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“No, no, Jimin! Not like that, like this.” Jimin blinked, his eyes widening as he looked up from his hands. They were raised in front of him, his palms facing the ceiling as he sat cross-legged on the floor. The stone felt cold underneath him and he squirmed as a slight twinge of pain shot up his spine from how stiff he was forced to sit. But as uncomfortable as the stone floor was, he wouldn’t move. The little bit of pain in his lower back was worth it if it meant he could learn to control and harness the power he’d been gifted. And his teacher could be a fairly formidable opponent when pushed beyond her limits. “What am I doing wrong?” Jimin asked as his brows furrowed, his lips subconsciously pulling into a small pout. “I’m doing it like you told me to.” His teacher sighed and she reached over the space between them to grasp his hands in hers. She curled his fingers in towards his palms before she spoke, her voice gentle and soothing. “Your mind is too cluttered. It needs to be open and free for the magic to weave itself into it.” “I don’t understand,” Jimin said, “what does that mean?” His teacher regarded him for a moment, and Jimin felt slightly on edge with the way her sharp, angular eyes studied him. He’d been introduced to his mentor the moment he showed any signs of magic in him, almost three years ago now, and in those there years, he’d come to learn that his teacher liked to talk about things in a very roundabout way. She’d drop hints and give very vague explanations rather than bluntly tell him things which greatly frustrated him. He was still a child, only eight summers passing since his birth, so how she expected him to decipher her words was beyond him. “You need to stop thinking and feel,” she said as she began to run her thumbs across his clenched fists. “The magic courses through your veins the same way a river flows. If left to its own devices that river will flow forever but place a dam in the middle of it, and it too, stops. Your mind is that dam, and it is forcing your magic to stop flowing.” Jimin blinked. “But-” But before Jimin could finish asking his question, the door to their study was thrown open and a man dressed in a plain, brown tunic burst into the room. He had a bow shouldered across his chest with a quiver full of arrows tied to the belt around his waist. His breath rushed out of him in quick pants, sweat beading his forehead as both Jimin and his teacher startled and looked up from his hands. “Jae-Eun!” His teacher, Jae-Eun, stood from the floor, her bangles clicking together as she ran her hands through the folds in her skirt, dusting them off before hurrying to the door. “What is the matter, Dongwoo? What has happened?” Jimin lifted himself onto his knees, his hands braced against the floor as he inched closer to try and hear their conversation better. “There’s been an accident,” Dongwoo said, his words coming out rushed in his panic, “Kun wasn’t paying attention and one of the other archers got him with an arrow.” Dongwoo grabbed Jae-Eun’s elbow.” Please, you have to help him.” Jae-Eun gently pried Dongwoo’s fingers from around her arm and Jimin winced when he saw the bright red fingernail imprints he left behind. “Calm down, Dongwoo, and take me to him,” she said. Before Dongwoo could drag her away, she turned to Jimin who blinked owlishly up at her, smiling sheepishly when she raised one eyebrow in reprimand for eavesdropping. “Jimin, stay here and practice. Remember, you must lift the dam to be able to harness your magic.” And with a swish of her skirt, she was gone, the door closing shut with a click behind her. For a few seconds, Jimin didn’t move and the only sound in the room was the plop of the leaky faucet. It didn’t happen often that one of the hunters got hurt from friendly fire, so it was a safe bet to assume that the injured man was a new recruit, unused to having other hunters with him. The image of an arrow sticking out of some unfortunate soul’s rear end had him giggling into his hands before his laughter took over and he threw himself onto the floor, clutching his stomach as tears streamed down his face. He knew he shouldn’t laugh, that this was a serious matter, but he’d been bullied enough by the huntsmen’s apprentices that he felt little remorse for them. Jimin had been born small and as the years progressed, he watched the other boys grow bigger around him. He didn’t have the musculature the other boys had, he didn’t have the strength that they did and they all knew it. It wasn’t until his magic began to show itself that the rest of the village understood why he was so tiny in comparison, but that didn’t stop the other boys from teasing him about his size. While he learnt to ignore them for the most part, one particular boy took his teasing to the extreme, often pushing him around and calling him names as he passed by. He often wished he was a powerful witch like Jae-Eun, just so he could show everyone that he wasn’t a burden, that his powers weren’t something to be taken lightly. Witches were rare and male witches were almost thought to not exist. Before Jimin, there had only ever been one male witch, but even Jae-Eun’s books had been vague about who he was and where he had come from. Record keeping was something that only came into practice a hundred years ago, and before them, stories were passed down aurally. But even with the very little information he had, Jimin held it close to his heart. Jae-Eun would tell him stories about the male witch whenever he was feeling particularly down, her narratives helping to sooth his worries and keep him focused. And for that, Jimin would always be grateful for Jae-Eun’s presence in his life. Once his giggles had died down and he felt like himself again, he pushed himself into a sitting position and held his hands in front of his face. Jae-Eun had told him to practice, and like the good student he was, that was exactly what he was going to do. Rearranging himself so he was sitting cross-legged on the stone floor again, Jimin placed the backs of his hands on his knees, resting them there as he took multiple deep breaths. In and out. In and out. Just like Jae-Eun had shown him. It was one of the very first lessons she taught him, right after telling him he couldn’t use his powers to harm other living creatures unnecessarily. Jimin had pouted when he realised she’d essentially forbidden him from getting his revenge on his bullies. Slowly, ever so slowly, the world melted away. The walls and floor surrounding him disappeared and he was soon left in a dark void. The wind blowing through the trees outside the window vanished. The hustle and bustle of people moving quickly from one place to another became emptiness until all he was left with were his shallow breaths and whirling mind. He was still a child, and his mind reflected that. He imagined playing in the forest, surrounded by nature. He pictured himself shedding his clothes and cooling off in the nearby river. Memories of his old home, three day’s travel away from the large town he had been brought to, flashed into his mind. They were faint, and very short, having been taken away the moment his gift made itself known, but he remembered a smiling woman, her gentle hands running through his hair as he lay in her lap. He remembered a man who stood tall and proud, and himself seated on his wide shoulders, giggling loudly as the man sang songs with strange words and up-beat tempos. He remembered an old woman seated on a rocking chair, watching him as he played with his toys. But most of all, he remembered her saying that he would soon have to leave them as she caressed his face with her wrinkly hand, her touch warm and comforting. Jimin’s brows furrowed as Jae-Eun’s words from earlier cut through his thoughts. His mind was a dam, and he was letting it clog up his magic. As he began to decipher her words, their meaning slowly became clear to him and suddenly, he didn’t want it. Because, in order for him to channel his magic and gain the power that rightly belonged to him, he would have to break down the memories that held them at bay. His fleeting memories were all he had left of his family. They were not something he was willing to let go of so easily. He hesitated, and he felt the way his magic wavered with him. Magic was sentient, Jae-Eun had told him, it responded to the feelings of its bearer. Those without it never really felt its presence unless a witch was directing it at them. But even in those brief moments, magic connected itself to whatever it was aimed at and didn’t let go until that connection was severed. It didn’t feel like humans and animals did, but it move and responded like any other sentient being would. If its wielder was angry, it too crashed through the atmosphere like a storm. If, however, its wielder was calm, it acted like a docile stream, flowing through the air in dance. Jae-Eun owned many books on the topic and she had made Jimin study up on it in between his practical lessons but he never really understood it. She had made several attempts to teach him the importance of listening to his magic, but his mind had never made the connection. Not until this moment. Now he understood the implications of his gift, of the sacrifices he would have to make to have it. And while a part of him dreaded having to part with his memories, another, smaller part whispered words of encouragement, promises of all the things he could do. He wanted to do the same things that he’d seen his mentor do. He wanted to help people like she did. He wanted to show the world that magic was beautiful, that it resided in everything, laying dormant until someone like him woke it. Slowly and meticulously, he began chipping away at his memories. Images of his mother’s laugh broke away, his father’s big, booming voice disappearing into the nothingness. His grandmother’s soothing presence vanished from his mind and all he was left with was a silver of magic, its presence faint but there. It flowed through him like a river, traveling from his toes to his fingertips and he felt its energy as it moved. Something inside of him sang with happiness and it felt as if a part of himself had been returned to him. His body hummed with magic and he smiled to himself as he let it course through him. It would take time, he knew, to get used to feeling it but the excitement and elation he felt made him believe that he had made the right choice. He would always love his family, that would never change, and the biggest part of his heart belonged to them. Opening his eyes again, the world slowly coming to life around him, he blinked once to focus his vision. He never liked going into meditation, everything too dark, too quiet for someone like him but it was an important part of being a witch, and Jimin attacked it the same way he attacked everything else. Looking around he saw Jae-Eun standing at the door, a wide, toothy smile almost splitting her face in half. The bangles around her wrists jangled against each other as she held her hands out in front of her to help him stand from the floor. “Finally,” she said, “I’ve been waiting for you, Park Jimin.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
