Those two weeks passed without event, besides one night on the last day of the second week.

Abrial was sleeping peacefully in the bed in the cottage, when suddenly a frown creased her forehead. The tattoo on her collarbone began to glow.

Her vague, sunny dream had turned vivid, suddenly. It had melted away into a dark room, which was lit by a flickering red fire in a hearth.

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Everything in this room was so realistic that it seemed more like she was awake than sleeping. But again, she seemed to only be a ghostly presence in this dream, and not a person interacting with it. She could only observe as the scene unfolded in front of her.

The interior of this room was quite small. It looked to be a one-roomed cottage, with architecture much like Shin Minyeo’s. Abrial realized for the first time how strange the architecture of Shin Minyeo’s cottage was. It was built in an ancient style, just like this cottage in her dream; she’d learned of the transformations of buildings over time from a grumpy old architecture instructor once. Houses like these were used before the restructuring of the empire, hundreds of years ago.

By the fire, a man in outdated burlap clothing turned the wood. He picked up a log from the small pile by the hearth and placed it carefully in. Sparks flew. He batted them away.

A little further from the fire, on a wicker stool, sat a woman. She was slightly pregnant, and wore an old burlap dress. She had gentle features and smiling eyes. A soft humming came from her lips.

Cradled in her lap was a small boy.

It’s him, thought Abrial with recognition. The same boy from that weirdly vivid dream two weeks ago.

The little boy was five or six years old. His hair and eyebrows were just as dark and unruly as in the previous dream, and his clothing just as rough and patchy.

His fierce eyes were swollen. Glittering tears stained his cheeks, reflecting the red light of the fire. He sniffed, burying his face in his mother’s apron and she smiled softly down at him.

“Mama,” he mumbled muffedly, “Why can’t we be like everyone else? Why can’t we do magic? If we could do magic, everything would be easier and no one would be mean to us.”

His mother smoothed his inky black hair back with a tender hand. She gazed down at him, her eyes glimmering with something like guilt. He peered back up at her with wide, beautiful black eyes.

“Ah Cheng, Ah Cheng,” she smiled. “Some things we cannot control. But being born without magical abilities does not make our family worth less than anyone else’s. Those who are mean to you because you don’t have magical abilities don’t understand how wonderful you are.”

Ah Cheng scooched up in his mother’s lap, shifting to a sitting position. He looked her in the eyes with surprising intensity for such a small boy.

“But Mama. What about the people who are mean to you and Baba and insult you in the street? They’re grown-ups. They should understand how great you are! You and Baba are so amazing!”

His mother’s eyes misted with sorrow as she smiled. Her hands lifted to gently wipe the tears away from his round, peachy cheeks.

“A-Cheng, don’t worry about Mama and Baba. Those people are silly. They can’t hurt us with their words. Just think about yourself, and stay close to the house where you are safer.”

“That’s right.” The man who had been probing the fire, Ah Cheng’s Baba, sat on the other wicker stool near Ah Cheng and his mother. He smiled a handsome smile, despite the haggardness on his face. Ah Cheng’s mother smiled softly in return. “Don’t worry about Mama and Baba. Those people are just using silly words because they don’t understand our differences. Don’t worry, Ah Cheng. It is those people who are the poor ones. They can’t see the value in those who are different from them.”

Ah Cheng thought about this. The firelight glowed on his soft face, glimmering in his large, dark eyes. Then he nodded, turning to hug his mother again.

“Okay. If Mama and Baba say it’s okay, then it’s okay.”

His mother hugged him warmly. She and his father shared a grim look over his head.

The room faded away into darkness, as though the fire had slowly gone out…

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Abrial’s eyes shot open.

She threw off the blanket. She felt so warm that beads of sweat had collected behind her neck and dampened her dark hair. Sweat stuck to her forehead like honey.

A faint scarlet glow pulsed through the room. Abrial scanned around for its source, but it seemed, strangely, like the light was coming from…

Herself?

Abrial looked down.

She pressed a finger to her collarbone. The tattoo there was glowing brightly again, a hot crimson like blood or fire, or bloody fire. As she watched, it cooled to an orange, then a gold, then at last back to cool, inky black against her pale skin, as though it had never done anything strange at all.

Abrial’s eyebrows drew down into a pensive frown.

This tattoo must have something to do with these dreams. How can it be a coincidence that this happened twice? It also glowed after I dreamt about that boy Ah Cheng the first time…

She put a hand to her head. She was feeling slightly dizzy. This unsteadiness reminded her of those anxious attacks in the middle of the night back at the house.

She threw off her covers, re-tied her white robe more tightly, and strode out into the night.

As she walked over the hills in solitude, it was just her and a sea of twinkling stars. She found that seeing the stars had calmed her down at the house, in all their vastness, and they still calmed her here. She had used to like to watch their reflection in the lotus pond, stars floating among lotuses like long lost siblings.

