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chimcess · 11 months ago

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→ Chapter Eight: A Murder 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: 11.9k+ 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, nosey birds, Moland is a lot of fun to write about, (sorta) theft, home sickness, magic, crying, reader is lonely, new character introduced, creepy monsters, talk of death, nightmares, very tame A/N: Our adventure has officially begun. I'm so excited to show off some of Lustra outside of Bangtan! Be prepared for a lot of angst from here on out. Thanks for reading :)

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I blinked, trying to shield my eyes from the invasive sunlight slicing through the room. My body felt like it was made of lead, each muscle protesting as I forced myself upright. The sun had just begun its ascent, painting the sky with streaks of orange and pink. Soon, the others would wake, and Moland's hunters would pick up my trail. Time was my enemy.

Thelma's house, usually a sanctuary, now felt like a trap. Would I be able to return after this was all over? Would they hate me for leaving? Questions with no answers haunted me as I rose, wincing at the crack of my joints. Sleeping on floor cots was a necessity in the swamp; anything else invited mold and worse. I stretched, my back groaning in protest, and went in search of sustenance. Thelma always had food stashed somewhere.

The fridge was stocked with cured meats, a testament to Thelma's culinary prowess. But my stomach churned at the thought. I wasn't about to change my vegetarian ways, not now. Mi-Jeong’s noodles danced in my memory, a comforting reminder. I found some grapes, hidden away like treasures in the cold box. Perfect.

I ate the grapes slowly, savoring each bite as I prepared my bag. The weight of Moland's proximity pressed on me; I needed to put distance between us quickly. The swamp's cacophony was a welcome distraction, louder than the forest's oppressive silence. Most predators were still asleep, granting me a temporary reprieve. I charmed my items, readying myself for the journey ahead.

Flying would be faster, but daylight was a double-edged sword. I had no choice. I needed to move. The grapes, now warm and less appealing, were still a better option than hunger. I knew Moland well enough to navigate its treacherous paths, but beyond lay the unknown. Quietus territory promised fewer encounters with elves, but there were other dangers.

Shifting form, I felt the discomfort of my bag's straps against my wings, my trousers rubbing irritatingly against my feathers. I needed to find a more practical outfit for flying. My mind wandered to Jimin. By now, he would be awake, brooding over his tea. Would he come looking for me? Doubtful. The village would soon realize my absence. Sol and Bo would be the first to panic, their reactions predictable.

After a few hours of flying, I decided to get some rest and spotted a massive tree with large leaves protecting me from the sun.

It was an old oak tree, its branches thick and twisting around one another, and its roots so large and strong I could only guess how far they stretched. I hated being a bird more than I thought I would. All of my senses were elevated and I spooked easily. The way my clothes fit was uncomfortable. The way the wind felt against my feathers was starting to annoy me, and that had always been my favorite part of flying. Still, I did not want to risk shifting unless absolutely necessary. I could not fight a group of elves alone.

Growing hungry I spared a few minutes to look for berries. I had always been a great forager and Jin had been a wonderful teacher. On days Yoongi was too busy at home and could not come out to play, I found myself playing survivor with the older boy deeper in the forest. He pointed out poison ivy, showed me how to spot poisonous leaves and berries, and how to make a fire from rocks and sticks. Back then, I thought Jin was much cooler than Yoongi, and I liked his humor a lot more. That faded with time and in just a year’s time Yoongi was back to being my favorite. When Wendy joined our trio it only drew the kitchen witch and I closer together. Whenever the sea witch was around Jin was more insufferable than normal.

Finding a large line of chokeberry shrubs, I landed on the ground and decided to take a risk and shift. I never liked eating when I was a bird. It felt uncivilized and I could use the break to stretch a bit. Body growing, I sighed in relief and stretched. My shoulder blades cracked making me groan.

They were slightly sweet, tart berries that I adored. Jin and I would typically have to sneak away to find them since they only grew in Moland. Back in Bangtan, it was far more common to see strawberries, blueberries, and mulberries. Around the Bagtan-Moland border we would get lucky and find cloudberry bushes, but they were so rare to get our hands on that we never picked enough to bring home. They were the most delicious wildberries in the area, so sweet and tart, a mixture of a raspberry and a red currant, but with a slight floral aftertaste that made them addicting. The chokeberries paled in comparison, but I still enjoyed myself.

Taking off my bag, I pulled out a bunch of grapes and popped a few in my mouth. I savored their flavor. Thelma always had the most delicious grapes at her house and I wanted to save them in case I found myself in a pinch. Placing the bunch back in the bag, I went back to eating the chokeberries and humming to myself. I needed to find a stream and get rehydrated. A good bath would also do me some good. I was already covered in a thin layer of dirt from the flight.

Fingers stained red, I sucked the juice from my fingertips and swiped the moisture off on my top. Cupping my mouth, I sang a bird song and waited. I was confident enough that I was alone. I had already been here for fifteen minutes and had yet to hear a peep. A few moments later I heard the gentle warble of a marsh bird calling back to me.

“Can you help me find a stream?” I asked, my song much sweeter and gentler in my human form. It had always struck me as odd how differently I sounded as a woman. “I’m on a trip and feeling quite nasty.”

The yellow-rumped marsh bird came into sight. He was a male, his size and the brightness of his yellow belly giving it away, and I smiled at him. It was hard to know if we had met before but I guessed not. They would have recognized my call.

“Hello stranger,” The bird greeted. “Are you lost?”

I shook my head, “Not really. I have a general idea but I’ve not been this far north before.”