It wasn’t unusual for Jae-Eun to wake him during the early morning hours, usually with a harmless spark spell or a floating blob of water. It happened often enough that Jimin had come to expect them and as he got older, he learned to appreciate the ease with which she cast every spell. Her movements were fluid, each subtle gesture performed with the utmost care and precision and every time, Jimin would be left in awe at her prowess. But when Jae-Eun barged into his room a few days before his thirteenth birthday, a spell ready on her tongue, she paused at the door. “Jimin,” she said, her voice bordering on surprise, “you’re awake?” Jimin turned from his seated position at his writing desk, the pen poised over a piece of parchment as his other hand was spread out over the pages of a book, intricate designs and beautiful script written on its pages. “I have been for a few hours now,” he said as he blinked, raising the hand resting on the book to rub at his eyes. “Is it morning already?” He reached over to his lamp to dampen the flame, the candle reduced to almost nothing since he’d first lit it, waving his hand over it once. The candle went out with a gentle gust of wind, barely perceptible if one wasn’t paying attention. He groaned as he stretched his arms over his head, straightening his back and cracking the kinks from his spine. “What were you doing?” Jae-Eun asked once her shock had worn off. “You’re usually asleep this early in the morning.” Jimin shrugged as he rubbed his nose, flinching at how cold the tip felt. “I wanted to study some of those spells you mentioned the other day.” He grabbed the book from the desk, carefully closing the covers and ensuring none of the pages were creased. “I found this in your library and thought it would help me understand them better.” Jae-Eun cocked her head to the side before stepping into his room, the bangles around her ankles clinking together with each step. Jimin found it odd that Jae-Eun never wore closed shoes, preferring instead her sandals, the thin straps wrapping around her ankles and calves the only things keeping them on. Even during the winter months, she never took them off. He’d asked her before, numerous times, if she felt the cold and each time, she would simply smile before diverting his attention. He’d never gotten a straight answer out of her and he doubted he ever would. Gently, she took the book from him, cradling it in one arm as her other hand ran over the cover, her fingers lightly brushing along the raised print. Jimin didn’t know if it was the way the sun lit up her face or if he was just extremely tired, but he didn’t miss the way her lips quirked up into a small, fond smile, her eyes softening just enough for him to wonder if she’d ever looked at anything with that much love before. If she had, he’d never seen it. “Where did you find this, Jimin?” she asked. There was a softness to her voice that let him know that she wasn’t angry, so Jimin answered with the truth. “It was hidden underneath a stack of other books in your library.” He caught movement in the corner of his eye and turned his head to watch as a butterfly fluttered past his window. “Pretty hard to find, too. Why was it buried underneath everything else?” “Jimin, do you know what this is?” The sudden shift in conversation had Jimin staring blankly up at her, his head tilted to the side as she flipped through the pages. “Not really,” he said, “I just thought it was another one of your old spell books.” Jae-Eun smiled before she walked over to his bed, carefully taking a seat at the end as she re-arranged her skirt so it fanned prettily around her. Even when it was just the two of them, his teacher never looked anything less than immaculate. Jimin turned in his chair, resting his chin on the backrest as he waited for her to speak. “This is my most valued possession,” Jae-Eun began, “it is something that I have always cherished.” “But it was covered in dust and at the bottom of a pile of other books,” Jimin interrupted, smiling sheepishly as Jae-Eun sent him a glare for being rude. “Jimin,” Jae-Eun sighed, “just because something looks abandoned, that doesn’t mean it is. Never judge a book by its cover.” She scoffed and let out a quiet laugh at her own joke. “This book belonged to my teacher. She was a very powerful witch who could command the elements with ease and liked to write as a hobby.” Jimin leaned in, eager to hear more. It wasn’t often that Jae-Eun would talk about something so personal, something that no one else was privy to. “What did she write about?” he asked, his voice barely more than a hushed whisper. “Everything.” Jae-Eun smiled. “Whatever she could think of, she wrote down. It didn’t matter if it was something as mundane as the weather. If she thought about it, she preserved that thought in her books. I suppose it was her way of keeping a record of her existence.” “But I couldn’t find any of that in there,” Jimin said, pointing to the book sitting in her lap. “All it had were notes on spell casting and brewing.” Jae-Eun nodded. “And you wouldn’t have found it here. This book is special because this was the one she wrote all her spells and potions in. It was the only one that didn’t have all her random thoughts hastily thrown in.” Jae-Eun gently caressed the cover, her features softening as she stared at it. “She gave me this book when I stopped being her apprentice and began my journey as my own witch.” Jimin hummed. “So, it’s like a family heirloom.” “It’s similar,” Jae-Eun replied, “but not quite the same. An heirloom is the same piece passed from one person to another. This book only ever belonged to my teacher and now me. It has never been in anyone else’s possession.” “Is this something that witches do often?” Jimin asked as he gestured towards the book. “Is it some sort of ritual?” Jae-Eun chuckled, her lips pulling up into a small smile. “No. Witches are very private people, Jimin, some less so than others but we all still prefer the safety of our own sanctuaries. We rarely exchange gifts so to give something of ours to someone else shows a level of trust and respect that goes beyond mere acquaintance.” “Your teacher must have cared about you a lot,” Jimin said, his voice gentling towards the end. Jae-Eun startled and Jimin would have found her expression comical if he didn’t see the way her eyes began to glisten with unshed tears. Jae-Eun must have formed a deep bond with her teacher for him to get this sort of reaction out of his normally stoic teacher. And Jimin was reminded of just how human she really was. “She did.” Jae-Eun stood from the bed before turning around to smooth out the creases she had made. Jimin didn’t miss the way she dabbed at her eyes briefly nor the tiny sniffle. “And when the time comes for you to begin your own journey, it will be my turn to gift you something of mine.” Jimin smiled. “I’ll look forward to it.” Jae-Eun handed the book back to him, giving it one last pat before she turned on her heel and headed for the door. She flicked her wrist once and Jimin heard the creak of the hinges as it opened, a light draft entering his room just as she stepped out of it. Before the door could close behind her, however, her voice carried back into his room. “I expect you to be in the study and ready for your first lesson after you’ve had your breakfast. Don’t dawdle, Jimin. The time you waste now will be added to your lessons later.” Jimin groaned as he slumped in his seat, his head hitting the desk as he eyed the journal. He placed the tips of his fingers against the spine, barely brushing the worn leather and shivered as he felt it. Ripples of magic flowed beneath his fingers, faint, but still very much there. It surged with an energy he hadn’t felt since he’d first unlocked his magic and it sent his senses into overdrive. He could feel his own magic respond to it, welcoming it and urging it to connect with him. He felt lighter the longer he touched the book but also heavier, as if something were weighing him down, and the two contradicting sensations did nothing but confuse him. His whole body sung as the magic moved. It danced beneath his fingertips and Jimin smiled as he felt his own magic dance along with it. They swayed together and before he could stop himself, he began to hum a quiet tune. He didn’t know where he’d heard it before, doubted that he ever did, but it felt natural to sing it. His voice carried quietly into the empty room, high-pitched and slightly breathy. The magic in the book seemed