Steam filled the bathhouse in a thick white cloud, hazing the far end for the broad space as Sora sat on a thin bench, only a thick gray towel wrapped around herself. It was midnight, and most of the other jah annan wouldn’t come until nearer the day. That was one of the few advantages to being relieved of the majority of her jah annan duties. One of very few. In the four days since returning to Jael and being selected to become the sword, Sora had only trained with Lawthe once. The rest of her time was occupied mainly by Jotaranell’s kar training.

Her body ached from the most recent session. Every muscle in her body felt like molten lead, threatening to drag her down to the floor with every step. She’d been doused in ice by the stargazer before leaving his study earlier that night to help with the soreness, he said. She snorted. If Jotaranell had let Leahan heal her more, then she wouldn’t have to worry about being so sore.

It wasn’t all bad, though, she had to admit. Her control over kar was markedly improving. Even now, she could feel the ambient power all around her, slim though it was. With some effort, she pulled on the fergkar and lewskar in the steam, drawing it closer around her with a slight nudge that left her a bit winded.

The bamboo screen on the wall adjacent to Sora slid away, and Lawthe stepped into the bathhouse, towel around his middle. He didn’t seem to notice her at first, stepping inside looking around the empty bathing space. It was a relatively minor affair, carved straight from the sandstone, supplied water from underground tanks, and constantly heated by gin working below.

Lawthe walked around the edge of one of the pools in Sora’s direction, and she realized that he had indeed noticed her. The shield strode forward and sat beside her, not looking directly at Sora, just leaned forward, age-worn hands clasped together in front of him. Even in the cloud of steam engulfing them, Sora saw how his once taught muscle sagged on his bones, skin hanging from him like old curtains. His eyes were ringed with dark circles, and his gaze bore a weight Sora couldn’t even begin to comprehend.

“I’m afraid I’ve made a grave mistake,” he said after a long moment of silence, voice barely more than a trembling whisper, and the way the folds of his face pinched together with pain slammed into Sora like a hammer blow.

“What do you mean, my shield?” She said, voice still as the cold features of her face.

Lawthe sighed, the weight of his breath curling the steam in front of his face. “I have failed you, my dear. I have failed all the jah annan, but you more than any other. I should never have brought you to Master Gael. I should never have listened, obeyed.”

“But it is our place to obey. It is my honor to serve the kingdom. You’ve told me yourself that I am one of the best among the jah annan. Why shouldn’t you have brought me to the slave master?” Sora’s hands were starting to shake in her lap, the muscles of her face taut with tension as she struggled to suppress the unwanted emotion fighting to paint itself across her expression.

Lawthe just shook his head, closing his eyes and leaning back against the thick adobe wall behind the bench. “There is no honor in being a slave, a tool for others to wield. There is nothing in it for us but pain. None of us were born to be shields. You weren't born to be a sword. We were only born to live, nothing else.”

Every muscle in Sora’s body screamed with tension, and her lips trembled as she fought her own heart. She shut her eyes and looked away from the shield, unable to bear the depth of emotion plastered across his face. She didn’t want to talk about this. “Leahan says you asked him to challenge you.”

Another sigh escaped the shield, and he said, “yes, I did.”

“Why?” Sora asked, still avoiding his gaze.

“I am old, my dear. A conflict unlike anything seen in millennia is coming, and we cannot afford weak leadership. The jah annan, the kingdom, needs a strong symbol who can weather the waves.”

“You aren’t that old, Lawthe. You still have a few dozen years ahead of you, and you’re plenty strong. None of us have even come close to besting you yet. Don’t give up when we need,”

“I’m dying, girl!” He barked, cutting her off with a rumbling tone that seemed to settle even the steam in the air. Sora jolted up off the bench, backing away from the shield. He shook his head and sighed again. “I’m sorry, Sora. I shouldn’t be showing this kind of emotion, especially not to you.” He took a minute to collect himself as Sora settled back onto the bench, a bit further from him than she’d been before. “I’m dying,” he said. “It is an affliction of the brain, not something curable with kar. It makes things difficult. My emotions escape my grasp, and my strength flees from me faster than any enemy ever did. Before too long, I will lose my mind to it as well.”

When he finished, Sora sat quietly, watching as he rubbed the thin scar on his neck where Botaran had landed a shallow cut the day before. “Why ask Leahan?” She said as he drew his hand back to his lap.

“The jah annan need a healer, somebody who can put out fires and keep the brothers from falling to discord.”

