You have all been placed in different parts of the city, forming three initial groups. These will not remain for the entirety of the adventure, but they’re a start to avoid a huge cluster of people in one place.

The groups are as follows:
Juulet, Leon, Kaureerah. @Jumbus@Force and Fury
Seviin, Xiuyang, Yuliya. @Suicharte@Emeth
Yvain, Pluurii. @jasbraq

You will get descriptions of each place you are in within your distinctive threads.

Interacting with the radio:
You may ask the radio questions and interact with it. If you address the radio, all other participants will be able to hear your question and the answer. There will be a specific thread dedicated to interacting with the radio, while other threads will be hidden. Other means to communicate will be discovered as the story progresses.

It was late in the darkness, the rain that lay over Ceboyan and Arangal only now starting to make its way to neighbouring Kalingnan. Dogs, left out in it, howled in protest, and drops pattered against thatched roofs. In the great manor house that roosted on the hill, servants were bustling about, bringing furniture and plants in, locking up sheds, and closing shutters. In rapid succession, the lights winked out. The great evil eye that gazed over Aziz Mesud was closed.

"Dali?" whispered a voice. A moment passed. "Dalisay!?" It came back louder.

"Yesss, Bato. I'm here. Are you trying to wake the whole farm?"

"Well, you could answer the first time and I wouldn't have to be louder." A teenage boy could be seen slipping into a large hut. He was wearing a wide straw hat and loose canvas pants patched a few times.

"This takes focus, you know." A girl, perhaps a year or two older, could be seen sitting cross-legged on a bed made of planks and some hay. Presently, she opened an eye to glare at the boy.

"Can you sense them yet?"

She nodded. "But only one," she admitted, with some consternation. "Gani said we'd have real help." Dalisay opened both eyes and leaned back, posting her weight on her arms. Long greasy black hair was draped over one shoulder. The boy bore a striking resemblance to her as he joined her sitting on the bed, though his hair had a slight wave to it.

"Maybe he's just that good," Bato suggested, pausing for a moment. "Or 'she'." He tried a hopeful smile.

"It's a man," Dali corrected. She furrowed her brow. "A mage, I think." She nodded after a second.

"He must be some mage!" Bato enthused, only to be shushed by his older sister. "Oraf only gave you loud and mute, didn't she?" the girl chided, and the younger of the pair grimaced by way of apology.

Dalisay glanced about warily and her eyelids fluttered shut for a second. "Well, I sure hope he is. It's a mad idea."

Bato was already rising, but some of the simple cheer faded from his face for a moment. "If you ask me, doing what they did to Alad was the mad thing." He began to walk away.

Dali's eyes opened. "I know," she sighed. "I'm sorry." She took a deep breath and glanced down. "We all wish it hadn't happened. We all wish that things could be different." She shrugged.

"And they will be, Ate, once this man comes and shows us what we need." He turned on his heel and crouched down before where she sat on the bed. "Then we can do the rest ourselves."

"Would a healer not be better for Alad?"

"How long until the next Alad?"

Dalisay sighed and nodded glumly, but she made sure to flash a smile for her little brother. They were but a year and a half apart, though sometimes it felt like more and, other times, she felt the younger of the two. "As usual, wisdom from the mouth of babes."

Bato winked and she blew a raspberry. "I meant his head, as well." She shook hers. "You know he's never been quite right. Anyway, go now," she urged him. "Tell Gani and Kidlat that he's coming along the west road. He's tall and has a pack and some... kites." She estimated his walking speed. "He's about two miles away. Hurry and you three can pull him into the old shed."

For a moment, Bato's eyes flicked to the wheelbarrow in the middle of the hut. "Do you..."

Dalisay smiled and shook her head. "Go, totò!"

Hiking through strange land comforted Tku. He had much to do in Ceboyan but traveling like this reminded him of going through Sakenga as a young boy. He was scared to death of every moving shadow and the rain only chilled his body.

He was no longer scared of the shadows but scared of the duties he set upon himself. He was Tku, and to them, his is a mage to help. He was now a mage. The rain tried to stick to him but it slid off him and his clothes, walking in the rain but never getting wet. Soon he would be upon his location and was already feeling around with his kites. He couldn't be seen.

The lights of the manor house were not visible in the storm. Its shutters had been closed and lanterns snuffed for the night. Thunder rumbled in the clouds above and rain hammered the muddy ground, but there was never much of any wind.

Almost inaudible above the din was a voice. "Here!" it called. "Here, biyahero! You shoul' not be out in tiss storm. Come wit me." There was a young man, just off of the path, behind a stand of tall bushes. He was glancing about nervously but welcomingly and waving Tku over.

Without light, Tku relied on his senses to guide him but they were still futile in a foreign land’s storm. So when he met another young man, Tku was relieved. He waved back to the man, "Ah! Thank you, friend. The storm snuck up on me." Tku approached with a smile but he still scanned around for matters that shouldn't be here things like a blade or many hearts hiding in the tall grass.

There were two other energy signatures - human, hegelan, eeaiko, or yasoi - within a shed about thirty meters off of the road. It was hard to read them well given all of the storm's ambient energy. That was, incidentally, in the direction where Tku was being led.

His tusker kites blowing in the wind's lines were pulled taught and brought closer to Tku. It is very onerous for a guard to spot them in this storm but he wouldn't give an opportunity to catch him through simple sight.

After making it off the main path, Tku offered his name, "My name is Tku." He placed his hand over his own heart to show his sincerity. "Are the others further ahead?"

The man nodded. He was only a few years Tku's senior. "Kidlat," he replied, tapping his chest. "You are young tan we expec'," he remarked, leading the way. "Other persons..." He trailed off for a moment, perhaps struggling to find the word he needed in a language he was less than fluent in, and pointed ahead, down a narrow path. "Gani an' Bato. In te shed." He twisted about for a moment. "Dali no comin'. She teter. Hard movin' in rain like tiss." He scowled briefly, before turning back. A sheet of lightning lit up the sky momentarily, and they could feel the resulting thunder, a few seconds later, in their chests. "Good par' is it makin' lotta noise an'..." A conspiratorial grin replaced a face of consideration. "Energe? Hide us pretty good I tink."

Tku was led to a small shed, where a candle flickered inside. He saw the two other faces - both native Palaparese - only in twisting shadows. One was very young, no older than Abdel or Rikard. He introduced himself in a voice that still cracked as Bato. The other was a good deal older - perhaps in his late thirties. That was Gani. "Maybe you are preezing," he remarked, in accented but more fluent Avincian than Kidlat, "But you are also a mage, so maybe not." He had a short black beard shot through with streaks of silver, and maintained a serious bearing. This was likely his attempt at humour upon meeting someone new. "In any case, you are here and that is what matters. When we spoke with the Masked One, we did not know what to expect. We hear things sometimes, especially me, since I work at the house, but many people are more talk than action." He hesitated for a moment and the three Palaparese exchanged glances. "Even us, until recently."
Tku slowly deciphered what Kidlat was saying through what he said about 'Dali'. Either she was tethered or off balance. Either would make it difficult to move on a stormy night.

"It does," Tku complimented Kidlat. "Rain holds much energy, separating us from the rains is not an easy feat."

As they approached the shed, he dried himself and Kidlat using binding. It was delicate but well within Tku's mastery. He stepped in and removed his cowl. "I'm warm enough knowing you met with me." he offered a smile and nod to Bato and Gani.

Tku leaned himself against the wall. "And you would be right, most of the time. Which is why I would like to ask, what can I do to help you right now? I'm sure that there are those who hold that this is just talk." Tku felt a need to gain the trust of these people.

"That... is the thing," Gani allowed, stroking the stubble on his chin. "We..."

"Do not know," interjected Kidlat.

"Too long with masters makes a man less able to think for himself," the oldest of the three men admitted, "But something has to change."

Outside, a particularly loud crash of thunder shook the landscape and a couple of heads turned. It was the youngest, Bato, who spoke, rapidly and in his native tongue, shooting nervous and pleading glances Tku's and Gani's way.

What followed was a rapid exchange between the three until, finally, Bato addressed Tku directly. "Dey..." He held up a hand and motioned chopping it off. "do tis Alad." He shook his head. "No, I say." He shook it more adamantly. "No more for me." His eyes were intense. "Alad no..." He tapped the side of his head gently and grimaced. "Bad head." His eyes searched Tku's. "Good man. Bad head. He is me priend." He all-but implored the foreigner to understand his very broken Virangish.

"A healer," said Kidlat. "That is best." He shook his head as Gani and Bato addressed him once more in Palaparese and they exchanged rapid-fire words. Then, they paused: all three of them. "That is Dali," explained Gani, filling Tku in. "She has been watching us prom the cabins." He furrowed his brow. "She says you are a healer by your magics, but you would need to be a very good one, por they cut Alad's hand opp and ped it to the crocodiles."

"I understand," Tku nodded. It was an issue he read about from some of the older generation in Joru. "But just as your mind has atrophied from their rule, it can be invigorated by breaking from it."

Tku thought to himself how to help and more importantly, stir their minds so they may create the conditions for their emancipation. But his thoughts were slashed at the loud crash of thunder. He patted his chest and tried to understand what was going on. Ah, Dali is tethered! Why would a slave master keep a tethered?

They made it obvious what he needed to do next, "We can plan things more in full but I believe returning Alad's hand requires some urgency. Just know that we must be ready for when they notice."

"He is at the huts," Gani warned. "We will have to travel there." He did not ask if Tku was willing to or could make it. He simply assumed the competence that was presented to him. "I promise it is much more beautiful in the morning, despite what happens here."

Bato, meanwhile, seemed to be clinging to Tku's every word, partially just for the effort of trying to understand an only semi-familiar language, and partially because they seemed to resonate with him. "You come, Master Tku." He nodded. "I take you."

"I tink we all go," Kidlat recommended, consciously using Virangish for Tku's benefit. "I watch. Gani help. Bato scout." The three men had an extra cloak that they offered Tku. Then, with little hesitation, even as a sheet of lightning split the sky and thunder crackled across the jungle, they pushed the door open and slinked out into the night.

Tku shook his head no to Bato, "Thank you for the kind phrase but I am no master, I am but a friend." Maybe he would understand, maybe he would not. Either way, it held great importance for him to set the boundary there.

Tku took up the cloak and started to move with them. He had scanned the area thoroughly before entering the shed and he had not forgotten. Binding was an odd school of magic, being able to sense more than just energy was a blessing for the blood child.

He could feel the goma cats stalking him and his entourage and all Tku had to do was create a writhing snake to throw them off. Nothing, and I mean nothing, likes snakes. He treaded over the wet and rooted ground, parting the plants while dispersing any track behind them. He was no expert in Arcane but anyone could sparsely draw on light to dim an area.

Everything went smoothly and steadily, quickly reaching the outside of the huts. There was a gap they were going to have between the foliage that he used thus far to make it here and the hut. He reached out to people, marking those he could. With no one to observe him, he turned the thick mud dry and hard to move quickly with his companions. He let Gani go in before him as a stranger rushing into a hut could scare them.

Bato was a good two hundred yards ahead of the others, and he disappeared into one of the huts. Gani and Kidlat followed, with the help of Tku's magics. Inside was a boy about Bato's age - or slightly older - sitting up in bed. A girl perhaps Tku's age sat beside him, and a wheelbarrow waited close to the bed. The boy's left arm was truncated just above the wrist, its end enclosed in bandages. He was a lanky twitchy youth with oily hair and large eyes with bags beneath them. He regarded Tku with a wary curiosity after he entered behind the others.

"I... sorry we could nah' meet imperson," said the girl, not bothering to ask if and how he knew about her. Like Gani, she assumed competence. "I'm Dalisay. He is Alad."

"Dali..." The rest of Gani's words were in Palaparese, as was her quick response. She ushered the scared-looking Alad to his feet, even as he began to speak. "He says that he didn't know they had to give it to him," Gani translated. "He took the beans because it was his birthday. He didn't mean to break any rules. He didn't mean to make trouble."

"Don't think slave," said Bato, leaning in towards his friend, and Alad's eyes widened. They exchanged words in Palaparese and both nodded, but the maimed boy's remaining fist was clenched.

"He is angry," Dalisay interpreted, "because they change the rules and now he has to trouble for you. He only wanted to make coffee for his lola... uh... grandmother." She shook her head. "Alad's anger can be very great."

"On birthdays, they used to let pield workers - slave or pree peasant - take a handful of coppee beans por temselves, back when we had Master Gorkan," Gani explained. "Master Hakan makes them go to him and pledge their loyalty bepore they can. Alad didn't know of the change and when then caught him he defended his actions as following the rules. Things escalated and he struck an overseer and..."

"He is lucky to be alive," said Dali. "We had to beg por it and some had to work extra shipts to cover the loss." She snorted bitterly and her eyes caught Tku's. there was more to this that she wasn't saying right now, but perhaps she might say it later.

"Pive minute," warned Kidlat, sticking his head inside from the doorway. "Patro' come."

"Fas'!" urged Bato, "Fas', healer!" He looked apologetically at Tku, probably not meaning to rush him but concerned. Dali, meanwhile, unwrapped the bandages around the boy's severed hand, revealing the ragged stump, while Gani reassured him and gave him instructions in his native tongue.

Now, before anything could happen to derail it, came time for Tku to take up his craft and heal.

Tku's eyes bounced from place to place, listening to the information and feelings given to him. His time here was limited, Tku knew this. So while they filled him in on how and why, he paid close attention to Alad's clenched fist. The muscles, arteries, and veins were so much clearer than when relaxed.

He approached Alad with a careful step. "Dali, can you have Alad set his good hand next to the stump?" He looked at them and used them to mirror how they should look. He began to reconstruct Alad's hand.

