The thick shadows surrounding the Domain parted. Melted, really, flowing down and away from the emerging figure like freshly spewed lava. Rua stepped into the amorphous room, shadows fleeing as her features materialized. Her dark skin glowed without the aid of light as her sure steps tapped against the hardened shadows underfoot.

“Well?”

A voice floated out of the eternal gloom, deep and sonorous. The shadows vibrated, rippling like

disturbed water on a moonless night.

“They met. The palangi’s are convinced they have the right of it.”

The voice snorted.

“Has the blessing been passed on?”

“Yes, Tamai. They had their little prayer circle. Held hands, sung their songs. All the words were spoken. And the old one shed some of his excesses. Should be wrapping up as we speak.”

“Good, good,” the voice murmured.

The vibrating shadows that Rua emerged from reached out, tendrils grasping at her muscular shoulders. They attached to her exposed skin with a loud sucking noise, pulling her back into their embrace.

“Continue the good work. Find a way to pass on the blessing the first group lost to the interlopers.”

Rua nodded, closing her eyes as the shadows closed around and pulled her out of the Domain.

---

She emerged in one of the many, many hallways contained within the labyrinthine backstage of the arena. Sighing, she puckered her lips and blew out a long, slow breath. She shook her shoulders and enjoyed the light little pops. Not because they ached but more because it was an old, familiar habit.

She reached out towards the shadowed space next to her. Her arm shimmered then disappeared as the air rippled and parted. The ripples spread as she drew her arm back, pulling a heavy mask out. It had a pair of large, bug-eyed lenses that glinted without the need for light.

She ducked and stuffed her head into the bizarre mask. It expanded then contracted, settling snugly and drawing her braided locs up into its amorphous confines. Tufts of icy air burst out from tiny vents lining the bottom of the mantle. She sighed and the sound that issued from the mask was cold, metallic, alien.

Rua gave herself a quick pat-down, passing her gloved hands over her body. The Faifekau’s uniform she wore filled out, conforming as it made it difficult to tell who or what she was. Her quick steps rang out, the clicking of her boots bouncing off the murky walls. She reached out, grasping the space in front of her and twisting. The click of tumblers falling into place was followed by the soft swish of a door swinging open.

Another long, empty hallway greeted Rua as she stepped through. Leaning against one of the shadowed walls was the scarred Faifekau. His grimace faltered as she stepped out. The prominent scar contorted as a weak smile shyly spread across his jagged lips.

“Brother,” Rua croaked, metallic voice grating against the still silence. She nodded and walked past the man, sensing the way his body tensed as she stomped by. “They’ve had long enough.”

The man let out a nervous chuckle, clearing his throat as he turned and followed. He twiddled the fibrous necklaces that hung around his neck, rolling a worn down spot between two fingers.

“C-can I as--”

“No,” Rua’s altered voice shot out, curt and to the point. “Ask nothing, think nothing, do nothing. Watch and serve your purpose.”

The nervous man cleared his throat as quietly as possible, head bowed as he focused on the shiny toes of his polished boots.

Rua walked ahead, not even bothering to check if the man was still following. Their steps clicked and clacked as they walked down the long, dark hallway. They walked in tandem as the man matched Rua’s pace, footfalls melding into one. A door swung open a few paces ahead of them, it was illuminated but none of the light was able to break the deep gloom of the hallway.

They stepped through, door sliding closed behind them. Kneeling in the middle of the room, the 3 modestly dressed foreigners held their hands out above the old one, the one who insisted on being called ‘the Father.’ They mumbled in their odd tongue, murmuring as a twisted gray light, diffused among the 3 praying figures, flowed from the Father and into them. With each passing moment, the kneeling foreigner seemed to grow younger, the skin around his heavy jowls tightening and firming. His sagging shoulders filled out, revealing his once muscular frame. The streaks of white in his hair slowly turned back to a dark, lustrous brown.

Rua and the other Faifekau stood quietly against the furthest wall from the odd group. The scarred man’s eyes darted back and forth, taking in as much detail as possible.

Just as the Father seemed to shed his age, the 3 praying foreigners seemed to be moving in the opposite direction. It began subtly, a slight tremor in their outstretched arms, their fingernails hardening, their eyebrows thickening and graying. Then it accelerated the younger he became. Their skin loosened, streaks of gray and white hair sprouted along their temples, their backs sagged as if a great weight had been thrust on them.

Still, they continued their mumbled prayers, voices steady. The corded gray light began to flicker, blinking slowly before picking up its speed. Faster and faster, the shuddering grew as it’s intense gray light added to the already illuminated room.

Rua stood motionless, stifling a yawn as she watched the light show.

“Foreigners,” she muttered. “Always with their shows.”

The Faifekau recoiled, brows knitted in surprise as he glanced over at his ‘colleague.’ The harsh, metallic clicking of Rua’s altered voice was enough to make even the most experienced Faifekau nervous. The casual, dismissive remarks were another thing. Even those amongst the Kainga rarely ever spoke so disparagingly about their guests. Which furthered the jittery Faifekau’s suspicion as to who, or what, his ‘colleague’ really was.

