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Chapter Text

It was almost over. Rumi panted as she swung her sword in an arc, gritting her teeth as it passed through three demons. In her skin, she could feel her patterns pulsing, filling her with euphoric peace.

Across the arena, Mira and Zoey were ripping through more demons. Notably, Mira clashed sword to claw against Romance, swirling as he made a grab at her. Zoey was locked into battle against a swarm of lesser demons, cutting through them like a wheat field.

They had made it through a good two thirds of the forces – including Abby and Mystery of the Saja boys.

Seeing their progress, Gwi-Ma roared. A bead of sweat ran down Rumi’s neck as she flinched at the rumbling burst of flames. They spewed out that unearthly, crackling smell. Like burnt sand.

With his anger, Rumi noted in alarm some of the demons around her disintegrating.

Into fuzzy, whizzing souls.

Straight towards Gwi-Ma.

His flames grew in size, sending a pulse through the air and floor. The swell of hot air hit Rumi in the face, causing her to stumble.

After recovering, Rumi felt a sudden sense of premonition. Skidding to a halt, she made quick work of the demons tailing her, allowing her to pause and analyse. A sense of dread hit her as she did.

The rumble has caused the floor to crack.

And the Honmoon had ripped with it.

Immediately, a sharp pain surged through Rumi’s head. She sent urgent looks at her best friends, who she saw through blurry eyes fall to their knees.

Why is the new Honmoon doing that?

Clambering quickly to her feet, she sprinted despite the pain in her head towards the swirling, red rip that had opened up in front of the stage.

“Your voices cannot defeat me!” Gwi-ma boomed, sending a barrelling comet of hellfire straight towards Rumi.

Throwing up her sword, her patterns pulsed again, filling her with a rising urge of power. The beam pressed against her like a gushing stream of water, forcing her like a rock-solid weight to her knees.  I have to do this!

The feeling was immense.

Unbearable, almost.

But I’ve accepted myself.

I know myself.

I. Won’t. Yield.

“Aaagh!” Rumi screamed, tears running out of her eyes as she was pushed further down. She would try with everything she had, but as she did, Gwi-Ma matched it and more.

I can do this! She drew desperately on the wispy power of the people’s souls fill her with strength.

 Gwi-Ma still barrelled against her.

Eventually, despite her resolve, his force started to overpower her. All she could feel was the pure pain splitting her force field. Her breath started to falter.

She was going to lose.

Somewhere in her heart she thought this was okay. She knew Zoey and Mira would be able to take the last of the forces. They’d restored the Honmoon. If anything, she’d been able to die with that knowledge tucked inside of her.

As she felt her knee brush the floor, there was a sudden release. A stop to the pain. She could’ve almost cried at the relief. Her hands still shook from the pressure.

She looked up, her tired mind suddenly doused with the cold water of who was in front of her. Who had protected her.

Jinu.

Something within her cracked, feelings lodged in her throat as she saw what he was doing.

“Jinu, no!”

Resolute amber eyes stared solemnly out of his true demon face. He had pressed himself against the beam, broad back pressed against the fire, just as she herself had been. With the absence of the weight, Rumi reckoned with the sweltering heat pouring out of the beam. Intense. Burning.

Burning Jinu.

“I’m sorry for everything,” Jinu whispered, falling from his beautiful lips like a prayer. A piece of his shoulder burnt away.

Rumi had been angry – distraught, even – at his betrayal, but she nothing but horror now as he’d taken the beam. She didn’t even care that he’d betrayed her. She only cared about him. For him.

“No,” She almost cried, desperation breaking her voice, “I wanted to set you free!”

As his legs and arms flaked away, Rumi felt something within her snap and ruin. They’d lost their chance.

That damned smirk of his grew on his face, framed by the purple patterns which they shared. He looked oddly at peace.

“You did,” he replied, softly, “You gave me my soul back. And now…” His patterns began to glow a wonderful, ethereal white, “I give it to you.”

Behind them, the voices of the arena seemed to hum angelically, chanting to the backdrop of Jinu’s soul floating out of his broken body. An indescribable feeling flooded Rumi as she saw him smile, his last act devoured by flame.

 Jinu’s bright, blue spirit – exactly like the unblemished one of a human – swirled and started to rush into her. Of course your soul is beautiful, Rumi thought in a bittersweet wash of grief.

In seconds, there was nothing left.

In the back of her mind she noted what this was – what she had done, what Jinu had sacrificed – and it all sharpened her resolve to the most powerful emotion she’d ever felt.

Hope. 

Determination overpowered her grief, and she gripped her sword tighter.

Let’s finish this.

Supernaturally, Rumi became aware of the way Jinu’s spirit invigorated her, bleeding out of her and around her in a beautiful halo.

Power coursing through her veins, Rumi took her sword like a scythe, dramatically reaping it down towards the centre of Gwi-Ma. Pumping her legs, she pushed into the air, becoming acutely aware of how Zoey and Mira’s determination had also bled out into similar halos.

It’s the voices. The Honmoon!

They started to lift, like a holy parallel to the Saja boys’ performance earlier. A spark of pure energy lifted them, pulling them up and together.

“This is what it sounds like!” Sung the crowd, as her and her best friends joined together, facing the giant wall of flame that was the demon king.

