(for lowislane) unburials: towards the setting sun part ii

[kais]

part i

the two of them spend daytime traveling throughout the land according to jongin’s strategy, and at this point kyungsoo’s sure he’s been in more places in the past three weeks than he’s ever been in the rest of his life.

now they’ve stopped at a village whose main trade is fishing, but with their lakes and rivers frozen by the winter storms, the people resort to daily gatherings and the occasional party. being the main source of fish for the city, families have long since stocked up on food and winter necessities. some have opened up stalls along the snowed-in paths, offering hot cider to travelers, as well as candied apples and spiced cakes. the inn is better equipped than most of the inns they've gone through, though none, in kyungsoo’s opinion, rivals that of his family’s. he and jongin share a room, as always, and jongin crosses the room with silver and rosemary. a couple of days ago, he’d finally given in to kyungsoo’s queries and explained that silver chained demons and rosemary purified anything that the demons had tainted and left their mark on, thus masking the identity of the person. kyungsoo observes him now, still curious; he hadn’t managed to wrestle out of jongin what incantations he used during this routine.

their conversations have a little more substance these days, steadily growing longer. jongin’s incapable of the kind of humorous banter that kyungsoo’s used to having with his brothers and his friends in the village he’d had to leave behind, but he has lots of interesting things to say. occasionally, kyungsoo can get him to share a story or two about his life. still, while jongin keeps most of himself concealed from kyungsoo’s incessant prying, he’s less uptight. it may have something to do with how, for the most part, they’ve managed to evade their pursuers. they haven’t run into any other demons, strong or weak, and jongin’s wound has healed and he’s gotten some sleep.

earlier, he’d also begun teaching kyungsoo how to use a dagger that they’d bought in one of the villages they’d passed through. everything is new to kyungsoo: the stances, the grip, the watching and waiting and the flick of the wrist, eyes focused, aim true. the closest he’d gotten to the apple that jongin had used for target practice was about three steps to the left of it. still, the dagger at his waist gives him a sense of security that he’s been lacking for days.

tonight, jongin spends his time cleaning the equipment for the tent, as well as sorting his things. kyungsoo takes out his dagger and examines the curve of it, the way the handle fits well in his hand. he imagines himself throwing it the way jongin does, deft, quick movement spearing the target without a single doubt.

“jongin,” he says, a thought suddenly occurring to him. “what village are you from?”

jongin glances up at him, his hair falling over his eyes. “i’m not from any village.”

kyungsoo tilts his head, confused. “but you’re from this land, aren’t you? you speak the language, and you know the places.”

“i am,” jongin says. he replaces the camping equipment in the rucksack. “but i’m not, i repeat, from any village.”

“then where did you come from?”

jongin’s eyes narrow. “you never run out of questions, do you?”

“not enough are being answered,” kyungsoo replies, shrugging.

“for your own good,” jongin mutters to himself. “anyway, my place has no name and it needs none. it is on a hill located on the northern tip of the land, where there are no seasons, only rain or sun. the members of my community are dedicated to keeping the land free of any... disturbances.” he casts a glance at the window, and kyungsoo knows they must be thinking of the same thing: how long until vengeance wails at their door?

“what, exactly, is it that you do?” kyungsoo asks.

a small smile turns up the right corner of jongin’s lips. it’s an expression that kyungsoo’s seeing more on him now, a rare shooting star arcing over the perpetual tension etched into every line and curve of jongin’s face.

“i am called a demon hunter,” he says, and kyungsoo swears he can hear a note of pride in jongin’s voice. “see, everyone back home has a specific task. there are those charged with keeping the community alive and to pass on the teaching from generation to generation. there are those who scout and map out the land, in order for us to know where to go when needed. and there are a few, like me, who train as demon hunters and stalk them until the end of our days -- as well as theirs.”

“i…” kyungsoo bites his lip. he’s not sure how jongin will react to his question, but he figures that since he’s asked about three and jongin’s not shown any hint of throwing a dagger at him, he decides to go for it. “how old are you?”

jongin returns to polishing his rod. “i don’t know.”

“you don’t know?”

“no,” jongin says, shaking his head. “we don’t keep track. when one can wield a dagger and hit ten targets in a row with true aim, when one can wrestle his mentor into drinking the dust, when one can survive a night out on demon-infested land and survive, then one is considered a man. we base adulthood on our skills, now on how many suns have set since the day we came out crying from our mothers’ wombs.”

kyungsoo contemplates this. “that’s... i can’t imagine not celebrating the day of your birth.”

“isn’t every day a day of your birth?” jongin returns, setting down his rod and going over to sit on his bed so he can face kyungsoo. he folds his legs underneath him, his robes falling in waves over his knees. “isn’t every day that you see the sun and your heart leaps, and your soul is intact and you are awake, a day to celebrate? in my line of work, it is common for us to die not long after we’ve even begun hunting demons. so far, i’ve gotten no worse than a couple of scrapes.”

kyungsoo doesn’t think that the wound jongin had borne a few days ago could be as mundane as a scrape, but he doesn’t point this out. instead he says, “don’t you miss your mother and your father?”

jongin is silent for a while. then: “i suppose i should. but you see, the moment i’d begun to walk, i’d started training in my mentor’s care. we are raised to not grow so attached to our parents, and our parents to us. the danger that comes with our line of work is one that can easily sever what bond it is that exists between us. thus it is better for us to grow apart.”

“what…” kyungsoo fiddles with his hands. “what about your mentor?”

“what about him?”

kyungsoo looks up. in those three words, jongin’s coldness comes rushing in full force, and he can see from his eyes that his guard has been raised.

“i just thought... well, you might not be close to your parents, but the fact that your mentor has trained you and kept you in his care must mean that there is a bond between you.”

