My curiosity has destroyed my apprehension. My Ryoken translator has written something new tonight and I enjoy learning too much to think twice. It reminds me of reading with Mona Classidine at the temple library in Capara. I quietly toss a blanket over Lani's tent entrance to make it darker. It was one I found during our most recent raid. I place my bucket of water on the outside of the tent.

“It is time to read again Maur Crescendo,” I think to myself.

I wait outside Lani's tent. I pace quietly, before entering. I stop and glare at the fiery blurs around flying killers. They were gambling away the night again and I told them to stay quiet. I enter the tent. The cloth outside falls behind me with the blanket. The blur of the campfire leaves the room. The darkness grows across my face. Lani was asleep. I take each step carefully, knowing where all the quiet spots to step were. My previous pacing in her tent served me well. I see perfectly in the dark.

I understand what Lani writes now. Even though the Ryoken tribes are being redrawn, they still feel alive in her diary. Soon, I will leave my hunting grounds and return to Capara. I'm organizing some last raids on the Ryoken tribes. My men will rendezvous with us on our journey east. It will be exciting. I hope to procure some of the local elements in the process. They will be redrawn soon.

I walk further into Lani's room. I see her desk and unlit candle. I had Toah put it out when she fell asleep. Lani likes to sleep with the lights on. It troubles me. My fingers still have blisters from when I had pinched the flame before and missed. I look to my left and see Lani's bed. The furs were warm tonight. She was unaware.

Lani's desk becomes larger in my view. I take my gloves off. I flex my hands. I feel the worn cover in my hands and open her diary. I shuffle the pages and flip to somewhere near the end.

“Let's take a read, shall we?”

The passed few days ruined me. I don't want to be overly sensitive. Maur let us observe the pilot from far away. I witnessed the fall of Lam Lathi's empire. It writhed like the last dance of a lonely messenger. Lam Lathi gripped her own arm and tried to hold herself together. She was overrun by beautiful and glowing winged creations.

Hiding from the evil glows, I saw the destruction of Lam Lathi from my spot on the rooftops. The pilot was there. My hair moved in his direction and across my face like a thousand strings reaching out for the good feelings that sought to pull me in. I used a rooftop statue to hide myself in the city. I covered my face with anger and a sense of loss. It was the loss of all I knew. The pilot had come sooner than anyone expected. The street fights below raged again and again. His aura slowly consumed them, like new paint, gradually leaving the brush dry over an old wall. He redrew Lam Lathi into a magnificent and glowing city of loving light.

Lam Lathi had always said bandits and dancers shared equivalent shadows. Now there were no shadows, only bright warmth and positive feelings. I saw the pilot shriek from his throne at the top of his tower. He pointed with his finger and erased the midnight blue. He found it ridiculous that so many imperials would sacrifice themselves so readily for an empire that only sought to use them.

The pilot erased the dancers who manipulated the crowds. They all gave their very breaths as they danced against him, refusing to surrender to his peaceful vision. There were no more tempests in the city of Lam Lathi. He hunted them down and changed them. The cold chills vanished in his strange and loving coziness.

The pilot erased all the stages to make room for his beautiful creations to dance. There was no longer the loneliness of a messenger girl. There was no waiting for true love. Anything that causes pain must be erased and redrawn again and again, until it no longer exists. It felt like a thousand good dreams to wake up from. One, where I could only be lulled to sleep, wishing to avoid the harshness of my waking life.

All the bandannas have been erased as well. In place of them are perfect lovers, easy to touch and have, and void of all imperfection. Sex is easy and bountiful. There is someone beautiful and handsome for everyone - to be drawn as soon as they desire. Everyone finds someone to love. There is no longer a rose in the desert. There are only roses everywhere.

I saw a man mourning. He didn't want a perfect beauty to sleep with. He wanted to wipe his lover's tears again. Now, he would never comfort her. Without suffering there were no moments of tenderness and vulnerability. There was no crying, only smiles.

I saw a woman sobbing. She didn't want the tall and perfect one. She wanted the one who wore her bandanna. She wanted struggle and romance and all things that make love true. The pilot vigorously waved his hands around. War and death were erased around him. There was no dying for those you loved anymore.

