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Chapter 1

The Stairs And The Steels

The shrine to Deika, my Goddess, lies at the end of this main hall. Her golden sculpture shimmers in the ever-burning flames that accompany it. We use only the most precious materials to form her grace in the lowly physical realm. Offerings that were placed at the foot of the statue when it was first built still remain today.

Our sculptor is an avid one. Rada Steel, mother of the fatherless Mira Steel. They sit next to one another in front of the statue, their heads lowered in prayer. Deika doesn't require prayer to recognize worship. She still accepts it nonetheless. It's the least they could give to be able to live in the house of the holy. A house she has, in part, made holy with her skills. I appreciate it, and so does Deika, but it was not necessary, with Mrs. Steel being my sister, married to the missing Yoll Steel. She and her son have been here ever since Mr. Steel disappeared. They miss him just as much as I do.

Both my wife and I move past them, headed towards our bedroom. There's no need to say anything. Disturbing them would be rude. "Oh! Khana! Veran! You have returned!" Rada's head perks up at her son's exclamations. Too late for an undisturbed prayer. Mira leaps up from his spot, then bounds to my side. His arms envelop my leg. "I am so glad you are okay!" Ever since Yoll disappeared, I feel as though he's been more sociable with me. Odd... Although it's an important role, my hopes are that he does not see me as a father figure. Natascha is enough for me and my wife to handle.

"Thank you for your care, Mira," I smile at him, then at Rada, who smiles back. "Where is Natascha?"

Mira looks up at me. His youth has brought him shortness, though that is expected. He doesn't say anything, only frowning at my question. Rada speaks for him. "She wanted nothing more than to go to bed early. See, we went to go see the Keplers while you were away. Natascha wanted to meet with Dionne so badly. They were fine," she smiles to herself, laughing just a little. "Two little heroes they were. At least, that's how they saw themselves in their games and stories." Her smile droops. "The last day ended in bickering between the two, and we came back exhausted." Once more, she laughs. "She almost passed out on her way up the stairs. I had to help the poor thing climb. Certainly, she'll be happy to see your safe return in the morning."

I laugh with her, smiling past the concerns for my daughter and her friend. "I'll be sure to give her my reassurance when the star rises."

Mira finally lets go of my leg, then moves back to his mother. They relax their minds for the days to come, using their worship as a vehicle. It's good to see their genuine happiness over my smiling facade.

Calmly, I make my way up the stairs, clutching my forehead. With each step, the wood beneath my feet creaks as though it hasn't been touched in years. My legs seize, and my muscles ache. Each extra inch is like a trial bestowed upon me by the Goddess herself. My wife, Veran, climbs the stairs beside me. She moves much faster than I do, hopping up multiple steps at once. A weapon clanks in her thigh-mounted holster. The love of my life turns to me with a wide smile, her face covered in blood, their blood. "Have you ever had such a thrilling experience, my Khana?"

My eyes rip themselves from her face, and I just keep walking. Ninetta, my Emanation, stopped talking to me a while ago. That witch has kept herself in my mind for ages, and now she simply won't talk anymore. I don't know why. How could I ever know what that ghostly girl thinks? No, she's only able to know what I think at every moment of every day. I'm glad her snide comments stopped. Makes me feel free. But now I have this pounding headache, and a loss of breath. I never had those before.

"Now is not the time for your sub-par English, dear." She does it to please me. To match my way of speaking. Still, she doesn't know what she's doing. In any other situation, she's dominant, but when it comes to the English word, she's full submission. Always asking me questions about the language while speaking it. Neither the questions nor her words make any interpretive sense on my end. I don't usually tell her that it's bad. Wouldn't want her to have a breakdown about it. Veran doesn't like being told she's bad at something. She'll try to improve to the point of depravity. I don't want that, of course, but this is too much.

"My Khana?" I feel my tail drag along the staircase, droopy. Veran's wagger floats in the air behind her. Still high off the fumes of slaughter, I see. Due to her birth defect, Vee's tail is much longer than the rest of her body. Sure, my people always have long tails, but hers is longer than some of the longest. It's like the tail has aged without her, left her behind a while ago. She bears the wagger of an elder. "My Khana, are you of wellness?" Goddess have mercy, her English is so bad. Maybe I'd eventually give her an answer if she'd stop asking. I grumble, taking another slow step. She could be moving so much faster, hopping up multiple stairs at a time. Instead, she chooses to walk by me. I'm glad she's concerned, but I don't think it'll help. "My Khana, please. Tell me what is the matter."

"I-I feel off."

She places a hand on my shoulder. "What are you meaning?"

