The word echoed over the hills, rising and falling, fading away into the breeze, never to be heard.

Abrial’s heart seemed to squeeze into itself within her chest. Her heart sank lower into that shadowed lake of her stomach, absorbed into its thick, inky depths.

She dropped her arms, which fell to her sides like two rods of lead.

She sat there for a while, not speaking a word. The breeze fluttered through her shining dark hair, flickering strands into her eyes, but she didn’t have the energy to push them away. Actually, she didn’t even notice they were there. Finley sat studying her, turmoil lurking deep within her eyes.

At last, Abrial spoke. Her voice was uncharacteristically hoarse and strange, like she hadn’t said a word in days:

“I don’t get it…Why?” she murmured. It was like she was speaking to the air. “Why wouldn’t she show herself to me anymore? Am I just…never going to see her again? She didn’t even say goodbye?”

After a moment’s hesitation, Finley said quietly and somewhat reluctantly:

“I have thoughts regarding this. Would you like to hear them? I am afraid you will not like what you hear.”

Abrial’s eyes were blank. Her voice was even flatter. “…I guess.”

“A ghost is a spiritual imprint. It cannot remain in this world forever, and it will fade with time. A ghost hundreds of years old…It is miraculous that she appeared in such a solid form and cared for you for every day for two weeks without disappearing while you stayed with her. She likely faded significantly through your encounter. At a certain point of fading, spiritual imprints are no longer visible. She may not be able to appear before you again, or…” Finley pursed her lips, lowering her eyes. “She may be gone altogether.”

Abrial was quiet for a long time. Her sparkling eyes seemed to have glossed over, encasing a storm of agitation within. Abrial’s hands sat in her lap limply, utterly motionless.

After a minute of Abrial sitting like this, Finley slid off her horse.

With a few steps, she lightly caught hold of Dal’s neck and swung herself up in front of Abrial, so that they both sat in the saddle. Abrial was vaguely aware of Finley’s movement and the pale flash of robes that appeared in front of her, but she only snapped out of her stupor once she felt something soft pressing back against her chest and stomach.

“Move back a little,” said Finley quietly. “Hold onto me.”

Dazed, Abrial shifted back slightly. Her arms slipped clumsily around Finley’s waist. Finley’s cool hands adjusted Abrial’s arms to hug onto her securely, then she grasped Dal’s black reins.

With one pale hand, Finley reached over and tapped Lan’s pure white snout. He seemed to understand something, and immediately galloped off northward in the direction of the Wei camp.

Dal seemed to understand without any direction from Finley, being the mega-smart horse he was. He took off galloping after Lan. The air around the two young women sped into a rush of wind, whipping their hair and freezing their cheeks.

Abrial leaned on Finley’s back, breathing in the faint scent of honey and flowers.

Her brain felt like one big bowl of fog.

She was reminded suddenly of the inside of Shin Minyeo’s cottage: how every part of the floor not taken up by a table or stool or cabinet or bed was occupied by potted vegetables, fruits, and flowers, the scent of soil and greenery permeating the air.

Her mind’s eye flashed: there was Shin Minyeo’s face, her black eyebrows raised, dark eyes soft as she smiled. And…there was some sort of ancient sadness lurking behind that sparkling emotion, like a shadow lurking in the depths of a bright pool.

Can I get you to call me eonnie, finally?, Shin Minyeo had smiled as Abrial turned to leave.

Don’t push it!

That had been her answer. Stupid, stupid.

Stupid answer, stupid person. She was so stupid.

Shin Minyeo’s dark eyes sparkled mischievously in her mind, unfading even as her pale face melted into shadow.

Abrial couldn’t remember a time she’d felt this way, ever: a hollow sadness that welled up in her abdomen like sloshing ink. But now, as she pressed her face into Finley’s warm back, hot tears spilled from the corners of her eyes, streaming down her cheeks, along her chin, and sinking into Finley’s robes. A tremor ran through her chest, and she hugged Finley tighter, not even noticing what she was doing. She wasn’t even sure why she was crying. The tears just came, hot and wet.

Finley squeezed Dal’s reins. They sped up, moving faster towards camp.

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They arrived at the Wei camp in the early hours of the morning.