Tku kneeled next to Alad as he started to compare the hands. The boy must of picked up on the panic in the room, Tku thought as he gently held his hand and started to take deep breaths. People are quick to copy those in front of them when in a panic. Slowly the breathing slowed and Tku was able to begin.

He took in the intricacies of Alad's hand. The callouses from repeated abrasion, well developed muscle to help grip his tools. A dozen or so fractures and imperfections came with doing hard labor at a young age. It wasn't hands to be envious, unlike the privileged life Tku had lived. Recreating some imperfections so he could use his hand would be more difficult than Tku could imagine.

With no time to waste, Tku began forming the spongy red marrow and the outer white layers of bone. The hand was intricate, consisting of seven central bones. They were all oddly shaped and important to stave off anemia in the future. It took much longer than he imagined and he carved out each bone to make sure they were strong enough to withstand use. With time running thin, he nearly instantly formed the fingers, tingling Alad. His eyes say his very bones sticking out of a stump and he was quick to panic. He thrashed and screamed as his friends tried to keep his calm but Tku lost control and carved into the bone, removing the small pinholes that the nerves use to enter on the metacarpals.

Tku grimaced at the wound. He understood that he would suffer from mild numbing but he had to continue, this time without Alad being conscious. His wound was open and slipping in some anesthetic along with some 'Slumber Juice' his chemical Zeno told him. "Quick, someone catch him, he can't be awake for the rest of this." Bato caught him with ease, seemingly inheriting Alad's anxiety, looking at Tku to reassure him if he would be okay. All he could do was smile and nod, he couldn't tell them that the next part was the worst.

Quickly he started to lay out loose fibers in the directions they needed, slowly sheathing them and then sheathing again and again. The Tendons were pulled taut and he prepared the circulatory system. Hundreds of feet of veins and arteries of varying sizes needed to be laid out. It was the most intricate and... Tku failed. The small veins couldn't pull away the blood. It would pool and cause it to go septic in a few hours.

He couldn't leave his hand in such a state. He drew away from his previous work and started to draw from Alad and himself to create a better system. Alad was young and would recover and Tku knew his body better than anyone, what he didn't need was obvious to him. The webbing of nerves started to fill out the gaps in Tku's creations. Linking things and solidifying its structure in Tku's mind. The skin was barely an afterthought, merely relying on the excellent regeneration of natural skin and speeding it up immensely to cover the hands and then nails.

The relief overtook him as he looked to the hand with some contemplation. It wasn't perfect, it may be his worst work and it pained him to give something so meager to someone who deserves so much more. But it would have to be good enough as it was the only gift he could prepare. This moment was only cut with Dali yelling at him that he needed to leave.

"They are just around the bend!" she shouted. "You can't be here!"

Tku wasn't quite quick enough. By the time that he reached the door, just behind Bato, he could sense that the patrol was within visual range, and he pulled back. "Hide!" Dalisay hissed. "He can be sleeping -" She pointed at Alad, "- but you must hide!"

Gani doused the lamp and flung himself onto the rough plank and hay that was his bed while Dali tucked Alad in. For herself or Tku, there was nothing she could do. That was Bato's and Kidlat's job.

The pair of teens must've known what was coming, but they did it anyway. Standing in the doorway, Kidlat pushed Bato and Bato pushed him back and they were shouting and hurling insults at each other in their native tongue. One need not have understood all of the words to recognize the performance.

The others waited in stillness and darkness, Tku ensconced among some canvas sacks beneath Alad's bed. The tethered girl's feet dangled limply over the edge, her toes just brushing the dirt. Rain hammered at the thatch of the roof and, in a couple of places, drops of water glimmered as they slipped through and fell.

Then, a new voice: "Hey!" it shouted, "You! What are you doing out!?"

"I, uh... he was say I want a'..." He trailed off, perhaps unsure of the word he needed.

"He want a' puck me sistah!" Bato announced, and there was a rapid angry exchange between him and Kidlat.

"Ung, hum, muk, gaiy," mocked the other guard. There were violent sounds and then momentary silence. "Will you speak a goddamned language people can understand!?"

The first guard laughed. "This one's sister's the cripple, right?"

Bato said something quietly, and there was a crash against the wall. Above Tku, the planks shifted, and he could practically feel Dali's distress.

"You should be thanking him. Girl could use a good fucking, and who else is gonna touch her?"

Dalisay's hands gripped the edge of the bed. Tku could see her knuckles grow white. He could feel her drawing. It was clumsy and unpracticed and she likely didn't even know that she was doing it.

Bato began to shout, but quickly, he was silenced. Instead, it was Kidlat's voice next. "Please, sir. No hurt he, okay? He a stupi' boy. Big head. Big mout'. Li'l brain. I take him back he huh' now. Okay?"

"Oh yeeeeaah," remarked the first guard. "What are you doing away from your hut after curfew anyway?"

There was no response from either Kidlat or Bato but, in one smooth motion Gani rose from his bunk. and hurried up to the door, feigning rubbing sleep from his eyes. "Master Dursun, Master Heves," he called, "I apologize por the stupidity ob these boys. I called them together to discuss their argumen', and I thought they had settled it, but it appears they are pighting again." He bowed very deeply and stiffly. "Please allow me to show them the rod and dispense Mistress Çalişkan's justice!"

There was a pause, and a wavering brightness as a lantern swung briefly into the bunkhouse. "'M afraid it's gone beyond that point now," remarked one of the guards. "An' we all know you'll just go easy on 'em anyway," snorted the other. "You fuckin' gooks are all a little cabal."

"Please, sirs, I will do right. I will do it right here and now with you watching ip you wish!"

There was a long pause and some whispered interaction that Tku could not quite make out. Then: "Hey, saaay, why are you all coming to the door?" The light swung inside again momentarily. "What don't you want us to see inside?"

"No matter wha' happens," came Dali's urgent whisper, "do not let them pind you."

"Out of the way!" barked the second guard. When Gani was slow to move, he was shoved roughly into the middle of the floor. He skidded into the wheelbarrow with a clunk and the light swept over Dalisay, illuminating her sandy-coloured legs where they dangled over the edge of the bed.

Tku could merely watch as he slowly drew in mass to sink himself, building the canvas bags around him to obscure his presence. You were slow and now they suffer, Tku swallowed his remorse and set himself to follow Dali's words. But how tempting it was. He could make them vanish amongst the storm and no one would know where they went. They would be safe.

Tku was a man now scarred by a virangish slaver and how he saw so much of that man in Dursun and Heves. But Dali, Kidlat, Bato, and Gani knew more than him. A foreign world was Palapar and little moved right now. Ridding them of 2 would only bring more pain onto all the slaves here. So he stayed quiet. He hid. He watched.

Dali, meanwhile, had no such option. Caught in the beam of the lantern, she shielded her eyes. "Figured we'd find something juicy inside," growled one of the guards, either Dursun or Heves. "You shouldn't be here," added the other ominously.

"Alad need to be comported!" Dali protested. "I'm sorry! He is sleepin' now!"

The devil was in them, though, and one could tell from their eyes. "You broke the rules, Dali," scolded the taller of the two: a man with beady eyes and a thick mustache. The second one darted in toward her. He had lighter hair and a mournful face that might've looked friendly were it not for his eerily large eyes and resting pout. "That has consequences," he taunted.

The tethered cried out and tried to throw her hands up in instinctual self-defense, but the patrolman caught her on the cheek and sent her tumbling roughly to the ground. For a moment, she was gazing under the bed, eyes wide in fear as they met Tku's. Tku could also see Bato's feet moving toward the patrol from behind. Gani's came after and restrained the youth.

Then, a hand reached down and yanked Dalisay roughly by her hair. "On your feet!" bellowed her tormenter, which was a command she couldn't follow. Instead, he released her and she tumbled to the ground. "I'd say that constitutes a second disobeyed order," scoffed the other member of the pair, "wouldn't you?"

"And, you know, Alad sure does seem out like the dead..." said the man who'd dropped her, stalking up to the bed where the healing boy lay. He began to reach for the covers.

"Leave him out of it," pleaded Dali's voice, broken and weepy. "He's simple and good and Pashdal has bless him with sleep."

"This is too much!" protested Gani, "Surely there is a better way to handle this."

"Do shut up, you old woman, or your next word costs a hand."

"Please. It's me who done bad," Dali insisted. "Wha'ever punishment you make, it's not them."

There was an extended pause where, perhaps, the pair of tyrants seemed to be considering, coming down from their cruel power trip. Then: "You know, your brother's story was that he was protecting your dignity against this other shit-eater," declared one. The light swung, perhaps to illuminate the cowering Kidlat. "but, ya know, I don't believe him," he added darkly, resting a hand on his belt buckle.

With that, Bato shouted at the top of his lungs, hurling insults and vitriol at the patrolmen, and Gani either could not or did not wish to restrain him. He hurtled towards them with all of his force and fury, only to be sent crashing into the flimsy wall and right through it with bonebreaking force.

They had the Gift.



Tku shook in his hiding spot as Dali hit the ground. He hid further back, heeding her words. He grew more and more scared as the two slavers started to revel in their own brutality. The slavers were truly cut from the same cloth as Ren, but in a way, he hoped that their cruelty would mimic his and deliver a quick punishment.

But it never was enough. They show they had the power to dominate by crashing Bato through the wall. They had the gift, a blessing from the gods. They did not need to beat Kidlat, shove Gani, and strike Dalisay to the ground. They had the power to tend to this without harm but they wanted to do this.

They were not needlessly cruel. They were purposeful in their hate and derived pleasure and satisfaction. I believed in the love of man, in their ability to empathize with another and to feel their pain. Tku called upon the void and drank from its strength.

But I was wrong. I will send these Hetraxa spawn to hell myself. He drew them as he rose from his hiding spot.

It might've been satisfying, or perhaps grim, how quickly the slavers unraveled: skin from flesh and flesh from bone. They tried to fling ineffectual magics in Tku's direction, but the effort was for naught. Both perished with garbled screams.

Now, the healer had laid bare his full power and intent. Bato lay unconscious through the wall, with his body twisted at a weird angle. Gani had picked Dali up and carried her back to the bed, and Kidlat stood on, wide-eyed. Alad, finally, was beginning to stir. Now, the question invariably arose: 'what next?' Clearly, an event horizon had been passed. Could there be any turning back?

He breathed in, and then out before going to work on Bato. "I'm sorry Dalisay," he said rather loudly, "But I could not stay hidden while they unleashed the gift for the sake of brutality." Tku's words apologized but his voice showed no regret. He kneeled next to Bato and began to weave his binding through him. He had plenty of usable material around him now.

"How long until their absence is felt?" he began to stich the broken wall back together after bringing Bato inside.

In addition to a half-dozen lesser injuries, Bato had suffered a broken back that, were it not for Tku's presence, would've rendered him more disabled than his sister. Fortunately, it took a mere couple of minutes for the skilled binder to restore him.

Dalisay, seated on the bed again, was now somewhat less circumspect. She furrowed her brow, but nodded. "You did wha' you had to." She paused. "And I say thank por it."

Gani was action now. "They check in every hour." He replied, leaning over Alad, who was stirring. "On a night like this, some delay could be porgiven." He shook his head. "They were small pish. Bad ones looking to use what little power they had to hurt others and make themselves peel powerpul, but small nonetheless."

Kidlat approached hesitantly, his conspiratorial good cheer from earlier long gone. "We say Alad or no?" he asked, eyes darting from the stirring youth to Tku and the others.

"So an hour or so," Tku pondered on the situation that he had created. I acted too rashly, Tku admitted to himself, The goal was to create the foundation for a change but now that they're dead, the others will spread word and be more weary. The options for them were limited but they could still strike some sort of victory, "Dalisay, how many slavers do they have on this plantation?" he asked the tethered girl.

He tapped his foot as Kidlat approached him, What the in the 5 heavens is he saying? No, he is trying. Tku allowed himself a moment of incompetence, turning to Kidlat, "Apologies Kidlat, but I'm struggling with your words," he looked towards Gani for assistance.

There was a quick exchange between Gani and Kidlat. "Ah!" said the former, "He is asking ip we should tell Alad or leave him out of it."

Dalisay, meanwhile considered. "There is the master, his wipe, and his four brats. Only Ilkhan is old enough to be trouble, but he is in Ersand'Enise." She shook her head. "There are eight permanent overseers." Gani added.

Kidlat looked about to say something, but held back this time. "Pour magic," added Bato instead. "Two are lie dead," Dalisay added, gesturing with her chin at the dead patrolmen. "A dozen more with no Gipt," Gani concluded.

Just then, there was a precipitous cooling in the room. Dali let out a yelp and Tku turned. "Two down," said Alad, "twenty-three lept." He was drawing in arcane energy from the ambient heat, and lots of it. "They can all die."

Tku looked at them strangely for a moment before nodding, Why wouldn't we let him know? He is a part of this, isn't he? Before he could answer, Dalisay kindly informed him of the arms they faced here. Tku merely nodded, trusting in his own skills and strength to overcome the gifted.

"Gani, you work in the house, how often do the overseers and guards leave or communicate with other plantations this time of year?" If they were mostly quiet with each other, they could simply capture the regular guards and deal with the older people of the family. His foot kept tapping as he thought, working through himself and the plan. But before the conversation could flourish, Alad began to draw. It was more than he imagined of a slave but less than the Arch-Zeno's and demons he had faced before.

His mouth opened as to refute him but no words came out. Tku had only seen a small glimpse of the brutality the overseers held and he couldn't withhold his indignation for them. He condemned them to death on his own, against the wishes of Dalisay and the others here. What reason, no standing, do I have to reject his rage?