I don't dare look at her. I don't dare respond. The movement of my jaw alone is too much for my body to handle. It droops open, flopping about with each step.

"My Khana, you are scaring me. I do not like."

Her? Scared? Of all people to be scared, why her? I'm not scared. Why would she be scared? This time, I want to respond, but all that comes out of my mouth is grumbles.

Veran lets go, looking toward the top of the stairs. A heavy sigh breaks forth past her lips, then a pause. She speaks in our native language, Deikan. Thankfully, she speaks it perfectly. "I miss the times when it was just you and I, none of this Emanational bullshit." Again, she grabs me. "You know, when we were unstoppable, forces to be reckoned with. What happened, my Khana?" Again, silence. "Khana?"

Chapter 2

Dream Cigars Are Always The Best

"Ngh!" I wake, pushing up from beneath my covers. All is black, and the room smells of nothing. I don't even smell Veran, nor do I hear her snoring. Is she just up early, or is she out of the house again? If she somehow manages to wake up before me, The smell of breakfast is sure to waft in through the door, which she always leaves open. Of course, she could just be off on a hunting trip again. She doesn't like to take me with on those, says I'm too "over powered," as if that's not insulting at all. Whatever. Gives me more time to relax, up here on the mountain.

There's a garden to be tended, and a daughter to be raised. Vee wants to take our Natascha hunting. I say she's not old enough. She says that's bullshit. I try to tell her that not everyone can be raised on the blood of the vile. She disagrees. Natascha is a gentle girl, and I don't want her to follow in her parents' footsteps. Her aggressive behavior with Mira is enough to concern me as it is. This world needs reasonable people, especially now. Everyone will take her for granted, say that the Morozovs or the Volkanovs haven't been reasonable in ages. They have good reason to say that, but with our Natascha? She'll be different. I'll drag her down the path of a warrior when there's some more good in her. Just like her mother, she's wily, energetic, and always willing to take a risk. It's the risk that scares me. In this modern world, she'd be gone before I have the chance to see her grow. Vee would kill me. I'd kill me first.

Slowly, I crawl out of bed. All the candles are out. Odd. Last night is blurry. I don't remember anything. Whatever. I'll just ask Vee about it during first-meal. My feet hit the floor, which Veran says is cold. We are of two different species, after all. I belong to the more polar variety, while she's a forest dweller. Thankfully, that makes me warm. Or at least less cold. When Vee and I go out amongst the mountain's snowy cap, she'll be shivering with a coat on, and I'll essentially be naked.

Outstretched, my hands feel their way around the room. If I were like Vee, I'd just hop right out the door. Today, that is not the case. After wandering for a moment, I hit something hard against my toe, yet my hands come in contact with nothing. My dresser. Or at least I think it's my dresser. If I'm correct, there should be a loaded gun resting on top of it. Now's not the time. Besides, that's Vee's. I don't need guns. Not to mention, I'll dress later.

If I'm correct, the door should be to my right, so if I just turn ninety degrees that way, and then walk a few feet... Oh? What is that? As strange as it feels to say, My hand just cupped something squishy. Not grabbed, but cupped. Like my hand fits around it, but there's no grip. I press against it, and it presses back. Is- Is this what those regular mammals call a "boob"? Who does it belong to? Vee doesn't have them, so I'm screwed on that front.

In a flash of deep red, the room grows with light. In front of me stands the light source, Ninetta, my Emanation, my specter, my ghost. Just as the light she casts, her skin is blood red. Reminds me of Vee's traditional paint. "You," she says, beckoning in that heavy accent. "Today, Khana, you will re-" She stops, then looks down. "Ngh! Keep your sinful hands off of me!" My Emanation shouts, grabbing my forearm and pushing me away. She closes her eyes for a moment, regaining her composure. Taking a deep breath, Ninetta continues. "Today, Khana, you will repent for your wrongdoings, repent for the lives you have taken, and repent for the world you have destroyed."

Completely unattentive, I give the room a good scan. The light she usually casts is red as blood, but this time, it's different. Everything is gray, at least what's within her radiative range.

"Khana? Are you listening to me?"

It is then that my eyes catch Vee's loaded gun once more. I take a hop towards the side of our dresser, then grab it. With Nina outside of my mind, I can't use the power I've been granted. Just means I have to resort to more conventional methods.

"What are you doing? Khana, put that down!" The Emanation shouts. Cockily, I aim at her, cover my eyes, and smile with my finger on the trigger.

Bang!

