no women, and when I asked the tailor, he explained that their kind had a queendom where men were lesser beings. These elves were young and inexperienced, sent to weaken before the real conquerors arrived. The tailor believed Lustra would fall when the second wave came.

The tavern buzzed with an overwhelming clamor. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of ale and sweat, and it was clear that I was the only human present. The elves, their pale faces flushed with drink, were loud and rowdy, their laughter grating on my ears. Ale sloshed over the edges of their mugs, splattering the wooden floor. Keeping my head down, I approached the bar and ordered soup and ale, deciding it was safer to stay than to risk attracting attention by leaving too soon.

Finding a corner table, I settled in, hoping to blend into the shadows. The warmth of the tavern was a stark contrast to the chill outside, but it did little to soothe my nerves. As I waited for my meal, snippets of conversation drifted to me. The elves boasted of their exploits, their voices dripping with arrogance. They spoke of battles and conquests, their laughter tinged with cruelty. Each word stoked the fire of my hatred, but I kept my face impassive, my gaze fixed on the table in front of me.

When the tavern maid brought my soup and ale, I thanked her quietly, avoiding eye contact. The soup was hearty, its warmth spreading through my body with each spoonful. The ale, though bitter, helped to steady my nerves. I ate slowly, trying to make the meal last as long as possible.

As I ate, a group of elves at a nearby table grew louder, their taunts more pointed. They spoke about the humans they had encountered, their words laced with contempt. One of them, a particularly burly elf with a scar running down his cheek, caught my eye and sneered. “Look at that one,” he said loudly, gesturing towards me. “Thinks she can hide among us.”

The others laughed, and I forced myself to remain calm, taking another sip of my ale. The burly elf stood, his steps unsteady, and made his way over to my table. “What’s your name, human?” he demanded, leaning in close, the stench of alcohol on his breath.

I looked up, meeting his gaze with as much defiance as I could muster. “None of your business,” I replied evenly.

His sneer widened, and he reached out, grabbing my arm. “Feisty one, aren’t you? I like that.” He pulled me to my feet, and I could feel the eyes of the entire tavern on us. The room had fallen silent, the tension palpable.

The elf’s grip tightened, and I winced, but refused to show fear. “Let go of me,” I said through gritted teeth.

“Or what?” he taunted, pulling me closer. “You’ll make me?”

Before I could react, a flash of movement caught my eye. Another elf, smaller and quicker, appeared beside the burly one. “Enough, Dalion,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “Leave her be.”

Dalion hesitated, his grip loosening slightly. “Why? She’s just a human.”

“Because I said so,” the other elf replied, his tone brooking no argument. “We don’t need any more trouble.”

With a grunt, Dalion released me, shoving me back into my chair. “Fine,” he muttered, glaring at me one last time before returning to his table. The smaller elf gave me a brief nod before following.

I took a shaky breath, my heart pounding. The tavern slowly returned to its previous state, the noise level rising once more. I finished my meal quickly, eager to leave and find some semblance of safety. As I paid for my food, I noticed the smaller elf watching me, his expression unreadable. I decided to go to the bar and finish my night there.

At the bar, a hooded figure sipped clear liquor, the sharp smell cutting through the tavern's haze. The bartender, his eyes darting between me and the elves, asked where I was from.

"Leeside," I lied, knowing he saw through it but didn’t call me out. He knew my destination and that Leeside was big enough to hide in. "Just passing through."

He nodded, wiping the bar. The elves were bothering a drunk old man for money, out of coins and still thirsty.

"Heard about Azamar?" the bartender asked.

I nodded, taking a bite. "Hot. Too bad, I’ve heard it’s nice this time of year."

The hooded figure shifted, drawing my instinctive gaze. Her teeth were too large, canines sharp, and one incisor framed in gold—a mark of an assassin from Whopping, according to Hoseok.

"The plains are worse," she said, her voice rough but feminine. "Hard to see anything if you go that far south."

"The northern tip isn’t too bad," I replied without thinking. "I came in through that way."

"Interesting."

She knew I was lying. Keeping my fear in check, I ate. The bartender offered another bowl on the house, which I accepted, knowing hot meals would be scarce. The elves grew louder, and I wanted to leave. Tomorrow, I’d memorize the maps Sam packed.

"Hey! You!"

I closed my eyes, feeling their gaze. They spoke a bastardized Lustrian, discussing my potential in bed and survival odds. I resisted the urge to respond, knowing a fight would expose me. Humans feared magic, as Aldara always said.

"Girl," another elf slurred, "give me some money. I need another drink."

The bartender, catching on, turned his back. I took a deep breath, trying to stay calm. He knew I understood them. I was obviously not an elf, so the options were shifter or witch—either one could spell trouble if the bartender exposed me out of ignorance.

"I’m talking to you, bicce."

My eye twitched. The bartender noticed, realization dawning. He turned away, leaving me to fend for myself.

Fortunately, he didn't look disgusted by me. His face remained remarkably neutral as he returned with a refill. He carefully placed a napkin on the bar before setting down the glass. I glanced at him, then at the woman out of the corner of my eye. She was tense, her head inclined towards me, her eyes hidden but clearly watching me as closely as the elves were. They were louder now, frustrated by my lack of response. I picked up my glass and read the smudged writing on the napkin.

"I'm Vern."

I took a sip, nodding, keeping my face impassive. Quietly, I ordered another drink, placing a copper coin on the bar, and pointed at the group with my thumb. I didn’t care what they wanted, but I hoped Vern wouldn’t provoke them. With great care, I picked up the napkin.

Crumpling it in my hand, I muttered under my breath, wiping it against my lips before placing it back on the bar. I went back to eating. Vern brought the elf his drink, and their angry taunts stopped. The one who called me a bitch thanked me in a condescending tone. I wanted to tear him apart, but instead, I drank my ale and ate my vegetable soup.

Vern came back, picking up my napkin and walking over to the trash can behind the bar. The traveler next to me was still staring, and I knew she knew what had happened. They both had their secrets. She stayed hidden beneath her cloak, while Vern saw too much. Both of them were searching for something, but I couldn’t tell you what. I did know, however, that lying would only make me look worse. I had given him my first name and hoped that would satisfy his curiosity.

Another napkin appeared in front of me. Vern was wiping down glasses, back turned, and I was sure no one except the three of us understood what was going on. I glanced down.

"Moland. Etta Ketchens’ son."

So, there was another witch around. Moland was the original land of magic. All witches alive today descended from those who first discovered it in the swamps. Bangtan stole the title after witches began making deals with the ielfen. Their world was linked to the spirit realm, and the monsters that lived there were difficult to manage, so they sent them to the forests. The witches were strong enough to keep them away, but the creatures found refuge in Bangtan.

Anyone from Moland had magic, and I had heard of Etta from Thelma. She was from the northeast. I had never met her, but she was known for playing music and throwing great parties. Trusting Vern became easier. We were in the same boat, and witches liked to stick together. At the very least, I knew I had backup if it came down to a fight.

"Bangtan. Thelma Richard’s niece."

He nodded, his eyes wandering to the woman at the end of the bar. She hadn’t taken her eyes off us since the written exchange began. Her eyes seemed to glow within the darkness that surrounded her face, boring into me, waiting for something. Feeling exposed, I stood. It was time to leave. I had done what I came here to do, and the elves were starting to badger people for money again.

Vern shook his head and glanced down at my seat, giving me pause. Gaze turning to the woman, she shrugged and shook her head in agreement. I had no reason to trust either of them, but I had a feeling in my gut. Even if we wouldn’t normally help each other, right now, we had a common enemy. The enemy of my enemy is my friend. Aldara would say I should listen before reacting. So, when the woman offered to buy me another drink, I sat back down.

“They’re planning on following you home,” Vern murmured, placing a glass in front of me.

“How do you know that?”

“I’m gifted. You could say I specialize in mind magic.”

Stiffening, I eyed him with new wariness. That’s how he knew I was lying; he could hear my thoughts. Vern nodded, answering my unasked question.

“I’m not concentrating on you,” he clarified. “I’m trying to watch them. I’m just picking up bits and pieces of everyone else. She’s—” He looked at the woman, “—not human either. She’s trying to decide if she should accompany you. You’re both going east.”

The elves were back to insulting me for another drink. I gritted my teeth, my anger and frustration bubbling over. I’d always been a hothead, but my emotions felt so volatile now. I hated them. I hated everything they stood for. Cordelia’s dead body flashed in my mind, and Vern couldn’t hide the horror on his face.

“Bicce!”

Beside me, the woman turned her attention to the elves.

“Don’t speak to her like that,” she growled.

Their group stopped their taunts, a thick, tense silence falling over the bar. Tensing, I prepared to defend her. She didn’t need to take up for me, but my hatred made the decision easy. I wanted to kill them all.

The elf scoffed in disbelief. Vern’s eyes widened in horror, and he reached out towards the hooded woman. I knew what was coming, and instead of waiting, I took action.

I’d always been a loose cannon, but these last few days had made me feel more unhinged than ever. Anger, sorrow, and hatred coiled tightly in my stomach, driving me insane. The nightmares. The heartache. Yoongi’s blank stare. Cordelia’s lifeless body in the flames. Jimin’s anguish. Sol’s betrayal. All of it consumed me, and for once, I didn’t try to stomp the flames out.

“Swígan!” I shouted, turning to face the elves. I had reached my limit. Knowing I had at least one other witch on my side, I felt emboldened. “Mieltan.”

The iron ring on my finger melted, searing my skin, but I hardly registered the burn. I shot the melted iron like a rocket, stabbing the elf who disrespected me through the chest. Dalion couldn’t scream. When I retracted the metal, there was a hole so large I could see through his body. The other three stared, mouths agape, before turning on me. The dead one fell to the floor with a thud.

The remaining elves rushed at me, their movements fluid and unnervingly synchronized. I didn’t hesitate. The iron ring, now a molten band around my finger, reshaped itself into a thin, sharp blade. I slashed at the closest elf, the blade slicing clean through his raised arm. Blue blood sprayed, and his scream was a piercing wail.

I spun, my instincts sharpened by adrenaline, and kicked another elf, the one who had defended me earlier, square in the chest, sending him crashing into a table. Wood splintered under his weight, and the patrons near him scrambled to get away. The third elf tried to grab me from behind, but I twisted, using the momentum to elbow him hard in the face. His nose crunched, blood spurting as he staggered back, clutching his face.

The elf with the severed arm was still screaming, trying to cast a spell with his remaining hand. I didn’t give him the chance. I lunged, driving the blade into his throat. His eyes widened, a gurgle escaping as he collapsed.

The elf I had kicked was back on his feet, rage contorting his features. He muttered an incantation, and I felt a wave of energy pulse towards me. Instinctively, I threw up a shield, the air crackling with the force of our opposing magics. My shield held, but I could feel the strain. I couldn’t let him overpower me. With a snarl, I pushed back, my magic flaring, and the shield exploded outward, knocking him off his feet.

Vern had been right about the woman. She was a shifter, and now her cloak had fallen away, revealing her true form. She was massive, her muscles rippling under her skin and a pair of black ears poked through her long, black hair. She let out a roar, leaping into the fray with a ferocity that matched my own. She tackled the elf who had been behind me, her nails elongating into claws that raked across his chest. He shrieked, trying to fend her off, but she was relentless, tearing into him with a savage precision.

The elf I had knocked down was getting back up, and I moved to intercept him. He cast another spell, a bolt of energy shooting towards me. I dodged, the bolt sizzling past my ear and scorching the wall behind me. I retaliated with a burst of fire, the flames engulfing him. He screamed, thrashing as the fire consumed him, and then he was silent, his charred body crumpling to the floor.

The last elf was still alive, barely. He was pinned under the woman, her claws at his throat. He looked up at me, eyes wide with fear. I walked over, the molten blade in my hand dripping with blue blood. I knelt down, meeting his gaze.

“You should have left me alone,” I said softly, before driving the blade into his heart.

The bar was silent now, the only sounds the crackling of the flames and the labored breathing of the survivors. The humans who were coherent enough to watch the altercation fled the bar screaming while the others were too drunk to care. I still had energy to burn, shaking with the force of my emotions. Too quickly. I wanted more time with them. I wanted to kill them again and again. I wanted to earn their hatred. I wanted—

“What’s your name?”

I looked at the hooded woman. Her face was covered in blood, and she smiled crookedly. She had deep, pitted dimples, and pieces of jewelry shone inside them.

"Y/N," I replied, keeping my voice steady.

"Lily," she said, giving me a small bow before standing up. Her muscles bulged and twitched with each movement, almost as tall as Jimin. Her hands were adorned with intricate tattoos, and her nails were a vivid ruby red. "Would you mind some company during your travels?"

"Do you know your way through Ozryn?" I asked, eyeing her warily.

She nodded. "I'm from Idris. I'm meeting some friends in the mountains."

Despite my earlier reluctance, this woman might be my only option for crossing the mountains safely. Assassin or not, she was offering her services, and my violent display earlier should deter any funny business. She might beat me in a physical fight, but I had magic on my side, fueled by enough emotional turmoil to last a lifetime. The fact that we were both shifters aided in my trust. We were both wanted citizens if the elves had anything to say about it, and her exposing herself made it hard to justify turning her away.

“You’re obviously a shifter,” I said, placing my remaining coins on the bar. Vern deserved the tip. He'd been an excellent server. "What are you?"

"Maned Wolf," she answered, already walking toward the bar exit. That meant she was half-wolf, half-fox. It would not surprise me if she was the last of her kind. "We should leave. Those humans have alerted the local police about your little... situation."

I looked at Vern, who was quick to agree with Lily’s plan. He would cover for us. Thanking him, I followed the huge woman out of the bar. She hadn't really answered my question, but given the circumstances, I let it slide. I had just murdered four people in a bar. I should have felt more shame, but I couldn't muster any. They killed Cordelia. They deserved it.

“We can collect your belongings from the inn and leave. Okay?”

I agreed. We moved quickly. No one was at the front desk when I entered, making sneaking upstairs a cakewalk. I threw my bag over my shoulder and grabbed the few personal items I had lying around. A deep sadness settled into my chest as I thought back to the fight. I hated flashbacks, but I was starting to realize there was something I disliked even more: myself.

I should have just left and minded my own business. That’s what Jimin would have done. A fight would be a last resort. Instead, I acted a fool for someone I didn’t even know, a woman whose face I couldn’t pick out in a lineup, who could easily have turned her back on me the moment I killed the first man. I didn’t stop to consider that someone else might have abandoned me back there. I was so used to being surrounded by people who loved me that hindsight was 20/20. This time, I had simply gotten lucky. If it had been anyone other than an elf I killed, they would have been disgusted by me. Hell, I felt disgusted by my actions.

Cordelia wouldn’t have been able to look me in the eye after a stunt like that.

Shaking myself out of my daze, I rushed back downstairs. Hannah was at the desk now, and three men wearing navy blue uniforms were crowding her. Quickly, I stopped and kept myself hidden in the shadows, body pressed against the wall as I listened in. They hadn’t heard my footsteps. Human ears were very weak.

“I told you I don’t have any witches staying here,” the human girl barked, clearly fed up with their interrogation. “The old man must have been confused. Vernon even said he was being ridiculous. Those elves were nowhere near the tavern.”

“Well, we can’t find them anywhere else, and it wasn’t just John. Betsy said she saw it happen as well.”

“Betsy?” Hannah drawled, placing her hands on her hips. “So you have a drunk and a schizophrenic's testimony? Have to say, Charles, I expected more from you.”

“Now Ms. Winslow—” one of the men attempted to speak, but Hannah flashed him a dark look. He quieted quickly.

“No,” she spoke in a bored, cold tone that reminded me of Yoongi. They even had the same unimpressed, irritated look. “The three of you came barging in here in the middle of the night, ranting and raving about a witch on the loose who, by the way, according to my records, does not exist. I don’t know where any of you got off waking me and my father at a time like this, but he’s far too sick to be dealing with this mess. So, either tell me a name I can work with or get the hell out. Your choice.”

I was impressed with the girl. She had to have known who they were searching for. I had suddenly popped up, and now you have four elves dead in a bar? Too coincidental. Still, she was covering for me, and I was grateful. It was a shame I was out of money.

“Sorry for your troubles, Hannah,” the man in the middle said, tipping his hat. “Hope Maurice feels better soon. We’ll go and ask Martha and Dawn about it. You could be right about the two kooks.”

I didn’t like the way they talked about John or Betsy. They might have been a bit odd, but they were not liars. I hoped their words wouldn’t get them into any trouble, at least not on my behalf. I’d much rather get arrested and escape than let anyone else get locked up. The policemen left, the wooden door slamming behind them.

“You can come out now.”

Walking the rest of the way down, I hoped my face conveyed how sorry I felt. I didn’t want anyone else inconvenienced because of me. Hannah, however, looked very happy. With a big smile, she greeted me. Lily crawled out from under the desk, hood still securely on, and patted the other girl’s head.

"Congratulations on winning your fight," the human drawled, dark hair tousled from just waking up.

"It's not something worth celebrating," I replied, handing my sack over to Lily when she held out her hand for it. "Thank you," I told the massive woman.

"You need a coat," the traveler demanded, her voice brooking no argument. "It's cold."

Opening my bag, she started digging around before finally landing on the cloak I bought this morning. It was heavy, lined in white fur, and beautifully handcrafted. The most expensive thing I bought next to the boots I was wearing. The outside of it had a beautiful ornate flower pattern spun in a delicate silver color, almost perfectly matching the shade of Jimin’s hair.

"This is nice," Lily commented absentmindedly, handing over the cloak. "Good purchase."

I tied it around my shoulders and charmed it like the rest of my clothes. Taking things on and off would take too much time in an emergency. Lily slung my bag over her shoulder like it weighed nothing, and I was glad to be rid of it. Flying would be easier without the annoyance of straps.

Then it hit me. I couldn't fly as quickly as I normally did. If I had a wolf hybrid traveling with me, I would need to travel in the only way she could. On foot. It was almost enough to make me second-guess bringing her along. Alas, I needed the extra hands, and a guide who knew the area was too good of a resource to flush down the drain. Traveling would take longer, but I would have a better chance at living through this.

"The best elves are the dead ones," Hannah yawned. "You should get going. They’re going to be looking for you all night. Vern cleaned up the mess already, so don’t worry about it. He sends his love."

I nodded. "Tell him if he wants to go back to Moland anytime soon, to stay east and travel down the Syrena River. Most of the witches are in Foxglove now. You both could find some protection there."

She smiled at me. "When my father is well enough for the journey, I’m positive that fool will be taking the two of us with him."

There was no mistaking the affection in her voice.

"You two…" I trailed off. "He loves you."

Thinking back to the moment she was brought up, I had not noticed the same tenderness in Vern’s voice. However, the fact that he had spoken to her about me in such great detail pointed to some sort of relationship. It being a romantic one made me unreasonably happy. They were both friends of mine, even if they did not see me in the same light. I was happy they were together. Witches and humans were not a typical pairing, but I could say the same about my own situation.

"Almost as much as I love him," she winked.

"We need to go," Lily gruffed, grabbing my arm. "I can hear them making their way back towards the inn," she frowned at Hannah. "They’re going to bother you for a little while. Sorry about the trouble."

"Like I said," she huffed, "You did everyone a favor. I don’t want to hear another word about it."

"Thank you," I told her. "For everything. Vern too."

"Go," she replied, shooing us away with her hands. "Go around the back. There’s a small nature reserve that stretches on for a few miles. Keep north before heading east. That should take you to Azamar Pass, but stay close to the volcano. They have encampments everywhere."

Azamar Pass was a small stretch of land connecting Lustra to the island where the Ula’re volcano rested. A large bridge connected it to Northorn and another to the land before the Ozryn mountains. It was likely the safest place for us to travel through despite the treacherous terrain. According to my maps, it was filled with hills and jagged cliffs that could kill you easily. Lily seemed confident enough, so I decided to follow her. She knew this place better than I ever did.

"I know the area well," Lily assured the girl. "We will be safe."

I had to trust she was telling the truth.

We slipped out the back, the night air biting through the fur-lined cloak. The reserve Hannah mentioned was darker than I expected, the thick canopy of trees blotting out the moonlight. We moved quickly, our breath fogging in the cold air. Lily led the way, her steps confident despite the uneven ground. I followed closely, every crunch of leaves underfoot setting my nerves on edge.

The silence between us stretched, only the sounds of our hurried steps and the occasional rustle of wildlife breaking it. My mind raced, replaying the events of the night. I had always been a hothead, but tonight felt different. It wasn't just anger that drove me, but a deeper, more consuming fury. Cordelia’s death had changed something in me, twisted a part of my soul that I wasn’t sure I could ever untangle.

"Are you alright?" Lily’s voice broke through my thoughts. She had stopped and was looking back at me, her eyes sharp even in the dim light.

"Yeah," I lied, not trusting myself to say more.

She studied me for a moment, then nodded. "We’re almost there. Azamar Pass is just beyond these woods."

I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. We continued on, the terrain growing steeper as we neared the pass. The ground beneath our feet turned rocky, the air heavy with the scent of sulfur. The volcano loomed in the distance, a dark silhouette against the night sky.

We reached the edge of the reserve and paused, taking in the sight before us. The pass was a narrow strip of land, flanked by jagged cliffs and treacherous drops. It was more daunting in person than it had seemed on my maps.

"Stay close," Lily warned, her voice low. "The winds can be brutal up here, and the paths are narrow."

We started across, the wind immediately whipping at our clothes and hair. I pulled my cloak tighter around me, every step a fight against the elements. Lily moved with the grace of someone who had done this a hundred times before, her large frame somehow slipping through the narrowest of paths with ease.

Halfway across, the ground trembled beneath our feet, a low rumble emanating from the volcano. I froze, fear clutching at my heart. Lily glanced back, her expression unreadable.

"Keep moving," she urged. "It’s just a tremor."

I forced myself to keep going, each step feeling like an eternity. The path seemed to go on forever, the cliffs on either side closing in like the jaws of some great beast. By the time we reached the other side, my legs were shaking and my lungs burned from the effort.

We collapsed on the ground, the safety of solid land a welcome relief. Lily pulled out a canteen and handed it to me. I took a grateful sip, the water cool and refreshing.

"Thank you," I said, my voice hoarse.

She nodded, wiping sweat from her brow. "We need to keep moving. There’s a cave not far from here where we can rest for the night."

We got to our feet and continued on, the landscape gradually shifting from rocky terrain to dense forest once more. The trees grew thicker, their branches intertwining overhead to form a natural canopy that blocked out most of the sky. The sounds of the forest began to surround us—the rustle of leaves, the distant calls of nocturnal creatures, and the occasional snap of a twig underfoot. The path ahead was narrow and winding, forcing us to move in single file, with Lily leading the way.

After what felt like hours, the cave Lily had mentioned came into view, a dark, yawning mouth in the side of a moss-covered hill. The entrance was partially hidden by overgrown vines and thick underbrush, making it almost invisible to the casual observer. We ducked inside, and the temperature dropped noticeably, the cool, damp air enveloping us like a shroud. The cave was surprisingly spacious, with a high ceiling that echoed our footsteps as we ventured further in.

Lily set down my bag and immediately began gathering kindling for a fire, her movements quick and efficient. I watched her as she worked, unable to shake the feeling that there was something otherworldly about her. Despite her petite frame, she moved with a precision and grace that spoke of years spent surviving in the wild. Her hands were steady and sure as she arranged the twigs and branches, and within minutes, she had a small fire crackling to life.

As the flames grew, casting flickering shadows on the cave walls, I couldn't help but study her more closely. Her face, illuminated by the firelight, seemed both young and ancient, with eyes that held secrets I couldn't begin to fathom. There was a quiet strength in her, a resilience that I envied.

"Why are you helping me?" I asked finally, breaking the silence that had settled between us.

She paused, looking up from her task, her eyes meeting mine with an intensity that made me shiver. "Because you need it," she said simply. "And because I’ve been where you are."

I frowned, not understanding. "Where I am?"

She nodded, her expression softening. "Lost. Angry. Searching for something you can’t quite name."

Her words hit closer to home than I cared to admit. I looked away, the weight of the night's events pressing down on me once more. The memories of the fire, the screams, and the feeling of helplessness washed over me, and I had to fight to keep my composure.

"You don’t have to do this alone," she continued, her voice gentle but firm. "Whatever it is you’re searching for, it’s out there. But you won’t find it by tearing yourself apart."

I didn’t know what to say, the truth of her words cutting through my defenses. For the first time in a long while, I felt a glimmer of hope. Perhaps she was right. Perhaps there was a way forward that didn’t involve self-destruction.

"Get some rest," she said, her tone softening even further. "We have a long journey ahead of us."

I nodded, lying down on the cool ground, using my bag as a makeshift pillow. The fire's warmth was comforting, and the sound of the crackling flames was soothing. As I closed my eyes, exhaustion finally overtaking me, I couldn't help but feel that maybe, just maybe, I wasn't as alone as I thought.

I couldn't see past the smoke. It was a roiling, black mass, punctuated by brilliant yellow flames that danced like demons in the night. Shiloh's voice cut through the chaos, a desperate cry reaching out through the suffocating darkness, pleading for me to return. Inside, the screams were a cacophony of terror and anguish, and I ran, my small feet pounding the earth as I shouted for Auntie. Shiloh's cries grew louder behind me, but I ignored her, driven by a singular need to reach the cottage. I had to get to Aldara.

The distance stretched endlessly, the screams crescendoed, and Shiloh's voice became an unbearable buzz in my ears. I was sobbing, calling Aldara's name, feeling the forest around me weep. The spirits that had once tormented me now seemed my only solace, and I crumpled to the ground. No matter how desperately I tried, the cottage remained out of reach. Then, from the corner of my eye, I saw it—a movement that made my breath catch.

There it was, not even ten yards away—a large, midnight-black wolf with eyes like burning coals. The firelight cast a grotesque glow on its face, revealing a blood-stained muzzle. In its mouth was an arm, the ring on it gleaming malevolently. Anger surged within me, turning my vision red as I focused on the ring—a skull etched in fiery orange and yellow. Before I could stop myself, I was chanting a spell, my voice echoing through the forest. Somewhere in the distance, a wolf howled in response.

The wolf dropped the arm and snarled, its eyes locked on mine. The air crackled with energy, the spell building inside me, threatening to tear me apart from the inside out. The wolf lunged, and I screamed, the spell bursting forth in a torrent of raw power. The ground shook, the trees groaned, and the wolf was thrown back, its body slamming into a tree with a sickening crunch.

I collapsed, the spell having drained every ounce of strength from my body. The forest fell silent, the only sound my ragged breathing. I crawled towards the cottage, my limbs trembling, my vision swimming. The smoke began to clear, and I could see the outline of the cottage through the haze.

Aldara lay on the ground, her body limp, her face pale. I reached her side, my hands shaking as I tried to rouse her. Her eyes fluttered open, and she looked at me, a weak smile playing on her lips.

"You did it," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the crackling flames. "You saved us."

I nodded, tears streaming down my face. The forest had fallen silent, the spirits watching us with a newfound respect. I had faced the darkness and emerged victorious, but at what cost?

As the first light of dawn broke through the trees, I held Aldara close, the weight of the night's events settling on my shoulders. The forest might have been our home, but it was also a place of danger and despair. And I knew, deep down, that this was only the beginning.

But then everything started to change. The flames flickered and became stars in a velvet sky. The trees twisted and turned, transforming into towering figures that whispered secrets in a language I couldn’t understand. Shiloh's voice turned into a soft lullaby, and the ground beneath me felt like the softest bed I had ever known.

Aldara’s form began to shimmer and fade, her features blurring as if she were being drawn away by an unseen hand. "You must go," she said, her voice echoing like a distant melody. "This world is not for you."

I tried to hold on to her, but my hands passed through her like smoke. The stars above began to swirl, forming a spiral that pulled me upwards, away from the forest, away from the cottage. I was weightless, floating, the screams and flames and shadows all fading into a soft, gentle darkness.

I awoke with a start, the remnants of the dream slipping away like shadows at dawn. The morning light streamed through the cave entrance, illuminating the damp stone walls and casting eerie shapes that danced in the corners of my vision. I lay there, struggling to piece together the fragments of a nightmare that felt all too real. But no matter how hard I tried, the details eluded me, leaving only a lingering sense of unease and the whisper of a name.

"You okay?" Lily's voice broke through the fog, soft yet insistent. I blinked, shaking off the last vestiges of the dream. The cool, damp air of the cave was a grounding contrast to the surreal horrors still echoing in my mind.

"Yeah," I replied, my voice hoarse. "Just a bad dream."

Lily studied me, her eyes narrowing slightly as if she could see through my flimsy facade. But she didn’t press the issue. Instead, she handed me a piece of bread and some dried fruit, which I accepted gratefully.

"We should get moving soon," she said, her tone matter-of-fact. "The sooner we leave, the better our chances of staying ahead."

I nodded, chewing slowly as my thoughts lingered on the dream, the name echoing like a distant drumbeat in my mind.

We packed up quickly, the remnants of the fire reduced to ashes that Lily expertly scattered with her foot. Outside, the forest was waking up, the early morning light filtering through the leaves and casting a soft, golden glow on everything. Birds chirped, and small creatures rustled in the underbrush, weaving a tapestry of normalcy that stood in stark contrast to the turmoil roiling inside me.

As we began to walk, the path ahead seemed clearer, more defined. It was as if the forest itself was guiding us, the trees parting just enough to show the way. I fell into step behind Lily, my thoughts drifting back to her words from the night before: lost, angry, searching for something you can't quite name.

"Can I ask you something?" I ventured after a while, breaking the silence.

"Sure," Lily replied, not turning around, her attention focused on the path ahead.

"Why are you going east?"

She hesitated, tension knotting in her shoulders. "I’m trying to find my daughter," she said finally, her voice low. "We got separated when the incursion started up north. I have some friends in Ozryn who might know where to find her."

"I'm sorry," I said, not knowing what else to offer. The weight of loss was something I understood all too well. “I hope she’s alright.”

"I’m sure she is," Lily continued, her voice softening. "I don’t like being away from her, but I know she can take care of herself. I’m just being cautious with the elves in the area."

“I’ll help you find her,” I promised, a sudden surge of determination filling me. “Once I’ve done what I came here to do.”

Lily chuckled, a sound tinged with both gratitude and disbelief. “Thanks, kid. But I don’t think we’ll need your help. Tinka can’t hide from me.”

“But I’m indebted to you,” I insisted. “It’s the least I can do.”

“You’re assisting me during my journey. You don’t have a debt as long as you do that magic thing and slice and dice whatever gets in our way.”

We walked in silence for a while, the forest around us providing a comforting backdrop to our shared grief. There was something about being in nature that made the pain more bearable, as if the trees and the earth could absorb some of the sorrow that threatened to overwhelm us.

After a few hours, we reached a clearing with a small stream gurgling through it. The water was crystal clear, the gentle sound of it flowing over the rocks soothing my frayed nerves. We stopped to rest, filling our water bottles, the cool water a welcome relief against the weight of our thoughts. 

As I splashed some on my face, the chill sent a jolt of clarity through me, a reminder that life continued to flow, regardless of the chaos that swirled around us. And for a brief moment, I felt the edges of my turmoil soften, blending into the rhythm of the world around us.

As we sat by the stream, the water rushing over smooth stones like whispered secrets, Lily reached into her pack and pulled out a small, leather-bound book. She began writing in it with a pen unlike any I had ever seen—a sharp blade at the end, glimmering as it danced across the page without needing a drop of ink. 

“Why are you going to the mountains?” she asked, her voice carrying an edge of curiosity.

“I’m looking for someone,” I replied, staring at the water’s surface, its reflections shifting like memories just out of reach. “Someone important to me said I needed to find her.”

“Let me guess,” Lily sighed, her tone a blend of weariness and knowing. “Naida?”

“How did you…?” 

“She’s the only thing out there worth hunting down,” the hybrid drawled, pulling her hood down to reveal ears the color of rust, tipped in black, and hair that cascaded like ink down her shoulders. “Must be needing Khione. Do you know what for?”

I cleared my throat, the words heavy with significance. “I’m trying to get extra help in the south. I was told they might be able to assist us.”

Lily laughed, but it was a humorless sound, tinged with bitterness. “Naida might. Khione? I doubt it. That old bitch doesn’t do anything except fuck the little whores she keeps in her castle while my friends starve in those mountains.”

I stared at her, taken aback by the rawness of her words, the pain wrapped around them like a vine. “That’s quite a reputation she has.”

Lily’s expression hardened, the air thickening with her disdain. “Reputation? It’s the truth. Khione has power, sure, but it comes with a price. She doesn’t help anyone unless there’s something in it for her. If you’re seeking aid, you’d better be prepared to pay dearly for it.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, a knot of anxiety tightening in my stomach.

Lily leaned back against a tree, her gaze drifting to the rushing water, as if searching for answers in its depths. “She’s got a knack for making deals that trap you. You think you’re getting help, but it’s usually a trap. You could end up worse off than before.”

I let her words sink in, the implications wrapping around my mind like a cold fog. “So, what do you suggest? Just forget about it?”

“No,” she said, her voice firm, slicing through my doubts. “I’m just saying to be cautious. If you really think Naida can help, go to her. But if Khione is involved… just be ready for anything.”

“What do you know about Naida?” I pressed, desperate for any insight that might illuminate my path.

“She’s a force to be reckoned with,” Lily replied, her tone shifting slightly, like the wind before a storm. “A protector of the mountains, they say. If anyone can help us, it might be her. But she’s not easily found, and even harder to convince. You’ll need to prove yourself worthy of her time.”

I nodded, determination battling with trepidation in my chest. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Lily studied me for a moment, her expression softening. “I believe you. Just remember, you’re not alone in this. We’ll figure it out together.”

“Together,” I echoed, warmth spreading through me at the reassurance. It was comforting to know I had someone by my side who understood the stakes.

We resumed our journey, the path growing steeper as we ventured deeper into the forest. The sun climbed higher, casting dappled shadows on the ground, and the air was thick with the scent of pine and earth—invigorating yet heavy with the weight of our conversations.

As we navigated the terrain, our topic shifted to lighter matters, and I found myself laughing at Lily’s sarcastic quips about the creatures of the forest. Her spirit was contagious, and the laughter felt good, a welcome reprieve from the tension that had settled in my bones.

Eventually, we reached a vantage point overlooking a vast expanse of mountains in the distance. The peaks were shrouded in mist, an ethereal quality lending them an almost otherworldly presence. I could almost feel the pull of Khione’s castle lurking somewhere among them, a siren’s call promising both danger and salvation—a promise that felt too heavy to bear.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long, creeping shadows across the ground, we stumbled upon another cave. This one was smaller, cozier, and had a natural chimney that promised to keep the night’s chill at bay. The entrance was framed by thick vines and moss, giving it an almost hidden quality, like a secret the forest had kept for itself. As we stepped inside, the air was cool and damp, a welcome relief from the heat of the day, and soon we had a fire crackling to life, its flickering light casting playful shadows against the damp stone walls.

Settled by the fire, I pulled out the remnants of our meager supplies while Lily rummaged through her pack. The warmth enveloped us, creating an intimate cocoon as we prepared a simple meal from what little we had left. The aroma of the dried meat she had brought wafted into the air, mixing with the earthy scent of the cave.

“You’re a vegetarian?” Lily laughed, a sound rich with amusement that echoed around us, almost like a melody bouncing off the walls.

“Yes. Do you have any nuts?” I replied, attempting to keep my tone casual despite the slight twist of discomfort in my stomach at the thought of what she might offer.

Lily shook her head, still chuckling. “That won’t keep you healthy, little one. Have some rabbit. I killed it yesterday.” 

Her words hung in the air like a challenge. I recoiled as she brought the dried meat closer, the odor hitting me like a wave of something unpleasant—savage and primal. “Ugh,” I flinched away, my face contorting in distaste.

Her laughter deepened, a hearty sound that seemed to vibrate within the cave’s very stones. “Don’t make that face,” she teased, her voice rich with mirth. “I have a pack of nuts and mushrooms in my bag.”

I caught the bag she tossed my way, the soft thud of it landing in my hands almost comforting. “Thanks,” I said, rifling through the contents. “You know, not everyone can be a barbarian like you.”

“Barbarian?” she replied, raising an eyebrow, a smirk dancing on her lips. “Just because I prefer my meals with a bit more substance doesn’t make me a barbarian.”

“Sure, whatever you say,” I replied, rolling my eyes as I munched on a handful of nuts, their earthy taste grounding me. “But seriously, rabbit? Did you have to?”

Lily chuckled again, the firelight illuminating her features with a warm glow, casting playful shadows on her face. “You’re too soft. A little meat might toughen you up.”

“I’m plenty tough,” I shot back, more defensively than I intended. “I just don’t see the need to eat something that was hopping around yesterday.”

“Oh, I see. You’re a sensitive soul, aren’t you?” Her sarcasm dripped like honey, thick and sweet, teasing at my vulnerabilities.

“Just practical,” I countered, crossing my arms as I met her gaze. “I like my food to be, you know, not staring at me with big, sad eyes.”

Lily laughed again, a rich, genuine sound that resonated off the cave walls. “You’re a riot. Alright, sensitive soul, eat your nuts. I’ll enjoy my rabbit.” She leaned back against the cave wall, her posture relaxed yet ready.

I shook my head, unable to suppress a smile. “One day, you’ll see the benefits of a vegetarian diet.”

“Doubtful,” she said, a playful challenge in her eyes. “But hey, I’ll give you this—you’ve got guts. I like that.”

“Thanks, I guess,” I replied, feeling an unexpected sense of camaraderie despite our bickering. “I could say the same about you.”