“yes.” jongin’s voice is soft. “there is. but that, kyungsoo, is one thing we cannot discuss. we have an early day tomorrow. i’ll stand guard while you sleep.”

he stands up, and kyungsoo can tell that nothing more will be said in this room tonight. as he settles into his pillows, though, he gives himself a mental pat on his back. he and jongin may not be close friends yet, and they may never be, but at the very least they’re talking and they don’t erupt into arguments as often.

the last thing he sees before he drifts off is jongin, leaning against the window with half of his face dipped in moonlight.

prophecy

he’s tried not to show it the entire time that he and kyungsoo had been traveling, but now with the other guy swathed in blankets and off to a land without the weight of reality, jongin lets the worry seep into his system. he’s held it off for as long as he could. there are only so many places that they can run to; eventually, they’ll need to find somewhere more permanent.

with care, he sits on the edge of kyungsoo’s bed and watches him as he continues to dream, oblivious to the dilemma that jongin’s facing. finding a more permanent settlement means longer traveling, traveling that will have to go on through the night. on the first week, it had been clear to jongin how little kyungsoo’s traveled outside of his village. he’s no weakling, but he’s unused to constant walking, and he doesn’t quite have the stamina for longer distances. jongin is loath to hire horses. this is not weather meant for riding, and horses will only make it easier for the demons to identify them. and, to be honest, jongin’s not sure where to bring kyungsoo, either.

he places a hand on kyungsoo’s arm and murmurs the words that the prophet had given him before he’d embarked on this particular hunt. in the darkness, the words travel across kyungsoo’s body and burrows into his bloodstream, and soon his body becomes almost transparent. beneath layers of flesh and skin, his soul shines through, a white so bright that it hurts jongin’s eyes to look. a pure soul deep in slumber, unaware of how much it can change things. kyungsoo, unaware of what he holds inside, and jongin doesn’t even know where to begin whenever kyungsoo presses him to explain why he’s being pursued.

he lifts his hand and undoes the spell, and the light of kyungsoo’s soul returns to its obscurity. as an added measure, he crushes rosemary and sprinkles more of the leaves over kyungsoo’s body, watching them glow green before sinking into his flesh in order to mask the soul. it will not hide the intensity of the glow when the demons cast their own seeing spells, but it will change its color to the more normal human blue, which jongin hopes might waylay them a bit.

jongin returns to his post by the door, his thoughts still thrumming with the memories that kyungsoo’s questions had set aflutter. he thinks back to the day he’d been summoned to yixing’s hut, when he’d long been pronounced as one of the most seasoned and skilled hunters in the community. yixing had not spoken to him for hours, the two of them simply facing each other. but jongin had been patient, had crossed his arms and waited, for prophets are not known to rush. then yixing’s jaw had slackened, his eyes had gone glassy, and strange colors had flickered across the surface of his eyes. and then he’d uttered the words that would propel jongin out of the community, in pursuit of the one thing that the human world could not afford to lose:

like sunrise,
over the world washed by rain,
a soul without taint
a soul without pride
a soul still unbroken;
hidden in flesh,
until the twelfth month
of the half-moon year,
when it will shine bright
and call for its master.
one pure soul
to weigh down the scales --
one pure soul,
coveted by all,
singing for the hand
that will decide the world’s fate.
to whom will this soul yield?
the hunter born on the bloodlust year,
or the demon clad in human skin?

jongin takes a deep breath. it had been clear, even then, who the hunter would be -- on a year when the war of hunters and demons had baptized the land with the blood of the fallen, jongin was the only child born. he had been given by his parents to the only remaining mentor of demon hunters at that time, not out of choice, but out of necessity. for a time, the community’s women had been barren and the men had been disillusioned by death, all in grieving for the many they had lost. jongin had been the only child running along the streets. it would take a while before the community could learn to live again, and by then he’d begun venturing out into the wilds.

his parents had never approached him since the day they’d given him to his mentor. the war had marked them as well; though their child was the only blessing they’d had on that accursed year, the deaths were still fresh on their thoughts. they knew they would lose him no matter the circumstances. they chose to cut themselves off before they could begin to love him too much, and in time he learned that it was best. his parents had never faltered in supporting him from a distance. sometimes he wondered what they looked like, but he’d never asked his mentor, minseok, and minseok had told him that there were things best kept hidden.

“in time, jongin,” he remembers minseok saying, “what has been given up will return, in some way, to those who have lost far too much.”

jongin wishes yixing had explained to him what the prophecy had meant, how the soul would yield itself -- kyungsoo’s with him, but if jongin doesn’t figure things out soon enough, the dark spirits lying in wait would pounce.

then a thought occurs to him, and jongin thinks the only fool in the entire scheme of things is himself.

iii. hidden land

“so where exactly is this hidden land again?” kyungsoo asks, huffing as he tries to keep up with jongin’s lengthy strides through the forest path. up in the sky, the sun is cold despite the clouds that it surrounds itself with. there are no birds twittering amongst the branches of the trees at this time, and the creatures of spring have long burrowed deep into the belly of the land to see the winter through to the end.

this is perhaps the hundredth time he’d asked this question throughout the week they’d started off in search of the hidden land that jongin had told him about. he has yet to get an answer, but he and jongin have gone past the point of jongin expecting kyungsoo to follow along meekly and kyungsoo expecting jongin to abandon him at some obscure swamp. jongin, kyungsoo’s learned, is used to silence. he is used to the rustling of trees, the slither of snakes, and the whispers of rain; he isn’t used to someone who’s lived most of his life prodding wanderers for tales of their adventures.

sometimes, kyungsoo suspects it isn’t so much that jongin wants to keep him ignorant -- the other guy simply doesn’t know how to explain things, how to parse the things he knows into words simple enough for kyungsoo to understand. so he keeps trying, anyway. with any luck, jongin might give in.

