Chapter Text
“You are an abomination! This power will one day consume you!”
The smoke was too much, thick black clouds that threatened to devour the earth. The stench of death permeated the air, the sky bathed in red like a vast ocean made of blood. And the screams. The anguish. It was horrifying. Angry flames ate away at the world at an alarming rate, an unstoppable force that not even the tears of the gods could snuff out. The fire was merciless, the heat scorching hot.
No one was safe.
“You have to stop this! Look at what you’ve done!”
What he’d done?
What was it that he’d done?
Even as he stood atop a mountain of corpses, his hands and his sword both soaked in blood, he couldn’t understand.
He was protecting them.
They would have perished without him.
Everything that he had ever done was for them. How could they not see it? Why were they so blind to the sacrifices that he’d made? He couldn’t stop now, not when there was still so much for him to lose. They were so close to salvation, he could practically taste it on his tongue—the sugary sweet relief. This was it. He just needed to keep going a little longer, then he’d finally reach the end.
“Please, I know you can hear me!” cried an angel. A blessing sent from the very gates of heaven. “This is not who you are! Come back to me!”
No, something was wrong. None of it made any sense. Heaven had abandoned them, turned them away as though mercy would have been wasted on them. His body felt like it had been doused in flames. An agonizing scream ripped through his lungs.
If not this… then who was he?
What had he become?
“Hongjoong!”
· ─────── · 𖥸 · ─────── ·
“Hurry, my friend!” called His Imperial Majesty, Emperor Kim Hongjoong, as he ran like the wind down the cobblestone streets of his golden Halazian Empire. “Were you always this slow?”
“For- Forgive me, Emperor! I do not normally spend my days running like a madman!” His Royal Highness, Crown Prince Jung Wooyoung of Dune, struggled out, barely able to keep up with the young emperor. Though his sarcasm was not lost on Hongjoong.
It was not every day they found themselves in such a hurry. Everything had been moving so fast for the past few weeks that Hongjoong no longer knew which way was up or down, but it was all for good reason. Great reason, in fact. Tomorrow was the anniversary of the day Hongjoong and Seonghwa had vowed their lives to each other, which also meant it was the day the unprecedented alliance between Halazia and Aurora was forged, bridging two worlds that had long stood apart.
To say that it was a very important day would be putting it lightly.
While this anniversary was not as important to him as the one they would have in celebration of their second wedding, Hongjoong still couldn’t slow down, not even for a moment, for everything needed to be perfect.
Wooyoung worked tirelessly on special garments for the occasion, San and Yeosang had prepared the grand hall with meticulous attention to detail, and the imperial palace staff and servants were handling the rest just as Hongjoong had asked of them. Every flower had to be flawless, every plate perfectly arranged, it all needed to be immaculate.
All that was left was purchasing a gift, which Hongjoong had just done with Wooyoung’s help, though the young prince had been less than thrilled to have been dragged away from his precious needles and thread. Yet, as reluctant as he was to involve himself in such an intimate gesture between husband and wife, Wooyoung’s sharp eye had proven invaluable.
“Must w- we be in such a hurry?” huffed Wooyoung, his footsteps slowing down the harder it became for him to breathe.
Hongjoong scoffed, allowing the young prince a moment to catch his breath by slowing his pace. “Seonghwa will worry if we are not back in time for breakfast. We have not eaten a single meal apart since our second wedding.”
“It has nearly been a year since then, you lovesick puppies!” Wooyoung exclaimed, his face bright red from exertion. “Give me a break! Do you never tire of each other? Not even a little?”
“Never. Now come.” Hongjoong reached over to grab Wooyoung’s hand, pulling him along. “The sooner we return to the palace, the sooner you can rest. I will even let you boss San around for the rest of the day. How does that sound, little prince?”
Wooyoung groaned, exhausted. However, he let himself be pulled along by the sleeve of his shirt, never one to turn down a chance to freely harass the young gentleman-in-waiting. It had become one of his favorite pastimes over the year, especially when it came to seeing San’s exaggerated reactions.