“Oh, you’re just full of compliments tonight,” she quipped, mock bowing as if accepting an award. “What did I do to deserve such praise?”

I laughed, the tension of the day easing like the fire’s warmth. “Just being you, I suppose.”

“Well, aren’t you sweet,” she said, though her eyes sparkled with warmth, a glimmer of something deeper beneath the surface. For a fleeting moment, it felt like we were both trying to shield ourselves from the weight of the world outside, a world filled with uncertainty and danger.

We settled into a comfortable silence, the crackling fire providing a soothing backdrop to our thoughts. Despite the teasing, there was an ease between us, a shared understanding that felt almost sacred in the dim light of the cave. She reminded me of a blend of Cordelia and Thelma—strong yet nurturing, the kind of ally you wished for in times of darkness. 

As I lay down to sleep, the flickering flames began to blur into shadows, and a sense of peace washed over me—something I hadn’t felt in far too long. The nightmare from the night before felt like a distant echo, a whisper that faded with the growing warmth of the fire. I found comfort in the knowledge that whatever challenges awaited, I wouldn’t have to face them alone.

I glanced at Lily, illuminated by the firelight, her features softening as she lost herself in thought. There was a hint of sorrow in the lines around her mouth, a weathered quality I hadn’t fully appreciated until this moment. Her eyes were distant, reflecting something that felt ancient and haunting, as if they held stories of their own.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you that swearing is rude?” she barked suddenly, her gaze flicking to me with playful accusation.

I closed my eyes, feeling a flush of embarrassment. “Once or twice.”

“Sleep, little one. I’ll try to keep your nightmares away.” Her tone was softer now, as if she understood the weight of my weariness.

My eyes snapped back open at her words. Lily noticed my surprise and smiled gently, a transformation that made her appear ten years younger, the burden of her past momentarily lifted. 

“You were crying,” she said softly, concern lacing her words.

“I’m sorry,” I mumbled, shame flooding my cheeks, wishing I could pull the memories of my fears back into the depths of my mind.

“I have nightmares, too. One day, I’ll tell you why they haunt me and why they never leave. But for now, let me share how I manage to survive them.” 

Lily pulled a band from her wrist and swept her hair into a messy ponytail. The movement highlighted her tall, pointed ears, a feature that now seemed almost majestic in the firelight. I couldn’t help but wonder about the rest of her—a creature born of both human and something wild, a mixture of strength and vulnerability hidden beneath her baggy clothes.

“On bad mornings, it feels impossible to enjoy anything because I’m terrified it could vanish. So, I play a little game: I make a mental list of every act of kindness I’ve witnessed. I just do it over and over again. It gets tedious, but after doing it for so long, you get used to it. There are worse games to play.”

Her words settled between us, a fragile bridge built from shared pain. Whatever shadows haunted her, it was clear she wouldn’t share them tonight. I was too wrapped up in my own swirling thoughts to consider her horrors—too many fears to confront, too many questions I didn’t want to voice. I didn’t think she was hoping for anything from me, anyway; she seemed content to offer her wisdom without demanding answers in return.

“Wake me if you have them,” I whispered into the darkness, feeling a strange sense of connection in the quiet. “I can try my best to keep yours away, too.”

“Thank you. You’re very sweet,” she replied, and her sincerity made my stomach twist with unease; if only she knew how wrong she was.

I rolled over, facing away from her, the warmth of her words lingering in the air like a promise. “Go to bed. We have a long day tomorrow,” she said, her voice fading into the quiet.

Lily hummed softly, but I couldn’t hear her moving around. Giving up on being social, I closed my eyes and willed myself into sleep. 

As I drifted further away from consciousness, the last thing I saw was the silhouette of a deer gliding through the trees, its antlers twisted into a heart-like shape against the dusky sky. I lay there, watching the creature as I sank deeper into slumber, just on the brink of nothingness when I felt Lily shuffle closer.

“Idiot forgot about a blanket,” she murmured, and suddenly I was enveloped in warmth, her presence a comforting shield against the unknown that lurked outside the cave. 

The warmth wrapped around me like a tender embrace, and I could no longer hold my eyes open. Just before sleep fully claimed me, I felt the stirrings of peace settle into my bones, allowing me to drift away into the safety of dreams—where the forest would guard my heart for just a little while longer.

Translations

Bicce - Female dog (bitch)

Swígan - Quiet

Taglist: @greezenini @adventures-in-bookland @kthstrawberryshortcake-main @zae007live @jimin-neverout @nikkiordonez12 @canarystwin @yamekomz @chimthicc @michiiedreamer @amorieus @mima795 @yunki-yunki-yunki @vskhn016 @keiarajm

© chimcess, 2024. Do not copy or repost without permission.

[elysptical]

“mmM…mmmnn”, your moaning is melodic filling the gaps of your French Quarter bedroom.

Summoning spirits was hard work, so what’s better than fucking your summoned succubus. It’s been so long since someone has stretched you like this.

“I like it better when you just-“, he presses your waist further into the bed and your arch deepens. A sparks flashes across your purple eyes and you drool onto the sheets.

“i-.…please”, the only words you can whine before you really see sparks. Eyes crossed, legs shaking, and body going limp as he cums buckets on your hiked up ass.

“God damn this is my favorite time of year”, he grabs the white towel already damp and cleans between your legs, “horny little witches everywhere are summoning me trying to get their pussy filled.”

“So why did you choose me?”, you snap up your bikini lace panties and cuddle into a plushy.

His hand grabs the fat of your ass and shakes, licking his lip.

“I don’t know, something ‘bout you I guess”, he kissed your ankle never breaking eye contact.

[downbad4yoongi]

Bound By Magic | Chapter One

🪄Pairing: Namjoon x Reader

🪄AU/Genre: E2L, Magical AU, smut

🪄WC: 11,698

🪄Warnings: smut, minor character death

A/N: This is for @lo1k-diamonds as a part of @bangtanwritershq Sweet Tricks and Wicked Treats exchange.

Thank you to my betas: @colormepurplex2, @moonleeai, and @pars-ley

Summary:

In a world of magic, a centuries-old rivalry exists between two powerful witches. Their mutual animosity is intense, fueled by their constant competition and clashing personalities. Despite their hatred, they are inexplicably drawn to each other's power.

When a dark force threatens the magical realm, they are forced to unite against a common enemy. As they work together, a reluctant respect and attraction grows between them. A pivotal moment, where the witch heals the injured warlock, ignites a powerful connection.

Realizing their intertwined destinies, they embrace their love and combined magic to defeat the darkness. Their newfound unity proves that love can conquer even the deepest-rooted hatred, forging a powerful bond that will shape the future of the magical world.

Chapter One

You stood across the staged area of the arena from your longstanding adversary. You and Namjoon have been at each other’s throats for as long as you can remember. The two of you had been in a constant competition of one-upmanship that others may have considered friendly, but in reality, it was anything but.

The two of you were raised to view the opposite faction as the enemy due to superiority complexes, a mindset that hasn’t budged much for either of you despite those stereotypes being broken down decades ago. Witches’ magickal abilities were rooted in elements and nature, contradicting warlocks' more arcane-based magick. 

Eventually, witches and warlocks slowly began collaborating and breaking down the barriers that formerly held strong. This collaboration proved that great things could happen when the two factions worked together instead of against each other.  However, you and Namjoon were stubborn and locked in a continuous battle of wills. Every year, you were allowed to best the other at the annual magickal competition, The Spellbound Tournament.

You were fully prepared to show Namjoon who the better spellcaster was when a deafening blast tore through the air, searing heat and blinding light engulfing you. Instinctively, you lifted a shimmering shield against the shock wave that slammed into your body. Chaos erupted around you - panicked screams mingling with the crackle of flames and crumbling stones. As the ringing in your ears subsided, you blinked away the spots dancing before your eyes. The magickal stadium lay in ruins, ancient seats reduced to rubble. Acrid smoke stung your nostrils. Your heart raced wildly, pounding fiercely against your ribcage as if trying to break free, each beat echoing like a war drum in the silence of the moment.

Scanning the destruction, you spotted Namjoon staggering to his feet, robes tattered and face smudged with soot. His sharp gaze locked with yours, a flicker of concern behind the hardened exterior despite his often declared hatred of you. You nodded curtly, conveying a silent check - I'm alive, if not unscathed.

Haneul's voice, a sage wizard that everyone listens to without hesitation, cut through the din, commanding attention. "Quickly! Over here!" They stood atop a jutting stone slab, silver hair whipping around their face.

You and Namjoon picked your way over the rubble and debris, joined by other dazed survivors of the blast. Haneul's eyes, usually placid pools of wisdom, now churned urgently. Aching and battered, most gather in front of Hanuel as others take care of the ones who are gravely injured… or worse.

"This was no mere explosion," they declared gravely. "Wooshik has made his move. Even now, his dark forces mobilize to seize control."

A chill shivered down your spine at the mention of that name - the warlock whose ambitions threatened the very fabric of your world. You exchanged a tense glance with Namjoon, animosity temporarily forgotten in the face of this revelation.

"We...we have to stop him," you managed, voice rough from inhaled smoke. "Whatever it takes."

Haneul nodded solemnly. "Indeed. And it will require the two of you working together." They pierced you and Namjoon with a knowing glare, a glint in their eyes as if seeing a future only they could perceive. "Only your combined strengths can thwart Wooshik's scheme."

Namjoon's jaw clenched, a muscle ticking in his cheek. You could practically feel the waves of reluctance rolling off him, mirroring your own hesitation. Years of rivalry, of traded barbs and clashing magicks, hung between you - a chasm not easily bridged.

But Haneul's words rang with an ominous finality. The fate of everything you held dear hinged upon this tentative alliance with your sworn adversary. Failure was not an option.

Slowly, deliberately, you extended a hand to Namjoon. His obsidian eyes delved into yours, searching for any hint of deceit. You met his probing gaze unflinchingly, willing him to see the grim resolve within.

After a moment that stretched for an eternity, his larger palm enveloped yours. His skin, warm and callused against your own, sent a jolt of awareness through you.

"For the covens," he gritted out. "And the realm."

You squeezed his hand, sealing the pact. "For the realm," you echoed.

As you stood amidst the smoking ruins, hands clasped with your erstwhile enemy, a sense of destiny settled upon your shoulders. The path ahead promised peril and unknown challenges.

But one truth crystallized in your mind, sharp and unassailable - you would face them together or not at all.

A piercing shriek cracked through the air, shattering the newly formed yet fragile peace. Your head snapped up, instincts screaming of imminent danger. Beside you, Namjoon tensed, his hand falling from yours to the hilt of his blade.

From the depths of the swirling clouds of dust and debris, a ghastly creature emerged, its form writhing and shifting like a shadow in the dim light. Its eerie silhouette loomed larger as it stepped forward, eyes glinting with a malevolent glow. Gnarled limbs reached out, each movement echoing the horrors of forgotten nightmares. Its scales shimmered like polished obsidian, capturing and refracting the light in jagged glimmers. Each thunderous step echoed ominously, as razor-sharp talons drove deep into the earth, leaving behind jagged furrows that spoke of its immense power. Those menacing eyes, glowing with a sinister intelligence, locked onto you and Namjoon, radiating an unsettling awareness that sent chills coursing down your spine.

One of Wooshik's twisted creations unleashed to test your newfound alliance.

"Flank it from both sides!" Namjoon barked, his voice ringing with authority. 

You moved to obey, along with everyone else, muscle memory overriding the strangeness of taking orders from him. As you circled the beast, your magick hummed beneath your skin, yearning for release.

The creature lunged, a blur of shadow and fury. You lunged aside, feeling the whisper of its claws mere inches from your face. Namjoon retaliated with a blast of arcane energy, but the beast shrugged it off, its hide impervious to single attacks.

"We need to strike together!" you yelled, understanding eventually dawning. "Combine our magick!"

Namjoon's eyes met yours, a split-second of perfect understanding passing between you. You began to weave an intricate spell, your power intertwining with his: fire and ice, light and shadow, two opposites melding into a devastating whole.

The beast charged again, its roar shaking the very ground you stood on. You held your position. Namjoon moved behind you, a solid presence at your back, his arms bracketing yours. At the last possible moment, you released your spell, a searing bolt of energy that struck the creature head-on.

It stumbled, howling in pain and rage. Namjoon pressed, using the advantage, his blade flashing in a deadly arc. The creature's blood sprayed across the shattered earth, black and viscous.

But it wasn't enough. The beast rallied, its wounds knitting together with unnatural speed. It lashed out with its tail, catching Namjoon across the chest and sending him flying.

With a wordless shout, you unleashed the full might of your magick, pouring every ounce of your strength into a final, desperate assault. The air crackled with power, your veins burning with its force.

The creature staggered, its defenses crumbling beneath the onslaught. Namjoon, battered but unbroken, surged to his feet, his blade finding the beast's heart in a single, perfect thrust. 

As the creature fell, its dying scream echoing across the battlefield, you sagged to your knees, spent. Namjoon limped to your side, his hand finding your shoulder as he stood over you, hunched forward but managing to stay on his feet.

"We did it," he rasped, his voice tinged with something akin to wonder.

You nodded, too exhausted for words. But as you knelt there amidst the carnage and the chaos, you felt the first stirrings of something new, fragile, and profound.

A connection forged in the heat of battle. A partnership tempered by shared peril and sacrifice.

The dust settled around you, the eerie silence broken only by the ragged sound of your own breathing. Namjoon's hand tightened on your shoulder, his touch a lifeline in the aftermath of the chaos. You met his gaze and saw your own exhaustion and relief mirrored in those fathomless depths.

But there was no time to rest, no moment to savor your victory. The battle was far from over, and Wooshik's forces wouldn’t be far behind. They would need more support if they were ever to defeat Wooshik successfully.

As if summoned by your thoughts, three figures emerged from the shadows, their faces grim with determination. You instantly recognized them - Bae Suzy, Min Yoongi, and Hirai Momo. Momo and Suzy are members of your coven, the Daughters of Gaia, while Yoong is a member of Namjoon’s, The Inkwell Society.

"We came as soon as we heard," Suzy said, her voice low and urgent remorse laced through her voice from not attending the tournament in the first place. "Wooshik's creatures are everywhere, and his power grows by the moment."

Yoongi nodded, his cat-like eyes narrowed. "We have to stop him before it's too late."

Beside you, you watched Namjoon struggle to remain on his feet, but his jaw is set with determination. "Then we will," he said, his voice ringing with conviction as he straightened to his full height. "Together."

Momo stepped forward, her hands already glowing with the telltale shimmer of her healing magick. "Let me help," she murmured, her touch moving over Namjoon, caring for his injuries, before turning her attention to you. She ran her hands over you gently, mending your minor wounds and bruises.

You felt the warmth of her power flowing through you, knitting torn flesh and easing the ache of bruised bones and muscles. But even as your body mended, your mind raced with the enormity of the task before you.

Wooshik was a formidable foe, his mastery of the dark arts unmatched. And yet, as you looked around at the faces of your friends, at the determined set of Namjoon's shoulders, you felt a flicker of hope.

"We can do this," you said, your voice soft but certain. "We have to."

Suzy nodded, her green eyes glinting with resolve. "We'll stand with you," she said, her words a solemn vow. "Until the end."

Yoongi's lips quirked in a wry smile. "Well, let's just hope the end isn't today," he drawled, his dry humor a welcome respite from the tension.

Namjoon's hand found your shoulder again, gripping it firmly in a silent promise. "It won't be," he said, his voice low and fierce. "Not if we have anything to say about it."

And as you stood there, surrounded by your friends and temporary allies' strength and loyalty, you felt a surge of determination. Wooshik may have been powerful, but he had underestimated the true might of your covens.

🪄🪄🪄

You, along with Namjoon and your friends, infiltrated a coven of acolytes known to be loyal to Wooshik and overheard a hushed conversation between two of Wooshik’s most dedicated followers. The witches spoke in hushed tones, their words barely audible over the nearby crackling fire. 

“Have you heard the latest from Wooshik?” one of the witches asked. “He’s been searching high and low for that ancient artifact. It is said that it holds the power to reshape reality itself.”

“I’ve heard rumors,” the other replied. “They say it’s hidden deep within the ruins of the Shadow Keep, a place long forgotten by time.”

Hearts pounding with excitement and dread, you knew you had to act quickly. The artifact was the key to stopping Wooshik. From the overheard conversation, you understood that the journey would be full of treacherous terrain, ancient curses, and the watchful eyes of Wooshik’s minions. 

Undeterred, you set off on a quest to beat Wooshik to the artifact. The trek was grueling, filled with challenges at every turn. With determination, you all brave numerous treacherous mountain passes, crossed raging rivers and fought off attacks from monstrous creatures lurking in the shadows.

Finally, after days of arduous travel, the ancient ruins appeared before you. The once-grand structures were now crumbling, their spires reaching skyward like skeletal fingers grasping at the churning clouds. The stone walls were now covered in overgrown vines. The legends are undeniable. Seeing it before you, the walls pulsed with the immense power you all knew lay within. 

As you drew closer, an unnatural hush fell over your band, a sense of foreboding washed over all of you. The air was heavy with a strange, almost palpable energy, and the ruins seemed to watch you with an eerie silence. A chill ran down your spine as you realized you were not alone. Unseen eyes followed your every move, their presence lurking in the shadows, waiting for the right moment to strike.

Namjoon moved at your side, his presence comforting in this eerie stillness. Since your battle against Wooshik's beast, a subtle shift had occurred between you - an unspoken understanding, a shared purpose that transcended your rivalry. His gaze met yours, dark eyes reflecting your own unease even as his jaw set with determination.

“We’re almost there,” he murmured, his voice barely audible over the rustling of leaves and the distant hoot of an owl. “Just a little further.”

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. The ruins loomed ahead, their ancient stones casting long, menacing shadows. You shivered as you recalled the words of the acolytes who had led you here.

As you drew closer, the air grew even more oppressive. The once-vibrant colors of the forest seemed to fade, replaced by a sickly pallor. A low, guttural growl echoed from the depths of the ruins.

“Something’s wrong,” Namjoon said with his voice low. He tightened his grip on his sword, his eyes scanning the shadows for any sign of danger. 

Suddenly, a figure emerged from the darkness ahead. It was a monstrous creature, its body a grotesque amalgamation of human and beast. Its eyes glowed with an unnatural light, and its claws dripped with a foul, green substance, yet traces of its origin alluded to its fall from grace.

“A fallen guardian,” Namjoon hissed. “We have to be careful.”

With widened eyes, Momo gulps, “That doesn’t look like any guardian I’ve ever seen.”

Namjoon’s mouth flattened into a grim line. “Unfortunately, this one has been possessed and twisted into this demented creature.”

The creature let out a blood-curdling roar and lunged at your group. Namjoon met it with a flurry of sword strikes, his movements swift and precise. But the creature was incredibly strong, and it knocked Namjoon off his feet.

Before the creature could strike again, you leaped forward, your blade glinting in the moonlight. You managed to deflect the creature’s attack, but the force of the blow sent you reeling backward.

Yoongi, Suzy, and Momo joined the fray. As the creature was about to strike again, Yoongi unleashed a barrage of fireballs, forcing it to retreat. Suzy jumped in with her agility to dodge the creature’s attacks and landed a few blows of her own. Stepping up, Momo released her unique powers - just like she could heal with kind hands, she could use that same magick to find even the most minor injuries and transform them into gaping wounds.

The battle raged on, with the clash of metal on flesh and whizzing blasts of magick echoing through the ruins. You fought with everything you had,  fear fueling your determination. Namjoon, Yoongi, Suzy, and Momo also fought valiantly, their combined skills a formidable force against the monstrous creature.

You all fought with a ferocity that surprised even yourselves, the bond between your alliance growing stronger with each passing moment. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, you managed to land the critical blow that brought the beast to its knees. With a final agonizing roar, it collapses to the ground, finally dead.

The air was now thick with the stench of blood and sweat, and the ruins were bathed in a haunting silence.  Now exhausted but triumphant, you leaned against each other, struggling to remain on your feet. You braced yourselves and prepared for what lay ahead, sure this would not be the last hurdle. 

Yoongi’s rasp finally broke the silence, “We did it.” 

You all moved deeper into the ruins, hearts pounding anxiously. You knew the artifact was close and were determined to retrieve it before Wooshik could get his hands on it.

The path led you through a series of winding corridors, each one more labyrinthine than the last. The air was thick with dust, the faint smell of decay, and strange, alien symbols carved into the walls.

Finally, you came to a large, circular chamber. In the center of the chamber was a pedestal, upon which rested a glowing orb. The sphere pulsed with an otherworldly energy, and a sense of awe washed over you and your friends as you gazed upon it.

“This must be it,” Suzy breathed, her voice filled with wonder.

Before you could touch it, a sinister chuckle echoed through the chamber. A figure emerged from the shadows, his form shrouded in darkness. Wooshik. His eyes glowed with a malevolent light. 

“So, you’ve finally found it,” he taunted, his voice dripping with venom. “But it is too late. The artifact is mine now. Thank you for finding it for me.” You glower at him, the links clicking into place that you were used. A pawn in his game to find what he had sought for years since his corruptness prevented him from knowing where to find it. 

Namjoon stepped forward, placing himself between you and the dark warlock, a former member of his coven. No one had seen hide nor hair of him since he disappeared a few years ago after absconding away with The Crimson Grimoire, an ancient tome containing dark magick. "Your schemes end here, Wooshik," he snarled, power crackling around his clenched fists.

Wooshik raised his hand, a wave of dark energy seeping from his palm. The air seemed to vibrate with the force of his malice as several more warlocks stepped out from the shadows behind him.

Namjoon's hand found yours, gripping tightly. You met his gaze and saw the grim determination etched into every line of his face. In that moment, you understood each other perfectly - no matter what came next, you would face it together.

As one, you grabbed your wands, power surging through you like a raging flood. Suzy, Yoongi, and Momo fell into formation beside you, their magicks intertwining with yours until the very stones trembled beneath your feet.

Wooshik's face contorted in a rictus of rage, his eyes twin pits of obsidian madness. "You cannot stop me!" he roared, his voice reverberating through the chamber. "I will tear the power from your broken bodies and ascend to godhood!"

"Never!" Namjoon gritted out. “We will fight you to our last breath!"

Wooshik raised his hands, dark energy coalescing around him. The ground beneath your feet began to crack and splinter, the ancient ruins groaning as if in agony.

Namjoon's eyes met yours, a wealth of understanding passing between you in that split second. You knew what needed to be done, the sacrifice that victory would demand.

“Fine. Go ahead and cosign your death certificates. I am destined for godhood, for glory eternal.”

You prepared to defend yourselves but weren’t ready for the immense power emanating from Wooshik. Before you could strike first, a wave of energy threw everyone to the ground, adding to the injuries on your already battered and bruised bodies.

Just as Wooshik was about to seize the artifact, a blinding light filled the chamber. Looking up, eyes squinting and hand thrown up to lessen the intense light, a figure stood before them, clad in shimmering robes and radiating an aura of pure power. It was the ancient guardian of the artifact, awakened from its slumber by Wooshik’s intrusion.

The guardian raised his hand, and a beam of pure energy shot forth from his palm, striking Wooshik with a devastating force and sending him flying backward.  

With a groan, Wooshik achingly moved to sit up. “This…is impossible,” he gasped, his once commanding voice reduced to a wheezing rattle. “I am destined for godhood, for glory eternal…”

Namjoon shook his head, grim satisfaction in his eyes as he watched his foe crumble before the guardian here to defend the obscure artifact. “Your only destiny is oblivion, Wooshik. You’ve sown nothing but suffering and ruin. Now, you’ll reap the consequences.”

Wooshik’s eyes bulged, his handsome face contorting into a mask of pure hatred. With a final, desperate howl, he lunged to his feet and rushed at your group, hands outstretched like claws seeking to rend and tear.

But his strength was spent, his power broken. Yoongi’s blade flashed in a silver arc, biting deep into the dark warlock’s chest. Wooshik staggered back, a look of almost comical surprise on his face as he glanced down at the blooming crimson stain.

Before Yoongi could strike the killing blow, the remainder of Wooshik’s men grabbed the injured foe and disappeared in the blink of an eye.

The guardian turned to the remaining witches and warlocks, his eyes filled with a serene light. He gestured towards the artifact, and a gentle, unseen force lifted it into the air. The orb hovered above the guardian for a moment, then descended into his outstretched palm.

“Take it,” the guardian encouraged, his voice echoing through the chamber. “It is yours to protect.”

With wide, blinking eyes, you took the mysterious artifact from the guardian’s hand. A wave of power surged through you, filling you with a newfound strength and determination.

The guardian faded away as you stepped away from the dais. You turned back to the group, your eyes meeting theirs. A silent understanding passed between you. All of you knew that this fight was far from over. 

🪄🪄🪄

Hours later, you all settled around a campfire, nursing your wounds.

Namjoon looked at you as you both stood off to the side near where your tents were set up—something unreadable flickering in the depths of his dark eyes. “Well, at least we managed to injure him gravely. That should buy us time to recoup and end him for good,” he rasped, his voice hoarse from shouting.

You nodded, your heart heavy with a mixture of relief and dread. The battle had been exhausting both physically and emotionally. You were unsure if you had the strength to face Wooshik again, especially not after almost losing today.

His large hands cupped your shoulders, gently running his palms down your arms. “You’ve been quiet.”

You looked up, sadness echoing in your eyes. “I’ve been thinking about what happened. About how close we came to losing.”

“I’m scared, too,” Namjoon admitted. “Scared that we won’t be able to stop Wooshik. Scared that we’ll all die.”

You reached up, pulling his hand from your shoulder and cupping it in yours. “We won’t die,” you reassured, your voice firm. We’re too strong, too determined.”

A small smile spread his plump lips. “You’re right. We are.” A flicker of hope returned to his eyes.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, Namjoon leaned down, his forehead coming to rest against yours. His breath ghosted across your lips, and a gasp caught in your throat, a sudden swell of emotion threatening to overwhelm you. The walls you had so carefully constructed, the barriers you had erected to keep him at a distance, crumbled in the face of his raw honesty.

"Namjoon, I..." Your words trailed off, lost in the depths of his gaze.

And then, before you could think and he could second-guess himself, he was kissing you. His soft and insistent lips pressed against yours with a desperate urgency, a need that mirrored the ache in your own heart. Your eyes fluttered closed, and you surrendered to the sensation, your hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer.

The kiss was electric, a spark that ignited a fire within you. Years of tension, of unspoken longing, poured into that single, searing moment. You could taste the salt of his sweat, the coppery tang of blood, but beneath it all, there was something else: something sweet and intoxicating, a promise of what could be.

"Ahem." A pointed cough shattered the spell, and you jerked apart, your cheeks flushed and your heart racing.

Suzy, Yoongi, and Momo sat a few feet away, their expressions a mix of surprise, amusement, and concern. Suzy's eyebrows were raised, a knowing smirk playing at the corners of her mouth. Yoongi's face was carefully neutral, but you could see the calculations whirring behind his eyes. And Momo... Momo looked torn. Her gaze darted between you and Namjoon with a flicker of worry in her eyes.

"Well, that was... unexpected," Suzy drawled, her voice laced with barely contained laughter.

You felt heat rising in your cheeks, a mix of embarrassment and defiance. "I... we..."

"It's not what you think," Namjoon said, his voice steady despite the tension in his shoulders. "We were just... caught up in the moment."

Yoongi's eyes narrowed, his gaze probing. "And what, exactly, is this moment going to mean for our mission? For our team?"

The question hung in the air, heavy with implication. You swallowed hard, your mind racing. What did this mean? For you, for Namjoon, for the battle that lay ahead?

"It means," you said slowly, choosing your words carefully, "that we're stronger together. That we'll face whatever comes, side by side."

Namjoon nodded in silent affirmation. 

The peace you all had found as you rested, recouping from the long day,  for the night was short-lived. A sudden, searing pain lanced through your skull, driving you to your knees. Distantly, you heard Namjoon cry out and felt his hands on your shoulders as he, too, crumpled under the onslaught.

Images flashed behind your eyelids, vivid and disjointed. A towering citadel, wreathed in shadow. Wooshik, his face contorted in a rictus of mad triumph. And a figure, cloaked and hooded, standing at the dark warlock's side.

As abruptly as it had come, the vision receded, leaving you gasping and disoriented. Namjoon's face swam into focus above you, his eyes wide with concern and a reflection of the same haunted knowledge.

"What… what was that?" Suzy demanded, her voice shaking slightly as she helped Momo to her feet.

"A warning," you managed, your tongue thick and clumsy in your mouth. "Wooshik… he's not alone. He has an ally, someone powerful."

Namjoon nodded grimly, his hand finding yours and gripping tight. "I saw it too. A dark citadel and a figure in the shadows..."

Yoongi's brow furrowed. "Another warlock? Or something worse?"

You shook your head, frustration welling in your chest. "I don't know. But whatever it is, we're running out of time. We need to get back to the others and warn them."

Chapter Two

[taeslovehandles]

POTIONCRAFT

The no-nonsense Witch Hoseok has an important customer coming by to purchase a commissioned height potion from his shop. Unfortunately his curious familiar Yoongi makes the unfortunate decision to sample the unfinished product, one hour before pick up. The consequences for the poor kitty will be… immense.

[read this chapter]

———————————————————————————————

Happy Halloween everyone! I hope you will enjoy this one. Had a blast rping it. It's been started a yea ago but we finally came around to finish this bad bitch.

This spicy, little shortstory has been a co-op work with my amazingly talented friend @pudgecuddles! Go follow them! They write hot shit.

[chimcess]

→ Chapter Twelve: All in Blue Pairing: Jimin x Reader Other tags: Werewolf!Jimin, Witch!Reader, Shifter!Reader, Shifter!Jimin, A/B/O Dynamics, Alpha!Jimin Genre: Supernatural!AU, Werewolf!AU, Angst, Mutual Pining, Fluff, Smut, Word Count: 21.2k+ Synopsis: Within the four realms of Lustra lay the Bangtan forest home to the Foxglove pack of the south and known as the “land of magic.” It is also home to the Bridd, a powerful witch from a cursed bloodline who is one of the sacred guardians of the forest. Y/N is the newest Bridd, a young girl who was given her position too early. Now a woman, Y/N is revered amongst the wolves as the most powerful witch they have ever known, but hiding under the surface is a woman who has to battle between her duty and her heart. Warnings: frenemies dynamic, PTSD, nightmares, guilt, shame, Bridd isn't doing very well mentally, bickering, I loved Lily, Lily is such a stupid jerk and I love her for it, near death experience, flashbacks, minor character deaths, violence, blood, strong language, everyone at this point needs a hug, homesickness, illness, major character injured, trauma bonding, they definitely have a big-sis-little-sis dynamic going on, sarcasm, everyone in the fic has my sense of humor and I'm sorry I'm not funnier, fire magic, this is one of the more "boring" chapters depending on who you ask, mostly traveling and small arguments, until something changes, I just really like their dynamic and wanted to showcase it a lot, psychosis, learning more about Lustra's history, dumb bird jokes because why not?, I think that's it, let me know if I missed anything... A/N: I'm super ahead for TTW right now, and because of the long hiatus I thought posting an extra chapter before the year was over was a great present to those who love this story as much as I do.

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The days blurred together as we trudged through the forest. I couldn't tell when one ended and the next began—just this constant rhythm of exhaustion as we pushed on toward the mountains. The trees stretched high above us, thick and ancient, their branches weaving into a dark canopy that barely let in any light. Everything below was muted in mossy green, an eerie half-light that felt alive.

Every step felt heavier than the last, the path twisting in ways that kept us on edge, making every mile harder to bear. The silence between Lily and me only made it worse. It was a silence filled with tension, our brief moments of peace fragile enough to break—and sometimes they did. We’d snap at each other, sharp and heated, until there was nothing left but the hollow feeling that came after a fight. Then we’d go back to walking, simmering with everything we hadn’t said, unable to let it go.

Lily was a hurricane. Fierce, chin high, baby blue eyes blazing—she threw words like knives when she was mad enough. Never below the belt, but always enough to sting. And I was no better. I met her glare for glare, word for word, each exchange becoming a contest we both needed to win. It was like striking a flint, both of us desperate to spark something—just to feel anything besides the numbness that the blurred days brought us. But when the arguments faded, I’d catch a glimpse of something softer in her.

If I had a cough, she’d make me tea from whatever plants and herbs she could find. When I was tired, she’d insist we stop and rest. If I got stuck, eyes glazed over, flames and screams dancing across my vision like I was back home, she’d ask me what color the sky was, and we’d play I-Spy for a few hours.

It wasn’t all bad, but I could say with almost complete certainty that we were two hotheads trying our best to bite our tongues before we started another round of bickering.

The forest only made the tension worse. Shadows seemed to shift around us, almost as if they were laughing at our arguments, at our hopeless journey. I’d wondered a few times if it was the fae and their games. It wouldn’t be out of the ordinary for them, and very few were able to come out of the Hollow Below without first being summoned. The thought of them laughing at us only made me angrier, and my irritation would rise.

Unfortunately for me, Lily was far better at quick-witted insults, and I’d end up stewing alone, back to the campfire, pretending to sleep.

Each night, we’d set up camp with an invisible line drawn between us, both unwilling to cross it. The fire would flicker in the gap between us—warm, but never enough to thaw the wall we’d built. Yet, in those rare moments, when she looked at me without the bite in her eyes, it felt different. Softer. Like maybe I wasn’t as alone as I thought.

I’d never asked her how old she was, but the few strands of silver in her black hair, the smile lines, and crow's feet told me she might be around Yoona or Thelma’s age. All of us lived long lives, witches the longest of the three, but I’d heard hybrids and shapeshifters had similar lifespans. Hybrids lived slightly longer since shifting took so much energy and strength.

I hoped that made Jimin and me evenly matched. I couldn’t imagine living a single second longer than him, and I was certain if I went first, he’d follow me soon after. Wolves couldn’t live without their mates. The thought of Jimin dying made me far more upset than I already was, so I pushed that thought to the back of my mind.

Finally, after days of endless trees and winding trails, the Ozryn Mountains appeared, jagged and dark against the horizon—so close, but still so far. Progress.

I looked over at Lily and found her already smiling back at me. Her smile softened her face, making her look so much younger. Her dimples shone prettily in the light, the diamond studs a soft baby pink. Her gold teeth hit the sun, and my eyes immediately locked on the two ruby gems on the other side of her mouth. Lily said she got them done as repayment for helping a jeweler’s family get their supplies back from a couple of thieves in Whopping. Reds and pinks were her favorite colors, and I thought they looked nice. She was a beautiful woman despite her scarring and less-than-appealing attitude.

“We won’t have much cover going through the desert,” she told me, her voice raspy. “We’ll need to stay vigilant. Keld’s Landing will be the next forest before we’re in the tundra.”

I nodded. “We’ll make it.”

Lily hummed and continued walking.

One afternoon, we came to a fork in the road, the trail splitting into two narrow paths. Lily glanced down one and nodded, her voice crisp and unwavering. “We take the left,” she said, pointing toward the path that disappeared into a curve. Her tone was clipped, like it wasn’t up for debate.

“No,” I said, feeling the familiar frustration build. I pulled out the map, unfolding it with more force than necessary. “The right leads straight to the mountains.” The paper crinkled loudly as I jabbed a finger at the marked trail.

The sun was beaming down, scorching the back of my neck. The desert wasn’t like the ones I’d heard of in Idris—not blisteringly hot, but with tall rocky cliffs, massive hills we had to climb through and around, and most of the paths covered in thick layers of red dirt and sand. We’d found the current path using the map in my hands, and it made Lily’s stubbornness even more frustrating. The map was obviously useful.

She crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing as she looked at me. “I’ve been this way before,” she said, her voice cold, dismissive. “The left is safer. Trust me.”

“And I’ve got the map,” I shot back, shaking it slightly for emphasis. We stood there, a silent standoff brewing between us, neither of us willing to back down.

I took a deep breath, trying to keep my voice steady. “The right is quicker. We’ll save time.”

Her gaze didn’t waver. “Maybe, but it’s a mess of dead ends and loose rocks. Do you want to make this harder? Don’t be naive, Y/N.”

My heart pounded, and my breathing grew shallow. I was going to explode if she kept this up. I wasn’t stupid.

“You were fine with the map before,” I argued.

“Because we weren’t sure where we were. I am now. The right trail is slightly faster, but there are rock warnings posted everywhere, and we’ll end up having to cut through even more dangerous areas trying to avoid the cliffs.”

I looked down at the map, doubt gnawing at the edges of my resolve. The lines blurred, exhaustion clouding my vision, and I glanced back at her, at her determined expression, her jaw set as if daring me to challenge her. Reluctantly, I felt my resolve waver.

“Fine,” I muttered, tucking the map away with a sigh. “We’ll go left. But if we get lost, it’s on you.”

A hint of satisfaction flickered in her eyes, and her tone softened. “We won’t get lost.”

The path was steep, lined with large, dead trees that closed in tighter as we moved. The silence still hung between us, but I could tell Lily was trying to soften me. She’d offer a hand when the trail got rough, and her voice lost a bit of its bite when she passed me a piece of bread. It didn’t help soften my resolve.

Call it pride or stubbornness, but I didn’t like being talked down to.

One night, we stopped to camp under a sky full of stars, the fire casting flickering shadows across the clearing. The cavern was still, the quiet wrapping around us, but for once, it didn’t feel heavy. We sat across from each other, tired and sore, but the silence didn’t press down on us the way it usually did.