“has anyone ever told you how persistent you are?” jongin returns, but he doesn’t sound upset. in fact, he sounds a bit bemused as he brushes aside a hanging branch and holds it up long enough for kyungsoo to duck past.

“it’s one of my best traits,” kyungsoo says. “so will you tell me where the hidden land is now?”

“there’s a reason why it’s called the hidden land, kyungsoo,” jongin says. “i made a promise long ago to not tell anyone where it is, and as tempting as it is to answer your question so we can journey in peace, i intend to keep that promise.”

“but you’re bringing me there, so aren’t you breaking that promise anyway?” kyungsoo points out.

“no, not really,” jongin says. “all i ever said was that i wouldn’t tell anyone where it is exactly. and by bringing you there, i’m not really telling you where it is, am i?"

kyungsoo squints up at him. “well, cheeky, aren’t you?” he sighs and finally lets it go. “so will you at least tell me why exactly i’m being chased?”

“no, not that, either,” jongin says. “you may not be aware of it, but the wind listens, kyungsoo, and anyone with sharp enough ears can hear what we’re saying. i’m trying to keep as low a profile as possible. i don’t want to tell you out here in the open, because you never know who it is that reads the wind. ah -- we're here.”

they step out of the forest trail and into a clearing, still frozen and hard and covered with snow. there is an iced-up pond in the middle, and surrounding the clearing are evergreen trees reaching up to the heavens.

they’ve been walking for the better part of the day. kyungsoo doesn’t know how far they have to go; all in all, they’ve covered about ten villages in the week they’ve been traveling, but settlements are rarer the farther they go. still, there's an eagerness to jongin’s movements that sets kyungsoo off to the fact that they may be getting closer to their goal.

they settle down in the clearing for a bit to take a spot of rest and eat, though kyungsoo has the feeling it’s more for his benefit than jongin’s. his companion’s clearly used to traversing all kinds of terrain by himself, and kyungsoo suspects that if it weren’t for him, jongin would have reached his destination a long time ago.

a month is far too short to know a person, kyungsoo thinks, but when two people have traveled a long way together, it’s more than enough. jongin is scrupulous with his gold and bronze pieces except for when he’s offered spiced cakes -- when that happens, the other guy fidgets and dithers for a few minutes until kyungsoo takes it upon himself to wrestle the money from him and buy him the cakes.

the demon hunter is built for battle and long-distance trekking, but at times kyungsoo catches him smiling at a child or at the sunrise. jongin hates sunsets and what it means for them, and though on the surface he seems calm and confident, kyungsoo’s learned to pick up on his tells: the scrunching of his nose whenever he hears footsteps pattering down the hallway, the whitening of his knuckles around his rod at the slightest snap of a tree branch, the wariness in his eyes and the way his body's always half-turned to kyungsoo, ready to push him to safety once danger makes itself known.

they’ve had some close calls, when they take longer traveling to a village than they thought they would, and jongin’s always frantic when he pushes kyungsoo into a room in whatever inn is available, silver and rosemary raining down on the floor along with his incantations.

sometimes, though, kyungsoo can see the boy beneath the man. he can see the recklessness lurking deep in jongin’s irises, the way his humor breaks through the facade he keeps up; he can see the youth, buried yet rising to the forefront whenever jongin’s teaching him how to wield a dagger, the patience in his tone as he teaches kyungsoo again and again how to hit the target, and the boyish smile that spreads as soft as butter on his face when kyungsoo finally does it. he wonders if maybe jongin is actually far younger than he appears.

“...we’ll be there an hour before sunset,” jongin says, and kyungsoo’s brought back down to earth. jongin’s looking at him, as if expecting him to say something, but kyungsoo’s been too caught up in his thoughts to have listened to him. he nods, because some kind of response seems to be in order.

jongin passes him the salted meat and fish, and for a few minutes, they don’t talk. the wind’s not so cold today, and each sunset that dies in the west brings summer ever closer. kyungsoo thinks of his family and of the inn, but he tells himself that such things are best swept into the corners of his mind until this entire thing is over.

as he and jongin wrap up their eating things, kyungsoo looks to his left and is struck by an idea.

seconds later, just as jongin straightens up from packing everything back into the rucksack, a snowball hits him square on the chest. he stares at the clump falling to pieces, and he looks up just in time for the second one to hit his leg.

“what --” jongin says, baffled, ducking just in time to escape kyungsoo’s third throw. kyungsoo’s sure his cheeks are red with the cold and the laughter that’s sailing with the wind, but he doesn’t care. he balls up another clump of snow and aims at jongin.

jongin manages to dodge this one as well, and in the same motion he’s scooping up a snowball of his own. kyungsoo tries to dance out of the way while making more ammunition, but the snowball finds its mark on his thigh. he fires at jongin, and jongin fires back, their breaths fogging so much over their faces that it takes kyungsoo a while to realize that jongin’s laughing. when he does, he’s so surprised that he can only stare at jongin’s delighted expression, his head thrown back with amusement as he aims another snowball at kyungsoo.

“you’re laughing,” kyungsoo says, somewhat stupidly. as soon as the syllables trip out of his tongue he regrets it, knowing they will wipe away any trace of the laughter on jongin’s lips.

only it doesn’t. jongin’s still laughing, though much more subdued now, and he wipes at the tears and the bits of snow clinging to his face with the back of his hand. “you were laughing, too,” he says. kyungsoo thinks that, no, jongin’s missed the point, because the jongin that kyungsoo’s been traveling with has smiled, and frowned, and worried, and gotten angry -- but he’s never laughed, not like this. not with his eyes twinkling, the boy beneath the man coming through stronger than ever, his smile so child-like and innocent that kyungsoo wishes they weren’t right here, right now, running away from the demons that had been the ones to open jongin’s eyes to a harsher side of life.

