#lapyswitchhunt

You try to sit up, but strong hands stop you immediately.

“Don’t,” a voice says. Calm, low, and unbothered. “You’ll reopen it.”

You freeze, opening your eyes. At first, all you see is firelight and stone. You blink quickly, shaking away the shadows when a narrow room comes into focus. A sword leans against the wall, polished and close enough to reach. There’s a mark of witch hunters branded into the heavy iron.

A mix of fear and relief churns in your stomach. You’re not dead, so they don’t know that you’re a witch yet. But you know what you’ve done will soon spread. Then their kindness will not matter. The bandages are bound tightly, clean and precise. Someone knew what they were doing, and you need their skill to heal properly. The metal bullets that tore through your skin bind your magic still.

The man beside you notices the way you overthink and pulls his hands away. “I won’t touch you,” he promises, voice soft. “You’re safe. For now.”

That’s when you see him properly.

He looks like a hunter in all the obvious ways. Dark clothes, disciplined posture, the kind of stillness that comes with years of practice. But his eyes are not what you’re used to from the humans. They’re too gentle, too understanding, like he’s already decided something.

“Why?” you whisper. Your throat burns.

He considers the question, but doesn’t answer. Instead, he offers you a knowing smile. You don’t pry. You don’t dare to. And before you can say anything else, the door creaks open.

“Oh. She’s awake.” The second voice is brighter, but sharper. A little too casual. Another man steps out, leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed. His gaze flicks from your face to the bandages and back again. “Are we keeping the stray?”

The man beside you doesn’t look away. “Wooyoung.”

“I’m just saying,” Wooyoung continues, pushing off the doorframe and stepping inside. He moves gracefully, but you can tell from his gait that he never truly learned how to be still. “Most people who lay bleeding in the forest tend to be what we don’t want in our houses.”

Your pulse spikes. Before you can stop it, heat curls in your chest, magic stirring instinctually to protect-

Wooyoung sees the glow in your chest and his smile vanishes. The air changes. “…Oh,” he breathes out. “That kind of stray.”

The shout is usually what follows after the revelation. Or the blade.

It never comes.

Instead, the man beside you exhales, slow and measured, like he expected this. “She’s injured and frightened. That’s all that matters.”

Wooyoung scoffs. “You say that like that’s all we need.”

“It’s enough,” the man replies. There’s something you sense in his voice that tells you it’s all he’s willing to say on the topic anymore.

Wooyoung studies him for a long moment. Then his gaze slides back to you, sharp and unreadable. “You got a name?”

You hesitate. “You don’t have to answer,” the man beside you reassures. That, more than anything, breaks you.

Tears sting your eyes before you can stop them, and you turn your face away, ashamed of the weakness. But no one presses.

Wooyoung just clicks his tongue and looks up at the ceiling, the long line of his neck smooth and unmarred. “Great,” he mutters. “Now I feel like an asshole.”

The hunter beside you finally stands, tall and imposing. He adjusts the blanket around you with meticulous care, still not touching skin. “My name is Seonghwa,” he says, “You’ll stay here tonight. Tomorrow, we’ll decide what to do next.”

Wooyoung hovers near the door, watching you like a lit fuse he hasn’t decided whether to cut or not. “Get some rest, witch,” he adds, quieter than before. “You’re not dead yet.”

When the door closes and the fire crackles low, you stare at the empty space. You don’t know why they’re helping you, or what they’ll do once they know exactly what you’ve done. But for the first time in a very long time, no one is asking you to explain yourself.

And somehow, that feels like the most dangerous mercy of all.

-

The next morning, you’re awoken by the creak of the door opening to reveal a shadowy figure looming in the light. You don’t know when you fell asleep, and you hardly remember last night, your magic flaring in your chest before you remember and it dies down. The hunter—Seonghwa—watches with thinly-veiled amusement, his eyebrows rising. “Short term memory loss is a sign of a concussion.” There’s a teasing lilt to his voice. “We can get that checked.”

You shake your head quickly, ignoring the dizziness that follows. “I don’t have a concussion,” you decide, wanting to avoid any poking and prodding. “Everything is superficial.”

He regards you a bit more seriously this time. In the morning light, you see him a bit better. He’s handsome, almost impossibly so. But there’s a smattering of scarring around his eyes. Silver. Magic burns.

“If you were hurt by witches, why have you helped me?” The question springs out of your mouth unbidden. You cringe back, ready for a bullet through your heart, but Seonghwa just chuckles, as if he’s likened you to a kitten who is learning to hiss.

“You were already hurt,” he says simply. “Leaving you like that wasn’t an option.”

“Even for Wooyoung?” you pry a little more. “He didn’t seem exactly thrilled to have me here.”

Seonghwa just smiles slightly wider, shaking his head. “You’ll have to ask him. I won’t pretend to know what goes on in his head.” He takes a small step forward. “Now, let’s take a look at your wounds. I wrapped them with salve, but I’d like to make sure they’re not infected.”

You can’t decline in your state, but even if you could, you can’t bring yourself to. Instead, you shift over to give him easy access to your ribs. Slender fingers skirt along your sides, and you hold back your squirming.

“No infection just yet,” Seonghwa says softly. “Looks like you’ll just need some rest. Thankfully.”

You nod, tugging your tunic back on before shying away from his presence. “You’re a strange hunter,” you mumble.

“He really is.” You jump and whip your head around to see Wooyoung grinning at you like a cat that swallowed a canary. “Sorry, sorry.” He doesn’t look very sorry at all.

Wooyoung steps closer, assessing you with a sharp eye. “So, now that you’re all patched up and Seonghwa yelled at me for scaring you, why don’t you tell us how you ended up bleeding out on our doorstep?”

Immediately, you freeze. If you tell them the truth, they’re sure to kill you. But even if you lie, news will spread like wildfire.

Neither Wooyoung or Seonghwa push you to answer, however, and instead wait patiently for you to gather your thoughts. And it’s that specifically that makes you spill your guts. “My coven betrayed me,” you say softly. “Maybe I deserved it. I saved a hunter. But it quickly spiralled out of control. It was…horrific. I don’t know how I survived.”

You shudder at the memory, and Seonghwa rests his hand on your lower back in an attempt to comfort. And somehow, it works. “…It’s not your fault,” Wooyoung murmurs so softly that you almost miss it. “How were you supposed to know your choice, your kindness would cost you?”

The two hunters exchange silent looks. The silence is palpable, and you shift nervously as you wait to hear the outcome of your future. And then, Seonghwa speaks.

“You can say,” he speaks slowly but surely. “You’re not a threat. And…and we understand your situation more than you’d expect.” They don’t explain, but you know when prying is ill-advised.

“Just…don’t use magic. For now,” Wooyoung adds. “They leave residue. Hunters will track it down. Especially if they already know your signature.”

All you do is thank them and hope your past doesn’t come to bite you in the ass.

-

You’ve been at the hunter’s home for a while. Although the hunters warn you against going outside without them, you find plenty to do inside. You organise their kitchen, cook warm meals when they come back late and reeking of blood and magic, and you make sure the fire stays lit and the paper wards posted around the house remain strong. It feels almost like home, but each time you settle in, you immediately pull away again. It’s not right to carve out your place in a house in which you don’t belong.

Even if they let you have your own room. Even if Seonghwa smiles and lets you do what you wish. Even if Wooyoung seems to know exactly what you want before you even say it. And in return, you learn about them.

You know how Seonghwa organises the herbs, makes sure everything is in its place. You especially know how his eyes shine when he’s happy, and the way his voice stutters when he’s trying hard not to laugh at Wooyoung’s antics. He’s fiercely protective, but reserved, and you admire him for the way he is able to keep a clear head.

And Wooyoung…he always has a retort on the tip of his tongue. He gets into more trouble than he’s worth, Seonghwa always says, and yet there’s nothing Wooyoung wouldn’t do to make sure the both of you are smiling. Even you, the outsider. He cares more than he lets on.

One evening, you elect to eat dinner with them, rather than in your room. The stew was too hot, and you burned your tongue, but you didn’t even mind. It was the first time in days that you’d eaten until you’re full, without listening for footsteps between every bite. The cabin smelled like herbs and smoke and comfort. Safety.

Wooyoung sat across from you, chair tipped back slightly, watching you over the rim of the cup. “You eat like someone’s going to steal it from you.”

You frown. “You don’t?”

Wooyoung grins and winks. “Not anymore.”

Seonghwa shoots him a look over his shoulder from where he was cleaning a knife at the counter. “Don’t tease her.”

“I’m doing none of the sort,” Wooyoung protests. “I’m observing.”

“You’re hovering,” the taller hunter corrects, lips pulling up into a smile.

Pointedly, Wooyoung ignores him and leans forward, elbows on the table. “Tell me, are you always this quiet? Or are we just not worthy of conversation yet?”

You huff a quiet laugh. Both men freeze. “…What?” you ask tentatively, your smile fading slightly.

“Nothing,” Seonghwa says gently, something warm in his eyes. “Just that it’s nice to hear you relax.”

Cheeks warm for no reason you want to examine, you duck your head and stir your bowl shyly. The fire crackles softly, the cabin feeling small in the best way. Your shoulders are no longer tense, your hands no longer trembling. You take another bite and swallow, before lifting your head to speak.

Wooyoung’s chair legs hit the floor, hard, the sound cracking though the room. Your brows furrow. He isn’t looking at you anymore. He’s staring at the wall behind you—no—past it. Through it. His posture changes in an instant, easy slouch gone, body pulled taught like a wire. Seonghwa stops and follows his gaze, the knife in his hands still.

“What?” you ask. And then you feel it.

The air shifts.

You almost didn’t notice it at first. The fire grew still, the atmosphere heavy and thick. A faint tremor ran through you, not quite fear.

Wooyoung stands slowly, his posture too straight. “Probably nothing,” he says, but his voice has lost its warmth.

Seonghwa sets the knife down with too much care. “I’ll check the perimeter.” He glances at you. “The traps.”

He begins to move towards the door, where Wooyoung already is with his hand braced against the wood and head tilted like he is listening to something far away.

You swallow hard. “I don’t like this…”

Wooyoung glances back at you, his expression softening slightly. “Hey, you’re fine,” he reassures weakly, his hand curled into a fist.

He pulls the door open slightly, and the temperature in the room drops despite the summer heat. You feel it immediately. Pressure, like invisible threads pulled tight. The two hunters step outside, peering around the tree line. Seonghwa’s fingers twitch. A small motion, a flick of the fingers, like brushing ash away.

Then the pressure snapped. Gone.

You can see the way Wooyoung’s form relaxes, his breath being let out. “See? Nothing,” he says lightly as Seonghwa files back in and shuts the door.

“It didn’t feel like nothing,” you counter, the furrow between your brows deepening slightly.

Seonghwa moves back to the counter, picking up the knife again. “The woods change often. Sound carries. Animals move through.”

You stare at them. They’re lying. Pretending so well it almost words. But you know what magic feels like. Something- someone was in those woods. Your skin still buzzes like you were in the middle of a ritual circle.

But why would they lie?

-

The thought wouldn’t leave you, weeks later.

It sat at the back of your mind all morning, quiet but persistent, like a splinter under skin.

They were too calm, too aware. Too fast.

You remember that night well. The way Wooyoung had reacted before anything happened. How Seonghwa stilled at the same time. The way the air around the house shifted before you noticed it.

You tried to shake it off, but your instincts had kept you alive this long.

Something is wrong.

Seonghwa is at the table, repairing a leather strap with steady hands. Wooyoung is on the floor nearby, back against the wall, carving something into a small piece of wood. It’s an act, and you watch it for far longer than you mean to.

Wooyoung notices first. Of course he does. His eyes flick up mid-carve. “You okay?”

You nod, stilted. “Yeah.”

He doesn’t believe you. And neither does Seonghwa.

“You’ve been quiet recently,” he pries gently.

The words are thick in your throat, and you swallow hard. “Can I ask something?”

They both turn slowly to face you, and you almost back out. “That night,” you say, forcing the words out, “when we heard something outside…you weren’t surprised. Alert, sure. But you were ready for it.”

Wooyoung snorts. “We live here. We’re used to it.”

“That’s not what I mean. I know what it feels like when magic is nearby. I’m a witch.”

Wooyoung’s expression shifts. A flicker of something you can’t place. Seonghwa holds your gaze. “Then you’d know if we were the same.” His words are certain, grounded, and you falter.

“But—”

There’s a loud crash, then a heavy metal snap from outside, and you flinch hard. Wooyoung jumps to his feet instantly. “Damn it,” he mutters, heading for the door as he pulls his jacket on.

Seonghwa grabs a bow from the wall before following. “Stay inside,” he directs you, but when he exits, you rush to the porch anyway.

A deer had gotten tangled in a snare near the edge of the clearing. It thrashes weakly, rope twisted around its leg. Wooyoung swears under his breath and runs towards it, Seonghwa following at a slower pace. They murmur nonsense the whole time Seonghwa works the rope loose.

The moment the deer pulls free, it bolts, and Wooyoung sucks in a sharp breath, falling backwards into the dirt. You let out a startled laugh, and Wooyoung glares from his place on the ground. “You making fun of me?”

“You’re fine,” you call back, a smile on your face. Seonghwa chuckles, shaking his head as he helps Wooyoung up.

They look normal. Breathing heavy, mud on their clothes. Just two men in the woods dealing with a stupid snare. Your chest loosens. You’re just projecting. Letting fear twist everything, too scared of your past repeating itself. You’re a witch. You’d know if they were too.

You have more important things to worry about, anyway.

-

“Why do you always look like that?”

One late evening, Seonghwa had made a trip to town, and Wooyoung stayed to keep you company. Or keep an eye on you. Maybe both. You turn your face towards where he sits at the heart, poking at the fire with the poker. “What do you mean?” you ask tentatively, moving to sit in the armchair.

“You always look like something- someone is going to burst through the door and everything that is good will end.” His words give you pause. They’re true. And he knows it. “What made you run?” Wooyoung asks after a moment’s hesitation.

“Everyone runs from something,” you reply lightly.

“I’m not asking everyone.”

Your foot twitches. Maybe you are about to bolt. But something about the way he speaks—clean, not hidden behind an easy smile and a joke—makes you want to answer. “I made a mistake,” you say slowly. “One you don’t get to undo.”

Wooyoung’s jaw tightens. “Did someone hurt you?”

Your lips twitch into a melancholy smile. “Something like that.”

He exhales through his nose, frustrated, but he nods. Accepts it, for the most part. “You don’t trust us.” It’s not an accusation, just a statement.

You meet his eyes. “I don’t trust anyone.” This time, it’s the truth. “It doesn’t come easy to me anymore. I don’t want to make the same mistake again.”

Wooyoung frowns. “But you stayed,” he says quietly. “If someone comes looking for you…”

“They usually do,” you shrug like it’s a well-known fact.

A short laugh escapes Wooyoung’s lips, mirthless. He looks at you like…like you matter. You ignore it. “You won’t be alone,” he finishes softly, his hand clenching into a fist before he forces it to relax.

You tilt your head. “That’s a bold promise.”

“Yeah. I know.” Wooyoung’s gaze remains serious, and then the playful smile returns. “When have I never kept my promise?”

You roll your eyes, knowing exactly what he wants you to say. “Well, there was that time you told Seonghwa you would go to town and get some ingredients but forgot. And then there was that time…”

-

After that day, things change. They stop watching you like you’re about to bolt, and you no longer look around your surroundings like you want to bolt. You no longer feel the need to notice every little whisper of wind that passes by, especially when you have other things to notice now.

You wake one morning early, earlier than usual, feeling the urge to make tea. The sun still hadn’t risen while you sit in the kitchen, watching the clouds move across the sky. Then you hear them chatter.

Seonghwa is crouched beside Wooyoung, leaning close over a small scrap of parchment. His fingers brush against Wooyoung’s hand lightly, so gentle it made your chest tighten. Wooyoung’s eyes soften, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. You’re not sure whether to interrupt or look away.

A soft laugh escapes Wooyoung. Quiet, almost shy, quite unlike how you know him, and Seonghwa tilts his head, meeting his gaze with a small, patient smile. You blink, your stomach doing a little flip. They care about each other, clear as day. Really care.

The realisation hit. They move together so naturally, it makes you ache in longing. It wasn’t just friendship, but love. True, unequivocal love.

As if drawn to it, you shift towards them, and the floorboard creaks. Their heads snap up, eyes wide as they both freeze. Seonghwa’s hand lingers mid-air, like he had been caught with a hand in the cookie jar. Wooyoung’s smile falters, and the calculating glint you are used to returns to his eyes, despite the flush creeping over his cheeks.

You clear your throat, setting aside the intimacy you noticed and instead giving them the space they deserve. “Tea,” you explain, gesturing to the kettle that has just begun to boil. “Want some?”

Both men straighten instantly. The gentle tension vanished, replaced by normalcy, but your heart had already noted the truth. You couldn’t unsee it. And as they took seats on either side of you, you told yourself it was nothing. But the tiny, quiet ache in your chest said otherwise.

They love each other. And you wish you had it.

-

The home is quiet in the late evening, fire low, dishes done, the world outside reduced to the wind blowing through the trees.

You sit on the floor, back against the couch, mending a tear in your sleeve with clumsy, uneven stitches. Your tongue peeks through your lips in concentration. Wooyoung notices first, his lips twitching as he holds back a smile. He’s sprawled on the rug on his stomach, chin resting in his hands as he watches you like it’s a show.

“That’s tragic,” he says. “You’re practically committing crimes against fabric.”

Seonghwa sighs from the couch, but there’s a smile in it. “Don’t bully her.”

“I’m not bullying her. I’m witnessing.”

You huff, glaring at him with no real heat behind it. “I didn’t exactly have a peaceful, domestic upbringing, okay? No one taught me how to sew properly.”

That makes them both go quiet for half a second. Not laced with pity. Just a new awareness.

Wooyoung rolls onto his side and props himself up on an elbow. “Okay, c’mere.”

Frowning, you shuffle closer on your knees, holding up the sleeve. He takes it gently from your hands, fingers brushing against yours. Warm.

“Don’t yank the thread like that,” he mutters, focused now. “You’re making it pucker.”

Seonghwa leans forward from the couch, watching the two of you. His gaze is soft, directed not just towards Wooyoung, but at you too. “You’ve never had anyone do this with you?” he asks quietly, not willing to just drop it.

You shrug, watching Wooyoung with your chin on your knees. “Nah. I manage.”

Wooyoung clicks his tongue and finishes a few neat stitches. When he hands the sleeve back, his other hand reaches out to grasp your wrist gently. As if he’s making sure you’re still there. “You don’t always have to manage alone,” he says lightly, but he doesn’t look at you when he says it.

Brushing it off, you laugh. “I’m not helpless.”

“We know,” Seonghwa says softly. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t let people take care of you. That’s just life.”

His eyes are on you in a quiet, searching way. You smile, a little crooked as you try and lighten the atmosphere. “You sound like an old married couple giving advice.”

Wooyoung grins. “We are very wise and experienced in the art of existing.”

Seonghwa reaches down absentmindedly and smooths a wrinkle from your shoulder where your shirt twisted. His touch is brief, natural. You lean into it automatically. “You deserve gentleness too,” he says, almost under his breath.

“Yeah. Maybe someday,” you hum, mind wandering to a day where you can smile freely.

Wooyoung breathes out through his nose, bumping his shoulder into yours. “Next time, just ask, okay? For help. For anything.”

Returning his smile, you nod. “Okay,” you say easily. “I will.”

-

 You don’t worry about anything for a long time. Nothing happens, and you feel comfortable. You manage to sleep through nights, laugh with Wooyoung, and poke fun at Seonghwa. Soon, you feel safe enough to go out with them, gathering herbs and sticking protective charms on the trees.

Today is one of those times. You’re halfway down the path, Wooyoung and Seonghwa on either side of you, when you notice the silence. The birds have stopped singing.

“…Okay. That’s not my favourite thing,” Wooyoung mutters, trying to make light but his hands drift towards the dagger in his belt.

Seonghwa doesn’t react outwardly, but you see the shift. Shoulders straighten, eyes scanning the tree line. Slowly, you turn around and start the slow walk back to the safehouse. Running is not an option. Running means fear.

You feel it in your ribs. That crawling feeling you hadn’t had since before you found the hunters. You hate that it’s back.

“Seonghwa…” you murmur.

He glances at you. “I know.”

Wooyoung clears his throat, keeping his voice level. “Probably just a boar or something, right?” But he’s already moving closer to you.

You don’t look at them when you say it. “The other hunters…it’s the same feeling right before they found me.”

Seonghwa’s voice cuts through the haze in your mind, calm but firmer now. “We’re almost back.”

You take a few more steps when a twig snaps behind you. You shouldn’t have, but your head snaps back. Nothing there. Just trees. But the air tastes metallic. Burnt. Magical residue. You know the charm well. Marking patterns, testing distance.

Wooyoung’s hand brushes yours briefly. “We’ll take the long way,” he murmurs, guiding you to turn away in a different direction.

Seonghwa casts a quick glance back, his mouth moving around silent syllables. And for the first time since the deer, you don’t tell yourself you imagined it.

That night, you can’t sleep. The feeling hasn’t left.

You sit up quietly, running your hands through your hair before you realise Seonghwa is already awake. He sits at the table, a candle burning low behind him as he pours over old maps and ancient books in languages you don’t know. You get up, stepping closer.

“You don’t sleep much.”

He doesn’t startle, just turns to look at you. “Yes, I do.”

You raise a brow, and he almost smiles.

You sit across from him, pushing aside an errant book to make room to lean on the table. “Something’s wrong,” you say after a long silence. “And you knew before today. And you knew they were close, and have been.”

Seonghwa pauses, letting out a breath. “Yes.” There’s no denial in his voice.

“You don’t feel like a hunter.”

There’s another drawn-out silence, a space where the truth could fall. His eyes lift to meet your gaze. “Then what do I feel like?”

You swallow hard. “Like…someone who is making himself become one.”

The candle flickers. You can see the gears turning in his head. The point where he could tell you the truth. He opens his mouth, but no sound comes out. And then Seonghwa turns his face away. “We should reinforce the perimeter tomorrow.”

You nod and stand. “Good night, Seonghwa.”

The unspoken truth hangs between you like breath in cold air.

-

They attack without warning. They never do.

The wind hesitates one evening, and your stomach tightens. Seonghwa notices at the same time, setting his cup down slowly. Wooyoung is mid-sentence, complaining about something trivial, when his mouth snaps shut with an audible click of his teeth. “You feel that too, right?”

You’re already standing. “Someone’s here.”

Seonghwa moves towards the wall where the weapons hang. Calm, measured. “You stay inside.”

You almost laugh. “I’m not hiding.”

A branch snaps in the woods. Then another. They’re no longer trying to be quiet.

Wooyoung reaches for a blade, his eyes flicking to you. The door bursts open before anyone reaches it.

Hunters flood in. Their weapons are trained in on you, etched with sigils you recognise too well. Your blood goes cold. The very same clan as the one hunter you saved what feels like a lifetime ago.

“Behind me.” Seonghwa’s voice is tight, but controlled. A hunter lunges for you, but you spin away from his grasp at the last second. Wooyoung rushes forward.

You try your best to assist, but your magic isn’t careful enough to target the hunters in such an enclosed space. And though you try your hardest, you are untrained in the art of a blade, and you wield a sharp dagger stolen from the wall clumsily.

Wooyoung manages to bring a handful of hunters down, but he can’t hold them all back, and Seonghwa is across the room from you. One, or maybe two, grab your wrist and wrench you off balance. Pain shoots up your shoulder as they slam you into the wall.

The wind is knocked out of you, and you fall to the floor. “YN!” Wooyoung’s desperate cry echoes in the house’s walls, but you barely register it, eyes trained in on the silver blade positioned above you.

“Got her—”

The words don’t finish. The air tightens, and you stare as the hunter’s neck, and then face, turn red, then purple, then lifeless as his eyes roll back and the blade falls uselessly from his fingers.

Silence falls over the room. No one moves a muscle. You turn your head, meeting Seonghwa’s eyes. He’s not holding a weapon, his hand is just slightly raised. And the space around him is wrong. Not dramatic.

Just…bent. Bent around his form, his entire being.

Another hunter rushes forward with a yell, blade raised. You open your mouth to scream, but there is no need. The man hits an invisible wall and is thrown back hard enough to crack his skull.

Wooyoung stares, his blade lowered. You stare, your mind whirring. Because Seonghwa’s expression hasn’t changed. Not rage, not panic, just deadly, quiet focus.

The hunters turn their attentions towards him, but it’s no use. Seonghwa’s fingers flex, and every counter sigil in sight burns out mid-air. Magic fills the air, suffocating everything in its path. It’s not wild like yours. It’s ancient magic, precise and practised.

The hunters fall one by one, and their bodies disintegrate to ash when the light in the eyes of the last one standing leaves. And silence crashes down.

The room feels too big now, the pressure gone. Seonghwa’s hand drops. For the first time since you met him, he looks….unsure. His eyes find yours, wide and finally filled with fear. He’s scared not of the hunters, but of how you will react.

His gaze flicks to Wooyoung, who is frozen in the doorway, staring at Seonghwa like he’s seeing him for the first time too. But in the end, Seonghwa’s eyes move back to you. “I didn’t—” His voice is quiet now. Human again. “I couldn’t let them touch you.”

No excuses, no denial. Just a simple explanation. You take a small step forward. “I…I know.” You offer a weak smile. “And you know I knew.”

Seonghwa lets out a breath. “Yes.”

“Did you?” You turn to Wooyoung, your tone not accusing, just curious.

Wooyoung nods, stilted. He looks away. “It wasn’t my place to say,” he mutters.

You laugh softly, breathlessly. “No. I understand. Some things take time.” The fire pops. “I’ve hidden worse.”

Seonghwa crosses the room, summoning a blanket which he adjusts around your shoulders like he’s done a dozen times before. Careful, warm, and close. “Thank you,” he says softly, his eyes shining with something unguarded.

You don’t need to reply. You just pull him into a tight embrace, reaching out a hand for Wooyoung, who joins without another moment. And it’s all you need for this moment.

-

Much later, when it’s quiet, you tiptoe out to the porch. The tension is gone, left with a fragile peace. The safe house no longer reeks of dangerous magic, the fireplace is reduced to a warm orange glow that glints on the windowpanes. Seonghwa joins you a moment later.

The silence grows thick between you two before you finally break it. “You used magic without thinking. For me. In the open. You could have hidden it. Why didn’t you?”

His hands, fidgeting with a stray thread on his tunic, shake slightly. “You…you had enough to deal with.” You reach out to grasp his fingers, stilling the nervous movement, and you both know it’s time to explain.

“I grew up in a coven that believed control was love,” he says quietly, and you don’t interrupt. “If someone struggled, they weren’t helped. They were corrected. Containment. Binding. Silence.”

His mouth tightens when you suck in a breath. It’s the worst fate one could wish on a witch. To bind their magic, to force them to contain it. Magic naturally flows out of every living thing, and to force it to stop means a long, slow, destruction. A burning from the inside out. But still, you say nothing else.

“There was someone. Bright, emotional, not quite what the elders approved,” he continues. You know how this ends. You can feel it. “They lost control one night. No one was hurt. But the coven decided they were dangerous, and ordered a binding.

“It was the first time I argued against them. I insisted we could teach them. Help them stabilise.” He smiles, a faint, sad one. “They ordered me to perform it. They condemned my sister, and then ordered me to carry out the punishment.”

The words sit between you. “I refused. And so, I was exiled. And branded so I could never return. I couldn’t save them.” The scars laid over his eye glint in the light, and something twists in your gut.

“So you became a hunter.”

Seonghwa chuckles, shaking his head and letting stray hairs fall in his eyes. “I don’t hunt witches specifically,” he says quietly. “I stop harm where I can. Sometimes that includes magic. Sometimes it includes humans.”

You swallow. “Why tell me?”

Seonghwa finally pulls a hand away, but only so he can brush his hair back again. Perfect, pristine, careful. “Because you look at yourself like you regret your kindness. The way I looked at my sister the last time I saw her.” Your breath catches. “It wasn’t. Not for her, and not for you.”

The fire inside dies, but the air between you two remains warm. “I couldn’t protect someone who needed me once,” he adds, almost too quiet to hear. “I couldn’t make that mistake again.”

And it’s not a promise spoken like a hero. It’s a vow from someone who had failed once and is terrified of doing it twice.

-

The next few days pass in silence. Fresh off the attack, and with the new knowledge of Seonghwa, tension is high. Seonghwa double-checks, triple-checks the wards, sets up fresh and clean traps. Busies himself with cleaning until not even a spider remains. Wooyoung is the exact opposite. He’s still, for once. Spends his time looking out the window, watching for any sort of movement. Sometimes, he falls asleep at the sill, and before either of you can wake him, he jerks upright and resumes his watch.

But you. You don’t know what to do. The knowledge that you’re no longer the only witch leaves you with some comfort, that you’re not alone. But it also makes you scared. Scared history will repeat itself. That this will never truly be your home.

The fire is low again. You didn’t mean to talk this much tonight. It just…happened. The quiet was too much for you to handle, the weight of your story heavy. You already told them about the hunter. About healing him. But you hadn’t said the part that matters most.

“I thought,” you murmur, staring into the embers like they hold all the answers for you, “if one of them lived because of a witch, maybe the story would change.”

Wooyoung goes rigid beside you. Seonghwa slowly lifts his head to look at you.

“I didn’t see him leave. Didn’t know he marked the paths. Counted our wards.,” you continue. Your voice is distant, as if retelling someone else’s tragedy. “They came back at dawn. With him leading them.”

Seonghwa’s hand reaches out but stops half-way to your arm. But Wooyoung…Wooyoung isn’t breathing right. But you press on, like you always have.

“They burned the outer homes first,” you say. “So we’d run inward. Trapped us.”

A sharp, painful laugh escapes you. “My coven didn’t even try to defend me once they found out. They said I brought it upon us. That mercy was weakness. That I’d chosen humans over my own.” You hesitate before saying the part that hurts the most, that doesn’t feel real. “And they handed me over.”

A sharp intake of breath draws your attention, and you glance sideways and stop. Wooyoung is staring at the floor like it’s opened beneath him. His voice comes out hoarse. “You said…before. That you made a mistake. That was it?”

For some reason, he looks like he’s the one remembering smoke in his lungs. “I made a bad choice,” you say simply.

He lets out a quote, wrecked laugh. “You helped someone who was dying.”

“And he repaid it by slaughtering people who trusted me.”

Wooyoung’s head snaps up. “That wasn’t your fault. Kindness isn’t a crime.”

Shaking your head, you look down. “Sometimes it is.” You regret the words when you hear Seonghwa sigh softly.

But there is no other reply, and you look up to see the way Wooyoung’s jaw clenches so hard you can see it tremble. Something in his gaze makes your heart ache. Hurt. Unsurety. He presses a hand to his mouth, lips drawn tight. Seonghwa looks at him with understanding. And you know you won’t get to share that until Wooyoung chooses to let you.

“You were brave.” Wooyoung’s words make you freeze, your throat tightening. He looks away quickly, pressing his hands to his eyes. “You don’t get to decide you’re the villain just because you had faith in humanity.”

His hand finds yours on the floor between you. And this time, he doesn’t hesitate. “I’m glad you made that mistake,” he says quietly. “Because if you hadn’t, you wouldn’t be here.”

Seonghwa nods sagely. “People chose violence. That wasn’t you.” He moves closer, just a little, his shoulder fully against yours now. Warm, solid. Careful. “If kindness is a crime, then the world’s already doomed.”

You don’t say anything else. You can’t bring yourself to. But it’s a breath of fresh air, and you know the house has changed, and will change. For the better.

-

Change comes slowly. But you appreciate it. You still need to be careful, keep your magic under wraps, but with the comfort of knowing Seonghwa understands you entirely. You finally feel like you could, just maybe, call this place home.

One summer night, you sit on the bottom step of the staircase, chin resting on your knees, watching the fire in the hearth burn low. The light flickers along the walls, warm and steady. You’re just resting. Not listening. Not watching. Not longing.

Across the room, Seonghwa sits on the floor with his back against the couch. A book rests open in his lap, but his eyes scan the same page over and over. Wooyoung is half-sprawled beside him, head tipped sideways against Seonghwa’s shoulder. His eyes are closed, breathing slow, one hand loosely interlaced with Seonghwa’s.

Neither of them have moved for a long time.

Your chest feels strange. Too full. Too quiet. And you look away. That kind of closeness is something you deserve in another life. Something other people get in this one. People who weren’t—

You swallow, pushing that thought to the back of your mind. Instead, you focus on how they fit together naturally. Like they don’t have to flinch when being touched. You wonder what that must be like. To lean your weight against someone and not expect them to move away. What it must be like to be reached out to first.