The firelight danced in Lily’s eyes, and for a brief moment, there was no hardness, no anger—just the two of us, two people stuck together on a journey neither of us could make alone. It was strange, almost surreal, like some part of me had been waiting for this moment, for the quiet to settle between us without all the tension.

Lily’s voice broke the silence, softer than I was used to. “I can’t believe I’m doing this all over again,” she muttered, her hands busy stacking more firewood. There was something weary in her tone, a softness that hadn’t been there before.

I leaned back, feeling the ache of the day’s travel settle into my bones. “You’re better at it than I am,” I said, a faint smile tugging at my lips.

She shot me a look, her eyes narrowing, but there was a glimmer of humor there. “Flattery won’t get you out of it next time,” she said, tossing a log onto the fire. The flames crackled, sending warmth into the cold night air.

I sighed, settling onto my bedroll as the warmth of the fire seeped into me. The sounds of the forest surrounded us—leaves rustling, faint calls in the distance, and bugs chirping. It felt almost peaceful.

“Can I be honest with you for a moment?”

I rolled my eyes, trying to keep the ire from my voice. That always meant she was going to say something that pissed me off. And she knew it. It was why she always tried to pretend it was in the name of honesty.

Really, it was her catch-all phrase for saying whatever she felt like and then acting all high and mighty when I got angry.

“Why ask?” I couldn’t keep the bitterness out of my voice, no matter how hard I tried. “It’s never stopped you before.”

Lily’s voice came again, hesitant, in a way that caught me off guard. “Look, I don’t like arguing with you any more than you do,” she said, her gaze fixed on the flames. “We’re stuck together, whether we like it or not. So... I’ll try to cool it. But I need you to work with me.”

I scoffed, the words coming out before I could stop them. “You act like I’m the one who always starts it,” I snapped, irritation flaring up again. “Or should I remind you about how you caused this entire attitude issue you’re so mad about?”

Lily raised an eyebrow, folding her arms as her face hardened. “Oh, really?” she said, her tone thick with disbelief. “Care to explain that one?”

I felt the sting of her words, sharper than I wanted to admit. “You called me stupid,” I threw back, the memory still fresh and bitter. “I was trying to help, and you just... dismissed me. Didn’t even bother to apologize.”

She rolled her eyes, her voice sliding into that condescending edge that always got under my skin. “I did not call you stupid. I called you naive. There’s a difference. You’re out of your depth, and you’re too stubborn to admit it. If you’d just listen to me—”

“Naive, stupid—what’s the difference?” I shot back, getting to my feet, anger bubbling up. “You act like I don’t know anything, like I haven’t seen things, lived through things. You’ve known me for what, two weeks? You don’t know anything about me.”

For a split second, something shifted in her expression. The firelight flickered across her face, and her eyes softened, the harshness slipping away. “Then tell me,” she said quietly. “I can’t know if you don’t tell me.”

Her words lingered, raw and open, hovering between us. And for a second, I almost told her. Almost let it all spill out—the fears, the doubts, the parts of me I kept locked away. But the words tangled in my throat, too heavy, too real. I looked away, feeling the anger drain out of me, leaving only a dull ache behind.

“I need some air,” I muttered, turning before she could stop me, before she could ask me anything else.

“Wait,” she called after me, but I was already slipping into the darkness beyond the firelight, letting the shadows of the cliffs close around me.

A few minutes later, I was flying.

The days that followed were rough, each one feeling heavier than the last. Every step through that desert felt harder than the one before. We barely spoke, and when we did, the words were clipped, bordering on shouting each time we opened our mouths. Silence was easier than trying to find the right words—easier than pretending we were more than just two people stuck together out of necessity. It felt like a chasm had opened between us, growing wider each day.

But even in the silence, there were still those small moments that showed we still cared, even if we refused to say it. When the path got rough and I stumbled, her hand would still reach out, steadying me before I fell. When a fallen branch blocked our way, I’d offer my hand to help her over it. These moments were rare, but they were good reminders that we were still in this together. Whether we liked it or not.

The desert slowly began to give way, sand turning to dirt and mud, dying grass making way for glimpses of the Ozryn Mountains in the distance. They loomed closer, their dark, jagged peaks stark against the sky. We were getting closer, and I could already begin to smell the pine in the distance. We’d reach Keld’s Landing first, and then we’d finally be in the danger zone.

I was just as terrified as I was relieved.

Of course, the peace couldn’t last long. As we walked through the ever-thickening forest, I was thrown by the twists and turns the paths took—paths my map couldn’t always account for. I knew they were old, but how old didn’t really hit me until I found myself relying more on Lily’s judgment than the piece of parchment in my hands.

Then, we finally found a path that did line up with my map, and I was more than happy to jump at the chance to be useful. I stopped walking, looking up from the map. The path split into two directions, winding off into thicker areas of forest. We were still just barely on the outskirts, the aspens few and far between, many of them missing their pines. Lily stopped, studying the paths, her eyes narrowed.

I had a feeling we were about to have another argument and prepared myself to be willing to back off. Lily had been the bigger person during our last real spat, and I needed to learn to calm things down, too.

“Right,” she said firmly, her voice leaving no room for debate.

I took out the map, already feeling the tension coil between us. “This says left.”

She crossed her arms, her tone challenging. “I’ve been here before. The right path is safer.”

It only took a second for the argument to erupt, our voices bouncing off the trees, sharp and heated. But as we argued, something else crept in, a realization that was harder to ignore. We were fighting over nothing. I knew this map wasn’t the most reliable, and truthfully, Lily wasn’t saying anything to warrant my bad attitude. She was just trying to guide us—the only reason we were even traveling together. I took a deep breath, forcing myself to hold back the worst of my temper, even though I wanted nothing more than to tell her how right I was and how wrong she was.

Not to mention, we’d just had this fight a week ago.

“Fine,” I said, forcing the word out, each syllable heavy. “We’ll go right.”

She looked at me, surprise flickering across her face. “Thank you,” she murmured, her voice barely more than a whisper.

We kept moving, the path winding through the ever-thickening forest. The grass was becoming greener, the trees fuller and more closely packed together. We were still a few miles out of Keld’s Landing, but I had a feeling we would get through it soon enough. If we were lucky, we could stay inside the forest long into the mountains, as it crossed throughout the southern regions of Ozryn. We’d have to cut across and start heading southeast eventually, but the trees would help protect us from the harshest winds the mountains had to offer.

That night, we made camp as stars began to prick through the deepening dusk. The silence between us wasn’t tense or uncomfortable; it was just... quiet. The fight from earlier was forgotten, and honestly, I didn’t have the energy or the desire to rehash it. We were adults—we needed to start acting like it. Liking each other was secondary to our mission. The fire cast warm light over us, softening Lily’s face. She looked more tired than I remembered, and a pang of guilt settled in my chest for the way I’d acted sometimes. Especially when it really didn’t matter who was right or wrong.

We were both going to the same place, and she was right—I was being naive and stupid if I thought I knew everything about surviving out here.

“Thank you,” I said quietly, each word carrying more weight than I intended.

“What for?”

I turned to look at her, her eyes staring into the flames. I wondered what she saw in them. I knew what they did to me. Some nights, I’d have to sleep as far away from the smoke as I could or else I couldn’t sleep. Cordelia would visit me in those moments, her eyes far away, that awful look on her face. Then I’d start to smell blood, and I’d need to get as far away from camp as I could without worrying Lily. I hoped nothing as horrible as that haunted her.

With the way she spoke about Duke, though, I wasn’t so sure.

“For putting up with me,” I sighed. “I’ve always been difficult and hard-headed. I’m just sorry you’re the one who has to deal with it.”

She glanced up at me, her eyes warm, a soft smile spreading across her face. “You don’t have to thank me. Let’s just get through this. Together.”

I nodded, and in that moment, something shifted inside me—a tiny ember of hope, barely there but undeniably real. It wasn’t much, but right now, it was enough.

“No need to apologize either,” she rasped, turning her gaze back to the fire. “I’m responsible for my own behavior, and I know I’m not the most accommodating. We’ll learn to get used to each other.”

“Don’t think we really have a choice.”

We both laughed softly.

The fire burned low, casting long shadows, and the forest around us was quiet, a peace settling over it that matched the calm between us. As Lily drifted off to sleep, I stayed by the fire, watching the embers glow in the darkness.

I thought of home, the wet grass and how it tickled my feet in the spring. The first time I met Yoongi. He was so small and tiny back then. A late bloomer, Aldara had called him. I couldn’t have been more than six at the time, and Yoongi was eight or nine. He’s only two years younger than Wendy and Jin, but at the time you’d have sworn we were the same age.

His hair was long, almost to his mid-back, puffing up in frizzy waves that floated everywhere. He was always shyer than me, but I remember the moment we locked eyes and how quickly I knew he’d be in my life forever. I chuckled to myself.

I had liked him when we were younger, but between Wendy and Nixie, I knew I didn’t want to push the boundaries of our friendship. The older I got, the more I saw him as a brother—the same way I saw Jin. Jimin’s reappearance in my life helped too. It was impossible to be in love with anyone else when those eyes locked on mine for the first time since that Yule night.

Yoongi knew, of course. Yoongi always knew everything. We talked about my crush and both came to the same conclusions. It was easy to fall in love with someone when you didn’t have any other options. That’s when he first told me about him and Delta. I never would’ve guessed Yoongi liked boys, but I also never would’ve thought he’d sneak around with Wendy’s sister behind her back.

God, the entire circle was so messed up. I hoped everyone was alright. I always kept them in check, and without that balance, I worried about how Jin would handle things.

Staring at the sky, I rolled my eyes. That boy…

He was like my little brother despite being four years older. We met when Hyolin came to the house to introduce herself to me. Jin always treated me like a pest back then, but that changed after I brought Wendy around a few years later. Things started with him using me to get closer to Wendy, but our friendship became more genuine than any other relationship he had. He had a bullying streak with Yoongi at the best of times due to his jealousy, and he was known to be selfish and immature even when he swore he wasn’t.

Wendy brought out the worst in him.

She always said it’s why she couldn’t stand being his girlfriend for more than a few weeks. He was suffocating and so hyper-fixated on the past that he couldn’t see what they had. When we were younger, in our teens, I laughed in her face and told her there wasn’t a past if she was still in love with Yoongi. Now, I felt for her more than I ever thought I could. They were both insanely selfish and put Yoongi in the middle of everything, but Wendy had always been clear and firm when it came to Seokjin. He just didn’t know when to quit, and she went out with him because it was easier than breaking his heart.

Love always had its way of complicating even the strongest of friend groups, and ours was no exception. It was a shame, really. We were always so good with one another back then...

When I left, it seemed like things were better between them this time around, but I knew things neither of them did. Things that would tear everything apart if they even heard the slightest whisper of it.

I didn’t know if Wendy could forgive Yoongi and me for keeping it from her, and I knew Jin would pick her side if it meant keeping her around. Nixie’s marriage could be at risk since many humans still held to the tradition of a woman being a virgin when wed, and Delta would be in a tight spot if word got out about him being gay. If it got back to his father, he’d risk losing his home.

Syrena was one of the least progressive parts of the magical world next to Foxglove. Even Viridi Gramine had more progress, and wolves were known for being as misogynistic and homophobic as they come. I hoped Yoongi was staying safe.

And Jimin, and Taehyung, and Callisto, and Mi-Jeong, and Hoseok, and Hyuna; and Yoona, and Enver, and Thelma; and...

I sighed, turning on my side. I needed to stretch my wings. My head was too crowded right now.

As the sky deepened into purples and golds, I got to my feet, drifting away from the fire until the shadows of the forest swallowed me up. I glanced back once, just to be sure—Lily was already asleep, her breathing steady, her shoulders rising and falling in a calm rhythm that was, oddly, comforting. A small smile tugged at my lips—part relief, part guilt. It was better this way, safer for her not to see this part of me.

It wasn’t that I thought she’d run off into the forest screaming, but I knew if she saw what I could do, she’d figure out what I was immediately. I was supposed to be dead, if the whispers from our time in those small human towns throughout Clarcton were anything to go by, and I wasn’t sure what an enemy would be able to get out of her if we were separated. I wasn’t ready to risk that. She didn’t need to know yet.

Maybe later, when things were calmer and we were closer to the mountains, I’d let her know. Out here, I was too afraid of who or what might see us together. Even if I didn’t particularly care for her, I didn’t want anything bad to happen to her either. Secrets were safer. I think she’d understand. I was sure she had a few of her own.

With the moon high in the sky, I walked further and further away from camp. My heart felt heavy, and I didn’t really feel like doing much of anything, but I hoped feeling the breeze against my feathers would help soothe my growing headache. Finally, when I looked back and found that I could no longer see Lily, I relaxed and closed my eyes.

The transformation started slowly, like a ripple through my bones, a tingling that spread over my skin, a strange sensation that felt both sharp and ticklish. My bones felt like they were hollowing out, my skin prickling as feathers began to push through, soft and light, spreading across my arms as they stretched out into wings. My senses sharpened—the night seemed to grow brighter, the scent of the forest more vivid, the air more alive around me. The world grew bigger as I felt myself shrinking.

It felt so gentle and soft compared to the torturous process it used to be. It felt freeing.

Then, in an instant, I shifted—wings stretched wide, reaching into the night, ready to lift me. With one strong push, I took flight. The wind rushed past me, cool and crisp, and I kawed loudly into the silent night sky. So far, we hadn’t seen many birds in this area, and I wasn’t in the mood for socializing.

The first few flaps were exhilarating, my wings catching the air as I ascended higher, the forest below shrinking until the trees looked like tiny clusters of dark green. I let out a long whistle of joy, the sound escaping me unbidden, a sound so colorful and filled with so many different calls and notes that I wasn’t sure any passing bird could understand what was happening. The moon hung above me, round and silver, lighting my path, and I felt weightless, the cool night air rushing over my feathers as I twisted and turned. The stars above seemed close enough to touch, like a blanket of glittering diamonds spread across the sky, and I reveled in the vastness of it all.

I swooped low, skimming the treetops, the tips of my wings brushing the highest branches, sending a few leaves fluttering to the ground below. I darted upward again, spiraling in a lazy circle, my wings catching the wind and carrying me higher, spinning until the world blurred beneath me in shades of green and silver. There was a wildness in my heart that matched the thrill of the wind beneath my wings, a giddy kind of joy that I hadn’t felt in a long time.

I raced the wind, diving down, then soaring up again. I glided over a small clearing, the grass glowing faintly under the moonlight. The air was cool, carrying with it the scent of pine and damp earth, and I breathed it in deeply, filling my lungs, feeling the cold in my hollow bones.

It didn’t bother me. This body could handle the chill better than my human one. I whistled again and dove down.

I darted between the trees, my wings folding close as I twisted through narrow gaps. There was nothing like this—nothing like the rush of the air against me, the world opening up beneath me, limitless and wide. I spun and twirled, playing with the wind, my heart soaring with every beat of my wings. For this moment, nothing else mattered. I was alive, and the world was mine.

Then, without warning, I glanced back up at the moon and thought of silver hair, and all that joy began to ebb.

My thoughts began to drift, unbidden, to Jimin. I could almost see his face in my mind—his laughter, the way his eyes crinkled at the corners, that soft smile that always seemed to hold so much warmth. I thought of the way he’d hold me, his arms strong and comforting, his voice low as he whispered dreams of a future that now felt so far away.

The ache was sharp and hollow, and as the wind carried me higher, it seemed to grow, pressing into my chest until it was all I could feel. I missed him—missed him so much it hurt. I missed the quiet moments, the simple comfort of just being by his side. I let out a cry, sharp and raspy, swallowed by the wind as I banked, gliding above the treetops. I wished, with every part of me, that I could turn back to him, fly straight into his arms, tell him I loved him one more time.

But I couldn’t. Not yet. Not while there was still so much to be done. I thought of the others—of my family and friends who I had left behind without much thought on that night. They had trusted me to take this path, to do what needed to be done, and I could only hope they understood—that they didn’t see my absence as abandonment. I was sure Yoongi and Wendy would understand. The elders as well. It was Jin and Taehyung I worried most about. They were both too sensitive and took most things to heart—even when they didn’t need to.

Jin would grow angry and revert back to that childish and angry boy I knew when I was fifteen. Taehyung… it was difficult to say. I knew him well enough, but I didn’t think anyone would allow him to wallow and cry for very long. It was unbecoming for their new Chief, and I had to imagine how frustrated and alone he would feel.

His mate went behind his back. His friend left him without much of a goodbye. The only reason people wanted him to come back was to make Sol happy. There was much on his plate, and I worried no one was there to hold him up. At least, no one he would really want to be there for him right now.

I hoped, at the very least, he and Namjoon were able to make up.

My wings beat steadily, carrying me over the dark expanse of the forest, the grass stretching endlessly below. I flew on, my heart heavy, the weight of longing pressing down on me. And yet, even in the sadness, there was something else—fierce determination. I would find my way back. One day, I would fly not just for the joy of it, but to return home, to the people who meant everything to me.

That one day came closer with each step we took towards those mountains.

With a sigh, I turned, folding my wings and gliding back toward our camp. The ground rose up to meet me, and I landed softly, feeling the transformation reverse itself—feathers vanishing, bones solidifying, skin reforming. I took a deep breath, letting it settle. But as I straightened up, I froze.

Lily was standing at the edge of the clearing, staring at me, her eyes wide. For a second, neither of us moved, the forest around us holding its breath. My heart pounded in my chest, a mix of fear and something else I couldn’t name.

“You’re... a Bridd?” she whispered, her voice barely a murmur, filled with a mix of disbelief and wonder.

I swallowed, panic clawing at my throat, but I forced myself to stay calm. “Yes,” I said quietly, almost apologetic. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

“It’s fine,” she whispered back, her eyes still wide. Her hair was down now, her hood tossed aside, exposing her ears. Looking at them now, it felt silly to keep this part of my life away from her. Even if she was captured—the elves would be more excited about her death than mine. I was a threat because of my magic. Lily was an abomination of nature according to their laws. Guilt ate away at me like a rabid dog. “Why didn’t you say something sooner? This is…”

She trailed off, not finishing her sentence.

“It’s... not something I share easily. Or ever. Everyone I’ve ever known was aware. It didn’t feel all that important,” Then, because I knew I was partially lying, I threw in the real reason. “And I was nervous about one of us being captured. Didn’t think it would be good for you to see me.”

There was a silence, thick and heavy. My heart was lodged somewhere in my throat as I waited, bracing for whatever reaction might come. I couldn’t help but notice the way Lily’s black fox ears twitched, peeking out from beneath her hair, her big, fluffy burnt orange tail slowly unfurling behind her as she processed what I had said. Her eyes, wide with a mix of awe and curiosity, never left mine.

Her expression softened, awe giving way to something else—something almost... respectful. She took a step closer, her tail swishing slightly, her gaze unwavering.

“That’s... incredible,” she said, her voice filled with genuine wonder. Her ears perked up, her usual guarded demeanor slipping away, replaced by something far more open and intrigued. She moved a little closer, her curiosity evident.

“How does it work?” she asked, her tone brightening with interest. “Can you just... shift whenever you want?”

I exhaled, letting go of some of the tension that had built up inside me. Her ears twitched as she waited for my answer, her tail swaying in slow, steady arcs. “Yes,” I replied. “It wasn’t always like that, but... yeah, I can shift whenever.”

Lily nodded, her ears tilting slightly as she took in my words. She seemed thoughtful, her eyes still wide with wonder. “But…How? When?” She shook her head, stepping closer to me, her tail wagging. “How?”

“It’s a long story,” I scratched the back of my neck, moving towards the fire. It was cold out here, and I no longer had feathers to insulate my body. “But the shortened version is I died and came back to life.”

“I can’t imagine…,” she murmured, her gaze softening. Her fox tail brushed against her leg, the fur catching the moonlight as she shifted her weight. “You had to be desperate. Are you alright now?”

I looked away, feeling a tightness in my chest as the words slipped out before I could stop them. “It’s been hard,” I admitted, my voice quieter. “I can admit I don’t know much about being normal, but I’m trying. I apologize for being a bad partner. It’s hard to trust someone who isn’t being honest.”

Lily was quiet for a moment, her ears flicking slightly, her gaze fixed on the ground. Then she looked up, her eyes meeting mine, steady and sincere. “I get it,” she said softly. “I don’t know if I’d have reacted well before. I-” She paused, her voice growing even softer, almost gentle. “Thanks for trusting me now.”

A smile tugged at the corners of my lips, small but genuine. “Thanks for not freaking out,” I said, my voice carrying a note of humor.

She laughed quietly, her fox ears flattening slightly with amusement, her tail giving a small flick. The sound was a soothing balm to my frayed nerves, easing the tension I hadn’t even realized I was still holding. “Freaking out’s usually my first instinct,” she admitted, a hint of laughter in her eyes. “But... I think I’m getting better at this whole ‘not panicking’ thing.”

Her honesty made me laugh too, the sound light and freeing. Just like that, the tension that had hung between us for so long seemed to ease. It wasn’t gone—not completely—but it felt like we’d crossed a line, moved a little closer to something like understanding.

“Still haven’t quite gotten the hang of the bitch part, right?” I joked back.

“No,” she chuckled. “Don’t think I ever will. Unless you fix it first.”

I laughed, stretching my legs, bending down to touch my toes. Shifting always made me so stiff. I looked at the hybrid through the space between my legs.

Lily’s ears perked up again, her blue eyes glinting in the moonlight. She took another step closer, her tail swishing behind her, and I could see the genuine fascination in her gaze. “Do you ever get tired of it?” she asked. “Being able to shift, I mean. Or is it just... always like magic?”

I considered her question for a moment, my body snapping back upright. “It’s both, I think,” I said eventually. “Sometimes it feels like the most natural thing in the world. Other times, I hate being reminded about all of the responsibilities it gives me. Who I have to be because of it. But when I’m up there, when I’m flying...” I trailed off, a small smile touching my lips. “It’s worth it. It always feels like magic then.”

Lily nodded, her gaze softening. “I think I get that,” she said quietly. Her ears twitched, and she gave me a small smile. “I’ve always wondered what it would be like to fly. I had a friend who shifted before, and she could fly. I used to envy her. Always wished she could pick me up and take me with her.”

“Well, I’m a raven,” I said with a wry grin. “So unless you want to shrink down to about a tenth of your size, I’m afraid you’re a bit too heavy for me to carry around.”

She laughed, her ears tilting back slightly as her tail swished. “Yeah, I figured. Besides, I don’t think I’d trust you to fly straight if you had me dangling from your talons.”

I laughed too, the image ridiculous enough to make the tension in my chest ease a little more. “Fair enough. But maybe one of the dragons could give you a ride one day,” I added, my tone playful. “You know, if Khione ever decides she likes us enough not to drop you halfway through the sky.”

Lily snorted, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Oh, Khione?" she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "The ice dragon who'd probably freeze my tail just for looking at her the wrong way? Yeah, I'll pass."

"Come on," I teased, nudging her arm lightly. "She can't be that bad. She's just... selectively friendly."

Lily shook her head, her ears twitching with laughter. "Right. Selectively friendly. I'm sure she'd love to have a hybrid hitching a ride on her back. I'll stick to the ground for now, thanks."

We both laughed, the sound echoing softly in the night air, mingling with the rustle of leaves and the distant chirping of crickets. It was rare that we were so open and honest with one another since that first day together. But in that moment, it finally felt like we were in this together as friends. Her black fox ears flicked again, catching the light from the moon above us, and her gaze met mine, her eyes softening with a warmth that made my chest tighten, but in a good way this time.

"You know," she said after a moment, her voice quieter, almost as if she wasn't sure she should say it, "I'm glad you told me. It's like... I feel like I understand you a little better now."

"Yeah?" I asked, my own voice coming out softer. It wasn't easy for either of us to admit these kinds of things.

She nodded, her fox tail swishing slowly behind her, the big fluffy thing moving in gentle arcs. "Yeah. I mean, we're all carrying something, right? Secrets, fears... it's just part of who we are. And I guess it's nice to know I'm not the only one."

I smiled. "You're definitely not the only one," I said. "And I'm glad I told you too. Even if I thought you might freak out."

Lily rolled her eyes, her ears flattening in mock annoyance. "Oh please, I'm not that bad. Just because my first instinct is to act like a complete and utter diva doesn't mean I would have gone all psychobitch. I bite, but not that hard, jeez.”

I laughed, shaking my head. "Right, right. Totally calm and collected, that's you."

"Hey, I've gotten better," she shot back, a grin tugging at her lips. "Besides, you're the one who kept this big secret. Who knows, maybe I'm the one who should be freaking out that my supposed partner is actually a shapeshifting bird woman—who, by the way, is also one of the most sacred beings in the country. If not the world. Just a normal Tuesday."

"Not just any shapeshifting bird woman," I corrected, pointing a finger at her, unable to keep the smile off my face. "A Raven."

"Right, a raven," she teased, her eyes glinting mischievously. "I've seen ravens steal shiny things, you know. Might have to keep an eye on my stuff."

I snorted, shaking my head. "I can promise you, your belt buckles are safe from me."

Lily gave a mock sigh of relief, her tail swishing again. "Good to know. I'd hate to have to fend off a raven attack just to protect my piercings, crow brain."

The banter between us felt natural, easy, and the tension that had been there for so long seemed to fade into the background. There were still things we hadn't worked through, but in that moment, it felt like we were a little bit closer to being real friends.

Later, as we sat by the fire, the flames crackling and casting flickering shadows across the clearing, a more solemn mood seemed to settle between us. The warmth of the fire wrapped around us, and I could feel the chill of the night slowly being pushed back. Lily stared into the flames, her ears twitching slightly as she seemed to be lost in thought. Finally, her voice came, softer than usual, almost hesitant.

"I'm sorry," she said, her gaze fixed on the flames. "For everything I said before. I judged you without really knowing you. And I guess... I was scared, too. I didn't know if I could trust you."

I sighed, feeling affection for her growing in my chest. It wasn't easy for Lily to apologize—I knew that. She was stubborn and proud, and hearing her admit her mistakes made me feel like maybe we really were making progress. "I was being difficult too," I admitted, my eyes following the dance of the fire. "I’m sorry, and... I forgive you."

She glanced at me then, her ears perking up, and a real smile lit up her face, one that made her eyes crinkle at the corners. "Then I guess I forgive you, too," she said, her voice lighter, more like her usual self.

"Wow, forgiveness all around," I said, unable to resist the urge to tease. "Who knew we could be so mature?"

Lily snorted, her tail flicking behind her. "Don't get used to it. I'll go back to being a bitch tomorrow."

"Good to know," I said with a grin. "Wouldn't want things to get too friendly around here."

She gave me a playful shove, her smile widening. "Shut up. You're lucky I don't bite."

"Oh, I'm terrified," I replied, my voice dripping with mock fear. "Please, spare me, oh mighty fox warrior."

Lily rolled her eyes, but her laughter came easily, and it was a sound that made me feel lighter. The fire crackled between us, filling the silence that followed with warmth and a sense of peace I hadn't felt in a long time. There was a long road ahead, filled with challenges and dangers waiting for us both, but for the first time, I felt like we had a real shot. We could face it together—not as reluctant allies, but as something closer to friends.

The night stretched on, the stars twinkling above us, and the fire slowly burned down to embers. We sat there, the silence comfortable, the teasing smiles lingering on our faces. And as I looked at Lily, her fox ears twitching slightly as she listened to the sounds of the night, her tail curled around her, I felt something inside me settle. There was still so much left to do, so many obstacles to overcome, but at least now, I knew I didn't have to face it all alone.

"You know," I said after a while, my voice softer, almost thoughtful, "if we ever do find Khione and she doesn't try to freeze us, I think you should ask her for that ride. I'd love to see her face when you ask."

Lily snickered, her eyes glinting mischievously. "Oh yeah? And what makes you think she wouldn't drop me from the sky the first chance she gets?"

"She might," I admitted, unable to hide my grin. "But think of the look on her face. It'd be worth it."

"You're so bad," Lily said, shaking her head, though there was laughter in her voice. "But maybe I'll do it. Just to see if you're right."

"I'll be cheering you on from a safe distance," I replied, and she laughed again, her ears flicking with amusement.

We settled back into a comfortable silence, the warmth of the fire and the glow of the embers surrounding us. The challenges ahead seemed a little less daunting, the road a little less lonely. And for the first time in a long time, I felt like we really could make it.

After that night, something between Lily and me softened. It wasn't sudden—no big moment, no dramatic shift. But it was there, a quiet sort of peace that settled over us. An unspoken truce.

We still argued, of course—there was no miracle fix for our tempers. But the fights felt different. Less about tearing each other down, and far fewer insults being hurled on either side. We were just stubborn and headstrong about our beliefs, and had a hard time looking past that. We were both making efforts, however, to see the value in our differences, learning how to exist side by side, and shutting up when we didn’t have anything nice to say. That was probably the best improvement we made thus far.

One day, we were navigating a particularly tough stretch of the trail. It was treacherous, the rocks slick with dew, the path steep and full of traps. Lily was ahead of me, her jaw tight with focus, when her foot slipped, her boot skidding over loose stones. Instinctively, I reached out to steady her, but she jerked her arm away, a fierce look in her eyes.

"I can do it myself," she snapped, frustration evident in her voice.

I let my hand fall, but I didn't look away. I had to try very hard not to yell back, but I knew underneath her attitude and anger was something gentle and sweet. I had to get better at being understanding. I took a short, quick gasp of air and hoped I softened my voice enough to not give away how irritated I felt inside my chest.

"Lily, you don't have to do everything alone. That’s why we’re doing this thing together—convenience."

She froze, her gaze locked with mine, and for a moment, I thought she'd snap again. My stomach coiled with anticipation. A part of me wanted her to. I had more than enough steam to blow off from the stress of everything. But then she sighed, the tension in her face melting as she reached out, slipping her hand into mine. I helped her up, her fingers holding tightly onto mine.

When we reached the top, I smirked a little, trying to lighten the mood. "See? Teamwork," I said, teasing but gentle.

She rolled her eyes, but there was a hint of a real smile there. "Maybe you're not entirely useless," she replied, her tone softened, almost playful.

That was just one thing that told me we were on the same side now. When the path turned steep or the rocks were too slick, one of us would offer a hand without a word. Lily didn’t even blink an eye at the contact anymore. At night by the fire, the silence wasn't stifling anymore; it was comfortable. We had even started sharing stories, things I hadn't expected to tell her. Things I would have never thought she’d tell me. It was a strange twist of fate—the only person I had ever admitted to not liking had become my favorite person I had ever (save Jimin and Yoongi) talked to within a week’s time.

Lily’s stories were so fascinating and out of the realm of anything I had ever heard before. Most of my friends and family had never known a life outside of Bangtan, Moland, or the southernmost parts of Clarcton. Never had much interaction with humans, and if they did, they rarely had good things to say. Lily, however, had seen almost every nook and cranny of Lustra outside of Alcona Island. Dragons didn’t like non-dragons, so it wasn’t really a possibility for her to get there unless she wanted to be burnt to a crisp.

From the ports of Whopping, to the monasteries in Idris, outfoxing goblins in Bangtan, fighting with Bunyips in Moland, and all the way to the smallest farming towns from Leeside and the capital of Northorn—Lily’s feet had touched the soil there. She earned her gold teeth when she was a teenager and still living with Duke. She’d left that life behind after meeting Dina, but had a few moments since her death. Money was valuable outside of the forests, and barding only stretched the coins so far. Her normal way of money-making lately had been through bounty hunting, but with the elves back, that well had run dry. No one had any money and were too afraid of risking being seen with someone who so obviously stood out from the humans. The tattoos and piercings were a dead giveaway that she was from the east and would draw suspicion from the elves.

Lily was barely surviving when we met. She had just completed a hit on a man who had stolen away a young girl from her father’s home. She was originally meant to be sold off for money and a goat, but the man hadn’t made good on his promise. The wedding never happened, but the girl had gone missing just two days later. When I asked her why she kept calling the bride a ‘girl,’ Lily turned to me and said.

“The peasants in Northorn sell their children so they can get by. The girl was 14 and the man who wanted her was rich enough to give her a large home and a small farm with a goat.”

“But why would anyone do that?” I nearly shouted, the thought of anyone so young being married off foreign. “It would hurt her. She’s so vulnerable to death giving birth to a child. What were they thinking?”

Lily’s look had turned to pity. That moment reminded me that she was right—I was naive and clueless. Nothing about this world made sense, and no one around me was informed enough to know anything different. If they were, they never told us.

“The only people who can afford to eat in Northorn are the nobles and monarchs,” her tone had taken on a softer tone, like she was explaining this to a small child. “Been like that ever since King Edward came into power. He and his queen enjoy the finer things in life, spoiled their children rotten, and stopped taxing their court money. Those who were already struggling turned to less… savory means of staying alive. I know a few boys who were sold to the church and… castrated so they can sing higher. They don’t allow girls into the theater there.”

I never asked about the children in Northorn again.

We weren't perfect. We still stumbled, still clashed. But there was a difference now—we realized we liked each other when we were fighting all of the damn time. And as we pushed onward, the peaks of Ozryn drawing closer each day, I felt the hopelessness I carried with me when I was flying to Clarcton fading away. We had come so far, and Lily seemed confident about our odds. I allowed myself to believe her.

I can’t remember what Yoongi said—if he even said anything—but I remember his voice. Or at least, something pretending to be his voice. I couldn’t remember anymore. It was wrong. Stretched, warped, shredded into something that didn’t fit. It filled the air, filled me, with a kind of terror I couldn’t shake. It wasn’t him. It couldn’t have been him.

I tried to run, but my legs wouldn’t move. The ground seemed to grab at me, holding me back, as if it knew I wasn’t supposed to get there. And he was there, but not there. His face was empty, his eyes hollow—erased. His body jerked unnaturally, like a puppet on strings, and when I reached for him, it was like trying to grab smoke. He slipped right through my fingers, no matter how hard I tried to hold on.

There was screaming—his, mine, I don’t know—but the sound ripped through me, splintered into pieces that never made sense. I think he shouted my name, begged me for something, but all I can remember is the way it sounded: broken. His voice cracked and splintered, sharp and desperate, and I wanted to say something back. I wanted to tell him I was there, that it was okay, but my voice was gone, frozen inside me, useless.

His hands. God, his hands weren’t his anymore. They were claws, tearing at his face, his skin, his eyes. "I can’t see!" he screamed, but it wasn’t even a scream. It was… other. I tried to stop him, but I couldn’t. My hands wouldn’t move. My legs wouldn’t move. I was stuck there, paralyzed, watching him disappear into a million little, bloody pieces.

Everything spun after that. The world tilted, and I couldn’t keep up. I kept trying to reach him, to grab hold of anything, but there was nothing. Just the thick, black smoke swallowing him whole. I don’t know if I screamed, if I begged him to stay, but I felt like I did. The ache in my chest, the burn in my throat—it had to mean something came out of me, right? But I can’t remember.

Then it all shifted, blurred into something worse. Smoke burned my lungs, stung my eyes. My feet stumbled over something I couldn’t see, and my name was being called—soft, urgent, but so far away. And that’s when I saw her.

Cordelia.

Her face is the only thing I can see clearly now. Gray and lifeless, her eyes staring at nothing. Dead. She was pinned under something heavy, and I—I tried to pull her free. My hands shook, clawed at the rubble, but it was useless. My strength was gone, and the weight of her stillness crushed me. I screamed her name, but it caught in my throat, tangled with the smoke and the tears. I knew she was gone even before I stopped trying. She was cold, heavy, already slipping away.

Hands grabbed me—pulled me back—but I fought them. Kicked, thrashed, anything to stay with her. I couldn’t leave her. I couldn’t. But they were stronger, and my body was too weak. And then I was holding her, somehow. I don’t remember how, but she was in my arms, and she wasn’t there. She was just… gone.

I don’t know what happened next. The shadows swallowed everything, and I was falling, slipping, screaming inside myself because I couldn’t do anything else. And then there were arms around me, warm and steady, holding me together when I was sure I’d shatter. I didn’t know who it was. I didn’t care. I just clung to them, because they were the only thing keeping me from falling completely into the dark.

"Y/N.”

My head snapped up. Without a word, Lily moved closer, her shoulder brushing against mine.

I am Y/N. The elves are gone. Foxglove is safe. Everyone is safe.

Not Cordelia. She was dead. My best friend’s mother was dead and I wasn’t there for her. I left. I let her die. I killed Cordelia. If I had been there, I could have stopped it. If I had spoken sooner. I am a guardian. I failed. I deserve to—

"Did you know that Bangtan used to be called something else?"

I blinked, snapped from my thoughts.

"No," I replied, robotically, eyes still staring at the dancing yellow and orange flames.

It should have been me.

It should have been me.

It should have been me.

It should have been me.

It should have been me.

It should hav—

"Before humans were here and the land was filled with elementals, they all lived in harmony within their homeland. They didn’t believe in borders the way that humans do. They just used words to describe places."

I made a non-committal sound. I couldn’t manage much more. Lily continued as if I hadn’t said anything at all.

"Virdi Gramine was Lysander, and many of the water elementals lived there. Ozryn had always been home to Khione. Conláed named it. He was the only thing Khione ever respected more than Naida. He died during the war.

"Whopping is named after the human who conquered the east. Liam Whopping," Lily scoffed, her disdain for the man coloring every syllable of his name as she spoke it. "Conláed named it after his wife, Agni. She was a water nymph who lived in the northeast before the fae were sent to Hollow Below. She died of an illness, and he never left her grave. At least, not until the war. The elves enslaved him and the rest of the dragons, but Conláed was too powerful to be kept alive. They beheaded him and paraded it through the streets like some kind of trophy for the others to see. Disgusting."