“What a strange kind of dream,” she murmured to herself, tracing constellations with her eyes. “I don’t understand…Why would I dream of that kid? Ah Cheng? He and his family…They seem like they lived hundreds of years ago. I’ve never heard a story like this. So how are they appearing in my dreams? And…” She pressed a curious hand to her tattoo. It was cool again in the breezy night air. “If this tattoo has something to do with these dreams, why did Shin Minyeo give it to me? Didn’t she say it was for internal healing, or something? What the heck? This doesn’t make any sense…Did she lie to me?”

She roamed over the hills for a while longer, her hands deep in the pockets of her robe. Occasionally, she wondered aloud to herself.

In the end, she had no answer to her questions.

She simply chose a comfortable spot on a hillside to lie down upon and gaze at the stars. The largest star in the sky was not far off from being directly above her. It glittering slightly to the east, closer to the mountains. Like a diamond, it sparkled.

“Finley,” she mumbled through a yawn. “Are you already under the biggest star? It looks so close from here…”

The night air was mild, and the crickets rhythmic. The grass swayed in the faint breeze to its own quiet music.

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After some time, she drifted off to sleep.

When Abrial opened her eyes, two enormous black eyes were staring down at her so close they obscured most of her vision.

“Gah!”

She jerked into a sitting position, bashing her head. The two eyes belonged to Shin Minyeo, who staggered back from the impact with Abrial’s forehead. Abrial winced, clutching her pounding head.

“What was that for? Why couldn’t you just wake me up like a normal person?”

“Wow! Impressive. You’re very forceful when you wake up in the morning! You should be careful, or you’ll murder a certain future lover by accident. You wouldn’t want that for her, would you?” Shin Minyeo grinned mischievously at Abrial, rubbing her red forehead.

Abrial made a strangled noise. She threw her pillow at Shin Minyeo, who dodged easily.

“Shut up!” Abrial hollered, furious. Suddenly, realization dawned on her. “Why am I in the house? Didn’t I fall asleep on a hill? Ow, get off!”

Cham-sae had furiously shot over to peck at her forehead upon seeing that Shin Minyeo had a large round red mark on her forehead, like a sort of revenge. Abrial swatted it away.

“Cham-sae, don’t be silly,” Shin Minyeo laughed. Cham-sae chirped a painfully high pitch in Abrial’s ear, then fluttered reluctantly back to Shin Minyeo’s shoulder. “I summoned a wind to carry you back inside when I found you. The breeze was getting a little chilly.”

Abrial scrunched up her nose and turned away. “...Thanks.”

Shin Minyeo’s eyes twinkled. “No need for being overly courteous!” She launched herself excitedly up onto the bed to sit next to Abrial. “Since you’re all healed, I have a present for you.”

Abrial remained scowling at the wall. Then, slowly, her dark eyes widened, and she turned her head to Shin Minyeo in shock.

“I’m…all healed?”

“Yup. All better. No more infections, no more bleeding.”

Abrial’s face flushed with warm color. A grin broke out over her face.

“So…I can leave? And not get sent back here when I try? I’m free?”

“Yup. You’re free to go. The ancient spirit of this realm will no longer stop you.”

“I — I need my clothes! And my dagger — “ Abrial threw off the blankets and moved to slide off the bed. Before her toes could touch the ground, however, Shin Minyeo caught her wrist.

“Before you do any of that,” Shin Minyeo half-smiled, eyes sparkling, “I have a present for you.”

A curious expression overtook Abrial’s excitement.

“What present?”

Shin Minyeo didn’t answer. She simply shrugged mysteriously, then slipped off the bed and towards the dresser. Off the dresser she lifted two long articles of clothing that had been laid out. Abrial realized, staring at them as Shin Minyeo brought them closer, that they were intricately embroidered robes.

“All right. First, this one is for your friend Finley.”

The robe that Shin Minyeo held up was light and flowing as a brook. It radiated the air of a pale rose, melding from pure white to a rosy pink at the hems. When the robe was turned around, Abrial saw that all along the back, sparkling golden crocus flowers had been woven, intertwining with threads of pale pink and green vine. It was so well-woven that the flowers seemed to sway in some breeze, their petals rippling as the cloth of the robe shifted.

A soft cloud of air puffed out of Abrial’s mouth.

“It’s…really nice,” she breathed.

“I know, right? She’ll love it. Especially if you give it to her.” Shin Minyeo winked. Abrial made an obscene gesture, her cheeks burning. Shin Minyeo laid this pristine robe carefully on the bed, then held up the other. “Now, this one's for you.”

The robe she lifted now was dark and billowing, like a storm cloud. And yet, it was graceful, too, flowing with an air of power. The cloth was dark as night, the same shadow-like material that Abrial had watched Shin Minyeo sewing on her first day at the cottage.

A fierce dragon of silver and scarlet threads had been woven across the back, curving and twisting all the way like a magnificent crest. Its eye glittered a harsh, deep crimson, the threads sewn so tightly together that it looked like a real embedded ruby. Around the dragon were scattered golden and silver lotuses like glittering stars.