to hear him and he felt it move with every rise and dip in his voice. Jimin smiled to himself before his singing was interrupted by the ringing of the town bell, three chimes in total, a signal for the town to wake up. He groaned as he pulled his hand away, his connection with the magic severed. He stood from the table and stretched as he walked over to his wardrobe, a basic wooden construction gifted to him by Jae-Eun when he’d been brought to be her student. He pulled out his grey tunic and a pair of black trousers before quickly changing, not wanting to keep Jae-Eun waiting too long – her threat of extending his lessons always had him ready in record time. Lacing up his boots, he smoothed out the front if his tunic and adjusted the belt as he walked out of his room, letting the door close gently behind him. Jae-Eun’s house wasn’t particularly interesting. It looked like any other house in town with its wooden framework and stone walls. The only thing unusual about the exterior was the bright red door, a stark contrast to the muted greys and browns of the rest of the house. And while the outside looked ordinary, the inside was anything but. Jars filled with plant and animal specimens lined the bookshelves. Stacks of books sat piled up on top of each other on the floor and tables and various potted plants filled in any free space. Some even hung from the ceiling, hanging precariously by thin chains of rope. The floorboards creaked beneath his feet as he walked and Jimin wondered, not for the first time, why Jae-Eun didn’t simply fix them. He knew she could do it, had seen it multiple times before when she’s patched up a hole in the wall with her magic, but every time he brought it up, she would always shake her head and sigh. “Magic comes at a cost, Jimin,” she’d said and left it at that. But she had put enough of her magic into the house for Jimin to feel it whenever he touched something. Whether it was a cup or the door handles, everything in the house thrummed with the pulse of her magic. And walking into the kitchen, he felt it even more. Jae-Eun liked to do her brewing close to where she kept her supplies and the kitchen was where she grew most of her plants and stored her specimens. Being careful to not knock over a stack of books near the door, Jimin made his way to the table where he saw a bowl and some oats already waiting for him. Smiling to himself, he grabbed the milk from the shelf, pointedly ignoring the eyeballs sitting in their own jar beside it before pulling up a stool and pouring the milk into the bowl. He chewed slowly and allowed his body to completely wake up, taking the time to enjoy the stillness of the morning. Finishing the last of the oats, Jimin licked his lips and brought the bowl up to his lips, drinking down the rest of the milk. He left the bowl and spoon in the sink, promising himself to come back later to clean up. The study was at the end of the hall, past Jae-Eun’s room and on the other side of a door that opened as he approached. Quickly closing the door behind him as he entered, Jimin paused. The study always radiated magic since this was where most of his lessons were conducted but he could never get used to the surge of it as he stepped through the door. It assaulted his entire being, crashing against him as he fought against its intrusion. The first time he’d stepped through the door, he had fainted and it left him with a headache so severe he couldn’t walk properly for a few days afterwards. Even now, years older, he still felt its affects and he had to brace himself on his feet as he forced his magic to create a shield around himself. It was very taxing and usually left him extremely tired afterwards, but he knew this was what he needed. Jae-Eun sat in the middle of the room, watching him carefully before gesturing to the space in front of her. “Take a seat, Jimin,” she said, “and we’ll get started.” Each lesson was always different and Jimin never knew what he would be in for whenever he stepped through the door, so he sat with apprehension running up and down his spine, his senses alert to whatever Jae-Eun wanted to throw at him first. Once he was settled, Jae-Eun spoke again, her voice calm and deceptively soothing. “We’ll begin where we left off yesterday. Start breathing slowly through your nose and focus. Close your eyes and feel your magic.” Jimin did as instructed, shallowly breathing through his nose the way she’d taught him all those years ago as he let his eyelids drop. His world turned dark in an instant, the only thing he could hear was his steady breathing. He was alone in an empty space before Jae-Eun’s voice cut into the void. “Call on your magic, Jimin. Let it surround you.” It was difficult, calling on his magic the way she wanted him to. His magic lived in him, it was a part of him. So, to feel it surround him was a concept he had never really grasped properly. But he still called out to it, he beckoned it and urged it to listen to him. “Concentrate. And keep your mind calm.” Jimin’s brows furrowed as he heard a high-pitched squeal somewhere to his left. It was faint, barely above a whisper, but he still heard it. The more he focused on it, the more it seemed to grow louder and before long, this quite buzz soon turned into an incessant ringing in his ear. He tried to block the noise out, and he could feel himself lift his hands up to his ears in a vain attempt to stop it but it didn’t help. “Jimin, stop.” It only got louder and louder. “Jimin!” It was almost deafening now, just how loud the noise was and he could feel his skull throb in time with his pulse. “That’s enough!” Suddenly, something was wrapping around his wrist. It pulled, startling him enough to break his concentration and he was abruptly brought back into the light. His eyes sprung open and his eyes rose to meet Jae-Eun’s, whose own had widened considerably. He looked down at his wrists and noticed that she had wrapped her hands around them, holding them in between them. Her hands felt clammy against his skin and he winced when her fingers dug into his wrists. Something crashed to the ground to his left and his head jolted to the source of the noise. The floor was singed, the stone turned charcoal black. It left a trail that lead all the way to the far wall, where a tall shelf stood. Or, at least it had been there. Bits of wood lay scattered on the floor, the outer frame the only thing standing as the edges of it burned in a bright orange flame. The books and jars that had sat on it before had been thrown to the ground, broken glass and all sorts of plants littering the floor. Charred remains of books lay beside them and Jimin winced when a shelf broke from the frame and crashed to the floor. “You are strong, Jimin,” Jae-Eun said, gently forcing Jimin to face her, “one of the strongest witches I’ve ever come across. But your magic is still unstable.” Jimin blinked up at her as she released his wrists, the skin turning slightly dark from where her fingers had been. “I did that?” he asked. Jae-Eun nodded. “You did. Though not on purpose.” She sat back on her haunches, placing one hand against the stone floor to lower herself onto it gently. “Your magic is restless which makes it difficult for you to control it. Accidents like these happen all the time to new witches, though the power with which your magic burst out of you isn’t exactly normal.” Jimin turned his head again to survey the damage. The fire had stopped burning as they talked and now only grey smoke rose from the charred remains, but the smell of burnt wood lingered in the air and the fumes stung at his nose. He raised his hands to his face as he coughed, the ash making his throat itch. Jae-Eun raised her hand and with a flick of her wrist, the small window sitting above her writing desk opened. “I’ll let the room air out before we continue with this.” Jae-Eun stood from the floor, dusting off her skirt as she did. “Come along, Jimin. Since we can’t use the study for the time being, let’s test out your brewing skills.” Jimin groaned as Jae-Eun stood by the door. His eyes flitted to the bookshelf for a brief moment before he was pushing himself off of the floor and hurrying after her. -- Jimin spent the rest of the morning in the kitchen, standing by Jae-Eun’s side and observing the way she cut the herbs and stirred the pot. Potion making was just as intricate as spell casting was. A bit too much rosemary in a potion could render it completely useless, a lesson he had learned the hard way when Jae-Eun had forced him to start over. How finely he sliced the petals of a hollyhock was important to how a potion turned out; too thin and he could potentially turn someone purple, too thick and the potion could render a man immobile for days. Thankfully, Jimin didn’t have the chance to find out if his concoctions would cause harm to another person since Jae-Eun made it a point to vanish each one he did wrong. The moment he made a mistake, his potion would disappear and a clean, empty pot would be sitting in its place. It had been frustrating at first, constantly having to start over until he got it right, but he knew that his potions would be the fine line between someone living or dying and he had to get them right. Jae-Eun was patient with him, carefully explaining each stage of the brewing process as he did them, correcting him when he made a mistake and praising him when he did something right. That morning seemed to be one of his better days. “Good, Jimin. You’re learning very quickly,” Jae-Eun praised gently as Jimin stirred, the murky brown liquid turning a very pale lilac. Jimin smiled, though he didn’t lift his eyes away from his potion. “I’ve been doing some study on my own,” he said, “about the different qualities of the plants we use.” Jae-Eun hummed. “It is unusual for you to be so studious. What has brought on this sudden change?” “Honestly, I