The bird regarded me for a moment before speaking.

“What’s your name?”

Taking a deep breath, I hesitated answering. If, by any chance, the others were looking for me and stumbled across the bird already he could easily bring them to me. However, I was never a fan of lying to the animals. It could come back to bite me later and I liked keeping as many options open as possible.

“Y/N,” I replied, not adding in my title. It was of no importance and could make him feel awkward. It was a big deal, after all. “And you are?”

“Hmm,” He cocked his head to the side and I could see his mind working. “I’m Dash, my master’s name is Marie. She said someone is looking for you, girl.”

Flushing, I was taken aback by the news. If word has managed to travel this far up that would mean the entire forest was on the lookout for me. I would have to proceed with caution from now on. I could not afford a slip up.

“Don’t worry,” Dash fluttered his wings to take flight once more. “I have no interest in giving you away. We northerners quite like to mind our own business. Just thought you should know word’s going ‘round.”

Nodding, I stood and dusted off my trousers.

“Thank you, Dash. I appreciate the help.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” The bird flew around my head. “In exchange for my silence I would like a bunch of those grapes. My master is fond of them.”

So much for minding their own business. With great sadness, I gave away my other bunch of grapes. With a final nod in the direction he wanted me to go, Dash flew off the grapes weighing him down.

“Well,” I sighed. “Should probably pick some of these berries.”

Digging through my bag, I pulled out one of my spare shirts and used it to wrap the berries so they would not get too squished. I would have to deal with the stains whenever I had better options. After stripping the rest of the shrub I had been eating from, I carefully placed the shirt back into my bag and started off toward the water Dash promised me.

I would have to manage my expectations. I was in a swamp, afterall, and they were not known for crystal clear and clean water. In fact, I would have to be on the lookout for alligators. Enver was a fan of wrestling with the reptiles out in the marsh, but I was always creeped out by cold, wet things. I would have to be on even higher alert than I had been before.

I walked twenty minutes east before I finally found myself at a treeline surrounding a huge marsh. I would not be able to walk anymore without fearing I would simply slip through the grass. The further I got, the less likely I would be able to walk. After that it was tall grasses and water. Taking in the view, I was happy to see birds and small rodents all around me. At least I would not be alone.

Stepping out of the trees, I caught the attention of a small family of rabbits who quickly scattered. Up above, a few birds spoke to one another about me. It would seem that they, much like Dash, were unaware of who I was. No one suspected that I was a shifter, or that I would be able to understand a word they said. With the hot sun beating down on my face, I quickly started to strip my clothes.

“Where do you think she’s from?” One of the birds asked.

“Looks like one of those witches,” Another answered. “Only a witch would be foolish enough to go swimming in snake infested waters.”

“Ha,” Someone else squawked. “Pot calling the kettle black!”

“Poor thing,” Said the only girl in their little group. “Pretty as a peach, I reckon. I wonder what’s happened to her.”

Deciding that I have heard enough of their gossiping, I pointed my face to the sky and sighed dramatically.

“Don’t you lot have anything better to do?”

A silence fell over the birds. All four of them paused their playing to look at me, and I could feel the nervousness radiating off of the female. Looking between one another and then back at me, one-by-one each of them slowly made their way out of the sky and perched onto a nearby tree. I rolled my eyes and started to fold my clothes. The sun felt nice against my skin but I wanted to get in the water all ready. The birds seemed to gather their thoughts just as my feet hit the shoreline.

“What are you?” one of the birds asked, breaking the spell.

Ignoring them, I continued to wash, the water murky but refreshing. My thoughts drifted to the journey ahead. Danger lurked in every shadow, but I had no choice. I had to keep moving, keep surviving.

As I finished, I looked around, the swamp's noise a constant reminder of the world I was leaving behind. With one last glance at Thelma's house, I took to the sky, determined to outfly the shadows of Moland.

“Hey!” Pip’s voice sliced through the swamp’s murmur, harsh and grating. I turned, annoyance simmering beneath my skin. “You didn’t answer my question.

“Maggie, lay off,” Pip shot back, his tone defiant. Maggie’s scolding fluttered away like a discarded leaf.

Scrubbing the muck from my skin, I figured a brief answer might quiet the incessant crows. The last thing I needed was more attention drawn to me. The swamp was quiet, but not so quiet as to hide the lurking dangers. The thought of oversized snakes slithering in the murky waters made my skin crawl.

“I’m a shifter,” I said, my voice flat and edged with impatience.

“Oh,” Earl’s laugh rumbled, deep and unsettling. “Should’ve guessed. I’m Earl.”

“Margeret,” Maggie chimed in, bowing her head with an air of exaggerated politeness, as if she’d just stepped out of a Northorn court. “This is Floyd, my beloved, and Price, his brother.”

I hummed a noncommittal response, eager to escape the swamp's oppressive humidity and the crows’ probing questions. The longer I lingered, the greater the risk of a snake bite or worse. I debated whether to get my hair wet, the thought making me shiver.

Pip wasn’t done. “What’s your name, shifter?”

“Nixie,” I said, the name slipping out before I could stop it. I winced, relieved that my face remained hidden. Why Wendy’s sister’s name surfaced, I didn’t know, but it was too late to change course. I had to make it work.

Maggie’s shrill laugh grated on my nerves. “From the shore, are ya? Named after water nymphs, I suppose?”

I was taken aback. These birds were sharper than they let on. The sea coven named their girls after water spirits, and Nixie fit the bill. I hadn’t expected crows to be so knowledgeable about such things.

