For the Prisoner

9. Stained

Jongho refused to walk in front of Mingi. He rather parted from the group and trudged behind the witch, who already kept a far distance. Accompanied by his cat, Mingi crept through the woods several paces behind the rest and brought with him his scent of death and black magic. It wavered around him like a cloud, so similar to Hongjoong's brooding, but far more devilish. No sacred oaths bound Mingi. No cross had deterred him.

After learning that Hongjoong was no demon and had a lot of room for kindness where Seonghwa had never expected to find any, Mingi filled him with dread anew. Worse even, since his evil had tainted Seonghwa, had defiled his body and soul. He had washed in the river for two hours in the morning, scrubbing until his skin was red, but he hadn't got rid of the stains.

Jongho distrusted the witch as much as Seonghwa did. While he normally preferred to stay around the group and shield them from dangers, he had insisted on having an eye on Mingi. Nobody was comfortable under the witch's cruel eyes, but Jongho's protection soothed them.

Wooyoung merrily skipped ahead and talked to his pet coin as he led the way. He was most undeterred by Mingi, as went the other way around. The witch only occasionally licked his lips when his thoughts drifted to lutin roasted over the fire. Every time he caught that happening, Seonghwa narrowed his eyes at the man. He hadn't tried to lay a finger on Wooyoung so far.

By Seonghwa's side, San kept sending wary gazes over his shoulder. Mingi unsettled him in a way unlike the sin he meant to the two believers. With his darkness and the macabre getup alone, he unnerved San. Also, he had done something to Seonghwa that clearly affected the priest, but Seonghwa was too numb to notice that. He was numb in general. His brain escaped the dread of his recent memories and the guilt towards his God by shutting out all thought. He still muttered his prayers, but no passion lay in the words. When he looked at his companions, he seemed to stare right through them.

It agitated their tormented minds and made them speculate about what Mingi did, but nobody found an answer. Seonghwa had fallen mute, and he marched on instinct as if he had become a doll without his own will.

Loyal as they were, his deeply worried friends dragged along. They missed the kind smiles on the priest's face, the hope that had warmed their hearts in frozen nights. Only a hollow shell remained. They shared the hope that Hongjoong's return would soothe Seonghwa.

When they camped in the evening, Mingi caught up with the rest. He dismissively flicked a spark into the pile San had been working on hard to light. The man's yelp when his sleeve almost caught fire was beyond the witch.

Jongho brought over a bird Wooyoung's slingshot had snagged from the skies. He arranged it on the chopping board in front of Seonghwa, attending for him to prepare it as he usually would.

However, the priest simply hugged his knees to his chest and stared into a far distance. His gaze was haunted as if something was chasing after him to reach for his nape with icy fingers.

Jongho didn't understand, but his heart ached for the priest. Since there was no physical danger to protect him from, the crusader was helpless in his purpose. How could he dedicate his remaining life to Seonghwa if Seonghwa had left for a place he could never be found?

The crusader was about to crouch and feather the bird himself, smooth to leave Seonghwa to his trance. Perhaps after some healing, he would come back to them.

Mingi reached for Seonghwa before Jongho could bring himself to seize the witch's wrist and stop him. He feared being tainted by touching that black skin.

The witch's nimble fingers cupped the back of Seonghwa's neck. Instantly, the priest jolted up, eyes wide like those of an animal gazing death into the very eye. Stiff as a board, he didn't dare meet Mingi's eye.