Celestial colours fused together into a brilliant white, flowing out from the crowd below, bursting from the power of their souls and voices and hearts all together. In a potent, shining light, a buzz rippled through Rumi as all of that energy coalesced – rising to a peak.

They sung.

They built.

“This is what it sounds like!”

Gwi-Ma’s final roar echoed into the oblivion as the power joined in that powerful beam, rushing like his own fire had done earlier. Purple flickers of ash threw up into the air, as the giant wall of fire was doused into nothing.

Rumi could feel nothing but pure happiness in that moment, surrounded by her friends, finally achieving the vanquishing of their greatest enemy. It beat out of the hollow chamber of her heart.

Looking at Zoey and Mira – floating high above the arena – it was as if nothing in the world could touch them, as long as they had each other.

Rumi grinned, tears in her eyes.

But the feeling didn’t last long.

Rumi felt a tugging at her legs. Then, at her arms. At first she thought it had been one of the girls. Then her whole body was moving backwards.

Mira and Zoey shot her desperate looks of alarm as they saw Rumi fall backwards in the air. Slowly then quickly, a magnetic force had pulled at her.

And it pulled her down, down, down.

“Rumi!” Zoey and Mira cried out, shock colouring their faces.

Rumi screamed. In barely any time at all, Rumi felt the breath press out of her lungs as she realised how quickly she was being sucked downwards, towards the front of the stage.

That was where the Honmoon had ripped so strangely earlier!

And because of what we did, now it’s shutting!

“Zoey! Mira!” Rumi yelled again, falling helplessly into the only open part of the Honmoon.

Time felt as if in slow motion as Rumi dropped. Within a second, Rumi was falling with terrifying speed at the unnatural opening in the Honmoon. This can’t be happening, not now!

But then she was so close.

And there was no time to think in those last moments.

All Rumi saw were the horrified faces of her friends as she brushed against the chiming, wonderful power of the Honmoon they had created just minutes ago. Resolution overtook despair as Rumi accepted her fate.

I’m really going down.

Rumi fell into a blaze of heat.

In those last moment, Rumi felt her throat burn as she tried to call out Mira’s name. Her eyes watered as she couldn’t force out Zoeys. Flickers of Céline’s face crossed her thoughts.

Jinu’s amber eyes were the last thing she saw.

And then there was nothing.

Chapter Text

Rumi woke up with a start. The back of her head felt weirdly sticky, and her arms and legs were tingling. Painfully aware of herself, she pushed herself up to her elbows, wiping at her forehead.

So I’m not dead.

Despite being a hunter – and part demon – she’d figured a far enough fall would mean lights out. That rip had not been natural. Especially as the weird sucking had caused her to blackout as she’d fallen.

Pushing down her residual pain, Rumi took in her surroundings. She’d only ever heard scraps of how the underworld was described – but this was pretty horrific.

Giant swathes of grey field stretched as far as her eye could see, peppered with twisted black trees. The sky was grim, casting a subtle dusk over the area. Rumi noticed a burnt sand smell in the air, like a dying ash, that lingered faintly. Chills shot down her spine at the reminder of the previous battle. The smell of Gwi-Ma.

It was subtler here, thank the stars.

Rumi focussed, trying to summon her sword. She didn’t see any nearby demons – but the specks in the distance were probably only miles out. She’d not chance having the sword out all the time, if she wanted to blend in, but she wanted to know if she could defend herself.

Concentrating, she felt a spiritual pull, and a few slivers of mist appeared in her hand. The tug in her mind deepened, finding serious resistance. It was as if someone on the other side was stopping her. Is it the underworld doing this?

Rumi gritted her teeth. Come on, don’t fail me now! In her hand, the flickers of mist grew stronger – but like an elastic band – eventually they snapped away to nothing.

At the failure, Rumi cursed loudly.

She needed a plan, stat. If she squinted, the iridescent turquoise of the Honmoon was visible in the sky. Not gold. Which meant she could sneak out through it.

But to do that she needed resources, and a good line of defence. A lay of the land. Some food. Right now all she had were her own injured hands and an unwieldy grasp of her demon powers.

I’d better do this fast, then.

Standing up, she brushed herself off, and noticed another thing that was different.

Her hands.

Turning them up and down, the patterns she’d only recently seen turn a pearlescent white had mellowed back to something closer to purple. Panic shot through her icily.

It shouldn’t mean anything, considering where she was. If there was anywhere that was meant to make her more demonic, it was the demon world.

Yet still that leftover terror remained, fragile and welded like glass through years of secrecy.

Killing demons with our song…

Rumi bit her tongue, shaking the haunting melody.

Now, for the hard part. What to do…

The best course of action would be to trek towards some form of civilisation (if you could most demons civilised). She’d stay under the radar, joining in some group as they left through weak spots if the Honmoon.

There was nothing else if she didn’t, Rumi thought desperately. She couldn’t stay here. She couldn’t.

Mira and Zoey and Celine and Bobby and all her fans…

Failure wasn’t an option.

Resolute, Rumi started trekking towards the spots of light she saw in the distance.

Her hands were rough, her body splintered with pain as she clambered, her vision was doing all it could not to swim.

For a moment, she wondered if the endless hills would continue perpetually.

Ascending and descending, she breathed the air in deeply – crisp, like a bright winter’s day – but oppressive on some soul-level. As she met the hard ledges, barely managing to find footing, the despair felt like it hit her all the way into her bones.