But Tku still turned to face Alad fully, "Please Alad, stay your anger for now as drawing without purpose only makes you easier to find." he raised a hand gently to him. "There will be more bloodshed, but there isn't a reason to kill those without the gift," Tku spoke firmly though he felt the stings of hypocrisy.

Gani grimaced as Alad drew, but he managed to grate out an answer to Tku's query. "A good amount during harvest season," he admitted. "They would..." He flinched as if nauseous. "They'd... notice apter a couple -"

All at once, Gani lurched to the side and retched on the floor, followed by Kidlat and Bato. Dalisay grimaced. Alad merely glared, roiling with unstable and barely-contained energies. "No Gipt, still bad," he growled. He clenched his fists and began moving for the door. "They all die."

Tku could hold his own but he watched as the others began to bend under the immense weight of his draw. So this was the 'great anger' they have danced around. So strong but with no restraint or control, Tku pitied the boy and could see how he could have flourished if in better conditions. He watched the others fall to their side in sickness.

Tku reached for his side, wearing a sympathetic frown, "But Alad," he moved to his side, revealing Bato. "Your anger hurts more than the deserving. Your friends, brothers in chain, your lola," he hoped to shock and have him empathize with his actions. "Release your magic to the rain Alad," he opened his blind eye, "I know your rage but you can't let it burn those you love, my friend." Tku smiled lightly at Alad. He had more he wanted to say but he wanted to have Alad on his side and he needed to see what rage brought when unchecked.

The youth was silent and obstinate, at first, but then he stared into Tku's blind eye with a sort of gallows curiosity and, after a few moments he blinked and glanced over at his friends writhing and vomiting. "I -" He struggled to find the words in an only semi-familiar tongue. "I nope know wha' do," he replied. He froze in the doorway for an extended period. "Hot in me. How make go?"

Dalisay, finally, seemed to steady herself. She grimaced. "Abou' two days," she finally managed. "You will need to be past." She shook her head. 'Fast', she'd likely meant. Tku had already picked up on some of the quirks of the local accent. "For now, maybe halp an hour." She hesitated, swallowing nervously. "Be carepul. They are stron'. I will help you prom par away."

It was the time for a decision and it could not be put off any further, it appeared.

Tku rubbed his shoulder, "It's alright, you're new to this." Tku demonstrated the basics of Arcane, "I am no master but this I know you can do, feel the cold rain." Tku reached out as it wetted his hand, "Your hand is cold, Let out heat onto the cold rain. Slowly."

"As for your rage, it will quell in time. Once we have made things better," he squeezed his shoulder, "You can make it better, Alad."

Tku turned to Dalisay, "2 days is enough to add to the defenses and ready ourselves but it's not great. I can contact allies far and wide to inform them of what happens here." The time for rooting ourselves and overturning passed the moment Tku acted. "We will need to remove the ones with the gift, some may surrender but we don't have a proper way of restraining them." Tku said with some grimace.

"As for the non-gifted," Tku mulched dirt and gravel into spears, "If they surrender, we can tie them up and keep them as prisoners, because we are not them. But if they fight then they leave little choice for themselves." his words hardened with his heart knowing what he set himself to.

The arts were good for so much but only the art of war will set them free here, I pray to Eshiran-Zept that we might prevail and to Dami, Ahn and Zept, that my judgment may free them.

"I cannot do this alone, nor should I.” Tku announced to the others as he continued constructing Joruban steel spears. "No man can free another from the chains of a nation without the help of those in chains, I ask you to find those that would help with this. Find your spirit and I will arm it.” he tossed spears at Kidlat, Bato, and Gani.

He looked to the sky, the rain grew a heavy fog that would not dissipate in the moonlight, A gift from the gods on such a terrible night. His mind wandered to dark corners that Tku never considered before. Never once did he set himself to silencing another in advance. As short notice as this revolt was, Tku had time to plan for its trials and traps that such an event would hold. The first was obvious to him, those scared of change or those who believe they benefit from the servitude. Gani warned of another house servant, one of mixed lineage who saw himself as better than his fellow servant for he had a drop of the gift and even more Virangish blood. But Tku saw past that, seeing a man simply wanting to preserve what he had managed for his own. Tku spoke of the nation where old men like him rose for their children and grandchildren, and they lived in a place that he would be proud to call home. The man had fire in him and he chose to stop for the sake of it.

Another was someone Dalisay spoke of, the half-brother of the master. He, unlike the last, did truly gain some benefit from the establishment here, though he was still less than anyone from Virang. It was a delusion held closer to himself than the gods he was ever pious to and that is what made him so dangerous. The former master’s gift was as potent as his son’s and the half child carried some of it with him. Tku tried to stop him with words, obstacles, with calls to something greater than himself. But none of his pleas were heard, instead, he was met with resistance and magic. Tku had no room for convincing, he sealed the man’s throat, cutting off his air. He wouldn’t be allowed to speak any longer. Once he had passed out, Tku bound him in rope and unsealed his throat, "Just be silent for long enough."

That was all he needed to handle for the traitors, the rest were to be handled by the trusted hands here and he believed in them. But piercing through the fog was a scream, the ground shifted with Tku’s movement as he quickly caught up to the girl. She was already far too close to the main house so Tku bound the women’s clothes into wrappings to bring her to the ground. He had done this a hundred times and instructed many others on how to do this. It was a safe way to restrain without too much force.

But when he went to retrieve her, she was not moving, she did not breathe. Her head had hit a rock unseen in the fog. Tku fixed her but her brain had bled too much. "You know what you must do, you can still bring her back," he said to himself as he began to run his manas through her body. "After this, all you need to do is go to the house…"

Tku’s healing halted. He had a cold realization as he felt his depleted stamina. "I’ve healed so much today, the hand, the bones, the spears…" A binder was an unending source of Oraff’s grace, they had limits. His manas deteriorated with every hand he gave, every spear crafted, and every bone he healed. If he were to revive her, undo his mistake, he may not be strong enough to face the masters of the house. He had already made his choice. He set the young, naive woman to the side, fixing her clothes to not shame her any more than he needed. He couldn’t watch over her, he had to keep moving.

The rest of the fieldhands who rose with him on this mission handled their parts expertly, not killing any innocent in the process. He made no effort to hide his sin from them as it would only deepen his guilt. Some were angry, some understood, and some simply couldn’t care in the moment. Whether driven by fear or guilt, Tku called upon old powers of blood to create a minion from a cone mushroom. It stood 8 feet tall and carried only a set of legs and a thick body. It was a hideous creature born out of wicked powers none have seen. Tku simply believes it was the darkness that spread across his mind. With its rise, Tku saw its strength for what it was, "Leave one of the overseers Cankut to it." The beast disappeared into the fog to apprehend or kill the overseer, which it did was up to the beast.

"Kidlat, Alad, I leave Frezya to you, try your best to not kill, they aren’t very strong. Dalisay, I want you with me in the house. Figuratively, I mean," he clarified. Alad was strong but he was unfiltered right now, someone weak and easy to capture for him and Kidlat would be good to start teaching him restraint.

Getting into the house was no issue with the skills of the local drunkard on the plantation. Of course, Tku didn’t ask him to come in with him. The artist knew that this final battle could get messy. He calmly walked through the house, silencing his steps with Dali leading him at range Just how did I end up here? This was supposed to be a slow infiltration, but now here I am, acting on my own, murdering people. These few moments as he walked through the empty halls of someone’s home were the first time he was alone. He was a shell of the verve he had before. But now I’m hollow. I know there is purpose in my actions and in my thoughts. My life is the one I am permitted to give by the gods but what of taking another? How does Eshiran set aside the feeling of guilt when she sees his brothers and sisters? Can I find a way to justify, to forgive what I have done? Can I even let myself forgive?

Even with his mind a mess, Tku found no struggle knocking out the children with basic blood and chemical magic. He was guided to the older children’s rooms the ones most likely to bring issues to him before he confronts the parents together. The storm had grown loud and the ghostly wail of a Fog Kracken hung through it. It was such a dreadful night and it only grew more dreadful when a small girl, no older than 6 stumbled out of her room, scared of the storm and kraken. Their eyes met and the girls bolted off to her parents, Tku reached out with his gift to capture her but all her saw was the dozen ways she could hit her head, he hesitated and turned the corner. He gave chase, nearly catching her but she made it to her parent’s room.

His breath stilled, Hakan Arap was no weak mage and he was rested, unlike the broken binder. He made a solemn prayer to himself, knowing that should he fail, those behind him would die after him. His heart pounded as Tku came into the room, walls creaking and melding into something Tku could use. But what he saw was no strong mage, ready to fight for his family one desperately trying to remove his terrified daughter from himself.

They had no magic.

Whether it was the gods giving him a sign or merely the luck of Reshta, Tku put them into stasis. He would not allow them to move. He had them at his mercy and Hakan knew that. He pleaded and offered so many things that would move a man but Tku had no need for it. "I’m sorry Hakan but there is nothing that can dissuade me, I’m just sorry that it is so horrifying for your child." Tku silenced the child with some light chemical magic, "She doesn’t need to see this," he made the sign of the Pentad. "If you have any final things to say to each other or last words to relay, I will honor them." Tku wasn’t a trained killer he had no idea if he was lessening their suffering or prolonging it. Hakan was spiteful and hateful to the end while his wife faced their fate with dignity Tku could not understand. He promised to deliver their words, one way or another before wiping them from this world with Blood magic. No clothes, no blood, no bones. It was done.

"I’m done."

Aziz Mesud fell in the night and, for three days, few except those who had been there knew. Then, the masked Volto had arrived, with a ragged group of would-be revolutionaries who had fled an attack in the capital that was already being called the 'Bloody Breakfast'. He had arrived and a new campaign had begun.

The plantation was transformed within a couple of days into a training camp, the manor house fortified, and it was ensured that prisoners... wouldn't escape. Next had been Nöbetçi Tepesi (Sentry Hill) and, from there, the rebels now commanded the approach to Kalingnan crossroads and could watch every coming and going in the village nearby.

Then, on the sixth day, a pair of couriers from the capital had seen the rebels drilling and run for it. One had made it south, to the city, where the news of a revolt on the plantations of Kalingnan had spread like an inflection. Now, every day, came more scouts and messengers, and the rebels had to be quick to deal with them all. So far as they knew, none had made it anywhere significant, and their exact composition, territories they controlled, and state of readiness remained a mystery to the machinery of the RoCo.

This was just as well, for over a hundred new faces had joined them, for a variety of reasons that were largely their own. These, too, drilled and contributed, while some of the originals on the Aziz Mesud plantation remained wary of these new radicals and the seemingly suicidal path they had been committed to. They were a mismatched group, beyond a doubt, drawn together by circumstance, the will of a few powerful personalities, and a shared resentment of their Virangish masters.

It was the ninth day when a messenger had made it through, rushing the opposite way that anyone had expected. He'd arrived, disheveled, scraped, and bruised, panting and hammering on the gatehouse door of Agha plantation.

“I was cutting down ferns before it got too high. The blade slipped and,”‌ Buwan commented, showed his hand to the healer. A wide, shallow gash bled heavily from the back of his hand.

“I told him not to be careless with it.” His father, Ulan, answered. His face flashed an expression between scorn and worry.

“It doesn’t look too bad, thankfully.” Selim took the hand and examined it. He drew mana and poured his binding into the wound, ceasing the bleeding. “Best the young learn their lessons now when I can tend to their wounds. The salve will help the pain and the air will do the rest. Try to keep it clean often.”

Selim held the hand in place, dipping two fingers into the half coconut shell and coating them with a thick tallow. Lightly he traced it across the length of the wound. He didn’t wrap it since air would heal it quicker now that it wasn’t open anymore. Meanwhile, Mahal stood off at the side. She inhaled sharply at the young man's answer. Her arms crossed over her chest while she watched over the healer’s shoulder. That’s when the sound of pounding on the door caught her attention. She flashed Ulan a look causing him to grab his spear as she led the way to the door. Her hand reached out and pulled it open.

Lunara's head cocked at an angle as she pulled a brush through her dark thick Virangish hair. Repeatedly, as if she weren't brushing, merely, comforting herself with each stroke. Her way of wrestling the emotional flares fighting to burst from her chest and burn everything around her. Deep down, she knew there was more to the story than Selim told, like a dog he protected his master at the cost of the truth. She knew after speaking to Oanona there was a secret behind the lies. But, it was a story Lunara's gut wasn't prepared to check yet. Instead, she brushed her hair.

BANG! BANG! CLANG! THUD! BANG!

From the window Lunara snapped out of her mild trance and looked outside. Below at the gate of the Agha plantation was a man hammering on the gatehouse door. It was the kind of behavior anyone with eyes could see was driven by fear and desperation. Unlike the situation with her father, Lunara placed down her brush, checked herself in the mirror pulling her posture upright, and with purpose, strode downstairs and out into the yard.

Others were slowly growing in numbers around the gate. The frantic rattling and attacking of its steel demanded attention and questions. The echoes of Lunara's heels clicking against the wood of the manor with doors open cut the curious minds of Agha slaves and overseers. The heels pierced deeper as they struck the paved walkway to the gate and gathered strength in each step. The crowd of slaves and overseers turned to Lunara before they opened the way. Caving behind her, filling the gap they made, each watched in anticipation.

Lunara approached the gate to greet the man who slammed into it.

"Peace be upon you traveler, are you okay? What calls you to our estate?"

He was a messenger of sorts. He looked dirty and sweaty and bedraggled. There were scratches, welts, and bug bites all over him, and the feel of some drawn kinetic magic. Evidently, he had some small ability in the Gift. "My... ladies," he panted, bowing briefly, mostly in Lunara's direction. "I apologize for my disruption." He glanced worriedly over his shoulder, pausing as if he were sensing for energies. "I am Tanyag, a messenger from Ceboyan." He swallowed and took a further moment to catch his breath. "Come to warn you that there are rebels at Aziz Mesud and Nöbetçi Tepesi."