I saw a couple faithfully holding hands. They said knowing they were loved was more important than feeling it. Conflict and hatred had tried to tear them apart, but they persevered. They had intimacy and never let go of each other. Like holding hands in the desert, they wanted to suffer together and survive. Their devotion made everything afterward, real.

It was at this point that I saw the pilot rage.

The pilot became furious with them. He remained calm and pointed at them both. His fingers grew longer. He said something strange with his tongue. The couple was to be redrawn, immediately. There was to be no room for hate and conflict in his redrawn world. There was to be no deserts in his new world. Enemies weren't supposed to kiss. Hatred wasn't supposed to end in passion. No hate, only love. Hate had to be erased. There was only to be love and happy feelings from now until forever.

I watched as the couple was surrounded in vicious light. They held hands tightly - a bloody bandanna on the man and the fearful and defiant eyes of his woman,

When the pilot was finished redrawing them, he celebrated with joy. I watched as the couple became calm and docile. All their conflicts and painful memories had been erased from remembrance. Their past arguments and hatred vanished. They had joyful tolerance for everyone and joined his creations, never knowing. They were naked, smiling, and beautiful. He drew them new and tender looking eyes. The pilot laughed and danced in celebration.

The last thing I witnessed tore me to pieces. I watched the couple walked away from each other, as if they had never met. Their hands stopped holding. He had erased their love story and turned them into happy strangers.

I push Lani's diary away. It slides on the desk. I had to put it back where I found it. I move it into place exactly and silence overtakes me. My dark eyes drift over to Lani. She was still deep in sleep. My men outside were quiet. I reach for her writing once more, but pull my fingers away.

“That is enough reading for today, Crescendo.”

I slowly back away, until I reach into my jet-pack pouch. I made one last flight through Lam Lathi before it was redrawn. My fingers play with a table stone. Some Ryoken tribes used it to save a spot for their friend at the table. The stone tumbles in my fingers, as if I were shining it like a gem. I place it gently at her spot. I thought Lani might enjoy it. It was out of place, so I noticed it. I happened to come across it randomly, in a redrawn building. It was a dark blemish among the magical blurs. The pilot didn't expend his energy to erase it. He had other business to tend to.

I glare at Lani's gift. Lani used to be a Lam Lathi messenger, The imperial inns were familiar to her. Perhaps it would remind her of home in the future. I want her to be proud of her beginnings and her banded, brown irises. I remember being proud of myself when Luer slashed me in our gambling duel long ago. I survived his mighty slice. The hangover was much worse.

I become serious as I look around Lani's tent. She was already skilled at repairing her equipment and it pleased me. Soon we would leave for Capara. I could only assume about that wretched place I called home. The refugees must be numerous by now. I have issues with the high priest being there. He will only take advantage of the situation. He has a collection of magical weapons pulled from the ancient picture. I'm sure his coffers are growing with desperation money and wealth. I think about my situation and the high priest.

“It will soon be time to meet old friend. May your chair be warm and may your breath be cleaner.”

The high priest has called us back for our duel and the swarms are about to combine into a fist. I want to be king. My rivals want it more. My spies have told me their swarms are larger. Let the best man win and unite us. I hope to survive the chaos, enough to make it to the ancient arena alive. It's far outside the city of Capara. There might be assassinations along the way. The five nobles enter the arena separately to keep our swarms from viciously attacking one another. The traditions have been blurred over time.

I take one last look at Lani. I step closer and observe my dancer. She will miss the Ryoken tribes. Her surviving people have fled to Capara. They hope to fight with us and those who fled from Neandeleria. The pilot is on his rapid prowl. It will take him some time to clean up the Ryoken tribes. They're zealous when you attack their lover. I should have enough time to unite my people under my crown. From there, the united swarms and the survivors will face our new foe.

Before I leave Lani's tent, I rub my unshaven face. It was time to shave again. The tent leaves me and I step out into the night. Immediately, I pick up my water bucket. It throw the water on the campfire and everyone complains. The embers hiss. My flying killers curse me. Moments later, my jet-pack sputters and I fly off across my camp.