don’t really know.” Jimin shrugged. “I’ve just suddenly gotten the urge to learn as much as I can while I still can.” When the shade of his potion turned darker he stopped stirring and lifted the ladle out of the pot, tapping it against the rim. “Sorry, I’m not really explaining it very well.” Instead of replying, Jae-Eun leaned over the table slightly and peered into the pot. Jimin waited as she assessed his efforts, and it felt like an eternity before a large smile lit up her face and made her eyes crinkle in the corners. He let out the breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding, the weight lifting off of his shoulders as relief flooded his system. Turning to a set of drawers hidden beneath a stack of books, Jae-Eun rummaged around in the top one, the clinking of glass echoing in the small room. When she turned back to face him, Jimin noticed she had a small glass vial in one hand and a clean ladle in the other. He couldn’t help but giggle at the bright orange and yellow swirls that decorated the handle, the colours moving and blending together as she held it in her hands. Like most things in the house, it too had been infused with magic and Jimin would often find himself simply watching the way the colours would dance around each other, fixated on how something so simple could be home to so much magical energy. “Let me bottle this up and then we’ll be on our way,” Jae-Eun said. Her lilting voice snapped Jimin out of his daydreaming and he whipped his head up to stare at her with wide eyes. “Wait!” he shouted as he reached his hands out to stop her. “You aren’t going to give this to someone, are you?” Jae-Eun simply brushed his smaller hands away, continuing with her task of bottling the potion up and placing a cork stopper in the top. When she was done, she turned to him and raised a hand, gently laying it against the crest of his head. “I’ve had a message about a client in need of a sleeping drought. It just so happened that today you managed to get the potion right which, in turn, saves me from having to make it myself.” She ran her fingers through his hair, a small, subdued smile pulling at her lips. “You should have more confidence in yourself.” Jimin blushed as he averted his eyes, too embarrassed to meet hers. He didn’t know what to say so instead, he chose to say nothing at all. All too soon, he felt the fingers in his hair disappear and he looked up just as Jae-Eun brushed past him. “We must leave now if we want to deliver this before it gets too late.” Jimin’s brows furrowed. “We?” Jae-Eun paused at the doorway. “You made the potion, Jimin. It is only right that you should present it to the client.” “But-” “The client is expecting us,” she said, cutting him off, “we mustn’t keep him waiting.” Jimin knew when he was being ordered to do something and he sighed wearily. He didn’t know a lot of people in the town, always too afraid to walk up to someone and introduce himself. Everyone knew who his teacher was though and he often felt intimidated by the reputation she had made for herself among the rest of the townsfolk. He knew that one day, he too would need to build a name for himself but he always pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind, content to ignore their existence until he needed them. He jumped as Jae-Eun’s voice cut through his thoughts, reminding him that any time he wasted dawdling would be added to his lessons later. Jimin pushed himself off of his stool, careful of the potted plants sitting at his feet before he ran out of the kitchen. He saw Jae-Eun pull her shawl across her shoulders and moved to do the same, taking his coat off the hook and wrapping it securely around his neck. The soft fabric fell in waves around his torso, the dark purple rippling with every move he made and he pulled up the collar so that it covered his mouth. The hood he left down, seeing no need for it just yet. “Okay,” Jimin said, adjusting the collar, “I’m all set.” -- The walk wasn’t very far, just a few streets from when they lived, but the afternoon foot traffic was making their trek slow. People pushed against them, hurrying to the next shop they needed to get to, ignoring anyone that had the misfortune of standing in their way. Jae-Eun simply smiled whenever a rude passer-by bumped against her shoulder, yelling for her to “watch where you’re going”. Jimin stayed glued to her side and would step behind her to dodge another person coming towards their direction. He clutched onto her shawl, being mindful of the delicate fabric. He didn’t want to get separated, not when there were so many people around. “It’s okay, Jimin,” Jae-Eun whispered. “You’ll be fine.” She didn’t take her eyes off her destination, her head held high even as people threw insults at her. It was no secret that they were witches, her bright blue shawl and large bangles only projecting to the world what she was and while many utilised her services and embraced what she was, there were still some who saw witches as something to be feared. And it was these few who voiced their opinion the loudest. It was one of the reasons Jimin dreaded having to step foot outside. “I know,” he replied, his eyes flitting from one person’s face to another, darting them away quickly whenever he spotted a glare, “I’m sorry.” Jae-Eun stopped walking suddenly and Jimin was too slow to react. He collided with her back and he staggered back as he rubbed his nose. “Jae-Eun, wha-” “Never apologise for who you are,” she said as she turned to face him. “Don’t let anyone else intimidate you into being something you aren’t.” Jimin stared up at her and he nodded, lowering his head to the ground when he could no longer hold her stare. Jae-Eun was strong, something that Jimin had come to realise early on. Snide remarks and disdainful looks didn’t faze her. If anything, they only helped to fuel her desire to prove them all wrong and to show them that no matter what they did or said, she would continue to be who she was, unapologetic in everything she did. It was a strength that Jimin himself wished he had and he couldn’t help but be grateful he had the fortune to be her student. She turned back around, set on continuing through the crowd but she paused and when Jimin didn’t immediately follow her, she raised a brow and bobbed her head, her eyes landing on the empty space beside her. Gathering his courage, Jimin stepped up beside her, lifting his head the same way he’d seen her do it before taking a step forward. He missed the way Jae-Eun smiled at his back, her eyes shining with pride. “Who’s the client anyway?” Jimin asked after a few moments of silence. “I don’t think you ever said who it was.” Jae-Eun waved a hand in front of her face, adjusting the bag she had slung across her front. “It’s just Chunghee. His daughter is apparently having trouble getting to sleep at night, so he asked me to make her a potion that would help.” “But instead you tricked me into making it,” Jimin deadpanned just as they rounded to corner and onto the street that Chunghee’s house stood on. Jae-Eun laughed as she reached a hand up to ruffle his hair. Jimin squeaked and tried to swat her hand away. His lipped pulled into a pout as he straightened the black strands, trying his best to look as presentable as he could. “I was only trying to kill two birds with one stone, Jimin,” she said. “It was a good way for you to get some practice and for me to have a potion for Chunghee.” “And what would you have done if I failed?” Jimin asked. Jae-Eun’s eyes flickered to him for a moment before they moved away. “I had every confidence that you would pull it off.” She patted the bag resting against her hip. “This proves that my faith in you wasn’t unwarranted.” Jimin huffed but chose to remain quiet, even as a part of him sung in joy, happy that he managed to make his teacher proud of him. As they drew closer to the house, a loud crash split the quiet air followed by a string of curses. Flinching, Jimin huddled close to Jae-Eun just as a man threw the door open and ran out into the street. He wrung his hands through his hair, huffing and swearing as he began to pace in front of his door. Some of his neighbours looked on with mild curiosity and fear, mothers herding their children away from the strange sight. Jae-Eun stepped forward, her feet sure as she walked up to the man. “Chunghee,” she said, “whatever is the matter with you?” The man, Chunghee, looked up and Jimin could see how wild his eyes looked, the pupils dilated so much he couldn’t even see the iris. His hair stood out every which way, a by-product of having run his hands through it earlier as sweat beaded down his forehead. Jimin almost took a step back when Chunghee’s eyes landed on him, widening so much Jimin wasn’t sure he would ever be able to close them again. “Jae-Eun! Please! Please, you have to help us,” he said, snapping his eyes back to Jae-Eun, who looked unaffected as Chunghee grabbed her arms and shook her. “Please, it’s Yeri. Something is strange with her. I don’t- I don’t know-” Jae-Eun raised her arms and gently placed her hands against Chunghee’s elbows. With soft tugs, she managed to free herself from his tight grip, not even flinching when his fingernails came away from her skin. “Calm down, Chunghee, and tell me what happened,” Jae-Eun said, her voice calm as if she were in a lesson with Jimin. “I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.” Jimin watched as Chunghee took a breath. “It’s Yeri.” He turned his head to look back at the house before he faced Jae-Eun again. “She’s been acting strange lately and I thought it was just because she wasn’t getting enough sleep.” “Which is why you asked me to make the sleeping drought,” Jae-Eun replied. Chunghee nodded. “Yes. But this morning she seemed different. She was so quiet and subdued. When I asked her what was wrong, she began shouting and