His eyes darted about anxiously. "They have a tethered and I know they are tracking me. They want to kill me and, quite possibly, yourselves as well." If he was not quite sure what to make of Mahal, he seemed to have settled on caution with regards to her. If she was a bastard or something like it, she was still likely his social better. He glanced between the two. "Is the master of this property here?" He bowed again, deeply and stiffly. "I request an urgent audience with him."

---

---

Alab was in the hills, trying to interpret the little pinches to his neck. They were annoying. He blinked back in sequence: <What?>

<West. South. West.> came the reply. <Plantation.>

"That one is Agha," Bato added. If the stories that the others told were to be believed, he was the one who had set everything into motion at Aziz Mesud - he and the mysterious Joruban Alab had met in brief. "Not as bad as Mesud, but close."

"He will spill everything he knows to them, and he has been hiding in the area for days," whispered Dani. "He has the Gift."

"I dunno why Dali couldn't just pop his heart from five miles away," Alab grunted.

"My sister is not a killer," Bato replied with quiet but firm resolution.

"It would've been impossible anyway," added another voice, and Alab's skin prickled with both fear and a healthy regard for the masked figure. "Their capacities are too close. She wouldn't have been able to overwhelm him."

Dani, crouched behind some rocks, looked up to regard their Dieci Volti benefactor. "As you say, chief, but someone will have to, or he's going to sing and Agha has resources."

A few sets of eyes, then, turned to Black King, waiting for his counsel.

Lunara blinked rapidly, startled by Tanyag's urgency. Her fingers tightened as the words rebels and tethered left his mouth. Lunara was in disbelief, yet if this man were lying, he did so at the cost of several good meals, a warm bed, and surrounded by those who would not take kindly to a liar. She chose to trust him... for now.

She waved her hand opening the gate, "Our father is... on the estate." Her voice soft yet steady.

Lunara wasn't entirely sure of what to do, she was inexperienced as a leader, but she was the one they were looking to for direction. She subtly wiped her sweaty palms on her dress and recognized this wasn't the time to hang about in thought. These were the moments all those stories as a kid were teaching, these were the moments where each one of them would be defined by their actions, not titles.

Deep breath, exhale, go. Lunara glanced toward a servant, her tone confident in giving direction, though the weight of Tanyag's words churned her stomach, "Buwan, go warn the others."

Her eyes darting over to Ulan next, "fetch our father."

Lunara gently placed her arm on Mahal, "Sister, if this man is true, they may have followed him here by the tethered. If they're here, your precious hounds will know. Please take them and see if we can't sniff them out."

Then addressing the others, "if anyone senses anything out of place, missing, or unordinary, report back. We must be ready for a group willing to murder us, take to your families and protect our home."

Her gaze cycled back to Tanyag, "You'll be safe with us." Lunara stretched out her hand and took Tanyag's. She began to escort him toward the Agha manor.

Mahal stood off to the side while Lunara addressed the man. She listened closely to the words that poured from his tongue as her eyes narrowed, judging the truth of it. Her eyes darted to the jungles beyond him and scanned the greenery for signs of life. While nothing stuck out to her, it did nothing to smooth over her paranoia.

Her gaze shifted to Lunara when her sister touched her. She focused on the orders and accepted the task with a nod. A sharp whistle cut through the air followed by the sounds of excited yips and racing paws. In only a few moments, two hounds broke out into the open. Supok, the firehound, whipped her tail back and forth with eagerness to please. The updog glided in from a nearby tree, Puno acting more demure than her adopted sibling. Their heads both turned to her for farther commands.

"Would be easier if I had something with their scent, but I'll make do. Supok, Puno, come." With that command, she moved past Tanyag and into the jungles itself.

Selim made a small request toward Lunara. "With your permission, I'd like to stay here. In case she or anyone else needs healing."

Lunara permitted, "Of course, Selim, as you wish." She signaled to two of the guards to help her with the messenger. The two aided the messenger inside as Mahal and her dogs left and closed the gate.

As Lunara, the guards, and the messenger began walking up toward the estate, she could sense Miray stalking on the grounds. Her Goma cat was keeping a close watch on Lunara with a keen eye on the activity around her.

The three escorted the messenger a quarter of the way before Lunara spotted Ruslan entering from the side of the estate. "Good job, Buwan." She said under her breath. Buwan was successful in warning their father and soon they'd unite in the drawing room of the estate. From there, Ruslan, would know what to do.

Mahal listened to the gate clank close behind her. Puno and Supok paused and sniffed the air, drinking in the scents. Suddenly, the hounds barked. Her eyes jerked into the direction they faced when the shots fired out. She gripped her dagger in her skirt belt as she drew. With a flick of her blade, she repelled a few incoming shots into the dirt.

Meanwhile Selim bowed his head and thanked Lunara. Her watched her leave with the messenger in tow when he heard the hounds. The shots came next. He was not a trained fighter so his reflex was slower compared to the others. He barely realised what happen until he heard the screams. All the guards rushed to arms while others scattered. Spotting Mahal darting toward the source, he tried to call her back. "Ceren, get back in here, now!"

She was already gone.

As Ruslan finished his draw, he snapped out his wand. Electromagnetic energy buzzed in the air creating a small field. When the shots hit, they stopped in midair then dropped to the ground. The impact on the tiles echoed in the halls.

Back in the jungle, Mahal continued to dart through with kinetic enhanced speed. Her eyes kept her dogs within her sight while she drew in arcane energies. Once the attackers came into the edge of her range, she began to slow and crouch down. Seeing her pace change, her hounds' pulled back. Puno rushed up a nearby tree to be a look out and hide among the thick leaves. Supok, however, kept her nose up and tracked the danger's location. Lingering in the spot, Mahal picked the nearest target and then cast touch of doom. She faintly hoped that might get their attention or at least cause some chaos.

Before she could focus for more than a second or two, however, a large log came crashing through the brush towards her, hurtling end over end. She was quick enough to deflect it slightly and dodge, but her focus on her spell had to fall by the wayside. That had been a sophomoric spell, to be honest: the kind she might've used when she'd first started her magic studies.

Then, she felt a pinch behind her ear, and a series of them. While she wasn't the best with it, she recognized Pinch Code. <We. Want. Spy.> it said. <Give. Spy. No. Hurt.>

Mahal rolled back onto her feet, her eyes seeking the source. Her firehound's fur bristled as she growled. The small pup's form hunched down ready to lounge upon sight of the attacker. Puno held her ground in the tree, ready to pounce. As the girl readied another spell, a pinching sensation hit behind her ear. Mahal flinched at the unwanted touch. It reminded her of rat teeth though softer. Her knuckles tightened on her daggers as she noticed a pattern.

She recalled the messenger's words about the tether and the threat. There was no familiarity here to trust as her eyes flickered toward home. Her haste to find the attackers had led her here, but was it smart? She started to question that now.

Her forefinger on her left hand tapped against the dagger's hand in a pattern. <You. Attack. First. > She paused then finished. <No. Trust.>

<Why. You. Think. Attack. Weak. No. Hit.> replied the pinches. <He. No. You. Friend. He. Safe. We. Die.>

Mahal held her pose, her eyes still sought an individual. However, her feet didn't stay still. They started to retreat and slowly move back to the plantation. She clicked her tongue as her hounds glanced her way, their ears perked. With wariness, they began to follow her.

<I. No. Know. You. Who. Are. You.> She paused, then added. <Words. Lie. Easy.>

<No. Be. Stupid.> came the reply. <Mask. Man. Scary. Will. Kill. All. Master.> There was a momentary pause. <Give. Spy. He. Have. No. Excuse. We. Stop.> A second pause followed, longer this time. <I. At. Neighbour. No. Come. There. I. Come. I. Die.>

Mahal inhaled deeply, trying to calm herself. She knew a tethered knew where she was and surprising she hadn't been killed. Either the mage wasn't strong enough or something else was up. At this point, it didn't matter. She had completed her task as another volley hit the house. It sounded worse than before causing her anxiety to rise.

<Words. No. Enough. No. Risk. It.> With that, her dogs and her rushed back toward the house's direction.

<You. Choice. But. Bad. Choice.> came a brief message. <Go. Back. Man. Break. Mother. Protect. Man. Hurt. You. Many. Be. Slave. All. Life.> There was a brief pause and then, <Idiot.> With that, the pinch messages abruptly cut off.

"Word's aren't enough aye? Seeing as you are still alive and unharmed up 'till now should have been a sign", an unfamiliar voice that spoke in Avincian cut in on the otherwise silent conversation.

"However right now I will need to be a tad bit more rough". With that the low rumbling roar of multiple Goma Cats punching through the otherwise quiet moment inbetween gunfire.

"Oh, I do hope you don't run too far. They might think you are prey rather than a play mate", the voice finished, it's owner didn't allow themselves to be seen. Black King began to move and prepare to 'gently' bring down Mahal as he sent a pinch message back to to The Handler. Telling them the plan to bring Mahal down without killing. A hostage is better alive. Hurt but alive.



Even if the connection hadn't been cut off, Mahal focused on getting home. Still... not many individuals knew of the abuse and fact the tethered did, bothered her. What else did this person know? Even if she wanted to, she doubted her father and sister would give into the demands. Not after the attack on the plantation.

Mahal didn't get far when someone spoke to her. Her eyes darted around to find the source, but saw only trees and jungle. Drawing quickly, she kept moving through the flora. Now she needed to make it home before they decided to kill her.

With a deep breath, she cast the spell impart momentum to boost her speed as she zig zagged among the trees. "Better hope your cats can keep up."



Mahal’s eyes darted about. Shadows slipped in and out of the trees as the goma cats tailed her. Gathering her breath, Mahal urged her hounds along. "Run faster."

Puno bounced up a trunk and raced through the trees. Supok kept pace and close to her. Suddenly, a cat leapt at her from behind. Mahal pivoted on her foot. Claw snagged her tunic and ripped free. She kicked on a spur of speed, leaving the predator behind. More shapes began to materialize around her. Another shadow tore from the jungle and raced ahead. It lounged at her front. Mahal ducked, but the claws caught her back and held on.

She muffled back a cry and pushed forward. Seeing her struggle, Puno jumped and glided down. Her throat let out a hoarse bark. The cat released with a hiss then vanished into the jungle. Mahal continued to zip and zagged, her desperation growing. More cats charged at her. One latched upon her inner thigh as she let out a scream. Still, she kept pushing herself.

Supok’s eyes flashed red. She snapped at it only to be batted away. The pup stumbled and whined, rolling to a stop a few paces behind.

A clinging cat stretched out its claws for Mahal’s face. With a jerk, it narrowly missed. She didn’t notice the older feline slid up beside her. Supok put on a burst of kinetic energy to intercept the elderly cat. In a ferocious show of skill and experience, the feline bristled then leapt clear of the hound’s jaws. It slammed into Mahal making her tumble. One or two of the smaller cats detached, but stayed close. Excited by the chase, their primal instincts surfaced. Quickly they surrounded her.

"Puno, Supok, home!" Mahal shouted.

Puno rushed away, but the firehound hesitated. Supok whimpered and lingered, an inner conflict on her form. The inchhound paused then gave a sharp, bossy yip. Following her alpha, the two hounds took off. With a thick lump in her throat, Mahal turned to fight for her life. A claw swiped at her as she grounded herself. She drew her daggers and lightning buzzed across the surface.

Two cats circled her, wary of the energy. At first, it seemed her tactic to intimidate them might work. Then the elderly female goma charged. The girl’s blade slashed out, but the cat proved faster. It slipped underneath the attack, fangs latched onto her leg and ripped it out from underneath her. Mahal saw stars in the back of her head. Her free leg kicked up into the beast’s jawline, but it didn’t hit. The goma cat dragged her across the ground.

A loud high pitch whistle screamed out. It was so loud and high that at one point it became inaudible to all but the most sensitive creatures. Which sent the Goma cats roiling mad for a moment before crying out in terror and scrambling from the pure discomfort and pain from the invisible assailent.

Moments later Black King came from the forest calmly like he was one with it. He looked around for a moment as he shook his head and spoke, "Can't you listen? I told you not to run too far".

His hand seeming to cast her way as he began to use chemical magics upon her to lessen the pain and put her to sleep. As the magic was working, he knelt down next to Mahal and began to look her over. Using his a mixture of chemical, magnetic, and binding magic to slowly heal up some of her wounds while taking away her ability to try and fight back.

No more a few moments later another man appeared, seeming worried and exhausted as he quickly panted out, "Is she alright?"

Black King shook his head for just a moment, "Yes, she will be fine. Injured, yet not terribly so. Rest and some healing is enough".

Kidlat seemed to lose a slight bit of tension in his shoulders as it seemed a weight was lifted off of him for a moment. He may have still been worried, but relief was all he could breath, "Thank goodness, I was hoping not to hurt her much".

Black King nodded his head, "It is good. She may be a fool, yet she doesn't need to die for it".

After the goma cat released her, it dashed into the jungle. Mahal laid there and breathed heavily, trying to will herself to move. Pain shot through her leg with every movement. It wasn't broken, but she couldn't walk on it. She pulled herself against a tree as she considered what to do next. Why didn't they kill her? She didn't understand it. Upon hearing the masked man, she tensed.

"Listening... was never my strength." She shot back through gritted teeth. A numbing sensation crawled up her skin as her body became sluggish. Impulsively, she tried to counter with her own Gift. No luck. Her efforts were overwhelmed, leaving her helpless. She relaxed and watched through heavy lidded eyes while he began to heal her. Why waste the magic? Even if they got they got the messenger, her family likely had whatever knowledge he did. No point in keeping them alive now only to kill them later.