Wanting things like that makes you stupid. You can’t afford to wish. Your throat tightens, and you tuck the feeling away where the others go. Under your ribs, behind your teeth. But you can’t stop your eyes from drifting back.

“You two are…good together.” Your voice comes out quieter than you mean.

Seonghwa looks up, his eyes softening when he sees you. Wooyoung stirs, blinking sleepily as he turns his gaze towards you. “Hm?”

“Nothing,” you say quickly. “Just. You two match.”

Wooyoung smiles lazily. “We know.” He shifts, sitting up a little. “Come here.”

Your whole body goes still. “What?” You shake your head too fast. “I’m good here.”

Seonghwa closes his book, setting it aside. “It’s warmer here.”

You force your lips to move up in a smile, hoping it looks convincing. “I don’t— I’m okay. Really.”

Wooyoung’s lips turn down, a little crease appearing between his brows. You want to smooth it out with your lips. “You don’t have to sit alone…”

A laugh falls out of your lips, light, dismissive. “I like it. Don’t worry.” Your gaze shifts back to the fire, telling yourself that the ache in your chest is just leftover fear. Not longing. Not hope. Not love.

And across the room, their gaze does not leave you.

-

The rain hasn’t stopped all evening. It taps softly against the cabin windows, steady and calming. The fire crackles low, painting everything in warm gold.

You sit cross-legged on the floor between them, a map spread out in front of you. The edges curl every time the wind pushes through the chimney draft.

“So if we go around the ridge,” you say, tracing a line with your finger, “we can avoid the main patrol routes.”

“We could also take the river path,” Seonghwa adds.

Before you can reply, Wooyoung suddenly leans sideways and drops his head directly into your lap, his dark hair spread out. You jolt. “What are you doing?”

“Thinking,” he mumbles, face pressed against your thigh.

You look helplessly at Seonghwa. “That’s not a thinking position! Why is he like this?”

Seonghwa sips his tea, a twinkle in his eye. “He’s comfortable.”

Wooyoung turns his face slightly, cheek pressing up further against you. His hand comes up, loosely grasping the fabric of your sleeve like he’s anchoring himself there. You freeze for half a second, then awkwardly, you pat his hair.

Seonghwa quickly turns away, holding back a laugh. Wooyoung slowly lifts his head, staring up at you in disbelief. “Did you just…pet me?”

You tilt your head, smile tugging at your lips. “You seemed to want reassurance.”

He springs up so fast, his eyes narrowed at your pleasant expression. “I want you to realise that I am—”

Seonghwa kicks him lightly in the side, and Wooyoung wheezes. The older witch smiles pleasantly at you. “He’s being dramatic. Ignore him.”

Wooyoung flops back down into your lap, defeated. “Unbelievable.”

You absentmindedly start running your fingers through his hair now, working out the small tangles. “You’re very clingy today,” you state softly as you turn your attention back to the map.

He closes his eyes immediately, melting. “Mmh. I wonder why.” He sighs again, but this time it’s more relaxed, almost content. “I can’t live like this.”

Seonghwa chuckles. “You seem to be doing fine,” he teases, moving closer to join you in stroking his hair.

And you sit there between them, fingers in Wooyoung’s hair, Seonghwa’s knee pressed lightly against yours. And the longing grows stronger.

-

The next day, you don’t leave your room until midday when your stomach growls. You can’t face their early-morning tenderness. Not without breaking down.

Only Wooyoung is in the main room, seated at the table, marking one of the maps. You brush past him, humming a good morning when he lifts his head. He returns it by reaching out and squeezing your fingers gently. You ignore the flutter in your chest.

Breakfast is an easy task, one you can focus on. You start the kettle, brew some tea, and prepare some toast. But when you turn to grab the honey, it’s not in it’s usual spot. It takes you some time to find it, the glass jar on the top shelf.

With an exasperated sigh, you stand on your toes, stretching out your arm. “I swear this house moves things just to mess with me,” you mutter. Your fingers brush the jar but you can’t quite get it.

There’s a soft sound behind you. The jar slides forward right into your hand. You blink. “Thanks, Seonghwa,” you call automatically, but there’s no response. You turn around.

Seonghwa isn’t there. But Wooyoung is leaning on the table with one elbow, his other hand raised slightly, fingers relaxed like he’s just set something down. Your eyes move from his hand to his face. He doesn’t smile.

“…You?” you ask.

“Yeah.”

You wait for a punch line, for Seonghwa to step out from the shadows. It doesn’t come. “You—” you tilt your head. “You too?”

Wooyoung’s eyes soften. “I didn’t want to hide from you anymore.” His words are quiet, more so than you ever heard from him. “I…are you mad?”

Something in your heart pinches. “Never. Never at you.”

Relief floods his face so fast it almost looks painful. “Good,” he murmurs, and you smile.

“Guess I have two house witches now,” you chuckle. Wooyoung laughs along shakily.

“You’re not going to ask why?”

You tilt your head at him. “Only if you want to share.”

He fidgets a little, hands restless. He doesn’t meet your eyes at first, then he nods. “My coven…” he takes a deep breath. “They weren’t like Seonghwa’s. We— they were chaotic. Messy. They took what they needed. Protected themselves first. It didn’t matter who got hurt as long as they were alive.

“One night,” he says, voice cracking slightly. “Another witch faction came. Territorial dispute. They killed my people off. I was the only one left. Somehow. And…I became exactly what I had hated. I hunted the witches. I justified it because I thought that’s what survival meant.”

You reach out, but he jerks slightly, as if afraid of your touch. Then, he relaxes and lets you take his hand. “I’m not clean,” he admits softly, voice thick. “I’ve done terrible things that I can’t justify. And I was— I am scared that you’ll run. That you’d see me the way I see myself.”

Heart aching, you squeeze his hand. “Wooyoung,” you whisper. “You can’t fix the mast. But…you can be here now.”

His breath leaves him shakily, as if that tiny acknowledgment is all he’s been waiting for. And in the firelight, you realise this is the first time he’s admitted he’s scared, broken, and desperate. But also that he wants to be something more than the mistakes he’s made.

And when Seonghwa comes in, Wooyoung enchants the fire to burn just a bit warmer, and smiles at the oldest witch. “She knows.”

-

It’s afternoon. Sunlight through the windows.

You’re sitting on the couch for once, not your usual spot on the floor, as you read through the spellbooks Seonghwa kept. Seonghwa is watching the stew simmer. Wooyoung is watching you.

Too obviously.

“What?” you ask without looking up.

“Nothing.”

You squint at a diagram, tracing the lines. “You’ve said that each of the four time’s I’ve asked.”

Wooyoung groans, sliding off the kitchen stool he sits on and crumpling onto the floor, dramatic sigh and all. “You’re unbelievable.”

You gasp in mock offense. “Uh, rude?”

Wooyoung rolls his eyes. You know it without even looking at him. “Oblivious.”

A pause. “About what?”

This time, you look at him. Wooyoung gestures vaguely at everything. The house. The room. Himself. Seonghwa stops stirring but doesn’t look up, already anticipating chaos. “You know why we fixed the attic insulation?” he asks.

“Completely irrelevant, but okay.” You miss Wooyoung’s second eye roll. “So we wouldn’t freeze.”

“So you wouldn’t.”

You mak`e a face. “We all live here.”

This time, Wooyoung full-out groans, covering his face with his hand. “You see this?” he directs to Seonghwa.

Seonghwa hides his smile behind the ladle. “I see.”

Wooyoung keeps going. “The tea you like never runs out? The blanket that’s always on your chair? The fire that is always the perfect temperature you like?”

Brows furrowed, you tilt your head. “What, am I your stray cat?”

A strangled sound escapes Wooyoung’s throat. Seonghwa finally walks over, poking his knee with his foot. “Enough.”

“No, because—” Wooyoung runs his hands through his hair. “You think we just do this stuff for fun? Do you really think we’d let just anyone stay? Read our books, cook for us, know exactly where we keep all our traps and wards?”

You close the book. “I thought you just felt bad,” you admit. The look Wooyoung gives you is half heartbreak, half disbelief. Seonghwa’s expression shifts too, to something sadder.

“I’m going to lose my mind,” Wooyoung breathes out, falling back onto the floor dramatically.

“Don’t bully her.”

“I’m not bullying! I’m trying to educate!”

You look between the two of them, confused. “Did I miss something?”

The answer comes from both of them, at the same time. “Yes.” Wooyoung is exasperated, Seonghwa fond.

You laugh nervously. “Okay, but no one’s explaining. So I’m going to assume this is a normal occurrence.”

Wooyoung covers his face with his arm, and Seonghwa chuckles, squatting next to him to thread his fingers through Wooyoung’s. They whisper to each other, and you go back to your book, but your heart beats strangely fast for reasons you don’t know.

Or you refuse to examine.

-

The house is now too quiet. It’s evening now. You’re sitting at the table, chin in your hand, watching Seonghwa and Wooyoung move around the kitchen. They aren’t talking much, but they keep glancing at each other like they’re having a conversation you can’t hear.

“Okay,” you say finally. “What.”

Wooyoung freezes mid-step. “What, what?”

“You’re both being weird. You have been, for the past couple days.” You hear Wooyoung say under his breath ‘just days?’ but you ignore it. “Like a…’something happened’ weird, and it’s like I wasn’t invited.” You squint at the two of them, trying to see into their brains. Seonghwa turns back to the stove.

“Nothing happened,” he says smoothly.

Exasperated, you throw your hands up into the air. “Then why does it feel like I’m about to be sat down for a life talk?”

Wooyoung mutters, “Oh, trust me, I want to.”

Seonghwa elbows him lightly, and you drop your head on the table. “I knew it.”

A teacup is set beside your hand. Your favourite blend. You notice the way Seonghwa straightens the cup and adds a teaspoon of honey, just how you like it. You always notice. You just don’t like to think about it.

“Did I do something wrong?” you finally voice out after a moment, your heart in your throat.

Both of them look at you immediately. “No, never,” Wooyoung breathes out, face softening. They share a look again, something unspoken and heavy. Your stomach twists.

“Okay, seriously. You’re scaring me.” You try and keep your voice level, cheerful, but it falls flat.

“Hwa,” he mutters. Seonghwa closes his eyes briefly, nods almost imperceptibly. Wooyoung stands, and you follow.

“I don’t understand why you’re both acting weird,” you say, hands clenched into the fabric of your sleeves. “You said I didn’t do anything.”

Wooyoung slow turns to stare at you like you personally offended him. “You didn’t do anything,” he repeats, his voice tight. You stare at him blankly. “You know what? No. I can’t do this.”

“Do what?” Every second, your confusion and frustration just grow and grow.

“This.” He gestures wildly between the three of you. “You’re walking around like we’re—like we’re just roommates.”

“We are roommates,” you counter.

Wooyoung makes another strangled noise. “Wooyoung—” Seonghwa tries to interrupt, but Wooyoung whirls around to face him.

“No, because she’s going to live here until she dies and still think we just have a strong sense of community,” he stresses, and you blink.

“Woah, woah, what’s all this about me dying?”

“Not. The. Point,” Wooyoung grits out. He walks towards you and stops right in front of you, too close. Your heart skips a beat. “Do you think we do all this because we’re nice?”

“…Yes?”

He blanches like you slapped him. Seonghwa closes his eyes briefly like he saw this coming centuries ago. Then Wooyoung reaches out and grabs your wrist. Gently, but firmly. “This is it,” he snaps, but not at you. More inwardly. “This is the most obvious thing I can do for you.”

And he drags you outside.

-

It’s chilly, but not unpleasant. The kind of night where the air is clear and every star looks close enough to touch. The best kind of night for witches.

You follow Wooyoung up the hill, brows furrowed. “Why are we out here now?” you ask.

“Trust me.”

The forest stretches dark and endless below. The sky above is massive. And Wooyoung steps in front of you, and he’s the only thing you see now. His eyes are determined, but nervous. “Just watch,” he whispers. “Please.”

He raises his hand. The air shifts.

Soft light spills from his fingertips. Gold and silver threads burst out, weaving into the night like fireflies being born. They lift into the sky, curling between the stars, forming slow-moving constellations that don’t exist. Shapes that shift and breathe. A fox made of stardust. A bunny that follows after. Flowering branches of light. Shooting sparks that dissolve into glitter.

It’s breathtaking. Ancient. It’s intimate. Vulnerable.

It’s courtship magic. Used to say ‘Look what I can make for you. Look what I want to share.’

Your eyes shine. “This is beautiful.” Wooyoung breathes a sigh of relief. “It’s like…festival magic.” Your automatic defence mechanism.

Wooyoung blinks. “What?”

“Like solstice celebrations. The decorative kind.”

His eye twitches. He makes the lights shift again. Even softer, drifting down around you like glowing petals. One lands on your sleeve and dissolves into warmth.

You smile, a little tight around the corners. “You’re talented.”

“YN.” Wooyoung takes a long, deep breath. “This is a courting display. For you.”

You look at the sky, bright and colourful. Then you look at him. “Oh.” Your heart yearns to say yes. And maybe it shows in your eyes, because Wooyoung steps forward, cupping your face with cold hands. He waits just a second, and you don’t move away.

He kisses you.

It’s not dramatic. Not overwhelming. Just warm, certain, and maybe a little desperate, like he’s been holding it in for weeks.

When he pulls back, breathless, he says, “I have been flirting with you for a geological era.”

You stare at him, stunned. “That…that long?”

His eye twitches again. “Do you remember the sewing?”

You frown. “Sewing?”

“The sleeve. You were butchering that poor piece of clothing like it wronged your entire bloodline,” he says.

“I said I wasn’t good at it,” you squawk, flushed.

Wooyoung rolls his eyes, this time decidedly fonder. “Again, that’s not the point. Remember? We told you. People are allowed to take care of each other. And you said?”

You swallow, embarrassment flooding your stomach. “Maybe someday…” Wooyoung look over at Seonghwa, who joined you two silently a few minutes ago, then back at you like you’re the most ridiculous, precious thing he’s ever seen. Your stomach drops. “Oh. Both of you?”

Seonghwa steps closer, his fingers brushing lightly against your sleeve. “We’ve been trying to show you. For a while.”

“And you thought we were just being nice,” Wooyoung chuckles.

“I—” your voice comes out small. “I didn’t want to believe it. Not in something this good."

Both of them still, something devastated flickering in their eyes. “It’s here,” Seonghwa says softly, leaning in to brush his lips against your temple. Then your cheek. Then, after you nod, your lips. A gentle caress.

“I didn’t know…” you whisper into his mouth, and Seonghwa smiles.

“You weren’t meant to figure it out alone,” he says gently.

Wooyoung makes an affronted noise. “You were the one who insisted she should realise by herself.”

Seonghwa pulls back, his smile widening. “It was funny.”

You look at both of them, their faces shining from the residual magic in the night sky. “I think,” you say, heart pounding, “that I don’t want to be anywhere else.”

You woke up in the crude, one room hut that you called home. The dried herbs of your craft wafted through the air as you pulled from slumber’s arms. You rolled around in your bed and were met with the warmth of your lover. 

“Jae, I must start early today with the ritual,” You groaned, heaving yourself out of bed.

At least, you attempted to. Your lover’s arms wound around your waist and pulled you back into your bed. “Must you? I hate when you have to take the poor sheep’s life.”

You ran your hand up Jaehyun’s nape of his neck and dove it into his strands. They were mussy from the morning and from you tugging it last night. You felt like you were the luckiest witch in the world. 

“Mmm, I must. In order for the village to have an easy winter. It’s the least I can do. Especially since Seokmin gave me the sheep. And Seonghcheol sharpened my blade. And--”

“Yes, I know, I know,” Jaehyun interrupted you. “The village appreciates the hard work you do. But must you kill the sheep only a few meters away from where you sleep?” 

You leaned backwards to see that Jaehyun was wrinkling his nose in distaste. He wasn’t complaining last night. “Of course. My hut is at the centre of the village. I’m the hub and the villagers are the spokes. Jaehyun, why are you making such a fuss today?”

Jaehyun beamed up at you, his dimples pulling at your heartstrings. “I’m sorry. It’s just feeling extra today. I’ll leave you. I don’t want to mess up and add mal airs to the ritual day.”

This time it was you who grabbed onto his arm before he left your bed. Your gut was telling you something was wrong. “And not give me a goodbye kiss?”

“What was I thinking?” Jaehyun teased, leaning down and pressing his lips to yours. “I'll see you tomorrow for the festival.”

You sighed heavily as Jaehyun walked out of your house. Regardless of your heavy heart, you prepared for your day. 

You found your ash staff and made the correct circle in the ground where the sacrifice would occur. You used the runes for crops, health, and good luck. You made sure to dry and disperse thyme, rosemary and jasmine. Then you followed the lines with the soil from the various farms that surround your village. The final piece was the white dress you needed to wear. 

With all your preparation done, you fetched the sheep that would be your sacrifice. You lured it in with some grain. With some firm tugging and a little cajooling, the sheep went inside the sacrificial circle without disturbing too much dirt. 

Once you nudged the thyme bundle into its correct eastern position after securing the sheep to the centre, you took your spot at the northern position. The chant was simple: you simply entreated the earth to be a good benefactor. Allow the soil to be ripe with nutrients so the crops would grow, that the herds would eat well, that the humans would too. You entreated the water to allow for the good clean storms. You entreated the air to push the seeds to rest in your forests and naturally produce what you wouldn’t plant yourselves. Lastly, you entreated the sun to send strong sunshine to allow the humans to be happy and the trees to grow. 

With that, you gripped the wavy-bladed dagger that your grandmother had gifted to you when you had turned thirteen. You whispered thanks to the sheep for its lifeblood and then slit its throat. It bleated weakly and you gently laid it down so that the blood could mix with the soil of the village that you had spread around. 

You flicked the dagger that was covered in the sheep's blood to all the points: East, West, South and North. You held it above you and entreated the Goddess and her Consort to look favorably upon your tiny village. 

The door bursted open abruptly, blowing out all the candles in your hut. 

“Look what we have here.”

A silver-haired man strolled into your house like he had been invited. “A witch in the middle of a blood sacrifice. What horrible demon are you summoning to kill this village?”

“What are you talking about? I’m doing my annual ritual to help the village produce its best!” You protested. 

The man shook his head. “They always want you to think that they’re doing good. Take note, she thinks you’ll believe this even though she’s covered in blood.”

“Who are you? Why have you barged into my house? Leave and begone,” You commanded, standing up resolutely.

The man smirked. “I see my reputation does not proceed me. Why, Witch, I am the Witch’s Axe, Bang Chan.”

“The Witch’s… you mean the man that’s been going around and preaching that witches are evil? That abhorrent man?”

The silver haired man threw his head back and laughed. “I’m abhorrent when you’re the one who is about to slaughter the village that allowed you to live here? “ The man shook his head in disbelief. “Now I understand why you brought me here, friend. Here, the coins for your accurate information.”

Some of the men with the Witch’s Axe moved and cleared the path for your lover to enter. 

“Jaehyun, help me…”

The words died in your mouth as Jaehyun opened his fist to receive the coin that Bang Chan had finished fishing out from the coin purse hanging from his belt. 

“What are you doing?” You demanded in horror. 

Jaehyun looked at you pleadingly. “You know how bad my family is doing, sweetheart. I had to.”

“You…had to…” Your words tasted like ash in your mouth. 

“Come now, Witch,” Bang Chan motioned with a beckoning motion. “Let’s do this the peaceful way and I’ll be merciful with you.”

Your heart broke into pieces all around you. So did your mind. The edges to your vision felt blurry as your sadness and rage grew around you. The air began to stir without your behest. Some candles started to come back to life. 

The men with the Witch’s Axe slowly began to filter out back through your door. Chan’s hand went slowly behind his back. “Don’t make this any harder on yourself than this has to be,” He said in a quiet voice, as if you were a horse he was soothing in order to put a bridle on. 

You started to laugh under your breath but soon it bubbled from your chest, up your throat and out of your mouth in maniacal laughter. “Do you think I am one of those poor women who have been falsely accused? No, you should have given Jaehyun more money. I’m the one that shouldn’t have messed with.”

The door to your house shut firmly and all the candles you had in your house were lit with fire that rose dangerously high from their wicks. 

Chan pulled a hand axe from behind his back. Ironic. “Good. I like it when they fight.” He grinned equally maniacal back at you. 

You felt a droplet of water hit your face and you flinched like it was burning you. 

“Wait, you’re--”

“Let’s dance, Witch,” Chan roared. 

You dodged the throw of his axe, but just barely. He was already readying another to throw at you. Your branch of air and fire worked well in swirling around you. It was as if a small tornado surrounded you, wreathed in fire. You shot a fireball at Chan but he moved the bucket of water Jaehyun had hauled from the village well last night to wash from this morning so your fire never hit him. 

When the next hand axe thudded and only missed your toes because of the rush of air you used to mess with its trajectory, you knew you were in trouble. You gripped your dagger tightly. 

“I will not allow you to capture me, Witch’s Bane,” You spat. 

“Oh, you all say that. But you’ve never met someone like me,” Chan teased. 

“Oh, I’m sure there are plenty of your kind around. Did your mother think your father was a charming wanderer when simply it was a Warlock looking to spread his seed. Did she resent you for most of your childhood? I know your kind, Witch’s Curse.”

With another roar, Chan charged at you. His broad shoulders hit your midsection and slammed you into the wall so hard that you both went through the material. You landed with Chan on top of you. You were disoriented and couldn't breath. 

“You and me, we’re going to have so much fun, Witch.” A shudder ran through you as Chan pushed your hair away from your face. “First, I've got a lovely bridle to put on you, one that will pierce your tongue and make you beautifully mute. Then, I think I'll cut your heels so that you’ll never be able to run away. And then I’ll mount you when you say you’ll do anything for this torture to stop. When I’ve had my fill of you, when the village demands that you be put to the flame and cleanse it of all your evil, I’ll have three other women lined up to do the same thing. But don’t worry, I’ll remember you.”

You spat in Chan’s face. “You are a disgusting slug of a creature. I vow to you right now, I will not burn, it will be you who will be ashes by the time we’re done.”

You summoned your branch of fire and lit a corner of your dress. If you couldn't leave this place with your life, the least you could do for every witch was to rid this world of Bang Chan, The Witch’s Axe.

“No!”

Your eyes wildly looked around for the one voice that would protest your suicidal plan. Your heart had leapt at the thought that it might be Jaehyun. It was not. 

A large man threw Bang Chan off of you like Bang Chan was a brittle leaf. You heard him hit the opposite house with a crash and screams of the inhabitants. 

“Today is not your day to die,” The man vowed. 

He leaned down, placed a hand on your shoulder and in a poof of purple smoke, you two were gone from the village centre. You were on the cliffs above your village, looking down at it. The man restrained you as you watched in horror as the entirety of it burnt to the ground. Chan must have ordered it in order to flush you and the mysterious new man out, for surely you could not have gotten far. 

Except the man was clearly not a human.

“You should have helped me kill him!” You shouted. 

The man shook his head. “That’s not my path.”

You fell to your knees as your entire life burnt up. Your future, your past, your life is gone now. 

Your bruised heart panged horribly. Numbness spread through your veins from your broken heart. All you wanted was to be wanted. Why had Jaehyun done that to you? Of all the people to betray you, why him? For some coin? How could he?!

You knelt in the soft grass, dress covered in blood and a dagger in your hand. What was there to live for? You lifted it up and brought it to your breast. 

“Whatever you were going to do with that, I suggest you don’t.”

You raised your eyes reluctantly to the man that had saved you and restrained you from throwing yourself to save your village. 

“Will you also take away my choices?” You asked in bewilderment.

“No,” the man said softly. “But I don’t think he’s worth killing yourself over.”

You had no idea how this man knew what your heart wept over. No branch of magic you knew spoke of hearing thoughts. 

Still, tears welled up enough that you’d believe you were drowning, even as your sobs threatened to choke you. “I loved him.”

The man shoved his hands into the pockets of his pants, and then looked up at you through his fringe. “No, you didn’t.”

When you didn’t lower the dagger from your breast, his gentle hand cupped yours and took the dagger from you. 

Your throat was tight with emotion. “I thought I loved him.”

The man shrugged. “You did. But it was not true love.”

Your lower lip quivered and you hiccuped with your sorrows. “How do you know?”

“Because I would have sent him.”

You shook your head in disbelief. “My mind has truly broken.”

Those same gentle hands chucked your chin upwards and a thumb followed the curve of your lower lip. “No, you’re anything but broken.”

You giggled, the type that fell from your lips like shattered glass. “I am obliterated.”

“I won’t allow you that.”

You pulled away from the gentle touch. “It’s too late for that.”

“It wasn’t too late to take the dagger from you.”

“I was going to carve up my flesh like my heart and mind feel like. What’s so wrong to be as I am on the inside?” You demanded.

Kind hands cupped your upper arms. “You have been wronged, it is true. But it is not permanent.”

“How do you know?” You asked with a wail. It doesn’t seem possible to live beyond this moment.

“What if I told you that you’ve not met your true love. I know who he is. If you consider living past this moment, you’ll discover him.”

That caused you to pause. That caused you to ponder. That caused you to not hurt for more than a minute or two. Curious.

“Would he heal me?”

“No.”

Would you get betrayed by even your true love?

“You will heal yourself.”

“I don’t understand.” This conversation was following threads only this man could see, apparently. 

“No, I don’t suppose you would. But you will.”

“So, you’re telling me if I decide to live, that someone will love me truly?”

A bright smile brightened the man’s face. “He already loves you. You just have to meet him first.”

He offered his hand, your dagger tucked into the back of his pants. A pendant hung from his neck as he leaned down. “Will you?”

Anything was better than what you were doing and feeling right now, wasn’t it? Not far to fall when you’ve already hit rock bottom. “I will.”

He hauled you onto your feet as he pulled off his pendant, and you were hit with a whoosh of air. You stared up in disbelief. Where had those wings come from? And the horns. And the talons. 

“What are you?”

“Shouldn’t you ask who I am first?”

You shook your head and tried to pull back but this man--nay--this demon would not let go of your hand. “If I’m seen here, they will only believe more of the lies the Witch’s Axe spreads.”

“Oh, we won’t be here for much longer. But if you ask my question, I’ll answer yours.”

“Who are you?”

“Choi San. And I am a demon.”

“A demon. I swear to you, I didn’t summon you.”

A twist of his lips has your stomach dipping. “You kind of did, actually. Anyways, you better hold onto me. We’re about to travel and it’s very disorienting.”

You turned your head and looked over your shoulder at the smoldering ruins of what used to be your village and your home. Maybe it was because you had nothing to worry about, not even your life, or maybe it was because everything had been taken from you, but you weren’t worried about San’s vague statements.

“Take me far away from here, San.”

“Gladly, my heart.”

“My--?” 

You screamed and closed your eyes as the world turned upside down. Or sideways? You weren’t sure, you just knew you felt like you were going to be sick. San had stepped through a purple portal and now you were experiencing vertigo. 

You didn’t dare open your mouth, for fear more than vomit would come out. 

“Just a little bit more,” San said, his arms tightening around you.

You were suddenly very distracted by the hard item that was pushing into your stomach.

Then your ears popped and you opened your eyes. 

“San, where are we?”

“The Demon World.”

Your jaw dropped slowly as you took in the world around you. A mute red grasslands spread out below the crest of the hill you were standing on. In the distance were crags of rocks that you could only describe as teeth, topped with a neon orange substance. It was odd but familiar and beautiful. All were true.

“I knew you’d love it here.”

Back to the matter at hand. “Why the hell are you hard?!”

San pulled at the crotch of his pants, adjusting himself. “That’s a standard response to meeting one’s fated mate.”

You rubbed your face tiredly. “This is too much. I’ve actually died, haven’t I? This is the last few minutes where my mind is just popping off and creating some fun before I truly become worms and dirt.”

San frowned down at you. “That’s not very nice of you to say.”

“I was betrayed by the man I loved, the Witch’s Axe is after me, I’ve met a demon after attempting to kill myself, and now I’m in the demon realm where said demon has just declared we are fated mates.”

San looked thoughtful. “That about sums it up.”

You held up a hand. “I’m going to need a minute.”

“Me too,” San admitted. “Although I don’t think it’s going away anytime soon because I can still smell you.”

“Then I’m going away!” You stomped down the hill but you didn’t get far.

“I don’t think so, Heart.” You have a moment to contemplate the way San’s growl made you feel before you were swept off your feet and realized you’re flying. “You have the rest of your life to realize that I’m never going to let you more than an arms length away from me.”

“This is ridiculous! You knew the entire time?” You shouted as air streamed by you. You tried to ignore the fact that you were fucking flying.

“I’m the one in charge of making sure that the demons find their witch or warlock counterparts, of course I knew. It’s my job to know.” Did you see a hint of a pout on those pillowy lips?

“San, I…”

“I know you’re heart sore. I can feel it through our connection. It’s okay. I can wait.”

You remained quiet until San flew you to the crag-teeth that you had admired off in the distance. “Our home is here.”

Our home. How did you lose the love of your life and found another one so quickly? This day was beyond maddening. 

Still, San gracefully stepped on a landing, tucking his wings against his back. “Welcome home, my heart.”

He let you down and you took a hesitant step. The furniture was similar but in a purple hue of wood you were certain didn’t exist in the human realm. The setting was cozy but lush. It felt homey but it certainly wasn’t like anything you had experienced. 

Then you zeroed in on the bed. You turned on your heel immediately. “Is there truly only one bed?”

San raised his gaze to yours and looked back down. “Of course.”

“Of course, he says,” You scoffed, throwing up your hands. “Of course!”

“You’re sleeping with me, where else would you sleep?” San protested.

“Not in the bed of a man--sorry, demon, that I just met?!”

San frowned again. “Not any demon. Your fated mate,” 

“Oh, I’m sorry, like that makes the difference!”

San flinched. “It does. I would never harm you.” 

As if to prove his point, San pulled your dagger from where he had safely tucked it and gave it back to you. You looked down at your dagger as if it could give you the answers you were looking for. 

“Look, San, I’m sure you’re a very nice demon but I don’t know you. And whatever this fated mate means to you, I’m not sure it feels the same for me.”

San’s head hung low. “I know.”

You breathed in and out deeply. You put your wavy-bladed dagger next to a double headed axe near the door. “Thank you for rescuing me. I’ll never be able to repay you.”

San shook his head adamantly. “I didn’t rescue you. I simply took you where you were supposed to be.”

You looked around. “The Demon Realm, huh? This is truly where I’m meant to be?”

“Well,” San took a step forward. “With me.”

“Okay, okay, I get it,” You used your hands to stop San from stepping too close. “I just need some time to… absorb everything.”

“Of course.”

San showed you the rest of your new home. The kitchen, the baths, the living room. Everything was open without feeling like your cramped one room shack. 

“I don’t have anything but this.” You raised the skirt of your dress listlessly. Leaving the human realm with nothing but the dress you had performed your ritual in seemed a bit ridiculous to you now. You didn’t even have your favorite socks that you wore on a cold winter night. 

“Oh, don’t worry. I had some clothes made for you. We’ll bring the seamstress in and she’ll take something in if it needs it but… I don’t think it will.”

“Know me so well, even down to my measurements, huh?” You joked.

“I’ve seen you in my dreams. I’ve felt your body under my hands. Of course I know your measurements.”

A shudder ran down your spine. You know this is odd. Weird. Not right. But somehow, after everything, San simply knowing your size and making clothes for you in advance felt like… like what you wanted from Jaehyun. 

“Oh,” was all you could manage. 

You moved to the wardrobe and opened it. There was… everything you could need. You pulled out a soft nightgown and rubbed your finger and thumb together to admire the quality of the cloth. “This is--”

A hand covered yours. “Yours. It’s yours, Heart.”

That’s when you broke. You sobbed and sobbed and San simply held you. He held you and rubbed your back until all you could manage was hiccups. And when you were done, he moved you to the bathroom where he lovingly washed your face, and left so that you could clean up decently and change into the nightgown.

And when you left the bathroom, and you saw that San was waiting for you on the bed, you practically leapt into his arms. You cuddled your cheek against his chest and sighed. “I don’t care if this is weird, it feels right.”

San pulled away to look down at you. “I thought you said you didn’t know what being mates felt like?”

Did you? How do you explain that San’s comfort meant everything to you right now?

“Whatever, can we just sleep?”

“Of course, sleep, Heart. I’ll be here when you wake up. We will have a new day tomorrow. I will show you more of the Demon Realm and your new home.”

Well, that was the plan anyways.

Things work out a little differently when you woke up to San’s cock nudging your ass and his whimpering in your ear.

“San,” You whispered.

San simply whimpered back at you, arms tight around your body. His lower half continued to grind in between your ass cheeks.

