Liang stumbled for the fifth time on a hidden stone in the snow. Her face smudged the powdered ice and somewhere underneath was a sharp root that cut a line under her cheek. She took a moment to relax on her awkward position—face pressed against the loose ice—and when she finally lifted herself back up, she had marked the snow with the shape of her face and the tint of her blood.

She turned to lie on her back and peered at the moonless sky. A canopy of dark clouds was revealed in the split moments lightning flashed and was followed by the delayed grumble of thunder. There’s a storm coming, Liang thought and finally stood up. She ruffled her tunic to shake the snow off her clothes and resumed her wander through the forest.

She kept walking until the trees were closely packed together and the terrain become ever uneven. She had climbed down slopes and cut her hand on sharp stone, moving forward until she might find a path before the storm engulfs her. By the next moments, frozen drizzles accompanied the wind and thunder rumbled as quickly as lightning flashed.

Liang hastened her pace, ignoring the increasing weight of her legs with each step. She was on the verge of fatigue when she saw bobbing firelights in the distance. There was a caravan not far away.

She mustered enough strength to push forward. Each howl of the wind planted visions of her carcass buried in the snow. This deep in the forest, she was not safe both in life and death. There was the risk of her spirit getting devoured by shadows. She could feel them prowling from a safe distance, waiting for winter to take her body so that they may take her soul.

“Hey! Over here!” Liang shouted when she was close enough to surmise figures. There were two carriages, hauled by two horses each. Stout, boar soldiers surrounded the carriages, one torch for each of them that marched on the path. They were clothed lightly compared to the royal guards, only wearing a silver breastplate over long robes that ended right above the ankles. It was almost similar to Liang’s tunic had it been less dilapidated over the years.

The one from the outermost flank turned his head to Liang’s direction, blowing smoke from his nostrils.

“Walk no closer.” He stopped and turned his body toward Liang, one hand readily placed on the handle of a spiked cudgel.

Liang halted immediately and cautiously lifted her hands forward in surrender. “I mean no trouble,” she said. “A storm is approaching, see, and I was hoping to travel with your caravan. Just until the next village.”

“Get lost.” The boar grunted. He turned away and marched back with his companions.

Liang followed. “It would be like I wasn’t here at all. The second carriage.” She pointed. “If I guess correctly is for livestock. Allow me to ride there and I’ll be gone as soon as we enter the next village.”

The boar soldier stopped and along with him, several others who had noticed Liang’s presence.

“It would be much easier to bash your head and leave you here for the landcrawlers. This is your last warning.” The boar drew his bludgeon.

“Yeah, smash her head open!” Encouraged one other boar soldier.

Liang opened her mouth to speak but was interrupted by someone from the first carriage.

“What is all that yammering I hear?” peeked a woman from the carriage’s window. She had dark skin and fuzzy hair that sat on top of her head like a gigantic orb—restrained by a red headband. Her voice had a strange accent—syllabicating words similarly to the Easterners but with a harder diction. Liang heard it before from her Maalonian friends back at the temple and the clouded leopard, Makaskas just recently.

“My lady.” Liang bowed and jogged past the boar soldier, recognizing the woman’s high status by her ownership of Guren escorts. “I fear for the storm that’s about to come. I humbly ask for your permission to allow my travel with your caravan.”

“This one is courteous,” said the woman, bearing a smile with sharpened teeth. “This one I invite to travel. Come and share a drink with me.”

Liang felt proud of herself. She looked at the boar soldier smugly before entering the carriage. She had only hoped to travel lighter but her efforts bore twice the result.

“Come, accompany me,” said the woman. She was sitting across a vacant seat that was cushioned with fine Maalonian patterns. The fabric was woven with reds, greens and yellows, intertwining to form the common design of southeastern garments. Square, satin pillows colored in gold piled on the edges of the seats.

Liang reluctantly made her way through the small space, guilty of leaving dirt marks from the sole of her boots.

“Leave it. Nothing can be done.” Smiled the woman when she noticed Liang’s hesitance to walk the matted floor. “Sit. Your eyes keep many stories.” She directed her hand across the vacant side of the carriage. “I wonder which ones you would tell over a cup of liquor.”

“Only ones that are not taboo,” Liang said half-jokingly as she seated. She kept her back straight and shoulders tensed, presenting herself as elegantly as opposed to her scruffy appearance. She was bruised and unclean. Whatever skin exposed of her was covered with small cuts and smudged with dried blood. Her tunic had worn out terribly and had it not been winter, for hygiene’s sake, then her odor would waft inside the carriage.