Her mind drifted off as she listened to the men exchange words.



Since coming home, Mahal had suffered many sleepless nights and dread stalking the back of her mind. Each step underneath her father's roof felt like walking on eggshells as she stayed out of sight. Lunara took his attention most of the time which helped. The girl lingered in those moments of blissful peace, but all good things came to an end.

Voices penetrated the darkness first causing her haze to peel away. Her eyes rolled underneath her lids as she shifted and tried to sit upright. Realizing the sounds weren't figments of her imagination, her eyes opened and she silently took in the owners. She recalled the tethered's mention of a man in a mask causing her attention to narrow on him. One that would kill all the masters. She prayed that Lunara wasn't stupid enough to search for her.

Black King spoke with those around him, they needed to act. The more time they waited, the more time it would be for a plan to be made. If a plan was made, or someone grew worried of the area, their makeshift movement here would be done. and with word spreading, it would stop the whole revolution.

A prolonged 'siege' was not an option.

It was then Black King at Mahal. His head did not turn, yet the glowing orbs of golden fire that burned like a swirling rainbow locked onto her the very moment she awoke.

He allowed a moment for her to fully awaken before he turned to Mahal, "Well, good morning Marikit₁, are you well?"

The man spoke calmly, he had no malice in his voice. In fact it seemed quite the opposite, as he even seemed playful as he spoke with that almost signature soft Revidian rolling purr as he spoke.

Catching the compliment, Mahal's head tilted and her nose wrinkled a bit. He had to be mocking her. Never in her life had she been called something so nice unless it was by her mother or sister. They often did it out of kindness. She took note of his accent and appearance then picked her words carefully.

“Better than most in my situation.” Her eyes glanced at her leg, fully healed now. She kept her expression steady as she tested the waters with questions. "Why waste your time healing my wounds? I was in no danger of dying. "

Black King chuckled slightly as he answered, "You may have not been, however, if I worry not for another, then that would make me lesser than even some animals".

Black King then gave a small whistle, as a raven flew down, landing upon his finger as he began to feed it and lightly pet its plumage.

"And you are not my enemy. You fighting against us is not out of hate, only out of your own misunderstandings, Ignorance is not malice. Just as a raven born in a cage never knew of the sky. You don't know what you truly want, and the moment you meet it, it's frightening".

"It wouldn't have mattered much. I heal surprisingly well." Mahal said dismissively before the raven arrived. A creature of night and woodlands, rarely seen in her region. Then he mentioned the cage and she snapped.

Mahal’s expression curled into fury. She pushed onto her feet causing the air around her to tense as she drew. Her hands clenched into fists, lightning sparking about the surface. She held her face just inches from his masked face.

"Don't assume you know me. You know nothing!" It hurt more than she wanted to admit. Her eyes widened when she realized her stupidity. Like a fire doused with water, she pulled back. The charge in the air died as did the lightning.

"What happens now? There has to be a reason for this."

Black King watched on, as his people began to grow nervous, he raised his hand lightly, telling them to hold their hand. Even when Mahal leaned as close as possible and used her immense power as a display, he watched. It was not until she finally realized what was happening that she stopped.

Black King nodded as he spoke, "Of course there is a reason. Talk some sense into you, and have you understand why we are doing as we are".

Black King watched on, as his people began to grow nervous, he raised his hand lightly, telling them to hold their hand. Even when Mahal leaned as close as possible and used her immense power as a display, he watched. It was no until she finally realized what was happening that she stopped. Black King nodded as he spoke, "Of course there is a reason. Talk some sense into you, and have you understand why we are doing as we are".

"Sense? You shot at my loved ones! Target or not, you could've hurt them. If they aren't dead already." Mahal growled back and wrapped her arms about herself. The attack upon the house had ceased from the sounds of it, but the end result could've been anything. She closed her eyes to center herself, breathing deeply. It was a poor attempt.

Giving up on it, she focused on the masked man. “Then explain cause I fail to understand it."

Black King nodded to himself as he said, "Well, the shooting is much the same way as you performing that feat of magic a moment ago in your anger. That display is for many of the people here considered god like and quite threatening".

As he lightly gestured to Mahal and then to those around him, some of which were dry heaving and woozy after a display of magic and drawing from a near 8.0 mage. Others were on edge as she seemed quite upset.

"The gun fire was a display, a threat to get your attention and to get what we want. To get a point across. If it was a true attack, why would we damage the roof?" He lightly chuckled about the idea himself, almost like it was a joke.

"We are here for a man who has sensitive information about our movement. If he is able to pass it along, then many will be hurt, and even more so, the movement will be snuffed out, and even more after that, complicit or not".

Black King lightly gestured as he continued talking more about the injured loved ones, "If any are injured other than the messenger, most likely it would be superficial at best with magic. Especially if you believe the injury your leg sustained was of no concern".

He then brought his hand back to himself, "However, it is to be expected. After all, if you fear no harm will come, then the threat is meaningless. It would be as if I was threatening to take away your favorite snack".

Mahal was quiet. Her eyes shifted and noticed the chaos her mood swings had caused. Though her face didn't show it, she regretted her outburst. Pushing past her mistake, she closed her eyes and exhaled. She ran her fingers through her hair as she considered his words.

Lunara held greater experience in politics than her and could tell if this man lied. She, however, could not.

"I suppose. However… " she continued to push down her anxiety, "if Lunara got the message, there's no stopping it. She has never failed when she has a goal in mind. At least from what I've seen."

Black King began to nod his head, "Maybe, however, we still need to ensure the message never reaches the Virangish. If anything, have it take more time to do so. If they receive the message quickly, then many will die. People who just want to be free from these terrible conditions".

He looked around for a moment, "Of course we can perform a long standing siege. Attempt to blockade the farm for long enough until desperation or starvation gets to them, yet that would not work as we are not a grand enough army, nor are we secluded enough to do such a thing without having guards or soldiers asking questions".

He nodded as he looked among those around him, "Or we can attempt another assassination. Destroying any documents he may have made to transport. However, they are much more up in arms and possibly ready for it, so if anything it would either need to be when they are not expecting it, but then the information could have been passed around, or from within".

Black King looked to Mahal, insinuating the idea before he continued.

"Or. we could leave before we are to be surrounded by guards or other soldiers. Then possibly prepare for what is to come. Yet it would be much the same as if the Virangish were to receive the information. Many will die. Like that young lady who was trying to speak with you before".

Mahal considered his words, ripping herself from what she was molded to be. It wasn't easy. Habits didn't cease to exist. She rolled her tongue against her cheek in thought. Truthfully she still questioned her own judgment on this, but she couldn't ignore the facts. She was still alive and if the masked man was honest, so were the ones she considered family.

She shook her head at the mention of siege and assassination. “The plantation has enough supplies for a good month and we are expecting visitors at some point. Ren Baykara. As for assassination, you failed once from the sounds of it. If Selim is near, best not to waste your energy. He's healed me a few times from near death.”

Mahal found her feet starting to move as she paced in a circle. A few individuals shifted quickly from her path, but she paid them no heed.

“You can trade me for the messenger. I'd rather you don't harm him. I can ask her about any other information and means of sending it. There's a chance Lunara used a goma cat. It would be gone before you knew it." Her thumb pushed hard into her arm as she rubbed it. She was going to get punished for this, but Lunara's presence would delay it for a bit. “The messenger is from Ceboyan. I think he was going that direction before he came here. Could you have someone in position to intercept it? If they think it was delivered… it might give you more time.”

She then moved into the last bit on her mind. “You will need to move regardless. I suggest the mountains as it's a cold region and not many will suspect you to hide there. And it would hinder anyone coming after you. I know a few locations as I keep a Snow Wyvern in that area.”

Her eyes turned to the man, seeing if he approved or dismissed her thoughts. They were rash and ill thought out, but a start of more options.

Black King nodded his head, "I believe these are good, trading you for the messenger will give us control of him. Trying to intercept the information may not be easy, yet possible. And even the location to move to would be good. However there is one thing I would like to ask of you".

He looked to Mahal as he continued, "What are you willing to do? Since from the sound of it, you sound as if you are already with us"

He chuckled slightly, as she seemed to already be giving ideas and information freely.

Am I? Mahal realized how easily she opened up in the moment. She regretted it. However, there was no backing down now. Perhaps it might spare her family the worst of the rebellion’s bloodshed.

“Truthfully, I am not sure I am. I am not sure I trust what you told me until I see it.” Mahal again ran her fingers through her hair as she considered the emotions rushing through her.

“Yet, you didn't need to share your information either. You could've just told me to keep quiet and not to attempt anything. It is not like it would end well for me.”

She fidgeted a bit, but managed to force herself still again. “Since you decided to take a risk, I am too. In exchange for the help, I ask you to leave the plantation alone.”

Black King chuckled, "I suppose that is a worthy compromise. For your help with this and possibly future endeavors, I will not take action against your plantation". He extended his hand out to shake on it.

Black King nodded his head as he looked towards plantation, while not able to visually see it, he knew where it is. "I think we shall make a trade of peoples, taking the messenger off the board is the first one. Next, the guest you have coming, this Ren Baykara, I would like you to act as an informant on him".

Mahal stiffened at the suggestion causing her to stare hard at him for a moment. She ignores the churning in her stomach.

"The visit will likely be put off due to this incident so I doubt he will come. If he finds out I am spying on him, I'm sure he won't hesitate to kill me or worse."

Mahal stiffened at the suggestion causing her to stare hard at him for a moment. She ignores the churning in her stomach. "The visit will likely be put off due to this incident so I doubt he will come. If he finds out I am spying on him, I'm sure he won't hesitate to kill me or worse."

Black King lightly nodded his head, "True, however, in it's own right, I do believe your father would not want something like this to besmirch his reputation with such a man. However, either case, if he is to come, knowing his thoughts, plans, and what is going on with the Virangish is important".

Black King turned to Mahal as he continued, "I understand your fears. However, it is needed. Nothing comes without risk. And nothing comes without trying".

A bitter, depressed tsk escaped Mahal's lips. "He wouldn't, but Lunara wouldn't care."

She reflected on the words before she broke the silence. Her form straightened up and strengthened her voice. "I am not good at conversation or lies. If I am discovered, you are to make sure none of my loved ones come to harm because of my actions. I will accept no less."

Monsters like her father and Baykara didn't make an example of one target, but all those connected. The idea of Lunara, Selim and her mother facing the consequences of her decision hurt her heart. "We are wasting time now. Any more details will need to be sorted later."

Black King nodded his head, "You're right, we are wasting time. Let's head down now".

He looked to the others as he nodded to them and began to head down. It would only be a matter of time before things were to happen.

---

₁ Marikit means beautiful, gorgeous, or lovely.

Ruslan, sensing that something was legitimately wrong, began drawing, as did Tanyag.

From the forest erupted a volley of shots, ripping through foliage, shattering roof tiles, and causing the master of Agha Plantation to reveal some of his abilities with magnetic magic.

Crack. Fwip. Snap. Bullets struck and tiles flew. Ruslan released his magnetic power to halt the rest in place and drop the threats to the ground.

Fear released from Lunara's glands. The estate was under attack. She pulled Tanyag forward as two out of the three guards drew to reinforce Ruslan's defense. The third assisted Lunara in getting Tanyag to the door of the estate.

Once inside, guards could be heard shutting entries, reinforcing windows and marching about in transforming the estate into a fortress. Lunara would bring Tanyag to the drawing room which was cornered adjacent to the side of the house being fired upon.

It was here Lunara began her line of questioning, "Why are they after you? Who are they? And, what are they hoping to gain from all this?"

"I'm a scout, sent by her majesty in Ceboyan to determine the strength of the rebels." He paused to scan for further energies or bullets, but they were out of his range in the jungle and reloading. "The Queen and Trading Company don't know much, but I've been here for three days, hiding out in the forest." he paused again to scan as they walked. "It started with the maiming of a boy on Aziz Mesud: draconian punishment. Conditions there were bad." He shook his head as they rounded a bend. "A healer - possibly with the Dieci Volti - arrived and helped him. He was caught, there was an altercation and then they rebelled." He went silent to scan once more. "Details are sparse about the next bit and we don't know if the plantation owners were killed or taken captive but, six days ago, word reached Nöbetçi Tepesi and they rebelled as well, with help from the rebels." He swallowed. "There is a full-fledged masked Volti among them, and they have other salamangkero and a tethered who is observing us this moment. They want to overthrow all the masters, and they are full of killers who joined them after the Bloody breakfast in Arangal."

The colonnade was full of potted palms and its columns twined round with flowering vines. They swayed as a gentle breeze swept across the mansion's courtyard, half in sunlight and half in the shadow of encroaching grey clouds. Then, the second volley began...

With the first volley defended, Ruslan raced down the hall toward the drawing room. His eyes glimpsed into the jungle before he disappeared into the room. Lunara stood next to a haggard looking man just when the peace shattered with another round of shots. Enraged by the attack, Ruslan's fury rushed along his veins. His hardened eyes glared at the shots aimed at him and his family.

"Enough!" The man roared.

His mana surged from his form. Lightning sparked across his clothes and leapt from him to one bullet then another, popping each of them in air. One... two... three. On the fourth one, Ruslan lifted his hand. It slowed then made a dead stop right in front of his face. With a scowl, he snapped his finger. The ball vibrated there for moment as it built up energy. Suddenly it shot backwards and disappeared, returning to its sender with haste.

With a deep breath, Ruslan turned to his daughter. "Do we have any idea why they are attacking? Or who it is?"

