Liang’s back felt stiff and itchy. That was the first thing she remembered after waking up. Instinctively, she reached behind her to scratch but stopped as soon as her hand extended far enough for the skin to strike her with searing pain. The wound pulsated and Liang let out a groan.

“You’re finally awake, thank goodness,” was the first thing she heard.

In the haze of her clearing vision, she saw Mori Tenshi. The Ronin sat beside her on the bed and assisted her to sit upright.

“No heralds…” Liang rubbed her eye and then twitched when her back ached.

“What?” the confused Ronin asked.

“It means we’re not dead,” Liang said. “And this is not a dream. You really did come for me…” she only realized that the marks of her torment were long gone when her eyes glanced at her clear hand. Where her nails were removed, it had regrown pinkish and lustrous as though lacquered with clear polish.

The surprised exorcist ran her hands down on her bare chest where her hands did not cup moist wounds or rough patches of scabs, if she had been healing naturally. It was only her back which had felt so stiff as if two ends of her skin had been pulled and sewn together.

“The wound on your back is too deep, too gnarly,” Tenshi said. “Avolar Nami could not heal it while you are unconscious. She said your body needs more energy to withstand the procedure.”

“How long was I asleep?” Liang asked.

“Two days…it’s the second night since you were brought here…” Tenshi’s tone lowered and his eyes averted Liang.

“Thank you, Tenshi…” Liang placed her hand on Tenshi’s cheek and coaxed him to look at her.

Tenshi held the back of Liang’s hand and nuzzled his face against it. He had shaved recently but Liang felt the sharp stubbles where the Ronin’s beard regrew. Time had definitely passed Tenshi as it did Liang. The ronin’s hair had grown thicker and longer with gray strands following the band that pulled it back to a warrior’s tail. His cheekbones were more prominent and his jawline, sharp and chiseled. The last time they had seen each other was more than ten years ago yet nothing seemed to have changed between them. Liang felt the same comfort looking in Tenshi’s dark eyes, seeing the mischief of their youthful years staring back at her.

“I’ll go get Avolar Nami,” Tenshi said and got up.

As though by instinct, Liang’s hand latched on Tenshi’s forearm, stopping him. “No…I’m okay, Tenshi.” Then she pulled him back to sit. “She has already done enough,” Liang said.

“But the wound on your back—”

“Will heal eventually,” Liang interjected. “These people…” Liang leaned closer to Tenshi, whispering, “It’s not like I’m even human to them.”

Tenshi wrapped his arms around Liang and pulled her to an embrace.

“Ever since the first tragedy, you’re the only one who’s ever treated me as I am, exorcist or not.”

“I understand…” Tenshi brushed Liang’s head. “Then maybe this time, you would come with me?”

Liang nodded. “This time, I will.”

They broke away from each other just in time for Avolar Nami to enter the tent carrying a basin of herbal tonics and fresh bandages. A few steps inside the tent, she stopped in surprise after seeing Liang awake and looking back at her.

“I’m glad you’re finally awake,” she said flatly and placed the basin on a wooden table near the straw bed. “Let’s get this over with.”

Liang looked at Tenshi, reminding him with a mere glance.

It took Tenshi a moment before understanding Liang’s warning look. “It’s alright, Avolar Nami. You have done more than enough,” the Ronin said.

Nami shot a glance at Liang and the exorcist averted her gaze immediately. Then she looked back at Tenshi. “That wound needs to be mended otherwise it would take months for it to fully recover.”

“It’s a valor mark of war.” Tenshi did not know what else to say. “Scars are honorable to have for a warrior.”

Liang sighed, letting her shoulders drop. “It’s a personal decision, Avolar Nami,” she said without looking at the avolar’s direction. “Let this suffering be my punishment and its scar, the mortal reminder of my sin.”

Silence ensued as Nami stared emptily at Liang with unblinking, half-opened eyes. The longer it went, the more tensed the atmosphere became and the more innerving the avolar’s face had turned. Then finally, Nami spoke, “That’s ridiculous.”

“I-I think it makes sense,” Tenshi stuttered and coughed awkwardly.