The woman chuckled, bearing her serrated, yellow teeth. “It is rude to drink with strangers. I am Ba’e Ba’yi.” She said, locking eyes with Liang. There was something hypnotic about the way she spoke; something that allured Liang unwillingly. Ba’e Ba’yi continued, “Is Maalonian for Lady of Mantises but up here, I am known as Samagwi. I prefer you call me that instead.”

By the time Samagwi finished speaking, Liang realized that the Maalonian had already pulled out two cups and a bottle of liquor that was clearer than water. Liang shook her head to expel the entrancing sensation but it was not only Samagwi that was hypnotic. Everything about the carriage slightly disoriented Liang—perhaps it was the paint on the walls or perhaps it was the tribal patterns sewn in the fabrics of Samagwi clothes but there was definitely something odd about the situation.

“Laklakan,” Samagwi said and it was the next time Liang realized that she was spacing out again. The Maalonian opened the bottle. “It is moonshine of Maalon’s tribal deities.”

Liang shook away the strange ambience in her head after catching a whiff of the liquor. The scent was so strong that merely sniffing it had already given Liang a hint of its taste. The aroma permeated the air around them, expelling the cold by its mere presence.

Samagwi poured a small cup full and handed it to Liang. “Now I am not stranger.”

Liang held the small cup on top of her palm, stirring the liquor by gently whirling it. “I am Liang.”

Samagwi raised a single eyebrow. “Liang…” she trailed off for Liang to continue.

“Just Liang.”

“I see,” Samagwi said and closed the bottle after pouring herself a cup full. “A name like yours is either self-chosen or given by someone outside your bloodline. Even bastards have more than one name.”

Liang opted to elude the topic about the origin of her name as it could expose her true nature. “And what of yours, Ba’e Ba’yi? Why renounce your Maalonian heritage?”

Samagwi chortled. “We Maalonians love stories. Let us exchange stories, shall we? This first drink, I offer to mine.” She raised her cup and Liang followed. Together, they gulped down the liquor.

Across the mouth, the Laklakan was entirely tasteless and fairly easy to swallow. Liang was more overwhelmed by the strong aroma of the liquor finding its way through her nose. However, seconds later, her throat felt a crawling fire that descended all the way to her chest. She spent minutes arched down and eyes closed at the entirely new sensation her body received. She had spent twenty years drinking and none of it built a tolerance against the Maalonian liquor.

Samagwi’s reaction was not that different from Liang. Although accustomed with the drink, Samagwi still spent as much time allowing her body to cope with the liquor. After the effects had settled, Liang felt like her vision was loose from her head and her actions, unrestrained.

“One can only build a tolerance for drunkenness but never for the sensation of drinking Laklakan.” Samagwi explained. “That is why this drink is famous among the deities and the gods.”

Liang unhinged all the tension in her body and fully relaxed on the seat, letting her dulled mind take over. “On with the story!” she raised her empty cup and let her arm drop on top of her stomach.

Samagwi mirrored Liang’s position only that the Maalonian crossed her legs. “I was Ba’e Ba’yi in Maalon. Raised in the island of Harag’yo to become just another Avolario. I was fifteen when I discovered that my power could do so much more than fix broken humans.” She sighed. There was a sudden change in her tone as if recalling the memory was something she hated.

Samagwi folded her arms, eyes squinting. She continued. “Anything the exorcists taught, I could learn. But why settle for something restricted? That I asked myself. Why should I let my power be limited to spirits only? So I dabbled with Yin forces taught by the shadows I promised to hide from the proud exorcists. I built them shrines in the deepest forests and in the deadliest coasts of our island where the humans dared not venture. In turn, they taught me potent magic.”

Liang’s eyes felt heavy. She fought to stay awake but the liquor was simply too strong. She did not like where Samagwi’s story was leading.

Samagwi shifted on her seat and leaned forward to Liang. “After mastering my craft, I presented myself to the tribe, reborn as a shamaness. Instead of accepting me as the new oracle, the tribe leader banished me, appalled by my power. I sailed to Haeguk and arrived at a small wayward village where I was called Samagwi—the praying mantis.”

After hearing Samagwi’s tale, Liang jerked herself awake. Samagwi was part of the minority exorcists vanquished aside from shadows. She tried to act natural but her actions were difficult to restrain.

Samagwi placed the empty cup to her side and looked at Liang. “Now it is your turn to share a story,” she said. “If you don’t mind, I would like to choose. I want you to tell me the story of how you survived, dragon.”

