The band of five left the inland gate of Maelnaulde with nary a raised brow. Armour, after all, was something only nobles could reliably afford, and so a small band of plainclothes-wearing adventurers entering the forest that surrounded the once-great kingdom didn’t draw attention, or at least, no more than the eclectic mix of races would have otherwise. The fact that Maelnaulde’s aristocracy was predominantly made up of elves meant that two elven sisters associating with a pair of viis, let alone a drahn, was a strange sight indeed—even more so considering that said drahn was taking point, with the twins taking up the rear.

Once they had put an appreciable distance between themselves and the city gates, they began to look for a clearing in the lightly-forested countryside outside of the Free City’s boundaries. It didn’t take long for them to find one, and a short time later, Ástríðr, the group’s bard, slid her xiphos home, while Sonja, the paladin, did the same with her spatha, though her shield, an aspis, remained on her off-arm, ready to defend if need be. Kyomi, who was a summoner, stayed off to the side, her grimoire under one arm while she kept her quill, which was designed, it seemed, to be thrown with lethal effect, to hand. Kagura took up her place at one side of the clearing, the vii grinning to an almost feral extent as she fingered the circular guard of her sword, which looked to Katsumi’s eyes like a katana, but was actually a tachi according to Kagura’s clarification.

As far as stats and levels went, Katsumi kept in mind that there were five levels at least between her and Kagura. With only a single day of training under her belt, Katsumi was only Level 3, while Kagura was anything from Level 7 to Level 10. She knew that Sonja was the highest-levelled one amongst them at Level 10, while Kyomi was the lowest (her excepted), at Level 7, and thus it stood to reason that Kagura could only be somewhere between the two. As such, she didn’t really have much of a chance of actually coming out on top in this battle based on that power discrepancy alone. Not to mention, there was also the fact that drahn had the lowest starting stats of all the civilised races across the board. The official line was that the Crystals themselves were reluctant to shine their light upon such duplicitous creatures, and though Katsumi thought that sounded like drivel, just more propaganda to justify racism, the fact remained that her Parameter put her starting stats as irreconcilably poor.

However, there was an oddity that gave her hope.

Stat growth was based upon the class bestowed upon you by the Crystals, and thus some classes grew in different ways than others. But the dark knight class apparently had caused her stat growth to explode to the degree where, in terms of pure attributes, she was nearly equal to Sonja, and several in particular exceeded Sonja’s own value in the given statistic. Mind, however, the stat that governed the clerical arts of the white mages, was, to the surprise of no one, absolutely dismal in her case.

The end result was that while the gap between Katsumi and Kagura was still there, it wasn’t nearly as vast as the level difference and their racial trends would suggest. The purpose here was to see just how vast that gap actually was in practise.

Kagura slid into a stance that Katsumi had seen a thousand times before. Iaido wasn’t exactly popular anymore when she was young in Japan, but she had still seen its like in period dramas and anime; as such, Kagura’s blade-drawing stance was easily and instantaneously recognizable. Katsumi had no such ability to draw her weapon immediately, and so she drew her kriegsmesser and took the low stance she remembered taking when killing Zeid, watching for that telltale moment when Kagura would draw her tachi, and the fight would begin.

A moment.

A clash rang out. Kagura’s tachi against the kriegsmesser, and in short order, Kagura had to put both hands on the grip, gritting her teeth with the effort of not being forced off-balance. With both hands and struggling, Kagura changed the angle of her tachi and the kriegsmesser’s blade went sliding down that of the far eastern weapon. Kagura brought the tachi high and prepared to cut down into Katsumi’s shoulder, ready to claim victory. There was simply no way such a massive blade, however elegant, could be brought to bear in time. The tachi descended—

—Another clash. The kriegsmesser shook with the effort of parrying Kagura’s swing, but still unerringly brought the other weapon upwards. With the tachi and kriegsmesser locked above them, Katsumi slammed her shoulder into Kagura’s chest, sending her wheeling backwards.

“How…?!” The exclamation came unbidden from Ástríðr’s mouth. “How is she this skilled?!”

“It isn’t skill,” explained Sonja as she stepped forth. “A Level 3 adventurer shouldn’t be able to hold their own against a monster like Kagura at a level difference of six. The numbers don’t match up.”

“Is it luck?” Ástríðr asked.

Sonja shook her head.

As Kagura stumbled to regain her balance, Katsumi was once more upon her, the kriegsmesser aimed at her stomach. Kagura parried and forced the weapon out wide, but before Kagura could recover, Katsumi pirouetted with the momentum of her blade and brought it screaming into Kagura’s side. Kagura grunted with the effort of stopping the kriegsmesser, and even then, she didn’t manage to stop it until the edge was a hair’s breadth away from her flesh.

Kagura took one step back, planted her feet, and brought the kriegsmesser up, over her head, and to the ground on the other side of her body. Then she lifted up her front foot and planted her boot firmly into Katsumi’s abdomen, sending the drahn flying backwards.

The kriegsmesser was still on the ground, but some bestial instinct consumed Kagura at that moment. Some part of her deep down knew that Katsumi would do her best to continue fighting even without her weapon until she could no longer fight. After all, that’s what Kagura herself would have done in Katsumi’s situation. So she advanced as quickly as she could on her opponent, tachi at the ready, her entire form sparking with invisible energy. Closing quickly even as Katsumi scrambled to her feet, Kagura pulsed the energy into one of the techniques she had learned under Tandem’s tutelage.