“San!” You insisted more firmly.

“Please!” San whined. 

You groaned. “San, wake up!”

San moaned and stirred behind you. His grip tightened and his hips flexed and then he pushed himself away. “I’m sorry. My body moves instinctually. It was our first night as mates and…I’m sorry,” he finished lamely. 

You moved away and this time San let you go. “It's fine.” 

Well, it wasn’t fine, or you would have let him finish in his pants as he clearly intended to. Or would you have turned around and found just how thick his cock felt against your ass cheeks? Your face heated up at the thought. Was this the mate bond San was talking about?

San cleared his voice. “I’ll run you a bath. You’d like that, to start the day clean?”

“When I’ve had my fill of you, when the village demands that you be put to the flame and cleanse it of all your evil, I’ll have three other women lined up to do the same thing. But don’t worry, I’ll remember you.”

You shivered and ran your hands along your upper arms. “I don’t think I’ll ever be clean.”

San cupped your face again. It seemed a habit of his; as if he wanted you to only focus on him. “Don’t think of him. You’re safe here. As long as you’re with me, no harm will ever come to you.”

It didn’t seem like an empty promise. San had saved you after all, despite all your attempts to fight Bang Chan. Still, the Witch’s Axe’s words seemed to slither around inside of your skull. It was impossible to rid yourself of them. 

“But don’t worry, I’ll remember you.”

You blinked as San’s lips against yours brought you out of your head. San sent you a sheepish smile as he broke the kiss. “Don’t torture yourself. I can feel it. Stay present with me. I can keep you distracted if need be.”

“I…” It had been a simple touching of lips but somehow it had your brain muddled. Especially after that offer. “No.” You shook your head as if to rid you of those thoughts. “No! San, I said I need time to absorb.”

San spoke through his pout. “I know but you were torturing yourself with your thoughts and I thought--”

“No,” You repeated firmly. “I’ll get ready for the day and you’ll show me the Demon Realm.”

“Fine.” But the pout wasn’t gone. Who knew demons pouted so often? 

With your arms held behind San’s neck, he spread his beautiful bat-like wings and took flight from the landing that branched from your new home. You let out a small squeal of delight at the butterflies it created. 

A satisfied smile spread along San’s face. “I will make sure to fly you everywhere, if you like it so much, my heart.”

You shifted in San’s arms, not exactly sure how to take that. “You don’t have to fly me everywhere. I’m not sure how your wings work but I’m sure it’s straining carrying me all the time.”

“I tossed a man yards away from you and you doubt my strength!” San protested.

You couldn't help but smile. You hadn't meant to tease him but he was absolutely adorable in his responses. You schooled your features when he looked down at you incredulously. “It’s not like I’ve inspected them. I don’t know how strong they are.”

San’s frown at your statement had you biting down on your lip. How were you to resist this man who you barely knew when he was so attractive?!

“Allow me to demonstrate.”

With a howl, San was pulling his wings tight around the both of you and performing a sudden death drop. You screamed in glee. Then he opened his wings, diving and dodging the teeth-like crags. His arms didn’t shift the slightest as he held you and you felt beyond safe despite the devil-may-care attitude. 

“When we come of age, there is a flight path between the mountains that we must fly through. It’s called Dancing like Butterfly Wings. It may sound whimsical but it was the hardest flight of my life. This is mere child’s play to that,” San told you. 

“When I came of age, I had to gather my moon’s blood and combine my two branches of power for the first time. I had to stay there all night until finally I was so frustrated I made a flame tornado that destroyed the entire glade I was sitting in the middle of.” 

You wondered how San would react to mention of your moon’s blood. Jaehyun always made sure he was scarce because it was a sacred time for a woman. You always wished he had stuck around to help you out since you couldn't use your magic much. 

San’s eyes widened. “But you’re not supposed to perform magic when you’re bleeding!”

“That’s the test,” You said proudly. “To prove that you are connected to your magic even through the pain.”

San nodded resolutely. “I understand. Going through Dancing like Butterfly Wings is similar. As if your flying is so natural that despite your muscles hurting you can still manage the high winds and maneuvers. You are strong, my heart.”

“Well, I suppose, that means we’ve been matched well then,” You allowed.

San's arms tightened around you possessively. “We were born for each other.”

“Do you really think that we had no choice over who we fell in love with?” You demanded.

San looked off in the distance, face serious. “I don't see it like that. It's more an assurance that there is someone out there just for you.” 

“You help bring fated mates together, right?” You inquired, recalling what San had told you earlier.

San nodded. “I help demons, and witches and warlocks, with their matches.”

“How?” And why didn't you find me earlier? You couldn't help but think with a painful beating of your heart.

San made a noise of distress. “I promise you, I found you exactly when you needed me.”

You sighed. “Doesn't feel that way, San.”

“I'll show you what I do another day. For today, I want to show you my favorite place in the entire Demon Realm.”

You flew in companionable silence until the early morning sun glinted off of the surface. 

“Is that water…pink?!” You demanded incredulously.

“It’s Lake Fever,” San murmured. “My favorite place.”

The lake was in the middle of a clearing, a copse of flowing trees that reminded you of weeping willows only full with blue flowers instead of leaves. It was a serene piece of heaven and you felt yourself settle immediately. 

“San, this place is beautiful,” You said softly.

San set you down. “I was hoping you would like it too.”

“I…” You were almost at a loss for words. Although you knew the demon realm existed, you  never expected it to be so beautiful. “Thank you.”

San began to unbutton his shirt. You couldn't help but watch as bronze skin was revealed. You had snuggled into it last night but you had been so emotionally overwhelmed that you hadn't truly had a moment to appreciate his carved body. San reached to the collar behind his neck and unbuttoned that too. Why hadn't you realized his shirt had an open back for his wings?

San lifted his eyebrow at you. “Want to go for a dip?”

“A…dip?”

San quirked a tiny half smile. “It’s warm. There’s some vents underneath that maintain it. It’s almost bath temperature. It’s really good for sore muscles.”

“Another reason why it’s your favorite place?” You wondered.

San nodded. “Yup.”

“Why didn’t you tell me where we were going? I could have…” You lifted your skirt uselessly. 

San cleared his throat. “It was a surprise.”

You chewed on your lip. You wanted to take this dip with San but you had just had your heart torn out by Jaehyun and you were considering going skinny dipping with your new mate? Things were moving a tad bit too fast for your logical brain. 

You shook your head. “You go ahead. I’m not the one flying us around everywhere.”

San shrugged his shoulders. His broad, muscled shoulders that rippled as he stretched and folded his wings. “Suit yourself, Heart.”

Your eyes widened as he bent over to remove his pants and then strode confidently towards the lake, as if he wasn’t butt-naked. 

Your eyes went to the sky but your mind wasn’t going to forget San’s plump bare ass anytime soon. What would it look like with nail marks, or bite marks? You shook your head. No, you couldn't--

San let out a chest laugh that was deeper than his happy giggle. “Like what you saw?”

You sat down at the shore, gathering your knees upwards and you buried your face into your arms. “You did that on purpose,” You mumbled. 

After a bit, you raised your head and watched as San splashed around in the lake. He ducked underneath the surface to wet his hair and slick it backwards, a strand or two catching on his horns. You were having a hard time not staring, even only being able to see him from the chest up. 

This was a set up, if you ever saw one, but you found that you almost couldn't complain.

Especially when San started to climb out of the water. You turned your head to avoid seeing his full frontal nudity. San let out another one of those delicious chest laughs. 

“That was offered freely, what’s wrong, Heart?” San teased.

“Doesn’t seem right,” You grumbled. 

San must have grabbed his pants and put them on because the next thing you knew was that he was standing over you, shaking his wet hair out over you. You squealed and then jumped up.

Only to meet San’s eyes dancing with amusement. He had his pants on but not his shirt, simply tucked into the waistband of his pants. 

“Are you a dog?” You demanded.

“No,” San said with a dimpled smile.

You rolled your eyes and sighed. “Are you done with your dip? What else can you show me?”

Instead of entertaining your question, San reached out for you. You let him drag you to his body, wet or no. “Nowhere where there are any others. We’re in our newly-mated era, you see, and I won’t suffer anyone near my mate.”

“Awfully possessive for a demon I’ve barely met,” You continued to grumble. 

San gripped your chin and made you stare at him. “You are mine, Heart, make no mistake about it.”

“Don’t you find this just a bit much?” You demanded desperately. “Some people take years to fall in love. How can you act like this?”

“I’m following my heart.” San grabbed your hand and placed it over his heart. “Don’t you feel it?”

You could feel San’s chest muscle flexing under your hand. You could feel his smooth, warm skin beneath your palm. You could feel his heart beating erratically, like he was excited for this moment. You could feel--

“San, you’re hard again,” You deadpanned.

“I have my mate pressed against me,” San murmured lowly. “Your soft curves are molded against me. I can smell you and it’s driving me insane. Do you know what our bond is doing right now? It wants us to cement our joining. It wants our bodies to come together. Do you know how hard it is to not take you right now?”

You gulped, hard and loud. You had no moisture in your mouth. You had never been so thoroughly wanted by any man in your entire life. Was this what it meant to have a fated mate?

“I don’t…I don’t fuck without strings, San. I have to be involved. I have to know you. I have to want to fuck you knowing your heart and soul, I--”

San growled--growled!!--and his eyes lit up with a yellow ring along the iris. “You do! You know me inside and out because we are mates.”

“San--”

San breathed in and out through his nose deeply. He had a charming nose whistle that made your heart skip a beat. It has been doing that a lot lately. “I’m sorry.”

And when he released you, you felt empty and longing. You felt cold. You felt--

You looked into San’s eyes and saw his sorrow. You felt rejected. Was this his feelings? You couldn't help but snatch up his hand and rub your cheek against it.

“I’m not rejecting you, San,” You assured him. “I just--you’ve known about this your whole life. I only found out about this yesterday.”

“I know,” San agreed but he sounded so dejected.

Your heart hurt knowing that you were the cause. San had been nothing but lovely to you and here you were making him feel horrible. 

“This was a lovely trip,” You murmured and then placed a chaste kiss on his cheek.

San sucked in his breath in surprise at the cheek kiss. When you stepped back, he put a hand to his cheek, as if he didn’t believe the kiss was real.

“You’re welcome,” he said. 

You shivered and you realized you were soaked from San. “I think we should go home now,” You said softly.

“I--” San looked around into the sky and narrowed his eyes. “What the fuck?”

Suddenly, San was shoving you behind him just as you heard the whooshing of another set of wings. 

“I thought I’d find you here.”

San threw open his wings, almost as if he was trying to make himself seem bigger than he already was. 

“Why are you here, Hongjoong? You know the rules.”

“There’s an emergency,” Hongjoong replied.

“Someone else can deal with it,” San said through gritted teeth. “Do you know how much it’s taking me to not rip you apart for being close to my mate right now?”

“San, they need you. Someone’s mate died before we could get to her.”

You side stepped San. “Another witch?”

Hongjooong’s eyes widened. He nodded slowly.

You turned your head. “San, you have to go!”

San grimaced. “I can’t, Heart, you have no clue--”

Hongjoong cocked his head. “Wait--have you not--?”

“Careful what you say next Hongjoong, because if I even get a hint that you’re thinking about my mate in a carnal act with me, I will--”

“San, there’s no time for this!” You insisted. “That bastard clearly wasn’t hurt enough when you chucked him into a building. He’s still killing witches! We have to help!”

“Heart, someone else can--”

“You have a better connection with the heartstone, San, please, you might be able to locate the next mate before they are in trouble!” Hongjoong pleaded. 

“I can’t, Hongjoong,” San declined. 

Your heart ached that you had been saved from that fate but you couldn't help the next witch. It made you feel weak and useless and very, very angry. 

You grabbed San’s hand and dragged him a few feet away from Hongjoong. “Are you really telling me that you can’t go help other witches because you haven’t fucked me yet?” 

San wearily ran his hand over his face. “It’s not by choice, Heart, I promise you.”

You ran a hand through your hair. “So if we--can you--?” You looked desperately at San for an answer.

“Heart, no,” San pleaded. “I don’t want our first time to be like that!”

You made a decision, right then and there. There were worse things you could do than fuck a handsome demon so that another witch or warlock could live. With San still in tow, you walked back to where Hongjoong was. 

“You tell them--”

San yanked you back into his chest, arms locked around you, holding you tight to him. He wasn’t about to let you get that close to Hongjoong, apparently.

You struggled a bit in his hold, you couldn’t help it. “Tell them San will be there later today. He’ll help. I promise.”

Hongjoong dipped his head, his lips twitching into a smile. “My thanks, witchling.”

“We’re leaving,” San grumbled and swept you into his arms once again.

This time you cuddled into his chest, the air of the morning not quite warm enough at the high altitude and the swiftness in which San was flying. 

“S-s-s-san,” You stuttered, your teeth chattering.

San cursed under his breath. “We were supposed to dry off in the sun. Consort damn you, Hongjoong.”

By the time San landed back home, your toes and fingers were slightly numb. San didn’t bother to put you down, he simply walked straight into the bathroom. There was a large pearlescent-colored metal tub. 

“I c-can s-sum-m-on--” You could barely speak, you were shivering so badly.

“Curses,” San swore. “Heart, I say this is the most respectful tone but you need to get out of your clothes and get in bed with me.”

“I c-c-an d-d-do it-t-tt!” You insisted.

San shook his head. “There’s no time.”

San gripped the chest of your dress and ripped it in two. It fell to the crooks of your arms and you stared down your body in complete surprise. San removed his wet pants next and reached for your underclothes before you smacked his hand. 

“N-n-no-t-t-t we-t-t-t,” You stuttered. 

San whined. “Heart, you’re killing me!”

He threw you over his shoulder and then tossed you onto the bed. You bounced only once before San was pressing his body on top of yours. He encapsulated you with his body. His eyes were traveling over your face, watching your every feature. Slowly but surely, San’s heat permeated your skin and your shivering began to slow down. 

You whined as San pressed your harder into the bed. “You’re smothering me!” You protested. 

“You can breathe just fine,” San argued. 

“I’m warm now!” You insisted. 

San shook his head. “You’re not going anywhere.”

“San!” You shouted.

San winced at your tone but did not relent. “It’s my fault. You’re not moving until I’m satisfied you’re fine.”

“I’m fine!”

San’s chin found the crook of your neck. You froze when his lips found your pulse. His tongue swiped out to press there. 

“What are you doing?”

“Preparing you,” San murmured into your skin. 

“For what?” You squealed. 

One minute your entire world was San above you and the next, the demon was lying on his back. His wings were tucked tightly against this back. You were straddling his hips now. San’s taloned hands smoothed up your thighs. 

“Did you forget why we came home soaking wet, heart?” San said in a low voice. His eyes were hooded as he looked up at you. 

“No, I didn’t, I just--”

“Heart, you have only your underclothes on and I’m not wearing a stitch of clothing,” San reminded you. 

“I know that,” You replied. 

“You’re so soft,” San murmured, hands now flowing over your hips and finding your underwear. His taloned forefingers circumvented the straps there and then with a sharp tug of his nail, both sides of your underwear were ripped. 

“Must you destroy all my clothing!” You protested.

San smirked. “No. But every time I do, your scent spikes. You like it.”

“But you got them for me,” You pouted.

San chucked your chin. “I’ll get you more. Don’t worry.”

You changed topics, aware of the reason you were currently straddling San right now. “You’ll be able to help the others after this, right?” You asked.

San gripped the back of your neck and brought you down to press against his chest. “I don’t want to think about anyone other than you and me right now, Heart.”

“You’re very good at this,” You observed.

“What? Tempting you?” San’s eyes were directly on your lips. “I was made for you. Just like you were made for me.”

“Are you going to kiss me now?” You whispered.

San’s warm breath fluttered against the sensitive skin of your lips, that’s how close you two were now. “I’m going to do more than kiss you, Heart,” San replied. 

Your hands slipped to cup San’s neck and run along his jaw as San tipped his head to slant his lips across yours. He kissed you slowly but it was heated in its tone. He turned his head the other way to slant his lips against yours again. Each time he pressed his lips against yours you felt your body melt further into him. 

The hand that had been gripping the back of your neck moved down your spine, causing you to shiver. San whined but you couldn't help but smile. 

“I’m not cold,” You admitted. “It’s just sensitive there.”

San eyes came up to yours to watch as his finger trailed your spine until he found your corset. Then he ran his talon down the ribbons there until finally you felt your ribs no longer being squeezed. He gripped the garment and threw it across the room like it offended him.

Now there was simply the piece of material that was your underwear between San and you. The both of you became acutely aware of it immediately. San pinched it between his fingers and cocked his head. You nodded and then he threw that too. 

You gasped as your wet core pressed against San’s hot cock. It twitched against you and San moaned. “Heart,” he called out to you. Both of his hands dug into your ass, pushing you further against him. 

“Oh Goddess,” You cried out. 

San bit down on his lip, hard. “You’re in charge, Heart, I can’t--” You shifted your hips again and his back arched. “Please!”

You rocked your hips up and down San’s length, not reaching down to put him inside of you quite yet. You were enjoying this moment of power. 

Jaehyun always insisted that since he was the man, that he fuck you. You had never rode Jaehyun before. You belatedly thought that this was perhaps you were a powerful witch that Jaehyun felt the need to turn the tables in the bedroom, like this was his only chance, seeing as how you provided for yourself. 

San began to growl and you smiled sheepishly. “Sorry, sorry.”

“If you think about another man while I’m inside of you, I take no responsibility for fucking you senseless, Heart, until you can think of no other but me.”

The hand that you had been bracing yourself with on San’s stomach caressed upwards. Your other hand followed until they both separated over each chest muscle. “I’ll make it up to you,” You promised.

“Heart--!”

Your hands finally found his wings and you gasped in happy surprise at how soft they felt. 

“You’re killing me,” San complained even though his eyes were rolling into the back of his head. 

“Are you sensitive here, San?” You asked.

“I’m sensitive anywhere you touch,” San moaned. 

“Your horns?” You glanced upwards to where they curled towards the bed. 

“If you touch my horns, I will have no choice but to flip us and fuck you through this mattress, Heart, don't test me,” San threatened with his whole chest. 

You giggled. “I have so much to learn about you.”

“We will have all of our lives to do that,” San assured you. “Please, put me out of my misery.”

You glanced down at San below you, moving your hands back to his shoulders. “Are you suffering because you’re not inside of me?”

“I’m dying!” San protested.

“But doesn’t this feel good?” You continued to tease him, rubbing your soaked folds over his twitching cock. 

“Heart, please,” San begged. His eyebrows frowned and his eyes pleaded and you couldn't help but give into him. 

The moan San let out when you finally sunk down on his length was wanton and debased. His talons made indents in your ass as he continued to cry out. “You’re so fucking warm, ugh so wet, I need you so badly, Heart.”

“I’m here, San, I’m here,” You reassured him. 

“It’s not enough!” San abruptly sat upwards, hands moving to the small of your back to keep you close. “I need all of you.”

“Why is it every time I look you in the eyes…?” Your words died in your mouth. How did you encapsulate what the look in San’s eyes felt like?

A gentle smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Because it’s what I feel, Heart. Being like this with you, this is where I’m meant to be.”

“How am I supposed to consolidate all this?” You wondered.

“Just love me right now, that’s all I ask,” San prompted before placing a kiss on your lips. 

You moved your hips as your hands dived into San’s hair. You pressed the kiss for more and San obliged you. You felt like you couldn't get enough of his kisses. You had never felt like this before. It was--

You gasped in realization, breaking the kiss. San simply smiled at you knowingly. “I know, Heart, I know.”

You whined and wrapped your arms behind his neck. Your hips moved more vigorously, grinding your clit against San’s pelvis. San absentmindedly ran his talons up and down your spine, making your shiver and moan in his grasp. You felt like this sex was something more--something substantial--something--!!

“Come on my cock, Heart, make it yours,” San murmured into your ear.

And then you unravelled. You felt your cunt convulse around San’s length. Your climax hit you so hard, your eyes rolled into the back of your head and you saw stars. You felt as if your heart was being peeled back, layer by layer, until it was left open. 

You panted as you came down from your high and opened your eyes. “San?” 

Your heart splintered. Did you simply take your pleasure from San and gave none back? Were you not enough for him? Did you do something wrong?

San’s mouth was open with wonder. His eyes sparkled like he had just witnessed something extraordinary. “You are my everything, Heart.”

You felt yourself soften at his words. “But you didn’t…come…” You said lamely.

San’s eyes immediately sharpened and you swallowed loudly. “Are you giving me permission to take control?”

“I want to see you lose control,” You whispered. 

San groaned loudly. “All I do is lose control around you. You constantly have to tell me to put myself back together. And now you want me to do it on purpose?”

You pressed your lips together and nodded. 

That’s all it took.

Suddenly, the headboard to the bed was digging into your shoulders as San drove deep in between your thighs. With both hands holding your waist, his hips flexed and sharply thrusted into you. You felt like he was driving the air from your lungs with how hard he was going. But it didn’t hurt--no, it hit a deep part inside of you that you didn’t realize you needed. 

San’s hands moved to brace against the headboard, his arms boxing you in. “You are mine,” San growled territorially. “This body, this heart, this cunt is mine,” he stressed. 

You whined as you felt a second climax building from San fucking you so well. “I’m yours,” You agreed. You’d babble anything, truly, if that meant he’d continue to fuck you like this. 

Without warning, San turned your head and his mouth was back to your pulse. “Mine,” he growled once again and then bit down at the thin skin there. 

Your fingers dug into his side at the pain but soon it was all lost as San came inside of you. He moaned against your neck, chasing his high as he continued to thrust into you. Between one thrust and the next, you were gone too, this one coming even harder than the last. You truly spaced out, unaware of your surroundings until you blinked and San was looking down at you with worry. 

“Heart?” He said his pet name for you. “I’m going to get a cloth now.”

“For what?” You said faintly.

San chuckled. “For many things, but mainly for the mess between your legs.”

“The mess…?” 

You tipped your head and saw the gushing liquid that was coming out of your clenching hole. It was a frothy mess, dark and viscous. Nothing like normal human cum. San’s cum appeared as the dark ocean whipped up into a frenzy on a stormy night. 

You winced as your neck twinged with pain. You clamped a hand down on it and when you felt more wetness, you pulled back your hand and saw your blood. 

“San!” You shouted.

“What, what?” San ran out, naked as the day he was born, with a cloth in both hands. Then he appeared sheepish. “Ah, you’ll be alright. Everyone bleeds a little from their mate's bite.”

You showed your hand fully covered in your blood. “I must look like you almost killed me!”

San’s eyes combed over you. Your blood was running down your breast now and his cum was forming a pool on his bed. “You look ravishing, heart.”

You huffed. “My good sir, if you would continue to help me clean up instead of staring at me like I’m a treat on the table?”

San ducked his head and padded over to you. “Of course, Heart. I’ve got you.”

You allowed San to wipe away the blood along your body but you neatly plucked the cloth away from him to clean up the mess between your legs. San pouted at that. 

“I don’t trust you to start up another round,” You admitted to him.

“What’s so wrong with that? Most newly mated demons and witchfolk spend days in bed together!” 

“Well, we have somewhere to be, do we not?” You pointed out. 

San took the dirty clothes and tossed them into a basket. “Not before I feed you. You need energy.”

“San, I’m--”

San bared his teeth at you. “You will eat!” 

“You are a pushy nuisance!” You shouted back.

“I’m your pushy nuisance,” San argued.

You rolled your eyes. “Is this how it’s going to be, mate of mine?”

San bounded back to the bed and curled you into his body for a hug. “For the rest of our lives, Heart.”

“Ah, San,” You sighed. “You’re giving me whiplash.”

It was only after you ate a light lunch, could you then put some clothes on and San was willing to leave your home again. You flew in a different direction, and this time with a cozy sweater that smelled just like San. 

Things had shifted between you two. It wasn’t just that you two had been intimate but it was inherently tied in with that. You felt like San had put a key into the lock of your heart and opened it up completely. 

“What did we just do?” You asked.

“I told you this is why there is a newly-mated observed time where the two mates are together, just the two of them. They sort out their feelings and their lust and they come to an understanding,” San scolded you. “Now you have to deal with this AND the situation we’re about to walk into.”

“It’s important that we save lives. My feelings can wait,” You insisted.

San sighed heavily but snuggled you closer to him. “Just another reason to love you, I suppose.”

Through the rust-colored prairies, San flew until he reached a town. Or what you assumed was a town. From your view high up, you could see a spiraling road that descended into the ground. As San flew down with you in tow, you could see that there were demons flying across the abyss, trading or greeting each other. You felt sorrow for your old village. 

San gave you a loud smacking kiss on the crown of your head. “You’ll make a new life here, you’ll see.”

Down and down, San went, the wind rushing by your ears and the dwellings and stores stopped and you began to see statues. They were demons standing guard, their wings spread behind them and their weapons of choice drawn. The artist had captured them as if in mid-fight. They were beautiful but also intimidating. Probably what the intent was. 

There truly was no end to the descent but there was an end to San’s flight path. He finally landed on an open terrace. 

“The hearthstone is one of our guarded magical items,” San explained to you, setting you down on your own two feet. “We keep it down here for safe keeping.”

You peered at San curiously. “Who would dare try to steal it from demons?”

San laughed under his breath. “There are other beings and creatures in the demon realm. Also there are some that would attempt to sabotage the mating connection. Some believe mixing with the magical folk dilutes our blood.”

“I…” Your brain hadn't exactly gotten to that part of the mating exchange. “Are there little half demons running around here?”

“Of course!” San assured you. Then he sent you a sly smile. “Why?”

“Nothing, no reason,” You attempted to diffuse the situation. 

San nudged you with one of his wings. “Not thinking about my cum inside of you as we speak?”

“San!” You looked around wildly but there was no one in the empty hallways lit with torches. 

“San?” Hongjoong stuck his head out of one of the open doorways in the hallway. “You came!” Hongjoong still looked warily at San.

“She’s got my cum in her, Hongjoong, you’re okay!” San shouted.

“Oh my Goddess,” You hissed, feeling embarrassment heat up your cheeks.

“Oh, good,” Hongjoong replied, his own face heating up as well. 

“Can you show me the hearthstone, please,” You tried to redirect by tugging on San’s arm. 

“Of course, Heart,” San agreed, though that didn’t take away the mischievous smile on his face.

Further inside, at the end of the long hallway, a room opened up. It wasn’t a grand affair like you thought it would be, but a cozy room with a few chairs and a fireplace. There was a grand painting above the fireplace but other than that, the central focal point was the heartstone.

It was a dark, rough hewn stone in the shape of a heart, of course. San clasped a hand down on your shoulder. “The painting is of the first demon and witch mated pair. He discovered the heartstone and learned to harness its power. So many demons and witchfolk were yearning for their hearts desire with no guidance. I am a descendant of the first mated demon. I also hold the affinity to help others find their fated mate.”

You looked at San with reverence. “You must help so many demonkind and witchfolk.”

San nodded proudly. “It is my privilege. I get so happy when I see them finally reunited.”

“San is a romantic, if you can’t tell,” Hongjoong added, having followed you to the heartstone’s room.

You ran a hand behind San’s back, clasped his hip, and squeezed him close. “I’ve noticed.”

San cleared his throat and focused on Hongjoong. “Is the demon here who has felt the call?”

“I’ll go get her.” Hongjoong nodded quickly and jogged out of the heartstone room.

“A demoness and a warlock, huh?” You thought out loud.

San shrugged. “The fated pairs can work both ways.”

You brought your forefinger and thumb to your chin in thought. “I wonder if I know him.”

A low growl left San’s lips. “What do you mean ‘know’?”

You smiled happily. You knew that San’s possessiveness should be something to be wary of, but you were finding it refreshing. “There was a warlock in the next village over. I would visit him sometimes. His affinity with earth meant that he grew the most wonderful ingredients. That’s as far as it went.”

San narrowed his eyes down at you but shrugged it off. “Well, it doesn’t matter now. You’re my mate and he’s about to discover his.”

You giggled under your breath. “Yes, San.”

The demoness entered. Her wings were tucked against her back but her eyes widened at seeing you and whipped her head towards San. “A human in the inner sanctum?”

San raised his eyebrows at her. “My mate in the inner sanctum,” he corrected her.

She still eyed you with judgment. “Of course, my mistake.” Then she demanded bluntly. “Shouldn’t you be--” Hongjoong made a cutting motion at her. “--ah, you’ve come to help me. You have my many thanks, San.”

San dipped his head in acknowledgement. “You can thank my mate. She doesn’t want any more witchfolk to get killed before they can find their mates.”

“Thank you, witchling,” the demoness said with slight warmth in her voice. 

Hongjoong grabbed you softly at the elbow and pulled you back as San and the demoness approached the heartstone. San glared daggers at Hongjoong, who was quick to drop his hand when you two were some distance away.

“San needs to focus on the demoness’s heart, which the heartstone helps with,” Hongjoong leaned to you to explain.

“Hongjoong, I’m about a minute away from ripping your arm off and beating you with it,” San snarled.

Hongjoong raised his hands in defeat. “Got it, got it.”

You watched as San took a deep breath and then he placed his hand on the left side top of the heart. The demoness put her hand on the other side of the heart.

“I need you to dig deep,” San instructed her. “Think of your hopes and dreams for your mate. Then I need you to follow the tug of your heart. You’ll know when you feel it.”

“Mingi, you better not be flirting with anyone,” the demoness muttered under her breath. 

The heartstone glowed--no, it pulsed, as if it was beating. And perhaps it was. The demoness gasped and San’s eyes acquired that yellow ring around the iris. 

“Do you feel them?” San intoned.

“I--I do!” The demoness stuttered.

“Follow the rope guiding you to them. Follow it until you can see their face in your mind’s eye,” San commanded.

The demoness shook as she must have done so internally. Then the heartstone shone so bright that you had to throw up a hand to brace for it. “I see him! It’s unhealthy how much I want him. I need to calm down,” she muttered.

The glow faded until it was a faint pulse again. You lowered your hand and San was grinning like a child with some sugar. “It is done.”

The demoness threw herself at San. “Thank you, thank you!”

The flames of possessiveness fanned over your own emotions. You were happy for the demonness but she was pressed up against San’s chest. That was where you belonged.

San raised an eyebrow at you over the demoness’s shoulder. You raised the corner of your lip and he laughed silently. He pushed the demoness back. “You’re welcome. Hongjoong will help you with the transmography pendant.” 

The two demons left and it was just you and San now.

You shook your head in shock. “That’s why you didn’t look like a demon when I first saw you!”

“It’s hard enough coming to terms with being mates. Adding the demon aspect is a bit much, we’ve found over the years,” San revealed.

“And yet you did it backwards for me,” You said.

San laughed in slight embarrassment. “I needed you to accept my outside first.”

You sent San a knowing look. “More like you wanted to flex your wings.”

San spread his wings cockily. His head lifted with an attitude. “I knew my mate then, you’d say.”

You shook your head and laughed at the ridiculousness of this moment. You reached out with your hand and San took it willingly. “That was amazing, what you did for her. Thank you for coming and helping her and her mate. And thank you for letting me glimpse into your world.”

San ducked his head, his cheeks heating up slightly. “It was my pleasure.”

“Although if most demons thank you by hugging them, maybe don’t tell me about that when you come home after a long day,” You joked.

San pulled your curves to his side. “I think I like you jealous like this,” he whispered into your ear. 

“I’m not the one threatening to rip anyone's arms off,” You muttered.

San giggled like he was gleeful of your petulance. “No but if you could have sent a burst of wind at the demoness to push her back, wouldn't you have?”

“It’s not polite to use my power like that,” You sniffed.

San cackled, throwing his head back with a deep laugh. “That’s my mate.”

You fell into a comfortable rhythm in the Demon Realm. There were plenty of witchfolk with the various mates and descendants of mixed blood that felt like home in the descending village where San worked. In actuality, you had always been the lone witch in the village so being surrounded by so many others felt better than home. You wondered what had kept you all segregated in different towns for so long?

You also had the honor of meeting with more witchfolk and demons that were fated mates. San was doing a wonderous job of saving your kind but for as many as he saved, it seemed just as many died. The Witch’s Axe was working feverously in his worship to death.

But Bang Chan’s obsession with the one that got away made him work even harder.

You and San were invited to a welcome ceremony. One of the demons that San had managed to help to save their witch wished to honor San--and his mate--with a small gathering. Their week of being wrapped in each other was over, of course. 

Not that time had changed anything between you and San.

The humans have a fond saying that love has an intense spark but it fades with familiarity. That never happened between you and San. San showed you almost daily just how much he needed and wanted you. Some part of you believed he was dedicating his life to making up for the love you had lacked before him. 