Lily grew quiet. I could feel the anger rising in her, simmering just beneath the surface. She must've known that getting heated wouldn’t help when I was already feeling this way. She wasn’t exactly wrong either, so I kept my mouth shut. We sat like that for a long time—just the two of us, the fire crackling, the cool night air wrapping around us like a heavy blanket.

“Agni and Lysander,” I muttered, my voice weak, barely more than a whisper. “Is that it?”

“No,” she whispered back. “Ancola was Ryuu. That’s where the dragons originally came from. Conláed was the first and the most curious, so that’s why he ended up in so many stories. Northorn was the quietus kingdom of Betsalel. Briar Glen Beach was called something else before, but I don’t remember what. It’s a memorial site for King Omar Briar Glen. King Edward's great-great-uncle. Keld lives there.”

“Keld? Like Keld’s Landing?”

“Same guy—well, dragon. The humans enslaved the dragons to ride them, and Keld was given to King Omar. They grew close, and when Omar learned that the dragons could turn into people… he couldn’t let the torture go on. He helped start the dragon revolution with Keld and a few others. That’s the only reason Lustra won—when the dragons got out. Omar died. Keld didn’t want to leave him, so he’s estranged from the other dragons. No one goes there anymore. It’s a death sentence.”

“What about Bangtan?”

“Moland and Bangtan were fae territory, so less is known about them since the Hallow Rift, but I believe Witrial is what Hydra called it.”

“Who’s Hydra?” I asked, laying down and curling into a ball. Sitting up was taking too much effort. Lily watched me, her eyes squinted, reading my mood. She knew I was upset but chose not to call attention to it. I appreciated the effort.

“She’s Lindon’s guard. She’s the only person who can let people in and out. I’ve known her for a few years now.”

“Does she do ice magic?” I asked.

“No. Only the royal guard knows how to do that. She’s a water wielder.”

“Will she like me?”

“You’re impossible to dislike.”

I thought of Ji-Hyun and frowned. “That’s not true.”

“Well, whoever doesn’t has a few screws loose.”

Finally, I smiled.

“Thanks, Lily.”

“You’re welcome, Y/N.”

As the stars spun slowly overhead and the fire crackled down to embers, I felt a strange, tentative peace creep in. The visions were getting worse, and I knew Lily was losing sleep because of my nightmares, but we’d never really talked about them before. I could feel myself slipping away each time, and every time I’d close my eyes, I’d wait for everything to stop. When my soul felt like it was five feet away from my body, watching everything from up above—that was the only time the thoughts stopped anymore.

Flying didn’t help.

Ignoring it didn’t help.

Food didn’t help.

Jokes didn’t help.

Nothing did.

It should have been me.

I hoped the nightmares would stay away tonight. I knew they wouldn’t.

We settled down in a small clearing that night, a patch of ground just large enough for the two of us and the small fire Lily had built. The trees rose up around us like silent witnesses, their branches catching the moonlight and splaying shadows over the mossy floor. It smelled like damp earth and pine sap, and every now and then you could hear a distant owl calling out, or something small scurrying through the brush. For a moment, I tried to focus on those sounds instead of the noise in my head. I tried to notice how the flames sent tiny sparks upward, how they danced into the darkness and disappeared. I thought if I could just pay attention to these details, maybe I wouldn’t get pulled back under—pulled back to that place where I heard the screams and felt the ground crumble under my feet.

Lily was by my side, close enough that the tips of our boots almost touched. She’d been watching me quietly for a while, giving me the kind of space you give a wild animal when you’re not sure if it’s going to bolt or lash out. After what felt like forever, she finally spoke.

“What are you thinking about?” she asked, her voice soft but steady. She curled a bit closer, arms around her knees, as if to show me she was no threat. “I always wonder where you go when you get so quiet.”

My heart twisted painfully. I knew she deserved more than a brush-off. This was Lily, after all—the person who’d pulled me out of the rubble more than once, who’d kept watch on nights I couldn’t sleep, who’d patched me up and told me that I’d make it through somehow. But I didn’t know how to put words to the ugly tangle in my head. The grief and guilt felt impossible to explain, like every time I tried, I’d end up showing her something so awful that she’d never see me the same way again.

“Just… how far we’ve come,” I said. The lie tasted bitter. I knew Lily could hear it in my voice, see it in how I stared into the fire instead of at her. I tried to swallow, to force the lump in my throat back down where it belonged. The night pressed in around us, too quiet, like it was holding its breath.

Lily shifted closer, her eyes never leaving my face. “You’re lying,” she said gently. There was no anger or disappointment, just this calm certainty. “Didn’t we agree not to lie to each other anymore?”

I closed my eyes for a second, remembering when we’d made that promise. We’d been tired and sore, leaning against a fallen log under a red sunset, swearing that if we trusted no one else in this world, we’d trust each other. If I broke that promise now, after all we’d been through, what kind of person did that make me? But telling her the truth felt like cutting open a wound that hadn’t healed right in the first place.

My voice came out small and shaky. “I have a past… things I’m not proud of.” I could feel the weight of the words pressing on my chest, making it hard to breathe.

She didn’t flinch or roll her eyes or tell me to stop being dramatic. She just looked at me, those brown eyes like steady lanterns in the dark. “You don’t have to hide,” she said, her voice sure and quiet. “I’ve done terrible things, remember? I told you all about them. I’m not going to judge you.”

I pressed my hand against my thigh, grounding myself. She was making it sound simple, when I knew it wasn’t. “I—” My throat closed up again. I had to force the words out, bit by bit. “I made mistakes that got people killed. People who trusted me. People who…” I swallowed hard. “People who should still be here right now.”

The fire crackled in front of us, sparks whirling upward, and for a second I could almost see their faces in those sparks: Cordelia’s tired smile, Jimin’s kind eyes. I remembered the day I promised Thelma that I wouldn’t let anything happen, how certain I’d been. And then I remembered how it all fell apart.

Lily’s voice was steady, warm with understanding. “Keep going,” she said, touching my hand lightly. She didn’t push hard; she just let me know she was there.

I stared at my boots, because if I looked at her face I’d cry. “I… I thought I was doing the right thing. I really did,” I said. “I thought if I made this one decision, if I stood my ground at this one crucial moment, I could save everyone. I pictured this perfect outcome, where I’d come out a hero, where everyone survived, and we’d laugh about how tense it got. But that’s not what happened. Instead, I ended up watching everything crumble. They… they died, Lily. A lot of them.”

My voice cracked on the word “died.” The silence after that felt heavy, like a rock pressing against my chest. I rubbed the heel of my hand against my eye, trying to keep the tears in. It felt selfish to cry about it now, when they were the ones who’d lost their lives. What right did I have to weep when I was the one still breathing?

Lily reached out again, this time wrapping her fingers around mine, and I let her. Her hand was warm and a little rough, the hand of someone who’d wielded knives and swords, who’d known violence intimately. There was comfort in that, oddly. She wasn’t some gentle innocent who couldn’t understand darkness. She’d lived through her own nights of regret.

“I’m sorry,” she said finally. “That must weigh so heavily on you. I know what it’s like to carry that blame around. It changes the way you see yourself.”

I nodded, feeling something tighten in my chest. “Jimin and I fought a few days after everything settled,” I said quietly. “He didn’t want me to come here. He said I had lied to him and everyone else and was trying to play hero again.  He never said he hated me, but I could see something different in his eyes. Like he was just… empty when he looked at me. Or disappointed. I can’t forgive myself, and I’m pretty sure he can’t either.”

The memory of Jimin’s face stung. The way his shoulders slumped, the way he turned away from me. There had been this terrible silence, broken only by the wind, as if he was afraid that if he said a single word, he would break completely. And then I left. He never followed. I’d never known if he placed the blame on me or if I simply placed it on myself. But either way, I’d never shaken off the feeling that I deserved his anger.

Lily squeezed my hand, not letting go. “Forgiveness can take a long time,” she said. “Sometimes it never comes. But you’re doing what you can now, aren’t you? You didn’t run away. Even after all of that you’re here trying to save that village. That means something.”

I swallowed hard. She was trying to give me something to hold onto—some piece of grace I couldn’t give myself. “They’re still gone,” I managed, voice barely more than a whisper. “Sometimes I think I’d give anything to go back and change what I did. But I can’t. And at night… at night I can’t sleep. I see it all happening again. I see Cordelia’s eyes, empty as the life drained out of her. I see the others, crushed under debris or struck down by those monsters, and I keep thinking, ‘If only I had listened, if only I’d moved sooner, if only I’d been stronger.’ I keep thinking it should have been me down there, not them.”

I felt my shoulders shake. Saying it out loud made it ache more, but also felt like I was lancing a wound, letting the poison out. Lily moved closer, until our knees touched. There was no pity in her eyes, just a steady sympathy that made me feel anchored. “You tried,” she said gently. “You thought you were doing what was right. No one can ask for more than that. The world threw something terrible at you. The blame doesn’t all land on your shoulders.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but I couldn’t find the words. All these months, I had run the scenario in my mind. If I’d just drawn a different line in the dirt, if I’d told them I knew something was coming, if I’d allowed the others to carry the burden with me for a little while, maybe the outcome would have changed. Maybe not. But I would never know, and that not knowing haunted me.

“It doesn’t make it hurt less,” I said finally, voice thick. “But it… I don’t know. It helps to say it out loud, I guess. To know I’m not talking to a wall. To know someone else can see me as more than just… a killer.”

At that, Lily’s mouth tightened, and her eyes glinted in the firelight. “You’re not a killer,” she said firmly. “We’ve both done things that will haunt us. But here you are, heartbroken and torn up, wishing you could have saved them. Doesn’t that tell you something about who you really are?”

I forced myself to meet her eyes—really meet them, bracing for a flicker of disgust or something worse. But there was none of that. Just Lily, looking worn and earnest and so completely herself, as if she’d never considered seeing me as anything but a human being who tried her best. She let her hands rest on my shoulders, her grip gentle but steady, like she needed me to understand this. All of it.

“You didn’t kill anyone,” she said softly, and I could feel her words more than hear them—warm little sparks in the dark. “Aladia and her troops did that. Gawen set the men on Foxglove. And one day, when it happens again, it’ll be General Khiloas carrying out her orders, and Aladia controlling her. This was always going to be awful, no matter what you did. Once those women reach the shorelines, there’ll be blood. Thousands, maybe. Even Etelin’s most loyal don’t really get what’s coming.”

The wind chose that moment to sigh through the branches, sending a scattering of sparks into the night. I watched one drift upward, glowing for just a second longer than seemed possible, before winking out. Somehow, I still felt like the same knot of nerves and regrets I’d always been—but I could also feel something else blooming underneath. Gratitude that Lily hadn’t looked away. Relief that maybe I didn’t have to wear every bad choice around my neck like a chain.

I leaned a fraction closer to her, letting the warmth of her palm ground me. “Thank you,” I whispered. It was all I could manage, but it felt real and big enough, right now.

Lily just nodded, letting the silence spread out between us. Not the tense, suffocating quiet I was used to, but something gentler. Something that said we’d both been hurt, both done things we’d carry around forever—yet here we were, still breathing, still trying. The fire’s glow brushed my face, and Lily’s presence felt like a reminder that while I might still be lost in my own guilt, I didn’t have to be alone in it.

That was enough, at least for tonight.

In the days that followed, I tried to convince myself that I could breathe again. The night Lily and I had sat by the fire, my voice raw from finally letting all my secrets out—well, I’d been certain I’d never say those things to anyone, ever. But I did. I told Lily everything, and she didn’t spit at my feet or turn away. She stayed. She told me it wasn’t all on me, that I wasn’t carrying the world’s sins alone. For the first time in forever, I didn’t feel like I was drowning in guilt.

But “lighter” was such a small thing. It was like going from a hundred-pound weight in my chest to ninety-nine. The burden was still there. Every quiet moment, every sudden rustle of wind, let the memories slip back in, dragging their claws along my spine. I’d breathe in, and the ghosts of those who died would breathe out, lingering right behind my shoulder. I could almost feel their eyes on me.

I kept hearing their voices in my head—tired, helpless whispers from the past. Over and over: Why didn’t you save us? You could’ve done something different. And I’d agree, my stomach twisting into knots, my brain screaming that I should have died instead. At night, I’d press my face into the crook of my arm and try not to shake too loudly, afraid Lily would hear and feel obligated to fix me when I knew no one could.

We went deeper into the forest anyway, step by cautious step. The trees grew taller and closer together until it felt like they were eavesdropping on us, branches stooping down to listen to my pounding heart. Everything was damp and quiet, the sort of silence that makes you feel like you’re trespassing, like nature will punish you for being there. I wanted to shrink into myself, to go unnoticed—my existence felt like an offense.

I kept my head down, watching the patches of sunlight drip through the leaves. My heart was still heavy, even if Lily’s words had loosened a few knots. I’d learned something that night: there was no off-switch for this kind of guilt. All I could do was try not to let it swallow me whole. But that was already harder than I’d imagined. My mind would catch on a memory—Cordelia’s eyes, the way they’d gone empty when I failed her—and I’d start unraveling again, feeling the panic bubble under my ribs. Was I shaking right now? Was Lily seeing it?

The forest got quieter the further we went. That was the first sign. The birds stopped fussing. The breeze barely breathed. I felt it before I saw it—some terrible tension like a string pulled too tight. Lily slowed, her hand drifting to her dagger, and I stiffened, every muscle screaming that something was wrong. My stomach flipped. Whoever was out there, they were watching us, and I was already picturing them dead at my feet, because that’s what always happened, right? Everyone who got close to me ended up twisted and broken. It was a sickening thought, hot tears threatening to blur the trees around me, but I swallowed them down, forcing myself to stay steady. Lily needed me steady.

When the five figures stepped out of the shadows, I bit down on the inside of my cheek hard enough to taste blood. They spread out, circling us, their eyes cold and hungry. One man stepped forward, scar slashed across his cheek, holding a blade that looked old and mean. He sneered at us like we were nothing more than a sack of potatoes he planned to haul away.

“Two little travelers,” he said. His voice was thick with mockery. “Far from home, I’d wager.” My heart was thumping so loudly I was sure everyone could hear it. I remembered the last time I’d faced men like this and how people who mattered had ended up dead. My fault, my fault, my fault. My knees threatened to buckle. I had to be strong, or Lily would pay the price. But what if I messed up again? What if I hesitated or said the wrong thing and the forest ended up soaked in blood?

I risked a glance at Lily. She was tense but focused, her shoulders back, her jaw set. She looked strong. I wanted to be that strong. But the roar of memory was deafening inside me—voices telling me I’d fail again. I felt sweat trickle down the back of my neck. Another death, another regret. Could I survive adding more ghosts to the legion already haunting me?

“Hand over your packs,” the leader said. “Or you can join the wolves’ dinner menu, your choice.”

Behind me, Lily’s breath caught, and I wondered: Should I just give them everything? Would that save Lily this time? I was already imagining how wrong it could go. I was remembering someone else’s blood on my hands, and my chest tightened so hard it hurt. I was seeing Cordelia again, the way her head lolled, how I’d knelt beside her and begged her not to die—but she did anyway, leaving me behind like an unwanted afterthought.

“Please,” I managed, my voice cracking. My throat felt like I’d swallowed briars. “We don’t want trouble.” I hated how pathetic I sounded, how easily I showed my fear. But maybe showing it would help? Maybe they’d see how pathetic I was and decide I wasn’t worth killing. Or maybe it would just make them laugh. My nails dug into my palms, and I pressed my lips together to keep from crying. Don’t cry. Not now. Not when Lily needs you.

They closed in, slow and deliberate. I could smell their sweat and old leather. The leader flicked his blade, and the scrape of metal turned my bones to ice. In that moment, I was sure I’d fail again. That people would die on my watch—maybe Lily, maybe me—and it would all be my fault. The realization made me dizzy. The forest spun. I couldn’t seem to catch a full breath.

Lily looked at me, and in her eyes, I saw that she still believed in me. She must’ve seen something in my face, in the way I trembled, because she shifted closer, her elbow just brushing mine. It was a tiny point of contact, but it grounded me, reminded me that not everyone was gone. Not yet.

But I could feel my grip on reality loosening, like I was holding onto the edge of a cliff with just my fingertips. My whole body wanted to fold in on itself and disappear. The leader barked something I didn’t quite catch, and the men laughed—harsh and hollow. Lily’s knuckles went white around her dagger’s hilt, and I tried to do the same with my own weapon, but my hand was shaking too much. I could almost hear Lily’s voice in my head, telling me I could do this, that I wasn’t alone, that I’d done what I could before. But I couldn’t tell which of us was lying.

The world shrank to this circle of strangers, this moment. No one coming to save us, no mercy in their eyes. I realized, with a sick kind of certainty, that this forest was about to rewrite everything I’d tried to believe since Lily and I left that last clearing. I’d thought I could carry on, thought maybe I was worth something after all. But right now, I couldn’t see how any of this ended without more blood on my hands.

“Listen,” I said, voice trembling, “can we—can we just talk about this?” My own words sounded thin and desperate. The leader smirked, as if this was exactly what he’d wanted. More prey cowering and begging. Maybe he collected pleas the way other people collected coins.

Lily tensed, and I knew it wouldn’t be words that got us out of this. It’d be action, and I’d have to take it. If I failed… if I messed up again… the thought made me nauseous.

In that breath of silence, I could feel my heartbeat throbbing in my ears. I tried to remember the warmth of Lily’s hand on mine the other night, tried to believe it still mattered. Maybe I could fight for that feeling. Maybe I could get us both out of here alive, and if I did, maybe that would mean I wasn’t a monster. Maybe.

It was all I had. And it would have to be enough.

“Now!” the leader barked, his voice slicing through the dark like a razor, and I moved.

At first, it wasn’t even me moving—it was something else, something buried deep inside my chest, something coiled and waiting. My heart slammed against my ribs, pounding so loudly I couldn’t hear anything else. Heat flared beneath my skin, and I felt sparks hiss at the ends of my fingertips, bright and wild, like they’d been waiting for this moment of pure panic.

I blinked, and suddenly they were everywhere—these men blocking our path, their eyes hungry and hollow. I knew they weren’t elves, not really, but my mind wouldn’t listen to reason. I saw pointed ears where there were none. I saw cruel, pale faces with that smug sneer I could never forget. Elves had taken everything from me—my home, my friend, my life. They’d stolen my future and left me holding the wreckage. And now, facing these strangers in the dark, my mind insisted they were the same. The same as the ones who made me watch Cordelia die. The same as the ones I failed to save anyone from.

It should’ve been me who died. It should’ve been me pinned underneath that debris, crushed and silent, not Cordelia. The weight of that thought pressed against my lungs, making it hard to breathe. I was supposed to protect everyone—and I didn’t. I couldn’t. I’d watched them fall, and I’d watched the light go out of Cordelia’s eyes, and now that memory clawed at me, shoving itself right into the present. Every scream I’d heard that night echoed in my skull. Every time I blinked, I saw her face.

I swore I’d never hesitate again. I swore I’d never let anyone hurt me or the people I cared about without burning the whole damn world down first.

So I let the fire loose.

It roared out of me, lighting up the forest, painting our attackers in harsh, flickering gold. For a second, I thought I saw Cordelia’s face reflected in the flames, and my throat tightened. Guilt and fury tangled in my chest, and I threw my hands forward, sending a bloom of fire rushing straight into the leader’s path. He screamed—a raw, ragged sound that I felt in my teeth. The smell was awful, searing my nose and making my stomach lurch, but I couldn’t stop. I didn’t know how to stop anymore. This violence felt like the only way to keep my head above water, the only way to make sure I never failed again. They would never take anyone from me again. Never.

I barely registered the blow that slammed into my side, only that suddenly the ground tilted and my vision blurred. My ribs ached, and I sucked in a jagged breath, coughing on smoke and sparks. Through the haze, I saw Lily—her dagger flashing, her hair whipping around her face as she fought. She looked like some kind of fierce angel, her eyes narrowed in determination. She was fighting for me, for us, even when I was half out of my mind.

I tried to focus on her, tried to ground myself in the curve of her shoulder, the set of her jaw—but then another attacker loomed over me, swinging a fist that landed hard against my cheek. Pain burst behind my eyes, bright spots dancing in my vision. My mind started to drift, sliding into that place where the past and present tangled up. Was this the night Cordelia died? Was I back there, helpless and screaming and begging the elves to show mercy? I’d never found a way to rewrite that story. It always ended with everyone dead but me. I always ended up alone.

My hands shook as I tried to gather the sparks again. I tasted blood in my mouth. It was metallic and hot, and it fueled the fire inside me. Another man charged, and I lashed out with flame, watching him vanish into a screaming silhouette of light and heat. This time, I didn’t flinch. I didn’t allow myself to feel sorry. They were all elves to me now—all monsters who wanted me broken, wanted Lily dead, wanted to rip apart everything I still cared about. If I stopped, if I softened, if I hesitated, I’d fail Lily the way I failed Cordelia. I’d lose someone else. And I couldn’t survive that. Not again.

I could feel myself unraveling. Every scream sounded like Cordelia’s. Every face twisted in pain reminded me of my own failure. I wanted them gone. I wanted them all gone. Better them than me. Better them than Lily. Better them than anyone I might still be able to save.

The flames danced higher, brighter, and I let them feed on my fear and rage until the men were just ashes on the forest floor. The fight ended as abruptly as it began, leaving the night stained with smoke and something darker—something I couldn’t quite name but felt staining my lungs.

My knees buckled, and I sank down, gripping the dirt with trembling fingers. My side throbbed, my chest heaved, and the smell of burnt flesh clung to my clothes. I’d done it again. I’d survived. I’d kept Lily safe. But at what cost? Was I any better than them? What was the difference between my violence and theirs?

My thoughts were spiraling, and I couldn’t catch my breath. The trees swayed overhead, the stars winking in and out, and I felt like the world was tilting on its axis, about to throw me off. I pressed a hand to my side, feeling something wet and warm. Blood. My blood. Pain shimmered behind my eyes, and I tried to focus on that sensation—at least it was real. At least it meant I was alive.

“Hey,” Lily’s voice reached me through the smoke and fear. She knelt beside me, her expression unexpectedly soft. She pressed her hands against my wound, trying to stanch the bleeding. I hissed, pain slicing through me, but I was grateful for it in a weird way. Pain was honest. Pain didn’t lie, didn’t trick me into thinking I could’ve saved Cordelia if I’d just tried harder.

Lily’s eyes met mine. Gone was the warrior who’d been dancing through blades and fire. Now she looked worried, human, her brows pinched together. She said something like, “Stay with me,” and I tried to latch onto her words, to let them anchor me here and now, and not in that horrible memory I kept reliving.

But my head felt heavy and full of static. My vision blurred at the edges, and I could hear my heartbeat echoing in my ears. You failed them, it whispered. You always fail. Cordelia’s eyes were everywhere, accusing me, asking why I survived when she did not.

“I’m sorry,” Lily said, and her voice cracked just a little. I wondered what she was sorry for. Maybe she could see that I was disappearing inside myself, slipping into the old fear and shame. Maybe she knew I was too far gone to claw my way back. She pressed harder on the wound, her touch firm but careful, and I tried to focus on that, on her voice and her hands and the fact that she was still here, that we were still here.

I closed my eyes. The world faded to the sound of Lily’s breathing and the throb of pain in my side. I was drifting, lost between past and present, guilt and survival. My mind screamed that I should’ve died back then, that I should’ve traded my life for Cordelia’s. My heart thudded, reminding me I was still alive anyway, still sucking in smoke-filled air.

I thought I felt Lily’s hand in my hair, gentle and strange. For a moment, it felt safe, like a lullaby humming at the edge of a nightmare. I tried to hold onto that feeling, tried to believe that maybe not everyone I touched was doomed. Maybe Lily would be okay. Maybe I hadn’t destroyed everything yet.

I tried to speak, but I couldn’t form words. My body was too tired, my mind too battered. I let the darkness take over, sinking into it with the taste of blood and ash on my tongue, Lily’s voice echoing in my memory. And as I drifted, I could still see Cordelia’s face, just beyond the flames, whispering something I couldn’t make out. Something that might’ve been forgiveness—or maybe just the wind in the trees.

When I opened my eyes, the night had settled into something deeper and quieter. The sky was a dark, velvety blue—so rich it almost looked soft—dotted with stars that felt hand-stitched into the fabric of the universe. The campfire flickered at my side, its glow tugging at the edges of the shadows, and I blinked, trying to coax my eyes to focus in the dim light.

Lily was pacing near the fire, arms folded across her chest, her boots scuffing at the ground. She tossed another log on, muttering under her breath, “Can’t believe I’m stuck doing this again.” She sounded annoyed, but it was a different brand of annoyance than before—less feral, more… familiar. Almost like an inside joke, if we’d ever bothered to share one.

I managed a dry cough that was supposed to be a laugh. “You’re better at it than me,” I croaked. My throat felt like it had been sanded down, but I was smiling. Actually smiling.

She turned to face me, one eyebrow arched, her mouth curving into something that didn’t quite reach the level of a grin but was way friendlier than a scowl. “Don’t get too pleased with yourself just because you survived a stabbing,” she said. There was a teasing lilt in her voice, like maybe she wanted to be mad but couldn’t quite commit to the part. “Think you’re hilarious, don’t you?”

“Hilarious is my middle name,” I said, wincing as I tried an actual laugh. It hurt—everything hurt—but it was still better than silence. Funny how pain could feel like progress after the last few days. At least now I was here, alive, making dumb jokes instead of drowning in old ghosts.

Lily moved closer, settling down next to me. She kept one eye on the tree line, but the other eye—a warm brown, crinkled a bit at the corner—lingered on me. “You’re tougher than you look,” she said, nudging my arm lightly, as if that could be considered a kind of compliment.

I looked at the fire, felt its warmth creep up my cheeks. “Maybe I had a decent teacher,” I said, and I hoped she heard the gratitude in my voice, even if I didn’t say thank you outright. Somehow, “thanks for saving my life and also maybe my sanity a little bit” felt too big to say out loud right now.

A hush settled between us, not the sharp kind of silence we used to wade through, thick with all the words we weren’t saying. This was different—easier, like we’d earned it. We just listened to the night: the pop of the fire, the gentle sway of branches, distant whispers of something wild and green.

“You know,” Lily said at last, eyes still on the flames, “you did well today. Didn’t back down. Even when it got ugly.”

I swallowed, remembering sparks, screams, and the way my chest tightened at the memory of Cordelia and all the what-ifs. My heart felt heavy, but I tried to breathe past it. “I had to,” I said softly, meaning a thousand things. I had to save Lily. I had to prove I could still stand my ground. I had to not crumble into pieces again.

She nodded like she understood—maybe not everything, but enough. “We do what we must,” she said, and her voice sounded gentler than I’d ever heard it. It made me brave enough to glance at her, to meet her gaze. For a split second, something passed between us: understanding, respect, the kind of quiet warmth that comes from surviving something horrible together.

“Are you alright?” she asked, voice low and genuinely concerned. It caught me off guard—the directness, the compassion. She tilted her head, eyes narrowing on my bandaged side. “How’s the wound?”

I tried to shift, but pain flared. My body complained about every single movement. “It hurts,” I admitted, feeling strangely proud of myself for the honesty. “But I’ll live. Today was… a mess.”

That made her snort softly. “Understatement of the year,” she said, but the corners of her mouth twitched upward. “We made it, though.”

When she looked at me like that, all the lines of her face softened, and I realized how relieved she must have been that I was awake, talking, breathing. She reached for the canteen and held it out, her touch careful as she checked the cloth bound around my torso. Her fussing felt different now—like it was allowed, like maybe we were on the same side of something intangible.

“You’re the bird everyone’s been talking about,” she said quietly, her voice dipping lower than the rustle of the leaves. “The one who… who died without an heir, right? The one the elves celebrated killing?”

I nodded, my throat too tight to add anything else. It was still strange hearing it put so plainly, my whole story condensed to a few ugly facts.

Lily studied me, her expression complicated. Then she offered a small, crooked smile. “Well,” she said, “dead or alive, you’re stuck with me.”

I let out a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding. “I guess I can live with that,” I said, and for the first time, the words didn’t feel like another wall going up. They felt like a small door opening, letting in a bit of light.

She went quiet, staring off into the trees. The fire sent shadows dancing over her face, making her look both younger and older at the same time. I couldn’t figure her out, but maybe I didn’t have to, not tonight. Tonight, it was enough that she was here, that we were both breathing and bruised and not running away.

I eased back, my body protesting, and let the hush surround us again. The stars overhead were brighter than I remembered, scattered like crumbs of light. The forest hummed softly around us, like it approved of this fragile peace we’d built. Lily glanced up at the sky, and for a moment, she looked almost content. Almost hopeful.

And me? I felt that tiny ember of hope I’d guarded so carefully flicker warmer, brighter. Maybe we didn’t have all the answers, and maybe tomorrow would be hard and strange and violent again. But in this moment, sharing a quiet fire and the barest hints of trust, it felt like the world could be kind for a while.

I closed my eyes, letting the ache in my bones remind me I was alive and not alone. We were friends, or something close enough to count. And that, right now, was everything.

I woke up feeling worse than before, which I hadn’t thought was possible. Everything felt heavy and out of place—my body, the night air, even the quiet forest around us. The trees, usually a comfort, seemed distant and unimpressed. My skin prickled with fever, and my clothes clung uncomfortably to my sweat-dampened skin. I tried to swallow and found my throat scratchy, dry as old paper.

The fire was low, just a faint orange glow, and Lily was sitting on the other side of it, arms crossed, staring off into the trees. She must’ve heard me shift because she turned right away, her eyes narrowing in concern. She looked tired—like she’d been waiting for me to wake up and hadn’t gotten any sleep herself. Her hair was a mess, her cheeks smudged with dirt, and something about seeing her this unguarded made my chest tighten.

“Hey,” she said quietly, getting up and coming over before I even tried to speak. She crouched next to me, her hand hovering over my forehead, like she was worried she’d hurt me just by touching. “How are you feeling?”

It took me a second to find my voice, and even then, it came out cracked and too quiet. “I’m fine,” I said, because that’s what you’re supposed to say. But we both knew I wasn’t. I could see it in the way her mouth tightened. My stomach twisted with guilt for lying, even though I wasn’t fooling anyone.

“You feel like a furnace,” she said, pressing her palm to my forehead anyway. Her hand was calloused and cool against my skin. I wanted to lean into that coolness, let it chase away the fever burning behind my eyes. “You’ve been out for a while.”

“Sorry,” I managed, though I wasn’t sure what I was apologizing for. Maybe for making her worry, maybe for needing her help.

She shook her head, then grabbed the canteen from where it lay near the fire, unscrewing the cap. “Don’t be stupid,” she said, but there was no bite to it. She slipped an arm under my shoulders and helped me sit up just enough to drink. The water tasted slightly metallic, probably from the canteen, but it was cool and wet, and I almost sighed out loud with relief.

“Better?” she asked, her face close enough that I could see the lines of exhaustion around her eyes. The night smelled like damp earth and woodsmoke, and now that I was upright, I noticed my entire body ached, like I’d run ten miles or fought off a bear or something equally ridiculous.

I nodded, though my head felt floaty. “Thanks,” I said, and I meant it. She was being gentle, careful. This was Lily, who so often spoke in clipped words and sideways glances, who’d killed men without flinching. Now she was tucking a blanket around my shoulders, like I was something fragile.

She settled back on her heels, assessing me. “You’ve got a fever,” she said plainly. “You need to rest.”

“I have been resting,” I pointed out weakly. It came out sounding like an attempt at humor, and her mouth lifted at one corner. A smile, almost.

“Yeah, well, do it more,” she said. She looked over her shoulder at the forest, scanning for threats, I guess. When she turned back, there was something careful in her expression. “I’ll keep watch.”

It hit me then that she was worried about more than just my fever—she was worried about us being vulnerable, about someone stumbling upon our little camp and finding me half-dead. That protective edge in her eyes, it settled something in my chest, made me feel less alone. Less like a burden.

I tried to relax, but my muscles felt tense, my side hurt, and my mind kept drifting, half-awake, to jumbled images I couldn’t quite piece together. I kept seeing faces—people I’d lost—blinking in and out of my memory like fireflies. It made my heart ache. I pressed a hand to my chest, tried to focus on something real, something solid.

Lily noticed. She leaned in and took my hand—not in a dramatic way, just kind of scooped it up as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “Don’t go all strange on me,” she said softly, and I thought I heard a hint of teasing in her voice. “You’re allowed to be sick. You’re allowed to feel bad. No one’s judging you here.”

I exhaled, the sound shaky. “I don’t want to drag you down,” I admitted. It felt silly as soon as I said it, but it was true. I hated feeling useless. She’d done so much—fought, protected, fussed over me like some cranky nursemaid—and I was just lying here, sweating and shaking.

Her eyes softened, the fire’s light catching flecks of gold in them. “You’re not dragging me anywhere,” she said, giving my hand a squeeze. “This is what people do. They help each other. Besides, you’d do it for me.”

I thought about that. Would I? Yeah, I would. Even before we’d trusted each other, something about Lily made me want to step up, to be braver. She had that effect—pushing me toward the kind of person I wanted to be. I swallowed, tried to muster a real smile. “I would,” I said.

She nodded, like we were settling an argument I didn’t realize we’d been having. Then, as if deciding I looked stable enough not to keel over, she released my hand and reached for a piece of cloth. She dipped it in water and pressed it to my forehead. The coolness was heaven, and I closed my eyes, letting it soothe the heat pulsing beneath my skin.

In the quiet that followed, I felt the night envelop us. The distant chirps of insects, the gentle rustle of leaves, the slow crackle of dying embers—it all threaded together into something calm and steady. And Lily was right here, close enough that I could feel the warmth of her arm when she leaned forward to adjust the cloth, close enough that I could smell the faint scent of sweat and travel and fire smoke that clung to us both.

“I owe you,” I managed after a few minutes of silence, my voice a rasp against the hush of the woods.

“No, you don’t,” she said. Not snappy or sarcastic—just kind. Like maybe this was what she’d needed too, to know she could be here for someone, and they’d actually let her in.

It was quiet for a long time after that. Not tense quiet, not that uneasy hush where you’re both looking for an exit. More like a kind of gentleness neither of us wanted to ruin. The fire popped softly, and a stray ember danced up into the night. I could hear my own breathing, and Lily’s too, and it felt like we were sharing something personal without needing to say it out loud.

After a while, I swallowed and said, “Tell me more about your daughter.” My voice sounded small, but not timid—more like I was stepping carefully, out of respect.

Lily’s expression changed the moment I mentioned her daughter, like I’d just turned on a light in a dark room. Her face softened, and the set of her shoulders relaxed. “She’s seventeen now,” she said, running a hand through her tangled hair. “Seventeen and convinced she knows everything, and maybe she does. She’s... unstoppable. She was trying to climb trees before she could walk, you know?” She shook her head, a tiny smile tugging at her lips. “Stubborn as hell, thinks the world exists for her to explore. She reminds me a lot of myself, and that’s both wonderful and terrifying.”

I tried to picture it—this stubborn, fearless kid. “She sounds… intense,” I said softly, hoping that came across as admiration and not judgment.

Lily snorted softly. “Oh, she is. She never stops moving. Always pushing back if you try to hold her down.” Her voice had that warm, proud note that parents get when they talk about their kids doing something that both annoys and impresses them.

I let the silence settle for a beat before asking, “Where is she now?” I didn’t want to pry, but I also felt like we were onto something real here, something I wanted to know more about.

Lily’s gaze drifted away, and the brightness in her face dimmed. “Up north, with some friends. Good people who know how to keep her safe and grounded.” She licked her lips, as if choosing her words carefully. “I couldn’t… I couldn’t give her that stability. Not with the way I live. I wanted to, but I just…” She shrugged, her voice catching. “She deserves better than what I could offer.”

I nodded, my chest feeling heavier. I knew that kind of regret, the way it tastes bitter on your tongue. “You did what you thought was right,” I said quietly. “That’s all anyone can do.”

When she looked back at me, I saw something in her eyes—something vulnerable and honest. She gave a small nod, and though she tried to smile, it didn’t quite reach her eyes. Still, it was real. “Yeah,” she said, voice low. “I hope so.”

We let the night hold us for a while, the fire shrinking down to glowing coals. In that silence, I felt like we understood each other more than we did a few minutes ago. Not in some big, dramatic way. Just... better.

I cleared my throat softly, almost reluctant to break the quiet. “What about you?” I asked, my voice gentle. “You’ve been all over. What’s that like?”

Lily’s gaze moved up, past the trees, like she was searching the stars for her memories. “It’s been a lot of things,” she said, voice going distant. “Exciting, lonely, dangerous. I’ve seen places so beautiful they made my chest ache, and I’ve seen things I wish I could erase from my mind. I’ve met people who changed me, people I still miss, and people I’m glad I never saw again.” She let out a short laugh. “It’s not always glamorous, being rootless. It can wear you down.”

I tried to imagine that life—never staying still, never letting anyone in too close. It must’ve felt like carrying a heavy pack you could never put down. “Any fun stories?” I asked, hoping to give her a moment of pride, something that didn’t hurt.

A real smile flickered across her face. “There was this village up north. They were dealing with these bandits—nothing but bullies, really—and I decided I’d had enough of them pushing decent people around.” She shrugged, trying to play it off, but I saw the spark in her eyes. “I cornered their leaders, made them see reason.” She paused, then snorted. “They ran off so fast I’m surprised their pants didn’t catch fire.”

Despite everything, I grinned. “You’re kind of a badass, you know.”

Lily rolled her eyes, but I could tell the compliment landed somewhere good. “I just do what needs to be done,” she said. But there was a gentleness in how she said it this time.