throwing things.” He hung his head and Jimin could see that he was on the verge of tears. “I just don’t know what’s gotten into her.” Jae-Eun patted his back but her eyes were trained on the house. “She’ll be fine but I need you to stay out here, Chunghee.” Taking the vial out of her bag, Jae-Eun handed it over to him, gently placing it in his hands and wrapping his fingers around it securely. “Keep this. I have a feeling you will need this later.” “Jae-Eun,” Jimin said, “what is it?” “Follow me Jimin, and stay close,” Jae-Eun replied as she began walking towards the house. “I’m not exactly sure what we’ll find in there, but stay alert. I don’t need your inner balance affected either.” Before he could ask her any more questions, she was throwing the door open and striding through it. Jimin could do nothing else except to run in after her, closing the door behind him as he surveyed the room. Everything looked relatively normal except for the broken vase lying on the floor beside the low table. “Watch your magic, Jimin,” Jae-Eun said, her eyes focused on something on the other side of the wall. “We have a visitor.” Jimin could hear rustling on the other side of the wall before a young girl stepped around the doorframe, her bare feet padding quietly across the wooden floorboards. Her long, brown hair lay in soft curls around her neck and her large eyes stared at Jae-Eun for a moment before they focused on him. He could feel his magic ripple throughout his body, thrumming with an energy he’d never felt before. A shiver raced up his spine and he had to forcibly keep himself from shaking outright. Her eyes seemed to peer into his very soul and he forced his magic to create a shield around him, instinctively trying to protect himself from whatever she was. Because as human as she looked, there was something about her that didn’t seem quite right. “Hello,” the girl said, “I don’t mean to be rude, but who are you?” “No one important,” Jae-Eun replied and Jimin baulked at how casual she appeared to be. “Just some travellers passing through. Just like you.” The girl blinked and cocked her head to the side, her fringe falling into her eyes before she smiled. “What makes you think I’m a traveller as well? This is my house, isn’t it?” “No.” Jae-Eun said, her voice strong and loud. “You are an intruder and it would be quite convenient for everyone if you left.” The smile slipped from the girl’s face and Jimin urged his magic to strengthen his shield, hoping it would be strong enough to deflect whatever was coming their way. “I am no intruder,” she said, “Yeri invited me into her soul on her own. It’s mine now.” Jae-Eun took a step forward, raising a hand above her head. She moved her arm back down slowly, her wrist twisting and turning in a pattern that Jimin didn’t recognise. Her lips moved in a silent chant as her eyes never left Yeri’s form. “I said-” With one final flick of her wrist, sparks began to spring from her hand and Jae-Eun threw her arm out towards Yeri. “-to leave, demon.” A bright light surrounded her hand before it travelled the space between them and enveloped Yeri. Jimin raised his hands up to his ears to cover them, the scream coming from Yeri’s mouth so high-pitched he could have sworn he’d gone deaf. The room shook around them and Jimin forced his eyes open to see a black shadow seep out of Yeri, rising in the air before it disappeared, scattering into nothing. Jae-Eun ran forward, catching Yeri as she fell. She cradled the young girl against her side and placed two fingers against her wrist. She let out a sigh of relief as Jimin cautiously made his was over, his head turning every which way to try and see if he could find any trace of the shadow. “Don’t worry,” Jae-Eun said when she saw just how shaken he was, “it’s gone now.” Jimin knelt down beside her. “What was it?” he asked. “A soul demon. Pesky little things that like to inhabit people’s souls.” She gently pushed Yeri’s fringe away from her eyes, taking the time to dab at her damp skin with her sleeve. “They are particularly fond of people with weak hearts and clouded minds.” “But Yeri always seemed so happy,” Jimin mumbled, his eyes landing on the way Jae-Eun ran her fingers through the girl’s hair. “How could a demon possess her so easily?” “It is easy to hide behind a front when it feels like you have nothing else,” Jae-Eun said. “I don’t know why Yeri feels the way she does, but the demon could sense something in her that it could feed off of.” She sighed. “It is something that we must talk to her father about.” “It just seems so personal, though,” Jimin whispered, wrapping his arms around his knees as he rested his chin on them. “It feels like something we shouldn’t mess with.” Jae-Eun hummed. “Perhaps, but if we don’t, then it leaves Yeri vulnerable again. It is our duty to help those in need, Jimin, no matter what price we may have to pay.” The door burst open then and Chunghee stumbled in. “Yeri!” he yelled. He ran over to them and almost knocked Jimin over in his haste to get to his daughter. “Is she okay? Why isn’t she waking up?” Jae-Eun placed a hand on his shoulder. “Yeri is fine, Chunghee. She’s just asleep.” Jimin was surprised to find that she was right, Yeri’s breaths coming out even and shallow. “These last few days have left her exhausted and she’s just catching up on the sleep that she missed out on.” Jimin watched as Chunghee’s shoulders visibly sagged, as if a weight had been lifted from them. “Oh, thank god,” he mumbled. “How can I ever thank you, Jae-Eun?” Jae-Eun shook her head. “No need. It’s what we are here for. But I would like you and your daughter to come by my house tomorrow. There are things we need to discuss.” Jimin watched as Chunghee nodded before he gently scooped his daughter into his arms. He stood on shaky legs, probably from all the adrenaline leaving his system, before he began to move towards the stairs. Before he left, he turned to them again and bowed low, careful to not jostle his sleeping daughter too much. “Come along, Jimin,” Jae-Eun said, “we’ve had a long day and must get our rest as well. We’ll be having company over tomorrow, after all.” Jimin nodded and followed her out of the house, silently shutting the door behind him.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Jimin was sat at his desk again when Jae-Eun wandered into his room, balancing a tray that held a steaming bowl of soup and a glass filled to the brim with a bright pink liquid. He chose to not comment on it, having learnt long ago that to question Jae-Eun’s brewing skills would lead him down an endless path of lectures about different plants and their uses. Jae-Eun pushed away his cluttered mess of papers, quills, and odd trinkets and gadgets she had given to him at random times during his childhood to make room for the tray before depositing it. He stared at her before his eyes flittered to the soup – he didn’t want to look at whatever was in the glass – briefly before he raised them to stare at her in question. Jae-Eun sighed as she pushed the bowl closer to him. “Eat,” she said, “missing dinner is not healthy for a growing boy.” “I don’t think I’ve got much more growing left to do anyway,” Jimin mumbled. Jae-Eun slapped him upside the head. He hissed in pain as he reached both hands up to rub at the tender spot she’d hit. “Don’t talk back,” she said and motioned towards the bowl. “I expect it all to be gone.” Jimin eyed the glass with apprehension before reaching for the spoon. The first mouthful of soup didn’t seem harmful, but he swilled it in his mouth just in case. Jae-Eun had instilled in him the notion that just because something looked harmless, that didn’t necessarily mean it was. He’d had to learn that lesson the hard way. Jae-Eun nodded to herself as she walked over to his bed, satisfied, and sat down on the end. Jimin watched her carefully over the rim of his bowl, careful to not spill any of the soup onto his nightclothes. His teacher could be strict with her lessons, but she knew when it was appropriate to be the nurturing mother Jimin had been deprived of. As she sat perched on the end of his bed, one foot tucked behind the ankle of the other, he knew her more motherly instincts were taking over. “It’s been quite a long day,” Jae-Eun said and Jimin would have dismissed her comment as nothing other than small talk, but he knew she wasn’t the type of person to participate in such mindless formalities. “Are you feeling tired?” Jimin took his time swallowing his mouthful, debating on how to answer her. It wasn’t a difficult question and on any other given day, he would have answered her with his go-to response, but he had a feeling that wasn’t the answer she was looking for. “I don’t know,” he replied as he lowered the bowl, “it’s not that I’m tired, it’s just-” He cut himself off and sighed as he ran a hand through his hair. He couldn’t find the right words, the ones that would convey just how he truly felt, so he simply shrugged, lowering his eyes to the bowl in his lap. “I understand,” Jae-Eun said and Jimin snapped his head back up, his brows furrowing in confusion. Jae-Eun laughed, her voice breathy as she raised a hand to cover her mouth. “Don’t be so surprised, Jimin. You might think you’re a fully-fledged adult who knows how to conceal their emotions, but I can read you like a book. I know what you’re thinking before you do.” Jimin grimaced. “That’s a little creepy.” Jae-Eun rolled her eyes, an action that he himself was very familiar with and Jimin was instantly reminded of how young she actually was. With the way she carried herself, it was easy for him to forget she was only twenty-five years old. “Sometimes I wonder why I even agreed to take you on as my student.” “Because I was cute,” Jimin replied and quickly raised the bowl to his lips again when Jae-Eun sent him a glare. She clicked her tongue. “Remember,” she