"How's that for repenting?" I ask, letting my eyes witness what they've longed to see for years. Almost immediately, my smile fades. On the ground, in a pool of her own blood is Veran. A single bullet would lies in her forehead. "Good to know I still have good aim" I taunt the Emanation.

"What? How did you-"

"Oh come on. Vee wouldn't even let me pick up the gun in the first place. It's disturbing, sure, but you have to try a little harder than that, Ninetta."

She growls, as her head peeks out from underneath my bed. The rest of her crawls beyond my mattress, then floats back into place above the fake Vee's body. Her cloud whirls in place, faster than before. Nina tends to do that when she's being pissy. "Khana, I thought you'd like to know that I received a message last night, before I made you pass out." As she speaks, the room seems to fall apart, drifting out into a white void. So we are in my mind. Interesting.

Bring me to my study, I think. Still holding the gun, I watch as the white void fades into the exact room I requested. All this will pass over quickly. After all, I can't sleep forever.

However, Ninetta manages to notice. She screams. "No!" A bang shakes the ground as both my study and what remains of my room burst into flames. "You will stay in slumber until you starve to death, for all that I care." My Emanation stares down at me with her glowing eye sockets, her breath huffing in rage. "Until you beg for mercy in learning the pain you have brought unto this world, you will be trapped here."

She calms, taking a deep breath. My study falls to ash as the flames dissipate, yet the ash doesn't clog my lungs. One of the many benefits of being in a dream. I fold my arms, and the white void comes into view. My foot taps against the infinite plane. "Fine. I'll stick around. At this point, death is a better alternative than trying to learn from you."

Bring my study to me.

With me, Nina folds her arms, yet she doesn't say a word. Too bad. I was hoping that I'd have someone to talk with. I know what's coming anyway. She won't be up there for long. In the distance, behind Nina, a room rockets across the void. Aimed directly at me is an open door. I look at the fast-approaching room, then up at Nina, then back at the room, then back at Nina. A smile crawls across my face. "What are you-"

At mach speeds, the top support of the room runs directly into Nina. It sends her flying, and the room itself envelopes me. Close the door, I command, once inside. Just as I order, the entrance slams shut, and everything stops moving. Oh, and find me some better scenery. Her void is so boring. Outside the windows of my study, a vast landscape of rolling hills phases into existence. Trees pop up here and there, and farm land details itself in the distance. A local star sits high in the sky, which bursts upon the baby blue tint. Running past that star are wispy cirrus clouds. All is right, and all is calm. I might as well read while I have the chance.

My legs carry me to a massive bookshelf which lining the entire right wall of my study. All my memories, titled and organized into categories. Long ago, when I first met her, Nina told me that there's a way in which every mind organizes memories, and most of the time, they're different. This is mine. A study, where every memory can be read, rather than seen. Of course, I could visualize the memories if I really wanted to.

I don't.

"Let's see here, what's a comfy one?" I mumble to myself. My hand scrolls over countless titles. Learning To Walk, Growing Without Parents, Meeting Her Babushka And My Babushka, Adjusting To Little Miss Ninetta, Learning that ghosts don't make good partners, Giving Up On Purpose, Pursuing Innovation, and the list just goes on, and on, and on. I keep going until my finger happens to stop on one piece in particular. The Love Of My Life, Miss Veran Volkanov. My Vee. I pull it off the shelf, not even bothering to look at the hard cover. After all, there's no art to any of these books, except for the prose within. Nothing but a title is scrawled across the cover. The same title that's on the binding, highlighted in gold-colored print. Each of these books make up a single chapter in a larger story, which has yet to be finished. That is why this one feels so thin.

I hop into my big recliner, pulling back on the handle. The front end of the chair comes up, bringing my feet with it. On the table next to me is a lighter and a fresh cigar. Dream cigars are always the best. I can never have them in real life. Sadly, the physical realm forces me to stick with cigarettes. My hands reach for both the lighter and the cigar. I put one in my mouth and spin the other with my thumb, holding it at the end of the cigar. Once I feel the wave of sweetness hit the back of my throat and burst out through my mouth, I set the lighter down and take subtle puffs. The holes in my chest allow for smoke to ventilate outward and upward. Some species don't have those, apparently. Consistently, they keep my lungs clean. During our early days, my species had the tendency to inhale some nasty stuff. A remnant of our previous cave-dwelling tendencies. Deeply, I inhale, then exhale. A larger puff of smoke pyroclasts out my mouth, while streams of it billow from underneath my shirt. I take the cigar out of my mouth, then dispose of the ashes in the tray next to my seat. My hand pops the cigar back into my jaws, and I take subtle puffs from there. Finally, I crack open the book. Its bindings crackle and pop, as if they've been closed for an eternity. After flipping past a title page, the first line beckons my eyes hypnotically.