The fire cracked softly, and I could feel something hanging between us, something heavier. I took a breath and asked the question that had been on my mind. “You mentioned someone once—your first love. What happened?”

Her whole body went a little still, and I almost regretted asking. Almost. But then she started to speak, voice quieter now, like she was talking around a lump in her throat. “We were kids, basically. We had all these plans... We thought nothing could touch us.” She looked into the coals, as if the answers were there. “But life took a turn. She died. Just like that. And I was left wondering how I was supposed to keep breathing when half of me was gone.”

My own throat tightened at that. It was such a simple, brutal truth. I reached out, placing my hand over hers. She didn’t pull away. “I’m sorry,” I said, because what else could I say?

Lily nodded, staring at the fire, her eyes wet but not spilling over. “I never really got over it,” she confessed quietly. “I told myself it was safer not to let anyone in. That maybe I wouldn’t hurt so bad if I kept everyone at a distance.” She swallowed hard. “But sometimes, especially when it’s quiet, I wonder if I made a mistake. Maybe I could have found happiness again, if I just… tried.”

The pain in her voice was so human, so recognizable. I’d carried a different kind of loneliness, but I knew the shape of it. “It’s never too late,” I said softly, hoping she could feel how much I meant it.

She turned, meeting my eyes. I could see the battle going on inside her—the old habits telling her to slam the door shut, the new hope telling her to leave it open. Then she let out a breath and her shoulders relaxed a fraction. “Maybe,” she said, and I believed her.

I asked about Tinka’s father, not to pry, but because it seemed like something else she needed to say. She shrugged, a little embarrassed. “Just a fling. I found out I was pregnant after he was gone. I raised her the best I could, alone. Told myself we didn’t need him. And we managed. But…” She sighed, looking at her boots. “Sometimes I wonder if I robbed her of something. If I should’ve tried to find him.”

My heart ached for her, for the weight of all these what-ifs. “From what you’ve said, Tinka’s strong and fearless. She’s going to be okay. And she knows you love her, right?”

Lily looked at me then, and something in her eyes eased. “Yeah,” she said, voice just above a whisper. “I think she does.”

We walked on for a while, not needing to fill the silence. The sun had started its slow descent, turning the fields and trees a softer shade of gold. A warm breeze brushed over us, carrying the smell of wildflowers and hay, as if the world was trying to tell us it wasn’t all bad. And maybe it wasn’t. Maybe there were quiet moments of kindness, even when everything else felt impossible.

I kept sneaking glances at Lily, noticing how her posture eased as we settled into the quiet, her shoulders not quite as tense. Without the fire or the night sky, without the urgent need to survive hanging right over our heads, I could see her more clearly now. She wasn’t just scars and stories or that wary look in her eye. She was a person who’d been hurt—and who’d kept going anyway. It made me feel protective and in awe, all at once.

She caught me looking once, and I half expected her to roll her eyes or make some snarky comment. But instead, her lips curved into something that might’ve been a smile, just shy of it, like she didn’t know if she was allowed to feel okay. I smiled back, just a small tilt of my mouth, letting her know I wasn’t judging, just glad to be there.

Eventually, the questions I’d been dancing around couldn’t stay quiet anymore. I took a breath and asked about the scars—softly, carefully. I didn’t want to poke at old wounds, but I wanted to understand. I wanted to know the things that shaped her, the memories that echoed when she was quiet.

Her answer came slowly, like it hurt to push the words out. A wolf shapeshifter, a fight in the woods, someone named Dina who she tried to save and couldn’t. Her voice was quieter than I’d ever heard it, and each syllable felt like it carried a weight of its own. She didn’t look at me while she talked, and I understood why. This wasn’t just a story, it was something lodged inside her, something raw and personal.

I listened, not moving, not daring to break the moment with some empty reassurance. The way her voice trembled on Dina’s name said more than I could ever fix with words. I knew what it was like to carry that kind of regret, to hold someone’s memory too close.

When she finished, I found myself speaking just as softly. “I’m sorry.” It felt like the only thing worth saying, because it was true. Hearing about Dina—and about the scars and what they stood for—made my chest tighten. I thought of Aldara, and how I’d never really healed from losing her, either. The loss just learned to sit quietly inside me, like a passenger I’d stopped trying to kick out.

Lily turned to me, her eyes meeting mine this time, and I saw something there that hadn’t been before. Maybe recognition, or understanding. Maybe just relief that she wasn’t the only one who knew what it felt like to fail someone you loved. We didn’t talk about it much, but in that look, we said everything: I know it hurts. I know you’re still carrying it. Me too.

After that, the heaviness between us changed shape. It wasn’t gone, but it was shared now. We walked a bit farther in silence, letting the quiet settle. The birds kept singing, and the sun kept dipping lower, and the world didn’t stop because of our grief. Somehow, that made it easier to keep moving forward.

At some point, I tried for a smile, something small and hopeful. “If we ever run into trouble again,” I said lightly, “I’ll do my best. I may not be the best fighter, but I’m stubborn enough to slow something down, at least.”

That coaxed a snort of amusement out of her, and I realized how much I liked the sound. “You’d better,” she said, her tone almost playful. “I’m counting on you to distract whatever’s out there while I do the hard work.”

I chuckled, shaking my head. The banter felt good, like stretching a sore muscle that was finally starting to heal. We kept walking, side by side, our shadows growing long across the dirt road. The fields swayed gently, the forest rustled softly, and somewhere in the distance, the sky was folding itself into dusk.

We didn’t have all the answers. We didn’t know what tomorrow would look like. But right now, we were here, walking together. And that felt human in all the best ways—imperfect and hopeful, painful and comforting, all at once. It made me think that maybe, against all odds, we were going to be okay.

We kept walking, the sky turning all those colors I used to love back home—pale oranges, warm pinks, the kind of colors that make you feel like everything might be okay, just for a minute. I don’t know what made me speak up then—maybe it was the quiet, or maybe it was the way Lily felt like someone who could actually hear me. But suddenly I was talking, my voice soft under that wide-open sky.

“I miss my friends back home,” I said, surprising myself with how raw it sounded. The words came out quieter than I intended, like I was testing them in the air. Lily glanced over, and I could feel her attention land on me, steady and kind. She didn’t push, didn’t rush me. Just waited, the way a good friend does.

So I told her about them—about Yoongi, who was like the world’s most reliable anchor, keeping me steady when everything else felt like it was slipping. About Jin, who could find the funny in anything, who could make us laugh even when we were scared or tired or heartbroken. And Wendy—bright, restless Wendy with her wild ideas and big plans, always dragging us off on some adventure. I could almost see them as I spoke, like they were walking beside me again, their laughter drifting on the breeze.

Lily nodded at all the right times, and when she smiled, it didn’t feel forced. “They sound like a pretty unforgettable group,” she said softly, and just hearing that was enough to loosen some knot in my chest.

I tried to paint the picture for her: the bonfires on the beach near Syrena, the nights we stayed up way too late teasing each other and making grand plans. There’d been complications, too—Wendy’s unreturned crush on Yoongi, her eventual relationship with Jin—but somehow, we always found a way through. I told Lily about how our families and covens intertwined, how the celebrations felt like home in a way words couldn’t really describe.

My voice caught a little when I admitted how much I missed them. “Do you think they remember me?” I asked, my gaze dropping to the gravel road under our boots. It was a silly question, maybe, but I couldn’t help it. The world felt so different now, and the idea that maybe I’d faded in their memories hurt more than I wanted to admit.

Lily nudged me, her shoulder against mine. “They haven’t forgotten,” she said simply. “People don’t just forget someone they love. One day you’ll see them again, and it’ll feel like you never left.”

I looked at her, and there was something about the way she said it—so matter-of-fact and sincere—that made it easier to breathe. I smiled, small but real. “You think so?”

She grinned, a soft twinkle in her eye. “I know so. Besides, you’re kind of hard to forget.” She winked, and I laughed, feeling lighter.

It was like, for a second, I could let myself imagine that future—coming home, stepping back into my old life, picking berries in my garden, laughing with Wendy, teasing Yoongi, rolling my eyes at Jin’s jokes. It didn’t feel so impossible when Lily said it out loud.

Then I told her about Taehyung, how he hid at my cottage for a summer after his pack rejected him. How he’d become like family to me, full of jokes and life, shrugging off pain like it was nothing. And Jimin—just saying his name made my throat tighten. I whispered how much I missed him, how I hoped we could be together again someday, even though I was scared I might not live long enough to see that day come.

Lily’s hand found my arm, a gentle, human touch. “You’ve made it this far,” she said quietly, “you can keep going. And I’m right here.”

That did something to me—put a crack in the walls I’d built to keep the fear in. I nodded, my eyes stinging a little. Her belief felt like a gift I didn’t know I needed.

I let myself talk about Cadoc, the air elemental who’d helped me escape when things got bad. How he was distant and weird and not really what I’d call a friend at first, but when it counted, he showed up. It made me ache in a good way, remembering all these people, all these pieces of home.

“God, I’m homesick,” I muttered, pressing a hand to my chest like I could hold the feeling in place. The fields and forests around us were beautiful, sure, but they weren’t mine. They weren’t my cottage, my garden, my friends. They weren’t the place where I felt safe and seen.

Lily understood—at least, as much as anyone could. She nodded, her expression softening. “I get it,” she said. “But you’re not alone right now. You’ve got me, and I’m sticking around.”

I smiled at her, gratitude swelling inside me. It felt strange and comforting at the same time, to find a friend here and now, on this dusty road far from home.

So I told her more. I described my cottage in the woods, the tiny garden where I grew strawberries and herbs, the little bird named Patto who sang at my window every morning, and the doe, Delinah, who sneaked in to nibble at my plants. I tried to show Lily that part of me—the quiet mornings, the light filtering through the branches, the feeling that maybe the world wasn’t such a hard place after all.

She listened like it mattered, like these details helped her understand me. “It sounds perfect,” she said softly, and I could tell she meant it.

“I just want to go back,” I admitted, my voice catching. “I want to feel that peace again, sit in my garden, and just… be home.”

Lily’s hand on my shoulder again, a small squeeze. “We’ll get you there,” she said, her voice steady. “I promise.”

I looked at her, tears threatening at the corners of my eyes. “You should come with me,” I said impulsively, imagining how she’d fit into that picture—Lily talking to Wendy, bantering with Jin, rolling her eyes at Yoongi’s calm demeanor. “You belong there, too. Or at least… I’d like you there.”

She raised an eyebrow, then smiled. “I think I’d like that. Someone’s gotta keep an eye on you, right?”

I laughed, and it came out easy. For once, I didn’t feel like I had to carry every burden alone. The sun dipped lower, its light softer now, painting the world in gentle hues. We kept walking, our pace unhurried, the road stretching ahead. And as the day gave way to twilight, I realized something: I wasn’t just hoping for home anymore—I was starting to believe I might actually find it. And when I did, I wouldn’t be alone.

We walked in a kind of hush that wasn’t uncomfortable at all—just quiet, like the world around us was catching its breath. The trees arched overhead, the sky softened into evening, and somewhere a bird was singing a last, sweet note before settling in for the night. When Lily spoke, it was almost surprising, but not unwelcome. It felt like we were in a safe place now—somewhere we could let the past peek through the cracks.

“You know,” she said, her voice low and thoughtful, “I had a place like that once. Not quite a cottage, but… it was an old cabin by a pond. More like a shack, really. Dina and I used to hide out there, away from her mother. We’d fish in the mornings, sit by the fire at night, and pretend the rest of the world didn’t exist. It wasn’t fancy, but it felt like ours.”

I glanced over at her, half expecting the usual guarded look, but what I found was something gentler. Her gaze was distant, aimed somewhere past the horizon. “That sounds amazing,” I said softly, meaning it. I could almost picture it: the quiet water reflecting the sky, the hush of two friends passing time without any hurry. “Do you ever think about going back?”

Lily’s shoulders lifted in a small shrug. “Sometimes. But it’s not the same without her.” Her voice had that quiet tremor people get when they talk about someone they lost long ago but still miss every day. “I just keep the memories now. They’re easier to carry than trying to hold onto the place itself.”

My hand reached out almost on its own, my fingers brushing her arm. The contact felt real and kind of important, but also so normal. “I’m sorry,” I said softly, not wanting to stir up old pain. “I didn’t mean—”

She shook her head, a sad but understanding smile on her lips. “It’s okay. It’s been a long time. And places like that—they never really leave you, you know? They get inside you. Like your cottage is inside you, shaping who you are.”

I nodded, something tight in my chest easing a little. “I think so, too. Those places become part of us. They give us strength when everything else is falling apart.”

She looked at me then, really looked at me, her eyes less distant now and more… present. “And maybe when this is over, we can find new places. Make new memories. Together.”

I smiled, feeling the warmth of that word—together—spread through me like a gentle flame. “I’d like that,” I whispered, almost too quietly, but I knew she heard.

We kept walking. The road stretched out and out, but it didn’t feel endless in a bad way anymore. More like a promise than a threat. I thought about my old home, and about Lily’s cabin, and about all the strange, in-between times that had led us here. Maybe somewhere ahead there was a new home waiting for both of us—one that smelled like fresh earth and summer flowers, where laughter and conversation felt effortless. Maybe Tinka would be there, too. Maybe it’d be bright and warm, the birds singing in the trees, and maybe it’d be summer so we could celebrate Litha together, the way old friends and new friends do.

The sky was sliding into night, one star after another winking into place. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw something flash across the darkness, quick and bright.

“Look,” Lily said, pointing up. “A shooting star.”

I tilted my head back just in time to catch the tail end of it. I closed my eyes and made a wish—several wishes, actually. For home, for peace, for the life I longed to return to, and for a future where Lily and Tinka could settle into my old cottage while I moved into Jimin’s place nearby. Where the hybrids would live close enough to visit for dinner, and the birds would sing every morning. Where the first Litha we spent together tasted of smreka and hope. I held those wishes close, like seeds I wanted to plant in my heart.

When I opened my eyes, Lily was watching me with a half-smile. “Did you make a wish?”

I nodded, a small grin tugging at my lips. “Yeah, I did.”

“Good,” she said, turning her gaze to the sky, her voice lighter now. “I made one too. I have a feeling they’ll come true.”

And just like that, the world felt a bit kinder. We walked on, guided by starlight and the quiet certainty that we weren’t walking alone anymore. The future still felt big and uncertain, but I had hope like a steady pulse in my chest. I had Lily’s hand close enough to reach for if I stumbled. I had the memory of my old home inside me, and I had the promise that maybe we’d find something just as special in the days to come.

Taglist: @greezenini @adventures-in-bookland @kthstrawberryshortcake-main @zae007live@jimin-neverout @nikkiordonez12 @canarystwin @yamekomz @chimthicc @michiiedreamer @amorieus @mima795 @yunki-yunki-yunki

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[bittertarot]

Mlt to have the most public relationship in bts🙃

Thanks 💋

BTS MTL Public Relationships;; Namjoon : *The Sun Reversed* - Absolutely not, he would hate the idea of going public. He feel like it would bring him and his partner a lot of negativity within their lives and cause depression/sadness for either side, it could even cause a potential breakup due to delusional fans or just hatred towards his partner. He'd try to avoid going public at all costs! Jin : *Justice Reversed* - Instead of a clear yes or no, I always interpret Justice whether reversed or upright as a solid maybe. It depends on how him and his partner feels, as he does not wish to be dishonest with his fans. However, he does not want to be unfair towards his partner by only doing private dates late at night. He wouldn't be sure how to handle it till a point came where to HAD to make a decision. Yoongi : *Knight of Pentacles Reversed* - Nope, never, hell no. He'd find it exhausting and would feel like obsessive fans, mainly sasaengs, would never let him feel at peace. It'd be the worst possible thing he'd have to do if there came a moment where he was forced to. It would just make him utterly miserable as he knows the consequences/what would happen if he went public with it. Hoseok : *King of Cups Reversed* - Another absolutely never. This would bring his mood down, he'd feel about tricking his fans but if he had to, he would try to gaslight/manipulate his fans if they picked up on something that could even hint to his relationship/the identity of his partner. He's very protective and only wants him and his potential partner to be happy (what a sweet guy.. :'] ) Jimin : *Wheel of Fortune Reversed* - Like Jin, he's another maybe. A 50-50 chance. He would have to see how things work out, how his partner feels, how he thinks the fans would react to decide. His gut feeling would have a bad feeling about announcing it, though. He'd definitely want to keep it under wraps if he can. If forced to make a decision, he would need time to think and a lot of time, too. Taehyung : *The Magician Reversed* - No, he would not. He would prefer tricking his fans and feeling more out of touch with them than risk exposing his partner to the public, he'd be very cautious to ensure fans have no suspicion at all. I feel like his partner would be a very private person, too, and would not want to be exposed to the public. Jungkook : *The World Reversed* - Even in reverse, I have always interpreted The World upright + reverse as a yes. He would be the most vocal about it when/if given the chance and if his partner would be alright with it. He'd want to tell the whole world about them and would absolutely love to rub it in the face of his fans like "they're mine, I'm theirs, we're such a cute couple." Definitely the type to show off his matching couple pajama sets, jewellery, etc LMAO In conclusion, MTL : Jungkook, Seokjin, Jimin, Hoseok, Namjoon, Yoongi, Taehyung That's all for this reading, hope you enjoyed! <3

[barbiehobi]

[🐿️🐱]

happy halloween everyone!

twt post: here

[magini0]

Kimset (IV)

Pairing: ot6 x Jungkook | Jungkook x Everyone

Genre: Witch AU, Soulmate AU, Ex's to Lovers, Angst With a Happy Ending

Summary: Jungkook has until the next Witching Moon to develop a cure for his chronic illness. With his race against time, he really doesn’t have the nerve to be constantly pestered by his old coven mates—whom he had left behind after a mission gone wrong. Back as a famous healer and sponsored by a renowned magical society, Jungkook is ready to do what it takes to survive. Now, if only his former coven would back off and stop being so damn persistent in making up for their old mistakes…

Word Count: 13k

Also accessible on ao3 => Here Previous Chapter => Here Next Chapter => Coming Soon

There was a strange, nauseating race to Taehyung's heartbeat as he walked down the hall. His feet cascaded down the tiled floor; his loud footsteps echoed tauntingly throughout the empty corridor illuminated by the afternoon sun. The shadows cast the window's silhouettes against the floor. His palms were strangely sweaty, restless as he switched through a cycle of clenching and unclenching his hands before he'd fiddle with his clothes for the umpteenth time, trying to catch a glimpse of himself in the window's reflective surface as he walked, combing through his hair. 

He followed the numbers on each door, trying to find the one that belonged to Jungkook. B013, right? He was nervous because, of course, he was. Their last conversation—if you could even call it that—had hardly even grazed the top of the iceberg that was their relationship. To be entirely fair, Taehyung strongly doubted that this conversation would go any differently. But unlike his hyungs, he just couldn't bring himself to give Jungkook space. He just couldn't. 

Not when it's been literal years since he's spent more than a fleeting moment with Jungkook, not when he had yet to fully take him in. His hair had grown out, Taehyung recalled. The still black, natural hair was cut into a styled fringe. Hair a little longer, bangs stopping a little over his cheeks with a slight curl to the end swaying from the face. The sides of his hair were still styled, covering the tips of his ears. A row of piercings lined one of his ears, along with his brow and bottom lip. His chest puffed with a momentary sense of pride as he had noticed them during their last encounter, and reluctantly wandered back to a place where he watched Jungkook marvel through a jewelry shop's showcase window—lamenting the fact that his parents would never let him tarnish his image through body modifications. 

Taehyung scoffed at the momentary reminder of Jungkook's atrocious set of parents. But there Jungkook had stood— his little bunny, sprouting piercing like it was no one's business. Because it wasn't, and Taehyung couldn't help but feel an assortment of pride and happiness that Jungkook had found that independence for himself. 

Having Jungkook before him terminated any and all of his thoughts, rendering him to nothing but a blubbering stupored twat—while simultaneously promoting such a heaviness to take hold of him. The kind of short, fleeting questions one could sense in the pit of their stomachs—sinking. What had Jungkook been like during his first piercing? 

Taehyung recalled in that vague moment by the jewelry shop window how he had promised Jungkook that when the witch turned eighteen, he'd sneak him out to get his ears pierced. A fleeting smile twitched across his face as he walked, his hand lifting to subconsciously brush against his earlobe. About a month after making that promise, Teahyung had snuck out of the academy and purchased a set of earrings, small silver stars hanging from a delicate chain, and a little clear glass diamond in the star's centers. It hadn't been much, and usually Taehyung wasn't such a fan of something so delicate. But his bun was discovering stargazing with Yoongi at the time—something that had totally not made him jealous—and seemed to be enjoying it. Taehyung had blown most, if not all, of his summer wages on that set. 

Because Jungkook getting his ears pierced had been so much more than just getting to buy some new jewelry. It was more than just an act of spontaneous defiance. It was a call for independence, a step towards individuality that Jungkook's parents refused to permit otherwise. Taehyung had understood that—he still does. 

Taehyung glanced outside, but his gaze was unfocused—did Jungkook need to hold someone's hand? Did his face scrunch up the way it always does, eyes squeezed shut, and nose crunched in that adorable way? Taehyung had missed it. That moment he had reserved for them—he had missed it all. The sense of loss that realization accompanied was unbearable. 

He couldn't help but wonder if Jungkook ever got those tattoos he had wanted, too. Of course, he wouldn't go on and ask something so personal. His bun might literally shank him for it. 

But he still felt unsettled and frustrated by their last meeting. He had wanted to say more, but just being able to see Jungkook again—before him, living, breathing, alive; vaporized any and every thought of his because Jungkook was finally there—he was okay.  

Jungkook had been angry— rightly fucking so, he might add. Emotional, frustrated, hurt. It killed him. Their eyes had locked, and suddenly he was speechless. There stood his baby, his stupid, naive bunny—crying, and he wasn't able to do anything about it. 

Ultimately, he was one of the six reasons those eyes were shedding tears in the first place. In that moment, it didn't matter how long Taehyung had prowled the streets of Korea looking for those same pair of eyes, how he scanned over the crowds to try and recognize that familiar head of tussled, unkempt hair, because Jungkook was there, crying because of him. 

Walking further down the hall, Taehyung didn't expect this conversation to go any better. Realistically, he was just psyching himself up to be yelled at, berated, and metaphorically thrown around as Jungkook vented six years of hate onto him. But Taehyung didn't mind because it was Jungkook's voice doing it. He didn't mind those heated, fiery gazes because it was Jungkook's chocolate eyes pointing them.  

Because even for a moment—he got to exist in the same space as Jungkook. 

And maybe, just maybe, after Jungkook got to say everything he needed or wanted to, Taehyung would be able to say he was sorry. He was really starting to hate that word—sorry. as if the depths of his remorse, the sheer level of guilt, regret, and sorrow could ever be narrowed down to five abysmal letters. 

Because he was so much more than just sorry. He cursed every day that had passed for the last six years—2,190 damned days, give or take a few. He hexed every watery blink, the haunting quiver of his sweet voice, the balling of his fist and shaking of his hand. For every minute, Jungkook was out there, thinking for even a second he hadn't been out there looking for him. 

Gaze following the labels against each the door, he felt the numbers nearing Jungkooks. The door was slightly ajar, and through it, Taehyung could hear the familiar voice of his soulmate. 

"But we fell in love." 

"Despite all odds—fuck, we grew to love each other above all else." 

"So—" 

"So when three of our parents demanded a trial." 

"We agreed." 

"Because—" 

"Because we thought we'd be proving them wrong." 

"We lost everything." 

"Or, at least—I had lost everything." 

Taehyung wasn't much of a crier—that was Jimin's job, and by the Gods, he hated those tears, too. So why—Why were his eyes suddenly so watery? The hair around him felt heavy, cold, and stale. 

He had half a mind to burst into the laboratory, stand before Jungkook, and proclaim that he was still here. That Jungkook still had him and that he was so, so fucking sorry. That there wouldn't be a day that would pass now where he wouldn't be there to hold his hand. Because Taehyung loved him. 

He hasn't stopped. The abrasive, explosive anger within a single night could never diminish even an ounce of the care he held for Jungkook. Because when they had first met, before it was him and Jimin, or Hoseok or Yoongi or Jin and Namjoon— it had been Jungkook. Despite having cared for all of them, Taehyung loved him first. 

He still does. 

But what should he say—now? When your soulmate stands before you, tone filled with such grief and desolation at the sheer recollection of you, of what you had and what you were. 

Taehyung didn't consider himself a coward—no, he was a true hothead who felt first and thought second. So he had practiced his confessions with Jimin, over and over, deep into the starry nights and bear ceilings. But his tongue felt heavy, and suddenly, all the words he had prepped felt inadequate. 

Taehyung had never been good with words. He couldn't string together poetic confessions like Namjoon or Jimin, lay out his soul like Hoseok, or make himself as clear and vulnerable as Jin and Yoongi. He was just well—unsure. He chose to act; when someone bothered Jungkook, he'd bash the perpetrator's head against a locker. If the headmaster went off again, he'd put a hex on the seams of his clothes. 

Jungkook deserved more than that. Not someone who immediately set out on a tyrannical war path, promising vengeance for every tear spilled because his baby bunny was upset and someone was paying for it. He deserved someone who didn't become completely overwhelmed with fury the moment he shed a tear, someone who would do more than just stand still with his head bowed low while being scolded. No, it had been six cursed years. Taehyung was going to show that he had changed, that he could—and would find the right words for him. He might not be as flowery or delicate—but they'd be his. 

"How'd it go?"

Jimin hurriedly asked before Taehyung even managed to close the front door. Taehyung, still feeling like a brooding cloud had formed over him, didn't utter a word as he meticulously took off his coat. He dusted it off despite only having walked to and from the science building before hanging it up. He stepped out of his shoes and put them neatly on the shoe rack, sliding into his slippers shortly after—to put it concisely, he was stalling.

Jimin frowned. It didn't take a genius to decipher the pensive mood looming through Taehyung's aura. Jimin would've gone with Taehyung to hopefully talk with Jungkook, but not only did the witch ignore his little note on the breakfast tray from earlier this week, but it also would have overwhelmed Jungkook. Neither of them wanted that—they just wanted to talk, to see him. 

Taehyung had finally looked up, eyes locking briefly with his own. His own breath caught briefly stuck in his throat at the pitiful sight. Taehyung's hair was disheveled, no doubt from his fidgety hands constantly combing through it. The rim of his eyes were a bit bloodshot, and trailing down his gaze to Taehyung's cheeks they appeared just a bit too red. Jimin bit the inside of his cheek, a poor attempt to keep his scolding at bay. He knew Taehyung handled his emotions differently and that whenever the witch was ever brought to tears, he'd wipe them away with such incredulous vigor till his cheeks turned raw. 

The sight was strikingly familiar. It barely felt like any time at all since Taehyung appeared like that in front of his door. Gods—it had been so late into the night that it became early. But Taehyung hadn't stopped; hadn't slept either— none of them had. The witch's cheeks had been sunken in ever so slightly, and the darkness underneath his eyes had completely altered Taehyung's otherwise healthy complexion. Taehyung had been out looking for Jungkook again. 

Jimin might never forget that night when he opened his door for Taehyung. How, during that night since Jungkook's disappearance, Taehyung had cried. Cried—a loose term for what had happened. Sobbed seemed more appropriate, the type that made one's legs feel weak, made it hard to breathe, and left you with a sore throat. It was the sound of someone losing hope. 

Taehyung never stopped looking—none of them had. But after the first few months, Taehyung's near-daily outings turned more sporadic. But they still visited Hangawoondae annually, still holding onto the fickle hope of spotting their bunny window shopping again. 

"Let's go talk in my room, hm?" Jimin suggested, carefully reaching out and taking a hold of Taehyung's cold hand. Walking past the living room still felt surreal to him, seeing Hoseok lounging while switching through the channels playing across the TV, elbow resting on the armrest and cheek squished against the palm of his propped-up hand. Jin was moving about in the kitchen, preparing a honey pastry with a ruminating look. The sweet dessert had been Jungkook's favorite, a fact that had gone unnoticed by no one. 

Nothing had been the same since Jungkook left. Being able to see some of his old hyungs and share a communal space with them again felt strange. He had missed it.  

Walking past the open space and down the hall, he ignored the twisting pang of emotion he felt by passing Jungkook's closed door. Whether Jungkook was there or not, that pale white door remained closed. He couldn't really blame him, especially after their last confrontation—Jimin understood.  

Gently nudging Taehyung into his (their) room, he gently closed the door. 

The enchantment wasn't necessarily very noticeable, the spells back boning loosely marked onto the inside of the doorframe. But walking through the door, a lingering sense of magic brushed against one's skin for a moment—not by much, but enough for anyone to be aware that the room they were entering was very much manipulated by an outside force.  

Gone was the dreary interior of a basic apartment bedroom, replaced by something more to Jimin's tastes, to his needs. The space was larger, with a wide circular window casting nearly the entirety of the room in natural light. Creams and soft colors scattered about, from blankets to pillows, frames, and wardrobes. A queen-sized bed covered in far too many throws and pillows. There wasn't a color out of place; everything followed a similar pallet. It would've looked stale if it weren't for Jimin's artistic eye, dotting little spots of complementary colors here and there, the occasional green plant from Namjoon giving the space a little liveliness. 

A picture frame of him and Taehyung rested on his bedside table, and a group photo of everyone during their third Solar dance in the academy hung against the wall. 

Jimin was aware of his contribution to their split. He had been so scared, hurt, frightened, and angry at the time. He had his reasons during that night; the time he spent in the Deep with the others was too long. The mission had been immoral from the start—who would do that to a bunch of teenagers? 

But still, he had never managed to actually get rid of any of their shared photos. He still had their old photo albums hiding underneath his bed; the one hanging against the wall was simply his favorite. Glancing at it now, their naive and smiling faces. His eyes lingered against Jungkook's young form; they had been holding hands. Jimin— Jimin couldn't bear to look at it. 

Yeontan was snoozing in his little dog bed, the hyper dog oblivious to the occurring drama. Hana, Jimin's white snake familiar, remained sunbathing by the window sill. Her sharp, snake-like eyes opened as the two witches entered the room. She remained silent, but she didn't need to say much to show her disapproval. 

Taehyung plopped himself down at the edge of the bed, his elbows resting on his thighs while he dropped his head in his hands. Seeing Taehyung so depleted unsettled Jimin to the core, his pace slightly hurried as he sat down beside him.

"It didn't go well, huh?" Jimin hummed, beginning to rub gently at Taehyungs hunched over back. There was a silence that followed, a pause as Taehyung breathed, focusing solely on the rhythmic pattern of Jimin's soothing hand. 

"It didn't go at all," Taehyung muttered, voice hoarse. 

Ah. 

Ah.  

Jimin sighed, shoulders dropping as the little flicker of hope he had built dimmed. Taehyung had cried, when exactly he wasn't sure, most likely on the way back to the apartments. 

"Hyung…" Taehyung strained, the small plea halting Jimin's actions and line of thought at the sheer—grief? That Taehyung's tone carried. It broke his heart more than it already was. 

"Oh, oh honey, come here." He ushered, pulling Taehyung into his arms. A tight hold, reassuring in the sense of telling Taehyung that he was there, that I'd be okay, and that he's got him. So Taehyung fell. Small sounds, muffled by the wool of his sweater, soon became louder. More unkempt, earnest. 

"Hyung—hyung… he, he sounded—" Taehyung choked and sniffled as he tried pulling himself together. "He sounded so sad." 

Jimin shut his eyes, inhaling sharply. None of them had been spared from Jungkook's distraught gaze, from the disappointment and anguish encapsulated within those familiar eyes. They had deserved it. That much was clear, but still. Seeing it, hearing it, Jimin had wanted to drop to his knees. Bind his soul—more than it was already bound—to Jungkook and his own lifelong pursuit towards redemption. 

"Like—like the thought of us was something to grieve over." Taehyung's wavering voice cracked, prompting Jimin's own eyes to begin watering. 

Because that was his bunny, they were talking about. His companion from day one was that sweet, shy, silly mess he had bumped into in elementary school. The boy with the kindest eyes and most amazing abilities, his little prince, "Eomma says I can't be friends with nulls, Minie." How Jungkook never became like his parents was a true wonder, but he didn't. Not when they snuck off campus during recess or when they took turns pushing each other on the swings. Jungkook had always had a heart of gold, even when he was scared and riddled with insecurities; "Jungkookie, see this red string here? It means we'll be friends forever, forever and ever! Nothin' will change that, my eomma says we're lucky. So let's be lucky, k'ay? It's our lucky ribbon." 

Glancing down at his pinky, Jimin lingers on the five vibrant, red knots around his finger. The sixth, pale and washed out, only remained visible for a few inches before fading out into the air. But Jimin knows it’s still there—now more than ever. 

"We—we have to fix this hyung." 

Jimin nodded, gaze fixed and determined as he cupped Taehyung's cheeks. Using his thumbs to gently swipe away the offending tears, he looked into the scared eyes of his lover. The past week had been an utter cluster-fuck of emotions, a cruel combination of pure elation, utter grief, and guilt, and now fear. Because what if Jungkook never forgave them? It was possible. Despite how the singular thought tore at his heart, it was reasonable, too. 

They could lose him again. 

No.

No, Jimin wouldn't let that happen. He couldn't. Jungkook might never love them again, might never trust nor care for them. But he'd be there. In Jimin's life, in Taehyungs. 

"We will." 

Taehyung looked into his eyes, all too vulnerable and teary. Looking towards him for guidance, and Jimin felt all too misplaced. This was Namjoon's job, or Jin's, maybe even Hoseok's, when the situation called for it. They were all too adept at taking control, leading. But for tonight, he'd take Taehyung's hand and hopefully lead him towards a brighter future. 

"We found each other again. That's all we need." He mused, voice hushed and soft as he leaned down and pressed a kiss against Taehyung's furrowed brow. 

"We'll have forever to get it right."

Jungkook tucked his hands into his pockets as he walked, the warm coat doing little to keep the chill away. Mornings were always chilly around this time of year, just as autumn began to creep around. Jungkook couldn't really tell when his body was being affected by the outside temperatures anymore, considering how his limbs were gradually growing colder each week; breezes like these didn't really bother him anymore. A loud, exaggerated yawn pulled him from his thoughts. Glancing to his side, he smiled at Yugyeom's bundled-up form. A thick, knitted scarf hung around his neck, chin nestled securely in the warm material. The witch had never been much of a morning person—neither was he honestly, but nowadays he couldn't get more than five hours of consecutive sleep. 

Originally, Jungkook intended to stop by for only a day, fix his Halmoni up, and hop onto the next available train. But having Yugyeom here somewhat derailed his original, concise plan. With Yugyeom by his side, he couldn't help but want to show his friend everything he'd been up to and what he'd built for himself since leaving. Perhaps he was a little biased towards Jung-so, considering how the little witch had somehow nestled itself into his heart during their sessions. 

Iseul had stopped by the bookstore this morning, only there to briefly return a book she had borrowed. They didn't usually rent out books, but Chae-won had as much of a bleeding heart as he did, trying to support Iseul and Jung-so as much as she could. Which is how Jungkook ended up offering another tutoring session. Considering that it was a weekend and wouldn't conflict with the kids' schedule, Iseul readily agreed. 

"Since when do you like tutoring so much?"

Yugyeom's voice had cut through the comfortable silence, tone a little fussy from being wrangled out of bed before ten. 

Shrugging, Jungkook tried recounting exactly when he had grown to like teaching so much. He had grown up with all kinds of tutors; attending a school was mainly used by his parents as a form of socialization, a little something required by law, a hassle. If the teachings could be affordable by mainstream magicals, then they simply weren't good enough for his parents. Resulting in his rigorous schedule of six hours of public schooling only to come back home to be tutored privately; he only ever saw his parents for mealtimes. 

A blessing, really. 

Jungkooks upbringing was rigorous, strict, disciplined, and—well, lonely. 

Amongst missed birthdays and solitary dinners, Jungkook could account for two people who made his otherwise desolate childhood bearable. Jimin, a bundle of confident sunshine he met in elementary school, and Soo Choi. A middle-aged witch who began tutoring Jungkook long before he presented, before he could even materialize his mana enough to actually do something. But where his parents lacked, shrouded in the depths of their prejudice, there was the kindness of Soo Choi. A person Jungkook deems responsible for preventing him from becoming a replica of his parents, teaching him about magicals with an openness he hadn't found or seen before. 

Jungkook found himself wanting to be, in the presence of Jung-so and other uneducated children, someone that Soo Choi had been to him. A place of education, unbiasedness, and kindness. A person who taught magic, who could make all things mana, spells, and changes less scary, more natural. 

Letting out a small hum, he glanced at Yugyeom. "Probably because of Mrs. Choi."

Nodding, Yugyeom smiled. It was a fond smile, followed by a warm gaze Jungkook couldn't stand to look at for longer than needed. Yugyeom chuckled, cheeky bastard, clearly amused with Jungkook's flusteredness.

"What?" Jungkook muttered, not enjoying the giggling at his expense. 

"Oh nothin.'" Yugyeom snickered, the witch still clearly amused. "Although I'd love to see you teach, I don't really get why I'm here. You know how I did back in school." 

Jungkook nodded. Yugyeom had never been someone who let others or work stress him out. Jungkook still couldn't get over how Yugyeom had actually managed to pass their history class; considering how often he slept during those times, must've been witchcraft—considering it now, it probably was. 

"Remember Jung-so, the kid I told you about?" Yugyeom nodded, recalling one of their first catch-up sessions in the lab during inquiry day. 