Time slowed to a crawl before seeming to cease entirely. Kagura slashed once, and then again. The dimension collapsed in the space between moments when both strikes realised themselves into being.

“Tachi: Enpi!”

Time resumed, and both slashes struck true, biting deep into the drahn girl’s chest, leaving a deep wound in the shape of an X.

Katsumi, for a moment, didn’t register the sensation as anything but a distant acknowledgement that her flesh had been parted. In that moment that seemed to stretch on to eternity, the cold focus with which she had fought up to that point stole into her limbs, and she felt nothing, not the clothes on her skin, nor even the breath of the wind on her face.

Then came the pain.

Like an explosion, one moment it was not there, and the next it was all she could feel. She remembered hearing how during moments of high adrenaline, a person could hear their heartbeat in their ears, consuming all other sound until the dull thudding of blood flowing through their veins devoured their existence, their awareness. She imagined that in the moment where the pain consumed all, that she knew what they were talking about.

Her blood sprayed onto the ground, and ran thick from the wound. Dimly, she was aware of Kagura staggering backwards, shocked at the damage she had done. A mortal wound, Katsumi knew. An ordinary person would not survive this kind of damage. Bile rose in her throat, and it would not be denied; she hacked it up into her hand, and when she brought her hand away, it was stained a brilliant shade of red.

Then the colour bled out of the world. It bled quickly, like she was, and suddenly time had stopped. In that moment, as she was intimately aware of her own mortality, she could feel the thrumming of the Darkside within, pounding incessantly like a war-drum.

…Listen…

…Listen to it.

This is our heartbeat…

Underneath her skin, Katsumi felt the sliding of scales, like those of a reptile, and the working of serpentine muscle. She could feel the burning glare of scarlet eyes in her soul, and in her mind’s eye there was an awareness of a great winged beast from which all of this had sprung.

Serve…

Save…

Slave…

Slay…

Release me…

Foolish Master…

Throw wide the Gates, that I may pass…

In that moment, Katsumi nodded within herself, for she could not move her body; and in that instant, she knew only the void.

“Kagura! What were you thinking!” cried Kyomi, the first to break from their shocked paralysis at the fatal wound that had been dealt.

Kagura turned her head to her sister to try to explain, though she knew no explanation would suffice. But as soon as she did that, she felt…a pulse. There really was no other word for it. In that moment, there was absolute silence; the breeze went stagnant, the wood of the trees no longer creaked, the faint sounds of the city, the wildlife, and the world itself suddenly halted, as if existence itself held its breath.

It happened almost in slow motion. Kyomi’s eyes went wide, her jaw dropping, as the twins had similar reactions; Kagura’s head began to turn back to the body she somehow knew would no longer be as defenceless, and then an aura erupted into existence, a black and red and violet darkness that seemed poised to consume all light, lashing out in uncontrolled waves, lashing into her soul as it buffeted her back.

The dark knight, Katsumi, stood.

A hand reached out, and only instinct allowed Kagura to dodge out of the way in time, and then only by a hair’s breadth, as the sword, the kriegsmesser flew close enough by her head to shear off a few strands of hair. It slammed into the dark knight’s grip with enough force to shatter an arm, and yet the drahn caught the hilt as though snatching a leaf out of the wind.

Faster than Kagura’s eye could track, the dark knight pounced into the air with a flip worthy of a contortionist, bringing down the sword blade first with all the momentum of the descent behind it. She swung her tachi up in a parry, but the kriegsmesser bit deeply into the otherwise immaculate blade, past the hamon. The dark knight leapt back from that, executing a backflip through the air, landing on a still-standing tree trunk. Crouching, Kagura’s opponent kicked off from the tree, the trunk exploding into splinters with the force of it, and the point of the sword came screaming into Kagura’s chest. She brought the tachi up to try to catch the piercing tip of the metal blade on the metal of her weapon, but the kriegsmesser would not be denied, shearing through the tachi’s steel without slowing, and entering her chest, to come out of her back.

In that moment, Kagura looked at her opponent, and saw instead of the previously violet irises bottomless pits of scarlet hellfire. There were no whites to her eyes anymore—the inferno consumed every bit of her eyes, and the radiance from them would have been visible even in the deepest darkness.

Kagura punched the dark knight in the face, and the beast’s head snapped backwards swiftly enough that the vii was certain that she had broken the other combatant’s neck. But then the head bobbed back up in an unnatural, marionette-like motion, and the sickening crack that resounded told her that somehow, the break was healed. Her opponent, though, didn’t smile, didn’t grin like a feral animal delighting in bloodshed—the cold blankness of the beast’s expression, then, was all the more terrifying for it.

The dark knight planted its feet and drew the kriegsmesser out of the wound in Kagura’s chest; Kagura, for her part, staggered backwards, going to her knee. The kriegsmesser wound itself back, ready to lop her head off of her shoulders, and then went in for the kill.

Sonja’s spatha drove the kriegsmesser upwards. “That’s enough!”