Seonghwa, the demon that had invited you, was glowing as he introduced his witch mate. He looked down at her with adoration while his mate stated a very important fact to you.

“I have a message to pass on to you. The Witch’s Axe made it clear that you needed to hear this.”

You blinked several times, the new witch’s words needing time to sink into your mind. “Come again?”

Seonghwa also looked confused and wasn’t happy as his mate pulled away to speak with you. “You need to know. I believe we are acquaintances with the same witch. The one who deals in air? A very kind woman who can never say no to anyone.”

You sucked in air between your teeth in apprehension. “Is she dead?”

Seonghwa’s mate shook her head. “No, but he has her.”

You slapped your hand to your heart and gripped your shirt tightly with the other. Here you were, safe and happy, and still witches were being targeted and killed. Even with San’s help of saving the mates of demons, it still wasn’t enough. 

San was by your side in an instant. Your heart wrenching was always a call to him. 

“Heart?” San leaned in front of you, his head cocked and concern written all over his face. 

You put a hand on Seonghwa’s mate’s arm. “Congratulations for being connected with your mate. As you can see, you’ll have someone being able to read your every emotion each turn of your heart. I wish you a happy and healthy life.”

A rare smile cracked through the witch’s normally stoic face. “I believe he will have to worry about me.”

You allowed a tiny laugh to escape you as San swept you up in his arms as he was ought to do when he decided it was time to fly you home. 

He didn’t say a word once you landed home. He moved enough logs into the fireplace and waited for you to light it. The light of the flames flickered along his sharp features as he stared into it.

“Are you going to tell me what upset you at the welcome ceremony?” San wondered out loud. 

“San…” How would you tell him that you felt responsible?

San turned around, frowning hard. “Don’t you know you can tell me anything by now, Heart?”

You sighed heavily. “I know I can, San. I suppose I know that I won’t like what you have to say in response.”

San moved quickly to stand in front of you and then fell to his knees. He wrapped his arms around your legs and pressed his head to your stomach. “My heart.”

You patted your hand on his head, careful of his horns. “I appreciate your candor, truly. There’s no need to sulk.”

San turned his head upwards, his wings flaring in anxiety. “Will you tell me?”

While carding your hands through his hair, you spoke. “Seonghwa’s mate informed me that the Witch’s Axe has a friend of mine in his grip. I can’t help but worry that I’m living in a dream and allowing others to suffer what I might have lived through if not for you. I feel responsible. If you hadn't swept me away. If I didn’t try harder--”

San hugged you tighter. “It’s not your fault.”

Your fingers found the base where San’s horns met his scalp. “I know but I can’t help but feel this way. And now that Bang Chan is holding this particular witch over my head…”

San growled. “It’s a trap.”

“I know, San,” You admitted.

“You’re not allowed to go anywhere near him ever again,” San commanded.

You laughed under your breath and then gripped both of his horns in your hands. San let out a soft moan and allowed his head to be tipped upwards. “Didn’t you promise me that if I touched your horns I would end up on my back?”

A grin quirked at the corners of San’s pouty lips. “I believe I said I would put you through the mattress.”

San’s head jerked as you pulled harder on his horns. “Then why am I still standing?”

Wordlessly, San lifted you up, arms still around your legs and easily moved you towards the bed. “You need not say anymore,” he purred. 

Carefully, San set you down but didn’t let you go. He rubbed his cheek against your thigh, still covered by your skirt. The way your legs had split against the bed, allowed for the slits up each side to reveal your legs. 

“I knew this was a good idea to have these made,” San murmured while fingering the fabric of the front of your skirt. 

Your hand found the top of San’s head once again. “You know I’ll wear whatever you’ll have made for me.”

San grinned deviously. “Anything? That allows me a lot of wiggle room, Heart.”

“Anything,” You reiterated. 

San’s eyes rolled into the back of his head at your tone. “Then I will spend hours with a seamstress purchasing the most debased clothing just for me.”

“As long as it was you who chose it,” You smiled. 

San licked his lips, his eyes on the prize. He lifted up the fabric barring his view of your clothed cunt and groaned upon seeing the fabric wet. “Heart, I’m of a mind to feast on you. Apologies if I become nonverbal.”

“You are a demon, after all,” You teased.

The crotch of your underwear was torn with his talon, as you were used to by now, and San’s face dove in between your thighs. Your head hung backwards as you braced yourself on your elbows on your shared bed. San’s tongue found your aching hole and began to tease you by pushing his tongue in and out of you. You gifted him with some whimpers as he played with you. Your hips thrusted on their own accord with the pace that San set, steady and focused on your every gasp. Your hands remained on his horns, urging him on. 

San changed his direction and moved towards your clit. His thumbs held your outer folds apart so that he could lay the flat of his tongue against the most sensitive bundle of nerves on your body and gave you untold pleasure. Your back collapsed to the mattress fully, head moving back and forth as the knot in your stomach tightened and wound and pulled until your release was embarrassingly quick. You cried out, your back arching and your fists tightening on San’s horns. 

“Heart, if you clench my horns any tighter, I might come as well,” San teased you.

“S-stop, stop that, you rascal,” You rasped. Your body twitched as San lapped at your hole, feeding off your cum.

San raised his head, your weary body unable to keep a hold of his horns any longer. You released his horns, arms falling carelessly to the bed. San made a show of slowly licking his upper and lower lip of all your wetness there. “Don’t ask me to stop when I would spend the rest of my life feeding from between your thighs.”

You groaned in slight frustration and closed your legs on San’s head, almost comically squishing his cheeks there. “I’m not asking.”

San chuckled, pushing your thighs down easily and climbed up your body. “Yes, Heart.”

Your demon mate rested his head in the crook of your neck and licked the now-healed mate marks there. You shivered. “Mine,” San sighed contently.

Then his hips began to shift in between your thighs. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise that San was throbbing and hard after what he did but it always seemed like San was in a constant need for you. It warmed your heart that was still healing from its break.

“San, I’m sensitive!” You whined. 

“You came undone for me quickly, Heart,” San chuckled knowingly. “Are you also sensitive anywhere I touch you?” Of coure he was referencing the first time you two had fucked. Did he memorize every moment with you?

Your nails trailed up San’s sides and found the junction where his wings and back muscles met. You watched his facial expression as his eyebrows furrow and San pouted. “Or perhaps our mate bond allows for some liberties, hmmm?” You hummed in question.

San’s wings bloomed over you, casting a soft shadow to San’s features. “Touch me however you want. I, however, will be satiating myself with your body further.”

One of San’s arms bulged as he held his body aloft with one hand as his other found his breeches and pulled them down just far enough to release his cock. You gripped the strong branch of where his wings connected to his back tightly as San slowly fucked himself inside of you. 

“Fuck, San.” You licked your lips. “You feel so good inside of me. These muscles make me so wet.”

“I will never get enough of you,” San moaned. His thrusts were shallow and struggling to fight with the clenching of your inner walls. “Once I loosen you up, you seem to take me so well. Goddess help me, you squeeze me so fucking good.”

Between the two of you torturing each other with all the amazing sensations, you were surprised either of you had the capacity to get anywhere orgasm wise. You were drunk on his dick and San was drowning in your cunt. 

San was right, however. Once he managed to sheath himself inside of you fully, it was no problem to fuck you properly. Your hold on his wings almost became a lifeline because San’s slow fucking of you was going to be the death of you.

“San,” You moaned. 

“Do you feel every inch of me inside of you, Heart?” San focused his hooded gaze down on you. 

“Oh, Goddess,” You moaned again. “This is--” You swallowed but found that there was no moisture in your mouth. 

“Tell me,” San commanded you, his pace remaining the same slow, torturously drag inside of you.

“I need you. I’m yours. Only you can make me feel this way.” You weren’t entirely sure what San was looking for but you knew it had to be one of the above.

“You squeeze down on me so good, Heart.” Now it was San’s turn to sound strained. “You’re practically milking me.”

“Fill me up,” You murmured and then the both of you were gone.

San sped up, albeit his strokes became messy and desperate. He sealed the orgasm with a kiss, drinking in all your cries and moans. His guttural release inside of you fed yourself as well. You found your legs locked behind his plush ass, trapping his cock and seed inside of you. Someday you were going to be privy of seeing his viscous, dark foaming cum released from his cock as you stroked it but today was not that day.

“I love you,” San sighed as he collapsed on top of you, snoring shortly afterwards.

You would have giggled under your breath if this wasn’t exactly what you had been working towards. Instead, you kissed his head in response.

After struggling with getting out from under San’s body, you finally manage to pad towards the dressing screen where your personal effects are. San’s been gifting you with jewelry but the most important item was a ring.

“I know you’ve been grumbling about having no means of getting around from our remote home so I made this for you.” San scratched the back of his head shyly. “It’s imbued with my own power to make a portal.”

“This is wonderful!” You admitted happily.

“You don’t need it, not really. I’m always going to be there for you but--” His unspoken words of ‘given the reality of how I saved you’ spoke through his silent gaze. “--I thought this would be important to you.”

You hated having to use sex to distract San and use his gift to you against him but in your heart of hearts, you knew you had to save the witch that Seonghwa’s mate had informed you was in need of help. 

“I love you too, San,” You whispered into the air before you put on the ring. 

The purple portal appeared before you and you braced yourself. San had told you to think of where you needed to go, or the person you needed to see, and the portal would take you where you needed to go. The vertigo wasn’t as easy to work through without San’s arms around you but you still managed to get through it. 

You were in front of a door that didn’t look familiar to you at all. You hoped your thoughts had directed you exactly where you needed to be.

You raised your fist and pounded at the door. 

A man opened the door and looked down his nose at you. “And who are you?”

“Tell your master that the one that got away is here. He’ll want to know,” You replied snidely.

The door closed in front of your face and you rolled your eyes. But you were right. The door was practically ripped open by the silver-haired man that had so abruptly ripped you from your old life.

Chan ran the back of his finger down the side of your face. “I knew you would come back to me.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “You ensured that, didn’t you? Now, release your prisoner and take me in her stead.”

Chan frowned, shaking his head in confusion. “Release her? She’s a witch. She must die by trial of magic.”

“You are beyond deplorable,” You said with disbelief. 

Chan’s smile widened, his fingers and thumb holding your chin between them. “I am simply removing the stain on humanity. There is no need for magic or the ones who would inflict it upon us.”

“You should have been swallowed instead of accepted in the womb.”

You felt the ground beneath you before you felt the slap that had you tumbling downwards. Your hand raised to your cheek. The hot imprint of Chan’s hand was evident. 

Chan continued to speak his thoughts out loud. “You’re lucky I have specialized in humbling your kind. You’re all the same: defiant until you’re pliant. I’ll fix you, don’t worry. You’ll be pleading and begging and soft upon my cock; exactly where you should be.”

“There’s a difference between the ones before me,” You maintained. “I have had the honor of being loved and mated with a demon. Nothing you can do to me can compare to that. I will leave this world knowing that. You cannot take that away from me.”

Chan sent you a look of disgust. “You mated with that thing? How disgusting. If you summon it and give me the chance to kill it, I will keep you alive.”

You started to laugh, so hard that tears came to your eyes. “You really have never felt any true love, haven’t you? You think that I would give up the love of my life for the chance to live? To live by your side as a horrid example of how witchfolk should truly live? Your soul is blacker than I thought.”

“You will submit to me.” Chan slammed a boot into your stomach and you dry-heaved. 

You faked a look of adoration. “If I do, will you release the other witch?”

Chan tsked. “She is a witch; she can save herself since she’s so powerful.”

If Chan didn’t know your friends affinity, she might be able to--

“A sharp drop off the edge of a cliff should judge her affinity for air. And if she isn’t what she says she is, then of course I will compensate the village.”

Fuck.

So you showed up like a dog on a leash for the Witch’s Axe. The leash itself had spikes on the inside of the tough leather, so that any tug on the leash had the sharp points pushing against the thin skin of your neck. Even without provoking Bang Chan, you saw the malicious gleam in his eyes as he’d remind you of the power he had over you right now.

Your fingers created crescent moon marks on the palms of your hands as you clenched them hard, a reminder that if you behaved yourself, you might have a chance to help save the witch who might lose her life today.

As Bang Chan had so eloquently described, everyone was gathered at the lip of a canyon. There was a stage built, a nose hanging out on an arm over the drop into the canyon. Why Bang Chan thought challenging a witch with her most strongest branch of the elements was beyond you but you had a feeling it had something to do with his ego. 

Chan threw his arms out wide and addressed the crowd. “Today we have a woman on trial for being accused of the curse of being a witch. She will be dropped for her supposed crimes. If she is a witch, she will hover with her power of the air. And if she is not a witch, she will struggle and strangle herself with the weight of your accusations. Let us begin.”

Some of the Witch’s Axe’s cronies pushed and shoved the witch of air towards the stand. She stumbled, and it was no small feat for her to stay on her feet, by the look of her damaged body.

You stared in horror at the bridle that was around her head. It was exactly like Bang Chan had described it. There must be an instrument that was piercing and holding the witch’s tongue so that she could not speak. Meanwhile, the metal contraption that held it all in place appeared as a barbed wire nightmare of a halo around her head. 

Chan tugged on your leash and you allowed only a small narrowing of your eyes to show your pain as the spikes pierced deeper into your skin, allowing rivulets of blood to stream steadily down to pool into your collarbones. “That’s your future if you continue to be stubborn.”

You stared straight ahead. Your mind was whirling a million miles a minute. You had to do something. You could see the dazed, glazed look in the witch’s eyes: Chan had given her something; she didn’t look like she was in her right mind, let alone be able to fight the Witch’s Axe or his thugs.

They didn’t even bother to remove the bridle from the witch’s head. It was probably so the witch couldn't say anything to the crowd. Chan really did enjoy being the only voice heard. The noose went around her neck and they poked her with a cruel fire stoker towards the opening in the stage that would allow her to plummet.

Bang Chan’s eyes stayed on the witch. His lips moved wordlessly. Was he funnelling the watered down version of power he bore? This was it. It was all or nothing right now.

The witch took one step towards her death and you grabbed the leash that Bang Chan held. His focus had been on the witch about to die so it made it easy for you to yank it out of his grasp. You ran towards the stage and focused your fire magic first, burning through the rope that was the noose. The witch did not strangle. Then you used your air magic to help her hover out of the grasp of the other witch hunters, also sending a blast of air to push them all away.

“Our logical acquaintance is with her mate!” You shouted. You yanked off the portal ring from your finger and threw it at her. “Find yours! I’ll see you in the demon realm when this is all said and done. Simply focus on the faint tug at your heart for love and you’ll succeed.”

The witch’s eyes sharpened to a moment of lucidness. She nodded and then put your ring on. She took a step off the air platform you had created. The crowd gasped a second time but as you all rushed towards the edge. You saw the portal to the demon realm closing. 

You closed your eyes and sank to your knees in relief. You had succeeded in your mission.

A bubble of water surrounded your head as someone punched you in the stomach. The air left your lungs and when you inhaled, water flooded in. Bang Chan used his affinity with water to torture you for a moment before he released the water. You coughed and coughed. The illusion of almost drowning wracked through you.

“See how the wretched creatures look to even kill their own kind!” Bang Chan shouted for all to hear. He knelt down to grab the leash, wrapping the leather around his hand until there was no slack. He brought his lips so they were close to your ear. “You will pay dearly for that.”

You let out a wet, bitter laugh. “Worth it, Witch’s Bane.”

The next day made what Chan had promised when he first burst into your hut sound like mere child’s play. 

You now understood why the air witch had been so mentally unpresent during her execution. The potion that Bang Chan had fed to you made the word disorientation seem like a mild dose of sickness. Sometimes you thought you knew where you were or who you were with and sometimes you swore you were back home with San. Cruel hands turned into a loving embrace. Pleasure emerged into excruciating pain. 

Sometimes it was a relief to not be fully aware of exactly what Chan was doing to you and other times you wanted to lock it into your mind's eye for when you exacted your revenge.

Yes, you were still living in that lie. 

As the hours, or seconds, or days--you weren’t sure--passed, you realized that you weren’t escaping this. You were fully capable but Chan’s method of torture was specialized in bringing witchfolk to their knees and unable to defend themselves, despite their power base. 

But you had something the other witches had not: a demon mate.

Chan pushed your chin up, gently bringing your focus back to him. His tone was as a lover addresses their sweetheart. “Come now, you and I could have so much fun in this world. If you leant your power to me, if we combined forces, we could become the sole magical practitioners of this realm. With a big enough army, we could even invade the demon realm. Summon the demon that forced himself on you. We can make everything and everyone tremble beneath us.”

Your eyes focus on what’s around you. A crowd of people. You were standing on a pyre of wood. Your hands were tied behind your back at a stake. 

Oh. This was your execution.

It was almost funny the way that Bang Chan thought he was the hero in this story. You smiled and he thought you were about to agree with him.

“I didn’t want to have to break you but you do look so beautiful this way,” he murmured to you. 

“I would never betray the first man who loved me unconditionally for a fucked up, unloved witch’s spawn. Go ahead and try to burn me. Fire is my element. I would embrace it as I would my demon mate. You better make sure you don’t ever meet my San, because he would rip you limb for limb for what you’re about to do,” You announced triumphantly. 

“You’re making a mistake,” Chan said, stepping down off the pyre and shaking his head. 

You grinned maniacally. “It’s never a mistake to bet on love.”

Once Chan was sitting on the chair they hauled to another stage where the Witch’s Axe was to reign over this moment, the jeers began. The crowd screamed about how you were the seed of all their problems. You were an abomination. How you didn’t deserve to live. Chan motioned with his fingers for his cronies to light your pyre.

All the witches you knew were selfless and giving and helped every village and human they encountered. Even the hermits would aid any who crossed their path. Witches were some of the best humankind had to offer and yet this was the result: jealousy. 

You let the horrible words flow around you like a river, and you, the one rock that stood against them. Instead, you thought of your mate.

Choi San, the demon who had not allowed you to take your life after becoming broken pieces. Choi San, the demon who could not restrain himself when it came to you. Choi San, the demon who lived romance by guiding hearts to their fated mates. Choi San, the one soul who made you feel complete. 

You opened your eyes and you smiled happily. Within the wavy distortion of air from the flames licking up the wood, you saw the one person in all the realms who you loved the most. He walked with such conviction, wings spread. God, his shoulders were so broad they almost blotted out the sun. He was so powerful and beautiful and the most pure soul you had ever encountered. 

Your mind was giving you the final sendoff you wished for. You closed your eyes and leaned your head back, as if you were to drink in the warmth from the sun above. You wanted the last thing you saw to be San.

You heard the wooshing of the wood as they collapsed and the fire climbed closer. More pain started to wrack through you. 

“Heart.”

You were even imagining your mate’s sultry tone. How wonderful.

“I know you’ll be angry with me for slipping out without you. But I had to do this. I love you, Choi San.”

“I love you too but if you’d open your eyes, you’d realize you’re saying your goodbyes for no damn reason,” San’s voice snarled.

You opened your eyes and gasped. You couldn't feel him, your arms were still behind your back, but you knew with your entire mate bond that the real Choi San was in front of you.

“San.” You said his name like it was a synonym for love. The heat was so strong that it stole any tears that would have fallen for your mate. 

San sent you a devilish, devil-may-care grin. “You will never burn, not unless it's for me.”

With his talons, he shredded the ropes around you and gathered you in his arms. You had lost count the amount of times San had held you close while he flew with you. This time was different. You could feel his arms trembling from anger with how frail you were in his arms. 

“San, I had to save her. Like you saved me.”

“I am angry at the fool I was. I should have grabbed my axe and flown with you into battle, not attempt to keep you from the fight,” San shook his head. 

Once again, you had held San to a standard that he blew through the roof. He wasn’t angry at you. He was angry at himself for not standing with you on your choice. He served to protect but what you truly needed was someone to throw themselves into serving justice with you. 

You raised your arms, no matter how hurt you were, and wrapped them behind his neck to bring San’s head down to touch foreheads. “I love you with the entirety of our soul bound, Choi San, Heartstone bearer.”

San smiled through tears of his own. Your strong demon who had a heart three times too big for this cruel world. “I loved you before we met and I will love you beyond it. In this life, and every life we meet. Our bond will keep us connected as many times as it takes for us to love together.”

You blinked heavily, becoming dizzy with the potion that Bang Chan had forced you to consume. “He’s given me something. It’s how none of us are strong enough or belligerent enough to fight him. I can’t--this time I can’t fight him. I fear I would do more harm to innocents rather than exact my revenge.”

San looked forward with purpose. “Send it through our bond. Believe in our connection and your connection with your two branches of elements. I will be your tool for destruction.”

San circled around until he found where Chan had been standing, waiting, watching your execution. Firstly, he put you down amongst the crowd that had gathered to watch you die. He sent a death glare to all. 

“Mutter ill of my mate or make an attempt on her and I will personally pull your entrails out via your nostrils,” He warned.

The people made a wide semicircle around you, keeping several arms lengths away from you.

You had the honor of watching San from behind as he pulled his double-headed axe over his shoulders, careful of his wings and took a fighting stance.

“Imbue me with your magic, Heart. And watch the show.”

You focused deep within the well of your magic. It was difficult, the potion tugging you mentally in every which way. But it was easy to follow the love flowing so thoroughly through your bond. You sent your strength in air and fire to San.

“If I had realized I could wipe the world of both witchfolk and demonkind in one fell swoop, I would have let you match up all matter of pairs,” Bang Chan said with the showmanship he proudly wielded.

San laughed, this type you had never heard before. It was full of bloodlust and simmering-below-the-surface rage. “Today I snuff the cockroach that has been hiding in the cracks of my floorboard.”

Bang Chan’s face clouded with humiliation and infuriation. “How dare you?! I am the Witch’s Axe. I--”

With a shout of savagery, San swung his axe downward. Your magic accumulated into a fire tornado, now fueled with San’s acrimony from Bang Chan’s treatment of you and all witchfolk, and swept up Bang Chan before he could voice another monologue as he was wont to do. 

Instead of you burning at the stake, Bang Chan was the one who disappeared in a swirl of ashes. There wasn’t a battle, or a struggle, but a simple blink--and the Witch’s Axe was gone. 

San turned, triumphant in his exactment of your revenge. “How’s that, Heart?”

You simply raised your arms in his direction in response. San secured his axe on his back once again and swept you up in his arms wordlessly.

“You are the true Witch’s Axe,” You murmured. “Not one used against us but for us.”

San looked evenly at all who gathered around you two. “Let that be a lesson for any who would dare treat the witchfolk with scorn or contempt. They exist to better your lives, not ruin them. Spread the word that the true Witch’s Axe will smite those who would try to wipe any witch or demon from either realm.”

“Take us home, Mate,” You pleaded.

“With pleasure, Heart,” San agreed. 

“What did you mean back there, with that corny line of ‘burning for you’?” You laughed under your breath.

The look that San sent to you made you clench around absolute nothing. “You’ll find out when I get you bathed, fed and in our bed.”

Vines moved over your limbs, digging through the fabric of your clothes to bruise your skin, the flora humming with magic. Old, natural magic with a much stronger connection to Gaia than your own. Normally, that wouldn't be a problem, but when it became apparent that your own magic was bulking the rough vines, being sucked from your body like a vampire drinking your lifeforce, alarm bells went off in your head.

The magic of the forest had always been tricky, mischievous even, but never deadly. It preferred to restrain or deflect threats, confusing them with hazy mists or blocking their path with mudslides or trees weaving together. Never did it take. The forest had all it needed inhabiting its soil and branches and rivers, the creatures just as peaceful but at times mischievous as the old ancient earth around them. It was a provider, not a bringer of death.

Panic threatened to seize your heart and all you could do was press your hand to the soil and whisper soft pleas, attempting to remind the great mother that lived in all, that you were no threat. You had come with the purpose of peace and healing, not to hurt the ancient forest or take what it did not freely offer.

A pained hiss reached your ears, distant but it could very well be your own with the magic draining from you. A witch without her magic was… well it could never truly leave you but you had never heard of it being pulled from you like this. The unknown was frightening at this moment, fueling the desperation in your plea to Gaia.

“Stop it, witch! You do not deserve to ask for her help!”

Harsh unexpected words, distracting you from your task to find the source. 

What the fuck.

Shock and awe rushing through you with such a force that the vines bruising your skin and draining your magic was momentarily forgotten. All that mattered was the being that stood tall a few meters away, anger and hatred twisting his ethereal features but not taking an ounce of his beauty away. 

Red vibrant hair, obsidian eyes that shine with the soft gold flecks, more prominent with the magic he was using. A petite, perfect nose scrunched cutely and perfect teeth bared in a snarl. Translucent black wings – with red and purple veins that outlined a beautiful garden – fluttered with clear agitation the longer you stared.

It was the wings that nailed it home: a fairy. One that looked like the personification of Nature's wrath, beautiful but deadly.

Confusion joined the shock and awe you expressed. A fairy? Causing intentional harm? Unprovoked? Unheard of, thought impossible, and yet here was proof. 

The proof tightened its grip on you with a strength that was eerily close to crushing your bones if you stayed in its hold. The magic coursing through its veins matched the fairy staring you down as if you were personally responsible for some great travesty against him. 

It was getting increasingly harder to think, so you could not deny or confirm such silent accusations. “Do you intend to end my life, sweet fairy?” Despite the irony at calling him sweet, your tone gave no indication that you thought the term didn't define him. Awe and acceptance was all you gave him, as that was what you felt the most in this moment.

If you had indeed caused such a beautiful thing such harm that he deemed your life forfeit, you had no qualms giving it over. The peace cascading over you at that resignation was warm, relaxing your muscles and allowing you to succumb to the earth's grip on your body. Your only objection was that he would show mercy in the form of quickness. Slowly getting crushed into the soil beneath you would be a long and tiring process. Unless your magic ran out first and graced you with unconsciousness.

In response, the tight hold loosened, his nasally but perfect voice hissing in exasperation as if your acceptance was not what he wanted. 

Your gaze lifted up to his once more, unable to recall when your cheek had pressed against the cool dirt and rested your eyes. Abject horror was displayed on his features, confusion pulling your brows together in response. “No need to be afraid, you can take it if you must.” The heaviness of your tongue slurred your words, drool escaping and slight embarrassment flooded your cheeks. Drooling like a mess in front of such an ethereal creature? How could you?

“You are insane.” He shrilled out. 

The vines flinched back quickly into the ground as if they had been slapped away. The gold of his eyes thankfully remained despite no longer using his magic, wings still fluttering with agitation, but now you could see a sheen to his skin, like a soft shimmer, that just made him even more beautiful.

Insane? Maybe you were but you could not find it in you to care when he was just so beautiful.

You began to reevaluate if you were really unlucky for this encounter, just for him to disappear in a puff of black shimmering dust, like crushed onyx, that was quickly blown away and taken by the forest.

Yes, you were very unlucky.

Because now the fairy was gone, you were still alive, and would now have to face your master and explain why your magic reserves were on the cusp of bone dry.

✨️

Displeased was an understatement. Your teacher was absolutely furious.

It had been dark by the time your lethargic, heavy body made it back to the cottage, the elder slamming the door open before it was fully in sight, sensing your approach. The scowl on his fierce features sent a fear through you that probably should have been felt when the fairy was attempting to kill you. A reminder that you truly did not wish any harm on yourself, or your life, but that wish was nonexistent in the face of such a creature.

Despite your fear, you refrained from mentioning the fairy. Your teacher would not believe you anyways. Even with the demand for fairies for potions and spells, there had never been an instance where the creatures did more than that of the forest. Attempt to stall, delay and run, but never fight.

You were not concerned with him believing you about the Fairy’s actions, only his presence. The cottage was still too close to one of the more modernized cities for fairies to be nearby, so if he believed there was one, then he would hunt for it. Capturing and dissecting a fairy was much less work than the high prices on the market. There have been stories of some covens even threatening and selling “useless” members in exchange for fairy pieces- not even a living fairy, but just a wing or even part of one.

A disgusting aspect of magic evolution, though you disagreed with the said evolution. What was the need to discover new and more powerful spells? Mother Gaia and the fates gave all one would ever want and need as long as you respected her. The way witches have begun to treat not only fairies but the mystical beings close to Gaia was a nauseating and cruel reality.

So the knowledge of this fairy's existence would be taken to your grave, never spoken or hinted at. 

For that, you suffered a grave punishment for your folly of using too much magic to find one simple herb, angering the forest by doing so. A herb that you did bring back but far too late for your teacher's liking. 

The result was confinement and meditation. No healing for your bond deep. bruises or where your skin had blistered from the vines tightening. No change of clothes, dinner, or a chance to wash up. You were ordered to stay like this and memorize the tome of herbs and poisons that you technically already knew by heart, so really it was until your master no longer felt ire at your folly enough to deem you ready for more tasks. Not that you would get any care then.

The solitude wasn't too horrible.

Yes your body was sore, exhaustion threatening to pull you from consciousness but you had a better use of your time. Like the walk back you just thought of the ethereal and furious creature you had been ready to lay your life down for. To give him anything he should wish. A compulsion you could find no fault in, no complaints about.

Nothing deterred your desire to appease the creature. The solitude and flowers on the old, thick pages only stoked the flames his appearance had ignited in the deepest parts of your soul. A determination blossoming from the heat.

To find him and give him whatever he desired. Including your life.

✨️

Years had passed, the desire strong as ever, but there had not been a second encounter yet.

The familiar frustration simmered under your skin as you followed another dead end. Not that it was truly a dead end, but it provided no new information or answers to bring you to him. Just the confirmation that he had taken another life.

The compulsion to dabble in necromancy flared to life, just so you could bring the deceased witch back for your answers. And if you also wanted to take out your jealousy that they were felled by the fairy and not you, well that was to simmer in the darkest parts of your soul. The parts that belonged to Nature's Wrath.

He had earned himself that title, your chest puffing with pride whenever you heard a fellow witch whisper it in fear. That alone had been cause for a decrease in fairy hunting. You had your own hand in it, just a bit.

In your search for the creature you had studied every single piece of knowledge on fairies that you could get your hands on. The different types, habitats, magics and cultures. That included dabbling in fairy hunting yourself. And, well, hunting hunters.

It gained you a wild reputation. Known as a fairy obsessed wild card. You had gone after well known hunters, taken fairies yourself, but never caused them harm, only studying and attempting to learn about him.

The hunters knew it was a gamble interacting with you. If they had no information to give you, it tended to put you in a foul mood. Most still ended up dead. It was said you did it for the fairies. In a sense, you did so.

If you killed other hunters just to limit the pool of potential victims for the fairy you sought, well that was your business alone. Less hunters meant a higher chance for him to come to you. You have yet to reap the benefits of such efforts.

For the nth time since the encounter you questioned if you truly were insane in some way. Obsessed was true, you could not deny that. Instead pride would bloom in your chest at the notion. 

You? Obsessed with that ethereal being? Yes, you were. Equally proud that such a fact was part of your reputation, even if it was seen as an obsession over fairies and not the one you truly sought.

With a heavy sigh, frustration simmered to disappointment, no longer interested in the group of hunters who had worked with the newest deceased.

They seemed to notice the shift in your demeanor, fear twisting their aura and deepening your frown with distaste. Fear makes one do and say stupid things, one of them grabbing at nonexistent straws, an offer no one had dared to give before.

“Come with us to hunt it. The vile thing.”

It was his fault, you mused, wiping the blood that splattered on your cheek with the back of your hand. His fault for calling your sweet fairy vile. 

He should have known you would react like that, the magic bolt carving out the place where his heart should have been. He didn't have one before you summoned the spell anyways, not if he could insult your fairy like that.

Once his body hit the dirt – blood seeping into the ground and magic bleeding into the air– did you realize what he had offered. A smile spread over your features, too happy and innocent for the act you had just committed, turning towards the remaining four hunters who were rooted in place by fear.

“Do you think you can catch him?” You asked sweetly, wondering how useful these four would be to draw him out. They would make good bait… if you could refrain from killing one just for insulting what was the most precious thing to exist.

They shared a look, the biggest finally giving a nod before bravely meeting your eyes. “There is talk… of hunters getting together to capture… him.” He said after some clear deliberation. “The council wants him taken care of, believing him responsible for more than just hunter deaths. They're offering a huge reward and a clean slate for any and all hunters that assist in his capture.”

Keeping your blood from boiling was truly a feat. The council? Truly? 

After experiencing him first hand years ago you knew he was capable of handling himself. Hearing the stories, the feats, that he had accomplished only furthered that belief.

This was the first time you were filled with concern. With dread. Considering the pacifist nature of most – well all other – fairies, it didn’t take a skilled witch to capture them before. Usually just heartless. With the rise of ‘Nature’s Wrath’ only the most skilled had stayed in business, or some vengeful witches on occasion. The Witch Council, consisting of the heads of the influential Coven’s, had always turned a blind eye to fairy hunting. There were some laws against harming magical creatures, but it was an open secret that the Council did nothing to stop those that broke these laws in favor of the benefits.

