“Now I'll make all of you feel in a specific way. Try to remember this feeling as best as you can.”

The three rows of inhabitants closed their eyes as Zeles intensified the movement of their viss with his own to the point they could feel it clearly. Then he slowed down its buzzing until it moved in slow waves, enough to make them feel relaxed without dropping unconscious. Still, he had positioned a pile of big pillows behind the students to prevent them from getting hurt once they started the exercises.

The dancers' gym had been repurposed into a space anyone could use for various kinds of communal activities. The elders went there when it rained to teach the gestures to the kids, even if they still preferred the daisies pond to uphold traditions. One half of the building was a library, with tables for studying and tutoring. The dancers didn't mind the reduced space for training, especially since three-quarters of their members had left and only a couple of other people had joined. Mostly, they were happy about not having to train as much as they did under Vizena.

Explaining to the inhabitants what viss was and how it could be manipulated to elicit various feelings had been difficult, since they didn't even suspect its existence. He'd had to demonstrate multiple times how they could drop unconscious in an instant, or get worked up about the littlest things without any reason. They had dismissed it as the powers of a god, so he'd been forced to mention the monks.

“They live on the mountain,” he had started, each word reminding him of a long-gone conversation with Saia. “And will come here again after I die to give you a new god. They'll manipulate you into trusting every word they say. Don't let them. Teach your kids these techniques I'm about to share with you, prepare them.”

There had been many questions afterwards, to which he had answered to the best of his abilities. By then, most of the village had gathered inside or around the temple, attracted by the initial crowd. That very evening and in the following days, most of them had accepted to be trained in recognizing and resisting manipulations, to the point he'd had to organize multiple turns of students.

Silence fell on the gym while Zeles made the group aware of their viss for the first time in their lives. Even the sound of the door opening didn’t distract them from the new feelings they were experiencing.

Lada stepped inside, moving quietly.

“Do you need something?” Zeles asked in her ears.

“The weather's boring these days, so I thought I could help some more with the exercises.”

“You already did a lot, I don't want to ask more.”

“No, I enjoy this.” She smiled. “And apparently I'm good at it, so I want to help.”

She seemed sincere, even if Zeles suspected she was focusing on his lessons to not worry about Saia, or even Lassem now that he had left.

“Alright,” Zeles said to catch everyone's attention, his voice booming in the empty half of the gym. “Now form pairs and try to push that feeling onto each other. Don't worry, it won't be enough for making you unconscious, you'll need a bit more experience for that. Take turns and tell each other if you feel any different. Ask me or Lada if you're unsure.”

The students divided into ten pairs and one triplet and stood in a circle right in front of the pillows. They started exercising, some touching their partner’s arm and straining to push their viss forward, the others trying to catch any changes in their viss. Lada paced slowly in front of them, approaching every time someone called for help.

Zeles distractedly listened to her explanations as he surveyed the village. A lot of the houses had emptied after the families' decision to leave the village altogether. At the same time many foreigners, merchants most of all, had temporarily or permanently settled in. None of them were monks, he was pretty sure. He still paid them more attention than he normally would. Distinguishing the locals from the foreigners was surprisingly easy, since they didn't move as much while they talked.

Another group who didn't use the gestures, despite being locals, were the pious. After Vizena's death, they had become even more tight-knitted, only a few elements leaving to be gradually reabsorbed by the rest of the community. The remaining ones had built a small shrine in the strip of land between Zeles's and Dore's territories. It was a room, if it could be called so, with the walls made of heavy blue cloth tied to some branches and the roof weaved out of brushwood. He didn't know what it contained, but he'd spotted parts of a human-sized statue when the wind was strong enough to move the cloth aside.

The shrine was so close to Suimer's border that he could see it, even if he couldn't interact with it. Not that he wanted to. He found their rituals harmless at best, ridiculous at worst. He'd told them multiple times that Vizena was completely dead, but they insisted on praying to her and for her return. It was a waste of time and energy, and he hated that he was still spending viss to worry about them even after they'd tried to kill Saia. As if worrying about Rabam and Aili wasn't enough.

He had sent away the book a few days before, so he wasn't surprised to feel something prod at the edge of his domain. He recognized Lorin’s imprint from their past conversations. He had revealed her everything, from Vizena’s abuse to Saia’s successful plan, and she had agreed to withhold her attack until she had a clearer picture of the situation.

“The monks have contacted me again and I don't know what to think,” she said.

Zeles focused on her words, leaving the gym completely in Lada's hands.

“What have they said?”

“I can’t reveal all the details, but… They said that you’re keeping the people of Suimer hostage. That you refuse to let the monks enter your domain or get your shard. And that Saia is a dangerous rebel who will try to destitute them.”