“Why not ask Botaran then? He’s always had a kind strength to him. Many of the brothers go to him to try and settle their disputes before dueling,” Sora said, voice finally returning to the jah annan clam.

Lawthe shook his head. “Botaran is too diplomatic. He tries too hard to keep the peace, to prevent pain and frustration. He is too soft, which isn’t a bad thing in a jah annan, but it is a poor trait in a wartime leader. Leahan is better served for the role. He knows when to be soft, but also when to be hard.”

“But he’s a prick,” Sora said before she could think.

Lawthe gave her a slight smile. “He is indeed a prick, but Leahan is also young. That will fade with time.”

Sora shook her head. “I still don’t like this. So what if you’re sick? We still need you, Lawthe. You are the shield. You have the experience, the knowledge, the power to keep us together. For all you know, it could still be years before you die.”

As she finished her words, the screen door slid aside again. Two figures stepped into the bathhouse. Leahan and Botaran both immediately spotted Sora and Lawthe and approached.

Leahan opened his mouth to speak, but Sora cut him off. “Say you won't do it,” she said.

“Won’t do what?” Leahan asked, a thin line appearing between his eyebrows, the corners of his lips tilting ever so slightly downward.

“That you won’t duel him,” she said, rising from the bench once more. Her legs screamed a protest, but she ignored them. “Neither of you are ready to be shield yet. You still need his teaching. Tell him you won’t challenge him.”

“I can’t do that,” Leahan said, somehow managing to convey a thread of cold danger in his soft tone.

“Why not?” Sora said, her calm mask still maintained despite the anger roiling around inside of her.

“Because I already have,” Leahan said. “Our duel is scheduled for the end of the week. You know that if I step down from the challenge, I’ll be barred from becoming the shield. I have to fight him, Sora.”

“Then don’t kill him. Throw the fight. Stars, Leahan, the jah annan aren’t ready to lose him, not yet.” Sora started shaking from the tension in her limbs, and her hands curled into fists.

“Do you think I want to kill him?”

“Don’t you? It seems to me that you do.”

Leahan’s face contorted into a wrapped twisting of pain and anger. “I don’t, Sora. The last thing I wanted to do was kill Lawthe, but he asked me to challenge him. I couldn’t tell him, no, and I won’t throw the fight. Lawthe deserves better than that from me.”

Sora shook her head. “You’re not listening to me. I don’t know why I expected anything different. Lawthe deserves to live, Leahan, regardless of what he told you.”

She stepped past Leahan, moving towards the screen door. Botaran reached out to grab her arm as she passed, but she dodged around him. “Sora,” he said in a soft tone that was no doubt intended to calm her down, but it only increased her frustration.

The screen slid away easily, and she closed it behind herself without a word, taking a deep breath before moving to retrieve her clothes and weapons. As she left the bathhouse, she couldn’t help but feel like the only sane person left in the world.

Nearly a week after returning to Jael, Sora again found herself sitting in the stands above the training yard, watching the Jah Annan below. Several groups of fighters were on the sand, spending their rare free time in the moonlight, and many of the councilors watched on from the stands, relaxing after their most recent session.

The crowd's eyes were fixed on one pair, in particular, a duo Sora couldn’t stop watching, dread and fear spiraling in her stomach. Leahan and Lawthe fought with bare steel and skin, both in only their trousers and boots, sabers clashing with a percussive rhythm. Leahan was going through with the challenge, despite everything Sora had said to him before. Watching him fight the man Sora knew they all needed, a blossom of hate began to bloom in her chest.

Lawthe was forbidden from purposefully slaying a challenger, nor, Sora suspected, would he if he could. The two fought, and the onlookers cried out, jeering and cheering blending into a monotone clamor of human voices. One would have thought that it was a tournament with all the noise. A few times, Sora caught some of the councilors exchanging silver, betting on the fight's outcome.

Beside her, Botaran watched with a similar fixed expression as her own, though it was difficult to tell through the placid jah annan mask. Even Sora had to begrudgingly admit that Leahan wasn’t doing too bad. He had somehow managed to drop his usual flair and was actually holding his own against the shield, much to Sora’s increasing frustration.

He was still no match for Lawthe or even Botaran, Sora was certain of that, but she wasn’t sure if she could actually beat him if he fought her like that. She sighed, wishing she could train with an actual weapon instead of silverglass and kar.

She was quickly getting better at manipulating kar. She wasn’t losing as much blood now, and it was increasingly easier for her to manipulate and blend multiple aspects at once. Even now, sitting in the stalls, she was more aware of the power flowing through her veins and drifting through the noisy air.

