Shao made to start up the stairs again, but found her path blocked by Baekhyun's arm. She scowled at him, clamping her hand around his wrist and trying to pull it away, but he was resistant. "Let me go, Baekhyun."

"No." Baekhyun sounded tired. He was tired. It had only been a few seconds since his discovery that he couldn't use his powers, and now apart from worrying about that, he had to worry about Taeyong, too. "I don't want to do this any more than you do, but we have to be cautious. It's either one of us that goes, or all of us."

He hadn't spoken expecting to convince her against going, and that was exactly what happened. Her scowl simply deepened, the scar on her cheek curving, and he winced as he felt her fingers dig into his arm. It would have been even worse if she had nails.

"You're a coward," she said instead.

Baekhyun pulled back, startled. He was used to hearing quips about the team's general incompetence from Shao, but never something as personal and direct as this. She meant what she said, he could tell—it was in her eyes, the way her lip curled, the undiminished force she was using to try and pry his arm away.

"Call me whatever you want." His grip on her tightened. Her words still hurt where she had hurled them at his heart, but he wasn't going to let that distract him from what he needed to do. "What do you think is going to happen when you go up the stairs? Do you think you'll really be able to help Taeyong? The only thing you'll do is slow him down, and that's going to endanger his life even more than it already is."

"I know I can help him."

"How?" he challenged, and she flinched, as if he'd hit her. By instinct, Baekhyun's grip on her loosened, and he looked at her guiltily. "Look, Shao—"

She shook her head and took a few steps backwards. Her face was shadowed, and she was avoiding his eyes, but he could tell that she was upset from the look on her face. Hell, he didn't even need to look at her to tell she was upset. They all were. "I'm sorry I called you a coward."

Baekhyun leaned against the handrail tiredly, and passed a hand over his face. He felt worn-down, and all the spiky emotions he had been feeling had smoothed over to weigh down his chest, anxiety and concern and despair feeling like rocks at the bottom of his lungs every time he took a breath. "Don't be," he said, and gave her a weary smile. "You're right. I am one."

Shao looked at him, conflicting emotions chasing each other across her face, but said nothing. It must have been visible in his expression that nothing she said would change his mind. Baekhyun turned away from her and pressed in the earpiece, speaking in a low voice: "Mark?"

Nothing.

"He doesn't have a codename, either?" Shao asked. Baekhyun turned halfway to look at her face, but worry for Mark was gnawing at his mind.

"We figured there was no point." Baekhyun shrugged, though it felt like he was pushing against a massive weight on his shoulders. "The Four already know about the two of you."

"Because of the note he got," she remembered. There was a frown on her face, like she thought something didn't add up, but Baekhyun didn't think much of it. Nothing had been adding up in the past few weeks. "The one on purple chart paper."

"Yes," Baekhyun affirmed. He glanced at the fitted metal brace around his forearm—what had Mark called it?—yes, the Bracelight. He knew the name had originally been Taemin's idea, but it sounded so Mark-like that he couldn't help but think of it that way. Mark. Somehow, Baekhyun felt even worse than before, but he knew he couldn't afford to be distracted by worry. Then he laughed dryly. "I'm crap at this job."

Shao, who had taken a seat on the floor against the opposing wall, glanced up in surprise. "What?"

He shook his head, already a fading smile on his face. "I think I should go upstairs," he said instead. "Check up on Taeyong."

"But you said—"

"I know," he sighed, cutting her off. He hadn't even done anything, but his entire body ached. "I just can't not do it. I have to go. If I'm not back in two minutes, run."

"You don't have to go anywhere," said a voice from above, and both of them glanced up. Taeyong was coming down the stairs at a staggering pace, probably because of the additional weight of the person he was supporting.

The winged boy they had encountered earlier was leaning heavily against Taeyong, his arm stretched over Taeyong's shoulder's. The sight was baffling in itself, but what was even stranger was that the boy's wings seemed withered. The feathers didn't seem as lush and thick as before, and Baekhyun watched as the boy took another step, the bottom of his wings dragging against the step and leaving a few broken feathers on it.