“I guess from their point of view it’s all true.”

There was a bit of partial silence, since both of them could still hear the noises and chatter of the respective villages.

“You told me how the monks have wronged these people and that you’re trying to protect them,” Lorin continued. “But it’s difficult not to see it just as an excuse to live longer. Longer than the two hundred years we were given, at least, and without anyone to control you. And I want to trust you, but... This is dangerous.”

“I know,” Zeles only said.

He looked for something else to add, but there wasn’t anything, really: she was right. He was aware of how dangerous it could be for everyone if someone like Vizena found herself in his position.

“I’ve been selfish, and it has led to the death of someone I should have protected,” he added, addressing himself as much as Lorin. “But I don’t think that’s the reason I’m doing this, right now. The monks don’t want to kill me just to protect them. They want complete control over this territory, for the sake of having it. I didn’t hurt anyone, and yet they’re ready to strike me down as if I did.”

“You could hurt Suimer’s inhabitants if you decided to, and nobody would be able to do anything about it.”

“And yet when Vizena was hurting them, they didn’t stop her, because not wasting viss was too important.”

Lorin didn't answer for a bit. Zeles guessed she could see the truth in his words, but it was difficult to tell with the small amount of her viss he could perceive.

“Maybe…” she started. “Maybe it's more important than we imagine. We don’t have the whole picture, so we have to trust them.”

“But that’s the crux of the problem, isn’t it?” Zeles could feel his viss buzzing. He was getting worked up like it hadn’t happened in a while. “Should we keep trusting the monks or not? Would our people trust them, if they knew?”

Lorin didn’t answer, so he kept talking.

“The monks have started this lack of trust. By cutting off all the people of the villages from their decisions, by spreading fear about what would happen if they left the borders. They made it impossible for anyone to trust them in turn, unless it’s through manipulation.”

“Too many people knowing about the gods would make the situation unstable,” she said.

He had heard that sentence too, back when he was a young monk. So many times, in fact, that it had started to sound more like a rule than a general principle.

“Some kinds of stability are good,” he replied. “Some are not. You keep forgetting Vizena. She kept going for a hundred and thirty years. It could happen again, it may have happened before. Only the people living through it would know.”

She had returned silent again. Zeles didn’t have anything to add, so he turned his mind to other concerns. She spoke before he could, capturing his attention again.

“So what’s your plan? You know that they will throw everything at you until you become too weak to keep going, right? They will succeed, in the end.”

Zeles calmed down the spike of anxiety that followed her words by focusing on the village again.

“I don’t have a plan. Resisting as long as I can, maybe. Help my people withstand the aftermath of an attack. That’s about it.”

“Then I’ll tell you this: I’ll be deactivated soon. They’ll try to enter from my village, but they didn’t tell me the details. They might order me to attack you again, and I won’t have the option to pretend, this time. Whatever you do, be careful.”

She retracted before he could answer.

“Thank you,” he still said, hoping the wind could bring her his words.

Three days later, he perceived someone's viss reaching the edge of his domain. He focused on the area before his nervousness could take hold.

It was Morìc. Zeles immediately looked around, expecting to see Dan too, but he wasn't there.

“Zeles?” he called out, leaning forward until his face was almost on the other side of the border.

“Morìc,” he answered.

He was startled, maybe because his voice was identical to Koidan's, maybe because he didn't expect a god he'd never met to know his name.

“You can enter, if you want,” he said.

Morìc reluctantly made a step forward, half of him past the border and half out of reach, hands grasping the strap of the worn-out bag he was wearing.

“Koidan wanted me to give you a message.”

Zeles was so unaccustomed to talking to him that he didn't know how to react. He remembered the pact they had made years before. He had broken it when Morìc was getting closer to the solution. He wondered if he was old enough to understand the reasons why he'd been preventing him and his brother to leave, or if he would just double down on his resolve. Maybe he was being too harsh again, letting their past arguments taint his opinion of Morìc, considering him still a child like the day he arrived at Lausune.

“Zeles?” Morìc called out.

He realized he'd been silent for a while.

“Sorry, I was distracted. Tell me the message.”

“That's the problem: I don't know what it is.”

Zeles set aside his reflections.

“Explain, please.”

“Koidan wanted to give me a letter, but then he stopped moving. I returned later to take it anyways, but it was stuck inside his hand and it was too high from the ground, and one of those monks entered the temple before I could decide what to do.”

Zeles's viss started buzzing.

“What did they do?”

Morìc shrugged.