Quickly, Hongjoong led the prince through the peaceful streets of the empire, deciding not to run this time, but keeping a quick pace nonetheless. The vibrant marketplace buzzed with a calm early morning energy, vendors setting up their booths and shouting their wares, the warm sun bathing the cobblestones in a soft, golden light beneath their hurried steps.
But as they made their way back to the palace, Hongjoong’s gaze had been snagged by something rather unusual. A fleeting glimmer, so small he had to squint to make it out. It drifted aimlessly through the early crowd like a flower petal carried by a soft breeze. Iridescent and fluttering, it resembled a butterfly, though its faint, eerie glow set it apart from anything Hongjoong had ever seen.
He hadn’t realized his pace had slowed, almost as if he were lost in a trance as the shimmering creature hovered closer, yet no one else in the bustling street seemed to notice it, or perhaps it wasn’t even there at all. Was he just imagining things?
Hongjoong’s focus narrowed entirely on the peculiar creature. It lingered in the air, moving with an uncanny deliberateness, as though it were aware of his gaze. Its delicate, glowing wings beat softly, holding it suspended in place instead of simply drifting away as one might have expected. Hongjoong couldn’t help but think that it looked as if the strange apparition was watching him too, locking him in a silent, otherworldly exchange that sent a prickling sensation crawling up his neck.
“Open your eyes.”
Hongjoong gasped, coming to an abrupt halt. His head whipped around, eyes scanning the crowd with growing panic as he searched for the source of the voice. A frightened scream had caught in his throat as his gaze swept over the scene around him.
And his heart dropped.
The ground beneath his feet was no longer golden. It was slick with blood and littered with corpses, some nearly piled high enough to reach the sky above. It was no longer blue and sunlit, but choked with ash and flame.
Hongjoong looked on in horror, taking a quick step back as he watched everything around him burn. Wooyoung, he thought in a panic, then turned on his heels, expecting to see his friend standing behind him, their hands still connected. But what he had seen instead nearly made him fall to his knees. He was holding a sword, his hands drenched in blood.
And Wooyoung was lying dead at his feet, lifeless eyes staring right back at him.
“Hongjoong?”
The young emperor yelped in surprise, Wooyoung’s voice pulling him back to reality faster than his mind could truly comprehend.
“What is the matter?” asked the prince, his brows cinched with confusion. “You look as pale as a ghost, my friend.”
Hongjoong blinked, shaking his head to clear his mind. The vibrant colors of Halazia returned in a flash, the laughter and bustle of the marketplace filling his ears once more. He almost couldn’t believe it, was terrified that what he’d seen just a moment before was his reality and not the other way around, even though he knew that couldn’t have possibly been the case.
But… what was that?
“I- I am fine.” He forced a smile, hoping to assure Wooyoung that all was well, even if he couldn’t quite believe it himself. “Just… tired, I suppose.”
As they continued on, Hongjoong turned to find the butterfly again, yet it was nowhere to be found.
The rest of their journey back to the imperial palace was, more or less, uneventful. Just Wooyoung complaining about their early morning run and Hongjoong entertaining his antics like he usually did.
Once they had arrived, Wooyoung went on his way, likely to bother Yeosang or give a quick magic lesson to Yunho. Hongjoong made his way to the dining room where he knew his beloved wife would be waiting patiently for him. And sure enough, there he was, as radiant as ever. Hongjoong couldn’t have asked for a better view.
Seonghwa sat like the pinnacle of grace, a cup of tea sat before him whilst he was reading what looked to be letters, if the stack of envelopes was anything to go by. His features were gentle, that same fond smile dancing on his lips that always made a pleasant heat crawl up the back of Hongjoong’s neck. Every now and then, he’d bother to take a sip of his tea, but whatever he was reading had stolen most of his focus from the steaming beverage.
Yet the moment he’d caught even the slightest glimpse of his husband, the letters were neatly tossed to the side, his expression lighting up like a dazzling flame on the darkest day.
“Joong!” Halazia’s beloved empress exclaimed, abandoning his seat in favor of rushing into his husband’s waiting arms. “I’ve missed you, darling! Had I known you were going to be away this morning, I would’ve woken up earlier to see you off.”