As Lawthe punished Leahan for a relatively transparent overhead strike, Sora’s eyes caught on one of the onlookers across the pit from her. Keros’ son was easy to make out. Shorter than anyone else and the only pale-skinned person in the audience, he was like an apple on a palm tree.

Something about the way he stared down into the pit made her skin crawl. His eyes looked glazed and glossy as if they’d been plucked from a fresh corpse, and his flat expression only made it worse.

Sora half rose from her bench, but the crowd exclaimed, and she glanced back down at the pit to watch as Leahan landed a shallow cut along the side of Lawthe’s face. Blood seeped from the slash, enough to look concerning.

Cuts to the face regularly bled a lot, but there was an artery near the back of the cheek, and it seemed Leahan had hit it. Most of the spectators wouldn’t notice the significance, but all the other jah annan sparring below paused at the sight.

Sora felt her heart begin to race as she watched on in building horror. Leahan couldn’t win; He couldn’t be the shield. It would be a disaster. They still needed Lawthe; She still needed Lawthe. Sora calmed herself as best she could, focusing on the small ball of panicked fear and crushing it in her mind. Lawthe could still win. He wasn’t dead yet.

As she watched, the shield redirected Leahan’s next swing and pushed inside his guard. He brought the pommel of his saber up and smashed it into the other jah annan’s chin, knocking Leahan back several steps.

For a moment, it seemed as if he’d fall, but the man found his balance in seconds, immediately charging back into the fight. The crowd roared again as steel struck steel, and the cry echoed through the training hall like the cry of some dreadful choir.

As Lawthe raised his saber to block Leahan’s next blow, a sudden bang echoed through the hall, cutting through the crowd’s rumbling. The sound caused Leahan to glance away for a moment, and Lawthe moved to take advantage of the sudden opening. He brought his saber up to parry but only brought it halfway into position before a spasm tore through his arm, visibly rippling beneath his skin, and the blade fell from his hand into the sand.

Leahan’s gaze returned to Lawthe as his blade passed over the shield’s open hand and sliced into the shield's neck. The sight sent the entire hall to silence, and a moment later, arterial blood sprayed as Lawthe fell to the side, coating Leahan in red before his body hit the sand with a solid thud. The shield seized on the ground, eyes wide, mouth moving soundlessly as blood pooled around him. Slowly, he stilled, gaze glazing, body twitching.

Cold crept up Sora’s spine as she stared on, unable to look away. Leahan stood still, frozen at the end of his swing. As Lawthe died, Leahan seemed to harden, as if he were a desert rose caught in a flash freeze. It felt as if the entire training hall had lost its breath.

Tearing her eyes away from Leahan, Sora searched for the interloper, the one who’d distracted Lawthe long enough for Leahan to kill him. Kaeto stood in the lower doorway to the training yard, stiff as everyone else as he looked blankly across the sand to Lawthe’s corpse. After a moment, several of the attending gerin dropped to their knees in Kaeto’s direction, the other Jah Annan bowed their heads, but Leahan simply straightened, cleaned his blade, and sheathed it.

The prince approached him, ignoring the insult. “Shield,” he began, loud enough for the words to echo off the colonnaded walls, and Sora felt her stomach drop. Leahan was indeed the shield now. “Organize your men, have them take to the walls. The haetnellians could be upon us at any moment.”

The crowd burst into frightened murmuring, but Leahan saluted, thumb to his lips as he bowed his head. Kaeto continued, talking over the sudden noise. “Send for Sora. The stargazer needs her now. When you’re done organizing your troops, meet me in Master Jotaranell’s study.”

“As you command, it will be done, my prince,” Leahan said, then straightened. He turned and caught Sora’s eye, flashing hand talk in her direction. "Go, do as he commands, sister. Brother, join her, make sure she gets there," he sent.

Sora stiffened, glancing at Botaran. The other Jah Annan just sent a confirmation signal back and stood, picking up his staff.

Sora glanced back to where she’d seen Keros’ son, but the boy was gone, likely spooked by what had just occurred. Slowly, she rose as well, leaning against her polearm, surprised by the steadiness of her legs. The pair left the silent stadium, the rest of the now panicked crowd stepping aside to let them pass. As they stepped into the corridor, Sora’s hands flashed in Botaran’s direction, sending, "you need to kill him, brother. We can’t let him be the shield."

Botaran shook his head slightly but didn’t otherwise reply. They made their way to the stargazer’s study in stoic silence, groups of soldiers running past as they walked, staying out of their path. Sora caught the occasional muttering of gossip from gin and gerin as they passed, the news of Lawthe’s death already spreading throughout the citadel.