Therefore, they had never interfered before. They hadn’t been a problem before.

Now you were even more insistent to find your fairy.

“Alright, I will join you.”

The other four seemed relieved at your declaration, shoulders relaxing as if their life wasn’t on the line any more. Foolish of them, really. Their lives were only guaranteed as long as they were useful.

Something they seemed aware of as they filled in details of the plan, leaving out important information such as the location and number of others. The tinge of respect you quickly pushed away, not wanting to feel anything for these witches other than indifference.

They at least gave you a time. Three days, west entrance of the city, midday. With a nod of confirmation, they ran off, only glancing briefly at their dead fifth that was currently being absorbed into the ground by vines. After experiencing the vines for yourself, you had found a way to do the same, the rush of magic humming through your veins, accompanied by bits and pieces of feelings and memories. Nothing solid enough to pin point, just tell you enough about the deceased to wager the threat his death brought you.

Arrogance, cruelty, and no strong feelings for another. Just like most of the others you had consumed.

With a heavy sigh, you shifted and stretched, letting the new magic settle under your skin. Sometimes it felt gross, the other’s magic tainted or twisted, no longer of its natural state. Use of unnatural magics usually twisted one’s core, and the most common use of unnatural magic used the fairy remains. 

It would take some meditation to cleanse your own core of the taint, your own core more naturally attuned to the earth than most other witches.

That’s how you spent the three days, just outside the city, in the forest, naked and meditating through the elements, cleansing your body of the wrongness of the magic, a delicate process.

So by the time you met up with the others, you felt refreshed and more powerful, even in a bright mood that would be hard to break. Not even the dozen or so extra witches standing with the four from before put a damper on your joy.

Most of them clearly fought off the urge to run at the sight of you, but one of the original four was quick to put them at ease. “They’re helping.”

The tension bleeding from their shoulders almost made you laugh. It was good to know they feared you, but still foolish to think they were safe only because you were “helping”. 

“Shall we head out? Do I get to know the details of the plan?” You asked, keeping your tone cordial and friendly.

One of the more experienced hunters–you could tell from his aura–was the one to answer. “There are others out hunting right now. We assumed due to the large number of us here in the city that he would still be nearby. They are sticking to an area we have previously scouted and set with wards and traps. Both magical and not.”

Your chin dipped in acknowledgement, urging him to continue as the group began walking along the dirt road out towards the forest. It made sense to use rigged mechanical traps, as the fairy would surely sense any magical traps due to his attunement with nature itself. Any strange magic would be noticed. But they would still bring him in regardless, as they were signs of hunters. Bait.

Well aware this tactic had been used before, and that your fairy would still be able to handle himself, it was the number of hunters that raised problems. While none of them had magical levels close to your own, there was strength in numbers. Something the hunters had kept limited due to their own greed. More hunters meant more ways to split the cut. Less money for each.

This time either the reward was so grand it didn’t matter, or they were just that eager to see your fairy stopped so they could continue their own business. 

And maybe, in a way, you did want him stopped. You hadn’t given much thought to what you would do when you found him. Perhaps offer your life as before. Let him absorb you as he had tried once before, as you have done to many others.

But a small part of you wanted him safe. Didn’t want such a beautiful creature to be harmed. To be seen and chased after by the scum that are surrounding you now. That he had killed before. You wanted to keep him all for yourself. Your sweet fairy.

A thought you always pushed aside, reminding yourself that your devotion far outweighed your greed. Your life belonged to him, not the other way around.

It was quite a distance down the dirt path before the group turned into the forest, heading north bound and staying silent. Their footsteps hushed by magic or skill, reminding you that these were hunters. The skill needed to capture a fairy was one of stealth. To sneak up and surprise. To lay bait, or know where to find one. Those last two required the skill of a novice, but the way a few of the hunters seemed to blend in with their environment, becoming nearly invisible, was a tad impressive.

You never tried to hide in the forest. It welcomed you as if you were a part of it, the whispers of the trees and plants giddy at your mere presence, moving out of your way and providing passage.

A few of the hunters near you were watching in awe, resulting in your own chest inflating with pride. This was what happened when a witch accepted Gaia and her body. When a witch gives themself to the Great Mother, nurtures her. She nurtures back, welcomes you with open arms.

Something modern “progressive” witches never did. Magic was power to them, and not the life force and energy that makes up everything from the air they breath to the light they see and the ground beneath their feet. A lack of respect for the Great Mother, taking as if their right, as if they are greater than she. 

Ignoring the questioning and curious looks, you let the others wonder, despite the answers being right beneath their feet. You weren’t going to spell it out for them, not when they don’t listen.

How could they ignore the gentle voices all around? Disrespect them and the home they provided to so much. Not just fairies, but even the non-magical creatures.

Witches had become too dependent on their human counterparts. Perhaps a consequence of the pact with non-magical humans and the integration of magic into human society. Even if they were unaware of most of what a witch could do, appeasing the non-magical majority of society had led to an influx of greed and cruelty, and a detachment from Gaia herself.

Yes, that could explain how witches had fallen so far from their former grace. The pact made with humans to stop their persecution of witches had been made to protect, but now their “advancements” had brought greed out on both sides. Even if witches were still painted in a light that made them seem mostly harmless.

As if enchanting and cultivating magic was the extent of their power, only small spells allowed outside of magical cities and coven protected zones to keep up the illusion that witches could not kill another with a flick of their wrist. Which, granted, normally they couldn’t.

Not anymore.

In order to appease humanity, chanting and spellwork was the only acceptable magic for a few decades. All while the covens worked behind the lines to make safe zones and push for witch rights. The nature of a witches power went from the very air and ground around them to each other and the words imbued with magic. It diluted a witches ability to pull the magic from around them, making the words, enchantments, and often coven bonds, a need to bring out stronger magics.

A nomad witch as yourself, raised on the old ways by a master who still revered Gaia, had no need for such things. Using magic as it was intended. And that was part of the reason the Council also did nothing about your own crimes. The death of a witch was on the witch’s coven. And no influential coven had ties to any of the mongrel that had been absorbed by your hands. 

Another reason the stakes were higher now. An order by the Council to capture your fairy would draw the attention of such Coven’s. As well as the Council hounds that did have power perhaps equal to your own. You could not simply kill one for insulting your fairy like you had done to the witch earlier this week. Not if you wanted the freedom to pursue said fairy.

Jolted out of your reminiscing by a sudden shift in the magic, your eyes darted around to make a head count of your temporary companions. There were now more, all of them halting the way forward and instead beginning to spread out. On instinct, you memorized their magical signatures, keeping a mindful inner eye on their movements to track them.

It was clear you had reached the zone in which the bait was laid. A river could be heard in the distance, and you could barely make out a ragged cliff side further ahead. Breathing in, your magic surged forward, a line through the dirt in the direction of the cliff to further scope it out. It went on in both directions for a distance you couldn’t follow, and the height was too high to jump up– death awaited anyone who would jump down. However, you could feel a scattering of caves of varying sizes. Reminiscent of fairy caves mostly.

The creatures had the ability to shift sizes, though they often stayed in their smaller size, akin to their brethren, pixies. It was safer to be small, less magic to be pulled, less mass to be used for greed.

A surge of anger ran through your spine as your magic ran through the caves, finding fairies deep within, trembling with fear.

This was the bait. A nest of fairies. One the hunters knew about, at least one, deciding to share the location of the nest for this hunt. Frightened Fairies radiated magic on a frequency that resembled an SOS, usually to Gaia herself. Creatures or the forest itself would defend the small creatures since their fear quite literally disturbed the magic and nature around them. And a whole nest shaking with fear was why the air felt so wrong.

You could barely see the cave walls through the foliage, even in the mid afternoon sun, and their distress affected the natural magic this far, several dozen meters away, most likely in all directions.

There was no way your fairy could ignore a distress signal this large. Regardless of the wards and traps you could vaguely feel in the distance between you and the nest. The signal worked even more in the hunter’s favor as it overpowered the magical signature of the traps, hiding them much better. You would wave the odd signatures off as the forest responding to the distress if you weren’t actively aware and looking for said traps.

To your utter dismay, you had to admit this was a genius plan. To your utter dread, you had to admit the chances of your fairy making it out of this was slim.

It was a good thing you were here.

With no knowledge of how long the fairies had been in such a state, you made quick work of rooting your magic beneath you, spreading it out as inconspicuous as you could manage. Hopefully if anyone noticed they would just assume you were helping them in some way.

You managed to have a mental map of every hunter, trap, fairy, and tree in the distressed zone up to the cliff by the time you felt the first hunter die.

He was closest to the cliff on the right, his body pushed against the rock, life force draining from him quickly and not into the earth. It was out of sight from your point of view, but not of nearby hunters.

No sooner was the first dead and another hunter screamed “It’s him!” before chaos broke out.

Suddenly a hunter on the left by the cliff was dead, and then one closer to you on your right. He was jumping around, picking them off with surprising ease.

It wasn’t until he appeared from a tree and grabbed the one on your left that you realized how he was killing. The hunter dared to reach out for you, even as his head was pulled in and melded with the tree. Only the fairy’s upper half was sticking out of the bark, his obsidian eyes shot in your direction, the gold much brighter than you remembered. His scowl deepened at the sight of you, quickly disappearing into the bark. The hunter was half merged into the tree, his legs twitching as the last of his life was pulled from him, dangling at the odd angle.

The forest accepted the offering of life, the bark moving over the rest and making the body an extension of itself, reaching for the ground where its own roots had spurred forth to connect.

A reminder of how beautiful and deadly nature was. The distress of nature’s cultivators bringing out the forest’s protective instincts in frightening but gentle ways.

Becoming one with a tree? That was a death of honor.

You were pulled back to the scene as one of the other others demanded your help, feeling most of them running closer to the fairy nest if only so they weren’t picked off so quickly any further. 

Magic wards were hastily thrown up, faltering in place as fear caused the witches to stumble over the incantations. You wondered if he even needed you here, considering how foolish and weak these hunters were. It seemed even in numbers they were no match for this one fairy, using the forest to aid him in protecting his kin.

As you approached the remaining dozen and a half, your own dread falling off your shoulders, the battle quickly turned in their favor.

One of them had the bright idea to use fire magic. They aimed a low level fireball right at the nearest cluster of caves. As soon as the ethereal fairy appeared to deflect or absorb the magic–both a dangerous idea considering his own nature– another hunter used a spell to yank him away.

It was your quick thinking that stopped the fire from reaching and torching the caves, the use of your own magic manipulating the stone walls to temporarily shut the caves and disperse the fire. It would rumble the caves, so a little extra magic was spent ensuring they were stable through the shockwaves.

The hunters were not dismayed though, several of them charging towards the fairy with blades, a couple using wind spells to keep the fairy from the trees, and then taking it a step forward by burning the surrounding areas.

The pain of the forest added to the distress of the fairies, both burning in the back of your mind. A downfall of being so attuned to the forest and nature itself. You had been able to mostly ignore the distress signal from the fairies, but combined with the pain of the forest around? A dull ache spreads from the back of your head down your spine.

These men were willing to burn the forest down to capture the deadly fairy.

And if the distress around was affecting you like this, you could only imagine how the other felt. You caught flashes of him in between dodging the blades, pulling a blade of his own out and parrying with surprising ease. His features were just as perfect as the last time you saw him, twisted with rage and a deep concentration that had you in awe. Such an expression on another person would look vile, or cruel. But not on him.

Nature’s wrath was a title that he truly embodied, and like the tree absorbing the hunter, it was truly a beautiful thing.

One you could not admire for more than a mere few seconds before you had to act. The fires were spreading, some of the hunters intent on spreading it with their own wind and burning hands. The fairy on occasion fluttered his wings and dosed some of the flames with his own dust or using the water in the air to combat the spread. Water would be harder for him to summon this far from the river, still out of sight even if it could be heard and felt in the distance. It would require a level of concentration that was not possible in the heat of battle.

Not for him. But for you?

You threw a few spells into the mix of the battle, letting your magical presence be felt so the hunters didn’t turn on you just yet. Simple and small bits of magic that deflected a sword or staggered one of them just enough to spare the fairy from injury. Despite how simple it was, the level of focus while your head was pounding was quite a feat.

All while you moved on the perimeter of the zone, moving towards the river you could hear, a string of your magic moving through the dirt to search it out. A sigh of relief when you realized it was not so far. Yes it would still be an effort for what you had planned, but it would not drain you too much.

You hoped so at least.

With the backs of the hunters to you, the fairy rushing back towards the cliff while dodging the others, you took a moment to retract your magic from them and the zone to focus it all behind you. A soft prayer to Gaia under your breath, and seconds later the river was rising and rushing through the forest like a small tsunami.

Water rushed past you on the forest floor, no higher than your calves but it was plenty to rush forward and wiped out the fires that were spreading quickly. You pushed it several meters past the distressed zone, letting it sink enough to cover the ground and keep it wet as a protective measure against further fires.

The rush knocked a few off their feet, not expecting the water of course.

It also gave away where your allegiances lie for this fight, since it gave the fairy an upper hand enough to end two of the six remaining attackers nearby.

“Well, guess I should get serious.” You huffed, reaching down to pull your boots off and feel the muddy water beneath your toes. The stronger connection to the earth both eased and distressed your magic, since the forest itself was still in distress.

Still you felt a brush of energy that felt eerily like a thank you. Perhaps for stopping the fires. Yes the water may have drowned some plants or hurt them, but it saved many more.

Half the hunters turned to you as you charged forward, using the water beneath to direct your attacks. Slices of the water came up to cut and maim while the muddy earth began to pull and stagger all of the hunters. You bended the mud and water to not only attack, but also deflect, nature listening to you with more ease with its own instinct to fight the threats.

It also gave you warning when there were more people approaching. Nearly all but two of the hunters were dead as another round approached and surrounded you. You stood near the fairy, his obsidian eyes casting wary glances your way, at least noting you meant him no harm. The enemy of your enemy is your ally after all.

It was as he fell the last of the hunter that he hissed in your direction. “Tell me why I should not kill you.”

Ah, his voice. You had missed it.

Unable to help the dreamy sigh, you smiled in his direction. “I have no reason, my sweet fairy. If my death would please you, it is yours.”

Recognition flashed through his eyes, shock twisting his features for a moment before a strange voice called out. “Hand him over, witch. He has to pay for his crimes.” You turned just enough to notice the several dozens around, and all with a matching crest. Shit. It was the city’s coven. They were one of the more powerful ones, their magic keeping the city shielded from non-magical folk. Or, well, hiding all the magic from anyone without a magical core.

“It is you that have committed crimes against fairies! I have done nothing but exact justice!” The fairy next to you shouted, his black and red wings fluttered with agitation behind him. He clearly had this conversation before, though you saw no reason to try. 

“They don’t care.” Sighing, your eyes ran over the many witches, surprised even the head was there. “The Council gave the order for your capture. Hunters are easy compared to coven witches, and this Coven is powerful. If I may suggest a retreat? These ones will not bother the fairy nest.”

Just to make sure that would be the case, your magic sought out the nest, eyes widening as you sensed a small portal of sorts.

A glance at the fairy next to you told you all you needed to know about where the portal came from. As well as the fact he would not be running until the last of his kin were gone from the nest. A shame they must leave their own home, truly.

“Do you even have the magic to leave?” A whisper, ignoring the way your tone trembled.

He met your gaze, the usual displeased frown lifting into a cocky smirk. You could almost believe it, if not for the way his hands tremble.

Nodding, you took a few steps forward, hands up in front of you as if trying to calm a beast. “Let’s not do anything hasty now.” “Says the fairy lover.” One snapped.

“And what’s wrong with that? They are Gaia’s children, just as we are.” You mused, keeping an inner eye on the fairy nest and the portal. You could buy as much time as you could, opening up the caves again. Giving the sweet fairy a way to reach the portal quickly and without using more of his own magic. “The old ways are dying.” A voice boomed, drawing your attention to the coven leader. “As is our connection to Gaia. We don’t need her anymore.”

Your eye roll was dramatic to say the least. “Now that is just rude to the Great Mother! She is our provider. Our core. Breaking from her breaks what we are.”

“She is not needed anymore.” The Coven head stressed once more, nodding at some of his men who began to chant.

Before you could respond, a few others charged forward, summoning spectral weapons and clashing in battle. They parried your slashes of water, staggering you back. Your attention was pulled in different directions. From trying to block the attacks to disrupting the chanting going on around you while keeping track of the fairies inside the cave.

Your only advantage was the fairy’s help next to you, but he was clearly struggling with the overwhelming foes.

With a curse, you used the water to pull up a wall of water, pushing it towards his attackers before quickly maneuvering it to block incoming magic missiles. “You aren’t going to make it at this rate! Go, the last of them are leaving. Go be with your kin.” You kissed out at the fairy who was also using the water much like you were but on a smaller scale.

The open portal was draining him too much, you could see that. Even with the magic he gained from the hunters, a fairy could usually teleport himself through the magic but opening a portal and holding it was more of space magic than the natural. It was possible he was just opening one to their realm, one that fairies could use to travel, but the distance and time holding it would still drain him while fighting like this.

And yet he looked at you as if you were mad for suggesting that he head through. Was that not his plan? An emotion much like concern flashed over his features, but you pushed that aside. You did not think he would be concerned for you, why would he?

The brief hesitation was all that was needed for things to go from bad to worse. His magic wavered, a manifested weapon swung down. He noticed too late.

A slash over his eye had him hissing back in pain, a few other gashes appearing on his exposed arms. It was enough to distract you as well, feeling a burning pain shoot out from your non-dominant arm and along your side. A barrage of magic missiles that had you stumbling.

His portal in the nest closed, thankfully after all the fairies had evacuated. But now you were both injured and running out of magic., the coven swarming in to either capture or kill.

Every possible escape route swam through your mind. Every possible spell you could use to turn the tides or run and each option as unlikely as the last. Even as you pushed out with your magic, sending more water in a rush towards your enemies, pushing them back and staggering but not stopping them. The fairy was holding his eyes, blood running down his arm from the wound and the wounds marring his skin. The idea of him teleporting himself away--even just a small distance–was on the tip of your tongue when you noticed a limp in one of his wings.

Injured. He couldn’t send himself away.

“Well-” You rushed over, grabbing his waist with your dominant arm while using your injured to throw a quick barrage of magic missiles. A quick and heavy one, 20 or so missiles, enough to distract for the real spell. “Apologies sweetheart, but bare with me.” 

He looked up with his one good eye, confusion quickly shifted to shock as water rushed up and covered both of your bodies. 

Your only thought was of hope you two would not be followed, and then you both dissolved into the water.

✨️

It had been a few years since you had returned here, but it was the safest place you could think of.

A foolish thing, considering the distance required more magic than you had at the time. Part of a Master’s job when raising and training a young witch was cultivating a home for the witch.

Your master had shown you the location he had picked out many years ago. After the fight you had with him before leaving only a few years prior to today, you didn’t think it would still be there.

Due to your affinity and closeness to the earth itself, your master had chosen a place much farther from the cities than he had lived. Transporting not only you but a fairy, both injured, across many miles and up a mountain was nowhere near easy. And if the cabin was not there, well, that would really fucking suck. Simple as that.

Emerging from the stream nearby and seeing the cabin was a major relief before you had passed out, acknowledging a cold nip to the air.

Waking up inside the cabin, clothes dry and wounds clearly taken care of, wasn’t even the most shocking thing. It was the fairy standing near the fire, stoking it with his back towards you, wings folded down in relaxation.

You must have made some sort of noise because he glanced over his shoulder at you, the fire reflecting in the obsidian eyes, stoking a fire in your own chest. “You’re awake.”

“How long was I out?” You croaked out, making no effort to move or get up. The bed was cozy.

“A little over a day.” He turned back to the fire, ending the conversation there.

The whine that left you at the lack of his attention was entirely unintentional, but you were pleased when he immediately looked back, expression softer.

“I feel like shit.” You answered his silent question, shutting your eyes to momentarily make a mental check on your body. The bed was stiff, probably from years of sitting here, unused. Surprisingly the air did not smell stiff or dusty, especially for such a small cabin. A witch is given a small one and expected to build onto it themselves.

So aside from the bed and the fire, there was little else. A table and chair in a corner. A shelf stacked with unused cooking ware and empty bottles and some basic starting supplies for potion making. And by the bandages on your arm, you would assume there was a medkit there as well. How useful it would be was questionable, but it was clearly used.

Wait.

“You…” Sitting up faster than you should–given the spinning of the room–you stared in shock at the fairy. “Did you tend to my wounds? How are yours?”

He stiffened. Then turned. And you gasped.

There was a white eye patch over his injured eye, as well as bandages on his arms but they were loose, as if he struggled to put them on. Your chest was tight at the picture he was, much softer than the vengeful fairy that had tried to take your life so long ago.

In fact, he almost seemed bashful. 

“I did try.”

With a soft chuckle you patted the bed next to you. “Come, I will fix your bandages.”

He hesitated, then made his way over and sat down stiffly. Rolling your eyes you pulled him closer, mindful of his gaze as you unwrapped the too loose gauze. “If you are having trouble with your wounds then you must still be out of magic, am I right?”

A slow nod, barely seen from how you were bent over his arm, gently unraveling. 

“I can feel that my core is still weak as well, so healing magic is out of the question for me. And if I remember, this cabin is pretty far from the village. Most likely a near day’s walk.” And your side hurt too much to even attempt the trek.

“A storm is coming as well.” He mentioned lowly, drawing your attention from the exposed cuts up to his face. 

Grateful for his input, you continued with honesty, letting him know just how this situation was. “Well that is both a good and bad thing. Good because it will definitely ensure we are not found. But bad because I have not been to this cabin in so long there is no food or supplies to withstand days waiting for it to pass.”

He scoffed, turning his head away and saying nothing more. Taking the silence as answer enough –meaning there is none– you turned back to your work. Thankfully the wounds seemed cleaned and some paste was applied. You assumed healing herbs. So all you needed to do was probably wrap up the bandages.

You finished and moved to his other arm, this time much closer to him since it was on his other side, practically leaning over his lap to do so. The position agitated the bruises on your side, brow furrowed with the pain but you pushed it aside. Pain was a price to pay for helping your sweet fairy.

Realizing you couldn’t call him that out loud(well you could but he might not like it), you broke the silence. “What’s your name?”

Feeling his eye on you, you kept your focus on your task. “Hongjoong.”

“Hongjoong.” You tested it on your tongue, humming in satisfaction. “A pretty name for a pretty fairy.”

Because your hands were on his arm you noticed instantly how he stiffened further, as well as stopped breathing. Shooting a glance up at his face, you marveled at the whirlwind of emotions there, deciding to spare him from sitting in them you gave your own name. “But call me whatever you want.”

“I don’t care for your name, witch.” He hissed, yanking his arm away the second the bandage was properly secure.

With a sigh, you patted his knee. “That’s alright. I cared about yours.”

“You truly are insane.”

“So you have told me.”

“And I meant it. Who willingly offers their life?! Do you have a death wish?” “On the contrary, I do not. I simply wanted to give you what you wanted.”

“Insane!” He stood up abruptly, pacing away while running his hand through his red hair, wings shaking with some agitation but still in their relaxed state.

Shrugging, the words just rolled off. “I suppose I am. Though I’d like to think I just know what I want.”

He swiveled on the ball of his foot, snarling at you with his teeth bared. “And that is to give me your life?!”

The urge to shrug again was pushed down, instead a soft smile on your lips, hands on your lap as you met his gaze with one of conviction. “To give the most ethereal, majestic being I have ever seen, whatever he wants. If that is my life, I will gladly give it. If that is another’s, consider it done.” You slide off the bed, barely registering you were in only your undergarments as you got on your knees. Crawling over, you stopped before him, tilting your head back as a show of submission. “I want whatever you want, please use me.”

Conflicting emotions warred on his features, from shock to horror to… awe? Dare you say desire?

Before you could truly pinpoint what you saw, he turned once more and was out the small cabin door in a rush, slamming the thick wood behind him.

Well that could have gone better.

Exhaling deeply you stood back up and examined the room more closely. Maybe there were some clothes you could wash in the stream with the bedding. Focusing on that instead of the fact your sweet fa- Hongjoong left you was a better idea than wallowing.

Hours passed as you cleaned the bedding, used the tiny bit of magic you had to pull all the moisture from the items, and then searched near the stream and cabin for anything to eat. By the time night fell the cabin was clean and you had a fish and mushroom stew above the fire and a mental catalog of everything inside.

The location was up in the mountains, but if you remember correctly the flora and fauna in this particular part of the mountains was abundant and not as touched by humans as most others. There should be a town near the base, and a valley in between this and the next mountain. There was also a plethora of caves running through this mountain range that probably contained more magical creatures, or at least dangerous ones, that would limit the amount of humans up this far.

Logically it made a good home, especially since you had all the skills and knowledge to live off the land. However, it did not have one thing: Hongjoong.

While it would be smart to stay here, you knew as soon as you were able, you would go find him. Go where he went. Do what he wanted.

You had agitated the bruises on our side with all your moving about, but aside from how drained you were of magic and fatigued you were. Using the last bit you had recovered sleeping to dry the clothes and bedding wasn’t the smartest idea.

Running your hand down the thick dress, cinched at the waist with a tie, begged to differ. Even with the fire burning in the small cabin, there was an unmistakable chill in the air and the thicker clothing would help with that.

Perhaps the cold was the reason that the door opened at dusk, your fairy stepping through, a pout on his lips and shivers running down his body.

“Welcome back.” Your excitement over his arrival was palpable, a grin spread wide. Not even the fierce glare he shot your way could dampen it.

“Where are we? I am unfamiliar with the forest here.” 

“Well I imagine so, we are quite far from where we fought. It would take us several weeks to travel back on foot. A week on horseback.” You explained, turning your attention back to the stew above the fire. “You will have better luck remaining here and recharging your magic. I would give you mine, but teleporting such a distance truly drained me.”

He scoffed, still standing by the door but at least shut the heavy wood, letting the latch fall into place. “You didn’t need to use what you had to dry the fabric earlier.”

That surprised you, glancing over your shoulder at him. “Oh? Were you watching?”

He blushed, the sight filling you with glee. The fact he was so expressive and easy to read just elevated his worth in your heart. He truly was the most beautiful creature to exist. A Fairy willing to go against his very nature and kill those who had harmed his kin. Hunting them as they hunted Fairies. And yet he could be so bashful and clumsy, even caring. 

“It was just a guess!” He huffed, wings fluttering with agitation. You had to stop yourself from cooing at the sight.

“Mhmm, so observant of you. Are you hungry?” 

Whatever reply he had died on his tongue, momentarily stunned by your shift in topic. “What is it?” Curiosity brightened his features, lifting his head further to look over your shoulder. You made it easier on him by stepping out of view, watching him out of the corner of your eye.

He sniffed the air gingerly, once more holding back a coo at the sight. A hesitant step forward and the sound of a grumbling stomach filled the space.

This time you couldn’t help your coo at his bashful expression. “Fish and mushroom stew. I am not sure how you feel about fish, I know meat is not a common diet for fairies but it’s not completely ignored either. The chunks are big enough to eat around.”

Tearing his gaze from the pot he met yours, the shock evident. “What? How do you know that?” You could see the moment he remembered that technically you had been one of the hunters who had baited him, a hiss falling from his lips and hatred filling his obsidian gaze. 

It struck no fear into you, as you could never be afraid of him. Even if he ripped your innards out while you watched, tortured you, or left you to rot. None of those outcomes scared you, since they would be done by his hand. Still, a part of you wanted him to know you meant him no harm.

“I have never killed or harmed a fairy. I promise you. Any hunting I did was to gather more research. To know more about you and fairies alike. Your diet, habits, traditions. Some had been very open about the information after some time. Though I was a bit frustrated, none of them wanted to tell me about you.” With a soft sigh you turned back to the stew, checking to see if it was good enough to eat. “I can understand why they consider you an outcast, killing goes against their nature. Many resigned to their fate saying this was Gaia’s doing, the hunters. They would not sell you out either way, if it caused their kin harm.”

“I do not do this for my kin’s acceptance.”

“Of course not.” You started plating two bowls, one with fish, one without, deciding you would eat whichever he chose not to. “You do it for their safety. An admirable thing, to go to such lengths to protect your kind.”

He scoffed, stepping closer as you set the two bowls on the table. “I do not need your admiration.”

“Of course not.” You repeated, stepping back and giving him the space to choose.

Eyeing you warily, he chose the bowl without fish, hesitating further before sitting down. Taking the other bowl, you sat on the bed, giving him as much space the small cabin could allow.

Despite your hunger, you did not eat as quickly as him, instead watching him take each bite. A bit sloppy, but cute. He relaxed with each bite, finished before you were a third of the way done with yours. The quiet stretched as he stood up, his gaze telling as it flickered between you and the pot and his bowl.

“Have as much as you want. I plan to do a more extensive search for food and herbs tomorrow.”

Still, he hesitated, obviously conflicted with something.

You have never known the amount of patience you could muster than in this moment, a soft smile on your lips as you waited for him to decide, or speak up about what the issue was. Hours could have passed like that and you would still be content just watching the plethora of emotions battle it out on his perfect face.

“The storm…” He finally started, hesitation still evident in his tone. “It will hit by the morning, and food will be hard to obtain. Feels like ice on the wind.” “Oh.” The smile faltered to a more thoughtful expression. “That is definitely a problem. It is winter, and this high up in the mountains I assume it will not be a gentle storm either. Very well, I may need to exhaust myself a bit further, but it’s necessary.” Setting the half eaten soup aside, you stood, knowing every second wasted could cost you. 

“What?” Flabbergasted, he blocked your path. “You can’t go out there now.”

“Sure I can.”

“No. You can’t.”

Perplexed by how adamant he was over this, you tilted your head, expression showing your confusion. That had him wavering, eye darting towards the door before back to you. With a dejected sigh, he continued on. “You will use more magic, will you not?”

“Only a bit. I will ask Gaia for her blessing and assistance, the Great Mother always provides.” You offered, touched by what you could only guess was concern. “Unless… Are you going to do so? But I could not ask my sweet fairy to do such a thing.”

He snarled at the name. “Don’t call me that!”

“Why not? You are being so sweet. Taking care of my wounds, offering to hunt food for us. Oh such a devoted and caring fairy.” You sighed dreamily, cupping your cheeks and letting out a giddy giggle. “Unless the issue is calling you mine.”

He hissed again, standing a bit straighter. “You need to recoup so you can take me back there! I have unfinished business.” The blush on his cheeks belied such a purpose though. Maybe it was a half truth.

“Mmm nope. If you leave to hunt I will just follow. Two are better than one, are they not? The fire enchantment should last through a storm, but some ingredients to enhance the enchantment and provide extra protection would not be a bad idea either. So, I will come with. You may find food if you wish.”

“Are you always so stubborn?”

“I would think so. I have been chasing you for years.” Your admission had him flinching back in shock, but it paid you no mind. 

“Years?” 

“Mhmm. Since the day you first found me. I was nearing the end of my apprenticeship anyways, and with a goal of study, my Master deemed me worthy to be on my own. And I haven’t stopped my research or search for you since.” 

Intent on getting out there and beginning your search, you stepped closer to him, biting back a chuckle as he stepped back. When his back hit the door, you didn’t stop, reaching next to his hip and grabbing the handle. He resembled a frozen deer with how wide and innocent his eyes had gone. “Now, I can give you a list of animals and plants that should be in the area for food. Since you aren’t a fan of fish, rabbit or boar would do nicely.”

He hissed at that, clearly not keen on the idea of hunting another animal. “I know how to hunt.” Or perhaps he was?

“Good. Go do it, my pretty fairy. Since that’s what you want.” You all but purred out, watching the way he blushed deeper and deeper.

So damned pretty like this.

You wondered what would happen if you kissed him. Would he get even more shy? Vengeful? Would he hurt you? Maybe all of them.

Every single one filled you with excitement.

Before you could decide what to do about it, he was pushing you back and pushing himself out the door. Biting back the disappointment, you followed.

Just to stumble to a stop at the sight right outside the door. There were a couple animals, from a boar, a couple of rabbits and squirrels. All clean kills by the lack of blood. Another pile of herbs and berries and some vegetation was nearby.

When you threw a questioning glance at the other, he made an effort not to meet it.

“I can see you already handled it then. Very well. Some buckets of drinking water and a few more herbs will be easy to get for myself. Is there anything in particular you need? Perhaps your clothes washed?”

“I can handle it.”