“I know,” Hongjoong replied, placing a gentle kiss on his lovely wife’s exposed shoulder. “I did not want to wake you, my love. It was only a quick errand and Wooyoung accompanied me.”
Seonghwa hummed, letting the younger guide them back to the dining table. He returned to his seat whilst Hongjoong sat beside him, smiling gratefully as a maid went to pour him a cup of tea and told him that she would inform the kitchen staff of his return.
“What have you been up to, Empress?” Hongjoong wondered, letting his eyes brush idly over the stack of letters on the table. “It’s a little early to be reading, is it not?”
Seonghwa giggled, rolling his eyes playfully. “To you, perhaps, but I quite enjoy an early morning read every now and then,” he said, smiling proudly to himself as he brought his teacup back up to his lips. “Besides, these are from our dear friends. They were thoughtful enough to send their regards and are looking forward to the celebration.”
“That is very kind of them. But tell me, how are you feeling?” Hongjoong asked, staring intently into his wife’s eyes in search for an answer before the older could even give one. “With everything that happened, I thought I should ask. I know I’ve not lived the same life you and Mingi had. This will be my very first wedding anniversary, but not yours.”
The two imperial rulers had long since made a pact to practice absolute transparency with one another, refusing to let silence fester where wounds had once bled. They spoke openly and often about the events of their past, but instead of dwelling on them, it was to acknowledge and honor them. Their way of ensuring that the past remained unforgotten, but no longer ruled them, that it existed alongside their present rather than within it.
This deliberate and honest communication became a foundation for healing. For Seonghwa, it was nothing short of transformative. The act of being seen, heard, and understood—especially by someone who refused to turn away from his pain—helped loosen the grip that his trauma had on him for so long. And for Hongjoong, it was a quiet kind of education. Through these conversations, he learned how to be more than just a partner. He studied Seonghwa’s silences, noticed the shifts in his energy, and figured out how best to support him without smothering him. He learned to be a safe place for Seonghwa. It wasn’t always easy, but it was always worth it.
This method had even worked for Mingi, who found comfort in this kind of vulnerable and emotional honesty. When old memories crept in against his will and left him feeling fragile and lost, it was Yunho he turned to, allowing the imperial prince to guide him out of the dark.
There were days, however, when neither Yunho nor Hongjoong were enough. On those days, Seonghwa and Mingi always disappeared together, locking themselves away from the rest of the world and just existing together, just the two of them. Their shared past had forged a bond between them that was so unbreakable that not even the Gods could stand against it. It was a beautiful sight to see and left Hongjoong more relieved than jealous, as Wooyoung liked to tease.
No matter how they found themselves, as long as this method of healing was helping them, that was all that mattered to all of them.
So when Hongjoong let the question fill the space between them, Seonghwa took a moment to really think about it, working the words out in his mind, letting them linger and settle. Then he smiled softly at Hongjoong, his eyes wet with gratitude.
“I feel safe and content,” he decided, taking Hongjoong’s hand in his own and letting his thumb brush across the younger’s knuckles. “Which is more than I have ever known in my past. To me, this is a very happy occasion. A real celebration! Instead of just a political necessity. I cannot help but be filled with excitement when I think about it.”
Hongjoong sighed, relieved, and squeezed his wife’s hand gently. “Good, then I shall see to it that everything is perfect. Rest assured, my love, for this will be a celebration to remember.”
Seonghwa giggled sweetly, letting his head fall to Hongjoong’s shoulder. “I’d expect nothing less from my wonderful husband.”
Everything was perfect, Hongjoong couldn’t remember the last time he’d ever been this happy in his entire life. Perhaps when Yunho first joined their family, though he never let it show at the time, even at such a young age.
Either way, Hongjoong could never ask for more than this.
· ─────── · 𖥸 · ─────── ·
Yunho could feel his head start to ache the longer he stared at the glass of water in his hand. He’d been at it for a little over an hour now, yet nothing was happening. Why wasn’t anything happening?