"Well, he's the kid I'm tutoring now. He just recently presented as a witch, and his mom Isuel isn't a magical. The Dads out of the picture, and you know I can't perform magic. I was hoping you could show off a little, being able to see someone manifest some mana, meet someone who was a gifted witch too, might help ease Jung-so into things a little better." Jungkook explained, looking ahead as he watched the little cafe come into view. Cars passed them on the street, the clouded sky making the surroundings appear dull. 

Jungkook might not be able to relate personally to the struggles of gifted witches, but he was aware that they existed. Young children overwhelmed with their new abilities, uncertain how to proceed and finding the concept of magic unnerving. Jung-so was like that, a gifted witch originating from a mundane household. Unsure what being a witch meant, what that made him. 

Jimin had been like Jung-so.  

And he had helped him back then, too. 

"God, you're such a softy." Yugyeom huffed, smile fond as he playfully nudged Jungkook's arm as they walked. 

The cafe carried its usual warmth, a welcomed contrast to the otherwise freshness of the morning. Jungkook had only been away for about two weeks now, but seeing the familiar, cream-toned walls made him feel a little nostalgic. Jungkook could never recall a single day when the cafe wasn't filled, couples laughing, the occasional office worker chatting on the phone, the consistent calling of names. Despite the sheer number of customers, the place never felt rushed or hectic, something Jungkook ought to give the staff the most credit for. 

"Jungkook! I was beginning to think you switched cafes on us!" Han chuckled, making him flush a little. He hadn't come here that often, only every other day—and for tutoring, of course. Yugyeom, as if sensing his embarrassment, elbows him in the arm with a chuckle. 

"Hi Han, I actually left for my seventh trial, I'm only here to visit my Halmoni." Jungkook explained, receiving a simple nod from the barista. "I could've sworn I saw little Jung-so in the back; two hot chocolates then?" Han mused, but before Jungkook could agree, Yugyeom budged in. 

"And a coffee, please!" 

Han wrote down the order while he paid, Yugyeom waiting by the counter as Jungkook went to greet Jung-so. The thought of the little kid being on his own for too long unnerved him, even though he trusted the cafe—and Han, who always kept a watchful eye over the kid—he didn't exactly trust others.

Jung-so was sitting in one of the corner booths, slightly hunched over a book as he waited. Legs kicking out idly underneath him, he was the restless sort. But he wasn't crying this time, so Jungkook considered that a win. 

"Hey, kiddo, miss me?" He mused, prompting Jung-so to look up. The kid smiled, all crescent-eyed and flashing dimples, completely unaware of how it tugged on his heartstrings. Jungkook didn't expect it, nor did he expect the boy to hurriedly hop out of the booth and crush him in a hug, small arms wrapped around his waist and head nuzzled into his lower stomach. 

Chuckling, Jungkook crouched down and pulled the boy into his arms before picking him up and spinning them in a short circle. It strained his already sore arms, but Jung-so was laughing, and that's all he needed. Lowering him back down, he couldn't really suppress his own smile. "You make it seem like I was gone for forever," he teased before ruffling Jung-so's already messy hair. 

"You were." Jung-so huffed, sliding back into the booth. Jungkook followed, sliding in beside the boy. It was their usual spot, formed in a little semi-circle against one of the cafe's corners. 

"God, you two even look alike. Jungkook-ah, you sure your dad isn't keeping a secret from you?" Yugyeom chimed in, holding three drinks in a little carrier carton as he walked over and set it down. Glancing at the labels, he distributed the drinks accordingly. Jung-so shied away a little, glancing at Jungkook apprehensively. 

Jungkook laughed at the joke, rolling his eyes at the thought. He wouldn't mind it, having a brother and all. But Jung-so and he had already formed that kind of bond; they didn't need to be blood-related. “Jung-so, this is Yugyeom. He's a good friend of mine!" 

Yugyeom bent down so he was at eye level with the kid, holding out his hand and shaking it eagerly when Jung-so held out for a hand-shake. "Good to finally meet you, little man! I'm Jungkook's friend—well, more like his bestie. Now, someone's told me you presented as a witch. How exciting!" 

Jung-so nodded, a little more shyly but less reserved than before. Jungkook smiled, ushering them back to sit at the booth. He nudged the hot chocolate towards the kid, smiling at the polite thank you he got in return. 

"Jung-so, I brought Yugyeom here because he's a witch too." Jungkook explained, watching the kid's face light up. That was good, really good, actually. It was important for him to help Jung-so develop a good relationship with all things pertaining to magic and witches; it's a community that he could fall back on in the future. 

"Mhm, I sure am!" Yugyeom mused, smiling gently. 

One of the things Jungkook always admired about Yugyeom was how quickly the witch adapted to different people. This wasn't necessarily surprising, considering that Yugyeom was an empath. 

"I’m also a gifted witch!" 

Jung-so nodded, staring at Yugyeom for a second, then two, then three before turning to Jungkook:

"Whats a gifted witch?" He asked. 

Jungkook chuckled, watching Yugyeom blink a little as he recovered. 

"Well, magicals are categorized into two parties. For witches, it's between gifted and born witches. So, if both your parents are witches and you exhibit magical traits you're a born witch." He explained, before pointing to himself. "Take me as an example, I'm a born witch. I come from a long line of powerful witches." 

He paused, waiting for Jung-so to nod before continuing. "Gifted witches—" he continued, pointing at Yugyeom. "Like Yugyeom over here, are like you. Who don't necessarily have witching parents or grandparents. Sometimes, your great-great-great grandma was a witch and was able to harvest mana. Just enough to collect traces but not enough to use it. If she had mana, then her kid would likely inherit some too but remain dormant." Jungkook explained, grabbing a pen and paper and jotting down a simple family tree while he talked. 

"If there isn't enough mana in the body, it'll remain dormant. So it can easily pass through generations unnoticed, but it'll eventually accumulate and present itself through another generation." 

"Like me?" Jung-so mumbled. 

Jungkook nodded, "Mhm, like you and Yugyeom. Somewhere down the line, which can span across centuries. One of your ancestors began accumulating mana." 

"I know it can be a little startling, suddenly finding out you're a witch and all. Trust me, kiddo, I've been there." Yugyeom reassured, smiling kindly. Jung-so nodded, although it was obvious he still felt unsure. 

"Wanna see a magic trick?" Yugyeom piped up, no doubt sensing the slight dread through Jung-so's aura. He grabbed his cup of coffee, peeling back the lid and watching the steam rise through the air. Yugyeom kept focus, beginning to slightly twirl his index finger. Suddenly, through the cloud of steam, two silhouettes emerged. Dancing a small waltz around the cup, going higher and further into the air. 

Jungkook watched, smile crooked and unrefined as Jung-so's eyes widened with a natural curiosity. 

"What's important," he began, sipping at his own drink. Is that you remember that magic is only scary if you don't understand it—I know it's hard too. I mean, we witches carry extraordinary talents. To the untrained eye, that can be frightening." 

Slowly, as the steam began fading into the air, the two dancing silhouettes followed. It was a pretty trick; Jungkook had to give Yugyeom that. Although it looked fairly simple, it wasn't necessarily easy. They had both learned how to manipulate matter during their third year. Solids were much easier to mold than gas, especially when it came to such refined forms as a couple dancing, a realistic waltz at that. 

"But gifted witches are called gifted because—well, that's just it. Magic is a gift, something special." Jungkook smiled, gently patting Jung-so on the head. He wondered vaguely what kind of witch he was himself. Without magic, it was hard to carry the title without carrying what made him that. For the first time since cutting off his own mana, for sacrificing his own gift in exchange for a little more time. Did he feel like he had actually lost something. 

It was all just survival back then. He was competent enough not to need magic on a day-to-day basis. But seeing Yugyeom, the flying books within Veil's library, the familiars, the conscious shears and watering cans in the gardens, the constellations he'd cast onto his ceilings—it was all gone. Jungkook had given it all up. All for the sake of a few more days, months; he wasn't really sure. 

Seeing Jung-so discover the wonders of magic and how pretty it could really be, he wanted the kid to love it, to adore the craft as much as he did. He hoped that if all else failed and he truly did pass away, he'd be remembered for everything he loved because there was so much he cherished about this world. 

But he still had time. Eleven more months, that's all he needed. 

"Hyung, I thought witches weren't allowed to perform in public?"

Yugyeom began cackling, slapping his knee as Jungkook glared at him. "Oh hun, trust me. That's technically true, but you won't find a single person actually adhering to that rule!" This time, Jungkook reached over and nudged Yugyeom's arm.

"Yah! You're giving the kid bad ideas—Jung-so, don't listen to Yugs here. Follow the rules please." 

"Easy for you to say! Hmm, shall we talk about what you were like growing up, Kookie?" 

Jungkook narrowed his eyes, daring Yugyeom to continue. Which he did: "So, our Jungkookie here was actually quite the delinquent—"

"Lies and slander! Jung-so, avoid eye contact and cover your ears!" 

Jung-so laughed, "I already know! Hyungs Halmoni told me about it. Said you were a little riff-raff back in the days!" 

Jungkook gaped. Covering his heart as if he'd been shot, mouth open and eyes wide. "My Halmoni? My sweet—" Yugyeom's laughter interrupted his little spiel. 

"Aish, I grow to love that woman more by the day." Yugyeom heaved, wiping away his tears. It took them a few more minutes to calm down before Jung-so went on with his endless supply of questions. 

What was allowed, what wasn't. Chatting about their own experiences with presenting, cracking jokes here and there. Jungkook looked on as Yugyeom pulled Jung-so further out of his shell, the sight warming his heart. 

"Hyung, why does Yugyeom have more strings on his fingers than I do?" 

Jungkook paused, his eyes pulling together as he lowered his now empty cup. He glanced up, briefly meeting Yugyeom's surprised expression. "You—" he cleared his throat before sitting up. "You can see Yugyeoms soul strings?" 

Now it was Jung-so's turn to look confused, tilting his head. "Of course, most people have them. But Yugyeom has six, and I only have four." 

Jungkook nodded, it wasn't necessarily unheard of for people to be able to see soul strings. It was just a level of insight that most people did not share, it was rare of sorts. 

"Ah, Jung-so, being able to see soul strings isn't common." He avoided the word normal, the last thing he wanted to do here is make Jung-so feel like he was unusual. Too many neglected witches went through that feeling, and he couldn't help but want to shield the boy from it. 

"It isn't?" Jung-so mumbled hesitantly. 

"It's not bad!" Yugyeom hurriedly chimed in, unable to bear the sight of Jung-so deflating. It would've made him feel smug at how quickly he got wrapped around the kid's finger, but he wasn't any better off. 

"Witches can have affinities. Things they're really good at naturally, like unlocking special abilities that others can't. For example, I'm a green witch. It's an encompassing term for someone who has affinities towards nature—all things living. Some people have water affinities or light affinities." He went on, gesturing with his hand before pointing at Yugyeom. 

"Affinities don't have to be elemental or physical; for instance, Yugyeom over here has empath affinities. He can decipher auras and emotions far better than the regular witch." Yugyeom smiled, making a little heart with his pointed and thumb.

"So what does that make me?" Jung-so asked, still sounding tentative. 

The two older witches shared a brief glance, "Being able to see soul strings is most common amongst seers, hun." Yugyeom explained gently. 

"What's a seer?" 

"Someone who can glance into the future, who can look into people more than the average person." Jungkook tended to stay away from seers, mostly from his own eerie encounters. There's something about getting a hollow look from a stranger that just feels unsettling; he just didn't like it. 

"So, I'll be able to tell the future?" Jung-so went on, sounding more excited. 

Sighing, Jungkook hated having to burst the kids idyllic bubble. "Not exactly, Seers can't really control their affinities. Glancing into the future comes in short visions that you can't control—" Rising his hand, he hushed Jung-so before continuing.

"I know that sounds a little scary, but that's why magicals like you go to a special school. You'll find out what affinities you carry there, and the system will cater to your needs." Jung-so nodded, mulling over the new information. 

"So no one else can glance into the future?" 

Yugyeom sighed, a fond kind of sigh. It didn't surprise Jungkook, the kid never ran out of questions. Of course he wouldn't, this was all new and scary for him. Right now, he was just focusing on laying down the fundamentals for Jung-so so that when he finally transferred to a proper school or academy, he wouldn't feel too far out in the deep end. It felt like his responsibility. 

"Well, yes and no." Yugyeom chimed in. 

Jungkook rolled his eyes, continuing to elaborate. "Most magic can be learned. It's just different when you have an affinity for a certain subject. For example, some people can learn the art of future telling with tools like tarot cards and other mediums. But it will never compare to what seers are able to do. Someone with a water affinity cannot be compared to someone who focuses on spells manipulating liquids. You can study spell mastery all your life and still be different from a grimoire witch." Jungkook wished he'd have some glasses; he could push them up right now and look all proper. If his past self could see him now—he'd probably be stunned. After all, how could he have gone from a spray-painting delinquent to an eloquently educated tutor? 

It would've satisfied his parents; somehow, that thought made him sick. 

"Yeah! It's kinda like comparing a fish with a swimmer! You can learn how to swim, but you ain't nothin' like a fish." Sighing, Jungkook couldn't help but laugh. 

"Eloquently put, Yugs." 

"I'm a natural." 

Walking from the cafe, Jung-so held Jungkook's sleeve as they walked. Jungkook walked closest to the road, the kid in the middle and Yugyeom to the left. It was cute how the kid felt too "grown" to hold his hand and instead opted for his sleeve. 

They had spent another half an hour chatting, going over what they had already talked about and wrapping up any lingering questions. 

"Hyung?" 

"Hm?" 

"What can't I see your soul strings?" 

Pausing, Jungkook looked down at his pinky. The six red knots rested heavily against the skin, and yet, somehow, they remained as feathery as always. 

"Do you not have soulmates?" Jung-so sounded sad; why was he sad? 

A small chuckle pushed past his lips, mostly to usher away the grave expression taking hold on Jung-sos otherwise soft features. "I have soulmates; six actually. You're so young; don't expect your affinity to show up clearly all the time. It's unreliable so early on, you won't be able to see everyone's soul strings." 

Jung-so pouted, nodding his head as they walked. It was still afternoon, and although Jungkook wouldn't have minded spending the entirety of his free day teaching Jung-so, the kid needed a break, and so did Yugyeom, who had been rather eager this morning to walk around Busan for a bit. 

"Hyung?" 

"Hmm?" 

"How come we even have soulmates?" 

Yugyeom smiled. It was such an innocent question. It was clear why Jungkook had taken to such a kid, and although Yugyeom didn't know what Jungkook was like throughout his childhood himself, he could see some similarities. 

"It's a long story. It dates so far back that it's more myth than fact, really." Jungkook hummed. It didn't feel right to explain the gushy tale about soulmates. Even if he tried remaining natural, a quick glance between him and Yugyeom made his discomfort clear. 

"Have you ever heard of The Three Fates?" Yugyeom asked, taking the lead here. 

"No, were they the first soulmates?" 

Yugyeom shook his head, glancing down at his own tied-up pinky. "No, they weren't. The Three Fates were Goddesses in Greek mythology; together, they controlled the destiny of both gods and humans. One Goddess works as the spinner, determining a person's birth. The second was the allotter: she measured the length of a person's life. The third was the unturnable: she was responsible for cutting one's string with her shears." Yugyeom explained dutifully, not short on the theatrics as he acted out, spinning some thread before stretching it out and finally snipping it. 

"Okay, but what does that have to do with soulmates?" Jung-so asked, lowering his hand to hold onto Jungkooks hand properly. 

"Well, back then, everyone only had one string, their own. The strings connecting us to our soulmates now are still the same as back then, an extension of our own souls—the same ones The Three Fates would've woven and cut for us," Jungkook explained. It felt easier when he was just stating supposed facts. 

"Exactly! So, one day, Atropos The Unturnable ventured to earth. They say she met a kind stranger on her path, one who was hospitable and genuine, who offered her water and bread from their bag and shelter for the night." They crossed the street, nearing the convenience store.

"To reward their kindness, Atropos bestowed upon the traveler a favor should the time come." Yugyeom finished, ignoring the teasing look he got from Jungkook. 

"All it took was some water and bread?" Jung-so exaggerated, making them laugh. "Hospitality was very important back then," Jungkook reminded. 

"Anyways, the traveler disappeared. Years later, he came back to Atropos ready to exchange their favor." It was a well-known myth, considering that soulmates were the topic and all. 

"What was it? Did they ask for a soulmate?" 

If Jungkook had a penny for every question Jung-so asked—he wouldn't be rich, but he'd have quite a few pennies at this point. 

"No, the traveler had a lover. Sickened and weak, the traveler sought out Atropos. Realizing that their lover's string would soon be cut, they begged the Goddess to pardon their dying mate." 

Jungkook could relate to that desperation. Although he was assured of his capabilities, that finding a cure couldn't be impossible, that nagging urgency and despair with each passing month; Jungkook knew he wasn't above begging. Hells, he'd probably kneel in front of a goddess too if it meant he could stick around for a bit longer. 

"Atropos could not simply grant someone pardon however; and instead offered the traveler a compromise. She'd cut both their strings and tie them together, binding their souls and saving their beloved." Jungkook felt like Yugyeom was a natural storyteller. He had heard the same tale several times before while growing up. Still, Yugyeom treated it like a performance, capturing both his and Jung-so's attention while he talked. 

"But Gods aren't exactly well…the fairest. By binding the two mortal souls together, they were bound. If one perished, the other would as well." Jungkook knew gods still existed to this day, but they were rare. Demigods were really the only ones still spotted every once and again, from what he understood was that they preferred to lay low. Blend in. But boredom breeds a need for entertainment, no matter the costs.  

"Which is why it's called soulmates!" Yugyeom finished, clapping his hands together. "Soul because the souls are tied together, and mate, referring to one's beloved!" Jung-so smiled, walking through the convenience store's doors.

"So if one of my soulmates dies, I die?" 

Jungkook chuckled, letting go of the kid's hands before ruffling his hair. Grinning at the cute huff and pouty expression he got in return. "No kiddo, it's just an old myth. You'll be fine." 

"Hyung, how come I've never met your soulmates before?" Jung-so pouted, jutting out his tongue. Just as dramatic as Yugyeom, he remarked silently. 

"Well, they don't live here." He hummed, keeping his tone soft and leveled. He didn't want to think about it, about them. All these stories of love, sacrifices, loss, and happy endings were tying his stomach into a knot. 

Jungkook had loved. 

He had sacrificed. 

And he had lost. 

So, where was his happy ending? 

"Jung-so, listen to me for a moment." He breathed, kneeling down as he grabbed both of the kid's hands. "Soulmates can be wonderful. But they are just people, too. What matters most is how they treat you. Your happy ending does not lie in the hands of another, do you hear me? You deserve to be treated with kindness, respect, and love." He smiled, giving Jung-so’s hands a small squeeze before letting go. He tapped his nose, smiling gently. "Don't ever let someone tell you otherwise, got it?" 

Jung-so nodded, but his lips tugged downwards for a moment before he pushed to hug Jungkooks waist. 

"Hyung, you'll come and visit me often, right?" 

Jungkook wasn't too sure. He'd be busy, more than he already was with his inquiry. Time was ticking, and he still hadn't found a solid lead yet. He needed to work more, research more, study more, the list went on. He didn't have time to visit as often as he was, even if he wanted to. He couldn't promise Jung-so those frequent lessons anymore. 

"Hey, don't sound so sad. I'll come whenever I can, okay? If you ever need me, your eomma has my number. You can talk to me whenever you want and whenever you need something." Jung-so nodded, but he looked more upset than before. Jungkook knew that Jung-so could read between the lines, that this would be a longer goodbye than before. 

"Promise?" 

"Promise." 

Leaving the convenience store after dropping Jung-so off felt disheartening. It was always rough leaving the kid, especially when there was still so much to cover. Would Jung-so be okay? 

"I think the biggest lie you ever tried selling was the concept of you being an asshole." Yugyeom suddenly chimed in, breaking the silence. "You're a real sweetheart, Jungkook. You might not realize it yourself, but you always go the extra mile for people. Teach the lessons no one had taught you; that's admirable, Kookie." 

Awe. 

Jungkook flushed, he wasn't really used to such praises. It meant so much more coming from Yugyeom; it felt genuine. What should he say to that? 

"A twat maybe, but definitely not an asshole." Yugyeom remarked cheerily, clearly teasing as he grinned mischievously at Jungkook. 

"Yugyeom!" 

Laughter filled the air, the sun beginning to peek through the parting clouds. "Come on now Kooks, let's go shopping now!" 

Turns out that going shopping with Yugyeom was hard. 

The day had stretched on seamlessly as the two had stopped to eat lunch in a nook-in-the-wall restaurant, the type that was clearly run by an elderly married couple. The woman taking the orders before shouting them towards the back, a man skillfully preparing all forty-two dishes himself. At this point Jungkook had already taken Yugyeom to a few malls, splurging a little on his friends wardrobe, not without a little struggle of course and much to his own chagrin had been forced to try on countless items as well. 

Jungkook should have called it quits after eating; he had already felt a little rusty this morning. Joints hurting just a little more than usual, his head feeling just a little more foggy and tighter. He could tell from experience that today should have been a resting, lay-low kind of day. It was a kind of foresight one only really got through overestimating oneself, but Yugyeom hadn't been in Busan before. Maybe, just maybe, he wanted to show his friend his little part of the world. 

The pretty side. Away from all the melancholy shrouding him. 

Which is why Jungkook couldn't help but add another stop to their sight-seeing trip. "One of the best places to go for magicals in cities like Busan are markets like the Laminel Market." He explained, pushing past a metal gate. A little flash of heat prickled against his skin, a tell-tale sight of passing through a magical barrier. 

"Yeah, I haven't seen as many magicals in the city as I do in the suburbs." Yugyeom said, closing his eyes briefly as he walked past the barrier. 

"I mean, it's a lot harder to navigate a city with large wings or horns," Jungkook added, which got a shrug from Yugyeom before the witch paused and took in the sights of the market. 

Laminel was bustling with an array of magicals twisting and wandering around the lined stalls. Stalls and tents, crafted from materials ranging from spider silk to moonbeams, lined the meandering cobblestone paths. A symphony of otherworldly languages made the market hectic, but compared to other markets, that was rather normal. The air was filled with enticing aromas, whether from a wild assortment of herbs, teas, or other mystical treats from food vendors. 

Markets like these were the place to go if one needed any and all things magical; vendors, who themselves could be vampires, shifters, faeries, or witches, sell everything from cursed artifacts and ancient tomes to rare ingredients and flunky talismans. 

“Wow,” Yugyeom stammered. Eyes flicking over the surroundings as he walked through the market with Jungkook. The overarching sky was cast in a perpetual starry sky, a neat trick to make the bazaar more accessible to the nocturnally inclined. A pair of witches question and ogle a selection of simmering potions. Across the market, a dragon in human form haggles over a piece of meteorite. 

Further down, a group of mischievous pixies flit around selling maps to "hidden realms" to non-magicals. To the side, a faerie musician plays a peppy melody on a lute, captivating a crowd of diverse magicals. 

It was busy. It was hectic and so so magical.

Strings of fairy-lights hang from stall to stall, people conversing happily as they walked by. It was natural, a safe space for everyone who entered. Although humans were the most likely to get scammed in a place like this, they weren't necessarily unwelcomed as long as they behaved. 

"It's pretty, isn't it?" Jungkook teased, smiling at Yugyeom's slightly awestruck expression. The sheer auras must be a little overwhelming for the empath, but there was always a level of comfort when being surrounded by one's own kind like this. Being in a city like Busan left little room to properly indulge in all things magical; bazaars like this always seemed to refill that depleting battery. 

"It's so lively. I heard about the city markets, but I didn't think they'd be like this." Yugyeom vaguely gestured to all around him, eyes lingering on the jewelry stalls. 

"I get Halmonis tea from here, and I'm friends with the vendor." 

"Let me guess, the vendor's an oldie?" 

Jungkook passed, tilting his head as he glanced at Yugyeom. "How'd you know?" 

Yugyeom laughed, shaking his head incredulously at Jungkook's obliviousness. "Seriously! You're found fodder for them! A well mannered, polite little witchy boy who needs some affection." 

Jungkook paused, huffing as he looked away. They walked for a moment longer, his arms crossed over his chest as he pouted. "I'm not little…" 

Walking through the market was hectic, especially since Yugyeom felt the need to stop at every second stall they passed. But there was a sweetness to watching his friend converse so freely with others, laughing with vendors, trying a multitude of rings and necklaces. The occasional hat, shall, or other nicknack wasn't spared either. It felt strangely normal to be here with Yugyeom, and it still gave Jungkook a bit of whiplash to think they had only just reunited two weeks ago. It felt like they had never parted. A part of him understood why leaving Yugyeom had been a necessity and why he did it. But he also wished he never had; Yugyeom ushered away loneliness within him he hadn't even been aware he had. 

A sudden sharp throb against his forehead made him hesitate, his smile turning into a poorly concealed grimace as he let this new onslaught pierce against his skull. Jungkook knew he'd get a headache today, and most of his symptoms were accompanied by headaches. Like a headband far too tight, the pressure increasing throughout the day. 

His heart squeezed painfully like a small dull contraction, leaving his chest sore. He lifted his hand, gently rubbing small circles into his chest. His little episodes were bearable, but with each passing week, they were bordering on downright painful. But Jungkook managed; he was used to this, and he had been warned about this. He knew that if he were to glance at his wrist now, those hauntingly familiar black veins would mar his skin again like an unwanted tattoo. Instinctively, he pulled the sleeves of his black puffer jacket down further. 

"Jungkook—"

The earlier comfort in the market was gone, an unpleasant shiver running down his spine like the shadowy ghost of a hand. It was too loud, too busy, too hectic—

"Jungkook?"

His gaze snapped back to Yugyeom, blinking once, twice—again until he could focus back on who was in front of him.

“Jungkook, are you okay?” Yugyeom asked, skeptical gaze wandering across his tense frame. 

No. 

No, he felt awful. 

"Yeah, I'm good. Got a little lost in thought there, I'm still trying to find proper source material for my research y'know?" Word vomiting wasn't exactly a fair way to avoid confrontation, but Jungkook didn't have it in him to properly lie and make an excuse for himself. 

"Thornvine is good and all, but its potency decreases after introducing it to air." Jungkook paused, ignoring the confused expression from Yugyeom. "Of course, we could put it into an airtight container but the nitrogen, oxygen, and argon would still find a way to interact with the medicinal herb whenever used." 

"Jungkook—"

"Thornvine is a purifier, but it detoxifies the entire body. Considering that the mana is what is actually corrupted, would the thornvine root potentially strain the remaining body?" 

"Jungkook!!" 

Jungkook paused, mouth shutting with a small snap as Yugyeom moved in front of him. "Breath, okay?" Stable, unwavering eyes met his, and Jungkook found himself unable to do anything but breathe. Yugyeom had a very stern voice if he needed it. 

"We were talking about rings, when did you get to thornvine roots again? Jungkook-ah, I find your work ethic admirable and I understand— the pressure you're under. But balance is important, yeah?" Yugyeom explained, clear and direct. Jungkook nodded, exhaling slowly as he calmed down. He'd rather get scolded than have his friend worried, Yugyeom was enjoying the market after all. He didn't want to be the one to cut that time short. 

"Okay, sorry." He breathed, sporting a weak smile. 

Yugyeom stared at him a little longer, clearly still skeptical about something, before letting it go with a sigh. Jungkook grabbed his hand, giving it a small apologetic squeeze. "Let's go to that tea stall now, okay? They give out free samples." 

Nodding, Yugyeom let him lead them through the crowds. Jia ran the stall with her sister, the two elderly fairies had a larger space compared to the others; small foldable chairs and desks littering the front for anybody wanting a cup of tea in person. 

"Ah! Jungkookies back! Bora look—look !" Jia rushed, Bora—her sister—grabbed the dangling pair of glasses around her neck and quickly put them on. Clapping her hands together in joy, "and finally with some company too! Whose this, your boyfriend?" 

Jungkook laughed, shaking his head as Yugyeom snickered. “No no, this is Yugyeom. An old friend of mine." 

"Oh, how lovely. Sit sit! I'll make some tea." Jia ushered, waving them over to sit down. Jia was a very peppy woman, always adorned in far too many layers and patterns. A smaller but larger framed woman whose writs were always covered in large chunky jewelry. Bora was the opposite, a very tall and lean woman who wore monotone colors. Behind each of their backs were small fairy wings. Although Bora was more direct and brutally honest than Jia, both of them were sweethearts. 

They both sat down after some thorough questioning, each being given a steaming cup of tea to enjoy as they talked. Jia and Bora both busy with other customers. 

"Alright," Yugyeom announced as he set his cup down once he noticed Jungkook's thoughts straying again. 

"Thornvine root loses its potency after exposing it to the air, right?" Jungkook was a little surprised by the change of topic, feeling a little bashful at his poor concealment. His head still ached, and his inflamed ribcage was begging for a warm heating pad at the moment. 

"Yeah, it's complicated to prepare but durable. I can't use it if it loses its effectiveness during consumption either." He explained, thornvine root was the best herb he had found for his condition. "My theory is simple so far, thornvine is a strong antioxidant. It has long-lasting purifying qualities." He waited for Yugyeom's nod before continuing. 

"If my mana is the subject of corruption, introducing a purifying agent could control or reduce the levels of toxicity." Jungkook wanted a cure—something to rid himself of this disease. But he was running out of time, and being able to develop a cure that would reduce his condition from fatal to chronic, then he considered that a momentary win. 

"We could put a spell on it? A type of concealment spell to keep the air away." Yugyeom suggested, glancing at his teacup absentmindedly. 

Jungkook shook his head, sighing sadly. "In theory, but no. If you put a spell on a consumable item, you'll also be consuming a small amount of mana. That could potentially develop into a catalyst for the condition." 

Yugyeom nodded, frown deepening. Jungkook had gone through all of this before, developing a theory only to be proven wrong. The defeat grew worse the further on he went when hope was snatched out of his fingertips yet again. It breeds a hopelessness he'd like to spare Yugyeom from. 

"Oh honey, you need to find yourself an azurelbloom!" Jia suddenly popped up beside Yugyeom, making the witch jump a little as he hurriedly grabbed his nearly spilt teacup. 

Jungkooks brows furrowed, trying to recall the herb Jia was describing. "I've never heard of an azurelbloom before." 

Jia hummed, gently tapping Yugeums head in a silent apology for spooking the boy. "The azurelbloom is very old, one of the few truly sentient flowers left on the planet. It was said—" Jia began, lowering her voice into a whisper to make the story sound more interesting. She pulled out a chair, inviting herself to sit down at the table with them. 

"The flower was said to be used by the Gods." 

Gods? 

"Aish, don't believe any of that nonsense Jungkook." Bora muttered, dismissing the idea with her hand as he sat down at the last remaining chair, spooking Yugyeom once more. It made Jungkook stifle a snicker, the two sisters could be quite—sporadic. 

"What?! The azurelbloom existed!” Jia argued, crossing her arms. 

"Perhaps 500 years ago. You're feeding the kid a legend Jia, what Jungkook really needs to do is go find the Nereids." Bora objected, pushing up her narrow glasses. 

"Nereids, as in, the water nymphs?" Yugyeom asked, still recovering from getting jumpscared—twice. 

Bora nodded, waving around the closed fan she always carried with her. "Nereids pulled all kinds of things into the water with them if they were fond enough. They are masters at preservation; if they desired a daisy one day, they'd preserve it to never touch the depths of their springs. If they're able to keep air in, it's only fair to assume they'd be able to keep air out, too." 

Jungkook nodded, finding a way to preserve the thornvine roots was his biggest obstacle at the moment. Perhaps if the Nereids showed him how, he'd be able to finally begin creating proper prototypes. 

"That all said and good, but don't nymphs have an aversion to men?" Jia asked, frowning at the thought. "You're sending the boy out into danger!" 

Bora scoffed at the accusation, "as if setting him out to hunt down an ancient, cognizant flower is any better." 

"Well, it's better then—" 

Jungkooks head pulsed, his fingers trembling underneath the table. He had a lot to think about, and yet, there was so little time. But he had a new lead, and that's all he needed. 

Now, how the hell was he going to find a Nereid? 

Come on… 

A little more… 

So close—

Jungkook gasped as the library's ladder began to slide to the left. He was leaning off towards the side, trying to reach a book on Ancient Greek folklore, or more specifically, nymphs. Unlike most magicals, who could simply summon the book down from the shelves where the library's encyclopedia stood on the podium, Jungkook—for several reasons—could not. 

Perhaps he should have just climbed back down and shifted the ladder a little to the right, but it had been a long day, and he was still partially recovering from his trip to his Halmoni. So, he had been lazy and was now going to suffer the consequences of tasting the old carpeted flooring as the ladder continued to slide. 

Closing his eyes, Jungkook briefly expected the impact to come as he inevitably lost his footing on the ladder as it stretched his form out. Gasping quietly—this was still a library, after all—Jungkook braced himself only to feel tingly? 

Eyes snapping open, Jungkook shuddered as he shortly levitated in the air before being carefully lowered down. His feet touched the floor slowly, but the adrenaline still made him stumble. His savior's magic linger against his skin, like a subtle warm or fading caress. 

But Jungkook could recognize that magic from anywhere, and he didn't even need to wonder who had saved him before turning around greeting Namjoon's worried expression. 

"Did you hurt yourself, Jungkook-ah?" 

Perhaps Jungkook would never get used to the sight of his old soulmates again. The library was a loose term for what Veils had to offer; it was more like a grand and ancient archive. Long, stretching bookshelves required sliding landers just to be able to access the top sections of the bookshelves. The middle of the library had long, heavy mahogany desks available for the students. However, small, shorter desks were also littered around along with comfortable seating for anyone simply trying to read. 

Natural light seemed to flood the library, too. Windows lined the walls, filling the otherwise academic architecture with warmth. Namjoon stood before one of these windows, the light peeking around his silhouette and embracing his form. Jungkook hadn't taken the time to properly look over Namjoon, he had briefly glanced over him when moving in and during their last argument, but now Namjoon was before him and—and he looked beautiful. 

Yeah, Jungkook would surely never get used to the sight. 

There was a new sense of maturity in Namjoon's appearance, from the way his posture was straight yet still carried a certain mellowness. His face and features are now sharper and more defined. Six years had been a long time; somewhere along the way, all of them had gone from boys to adults. Of course, things would have changed. Jungkook just hadn't noticed it before, the intensity in Namjoons changed gaze. 

His style alone had changed too; back in the academy, Namjoon had never strayed from the required uniform, but on holidays, the mandatory dress code wasn't enforced; Namjoon had still chosen to dress in rather formal, business-casual attire at most. Jungkook recalled, rather fondly, how Seokjin and Jimin had dedicated nearly an entire day to pepping up Namjoons wardrobe. They had hunkered down in Jimins and Taehyung's shared room, clothes spewn half-hazardously across the floor, across chairs and their beds, Namjoon forced to parade in front of the full-length mirror like a personal manikin as they tried discovering Namjoons preferences together. Hopefully to stray from his interrogation-like style and more of a casual academic style. Their day hadn't been the most productive, but they did discover that Namjoon enjoyed certain styles over others. Jungkook had enjoyed that day, simply goofing off with his Hyungs and forcing his usually put-together Hyung in various styles and outfits. Having watched Namjoon be out of his element for once had quite the bonding factor for him, especially since Namjoon had struggled so immensely with showing his vulnerabilities. Vaguely, Jungkook couldn't help but wonder how much that has changed. 

Even now, Namjoon wore a soft set of grayish-brown suit pants—some habits never die, it seems—tied at the waist with a black leather belt that matched the black turtleneck that hugged his body. A loose, large-sleeved gray cardigan ties the outfit neatly together. Namjoon appeared soft but still put together enough that Jungkook assumed would make Namjoon feel comfortable. 

How could Namjoon simply look so effortless? It irritated him, mostly because he got caught staring. Who could blame him? He hadn't seen Namjoon in nearly six years; somehow, his eyes were still trying to catch up with the fact that Namjoon was real , that he was in front of him. Besides that, what frustrated him more was that within the past week, he had been asked the same question twice already by both Hoseok, Yoongi and now Namjoon as well. 

Jungkook had hoped silently that they could all just go their separate ways after their argument. At least they could all just pretend to hate each other, right? Hating them was easy. Even if Jungkook's feelings stretched far beyond just hate, what was going on was far more complex than just simply being sad or angry. Hating them was the only way it didn't hurt. 

Finally snapping out of his embarrassing stupor, Jungkook nodded. "Yep, just fine. Thanks." He murmured, looking around him to spot the book he had nearly taken the fall for lying on the floor. Bending down, he picked it up quickly. He wanted to leave. Lest he take a look into Namjoons all too familiar eyes. It was like taking a look at one's past while simultaneously glancing at one's own unachievable, daunting future. A world consisting entirely of what-ifs and had-beens. 

It scared Jungkook how much he was still able to hurt for these people. For him. 

"Well, anyways, I'll be going—"

Namjoon quickly stepped in front of him, stopping Jungkook from escaping the situation. Brows now furrowed in irritation, Jungkook took a step back. The string connecting them tugged lightly, almost unwilling to let him escape their unwelcome proximity.

"Namjoon, move." 

"No, please—" Namjoon exhaled, brushing his hair back with his hand nervously. He glanced around before finally locking eyes with Jungkook. It nearly took the sickly witches breath away, they hadn't been that close before, Jungkook hadn't seen those sincere eyes since— since then. 

It hurt.