Without a word, the dark knight brought the large sword back to bear and swung out to strike at the paladin; Sonja’s aspis caught the blade, but the kriegsmesser still bit into its surface, and the elf’s arm shook with the effort of stopping the swing.

Sonja looked down at the clash in horror. “What monstrous strength…!”

Adjusting her grip on the sword, Sonja thrust her weapon into the dark knight. With one hand, the beast continued to grip its blade, and the elf’s off-arm began to collapse under the force; and with the other, the beast caught the spatha. The blood that appeared when the edge of the sword cut into the flesh of the dark knight’s hand hissed as it touched the blade, and smoke began to rise from the grip.

“Is her blood acid…?!”

“Ástríðr! Not the time to gawk!” cried Kyomi from Kagura’s side, doing her best to help her wounded sister remain upright. “More healing, less talking!”

“...Right!” Ástríðr affirmed. Slipping her flute from her pouch, she settled into the familiar motions of playing ‘Army’s Paeon,’ a magic song that caused wounds to knit themselves shut. It was the most basic healing song a bard could learn, but given her low level, it was the best she could do.

Sonja grit her teeth and planted her feet, and then launched herself forward into a charge. The beast wearing Katsumi’s skin slammed into an old growth tree, and though the impact caused the bark to fracture and crater, the savage creature could not retreat, and so was committed to a contest of pure physical strength with the paladin, an area in which Sonja had more of an advantage. The beast tried to retain their grip on the spatha, to prevent it from advancing any further towards the weapon’s intended target, but they were fighting a losing battle. It seemed the battle would be decided.

The creature ducked low, releasing the spatha so that it slammed forth into the trunk of the tree, cutting deep into the wood and getting stuck in there. Sonja yelped in surprise, moments before the beast’s off-hand curled into a fist and landed in Sonja’s abdomen with a deafening crack, and a sickening crunch.

The paladin’s feet left the ground, reaching a suspension height of seventeen centimetres at least, spittle flying as she went flying backwards. She hit the ground in a heap, and the beast stomped on her ribcage hard enough that blood went flying out of Sonja’s mouth.

The beast lifted the kriegsmesser, prying it free of Sonja’s aspis and gripping it by the spine of the blade—a necessity given the size discrepancy between the weapon and the wielder—and poised its point at the paladin’s unmoving form. Lifting the blade further, the large sword then descended towards Sonja’s body.

A bright blue blur crashed into the dark knight, sending the beast careening backwards, before the blur blasted back off of Katsumi’s body and landed primly. The fire in the creature’s eyes flared noticeably as they took in the new challenger—a quadrupedal animal with four tails and the ears of a fennec fox, yet with the cranial structure of a house cat. It was the colour of the sky, and as it shook itself, sparkles flew from it.

“Carbuncle! Sic ‘em!” cried Kyomi, holding her grimoire in one hand while her other held her quill at the end of a flourish.

The summon looked back at its master and nodded. This turned out to be a bad idea, for as soon as Carbuncle turned back to regard the creature in Katsumi’s skin, the dark knight had closed the distance, and struck down at it. Carbuncle leapt into the air and to the side to avoid the strike, but was thus powerless to avoid the diagonal rising slash that immediately followed, cleaving the summon in half. A sparkling rainbow erupted from Carbuncle’s belly in place of blood, splashing against Katsumi’s bare skin; the rainbow quickly began to smoke and turn black on contact, and the colourful light became a vile black sludge that audibly splotched down onto the ground.

A quill came whizzing past Ástríðr’s head, aiming straight for the dark knight; the kriegsmesser slashed through it. But another quill came forth, and another, and another, faster and faster until the kriegsmesser seemed almost impossibly swift in how each projectile was cut down.

One of the quills slipped past, slicing open Katsumi’s shoulder; the beast roared, and charged faster than even Sonja’s shield rush, a bang sounding out as the beast moved. Kyomi withheld her quill and hurriedly moved to parry and redirect each swing of the kriegsmesser that came after her, knowing that a blade lock would be the end of her. Her grimoire continually had to remain out of harm’s way, so she continued to angle her body into the way of the book—paying for a Raise spell was far cheaper than replacing a summoner’s grimoire.

Suddenly, a certain madness came to Ástríðr. She knew the idea was idiotic, but she was swiftly approaching the limit of her healing capability with Kagura, and Kyomi was fighting a losing battle. This in mind, Ástríðr slipped her flute away and charged. She tackled Kyomi out of the way of the next swing of the kriegsmesser, this one with both hands behind it, given that the chance of Kyomi being able to block and redirect that when she’d been struggling with one-handed swings was negligible. She threw the vii as she descended, sending the albino summoner tumbling through the grass and undergrowth.

Kyomi safely away, Ástríðr scrambled to her feet and stood in a neutral stance towards the dark knight. To her shock, the beast didn’t move to attack her, and indeed, the hellfire in Katsumi’s eyes calmed from a raging, all-consuming conflagration to a candle-flame. There was an odd, animalistic curiosity in the creature’s eyes, still bestial, but no longer hostile. Acting on instinct, Ástríðr lifted a hand. The beast balked, retreating and beginning to move into a hostile stance as the hellfire flared, but, unperturbed, Ástríðr continued to slowly lift her hand, empty as it was, and slipped it into the gap between the horn and her flesh. Her bare hand rested, then, upon the drahn’s partly-scaled cheek, her thumb beginning to move it circular motions she hoped would be soothing.