“No.” Shaking your head, your hand found his wrist. “I have a suspicion you have not rested yet, my sweet, and you suffered more physical wounds than I. Allow me. It would be better for you to get rest. This is nothing I can’t handle, even drained as I am. The stream is right there, and I already noted some herbs and ingredients that would be needed nearby. There are pajamas inside, the bottoms should fit and I can wash your clothes. I am not taking no for an answer.”

Staring down at your hand, Hongjoong said nothing at first, just frozen from the touch. In the back of your mind you lamented your lack of magic, knowing you could use it to get your way if you had it right now. A simple sleep spell would do.

When he nodded, your shoulders relaxed a bit. Good, no fight there.

No, he waited until you returned, clearly exhausted from hauling water back to the cabin to fill up the barrel, and even more exhausted after scouring for herbs. In your defense, the last time you had felt so utterly drained was years ago when this fairy in question had taken your magic. And you were too worried about saving face in front of your obsession to let your struggle show.

It started with a hard stare, judgemental even, as he was now wearing the pajamas you had pointed out. At least he listened to that too.

Then it was the scoffs and huffs every time you came back in and poured the buckets of water into the barrel, or set the pile of herbs down.

And by the time you had finished, he was up and pointing at the bed, giving you a look that had you shivering. “Awww, worried about me, sweetie?”

“No!” The red of his cheeks said otherwise. “I don’t want to be stuck with a rotting body is all.”

Biting the inside of your cheek to keep from cooing, you nodded and just walked over. Okay, not walked, more like dragged your sluggish feet and collapsed onto the bed face first. “Just let me rest for an hour or so. I need to cut and clean the meat before rot sets in.”

“I am not incompetent, I can handle that much.”  He huffed, surprising you by rolling your body fully on the bed and pulling the blankets over you. “Sleep. You have done enough.”

Despite the fact he practically snapped the words in your direction, there was a pleased smile on your face. Your sweet fairy was worried about you. It made it easy to fall asleep after that.

✨️

Truthfully you hadn’t expected to wake up and see everything done properly. The cabin smelled of blood, bone, and animal guts. He somehow kept it to a corner of the room, even though the blood was seeping into the wood and stone of the floor. But that would be easy to get out once your magic was back. For now, you would have to do what you could.

You could hear the snow raging outside. The harsh winds, the bone chill seeping into the walls. Nature was indeed fierce, commanding the respect she deserves. And the fairy? Your fairy? Turning to you when you stood from the bed, blood soaked down the front of the cream pajamas, some of it smeared on his face. 

A thrill shot through you, locking your gaze with his, there was an undeniable spark. His eye widened before he looked away, clearing his throat. “You don’t look half dead on your feet anymore.”

“I feel much better as well.” You didn’t hide the way your eyes took him in. The bloody fabric sticking to his body, the shimmer of his wings as if they could feel your desire. The effort it clearly took him to return to work.

Not that it did him any good when you stood next to him, taking in the deconstruction animal corpses on the table, different parts in bowls or baskets. A low whistle escaped your lips, impressed with the work. “I see you’re skilled with your hands. Even with one eye harmed.” Watching him debone a squirrel was interesting work. At least you assumed it was a squirrel, considering he had already skinned the animals and had them hanging above the mantle to dry.

“I am using a little magic for guidance. I already nicked a blood vessel on the boar.”

“Well it’s a good thing you look delicious covered in blood."

He tugged too hard on the small corpse, ripping the body resulting in bones flying across the room. His head had jerked up, eye wide with disbelief. “How can you say something so twisted?”

With an incredulous look, you met his gaze. “Because I am. You look positively immaculate in any form, my sweet fairy. Pulling a hunter into a tree, killing them with ease, stealing my magic, being worried about me or, covered in animal blood as you work tirelessly to supply us both with what Gaia has given us. I am sure there are other sides to you that I will swoon over.”

“I don’t think I can ever get over how you talk.” He whispered to himself with a shake of his head and just returned to his work. “Make yourself useful and deal with the herbs. I noticed you got some mana rich ones.”

Accepting the redirection you nodded, turning to the untouched basket near the bed, far from the fire and blood. “To help mana flow and regeneration. I want to treat your eye as soon as I can.”

That’s how you found yourself for the next couple of hours. The storm outside was too dense for any light to stream in, the tightly bound windows, only intuition telling you roughly when it was late morning and you started on another soup, letting it simmer as you organized and prep the many herbs, brewing the mana recovery potions in a smaller pot next to the soup over the fire.

The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, at least on your end. The tasks were familiar and easy on your worn body, the smell of the food filled the air and covered the smell of dried blood. The space was small enough that the fire kept it warm despite the icy storm just outside.

He was finished first, the sections of boar hung up to dry, the bones and skins being washed with water in a makeshift dip in the floor– a couple of stones that had recently sunk down to form a basin, most likely his handiwork. But then the soup was ready, both of you were hungry, and he was still covered in blood.

“If you are done, strip and set the clothes by the table. I will wash you.” With said table dirty and stained from his tasks, you set two bowls on the end table by the bed and pushed the sleeves of your gown up.

He visibly recoiled at your offer, shaking his head. “I can wash myself.”

“I’m sure you can, my sweet, but I would do a better job. Make sure no blood remains and then it will be your turn to rest.” He took another step back as you stepped forward. Brows raised, your hands went to your hips. “Strip, or I will do it for you and get us both bloody.”

More hesitation, but he complied finally. Even under the dried blood on his cheek you could see the flush of warmth. It deepened as his shirt came off, landing with a plop at the leg of the table, his slick but not as drenched as the fabric had been. You still admired how it made the lines and curves of his torso more prominent, tongue darting over your lips when your gaze took in the two beautiful pink nipples of his, hardened from a chill only he felt. 

His thumbs hooked into the hem of the pants and paused, a sound like a squawk escaping his throat as he noticed you were not tearing your gaze away. “Do you mind?”

“I’m about to touch you, Darling, I’m going to see it.”

“Were you always a pervert??”

Laughter bubbled in your throat at his accusation, watching as he pulled his pants off and tossed them aside while immediately attempting to cover his privates. “May I remind you of my earlier words? Sit in the basin.” A gentle order as you moved to the barrel and grabbed a bucket of clean water. Then one of the crushed herbs to add to a second bucket. You set them both down as he did as instructed, looking far too adorable curled into himself and flustered.

“N-no. You don’t. I only momentarily forgot I am stuck with an insane woman.”

“It would do you best to remember, Hongjoong. If you let your guard down too much, I might pounce.” A teasing joke that fell from your lips like a purr, resulting in a jolt through the other. His head snapped up to fix you with a glare that had no effect with how flustered he was. More like an indignant pout. 

“Maybe I should have let you rot.”

“If that’s what you want.” Kneeling down next to him and the basin, a rag in hand, you dipped it in the water before starting with his hair. “Whatever you desire, my sweet fairy.”

He scoffed, wings fluttering in agitation. They didn’t seem to be fully physical, more like a visage in the air, an illusion of spiritual nature. Intangible and ethereal. You wondered if this was because of the lack of fairy dust coating them since his own magic energy was still so low. Or if this was always the case. You had only worked with smaller fairies, and you knew their wings could be torn off and used, not that you ever tried. The curiosity to find out was strong, but you pushed it aside as easily as you pushed his wet, clean hair out of his face and worked on the delicate and petite features there.

You took his inaction to stop you as permission to keep going, fighting off a smile when his wings would flutter behind him or shiver depending on where you touched. His neck seemed sensitive, his pits ticklish, but it was as the rag roughly ghosted over one of his pretty pink nipples that he let out a gasp as his wings shivered with the faintest sound of bells.

The smile spread over your face as you purposely did the same to the other, receiving the same reaction if not more obvious. “I had assumed only your wings would be sensitive, Joong-ah.” 

His hand snapped up to grab your wrist when you went to brush against his nipple again. “What are you doing?”

“Cleaning you obviously.”

“I can do that.”

“We already had this conversation, my sweet. Now relax and let me take care of you.”

The two of you locked eyes for a moment, a battle of wills in between your gazes, one which he looked away first, a blush running up his cheeks from whatever he saw in your own gaze. With a happy hum you continued to wash him.

And perhaps take many opportunities to pull such delicious reactions out of him that got his wings to tingle or his lips to part in a soft, barely there gasp. Your touch was gentle over his stomach, pleased when he leaned back to give you access to the soft lines and his thin waist.

His skin was flushed from the heat of the water and your own touches, moving down to his bare thighs. With a slight tap to his inner knees he spread them for you, and you did your best to ignore what was at the center between the junction of his hips, low on his pelvis. He made a poor effort of covering it with his hand, appearing almost shy. You assumed it was more to hide how your simple touches had him half hard and trembling.

You washed as much of him as you could, moving around to sit at his back and gently push him forward. He went with a bit of hesitation, a sound much like a whine leaving him as you manhandle him by the hips to spread his legs some and ass up in the air. He was gripping the stone in front of him, balancing on the balls of his feet, glancing back at you in semi-alarm.

“Why must you be so touchy?”

“How else am I supposed to wash you?”

“I should have fought you harder on this.” His head fell forward however as the wet rag, freshly dipping in the water, ran down his spine. At first his back arched forward, and then back into your touch as if to ask for more.

“Then why aren’t you?” The smirk on your lips could be heard in your tone.

His body reacted in contrast to his words, affecting his tone as he started stuttering out some excuse about playing nice, that was wiping from his tongue as your fingers ran over his skin where the wings met his flesh. While your hands passed through the noncorporeal beauties, they left behind a tingle on your skin that was most pleasant.

He seemed so pliant under your hands, his expression hidden from you but judging from the flutter of his wings, the heat of his skin, and his near fully hard cock dangling between his legs- he was enjoying your touch.

How pretty would he look coming undone by your hand? By your mouth? Writhing with pleasure and begging for you?

Your own arousal burned hotter, undoing what little restraint you had. Washing his back, you teased with the gentle drag of your fingernails and the soft breath on his wings. His body twitched and arched and was honest with what it liked, going so far as for his behind to be pushed towards you as you washed the soft cheeks. His thighs trembled as you wash the back of them, down to his calves and then back up.

You saved the best for last, staying behind him to give him a sense of privacy as you reached between his legs and wrapped the rag around his fully hard member. His whole body jolted, falling to his knees and letting out a soft cry that was the most beautiful sound you had ever heard. More so than any masterpiece of music that had goosebumps spreading across your skin. His sinful and soft sound of pleasure had your soul singing in tune.

“I-I can-”

“You can what?” You asked lowly, hand stroking his hard member slow and steady. Your thumb brushed over the tip, earning a harsh jut of his hips forward as if fuck your hand. “You don’t want me to touch you there? You can tell me to stop. Say no right now.”

Only because you knew the truth did your hand pause and move off. 

His response came with his own hand grabbing yours and wrapping it back around his member. You let him guide you, the rag falling after a few strokes so it was just your hand on his wet skin. He arched his back more, cock dangling between his thighs as soft pants and breathy moans fell from his lips where you couldn’t see. He kept his face hidden, turned into his bicep as his shaky grip continued to guide his hand.

“So beautiful like this, my sweet. Trust me, I’ll bring you to even more beautiful heights.” The words were a promise. An oath. One you would love to have until the end of your days or even in a new life, should Gaia grant you one.

When your hand picked up, his sounds grew a bit more strangled, wings fluttering with each wave of pleasure you brought him. Curious, your free hand slid up his spine, rubbing around where his wings met skin, pleased to see them emitting a soft glow as his sounds picked up in pitch and volume.

It was with wonder that you watched him quickly become undone, ropes of pure liquid silver shooting from his cock as his body and wings convulsed from the force of his orgasm and cry. The strange cum mixed with the pink water in the basin he was still kneeling in. He was leaning forward on his forearms in support, the slightest jerk of your hand earning a more fierce reaction from him that almost drove you to see how many times you could make him cum in a row.

The thought was dashed when he finally lifted his head, skin flushed and the gold flecks in his one obsidian eye shined like stars in the night sky. His lips were swollen, the bottom pulled in between his teeth enough to leave marks. 

“Beautiful.” You breathed, barely a whisper as you sat awestruck by the aftermath of what you had done.

He blinked back water from his lashline, standing up quickly and grabbing a tunic you had left out for him. He put it on, too big for his small and lithe frame, and then climbed into bed without a word.

You let him go, sitting there for a long moment, replaying every single second of those moments in your head until you heard his breathing even out with sleep.

✨️

Over the coming days, it was not the only time you touched him. In fact, you made it your mission to do so.

The two of you fell into a routine of eating, sleeping, potion making, and idle chatter. Though the chatter was more so on your part. As well as the initiation of touch. But you reminded him, plenty, that all he had to do was say no.

He never did. 

Sure he pretended to be upset most of the time, protesting your touches. Grabbing your wrist when your hands snaked down into his trousers, but never pulling you away. He avoided eye contact, tried at times to be quiet, but every time he let you tease him to mass and stroke him to climax.

It was the morning when you could feel that the storm had past, the sun shined outside on the deep snow and you had already made a trip to the stream to refill the water barrels with clean water. The stains of blood were the first to go when you had enough magic to do so without hard. Well, first after you had healed his eye. He would never get his sight back, the nerves too damaged, but you properly closed the wound and others he had.

It was a matter of time before your magic and his own would be vast enough once more to return, and you were a bit stumped on how to persuade him not to go back. Not that you would stop him, but if an entire coven was waiting for him, he would be like a lamb to the slaughter and you did not wish to send him to his death.

The desire was stronger now as you sat back, licking your lips and staring down at the beautiful fairy you had woken with your mouth on his cock, coaxing him to climax down your throat. “Even your cum tastes like sweet magic.”

“D-Did you have to wake me up like that?”

“I was doing you a service, my sweet. You were the one making such sweet sounds in your slip, rutting against the mattress with a hard cock, seeking pleasure. Was my mouth no good?”

His pink cheeks flushed deeper, gaze fixating on the burning fire across the room as if it was the thing he spoke to. “I-I didn’t say that…”

“Ah so you did enjoy it? I knew it, you like me and my company don’t you?” Giddy you climbed off the bed, never seeking release for yourself. Never pushing to have the heat in your stomach appeased. Because bringing him to such joy and ecstasy was all you wanted. Especially if it would convince him to stay.

The bed sheets rustled behind you as he sat up, your attention on the new stew you were making for the day, using the last of the meat you didn’t dry out as jerky so it would not spoil. You would have to get more later.

“As if I enjoyed spending any time with you.” His voice shook with the telltale sign of fake courage through a lie, which you had gotten good at discerning over the days.

You glanced over your shoulder at him with a smirk that showed you didn’t believe him for a second. He grew more flustered at his lie being seen through. “Mhmm. You look pretty even when you lie. Really, I knew nothing could beat your beauty in any form.”

He looked almost innocent with the way he shied away from your gaze, a soft smile tugging at his lips. Either he didn’t think you were still watching, or he wanted you to see.

Despite bringing him to the precipice of pleasure with your hand multiple times, and now your mouth, you had yet to see a real smile. One of joy aimed in your direction. You craved that more than you craved him to use you as he pleased.

Which caused turmoil to bloom in your chest as you turned back to the stew, stirring it absentmindedly.

There was silence as he washed himself up in the now formed wash pool you had built in a corner with a bit of magic. The water was fresh and filtering itself with a touch of magic. He didn’t slip in past the stone walls of it, just washed away your drool from his pelvis if the sounds were any indication. The silence was not uncomfortable, but you could feel from his energy something weighing on his mind and you waited patiently for him to broach whatever subject it was.

You didn’t have to wait long. “Why haven’t you asked me to please you in return? Or even kiss you?” The words were so soft you would have missed them if you were not waiting for him to speak.

“Because you have not asked for either. Your body has asked for touch, for release, and so I give it. Even if you deny it, I give you the option to back out every time and you do not. I have not pursued the other because you have shown no interest.” You clarified with ease. “Besides, I feel plenty satiated seeing you come undone by my doing. It brings me great pride.”

He huffed, no sound of his movement but you felt his presence grow behind you. You turned to see what he was doing when he grabbed your arm and spun you the rest of the way. No time for questions before his lips were on yours.

It was… a pity you hadn’t kissed him before. It ignited desire in you like none before. It was clumsy, clearly something he knew little to none about, but he sought your lips like they would appease an endless hunger in him. A hunger that matched your own.

Breathing was suddenly unimportant as his tongue pried your lips open and licked inside your mouth, a soft sound of pleasure mingling with your own at his exploration.

You would have loved nothing more for the kiss to continue, to involve the undressing of the clothe from your body and his hands learning the ways it ticked like you had learned for his. For the kiss to lead to a release of your own, brought to you by his hand or mouth or cock- just by him, it did not matter how.

Yet instead you were both panting heavily as he pulled away, as if you had been attempting to break a record of holding your breath underwater and had just resurfaced. Your eyes met his, the daze you felt reflected in his.

The sudden distance twisted your gut uncomfortably. 

“We should expand the hut, a place to store fresh meat and water. This winter will be a long one to push through.” He turned to examine the small four walls and each piece of furniture. Your eyes followed, instead remembering vividly which pieces you had him bent over or sitting on as you brought him to pleasurable heights and wondering how he would bring you to such heights on those same surfaces.

His words registered like a slap of hot steam. “We should? Are you staying the full winter?”

“For now.” The soft flutter of his wings, barely noticeable, said otherwise.

It was hard to contain your excitement. Lying or not, it gave you a full season to convince him to stay. A life up here, far from covens and humans and surrounded by deep natural magic where everything could be provided?

With your sweet fairy?

The desire for such a future burned much hotter than any will to die by his hand or be a tool for him to use.

You just had a winter to convince him that it was a life worth living. It was a good thing he was a poor liar, and you were obsessed with his pleasure.

Two former generals, now hunters traversed the mountain range for any sign of witchcraft. Yunho with his sword cut through the brush staying close by to Mingi who wielded his battle axe.

"Find anything?" Yunho asked standing up and looking around in observation.

"Not a thing.. yet" he whispered looking around until he stumbled on a branch that brought him down to one knee. He looked down and what he saw was a runic wolf claw on a leather made necklace. Picking it up to examine it, he stood up calling his partner over. "This.. looks recent and made not long ago"

"Looks like we might be closer than we thought" Yunho commented before looking up and east to see a large cabin with lights on and smoke lazily coming from the chimney. "Let's go look. The witches and even nature are tricky" he spoke in fact since times were dangerous. Walking forward with Mingi, they were cautious walking to the cabin and listening to their surroundings. Yunho touched the cabin first with his dagger then his hand making him relax slightly as it was real enough. "Clear" he said before reaching the door and pushing it open stepping inside.

The inside looked cozy with furs, the fire going, and furniture that looks a bit from the future, but the humming was what caught his attention.

"Was the hunt successful?" The question asked by a woman, a huntress herself. Both men were stunned for a second then relaxed coming inside from the cold night.

"It was eventful finding the clues, but it brought us back home for the season or at least tonight" Mingi spoke setting the necklace on the table near the door before taking his coat off setting it on the home made chair.

"I prefer the season, but what can you do when you have a job to hunt" she explained setting dinner on the table with the seasonal drinks for their health and hunger. "Ready to eat together?" She questioned making sure the thick wooden table could hold everything as all of them were not home often. The men nodded taking the extra clothes off for the warm home coming to the kitchen to eat.

"This looks delicious darling" Yunho said with his voice dropped an octave with a growl as he sat across from Mingi. She took her seat between them using a bit of her Magick to boil the stew to imbued the herbs and spices to bring out more flavor. They knew of her witch heritage with a hunter as a father, but they kept her safe and protected in the matters of love and her training worked well with their combat prowess. As they ate, Mingi spoke looking at them.

"When I look at you, I don't see a witch" he started and you stopped him. "So you don't love all of me" you retorted in offense making Mingi panick slightly.

"I think he means he sees you as who you are that he forgets that heritage sometimes since we are hunters. I respect you. Not the other witches especially the ones who betrayed you" Yunho corrected and explained making you blush and smile. Mingi however hugged you and apologized which you accepted.

"No one will take you in harm. No drowning, no stoning. Especially no burning unless its for us" he whispered as your cheeks went a shade of red when he kissed your temple while Yunho held your hand. Tonight was truly something to celebrate amidst all the dangers.

With a final glance at the moon, Yeosang resumed his place beside King Seonghwa´s place. He stopped just beside the throne and overlooked the lords of Halazia considering going to war for another King.

They had been arguing about it for the past few hours, without meeting any agreement. It wasn´t that they didn´t agree with each other, it was that their King vehemently opposed.

He surveyed the room, watching the lords discuss the matter between themselves loudly, expecting Seonghwa to hear them again and pick up on their advice. But his best friend remained silent, deep in thought, so Yeosang waited to see which council in the room would speak up first.

“Your grace, I insist, we must make a decision tonight. We are running out of time” The eldest member of the council spoke, and Yeosang tensed waiting to see Seonghwa's response to the provocation.

“Do you realize you are asking me to send my men into a slaughter? And what for? To be add ons for another King's glory?” Seonghwa snapped.

“Your grace, Halazia has been perishing for so long now, I believe desperate times need desperate measures."

“Then you don´t belong to my Kingdom. I will not send my people to slaughter others in the name of desperation” Seonghwa spoke bitterly, but underneath that, Yeosang knew his friend's real sentiment.

King Theon wasn´t just who ruled the South, he was also his brother in law, having wed Princess Yerim, Seonghwa's little and only sister, barely a year ago. Theon was a warrior, a man who mistook conquest for peace. A trait that had served him with his people in the South, but threatened to destroy everything Seonghwa had left of his own Kingdom.

The King knew sending his sister to the south wasn't going to save the people of Halazia from starving. No alliance, no battle, nothing they had tried has helped the land from the curse laid upon it.

The truth was, Halazia starved.

The decay started quietly, but it quickly consumed the heart of the land, leaving the once fertile valleys filled with dust. As the soil failed, so did the waters. With the rivers running empty, fishermen were forced beyond into the grip of the open sea, many getting lost trying to bring back home any bounty. The people of Halazia died slowly, Seonghwa felt the ghost of his father’s failure weighing on his own shoulders. He had no control of earth, and he couldn't understand how a land so vast in the past was now dying, little by little, day by day before his eyes.

“I understand that we can't afford much longer living like this. That's one of the reasons my sister married King Theon, and I'm grateful for the help he has sent our way, but we need to resist and seek help elsewhere. Murdering innocent people and stealing their land is not what my father would have wanted.”

The Lord opened his mouth to speak but he decided against it. He disagreed. And all the others did too, they were desperate.

Seonghwa couldn't blame his council for being swayed into King Theon's vision; take the neighbor lands by brute force, make them submit to his reign and move the people of Halazia to a soil that was alive; instead of this, a dead land that offers nothing but hunger. ´A gift to my new family in the North.´ Theon had said on his wedding day after promising Seonghwa the help Halazia desperately needed. And for a while it worked, but as soon as the sacks of rice and grains emptied, the hunger ghosted over the Kingdom again.

Yet, Seonghwa knew his father’s spirit would never find peace if he built his kingdom’s survival on the graves of others. Because King Theon didn't have in mind a peaceful takeover, he wanted blood, a massacre. Seonghwa refused to give him the chance to wage a senseless war under Halazia's supposed interests.

Yeosang had seen countless masters try and fail to diagnose Halazia’s sickness, not one of them able to tell the King why his kingdom suffered from such perish. Every report ended up the same way. There was no natural reason but no matter how much Seonghwa, or his father before him asked, no one could tell them why the land died.

Yeosang had no way of being sure about this, but he knew deep inside him the Kingdom that had adopted him was under a curse. A power far greater than any King had brought this tragedy and Yeosang was certain about this.

He had brought the topic to his best friend before, but Seonghwa often dismissed him, refusing to give the idea any weight. Yeosang’s gut told him the witches could help them. Witches didn't mess up with Halazia and Halazia didn't mess up with them. That’s what Seonghwa always replied whenever he mentioned it.

Tales say witches had been responsible for many tragedies around the continent, of which Yeosang had no proof, but Seonghwa's father assured his children and his people that witches and Halazia had nothing to do with each other. Yet, Yeosang couldn’t ignore the coincidence that as soon as the drought began, the covens had vanished, migrating to greener lands.

Every witch, except for one.

She did not live within the walls of the castle, but was close enough to be said she completely left. Yeosang had only seen her twice, her silent figure observing their movements for reasons known only to her.

Seonghwa’s voice rose above the chatter, bringing Yeosang back into the room. 

"If there is nothing more, then this council is dismissed. I will summon you when a new course of action is required."

No one else said a word, and with brief and polite bows to the King, the lords left the room one by one, leaving only Yeosang and Seonghwa in deep silence.

“Come on, out with it,” Seonghwa said, tilting his head back against his throne, looking exhausted. When Yeosang simply arched an eyebrow, the King insisted, “You’ve been deeply in thought for an hour. What is it?”

“The witch,” Yeosang said bluntly. Seonghwa’s eyes snapped on him.

"Again with this?” He then took off his crown, placing it over the mahogany table beside him. He brushed his slender fingers over his platinum hair, exhaling loudly. “The witch?.”

Yeosang smiled, already knowing what his friend was going to say.

“Yeosang, my father spent half his reign ensuring we stayed out of their sight.” He let out a dry laugh, “The lords want me to go to war and you want me to tell them I'd rather go look for answers in dark magic?”.

Yeosang hesitated but decided to speak his mind. “My king, look at the land your father left you,” Seonghwa's sharp gaze hit him but he didn't flinch. “We have sought answers literally everywhere, we keep waiting and what little remains of healthy soil on Halazia will turn to ash beneath our feet unless we do something.”

Seonghwa stood up, his tall frame going around his throne and towards the window Yeosang had been contemplating earlier. “We don´t know if she is even that powerful, why hasn´t she come closer? Why does she remain in the outskirts of the kingdom?”

“But what if she has answers?”

“I cannot risk my men to turn into stone on possibilities. The lords already think I'm a coward for not joining Theon's army. If I send them to go seek a witch, they´ll think I´ve lost my mind.”

“Then don't send the army. Send me.”

“No.” He snapped at Yeosang, not as his commander, not as a subordinate, but as a friend. The man who shared blood sweat and tears with him back in the army and helped him take care of his own Kingdom. “I already lost my sister, I cannot lose my only friend.”

“Seonghwa, I promise you I'll return. When your father accepted me into this Kingdom I swore to always do anything I could to protect it.” He gestured to the empty chairs of the council. “Let me help Halazia´s people. Let me do what I promised the late King, and what I'm now promising you.”

Seonghwa looked down at his crown. Silence stretching loudly between them. “Do you still feel it? That thing you told me about. That you believe we are under a curse.”

Yeosang nodded. 

“And if she asks for a price we cannot pay?”

“Then at least we’ll finally know why we’re dying.”

That very night, long before anyone in the castle were ready to rise for a new day, Yeosang walked silently towards the gates, nodding to the guards, who looked curiously and cautiously. Without a word he mounted his horse, and asked for the gates to be opened.

From his balcony in the farthest tower of the castle, Seonghwa witnessed his friend's departure. It looked clandestine, shrouded in the mist of the dying dawn. His gaze heavy with worry and the weight of uncertainty.

We must be mad for turning our thoughts to dark power. May the Gods let us find what we seek within its darkness. 

The King thought, as Yeosang's silhouette disappeared behind the castle gates as they closed behind him. 

Once out, further away from the main castle, Yeosang noticed the outskirts of Halazia grew increasingly dry. The trees were white, calcified fingers reaching out of the cracked earth. The silence here was absolute. No birds, no rustle of small animals. It looked like a graveyard that refused to show any signs of life.

Then, just as the sharp cliffs of the border came into view, the air suddenly changed. It became thick, smelling of smoke and crushed lavender. Standing atop a limestone ridge, Yeosang saw a figure in flowy robes, standing still looking in his direction. He looked attentively, cautiously but with determination. The wind was strong that morning, making her hair flutter against a dark hood, covering her face.

The witch he was looking for.

He clicked his tongue to command his horse to move forward. 

At the top of the small ridge, you stood still watching him get closer. You seemed composed from the outside, but inside the air in your lungs felt heavy and suffocating. It had been so many years alone, hidden inside the mountains. Slowly losing hope that he would return, until a few years ago when your heart began aching, begging to get closer until the barrier let you, in hopes of catching a glimpse of him. He had finally come back to the Kingdom in the shape of a new man. You wanted nothing but to get closer, and you would have, if not for the dark magic that prevented you from doing so.

Now, since the few years of his return, having him close enough to catch the scent of the castle’s pine soap and the musk of his travel-worn leather; it was like an unnatural force sucked the air out of your lungs.

Yeosang dismounted and the gravel crunched beneath his boots, he was now a few feet from you, below where you were standing. From below, Yeosang  saw your hood was drawn up, hiding your face from the day´s light, so all he could make out were slender fingers and worn boots. He got a couple of steps closer and you let your hood down, allowing Yeosang to see you clearly. 

The witch was… young. She even looked a handful of years younger than him. Even at a distance, he could notice how beautiful she was. He felt a brief wave of warmth running down from his chest to his stomach, and he thought she had the face of a love song. 

Feeling confused, Yeosang haven´t been able to grip his sword before you at that moment, his body seems to fight his mind. He suddenly felt the need to prove something. His heart was pondering with a rhythm he hadn't felt in years. 

It felt out of place. It wasn't what he came to do.

Your own heart hammered inside like a trapped bird, your hands trembled beneath your skirts, you had to put them into a fist to prevent your fingernails from dragging into your palms.

But you couldn´t afford to lose control.

Collecting yourself you walked down, slowly closing the space between you. The closer you got, the more you recognized him. He was exactly as you remembered, yet hauntingly different. His face was the same from the man he was before, but his eyes were filled with the innocence of a new life.

“A man of the North, venturing so deep into the forgotten valley,” you said as you stood almost face to face with him. You realized then that he likely didn't carry his old name. “What is it that you seek here…?” you trailed off, watching his hand over the hilt of his sword. A small, sad smile tugged at your lips as you sensed the flicker of fear in him. “I carry no weapons. At least, none you can touch.”

“And that´s why I must be ready.”

Upon hearing him, your heart fluttered intensely. His voice was exactly the same. Smooth and velvety, like warm honey. “I´m especially cautious of anyone who stands alone in the center of a valley while the Kingdom where it stands withers.”

You smiled dryly again. “I see.”

Now this close, Yeosang could confirm what he saw in the distance. Her sharp face, glowing skin, soft lips, and though looking tired, striking piercing eyes. His gut spoke to him again, it told him that it was foolish to see a beauty like hers and think it was anything less than fatal.

“I´ll be brief. I´m here because I seek the end of Halazia’s suffering. My King says the land is dying of natural causes. My gut says otherwise.”

“What´s your name, Knight?”

“Yeosang.” He bowed his head lightly. “I´m King Seonghwa's Army commander.”

You noticed the way his eyes searched yours, looking for any threat, but also for something he couldn't name. You felt the warmth radiating off him, a stark contrast to the many years of cold you had endured. It took every ounce of your willpower not to reach out and touch the pulse point at his neck, just to feel the life in him, the life he once swore it belonged to you only.

“Your gut is wise, Yeosang” you replied, your voice softening. Knowing he had remained in the shadows about Halazia´s demise long enough, you cut to the point. “The land isn't dying, it is being punished. And the only way to lift the curse is to return to the place where it was invoked.” You turned your back to him, trying to show that you really were not carrying any blade. You pointed west, where the peaks were shrouded in unnatural, violet-tinted clouds. “The journey will be long. It will demand more than strength.” You looked back at him over your shoulder. “You need to remember things you’ve spent a lifetime forgetting.”

Yeosang frowned, the familiar crease appearing between his brows, the same crease he used to have when he was confused by a riddle all those years ago. “I don’t know what you mean. I’ve forgotten nothing.”

A bittersweet ache blooming in your chest. You knew that by the time both reach the summit, he will know exactly who you were, and why Halazia had suffered.

Without another word, you gestured Yeosang to follow you down the winding path of cracked limestone covered by snow. “There´s essentials I need to gather before the journey ahead, mostly spell supplies, cookware, fur...”

“Spells?” Yeosang asked, intrigued.

"We'll need them for various purposes” you looked behind your shoulders. “Also I need to get my horse”. As much as you would have loved to share a saddle with him just to feel his warmth, you knew the path required his proximity to be a slow, careful reawakening.

The remaining walk towards your home was silent. Though calling it a home was an overstatement, it was more an extension of the earth around you than anything else. After a while you arrived. Yeosang watched curiously to the hanging bundles of dried herbs, shimmering crystals, and shelves made of petrified wood. It felt ancient, smelling of damp stone and something far more intoxicating.

“Wait here,” you instructed him. 