Chapter 3

(actually chapter 401,780 of Khana's mental archive)

"You know you won't be able to do this forever," says Ninetta. She floats around the room, going back and forth between shelves in my laboratory.

"Could you bring the lamp this way?" I ask.

My Emanation groans, then drifts up toward the single light that hangs from my ceiling. Her hands grasp the chain from which it dangles, and they pull it my way. The chain is mounted on a big set of rails which jangle and scrape with each imperfection in Nina's movements. Each clang overpowers the sound of rain pouring endlessly on my rooftop for just a moment before allowing it to flow back into my twitching ears. The seconds draw on and on while she struggles with the amount of rust that hangs on all the lamp's parts. Finally, a single shaft of light shines over me, highlighting my work station amidst the dark. However, before she heads back to finding me that part, Nina decides to give her opinion once again. "Khana, this is stupid. You should be out there with me, purging the world of its vile nature, not stuck in some dark room making guns for a living."

I've already told her my reasoning a billion times. The last thing I need to do is tell it again. Dismissively, I wave her away. "Nina, go find me those parts before I fall over and die of old age. I know we have them. It shouldn't be that hard."

"Khana!" Her voice reverberates off the walls, once again briefly overpowering the rain. When I don't turn around, she grabs the shade of the light and aims it away from my workstation. Above her head, the chain jingles further. Fine, if that's how it's going to be. I groan, and turn towards her. She wants me to talk, but I don't say a word, just give her that "Lay it on me" sort of look. "What is the will of the Goddess?" Her eyes lay down upon me with anguish, yet I still don't react. I've lost count of the amount of times we've had this conversation.

In a monotone voice, I give the answer she wants me to give. It's like a rehash of the delivery I've given a thousand times before. "Ever since time began, the will of the goddess is to keep the living alive, and the dead down." I stop and take a breath, then continue. "It is the mantle taken up by those deemed 'fearless' to carry out that will. For they do not fear death, but death wallows in terror as it sits in the shadow they cast." Again, another breath. "They hold the power to attain the glory that others would never dream of. To beat death until it may no longer be beaten. And when the dead rise, it is the duty of those deemed 'fearless' to bring them back to their graves."

With each detail, Nina nods to herself, one hand on her chin and the other loosely suspending the lamp. "That sounds right."

"So can I have my light back now?"

Her eyes widen as she snaps. "No you may not! You know the will of the goddess by heart. You have been deemed 'fearless'. It is your job to carry out Deika's will."

I want to turn away dramatically, like they do in those picture shows after delivering that heavy-hitting voice line, but I'd just be turning to a dark workstation. It's not my problem that I could only afford one light. "Deika can go screw herself." Instead, I decide to reach into my pocket and pop another cigarette in my mouth.

"Khana, it is unwise to speak of the goddess in such a horrendous way." Her eyebrows lower on the very ends and her hand meets her chest. As she babbles away, I light my cigarette and feel that rush of dopamine hit. It's good enough to hold me until she stops. I need to pick up more of these. "Who knows what she will do to you in the afterlife? Not even your own personal ghost is aware," she refers to herself.

"Deika is lax. We know she is," I take another puff, putting my lighter back into the pocket on my long, open coat. "I'll die eventually, and then I'll be welcomed into her realm just for being 'fearless.'" The smoke pours out of the holes in my chest. I'm not even wearing a shirt underneath said coat. It's in the wash, stained with tar that leaks from my ventilation holes. My coat is already stained with that tar, as well as other greasy substances. No use in taking it off when it serves plenty of purpose: holding my tools.

"Khana, you do realize the punishment for abandoning the will after being deemed fearless is eternity in limbo, yes?"

"Of course I do!" I shout, taking the cigarette from my mouth and flicking off the ashes on my concrete floor. It's been stained with ages worth of ashes, all from my ages worth of residence here. "I'll simply make my guns and have other people use them to fulfill the will for me."

"And what if they do not use them in the way you want?"

"Then I'll threaten them under divine punishment?" I widen my stance, folding my arms. "Nina, it's not like I didn't ask those same questions to myself long before I started."

Out of the quiet, out of the dark, out of the rain, there's a distant bang, and a rumbling that I cannot place. For once in her eternal life, Nina stops talking. My cigarette burns away in my mouth, and my legs start to shake. If I so much as dare to reach up and tap the ashes away, I feel as though I could be killed. Meanwhile, I perk up my ears, knowing their sensitive nature is silent. They scan the area, but for once, I feel no twitching. There's always twitching. Where is it now?