“You sound just like Bao,” Nami added and folded her arms.

At the mention of the snow leopard’s name, Liang looked at Nami’s direction. “What happened to Bao?”

Nami grabbed the basket and squeezed it against her hip. “At least let me clean your wound and then I’ll tell you.” She paused and looked at Tenshi. “Alone.”

Liang instructed Tenshi to exit the tent and soon, she and Avolar Nami had the quarter to themselves. Liang shifted on the bed, facing her back toward Nami. Her skin was torn by a series of lashes, lacerating layer after layer until it was uneven on the edges and deep at the center.

When Nami first saw Liang’s wound, she could almost fit her entire hand inside the cut. The exorcist had lost so much blood that Nami was not even sure if Liang’s body had enough strength to withstand the healing incantations. After all, it was still the body that healed and an avolar’s magic only catalyzes the process with aid of medicine and surgery.

As if it was not already overwhelmingly difficult enough to treat Liang as her life waned by the second, Bao was delivered to them in a much more critical state than the exorcist and Nami had to work on the two of them simultaneously.

“I’m sorry,” Nami said. She uncorked a bottle from the basin and poured a disinfecting liquid on the cloth, whispering charms as the fluid was absorbed.

Liang ignored the avolar’s apology. “Just a reminder that you are not to heal an inch of it.”

Nami sighed and Liang heard the volume of the avolar’s exasperation. “I will not,” Nami lied. She pressed the cloth at the edge of the wound where tiny beads of scab had began to form.

Liang grimaced at the burn of the disinfectant.

Nami began rubbing the cloth on the edges of the wound, wiping dry blood. Where the liquid masked, the scabs fell and the abrasions closed. Liang barely noticed it. Nami proceeded to heal the deeper parts, slowly mending the damage. Spindles of flesh reconnected, sealing the gap where the tissues had separated.

“If I hadn’t driven you away, this would not have happened,” Nami said.

Liang kept her mouth shut. She did not believe that Nami was actually sincere. Not to her at least but she did not blame the avolar for what had happened to her.

“If I hadn’t let my anger get the better of me, Bao would not have been…” she paused, intercepted by a wrong heave of breath that made her gulp.

“Ah,” Liang realized. “You could have just begun with Bao. You and I both know that you hardly care enough for my wellbeing.”

Nami caught her breath and bit her lip, ashamed at how easily the exorcist guessed her motive.

“I hardly care myself,” Liang said and turned to face Nami.

“I’m not done cleaning—”

“There is nothing shameful about what you’re doing. When you live as long as I have, you’d understand that. I have gone against my personal grudges to acquire my needs,” Liang said. “So what is it, Avolar Nami? What do you need my help with?”

Nami wanted to defend her ego but it was far too late for that. Liang had seen past her like clear water and it would only embarrass her more trying to deny it.

“It’s Bao…” Nami said. “I don’t know what happened…nobody would tell me but the day you two were brought here injured, I did everything I could to keep you alive. And Bao, h-his insides were ruptured. I’ve only held it long enough so that he would not die immediately but now he would not let me finish healing him. He would not let anybody inside his tent—not me, not Makaskas, not even Yachi.”

“Then what makes you think he would want to see me?” Liang replied.

“Because you’re an exorcist,” Nami said. “And he was a deity maybe he would listen to you. I don’t know…” Nami dropped the cloth and pressed her hands on her face as tears continuously leaked from her eyes.

“I need to speak with him anyway,” Liang got up. She searched the area around her and found her clothes folded on the table. “I have other matters I want to discuss with him. I’ll convince him but do not put your faith in me.” Liang slipped into her clothes. “I have already failed you twenty years.”

~

It was evening when Liang had finally decided to step out of the tent. The sky was clear and the moon was bright. There was a particular calm surrounding her like how she would watch the firelit festivals from the window of her chamber back at the temple. Masu’s grove was its own village. Not one that was grandeur or if a village at all but after the events that followed Liang, she had finally come to see the encampment with its own beauty.