The bleakness broke with a laugh as she remembered.

Tugging at the rocks, how she had once tried to bring her and Mira on a hike, when they had first formed their group. The shortest in the group had somehow managed to retain her sunny smile and energy whilst Rumi and Mira grumbled along… they’d never hiked again.

Now, she felt herself scoff at the actions of her previous self. Being bruised up, alone, and equipment-less? Could’ve done with a few hiking sessions to prepare.

She could’ve clung to the happy memory, but seeing this austere world she was in turned the memories darker. Rumi suddenly found that morbid curiosity she’d harboured for the demon world as a child immensely funny. How curious she had been about hell.

She’d been so young, in that first lesson about it with Celine.

Staring at sketches images of an underworld on aged pages, Celine hovered over her shoulder, as imperious as she was warm.

“Has a hunter ever gone to the underworld?” Rumi had asked, reverently trailing the ink strokes of the pages.

Céline’s mouth drew into a hard line.

“Once, a long time ago. She was brave and strong, a lot like you, little one. But no one has ever truly gotten back.”

Rumi gulped, “But I thought hunters were stronger than that? That we could always fight off the demons?”

Celine carefully shut the book.

“Nothing is the same in the demon world, Rumi. And we aren’t invincible. There are more things you have yet to see that will show you why, Rumi.”

A chill bolted through Rumi’s spine.

What was it that killed a hunter?

Well, Rumi thought bitterly, finding purchase in a nook, remembering hordes of demons spilling through rips, I think I’ve now got intimate knowledge of what can do that.

Lost in her thoughts, Rumi’s heart dropped as the nook cracked. Rubble fell to its death down the steep rock. Holy stars. Risking a glance down, she saw the fall.

Rumi’s life flashed before her eyes.

Add climbing to that list.

It must’ve been a long while later that Rumi finally collapsed.

She’d gotten very far. She was bone-tired. She’d even started to see something that looked like mountain trails and cobblestones. It was progress…

So, as much as she fought it, Rumi shut her eyes. It should’ve been disturbing how easily she could fall into blissful sleep, but here she was, curled up on some flattish rock.

In the middle of the demon world. Next to a road. Tired and alone…

As her mind slowed to a halt, she could’ve sworn she’d started to hear some faint metallic clanging. But maybe it was her imagination. Maybe she was hallucinating.

I’ll defend myself…

And before she could dwell on that, the clutches of sleep took her into its embrace.

——

Eventually, Rumi’s eyes cracked open. Yawning, Rumi rubbed at her eyes, reaching across her bed to turn off her alarm. But there was no smooth alarm. Rumi felt grain. Like wood.

Jolting awake, Rumi remembered where she was. The breath know led out of her as she realized that she was on something moving, jittering about as it travelled across stones. Made of black wood, it was some large kind of cart. She winced at a rickety bump, and at the sour stench of unwashed in the air.

Feeling a weight beside her, Rumi froze.

Next to her was a little demon boy whose fangs stuck out of his mouth as he slept still beside her. In the rest of the cart slept four more demons, slumped over like they’d been shot. The two who weren’t stared dismally out into the sunset sky, eyes slitted like jaguars. They looked almost human. Almost.

Rumi felt suddenly restless, an itch in her instincts telling her to get them all.

Soul stealers.

But first herself. Logistics. Information. Plans.

She took a deep breath, feeling the scent again. Scanning, she realised the collection of demons seemed random, noticing only that they were perhaps more humanoid than normal. In fact, a few boasted fully human looking parts – like unblemished hands or cheeks.

Was this… a kind of roundup? Or who? Strays? Slaves?

Prisoners?

Her mind raced. Oh no.

Did they recognise me? Are they going to kill me?

We did just slay their king.

Rumi sat crouched into herself for many minutes, trying to work out her next best move. Theoretically, she could jump off the cart. But on the other hand – if she wanted to get to a weak part of the Honmoon - she’d need to be with demons. That meant staying.

But what is going to happen to me if I stay?

Weighing her options in her head, she let her burning helplessness get the better of her.

 A couple feet away from her was a spindly, pink-haired demon with a gaunt purple face and a solemn gaze. Wrapped in a loose blanket, he seemed like her best bet.

I have to know where I’m going.

She needed to get some logistics of the demon world.

“Hey,” Rumi tried, her voice as whispery as a breeze.

The demon didn’t stir.

“Hey, you,” She started again, giving herself volume.

Slowly, the demon’s head looked towards her. He looked so bored with her she felt almost bad.

“Do you… know where we’re going?”

The demon scoffed.

Rumi gripped her fingers into her palms.

“Please? I’m –“ Rumi remembered how humans could be turned into demons, trying to put soulful dark eyes out of her mind as she did; but in seconds she had a clear backstory in place, “- new to down here. I know nothing.”

He glanced at her oddly, as if he couldn’t quite believe her.

Terror sunk its claws in as moments passed, and Rumi couldn’t tell what he was thinking. She really hoped he couldn’t tell how tainted the truth was.

In the end, the demon didn’t remark on it.

“Where all the rest of us go,” he said grimly, “When they find you and you’re not doing what you should be.”

His voice was surprisingly clear for his appearance, and as the demon looked back at her again, she noticed his almost human eyes.

“We’re going to be judged.”

Rumi’s mouth went dry.