Again, another bang rings out. It's closer this time, much closer. The dust that hangs on my ceiling starts to crumble. A bit even falls on my head. Thankfully, it's just dust.

Ninetta looks to me, and I look to her, yet neither of us move. Someone's doing war. The value of my abode is high, especially if one knows what lies within. As I look away, trying to find a source, I feel Nina's cold form enter my body through my back. The lamp she was holding swings, clanging against something metal. A rattling chain is never a good one. I wince at the sound, and my ears fold downward.

Nina, you're so stupid! I scream at her.

"Sorry, I did not know what else to do. Better to just seek shelter and make sure you are safe, yes?"

Just like usual, I refuse to respond. Long ago, I learned how to block her from hearing my innermost thoughts, but she's been improving. Not sure how long I can keep this up. Even if I'm thinking exactly what she wants to hear, she won't hear it unless I let her.

On its back swing, the lamp hits another metal object. The chain breaks, and the light goes dark, but my troubles are far from over. Both the lampshade and the chain fall to the floor with the utmost violence. I am now cast in complete and utter darkness, left with the rain, my thoughts, and Nina.

Nice job.

"Cut it, and do not move."

I didn't plan on either.

As my ears stop ringing, I hear a scratching on the wall in front of my workstation. Not even a second later, the wall of cinder before me bursts open, throwing bricks and shrapnel everywhere. I can't help but reel back as the dust and wind drift over my eyes, fighting with one another for territory over my visual receptors. When I regain my composure and wipe the dust from my eyes, I feel something pressed up against my forehead, just to the left of my horn.

"Do not move muscle!" a voice barks in broken English, overpowering the downpour outside. In a way, it's oddly familiar, almost like I've only briefly heard it before. Not a doubt, it's female. The shrill beyond its vocal cords is just too recognizable. Through the several gaps in my home's poor walls, cold gales intrude. I look up at my attacker and scan her for weaknesses. She's covered from head to toe in snow gear, and a long, bushy head-tail flies out from the back of her concealing headwear. A hairstyle traditional to forest dwellers. I mean, really, who else would be wearing such a big coat around here?

The gun in her hand is one of my own. Now I remember her! I sold this short forest dweller a handgun last week. She seems taller because she's standing on my workbench. I almost laugh, but keep my composure.

"Khana, she has you pinned. I would suggest listening to her."

Oh really? No, I was hoping to get shot today.

Her eyes scan the room with what little light they've been given. Then I remember, forest dwellers can see in the dark. No, she doesn't need the light from the outside. She sees all of it. As they continue about the walls, her eyelids widen further and further. I keep my weapons mounted down here. I think she's seen the big one by now.

Despite her short height, I believe she's a bit older than me. A while back, I heard about a disease that certain people within my species have. It makes them short, and they grow a lot slower than the rest of us. We die when our muscles give out from too much weight. This means that say, a shorter person has a much easier time hopping around than a taller one. If we're taller, we're older. In her case, it might be a blessing. For anyone else, it's definitely a curse.

"Backing up. Now! Backing up!" She demands, forcing her weapon harder and harder against my head. Such aggression. First she practically destroys my house, then she screams at me?

"Fall on your back. Do it. Should give you more of a distance to throw-"

I know what it'd do, Nina. I'm not doing it.

"Why is this?"

Because I want to see where this is going.

She screams. "You what!?"

Hey, it's alright. I'll kill her eventually. Just want to see what she does.

"There are two of us up here, Khana. Remember that."

My feet shuffle backwards with as much control as I can give them. They're not meant to do this, really. Neither are they meant to walk. Hopping forward at high speeds is something my people excel at. Not much else, other than jumping. Oh, or kicking. I want to do some kicking.

"Back! Going faster!"

What's the deal with her English? Was she taught to speak under ground? I know those forest dwellers don't have what we have. Around where I live? We're the apex predators. The main land is a different story. Down there, people like her and I are on the very bottom of the food chain. Actually, she seems to be on the top in all places. I've never seen anyone move with such ferocity.

She hops off the table, now standing a good foot below my head. My attacker uses her facial horn---mounted just above her nose---to prod me further. Hers is actually really short. It isn't any taller than her head, while mine is that and then some. I'm surprised she can operate it so well. "Hey!" I exclaim. "There's no need to shove. I'm moving just fine."

Her eyes widen at me as she briefly pulls back. She then presses her gun harder against my head. "You are going faster now! Why does is deaf?"