At the sound of the word, Liang was surprised awake. Her hand instinctively went to grab the dagger in her harness but she was even more surprised when she touched nothing.

“To have survived Zhaohu’s siege is impressive but to learn at the temple when you are a woman is quite extraordinary.”

Liang got up but the intoxication prevented her from moving rapidly. She headed toward the carriage door, limping from side to side but with the mere snap of Samagwi’s fingers, the door was bolted and Liang was trapped inside.

“Release me,” Liang demanded.

“I am on my way to Lord Shinsou in Yofune. It was about time he called for me to cure his illness. Perhaps afterwards we could travel to Tian Liang to visit the emperor.”

“No…” Liang pulled at the door and then turned to Samagwi. “No…”

“Sit.” Samagwi commanded. “Your words cannot free you. Either spend the journey pleading or…” she directed her hand to the vacant seat. “We could drink and share more stories until we arrive at the village.”

Liang released her clutch on the carriage’s door. The tips of her fingers were red from gripping the metal. She accepted Samagwi’s order and returned to her seat but for the first time in twenty years, she did not want to drink.

~

When they arrived at Yofune, Liang could barely stand up. Samagwi had ordered one of her boar soldiers to assist Liang in walking but the hog did not have the patience to be delicate with a human, a captive one especially. So the boar ended up slinging Liang over his shoulder as they made their way across Shinsou’s manse.

It was late at night when they arrived but the wolves were as awake as their landcrawler counterparts, drinking in the dining halls and manning the barracks. Samagwi and her escorts continued to an empty courtroom occupied by merely a single black wolf sitting lazily on a throne.

“I have been waiting for your arrival,” said the wolf. From the courtroom doors, he appeared no more than a pair of eyes in the darkness, glinting in the reflected light from two pillar candles on either side of the platform.

“Lord Suirou.” Samagwi bowed and the rest of her escorts followed.

“You are the fifth shaman summoned this year, Samagwi,” Suirou said. “I will not be surprised if you fail like the others.”

Samagwi felt offended but smiled nevertheless, intimidating the black wolf sitting on the throne. “Your only mistake was not calling me first and foremost.”

“As most of them said.” Suirou yawned and got up.

“Whatever the result, I shall be getting twice the glory,” Samagwi said and snapped her fingers. The boar soldier carrying Liang marched forward and placed her on the floor.

“Godkissed?” asked the wolf.

“Dragon,” Samagwi replied proudly.

There was no hiding the surprise on Suirou’s face. Just yesterday he reported the exorcist to Zhaohu and now, the exorcist was half-awake inside his court.

“How did you…” Suirou trailed off, not quite fully believing the capture in front of him.

“I merely invited her to drink with me,” Samagwi said proudly. “Now come. Let us see to your father, shall we?” she commanded the boar soldier to pick up Liang but Suirou had taken over.

“My father does not like unnecessary company during nightfall.” Suirou carried Liang in his arms. “Only the shaman and the bounty comes with me. The rest of you may return to the guest rooms. The household will tend to your needs.”

“Release…me,” Liang mumbled. Her breath reeked strongly of Laklakan that the hinges of Suirou’s jaws tingled and his mouth salivated at the mere smell.

“What potion did you use to intoxicate her?” Suirou asked.

“No potion,” Samagwi chortled, “Just Maalonian liquor. I have a few bottles as gifts for accepting my services.”

They walked to Shinsou’s chamber and the closer they arrived, the emptier and darker the halls became. Certain passages were limited with only a single guard and a single torch. When they ascended toward steps leading to a tower, it was completely unguarded and unlit.

“You are aware about my father’s curse?” the wolf asked when he noticed Samagwi become uneasy.

They were in the dimmest hall yet and the wolf seemed to be merging with the darkness. Only his crimson eyes seemed to float opaquely, and occasionally shimmer, in the dark hall.

“A sleepless curse, I heard,” Samagwi said.

“Where silence is too loud and darkness, too bright,” Suirou replied, “That is why the hall to his room should be kept vacant. He complained that the torches were blinding and the guards’ breaths were ringing inside his ears. Inside his chamber, all he does is stare at the fire and murmur…”

Samagwi was curious. She had always been curious of Shinsou’s curse and she’s offered her help many times. Only now was she accepted and finally, she could put an end to the infamous illness that plagued the legendary warden. The finished task is enough to grant her a luxurious life among the court—among the nobles and if all else fails, she had the exorcist as her last resort.