Judged.

By who?

Chapter Text

Jinu considered for a moment what it would feel like to die. It might feel nice – the lack of anything. He wondered if he would become a husk. Something statue-like… something untouchable.

“Master Jinu.”

The huff registered in his ears, accompanied by the sense of reality he’d been sorely missing.

Jinu’s eyes slid lazily back to the present, like marbles rolling down a hill. The pieces of his mind fumbled together like a marionette… fragile and stiff. The tonic he was currently taking had made everything so strange.

But at least it blocks out the emotions.

“Yes, Hwan?” Jinu made sure to flash a brilliant smile. His fellow grim reaper stood before him barely reaching to Jinu’s chest, looking much more monstrous than the average demon. It probably had something to do with how Hwan had only recently been released from the Jiok chasm. It had twisted him, made him less real.

Not that Hwan had ever really been real. Hwan had never been human, after all.

Jinu waited for the smaller demon to speak. He seemed uneasy, in the way that he only happened to do when something was important.

“Master Minsu is requesting some assistance with his task in the overworld,” He uttered, “As soon as possible, and he requests just you.”

That puzzled Jinu. Minsu was one of Gwi-Ma’s vaunted knights, and he’d recently been sent as one of the many exhaustive waves sent to battle the hunters. Last Jinu had known, Minsu had taken a small army’s worth of dokkaebi and faceless demons overworld to catch the injured Hunter – Sujin – off guard. Gwi-ma had approved the plan himself, though it had been the brainchild of the lord of the western region, Korain.

A flicker of anger brushed at the surface of Jinu’s emotions thinking about the western lord.

I’d be incredibly happy for one of his plans to fail, for once.

And today might be Jinu’s lucky day.

But it did require doing something he’d been desperately avoiding.

Jinu waved Hwan off, slithering out of the little dark room that Jinu had been hidden in. Richly furnished and classic – being who he was, Jinu had access to such rare pockets of civilisation within a mostly desolate world. It was nothing to the overworld, of course. But the filaments of gold that splintered the wood helped brighten the bleakness of below.

Jinu sat up, feeling the satin cushion below him. Focussing, Jinu pierced that surface that was the lid on his emotions, almost flinching as he felt whispers cloud his ears.

Immediately, Jinu was suckerpunched with pure, unadulterated shame. For a second, it was all he could feel. Shame. It was so strong he could almost taste it like a rotten lemon in his mouth. His heart pumped viscerally in his chest.

Why did you leave us, Jinu?

Come back!

You monster!

Please don’t leave us…

Jinu blinked back tears, remembering himself. His task. His objective.

Amongst the murk of many horrible feelings, was that undercurrent of flame… shifting like a snake in burnt sand.

“Gwi-Ma,” Jinu addressed to the rope of flame that was always attached within.

Like a great, slumbering beast, Jinu could hear the flames crackle as they turned their awareness to him.

“Jinu, what a surprise,” The king’s voice had an edge of humour, but even that was tainted with a sharp spike of disappointment.

“I see you are not yet done with the task I have requested of you.”

Sitting within the room as he was, Jinu fought to not writhe with the harsh wave of disappointment. His chest burnt with the effort.

“No, and I am sorry, my King. I wanted to ask for passage to the surface, as Knight Minsu needs my aid.” Within his mind, Jinu tried to lend as much genuine apology as he could. It was always best to give Gwi-ma what he wanted. It was easier that way, especially when you wanted something from him.

“Hmmm. Yes… I see that Minsu struggles. It was clever of him to ask for you. You do so love being useful, don’t you, Saja?”

A tugging in Jinu’s chest made him feel like a crumpled paper ball, turning into a sort of dusty mist. Moments later, Jinu’s consciousness registered with the change in atmosphere. Here, it was cool. Here, the weight of existence felt a little less.

A little warmer, despite the lack of heat.

But Jinu had no time to dwell on the cheery cast of the sky, or the way the streets paved before him like rivers of opportunity. He was glad that South Korea had changed so much in the 400 years since he’d officially lost his soul. It was less sentimental that way.

Keen claws at the end of his fingers, he kept them bared as he scanned the area for where the battle was meant to be. A spark of recognition lit when Jinu saw some of Minsu’s faceless clamber quickly from an alley. Oddly, they rushed like bees towards the place Jinu had appeared, disappearing into the weak spot of the Honmoon.

Jinu frowned, as he ran in the direction the faceless had just left. The voices in his head dialling up in suspicion as he did.

Where is the battle?

Have I missed it?

Or are these just cowards?

A bitter smirk grew on his face as Jinu realised that it could be either. Despite many of the demons starving, the allure of a fresh soul apparently wasn’t enough to scare the cowardice out of them.

Soon, Jinu found a wide, manicured garden of deep greens where many demons were leaving through weak spots. Jinu felt the scent of reaped souls in the air – like a flutter of glitter – and it sprinkled him with unwitting suspicion.

Clearly there has been success here…

The nagging question of why Minsu wanted him burned at the sight of the pink-haired demon. Jinu found him stood beside a shadowy tree. Minsu posed like the statue Jinu dreamt of, hands clasped behind his back. Still. Cool. Untouchable.

Jinu pushed down the wave of longing.

“Minsu. You summoned me.”