He cleared his throat as he moved to offer his opinion.

“Whatever you might be thinking,” Rua’s grating voice hissed at him. “Keep it to yourself. Unless you’re looking to join the wailing masses in the void.”

The Faifekau’s shoulders stiffened as the color drained from his face. He shivered as a sudden cold descended on him. Choking on his trapped words, the man licked his lips and worked his jaw, casting his eyes down.

“Eye’s up, Faifekau,” Rua mumbled. “Your accurate documentation is still necessary. Any discrepancies can and will get you exiled.”

Her arms folded behind her, Rua stood at, what appeared to be, parade rest. It was intimidating to look at, let alone stand next to. Even with her, relatively, diminutive height, it was rarely noticed due to how overbearing her presence was.

She continued to observe as the foreigner’s prayer neared its end. Unlike most of the members, and even some of the Tu’i, she was fluent in almost every language known to the wider world. She couldn’t help but chuckle at the inane, asinine prayer these palangi offered to their measly little god. To her colleague, her chuckling sounded like a bully’s shrill jeering instead of a mirthless, joyless laugh.

“--ess our brother, as he carries the banner of your word. May he spread your glory to the unknowing masses. In the name of Three who became One, we pray.”

“In the name of the One who became Three, I pray,” the Father said as he opened his eyes.

Rua watched as the now youthful man stood. At first, he moved gingerly, carefully checking every muscle before committing to any rigorous movement. He swiveled his neck back and forth as loud cracks and pops issued, groaning with satisfaction. A hand reached down and he grabbed it, pulling himself up. He shook his legs out as he stood, rotated his shoulders, turned his hips.

“It has been a long time, brothers,” the Father began, smiling at each of the 3 stooped figures. “Thank you for your offerings.”

The 3 men nodded, smiling weakly. Their eyes were filmy and wet, dull, tired.

“Come, you all need to rest. I’ll return to my entourage. I’m sure my second has already wrapped up with his duties.”

The oldest of the 3 drably dressed foreigners shuffled forward, holding out his hands.

“Brother, I am happy I was able to see you once again. Please,” the old man glanced over the Father’s shoulder at Rua and the Faifekau, clasping the man’s hand and pulling him in close. He began whispering fervently, hands shaking as he grasped the rejuvenated Father’s hand.

“Fret not, my friend,” the Father beamed. His voice was full and confident as he warmly rubbed the frail old man’s shoulder. “Everything will be taken care of. His Holiness has already seen it. Rest and let me handle the rest. In the name of the One who became Three.”

The Father made a strange motion, touching his forehead with 3 fingers then his right shoulder, and finishing with his left shoulder.

“In the name of the Three who became One,” the 3 drained foreigners muttered, responding with their own strange motion. They touched a single index finger to their foreheads and dragged it down their sternums.

The Father turned, standing to his full height as he addressed Rua.

“Faifekau,” he stumbled over the word, tongue heavy and unwieldy as it wrapped itself around the term. “I am ready to return to my fold.”

Rua nodded, turning and pushing the nearly-invisible door open.

“Brothers, thank you,” the Father bowed to his the Trinitymen before following Rua’s masked figure out of the room.

The group of Trinitymen collapsed into their couches, huffing and puffing as their tired, aged bodies relaxed.

---

Rua watched as the assembled foreigners huddled around the Father. Like preening chicks, they milled around the transformed man, voices mingling into a single, cacophonous mess of noise.

“Wow, father thi--.”

“Truly, a blessing from the Hol--.”

“In the name of th--.”

“Blessings on yo--.”

They talked over one another, clambering to offer their congratulations first or to catch a whiff of their so-called Holiness’ blessing. The Father smiled, lips creased in a smug little curve. He laid a hand on each member of his retinue’s shoulder. They seemed to shiver under his touch as if a bit of the blessing he’d received had been transferred.

“Brother’s,” he spoke as he approached the nearest couch. “Let us sit and discuss. We have much to speak on.”

The Father motioned around him, flicking his wrists as he sat back into the deeply cushioned seat.

“First things first,” he began, hands clasped across his stomach. “To our brothers, congratulations on the spectacular win. You represented His Holiness immaculately and put on a great show of just how powerful our faith is.”

He clapped, hands daintily meeting as he beamed at the 3 who had accepted their challenge. The two younger foreigners smiled sheepishly, nodding at the Father and mumbling. The older man nodded, face stony.

“Thank you for giving us the opportunity, Father,” the older man said, clearing his throat as he shifted in his seat.

“We will look to rely on you for your expertise and know-how in our future matches,” the Father’s teeth glinted as he spoke.

Rua cocked her head, ever so slightly. None of the foreigners noticed her as she stood at parade rest, quietly observing every little thing the candidates did.

The clapping died down as the conversation pressed forward.

“Secondly, it is obvious that I have inherited the blessing of our sister church. They were gracious enough to entrust their future in this,” he waved at the brightly lit window, cocking an eyebrow. “tournament to us. We are now the sole representatives of the right faith. As such, we will do everything in our power to ensure our success.”

