Chapter Text
Branches clawed at Jeonghan's face as he ran.
The forest stretched endlessly around him, dark and unfamiliar, the towering trees blocking out the moonlight until only pale silver slivers reached the ground. Roots twisted beneath his bare feet, cutting into them as he ran and forcing him to stumble every few steps. His lungs burned, every breath scraping painfully against them as cold air rushed past.
Still, he ran.
Beyond the wind rushing in his ears and the frantic rhythm of his heartbeat, the forest was silent. He’d lost count of how long he’d been running, the repetitive pattern taking over his instincts. Once, somewhere far behind him, an owl called into the night and Jeonghan had nearly jumped out of his skin.
He tightened his grip on the small satchel hanging across his chest and forced his aching legs forward. The thin tunic he wore clung damply to his skin with sweat and did nothing against the cold spring air. Every few minutes he’d throw his head over his shoulder just to check, but there was nothing there other than darkness. And maybe trees.
Even then his pulse refused to slow.
A branch caught his sleeve and tore the fabric there, making Jeonghan stumble. He slowed down just enough to yank himself free with a hiss of pain, not bothering to stop. He couldn't spare to stop.
But the movement tugged painfully at the wound on his shoulder, sending his mind back to how he got it.
Blood. There had been so much blood, dripping down to his arms and chest and around the arrow shaft that was still stuck on his left shoulder. It was dried now but he hadn’t lost enough to kill him yet. Probably…hopefully. How much blood loss does it take to die, he wondered absently.
His father would've known.
The thought hit him so unexpectedly that his chest tightened. His father would have definitely known, he knew everything. Used to know everything.
For a moment, the forest disappeared.
His father stood in the center of his room, framed by the moonlight spilling through the glass windows and illuminating the clothes scattered across the floor.
"Hurry."
His father's voice had been strained, tinted with a sense of urgency and fear he'd never heard before. The expression on his face…Jeonghan had never seen him so upset, ever, not even when his mother had died.
But tonight he looked terrified.
His hands shook as he folded clothes and pushed them into a travel bag.
"Take only what you need."
Jeonghan had tried to protest, to stop him, but his father had simply brushed him off.
"Jeonghan." The way he'd said his name made something cold settle in his stomach. "Listen to me carefully."
A root caught Jeonghan's foot.
He crashed forward, slamming into the ground, hard. Pain exploded through his knees, spreading downwards till his entire left leg was on fire.
For a moment he simply lay there, gasping against the damp earth, eyes squeezed shut. The forest floor smelled of rain and moss, his brain supplied unhelpfully.
Then logic kicked in and he immediately opened them again. No stopping, he repeated what his father had drilled into him, no stopping until he was safe.
Where even was safe anymore, he thought bitterly. He'd lost the travel bag somewhere in the forest that had contained all of his essentials and only had a satchel filled with food.
At least he wouldn't starve, he reasoned. He didn't even know where he was right now, having run from his attackers blindly.
Although wherever he was would be better than where he was coming from.
A white robe lay spread across his bed, beautiful and pristine. Terrifying, his brain supplied.
Silver embroidery covered the sleeves and collar, intricate symbols woven into the fabric by hand. These were the ceremonial mating robes of the Eastern Clans.
His mating robes. Something twisted in his chest every time he saw them
Everyone else had admired them, the Elders, the servants, his future alpha’s family, even his own relatives.
He couldn't bring himself to do the same.
He remembered touching the silk. Remembered wondering how something so beautiful could make him feel so trapped.
A shout echoed through the trees and Jeonghan froze, memories forgotten. The sound was distant but it was unmistakably there.
Panic surged through him. They couldn't have found him already, could they?
He took off running again, faster this time despite the throbbing in his leg. The wound on his shoulder reopened, making warm blood slide beneath his shirt. He barely noticed it.
That day was the loudest Jeonghan’s house had ever been. The voices had echoed through the halls, furious and impatient.
Jeonghan couldn't make out all the words…only fragments of a conversation of which he knew he was the topic.
"...disgrace..."
"...agreement..."
"...belongs to the clan..."
"...omega..."
He stood outside his father's study, heart hammering, until the door burst open.
An older alpha stormed out, nearly colliding with him. For one terrible second their eyes met and Jeonghan felt his breath stutter at the raw hatred that burned there.
The alpha kept walking, down the hall and out the front door. His father appeared moments later, pale and exhausted, his gaze utterly defeated.
Jeonghan's foot splashed into a stream, completely indiscernable in the darkness. The freezing water sent shocks through his uncovered feet and thin cotton pants.
He nearly cursed. His legs felt numb but even the cold couldn't stop the memories from coming now.
Shut up, he told his brain, I don't want to think about them.
Because every hour that he ran made one thing clearer: he was never going to go home again. And, if he thought a little more, maybe he didn't want to.
The village where he'd grown up, the temple, his home, his family. They were gone. Even if he survived this, somehow found safety, he didn't really have anything anymore.
His father stood beside the rear gate, looking small against the darkness. Facing him, stood Jeonghan, the travel bag hung from Jeonghan's shoulder.
For a moment neither of them spoke. They knew this was the last time they'd be seeing each other, for the Council would never forgive his father for this.
Then the older man reached into his winter coat and pulled out a small wooden charm, shaped as a lyre. Jeonghan recognized it instantly. It was his mother's, kept safe by his father as a way to remember her by.
Now it was pressed into his hand.
"Keep it."
"Father—"
"Listen." His father's voice broke. "Run west."
Jeonghan stared at him, in a mix of confusion and desperation. "West where?"
His father smiled sadly. "I don't know. Just west. They’ll be weaker there, and won't be able to find you as easily.”
Jeonghan felt like a child again. "What am I supposed to do there?"
The moonlight made the tears in his father's eyes shine. "Live."
A branch cracked somewhere to his left and Jeonghan spun around on instinct.
Run. The word echoed through his mind in his father's voice.
Breathing heavily, Jeonghan forced himself to keep moving despite the pain lancing through his body and the lightheadedness he was starting to feel.
The forest started blurring into streaks of silver as black spots danced in his vision, until finally, a particularly large root caught on his feet and he slipped. He hit the earth hard, the impact knocking all of the air from his lungs.
Jeonghan tried to move but his body felt like lead. His fingers tightened around the wooden charm, still clutched in his hand, and the straps of his travel bag. They were the last pieces of a bittersweet home he had left, after all.
Darkness started taking over more and more of his vision. With a final conscious thought, Jeonghan wondered if his father was still alive before the darkness swallowed him whole.