A Lament for the Distant Dawn

      …While packing her things, Rumi couldn’t shake off the thought that this wasn’t a tour but just an attempt to run away. She didn’t want to admit it to anyone, even though she knew secrecy had never done her any good. There was an unspoken expectation simmering inside her, a fragile hope. She almost believed that if she just looked up, Jinu would be standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame with that lazy smile of his, ready to say something… Though she had no idea what.              She used to listen to music all the time. Now, silence surrounded her — always, when the girls weren’t around. Silence was so thick with hope, and she strained her ears, desperate to catch the moment the world shifted and Jinu could speak to her again.              Silence.              Rumi sucked in a shuddering breath and dared to glance at the door.              Of course, no one was there.              Demons stopped appearing just like that, out of nowhere. And honestly, Rumi wasn’t even sure if a demon who had given his soul to a huntress could ever return to any world at all. That smug, mocking grin of Jinu’s only lived on in photographs now. There was one hanging on her wall — well, more like a poster, where even his face looked only half-familiar. Lips stuck frozen in place, unmoving, with nothing left to say.              Rumi slammed her suitcase shut with more force than necessary.              Focus. They were going on tour.       

***

             Of course, Rumi had learned to live without Jinu by now. She’d managed just fine without him before — she’d always had the girls, and they’d only grown closer after finally figuring out the truth behind her patterns.              And yet, she couldn’t fully rid herself of the memories. She thought of the letters delivered by that demonic tiger — more like a living plush toy than a beast — and his words. Closing her eyes, she deliberately called to mind from a recess of memory those few fleeting touches they’d shared.              Jinu had paid attention to her — more than most. He had seen her, even in their brief time together. He… had coaxed her voice back to life, restored her strength. And then—he’d simply shielded her with his own body.              At that moment, Rumi had stopped being a huntress. For the first time, she’d felt fragile, vulnerable — not a demon slayer, but a little princess with a knight protecting her.              However, those stories had their happy ending in fairy tales.              As for Jinu…              Over and over, Rumi wanted to bolt, to scour the entire city, to question every stranger on the street just to hear the one comforting lie — Jinu was seen alive.              But of course, he wasn’t.              Hadn’t she seen it with her own eyes?              Hadn’t she watched Jinu’s body turning to dust? No one — human or demon — ever returned from that journey. She would never see his eyes again, never hear his voice, not even a single word. He had vanished, just like her mother and father had.              ...In her dreams, she felt his hands, heard his whispers, his promises that he would come back to her — because was she his most precious, his dearest. It was unbearable, devastating, to wake up and remember it was all a lie, a phantom that dissolved by the morning came.       

***

             When the three of them arrived at yet another hotel, they realized they had a full day before the concert. Zoey and Mira went out to explore the city, while Rumi locked herself in the room, collapsed onto the bed — still fully dressed — and stared at the ceiling.              At the airport, she’d almost convinced herself that her emotional baggage would stay behind on the ground. That once she boarded the plane, everything would feel distant, unimportant — that the hole in her chest would seal itself shut like magic.              She’d slept through the flight, her dreams empty and calm. Then fluster got her — luggage, transfers, check-in. They also grabbed a meal together, like always. But had only Rumi to remain alone in the hotel room, the grief clawed its way out of her heart, splitting her chest open, mocking her as it pinned her to the bed. Apparently, even sorrow wanted to travel.              Rumi shifted slightly, groped for the remote on the nightstand, and turned on the wall-mounted TV. Flipping through channels, she stumbled upon a Saja Boys music video.              It was strange to think the group didn’t exist anymore — yet their music lived on, still listened to by someone, somewhere.              Rumi closed her eyes and wept.       

***

             Bobby let them linger after the concert, and they wandered the city to their hearts’ content — of course, disguised. For a little while, Rumi lost herself in the whirl of unfamiliar faces and neon lights. Zoey and Mira wanted to see everything, and she trailed after them, snapping photos when asked, forcing smiles when expected.              Zoey had always been hungry for new experiences. There was no point explaining that Rumi had suddenly run out of steam. So she nodded along as they raved about the food, laughed at inside jokes, marveled at monuments and views.              She was with them — but really, she was wandering in the labyrinth of her own grief. No thoughts formed anymore — just a numb haze. And that was better. Much better than before, when every moment threatened to drag her under, trapping her in painful memories of Jinu.              Zoey remembered Rumi as inquisitive. Probably the old Rumi, the one from before everything shattered. Back when none of them had any idea what was coming — how hard it would all be.              Now, Rumi didn’t care.              When she realized Jinu had given her his soul — protected her, saved her, ensured he could never return — even the thought of victory had dimmed. What kind of victory was that?              She didn’t buy souvenirs, but Zoey still shoved a ridiculous good-luck charm into her bag—something about «attracting joy.» Rumi swore to herself she’d throw it away the very second she was alone.       