Turning, the humanoid demon looked back at Jinu with serious amber eyes. He was slight and very angular, almost catlike in his ways. Jinu had become acquainted with him 60 years ago when he’d been elevated to one of Gwi-Ma’s knights, fresh out of the war.

“Saja,” Minsu replied in acknowledgment, his eyes flashing gravely, “I have something for you to see.”

Curiously, Jinu came forwards to see what the younger demon meant.

Standing beside him, Jinu nudged Minsu on the arm, “So I’m seeing that you didn’t really need me, huh?”

The stench of victory was obvious. Any idiot (Jinu included) could feel that.

“No, Saja. But I figured this… was different,” Minsu whispered, looking balefully downwards, “Remember how Lord Korain had planned this all out?”

Unwittingly, Jinu felt his insides roil. He was bitter as he seethed a, “Yes. Yes I do.”

“So why is it – with all of that planning, Saja – that despite our success, that the hunter we were meant to find was absent?” Minsu paused, staring at the buildings in the distance, “Is it not unusual? That they preempt an incredibly secret attack?”

Jinu frowned, crossing his arms.

“There are methods to discover demonic concentrations,” He replied, unconvinced, “They might’ve used that. Or the western Lord might just have been unlucky. What are you getting at?”

Minsu sighed, like he was carrying the weight of the world.

“I just question it, because of what I found.”

From within his Reaper’s robes, Minsu brought out a small, twisted gold thing. It shone inhumanly, like a spectre of the moon on a sunny day.

Jinu’s breath stilled.

He recognised that comb. He’d seen it once a month for the past 200 years, reflecting light like a beacon in Gwi-Ma’s reddish flames.

“Why do you have that, Minsu?” Jinu asked, hoping and wishing for the words to be said.

Minsu stared meaningfully at Jinu.

 “I found this in a summoning circle. It had been used before the battle.”

It was all the confirmation Jinu needed.

He smirked.

Oh, Korain, Korain, Korain.

No way the Lord of the west would give up his sacred comb unwillingly.

Jinu took the comb from Minsu, cool metal at the touch. It seemed that the lord of the west wasn’t so perfect after all – in an even better way than Jinu had been expecting.

“So we might have caught ourselves a little traitor, have we?”

A flicker of life sparked inside his hollow chest, and Jinu knew exactly what it was, staring out into the empty streets of Seoul.

Victory.

Chapter Text

“Move, girl.”

A powerful knock caused Rumi to stumble forwards, pain blaring from her shoulder. The rusty chains on her wrist cut into her arms and clanked loudly, disrupting the order of the march around her. Within her, a deep pit of vengeance took form. She clenched her fingers into her palms, trying not to let out a growl.

Currently, her and the other misfits had been chained and put into solider-like lines. They had a destination – that much was clear from the way they kicked them all along. But could they tell them where? No. Could they give them something to eat, drink? No. Maybe a respite, every now and then? Also no.

Rumi was down hard on her luck.

The march upwards was all she could feel. Or focus on.

It was hiking all over again.

“You could at least try to look like you don’t want to kill someone,” Came a sudden voice from beside her.

It was the pink-haired, gangly demon. The one who looked like he was even worse off than she was, and had told her where they were going. The one with those freakishly human eyes.

Rumi grimaced, then tried to relax her face. She still shot a glare at the pink-haired demon. He wouldn’t win that easily.

“Making conversation now, huh?” She muttered, not at all bitter. Taking her slow steps forward made her acutely aware of how frail she felt right now. She hadn’t eaten in what was probably days – and the only luck she’d had with water was a small, dirty spring the day before.

“So what? Maybe I’m bored.” Said the other demon in his deep, clear voice. Truly, it sounded completely out of place for his build.

“You’re funny.”

In the dusky purple light, Rumi saw a smile crack across the demon’s face.

They trudged along more, and one of the more “demon-y” looking demons up ahead got kicked forwards. Their supervisor was a tusked Dokkaebi, snarling and almost blue in the face despite her green pallor. Rumi felt the urge to pull out her weapon strengthen just looking at her – if only to wipe the sneer off her face.

But Rumi didn’t have her sword.

“You know, you look awfully depressed a lot of the time.”

Rumi turned her head around, slowly taking in the audacity of her chatty demon partner.

“Really. You’re joking,” Rumi stuck her hands up purposefully, giving the black chains on her wrist a good shake. The action made the cold parts of the metal nudge her arms, and Rumi cringed at the feeling.

The demon scoffed, as if her point was null, “This is what happens. All new demons, stray demons, and rebellious demons get picked up like this. You’re in the same boat as everyone else here.”

Rumi raised an eyebrow, a tickle of curiosity wedged in her chest, “And which category do you fall in, oh so talkative demon that hasn’t told me his name?”

He paused, something guilty briefly overtaking his face. As it did, Rumi felt a quick wave of pain, but it left as quickly as it came. Something about this demon was dredging up memories, and not in a good way.

The demon turned, looking earnest, “I... fall in the new category. And my name is Abby.”

Rumi’s heart stopped.

The roar of flames

The enthralled crowd

The sardonic smiles

The burnt sand, the purple faces, the voices of sirens-

Abby’s familiar eyes kept staring at Rumi as she struggled not to internally collapse. Unbidden, the memory of that tall, muscular demon falling backwards at her kick, the sheer malice in his eyes, the rage in her own chest, filled her mind.

He looks nothing like that now.