All of the foreigners nodded along to every word. They reminded Rua of schools of fish, mindlessly following along in their tightly knit packs. A static popping rang in one ear, causing her to shift her head.

“Member, your candidates have an upcoming match,” a professional voice recited.

Rua cleared her throat, drawing the Father and his group's attention.

“Candidates, my apologies for interrupting your conversation. Your next match has been set. Please select your representatives.”

“Excellent,” the Father grinned as he stood, bouncing out of the seat at the mention of the match. “I will go.”

The group frowned as one, scrambling to their feet.

“Father,” one of the young men stepped forward. The one Rua had heard about. “Is this wise? Maybe a few of us should go with you? Just in case.”

“Bah,” the Father waved nonchalantly, shaking his head as he peeled his now loose robes off. “Fetch me a suitable change of clothes. These things are too big now.”

---

Rua watched as the foreigner strode into the middle of the arena, chest puffed out and shoulders thrown back.

“These foreigners and their blessings, I do have to admit. They are a tad bit impressive,” she muttered, her metallic voice crackling with each word.

Another figure rose out of the shadowy ground next to her. It was short and masked, dressed in the vestments of the Faifekau. Unlike Rua, this one felt no need to hide their voice.

“

It is, it is,” Wanu chuckled as she slid her hand across the blank space acting as a door. A small window flickered open, showing her the same view as Rua’s.

“Maybe they can actually serve as a good back-up plan.”

Rua pulled at her collar as a stream of thick steam climbed up her exposed neck. She coughed, the odd mask trembling as she fussed over it.

“Just take it off. It’s only us,” Wanu said as she pulled her mask off. Her short curly hair tumbled around her childish face, bouncing as if they had just been freshly washed and done.

Rua sighed and followed suit, pressing a button on the back of the mask. It emitted a long burst of icy air, ruffling her starch-stiff shirt. The mask fell apart, releasing her face as it dropped. Instead of clattering noisily against the ground, it disappeared, swallowed by the shifting shadows. Her strands of coiled braids fell around her head haphazardly, swinging slightly as she slowly twisted her neck.

“Would be much better if we didn’t have to wear those stupid things,” she mumbled, working her jaw until it popped.

“Well, we don’t have to. We just choose to because Tamai recommends them.”

“I guess.”

The two Tu’i fell quiet as the chimes announcing the beginning of the match echoed through the dim halls.

They watched as the confident Father sauntered forward, arms wide open. His jaw was moving, a smile plastered on his pale face as his lips flapped quickly.

“These foreigners love the sound of their own voices,” Rua clicked her tongue as she watched.

Wanu nodded, squinting as she tried to piece together what was being said.

“Holy… blessing…. Brothers… join the flock..,” Wanu tutted, slapping her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “This palangi’s recruiting. In the middle of a fight.”

Shrill laughs rose from their throats, teeth gleaming in the darkened space. Wanu’s little shoulders bounced as she held her stomach. Rua covered her mouth, an old habit from a time long gone.

“They really are funny,” Wanu spluttered through bouts of giggling. “Oh, it’s always some good entertainment when we bring them around.”

“Agreed,” Rua answered, smiling as she kept her eyes locked on the Father’s figure.

“Let’s help him out,” Wanu snapped her fingers.

The group that the Father was facing, a group of 5 Seas natives, stumbled backward as they slapped at their ears. They looked around as they found themselves able to understand the foreigners inane babbling.

The Father abruptly ended his long-winded sermon, brows knitting in consternation.

“Oh, look. Maybe he isn’t a complete idiot.”

“No, he is,” Rua sighed. “He probably only paused because of their reactions.”

Confirming Rua’s words, the Father’s lips quickly began moving once more. The same zealous drivel inundated the natives, only this time they were able to understand him. A smile slowly spread across his thin lips as he noticed the hold he had over his opponents.

One of the natives responded to the man, pointing at him and screaming something.

“Liar…” Rua read the native’s lips. “Oh, this looks good. Finally, getting to the good stuff.”

Wanu rubbed her hands together, licking her lips as she watched the native’s fan-out, surrounding the lone foreigner.

Undeterred, the Father raised his right hand and closed his eyes.

Wanu grinned, hopping up and down on the balls of her feet. “Oh, he’s gonna pull out something big.”

Light began to pool around the man, steadily increasing. It pulsated and thumped, growing with each moment. The Father’s lips continued to open and close steadily as he offered his prayer.

All 5 native candidates broke into runs, converging on the immobile man.

An intense flash pulsated through the room, washing away all darkness as it spread and covered everything in the arena. 3 of the natives had lunged forward, weapons arcing through the air and descending on the praying Father. Their momentum disappeared as the light seemed to suck it all up. They dropped, collapsing in a saggy heap before the glowing man.

Not more than a few steps behind them, their compatriots hit the ground. Foam dribbled out of the corners of their mouths as their bodies seized, muscles tightening and convulsing.

“Huh, not bad,” Wanu twirled one of her loose locks. The shadows beneath her feet reached up and grabbed her ankles, reverently dragging her down. “Maybe this backup might work out.”