Abrial gaped at the robe. She opened her mouth, but at first, she could only stutter. That was astounding, because Abrial hardly ever stuttered at anything.

Finally, she managed to speak.

“I can’t wear this!” she protested. “I’ll look so pretentious! Like a really rich person who wants to show off or something! When I said I wanted a really cool robe, I wasn’t being realistic! That was just, an imaginary thing!”

Cham-sae chirruped in offense for its master.

Shin Minyeo laid the shadowy robe atop the pale rosy one. She crossed her arms, expressionless.

“Well, wear it or not, it’s yours now. The material is light and quick-moving, and it floats nicely; you can wear it comfortably in a fight. I made the threads myself, so it wasn’t expensive. Wear it to battle, wear it on a walk, don’t wear it, it’s up to you. Now, go eat breakfast. I would invite you to stay the rest of the day, but I’m guessing you want to go and see your Finley as soon as possible.”

Shin Minyeo pulled something out of her apron. She set it on top of the robes gently.

“I mended the hair tie you keep playing around with.”

Abrial’s heart leapt. Her cheeks colored pink with delight.

“Finley’s hair tie!”

Shin Minyeo smirked at her. Abrial’s grin turned into a scowl. She snatched up the hair tie and jerkily tied her hair up.

Abrial continued to stare at the robes even after Shin Minyeo had left to go hang laundry, wondering at their expertly woven images. They were so magnificent. Had Shin Minyeo really sewn these just in the past two weeks? How could she ever wear something like that? She hadn’t ever even seen her parents wear something that glittering and majestic at the house!

After a last breakfast of spicy pickled radish, rice, and cloudy ox bone soup, Abrial changed back into her scarlet and black robes and sheathed Dohyun.

Shin Minyeo helped her pack a few things — food for the day, the robes, water and healing herbs — away in a cloth satchel to tie onto Dal.

“Under the biggest star, you will find a camp of magicians,” Shin Minyeo explained. “The camp is only about half a day from this cottage by horse, straight towards the mountains.”

When everything was ready, Shin Minyeo came with Abrial to the back of the cottage looking out towards the mountains. Abrial mounted Dal, only wobbling a little bit after all of her practice, and tied on the satchel.

She felt Shin Minyeo watching her intently as she fiddled with the knot. When she looked up, it was strange to see this pretty young woman standing there watching her with solemn, sparkling eyes and pulling her many shawls tight around herself.

It struck Abrial that, in the two weeks she had stayed here and been taken care of day and night by this woman, she had not once learned anything about this woman’s life. She knew nothing about how this woman’s health had become poor, why she owned a magical garden, why she chose to live alone in a valley haunted by a spirit.

It also dawned on her, suddenly, that she hadn’t said “thank you” many times at all.

This woman had cared for her without question for so long. She had cooked delicious food for her every morning and night, had given her her bed to sleep in, had healed her deep wounds and kept her energy up every supper with mischievous teasing.

A sudden feeling of shame bloomed in Abrial’s chest. It was uncomfortable. She’d hardly ever felt this kind of thing before, and she didn’t like it. Her cheeks blossomed red.

“Thank you,” she said, slightly forced. She turned her face away because her cheeks were burning. “Thank you for nursing me to health and for giving me delicious food. And for these robes, and for fixing my hair tie, and letting me sleep in your bed…and all the other stuff. Thank y-you.”

Shin Minyeo’s eyebrows raised. Her eyes were soft as she smiled.

Some sort of ancient sadness lurked behind their sparkling.

“No need. I wanted to do all of it. But since you’re thanking me so much, can I get you to call me eonnie, finally?”

Abrial’s face reddened even more. She kept her face turned away from Shin Minyeo. For a moment, she opened her mouth, but then she clamped it shut.

What the heck, Abrial? That would be so embarrassing!

She muttered, “Don’t push it!”

Shin Minyeo grinned. “But you’re a fun person to push limits with. Pushing limits with a person who is always dangling off the limit’s edge. It’s a fun sport. I’ll miss you, spunky.”

Why did that sound like a final goodbye? Abrial knew where this cottage was. She could just come again sometime in the future. She turned at last to look Shin Minyeo in her dark, misty eyes.

“Goodbye for now,” she said. “And thank you. Again. Cough.”

Then she murmured something in Dal’s ear, and with a whinny, he galloped away. They became a streak of black and red, flying away at the speed of shooting stars.

Shin Minyeo waved, even though Abrial didn’t turn around once.

She continued to wave until the red and black had disappeared from her realm, no longer visible among the endless stretches of hills.

Her dark eyes glittered with a heaviness that weighed them down every night, which Abrial had never seen, because it had always remained hidden behind a film of sparkling laughter. It was like the weight of a blue ocean, deep and vast.

She brought her hand down to her side at last.

“Good luck,” she murmured, gazing out over the empty hills.

“May fortune be with you, Abrial. And...forgive me.”