“well,” jongin says, still oblivious to kyungsoo's thoughts, “as much as i’d like to keep up the snowball fight, kyungsoo, we have to resume our journey.” he shoulders his rucksack and turns to kyungsoo with the laughter all but wiped out from his features. “kyungsoo?”

“i --” kyungsoo stammers. “i made you laugh.”

jongin raises his eyebrows at him. “are you going to stand there all day fixating on that, then?”

“no -- i mean, yes -- i mean --” kyungsoo inhales. the winter air is sharp, but the feeling in his stomach is even sharper, and his heart’s beating so fast. “you laughed.”

jongin sighs. “if i laugh again, will you start walking?”

“no, no,” kyungsoo says, forcing his limbs to cooperate. he doesn’t know why he hates the thought of jongin laughing at something so meaningless, but he does. “let's go.”

it is, kyungsoo thinks, the longest walk he’s ever taken in his entire life.

“we’ll be on the last leg of our journey tomorrow,” jongin announces on their eleventh night of traveling to the hidden land. they’ve already installed themselves in a cabin left unoccupied by one of the families in the village they’ve stopped at, their sleeping bags unrolled and all protective charms in place. jongin’s absentmindedly twirling the rod in his hand. “this is the last village we’ll ever see, so prepare yourself because we won’t be able to make any stopovers tomorrow. our destination will take a little over a good day’s hike from here, so we might get caught in sunset without any protective charms, but if we keep moving we might be able to make it before they come after us.”

“you sound calm,” kyungsoo comments. he reaches for the dagger at his waist, reassuring himself that he’ll at least have it on him, even if he isn’t exactly as good as jongin when it comes to wielding it.

“do i?” jongin tilts his head. “no, i don’t think so. but then i’ve been trained to not show fear no matter what happens. it is one of the reasons why i am considered one of the best hunters, kyungsoo.”

kyungsoo tries to lighten the mood somewhat, saying, “are you sure? maybe they’re just coddling you.”

“not a chance.” jongin shakes his head. “ours is a culture built on individual merit. we don’t declare who is the best so easily. neither do we accord respect and honor to just about anyone.”

“do you miss that?” kyungsoo asks. “your community, i mean.”

“perhaps.” jongin shrugs. “when i am on the hunt, i do not think of home, and those who are home do not think of those on the hunt. we are raised to strike out our own paths in the world, kyungsoo. of course, it’s not like we are indifferent to each other. but it’s the very nature of our jobs that makes it necessary for us to let go of anything that may hold us back.” he smiles to himself. “the hunt never ends. it goes on, even when we die. we’ve learned the hard way to bury those who leave instead of keeping our doors open for them.”

“but…” kyungsoo bites his lip. he can’t imagine how jongin and the rest of his community can do such a thing. in all the time that’s passed since the attack on him at the inn, he’s always thought of his family. he’s worried about them, and they’ve worried about him as well, that he’s certain of. at night, he dreams of beer-doused round tables, of people gathered around a fire, voices set on crescendo with the melodies of a hundred different lives. sometimes, when he’s leaning against a tree during a break in their treks, he swears the surroundings look so similar to home. but then he blinks and the illusion’s gone, and he’s looking over his back in fear of the phantoms that ride on the bruising of the clouds.

“you didn't grow up that way,” jongin says, “so you may not see. but that’s the truth, kyungsoo. this is our truth.”

kyungsoo doesn’t say anything for some time, lost in his thoughts. then he walks toward jongin and sits down beside him. jongin glances at him, waiting for the question that he can see quivering on kyungsoo's lips. when it comes, it’s quiet, soft, tiptoeing into the room like a flurry of snow through an open window.

“why?”

“it’s a long story. if i tell it, you won’t be able to go to sleep.”

“i’ll stay awake as long as i can.”

kyungsoo can feel jongin’s gaze on him. he returns it, trying to let him see that he wants to know, he wants to understand it all: the once upon a time, the joy, the pain, and somewhere in between, that nameless something that clings to jongin like a thin veil of secrecy, something that must be kept alive and remembered, but never spoken of. and as he gazes back at him, he sees the expression change in jongin's eyes -- he sees the exhaustion, the suppressed fear, and last of all, drowned for so long by all of the things that jongin’s gone through, the far-reaching sadness.

the sharp feeling is back in kyungsoo’s stomach, but he doesn’t fling it aside. he lets it seethe, lets it flutter like bird’s wings straining to break out of a cage, because there’s nothing he can do about it now except let himself break and hold the shards together as best he can. tomorrow, they’ll be at the hidden land, and their journey together will come to an end. like the people in jongin’s community, he will have to learn to bury those who will leave.

so he sits back and listens to jongin as he tells him about his community’s once upon a time. and he holds on to this memory, allows it to find its place in the architecture of his thoughts, because kyungsoo knows what this feeling is and he’s suspected its existence for some time.

houses of rock

kyungsoo falls asleep not long after jongin’s finished tell him about the war between hunters and demons. the curtains are drawn shut over the windows, and the only sounds breaking the silence are the thumps of snow hitting the roof. jongin lets kyungsoo’s head rest on his shoulder for a while, before he sighs and carries the other guy back to his sleeping bag.

he zips him in all the way, watching as kyungsoo rolls over to his side with a muffled mewl, his dark hair shading in part of his face. jongin doesn’t know why he can’t seem to move away, his body still crouched over the sleeping bag and his hand hovering over kyungsoo’s head. maybe it has something to do with how kyungsoo’s one of those handful of people who’s been determined enough to plumb into his house of rock, tap-tap-tapping away even though jongin's tried to drive him away.

he’s lived in a community, after all, that finds peace in letting go of those who have sworn to crush the dwellers of the dark. he’s grown up in a place where deserted houses are left alone, relics piling up along the streets because no one can bear to smother hope, but everyone knows those who once lived there won’t ever come. it is the reason why his parents have watched him from afar; why minseok, on the day after jongin was named a demon hunter, had held his hand for too many seconds and too few minutes, the look in his eyes telling jongin that this is his goodbye.

he’d returned, of course, but by then things had changed. after a while, minseok had told him to not come visit. a younger jongin would have been hurt; but the jongin he’d been by that time, who had seen the wilds for what they were and whose soul had been molded anew by horrors, had understood. minseok had had to live with heartache every single day, watching him go, watching him come back -- and every single time, he'd become a different person, no longer the boy that minseok had taught how to spar and wrestle and hide.