When they arrived before the door of Shinsou’s chamber, it was pitch black other than the thin line of firelight escaping through the door’s base.

Suirou knocked.

“Am I never clear?” shouted a voice from inside. “Leave at once! I am not to be disturbed!”

“It is I, father,” Suirou announced. “I come with good news.” He opened the door. It was completely silent inside as though the room might have been empty. There, on a gigantic tusk chair, sat Shinsou staring at the fire.

“Son…” Shinsou’s voice turned soft. “Enough with your shamans. They’re powerless.”

“This one might be different.” Suirou placed Liang on the floor by Shinsou’s bed. Then the young wolf approached his father, kneeling by his side to speak with him more softly. “Our shaman captured the exorcist.”

Shinsou barely reacted. “What of the snow leopard?” he asked. “I need that wretched coward.”

Suirou gently hushed his father. “We will have no need of that snow leopard. The shaman is here and she—”

“To the shadow realms with the exorcist!” Shinsou slammed his fists on the armrests of the chair and got up. “Bring me Wei Bao! I need his head mounted on my wall along with the rest of the pathetic heavenly guardians!”

Suirou’s fur bristled but after a while, he coaxed his father to sit back down. “We’ll capture him,” Suirou said. “We’ll capture him but for now since the shaman is already here, may as well have her cure you.”

Shinsou nodded his head and Suirou let Samagwi take over.

The Maalonian shamaness circled the wolf warden, stroking her arms in the air as though she was wading on water. She bent down by the fire and took a handful of powder from one of the many pouches she kept with her and threw it to the flames.

The fire sparked and crackled, releasing a sweet aroma. Then the scent turned foul.

“The curse, I feel,” she announced. “And it is strong.” She sucked in a lungful of air and let it out. “I see it. I see the curse inside this room. Two…five…seven…more?”

Somewhere in the middle of Samagwi’s divination, Liang broke out into laughter from behind them. The exorcist, drunk and half-awake, was watching them bemusedly, one eye larger than the other.

Suirou marched toward Liang and bent down to meet her. The wolf grabbed Liang by the hair and forced her to look at him.

“Do you find my father’s suffering amusing, exorcist?”

“I do,” Liang continued laughing. Then she pointed a shaky finger at Shinsou.

“The dumb wolf is not cursed—”

Suirou’s hand quickly latched around Liang’s neck, squeezing the air out of her. “Insolence!”

Liang wheezed and her face changed color by the second. But she remained smug nevertheless.

“Release her please, Lord Suirou,” Samagwi said. “She may offer valuable insight.”

Suirou released Liang, echoing a word of retribution. “Don’t think that I will not cut your tongue after this.”

Liang regained her composure and after her breath returned to her, she felt more awake. “The curse you feel is not a curse but a grudge. The wolf is not cursed. He is possessed. Fourteen earthbound spirits reside in his vessel. And your magic cannot help him.” Liang smiled and began laughing again.

Suirou looked at Samagwi. “Is the exorcist lying?” he asked.

Samagwi lost her confidence to Liang’s statement. If it wasn’t a curse then she had no dominion over it. “Your father requires an exorcism…” she said, “That is why all the shamans failed.”

They both looked at Liang.

Liang spat. “Do not waste your time. I will never do it.”

“Perhaps for now,” Suirou said. “But a few days in the dungeon might…persuade you.” The black wolf pinched a lock of Liang’s hair and twiddled it. “They’ll make you scream. Heed my words. And you’ll beg to exorcise my father.”

~

Liang was personally escorted by Suirou and Samagwi to the dungeons right behind Akako. Her hands and feet were clamped in iron connected with a chain. There were several buildings right by the riverbank each manned by packs of wolves. Liang was taken to one that was closest to the river, at the heart of the encampment.

Two wolves were drinking by the dungeon entrance and at the site of their Lord Suirou approaching, they hastily tossed out the wine and alertly stood by the metal door.

“Lord Suirou.” The wolves bowed.

From the entrance, Liang could hear agonizing cries and the echo of whatever device was used to inflict pain.

“Is the master of torment present?” asked Suirou.

“Yes, Lord. He is inside.”

“Open the door.”

The wolves followed and the trio entered, dragging Liang by the chain. The sound of the river’s current echoed inside the dungeon and the cry of pain was piercing to the air. What’s more terrifying about the scream was that it sounded familiarly human.