“Nothing special: they told me to leave, then they left too and closed the doors with a chain. The village was pretty angry about Koidan leaving again and the monks coming back. But it wasn't like last time, they just left. Now in some parts of Lausune you can hear Mivion's voice, so maybe she's taking care of us now.”

“Dore didn't stop you?”

“He didn't say anything.”

Zeles focused on the edges of his domain: he couldn't feel Dore, nor Lorin.

“There were monks in Tilau too, but I avoided them. They seemed busy anyway,” Morìc added.

Zeles thought about the situation. After Saia's departure, the monks had deactivated all of the gods to find out who could be involved in her plans. Now that they knew he was the only one without a shard, there was no need for them to do that again. Maybe Aili had acted against them and they were responding to that. Maybe she had tried to explain her actions in the letter.

“Can I go now?” Morìc said. “I’ve told you everything I knew. I need to check if he's awake.”

He sounded apprehensive in a way that captured Zeles's attention. He couldn't believe it was attachment to Koidan, unless Aili had revealed her identity to him.

“Do you know where Aili is?” he asked, paying close attention to his reaction.

He raised his eyebrows.

“No? I thought she left with the monks weeks ago.”

“Didn't you hate Koidan?”

Morìc recoiled a bit.

“How do you know that?”

“Gods talk to each other. Did he promise you something in exchange for your help?”

This time, Morìc's eyes narrowed. He retracted from him, and Zeles checked he didn't leave his territory completely.

“What do you even know about that?”

“I know that the carpets you are making would allow you to fly away from the mountain. I know that Koidan has been preventing you from leaving, and for good reasons. I know you don't talk to each other and you don't want anything to do with him, so I can't help but wonder why you accepted to bring here his message, even if he didn't actually give it to you.”

“Has Koidan told that to every god?”

“Answer my question, first: why are you helping him?”

He hesitated, but if he had trusted Koidan, he could trust anyone else.

“He promised me a working carpet. He told me that one of the last ones I made works, so I've put it aside and I'll charge it with my viss over time, until I'm able to leave. The tests I've made yesterday told me that Koidan wasn't lying, so I delivered the message.”

“Don't do that, please. Don't leave.”

He tensed.

“What do you care? What's with you gods and not letting people leave this place?”

“It's more dangerous than you realize.”

“I know about the guardian and how to avoid it.”

“I find it hard to believe, but even if it was true, there are bigger dangers awaiting you on the other side.”

Morìc's frown was so deep he looked like he was squinting against the sun.

“How the fuck do you know any of that? Answer my question, I answered yours.”

“I’m Koidan. Not the one who's taking care of Lausune at the moment, but the one before him. Her, actually. The current Koidan of your village is Aili.”

He sensed Morìc confusion grow as he spoke.

“Yeah, sure,” he said after an instant of silence. “I need to go.”

He was about to step back and away from Zeles's domain, when he raised a wall of air. Morìc tried to push past it, confused as to why walking away was so difficult, then seemed to realize and looked up again.

“You know, a moment ago I didn't believe you,” he started, voice charged with anger. “But now I recognize you, asshole.”

“I’m sorry, but I can't let you go back if there isn't a god to make sure you're not risking your life.”

“I’m not…” he began, struggling against the wall of air before giving up again. “If you hate me so much, why do you want me to stay?”

“I don't hate you. I want to protect you and Dan, since I know he would follow you anywhere.”

“Protect me from what? What are these dangers you're talking about?”

“Irdes told me there are people looking for you. Killers, the kind that is sent by someone powerful with resources to spare. He said they would have followed you two anywhere, no matter how far, and that the mountain was the only place in the world where you'd be safe enough.”

Morìc leaned back against the wall of air as if it was a real one, his hair floating in tendrils behind his head. He still looked angry, but his eyes were a bit wider, crossed by a sliver of fear.

“It's been ten years.”

“They have a way to track you down and enough resources to do that indefinitely. And even if it wasn't true, I have no intention of risking it.”

“Who are these people?”

Zeles remembered clearly the day Irdes had told him about it all and begged him to keep it a secret, especially from Dan and Morìc. Maybe if they knew, they wouldn't have tried to leave anymore.

“It's two people. One of them is…”

He reached for the words, but they weren't there.

“What?”

Zeles knew Irdes had given him their exact descriptions, to make sure he could fight them in case they reached the mountain against all odds. He remembered his stern face, his hands clutching the carpet while he talked. He just couldn't recall the words, nor their content.

“I don't remember,” he admitted, aware of how empty that sounded.

Morìc scoffed, then the sound became a snicker, and at the end he was laughing so loud that some people stopped their tasks to look out of the windows, wondering what was going on.

“You fucking liar,” Morìc yelled. “You're toying with us.”

“I’m not. Please calm down.”