“let me live the rest of my life with the memory of you nocking your first arrow, jongin,” minseok had said, his hands shaking. “let me live with the part of you that had not yet seen how much the hunt steals away the essence of a person until very little is left. i’m sorry. i thought i could bear it, but now i know that i cannot.”

and so, every time jongin had come back after that, he no longer stopped by minseok’s house. when he needed advice, he sent an unsigned letter. minseok always wrote back without acknowledging the identity of the sender.

he and kyungsoo will reach the hidden land soon, where a friend he’d made a long time ago would know what he needed to do in order to preserve the purity of kyungsoo's soul -- how to ensure that the demons would never be able to taint it or consume it, once jongin is gone. because that is, he knows, what will have to happen. the moment he’s achieved his task and assured kyungsoo’s safety for the rest of his life, along with that of the world and the preservation of the balance between demons and hunters, jongin will leave. this time, he won’t be coming back to the community. this time, he will walk night and day to the cliffs of the south, where the land will no more feel the footsteps of the hunter born on the bloodlust year.

and kyungsoo, like minseok, will finally understand that houses of rock are never meant to be explored, because they will pull in the shadows to blot themselves out and crumble to dust.

jongin just wishes, as he brushes aside a strand of kyungsoo’s hair that had fallen over his eyes, that he doesn’t have to deal with this regret. that it will be just as easy for him to forget, to cut away the threads that have sewn part of kyungsoo’s life into his, to close the door to this chapter of his story behind him and bury the thought of everything he has chosen to walk away from.

no, it will not be easy at all. jongin knows, because right now there is an unnamed thing that fills the whole of his ribcage that’s telling him so. a wretched, pitiful thing, that knows it should have never sought shelter in someone who was never meant to stay.

the very same thing that’s urging him right now to slip his arms around kyungsoo and hold him until the skies grow still with the end of time.

iv. last stand

they set out the instant that light cascades down to wake the sleeping land. there is a subdued air between them today, one that’s made heavier by the fact that they have to cover a lot of ground. even then, nighttime will be nipping at their heels, ready to swoop in with the creatures that thrive in it. true, jongin hasn’t had to fend off any demons since the time he’d been injured at the first village they’d run to, but kyungsoo can’t help feeling that they’re walking straight into some kind of trap. he knows that jongin’s contemplating the same thing, and the urgency’s thrumming beneath his skin as they begin their trek throughout the uninhabited wastelands of the northernmost tip of the land.

kyungsoo doesn’t even feel the need to start chattering away the nerves. what jongin had told him several days ago, about the wind listening to their conversations, echoes in his thoughts. during the bulk of their journey, he hasn’t had much time to feel fear, because it had seemed like the demons had left him for good. now, though, the paranoia is back in full force. their one hope, jongin had said, was the hidden land. they had to make it there by sunset today or else they would never reach it at all. flashes of black smoke and the sensation of being choked surges through him, the images so vivid that it felt as though they’d happened just seconds ago. kyungsoo shudders. he throws a quick glance over his shoulder, wary of how there isn’t anything to cover up their tracks at all in this never-ending field of white. he catches jongin doing the same thing, and without saying a word to each other, they quicken their steps.

their shadows lengthen over the course of the day, and though kyungsoo tries to soldier on, his steps slow. jongin’s radiating impatience as it is. he curses his lack of stamina, come to haunt him now that he needs it most.

“stop.”

kyungsoo looks up, cheeks flushed with guilt. of course he won’t be able to hide his exhaustion from jongin, whose senses are primed to pick up on the littlest changes in the atmosphere. the hunter’s eyes betray no emotion, but that fact alone makes kyungsoo’s stomach churn. it’s been a while since jongin’s acted this distant.

“we’ll take a break,” jongin says. he passes kyungsoo a waterskin, which kyungsoo takes with gratitude. “i’m sorry, i was too optimistic that we could handle trekking this far and this long without stopping. it’s not possible at this rate.”

“i’m sorry,” kyungsoo says, hating how he’s the one slowing down their progress.

jongin shakes his head. “no, it’s not your fault. i should have planned this better. in any case, let’s eat.” he throws kyungsoo his share of bread and salted fish, and sits down on the snowed-in land to make quick work of his own share.

they finish eating soon enough, but jongin shows no signs of resuming the trek. instead he takes out a bundle from his bag, unrolls it, and takes out a sheathed dagger. “take out your dagger.”

“wh-what?” kyungsoo stammers.

“your dagger. take it out,” jongin says. “no matter what we do and how fast we go, they’re going to catch up to us. so i might as well teach you how to defend yourself against them.”

“how…” kyungsoo struggles to find the words. “how bad do you think it will be?”

something flickers across jongin’s eyes, too quick for kyungsoo to try to decipher. “i don’t much like thinking about it,” he admits. “but i’ve been suspicious of the fact that we haven’t been attacked at all since that last time. they may have already known we’d head here. but that isn’t something you should concern yourself with. the first thing you must always do…” jongin continues, limbs taking on the stance that he’s taught kyungsoo again and again, “is be on your guard.”

without warning he leaps forward, and kyungsoo reacts just in time to deflect his blade with his still-sheathed dagger. jongin yells, “remember what i’ve taught you!” before coming back round again to drive his blade into kyungsoo’s chest.

kyungsoo doesn’t think. he draws the dagger from its sheath and lets the past few days of training take control, dancing away from jongin’s reach and deadly aim. once or twice he comes close enough to leveling the blade with jongin's neck, but the hunter is quick, deft, parrying his attempts with his own. it’s only by sheer determination that kyungsoo manages to deflect most of his attacks.