Seeing him, this demon right here – it was still unmistakeably him. He was Abby of the Saja boys. The face was the same, the features all sharp and sarcastic – but somehow, he was simply different. Weaker, like an unfed eagle, caved in at the chest. She’d honestly not recognised him because of how differently he was built.

Which begs the question, how the hell is he here now? How does he not recognise me?

Did Gwi-Ma’s defeat take his strength? Make him forget?

Make him think he was a “new” demon?

What are you playing at, monster?

“Wow, you can stop looking at me like that. You asked,” Abby grimaced, clearly mistaking Rumi’s utter bewilderment for something else.

The bewilderment, however, had made Rumi unable to speak. Speaking – with all of those thoughts and questions and suspicions – felt like processing dust through sludge. Painful, useless, and slow.

Eventually, and toying with every instinct in her mind, she decided upon a route of confrontation that her tired body could manage best. The one she was forced to default to, when surrounded by demons, in the demon world, without her sword or energy or friends.

I’ve really lucked out this time.

Letting out a breath, Rumi’s eyes turned steely as she locked gazes with Abby.

“Abby. You said... you were new. As in, a new demon,” Rumi felt her mouth turn dry, words like a desperate plea in her mouth, “Listen. Before I give you my name, before I can say anything more – I just want you to answer one question. I have to know.

What year do you think it is?”

She hadn’t meant for it to come out so heartbroken, but she knew her voice only spoke of worlds of hurt and pain and confusion.

“What year?” Abby’s eyes narrowed, enhancing how human they looked. The back of Rumi’s mind whispered how they would look just like a jaguar’s – a normal demon’s – if you peeled the skin just a bit. Still, something within her cracked.

“Yes,” Rumi said coldly, eyeing the way their supervisor was strutting back their way.

 “Last I checked it was the year 1999. But I’ve been down here a while, so that could have changed. What year do you think it is?”

19-

 Within Rumi’s head, an inferno sparked to life, engulfing every rational thought in its path – it was going wild with Abby’s words, with his admission.

Of nineteen ninety freaking nine.

A puzzle piece within Rumi’s mind that had been missing fell into a place. The awful click of the strange, red Honmoon, the weird sense of civilisation in the underworld, the way an undead Saja boy somehow stood in front of her. It set her heart afloat in the most unsettling way.

Of course, it could be the wrong conclusion. It could be that Abby had simply lost his memories, and all of his muscle, in the span of the few days since Gwi-Ma was defeated.

But there was an old, uncanny instinct in Rumi’s heart that whispered truths she didn’t like to hear. Like how she wasn’t really human. Or that Celine wasn’t always right. Or how Jinu was really gone.

Oh you’ve really done it this time.

Rumi looked up at the sky, at the old Honmoon, turquoise and as ancient as the demon scars on her arms. Despite it being a symbol of hope, Rumi only took it as something so incomprehensibly ridiculous that it was almost funny. So extremely funny.  

Bitter, breathless laughter broke out over the sounds of the march.

Chains rattled around her as they looked towards her, as her laughter increased. Some sneered, some didn’t. Rumi didn’t care. It was loud, but she didn’t care.

How could she?

She’d freaking time travelled.

Chapter Text

Celine, why won’t Mira and Zoey get weapons?

Why just me?

A simple hand running through her hair –

I need to make sure you are safe.

We have to save the part of you that is right – we needed –

I wanted to save you!

The lick of flames.

The rush of adrenaline – pink hair flying –

Ow! Mira, that hurt!

A rippling sky, a plane, creeping patterns –

Why are you being so secretive?

Kind brown eyes –

What are you hiding Rumi?

A closed jacket –

What are you hiding?

Shame –

What are you?

What, are, you?

As she woke, the chasm of horror felt bottomless within Rumi. As did the hunger, which hadn’t left. She hated dreams. She hated how twisted she felt down here. She wanted out. Of this world – of this place – of this time.

Growl.

As her stomach voiced its discomfort, the march of their line came to a halt. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Abby (Abby of the Saja boys, holy hell) look at her meaningfully. He had always seemed to know more than her, about the demon world. She supposed he knew that this was it.

They hadn’t spoken, in the day that had passed since Abby had revealed all he had. Oh, Abby had tried, with meaningless chatter, inane comments on the hellish mountain they’d climbed, but Rumi had just focussed on putting one foot in front of the other. She didn’t know how else to deal with this brassy fury bubbling inside.

The entire situation was just unfair. Because she now knew that the so recently defeated Gwi-Ma was alive and well again. And that all of those demons her and the girls had vanquished were alive, like those fake candles that couldn’t stay snuffed.

Rumi’s lifelong efforts amounted to nothing, here. Absolutely nothing.

On top of that, and even more strangely, she had realised that her mother was alive. That fictitious, inexplicable figure who had always felt like more of a concept than a person, like an old memory washed out by worn paper and coffee stains. Rumi fashioned her entire image of her on the same few smiling pictures, and Celine’s reluctant comments.

My very own mom.

In this world Rumi now found herself in, that sweet smile on that old paper was real. And Rumi wasn’t. She wouldn’t be born for another couple of years, if Abby’s time estimate was correct. He’d said he’d been down here a while, so she couldn’t be sure.