“I’m sorry, Jungkook.” Namjoon began, frowning deeply. "For everything. Gods have mercy; there aren't enough ways for me to apologize to you for all that's happened. But also for our last argument, emotions were strung high and I—" Namjoon inhaled sharply, his exhale a little shaky. "You had every right to react the way you did, telling you to calm down was inappropriate of me. I spoke out of turn, and I'm sorry for that." 

Ever the diplomat, Kim Namjoon. Jungkook thought bitterly. However, an apology was better than none, Namjoon's reaction had been out of turn, no matter how diplomatically refined his apology came across. Jungkook stood silently between the narrow aisle of bookshelves, staring at the man he had loved endlessly six years ago as he let his apology dangle heavily in the air. But Namjoon was right, there weren't enough apologies in the world for his anguish to subside. 

Namjoons apology came too late. 

The silence between them made Namjoon nearly sink in on himself, the older witches hand hesitated as it briefly lifted to reach out for Jungkook, halting mid air before dropping limply to his side. Eventually, it balled up. 

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry Jungkook." Namjoons usually relaxed voice sounded wobbly, unsteady as the pleading witch swallowed. 

And just like a dormant dragon, Jungkooks anger sprung back to life. Mostly because the sheer vulnerability within Namjoon's tone unsettled him, and another because the string connecting both him and Namjoon tugged weakly on his finger. He still wasn't used to that feeling; no, their bonds had remained devoid of any and all motion during the past years; feeling it move rattled him. There was something about seeing a shine to Namjoons's eyes that also irritated him. Why was Namjoon close to crying?—he had no right. 

Jungkook had been the one hurt here. 

The silence hanging between them was uncomfortable, nearly sparking from its intensity. None of them spoke, and with a resounding sigh, Jungkook's shoulders sank. 

"I'm not sure what you want me to say, Namjoon-sii." Perhaps that was the most level-headed Jungkook could be at this moment, but there was a certain defeat in his tone. 

"I can't say that everythings fine, that you are forgiven, that I don't hate you. None of that's true—" Namjoons remorseful gaze never left his, when had been the last time they had looked into each other's eyes? "—and you know that."

Again, the library's silence grew louder in its stillness. Namjoon seemed to be mulling over his own words, before he nodded. “I know that, Jungkook-ah. I'm not asking for your forgiveness," there was a pause, and Namjoon seemed to understand that asking for Jungkook's forgiveness was beyond him. That— that was something he wasn't allowed or able to request. 

"All I'm asking for is a chance—" 

"No." Jungkook cut him off, he wanted none of it. 

"Please, just to talk." Namjoon continued, a level of desperation as he pleaded. "Jungkook, I haven't seen you in six years. Please, I know I'm in no place to make requests from you—"

"So don't." 

Namjoon heaved a sigh, combing his hair back. "I've missed you."

Gods, what would Jungkook give to never hear Namjoon say that again. Such simple words, wrapping around his throat like a noose. 

But Namjoon continued, his own draconic eyes mirroring the desolation and fear that this could be their last time talking. "Please, Jungkook. Let's talk—we need to—to talk." 

Jungkook closed his eyes, inhaled sharply, and counted to ten until he opened them again. Keeping the wateriness at bay was futile, and he watched as Namjoon's hands itched to wipe his tears away. The elder stayed still, good. 

With a deep breath, tone cold and filled with a pained contempt, he spoke, perhaps a final time with Namjoon:

"You didn't just walk out of a room that day, Kim Namjoon." 

"You walked out on me."

There was a finality to Jungkooks tone, a bit unrecognizable to his own ears. But it needed to be said, Namjoon needed to hear it as much as he needed to say it. 

"The moment you walked out that fucking door. You relinquished everything you had on me. You have no rights to my life anymore. So don't—" Jungkooks voice quivered, forcing the sickly witch to swallow down his rising emotions. "—don't ask me to talk with you, especially when we have nothing to say to each other." 

Jungkook's hand tightened around the spine of the borrowed book, taking a few steps back. 

"Not anymore," he murmured, giving a slight bow with a politeness associated with strangers. "Goodbye, Namjoon-sii." He whispered, holding onto a faulty sense of closure as he walked away.

The sharp sound of a book slamming shut, followed closely by an elongated sigh, broke the silence surrounding the laboratory. Glancing out the window, the sun had set hours ago; leaving the sky generously decorated by the stars. Yugyeom had left the lab hours ago, not without the firm prompting of the Im coven threatening to send over some of its members to collect Yugyeom personally (which they had); it had been cute. It comforted Jungkook how well-matched Yugyeom and the Im coven were. He glanced briefly at the empty food container on his desk, a gift from Jaebeom since Jungkook had made a habit of getting take-out since he didn't want to spend any more time in his shared apartment than necessary. 

Originally, he had only accepted the meal under the guise that the coven had simply made too much for dinner last night, but this being the fifth day in a row, he was beginning to have some doubts. 

It had been—what? Six days since Yugyeom and he had returned from Busan? It took nearly the entire train ride back to persuade him to tone down his fussing, and even now, Yugyeom focused more on his meals than ever. Apparently, he hadn't been all that subtle at the market. 

Nearly every morning, Yugyeom would come in with a hot drink in his hand, usually a type of tea and a little snack. The teas, always kept warm by simple magic, contained some type of health benefit. Youngjae began joining them during the mornings, explaining a little more about each current selection. Jungkook later found out that Youngjae was the one actually making and brewing the tea specifically for Jungkook's health, each day selecting something different. One day, it had been a brew specific for his metabolism, another for his muscles or heart, and something generic and basic. Occasionally—and thanks to much discussion—the Ims would only bring him food for lunch every once in a while. Now that he was receiving food nearly every night for dinner, also accepting a clearly homemade meal for lunch just felt like too much. Too leeching.

So on the rare occasion where Jungkook allowed himself to be manhandled off towards lunch, he'd eat with Yugyeom and usually some of his other coven members. Depending on who had time at the moment, Yugyeom rarely ate alone. Jaebeom was the head of the coven, prompting him to be significantly more busy than the younger members. But Jungkook managed to spend nearly most of his week with the Ims, and it was—it was nice. Mark and Jackson made him laugh more times than he could count; Youngjae was easy to fall into conversations with, especially regarding his growing herb garden. Jinyoung had traveled a lot before finding his soulmates, and Jungkook loved hearing about the man's adventures. Jaebeom gave off a sense of authority that Jungkook generally avoided, but as the days flew by, Jaebeom grew softer and more doting. BamBam, as it turns out, is as much of a brat as Yugyeom, roping Jungkook into whatever they had planned for the day. 

Glancing at the fresh bouquet of flowers in the corner by the windowsill, he couldn't help but wonder which of the Ims was responsible for replacing and filling the empty vase every two to three days. At first, Jungkook found the gesture cute for Yugyeom, if only the flowers hadn't been on his side of the lab each time.  

The flowers didn't come from Youngjae's garden, so he could only assume it was another form of encouragement from the coven.

Spending time with the Ims felt natural and easy. Despite all their poorly concealed fussing, no one looked at him with those solemn expressions he absolutely loathed. Besides the teas, the inconspicuous push of vegetables, broths, and not-so-subtle additions of meats to his plate, he was treated like a person—not a tragedy but a friend. 

It meant a lot to him. 

A soft, subtle knocking disrupted his poor attempts at getting anything done. Glancing away from the flowers, he knew he'd have to revisit the topic of nymphs and nereids at a later date, most likely tomorrow. 

The lab door opened before Jungkook could get up, glancing around to see if Yugyeom had forgotten his coat or phone again. 

"What did you forget this time, Yugs?" Jungkook hummed sarcastically, turning to look at the door before halting. His amused smile slipped, taking in the sight of Jimin holding a large bouquet of flowers. A delicate assortment of purple hyacinths, tulips, sunflowers, and white lilies separated by the occasional green leaf or branch. 

The bouquet was beautiful, as were the last few he'd received. They would've been even more beautiful if he hadn't just realized they had been coming from Jimin. 

Jimin looked shocked, as if he wasn't expecting Jungkook to still be in the lab. Which was wild, considering that it was his laboratory. His eyes were wide, staring back at Jungkook in a slight stupor. He wore a white puffer jacket that was zipped up all the way, a gray scarf tucked snuggly around his neck. His cheeks and nose were dusted a light pink from the cold, the hand holding the bouquet a cold pinkish as well. 

Jungkook seemed to snap out of his surprise first, clearing his throat as he mimicked his nonchalance. "What are you doing here?" 

He sounded calm and insouciant. Jimins' presence bothered him, and so did the newfound knowledge that the bouquet of flowers he always spent time admiring each morning was from him. But it was well past midnight, and Jungkook had woken up early that morning to head to the library—his interaction with Namjoon still heavy on his shoulders. Working just helped in that regard, with each word he read and every page he studied. Devoting himself to what truly mattered helped sway the focus back to where it should be; his cure. 

As if snapping out of a trance, Jimin perked up before tumbling over his words. "What?—OH, yes—yeah, I just umm… came here to replace the—uh, flowers." Jimin looked sheepish, which was rare considering that hardly anything made Jimin flush back in the day. At least, they hadn't been able to. Jimin had been open to, well— most things. Besides little embarrassing hiccups around strangers, hardly anything could deter Jimin's unwavering confidence back in the day. 

Did—

Did Jimin consider him a stranger? 

Somehow, between all the bitterness and sorrow he felt when looking at Jimin, the thought of being reduced to a simple stranger bothered him. Not when they had known each other for longer than they hadn't. Not when Jimin had meant everything to him. 

"Ah," for a moment Jungkook wished he could string together an actual intellectual sentence. But it was hard to think around any of his old coven members, there was something about their mere presence that overwhelmed him with emotions. Clearing his throat, he glanced away bashfully as Jimin's gaze softened on him—fondly? 

"I wasn't aware you were the one leaving those." Jimins lip quirked upwards at his words, the witch rolling on his feet before Jungkook let him in with a stunted nod. He walked over to the vase, carefully taking out the resting flowers. Besides a few petals here and there, the bouquet never managed to look withered before Jimin supposedly replaced it. He tended to them with a level of care that borderlined on affection, and Jungkook couldn't handle the thought of any of them, including Jimin, being affectionate with him. 

"Yeah, I had wanted to talk to you after you got settled in. But when I got to your lab, you weren't there." Jimin explained, his voice composed and warm. He took the new bundle of flowers, removing its rapping carefully before summoning a quick set of pruning scissors and beginning to prep the ends. Jungkook sat still, unable to process the normality of Jimin's behavior. 

Maybe Jungkook was just really tired. He still hadn't fully recovered from his episode in the market, or maybe he just hadn't slept enough. But having Jimin in his laboratory felt strange, and so did his warm, gentle tone. It was just so Jimin. 

It had been years. Nothing about the man before him should still feel familiar. 

"I just noticed how dull everything looked, y'know?" Jimin went on, skillfully beginning to arrange the set of flowers he bought into the vase. 

"This is a laboratory, not a gallery, Jimin-ah." Jungkook retorted, crossing his arms. 

Jimin laughed, lightheartedly and airily. Like the gentle music Jimin's laughter had always been, even with how soft and quiet it was now, it eased Jungkook's tense shoulders. After all these years, Jungkook still found himself so weak for Jimin. 

A weakness he couldn't—shouldn't allow. This was about himself, his protection, his self-preservation, and yet, he couldn't bring himself to usher Jimin out of his sanctuary. He only lowered his head, picking at the soft fabric of his sweater.  

"I just—" Jimin paused, hand trailing over the stem of a white Lilie. "Remembered how you used to like picking flowers every spring; the seasons are changing and all, but I thought you'd like a little color in here regardless." Sighing quietly, Jimin stepped back to admire his work. The flowers were arranged beautifully, even if Jungkook didn't want to admit it. 

A silence stretched between them, lingering lonesomely. "This room gets a lot of light. So I thought sunflowers would look quite good in here." Jimin mused, glancing around Jungkook's filled work desk curiously. 

He should've asked Jimin to leave the moment he entered. But Jungkook was at a wits end for tonight, between too much work and little sleep, spending the better part of a day trying to figure out a way to get occasionally man-eating goddesses to help him out. 

It can't be that hard, right? 

Jungkook kept his gaze on the flower arrangement, there was something ironic about the sight of sunflowers without any sun to bask in. Jimin had a light affinity, a literal, breathing, sun. 

"You shouldn't be here this late, Jungkook-ah, it's not healthy—" 

"You were like the sun." Jungkook croaked, projecting a silence against the room. Faintly, one could hear the soft calling of crickets outside despite the laboratory being on the upper floors. 

His eyes lingered on a sunflower protruding from the arrangement, a strange sense of melancholy erupting within him. Jungkook was exhausted, there just wasn't any room for anger tonight. Looking at Jimin, all Jungkook felt was a bittersweetness that edged more on sorrow than anger.  

"You were my sun." Had his voice always sounded so fragile? There was a lump in his throat forcing him to swallow.

"And—" 

"—and when you left ." 

Jungkook looked up, his absent gaze finding Jimin's rueful ones. His old soulmate's waterline glistened, a wetness threatening to spill over if Jungkook went on.  

"You took the sunlight with you." 

Just because a witch had an affinity didn't mean they had to share a personality with their abilities. Necromancers didn't have to be edgy and downright creepy, nor did seers have to be reserved and wise, but Jimin— Jimin was like a ray of sunshine. 

When they had met Hoseok for the first time, it had been like two stars colliding. Erupting to create a light so warm, so gentle that they had all been drawn to it. 

"I—I spent years in that darkness, not able to see where I'm going, where I'm heading, it was all just empty." How many times, prompted by the jinge of the bookstores bells, had Jungkook wished he'd see Jimin's familiar face? 

"So when I finally—Finally managed to light a candle, you show up." He didn't mean to sound so grim, but their reality was; in fact, far from perfect. It had always been the two of them, like Bonnie and Clyde or Robin Hood and Marian. Until it suddenly wasn't. 

"And I don't care, I don't care that your presence promises me sunlight." 

"Jungkook-ah—" Jimins voice quivered, sounding watery. "Can I just please—"

"Because when you took it the first time, you also took my sense of security within you."

Had he been too dependent on Jimin? Of course not; they had been soulmates, after all.  

"When you left, you made it look easy —" 

Jimin had always shone so beautifully; if he had been the sun, then Yoongi would've been the moon. Only now did Jungkook realize that in all his life he had never been anything more than a mere sunflower.

"—like, like it was easy to leave me." 

Autumn was approaching; Jungkook hadn't noticed it before, the subtle chill joining the breeze brushing past him. The leaves were beginning to change colours, greens migrating into different shades of yellows and oranges. The park's gravelly path wasn't littered with foliage yet, but occasionally, a leaf would separate from its twig and dance through the air before landing on damp grass. 

It was early. Early enough in the morning, that the park was still a tranquil haven, cloaked in the soft hues of dawn. The trees stretch out the shadows of the rising sun, its golden hue forcing the dewdrop-covered leaves to practically sparkle as the warming light peaked through branches. The air still had a certain bite to it, a crisp that usually faded throughout the later mornings, currently carrying the sweet fragrance of dew-kissed grass and blossoming flowers. 

Jungkook wasn't usually an early bird; he was late to rise and even later to rest. But it had been Yugyeom's suggestion for Jungkook to indulge in other things outside the laboratory, which is why he was here now. Caring a small bag Yugyeom had gifted him consisted of nothing besides a small sketchbook and pencil. It was an old hobby of his—to draw. Quite frankly, he had ceased all of his hobbies after his diagnosis. It felt bittersweet; Jungkook hadn't really realized just how much he had given up that day. 

Jungkook consistently trod the delicate line between elation and guilt. Throughout his years of study, he carefully avoided any and all thoughts of his inevitable death. He could—He couldn't accept it. Every action he took, every chapter, every essay, every paper he read was done with an innate sense of dedication—of urgency. 

He wasn't going to die. 

The grass, still dappled with the glistening remnants of the night's dew, crunched underneath Jungkook's boots as he wandered off the path and towards an empty bench looking out onto the lake. A sense of renewal pervades the air, and the stillness carries a promise of unknown possibilities. Mallards still stayed floating on the water's rippling surface, heads tucked on their backs and against their wings. The birds nesting amongst the surrounding trees had gradually begun to sing, soft chirps and boisterous calls echoing through the rustling leaves. It was almost as if the park itself was awakening with the day, ready to unfold its wonders for those fortunate enough to witness its early morning beauty.

Jungkook almost found it amusing how Yugyeom's exuberance rekindled his own. How, in his steel-fortified focus, he hadn't recognized the depths of his own isolation. Along the way, toeing between different kinds of grief and sorrow, he had somehow convinced himself that companionship was unnecessary. Now, he had someone holding his hand again. Looking out onto the lake, Jungkook watched as the first ducks began awakening, beginning to prune their feathers before he glanced at the small beige tote bag Yugyeom had handed to him. 

It felt surreal—how things were beginning to change. Jungkooks own echelon was beginning to form, and watching the ducks cluster together as they awoke made Jungkook oddly happy. He had his Halmoni, now Yugyeom and Balam, and he was even becoming evermore familiar with the Im coven from their frequent visits to his shared laboratory. 

With every passing day, Jungkook felt his head slowly emerge from the water he felt himself sinking into. He had always boasted about his ability to move forward after his verdict, but comparing his current now and his previous then.

Had he ever really moved forward? 

His eyes caught onto the still resting form of a swan, the bird's long neck laid across its back and eyes closed as it drifted across the lake. He couldn't help but wonder lazily, what was the saying—Swans mate for a lifetime? Moving to grab the tote bag, Jungkook grabbed the small sketchbook and pencil, perching the notebook on his lap before beginning to sketch the idyllic swan. He was rusty, no doubt from his six-year gap, but he quickly familiarized himself with the nostalgic peace sketching gave him. 

But the reposed silence didn't last long, the sound of someone sitting down beside him had Jungkook tensing. The slight edges of annoyance filling his aura, as a quick glance around gave way to several empty benches. Glancing to his side, Jungkooks breath caught in his throat as he looked at Taehyung. 

The witch wore a long, gray-textured wool coat that reached a little past his knee. A large, red and dark gray chequered scarf draped over the back of his neck, leaving his neck exposed. Jungkook wanted to scoff, partially because wearing the scarf was pointless like that, and to resist the urge to wrap it around Taehyung's neck properly himself. The hell was up with him?

The witch also wore a pair of auburn brown pants that matched well with his white sweatshirt. Taehyung's entire outfit gave off a clean but simple look, matching well with the growing autumn colours. Taehyung had yet to look at Jungkook, eyes instead gazing forward and observing the same picturesque scenery Jungkook had been soaking up all morning. Most specifically, Taehyung seemed to be watching the rising swan. 

Jungkook hated it. He found it abhorrent how his hands itched to fix the witch's scarf, how he couldn't keep his eyes from marveling at the stark change between his Taehyung and this Taehyung. However, he figured the worst part of all—was how beautiful Taehyung still was. 

Jungkook was no longer looking at a rough-looking delinquent with smokey eyeliner and overly moussed hair, and neither was he breathing in the smell of old leather or subtle spray paint. No, the Taehyung beside him was entirely different. He smelt of subtle cologne and wore no make-up at all, adorning a well-picked-out outfit for autumn that complemented his stature entirely too much. Taehyung, when did you change? 

"The others told me not to talk to you." Taehyung began, and somehow Jungkook couldn't help but connect the opposing witches' aura to their surroundings; somehow Taehyung carried the same nippy frost the freshening air did. 

"But I don't care," Taehyung added, and despite the clear disregard towards his own wishes—he found Taehyung's disobedience comical, familiar. "Jimin told me about what you said to him." 

Ah, Jungkook had almost forgotten just how close they all were with one another. Jungkook had accepted the fact that his path would never align with his soulmates again—he came to terms with that. But that night, all of them had split up. Jungkook had remained unaware that while he trotted around the world like a pariah, they had been wandering together. 

Jungkook inhaled, his shaky breath coming out quivery as it clouded against the fresh morning air. There was no way that that realization would ever not hurt him. 

"He looked for you." 

Taehyung hadn't looked at him as he spoke, but it carried a curtness he was familiar with. There was a subtle, pensive sweetness to the familiarity; that despite the physical changes, Taehyung would always remain Taehyung. It took Jungkook a moment to catch onto exactly what he had said, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion before realization dawned on him. 

Briefly, the scene of Taehyung entering the auditorium and jogging towards Jimin's brooding figure during Yugyeom's presentation flashed through him. The sight of Jimin's turbulent thoughts vanishing, practically melting under Taehyung's doting affections. They were so close to one another. Bonded. 

"What?" Jungkook piped, looking out at the grooming swan. It was ironic to be surrounded by so much ataraxia and yet remain utterly troubled. 

Jungkook watched as Taehyung's blank expression cracked, the facade quivering as he whispered, "We—well, we looked for you." 

This time, it was Jungkook's turn to avoid eye contact because—what was he supposed to do with that information? Give Taehyung a participation sticker? A part of him wanted the other witch to stop this conversation entirely because, despite his efforts, his unbridled hate and contempt for everything regarding soulmates—Jungkook still bled for them. With every word, with every encounter, his heart would begin to weep all over again. Taehyung's words hurt, an ache entirely different from anything that could've been caused by insulting him. It was a deep, visceral kind of throbbing.  

"We searched for years," Taehyung whispered, and perhaps if the park wasn't nearly as serene and empty as it was, Jungkook would've lost the softness of them to the wind. 

A moment passed, Taehyungs gaze lowering to the ground as his expression contorted into one of mild frustration. Jungkook vaguely remembers a similar reaction to a conversation they had long ago, where Taehyung confided in him and complained about his inability to properly express himself. Jungkook couldn't help but wonder if those words still applied today. 

"There wasn't—" Taehyung paused, inhaling as his tongue flicked to wet his lips. "There wasn't a pebble we left unturned Jungkook." Please, Jungkook thought pleadingly, please don't say my name like that. 

As if the world depended on Jungkook believing him. 

"Jimin hyung," Taehyung began again, "Jimin even went to your parents." The witch let out a dry, bitter-sounding chuckle that was more spiteful than anything else. Jungkook instantly understood, his own surprise at the information wearing off. His parents were huge, bigoted classists who were pretty prejudiced against gifted witches—those who weren't born into a witching bloodline—opposed to their superiorly born witches. 

Jimin was a gifted witch, as in he hadn't actually developed his abilities until the MCA classified him as a magical. There wasn't necessarily any difference between the abilities of a born witch and gifted witch, but prejudices still existed nonetheless. Jungkook never cared for any of that bullshit. But to imagine Jimin, a man who has always been viewed as inferior by his parents, knocking on their door and asking about his whereabouts stirred his mixed emotions even more. 

"You could imagine how well that went." Taehyung cursed, hands scrunching up. "The old hag tore him apart—rightfully so, but Jimin only ever repeated his question." 

A small flock of ducks flew down towards the lake, circling it once before slowly lowering into the waving water with energetic wingstrokes. They squeaked and squawked, playfully circling each other as they occasionally ducked for food. Gradually, people began entering the park too. The lonesome jogger or dog walker following the path outlining the body of water. 

"So I went to find Jimin, and together we began combing through Hangawoondae together." Taehyungs expression never truly changed as he recounted what occurred after Jungkook left. His fists were hidden in his coat pockets, but Jungkook could tell that he was cycling through a restrained pattern of clenching and unclenching his fists. 

"But together, we couldn't find you either." Somehow, Taehyung still managed to tone his words with a level of despair that made Jungkook wonder if he was still missing. "So we went to find Namjoon and Jin." 

Jungkook knew he shouldn't be indulging Taehyung like this—he should've left. But another part of him wanted to know , he wanted to know what they did when he left. The first weeks on his own were gruesome, a collaboration between being cold, hungry, and lonely. When all Jungkook had was an empty park bench to lay on for the night, his gaze cast up into the desolate starry sky. Wondering vacantly where they were, whether or not anyone was out there looking for him.   

Jungkook knew that despite all the supposed hate and disassociation he had prided himself on, he never lost a certain hope throughout the beginning. With every jingle of the front entrance bells at his Halmoni's store, Jungkook had hoped to see a familiar face. But that day never came, and those hopes died after the third year had passed. 

So Jungkook remained seated, his pale hands resting on his knees, fingertips dusted a light pink from the cold. Though the temperature hardly bothered him, his body didn't really heat up anymore. His mana too preoccupied at keeping himself stable to waste energy on heat.

"Namjoon and Jin went and found your Grandparents—fuck, we even tracked down your Uncle," Taehyung muttered. Jungkook frowned; he had cut all ties with his family when he left. There wasn't one member worse than the other, and they were all just dreadful. But to hear they had managed to track down his salacious, estranged Uncle? That must've come from Namjoon's connections. 

"Hoseok and Yoongi had apparently already searched for you on their own," Taehyung said that strangely—spitefully? And here Jungkook thought they were all lovey-dovey with one another. He had to stifle a snarky remark, but despite all that could've changed with Taehyung, they were still so much alike. And Jungkook knew that if he interjected now, Taehyung might close up and leave. 

"Not even Yugyeom knew where you were." Taehyung pushed through, and unlike the seething stare Jimin had centered around his best friend only a week ago, Taehyung had managed a look of anguish instead. 

Jungkook didn't know where to place that information, the thought of them looking for him. But then why hadn't they just cast a spell? A tracer. Hells, they could've just followed the red soul string connecting them if they had wanted to. It wasn't and never had been impossible to find him. 

Taehyung twisted to face him, steely, determined eyes nearly taking his breath away. "I'm not saying this to guilt you, Jungkook. I just—I want you to know. Know that there wasn't a day you were out there where I wasn't looking for you." There was an unyielding tone to Taehyung's words as if daring Jungkook to disagree. 

"Years we searched the media for any sign of your apprenticeship. But nothing, you were just—gone." Taehyung went on, an almost reminiscing look casting over his gaze. 

Distantly, birds sang, chatting and flitting through the air. Taehyung sighed, scrunching up his face before meeting Jungkooks. "We fucked up!—more than just that—we royally screwed up everything good in our lives." 

Jungkook felt a bubble of protest stuck in his throat because that couldn't be true. It just couldn't. They fucked up, yes. But Jungkook hadn't been that quintessential to their coven; they had moved on without him. How far would they have gone still if he hadn't shown up on orientation day?

As if sensing his straying thoughts, Taehyung reached over and grabbed one of his icy hands. Weakly, Jungkook could still make out the now unfamiliar tingles the touch of a soulmate provided. "Jungkook-ah," Taehyung called out softly. 

"Jungkook, you don't have to forgive us." When had Taehyung garnered the ability to look so vulnerable? Where had the turbulent man of his youth gone? It nearly pained him to look up at Taehyung to meet his soft, pleading features for longer than he already had. 

"Losing you," he began again, looking out onto the lake briefly as the swan swam closer to them before subsequently passing them by. "Was the greatest mistake I ever made." 

The handing holding his squeezed, and Jungkook wasn't sure whether or not he wanted to pull away or not. "I'll be the first to admit it. One year is what I get with you," and for a second Jungkook's heart sank before he realized that the Veils program only lasted so long.  

Suddenly, Taehyung's warm eyes were back on him. "But don't think that I—we won't spend every minute of it trying to make up for those mistakes." 

A silence stretched between them as Jungkook searched Taehyungs face for any integrity, or perhaps anything to promote the opposite. Softly, Taehyung began to chuckle. Letting go of Jungkook's warmed hand to comb his hair back, breathing deeply to relieve the phantom pressure that had settled over the older witch. "Big words, huh?" He mused, trying to lighten the mood. 

"I'll prove it to you, I—"

"Why didn't you just follow our bond?" Jungkook interrupted stubbornly as he looked up at Taehyung. But the pure confusion that met him somewhat derailed him. Taehyung's eyebrows had pulled together as the other now searched his face for signs. 

"What?" The unease settling in his gut made him feel antsy; why did Taehyung look so confused? 

"Jungkook," Taehyung's voice cut through the tension between them. 

"Your soul-string faded away after you left." 

[taevbears]

Magic Shop - 09

One day, when I wake up at 3:00AM, unable to sleep, I will look next to me and you will be there, Sleeping peacefully beside me. And suddenly, the world won't seem so lonely.

⤑ pairing: OT7 x witch!reader, Jimin/Yoongi focused ⤑ genre: magic au, romance, angst, hurt/comfort, slow burn ⤑ rating: 18+ ⤑ word count: 6.5k ⤑ warnings: implied smut, interrupted foreplay, heavy angst, oppression against mages, jimin as a warning himself tbh ⤑ note: surprise!! i took a few months off from writing this story to pursue other story ideas, but i ended up wanting to come back to this one lol. i have another story in the works, but i do plan to start posting semi-regularly for this series again soon ^^ i hope you guys enjoy! this takes place right after the final of pt 1.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

From the distance, the haunting, sonorous tolls of church bells ring in the hour for the sleeping town of New Haven.

Once. Twice. Three times.

3:00AM. The witching hour.

Monsters and magic are most active at this time of night. Their connection to the Veil – a realm of dreams and demons – is at its strongest peak, opening a window of chaos and mayhem and spilling them into the living world.

For mortals like Park Jimin, the witching hour is dangerous. Humans become prey to these abominations. Kidnapped and sacrificed, they become targets of dark magic, tortured for a mage’s sadistic greed and pleasure.

By law, those cursed with magic are condemned to their high towers and impenetrable castles. But there are some who’ve managed to escape their confinements. Who’ve garnered sympathy from fools they’ve bewitched, and who’ve hidden their unnatural powers to inconspicuously blend in with human villagers.

That’s when the hunters come in.

While the wardens are busy keeping the monsters locked away, allowing them to practice tricks and spells deemed safe by the Devoted, and silently killing them through deadly trials like the Harrowing, it’s the hunters that protect the towns and villages from mages outside their gilded prisons. People who, without law or regulation, take matters into their own hands when facing the Wicked.

History speaks of the war between humans and mages. The human sacrifices, the stolen blood of innocents, the dark summonings, the ominous hauntings, the deals with devils. Magic, after all, is the root of all evil.

And the latest of these horrendous acts is what happened at Blackstone Castle.

Several apprentices rebelled against the teachings of the Devoted and performed a forbidden summoning. The mutiny caused mages to attack the wardens, unleash creatures beyond nightmares into the mortal realm, and escape the castle’s defenses. The leader of the apostate group is rumored to have transformed into a hideous beast that the Warden-Commander had successfully defeated, but by the time the monster was slain, it was too late. Many mages have fled from Blackstone and found refuge in nearby villages, causing fear and suspicion to strike within the communities.

Any mage, surrounded by the temptations of the mortal realm, is a dangerous threat.

Two months ago, when news of Blackstone Castle hit the capital, there was no doubt in his mind what he must do: he had to return to his hometown in New Haven, make sure there aren’t any mages infiltrating his town, and eliminate the ones he finds.

With the key to his grandmother’s floral shop and the blessings of his family from the capital, Jimin returned to town, surprised to see not much had changed since he was last there.

Except for one thing.

The unnamed shop across the street.

The one odd place in town, full of mystery and wonder. What once was ruins and a disarray of abandonment is now warm and cozy with whimsy and comfort. Colorful and mix-mashed, yet in a way that works together. Like it was made of magic. 

And, to his dismay, the cutest shop owner he’s ever seen works there. One that he’s hopelessly fallen head-over-heels with. 

Even though he highly suspects that you are, ironically, the very thing he hunts down.

Jimin reminds himself of that as he sits back on a chair and faces the bed. Under the gleam of moonlight, the dagger in his hand shines. Embedded in the blade are ancient symbols of the Devoted. Once penetrated, it will render even the strongest mage useless, temporarily paralyzing them from using their powers as the effects of the enchanted markings sink in.

An heirloom and a prized possession of the Park family. One that his father used when he became a hero of the town. One that his grandfather used to kill the mage that murdered his parents. And now, one that belongs to him.

He flips the nullifying weapon in his hand over and over. Keeping it close to him, just in case.

In case you suddenly wake – snapping your eyes wide open, the colors of your pupils turning into an eerie, bright gold – and lunge toward him in inhuman speed. In case you levitate off the bed and hurl things flying in his direction. In case the devil’s mark sears red on your skin during the witching hour and turns you into one of them.

Wicked.

Like those corrupted mages – easily trading their souls for wealth, beauty, power, and fame – that the Devoted has warned them about. Like the ones he’s seen attack humans with their unnatural strength and twisted powers. Like the ones who had surely killed his parents.

After all, magic is the root of all things evil.

And you, a mage, are a monster. A human vessel that will inevitably succumb to the darkness and unleash chaos into the world with your cursed power.

His eyebrows furrow together and a deep frown is set on his plush lips

You – the most evil, dangerous, wicked thing to ever exist – continue to sleep soundly on his bed, blissfully unaware of his inner turmoil. The black dahlia – doused with potent lavender extract – is disposed of, but it’s already done its job. Keeping you unconscious. Keeping you vulnerable. Right where he wants you.

Time ticks on and Jimin tightens his grip on the dagger. He has to act, and he has to do it fast. He’s certain once the sleeping effect wears off, you’ll attack him.

One minute passes. Then, two. Then, three more.

Abruptly, Jimin stands with the dagger at hand. The chair legs scoot back against the wooden floorboards as he steps closer to you, blinking away the drowsiness from the potent side-effects of the flower.

Was he wrong?

No, he’s certain you’re one of them. He’s certain that one or more of them in that shop are like you as well. Mages and monsters.

Yet, there’s no trace of a golden glow in your eyes. No objects suddenly falling out of shelves, no picture frames or doorknobs rattling, no unexplained knocks or whispers. No faded bite mark that a demon left as a claim on your skin.

His fingers barely touch your neck when you make a sound.

A moan.

Of someone’s name.

Jimin freezes, eyes wide as he looks at your sleeping face. He can’t be certain if you said his name or—

A chuckle of disbelief comes from his lips and he runs his fingers through his hair. This should be easy. Insultingly so.

Yet, Jimin finds himself sitting back on the chair and facing his bed for the fourth time that night. He’s had that dagger in his hand since you fell asleep hours ago. He has every intent to kill you and the others in that shop.

But not tonight.

Tonight, he silently takes you in. The distinct features of your face that he likes, the way your lips part slightly as you sleep, the slow sound of your breath and the way your eyelashes touch the top of your cheeks. The way the moonlight is cast upon your bare skin, almost making you look ethereal in the night. 

He thinks about earlier that afternoon, when you came to his shop, picking flowers to lay out a message of apology and confession. He thinks about the genuine surprise in your face when he admits that he loves you too, that you already have his heart. He thinks about how he meant what he said too.

And as the shop closes and the afternoon rolls into evening, he thinks about his hand in yours as he leads you upstairs to his room. He thinks about your shy giggles when he kisses your neck, your collarbone, and the top of your breasts until you start to remove your clothes for him. And as Jimin takes in your body, he whispers that you’re beautiful without realizing the words came out of his mouth.

This should’ve been easy. If he had known you were a mage sooner, before he caught any feelings for you, perhaps this would have been different. 

But tonight, Jimin sheaths the enchanted dagger and lets you live for one more night.

Your dreams. They always start like this.

High walls of a strong, impenetrable fortress made of dark brick and stone. Willow trees in the courtyard, and a prism of sunlight peeking through the weeping, green leaves. Rows of old books stacked together on long shelves with worn bindings and stain-aged pages. Faceless apprentices in uniformed robes, passing through the candle-lit hallways from one lecture to another, their disembodied voices echoing down the long passageways. Plated armor and concealed weapons of guards that look down at you with disdain.

Blackstone Castle.

Once upon a time, that place was all you’ve ever known. An institution where you’ve excelled too well in the classroom lessons and teachings. Where your exposure to the outside world is limited through words on paper and stories from fellow apprentices of what they could remember before coming to the castle. A so-called home where you had the promising future of becoming one of the best enchanters among your peers.

You lean back against your chair in the lecture room. Notes in your handwriting are on the desk, detailed with whatever you thought is important to note. You tilt your head, frowning a bit in confusion as your hand continues to write.

You’re … actually not sure what you’re taking notes on. The longer you look at the scribbled words, the more ineligible they appear.

The sound of giggling catches your attention. When you glance at the source of the noise, you drop the quill in shock.

Mina?

At the back of the lecture room, Hoseok and your old roommate are snuggled together. Neither of them are paying attention to the lesson, shamelessly making out and touching each other through their clothes. You see her running her hand through his hair and tugging him closer as their tongues slip in each other’s mouths. Although they’re sitting a bit far, you could hear Hoseok as if he’s right next to you. You hear him tell her, “It should’ve been you that made it out of the Harrowing instead.”

“Hoseok?” you utter, your voice pathetically soft. Why would he say that?

When you finally force yourself to look away, Namjoon stands before you. No longer are you in a lecture room, but at the library. His face is completely neutral. Guarded. He asks you, “What is it that you want?”

“I just…” you begin, but before you could answer, he pushes you down on the table.

“I’m not your boyfriend. I couldn’t care less about what we are,” Namjoon tells you as he pins you down. His hand flips up the end of your dress. “There’s only one thing I want from you.”

When you exhale, it’s shaky. Like you’re trying not to sob.

Before anything happens, Namjoon is shoved away. When you turn around, you’re in the ritual room. Seokjin has his hands full, fighting beastly creatures from the Veil with a sword and shield. He shouts for your help, and it takes you a moment to process that you’re in the middle of a battle.

You need a weapon.

The tower rumbles and debris falls from the ceiling. Your heart races as you look through the rubble for a wand, a tome, anything to help Seokjin.

But you’re too late.