Standing guard by the greeting pine at the camp’s southern edge was a tan, handsome-faced young man with a scarlet ribbon tied around his forehead — Wu Dafu. He was crouching in the grass and plucking out strands to tie together in a braid. A wide yawn escaped his attractive mouth.

The sound of rapid hoof beats approached. Wu Dafu looked up mid-yawn, a look of shock spreading across his face.

He snapped to attention.

A pure white horse and a shining black one were fast approaching. The white horse had no rider for some reason, and the black horse had…two people on its back?

As they reached Wu Dafu, the horses skidded to a stop. A strange sight met Wu Dafu’s eyes:

There was a lady in pale robes with her white hood pulled up over her face holding tight to the reins of the sleek black horse. Holding onto her waist and snoring on her shoulder was a good-looking woman dressed in black and red. Tying them together by the waists was a white sash.

The lady in white untied the sash in seconds. She tapped the woman in black on the shoulder, then slid off the horse silently to the grass. The woman in black floated off gently, landing in the lady in white’s arms. She seemed to be sound asleep.

The lady in white, carrying the woman in black like a bride, shook off her white hood to reveal her face.

“Finley Fellner?!” Wu Dafu exclaimed, relief flooding his bones. To be honest…he’d been ready to pull out his sword seconds ago. He’d been afraid these two were some secret agents of the Emperor arriving to fight him and infiltrate the camp or something, arriving so quietly and in such a strange way! His eyes relaxed as they fell on the black-clad woman’s peaceful face. Her cheeks were shining…with tears?!

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“Abrial!” Immediately, he ran closer, eyes wide with concern. “What’s happened to her? Is she — ?”

“Quiet.” Finley’s voice was flat and sharp. “She’s sleeping.”

Wu Dafu closed his mouth.

“If anybody asks, we came back last night after spending the day in the hills.” Finley’s hazel gaze was cold and commanding. “Do you understand?”

Wu Dafu bowed his head. “Understood. But — ” he looked up, warm brown eyes filled with confusion. “Why would you need to keep this a secret…?”

Finley had already turned to enter the camp, ignoring him completely.

She made a motion with two of her pale fingers. Dal and Lane galloped off past the greeting pine toward the stables, the sound of their hooves quieter than the early morning breeze.

Finley stepped past the pine, holding Abrial in her arms. Once past the barrier, the maze of tents covering a multitude of hills materialized before them, spreading out like a small city. She disappeared into the camp, and was gone.

Once she had disappeared from view, a shadow emerged from the camp and sprinted towards Wu Dafu. It was a young man. He had skin pale as the moon and shining, unkempt black hair tied up behind his head. Clearly, this was Ya Syaoran.

“What was that about?” Ya Syaoran muttered when he arrived, crossing his arms as he leaned against the pine trunk.

Wu Dafu sighed. “I don’t know. I think Abrial was all right — she was only sleeping. But I don’t understand why Finley would ask me to keep them coming back so late a secret…unless…” he trailed off, his face reddening with realization.

Ya Syaoran seemed to understand what he was thinking. He was silent for a moment, then spoke in a low, serious voice.

“Must be the reason.”

Wu Dafu paled, somewhat embarrassed. “Ah Ran! Let’s talk about something else. Like…why are you still here? I said I would be fine guarding by myself, you should go and sleep!”

“I can’t sleep. I’d rather help you guard.”

“Ah...If you say so…”

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In the morning, Abrial awoke groggily to find Finley sitting cross-legged nearby, already wide-awake.

“Here is some water.” Finley pushed the wooden cup of water that she had been holding and keeping cool for the past hour towards Abrial. “Drink.”

Abrial sipped the water blearily, blinking and gazing around.

“Where — ?” she croaked. “Weren’t we riding back? How are we in the tent? How did I get here?”

“We arrived back this morning,” Finley explained, standing. She moved to leave. “I will go retrieve our food and bring it back to you.”

“Wait!” Abrial struggled to her feet. “I’m fine! I’m coming to breakfast, too!”

Finley’s eyes scanned Abrial up and down with the piercingness of a hawk’s. “...Are you sure?”