Each tree had lanterns tied to it, spanning long and wide across the grove. The ones farthest were like firebugs in the dark. The children were eating dinner in groups—by the pond, by the field or anywhere in the vast space of the grove. It reminded Liang of her youth in the temple—of the place she once called home where she was surrounded by people like her, where she was not just an exorcist.

She made her way to Bao’s tent. The snow leopard’s quarter was unlit and hidden in the dark much farther away from the rest. The moment Liang set foot before the entrance, she heard Bao snarl.

“Not a step closer,” his voice resounded raspy and deep from the inside.

But of course Liang did not follow him and entered the tent anyway. As soon as the tarpaulin entrance closed behind her, she was swallowed in pitch darkness. There was a pungent smell in the air, close to foul but tolerable still. It was like entering the cave of wolves. A territorial growl was warning Liang not far ahead.

“I recall seeing matches somewhere around here,” Liang said. “Wait a moment, let me maneuver my way around the tent by means of my extremities. Don’t mind me.” Liang walked through the darkness both arms extended to the limit and feeling through the thick air, if that helped her at all. Her hands were too high above her waist and so she hit her thigh on the sharp corner of Bao’s wooden table.

The materials placed on the table jangled and perhaps toppled over. Liang heard the wooden grip of a brush roll off the surface and drop to the ground with a light clack.

“You could see in darkness, right, Bao? Tell me I did not look ridiculous.”

Bao ceased his growling and Liang heard him groan instead.

“What do you want, Liang?” he asked.

Liang massaged her leg. “Nami wants to heal you so she sent me here.”

“That avolar…”

“But I was coming to see you regardless,” Liang said instantly. She placed her hand on the surface of the table and felt her way past it until she was sure that the next object she’ll hit was the frame of Bao’s straw bed. She walked nonchalantly, overestimating the small space between the bed and the table which resulted in her stumbling on the cushions stomach first. She groaned in pain, complaining about the wound on her back.

“Nami still hasn’t healed you yet?” Bao sounded close.

Liang sat upright and waved her arms in front of her to feel Bao but she did not touch him.

“Are you evading me?” Liang asked. “How are you doing it so fast?”

“Why didn’t Nami heal you yet?” Bao asked. “And why are you acting strangely?”

“Firstly, I decided that I’m going to keep this wound. For personal reasons. Secondly, you sly snow leopard, why didn’t you tell me you were Wei Bao? I was sure you were from the north but I didn’t assume that you were the heavenly guardian of Shan Liang—our country,” Liang emphasized. “You were our deity. My neighbor.”

Bao caught Liang’s waving hands and placed it down on her lap. Then he withdrew slowly away from her.

“Why are you here?” he asked.

Liang straightened her posture, unsure where to look. It hardly mattered since she could barely tell the difference if her eyes were closed or not. “I came here to speak,” she said solemnly.

Bao did not reply.

“I’m terribly guilty, Bao, I am,” Liang confessed. “All the years I did nothing are catching up to me and it’s far worse than anything Juugo had done.” Liang’s throat began to clog at the memory and she had to take a few seconds to breathe and let it clear. “I don’t think he did enough to punish me. I don’t think any amount of punishment would suffice. I feel like my only redemption is to give my life fighting for our place in this world.”

Bao coughed—a gruesome, rasp-filled sound to hear then it was followed by a wet gulp.

“I want to do whatever I can to help.” Liang fiddled with her hands. “But I’m going to do it another way. I cannot teach these children something I barely master. You saw me perform rites…” Liang recalled the night they slew the wolves. “And I’m sure you saw that the toll on my body is not just mere exhaustion. Had I not stopped myself in time, you would have been sent to the shadow realms with those wolves.”

Liang fixed herself on the seat and leaned closer to Bao. “Aside from not being able to take the rite of ascension, these children are not marked by Shiyan. Who knows if one of them would be the next conqueror and with the untamed magic of the north, they would be unstoppable. It’s far too dangerous.”

“Then…” Bao wheezed. “What would you do?”

Liang sighed. “I don’t know…but I am starting somewhere. I’m sure you already know Tenshi.”