“be mindful of all sides!” jongin continues to yell out. “look for an opening, but don’t drop your defenses! let your instincts take over!”

stop thinking! kyungsoo thinks to himself, gritting his teeth as jongin makes another attempt, the point of his blade coming so close to tearing the fabric of kyungsoo’s shirt. there is black smoke rising in the back of his mind. you’ll die if you second-guess!

in that same second, jongin lunges toward kyungsoo’s unguarded left flank, feet nimble as he drives home the tip of his blade to mere inches away from kyungsoo’s neck.

kyungsoo’s dagger shivers near jongin’s adam’s apple.

they stay locked in that position, staring each other down, knuckles whitening around the handles of their daggers. the wind slips through the spaces in between them and goes on its way. kyungsoo tries to calm his breathing, tries not to crumble in the spotlight of jongin’s gaze. the bird with the broken wings continues to beat its way out of his chest. he’s sure he sees something ripple in jongin’s eyes, something that hides as quickly as it peeks out.

“well done.” jongin lowers his dagger. kyungsoo lets out a breath and lowers his. “you’re as prepared as you’ll ever be. now let’s go.”

he and jongin replace their daggers in their sheaths, and then, with an unspoken agreement to shroud themselves in silence, they resume their journey.

so onward they go. onward, they strike a path through the snow, making no attempt to cover up the footsteps they leave behind. when the demons come, they will come regardless of whether or not there is a visible trail. kyungsoo tries to shake off the tension, but it just sinks into his spine and curls up at the bottom of his stomach. faster, he thinks to himself, faster, all the while praying that the sun will meander along the skies a little while longer.

the clouds are beginning to blush just as kyungsoo and jongin scramble up a mound of snow. ahead of them, about a hundred and fifty steps away, is the edge of a cliff.

“run!” jongin yells, and kyungsoo propels himself forward, not quite knowing what it is jongin expects to find at the edge of the cliff -- but he hears the note of fear in jongin’s voice, a sliver of dissonance that tells him they’re running out of time. he pushes his legs, his body -- his lungs scream for air -- the edge of the cliff so close --

the sun descends, and in the same instant, the entire world grows dark. kyungsoo hears jongin shout, feels him wrap his body around his, frantic; he reaches for the dagger that jongin’s given him, ears pricked for the enemy. through the oppression of the shadows, jongin’s palm glows, and kyungsoo watches with wide eyes as the rod that jongin’s carrying morphs into a silver sword.

the black congeals, and stepping out of oblivion is a single shadowy form outlined in red.

“we will take what is ours,” it says, the words coming out in a thousand wails. kyungsoo feels like his head will burst. “step aside, demon hunter.”

“kyungsoo isn’t yours,” jongin growls back. “i will not let you near him.”

the form bursts into laughter, only it sounds like a room filled with tortured souls. kyungsoo’s teeth begin to chatter. he tries to fight it, but that night comes flooding back, wave after wave of fury and confusion and terror; image after image of black smoke, his throat constricting, the taste of death on his tongue.

“then be prepared to say your farewells,” the chorus of the damned hisses from the shadow’s mouth.

“jongin --”

“the hidden land is straight ahead, kyungsoo,” jongin says to him, “run forward and don’t look back, do not worry about me.”

“but --”

kyungsoo never hears another word from jongin. the next thing he knows he’s shoved forward, and the demon lets out an ear-splitting screech. kyungsoo’s head pounds but he scrambles to his feet, blinded by oblivion, trying his hardest to not look back. he hears jongin shout, and from the periphery of his vision he sees a flash of silver, which is just as quickly blotted out by darkness. a clang, a growl, another screech followed by that haunted laughter. kyungsoo keeps running, pushing away every thought of a boy, of a smile, of laughter so recklessly given. his legs burn, and in his chest, the bird with the broken wings wants to break free. he can taste the salt of his tears, the pain exploding throughout his veins -- but the last thing he wants is to betray jongin, to destroy everything that the hunter has done in order to get him to safety.

he hears jongin’s last cry just as he plunges over the cliff’s edge, and at that moment, kyungsoo knows they have lost. his own cry rips free of his lips as the bird bursts out of his chest, setting him aflame. the fire spreads throughout his body, bent on turning him to ashes, but kyungsoo is numb. in his mind’s eye, he sees jongin on the day they first met; jongin, telling him to lock his doors and windows; jongin, saving him from that first attack; jongin, stumbling into the room with the cut on his stomach.

the images keep flashing, quicker and quicker, in color, in black-and-white, through haze and flames and jongin’s cry burrowing into kyungsoo's ears: jongin smiling, jongin frowning, jongin teaching him how to throw a dagger, jongin telling him his story, jongin laughing like the child that he’s never been allowed to be. the unnamed feeling overpowers kyungsoo and he surrenders himself to it, like it is heaven, like it is savior -- he surrenders, because they have lost, and there is no hidden land to run to anymore.

kyungsoo closes his eyes and lets the fire consume him whole. his last thought is of jongin, and the warmth of his shoulder as kyungsoo succumbs to the eternal sleep.

autumn. the path to the inn littered with leaves of red, gold, brown hues. chatter in the dining room. apples in the kitchen. kyungsoo, about to be eight winters old, sitting on the high chair behind the receptionist's desk as a man swathed in red linen robes walks up to him. his hair is a mess of flame-colored curls.

his mother is the one to accommodate the man, but as she goes off to prepare a room, the man bends down to meet kyungsoo's eyes. the tips of his ears peek out through his curls.