“Yes,” I said, relieved they were building my backstory for me.

“What brings you out here?” Pip’s question broke through my thoughts.

I trudged out of the water, feet sinking into the sticky mud, feeling the cloying discomfort with every step. I glanced at the crows, considering how best to craft a story that would satisfy their curiosity without revealing too much. The swamp’s whispers seemed to echo the urgency of my situation.

“The elves destroyed my home,” I said, grabbing my damp clothes. “I’ve been wandering and hoping to find my way to Whopping to warn my sister.”

“Bless your heart,” Maggie cooed, her accent thick with the same twang as Thelma’s. “We heard about the raids. Foxglove Village nearly burned down, they said.”

“A friend mentioned the guardian witch broke her curse,” Floyd added.

I kept my face impassive, hiding my surprise. The crows were more in the know than I’d anticipated. I was uncomfortable with their conversation but tried to remain polite.

“Watch yourself,” Earl advised, peering eastward. “Seen a lot of camps ‘round here.”

“If I were you,” Pip added, “I’d ditch that bag. It’ll make you stand out.”

Maggie scrutinized my bag with a critical eye. “Big thing must weigh a ton. Don’t know how you manage.”

I forced a weary smile. “I’ll leave it behind when I find a safe place to stash my stuff.”

Floyd’s excitement was palpable. “Stop by Mama Jean’s in Magnolia. She can help with directions and maybe feed you.”

“Don’t risk it,” Earl interjected quickly. “Mama Jean’s deep in the bayou. There’s dangers beyond just elves.”

“Yeah,” Maggie said, her tone dripping with condescension. “Some witches aren’t fond of newcomers. You’ll be defenseless.”

“She’d probably figure out a way to kill you twice if you lied,” Pip joked, a smirk in his voice. “Best to fly straight through. Sleep in a tree and keep moving.”

I nodded, absorbing their advice. I didn’t want to draw any more attention, but their insights were useful. I glanced at the setting sun, knowing I’d need to find a place to camp.

Maggie offered a final gesture. “If you need us to pass on any messages, just say so. We’re headed south to escape the violence.”

Touched by their willingness to help, I decided to part with my last bunch of grapes. Maggie and Floyd protested, but Earl, ever the opportunist, accepted them with glee.

“If you can,” I said, “find someone named Kim Seokjin in Foxglove. He’s a witch who talks to animals. If not, his mother and aunt, Hoji and Heji.”

“What’s a witch doing with wolves?” Pip asked.

“Safety,” I replied briefly. “After the attack, we sought refuge.”

“Let her finish,” Floyd scolded.

“Tell him, ‘Birdie is fine,’” I said, “and what you know about the elf camps.”

“‘Birdie’? Sounds juvenile,” Maggie complained.

I laughed, a bittersweet sound. There was a time when those names were a part of me, when magic and laughter were constants. Now, nostalgia mingled with the ache of loss. I missed them all—Yoongi, Jimin, my old life.

I missed them terribly.

“We’ve known each other since we were kids,” I said, my voice cracking with the weight of old memories. “No one knows I’ve left. I just want them to know I’m okay and to be careful.”

“Brave girl,” Earl commented, his beak dripping with grape juice. “We’ll head that way tonight. Should reach there by morning. We need to swing by a friend’s place first. Elves have been causing all sorts of trouble for witches.”

“Of course,” I agreed quickly, a hidden surge of relief flooding me. The extra time to escape the swamp was a gift. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Pip grunted, snagging a grape for himself.

“We birds stick together,” Earl added, his tone more solemn.

I chuckled, their camaraderie starting to grow on me. As the sun dipped lower, painting the sky in hues of orange and red, I knew it was time for me to move. The river was still a distant hope, and the thought of hauling the bag any longer made me ache. The bag’s weight seemed to bear down on me more than I’d anticipated. My fear of exposure gnawed at me. If the elves knew I was out here, alone and vulnerable, they could use it against me. I could almost hear the whispers of my enemies in the dark corners of my mind.

“I should get going,” I sighed, bracing myself to carry the burden again. “Thanks again for everything.”

“Thanks for the grapes, honey,” Maggie said with a grin. “Stay safe. Hope we cross paths again someday.”

I smiled at her. “I’m sure I can find you.”

Taking a deep breath, I set the bag down and began to shift. My clothes fell away in a heap, and it took some fumbling to extricate myself from the pile of fabric. The crows watched, their beady eyes reflecting a mixture of curiosity and awe. I used my beak to open my sack and stuffed the clothes inside. I’d only shift to ease the burden of the bag, so the clothes wouldn’t be needed for a while.

“We’re kin,” Pip joked, “Glad to see something besides a wolf pull that off.”

“Too bad I’m the bigger cousin,” I teased, gripping the bag’s strap with my talons.

“Probably older, too,” Earl cracked. “Too bad we could kick your tail if we really tried.”

“Safety in numbers,” I agreed, though I couldn’t help feeling a pang of envy for their flock. “Too bad I don’t have my own. Where’s the rest of your murder?”

“Leeside,” Maggie replied. “You might run into some of them. They’re usually not friendly, so if you mention us, they might back off.”

After a few more pleasantries and warnings, along with detailed directions to the Syrena River, I took off. The bag’s weight made flying awkward, and I grimaced as it jostled against my back. Maggie and Earl’s kindness was a balm, while Pip and Floyd continued to devour the grapes. I had managed to get rid of them, even if it was a bit more effort than I’d planned. Cordelia would have scolded me for being so sentimental.