“Yes!” Abrial said emphatically. Those strange, sad feelings from last night had mostly dissipated after she slept, but some fogginess remained in her head. She diddn’t want to stay alone inside of a small tent with that feeling inside of her — what if it turned into something like a panic attack? No thank you! She pulled on her robes and her shoes. “I’m ready and definitely totally fine, let’s go!”

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“If Shin Minyeo was a ghost…why’d she give me this tattoo?”

Abrial and Finley sat across from one another near the entrance of the dining tent, munching on bowls of spicy rice and fish cake. Abrial’s hand kept moving subconsciously to the spot where the inky tattoo lay beneath her scarlet collar.

“There are many possible reasons,” Finley said simply, stirring her rice cakes.

“Like what?” Abrial shoveled five orange rice cakes into her mouth at once.

Finley eye’s Abrial’s mouth, which was totally full, with concern, but seemed to decide against warning her about choking for the millionth time. She sighed instead and answered. “...For example, perhaps a regret from Shin Minyeo’s life was that she never shared this story with someone, and so she passed it on to you. Or, she could simply have made a genuine mistake, since the common characters for ‘remember’ are very similar to ‘heal’. Though, since you say she was skilled at healing, that seems unlikely. She could also have some purpose in giving it to you that we cannot know without asking her.”

Abrial scowled, chewing her rice cakes slowly. “She should have just told me the reason. Why is it always like this? People do weird, crazy things and don’t give a reason! But I know Shin Minyeo isn’t like my parents! She…she must have had a reason for giving me this. What was it?”

Finley picked up a single long rice cake between her chopsticks, holding it up to the light. It glistened scarlet. “We cannot hope to well understand the ways of ghosts.”

Abrial swallowed her mouthful of rice cake, looking down into her bowl in thought. Then she attacked her food, chewing until her cheeks were full as dumplings, and then swallowing it all at once. She gave Finley a serious look as she swiped at her mouth to wipe away the spice.

“That reminds me, I had another question. Finley, how d’you know so much about ghosts? You always know a lot, but it’s like you know everything about them. Did you read a whole stack of books on them or something?”

“I lived with a fortune teller for several years. She taught me of them.”

Abrial’s jaw dropped.

“You WHAT?!”

Several people nearby turned to glare.

“Please lower your voice,” Finley said gently.

Abrial leaned across the table, her voice quieter now, but still just as shocked. “You lived with a fortune teller? For a couple years? When?! Why?! How?!”

Finley looked entirely unphased as she delicately picked up another rice cake between her chopsticks. “Between the ages of three and nine.”

Abrial waited, staring with eyes shining with disbelief, but Finley didn’t elaborate. She only bit off a piece of rice cake between her teeth and chewed slowly.

Abrial leaned forward, her voice almost anxious from overwhelming curiosity.

“Why’d you live with a fortune teller? Who was the fortune teller? Where did you live with them? What did they look like? Did they kidnap you? Were they nice? Or evil? Or just normal? Or a wacko?”

Finley swallowed her rice cake, then spoke briefly before raising the next piece to her lips. Abrial didn’t notice, but Finley’s pale fist was clenched on the table.

“I do not know the real name of the fortune teller. I lived in a library with her after she took me in. She was a librarian by day, and a fortune reader by night. She read people’s fates and lent out books. She was…normal, though slightly eccentric. May we talk about something else now?”

Abrial blinked, realizing suddenly how far across the table she had leaned. And how many questions she’d just bombarded Finley with. She was practically nose-to-nose with Finley now. Cheeks flushing, she sat back.

“Sorry. We don’t have to talk about it. It’s just — you’ve never told me about your past…as stuff. Maybe a few little things, but nothing like that! This is the first time you told me something so big, and it was also about living with a fortune teller, so I got a little excited…” she laughed embarrassedly. “We can talk about something else. Like…how about, are you going to eat the rest of your rice cakes?” Abrial pointed at Finley’s bowl, which will held a few untouched cylinders of spicy, sticky cakes.

The corners of Finley’s mouth curved up slightly, and her eyes smiled. She pushed her bowl over to Abrial, who grinned and struck at it immediately, stuffing all of the remaining cakes into her mouth. Finley sighed again.

“Abrial…please slow down. You will choke if you continue in this way.”