“you’re a very special young man,” he says, his lips lifted up in a bright smile. “such a beautiful, pure soul.”

kyungsoo tilts his head in wonder.

“do you want to know a secret, little guy?”

kyungsoo glances around for his mother, then he turns back to the smiling man and he nods.

the man reaches out and places his palm on kyungsoo’s chest. “only those who can love so purely and wholly are blessed with the purest souls. you will not understand this now, but in time, you will. until that day comes when you entrust that love to someone, i'll leave you a guardian to keep you and your blessing safe.” he takes in kyungsoo's confused expression and laughs. “don’t worry, your phoenix will only fly free when you find the one for whom you will leap the edge of the earth for."

kyungsoo doesn’t understand, but the guy’s laughter is like the bells that ring throughout the inn, so his laughter spills out as well. he doesn’t see him anymore after that, and soon he forgets everything he’s been told.

but inside his chest, a phoenix comes alive and stands guard over his soul, awaiting the day of its flight over the open seas.

what awakens kyungsoo is the smell of brine, so foreign that his eyes slide open and he sits up in bed. he glances around the room with its windows thrown open, and he glances down at the white shirt and pants he’s wearing. for a long second, his mind is a clean slate, taking in the peacefulness of his surroundings. then everything falls into place, and the pain in kyungsoo’s chest takes his breath away.

the tears fall before kyungsoo can hold them back. jongin’s cry still resonates in his memory, like knives that slice through his thoughts. he remembers the darkness, jongin shoving him to safety, the flash of silver and then the demon’s laughter. he remembers the edge of the cliff, and him jumping over it, and the bird escaping out his chest and setting him on fire.

”if i laugh again, will you start walking?”

the tears flow thicker now, faster, and kyungsoo leans his forehead against his knees. he tries to block out the memories but they keep coming; a river, unbounded by rock, rushing through his mind and increasing the pain hundredfold.

he scrambles out of bed, determined to face the demons. because he’s sure that’s where he is now, in the demon’s lair: he must have not made it in time, and jongin’s sacrifice had been for nothing. kyungsoo no longer cares why jongin’s protected him all this time. they’ve lost. he’d failed to do the last thing jongin had asked of him. no other thing matters.

he rushes out of the door, vision blurred by tears, ready to yell out to the demons to take his life, take his soul --

-- and promptly bumps into a solid chest. “you’re awake!”

kyungsoo looks up, anger boiling in his veins, ready to give himself up. but the words die halfway up his throat, because instead of a shadowy figure, a young man in red robes is looking down at him, the surprise on his face giving way to a sunshine smile. “who -- who are you?” he sputters out.

the man laughs. “of course you don’t remember me,” he says, his teeth showing. “you were too young when our paths first crossed. but i do remember you, kyungsoo, and we have met once before at your family’s inn. in these parts i am known as the mystic of the hidden land, but you can call me chanyeol.”

“chanyeol,” kyungsoo repeats. then he registers what the taller man had said. “did you say hidden land?”

“yes,” chanyeol says, laughing, “welcome to the hidden land. thought you wouldn’t make it, but you were right on schedule.”

“i’m in the hidden land?” kyungsoo says. “so i -- i didn’t fail jongin --” he stops, feeling the hot burn of tears again.

“oh,” chanyeol says, as if a thought’s just occurred to him. “of course you wouldn’t know. come along, kyungsoo, i have something to show you.”

kyungsoo follows him, the numbness back. so he’d accomplished it. he was safe. jongin was not. kyungsoo’s not quite sure what to make of this, how to feel. he keeps his eyes glued on the hems of chanyeol’s robes, so he doesn’t realize they’ve entered a room until chanyeol says in a softer tone of voice, “he woke up just a while ago, too. i trust you’ll be gentle. he was badly injured in the battle with that pesky seven-horned demon, i had quite a bit of a task dispatching him when i arrived.”

kyungsoo blinks. “what?”

chanyeol pushes him forward. “go on. he’ll be glad to see you. i’ll leave the two of you alone.” he backs out of the room and closes the door behind him.

“kyungsoo?”

time, at that instant, flows past but does not take kyungsoo with it. he stands in his spot, frozen, unable to believe the apparition in front of him. sitting up in bed is jongin -- maybe a little paler, a little more tired, but jongin with his mouth open and relief so clear in his eyes.

kyungsoo doesn’t think. he flies across the room and is about to engulf jongin in his embrace, when he remembers what chanyeol had said and the fact that he’d sworn to hide every shred of emotion he’d felt for jongin on the day that they’d set out for the last trek to the hidden land. jongin’s features seem expectant, but then his face falls and he turns his face away. kyungsoo sits with a slight bump on the edge of the bed.

“so, um, you’re safe,” kyungsoo mutters, fiddling with the sheets. he sees the bandages wrapped around jongin’s arms, and he resists every urge to curl up beside the other guy and keep him close. between the two of them, kyungsoo’s clearly not the one made for protecting people. “when i heard your cry, i thought…”

“yeah,” jongin says. “well, i almost did. die, i mean. but chanyeol came and he slaughtered the demon before it could strike me with its final blow. i’ve been in and out of consciousness for days, and chanyeol said i came so close to drifting away. but i managed to find my way back.” he turns in kyungsoo’s direction, but for some reason he doesn’t look him in the eye. “chanyeol never mentioned you throughout the time i was recuperating, so i worried that you hadn’t made it.”

“i did,” kyungsoo says, glad that jongin’s nowhere near enough to hear his heartbeat. he wishes jongin would look at him, would smile, would laugh, because right now it feels so awkward between the two of them and he’s not sure why. “somehow. thanks to you.”

jongin brushes it off. “i did nothing,” he says, and kyungsoo must be imagining it, but he sounds bitter. “i failed to do so many things. but that is beyond us now. you are safe, and chanyeol has told me that you can go home and live your life demon-free.”