The hellfire then snuffed out entirely, and Katsumi’s violet eyes and white sclera stared at her blankly, without comprehension, for a moment. Then they rolled up into her eyelids as Katsumi’s knees gave out beneath her, and she collapsed. Ástríðr managed to catch her, but it was a near thing.

A hand laid upon Ástríðr’s shoulder, and Kyomi’s voice came a moment later. “You calmed her down…”

“No.”

Both Ástríðr and Kyomi whirled around, and indeed, coming through the forest, astride a massive, armoured black horse that possessed eight legs, two pairs of forelegs and two pairs of hind, and crimson fire for eyes, was a knight. With each step the horse took, frost began to blossom on the ground, and the knight’s proximity made the area grow colder at a pace that was as swift as it was unnatural. What little sunlight filtered down through the canopy darkened as bruise-coloured clouds coalesced overhead. The ebon-clad knight possessed armour rather unlike any that either conscious adventurer had ever seen before, seeming contoured to resemble a muscular form in an almost decorative fashion, and overtop this was a deep blue cloak with a clasp that contained a blazing gem.

The helmet covered the knight’s face, showing only pinpoints of hellfire where the eyes ought to have shone through, and was strangely constructed, as the faceplate was figured in the form of a stylized countenance that would have been beatific if it wasn’t so ominously and obviously demonic, while the crown of the helmet was decorated with a literal crown of spikes that resembled ancient swords, and a pair of elegant yet brutal horns curled out of it, outwards, then inwards, then straight upwards. From beneath the helmet came a cascade of bone-white hair, while from the waist down, the knight’s armour and legs were covered with a garment that seemed cut from the cloth of a moonless, starless night.

The knight’s hands possessed long digits that Ástríðr could not decide were fingers or claws, sharp as they were and tapering to points, one holding the reigns of the eight-legged hellsteed, while the other curled around the hilt of an almost absurdly long, slightly curved black sword, with a crimson fuller and a wicked single edge. The greaves of the black armour curved into sharp, rapier-like points from where they peeked through the lower garment in the stirrups, though there were no marks of the horse having been gored while riding.

“The dragon is acquainted well with betrayal, and recognizes the difference between friend and foe through hostility and peace. All who attack are enemies; when all attackers are dealt with, the dragon retreats to rest once more upon its hoard of power. The elf merely sought peace, and so the dragon’s claws did not seek to rend her. That is all. Though it is curious that the elf knew that such a thing would calm the dragon’s ire…” The knight’s voice was deep and unsettling, like metal grinding against metal, distorted and reverberating. “Frey was right to seek my aid, it seems.”

“Who are you?” asked Ástríðr.

“A servant. A saviour. A pilgrim. A crusader. All are equally true, and equally false,” replied the knight, the horse coming forth at an unseen cue. The helmet looked to the sky, and spoke. “In this world, is the destiny of mankind controlled by some transcendental entity or law? Is it like the hand of God, hovering above? At least it is true that man has no control, even over his own will…”

“What are you saying?” Ástríðr demanded.

The knight looked down. “You asked who I am. I have just answered your query as accurately as your mind can possibly comprehend.”

“What is your name, then?!” Ástríðr asked, her patience waning.

“Names are pretty things, but ultimately useless—so says the word of God. As to what you may call me, in ages past I have been called Óðinn. It shall suffice.”

“Which god?” asked Kyomi.

“The Man Crafted of Jade,” replied the knight in black, Óðinn. “The entity whose very existence holds together and enables existence as it is known.”

“Is that the god you serve?” Kyomi queried.

“Hmph. You are too clever by half, summoner. I do not hold the Jade Man to be the god to whom I owe my allegiance. The Dark Divinity, the god of my people, the Apostles, is of yet unborn. Another Apostle, Frey, asked me to be here, and it seems they were correct. The first of the Crystals has gone dark. Soon, others will follow. The Legacy of the Ancients nears its end.”

“And is Katsumi your god?” asked Kyomi.

“No,” said Óðinn, shaking their head. “No, she is not. She heralds a turning point. Our god shall be born, or the threads of destiny that heralded the birth of our Prince of Darkness shall be unmade. It all depends on her actions, which the greatest sages of the Ancients could not foretell. She represents a crossroads of fate, nothing more.”

“Well, isn’t that convenient…” sighed Kyomi. “So what are you here to do, then? Just observing?”

“...No,” replied Óðinn. “Rather, I came to satisfy my own curiosity, and now that that is done, so too is my original purpose for being here. There is one thing I was bidden to give, however…”

With that, the knight reached behind him and drew forth an orb, tossing it to Ástríðr. “That rightfully belongs to your comrade, the bearer of the dark sword ‘Deatheater.’ No matter what is done to it, if it is sold, if it is thrown away… Now that it has been given, it shall ever return to her grasp.”

Ástríðr stared at the orb in her hand blankly, uncomprehendingly. It was spherical, but that was all that could be definitively said about it; it was shifting and inconstant, but also unchanging and static. It was completely transparent and totally opaque. It swam with colours beyond counting, many of which defied description, and was also a solid violet hue. “What…is it?”