By the time they arrived at Jotaranell’s door, the cold in Sora had dissipated, leaving only the heat of anger tightening her shoulders. If Botaran wouldn’t kill Leahan, then she would. Supposing she could after becoming sword, that was.

She was sure that’s why the astrologian had called for her. A battle was coming, and they needed the power she could give them. Botaran raised his hand to knock, but Sora pushed open the door, knowing how the sound annoyed Jotaranell.

The stargazer knelt on the floor nearer the center of the room, his massive telescope pushed to one end of its tracks, drawing patterns into the wood planks with dark chalk. Keros was kneeling across from Jotaranell, chalk in hand, mirroring the astrologian. Sora was a bit surprised to see the prince’s steward, Adarelle, standing off to the side. There was a nervous tension in how she stood, as if on hot coals or shattered glass.

As Sora and Botaran entered, Jotaranell glanced up from his work, face set in a deeper scowl than usual. “I only asked for the girl; you can leave,” he said to Botaran, but the Jah Annan didn’t move; he simply kept his gaze forward.

“Are you deaf? I told you to get out.”

Botaran simply bowed his head and replied, “my apologies, Master Jotaranell. I am here on the shield’s command.”

“What?” Jotaranell said, genuine surprise beneath the derisive tone in his voice. “Don’t lie, man, Lawthe wouldn’t send you here. He knows the gravity of this task.”

“Lawthe is no longer shield, Master Jotaranell.”

That gave the stargazer pause. “Very well then,” Jotaranell said after a moment. “I don’t have time for this. Stay if you must.”

Behind them, the door opened again, and Kaeto strode inside the study, the speaker, the king, and Leahan following behind him.

“I’ve brought them as you asked, Master Jotaranell,” Kaeto said, walking towards the stargazer.

Jotaranell raised a hand, stopping the prince. “Don’t come any closer, boy. The pattern is delicate.”

Kaeto stopped, then carefully took two steps away from the chalk circle on the floor. “What is this?” He asked, staring at the enigmatic shapes drawn within the circle’s boundaries.

“It is part of the process, my lord prince. Have you read much on the rites of synastry?” The stargazer asked, and the prince shook his head. “Well, no matter then. Watch, and you will learn much tonight.”

As the Jotaranell and Keros’ finished creating the circle on the floor, Sora finally noticed the northerner’s children, both the son and the daughter, standing to the side. They both had that fish-eyed gaze, faces slack, eyes glazed. Sora did her best to ignore them, but they just radiated unnatural tension.

When the last lines were dawn on the floor, Jotaranell and Keros rose, carefully making their way out of the center rings of chalk. “Come, girl,” the stargazer said, moving to a table near the side of the room. Sora did as he ordered, moving to his side.

As she walked forward, Sora noted how Keros spoke with his children. To Sora, there seemed to be an air of desperation on the man's face, and despite how animated he appeared, his childrens’ features didn’t so much as twitch.

Sora reached the table to find a knife with a blade twice the length of her hand sitting atop it. She stayed silent, but a sense of dread filled Sora’s stomach as she looked at the blade, knowing full well what it would bring, if not how it would bring it.

Lawthe’s face suddenly flashed through Sora’s mind as the reality of her fate settled around her. His death felt like a dream, so distant it couldn’t be real, and some part of her wondered if perhaps it wasn’t real, but she knew it had been. She closed her eyes and pushed the former shield away in her mind, constructing a box around his image and pushing it into the depths of her mind. She needed to focus right now.

As the stargazer lifted the dagger, the wicked gleam in his eyes reflecting off the blade like candlelight, speaker Jahn spoke up from where the others stood beside the door. “I’m sorry, Master Jotaranell, but why have you asked us here?”

Jotaranell turned and raised an eyebrow. “Why, to be witnesses, of course. This way, nobody can dispute the events that are about to unfold.”

Jahn looked to King Galdrin, and the king shrugged. “It makes sense to me,” he said in his usual low rumbling voice.

The stargazer turned back to Sora and looked her up and down, the set scowl on his face deepening. “Why are you still dressed, girl? Take off that ridiculous cloak and get in the circle. And remember, you are no longer Jah Annan. After tonight you’ll be just another slave, girl. My slave.” He turned and walked into the center of the circle, leaving her alone beside the table.

Sora stiffened at the tone but again did as he ordered. She unclasped the cloak, let it fall to the floor, the sudden lack of weight on her shoulders a dreadful burden. Her skin crawled, and a sense of cold stole through her despite the desert heat.