said, nodding her head towards the tray, “I want it all gone by the time we finish talking.” Jimin barely held in his grimace as he gulped down another mouthful of soup, wearily eyeing the glass still sitting on his table. “Okay,” he mumbled, “what did you want to talk to me about?” “About what we saw at Chunghee’s house this afternoon.” Jimin raised his eyes to meet hers, the bowl still poised at his lips. Jae-Eun was staring at him with an eerily blank face and while he was used to her showing very little emotion, the lack of anything in her features sent a shiver racing up his spine. He’d only ever seen her look this way once before and since then, Jimin had done everything he could to avoid having her stare at him with such dead, unseeing eyes. Jimin smacked his lips together as he lowered his eyes to the bowl again. “Do we have to?” “Yes,” Jae-Eun replied immediately, her tone sharp, “this is not something I want festering underneath this roof.” Jimin’s brows furrowed as her words sunk in. Jae-Eun liked to talk in riddles and rarely meant anything in the literal sense, so he knew that whatever was ‘festering’ wasn’t something physical. “What do you mean?” Jae-Eun sighed. “There is a darkness present that wasn’t here before.” She paused as she cocked her head to the side. “Can you not sense it, Jimin?” “I haven’t noticed anything strange,” Jimin said as he shook his head. He lifted the bowl to his lips to get the last bit of the soup before he turned his attention to the glass of pink liquid. Deciding to just suck it up and get it over and done with, he wrapped his hands around it and brought it to his lips. The first sip didn’t taste as bad as he thought it would, sweet with a touch of lime. His limited knowledge about potions and brewing prevented him from identifying anything else, but he considered it a bonus that he hadn’t keeled over and died yet. But as he took his third sip, a foul taste overtook his mouth and filled his nose and throat with something unpleasant. It stuck to the back of his throat and no matter how hard he tried to swallow, no matter how hard he tried to wash away whatever it was that was causing the bad taste, it wasn’t working. Shooting his eyes up to stare at Jae-Eun, his lips drew into a thin line as his nose crinkled and his brows came together. He noticed that she was watching him carefully, her large eyes narrowing as they raked over his body. Somewhere in the back of his mind, the thought that she had somehow poisoned him gnawed away at him, but he dismissed it as quickly as it had come. Jae-Eun didn’t need poison if she decided to kill someone. “Good,” she said, her eyes widening again as a small smile tugged at her lips, “it seems the demon didn’t get the chance to steal your soul.” “Steal my soul?” Jimin raised a brow as he grimaced and placed the glass down onto his desk. “Would we both notice if my soul had been taken without needing some weird tasting drink?” Jae-Eun shrugged. “Perhaps. But you saw for yourself how Yeri was.” She splayed her hands across her lap, smoothing out the wrinkles in her skirt. “That demon had been living inside of her soul for days before we got there. It was only a matter of time before it decided it’d had enough of playing.” Jimin dreaded asking, and deep in his core he probably already knew what her answer was going to be, but he decided to ask anyway. “What would have happened if the demon decided it did have enough?” Jae-Eun’s stare was piercing and her face blank as she said, “she would be a living corpse.” Jimin shuddered. An image of Yeri, still breathing, still alive, but unable to do anything, unable to respond flashed in his mind’s eye. He imagined how her father would have felt. He would see her every day and be tortured over the fact that he couldn’t do anything to help her. She would just be an empty shell, a phantom of what she once was. Jimin couldn’t imagine living that way and he was glad that Yeri nor Chunghee would have to experience that. “Magic is scary,” Jimin mumbled, the weight of what could have been sitting heavily on his shoulders. Jae-Eun nodded. “It can be. But it can also be beautiful.” She held out a hand, palm facing up and Jimin watched as a bright blue light erupted from her skin. It moved and swayed, dancing along her palm and fingers. Jimin watched carefully as strands of light came together to form a blue ball. It hovered over her hand for a moment before it glowed again, and a small, blue feathered bird appeared. Its feathers glinted in the light of Jimin’s lamp, coming and going, and bouncing along the walls as it beat its wings. It fluttered from one corner of the room to the other before stopping to hover in front of Jimin. He reached out a hand, slow and cautious, and waited for the bird to acknowledge him. He didn’t have to wait too long, however as, a moment later, the bird swooped in and nipped at the tip of his index finger. Jimin hardly felt a thing, the bird’s beak not even breaking the skin. He smiled, his eyes crinkling into tiny crescent shapes as the bird flittered about his head, darting around him in quick, short bursts of movement. “There are always two sides to a coin, Jimin,” Jae-Eun said, her voice quiet. “The side you see, depends on which side you choose to look at.” The bird chirped, snapping Jimin’s attention from Jae-Eun to it. It chirped again, a soft, high-pitched trill that made him smile before it fluttered down to land on Jimin’s open book. It sat in the crease between the pages and peered up at him, its small, dark eyes blinking at random intervals. “But what if all I see is the bad?” Jimin asked. “What if I can’t see the other side of that coin?” Jae-Eun didn’t reply and for a moment, Jimin thought she had left the room while he was distracted. But when he lifted his head, she was still sitting at the foot of his bed, staring at him as if he were a puzzle she was trying to decipher. He barely resisted the urge to squirm under her gaze, opting instead to meet it head on. “You fight.” Her voice was firm, and held an edge to it that Jimin had never heard before. “You overcome whatever it is that is keeping you from seeing both sides of the coin. And you don’t stop fighting until you do.” Jimin blinked. Her sudden burst of angry energy made him flinch and it took him longer than he would have liked to admit to realise she wasn’t angry at him. “Okay,” he said, “I will.” Jae-Eun nodded as a small smile passed over her features briefly. She pointed her chin at something over Jimin’s shoulder. “Make sure to finish the rest of that. It’s filled with herbs and vegetables.” Jimin blanched. “Wait, you mean there aren’t any secret ingredients in this? No eyeballs, no toenails, or hair from some random person’s head?” “Don’t be silly, Jimin,” Jae-Eun sighed, “those ingredients do nothing in this type of potion. Have you not been listening during our brewing lessons?” Jimin simply smiled cheekily at her, shrugging one shoulder as he picked up the glass. Just as he took his first sip – it still tasted disgusting – Jae-Eun spoke up again. “But I did put in some earwax as the identifier.” Jimin spit the drink back out into the glass and gagged as he jumped to his feet. Bolting from the room, he left his door wide open and vowed to never drink anything from Jae-Eun ever again. Her laughter followed him all the way to the kitchen, where he washed his mouth out in the sink before inhaling glass after glass of water in an effort to get rid of the foul taste. -- The morning of Chunghee and Yeri’s visit started out like any other. Jimin was rudely woken from his slumber by Jae-Eun, who had chosen to forgo any sort of magic and push him out of bed herself. Jimin landed on the floor with a pained grunt, still half asleep. He rolled over onto his stomach and rubbed at his sore back, cursing Jae-Eun’s ancestors for bringing her into the world. Jae-Eun simply told to him to “stop being dramatic” and get ready to start his morning lessons. Sitting on the stone floor was particularly painful since his lower back still throbbed whenever he shifted and moved in a way that caused his muscles to tense up. But thankfully, Jae-Eun seemed to pick up on his discomfort and only had him there for two hours instead of the usual four. This allowed him the time to study up on and practice his own conjuring abilities. He wasn’t as proficient at it as Jae-Eun was, having much less experience than her, but she had commented numerous times before about how he seemed to be able to easily pick up on the little nuances that such a difficult strain of magic had. It filled him with a sense of pride and confidence in himself that he’d been lacking recently. He stopped by Jae-Eun’s library to find books that he thought would be useful, scouring the shelves until he found a handful that looked promising when he skimmed through them. He didn’t know where Jae-Eun had disappeared to after the lesson – most likely on the hunt for new herbs to add to her endless supply – so he decided instead to get information from the books and journals she had lying about in her library. Humming happily to himself, Jimin made his way back to his room. The bird sat on the wooden frame of his bed, its tiny body perched on the backboard. It chirped as Jimin opened his door and he made his way over to it to stroke its head with his finger, shifting the books into the crook of his other arm so they wouldn’t get in the way. “Hey,” he said, cooing slightly as the bird peered up at him and chirped in reply, “sorry if I kept you waiting.” The bird blinked and butted its head against his finger. Jimin huffed out a laugh before he dumped the books on his bed and sat down heavily. He would usually study at his desk, that space always associated with his learning, but he couldn’t stand the idea of having to sit on the hard chair for a long period of time. Not until his