Lunara listened to Tanyag, she could understand the fury one would feel watching a young boy beaten beyond measure. She would never approve of such cruelty on her own property if she knew of it. If she put herself in their shoes, would her heart not leap out for justice?

She understood. But, violence only begets more violence.

The second volley of shots rang out. A strong display of magical power was performed by Ruslan in thwarting off the attack. After, Ruslan made his way to the drawing room and Lunara answered his questions, "it seems under harsh conditions a boy was brutally punished at Aziz Mesud, a healer possibly linked to the Dieci Volti intervened and was caught, sparking an uprising. The revolt inspired a second one at Nöbetçi Tepesi."

She paused as the associated mental images of destruction and pain resonated as the same negative force applied pressure on their own estate, "now, they have serious support: a masked Volti, a tethered spy watching us, and other powerful mages, all determined to overthrow the masters." Her gaze drew to Ruslan as if to say, that means you.

"Many among them are killers from the Bloody Breakfast in Arangal. This man, Tanyag, was sent by the Queen and Trading Company to gauge their strength.” Lunara concluded.

She waved over one of their guards who was in the room, "Bring Tanyag's word to the Queen. She will need to send reinforcements before the rebels gain momentum and grow too large in numbers."

Lunara looked back to Tanyag, "How likely is it that the Trading Company or Ceboyan will send reinforcements? And what would the Volti want with the estates? Are they after resources or something more personal with the masters?"

Tanyag shook his head, helpless. "I can only speculate on their motives, and I know no more - and probably less - than you do." Still skittish as the second volley cleared - torn foliage, shattered glass, and ceramic dust all about - he bowed his head. "From what I have heard, the Dieci Volti are ideological..." He hesitated and shook his head. "And vicious." He swallowed. "They might very well want resources as well." He regarded them helplessly, knowing no more. "It is not my place to say so, milord," he continued quietly, "but I would caution you not to send your man yet, or you are likely sending him to his death."

Lunara took Tanyag's advise and stood the guard down, "then it seems if this Volti is out there, they won't be letting up until they get what they want... to end another life..." There was a pain in her last words. It trailed off as more of a whisper and hung in the air as the reality of fates crossed on their very estate.

Her thoughts turned toward Mahal, you better get back here safe sis.

Ruslan frowned at Lunara's mention of the punishment at Mesud plantation and its consequences. "From the sounds of it, they took advantage of a situation and added more leaves to the fire. I doubt they will leave us alone even if we give them what they want."

He continued to monitor for another volley of shots, including any glimpses of someone in the jungle. His mind weighed their options in this grim moment. "Where is your half sister? She could escort him and possibly increase his odds of making it to his destination safely. Or at least ensuring his message gets there quickly."

Lunara choked as Ruslan inquired about Mahal. She was responsible for sending Mahal out to locate the attackers and draw them off the estate. "She is out there looking for them." Her eyes looked out and into the jungle. This nixed the escort strategy.

She got up and moved to a desk with parchments and quill. Walking back over to Tanyag placing it on his lap, "if it's too dangerous to send one and too dangerous to send you, then we multiply the message. At this rate, people are going to die either way and it better not be in vain."

She motioned for Tanyag to write down what he knew on the parchments to warn the others.

The messenger did not waste any time. "They will try to kill me," he warned. "They see anyone who stands in their way as an enemy." He began writing as quickly as he could, which was not very quick, but it was detailed.

Then came the third volley, and it hit nothing but what it intended to unless deflected. Most of the bullets came straight for Tanyag, with a few more aimed halfheartedly at Ruslan to keep him from interfering too much: predictable, just like the other volleys.

Yet, there was something strange about this one. Bullets that had been blocked or deflected suddenly reappeared. Lunara did all that she could as Tanyag wrote furiously and then was forced to defend himself. Ruslan deflected even most of this, so talented in the Gift was he.

Then, one took him right in the gut and folded the master of Agha plantation. He staggered and half-collapsed onto a divan, clutching his punctured stomach. Lunara's eyes widened. Tanyag turned. Then, his chest veritably exploded in a bloody mess, cored straight through the heart. He slid sideways off of the chair he'd been seated at, his blood-splattered note fluttering down to the ground.

Some way away, in the trees of Kalingnan's primeval forest, a man in a mask exhaled. Bullseye.

Ruslan's jawline tightened as his hand laid over his wounded stomach. With a shudder, he dragged himself over to the nearby wall. He tried to understand what happened and where the bullets came from, but it left him confused. The red hot agony flowed freely along his side. He cursed in his native language at his own weakness. "I got careless."

Selim leaned over Tanyag. His hands focused on drawing then began to stitch the man's heart back together. Not an easy task since the bullet had exploded it into a meaty pulp. The process seemed to take forever. "Lunara, I've managed to get much of the heart reformed. But the flow of blood is weak. I need your help with that."

Once that task had been completed, their healer turned back to the master of the plantation. He began to work quickly and spoke quietly. "Be mindful, they might attack again. Ceren hasn't return yet."

So it was that Selim healed and Lunara healed and Tanyag was - by some act of Oraff, it seemed - saved. Lunara guided him hurriedly to the table, but the paper he'd been writing on was both covered in blood spatter and fallen to the floor. As she asked him if he could write, she reached for it.

In the background, Selim had moved on to her father, who she'd never quite seen laid low like this. In the healer's hands, he began to recover.

That was secondary, however. That was expected. What Lunara saw on that note, however, was not. Scrawled in messy rudimentary handwriting in Tanyag's blood was a short message: Ruslan brok Onaona Selim nows its tru

Lunara’s breath caught as she read the words scrawled in blood on the note, their crude urgency cutting through the chaos that surrounded her. “Ruslan brok Onaona Selim nows its tru.” Her eyes flicked back to Tanyag, who sat dazed and pale, his wounds starting to knit together. Selim’s healing was steady, but the healer’s attention was now on her father, ensuring he regained his strength.

She couldn't decipher every detail, but the implications were clear enough: there was a fracture, a betrayal connected to Ruslan. And Selim, the healer, is aware of it.

Lunara forced herself to keep her expression neutral, though her mind raced. It was not the time to confront anyone right now. They needed to remain strong in opposition to the enemy out there. She'd deal with whatever enemies were in here later. She propped Tanyag up, "can you finish?"

The messenger's hand was pressed to the area of his chest that had been a bloody crater naught but two minutes earlier. As Lunara held his note out, he regarded it with alarm. The message scrawled crudely in blood was not his, and he said as much: "I - I didn't write that." His voice was quiet - a useful skill for one who often needed to work subtly, perhaps - but carried a great deal of alarm. Louder, he replied. "I will need a new paper. I will write the most succinct version that I can." He stumbled to his feet to fetch one, dipped a still-bloody quill in an inkpot, and - eyes wide like dinner plates - began writing.

Lunara pulled the bloodied paper from the messenger, "it doesn't seem you did." She noted the message was written in blood, not ink. Lunara gave him what he asked, a new paper, and he began writing.

Her attention then snapped to her gut. It churned and twisted. The shots were no longer. It was quiet, yet she could feel something was wrong. Her mind searched for previous memories associated with this feeling.

"Mahal." Lunara announced to the others, "She is in danger!"

What would she do? Her sister was out there because of her. If she was killed, it'd be Lunara's responsibility. Was it too late?

There were eighty of them who had been alerted, but first was Alad. Itinerant labourers, landless peasants, and slaves alike, they were armed with farming tools, machetes, and a handful of rifles. They crossed in an armed horde, from the fallen Aziz Mesud plantation, through the village of Kalingnan. There, they harmed nobody, though many were frightened. They crossed the street and made their way toward the Agha plantation. As they cleared the village and filtered into the forest pathways, they began to chant, first piecemeal, and then in numbers as it swelled: "Freedom from the Masters. Justice for Palapar. Long Live the Queen. Death to Virang!"

Selim shifted when he heard Lunara's words. Still he continued to heal Ruslan, but he observed the man's expression. A flash of bewilderment flickered across the man's eyes before it hardened. "Who's Mahal?"

The healer took a moment to enlighten him. "The name Onaona chose for Ceren before you made her change it."

Ruslan's attention moved to him as the healer ignored the tension rising in the air. Once finished, he stood upright and moved away. Before a word was uttered, a series of barks rang out from the edge of their land. Supok and Puno bolted for the gates. Mahal was nowhere in sight...

This was followed by the distant chanting of a mob drawing closer.

The chanting grew in loudness and intensity, a few of the original riflemen joining and swelling its ranks while a handful of others stood guard around Mahal. As they approached the fence and the outer fields, they began to call out to their brothers and sisters on the plantation.

"We are not here for you, but for those who call themselves your masters!"

"Do not fear! Raise no hand against us and we shall raise none back!"

"Freedom for the people of Palapar!"

"We come to liberate! Lay down your arms and you shall not be harmed!"

"This land is yours, not Ruslan Agha's! Join us and take it back!"

And then, as Lunara wrestled with what to do next, Tanyag looked up from his frantic scribbling. "It is done," he announced, breathless. "It is done and it is here!" He rose, folding the paper and holding it out to her.

Lunara took the folded paper carefully from Tanyag. Opening the message, she scanned through the contents. The mob's chants outside grew louder, more insistent. Eighty souls calling out their wants and demands. Standing at the edge of the Agha plantation, crying for freedom, justice, and death.

Once she finished reading. Lunara finally called Miray using a unique kinetic sequence that attracted her Goma cat. Miray silently revealed herself in the drawing room before finding herself beside Lunara. Lunara knelt down meeting the Goma cat's piercing eyes, "Take this to Ceboyan." She folded the paper in a cylinder container attached to the collar.

Lunara then turned to the door. Straightening, Lunara steeled herself. She had one chance to face this crowd with words before chaos took hold, "The rest of you should prepare to escape. I will do my best to address them and buy everyone time, but in the end, I fear they will not return. But if I can buy us time, I will."

Selim looked ready to protest, but Ruslan was the first to speak. His voice took on a hint of disgust at the mere suggestion of fleeing. "You cannot be serious, Lunara. They are weak despite their protest. We can easily crush them in a fight. This is our home."

Lunara's eyebrows drew together as her gaze turned to Ruslan, "Weakness?" She questioned, "What will be remembered of the Agha estate?" She pressed, "if we turn this into a bloodbath, would we not give more reasons for them to fight?"

Her worry turned to sadness, her eyes dropping, shoulders sloping, "And what then, do we kill them all? What if there are more, and we are overwhelmed? What if help does not come? Do we die for pride?" Her fists clinched tightly. "And what of Mahal's fate then?"

A single tear dropped from her soft cheeks, twinkling to the floor before crashing on the floor below. "We must leave, regroup, find Mahal, and then take back what is ours."

"And what of her?" Ruslan struggled to keep his temper in check, "You sent her out there. Once you did that, there was a chance she would die or need to be sacrificed. Let this be a lesson that if a weakness is shown, it will be struck without mercy. I've taught you that."

The man stepped closer to his daughter, towering over her. "If we run, do you think they will stop here? No. They will march across every plantation and continue their slaughter. They already proved they were willing to kill," his hand moved his robe showing the bloody spot where his stomach wound was. "Some times, force is the only way."

Instinctively, Selim stepped around Ruslan and gently touched Lunara's shoulder. His eyes softened at her before he glanced outward toward the hostilities. A pain seemed to spread across his expression as he considered his words. "I don't agree with your father on a few points, but I don't think sacrificing yourself is the way. If you go out there, I'm coming with you."

Lunara held her ground, “I accept that.” Another tear slipped its way to the ground. Her hand instinctually rose to wipe it away, and with a twitch of determination, her gaze came to meet his, steady as her father loomed inches away. “And I accept my responsibility to bring her back. Alive.”

A breath passed between them before she continued, "I don’t know if they’ll stop here. Likely not. But if they press on without meeting resistance now, won’t they seal their fate and give us every reason to return with stronger justification?”

"You also taught me to choose battles wisely, Father. To strike when the advantage is ours. If we can warn others before they’re surprised and then return ready for a fair fight, won’t we protect more than just our pride and our land?"

The sounds of Goma cats began to rise, as did the mobs. The Agha's gomas were not taking lightly trespassers about to enter their kingdom. One of the guards had Mahal's hounds inside before the mob gained more ground.

Ruslan reddened in the face... then his shoulders slacked. His dark eyes lingered on Lunara's strength and ideals contrasting with his own. His pride gnawed at him before he swallowed it. "We don't know if she's alive, but I see I can't change your mind. I'll be keeping an eye on you. If anything happens... I will not show mercy."

He turned to walk away then paused, adding. "Don't let your attachments make you weak. Your sister isn't the heir to the plantation, you are. And if your enemies know she is your weakness... they will use that to take everything, including your life, from you."

Selim looked from Ruslan's departure to her, worry clear on his face. "I still insist on coming with you."

"If anything happens, I wouldn't expect you to." Lunara acknowledged her father's warning.

Looking to Selim, who too pushed his way into the situation only to be met by Lunara, "You can't. Onaona needs you, and the rest of the family needs you; without you, they won't survive. If the mages go after them, you'll thank me you were there to protect the ones we care about against them."

Selim wanted to argue, but he didn't. She was right, "Ok Lunara, once we're clear of the plantation we'll meet you in Ceboyan." Lunara nodded with respect, and her eyes softly embraced his, "Thank you, Selim, for your enduring loyalty to this family."

She turned to face the door. Supok and Puno were at the door, standing at attention. The gomas continued to hiss, and the mob sustained their chants.

As Lunara stepped out into the yard. She could feel her heart rate begin to rise. The sweat built in her palms. Supok and Puno followed. As she made it halfway, the servants of Agha began to gather.