“That pitiful excuse of a warrior…I know him,” Bao mocked.

Liang ignored his statement. “Boundless as he may seem, he is an honorable man,” Liang defended and somewhere in the dark, she was sure that Bao scoffed at her statement. “I won’t tell you our story but I could assure you—”

“Tell me,” Bao interjected sternly. “I want to know the part where he was honorable.”

Liang was not sure if it was Bao’s tone or his statement itself but she felt offended in Tenshi’s stead. “I know the world’s desperate need of exorcists,” Liang said. Her voice was almost a whisper, almost silenced by the thick, stale air around them but it was mostly because she felt guilty. She continued, “Tenshi had always been a fighter. He had always opposed the Tiger but he was without ally. Even if he wanted to fight back, he would just be surrendering his life in vain. When he found a band of rogues, he told me that it could be a chance of reclaiming the world from Zhaohu...but I was too afraid of the Tiger, too afraid for my life. On that day, we separated and seeing as my existence hasn’t been known until now meant that he kept his promise.”

“Foolish not honorable,” Bao hissed.

Liang felt the straw bed shake from Bao’s motion as he shifted wherever it was he sat.

“I was part of the rogue clan who took that boy in and for years he carried with him the knowledge of the most lethal weapon against Zhaohu and did not even say a word about it?”

Liang was in shock after hearing Bao’s words but the snow leopard did not leave a gap where Liang could speak her mind.

“Do you reckon the deaths we’ve seen, the losses we took and the countermeasures that balanced the lives of men and Guren on an broken scale? All because he kept a promise to his lover.” The snow leopard had stated those things so viciously, so harshly that the truth was overpowered by spite. It hardly mattered if his words made sense when it was saturated with his own disgust.

Liang could not move or speak. She was petrified where she sat, listening to the unforgiving words Bao released.

“I tried to look past your reluctance and indecision because I know you mortals are naïve but no more. You would risk the fate of your kind if it means pleasing your selfish desires.”

Liang turned her head toward the door. Then down on her lap, sightless as she was. “You’re right. It wasn’t an honorable thing to have kept my existence a secret not to you or to the rest of humanity. But it is to me.”

“To the shadow realms with your ego,” Bao cursed.

Liang stood up. “Call Tenshi dishonorable. I’m still grateful to him because if he had shared my existence with your rogue clan, I would have been hunted down like an animal. It mattered not if it was Zhaohu or you.”

“Say whatever you want. No amount of reason would change the world’s gruesome history brought upon by your ignorance.”

“I did not betray my kind!” Liang shouted. She felt her voice vibrate through her chest much like the night Juugo had tormented her but this time it was different. The screams Juugo had drawn out of her was purely physical. This time, her heart was bleeding and it tainted her anger. “I did not tell Zhaohu to conquer the world! I did not tell him to kill the elders, to kill the deities—to kill my friends!”

For a moment, both of them became silent and in the dark, it was all but their iron-weighted breaths, pushing in and out of their nostrils with force.

“Tenshi was the only one…” Liang said, her voice was a hoarse whisper. Her teeth were clasped so tightly it hurt. “He was the only one who never treated me like I was some sort of weapon.”

“How naïve, you humans are,” Bao’s voice was guttural, snake-like. “Overruling your purpose on whims.”

“I primarily came here to give my farewell,” Liang said. Her throat had turned sore again. “I least expected for it come this way.”

“Then leave.” Bao dismissed her.

“I’m sending Nami here to heal you.”

“Leave!” Bao yelled but it did not faze Liang, not in the slightest.

She waited for Bao’s roar to end and calmly stated, “I know you would not hurt your avolar. If not because of your mortal attachment to the people you’ve known for years, then perhaps of their mere value. After all, we’re all faceless to you deities unless we serve a purpose.”

“Do not wait for me to drag you out.” Bao growled.

Liang walked to the exit and right before stepping outside, she stopped. Futile as it was to look back, she did it anyway, hoping to see Bao’s face for the last time but not even the snow leopard’s incandescent eyes shimmered in the darkness.

“Goodbye, Wei Bao,” Liang said, exiting.