“don’t say that,” kyungsoo says. “you sacrificed your life several times. you put up with me throughout our journey. you kept me safe.”

“and then i led you to a trap,” jongin says wryly. he holds up a hand when he sees kyungsoo about to protest. “don’t. it won’t change anything. and it’s no good to dwell in it, when we’re here now and still very much alive.”

“speaking of here... what is this place?” kyungsoo asks, glancing around the room. the open window looks out into miles and miles of water, something that kyungsoo’s never seen before in his life, and the sun is shining so much that the world is awash with light.

“the hidden land,” jongin says. he catches kyungsoo’s exasperated gaze and cracks a small smile. “it’s still part of the world we know, but it is home to many of the myths and legends you’ve probably heard most of your life. there are creatures that live here in peace -- if you’re lucky, chanyeol might introduce you to some of them. the inhabitants of this place drew a veil between them and the rest of the world, because they no longer desired to interact with phantoms and humans. chanyeol acts as the guide to this place.”

kyungsoo takes this all in, aware that his eyes are growing wider with every word. “so are you telling me that creatures like fairies are real?”

“of course they are,” jongin exclaims. “i thought you would have already gleaned that from the fact that for the past month and a half, you’ve been running away from demons with a demon hunter!”

“the demon hunter and i only ever talked about demons,” kyungsoo returns. he bites his lip and waves a hand over jongin’s bandaged arm. “so what happens to us now?”

he sees a flash of an emotion cross jongin's face, but in the next instant, his face is impassive. “well, you’re going home,” he says, “and i obviously can’t be a demon hunter anymore.”

“what…” kyungsoo hesitates. “what are you going to do? are you going back to your community?”

jongin doesn’t reply. he returns his gaze to the open window, and kyungsoo stares at the line of his jaw, clenching his fists. only the foolish fall in love with people who wander. only the naive entrust their hearts to those who do not return their feelings. kyungsoo’s told himself to keep the shards together, keep this something to himself, but the way the distance stretches out between him and jongin is frustrating him.

he cannot let it end here. he cannot bury jongin somewhere in his memory; he cannot box up this love and throw it out into the waters, let it sink to the bottom where it will never be found. after this, jongin will walk away, like he’s used to doing; and kyungsoo will go home, where he will fill up ledgers and shovel the snow and grow a patch of rosemary in the garden, a silver dagger at his waist.

“jongin.”

the hunter turns to him, eyes questioning. kyungsoo takes a deep breath.

“i know i was a task to accomplish,” he begins, fixing his gaze on jongin’s hand so that he doesn’t have to deal with jongin’s expression when he finally says it. “i know i was nothing more than another mission assigned to you that you could not refuse. i know how well-versed you are in sweeping away the pieces of those you leave behind, so i won’t be surprised if you forget me right away.”

“kyungsoo --”

“but i’m not used to that, jongin,” kyungsoo interrupts, his fingers digging his sorrow into his palms, so that jongin’s last sight of him won’t be of him crying. “i do not know how to let go of those who leave. i do not know how to let the dust gather in deserted houses; i do not know how to not come round every day and knock on locked doors.” inhale, he reminds himself. “when i heard your cry,” he continues, his voice softer now, “i wanted so much to die. i wanted to give up, because everything that had mattered to me was lost.”

“what... what are you…”

kyungsoo raises his face. he looks straight into jongin’s eyes, lets the words fall from his lips. “i know you won’t return my feelings. probably you’re just glad that your entire task wasn’t a failure. but it’s different for me, jongin. it’s been different since the day you let yourself open up to me, even for just a bit.” exhale. “when i jumped off the edge of the cliff, i was sure only of one thing: that i did not know how to bury you, jongin. and i still don’t.” he can feel his chest constrict, a tear making its way down his cheek. he’s cried so much today, but this, kyungsoo thinks, will be the last time.

“it is impossible to bury someone you love, who will never be yours.”

he shoots up from the bed, aware that the tears won’t be stopping anytime soon, unable to let himself see the expression in jongin’s eyes. he doesn’t want to face him -- he doesn’t want to bury his memory, pile his future on top of it and let time erase the rest.

a hand wraps around his wrist and pulls him down, and kyungsoo finds his face just mere inches away from jongin’s.

“interesting,” jongin says. kyungsoo searches for a hint of mockery or sarcasm, but he finds nothing. instead he finds something like relief on jongin's features, and a soft smile turns up the corners of his lips. “it looks like we’re on the same boat, then, kyungsoo.”

“we -- we are?” kyungsoo stutters, confused.

“you know, moments ago when you ran toward me, i was so sure you felt the same way i did. but then you stopped, and i thought i’d been imagining things.” he searches kyungsoo’s face with his eyes. “last night, i’d convinced myself to leave this land forever, because though there was one thing i wanted to hold close, something i wanted to stay for, i was sure that that something didn’t quite think the same way. i told myself i was better off disappearing into the distance and becoming some sort of legend.”

“i’m not quite following you,” kyungsoo says, though the fluttering in his chest feels horribly like hope.

“are you?” jongin chuckles. “well, kyungsoo, what i’m trying to say is that i do not know how to walk away. i do not know how to live with only myself, when there was someone i knew i wanted to live with for the rest of my life if only he’d have me.” he pauses, and a grin spreads through his face as he watches the realization dawn on kyungsoo. “i do not know how to bury you either, kyungsoo, and to be honest, i’d rather not do so.”

damn those injuries, kyungsoo thinks. he flings himself into jongin’s arms and covers his smile with his own -- because what won’t be buried will rise, day after day after day, and if he can spend the remaining sunsets of his life with no demons and plenty of jongin, he’s satisfied. and from the laughter that escapes jongin’s lips, the hunter is thinking the same thing.