"Each of you, time and time again, have shown my family your loyalty. Each of you worked these lands and made your place here. Today, you deserve to be heard - you deserve a choice. No debt of loyalty binds you here if your heart calls for change. You may go now, through these gates, to stand with those who chant for freedom. Or, if you seek another path, you may leave toward Ceboyan and find your future there. The choice is yours today; I hold you to nothing but your own will."

She let her words settle, the silence heavy as her gaze shifted to the shouting crowd of rebels beyond the gate. She stepped closer, her chin lifted in quiet defiance.

“People of Palapar!” she called, her voice cutting through their chants. “You demand justice and freedom from those who have ruled too long and taken too much. I hear your cries, and today I stand not as a daughter of Virang, but as one woman facing many. If justice is truly what you seek, let me stand before you and speak. You have claimed to fight for honor—give me the same, or show yourselves as those you claim to rise against.”

The workers of Agha regarded each other, most holding whatever improvised weapons they could out of fear, necessity, or simply because it seemed the thing to do. They shifted uncomfortably. They murmured. Some talked. Some hid behind others. Some gripped their weapons more tightly.

Across from them was a swarm of people: their countrymen and women, armed - for the most part - similarly. Yet, where the serfs of Agha plantation seemed mostly to lack conviction, to be uncertain of their next move, there was no such issue with their counterparts.

Then, Lunara addressed them. At first, they chanted over her. Some hissed or shouted her down. A man in a black mask stood in the background, arms crossed and emanating the power of the Gift.

"Don't lecture us, rich bitch!" shouted one.

"Ayyy, we won't hurt yuh's," another promised, "long as yuh stay out of our way!"

Most, however, heard her words. Some even listened. They listened as some of the peasants of Agha plantation opened their arms in embrace: to seldom-seen relatives and friends, to others who had struggled as they had, to people who now sung songs of their home - songs that they had never shared with the Virangish. They listened as some lowered their makeshift weapons and walked over and as more remained. Whatever the case, they did not harm Lunara, however.

Meanwhile, some ways away, in the forest, a goma cat ran. A secret that screamed to be let out could no longer be contained, and Kalingnan was not, ultimately, remote or defensible enough for such a nascent movement. Being tied to this place could very well mean its end before it truly had the chance to germinate. As Mahal lay on a bed of grasses beneath the tangled trees, the masked Volto spoke with his closest confidantes. He spoke of these things as he waited for her to stir.

Lunara held her ground as the cacophony of hisses, jeers, and defiant promises rumbled against her like a crashing wave. She took a breath, then stepped forward again, projecting her voice through her sonic Gift so that it pierced the crowd’s furious hum.

“Here we are, standing as equals." She called, gesturing to the servants behind her. "Many of them, like you, have toiled in the shadows, hands raw, back bent. Some have chosen to leave to join you. Others remain. And as for me?" She paused, letting the silence spread, her fierce gaze concealing the reality of her twisting stomach. "I am not here to stop you but to face you."

She opened her arms "without violence." Her arms lowered, and she gestured to the workers of Agha around her, "We all want change, but at what cost? If blood is shed now, we may set a path that never finds peace. We may find only more violence, more families torn apart, more freedom snatched from the last breaths of those who will needlessly die in this conflict."

Her eyes met the masked man in the crowd, sensing his silent power, "do all of you believe violence will be the answer to your cause? Is it the blood you want, or is it a future? If it's a future, then we stand on common ground. If it's blood...then we only set fire to our hopes to build something more than what is today."

Lunara's stomach eased and aligned with conviction in her message, "I came out here to speak because I believe we stand on common ground. I want to help peacefully birth freedom in Palapar and create a political force, a foundation by which all of you secure your freedom by law and not by force. I want to bring you to the table."

Speeches. Words and not action. Most of them had heard speeches before: promising this change or that improvement or some better deal. Little ever came of speeches. Maybe the people who spoke them did not mean them; maybe they meant what they said but did not have the power to follow through on their promises. Maybe they were silenced by others. As speeches went, this wasn't a bad one.

It was a smaller man who spoke for the others and they parted and quieted somewhat for him to do so. His voice was a bass rumble. "The problem here is that the mantle of the violent party is always hung around the neck of the aggrieved," he said, and it was clear that this man was no mere farmhand. He was educated. "The oppressor controls all of the tools of state. He first controls the executive and uses that to legalize his ownership of the purse strings of the economy and to appoint the judiciary." The man shook his head. "He uses his control over the former to enrich himself, that he might live better than his fellow man and have the resources at hand to make his voice heard over theirs. He uses his control over the latter to delegitimize any challenges to his authority and, if they arise, he is now justified in sending in the military to enforce a monopoly on violence in support of his position and against that of the people he oppresses. Perhaps he might make some conciliatory speech if he senses that the threat could fester, but he doesn't need to follow through because he has such advantage that he can suppress the people's anger through the mere spreading of his word and the illusion of positive outcome that creates."

The man shook his head. "You see, the problem is that you've never had those empty words directed at you. You've never lived 'violence' from our side of things." He snorted. "Why, our entire lives have been violence. Every day is some new violence. Oh," he admitted, "it isn't as flashy as the killing of some merchants poaching our land's resources. It isn't as brazen as the firing of bullets into your plantation, but it kills far more. It works them until their bodies break at half the age yours do." He crossed his arms. "It cuts off their hands if they steal, which they risk rather than starving. It breaks down their doors in the middle of the night and hauls them away for threatening the monopoly in some arbitrary or innocuous way, just in case. It takes their lands and homes and businesses under pretext of legality and leaves them to either sell themselves to Virangish masters or live rough until they die."

A few of the others around him nodded and voiced their agreement. "And if they choose the former and subsequently try to flee, it cuts off half of their feet so that they may not. If they choose the latter, they are criminals and dogs to be hunted, or else at the mercy of the elements. So, you see," he concluded, "the violence, Virangishwoman, did not originate with us. It came first from you. We are merely responding and now, you say, we should not do that. We should trust you that it will be different this time if we but lay down our arms and hand you back your monopoly on violence. You will stand with us. You will advocate for us. You will change things with your 'foundation'." He arched an eyebrow. "Rousing sentiments, to be sure, but forgive me if I am a skeptic. Perhaps you even mean your words, but you are not queen, and we Palaparese have bled plenty already. If the spilling of more blood is what is needed to free this land, then you will find many who will not flinch from it."

Perhaps the others, less educated, did not understand all of his eloquent speech, but this man was one of them, and they knew enough. Most cheered for him and many regarded Lunara with equal skepticism.

Speeches. Words and not action. Most of them had heard speeches before: promising this change or that improvement or some better deal. Little ever came of speeches. Maybe the people who spoke them did not mean them; maybe they meant what they said but did not have the power to follow through on their promises. Maybe they were silenced by others. As speeches went, this wasn't a bad one.

It was a smaller man who spoke for the others and they parted and quieted somewhat for him to do so. His voice was a bass rumble. "The problem here is that the mantle of the violent party is always hung around the neck of the aggrieved," he said, and it was clear that this man was no mere farmhand. He was educated. "The oppressor controls all of the tools of state. He first controls the executive and uses that to legalize his ownership of the purse strings of the economy and to appoint the judiciary." The man shook his head. "He uses his control over the former to enrich himself, that he might live better than his fellow man and have the resources at hand to make his voice heard over theirs. He uses his control over the latter to delegitimize any challenges to his authority and, if they arise, he is now justified in sending in the military to enforce a monopoly on violence in support of his position and against that of the people he oppresses. Perhaps he might make some conciliatory speech if he senses that the threat could fester, but he doesn't need to follow through because he has such advantage that he can suppress the people's anger through the mere spreading of his word and the illusion of positive outcome that creates."

The man shook his head. "You see, the problem is that you've never had those empty words directed at you. You've never lived 'violence' from our side of things." He snorted. "Why, our entire lives have been violence. Every day is some new violence. Oh," he admitted, "it isn't as flashy as the killing of some merchants poaching our land's resources. It isn't as brazen as the firing of bullets into your plantation, but it kills far more. It works them until their bodies break at half the age yours do." He crossed his arms. "It cuts off their hands if they steal, which they risk rather than starving. It breaks down their doors in the middle of the night and hauls them away for threatening the monopoly in some arbitrary or innocuous way, just in case. It takes their lands and homes and businesses under pretext of legality and leaves them to either sell themselves to Virangish masters or live rough until they die."

A few of the others around him nodded and voiced their agreement. "And if they choose the former and subsequently try to flee, it cuts off half of their feet so that they may not. If they choose the latter, they are criminals and dogs to be hunted, or else at the mercy of the elements. So, you see," he concluded, "the violence, Virangishwoman, did not originate with us. It came first from you. We are merely responding and now, you say, we should not do that. We should trust you that it will be different this time if we but lay down our arms and hand you back your monopoly on violence. You will stand with us. You will advocate for us. You will change things with your 'foundation'." He arched an eyebrow. "Rousing sentiments, to be sure, but forgive me if I am a skeptic. Perhaps you even mean your words, but you are not queen, and we Palaparese have bled plenty already. If the spilling of more blood is what is needed to free this land, then you will find many who will not flinch from it."

Perhaps the others, less educated, did not understand all of his eloquent speech, but this man was one of them, and they knew enough. Most cheered for him and many regarded Lunara with equal skepticism.

Lunara observed a small man emerge from the crowd. She listened intently, composed and somber, as the man laid bare the suffering of those around her. His words, powerful and direct, her convictions challenged, making it clear that speeches alone would not sway them. When he finished, she nodded.

"I hear you," she said softly, then raising her voice so it might carry through the crowd.

"And I won't stand here pretending I know the full depth of what you've lived, the violence that's been inflicted on you every day. I recognize I've been shielded since birth from it. But that's why I'm here-not to lecture, not to pacify, but to understand the truth of what's brought us to this moment."

She took a steadying breath. It may have been her naivety or her idealism or fear of what might happen if they decided to break the gate, but nonetheless, she continued, "You're right. It's easy to make promises, to offer speeches and solutions from a distance. And the things you describe executive, the judiciary, the economic control- admit I do not understand them, yet they sound to punish dissent if they act as you say they do, to keep power out of the hands of the people. So, I don't fault you for doubting my words or my intentions."

She gestured to the workers of Agha around her, some of whom had lowered their weapons, others still uncertain. "But look around at these faces, at those who have chosen to stand with me today, even if they're unsure of what's right, and as I admit, I do not know the best course, but I know we're caught between forces that are too powerful for any one of us to control alone."

Lunara took a deep inhale, collecting herself and letting the message hang. "And I see that for you, bloodshed feels like the only answer. But if we choose that path, if we cut each other down today, what power do we build with tomorrow?"

Her attention turned to the crowd, "I'm not asking you to trust me yet. Trust is earned in action as you rightfully point out, not in words. I'm not asking you to hand back anything either-I'm only asking that we build a new power together. A foundation that isn't made in my name or for my benefit, but to raise your voices from the streets to the world, protecting them in a way that no single leader or ruling class can erase."

Her gaze returning back to the smaller man, "I may not be queen, but I am willing to leverage every connection, every ounce of influence I have to make this more than empty words. I offer to you a beginning together to shape Palapar. I offer a way to lead that doesn't force us to lose more lives than we already have. We must think of those who come after, those who will carry the burden of our choices today."

She paused, letting the sincerity of her words settle. "I want to work with you, side by side, to return what has been taken from you." Her voice softened, "If that is not enough for some if blood is the only path forward, then I won't stop you. But know this: I stood here today not to pacify you, but to build with you. Consider the power we could create- more than a resistance-but laws, economy, and a future we can share."

The man who had spoken so eloquently tilted his head. "You speak convincingly," he admitted, "and I can believe that you mean your words." He shook his head. "But the powers that you are up against won't care for your rhetoric or your moral appeals." The mob had quieted somewhat and were paying close attention to the exchange. "They are greedy and cruel, and that includes your beloved father."

They stood across from each other, though the divide was not so great. "It is simple, Lady Agha," the small man decided, "You wish to accomplish our goals with a velvet glove, but we have tried that before and been dismissed and disappeared." He crossed his arms. "That velvet glove will accomplish nothing unless it sheathes an iron fist within."

Lunara nodded slowly, her gaze meeting the man’s tone serious and steady.

"I understand," she replied. "You're right. The powers we're up against, the greed, the cruelty... they won't bow to moral arguments or quiet negotiation. And as for my father, I won't deny his acts to protect his power and wealth, even at the cost of others suffering." Her mind snapped to the note, even at the cost of family's suffering.

Her head lowered slightly as she inhaled deeply, choosing her next words carefully. Raising her chin before speaking, "I am not against slipping the velvet glove over the iron fist. I recognize if we want change, real change, we'll need a force strong enough to move the powers above if we intend they take us seriously." She paused and scanned the entire crowd, "Your acts are justified, but your execution reveals that iron fist too early. It gives easily too many reasons for those powers to break it immediately. I stand before you to conceal it for the right moments, to cause a greater reaction where the powers that be are first forced to question their own reason before yours."

Her face hardened slightly as she continued, "Together, an iron fist and a velvet glove that fits. Let's build and break. Let's use our words and our strengths. Let's tear down what is wrong and raise what is right."

She gestured to her workers, both her own and those who had joined the mob. "These people deserve a future where they can work with dignity, instead of under the whip of fear. I offer my resolve, alliance, and commitment to give your demands weight. Do we have an understanding?"

By this time those who would've left the Agha Manor had done so. The message was rushing off between the messenger and Miray. Lunara and possibly her father, with some loyal guards, were likely all that was left on the property.

So it was that the exchange was a peaceful one. Twenty-two of the Agha's indentured crossed the lines. The rebels who had stood at their gates did not put down their weapons and did not agree to stop, but they departed soon after, tempered, perhaps, by Lunara's words.