“We can go back to the Kingdom and collect water and some grains-” Yeosang started but you denied his offer firmly.

“No. I can´t get closer than the outskirts of the Kingdom. I'll collect what we need here.” And with that you went deeper into your hut. Silver dust, heavy furs, some pots and herbs. As you did this Yeosang watched you attentively. His eyes wandered over the strange artifacts, but his focus kept returning to you.

You stopped before a small stone mortar. Without looking up, you reached for a jar of dried lavender and a small vial of sea salt. You began to grind them together, your wrist moving in a specific, circular motion. This mixture was going to be helpful to suppress the hunger that could make both loose energy way into your journey. The mountain was a few weeks on horseback, hopefully that would be enough time for Yeosang to remember his old name, his old life.

As the scent of the crushed lavender hit the salt, the aroma changed. It became sharp, briny, and sweet. Yeosang suddenly felt his mind become a blur.

He saw himself out on a sunny day, a cliff and waves crashing into it. Then for a flickering moment he saw you, laying beside him. But this time instead of a shadow over your eyes, there was brightness. You laughed. "The salt is for luck, and the lavender... is so you can always find your way back to me."

Yeosang gasped, his knees buckling as he slammed back into the present. He caught himself against the stone shelf, he felt breathless. The witch´s hut was back. The silence was back.

You stood perfectly still, the mortar and pestle held in your hands. You looked at him with expectancy, eyes searching his face for any sign of familiarity. "Are you alright?" you asked, voice trembling just enough for him to hear it.

“I´m fine, I think the smell of the herbs is too strong”.

Deciding not to push him for now, you simply nodded, quickly funneling your recent mixture into small glass vials and tucking them into your leather pouch. “We leave now, we can talk on the way.” You stepped outside and headed to the back of the hut to retrieve your horse. “This is Esme,” you said with pride, leading out the white mare who had been your sole companion for years.

Yeosang smiled. “Esme. That’s a lovely name for a horse.” He turned toward his own mount. “That is Shadow. I’m not particularly creative with names.”

“Shadow is fitting.” you replied, glancing over the dark elegant stallion who waited patiently. “He resembles you.” 

Yeosang nodded, not sure he understood why he was getting flustered.

By the time you had everything ready, the sun dipped below the horizon. You led out Esme into the deepening twilight and began to secure her satchels. Yeosang approached his horse and did the same, ready to follow your lead.

As you began to ride, the rhythmic clatter of hooves against the snowy, brittle surface was the only sound. After both had found your rhythm, Yeosang broke the silence. “I have to ask, why are you agreeing to help now?”

You keep your gaze fixed forward, the reins loose in your hands as Esme picked her way across the snowy limestone. The question was inevitable, but hearing him ask it, hearing the suspicion in his voice felt like a blow.

“I have my reasons. Besides, until now, I wasn´t really able to offer any help. You are the first one to ever come look for me. Please, don’t mistake my decision for charity.”

Yeosang urges Shadow closer, his brow furrowed in that way you remember so well. He looks at you with stubborn curiosity. “But you didn't even hesitate. Halazia has outcast your kind for a generation, and you simply... packed your bags. It seems too good to be true.” He pauses, like waiting for your reply, but when you say nothing he continues. “What is it you’re asking for in return? Gold? A title? Or something else?”

You pull back on the reins, bringing Esme to a slow walk so you can look at him. “I ask for nothing from your King,” you say, your voice dropping to a low hum. “And I have no use for any gold. What I seek is something you can´t physically touch or see.”

“Then name it, I should know what debt will ensue.”

“I am asking for a memory to be found. My price for helping Halazia is simple, you must stay by my side until the very end. And when we reach the peak of the mountain...” You stop, your heart hammering against your ribs. “When we reach the peak I want you to look at me and tell me the name of the woman you see standing there.”

Yeosang pales, his breath hitching. He isn't stupid, what you seek is deeply personal and somehow it has something to do with him. The name of the Woman… he realizes you never gave him your name.

“Yours.” his voice barely a whisper. 

“A name tied up to someone else´s heart, filled with memories,” you reply, turning your horse back to the path. “It is the most expensive thing in the world. No gold, no titles can ever pay for it.”

Yeosang feels a sharp pain tightening inside his chest.

“Now ride, the night is short, and we have more than thirty years of silence to make up for.”

As the moon climbed higher, the path led you to an ancient forest where the trees grew so thick their branches allowed very little light. The air here was heavy with the scent of damp earth and pine, a stark contrast to the dry death of the valley. 

"It's been a few hours, let's rest here" you announced, pulling Esme to a halt beneath a sprawling oak that looked more like a sleeping giant than a tree.

Yeosang dismounted, his movements stiff, he hadn't spent that many hours in his saddle since his army days a few years back. Quickly he gathered some tree branches and began to reach for his flint and steel to strike a fire, when he saw you approaching with a subtle but teasing smile on your face.

“Let me take care of that.” 

He looked at you confused. Then you simply reached out and caught a handful of the freezing night air and whispered a brief spell with a low hum, a small flame appearing into your open palm. It was floating rather than touching you, and you quickly placed it on top of the branches Yeosang had gathered hastily at his feet. Slowly, the flames began growing and in a matter of seconds a more than decent fireplace glowed against the dark Oak behind it.

Yeosang’s jaw dropped. You sat down on a mossy root, watching him as he began warming his hands with the fire you created. You have shared many fireplace meetings with him in the past, and all the memories of those years wander at the back of your mind as you watch him. 

"I- have never seen anything like it” he said, finally sitting across from you, no fear in his tone just a fragile, wide-eyed wonder. "It's beautiful."

"Magic is a tool," you said, leaning forward into the orange glow, your eyes sparkling. "Sometimes it can make ordinary things beautiful, as well as dangerous."

For a moment, the heavy weight of the curse and those years of mourning vanished. In the small circle of orange light, you weren't a witch with a tragic past and he wasn't a king's guard with no memories of your existence. You were just two souls sharing a carefree moment.

"I don´t know how to explain it, but seeing this… magic, it doesn't feel cold or dark like I always thought it would be. It feels charming.” 

“It´s just a fireplace. There's a lot of dark magic out there, I might have to do something you won´t find as charming later…” Your voice came out harsher than you intended, but you needed to be sincere with Yeosang about everything, about yourself. Perhaps, him feeling the allure of your magic was because his heart remembers the warmth, even if his head doesn't.

"You said the ritual requires me remembering something," Yeosang called out over the flickering of the flames. “I need you to tell me how exactly my memories fit into what is happening to our Kingdom."

You kept your eyes focused on the flames. The truth was painful, and you were afraid that if you let it out all at once, it would make him hate you. You needed to let the memories grow back naturally, rather than forcing a ghost into his skin.

"If I told you everything now, it would just be a story to you," you muttered. "I know it seems strange, but trust me, for Halazia´s fortune to return, we need not to rush our journey."

He looked like he wanted to argue, to demand the truth, but the softness in your eyes silenced him. He simply nodded, leaning back against the root, his gaze fixed on you until sleep finally claimed him.

The next morning, after waking up, you realized you needed to eat something. You offered Yeosang a piece of bread, a useful spell that turned raw grains into a decent meal. It had saved you on many occasions when you were too exhausted to travel South to get food and other supplies. He accepted, and you ate in silence while preparing your horses to continue the journey. 

The fire from the night before had left a circle of charcoal against the snow. As you handed Yeosang another piece, his fingers brushed yours. A spark jolted through the contact. It was brief, but he looked at your hand, then at your face, a flicker of old memories crossing his features.

"You speak of over thirty years of silence," Yeosang said, his voice raspy. "But I am not even thirty years old. How can I have memories older than my time on this earth?"

You turned to Esme, pursing your lips. "Time is a river to some, but a circle to others. The day Halazia started dying, your past self died too. Some years later your current self was born, and it took you this long to come back and search for your memories."

“It would be easier if you just told me what I'm supposed to remember,” Yeosang replied. “The Kingdom is still dying, many had already. Do you think we have the privilege of wasting more time?” 

He was right. You felt hollow and selfish, demanding his memories of you to come back after what you did… but the bitter reality was that it was necessary for the curse to break only when he remembered your name.

You mounted Esme, turning to see him. "If I could scream the truth into your mind and fix what I-,” you stopped, breathing in. “If I could simply fix things the easy way I would have done it decades ago. But the magic that broke Halazia is too dark. It requires patience, and sacrifice."

“Sacrifice.” Yeosang repeated. “More sacrifice than it already caused?” 

You locked your eyes on him. You wish he could understand you just by looking deeply into them, but it was absurd to just ask him to trust you. A witch. A witch who knew how to help the kingdom he protected for years, and was waiting on a hill for him to come ask her how. 

“Enough. Let's continue, we are still far away.” 

You pulled Esme to a sharp halt and continued west. Yeosang said nothing and followed after you in silence. 

The following days felt tense. You tried not to push him away, and he stayed reserved. Every evening when the sun dipped low, Yeosang would distance himself to train, but when the night grew deep he returned to the fire you created, enjoying the flames silently. From time to time you would catch him with his eyes fixed on you, searching for answers.

One afternoon, you found a canyon where a dried up riverbed cut a deep scar through the earth. Spanning the dusty gap was the ruin of an old wooden bridge, but near the edge sat something out of place; the skeletal remains of a small, wooden pier; jutting out over a sea of grey silt that had once been a rushing river. 

Yeosang stood perfectly still, his head tilted as if listening to a melody only he could hear. Just like back in your hut, the harsh, dry wind of the present was being replaced by a memory far warmer, far kinder.

In his mind, he saw you again. You weren't wearing the dark silks of a witch; you were in a simple white sundress, your hair braided with wildflowers. You were sitting at the very edge of this pier, your bare feet dangling over the rushing water. "Look, look!" the memory-version of you laughed, pointing at a pair of river otters playing in the current. He then saw himself sit beside you, the wood of the pier warm beneath his palms. He remembered the exact feeling of his shoulder brushing against yours, a simple brush that made his skin tingle.  In the memory, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a ring made of braided silver wire. He didn't say anything grand; he just slipped it onto your finger, and by the way you looked at him with eyes full of light, he knew that was the most beautiful thing he had ever known. "Always," he heard his past self whisper. "I’ll always find my way back to you."

Yeosang blinks, and the golden day is shattered. The turquoise water turned back into grey silt.

"I just saw you," his voice thick. "We were both here at the pier, I gave you a-" He stopped to look down at your hand, as if he expected to notice a silver ring. You gasped softly, your left hand instinctively over the right one, where the silver band still adorned your finger. Yeosang looked up at you and his eyes were wide open. 

He took a step forward, his hand reaching out tentatively. "You were wearing flowers in your hair. And I... I promised I would always find you."

“You did...” you managed to mumble. 

Yeosang’s hand was still hovering near yours. You could feel the air between you thickening, charged with the truth he was slowly remembering…

Then, the silence of the riverbed was shattered by the frantic, heavy rhythm of a horse's steps galloping towards your way. Yeosang’s soldier instincts snapped; he stepped in front of you, his hand dropping to the hilt of his sword as he scanned the ridgeline.

A lone rider burst through the skeletal trees, in a moment the horse was heading right at you. Even if Yeosang guarded you, you were also ready to defend yourself. Once the rider was in front of you, you could see it was a woman, her chestnut mare wild eyed with exhaustion. She wore silks that you noticed were once fine but were now torn and dusted.

"Help!" She cried out, high pitched and cracking with terror.

The rider tumbled from the saddle before the horse even came to a full stop. Yeosang moved forward, managing to catch her before she hit the ground, his sword drawn but held low. As the woman struggled to stand, her hood fell back, revealing a face that made Yeosang freeze in mid-step.

"Yeri?" he gasped.

Princess Yerim of Halazia. The King's sister.

You had never seen her, but was informed she wed King Theon of the South a long while ago. Now that you see her closely, you noticed she was barely an adult. Her silver hair hanging out her side in a disheveled braid. 

“Sangie!” She threw herself at Yeosang´s arms, sobbing as soon as he reached him. Her eyes were sunken, and her lips were parched white. She looked nothing like the royal jewel of the Southern court. Her face sobbing against Yeosang´s chest, clutching at his leather gambeson with trembling hands. “Is it truly you?" she cried, her breath coming in ragged hitches. "Please Sangie, please, he’s coming…”

"Who's coming?” Yeosang asked, his voice hardening as he looked toward the horizon the princess had just fled from. 

“Theon… I- I escaped, and now he has sent his guards after me.” 

Seeing the princess so terrified, Yeosang didn't need to ask anything else. He could do that later, when she felt safe. “Yeri, how many?” 

"Five... maybe more," Yeri whispered, collapsing against him. "Theon’s Black Guard, they’ve tracked me since the border. I just rode back North, I wanted to go home. They have orders to bring back my head if I refuse to return."

“Whatever you need to discuss, you can do it later,” you say, your voice startling the princess, who hadn't seemed to notice you until that moment. “I can hear horses.” you quickly mount Esme and gesture for Yeosang and the princess to do the same. The horse she had arrived on continued its frantic gallop toward the forest, leaving her stranded. Sensing the urgency, Yeosang quickly helps her onto Shadow, seating her before him. With the princess secured, they follow your lead as you wheel around, heading in the opposite direction of your original path to evade the approaching riders.

The three of you rode for a while in tense silence, the only sound the heavy gallop of the horses and your own breathing. You led them through a narrow crevice between two towering slabs of slate, a "needle’s eye" that opened into a small, hidden grotto sheltered by a natural stone overhang. As the horses came to a halt, the adrenaline began to fade. 

Yeosang dismounted first, his movements stiff. He reached up to help the princess down, his hands lingering on her arms for a second longer than necessary to ensure she was steady. The Princess was trembling, she looked around the grotto, her eyes eventually landing on you as you slid off Esme.

She looked at you uneasy, retreating half a step into the shadow of Yeosang’s body.

“Our original route has been deviated. If the Black Guard is following you, we must hide here for at least tonight until it´s safe to continue.” 

Princess Yeri slumped against the moss covered wall, her strength finally failing her. Yeosang moved to her side, offering her his water skin with a gentleness that made you confirm he was still the man he had always been.

“Yeri- Princess,” Yeosang led her to sit on one of the mossy rocks inside the grotto. “Tell me what happened.” 

You leaned against the stone entrance, your eyes fixed on the darkness outside trying to remember the spell that would seal the entrance to the grotto if someone wanted to come into it,  but your ears were tuned to every word spoken in the hollow.

Balling her fists at her sides, Princess Yeri’s voice dropped dangerously low when she said, “You have no idea what it was like in the south, no idea what I’ve endured this past year. Seonghwa sold me… he sold me for wheat!” She started sobbing again, shouting every word, “No one came for me, I feel like I was no longer the princess of Halazia… Theon was cruel, he- he’s a monster.” Her voice breaks and she throws at Yeosang´s arms again. 

“Princess, but the crows,” Yeosang started, searching for her eyes and cupping her small head in his hands. “You have sent a crow almost every month telling us how happy you were. Your brother has sent crows back asking you if you want us to visit and you always reply no…”

“Those weren´t mine!” She removed Yeosang´s hands from her and covered her face with her own. “It was him. He didn't want anyone to come, he wanted to keep me in that dark room all the time so he could-“ her voice breaking. “I hate him Sangie please, don't let him find me… I'd rather die than go back.” 

You lowered your head, you knew that tone, you could imagine what he had done to her. 

“You won't die. Yeri, look at me, if you say he's wronged you I believe you. But please don't blame Seonghwa, he has been fooled by your letters, how can he-”

“He could have gone to see me even if I asked not to, Í'm still princess of Halazia, am I not? Why did he never, Sangie? Why?!” 

Yeosang didn't answer immediately. He let the princess pour her frustration. He knew that Seonghwa had been drowning in the slow death of his kingdom, and he was clinging to those forged letters, thinking at least his beloved sister was being taken care of. There were no words that he could say to make the princess consider his brother's feelings, that the King needed to explain himself. He simply held her until her sobs turned to ragged breaths, and finally, until exhaustion claimed her.

You watched as Yeosang placed her carefully on the ground, tucking his cloak and a thick fur around her to shield her from the cave’s cold.

Your heart softened as you watched he still had the tenderness of his old soul.

"You have a remarkably soft heart for a man whose job is to kill," you said softly, without even thinking to mask your admiration.

Yeosang stopped, caught off guard. He cleared his throat, adjusting the leather strap of his gambeson as if it had suddenly become too tight. "She’s the King’s sister," he muttered, though his ears were beginning to turn a faint shade of pink. "It’s my duty to ensure the safety of the royal bloodline."

You stepped closer, tilting your head to catch his eyes in the dim light. "Is it your royal duty to give your cloak on a freezing night? Or to hold her until your arms go numb?” you teased with a smile. “You’ve always been like this, even when you have every reason to be hard, you choose to be kind."

“I have known her since she was a child, she´s like my little sister as well” He replied, looking around to avoid your eyes. "It's nothing special”

"It's very special” your voice turned into a hum and he finally met your eyes. “It´s what made me fall in love with you.” 

Yeosang's breath hitched. He looked down at you, the pink flush now creeping up his neck. “You shouldn't say things like that” his voice low. “I´m still trying to remember.” 

“Right.” You nodded. Yeosang turned abruptly, pretending to adjust Shadow’s saddle, but you saw the way his fingers fumbled with the leather. 

Trying to shove away that moment of vulnerability, you stepped toward the narrow opening of the grotto. The wind outside was picking up, if the Black Guard was after the princess they would track the horses easily. 

You reached into your pouch and pulled out a handful of crushed obsidian and dried nightshade. Now, apart from your initial goal of reaching the summit at the mountain, you had to protect the princess. Not just for Halazia, but because Yeosang loved her like a sister, and you could not bear to see him lose anything else.

Standing at the entrance, you began to hum a low, dissonant melody. You traced the outline of the stone entrance with your fingers, leaving a trail of shimmering, oily light in your wake. 

"What they see as shadows, what they feel as stone.

Let their eyes wander, leaving the path unknown."

You chanted the spell softly, clearly. When you finished the air at the entrance began to thicken. To anyone outside, the entrance would appear as nothing more than a solid, unbroken slab of mossy slate. 

“That should keep them away, at least for tonight.” you exhaled, “We continue first thing tomorrow” 

Yeosang nodded. He took a step toward you, gaze dropping to your right hand. "The ring," he breathed, "I saw it. In my memory, it was new. Now... it’s worn."

“More than thirty years have passed since you gave it to me,” 

“How are you still-” He cleared his throat. “How have you not…”

“Aged?.” 

He nodded again. 

“Time kind of froze for me, and now I’m forced to dream about that night everyday.” Yeosang stepped closer. “My life…  is on pause, until the curse breaks.” 

“All these years,” he mumbled, “You’ve lived the same day? Alone?”

“The same nightmare” you corrected gently. “Watching the trees turn to bone. Watching the sky turn grey with each passing day. Guilt piling up inside me.” 

His expression shifted from confusion to a profound, aching sorrow. “I´m sorry,” He whispered, and instantly felt stupid. Like saying he's sorry would fix anything. But you smiled, cupping his face with your right hand, where the silver band adorned your finger. 

The moment was interrupted by a soft moan from the back of the grotto. Princess Yeri stirred in her sleep, her hand clutching at the fur cloak Yeosang had wrapped around her. 

“We need to move before dawn,” you said, regaining your composure. “The seal can only protect us for a few hours, if the black guard is really out there, they will find us if we remain in a single place.”

“What about our goal? We can't risk the princess by taking her with us.” 

“The Stone villa is a couple of days away, you can send a crow there, explain what happened to the King, he can send someone to help her return safely to the kingdom.” 

“I must do it myself, If King Theon is after her, I need to be sure she returns safely.” 

“We have no time to go back to Halazia and start again, we must take her along then.” 

“Fine, we lead the princess to the summit. And when all of this ends, we can all return together.”

A few hours passed. The stillness of the grotto was shattered by a sudden, violent shift in the air. The shimmering veil of your magic suddenly hummed with a high, screeching frequency. 

“They´re here.” you heard Yeosang's whisper, already shielding the princess.

A heavy boot slammed into the invisible threshold, and this time, the seal splintered. Violet light cracked across the entrance as the illusion dissolved into smoke. The Black Guard hadn't just found the tracks; they had brought someone capable of breaking your spell.

A warlock. You thought, the veil could have only been spotted by another person holding magic.

Yeosang´s sword was already out. Behind him, the princess scrambled backward, her scream stifled by her own trembling hands.

Six men stepped into the grotto, heavy black armor hanging onto them. 

"Step back," Yeosang commanded, his voice low. "You are in Halazian territory, and you are threatening a member of the Royal House. Leave now, and I might let you keep your heads."

“Royal house? You mean the calcified soil and the piled up corpses of dead people?” The leader , a two feet bearded man laughed.  “Besides, King Theon doesn't care about borders when it comes to his property.”

“I´m not his property.” Yeri cried from behind Yeosang´s guard. 

The man ignored her, and instead focused his eyes over you. “So you were right.,” he said, eyeing the man next to him, who was holding a set of iron chains. “Not only do we get to return the King´s whore back in one piece, but we also got a pet witch for him to play with.” Yeri turned to see you with her eyes wide open at the mention of your kind.

"You will touch neither," Yeosang growled.

"Is that so?" The leader pulled a heavy mace from his belt. The guards began to circle, they weren't just soldiers; they were Theon’s hounds, bred for cruelty. “Let´s see how long you last trying to protect them.” 

“Yeosang,” you whispered over his neck. “I´ll protect the princess, but If the warlock get close to me I won't be able to help you.”

He didn't look back, but his shoulders broadened, shielding you both from their sight. "He won't get close enough to try." 

The Guard wasted no time and lunged forward with force and precision, trying to trap Yeosang out. He dodged fast as the guard swung his heavy maze towards his head. Yeosang´s style wasn't at all defensive, when he swung his sword towards the men’s neck, he struck to kill. 

Two other men launched at him as their leader took another heavy swing aiming for his head, but he swiftly jumped back and stroked his sword against one of them, his blade finding the narrow gap between the guard’s gorget and breastplate. He took it out quickly and as the man fell, Yeosang spun and kicked a second attacker square in the chest, sending him sprawling against the jagged cave wall.

Every time a guard tried to slip past him to reach you or the princess, Yeosang was there, his eyes glowing with a cold, terrifying light. 

The leader swung his mace again, the heavy iron whistling through the air. Yeosang caught the blow on the flat of his blade; a masterwork of steel; the force of the strike vibrated through his bones, but adrenaline numbed the shock, preventing him from feeling any pain yet.

He quickly went around the other man attacking him, using him as a shield from another swing of the leader's mace all while slitting his throat. He dropped the guard on top of the other one, facing the leader directly. 

“Not bad,” the man laughed. “Now let's fight for real.” 

Yeosang’s mouth twisted into a dark smirk. “... you all say the same thing.” Without a second’s hesitation, he lunged. He struck him once, twice and three times quickly, the leader struggling to shield himself with his arm. Yeosang knew their armor was too thick; he needed the throat, and he needed a strike heavy enough to bite through the gorget and end the man’s life.

While Yeosang was holding the front, you quickly shield the princess. She was frozen against the stone cave. The warlock, the one holding cold iron chains, saw an opening. Yeosang was busy fighting two blades at once, so the man threw himself at you at once.

You thrust your hand forward, and a shimmering dome of violet energy erupted around you. When the guard’s iron chains struck the barrier, a shower of white hot sparks flew, the magic beaming as it fought the suppressing metal. The shockwave threw the guard back, his gauntlets smoking. 

He groaned, swinging the burning chain back at you. 

"Stay behind me!" you commanded, the princess threw herself behind you without hesitation. You were pale, your breath coming in shallow gasps, you didn´t have the energy necessary to throw spells back and forth, but you couldn´t let him harm her.

The leader let out a frustrated roar. He swung his mace at Yeosang’s head again. Yeosang ducked, the heavy iron whistling over his hair, and gave him the opportunity to shove the leader’s head to the ground, pushing his elbow against the man´s neck.

“Halazia will rise, remember that when you reach hell.” He said, his voice low and vibrating with anger. With a sudden, violent stroke, he sunk his blade across the leader's throat. The two remaining guards flee, seeing their leader die. Only the one carrying the iron chains stayed.

“He’ll burn this whole mountain range to find her, you are just giving her more time.” the warlock muttered, he then lunged one last time at you, the iron chains flew directly at your head. You searched for some energy deep within you to create a barrier but before you could summon any, a flash of steel intervened.

Yeosang had caught the chain with his sword. With all his force he yanked the chain towards him, pulling the guard off balance and dragging him into his personal space. 

"You speak too much.”

He delivered a brutal, short-range strike with the pommel of his sword directly into the guard’s temple. The man went limp instantly, his head snapping back before he collapsed into a heap at Yeosang’s feet.

And just like that, the grotto got quiet again. 

"Are you..." he started, his voice barely a whisper. He dropped his sword, the sound echoing in the small space, and knelt beside you. "Are you hurt? The iron was scolding… did it touch you?"

He reached out, his fingers hovering near the silver ring on your hand. He noticed it was glowing faintly, pulsing like a dying star. For a moment he seemed entirely oblivious to the fact that the Princess of Halazia was sitting right there, watching him with wide eyes.

“I´m alright, Yeosang” you assured, though your head felt dizzy. “Is the princess safe?” you turned to see Yeri with a worried expression. 

Yeosang blinked, as if snapping out of a trance. 

"Oh, don't mind me, Sangie," the princess said, her voice small but with a sudden sharp mischief Yeosang was very familiar with. She wiped her nose with her sleeve, her gaze darting between his grip on your hands and the blush that tinted his cheeks pink. "I just witnessed a massacre, and now I'm watching you getting flustered over the woman who saved me.” 

Yeosang stiffened, his hands jumping away from yours as if they had been burned. "I´m not flustered... If she dies, we won't be able to help our Kingdom."

“A witch? How so?” the Princess asked, frowning as she shook dust from her ruined skirts. “Thank you for saving me, witch.” She smiled at you.

Yeosang turned away to retrieve his sword, pulling a handkerchief to wipe the dark stains from the steel with sharp, agitated strokes. “She knows how to break the curse that has been starving our people.”

Yeri flinched, her gaze snapping to yours with a mix of awe and terror. “A curse? So Sangie was right? My brother has denied it since the day he took the throne. My father always said the witches vanished when he was a boy. He said that the Crown would never permit them to return to Halazia.”

You felt a sharp pinch in your chest at the mention of the late King, Seongjoong. “Witches are like the wind, we are everywhere, even when you choose not to see us. Your grandfather didn't drive us out because we were evil; he drove us out because he was afraid. He fed on the false testimonies of bitter merchants and he demanded we leave. So, we did.” 

Yeosang glanced at Yeri who looked at you without malice and more so with immense curiosity.

“If he had allowed them to stay, things might have been less difficult.” you said bitterly.

Princess Yeri frowned, trying to understand.

“Princess, we cannot spare the time to take you to the Kingdom and go back to where we are headed. We must reach the summit to break the curse first. Then, we will all return home together.” Yeosang said.

”If Yeosang trust you, so do I” Yeri replied, “I want to live long enough to see trees grow back in Halazia”

You nodded. A faint smile crept over your lips at Yeosang´s words.

We will all return home together.

After leaving the grotto, you needed to pick up pace and make up for the lost time and deviation you took from meeting the princess. For two days you galloped southwest, until you met the white-barked trees that seemed to lean inward, as if whispering secrets to one another.

“The Wailing Trees” you announced. This was the narrow path to cross before reaching the town where you used to live, the home of the mountain where the curse took place that night. 

As the horses picked their way through the deepening snow, the air began to vibrate with a low, mournful thrum. 

"Do you hear that?" Yeri whispered, pulling her cloak tighter. She looked pale, her eyes darting toward the twisted branches. "It sounds like... a choir. The trees, they’re crying."

Yeosang didn't answer. He was staring straight ahead, his knuckles white around the reins. His jaw tense. He wasn't just hearing a choir; he was hearing a voice… yours.

“You promised me. You said you’d find your way back. Were all these years not enough time?”

“Don't listen!" you shouted. “It´s an illusion, the trees are trying to break your spirit!” 

Yeosang flinched as if he’d been struck. He looked at you, his eyes wide and haunted, searching your face to see if your lips matched what he was hearing. You knew the voices were the manifestations of the guilt and grief that fed the curse. They followed you everywhere and now that Yeosang was here, they intensified.

You got closer to him, Yeri looking at your eye-sided seating in front of him. “Yeosang, It’s the mountain, the curse is following me and it's now using you too, please listen to me not them.” Yeosang looked at you with hollow eyes, his mind was somewhere else.

You turned to see that Yeri was sobbing now, leaning over leaning over Shadow´s neck. "He sounds so lonely... my brother sounds so cold..."

“No! Princess you must not listen…”

You pushed Esme forward, placing yourself between them and the thickest part of the grove. You raised your hand, the silver ring catching the grey light, and began a low, steady chant to dull their senses.

"Listen to my voice!" you commanded, looking directly at them. "Look at me, not the shadows. We are almost through!"

Yeosang’s gaze locked back on yours. He shook his head and immediately helped Yeri sit again, cupping her face and helping wake up. “Princess I'm here, it's Sangie… come back.” 

"Sangie…" she rasped, her breath hitching. "I'm scared."

Beyond the grove of the Wailing Trees, the path led into a hidden valley, protecting it from the biting mountain winds. A village appeared, frozen in a state of eerie, perfect preservation. Your old home.

“What is this place? Are we still in Halazia?” the princess asked with wonder, seated in front of Yeosang as the whole small village came into view from the hilltop where you were standing. 

“Still Halazia,” you smiled. “Is at the very end of the Kingdom, and that is what we came for.” You signaled to the summit, looking big and white on the horizon, sheltering the little village.  

Yeosang´s chest tightened. He could feel the memories tied up to him from this place. But his mind refused to picture them just yet. 

As you walked down the hill and into the heart of the forgotten villa, you noticed every house stood as it did all those years ago. A wooden bucket sat by a dry well; a child’s carved horse lay on a porch; laundry, now stiff and bleached white by decades of frost, still hung on lines.

Without stopping you recognized a familiar Mahogany door by the end of the path. Your old house.

“It is a ghost town” Yeri said astonished, dismounting from Shadow and heading up to the main path, peeking through the dusted windows to look inside the houses. “They must have left to find healthier soil when our home started dying…”

“This was a village of mostly warlocks and witches,” you corrected. “They left when King Seongjoong declared that people with magic weren't allowed.”

“Oh,” Yeri looked at you embarrassed. “I´m sorry.”

You dismounted Esme and walked up to her, softening your gaze. “It wasn't your fault,” It was mine. You added in thought. 

After a humble dinner of warm soup and bread, You agreed to gather energy for a couple of days in the village before going to the summit. Yeosang managed to gather a couple of buckets of water from the old well. Thankfully a simple spell turned it into clean usable water so all you three could clean yourselves. After that, Yeri had finally fallen into a deep sleep in one of the preserved cottages, so you went to the old communal stable to tend to Esme while Yeosang sent a crow to the King back in Halazia, telling him about the past week´s events.

Inside the stable, Shadow slept over the straw, finally catching up with some deserved rest. You were brushing your mare's coat with slow, rhythmic strokes, the sound of the brush stroking her fine hairs the only sound in the quiet.

Some time later, Yeosang appeared in the doorway, his silhouette framed by the silver moonlight. He didn't speak. He simply watched you. You had removed your hood and cloak, and your hair flowed over your shoulders like a river. In the dim light, with the familiar walls of the stable around you, he felt as if the long years gap seemed to vanish.

As you reached up to check Esme's ear, your sleeve slid back, revealing the silver ring. You paused, leaning your forehead against the horse's neck, a sigh escaping your lips. "We're so close, I'm going to m-”

Suddenly Yeosang stood beside you, his boots silent on the straw. He stopped just inches away. This time, he didn't hesitate. He reached out and placed his hand over yours, pinning it gently against the mare’s side.

His touch felt like burning, the kind you liked.

His eyes flared, and he gasped. This time he didn't just see a memory; he felt it. He felt the heat of that summer afternoon at the pier, the weight of the braided silver wire in his pocket. He felt the terrifying, beautiful rush of blood in his veins when you had said yes. 

When he snapped back, his eyes were filled with tears. He pulled you around to face him, his hands sliding up to cup your face with a desperation that broke your heart. "I promised to marry you…” 

You stood in his arms, the tears you had held back for all these years finally spilling over. He took your hands, placing them over his face. And you could finally feel his skin. His warmth, icy breath as he rested his forehead against yours.

Yeosang stroked your hands softly, like fearing you would break against his harsh touch. A flood of images crashed into his mind- you, squinting at a spell book by candlelight; the scent of warm bread as you pressed a loaf into his hands before he rode off to his duties. Your soft breast against his chest on top of him, lips over your neck while you roamed your fingers through his disheveled hair.