Lost in thought, I nearly crashed into a tree, barely swerving in time. The memory of Cordelia struck me like a blow. Her eyes, cold and distant, haunted me. The weight of her small body, the dirt-streaked hair clinging to her face, and the fire’s consuming heat pressed on me like a physical force. The acrid smell of soot and ash filled my senses, forcing me to the ground in frustration.

Dropping the bag, I landed with a heavy thud. Shifting back, I panted, my grief and despair overwhelming me. The forest around me was eerily silent. The cicadas’ electric hum and the songbirds’ melodies were replaced by a stifling quiet, more oppressive than the Bangtan forests. The absence of sound was a stark reminder of my isolation. I wrapped my arms around my bare shoulders, letting the tears flow freely. I knew I had no time for this—elves could be nearby at any moment—but the weight of my sorrow was too heavy to bear alone.

The silence pressed in on me, the only hope for solace lying in the distant promise of the frogs’ crooning when night fell. But that was a long way off. The darkness would come soon, and I had miles to fly before I’d be near another body of water.

I wiped my face, telling myself that at least the crows would keep the worry at bay for now. It was the only consolation I could muster. Never had I felt such foolishness for leaving so impulsively. I was so wrapped up in everyone else’s troubles that I hadn’t stopped to think about the chaos I’d wrought on myself, or how it would hurt them. Jimin’s words echoed in my mind, a relentless whisper that made me crumble to my knees. He was right. I was tangled in my own self-pity, blind to how my actions were tearing him apart. This wasn’t an act of love; it was selfishness.

I could barely stand myself. My tears came hot and relentless, leaving wet trails on my cheeks. My frustration boiled over into anger. I slammed my hands against the dirt, the force of my rage almost feeling like a physical entity. I wanted to fight something, anything. My fists clenched, nails biting into my palms, I bit down on my tongue until the metallic taste of blood filled my mouth. I swung at a nearby tree, feeling the sting as my knuckles collided with the rough bark. The pain was a dull roar but enough to snap me out of my spiral.

Trembling, I took deep, shuddering breaths, trying to steady myself. My hands shook uncontrollably, the knuckles already darkening with bruises, blood oozing from the small cracks in the skin. The anger ebbed away, replaced by guttural sobs that shook my entire body.

I wanted to go home, but where was home now? My cottage was a ruin, the palace felt like an empty shell, and Mi-Jeong’s house was no refuge with Ji-Hyun there. Even Jimin’s place, once a haven, now seemed tainted by the knowledge of how he saw me. I was adrift, unmoored, with no place to return to.

As I struggled to breathe, memories of the past came crashing back with startling clarity. I remembered a night filled with regret and anger. Aldara and I had a screaming match the day before. I couldn’t even recall the cause—defensive magic, or some petty argument we often had. When I showed up for breakfast the next morning, she had prepared a feast, an olive branch I refused to acknowledge. I had been too stubborn to listen, too angry to see her genuine attempt to make amends. I stormed out, leaving the food untouched, the cold plate a symbol of my petulance.

Yoongi was my refuge that day. We sat in the forest as I vented my frustrations. He’d called me melodramatic, and I’d insisted I was standing up for myself. Jin and Wendy found us later, and together we walked to Syrena. On the beach outside Wendy's house, I let my anger manifest in bursts of flames that danced across the sea. Jin’s jealousy as he asked to see my fire was a vivid memory, his voice tinged with awe.

Fire had always been my domain. I wielded it like an artist, creating flames that burned blue with heat. It was the one thing I excelled at, praised by Aldara with a spark of pride in her eye. But now, the furnace within me lay cold. The joy and mastery I once felt had been extinguished by the wolves’ attack.

I lifted my hands and inspected them, feeling a strange disconnect. Fire had never harmed my skin before. I took a deep breath and pressed my palms into the dirt, my voice a soft murmur as I wove a spell. The earth responded, encasing my hands and arms in a protective layer. It sought out the blisters, cooling them as it climbed up my body. The spell ended, and the dirt fell away, leaving no trace behind. I wiped my face and stood, relieved to see that my old magic still worked, if imperfectly. The burns were less noticeable, a small victory.

“Egnis,” I commanded, raising my hand. A small, lackluster flame appeared above my fingers. It was nothing like the vibrant, dancing fire I once controlled. It flickered weakly, a poor shadow of what it had been. I felt ashamed.

“Hello,” I greeted the ember. “I’m sorry I’ve neglected you.”

The flame offered no response, its silence a stark reminder of how distant I had become from my own power.

“I’ll try to do better,” I promised. “I think we’ll need each other again. I’m not great at fighting without you, and these spells drain me too much.”

The flame remained still. With a sigh, I let it extinguish. The sun was low, casting long shadows, and night was approaching fast. I enchanted my bag and slung it over my shoulder, shifting into my other form. It was easier to bear the transformation without clothes.

I kept low, weaving through the trees. I was out of my element, and the dense forest made navigation treacherous. Flying higher would risk losing my way. Speeding through the thick foliage, I knew I wouldn’t outrun the setting sun. I’d have to stop sooner than I hoped. At least, I thought, I’d be far enough from home. No one would be coming for me.

It was a bitter thought, but I reminded myself they’d probably searched for me all day. They wouldn’t come this far north because of the elves, but they would have looked. My foolishness had put me in this predicament. I should have waited, stayed, understood better. But I hadn’t. Now I was alone in a darkening forest, surrounded by the threat of elves, and feeling more lost than ever.