“A seed. Nothing more.”

“And what does it grow?”

“When the time is right, all will be revealed,” replied Óðinn. “Until then, the future remains in motion, even as the past fades and is by degrees erased. To the ends of the world, and back again, and if time has no end, still forward and onward, over and over again. Causality spirals endlessly and heedlessly to the horizon it will never reach, to an oblivion that will never truly come. So too do the struggles of men reach ever onwards towards the skies, though their efforts will never truly ascend to the heavens. Indeed, it can be said that the hand of man deals only in false justice and forsaken love; and that is why the Prince of Darkness has ever gestated, growing closer and closer to the moment of truth, where our god shall be born or be unmade. And when the moment comes, it shall be the hand of man that ushers it in. Yea, the cruelty of men shall indeed make for an apt midwife.”

Absently, the knight brought forth an iridescent white feather, and tossed it into the ground amidst the wounded. When it struck, a burst of blinding white light erupted forth, and as the light peaked and then dimmed, Sonja and Kagura were standing once more, their grievous wounds healed as they were drawn up by an unseen force into standing. Katsumi herself stirred, groaning in something approaching pain as she blinked and looked out at the world blearily, her violet eyes once more looking out upon the world.

“What…?” Katsumi asked, and then her cheeks bulged as she coughed forth a gout of blood and viscera.

“Her lungs are merely expunging the blood that filled them. Take care, bearer of the dark sword. The feathers of an angel, willingly given, are not easily obtained, and rarer still are those who will give them freely. Destiny requires you live. It does not require you whole. With that, I must take my leave of you. My work this day draws to a close.”

“Will we see you again?” asked Katsumi, her voice scratchy with her lungs’ attempt to discharge the fluid within them.

“Only the Hand of God may know if or when our paths may once again cross, and even they are not privy to the entirety of Fate’s chaotic skein,” Óðinn said even as their eight-legged horse began to turn about, reaching the edge of the clearing. “And yet I daresay that though it is time that I exit this scene, my part in this play has yet to wholly come to pass. If I may speak heresy, it is unlikely, I think, that we should remain strangers for all the days that yet remain.”

With that, the Apostle slashed at the air with their sword, and the fabric of reality yawned wide to allow them to pass. When the last strands of the horse’s tail passed beyond the breach, it snapped closed, and the clouds passed as warmth returned to the clearing. The frost melted as though it had never been there, and the sun once more shone down as the sounds of wildlife once more stirred to life, as though they had never ceased their endless chatter.

All was well, and yet the pall of unease that settled upon the band of five in that moment was all the stronger and more profound for it.

The orb was alive. She knew it.

The creature that her comrades had said called itself ‘Óðinn’ had not been lying when he called it a seed, she knew that much. And yet, for all of that, it felt more like what she imagined the gestation of a human baby might than the point of origin for a plant. Yet, it was not an egg, not properly, for it in itself was not a complete being, nor would it give rise to a new being entirely of its own volition given time. If she had to put a name to what she would have called it were she more ignorant of its true nature than she already was, she would have called it an ‘organ.’ A part of something greater. Yet, she also knew that the origin of a greater existence was within it, awaiting the confluence of time, conditions, and catalyst.

It…pulsed. There was really no better way to describe what she felt as she held it in her bare hand, and contemplated its complexities. It pulsed, and the rhythm was regular, like a heartbeat. What was most perplexing was the fact that the closer she held it, the more strongly she could feel the thrumming of life emanating from it, to the point where she could hear it dully in her ears as she held it close to her chest, like it was far away, but still absolutely and irrevocably there.

She was in her room at the Drunken Whore, confined to her quarters as soon as Madam Tsuyu had caught a glimpse of the orb Katsumi was holding so desperately to her chest, as though the seed itself was suddenly precious to her. And it was precious—

No, that wasn’t entirely accurate.

It wasn’t precious.

It was vital.

Now several hours of fierce discussion had taken place below. Fortuitously, this was the day that the Drunken Whore was closed—by orders of the local religious authority, all non-essential businesses were closed today, it being a holy day that recurred weekly, a day of rest and spiritual contemplation, which was why, she supposed, Kagura and she were allowed to have their sparring match today—so they were spared the indignity of an audience. Voices were raised several times over the time that had elapsed since their return, almost loud enough to be made out, but not quite. Katsumi despised being spoken about when she wasn’t there—such things rarely bode well for the continued stability of her living situation—but there was nothing for it. Madam Tsuyu had given the order for her confinement with an expression that Katsumi knew better than to attempt to dispute. So, to distract herself from the resigned despair that was beginning to well up in her throat, to hold firm and fast to the notion that this was a different world, that things could be different here, she sat on the windowsill and contemplated the strange, alien orb she had been given, along with the disconcerting sense of familiarity it evoked in her.

She had never before experienced déjà vu in the course of her existence.

She figured that that feeling couldn’t be far removed from the feeling that stirred within her as she focused upon the orb.

Ástríðr had held the orb uncomprehendingly. She did not see. She could not understand.