"What..." Baekhyun trailed off, having no idea what he could ask. Taeyong's face was grave, and the winged boy's fatigued. As they reached the floor, the boy slid, almost toppled, to the ground, and he slumped against the post. Feathers floated to the ground like black flakes, more breaking as he moved.

"What's wrong with him?" Shao voiced Baekhyun's question for him, untold apprehension in her voice. Something did seem to be wrong. The boy's face was haggard, skin pale under its honey-gold tan, making him look exhausted and sickly.

"I don't know," Taeyong said, and pressed his lips together. He stood over the boy with concern painted over his features, as opposed to the lip-curling animosity he had shown towards him earlier. Baekhyun wondered what had happened in the short span of a few minutes. "I had him pinned, and then he started shedding."

Baekhyun raised his eyebrows. "From the top?"

Taeyong nodded distractedly, still watching the boy who had collapsed against the handrail, whose eyes were closing. "He was really angry, and attacked me. But then I pinned him, because I thought—I thought he looked confused." Taeyong's eyes found Baekhyun's, as if seeking reassurance. Baekhyun gave him just that, nodding encouragingly. "I had him restrained, and tried asking him questions, but he just—didn't speak. He started paling, and gasping, and I—I panicked. I thought there was something wrong."

"I think something is," Baekhyun observed, going closer to the boy. He squeezed Taeyong's shoulder reassuringly, then knelt next to the boy, who was shivering. "What's your name?" he asked gently.

The boy looked at him through frightened, slitted eyes, hugging himself. His wings seemed crooked, like a frame hanging askew on a wall. "S-Seonghwa."

"How are you feeling, Seonghwa?" he asked, in a voice as calm as he could muster with everything he was feeling at that moment. "Are you hurt?"

The boy shook his head, but it looked more like a flinch. Then he gasped, eyes flying open, and his wings retracted impossibly close to his body for a brief second before expanding to their full wingspan. Even with more than half the feathers shed, they were beautiful, and for a moment, Baekhyun stared in awe. Taeyong stepped backwards, eyes widening, and the wings collapsed again. Seonghwa curled into himself, and his wings seemed to quiver, a shudder passing through them.

"They're coming apart," Shao whispered, and both Taeyong and Baekhyun glanced at her. She looked terribly sad as she lifted a hand to point at Seonghwa's back. Baekhyun leaned to inspect them, and saw that there were bloody scratches down his back, some of the blood making his shirt stick to his skin.

"What's wrong?" Taeyong asked, sounding afraid. "Is he losing his powers? Is it because of—of whatever that was that happened upstairs?"

"It can't be," Shao whispered, looking horrified.

Baekhyun pursed his lips, hands hovering uncertainly above the boy's wings. Seonghwa leaned into his touch, whimpering, and Baekhyun's heart softened. He couldn't lose his composure like the others, knowing that he had to be calm and collected for their sake. Slowly, he ran his fingers along the bridge of Seonghwa's wings, feeling the muscles underneath the features twitch and pulsate under his touch.

"The comm isn't working," Baekhyun said without looking away from Seonghwa. His eyes were closed, a deep crease in the middle of his brow, pained and permanent. "Taeyong, go get the others. Anyone you can find, and be fast. We have to leave." He tried not to let his worry seep into his voice, but it couldn't be helped. "Shao, check Sybil's database. Look for the name 'Seonghwa' in the missing persons' list."

"On it," Taeyong muttered, sounding relieved at having something to do, and started down the hallway—only to stop dead in his tracks a few steps in.

"What is it?" Baekhyun looked up, frowning. Taeyong's back was to them, but even then his dread was visible in his rigid posture and the tautness of his shoulders. "Taeyong?"

"Step back," Taeyong said coldly, and it took Baekhyun a few seconds to realize that he wasn't talking to him. Shao had frozen, eyes wide as she looked at whatever Taeyong was facing, but Baekhyun's kneeling position blocked his view of the corridor beyond.

Slowly, Baekhyun rose to his feet. Seonghwa was still shivering at his feet, dividing Baekhyun's attention between him and the threat. All he saw was Taeyong raise his arms with a cry, and a shadow that fell over him—and the hands, of course, the hands that reached out of the dark and took hold of his head, abruptly cutting off his cry.