I reverse-limbo my way to the very back of the room. Or at least, I try. The lamp that Nina had dropped causes me to fall on my back, tripping over the chain. She almost falls over with me as I grunt. However, instead of doing exactly that, it seems as though she forgets I'm even here. The crazed forest dweller steps over the lamp's chain with ease. Her eyes remain locked on something unseen, and her breath is like a steady hyperventilation. I know exactly what she's looking at, too. A newer weapon I've developed. The MG-550-60, rapid fire machine gun. The big one. Just this morning, it was completed and mounted upon my back wall. This one's a prototype, but it catches her gaze the same as it would for anyone else.

Her gun is lifted off my head and holstered, while I breathe a restrained sigh of relief. I thought she would kill me.

"I am certain she will. Kill her while you can, stupid fearless."

Once more, I ignore Nina. Her advice always has been and will continue to be useless to me. Reaching up, she grabs the weapon with both of her hands. One wraps around the trigger handle, while the other holds the top-mounted stability grip. The weapon is weighty in her little, yet muscular arms. Its six, black barrels glisten in the starlight, as does the intricately designed body. At first, the thief smiles, but then she frowns. "Is too heavy," she exclaims, just before throwing it to the ground. I watch in horror as my weapon, my baby falls to the floor with a clank. No clue if it broke, no clue if it still works, just worry, rising in my throat. Now I feel like listening to Nina on this one, but there's still that lingering instinct of curiosity. Whatever. I'm sure my wonderful MG-550-60 is alright. Maybe. She looks back to the wall, putting a hand on her chin.

My position on the ground is rather uncomfortable. I try to move, but the chain clanks against my efforts to stand back up. The thief unholsters her weapon and aims it at me. In response, my limbs clench, locking in place. Her breathing remains calm and nasal, as if she could just shoot me dead right here without any further hesitation. "Stop the moving! Now! You will stay on ground until time come."

Fine, have it your way. I drop to the floor, the chain further rattling against me. Not a very comfortable position, is it?

She slowly turns back to the rack and holsters her gun once more. This time, her hands rest on her hips. Almost like they're looking for something, the eyes in her skull scan the rack over and over and over again. I speak up. "You seem to have trouble picking."

Rather than turning her whole body to me, she just looks over. Her long head-tail swishes in the air with her needlessly rapid movements. She nods.

"I'd assume the authorities are already on their way? I've seen wanted posters up with your face on them. The name was something like Veran? Veran and a last name that starts with a V."

Again, she nods. "Is Veran Volkanov. I already know you. The Khana Morozov. The work that you do is of great goods."

"No it is not," Nina adds, fruitlessly.

I tilt my head to the side, smiling and running a hand through my hair. "Is it really? Do I have a fan?"

She shrugs, then goes back to the wall. Once more, I try to stand up. As if completely deaf, she doesn't bother with the rattling of the chain, or my upward stance. "You know, there's a certain type that's great for uh... your end of the market."

Her head flicks to where I was laying, then to where I'm standing with that same spastic nature. "How did you- erh- wh-which of gun is goodest one?"

"I believe it's called the D-U-48. There should be two of them." I would point, but I don't remember where I put it. That one in particular was made a while ago. One of my first models, and it sold well enough to keep me going.

The far right corner of the weapon rack catches her eye. At first, she walks directly under it. She looks up, then down. So confused. I just want to go over there and help. But of course, she'll kill me if I do. Her knees then bend in place before thrusting at the ground. Like that of a catapult, she launches herself up and reaches up at her target with arms fully extended. I assume that's where the weapon is. That's the problem with being short. Even if your body is made to jump as a form of locomotion, you still can't jump that high. Her attempts to grab it offer a little grunt with every bound. I try to hold back my laughter, but it's impossible. "W-would you like some help with that?" I ask, trying to break my chuckle.

Her gaze meets mine as she finally stops. Even in this awful lighting, the annoyance on her face is as bright as the noon-day star. Rather than actually responding, she scans the room once more, her eyes stopping on a nearby table. Rude. If she doesn't want my help, she should at least say so. In a series of rapid leaps and bounds, this Volkanov leaps onto the table, then up to the weapons rack, causing the table to violently fall to the ground under her force. One of the legs falls off. Dang it, I liked that table. From her second leap, she spins in the air, then lands on the weapons rack. The impact sends every weapon on the rack off its holster, falling to the ground with a percussion of metal clangs.

"Told you, loser," says Nina.

Shut up.

"Alright, that's enough." I hold a clenched fist by my head, and a fireball forms in my hand. Its light is cast upon the room, illuminating a terrified forest dweller, next to all my most prized creations.