“Then you are a coward. Let me go home.”

He yelled something else, but Zeles decided not to listen. He tried to recall other conversations, important ones, some of which had happened more than two hundred years before. He recalled the faces and voices of his mother, his dad, his sister. Suffered again through the pain of receiving news of their deaths, strangely glad he was remembering those moments. He looked for the closest friends he'd had as a human, then the first inhabitants of Lausune when he had first arrived, the village a tad bit smaller than what it was now. He remembered some other key ones, forgotten many others. He remembered Saia, of course, and the most recent events.

After the initial relief was over, he did find the holes in his memory.

“Dan,” Morìc called out, and Zeles was startled out of his thoughts.

He looked at the surroundings, expecting to see Morìc's brother, but there was nobody around.

“What?” he asked.

“Dan will worry about me if I don't come back,” Morìc said.

He was sitting on the bare earth now, his back to the wall of air.

“You can write him a letter. I'll make sure it'll be delivered.”

“Or you could just let me go and forget about us entirely. Even if we die, you'll never know about it.”

“I can't, sorry. You'll stay here until I have proof that Aili is awake again.”

Morìc stood and started walking down the road, toward the series of stairs that led to the temple.

“Where are you going?”

“If you want me to stay here that badly, you'll have to deal with me the whole time. I'll sleep in the temple.”

“There's a tavern…”

“The temple,” Morìc yelled, startling some passersby.

Zeles decided to ignore him again, returning to the tally of what he had lost when he had come too close to death, after defeating Vizena. Names and faces of people he'd known back at the village who were nothing more than acquaintances. Some of them had helped him with the gifts.

He still remembered how it had started, as a joke meant for his sister. She'd been lamenting how a family of starlings had decided to nest near her outpost. She'd had to spend three days straight hearing them screech above her head before the priors had accepted to move the outpost a bit further down the mountain. So he'd sewn a rough starling plushie and slipped it inside the pocket of the tunic he'd planned to leave outside her door. Except there had been a misunderstanding and the tunic had gone to a woman living in the next room. When he'd gone to retrieve the gift, she'd seemed so happy he hadn't dared to open his mouth. The warm feeling hadn't left him, so he’d kept creating small gifts, not imagining even for a second they would get him nominated as the next Koidan.

He focused on the day of his transformation, on the moment when he had approached the well. He couldn't remember the details, whether there was something different to the shield. He couldn't exclude in good conscience that the monks had modified it.

He focused on the village, pulling himself away from the nostalgia that had gripped him. He seemed to have been lucky, all things considered: the memories he had lost were marginal things he hadn't thought about in a long time.

He noticed a small crowd near the temple and moved most of his focus there. Morìc was standing outside, back against the wall to the right of the door.

“He doesn't want me to go home,” he was saying to the bewildered family in front of him. “He hates my guts. He won't even let me see my brother. Are you sure you want a god like that?”

They gave each other uncertain glances, thankfully seeming more intent on escaping the conversation politely than on debating whether to believe him.

“Morìc, please,” Zeles said in his ears.

“He's not that different from Vizena, you know?” he added, raising his voice.

That captured the audience's attention more than anything else he'd said.

“Morìc, stop,” he said, more firmly.

He looked up.

“Make me.”

“I have no intention to, and even if you turn the entire village against me, I won't let you go. You're just being annoying.”

“Good,” he replied, then resumed listing his supposedly evil actions.

Zeles wondered how else to approach the situation. Maybe he could offer him something in exchange for his stay there. But there was nothing he seemed to want besides leaving, and now that he had the tools, that he was closer than ever to the solution, he feared he would take advantage of the first distraction to flee. It wasn't an unlikely scenario, considering the monks lurking outside Suimer's borders. He could only delay his departure, not prevent it completely. So maybe his energies were better spent trying to prepare him for the dangers he could face than on keeping him inside the village.

“If you stop, I'll teach you how to make people fall asleep on touch.”

Morìc stopped talking mid-sentence and looked up again.

“Really?”

“Really. See that big building down the road? It's a gym. If you hurry you might get a bit of practice in before the lesson ends.”

Morìc detached from the wall. He reluctantly walked down the path, ignoring the family that was still waiting for him to continue his monologue. He did all he could to seem uninterested and detached, but Zeles could see his curiosity grow in the buzzing of his viss.

He allowed himself to relax a bit, still observing the borders and answering the students' questions. Morìc was talented with magic, to the point he soon began helping the other inhabitants as much as learning himself. He seemed to mingle well, chatting with Lada about Saia and the weather.

He distractedly heard him ask about a storm. He felt like there was something important about it, but he couldn't remember what it was.