It was a triumph.

Agha stood strong in the face of a rebellion. Ruslan yet drew breath. Tanyag had been saved from death and his message was, this moment, on its way to Ceboyan. The plantation's walls, though damaged, had not been breached.

To Mahal, however, was left the final piece of the puzzle. It fell to her to engineer a convincing escape or release from the clutches of the revolutionaries. It fell to her to withstand her father's wrath, assuage her sister's worries, and mine Ren Baykara for information, all without arousing suspicion.

The rebels faded into the jungle, their destination unknown... for now.

Location: Agha Plantation, Coffee Fields
Date: a few days after Kalingnan

---

When Mahal’s fingers found the knot in her hair, she paused. She lowered her fingers into the water and then came back to the knot. Carefully, she began to work at untangling it as she brushed it straight. She gritted her teeth with each tug on her scalp while the hair came undone. Her mind reflected on that day and the ones to follow. When the tethered informed the masked man of the messenger’s absence, the plan had changed from hostage exchange to escape. Using chemical and kinetic schools, Mahal inflicted self-wounds to avoid suspicion. Far from life threatening, they still followed a pattern upon closer inspection. She hoped Lunara hadn’t noticed during her haste to heal.

Some time afterwards, Mahal had snuck into her father’s study for a map and marked it. She left it in a tree outside, instructing the tethered of its location, before returning to bed. It was gone by morning. In a few days, she’ll know if they had picked her location as she needed to check on Sikuaq.

A pain rippled across her scalp when she ripped a tangled knot free. Her fingers held it before her causing her to frown and apply binding to numb the area. Once she finished with her hair, the girl got dressed and exited her room. She stepped slowly and lightly, aware of her surroundings. If she could make it beyond the property…

Her heart stopped when she felt a familiar pressure of mana being drawn.

“It’s wonderful to see you, Ceren… or should I call you, Mahal?” The venom in his voice chilled her blood.

“Who?” Mahal turned to face her father, spotting the fury glowing in his glare. Her breath caught in her throat and heart threatened to escape her ribcage. Selim wasn’t here to distract or heal her. Her fingers curled into fists as she braced for the approaching storm.

“Don’t act foolish with me. Lunara revealed it when she worried over you of all things.” His lip curled at the thought, his form towering over the girl.

Mahal’s eyes stayed on him, her spine straightening against the pressure. Seeing it having no effect, Ruslan ceased and continued. “Lunara should’ve known it was a waste sending you out there. You couldn’t even accomplish your task before you were caught.”

“You think I wanted that to happen? It just… happened.” Mahal snapped back, her temper rising. Impulsively, her hand lingered near one of her daggers.

What had she done?

The Agha plantation had transformed, and Lunara, along with it. She lay on her bed, counting the ceiling marks- was it worth it? Tears slid down her soft cheeks. Her mind retracing the last 72 hours. Her instincts to save her family clawed her out of a pack of wolves and into a den of vipers. She knew her people too well. Some would see giving freedom to those who deserved it worthwhile; others would target her as threatening their position. Lunara felt utterly lost in the transition; she felt alone.

Lunara pushed herself up from the bed, the familiar weight of her body feeling foreign against the mattress—it was softer than she remembered, and the walls seemed to close in more tightly around her. The air in her room was thick, suffocating, as if the space had shrunk under the weight of recent days. She crossed the room, her hand brushing lightly over the doorframe before gripping the knob. With a slow turn, she opened the door, stepping into the quiet, cavernous halls of the manor.

Her feet moved on instinct, carrying her down the grand staircase, but each step felt heavier; the weight of the past clung to her ankles like chains shackled to stones. The home assumed a hollowness that Lunara couldn't shake. The walls bore scars—holes from gunfire—each one a gaping wound in her mind. They stared back at her, unblinking, like the eyes of a thousand demons.

As she neared the drawing room, the world around her blurred, and the visceral clarity of that day returned in sharp, unforgiving detail. She could see the messenger collapsing, his lifeblood pooling faster than they could stop it. Her father, once so imperious, his voice commanding, now silent as crimson bloomed across his chest and splattered the walls.

Her breathing quickened. The silence of the manor was deceptive; in her mind, it was deafening, filled with echoes of gunfire, the sharp crack of bullets splitting wood, the desperate cries of those caught in the chaos. The weight in her chest tightened as she moved toward the open front door.

She stopped at the threshold, her fingers brushing the frame as if grounding herself in the present. The dawn stretched before her, soft and indifferent, offering none of the solace she had hoped for. She drew in a deep breath, her lungs expanding painfully. As the air filled her, she realized the truth that had haunted her since she woke: this place, this home, once vast and secure, now felt impossibly small, its walls unable to contain the enormity of what had happened within them—or the weight of her promise.

Then she heard the bout of voices lashing back and forth. A father and a daughter counting the days the other would die. Rather, Lunara couldn't hear it, she could sense it. Her sister's mana bubbling in moments of fear and anxiety. She could feel it so intensely that it capsized everything else. Following her senses, Lunara captured Ruslan and Mahal outside. Mahal is in a defensive posture while her father aggressively presses forward.

"Stop!" Lunara commanded. Both of their heads twisted to their surprise as Lunara's voice caused a pressure that, if tested, might have snapped the neck of a wild beast. A resonance Lunara didn't recognize.

A pain swelled in her heart, to see her family standing at what appeared to be odds after nearly being stripped of their lives days earlier. The family she made promises to save by sacrificing herself to fight a political battle against Virang's elites. Her teeth were as sharp as were her words.

“Have you both lost your senses?” she snapped, her voice slicing through their quarrel.“After everything—after nearly dying to keep this family and estate from crumbling—you stand here, about to tear each other apart as if the enemy isn’t already at our gates?” She glared between them, her words biting. “What in Oraff’s name could possibly be worth this now?”

Upon hearing Lunara's shout, Mahal watched her father's next reply die on his lips. Her hand retracted from her blade as she straightened upright. However, her sister's words continued to lash at her pride. From the coffee plants nearby, her hounds trotted into view and stood by her legs. Despite her sister's worries, Mahal knew the threat had passed thanks to her. For now.

"I was merely noting how she preferred a different than the one she was gifted at birth. Then the conversation turned to what she learned, or rather didn't, after her escape." Ruslan turned to face his favored daughter and twisted the truth slightly.

Mahal's lips pressed tightly together, but said nothing. Her father knew how to twist a narrative to his advantage. She clicked her tongue against her teeth and then pivoted on her heel. Her canines swiftly followed her attempt to escape the conversation.

Lunara's eyes dropped down, "Twice." her tone between silk and steel.

"Twice, you've chosen to lie." Her eyes raised with an icy gaze. "And these are the only one's I can account for." Her teeth clenched, fist balled, "How many more have you told?" The rhetorical sentiment in her question was evident.

"At the most crucial time of our healing, after saving your life, you've chosen again to lie." She paused and approached only steps away from her father,.

"Do you think I can't see you, Ruslan? The lies, the façade - you wear them like armor. Since I've been home, I chose to look away. I believed there was a truth between the gaps in your lies. I believed you would begin to change after what happened three days ago, yet here you stand, lying again. Your armor is cracked now. Your blood on the walls of our manor proves it. You're not the one who saved our home. I am. You didn't make the hard choices or sacrifices to keep this place from becoming a slaughterhouse. That was me. All you did was throw a few spells with a wish to inflame the circumstances. You even criticized my decisions when you weren't willing to make any of your own. I carried this home in the face of war. And I won't let you stand here and lie to me any longer. You're either with me, or you're against me. Do you understand?"

Lunara wasn't tall, but her presence grew tenfold as she lectured her father about who was commanding the Agha estate from now on. Between the ominous letter, Ruslan's behavior, and his aggression toward her and her sister, Lunara was no longer willing to remain silent or push his antics aside. She would be taking the reins for the consequences of failing to deliver her promise, which meant the people of Palapar would return to her family's home and burn it with good reason.

As Lunara finished her lecture, her head snapped in Mahal's direction as she attempted to evade the family meeting, "Where do you think you're going?"

Ruslan's nostrils flared when her accusations turned on him. He stood in place while his daughter threw her fit and lashed at him. Once her childish tantrum died, he let the brief silence cool the tensions. His eyes flicked to the side of his gaze before they returned to her. "I've only done what is necessary to protect you, this family and our legacy. It is something you will eventually learn."

He didn't deny or admit anything. Instead, he moved to the next important part. "I did offer a different solution, but you had already sent out Ceren. We could've held down this place for a month until help arrived. However, you had another plan and despite the criticism, I didn't interfere, did I?"

"Away from here. Nothing I say matters anyways." Mahal stated, not bothering to stop.

Lunara barked at her sister, "Not true!"

Then she turned her sights back to Ruslan.

"I'm going to make this clear. I know what you are. You've done what's in your best interest for your legacy." Her eyes were burning, her voice cold.

"The real lesson you taught me. Not duty. Not honor. Just self-preservation wrapped in lies." She turned sharply, disgust lacing her words.

"You didn't offer a solution-you laid a trap. Your grand plan? To dig in while Palapar's fury pounded at our gates. Hope we'd outlast it, hope I'd fail so you could play savior." Her voice dropped into a venomous snarl. "But it wasn't your strength that kept this place standing. It was my will. My fight. And that wound bleeding out your arrogance."

Lunara turned her back to Ruslan, to Mahal, and began to approach her.

Ruslan’s lips pressed tightly together, the storm brewing beneath his mask. His fingers tightened into fists before he forced them to relax. He’d not stand here and be insulted. With a deep breath, he twisted about and began to depart for the main house. His words lashed back in his wake. “It was better than throwing our lives away. One day, you will learn that things are far more complicated than you realize. Until then, I will do what I‌ must to ensure this house survives.”

Mahal continued to increase the distance from her family. Her bare feet dug into the ground and crushed the leaves under foot. The last thing she wanted was to fight with her father and his outdated values. She retorted back toward Lunara. “Not worth it.”

Lunara stepped beside her sister, "You're right, he isn't." She kept up with Mahal's pace. "You know, we never got a chance to talk about what happened three days ago," her voice gently pressed.

Her hand falling to grab her sister's, "May I ask you a question?" Given the opportunity, Lunara would ask, "what happened out there?"

Hearing her sister’s steps come in from behind her, Mahal slowed her pace slightly. Her anger began to shimmer down now that their father had disappeared. Then Lunara’s question came. She tensed at the words and her eyes flickered in her sister’s direction. She had two choices: tell the truth or lie. Each one held their own consequence.

A moment of silence passed when she replied. “I was ambushed when I got close to the attackers. Attempted to kill one, but I forgot about the tethered. Tried to run back. Most of it is still pretty hazy, but I recall a man wearing a mask.”

Mahal shrugged at the information she shared. It was part of the truth, but many of the details were left out. She moved on quickly to a different topic. “How did you stop the mob from storming the gates? Or keep Father from slaughtering them?”

Lunara replied, “my voice,” cracking a smile. “Apparently I said the right things that disarmed the mob and had them change their tone, including our father.”

Lunara slid her hand down to Mahal’s and clasped, “I’m sorry I put you in danger, I’m happy you are okay.” Her eyes were wide and sincere.

“About what happened, are you able to walk me through from the time you left the estate to when it gets hazy?”

Lunara was searching for a story, not a summary.

Mahal slowed when she felt Lunara's hand take hers. Her fingers wrapped about her sister's fingers and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "Of course, I forgot who I was talking to."

She meant no insult from her words. It was simply how things were. Ever since they were children, her half sister's very presence demanded attention. Most days it felt as if she was blessed by their ancestors and left none for her. A serpent of jealousy reared its fangs and bit her, spreading its venom into her veins.

Pushing it to the side, Mahal brushed off the apology. "Not sure why you're sorry. We each have our own roles to play. Yours is to eventually run the family. Mine is doing the dangerous stuff and staying out of the way. Not much has changed since we were kids."

Hearing the request again, she frowned. "How much more detail do you need? I don't know what they hit me with, and I barely recall going down. I've already had this discussion with Father and he made it clear about his thoughts."

"I am sorry because I should have been more thoughtful in how we could have had you run the dangerous stuff." Lunara squeezed back. She didn't apologize for their roles but for her carelessness in acting before thinking.

Lunara had put her sister in a disadvantageous position in the jungle against their attackers, and it wasn't necessary. She recognized that her responsibility was to protect her family and the estate but not at the expense of exposing them to unnecessary risk. Instead, patience and decisiveness were the more appropriate path and imminent lessons learned.

She could hear the defensiveness in Mahal's voice as Mahal brought up their father.

Stepping back to give Mahal her space, Lunara could sense the defensiveness in Mahal's voice. The word father never left Mahal's mouth with ease. As to not test her sister's patience and tolerance, Lunara nodded, "I understand. You've shared all you could, thank you."

Mahal's gaze shifted toward Lunara, noting her sister pull away. Her temper had always been a wall to others. Anger toward her helplessness and weakness, no matter what she did it never mattered. She often wondered what it might be like to be on the other side of being a constant failure where her sister stood. "I'm sorry I couldn't give you more. "

A moment of silence passed between the siblings before Mahal added. "I will always fight to protect you and my family. No matter what. Now you should get back to the house before Dalma starts to worry over your absence. If I recall anything, I will seek you out first."
Lunara's arms dropped, more? Her eyes tilted to the ground, a tear perhaps, or sweat from the humid climate dropped from her cheek.

"You gave your life." Her voice firm and on the edge of breaking. "What more could I ask of you?" Lunara's head rolled up, her eyes narrowing on Mahal. She let the question hang in there for a moment as she walked by her sister.

Right as she was shoulder to shoulder Lunara spoke, "I trust you will." She kept along the path and headed back to the estate.