Once again, Nina decides to butt in. "Finally using your power for good, huh?"

No, I'm using it for my own benefit. She's just a problem. A horridly clumsy problem.

This "Veran" as she's known, stands up in a submissive posture. "Hang! Hanging on!" She exclaims. I wait, my fire burning away. "The fall of weapon was accident, I do the swearing!"

A groan bursts from my lips. "You don't have to use English" My diction shifts to Deikan with the utmost ease. It's like turning off a light switch. During my time here in Materam Bay, I had to study both languages extensively. They're necessary for doing business, as my people are the only ones who use Deikan, while every other species uses some form of English. In a way, Deikan is a holy language. It was made by the same clerics to first discover the presence of Deika.

Her transition back to her native language is a bit more rushed. The words she speaks are slurred, as it seems she's at least tried to speak English for a long, long while. They tend to conflict with one another. "I-I fell acci-accidentally. I prr---omise."

The sound of her voice in my own language brings me great comfort, but I'm no less enraged. Deikan is softly spoken in comparison to English. English is like German, another human language, when contrasted with Deikan. Aggressive, and loud. I've read and heard German before, but I've never considered using it. There's really no need as it is. Nobody speaks it within the practicalities of the already-established English language.

Higher, I raise the ball of flame. As it grows, the wind that scrapes against it makes a sort of whooshing noise, similar to the noise of lightly blowing on a gas-powered stovetop. The intensifying light made by the ball dances on my walls in the most nauseating way. I swear it would make me sick, if not for the thief, taking all my attention. "Give me one reason why I shouldn't turn you to ashes," I demand in Deikan.

Veran actually manages to stand tall in the face of divine punishment. What? How? Every time I've done this, it's always ended with obedience. This time, however, is different.

Thunder claps outside, actually making me jump a little. On the other hand, she remains just as calm as she's been this entire time. As in, not calm at all, and needlessly angry at what I assume is nothing. Once again, she speaks in Deikan, her words soft. "I could offer you a position on my ship. We could sail back to the mainland, and leave this horrible ice-berg."

Hey, that ice-berg is my home. Despite the indirect insult, her offer is intriguing. A larger market lies on the mainland. I could sit on a boat and work in peace for the longest time. Paying for a firing range would be completely unnecessary. It would be silent, too! Nina has the worst time with constantly moving vehicles. Maybe I can make her go away for good if I keep her trapped in my mind.

"That will not work, you dope!" Ninetta shouts, as I expected she would.

Sorry, my fantasizations slipped, my dear Emanation. Why don't you stop talking and go back to your corner already?

No response. Good.

"Just give me a way to move my weapons, and you have a deal."

She stares at the storm, out into the rain. A flash breaks my insufficient fire lighting in a momentary streak of white light. Several seconds later, a second clap of thunder rings out. I don't jump this time. The light served plenty of warning. Veran glances at me as she starts to move. "Hang on. I will return soon. Stay here.."

I watch as the horridly short woman hops across my floor, up over my workstation, then out the hole she's blown in my wall. For a little while, I purge my fist of its light. The wind that accompanies the rain is actually managing to make me shiver. My hands reach down to the bottom of my coat, and they grab hold of the zipping mechanism in the almost pitch-black darkness. With a little finesse, it connects with the chain of metal teeth on the other half. That little mechanism flies along both rows of teeth, connecting them together as I yank it up to my neck.

Much better, but it's not enough. Rather than stuffing my fists in my pockets like a fearful wuss, I create a ball of fire and cast both of my hands into it. Its radiance is comfortable, while the last one was filled with anguish. I like this one a lot more. Considering she'll probably be a while, I have a seat on the cold, concrete floor. The fire emanating off my hands is able to heat the floor to a more tolerable temperature.

My ears twitch, catching a series of gunshots, the sound of wood being damaged, and people screaming. About five seconds later, a massive, empty, wooden cart is thrust into my home. Veran is riding inside it. I have to jump up and out of the way as it barrels down the hallway she's made. It hits one of the walls and goes sailing out over my workstation. Thank the Goddess it's untouched. Before reaching the back wall, the cart topples over, and so does its rider. However, she rolls to her feet, while the cart lays on its side. Veran quickly pushes the cart back on its two wheels, then stares to me as it falls to the floor with a bang. "Put your weapons and whatever else in here, and we'll soon depart."

"She is insane," says Nina.

She's great.

"Is that Mister Kuzetsov's cart?"

His fruit was illegally imported anyway.