The one silver lining was that I was alone. The hymns of the ielfen wouldn’t do me any good now; they were mere noise against the cold reality of my predicament. But their songs weren’t their only weapon. They had numbers, and if fatigue got the better of me, I was done for. I needed to bolster my endurance and overcome my aversion to fire. There was no room for melodrama or sentiment in the face of such raw, unrelenting danger.

As night draped itself over the forest like a thick, suffocating blanket, I began my search for a suitable tree to crash in. It wasn’t the first time I’d slept as a bird or perched on a branch, but it was the first time I’d attempted both at once. Back in my younger days, I had reveled in sleeping outside. But then, I hadn’t yet learned the art of shifting, and even when I did, I’d never allowed myself to sleep in that form.

Exhaustion clawed at me as I fought to keep my eyes open. I needed to find a place to land soon. I was lost, but I kept northeast as Earl had instructed. Once I was clear of the tree line, I’d know if I’d followed his directions properly. Ancola, with its red mud and sparse life, would be my guide. A small desert marked the northern border, the only one in Lustra, and would signal if I was on track. If I veered off course, the snow would alert me, and if I went too far north, the tall, thick grass would ensnare me like a labyrinth. I was confident I’d find my way back if I got lost.

When I finally landed on a branch, the pain was immediate and unforgiving. It was an uncomfortable necessity on the road to Ozryn. Complaining wouldn’t change anything. I wrestled my now-tiny bag from my back and secured it on a smaller branch that jutted out from my perch. Once it was steady, I closed my eyes and let myself drift into a fitful sleep.

Morning came with the sun’s harsh rays stabbing at my eyes. I didn’t feel too stiff yet, but I knew that would change once I shifted back. Digging my nose into my bag, still hanging nearby, I fished out a berry, contemplating whether it was safe to shift in this strange place.

“Comfortable, little firefly?”

The voice startled me, and I let out a loud, panicked caw. My feathers fluffed up, my throat hackles extended, and I scanned the area for the source of the voice. Nothing. Not even a bug. Frustration turned into fear as I clicked my tongue, a sharp, echoing sound that ricocheted through the forest. By the twelfth click, the voice came again, and I snapped my bill shut, fluffing my feathers more.

“No need for that, child. You’re sitting on me, after all.”

That gave me pause. I was sure I’d fallen asleep in a tree. Yet here I was, confronted with the impossible. In Bangtan, it was rare for the ielfen to grant permission for someone to rest on them, but it was the only explanation I could come up with. Curious and apprehensive, I slipped my bag onto my back and took flight.

“It’s not every day I have a visitor,” the tree spoke again, “especially a little hybrid like yourself.”

It was an ordinary oak tree—or so it appeared. There was no reason it should know I was a hybrid or understand my language. Yet, here it was, talking without a mouth. I blinked, incredulous.

“I’m sorry if I offended you,” I said, weary and confused. “I didn’t realize you were… animated.”

The tree laughed, its leaves rustling with the force. “Offended? Oh, my dear, quite the opposite!”

Suddenly, the tree began to move. Its branches twisted and shed their leaves, the trunk splitting down the middle to reveal a pair of long, spindly legs. I flapped away in terror as the once-normal tree transformed into a towering, humanoid figure. It loomed above the treetops, its face now visible.

“I can’t remember the last time I had such a delightful morning,” the tree-man boomed, his voice echoing through the forest.

I winced and flew up to meet him. His body was covered in moss and leaves, his skin dark and bark-like, with fungi sprouting from his feet. He was lanky and rough, with no discernible joints. He resembled a Ghillie Dhu, but I needed to see his face to be certain.

“Ah,” he sighed, stretching his enormous arms skyward. “It feels so wonderful to stretch out again. Been like this for years!”

The Ghillie Dhu’s loud voice would attract every living creature in the forest if he kept it up. I broke through the canopy to face him directly. His bright green eyes were kind, his face rugged yet strangely beautiful, with a nose that was slightly too long and pointed. Satisfied with my assessment, I tried to figure out how to shrink him back to a manageable size. After all, he was a fairy.

“Excuse me, Mr. Ghillie Dhu,” I said softly, “but could you lower your voice? There are elves nearby.”

The Ghillie Dhu’s eyes darkened, his grin fading. In an instant, I was enveloped in darkness. I flew, colliding with something cold and wooden. The scent of mildew was comforting. The creature was holding me.

The space around me shrank until I was set down. Disoriented, I shook my head and flew around a few times. I heard the Ghillie Dhu creaking and groaning nearby. At least we were now better hidden. I couldn’t believe any elf patrols hadn’t already discovered us.

“And you are?” the ielfen asked, the creaking stopping.

“I’m the Bridd,” I introduced myself, flying closer.

In his current form, he looked much more beautiful, his skin smooth and free of imperfections. His nose was still long and pointed, his eyes green, but the fungi had vanished. His hair was an odd dark green, spiked like leaves, and patches of moss covered his body. He almost looked familiar.

“I know,” he said with a smile, his bubbly personality returning. “It’s wonderful to see you again. I don’t recall you being a bird last time we spoke.”

I recognized him now. He was the fairy who had helped us when we thought Jin was trapped in a fairy circle. Elated to see a familiar face, my heavy heart lightened.

“My name is Isylwin,” he said with a courteous nod. “Forest guide. What brings you here, little firefly?”

“I’m on an adventure,” I replied. “Elves have started attacking Lustra, and I’m trying to get aid back to Bangtan. Flight is the fastest way out of Moland.”