As you stood in front of him, he felt desperate to feel your warmth; to crush you beneath him and hear you cry his name and make you feel all of him; to make you feel so good unlike anyone you had before.

He was out of control.

Gasping for air, he embraced you in a hug, you dug your nails on his back, not wanting him to let you go never again. “Why did you suffer alone all these years? Why couldn't we stay together?” He asked, voice trembling.  

You cried silently, his cloudy gaze over you. You wished to tell him everything, but knew he needed to remember the bad parts as well. You faced him, and leaned to brush his lips, not yet daring to claim them yet, so when he was the one to start kissing you, you finally let go, surrendering into his touch. 

The kiss started softly, but quickly picked up a pace that had you moaning softly onto his lips, his hands over your neck and you felt your body tremble. Yeosang's hands went down to roam over your waist, brushing the sides of your hips hesitantly. “Can I?” he asked nervously, making you smile widely at his lips, his gentleness softening your heart. 

“Only if you really want me.” you replied, your voice came in a hum that let him know you were ready for whatever he needed from you. 

“I do.” Yeosang kissed you again, swiftly sliding a hand from under your skirt, palming the curve of your ass, lifting your leg enough to make way for his fingers to span all the way to caress between your aching heat. After some teasing, he effortlessly slips two fingers inside you, your wetness giving him easy access. 

You feel the pressure echoing through all your body. All those years longing for him, wanting to feel him again had you turn into a puddle and you waste no time letting him feel all of you, already so wet that he slides all the way in until you can feel his knuckles against your folds, brushing along your clit. Your eyes close, feeling the pleasure of his fingers roaming inside you as he continues to kiss you like making up from the time you waited. He crocks his fingers and you moan against his lips. 

Just as you remember, Yeosang doesn´t talk much, but his cloudy gaze stays in your face, breathing hastily just watching you enjoy his touch. Your nails dig into his forearm feeling the muscles shift under your fingers as he flexes inside you.  

Desperate, you remove his hand and push him a little back against the wooden table behind him. You quickly remove his cloak and what remained of his upper armor. The black fabric of his linen garment unlaced, letting you see his toned chest and abs that had you seeing stars. You rushed through his trousers, hurriedly shoving them down. Yeosang lets out a groan when you take his length and stroke it with your palm, running your hand down to the tip. 

He grabs your neck, kissing it again as his cock rubs against your stomach. You breathe out, feeling how ready he is for you. Next he wraps his hands from under your thighs, lifting and turning to sit you onto the table. He moans softly into your mouth when you spread yourself for him, and he wastes no time to align himself within your folds. He pushes painfully slow and groans loudly as you wrap around him so warmly, he feels numb and in ecstasy all the same. He is rocking against you with force, leaning into your neck taking in your scent, and you cling onto his shoulder, letting yourself be taken over.

You arch your back, pressing yourself more against him, cause even having him this close isn’t enough. When he's not buried in your neck he's watching you with pleading eyes, as if taking them off you would make you vanish. He stops for a second, lifting you again from the edge of the table to adjust. Your dress slowly slips from your shoulders, letting your breasts exposed and he leans to kiss and bite them, sending little sparks of pain. 

Your eyes are dark, fixed on him, on every part of him where he is touching you. Yeosang starts moaning more and more, now he's sliding a hand under your thigh and then he hikes your leg up higher, making you gasp as he slips almost all the way out only to bottom you one more time. And another, and another…

He's going fast, but when he feels like it´s too much he slows down, trying to keep himself inside you longer. “Yeosang,” you mumble, and he brushes his lips over yours. The burning stretch of him feels so good, with every stroke he places himself deeper and deeper feels like he's claiming you again, just like you remembered. 

You thought you had missed him before, but now with the taste of him in your tongue, the sounds he makes reverberating on your throat makes you realize maybe you didn’t miss him enough. 

The knot inside you is growing, burning, aching to burst. The curse, the time wasted away, the loneliness all is forgotten as he pounds into you like that was the only thing he had left to do in this world. Yeosang goes back to your lips again, and your heart and heat start to flutter. His tongue savouring every inch of your mouth, his thrust hitting your sweet spot… it all feels unreal as he bites your lip and his thumb goes down to rub your clit with circular motions. You moan loudly, the star in your lower stomach exploding, and everything goes white. 

You come back to your senses slowly, realizing Yeosang has come along with you. 

Yeosang is panting, again resting his forehead over yours, sweat drops making his dark locks frame his face. You were damped as well, chest and neck glistening. You remain still, breathing heavily against each other. You can feel him softening inside you.

He breaks the hug and smiles softly, and you caress his neck. You rested for a few moments before he finally pulled out. 

“I hope I wasn't too bad” He admits shyly, "It's been a while since I-” but he stops, not sure you wanted to hear he had been with other women before. But you laugh, kissing him sweetly again.

“You think you did bad?” you teased and he pursed his lips. “I’m a panting mess, and I can feel your seed still dripping out of me.” He scoffs, looking flustered and you try to lock the memory into your brain. You wanted to remember him as the gentle and reserved knight who got shy everytime you fucked. “Let´s rest, tomorrow we'll reach the summit and all of this will be over.” 

He grabbed you by the waist, pulling you closer. Scanning your eyes, he brushed his thumb against your chin. “Don´t let me lose you again, please.” he whispered, and you gave a kiss that tasted bittersweet.

The next morning when you woke up, for the first time in all these years, the air didn't taste of dry ash. 

Yeosang was still deep in sleep, his arm draped firmly over your waist. He was tucked against your back, his face buried in the crook of your neck, his steady, warm breath reminding you that he was truly there.

The night before was a beautiful rediscovery that had brought your senses back to life. His touch had finally made you feel alive again. So you tried to make this moment last a little longer, cause by the time Yeosang reached the top of the summit, the fog in his mind would disappear. By the time he knew your name, in that last moment you would think of the previous night, and be thankful at least you had been loved once more in the place where it all began.

“Hmm,” Yeosang finally woke up, he brushed his fingers over your stomach, adjusting himself beside you and pulling you tighter against him. “You awake?” he whispered into your ear and it sent shivers to your whole body. 

“I am,” you turned to see him, his drowsy eyes trying to focus on you. “Are you alright?” you asked, wondering if he got any memories back while he was sleeping. 

“I´m nervous…” he admitted, sitting up and hovering over you. “Last night, I hope I didn't cross any line.” 

“Last night I felt alive again. Thank you for that, Yeosang” 

He smiled softly, leaning to place a gentle kiss. He was about to deepen the kiss if not for the door of the cottage opening suddenly. 

“There you are… oh!” Yeri turned embarrassed. “I hope I didn't disturbed anything. I'll just wait by the horses until you finish…” and then she closed the door harshly, the sound of her boots fading as she sprinted further away.

Both of you laughed. Yeosang caught you for one last, lingering kiss before changing back himself into his armor. You did the same, slipping your garments as you felt his gaze follow your every move from the corner of his eye. He admired how beautiful you looked, whether you were chanting a spell, commanding your horse through the mist or breathless and soft beneath him.  

As you stepped out of the cottage, the air was cold and icy. The heavy, somber atmosphere of the previous days had lifted, replaced by a fragile, morning bright hope.

Though it was going to be brief, you felt at peace at that moment. 

Yeri was taking out Shadow from the stable. She looked at you and then glanced at Yeosang who walked beside you with big confused eyes. “Already?.” 

“Princess.” Yeosang snapped. “We were just sleeping.”

“And why are you blushing?…” She rolled her eyes at Yeosang, then glanced at you with compliant eyes and you couldn´t help but chuckle. 

This was a rather wholesome moment, a sweet treat before everything that will ensue. 

“Let´s get going, if we don't stop, we'll reach by noon.” 

"To the summit," Yeosang said, grabbing your hand and brushing his thumb against your palm.

"To the summit," Yeri echoed, taking your free hand and squeezing tight.

The golden warmth of the morning was stripped away as you reached the base of the mountain. The air grew thin and biting. Yeosang didn’t take his eyes off you for a second, his gaze tracking your every breath. Yeri, seated in front of him on Shadow, noticed how often your hand drifted to your chest, pressing against your heart as if trying to keep it from leaping out.

“I’m alright,” you insisted, though your voice was strained. “It’s just... I’ve waited so long to stand here. My senses are piling up.”

“We can stop. We can turn back and try again tomorrow,” Yeosang urged.

“Every hour we wait is another hour Halazia starves,” you said, forcing a confident smile that didn't quite reach your eyes. “It´s been enough.” You urged Esme forward, and though they followed, Yeosang’s watchful gaze remained on you.

After a couple of hours, you finally could spot the summit’s obsidian altar. Anxiety hit you hard, and just before you could move forward, the sound of a horn, harsh and dissonant, tore through the silence. From the shadows, a bunch of riders emerged, their black-and-gold coats standing out like blood on the snow. At their center sat a man on a massive, charcoal-grey stallion. He didn't wear a helmet, and his crown was a band of dark iron that seemed to press into his brow.

King Theon.

He was not the hulking brute his reputation suggested. He was strikingly handsome, bright golden hair that caught the winter light and features so soft they seemed almost angelic. His eyes were a startling, clear blue, a shocking contrast to the monster that he was inside. 

Yeri gasped, freezing in place. Yeosang´s grip on his sword and the other on the princess' forearm.

"A touching reunion," Theon drawled, his voice carrying effortlessly over the mountain pass. "My runaway wife, King Seonghwa´s commander, and…” He looked at you with ill intent. “A mountain witch.” 

Yeosang shifted instantly, placing himself in front of the princess and you, his hand already white on the hilt of his blade. "She is the Princess of Halazia, and she is under my protection."

"So she's under your protection?," Theon mocked, his gaze sliding over Yeosang to fix on you. "And as for the witch… is she not?."

“I can protect myself.” you countered, your hand open in direction to the south King. 

“You are threatening a King, witch.” Theon said, his voice a melodic purr that made your skin crawl. You knew exactly what he was. His lineage didn't just rule with cruelty, they collected anything they deemed unworthy of being human. His house was famous for collecting stolen magic, slaves kept in iron and silk for the amusement of the Southern lords. They used people until they were empty shells and then threw them away.

That would have been your destiny all those years ago. A different kind of curse.

The King then signals his guards to advance. 

Cold iron archers aim directly at you. Theon watched with a placid smile, leaning back in his saddle as if he were observing a theater performance rather than an execution. 

You didn´t have time to think. As the arrows neared, you threw your arms wide, the silver ring on your finger glowing with such intensity that the metal turned translucent. You felt the mountain's raw power surge up through your boots, a cold, vibrating hum that met the fire in your blood.

Gathering all the energy on your body you slammed your hands together. A massive dome of violet energy erupted from the snow, expanding with a thunderous crack. The arrows struck the barrier and disintegrated into fine gray ash. Theon’s guards lunged forward with their cold-iron chains, swinging them against the shimmering wall.

"Stay inside the circle, princess!" you shouted, your voice echoing with force that made Yeri snap from his frozen state. The fear she felt seeing her deranged husband disappearing, and a new sensation of survival fueled by your voice enveloped her. 

Yeosang reacted immediately to your opening, quickly helping Yeri to mount on top of Esme, urging Shadow to go forward. He moved with ease, the short distance between him and the golden King became smaller. He swung his sword to the two men guarding Theon´s front, striking over their chests in a swift motion. 

Theon’s soft features finally shifted. His pleasant smile vanished, replaced by a cold, calculating mask as he drew a slender, ornate sword and pointed directly at Yeosang. 

“Northen people, always so sentimental.” 

Yeosang countered, his blade moving in a blur of strikes. Theon jumped off his horse, blade moving like a needle, seeking the gaps in Yeosang's armor, but Yeosang fought like a man possessed by blood. 

From your end, the barrier groaned as more guards threw themselves against it, their iron shackles smoking as they tried to break it. Your vision began to blur at the edges, creating the shield draining your very life force, but you held. You looked at Yeosang's back, and you refused to let the light flicker.

But the black guard was persistent. 

Your shield reaches its limit, shattering like glass as three guards slammed their cold iron chains against the surface simultaneously. The backlash was violent; the magic snapped, throwing you backward as the silver ring on your finger turned a dull, charcoal gray.

With your remaining strength you stood up and whispered in Esme's ear a brief spell in a forgotten language. Yeri on top of her instinctively reached for the reins with force when Esme let out a piercing whinnage, reared back, and bolted toward the steep, hidden path leading back down the summit.

“Go!, don't look back!” you shouted, as the guards swarmed you, their gauntleted hands bruising your arms as they pressed your head against the snow covered dirt. 

“No!” Yeosang screams trying to reach you. He had Theon pinned, his blade at the King’s throat, but the sound of your shield breaking caused him to falter. He turned his head for a fraction of a second, giving Theon just enough time to land an iron-weighted blow into Yeosang’s temple and kick his sword across the ice.

Yeri's escape set the guards in motion to chase after her, but Theon shouted before they could mount again. “Let her, we´ll get to them shortly.” 

Yeosang´s blood boiled. He felt drunk on violence. Theon was now placing the sharp edge of his blade over his neck. He growled, trying to get off the King´s grip when a guard gripped your hair, jerking your head back so you were forced to look at them, while another struck you across the face with a heavy, iron-lined glove. The world spun. Blood bloomed in your mouth, metallic and hot. 

"Look, commander" Theon sneered, grabbing Yeosang by the hair to force his eyes toward you. "Look what happens when you mess with my property." The guard struck you again, and as you collapsed forward, the sight of your blood hitting the white snow acted as a final, jagged key in Yeosang’s mind.

He was no longer there under Theon’s blade. His mind has traveled to another place.

It started blurry, but the memory slowly regained its focus as he saw you walking down the familiar dirt path toward your cottage, clutching a bundle of fresh mountain sage. 

In the memory,  you reached the door of your home, but the air felt wrong. Inside, your father sat at the scarred oak table, a heavy purse of Southern coin spilling over the wood. Opposite him stood a merchant with a rough face and predatory eyes.

The man stood up. “The south pays well for her kind. My wagon leaves at midday.” 

With not another word he passed you by and left. You turned to your father with terrified eyes. “What have you done?.” you asked, your voice dry.

“You will work hard in the south. You'll help the King there and fulfill your duty,” He paused, looking you in the eyes. “For whatever they want you to be.” He said bitterly, still recalling your mother's abandonment every time he sees you. 

“I will not.” 

“I already have the King's approval, you have no say in this.” He took his horned mug, drinking the remainder of the cheap rum in one go. “Tomorrow. Midday." 

Yeosang's heart sank. You were not even in the same room, but he could hear your thoughts as if they were his own.

Still in the memory, you stood still, shaking with anger. And you thought of him. Though it was a different name, Yeosang knew it was him. 

He saw you run out of the cottage, and you went looking for him. You ran all over the village, but couldn't find him. You then decided to return home, not to stay and wait for your doom the next day, but to prepare for something that would fix it. You waited enough until your father fell asleep over the wooden table, his face buried in the coin pouch he traded you for. 

Yeosang saw you frantically looking for your book of spells. But this was a different book from the one he saw you read many times. You quickly searched through its pages, until you found what you needed. Throwing some things into your leather pouch, you slipped out, boots stomping into the cold night, not stopping until you reached the mountain and began the long climb to the top, the same mountain you were  on right now in the present.

Once there, you laid out everything you had collected back in your house. This magic didn't require anything specific, only the warmth of blood and true desperation. Yeosang watched you expertly snag some rabbits from the brush, painting faint, crimson stains across their small throats. “Forgive me.” You whispered as you did. You then took out a small blackened pot, and threw the blood along with turmeric, lavender, and silver dust. Wiping your bloody hands on your skirt.

As the brew began to boil, the steam rose, hot, forbidden. Yeosang could feel how it went through your lungs until your chest ached. You knew it was your only chance. If you failed tonight, there would be no tomorrow.

Under the moonlight, the broth began to boil over, the scent of what emanated from it running through your nose and filling your lungs, making your chest ache. You grabbed the bronze cup from the pouch, and dipped it into the searing liquid. You forced down the bitter, burning heat until the last drop was gone. 

Then, you chanted. 

The words were heavy, vibrating. When you finished, there was nothing but the sound of your own ragged breathing. Silence reigned. And you thought the summoning had failed.

Yeosang felt more and more empty as the memory ran through his own mind. He wanted to hold you, he wanted to know why he hadn´t been there when you searched for him. 

Then, the wind struck like a physical blow. The fire beneath the pot died instantly, leaving everything in absolute darkness. And in that hollow silence, a low voice; cold and deep; spoke inside your mind. And now Yeosang could hear it too. 

“Speak,” it commanded. “What is the favor you seek?”

Your mind went blank, tears were already falling. When you spoke, your voice cracked, faint and scared. 

“Wise Gods.” You whispered into the void inside your head. “I ask you for just one thing. I love one man. Yet another, one who seems to hold power over me, plans to ruin my life and tear me from everything I hold dear. I ask that he feel the weight of the agony I carry. Let him suffer as I will suffer if his commands come true.”

You paused. Just for a heartbeat, you stopped to see if the gods were listening, your naivety leading you to believe they would wait for you to finish your thought.

That had been your mistake. 

You had intended to ask for your father to feel the pain you were about to endure, so the merchant would go empty-handed. But the Gods do not understand hesitation. They took your silence as finality. Then a brutal coldness bloomed along your spine, a pressure so heavy it felt as though an invisible hand was pinning you.

‘It is done. So long as his bloodline wears the crown, the land he rules shall perish. Thirst and hunger shall be the legacy of his house.’

You snapped her eyes open. 

You shook your head. 

“What does that mean?” Yeosang saw you cry, searching the shadows for a shape, a sign, anything “Bloodline? No, that´s not what I wanted…” you cried and tried to reach for an invisible shape around. But you were alone in your own mind once more.

“I already have the King's approval, you have no say in this.”

That's what your father had said.

`So long as his bloodline wears the crown, the land he rules shall perish. Thirst and hunger shall be the legacy of his house.´

That´s what the Gods had promised.

You felt like choking on your own breathing. And Yeosang could feel it too.

‘“No… What have I done?...” you had whispered to the rising sun. 

But this time no God answered. 

Yeosang came back to the present moment with a choking breath. He looked for you, his vision blurred by the blood falling over his eyes, running down from his temple. Another dry blow to his head making him hit the icy ground. 

You gasped, coughing up a spray of crimson that stained the pristine snow. Theon walked over you, his blonde hair glowing against the bright white sky, hand reaching down to grip your chin. “Such a beautiful broken thing. Now, you belong to the Southern Crown."

You grunted, ignoring him, eyes looking forward trying to spot Yeosang. Theon took a grey dagger from his belt, pressing it against your neck. He was consumed by his own cruelty that he didn't notice the shift in the air. 

Yeosang didn't just break free; he exploded.

As the guards tightened their grip, Yeosang drove his elbows back with bone-shattering force, hitting both men in the ribs. He didn't reach for a sword. He launched himself at Theon with all his might.

The King noticed too late. Before he could plunge the dagger into you, Yeosang’s hand clamped around his wrist. The blonde scream echoed as his bones snapped under Yeosang’s grip. The dagger slipped from his fingers and Yeosang caught it mid air. With a roar, he pinned Theon’s throat with one hand, his face inches from the King's terrified, perfect features. 

"This is for the Kingdom Halazia," Yeosang countered, his blade slowly pressing on the King´s throat. "And this is because you dared to touch her.” Theon's face turned pale and slick with sweat, blood shot eyes just as Yeosang twisted the blade and finished him. 

He looked up to see the guards lunging for him, but before he could move to defend himself, you rose from the snow. A sharp incantation tore from your throat in a language Yeosang didn´t understand. The guards froze mid stride, their bodies locking in place before their necks snapped in a sickening, synchronized crack, maneuvered by an invisible hand.

That final attack drained the last of your strength, and your knees buckled. Yeosang caught you before you hit the ice, pulling you tightly into his arms. With trembling hands, he drew a clean handkerchief, his touch agonizingly gentle as he began to dab the blood from your lips and chin.

“We need to get to the altar, please, we are close to ending it.” you muttered, your voice nothing but a frail whisper.

“You´re too weak,”

“Yeosang, please, we need to go together. We break it, and then–” 

“Then we go home.” His voice breaking. He could see it in your eyes already, the sorrow and the sacrifice. “Say it, we return to the Kingdom together.”

You threw your arms over his shoulders, burying your face in the crook of his neck. He lifted you up, carrying you the few steps left to reach the obsidian altar. You looked up at him, memorizing the shine in his eyes and the way his hair framed his face. "Yeosang," you breathed.

“Mmh?” He hums, carefully putting you down in front of the ash stain at your feet. Time avoided to erase the remnants of that faithful night.

"There is only one way the curse ends.”

“Tell me what I need to do.” When your eyes darkened, his smile faltered, a terrible realization crept in his gaze. "No. No, we found a way back. You said…"

You pulled him down into a kiss, deep, desperate from all the years of longing. It tasted of salt and the lavender of your youth, of your old life. In the heat of that embrace, his memory finally clicked into its final, perfect shape.

He saw himself that night. The night you couldn´t find him.  He saw himself riding back to the Village after a few days in the castle. But as he entered the shadow of the Wailing Trees, the path was blocked. He was then flanked by the merchant and five armored mercenaries. He stopped, hand on his sword.  “Who are you?” He had asked, but the mercenaries wasted no time. They all lunged. They couldn't let him reach the village and let you find him. Yeosang fought like a lion, his blade a blur of silver in the dim forest light. He took down three, but he was exhausted from his journey and outnumbered. A spear caught him in the side and he fell over the damp leaves. As he gasped for air, looking up at the twisted branches, the eerie hoot of an owl echoed through the woods. He tried to crawl, trying to reach for his sword, but the merchant stepped forward and drove a dagger into his chest, silencing him. 

When he was back in the summit, embracing you tightly, he sobbed against your lips, your name finally crossing the bridge of his heart. 

He said it once...

And again...

And again...

Your chest grew bigger, your heart racing at impossible speed just before the final crash. It felt warm, like his voice. Warm honey running through your throat, touching and making every part of you feel plenty. 

Yeosang brushed his lips against your forehead, your cheekbones, your nose and finally your lips. You took his face and pressed into the kiss, softly and slowly. Smiling, with little strength you whispered your last spell, one that would help him regain his strength for the journey back. 

“Did you try to hex me while we were kissing?” He smiled against your lips, his tears landing over your cheeks. You closed your eyes, and Yeosang could feel his heart shrinking. “I will never forget you. Never.”

"Thank you for remembering me," you finally whispered. 

Your skin began to shimmer, turning into a deep, vibrant violet. Your fingers didn't feel like bone anymore; they felt like silk. Slowly, beautifully, you began to dissolve. You weren't breaking, you were blooming. From your feet upward, you turned into thousands of tiny, fragrant dry lavender leaves, swirling in the mountain breeze.

Yeosang reached out, but he was left holding only a pile of purple petals that settled into the snow. He cried silently, burying his face in the blossoms. There he saw the glimmer of something shining below the leaves. The silver band you wore all those years, the promise of the love you shared. The lavender leaves now in the place where the obsidian ash stood before. 

But then, the air grew sweeter and thick with the scent of a summer meadow despite being clearly winter. He felt a sudden warmth inside. 

Perhaps hope. 

He stayed there for a long time, whispering your name into the flowers until his voice failed him.

Eventually, he had to go back down the mountain. When he reached the old village, he met the princess, standing beside Esme, who let out a low, mournful nicker as he approached.

Yeri´s sad and anxious eyes found him. And she felt incredibly hollow. 

“Where is she?."

Yeosang smiled, but the princess noticed the sorrow over his eyes. “The curse is gone, we can go back home.” he mumbled. Then he turned to Esme, caressing the mare´s head. “She loved you so much. She saved you as well.” 

Yeri's tears began to fall and they hugged for a while.

Yeosang let Yeri ride Shadow, and he mounted Esme, your mare´s grace embracing yours.

Together, they began the long ride back to a Kingdom that would never know cold or hungry, ever again.

“Wake up.” 

The rising blare of a horn yanks you from your slumber as red flashing lights breach the barrier of your eyelids. 

You remain still, lying on your narrow cot as the warning siren reaches its crescendo and you begin to count in your head.

One…two…three…four…

The wail finally begins its descent as you wiggle your fingers and toes. The emergency system occasionally woke you and those lying in rows around you, and you’d been taught to bide your time by doing your checklist. Distant voices can be heard barking out precise instructions as the horn winds down, causing your eardrums to throb in the silence. 

One…two…three…four…

Despite feeling the physical pounding of your heart, the connection to your mind is muted and numb. As the siren begins its ascent once again, you start taking stock of your surroundings, allowing yourself to ground yourself with the sensation of touch. 

Scratchy blanket, check. Threadbare pillow, check. The gentle tug of a hand, a sharp searing pain behind your ear-

Your mouth parts in a sudden inhalation, but a warm palm clamps over it before you can make a sound.

“Quiet!” A familiar voice hisses in your ear even as the searing pain intensifies, his hot breath tickling your skin in an odd contrast to the discomfort. Finally opening your eyes, you try to turn your head to look at him but his hand slips from your mouth to your chin to hold you fast.  

“Don’t move. Almost done-” Yunho whispers, and you can feel the hot trickle of what you can only assume is your blood before his fingers are digging into the fresh wound.  

You muffle a hiss of pain as you feel his fingers slip in and prod around under your skin, staring up at the metal frame of your bunk as you wait for him to finish his impromptu procedure. You barely hear his quiet grunt as the horn begins yet another round of wailing but finally his fingernails catch on the implant.  

“Yu-” You begin, but he shushes you quickly as he suddenly tugs, the device separating from wet tissue with a sickening yank. Your stomach roils wildly as his fingers extract the tiny metal chip, your mind threatening to fracture as it reconnects with long forgotten stimuli.

“We don’t have time for you to acclimate, just breathe-” He commands softly, his hand grasping yours as he tugs you from the bed. You try to focus on the sticky warmth of his fingers entwining with yours as bile threatens to climb your throat. The flashing lights don’t help the waves of nausea that cause you to stumble as he leads you through the rows of other subjects, all lying still and unmoving.

Your gaze finally settles on his silhouette in the angry red pulsating around you, your eyes drawn to the shadow of a wound, dark and wet behind his own ear to match yours. The foreign throb of alarm wars with too many other barely remembered emotions, as he draws you to a halt at the door, and finally he turns his head to look at you.

No words are spoken as he gazes down at you, the deep brown depths alive with a fire you’ve never seen before. Something buried deep within you seems to ignite as he conveys everything you need to know with that one single look.

He gives you a single nod, his hand squeezing yours gently as his lips curl into a ghost of a smile. The weight of what you’re doing is choked back as you close your eyes, breathing deeply through your nose. Though you know there’s no time for this, he gives you the moment you need to collect yourself before he suddenly produces a keycard and swipes it. The door unlocks with a hiss and he peeks out, scanning the hall before he sucks in a deep breath and you both begin to run.

Your escape is a blur, a series of stops and starts as he leads you through a maze of twists and turns. He seems to inherently know how to evade the few enforcers left behind, and before you know it he’s leading you deeper into the facility. Your confusion is smothered by your overwhelming trust in him, and eventually he’s tugging you through a long tunnel and up a rusty staircase to a heavy, reinforced door.

Before you can voice any concern, he rests his free hand on the mechanism beside the door, and  his body tenses, his hand going rigid around yours. The acrid scent of burnt electronics tickles your nose as the device begins to smoke, then spark before the lock releases with a crackle and hiss.

He gives you a single look, squeezing your hand before forcing the door open and  breaking into a run again, leaving behind the pulsing red lights and deafening blaring of the siren. 

Your heart pounds in your chest, your lungs burning as you both race towards the horizon. The sun begins to bleed into the night sky, washing away the purples and blues with warm ochre. You’ve studied the names of colors extensively, but you’ve never felt them before. Not like this.

Hot tears prick your eyes as you run, alien sounds of elation bubbling up out of your throat as you race towards freedom.  He glances back, his dark hair tousled by the wind, his eyes like wildfire as he joins in your laughter.  

It feels as if you sprint for hours before he finally draws you to a halt near the edge of the city, near a large reservoir. The sun climbs the sky as you hunker down near some overgrown brush, alert for any signs of life nearby.  

After a few moments of scanning the surroundings, he finally turns his attention to you.  His throat works as his free hand reaches up to tentatively touch the wound where he removed your implant, his eyes pained.

“I…I didn’t mean to hurt you but…I had to.” he says, his voice rough from exertion. 

“I know, Yun-” you reply, but a sudden wave of dizziness hits you, causing you to turn away and dry heave into the dried foliage beside you.  He rubs your back gently as you retch until your stomach is aching from the strain.

“It…it gets better, I promise…” he soothes, waiting you out. You can feel the time slipping like a noose as you steady your breathing. 

“We have to move.” He reminds you, but before he can drag you into another mad dash, you stop him with a touch.  “Yunho…your ear, let me-” You touch the gash behind his ear, your fingertips brushing his torn flesh to concentrate on reknitting it.

“We don’t have time-” he urges, knowing how hard you’ve struggled with utilizing your ability in the past.  To your relief, the flesh begins to fuse after a moment.  It’s not perfect, leaving behind a jagged scar.

“It worked-it’s not very nice looking but-” You start to say, but you’re interrupted by the hum of a drone as it quickly approaches. 

“We have to go!” he gasps,  yanking you up onto your feet in a panic as you realize your escape hasn’t gone unnoticed. 

Before you can make it far, another drone joins the first and you can hear voices drawing closer, calling for you to halt.  

No, no, not when we’ve come this far, not when we’re almost free-

Your footfalls slap against the broken pavement as he tugs you along behind him, your heart thrumming in your throat as he suddenly turns and races down the bridge over the reservoir. “Not that way-” you shout, catching the familiar figures of masked enforcers pursuing you in your periphery.

Time seems to slow as his head turns, his eyes wide with panic and terror. His gaze meets yours as he pants out agonizingly slow breaths. Something within his eyes gives you pause, but there’s no time to process it.  He seems to run through a labyrinth of emotions within that single hairsbreadth of time, and settles on one single thought that bridges the gap beyond words.

Trust me.

He suddenly pivots, halting your momentum and facing your pursuers with his hand splayed out. A terrible cry rips from his chest, and a blaze builds on his outstretched palm.

“Yunho!” You cry in warning, wanting to run, not face them. There’s no way you can face them, and get out alive. 

His skin heats in your grip, and the writhing mass of fire in his palm explodes outwards, incinerating the two enforcers closest to you into a cloud of ash.

The heat wave washes over you, stealing your breath as it eats up the air around you.  He collapses onto one knee, his hand still clutching yours, and you're horrified to see his other hand red and scorched from the effort.

“No-!” you scream, as more enforcers rush towards you; there’s no way you can even attempt to assist in any way. The only thing you can do is heal him, and that’s not even a guarantee.  You’re completely useless and there’s no way to get out of this-

You can feel tears rushing down your cheeks, sweat beading on your brow as you start tugging him frantically. “Yunho, get up! Get up-we have to run!” You’re screaming, and you have a momentary surge of hope as he staggers to his feet. You dig deep down to your very core to try to pour any amount of healing into his body as you struggle to get him to flee. 

There’s no going back. The only thing that awaits you if you’re captured is incineration. 

We’ll become nothing but ash.

But when he glances back at you, instead of running, his lips curl into a devastating, sorrowful smile.  

His hair is plastered to his forehead, the flaky ash already peppering his cheeks like some horrifying omen. Every cell of your being riots against the resolve in his gaze, your heart wrenching in your chest as if he’s carving it from your ribcage with that one single look. 

No…no no no-

His face contorts as he quickly turns, a pained scream tearing from his throat as another ball of fire erupts from his mangled and scorched hand. The minor amount of recovery you’d managed in knitting his flesh back together is quickly undone by the action, the ground in front of you both igniting in flame. 

His entire body emits a feverish heat, his clothing starting to smolder. A choked cry leaves you as he wavers, lurching forward to catch him before he can fall. 

But then he’s turning, tearing his hand from yours to hoist you up under your armpits, using the last bit of his strength to propel both of you towards the side of the bridge.  

“Yunho, no, don’t you dare-!” you shriek as you clutch at him, grasping onto the smoking material of his shirt, but before you can stop him, he’s heaving you up and launching you over the side. 

The world above you falls away as gravity takes hold, your hand extended in a futile attempt to reconnect with him. 

Your final image of Yunho is the bloodied hand that you’d never wanted to let go of reaching for you, the momentary illusion of hope shattering at the tragic grief in his dark eyes.

Then the world goes black.