Katsumi saw. And she knew with a growing sense of resignation in absentia of dread that she was all too capable of understanding—of understanding the orb that glowed with the umbral brilliance of the darkness that laid between the stars.

Indeed, the nocturnal carpet that draped across the heavens once the sun had set was of the very same sort as that which laid within the confines of the orb.

Kyomi had theorised on their way back that the orb was some form of esoteric crystal, some variety that was lost to time.

Katsumi rejected that fool notion. This was not a crystal. A crystal, which included the Crystal from which she had received her class, was not alive, was never truly alive in the first place. This, then, was no crystal—its nature was entirely organic. The consciousness that she sensed slumbering within it was entirely embryonic, and also incomplete—not developmentally, but rather as though it required more than time to complete itself. She reached out inexpertly and clumsily with her mind, attempting to communicate with it the same way the winged reptilian beast that lurked beneath her skin had communicated with her. She felt the connection being made, and suddenly she could feel a slip of something powerful, something heady, something intoxicating. Yet, no sooner had she noticed it, than did the thing she was perceiving stop. She was ejected from the connection, and there were words emblazoned into the forefront of her mind once she returned to herself.

Not yet.

There came a knocking on her door, drawing her attention away from the orb. She thought about placing it on the sill, but something in her rejected that notion with a vehemence that surprised her. She had not thought herself so capable of such a strong emotion anymore, not for a long time, not since an event that was still mostly shrouded in the fog of amnesia. All the same, she took the orb with her as she slid off of the windowsill and walked over to her door, opening it for whomever stood on the other side.

“You’re not who I was expecting…” Katsumi blurted out dumbly, blinking.

Ástríðr shrugged. “Apparently since I’m the one that came up with the idea that allowed you to regain your senses, I volunteered myself to interact with you in this…delicate time.”

“Drew the short straw?” Katsumi guessed.

“No. I was selected by unanimous motion. There was no element of chance to it at all,” Ástríðr sighed.

Katsumi considered her, considered the tray the elf had in her hands, and sighed. “Well, at least you’re honest. Come in.”

Ástríðr walked into the room, and Katsumi closed the door behind her.

“So, I assume that my days here are numbered?” Katsumi ventured.

“Not…really…?” replied Ástríðr, her voice lilting in her confusion as she placed the tray down on the small circular table in the middle of the chamber. “What makes you think that?”

“I know how the game is played,” Katsumi shrugged. “When people start talking about you, when they raise their voices about you when you’re not there, even if you’re not ousted from your situation immediately after the conversation is over, your remaining days of security number in the single digits. Invariably, the story ends with you out on your ass, on the street, back to scraping to survive in an attempt to catch the next break. And then the cycle repeats itself until you become dependent on someone unstable enough to bring the sequence to its logical conclusion by finally killing you. That’s how it played out for me, at least. My sister, too, though her situation concluded much more quickly, as I’ve told you. Now, I don’t think you lot are the type to kill me—even your most vile threats never went in that direction—but ousting me? That’s most assuredly in the cards, from my experience.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

“Not really. But it’s like raising an objection to it being hot in the summer or having to deal with insects during the same. There’s really nothing to be done about it, save to grin and bear it, because it’s simply the way the world is.” Katsumi shook her head. “I never understood why people want to believe in some entity of ultimate evil that causes every misfortune in our lives, when it’s always been clear to me that people’s troubles arise almost invariably from their own cruelty or the cruelty of other people. We don’t need a demon or a devil to make us evil when we’re very much capable of creating Hell for each other all on our own.”

“There’s good in people, too!”

“And when did I ever seek to contest that?” asked Katsumi. “It’s always been in the best interest of mankind to choose good over evil, and even though somewhere along the line something happened to convince people that the opposite is true, that in reality there is so much more evil in the world than there is good, that does not negate the existence of good in itself. I’ve simply stopped holding my breath for the goodness of mankind to shine down upon me. That’s all it is. That’s all it’s ever been.”

“Does it ever make you sad?”

A bitter laugh ripped itself free of Katsumi’s throat. “Sadness arises from the betrayal of expectations, and perpetuates from the continued betrayal of the hope that things will eventually get better. After a while, though, you figure out that it’s better to stop hoping, to stop looking like a foolish child to the heavens in hopes that some absent god deigns to weave an impossible miracle, to give you an honest chance of seizing the future you’ve always dreamed of. Then all you have left is exhaustion. But at least…at least it stops hurting. No, Ástríðr, I stopped being sad a long time ago. What I am is tired. Mankind’s suffering is a bad joke that I’ve heard before, lived before, over and over again, and it wasn’t funny the first time.”

“...I was wrong…”

That hit Katsumi like a load of bricks. “I’m sorry?”

“I was wrong, okay?” Ástríðr repeated, an expression somewhere between anger, sadness and determination on her face. “I thought…no, it doesn’t matter what I thought. But my father wasn’t thinking of ousting you. My mother wouldn’t hear of it. And…I don’t want you to go, either.”

“Well, I guess that’s nice,” sighed Katsumi. “Conscience, eh? If there is any element of the human experience that’s a grenade with a pulled pin—or a lit fuse, or whatever—it’s conscience. Its patience is limited, as is its duration. I’ve long since learned not to rely upon people who make a show of kindness to assuage their own sense of wrongdoing.”