The darkness returned to his features. The long-standing feud between elves and ielfen was well-known, a bitter conflict dating back over forty thousand years. No one knew the exact cause, but legends spoke of an elven king’s vengeful act against a water nymph. Isylwin seemed unaware of the current elf presence until now.

“That’s troubling,” he said thoughtfully. “We must warn my brothers immediately. They need to prepare for a fight.”

He gestured to my small form with a kind smile. “You may shift. I’ll ensure no harm comes to you, firefly.”

Embarrassed by the nickname, I ducked my head and put some distance between us. Landing on the forest floor, I removed my bag and fished out some clothes. I wasn’t keen on being naked in front of the fairy. Seemingly unaware of my discomfort, Isylwin waited expectantly.

“Would you mind looking away?” I asked, feeling self-conscious.

“Oh,” Isylwin chuckled and turned his back. His thick moss and leaf covering meant he had no need for clothes, which eased my nerves slightly. “My apologies. I haven’t been around many women.”

Trusting his word, I shifted and quickly dressed. My bag and its contents grew in size, and I slung it over my shoulder. With another body nearby, my confidence was bolstered. Two were better than one in a fight.

“I’m decent,” I said, clearing my throat. “You can turn around.”

Isylwin was immense, towering even over the wolves. He looked slender and fragile, but I knew better. Ielfen were formidable fighters, their cunning and tricks making them difficult to gauge. I was certain Isylwin was using glamor to appear more human, but it could vanish in an instant. Ghillie Dhus were among the most gentle fairies, but stories of their power were legendary. My friend could easily dispatch an elf if provoked.

“So interesting,” he mused to himself. “Humans age so differently from us.”

“I’m sorry?” I raised an eyebrow.

“You look like a woman now,” he said, “when I was expecting a child. Is that normal for your kind?”

Baffled, I shrugged. “We mature faster than you do, if that’s what you’re asking. It slows once we reach adulthood. I’m not human, so I can’t say if there’s a difference.”

“Fascinating,” he said as if I had unveiled some cosmic truth. “Forget that—” he waved dismissively, “—we must find my brothers and alert them about these elves.”

He grabbed my hand, twirled around, and started walking. I pulled away, confused and alarmed. Isylwin looked at me, his head cocked. I wasn’t sure how to explain my hesitation without seeming selfish. I almost felt guilty for stopping him. Almost.

"I can’t afford to go off track," I stammered, nerves fraying at the edges. "I've got a family waiting for me, counting on me to get to Naida."

The moment I mentioned Naida, the tension eased in Isylwin’s eyes, replaced by a kind of understanding that made his earlier confusion vanish. There was a shared mission here, a common goal, and I had to trust in his capacity for empathy. He'd helped me before, and if he was as reliable as I hoped, he’d help me again. At the very least, he’d make a formidable ally if things turned nasty.

"Don’t be afraid," Isylwin’s voice was soft, almost soothing as he regarded me. "I’ll help you reach Clarcton. The rest will have to wait."

"Will they be angry with me?" I asked, my voice tinged with anxiety. The last thing I needed was to be blacklisted by his kin. I would follow Isylwin’s lead if it came to that, but it wasn’t my preferred option.

"No," he shook his head emphatically. "We’re fair, if nothing else. Mother would be more upset with me if I didn’t offer my aid."

I had no idea who ‘Mother’ was, but I didn’t care to ask. Whoever she was, as long as she didn’t get in my way, that was enough. I cringed inwardly at my own self-centeredness. I sounded just like Ahn. Trying to shift the focus, I nodded appreciatively.

"Thank you, I really do appreciate it." Turning my back to him, I adjusted my bag and set off. "We should get moving. The elves might be curious about what’s woken a fairy from its slumber."

Isylwin walked beside me, the silence stretching between us. I used the quiet to gather my thoughts. We’d been lucky so far, but that luck could run out. It wouldn’t shock me if a group of elves leaped from the shadows to ambush us at any moment. Stealing a glance at my companion, I finally broke the silence.

"Do elf songs have any effect on your kind?" I asked, trying to keep my tone neutral.

He smiled, his face a curious blend of youthful softness and grown man’s frame—a combination that struck an odd chord. Looking at him for too long felt unsettling, like staring at a mask that was just a little too real. His glamor seemed to be wearing thin.

"No," he said, his voice carrying a tinkling quality that was almost otherworldly. "They won’t work on me, and by extension, they won’t work on you."

That was a relief. I was still grappling with the idea of defensive magic, and despite my resolve from last night, I knew the prospect of fire would only push my already strained emotions to the brink. I couldn’t afford to fight with the same blind rage that had served me before. It would be a disaster for me and anyone unlucky enough to be caught in the crossfire.

"That’s comforting," I said, and we lapsed into silence.

Then, out of the blue, Isylwin’s tone shifted, taking on a gravity I hadn’t heard before.

"The forest is in awe of you," he said, more serious than I’d ever heard him.

"Pardon?"

"We communicate with one another, the trees and I," he said wistfully. "Word reached us about your death and rebirth a few days ago. That’s why I decided to help you. It’s not often I get the chance to bring peace to someone enduring such hardship. Fairies live such pampered lives in our world; finding empathy for those in your position is rare."

"Why are you telling me this?" I demanded, my defensive edge sharpening.

"Because," he shrugged, his gesture so disarmingly human it made me uneasy. "It’s only fair you receive the same respect one of my kind would if they were in your place."