“Listen up, you scoundrels!” Snarled their supervisor with sudden volume. She was stood up in front of them, eyes like piercing, jagged emeralds, looking like a shepherd inspecting dirty livestock. Behind her and the cliff’s edge stretched an arguably nice view of pinks, purples and oranges – a hellish gradient against the barren landscape.

“We are now entering the ring. That means good behaviour. Now, if you don’t know what’s going to happen here, I don’t actually care, because you’ll soon find out.  Just shut up and speak only when spoken to,” She scanned the dozen of them, all tired and shackled, staring with menace.

“Don’t mess up. That’s my final advice. Got it?” Around her, Rumi saw her less tired compatriots nod weakly. She also noticed the crags of the deep maroon mountain, which were much more orderly than further down. As if they had been carved.

So this is real demon civilisation, Rumi thought. How have I never known about this before...

Thoughts of the hunter knowledge imparted in her studies occupied her even as they were shooed in through a daunting crack in the mountain. Darkness followed as they trekked inwards, where veins of fiery red magma began to lighten their way much further in. With them, Rumi noticed a crackling sort of energy in the air, partly from the nerves of those around her, but mostly from the environment itself.

Soon, they reached a narrow opening. Their supervisor turned to them, a sly grin splitting her face and tusks, clawed hand on a door. A dawning sense of dread overtook Rumi as she wondered what could make their supervisor so smug.  

She didn’t have time to dwell on that thought, as within moments the lot of them were thrust through the door opening into blaring light. The immediate cacophony of roaring voices hit Rumi like a sledgehammer, causing her to flinch in shock.

What the f –

Hundreds upon hundreds of hollering demons filled seats of a cavernous colosseum. The sound was near deafening. Rumi and the group had come onto a large, alabaster stage, led by their supervisor who took it in like a circus master. Promptly, they were led to another five or so groups of similar size, all herded into a long, pitifully shackled line. Rumi was hit with the helplessness of it all, like a suffocating weight on her chest.

We really are cattle.

They moved in, shackles clanking. Rumi felt her palms sweat and heart thunder like a hummingbird’s, feeling cornered by the sheer amount of demons around her. She didn’t think she’d ever seen so many.

Reluctantly, Rumi found herself putting aside complicated thoughts towards the Saja boy, and locked eyes with Abby in her stupor. He was close, so it wasn’t hard.

Alarmingly, he looked completely awe-struck, as if he hadn’t been expecting this either. She saw him swallow uncomfortably.

“Welcoooome to the arena!” A grotesquely plummy voice suddenly boomed over the crowd.

 On a raised platform, a presenter had started announcing with a grin of malicious glee. He looked near-horrifying to Rumi – much more monstrous than most of the demons she usually saw. His face was almost translucent, with a wide purple mouth and tentacles, making him look like a combination of sea dragon and human.

“Isn’t it a great day, folks? Isn’t it always a great day to see our, new, shiny, recruits! Can I hear a yes!”

Roars erupted in the crowd, and Rumi flinched again. She was trying not to think about how there were thousands, and that she was completely surrounded. Luckily, they were far, the stage and seats split by a sea of pale sand.

It still didn’t feel like enough.

“Hey,” Rumi heard in a whisper beside her. She kept staring at the zoo animals in the seats, unable to do much more.

“Hey, silent girl,” Came the deep voice, “Don’t be scared. You’re meant to be tough, from what I’ve seen. Don’t let them get to you.”

Rumi blinked, turning to look at her surprising marching (prison?) buddy.

With his gaunt face, in this bright arena, Abby looked truly pitiful. But still, a spark – something carrying a little mischief and sarcasm, something she thought reminded her of someone else, burned in his eyes.

It was so small. But it helped.

And so, with her heavy arms, growling stomach, and days of issues she had yet to unpack, Rumi smiled.

It was cracked, unwanted, but hers.

The mass of sunset-coloured noise still raged. She was still surrounded. Still trapped without her friends, without a weapon, without civilisation as she knew it – still not recovered from an emotionally crazy few weeks.

But for now?

She was a little less alone, and that was all that mattered.

Chapter Text

“We’re going to what?!” Rumi blurted, eyes bugging.

As she said it, a tall, gruff looking dokkaebi with giant eyebrows shoved a heavy lump into her chest.

“Ouch!” Rumi groaned, almost feeling the wind knocked out of her. Looking down, she inspected the heavy lump pushed into her arms. Weapons. Assorted, and broken. Caked in sandy purple residue. Probably dried demon blood.

“Shut up and get into line, girlie,” The tall demon gestured to the half-hearted lineup of prisoners. They sat slumped close to the ominously large entrance to the arena in a pocket of a cavern. She’d heard others call it “the ring”, but it seemed interchangeable.

Rumi grumbled but walked all the same.

Once the speech had ended, the groups had been split into two and shepherded into the sides of the ring of sand. She’d stuck by Abby’s side, as he was now a tentative ally, and had tried to ask about what to expect.

He’d said nothing. He hadn’t known.

But according to a mumbling Mr Eyebrows, they were going to fight. Fight each other. Fight everyone.

“Anything from the trolley?” Rumi chirped as she dumped some of her weapons into Abby’s unsuspecting arms.

“Ow!” Abby dropped one of the weapons – a mace – and glared at her. Rumi felt a flash of satisfaction. Serves him right. For future actions… or whatever; Rumi really didn’t want to think about that right now.