“Look, bitch, I’m not saying that because I feel bad. By my estimation, you’re going to get us all killed now that we’re entangled up in this mess. The birth of a god, a religious sect that I’ve never heard of and neither of my parents are willing to talk about, prophecy, destiny, that fucking orb—it’s all way above my pay grade, and the pay grades of my friends. I don’t like you, and I don’t rightly care if you feel all warm and fuzzy around here,” Ástríðr spat with remarkable vitriol. “I said I was wrong because I thought you were just trying to slum it, nothing special or remarkable, no more significant than an errant lump of pyrite. I thought that you would never understand, never appreciate the sacrifices everyone here makes every day just to scrape by. I’m not saying I want to be your friend—I don’t. I’m acknowledging that you’ve as much right to be here as Kagura, Kyomi, and every broken bird we drag in here on the verge of death. Don’t mistake that for kindness.”

“Why, though?” Katsumi asked, cocking her head. “What do you get out of admitting an error you think you’ve made? Wouldn’t you have much more peace of mind if you simply saw what you wanted to see and denied any evidence to the contrary of your beliefs?”

“What.”

Katsumi shrugged. “Isn’t that what normal, well-adjusted people do? Ignore anything that might conflict with the way they see the world? Isn’t that how healthy people maintain peace in their lives?”

A crack resounded throughout the room.

Katsumi dully registered the sting in her cheek, and turned her head back forward to regard the woman who had assailed her. Ástríðr’s shaking hand was still in the position of the follow-through, but it did not tremble with sadness or with hurt.

It trembled with rage.

“Did I touch a nerve?” Katsumi asked, curious. “It was an honest question. I simply cannot see a way in which a person can find happiness in this world absent incredible luck, willful ignorance, or sheer gormless obliviousness. Or some combination of the three.”

Ástríðr laughed. It was a manic, explosive laugh that gave Katsumi reason to doubt the integrity of Ástríðr’s sanity. Her own, even, for she could not recall, within the bounds of her limited memory, ever having encountered someone, regardless of their state of sanity, laughing quite like that. “Don’t say things like that. I’m going to die of asphyxiation! Aren’t you the one who just said that good exists in the world and then threw out this idiotic line about fools being the only people capable of happiness? Pick one! Now.”

“Both are true, though I suppose my phrasing was a touch imprecise. The fortunate, the fool, and the bystander—all of them are in one way or another unaffected by the suffering of their fellows. The rest of us are meant to devour each other, or suffer and starve, unseen, unheard. Invisible, ignored. Happiness is attainable for many an individual, and many find strength in connections, in the ties that bind. But for all that, I cannot in good conscience say that this is maintained through altruism. Not when my mother threw my sister out for daring to seduce her husband, deaf to my protests when I explained I had heard him the first time he forced himself upon her, and every time thereafter. She threw out her children to preserve her fantasy of a faithful, upstanding husband and a marriage she could be proud of. It was cruel, but by no means unique.

“Mankind is good. They can find happiness amongst themselves. But the preservation of that happiness requires the sacrifice of those who are suffering, who are in most in need of aid. Such was my point, and the point from which I asked what benefit you gained from admitting fault. It flies in the face of what I have witnessed time and again, from teachers, from healers, from parents, from all those whose voluntary duty it is to extend a hand to those who are near to tumbling down the void. And so I ask, once again, with no offence meant, ‘why?’”

“Pick a hole,” Ástríðr hissed, her voice quiet and her tone terse.

Katsumi cocked her head. “Excuse me?”

“I’m going to fuck you,” she replied. “I don’t know what the hells is wrong with you, but I’m going to figure something out. You threatened my life last time I tried this. Does that stand true now? Or will you accept my offer? The choice, I guess, is yours. My life or your chastity, which ends tonight?”

Fear did not stir. Instead, there was a calm, like a still pond crusted with winter frost, that settled and stole into Katsumi’s limbs. “So, this is how it will be, then? Or is this some roundabout attempt at healing that you’re simply fumbling through inexperience?”

Ástríðr merely smiled, baring her teeth with an almost malicious grin. “My life. Your chastity. Choose.”

Katsumi for once gave an honest assessment of the situation. Were this the previous day, it would not be a question. She would follow through on her warning. But the calm was deceptive; the clarity of the water concealed the true depths. And beneath the frost, subtle so as not to disturb the icy film, writhed the coils of a winged serpent, its ebon scales caressing the innermost reaches of her being. The Beast seethed. But she was spent, and the Beast knew. It would not leap to her defence save for if she called for it specifically, loath as it was to destroy the vessel it laboured to defend. Ástríðr knew of the Beast, as did those below, and Katsumi did not have such faith in the strength of the Beast that she believed she would survive if it were to go beyond control, to attack all that attacked it. She would be carved away until there was nothing left, no ability she had to fight, and while that was acceptable prior, now she knew that were her body to perish, were she to be swept away, the orb would be without a protector, without a way to bloom and reach for the Heavens with the stars that were its brethren.

“If I attempt to kill you, I will die,” Katsumi decided. “But to allow you to violate me would be to surrender the last of myself, and what remained would be bestial.”