"My people," he continued, "generally have little interest in others. But your involvement, your bloodline, changes that. Mother holds great respect for your ancestors and the principles you stand for. She pities you and the losses you’ve suffered. That’s why I don’t see this as a favor."

I’d forgotten about the debt I owed him from years ago. He hadn’t called it in, yet he chose to help me anyway. He could have asked for anything in return, even if it meant I’d have to divert my path. But he didn’t. Confused, I asked him why.

"Your debt was settled when you informed me about the elves," he said, running a hand through his hair. I took a step back, uneasy. "My people weren’t aware of their presence in Lustra. The trees sensed a looming darkness, but your loss made them shut their eyes again. We thought the great Bridd had abandoned her place in the spirit realm."

"I won’t pry into what’s happened unless you’re comfortable sharing. Your eyes reveal enough—your fear, your pain. It doesn’t matter to us. Whatever the case, we’ll join the fight, not for Bangtan, but for ourselves. Lustra is as much our home as it is anyone else’s."

I felt a glimmer of hope. With the ielfen fighting alongside us, the burden of the conflict might shift off my shoulders. Fewer battles would mean less risk for my family. I knew they wouldn’t extend their aid beyond this, but that was a concern for another day. Their involvement was all that mattered.

"Regardless," I said quietly, "I still want to thank you. It means more to me than you know."

We fell silent again, neither speaking during our rest stops or when we reached the Syrena River, where I drank deeply. As the miles passed, Isylwin’s glamor unraveled further, a casualty of our distance from his kin. By the time we neared the border of Ancola, night had cloaked the world, and it was time for Isylwin to part ways.

"I can’t leave these woods," he said, genuine sorrow etching his features. "If I could join you, I would. But I’d wither away outside of Moland."

"It’s not your fault, Isylwin," I said, trying to soothe him.

He went rigid, his eyes widening with fear. That’s when I realized he’d given me not just a name, but his true name—a sacred gift among the ielfen. It touched me deeply, though it left me puzzled. Once he saw my reaction, he relaxed. I apologized profusely, guilt twisting in my stomach. The idea of him revealing his real name had seemed so absurd, I hadn’t even considered it.

“No need to apologize,” he said, a grin creeping across his face. The smile cracked his earlier facade, revealing something far more primal and beastly beneath. Instead of sending me into a fresh bout of panic, it brought a strange sense of relief. I preferred this raw, monstrous form over the humanoid mask he wore earlier.

“I hadn’t realized the power you’ve handed me,” I said, my voice steadying with resolve. “I promise not to misuse it.” I glanced at him, noting how his glamor had faded, revealing the unease etched into his features. “You should head back to the forest. You’re starting to look restless.”

“Take care,” he warned, his eyes pleading now. “If you find yourself in dire need, call for me. It won’t be pretty, and my glamor won’t hold up outside the swamps, but I’ll do my best to be of use, even if only briefly.”

His kindness threw me off balance. Ghillie Dus was known for helping children, a role he saw me fit into, but this level of reassurance was beyond anything I’d expected. I shivered as I stepped into the frigid desert. The emptiness stretched out before me, a stark contrast to the forest’s sheltering embrace.

“Why are you doing this?” I asked, my voice cracking as I sought reassurance. This was the point of no return, and I needed a reason to keep moving forward. “I understand the need to fight, but this kindness seems so out of character for your kind.”

His face was now an impenetrable black sphere, with two glowing circles where his eyes should have been. Dark moss covered his form, a tangled mess that defied human solidity. He was otherworldly, struggling to maintain his composure. I felt the discomfort creep back in.

“Your bloodline has safeguarded the forest for ages,” Isylwin said, his voice resonating with an eerie calm. “I’m a man of the trees, as we all are beings of the forests and swamps in Lustra. We’ve always respected your kind, but the Bridd before you held a special place in our world.”

“Mother adored her,” he continued. “She saw her strength and spirit as something extraordinary. Her death saddened her deeply. Your actions the night she burned earned you great respect in the spirit realm. We see you as a legend in your own right. Once they learn where you’re headed, there will be no question that your name will be remembered as the most remarkable witch ever.”

I scoffed, shaking my head in disbelief. The notion that the ielfen saw me as they did their mythical heroes seemed almost laughable. I wanted to dismiss it as nonsense, but I knew better than to doubt his sincerity. Fairies couldn’t lie. Overwhelmed, I clamped a hand over my mouth to stifle the hysterical laughter bubbling up inside me.

“What does that have to do with you?” I finally managed, regaining my composure.

“Naida is a difficult challenge,” Isylwin said, his voice tinged with a genuine sense of purpose. “I’m helping you because it’s the honorable thing to do. Like the rest of us, I seek to be seen as useful. By aiding you, I hope to earn Mother’s pride. Your debt to me will be settled once that happens and never mentioned again.”

“And if I succeed?” I asked, arching an eyebrow. I knew fairies could be bound by their word, and his promise of help might be ironclad.

“You’ll have my help,” he said, bowing with a gravity that made me uneasy. “Indefinitely.”

I wasn’t entirely satisfied with his answer, but I didn’t press further. I needed to keep moving. I managed a final smile and bid him goodnight. As Isylwin vanished, leaving only a whisper of his presence behind, I knew he had returned to his realm. I sighed, feeling the weight of solitude settle over me once more.

Alone, I pushed past the gnawing ache of loneliness and forced myself to continue. The desert stretched ahead, cold and unforgiving. I found a tree to rest in, climbing up to perch on a branch where I could make myself comfortable. Tonight, I would sleep among the woods. Tomorrow, I would reach Clarcton, evade detection, and plan the next leg of my journey.