The spell was simple, even children could do it. He’d learned to turn water into wine when he was a child himself, back when he lived happily with his mother and spent his days playing with the stray dogs. Back then, he was so frail that he needed to be extra careful with his health, lest he catch a cold or come down with a fever, yet he could still cast simple spells such as this one.
So why couldn’t he do it now?
“You are thinking too much,” Wooyoung tutted, placing a firm hand against the small of Yunho’s back. “I can feel the tension in your body, Your Imperial Highness. Breathe and let the magic within you flow.”
Yunho tried. He stared at the glass, took a deep breath in, then out. In, then out. In… and out… but nothing was happening still. He sighed, letting his arm lower, careful not to spill any of the water onto the grass beneath them.
“Apologies. I- I should be able to do it, but it seems I cannot.” He smiled sheepishly to hide his disappointment, his ears warm with embarrassment. “Perhaps it is pointless to focus on such basic spells…”
But the younger prince was not having it. He crossed his arms over his chest and stomped his foot with a huff. “Nonsense! You cannot build a house without first starting with the foundation,” he exclaimed with all the seriousness of a knight marching into war. “I understand that more advanced spells come naturally to you, but what good are they if you cannot manage something as simple as turning water into wine?”
“Seems rather dramatic, I must say,” Lord Yeosang mused.
San nodded along, nibbling on a strawberry. “I could just as easily fetch us some wine. I don’t see why such a spell is necessary.”
The two young lords were sitting comfortably on a blanket laid out on the grass near the water fountain, enjoying a peaceful lunch in the imperial garden while offering Yunho some much needed support.
This had become their usual routine ever since Wooyoung had agreed to teach Yunho a thing or two about magic. Yunho had wanted to reconnect with his roots so that he could feel closer to his late mother again. And with everything that happened last year, he also felt helpless. He’d let himself fall prey to all sorts of spells and poisons, and had even almost killed one of the most important people in his life because he was too weak to defend himself. Too weak to fight back. He couldn’t let that happen again so he wanted to become stronger at something he was good at, something that made him who he was.
Fortunately, Wooyoung and Mingi had been kind enough to offer their support and their knowledge. Mingi taught him everything Wooyoung could not, seeing as the younger prince was still unable to bring himself to actually use any magic. Wooyoung was more of an instructor than anything, and Mingi allowed Yunho to practice what Wooyoung had taught him. It was a fine routine, one that had helped Yunho significantly.
But while he could cast spells that even most skilled mages struggled with, he found himself at a complete loss when it came to the basics, spells he’d learned when he was younger, but now felt strangely disconnected from.
“Hush!” Wooyoung glared at them, though he could hardly contain his smile. “This is not simply about the act of turning water into wine. To explain it simply, magic is like fabric. Every spell, every intention, is a thread. Alone, a thread cannot hold much. It is fragile, it frays. But when threads are woven together, they become something strong and uniquely yours. You can know how to conjure balls of fire or turn your rage into vicious storms, but such spells will never be as strong or as reliable as you need them to be if you choose to ignore the basics. Understand?”
The three of them were stunned into silence, each staring at Wooyoung as if he’d somehow uncovered the meaning of life. The younger prince could talk the ears off even the most patient men, and he did so without a trace of hesitation or remorse, but rarely did he ever say anything that could be considered truly wise.
It was genuinely impressive, but it made Yunho’s chest ache to see firsthand just how passionate Wooyoung was about magic. If only fear hadn’t stopped him from embracing it the way Yunho was certain he must’ve done as a child, before it became something that frightened him so deeply that he’d long since abandoned it in a way that was like reaching into his body and tearing out a piece of himself.
He missed it. It showed in the way he always lit up when it came time for Yunho’s lessons, and in the way he eagerly followed after the imperial prince on the days when it was Mingi’s turn to teach so he could watch from a safe distance. Magic was once a part of him and he missed it dearly.
Yunho inhaled deeply, straightening his back and holding the glass of water up once more. “Right. A- Allow me to try again.”