back stopped throbbing, at least. He sighed as he felt the way his mattress gave way beneath him, cushioning him and easing the pain in his lower back. “Okay,” he mumbled, talking to no one in particular, “if Jae-Eun can conjure a bird, then I can do the same.” Jimin crossed his legs, a pose he had long ago grown accustomed to, before he laid is hands on top of his bent knees, palms facing the ceiling. He closed his eyes and thought of that dark void, of entering it and standing in the middle of it all. He evened out his breathing, taking long breaths in and letting it out slowly. The darkness came rushing to surround him a lot quicker than the last time, and Jimin smiled to himself, proud that his control over his magic was slowly improving. The noise from the outside world stopped and he was left in a dark world with nothing to greet him but silence. He was careful this time around, not wanting to draw in as much magic as he had before – he quite liked the layout of his room – and only felt a little string of it tease at his skin. He grasped at it, and allowed it to envelop his hand and fingers. It shone so brightly in the dark void that Jimin found it difficult to stare it for too long, and instead focused his energy on shaping it. It was difficult, and his brows furrowed as he struggled to bend his magic. Sometimes it refused to listen to him and instead chose to dance away from him, dodging him. Jimin knew that creating life was something he wouldn’t be able to do yet. It was dangerous and Jae-Eun had warned him many times to not meddle in it unless she were present to oversea his lesson. So, instead, he chose to create a leaf. It was something simple that didn’t require a heart to live and he was confident enough in his own abilities to be able to conjure it. But the more he tried, the more the magic seemed to want to do everything but listen to him. He grew increasingly frustrated as he watched it move and before he could stop himself, he grasped the string in a tight hold. He yelped and let go immediately, clutching his hand to his chest as the void disappeared and his room came back into focus. Looking around, he noticed the bird had moved from its perch on his headboard to hover in front of him, chirping in quick succession as it flitted about his head. Jimin flinched as he moved his hand and pulled it away from his chest to assess the damage. The skin on his palm was red and raw, blisters already forming around the burned skin. His magic had reacted badly to being handled and in turn had burned him. He hissed as he moved his fingers, the skin peeling away and bleeding. “It’s okay, little guy,” he said as the bird continued to chirp at him, “I’m fine. Just a little burn. Nothing to be worried about.” Jimin got up from his bed, careful about his injured hand before throwing his door open and racing to the kitchen. Thankfully, Jae-Eun hadn’t returned from her foraging and he scuttled over to the sink to hold his hand under the running tap. He flinched but grit his teeth together, stemming the flow of curses he wanted to scream to the world. The bleeding stopped and his skin looked a lot less irritated the longer he kept it under the water. When he deemed his skin had healed enough, he rummaged through Jae-Eun’s stash of medical supplies and salves. Finding the pale blue salve he knew healed burns and some bandages, he rushed over to the table to deposit his findings before plopping down onto a stool. Opening the jar was difficult, and he had to grip it in his right arm as his left hand turned the lid, but when he finally did manage to get it open, he scooped up as much as he could and applied it to his skin. Almost instantly, the pain began to disappear, replaced with a dull throb. The heat in his palm lessened and he sighed in relief as he felt the salve seep into his skin and ease the burn. “I hope Jae-Eun doesn’t find out about this,” he sighed, already playing out the scenario in his head of his teacher seeing the bandage. “Find out about what?” Jimin jumped and he let out a loud squeak as his head shot up and turned to the doorway where Jae-Eun stood, a large, woven basket strapped to her back. She eyed the open jar of burn salve and the way Jimin hunched over his hand, protectively cradling it against his chest as he stared at her with wide eyes. Hers narrowed in suspicion as she walked over to him, unstrapping the basket as she went and depositing it by the leg of the table. “What don’t you want me to know, Jimin?” she asked, her voice deceptively calm. “Uh-” Before he could answer, Jae-Eun snatched his hand away from his chest, her long fingers wrapped around his wrist. Jimin yelped and tried to pull his hand back but her grip was strong and she gently pried his fingers away so she could see the burn for herself. She stood in silence for a moment before she reached over for the bandages. Silently, she went to work, her hands nimble and light, efficiently bandaging his hand tight and tying it off. She turned to screw the lid back onto the jar and without a word, put it back into her store cupboard. Jimin watched her, not sure about what was running through her mind. He remembered past experiences where Jae-Eun had scolded him severely for the littlest mistake but her silence now only made him fidget in his seat. He would honestly prefer if she yelled her head off about how careless he had been. “I do not think I need to lecture you about your actions,” Jae-Eun started as she made her way to sit on the stool in front of Jimin, “since you’ve been punished enough.” Jimin blushed as she stared down at his hand. “But tell me, what were you trying to do that burned you as badly as it did?” Jimin sighed. “I wanted to practice conjuring something.” Jae-Eun’s eyes snapped up to meet his. “That is a very difficult thing to do, Jimin. To create life from nothing is something that should not be done on a whim.” “I know. I’m sorry,” he replied, lowering his eyes to his lap where he was wringing his hands together. “It won’t happen again.” “But I suppose,” Jae-Eun said, talking immediately after his apology, “that I can’t be too angry with you. It has taken me years to make you hungry for this knowledge so I can not complain too loudly when you seek this information out for yourself.” “I don’t know what’s changed,” Jimin mumbled, “but I just want to know everything.” Jae-Eun chuckled, light and airy as he smiled to himself. “Your magic is maturing which, in turn, means you do too.” She paused then as she tilted her head to the side, her eyes turning glassy. “Chunghee and his daughter will be here soon. Clean up and join us in the study when you are finished.” Jimin watched as she stood from the stool and dusted her skirt off. Just as he opened his mouth to ask her what she meant, light tapping sounded throughout the house and a voice called out to them. “That will be them,” Jae-Eun said. She turned back to him just as she reached the doorway. “Quickly, Jimin. We don’t have all day.” Jimin blinked and, after having sat with his mouth open for too long, jumped from his stool to clean up the table. He packed away the extra bandages and cleaned up around the sink as he listened to Jae-Eun and who he assumed to be Chunghee conversing at the front door. He heard them shuffling past the kitchen and bowed to both Chunghee and Yeri as they passed by. Quickly finishing up and making sure everything was where it was supposed to be, he wiped off his hands and headed to the study. He could hear voices already inside and he knocked tentatively a few times before opening the door and letting himself in. Jae-Eun sat at her desk, her fingers steepled underneath her chin and looking for all intents and purposes like the powerful witch she was. Chunghee and Yeri took up the only other available seat, a long, read couch that looked like it had seen better days, which left him with no where to stand but beside Jae-Eun. The study wasn’t as heavily furnished as the rest of the house and Jimin noted that the bookshelf he’d completely destroyed the day before had been restored and sat where it always had. Even the books that were sitting on its shelves were there and he wondered how long it took for Jae-Eun to fix them. “Now that everyone is present,” Jae-Eun said when Jimin reached her side, “we can begin.” Not knowing what to expect from this, Jimin remained quiet, content to let Jae-Eun do most of the talking for the both of them. Jae-Eun turned her head slightly to look at Yeri, and Jimin watched the girl flinch in surprise as his teacher’s eyes focused on her. “How are you feeling today, Yeri?” Jae-Eun asked and even Jimin had to blink at the greeting, not expecting her to start off with something so mundane. “Better, I hope.” Yeri smiled as she fiddled with the hem of her sleeves, looking much more like the child she actually was. Jimin couldn’t help but blink at her demeanour, so unlike the last time he saw her. “I’m fine,” she said, raising her eyes briefly to look at Jae-Eun, “I feel a lot better.” Jae-Eun hummed. “Much more like yourself, I presume.” “Yes!” Yeri nodded, her hair bobbing with the movement. “I don’t know what happened and I don’t remember much from the last couple of days, but I don’t feel as sick anymore.” Jimin couldn’t believe how different she was. Gone were the dark circles and pale skin. Gone were the hollowed cheeks and cold eyes. In their place was a happy, bright, cheerful child who couldn’t keep still and fidgeted in her seat the way only young children were prone to doing. He couldn’t help but smile. Jae-Eun sent Yeri a small smile herself before she turned her attention to Chunghee. “When did you first notice Yeri acting strangely?” Chunghee grunted as his brows furrowed. “A day or two before I asked you about brewing a sleeping potion for Yeri.” He paused as he reached over to his daughter and stroked her head. “She