That night, sleep came in fragments, haunted by dreams of Jimin and me lying in the meadow by my house. Wildflowers danced around us as he kissed my hand and smiled. But then the scene shattered into flames, the flowers screamed, and the trees wept. Jimin’s eyes turned cold and lifeless as he accused me, his voice echoing with the blame. It was my fault. I woke in tears, the dark sky above, knowing I had only been asleep for a short while. I woke four times, each time more distressed, until I gave up on sleep entirely.

I reached Clarcton while it was still dark, slipping behind a local inn’s shadows. The darkness concealed me from view as I entered the small, quiet building. A young woman stood behind the desk, offering a warm, if weary, greeting.

“Where are you coming from?” she whispered as I scrawled my alias, Nixie, on the sign-in sheet.

“Syrena,” I replied, lowering my voice to match hers.

Her eyes, pools of melancholy, betrayed a deep well of pity. It twisted my heart, thinking of those back in Northorn and the lands beyond. They hadn't made it this far south yet, but the capital's fate was uncertain. I had to get out quickly to avoid being caught in the chaos.

“Where are you headed?” Her gaze lingered on the name tag pinned to her chest—Hannah. A plain name for a plain girl. “Not west, I hope?”

“No,” I shook my head. “East. Whopping.”

Hannah’s eyes sharpened with a warning, and I caught the subtle shift. We were about to converse in code. “Stay south,” she advised. “Azamar Pass is sweltering this year.”

I offered her a small, grateful smile. She mirrored it, a silent connection formed in that brief exchange. When I paid for my room, I added a little extra as thanks. Hannah accepted the cash with a knowing wink before returning to the book she’d been absorbed in when I walked in. Our shared moment had ended, and we were both retreating to our separate worlds.

“It’s upstairs,” she said, her attention fixed on her book. “Second floor, all the way down the hall to the left. Blankets and pillows are in the closet, and towels are hanging in the bathroom. Rest up. You look like you need it.”

Dismissed, I thanked her again and headed to my room. The inn exuded a cozy warmth, decorated in rich woods and deep reds reminiscent of Jin’s house. The solar witch had a penchant for yellows and oranges, but the cinnamon scent lingering in the air was strikingly similar to my friend’s cologne.

The room was modest, with a single bed tucked into the far-right corner. Across from it, a fireplace crackled, flanked by a large blue chair and a small table. A garish paisley rug sprawled across the floor, and a cobweb dangled from the ceiling fan. The room had a musty smell, dust clinging to every surface.

Clarcton was supposed to be bustling, but I’d ended up on the outskirts, a forgotten corner where travelers seldom ventured. I threw my bag on the blue chair and set out to find the bathroom. A rickety coat rack stood awkwardly between the fireplace and the bathroom door. The knob was sticky, and I had to turn it with a rough twist to open the latch. The bathroom, though in need of a simple dusting, was otherwise clean—a small relief.

I made the mistake of taking a deep breath as I stretched and was immediately struck by a coughing fit. I slammed the door shut and wiped my watery eyes. Lesson learned: breathe carefully. I fluffed the pillows and wafted the sheets to air them out. The knitted quilt was beyond salvaging, so I folded it and set it aside. The thin sheets would suffice for a summer night. I turned off the lights, used a flicker of magic to guide me to the bed, and crawled under the covers.

Exhaustion clung to me, yet my mind remained restless. I missed my friends, my home, and the warmth of my love. Alone at last, I allowed myself to cry softly. It wasn’t the same explosive outburst from yesterday or the tearful departure from Jimin’s house. It was a quiet sorrow, a deep loneliness. I was weary and overwhelmed, haunted by regret.

I shouldn’t have left the way I did. I knew that much. But turning back wasn’t an option—pride, or perhaps shame, kept me from reversing course. I wouldn’t return home empty-handed.

My heart ached at the thought. I longed to know if Jimin and I would be okay, and I wanted that knowledge sooner rather than later. I regretted our argument, regretted not giving him a chance to apologize. I had not even given myself that chance. Instead, I had stormed off and fled like a petulant child. His hurtful words were understandable; he had been through so much, dealing with my injuries and the news of my reckless behavior. I groaned in frustration.

I was angry with Sol but struggled to hold a grudge. She likely thought she was acting in my best interest. Jimin was her friend, and her fear for me might have clouded her judgment. Taehyung would undoubtedly be furious with her, which helped temper my irritation. I would confront her when I saw her again, but it was infuriating to think she had time to gossip while her people struggled.

Ji-Hyun, on the other hand, had no decency. Just the mention of his name soured my mood. The boy who used to throw rocks at his crush’s window had transformed into someone unrecognizable. I had been eager to meet him and Callisto, but his hostility had ruined that excitement. I couldn’t fathom why he hated me so much or why his disdain seemed so intense.

Anger and outrage were to be expected, but his relentless judgment, even after everyone else had calmed down, was baffling. What had transpired between my sleep and waking to inspire such loathing?

I tossed and turned, frustration mounting as sleep eluded me. Tomorrow would be a day of planning and preparation, shopping and strategizing. I needed to navigate this unfamiliar terrain with precision. My heart yearned for home, wherever that might be.

It took a long time for my body to unwind, and even longer for my tears to subside. I didn’t drift into sleep until the first light of dawn crept over the horizon. My eyes were swollen, my cheeks stained. I dreamt of Jimin again, of us kissing in my bed at the end of spring, a bittersweet reminder of what I had left behind.

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