There was a torchlight nearby and Liang could finally see the origin of torment. As they approached, Liang realized that the puddles she had been stepping on were not water.

She gasped at the first clear sight of the human strapped on a chair. Hauntingly familiar, the crying man was shaved and blinded. His eyes were freshly taken out. Where tears were supposed to run, blood fell instead and his gaping mouth revealed his severed tongue.

Then came out the tormentor—a gigantic wolf almost twice the size of the regular soldiers Liang had murdered. He wiped his bloodstained hands on the apron he wore and bowed his head to Suirou.

“My lord, what brings you here at the filthy dungeons?” he asked.

Suirou looked over the tormentor, to the human that was strapped on the chair. “A new bloodhound, I presume?”

The tormentor looked over his shoulder then back at Suirou. “Yes, lord. I heard the previous one was killed by an exorcist. Along with Shiba and nine others. This one,” he pointed, “was a rogue clansman. Can’t tell which one he’s from. He wouldn’t speak until the end.”

“Honorable,” Suirou remarked. “Such qualities baffle me. While there are others who would instantly betray their kind, there are those who would die protecting them.”

“Might as well give him purpose than waste food to feed him every day,” the tormentor said.

“The man is pitiful,” Samagwi joined the conversation. “You have made him unfit to live.” She extended her hand to the man and closed her fist swiftly. The man on the chair heaved a last breath and died.

The tormentor marched toward Samagwi, towering over the Maalonian shaman. “Perhaps you would like to be our bloodhound instead.”

“Be careful who you threaten, big one.” Samagwi bared her teeth.

“Enough, Juugo,” Suirou commanded.

Juugo stepped back and apologized to Suirou.

“We brought you the exorcist,” Suirou said.

Juugo’s eyes widened in surprise.

“She needs a mild persuasion in exorcising father.”

“Is the lord warden, well, master?”

“That will depend entirely on you…on how well you could convince our exorcist friend over here,” he tugged at the chain like a bell. “How much time do you need?”

Juugo walked over to Liang, circling the exorcist and sniffing her. He ran a claw on the skin of Liang’s cheek. “This one is not accustomed to pain. I’ll have her persuaded by the same time tomorrow, your lordship.”

Suirou looked at Samagwi and nodded his head.

Samagwi pulled out a dagger and walked over to Juugo. She slipped the blade inside her palm and pulled it out swiftly all while whispering foreign chants on the wound.

“Bend down, if you do not want to get killed by the exorcist,” Samagwi said.

Juugo followed and the Maalonian shaman opened her palm in front of Juugo’s snout. The blood arose from the wound like viscous tentacles and lashed forward to the dungeon warden, slithering inside his orifice with immense pain.

After the ritual, a red mark appeared inside Juugo’s eyes.

“Now you are immune to magic,” Samagwi said.

“Is that so?” Juugo got up. Before Samagwi could answer, the gigantic wolf grabbed the shaman by the neck and lifted her up in the air. “Try to break free.”

Samagwi squirmed, kicking her legs and clawing at the wolf’s arm all in vain. She looked at Suirou.

“S-stop him…” Samagwi said.

“We no longer have use of you,” Suirou replied. “And your soldiers would make a fine meal.”

With one nod of Suirou’s head, Juugo snapped Samagwi’s neck and the Maalonian’s body fell limp. Juugo dropped Samagwi’s corpse on the ground.

“She didn’t fully waste our time unlike the others, wouldn’t you agree?” Suirou looked over his shoulder to Liang. “She brought us this exorcist.”

Liang was shaking.

“Now what parts do you not need to perform an exorcism?” Suirou asked.

“I-I need all of them…” Liang said. “I must be whole.”

“Surely you’re not just saying that so you could get away with torture, are you?”

Liang cursed inside her mind. “I’ll do it…” she knelt on the floor. “I’ll perform the exorcism…”

“But we’ve already come this far. Samagwi even died getting here.” Suirou sighed. “So as to not waste our time coming here, I shall personally come to retrieve you the same time tomorrow.” Suirou bent down and tipped Liang’s chin up. “Until then, my friend, Juugo, will take good care of you.” The black wolf got up and passed the chain to Juugo. “Don’t damage her too much, else I’ll hold you responsible.”

Juugo smirked and pulled Liang to a cell. “I can guarantee that she would still be recognizable.”

Liang pleaded as she was dragged to a dungeon cell. What cry of agony filled the dungeon before, she replaced with her own. And somewhere far along the road back to Yofune, Suirou listened to the exorcist’s anguish.