was complaining about not feeling well and would be up at odd hours of the night.” “I see,” Jae-Eun said and while those two simple words would mean nothing to anyone else, to Jimin, they meant more than either Chunghee or Yeri knew. “Have you heard of anyone else complaining of the same symptoms?” Jimin’s head snapped to Jae-Eun but her gaze remained firmly fixed on Chunghee. Jimin didn’t want to believe it, refused to even consider the notion, but the way Jae-Eun had worded the question sent a shiver racing up his spine. “Not that I can recall,” Chunghee replied. “Jae-Eun,” Jimin said, “you aren’t trying to imply that there are more of them, are you?” Jae-Eun’s eyes flickered to meet his for a moment before they moved back over to Yeri. Jimin could see her frown behind her hands, her eyes narrowing just enough for only him to notice. “Perhaps. But that would be speculation and until I can gather enough evidence, I can only assume that it was the only one.” “The only one of what?” Chunghee asked, his voice laced with confusion as his head moved between Jae-Eun and Jimin. “What made my daughter act the way she did?” Jae-Eun waved a hand in front of her face. “I will explain in due time. For now, there are things I would like to ask Yeri.” At hearing her own name, Yeri sat straighter in her seat, her legs dangling over the edge as she swung them back and forth. She swayed to a beat only she could hear and began to play with the edge of her sleeves again, an action that Jimin learnt she did when she was nervous. Though, what she was nervous about, he didn’t know. “Yes,” she said as she raised a hand, “I can answer.” “Good,” Jae-Eun replied and Jimin could see she was trying to fight back a smile at the little girl’s antics, “just answer me the best way you can, Yeri.” At Yeri’s nod, Jae-Eun continued. “I heard from your father that you have a lot of friends.” Yeri nodded. “Lots and lots! I have this many.” She held up both hands and spread her fingers wide, wiggling them around as she giggled. “I know Ayeon, and Dongwan, and Hiyojin, and-” Chunghee grabbed her hands, wrapping his fingers around hers to stop her rambling. “It’s okay, Yeri, we know you have a lot of friends.” Yeri blinked up at him before a wide smile broke out onto her face. She giggled as she focused her attention back onto Jae-Eun. “I’m sorry.” “It is fine, Yeri, no need to apologise.” Jae-Eun leaned forward, lowering her arms so she could lean against them slightly, her hands cupping her elbows. “You must talk with your friends quite a bit.” “Yes, we do,” Yeri replied. “We play games too.” “Oh?” Jae-Eun raised a brow. “What sorts of games do you play?” “Hide and seek mostly. We have so much fun playing,” Yeri said and Jimin could tell how excited she was by the way she bounced in her seat. “But Sunmi is really good at it. She knows all the best hiding spots.” Chunghee tilted his head, his eyes narrowing. “Sunmi? I don’t think I’ve met her before,” he said, “Yeri, is she a new friend of yours?” Yeri nodded and Jimin wondered briefly if her neck was sore from all the movement. “Yeah! We met a few days ago.” “That’s nice, Yeri,” Jae-Eun said, “I hope you continue to make more friends as you grow older.” Yeri smiled up at her and it was only then did she turn her attention to Chunghee. “You asked me earlier what caused your daughter to act the way she did.” “Is it something I should be worried about?” Chunghee asked. Jae-Eun shook her head, waving her hand in front of her face. “No. The threat to your daughter is gone. She is safe now.” She chanced a brief glance at Jimin and he flinched as her eyes connected with his. “But there is a chance that others are in danger.” Jimin felt his blood run cold as the hairs on his skin stood to attention. He shivered as the implication of her words hit him and he had to forcibly stop himself from wrapping his arms around his torso. “What was it?” Chunghee’s voice was quiet, a stark contrast to the usual blast of noise and it made Jimin blink at him in surprise. “A soul demon,” Jae-Eun replied. If she noticed how Chunghee seemed to shrink in fear, she didn’t show it. “They possess the souls of living things before taking it. The victim does not die, but they are no longer living, either.” Chunghee pulled Yeri closer to himself, wrapping one arm around her shoulders as she buried her face against his side. And Jimin was suddenly struck by how small they looked, huddled on the couch, wrapped protectively around each other. “But as I said before,” Jae-Eun said, forcing three sets of eyes on her, “your daughter is no longer in danger. We’ve taken care of the demon and it will no longer bother either of you.” “But why did it choose Yeri?” Chunghee asked and a small part of Jimin wondered the same thing. “Why did it target her and not anyone else?” “Soul demons choose souls that are pure and vulnerable. Yeri is a child, and as such, will have the purest soul,” Jae-Eun replied. “But she has also lost someone dear to her recently.” She brought her hands up and cupped one around the other, resting her chin lightly against them. “The passing of your wife is what pushed her over the edge and the soul demon took advantage of it. It consumed her soul and would have taken it if we had arrived any later than when we did.” A strangled noise escaped Chunghee’s mouth, an answering one coming from Yeri and she buried herself even deeper against her father’s side. “Thank you,” he said as he kissed the top of Yeri’s head, “thank you for saving her.” Jae-Eun bowed her head, her mouth lifting up into a small smile. “Of course. It is what we do.” Then she stood from her seat, the legs squeaking against the stone floor. “It is getting quite late in the day, and I imagine you both must be tired from your ordeal.” Chunghee stood as well, carefully lifting a trembling Yeri in his arms. Jimin chose to ignore the way she sobbed against her father’s neck. “We are,” he said, “and we thank you for your time, Jae-Eun.” “Our door will always be open to you and your daughter, Chunghee,” Jae-Eun said as she stepped from behind her desk. “Jimin, I think we’ll have soup again tonight. Can you go and get the fire started?” Jimin nodded. “Sure.” As he moved to step past Chunghee, he bowed to the older man and gave Yeri an encouraging smile. He closed the door behind him as he left, Jae-Eun’s voice slowly drifting into silence as he did and made his way to the kitchen. The house was quiet as he walked, a strange feeling and one he was very unfamiliar with. The usual hum of magic was almost non-existent and he could only attribute it to the turbulent thoughts of his teacher. Stepping into the kitchen, he took a moment to appreciate the way the walls were painted a dull orange, the setting sun shining its last rays of light through the window. It was beautiful, the way the light danced across the walls and Jimin believed that nature held its own kind of magic. Turning to the stove, he got work. Fire was easy. Jimin knew how to make fire, so setting up the stove didn’t take too long. He cupped his hand around the wood, careful of any stray twigs and felt his hand heat up. It didn’t hurt, and he only felt a slight discomfort but soon, a large ball of flame engulfed his hand. He brought his hand closer to the wood and waited patiently for them to catch fire. When they did, he shook his hand and all that remained was a black smoke, lifting from his skin and wafting over to the open window. He heard a scuffle behind him and he turned just in time to see Chunghee pass through the doorway. Jae-Eun appeared a moment later and she sighed as she brought her hands up, showing him the empty vial. “Sleeping drought,” she supplied, “Yeri refused to stop crying.” Jimin took the vial form her and moved to the sink. He cleaned it out, careful to get all the remaining dregs and liquid from the bottom out before he stored them in the cupboard. He heard Jae-Eun pull up a stool behind him and he turned to find her hunched slightly over the table. “Is something wrong, Jae-Eun?” he asked as he made his way over, pulling up his own stool and sat opposite her. “I thought the talk went well.” “I’m not worried about that,” she said. “I am more concerned about the soul demon.” Jimin cocked his head to the side. “I thought you said we took care of it.” “We did.” “Then what’s bothering you?” Jimin asked, even more confused than he was before. “Soul demons, while terrifying, are not all that powerful,” she sighed. “They do not have the ability to open the gate separating the human world from the underworld.” Jimin blinked. “Okay?” “Which means there is another, more powerful force at work here. One that can open the gate and unleash the demons onto our world.” “But that soul demon was pretty strong,” Jimin said, not wanting to believe something even more terrifying lurked in the shadows. “What could be strong enough to open the gate?” “Sunmi.” Jimin reeled back, not having expected that answer. “Sunmi? Yeri’s friend?” Jae-Eun nodded. “There is no child in this town who goes by the name ‘Sunmi’. The fact that Yeri only met her a few days ago makes the think that she is the one who started this whole mess.” “But-” Jimin swallowed, “but how can you be so sure? You can’t possibly know every person who lives here.” “But I do know everyone who lives in this town,” Jae-Eun replied. “I make it a point to know each and every person who sets foot here. And there is no child named Sunmi.” Silence enveloped them then, the only sound the wood crackling in the fire. It took a while before Jimin could find his voice again and he had to rub his palms against his pants to dry them. “What do we do now?” he asked. “We look for her and banish her back to the underworld,” Jae-Eun replied as she stood, walking over to the store cupboard to fish out her cooking pot. “We mustn’t allow her to continue opening that gate.”