***

             In some park — Rumi couldn’t remember which, her feet ached and her head was hollow with exhaustion — she lagged behind Zoey and Mira and sank onto a bench. Dusk settled, lights flickering to life around her. It should have been beautiful, but Rumi felt nothing.              She closed her eyes.              «He’ll come back,» a voice said beside her.              «What?» Rumi glanced at the back of the bench.              «Demons return,» a six-eyed magpie in a ridiculous hat chirped. «Good news, isn’t it?»              «How?» Hope flared in Rumi, too bright to trust.              «They reincarnate.»              The magpie took off, and only then did Rumi notice the dopey-faced demon tiger lurking in the bushes. Unfortunately, he carried no comforting letter, no invitation to meet.              «Reincarnate?» Rumi echoed. Selene had never mentioned that. Her hatred for demons ran so deep she’d painted the world in stark black and white: You are huntresses. They are demons. One destroys the other.              Rumi wondered if she could dig up legends, anything to keep her going. Or maybe just… ask her demonic friends?              When she looked up, both the bird and the tiger were gone.       

***

             The tour rolled on, and at every concert, Rumi poured herself into the music. She shone, her fanbase swelling uncontrollably. Huntrix’s songs won more and more hearts, and Zoey and Mira were delighted. Rumi forced smiles, trailed after them, but every morning in a new hotel, she woke exhausted. She’d expected to feel that old spark, but it never came. Scrolling through the growing gallery of photos on her phone, she saw nothing that felt real.              Even the shots of herself posing at landmarks or capturing Zoey and Mira felt hollow.              Her heart ached.              She admitted it to herself — running hadn’t worked. She didn’t escape a thing. It was all pointless. And that hope she’d been instilled was just as worthless and unreal.              She wanted to fall asleep and then wake up with no memory of Jinu — no voice, no eyes, no recollection of their hands intertwined.              Maybe this desperate need to stop thinking of him, to forget, was no different from what demons felt — that single-minded drive toward destruction.              She’d tear her own heart apart if it meant ripping out her feelings for someone who no longer existed.              No.              She was lying to herself again.              She couldn’t live without Jinu. He’d understood her deeper than anyone. And no amount of success on tour could fix that.       

***

             By the time they returned home, Rumi had forced the magpie’s words from her mind. After all, it had been a demon too — cute, but still a demon, so telling lies was a piece of cake for it. Who knew what had its real goal been?              She remembered that night — singing with Jinu, baring their hearts. That memory alone became everything, while the rest of her life faded into background noise.              Even the girls… they were just part of the scenery now.              Rumi wiped her tears.              Was she lying to them again?       

***

             In the evening Rumi went to the hotel terrace. Wooden railings were strung with lanterns, and since this floor was restricted for other guests, she didn’t have to worry about fans or autographs. Alone, she didn’t even have to control her expression — no forced smiles, no thanking Zoey and Mira for their unwavering support.              The sky felt close here, stars blazing. She didn’t watch them for so long — not since the last time she’d been with Jinu. Tilting her head back, she let herself drift. The usual torrent of grim thoughts faded, leaving only quiet observation — no memories, no mourning.              Then — a flicker of light at the edge of her vision.              Rumi swatted at it before realizing — a tiny, ghostly flame. Frozen, unsure what to expect, she heard a familiar voice as if inside her mind.              «You haven’t forgotten me, have you? But I remember you! I can’t forget you, hear me?»              «I hear you,» Rumi whispered. Maybe she was just desperate to believe it was Jinu. «I hear you,» she repeated, just to keep the voice speaking.              And it answered:              «I still have a chance. Just wait for me, please — please wait.»              «A chance?» Rumi wanted to hug herself but feared breaking the spell. If she moved, she might never hear him again.              «Yes. You’re looking at me now, so beautiful. And I’m… just a flicker. But I’ll gather my strength. I swear.»              Rumi didn’t even wipe her tears. She stared at the fading light and sobbed, but no one was around to see, no one to question her.              «I remember you,» the voice grew softer, fainter. «You, Rumi. And I won’t forget — not even when I have a body again. Understand?»              «Jinu —» She choked. She wanted to say she loved him, but the words lodged in her throat, a suffocating weight. All she could manage was his name. “Jinu…”              She wanted to beg him not to leave her again.              Wanted to. Wanted to.              But nothing came out.              «Just wait. A little longer.»              The light vanished.       

***

             «Demons… reincarnate?» Rumi asked. The line was silent for a long moment before Selene finally answered.              «It… does happen.»              «How? How does it work?» Rumi bit her lip. Another pause.              «I… don’t know,» Selene admitted. «I’m sorry.»              Rumi hung up the phone, fell on her back to the pillows, and closed her eyes.              Fine. Wasn’t it enough to have confirmation? Not just hope — proof that he could return. That someday, he might be beside her again.              Maybe… she had a new song idea. A sad one, but —              Real.              A Lament for the Distant Dawn.