An anguish scream cuts you deeper than any blade. Panic and fear seizes your entire body as you watch him slump to the ground. The battlefield is deathly quiet, and you’re sitting there, alone, cradling his head on your lap and crying apologies for what feels like hours.

“Scary.”

Through your tears, you see one other person standing in the distance. You sniffle when you recognize who it is. “Jungkook?”

“You did that to him,” Jimin says from the other side of the room, opposite of where Jungkook is. “You couldn’t save him. This is your fault.”

“I know, but—”

“Scary,” Jungkook repeats, both of them looking at you like you’re something evil. Black smoke swallows them whole, thick as clouds. It takes over the room, Seokjin, and eventually, it takes over you as well.

But once it clears, you find yourself in a séance room. Taehyung sits across from you in a black and gold cloak and a crown on his head. He shuffles tarot cards and asks you the same thing Namjoon does. “What is it that you want?”

“Love,” you answer. Exhausted. Heartbroken.

You don’t want to be seen as a monster. You don’t want to have these doubts. These insecurities. This nightmare.

He sets down one card in front of you. The Reversed Hermit.

Betrayal. Isolation. Paranoia.

As it sinks in, you realize that Taehyung has disappeared. Vanished into thin air. Truly, you are alone again.

You’re not sure how long you sit there in the deafening silence. Wax melts from the candlesticks as the fire burns down the wick. The shadows in the room stretch longer, surrounding you in darkness. But the thoughts in your head are loud, calling you loveless, weak, incompetent, never enough.

Suddenly, you hear music playing. A soft, faint melody from a piano.

You don’t want to be here anymore, so you run toward the sound. A sense of déjà vu hits you as you exit the séance room and find yourself in a long, dimly-lit hallway full of identical doors. Just like your Harrowing, each door you enter leads you to the same hallway over and over and over and over. Despite how gentle the music sounds, you feel desperate to reach it. To see him.

Relief washes over you when you finally do.

In the domain where you first saw him, Yoongi stands behind a piano, dressed head to toe in all black with silver jewelry. One hand presses the black and white keys of the grand instrument, absently playing a tune you vaguely recognized. One he’s certain would bring you right to him.

He glances at you expectantly. A faint smile tugs on the corner of his lips.

Without hesitation, you run toward him, lost and then found. Grief, fear, doubt, and anxiety melt away the moment you’re in his arms. “Yoongi!”

Your familiar pulls you close, brushing his lips against your hair, just as a sharp sting claws into your inner thigh. You whimper and gasp from the pain, squirming in his arms, but Yoongi grabs your jaw and continues to kiss you like nothing is happening.

When the pain subsides, Yoongi finally lets you go. You back away from him, breathing hard, and finally, you notice the golden color in his eyes. He doesn’t move as he peers down on you, lips tugging a bit with an arrogant smirk.

Hesitantly, you lift the bottom of your dress to look at your thigh. A strange, red mark is visible on the skin.

Yoongi merely tilts his head and reminds you, “You’re mine.”

A loud wail is what wakes Jimin from his sleep. His body jerks in reaction, and before he realizes it, he’s tumbling off the chair and onto the wooden floor.

As clumsy as he is, this isn’t unusual for him. He is, however, surprised to see your black cat glowering down at him. Its tail swishes back and forth slowly as an annoyed grumble comes from its chest.

“Sorry,” you apologize, holding a blanket over your body with one hand and shutting the window with the other. “He was crying outside.”

Jimin blinks slowly at you, and then turns his attention back to the cat, who continues to glare down at him. He squints back and whispers, “Isn’t it too early in the morning to be a menace?”

Yoongi gives a grunt of a meow. As if Jimin should’ve known better than to question it.

“I should get going anyway,” you tell him, your voice soft and sad. If Jimin wasn’t wide awake before, he certainly is now. He pushes himself up and sees the redness in your eyes and face. You’ve been crying. “I didn’t mean to stay overnight.”

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Jimin gently asks, jumping to his feet. He starts to approach you, but stops himself. His eyes linger at the blanket you have loosely around you, and how, somehow, you’re even more beautiful to him in the daylight. 

You peek at him with wet eyes. Even now, there’s not a trace of wickedness in them at all. “I’m okay. Bad dream.”

Yoongi meows and rubs himself against your legs, trying to comfort you. A wry smile touches your lips as you bend down to pet him, quietly assuring him again that you’re okay. It feels like this is something that happens every now and then.

When the connection between you and the Veil are the strongest.

It’s subtle, but it’s still proof that Jimin isn’t wrong about what you are after all. He’s never been to a Harrowing, and he knows very little about the Veil itself, but mages leave their physical forms behind to enter that dream-like realm. In order to seek truths, gain knowledge, enhance their skills, and meet both good and evil spirits that reside in that world. It shouldn’t surprise him that mages that fall into a deep sleep during the witching hour could be affected by the Veil.

Jimin crouches down to meet your eye-level. There’s a pleasant smile on his lips as he reaches over to rub your back. “Why don’t you stay a little longer?”

You feel good after a long sleep, a good cry, and dipping into the warm water of a bath. The others at the shop are worried about you, even though you’re just across the street. Yoongi tells you as much as he helps you wash up.

“I know. I meant to go home last night.”

Your memory is a bit fuzzy, but that much, you know, is true. Sometimes, when it feels like you’re dreaming in the Veil, it’s hard to distinguish reality and dreams. You look at your thigh, where you envisioned the devil’s mark to be, and see nothing out of the ordinary on your skin.

He doesn’t say anything as he continues to rub soap on your back and shoulders. It feels nice. You start to lean in on his touch and sigh with content. Then, he asks, “Did anything happen?”

“Other than the obvious? No. I just fell asleep,” you answer, almost certain that there isn’t more to the story. Wake pulled you out of sleep as gently as the nightmare ended, and as you laid on Jimin’s bed, you were overwhelmed with emotion. Every detail, every word from your dream, you remember it. But through the tears in your eyes, you saw Jimin sleeping on a single, uncomfortable chair, facing you and dressed in his clothes from the night before. He had let you sleep on his bed throughout the night, watched over you, and kept you safe. And somehow, just seeing Jimin there with you after a terrible nightmare only reassured you that you were okay. That a dream was just a dream. “I really like him, Yoongi.”

“I know you do,” is all he says. You don’t need to face him to know that he isn’t entirely happy with it. “I just want you to be careful around him.”

“I will, Yoongi. You don’t need to worry about me.”

It isn’t long until you’re out of the bath and dressed up. The two of you are relatively silent as you face a mirror and use magic to fix your hair. Then, Yoongi asks, “Do you want to talk about your dream?”

You glance at him from the reflection. He’s dressed in black clothing and silver jewelry, just as you imagined him. His eyes, however, are normal. Dark, inquisitive, and gentle. Unlike the haunting yellow from your nightmare.

“No. Not yet,” you reply, your hand twitching as you try not to touch your thigh. There’s no pain and no strange mark, but it’s the first time you’ve dreamed of it. The mark that Yoongi mentioned once in passing to further strengthen a bond between a mage and their familiar. “Soon, though.”

You’d think those kinds of dreams would’ve stopped by now, especially after hearing from the boys themselves that they loved you. It feels silly to even question it when it’s obvious that they do. Yet, the same dreams keep occurring over and over, filling your mind with doubt and insecurity.

“Okay.” Yoongi stands next to you as you finish getting ready. “You look nice today.”

You grin at him, a little shy from the compliment, but tease, “Are you saying that I look bad other days?”

“You look nice every day,” he corrects with a shy kiss on your cheek. Then, before you could retort, he’s back into his cat form. You smile at him lovingly and hold him in your arms, feeling the rumble of his purrs vibrate from his body.

Downstairs, Jimin finds himself in a bit of a dilemma.

He has nothing to eat for breakfast.

Work has him traveling out of the shop often, delivering bouquets to customers, picking up new supplies and flowers, and even stopping by local guilds to pick up any magic-related reports to take up. It doesn’t occur to him that he’s rarely home to stock up on his personal pantry.

He’s still rummaging around for something when you finally come down with Yoongi in your arms. “Jimin?”

“I’m back here!” he shouts, grabbing pieces of stale bread and a half-empty jar of strawberry jam. This will have to do for now, he supposes, though it clearly isn’t enough for both of you. When you enter the back room, he tries to bite into the hard, jam-coated piece of bread and asks, “Breakfast?”

“I think I’m good,” you tell him, looking around. It’s notably empty, you realize, as you turn your attention back to his plate. “Is that all you’re having?”

“Maybe it’s a better idea that we eat out,” Jimin agrees, pushing the half-bitten bread aside. He isn’t hungry for that anyway. If it were up to him, he’d take you right back upstairs and have you stay with him a little longer.

He takes a quick glance at the cat in your arms, who seems to hold a steady glare at him. As if daring Jimin to make a move on you while he’s around.

You smile at him. “I know a place we can go.”

Across the street, the aroma of baked bread and brewed coffee welcomes you into the little shop. Seokjin is up bright and early, humming quietly to himself as he carefully puts pastries on a display case. Hoseok pours coffee into several mugs and adds cream and sugar to everyone’s preferred taste. Namjoon is doing an inventory check with Taehyung and Jungkook, writing down what he needs to shop for when he goes to the market later that morning. But as soon as the bell chimes from the front door and you step through the threshold, a sweeter welcome awaits you.

“You’re home!” Taehyung exclaims with a big, boxy smile and pulls you and Yoongi into a tight hug. The cat meows in protest in your arms, but it’s muffled when Jungkook giggles and joins in the group hug as well.

“We were worried about you, pretty girl,” Hoseok comments, holding two mugs for you and Yoongi in his hands, though he seems relieved to see you.

“Yeah, you didn’t come home last night,” Namjoon agrees as he and Seokjin come into the entrance together.

“Sorry, that’s my fault,” Jimin says from behind you. He steps into the shop with a sheepish smile on his face, seeing that he’s faced with the very over-protective men you live with.

Seokjin scoffs under his breath. “That explains a lot.”

“Is it okay if he stays for breakfast?” you ask them, hopeful. There’s a bit of hesitance, as if they’re not really sure what to make of you and Jimin still.

“Yeah, why not? The more the merrier,” Namjoon quotes with a shrug.

Your heart feels warm at their acceptance. Seeing the boys all together in one room, all seven of them, it feels right. It feels complete.

Both Hoseok and Namjoon look at you with so much care in their eyes, scolding you lightly for making them worry. Seokjin smiles at you, alive and well, before he takes Yoongi from your arms to help him in the kitchen. Taehyung and Jungkook refuse to leave your side, still keeping you in their hold until Seokjin bats them away.

If this is all a dream, it’s the cruelest one yet.

Hoseok hands you your coffee and smiles brightly at their guest. “I’ll get another mug. Do you like cream and sugar in your coffee, Jimin?”

Breakfast goes surprisingly well. Laid out on the table are sunny-side eggs, crispy pork belly, toasted bread with butter and jam, a bowl of fresh fruits, vegetable pancakes, and leftover stew from the night before. It’s a feast compared to what Jimin tried to eat at his own shop earlier that morning.

Everyone sits together on the long table, happily chatting and eating. Hoseok feeds Taehyung and Jungkook food from his plate before he eats himself. Seokjin tries to fish for compliments from you and Namjoon for working so hard in the kitchen. Even Yoongi – who strangely appears when the cat disappears – takes a seat beside you and immediately reaches into the fruit bowl for tangerines. 

It’s a little strange, but Jimin seems to fit in really well. Both Hoseok and Taehyung include him in their conversations, asking him what his opinions are about if tigers or bears are the superior animal or the types of cool dances that they’ve seen at the town square. Namjoon and Seokjin make him laugh at their witty banter, and how they bring out the goofiest sides of each other. Even Jungkook is excitedly clapping his hands and giggling at their antics before cutely asking Jimin if there’s any pork belly left on his side of the table. And while he’s certain that Yoongi hates him, he’s surprised when he is offered a piece of his peeled tangerine.

There’s a sense of belonging that Jimin can’t really describe when he’s around you guys. Something that he hasn’t really felt anywhere else.

It’s a stark difference to when he returns to his lonely flower shop afterwards.

Floral fragrances greet him as he walks in the door instead of the aroma of baked good and brewed coffee. There’s a notable silence that fills the room when there aren’t any customers around, unlike at the lively shop across the street, where there’s always music playing and people talking. It feels cold and empty, far from the warm and homey feelings of yours.

Running a shop by himself keeps him busy. It’s hard work and long days, but he likes the smile on people’s faces when they find exactly what they’re looking for, or when he delivers things he’s made to his customers.

Today isn’t any different. Except, it is.

Because just across the street, you’re there. He can see you welcoming curious people inside, checking on the plants outside the shop that Jimin helped you garden with a raven perched on your shoulder, going to the market as Namjoon holds your waist and Jungkook holds your hand, and coming back to the shop less than an hour later and being showered with affectionate greetings from the others upon your return.

Because Jimin can’t stop thinking about how you and the others across the street are supposed to be wicked, evil, vile creatures that feast on the blood of innocents and animal sacrifices instead of tangerines, coffee, and bread. That you must’ve bewitched humans to do your bidding, even though it clearly seems that Seokjin has a mind of his own and wants to be with you all. That you’d use your power to bring chaos and destruction to the world instead of love and comfort in your shop.

Because Jimin realizes that he can’t kill you because he loves you. Even though he shouldn’t. Even though it’s his job to eradicate people like you from his town. 

Yet, here he is, thinking about how concerned he was when you woke up crying. How troubled he felt when he wasn’t able to make breakfast for you. The way he felt a bit nervous entering your shop and facing your other lovers. How they all tried to make him feel welcomed anyway, even if there’s some uncertainty with how they feel toward him. How the morning after with you was nice until he had to return to his shop alone.

The enchanted dagger upstairs is locked away in his room, waiting to be used. Eager for that next opportunity when you’re alone with him. But Jimin, who watches you from his shop’s window with a forlorn sadness, wants to keep you with him a little longer.

And that, truly, is a problem.

“We need to talk.”

Your heart stutters nervously at the words. Silently, you exchange looks with Seokjin, who is washing dirty dishes next to you. But you know why Namjoon is suddenly summoning you all for a family meeting.

At the market, you noticed it. You’re certain Namjoon and Jungkook did too with the way they tightened their hold around you.

In the town square, they were there.

Hunters.

Many of them are talking about Blackstone Castle and the mages that have escaped. They’re asking townsfolk if they’ve noticed anything suspicious, advising people to stay indoors at night, taking notes of any clues they find through their investigations. The three of you manage to avoid them on the way to the market, but it’s clear that their very presence is a threat: the hunters are here, and they’re looking for you.

“It’s too dangerous now,” Seokjin whispers, worried. His thumb caresses the back of your hand as you sit beside him. “We’ll be safer if we get out of town.”

“Where would we go?” Namjoon questions, a bit frustrated. You can tell he’s trying not to raise his voice. “This is our home. We’ve just started to settle down.”

“All the rooms aren’t filled yet,” Taehyung points out as his eyes lock with yours. He’s been certain that Jimin is the last one. That the final room in the shop belongs to him.

Jungkook sighs heavily. “What do we do?”

Running away isn’t an option. You guys already did that, and you don’t want to leave this place behind. Fighting them would only bring more unwanted attention toward you and the shop. Even you’re a bit stumped with what to do next.

“More and more of those hunters are coming into the town,” Hoseok says with a frown. “We have to be careful. We have to look out for each other.”

Namjoon nods his head. “Just as we always do.”

Yoongi catches your eye this time. “Are you sure we can trust him?”

The others look at you as well. Yoongi doesn’t have to say his name for you to know who he’s talking about. You’re the one who knows Jimin the most. They trust your judgment, despite any divination readings Taehyung has on him.

“Yes,” you answer without hesitation. “I trust him.”

By the late afternoon, as things begin to wind down, you return to the flower shop with containers of food from your shop. “I don’t know if you ate your dinner already, but we made these for you.”

He smiles fondly at you, touched by the sweet gesture as he takes the containers from you. “Thank you, baby. I’ll eat it well.”

As he leaves to put the food away in the back for later, you take a walk around. His shop is empty of customers. Various flowers in full bloom sit prettily on display in arrangements and in pots. Everything is beautiful and pleasing to look at.

Though, you notice that there aren't really any personal touches in Jimin’s shop at all. No family pictures, despite his father being a hometown hero or that his grandmother had owned this shop prior. No food that he keeps in stock with favorite dishes and snacks. Even his bedroom feels minimalistic compared to what you’re used to at one of the boys’ rooms. 

If he ever decides to live with you, in that empty room on the second floor, what would his room look like? Would it be like this shop? Would it be something different?

As you lose yourself to your train of thoughts, you nearly trip over something.

A bucket of lavenders.

It sits innocently near a painted cart among other buckets of bouquets. Its calming fragrance is masked by the other floral scents in the shop. But it makes you back away from it as if you just saw something truly horrifying.

Arms suddenly wrap around your midsection and pull you into their chest. You nearly scream, wiggling to get free, until you hear Jimin’s infectious laughter behind you. “What’s wrong? Did I scare you?”

“Yes! How dare you!” you playfully shout, relieved it’s just him. He chuckles and starts to kiss your cheek and neck in apology. His lips feel soft against your skin, and your hand reaches back to touch his neck, turning a bit to kiss him back.

It’s easy to be swept up in him. To get lost in the heat of the moment and not think about anything or anyone else. To push your worries about bad dreams, hunters, and the other boys aside and just melt in his arms. You trust him. You know you can.

But something is bothering you. His mouth moves away from your lips to kiss your jaw and the spot just below your ear, and as you turn your head and sigh in content, you notice the bucket of lavenders again. 

“Stay tonight?” he asks against your skin, eyes hazy with lust. 

You’re tempted. But you answer, “I can’t, Jimin. Not tonight.”

With the hunters in town, you have to make sure that the shop is safe. Hoseok and Namjoon have prepared to sage the entire shop to ward off any harmful intentions to you and your family. And you need to cast added protection spells on the doors and windows so that your shop won’t be easy for them to find.

He hums but places another kiss on your face. “We got a bit carried away last night, didn’t we?”

You glance away from the lavenders and meet his gaze. Again, you remind yourself that you love this man. You can trust him.

“Jimin, about last night…” you begin. His smile fades a little as he arches an eyebrow, waiting for you to continue. “Did something happen?”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m having a hard time remembering how the night ended.”

No matter how hard you try, you can’t remember how you ended up falling asleep in Jimin’s room. The last thing you remember is telling him you had to go back home. That Yoongi would be upset, and Jimin said—

“You just fell asleep, babe. Nothing happened.”

“I see.”

“You don’t believe me?”

“It's not that,” you tell him, not sure how to state this without sounding accusatory. You glance over at the lavenders again and quietly admit, “I just feel like I’m missing something. I don’t know. Did… Did something more happen?”

His hands cup your face, warm and a bit calloused. They contract a bit with the cold, silver rings around his fingers.

“What makes you think I’d do something to hurt you?” he questions, trying to sound a bit offended. But for a split second, you could’ve sworn he almost looked amused.

“I don’t know.” Your eyes flutter close as he tilts your face up, greeting you with soft kisses again. His thumb gently caresses your cheeks, hands slowly gliding down your neck, fingers tracing your collarbone. Despite the light touches, your heart pounds hard in your chest, and you feel yourself chasing after his lips. 

“Should I remind you then? About last night?” he asks, nose bumping against yours and a hand against the back of your neck.

“I can’t stay,” you remind him, eyes fluttering close. But his lips feel so full and soft when he kisses you. Each kiss entices you for more, and he chuckles when he feels you tug on his bottom lip.

“Then should we stop?”

He pulls away from you a bit, teasing you, but you don’t allow him. Your arms wrap around his neck as you needily answer, “No. Don’t stop.”

“Good girl,” Jimin praises and rewards you with another heated kiss. You could only moan in agreement, far too distracted to pay attention to anything but the way his tongue slips into your mouth or the way his touch warms your skin, igniting memories of last night with the way his hands roam your body.

With Jimin, it feels easy to love. It feels easy to simply be. Whether as friends, lovers, or something else you can’t quite place, it feels easy to get caught up in the moment with him. Without overthinking of what this all means, without the worry of what you are to him, without caring when the dream ends.

Your back hits the counter, but it doesn’t break the kiss. He feels you over your clothes, and your hands tug him closer.

“Jimin…” you gasp, panting hard when he finally pulls away. He spins you around so your back is against his chest again. Vaguely, through the lust-filled haze, you’re reminded of the night before.

Visiting the flower shop, an apology and a confession, a night spent together. You were trying to get home. Yoongi was upset. The tattoo on Jimin’s chest. A black dahlia.

“Don’t think about it,” Jimin whispers against your skin. He starts to push you down over the counter. Had you been able to see his face, a chill would’ve run down your spine from the way he looks at you in that very moment – like a predator to prey. “Just trust me.”

The chime of a bell snaps both of you out of it.

“What the hell?” a last-minute customer exclaims, unable to open the door all the way to get through. As if, somehow, the door got stuck. “Jimin? Are you there?”

Immediately, Jimin backs off and clears his throat.

“Yes, I’ll be right with you!” he answers, running his fingers through his hair. He stands over you for a moment, protectively shielding you from anyone coming in. When he glances over at you, however, you’re already smoothing over the front of your clothes. Your face is a bit flustered, but not a single hair is out of place. “Are you okay, love?”

“I’m fine, Jimin. I should get going anyway,” you tell him bashfully. He kisses you one last time before he finally lets you go.

With ease, you pull open the front door as the customer nearly stumbles inside. 

When you look back at Jimin, he seems to be staring at you and the door curiously. Then, his eyes lock with yours, and he gives you that same, knowing smile from last night.

The kind of smile where he knows something you don’t. A secret he isn’t meant to find out.

And it dawns to you, just then, that his smile was the last thing you saw yesterday before your world turned black.

Thank you for reading ♡ Comments & reviews are greatly appreciated!

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[xoxo-suki]

Comment if you have specific BTS members in mind for your particular preference of the trope. Alternatively, send me anonymous asks if you'd rather not comment!

[downbad4yoongi]

Bound By Magic | Chapter Three

🪄Pairing: Namjoon x Reader

🪄AU/Genre: E2L, Magical AU, smut

🪄WC: 11,698

🪄Warnings: smut, minor character death

A/N: This is for @lo1k-diamonds as a part of @bangtanwritershq Sweet Tricks and Wicked Treats exchange

After your tryst with Namjoon, you rejoined Momo and Yoongi to return and inform Haneul of your discovery. You staunchly refused to answer any of Momo’s probing questions as you trekked back toward town. You tried to evade Momo’s inquisition by maneuvering to walk beside Yoongi. Clearly, walking with Namjoon was out of the question, and you would just encourage Momo further. That move wasn’t any better. While silence stretched between the two of you, every now and again, you would catch Yoongi’s eye, and he did a terrible job of suppressing a knowing smirk.

You couldn’t suppress your relief when you finally reached Haneul’s doorstep. You acquiesced and let Namjoon lead the conversation, filling in the sage wizard on what happened while you were gone. Exhaustion dragged at your every muscle; your bones ached for your soft bed and hours of sleep.

As Haneul absorbed the information, his eyes flickered between Namjoon and you. You felt the weight of his ancient gaze upon you, a thoughtful expression etched onto his weathered face.

"This bond between you two is unprecedented," he mused, stroking his long, silver beard. "It may be the key to defeating Wooshik once and for all."

Namjoon's gaze met yours, a silent understanding passing between you. The air crackled with the memory of your shared passion, and you quickly looked away, heat rising to your cheeks.

Haneul cleared his throat, drawing your attention back to the matter at hand. "You must rest tonight. Tomorrow, we will devise a plan to confront Wooshik and safeguard the ancient relic."

With a nod, you turned to leave, eager to escape the suffocating tension that filled the room. As you stepped out into the cool night air, a hand grasped your wrist, sending a jolt of electricity through your body.

"Wait," Namjoon's deep voice resonated in the darkness. "About what happened earlier..."

You swallowed hard, your pulse quickening at his touch. "It was a mistake," you whispered, your words laced with uncertainty.

Namjoon's eyes bore into yours, the intensity of his gaze making your knees weak. "Was it?" he murmured, his thumb tracing circles on your skin.

You hesitated, torn between the desire to melt into his embrace and the need to maintain your facade of indifference. "We can't...we shouldn't..."

He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. "Tell me you don't feel it, too," he challenged, his voice a seductive whisper.

Your resolve crumbled, and you surrendered to the magnetic pull between you. Your lips crashed together in a desperate, hungry kiss, the world around you fading into oblivion.

Tomorrow, you would face Wooshik and the challenges that were waiting ahead. But tonight, in the shelter of Namjoon's arms, you allowed yourself to forget the impending danger and lose yourself in the fire of your forbidden passion.

🪄🪄🪄

You burst into the dimly lit chamber, your heart pounding as you saw Namjoon, Yoongi, and Momo already gathered around the ancient stone table. The air crackled with urgency and barely contained power.

"We don't have much time," Namjoon said, his dragon-like eyes flashing in the candlelight. "Wooshik grows stronger by the hour. If we don't stop him from claiming the relic..."

He didn't need to finish the dire thought. You all knew what was at stake - the very fate of the magickal realm hung in the balance.

Momo slammed her fist on the table, rattling the ancient tomes. "Then what are we waiting for? I say we take the fight to him, hit him with everything we've got!"

Yoongi shook his head, a gravelly sigh escaping his lips. "Charging in recklessly will only get us killed. We need a plan." He looked at you and Namjoon. "One that uses your...unique connection."

Your eyes met Namjoon's, and an electric and exhilarating shiver raced down your spine. The bond that had formed between you, that inexplicable pull and understanding, was the key. You could feel it in your very bones.

"Yoongi's right," you said, voice low but resolute. "Namjoon and I will combine our magick to unleash our full potential. It's the only way."

Namjoon nodded, his stern lips curving into the barest hint of a smirk. "Then let's show Wooshik what happens when he tries to disrupt the balance of our world."

As one, you turned and strode from the room, robes swirling around you, ready to face the coming storm.

🪄🪄🪄

The battle raged around you, a maelstrom of clashing magic and flying debris. Wooshik's acolytes swarmed like angry hornets, their dark spells sizzling through the charged air. But you and Namjoon moved as one, his broad frame shielding you as you wove your magic together, fire and ice, light and shadow.

You unleashed a devastating wave of power with a synchronized shout, sending Wooshik's minions flying. The enemy warlock stood at the center of the chaos, an oily sneer twisting his gaunt face as he gripped the ancient relic.

"Fools!" Wooshik cackled, his robes whipping in the unnatural wind. "You cannot stop me! The old ways will fall, and I shall reign supreme!"

Gritting your teeth, you reached deep within yourself, feeling your power and Namjoon's flooding through your veins, vibrant and all-consuming. Tendrils of your combined magick snaked out, seeking the relic. You could feel its ancient thrum, the weight of millennia pulsing in your mind.

Namjoon's hand found yours, fingers lacing together as your auras merged and intensified. As one, you breathed in, tapping into the infinite well of your imprinted souls.

"By the blood of our covens," Namjoon intoned, his voice ringing with command. "By the power of our bond, we banish you!"

A searing beam of blinding white light erupted from your joined hands, spearing through the tumult. Wooshik's eyes widened in disbelief a split second before the purging magick engulfed him.

The relic clattered to the stone floor as Wooshik's form disintegrated, his ashes scattering on the fading winds. Silence fell, broken only by your ragged breathing. You squeezed Namjoon's hand, almost dizzy with relief and exhilaration.

As the dust settled and the last remnants of Wooshik's power dissipated, you and Namjoon stood in the center of the chamber, panting and slightly dazed. The intense bond that had formed between you during your battle with the rogue witch still thrummed within your veins, connecting you in an exhilarating and terrifying way.

Momo and Yoongi emerged from the shadows, their expressions a mix of awe and relief. "You did it," Momo breathed, her eyes sparkling with pride. "You saved us all."

Yoongi nodded solemnly, his gaze flickering between you and Namjoon. "And it seems like you two have formed quite an unbreakable connection," he added with a slight smirk.

You blushed, feeling Namjoon's hand tighten around yours as he pulled you closer to his side. Together, you faced your friends and allies, ready to embrace whatever challenges lay ahead.

But first, there was something else that needed to be addressed.

"We must destroy this relic," Namjoon said firmly as he reached down to pick up the ancient object that had caused so much chaos and destruction.

Momo's brow furrowed as she stepped forward. "But why? It could be used for good now that Wooshik no longer possesses it."

"You don't understand," Namjoon replied gravely. "This relic is far too powerful for anyone to control. Wooshik's dark magic has tainted it and must be destroyed before it again falls into the wrong hands."

With a nod of understanding, Momo stepped back as Yoongi conjured a flame in his palm. Gently placing his hand on top of the relic, he watched solemnly as it crumbled into ash under his touch.

The air around you seemed to lighten as if a heavy burden had been lifted from your shoulders. You couldn't help but feel a sense of victory and relief.

As the ashes of the destroyed relic scattered on the cool breeze, you felt a profound sense of peace settle over you. It was as if the very fabric of the world had exhaled, released from the suffocating grip of Wooshik's dark ambitions.

Namjoon's hand remained firmly entwined with yours, his touch both grounding and electrifying. In the aftermath of the battle, the true depth of your bond was undeniable - a connection forged in the crucible of shared purpose and sacrifice.

Momo broke the contemplative silence with a whoop of joy, throwing her arms around Yoongi in an exuberant hug. "We did it! We actually did it!" Her laughter was infectious, dispelling the lingering shadows.

Even Yoongi cracked a rare grin, patting Momo's back as he met your gaze over her shoulder. "Looks like the magical realm owes you two a debt of gratitude. Your bond... it's going to change everything."

You glanced up at Namjoon, a shiver racing through you at the intensity in his dragon eyes. There was no going back now, no pretending that what had blossomed between you was anything less than fate-altering.

"We should get back to the covens," Namjoon said, his deep voice rumbling through you. "Share the news of our victory and..." He hesitated, thumb brushing over your knuckles. "...and figure out what comes next for us."

Us. The word hung in the air, heavy with promise and uncertainty. You knew in your bones that your path was now inextricably linked with Namjoon's, but navigating this uncharted territory would be its own kind of journey.

With a resolute nod, you followed your friends out of the chamber, stepping into the light of a new day. The world had shifted on its axis, but with Namjoon by your side, you were ready to embrace whatever challenges and wonders the future held.

🪄🪄🪄

The return to the covens was a whirlwind of celebration and change. News of Wooshik's defeat spread like wildfire, and suddenly, you and Namjoon were hailed as the saviors of the magical realm. Witches and warlocks who had once viewed your bond with suspicion now looked upon you with awe and reverence.

Amidst the chaos, stolen moments with Namjoon became your anchor. A brush of hands as you passed in the hall, a heated glance across a crowded room, whispered words in shadowed alcoves - each interaction only served to deepen the simmering tension between you.

Late one night, you found yourself wandering the quiet streets of the town, lost in thought. The moon hung heavy and full above you, casting everything in an otherworldly glow.

"Couldn't sleep either?" Namjoon's voice came from behind you, sending a delicious shiver down your spine. You turned to face him, heart already racing at the sight of his tall, imposing figure.

"Too much on my mind," you replied softly, gaze locking with his. The air between you crackled with unspoken desire, the force of your bond almost tangible in the moonlight.

Namjoon closed the distance between you in two long strides, his hands cradling your face. "I know exactly what you mean," he murmured, his breath ghosting over your lips.

And then he was kissing you, deep and desperate, as if he could pour every ounce of longing into the press of his mouth against yours. You melted into him, fingers tangling in the silky strands of his hair, losing yourself in the intoxicating taste and feel of him.

When you finally broke apart, chests heaving, Namjoon rested his forehead against yours. "I don't want to fight this anymore," he confessed, voice raw with emotion. "What we have... it's once in a lifetime. Fated."

You nodded, tears pricking at your eyes. "I feel it, too. This connection is like nothing I've ever known. Terrifying and exhilarating all at once."

Namjoon brushed a thumb over your cheekbone, wiping away an errant tear. "Then let's embrace it fully and without fear. Together, we can face anything."

As he pulled you into another searing kiss, the future stretched out before you, ripe with possibility. Your bond had already reshaped the world once - there was no telling what wonders it would bring next. But with Namjoon by your side, you were ready for anything.

🪄🪄🪄

The magical realm slowly began to heal in the wake of Wooshik's defeat. Under the guidance of you and Namjoon, the once divided covens learned to work together, pooling knowledge and resources for the betterment of all.

Your love story became something of a legend, whispered around campfires and written in the margins of ancient tomes. The tale of two former rivals, bound by a connection that transcended the very fabric of magic itself - was an inspiration to a world still finding its way in the aftermath of darkness.

As the seasons turned and life settled into a new rhythm, you found yourself walking hand in hand with Namjoon through the bustling streets of the capitol. Vendors hawked their wares, and children darted between the stalls, their laughter ringing like bells. The air hummed with a sense of renewed vitality and hope.

Namjoon's fingers tightened around yours as he pulled you to a stop in front of a quaint, unassuming shop. "I have something for you," he said, a mysterious smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

Curiosity piqued, and you followed him inside, blinking as your eyes adjusted to the dim interior. The space was cluttered with all manner of magical oddities - glimmering crystal orbs, dusty tomes bound in cracked leather, and bundles of herbs that filled the air with a pungent, earthy scent. Namjoon led you through the maze of shelves, his broad shoulders brushing against the precariously stacked items.

At the very back of the shop, he stopped in front of a small, ornate chest. With a whispered word and a flash of magick, the lock clicked open, revealing a pair of intricately carved bracelets nestled on a bed of rich blue velvet.

"These were crafted by the first witches to form a soul bond," Namjoon explained, lifting one of the bracelets from the chest. The metal seemed to pulse with an inner light, ancient runes etched along its surface. "Legend says they amplify the connection between bonded pairs, allowing them to draw on each other's strength in times of need."

He took your hand, thumb brushing over your racing pulse before slipping the bracelet onto your wrist. It settled against your skin with a pleasant warmth, the runes glowing softly as they attuned to your energy.

Namjoon donned the matching bracelet, and a shiver ran through you as you felt your bond with him deepen and expand. It was as if a hidden door had been thrown open, flooding you with the full force of his emotions—love, desire, and devotion, all swirling together in a heady rush.

"I wanted you to have a tangible reminder of what we share," Namjoon murmured, drawing you into his arms. "No matter what challenges we face, we'll always have each other."

Blinking back tears, you surged up on your toes to capture his lips in a searing kiss. The bracelets hummed with power as your magicks intertwined, a physical manifestation of the unbreakable bond you had forged.

As you lost yourself in Namjoon's embrace, the rest of the world faded away. Here, in this moment, nothing else mattered but the love that burned between you - a love that had reshaped the very fabric of the magickal realm.

🪄🪄🪄

Years passed, and the legend of your bond with Namjoon only grew. Young witches looked to your story for inspiration, a shining example of the power of unity and love in the face of darkness.

You stood side by side with Namjoon, watching as a new generation of magick users trained in the grand halls of your shared coven. Pride swelled in your chest as you saw them work together seamlessly, the old rivalries and divisions nothing more than a distant memory.

Namjoon's hand found yours, fingers lacing together with the ease of long practice. The bracelets that symbolized your soul bond glinted in the sunlight streaming through the high windows, a constant reminder of the unbreakable connection you shared.

"Look at what we've built," Namjoon murmured, his voice rich with emotion. "A world united by love and magick. I never could have imagined this when we first met all those years ago."

You leaned into his side, resting your head against his broad shoulder. "We've come so far," you agreed softly. "And to think, it all started with a rivalry and a forbidden attraction."

Namjoon chuckled, the sound rumbling through you like distant thunder. "Fate works in mysterious ways. Who would have thought the key to saving the magickal realm was a bond between two stubborn, headstrong witches?"

"Momo always said our bickering was just unresolved sexual tension," you teased, grinning up at him.

He arched a brow, eyes glinting with mischief. "Well, she wasn't entirely wrong, now was she?" His free hand came up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing over your bottom lip. "I seem to recall a certain tryst in the forest that changed everything..."

Heat bloomed under your skin at the memory, desire coiling low in your belly. Even after all this time, Namjoon's touch still set you alight, your soul bond only amplifying the intensity of your passion.

"Perhaps we should take a trip down memory lane," you suggested, voice dropping to a seductive purr. "Relive some of our more...memorable moments."

Namjoon's eyes darkened, his grip on your hand tightening. "I like the way you think, my love."

With a wicked grin, you tugged him away from the training grounds, your footsteps echoing through the ancient halls of your coven. The weight of your shared history hung in the air, a tapestry woven from threads of rivalry, forbidden desire, and world-altering love.

As you pulled Namjoon into your private chambers, the door closing behind you with a resounding thud, you knew that your story was far from over. Together, you would continue to shape the future of the magickal realm, your bond a guiding light for generations to come.

But for now, in the sanctuary of your room, there was only the two of you - two souls entwined by the hand of fate, lost in the fire of a love that would echo through the ages.

[btschooseafic]

AO3 Recs

the waters cleansed by wildlikeawolfpack [completed]

namjoon x yoongi (namgi), witches, supernatural creatures, magic, arranged marriage, lowercase fic

namjoon and yoongi are strangers when they get married. they become friends quickly, but neither think that the other would be open to more. / love the twist, poor namjoon. the world building and magic are super interesting

[serenashinart]

Divination wizard Yoongi ✪

[taeslovehandles]

Raw sketch from a story with @pudgecuddles that we recently finished. Eheheheheh. Idk if I will clean this up or not. But I didn't want to not post it. So enjoy those weird ass legs of Hobis hahahah