“I got twice as much thrown at me. Cheer up,” Rumi said, going to stand to the side of him. She started examining some of the pointier weapons, seeing if there was anything that she’d feel good fighting with. She was best with a mid-range length weapon – something sharp, preferably – though she could handle longer or blunter.

“You’ve got a real mean streak, you know that? I should’ve befriended someone else.” piped Abby, rubbing the sand from off his arms.

Rumi snorted.

“And who would you pick?” She posed, fanning out her hand to their group.

Sitting against a wall, with eerily human-looking skin, was a snarling old woman demon with an enormous, chipped butcher’s knife. Lovingly, she was running a stone up the edge, smiling ferociously.

Then there were two boyish looking demons, with tusks like elephants, who were engaged in a bloody fight for a hammer. They both had hammers to spare, in their piles.

Close to them, and staring dejectedly at the entrance, was what could’ve been a reaper, with a cloak that looked like it had been torn to shreds by someone’s hands. Despite his apparent dejection, his eyes gleamed as he saw three others in the group accidentally draw sandy blood arguing over a sword.

“...I see your point.” Abby admitted, eyeing another squat, green demon who was sharpening his claws with a dagger.

“And now we’re going to have to fight them,” he said ruefully.

Rumi tilted her head back, sighing. He was, unfortunately, right.

Around the bend they were sitting, came heavy thumps as their supervisor stomped into the room. Clearly, he was done dealing out weapons.

“Listen up, bottom feeders,” boomed Mr Eyebrows, the tips of the white ends almost bristling with the volume. The demons close by him took a step back.

“It’s time to gird your loins! Pick your weapon, and get going. We’re gonna be sending you out, and yes, you will fight,” His gaze swept over them all, glaring and slow, “No do overs. No help. For the newbies, if you get past this – then we’ve got some other things in store for you. The rest of you know why you’re here.”

At that, there was a ricochet of guilty looks in the crowd of a dozen. Others, however, had perked up with glee.

“So finish with the weapons. Get cleaned up. We’re calling you in soon.”

He turned and left.

Mr Eyebrows was barely out of the cavern when chaos broke out. The scrape of metal and growls filled the air as all the demons dove for each other’s piles. Abby and Rumi tried to blend into the wall as the biggest, sharpest weapons were hoarded, leaving the small, rusty ones for the dusty floor. Rumi slid her chipped, blue longsword carefully behind her back, lest it be a target. She nodded to Abby for them to move.

They snuck around a bend in the side of the room, where the cracked cavern wall helped obscure them.

“Phew,” Abby whistled, keeping a steady eye on the mess. “They don’t play.”

They saw the green demon try to cut the spear out of the reaper’s arm, drawing purple with a sneer.

“Demons never do,” Rumi muttered under her breath, clutching her sword tighter.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.” Rumi also kept her eye around the bend, watching the snipes and gripes. They clearly were a pretty violent lot, once they’d gotten some rest.

Which raised a question.

“Are you much of a fighter?” She asked, turning to Abby with his lean, near caved in frame. Since he looked remarkably different to the future, it worried her. With this crowd? Wouldn’t be good for him.

Abby shrugged, “Well... not right now. All my freaking energy got sucked from me when I was cast down here.” His eyes went faraway. “I’m... ex-military.”

“Huh,” Rumi frowned.

He looked at her affably, “And you?”

“Please,” She quipped, “Do I seem that violent to you? In this state?”

She was acutely aware of her torn, dirty clothes – her scratches, her bruises – and the pure exhaustion colouring her all over. Also, Rumi’s stomach growled like it knew no tomorrow.

“The way you caress that sword makes me think you’re not unfamiliar. You’ve had it half an hour and you’re treating it like it’s your baby.” His smile was sardonic.

“This one… it reminds me of something,” Rumi said, eyeing it and swapping it into her dominant hand. She felt her mind retreat at the familiar movement – swirling with a gorgeous, flawless blade with a golden hilt-

The rightness in her hands, the feeling of feather-light determination –

The clash against Mira’s and Zoey’s blades in victory –

A whisper of light as it sputtered out –

A wash of longing clenched at her heart.

No, the blue sword wasn’t the same. Not nearly as powerful. Not nearly as beautiful. But the shape was like her own sword, and it helped soothe that ache just slightly.

“You know,” Abby mused, a glint in his eyes, “I might know a few things about life down here, but I have no idea what’s coming next. And since you’re clearly in a chatty mood, there’s one thing I’d like to know.”

A chill of alarm snapped Rumi out of her nostalgia, making her shoulders tense.

There’s a reason I don’t answer. It could get me killed.

She decided to laugh, not meeting his eyes, “You always had so many questions.”

Abby shook his head, “Well, I feel like you owe me this one.”

She raised her eyebrow, “Okay, what?”

He tilted his head, jaguar eyes amused; “Well, I’ve known you for the grand span of a week, and it would be great to know what to call you. You know, like your name?”

Rumi sighed.

Her name. She’d hoarded it so closely, until she’d figured out where and when she was… which was laughably at the turn of the century.

Her name would’ve mattered in the future. But here it mattered less than a whisper into the wind.

So she met his eyes, feeling she owed him this. In the spirit of companionship.

“Rumi,” she said, her voice small and solemn, “my name is Rumi.”

Abby held out a hand, “Hello, Rumi.”