Wooyoung grinned. “That’s the spirit, Your Highness! Relax your body, take deep breaths, and focus.”
Relax my body. Take deep breaths. Focus. Focus. Focus.
Yunho tried again and again for the better part of the afternoon, determined to succeed. And even though he kept failing, he didn’t let it deter him, for he had two of the greatest mages he’d ever met determined to teach him everything that they knew. He couldn’t let them down. He couldn’t let his mother down either.
The imperial prince was on his last try when something strange had caught his eye. From a distance, it looked to be a tiny ball of light, blue like a piece of the sky fluttering about. It was beautiful, shimmering delicately as it danced along the flowers without a care in the world.
“Focus, Your Highness!” Wooyoung exclaimed, exasperated. “What on earth has stolen your attention when we’re so close?”
Yunho felt his cheeks heat up, but he didn’t look away from the strange ball of light. “Forgive me, but… I’ve never seen anything like it before. What do you suppose it is?” he wondered, pointing out the peculiar creature.
Wooyoung frowned, letting his eyes follow Yunho’s finger until he saw it for himself. He squinted his eyes, staring at it closely. “A… butterfly?”
“Butterflies do not glow, last I’ve seen,” San pointed out, just as interested in the creature fluttering before them.
“Then perhaps a new species of firefly?” Lord Yeosang suggested, but even that didn’t seem to be the case. “We should document it and send our findings to an entomologist. If we are fortunate, we will be allowed to name it.”
San threw his head back in laughter. “That is what you consider fortunate? Naming insects?”
“Of course!” Yeosang exclaimed seriously. “Just imagine it! Wouldn’t you want to open an insect encyclopedia and find the name you’ve chosen written inside? I think that would be amazing.”
“Why are you so cute? Never change, my dearest.”
Yunho and Wooyoung paid no mind to the banter. The light had moved again, closer this time. It was far too graceful to be a mistake of the eye, yet too intentional to be just some wandering speck of pollen or magic residue. From up close, it definitely looked like a butterfly, its wings much bigger than its tiny body and nearly translucent like frost against glass windows in the middle of winter. Yunho couldn’t take his eyes off of it, fascinated by the sight.
Wooyoung tensed beside him. “Get behind me.”
“W- Wooyoung?” Yunho asked, confused, yet he did as he was told.
Wooyoung stood like a shield between the strange creature and his friends, trying to study it with his eyes, figure out just what they were looking at. Had it looked like a normal insect, surely Wooyoung wouldn’t have bothered, but this thing was glowing which could only mean it was a product of magic.
Magic, to Wooyoung, was dangerous. Something to fear.
Seeing as the bravest of them—Wooyoung—was on edge, San and Yeosang stood up from their spot on the grass and pulled Yunho back, acting as a second line of defense. He was the imperial prince after all, they couldn’t allow anything bad to happen to him.
“Should we go find Mingi? He’d surely know what that thing is or even what to do,” San said.
But Yunho could see that his words didn’t exactly reach Wooyoung. He seemed to be in a trance, walking toward the creature as though drawn in by its dazzling glow.
“Wooyoung, I- I would strongly advise against getting too close,” Yunho fussed, feeling a bit flustered. “Perhaps we should leave it be. I think we’ve had enough practice for one day.”
But, yet again, Wooyoung had not reacted to his words. Instead, he reached out to touch the creature, letting it land gracefully on the tip of his index finger.
And then, in the blink of an eye, the younger prince let out a pained scream as his skin began to crystallize from the tip of his finger, slowly down to the base of his palm before the creature flew away. Wooyoung fell to his knees, hugging his hand to his chest as he cried out, his voice strained from the pain.
Yunho’s heart plummeted. He lunged forward on instinct, dropping to Wooyoung’s side. The younger prince’s breath came in ragged gasps, his entire arm trembling violently as the iridescent crystallization crept over his veins like roots searching for soil, spreading at an agonizingly slow rate.
Then, just as the glittering frost reached his elbow and stopped, Wooyoung looked up at Yunho, pure horror in his eyes.
“W- We need Hongjoong. Now!”