She dropped her weapons next. The powder pistols, the saber, and maul, they all hit the floor with hollow thuds. She almost wished the pistols were loaded. Lastly, she leaned her sword staff against the wall with gentle care. It was the weapon she’d mastered beyond anything else, her grounding rod, and it deserved respect. She was still clothed, but she’d never felt so bare before.

Her clothes came off quickly after that, and when she was done, Sora strode across the delicate lines of chalk towards where the stargazer waited with his dagger. Each step over the thin black lines felt increasingly heavy. The further she walked, the greater the weight. Lawthe returned to her mind, and she nearly screamed. Not now. Again she pushed him away, needing desperately to leave it all behind. What would he say if he knew what was going on in her mind?

She reached Jotaranell and strained to stand as tall and straight as possible, putting the top of her head level with his eyebrows. “I’m ready,” she said to him.

The stargazer snorted, rolling his eyes. “I don’t care.” He looked to Keros and asked the northerner, “Come, do as you promised.” Keros approached slowly, and Sora could have sworn his eyes had grown heavy as he glanced in her direction.

“Hold out your hands,” he told her in a deep, somber tone, and she did so. Keros took her left hand in both of his, holding it flat, palm up. Jotaranell raised the dagger, blade down, and stabbed down towards Sora’s hand without warning. The pain was immense, like a lightning strike, but Sora had long since mastered the art of masking pain. She still felt it, but she didn’t let it show. She wouldn’t, not to Leahan, not to Jotaranell, not to anybody.

Blood dripped into the center of the circle of chalk as Jotaranell pulled the blade free, and the Keros grabbed her right hand. Jotaranell drove the blade through her right palm, another smiting strike, and again she didn’t let even a hint of the pain show.

Keros took her left hand then, keeping both palms open to the sky above as Jotaranell moved behind her. The northerner tilted his head up towards the moon, mostly eclipsed by Mito’s oily sheen, and began chanting.

Sora didn’t recognize the words or the language, but the sound was eerie, like the murmuring dune winds at high moon. As he chanted, six of Keros’ seven silverglass bands exploded into bright colors, one for each of the six great stars. The seventh band stayed a translucent blue-green, not showing even a trace of kar.

A line of purple-black starlight seeped from the band full of dark mitokar, and Sora watched as it split and stretched up into the air. They coiled around something she couldn’t see, and the air began to shimmer. A crack echoed through the study, and mitokar poured from visible rents in the air, pillars of light streaming like snakes towards each of the other earrings, even the empty seventh.

The oily tendrils of power pushed into the silverglass, warping the air around the bands, and the mitokar began swirling within each of the various aspects within, growing larger and larger as it consumed the starlight.

In moments, Keros’ seven silverglass bands all glowed with the greasy iridescence of mitokar, and thick black rivulets of blood streamed from his piercings and down the side of his head. The silverglass bands were all connected together by a web of dark starlight like a black net hanging between them from the dark holes in the air above their heads.

More words spilled from his mouth, almost as if he’d lost control of his own tongue, and the incantation was ripping itself free from his throat. Two thick lines of mitokar stretched out from the dark web of power, one reaching for Sora’s bloody palms.

She tried to flinch away as each line of kar touched the open wounds, sudden panic overwhelming nearly two decades of training and conditioning. Sora screamed, and the power flooded into her hands, molten threads of pain.

Charcoal black lines appeared beneath her dark skin, searing through her veins, blistering her arms. Her hands curled, and she continued to scream as the corrupt starlight traveled up into her shoulders, her neck, down her back. Sora’s screaming died in her throat, the power scorching away her voice, only a pitiful keening whine escaping her lips.

Suddenly, Keros let her go, and she collapsed to the wood floor. There was a sudden flash of bright white light, and Sora was vaguely aware of somebody shouting as a sudden sharp pain tore into the side of her chest. She barely registered the pain, the way it pulled in her chest, the acute pain piercing her heart. As warm blood pooled around, Sora’s consciousness began to fade. Mitokar poured into her, a waterfall of light, killing her, consuming her.

Sora felt a pair of hands fall on either side of her face, the vague outline of a person hovering above her as her vision darkened. Then, she found what she could only describe as a thread wrapped around her fading senses. She was barely aware of it, but somehow Sora could feel another mind at the other end of the etheric string. She stretched herself towards that presence, so close but barely out of reach.

The darkness came, and then there was nothing but the wailing cries of a stranger coming from the thread in her head.