“Then I’ll make this easier for you,” Ástríðr replied, calm but still intense. She pulled a knife from her boot and thrust it into Katsumi’s reach, hilt-first. “I meant what I said. I’m not going to fight back. My life or your chastity. Last chance to answer before I just pick the latter option.”

“To be perfectly blunt, you are near the bottom of my list of worries concerning my mortality should I follow through. Why, though? I do not doubt Kyomi or Kagura have their fair share of such troubles. Why do mine specifically cause you such disquiet?” Katsumi shook her head. “I suppose it’s entirely academic. Either case will lead to the death of my ability to affect the world, to reach for the future that my sister begged the absent gods to grant her. So be it. You may have me, and what remains shall be as it will.”

And with that, the appearance of Ástríðr melted away.

“Most interesting,” Kyomi’s playful voice echoed throughout the hall. “I think you have your answer, eh? She’d let you fuck her before she’d kill you. Kinda boring, though. I was hoping she’d murderate the Cicada I had summoned. Oh well.”

“Can you be serious for five seconds?” Ástríðr’s voice protested in exasperation as she and Kyomi rounded the corner.

Kyomi took a deep breath and put up one finger. Meanwhile, Ástríðr looked at Katsumi and said, “Well, I guess that answers that. I won’t pretend to understand you, Katsumi. I will, however, remember this. It is not your baggage that put me here. Nor was it an attempt to heal your mind. I don’t care about your sister and your mother can go die for all I care. You however, are one of mine. If I admit my failing to you, it is wholly because I’d like for you to remember that. Now, would you mind if we fucked? I’m only going to let you get out of this once and never again.”

Kyomi winked at Katsumi and mouthed, do it!

“...Given that you asked, I must admit that if wanton cruelty is not required, it would hardly be the most objectionable thing with which I have been presented today,” Katsumi sighed. “But I would hasten to warn you that I hardly have enough experience to separate sex from attachment. I cannot in good conscience inform you that I am certain of my ability to let this be a single thing, or even a solely physical thing. I fear I lack the fortitude for either to be true.”

Ástríðr opened her mouth but then Kyomi pulled her down and whispered something into her ear. “Kyomi seems to think that I should welcome such a thing. I am less certain. Can you really say that you’ll end up like that? In love, I suppose… I am, after all… How do I put this lightly… I’m a violent, short-tempered rapist at the best of times.”

Katsumi shook her head. “I cannot say. I have...never loved another, nor have I ever received love from another. In short, I am entirely unfamiliar with the emotion. I am intellectually acquainted with the concept, however, and from what I have read in the past, I am—apparently—especially susceptible to ‘catching feelings,’ as it were. As to the flaws you have cited, I cannot speak one way or another. I have not the heart for it, to speak of such things that I do not know with the appearance of certainty so as to soothe the nerves of another. But…this I can say. Should you be willing to make the attempt, I would be remiss were I to refrain from responding in kind.”

“Oh! She forgot narcissistic! And bipolar! And probably codependent. And…” A fist cut off the litany of neuroses Kyomi had seen fit to begin describing.

“I have already made my position clear, Kyomi. Any attempt to dissuade me from it is wasted effort and wasted breath,” Katsumi replied as Ástríðr drew her fist back. She then turned to the elf. “As for you. What will you do? I’ve made my position clear, and yet your intentions remain somewhat obscure.”

“Then we see if this whole love thing can work between us,” Ástríðr answered with something approaching a smile.

“Very well. Then, shall we?” Katsumi asked, stepping aside and inviting Ástríðr into her room.

Ástríðr smirked, not unkindly, and stepped in with a nod.

The door’s closing heralded a moment of silence throughout the rest of the Drunken Whore, which was broken in short order.

“That will be fifteen gil and the next moonturn of using the water room first.”

Tandem grumbled, but the impulse tugging up at the corner of his mouth betrayed his good humour as he pulled forth his coin pouch, counting out the tender one by one, and placing them into the elegant outstretched hand of his beautiful wife with her smugly triumphant expression. “How the blazes did you know this time?”

“Ancient Lycorian secret,” jested the insufferably pleased Tsuyu as she took a draw off of her ever-present kiseru.

Tandem fixed his ruby red gaze on her, holding it for a few silent moments. She scoffed. “You’ve lost your sense of humour over the years, dear husband.”

“No, what I’ve lost is several hundred gil and several years of washing priority to these wagers,” the elven man replied. “Including the one time when my sister slept with Kagura, the latter of whom still pines for the former. I’d like to have a chance of winning one of these, or I’ll stop taking these bets, and then where will you be?”

“You say that like Yuriya wasn’t just as if not more taken with Kagura,” Tsuyu muttered. “But if you must know…women just know these things. Especially mothers. Especially as it pertains to their children, new and old, found and born.”

Tandem shook his head ruefully, duly chastised. “You sure this is a good idea? This is the girl’s first time, and Ástríðr doesn’t exactly have a great track record with those.”

“There is love in the air, daa-san. They’ll be fine.” Tsuyu’s expression was uncharacteristically soft as she took a draw from her kiseru for a moment, before turning positively feline as her gaze returned to Tandem. “Besides. I trained our daughter myself, lest you forget. She has no chance of failure here.”