"Yeah, but under law, there was no way to prove him of his crime, even though we all knew he was guilty."

Shut up, will you?

"Khana! It's time we start moving!" Veran shouts, running back and forth between the pile of weaponry and the now filling cart. She throws them in haphazardly, without a single care if they're broken. Instead of joining her in this reckless concert of metal clangs, I hop to my workstation. On the table are my notes and an open folder. Those notes have been scrawled across the desk, and a few of them have wet footprints ingrained on them, no doubt from Veran's dramatic entrance.

I pick up the folder and try to shuffle as many papers as I can inside. Beyond the walls of my home, I hear the sound of sirens blaring. No doubt in response to the commotion my intruder has caused on more than one occasion. "Yes, please wait! I must have my notes!" I bark in return. Once all the papers are loosely fitted into my folder, I stuff it in my coat, where it's nice and snug against my body. If it falls out, I'll know.

By the time I turn back around, Veran is behind the cart, and all my weapons are stashed sloppily inside. "Help me push!" She demands.

"You know I can hear you if you don't shout, right?" I ask, hopping up to the cart's back end and laying my hands on its tail gate. They grip the old wood with ease.

"Shut up and push," sha calmly asks, pausing for a moment after. "Is that better?"

"It is... adequate."

"Good!" She exclaims. "Er- good."

Both Veran and I push together. We put all our weight into our efforts, and with such force, the wheels begin to turn. I'm not used to pushing big, heavy objects around, but this isn't so bad. The cart rolls on past debris, all the way until it reaches the first open wall. Using the cart, we topple my workstation on its side. Just as I thought that it was brushed off to the side, a flipped table emerges from below the cart. I trip over it, falling off my feet and catching myself on the cart. My tail is sent skyward as my legs stretch out on the ground.

In the midst of my struggle, I can feel her smiling at me, holding back laughter. My head jerks up to her gaze, which she quickly throws away. I stare at her, narrowing my eyes with each passing second. The silence is deafening. "Quit laughing and help me up," I demand.

"Oh? So the robbed is ordering the robber around? Sir, that is not how this works," she snickers, this time staring directly at me. "And if the robbed wants to keep his belongings, and gain the respect of the robber, then he will learn to help himself up off the ground."

There's a fire burning in me. Emotionally, of course. Nina has always been there. If only she'd leave.

"Good luck with that," she adds.

This person. She has a certain way with words. A way that she wouldn't show when she spoke English. When she was angry. Then again, there's still an anger in her voice. It's like she knows how to hide her feelings. If she's calm, she'll display anger. If she's mad, she'll display a highly reserved slyness. Goddess, she was toying with me the whole damn time! She's like a lock, to which there is no key. I will make that key, for I'm an inventor. Metal has been my specialty since I first learned to speak. Metaphorically speaking, of course.

Without any further hesitation, I pull myself up to a flat-footed stance. She stares into me for a moment, then speaks. "And is the notable Khana alright? Has he bested his table?"

I don't respond. Her eyes are blood red. Not bloodshot, but her irises themselves are blood red. There's something different about her. She carries a sense of adventure that I'd never carried before. And now that I know her, now that she's broken the walls of my soul, I feel like I carry that sense too. I- I- Oh my. I want to go out and break into someone's home with her. I want to steal from the innocent by her side. I want to curb-stomp the skulls of all who disobey into oblivion, as she does the same.

"Veran?" I ask.

"Yes, Khana?" Those blood-red eyes blink. In the low light, I catch a similarly colored traditional paint on her fur. Hints of tribal patterns lie under her eyes, and another pattern sits atop her forehead. The rest is covered by her big, green coat.

"Where do you plan on going once I join your crew?"

"You'll have to figure that out after you survive the next part."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

She grabs the first weapon she sees off the pile in the cart, then examines it. Her bloody eyes roll over the weapon for a solid fifteen seconds before she looks back at me. Without saying anything else, she cocks it, then hops over the cart, out into the rain. Gunshot after gunshot rings out amongst the rolling thunder and the heavy downpour. Screams of innocent people, and the blaring sirens compound on one another, all caused by one person.

"Khana-..." Nina starts, but never finishes her thought.

What is it?

"You are becoming a monster."

That's what you think. Ninetta, I have this handled.

"Oh really?"

Yes, really.

"What is your plan?"

I start pushing the cart from the rubble that was several perfectly sturdy walls. Thankfully, there's no more tables in the way. Just bricks, pieces of wood, and maybe some drywall here and there. Wall stuff.

My plan is to keep ignoring you, and follow my own destiny.

"Do you know how stupid you sound right now?" She asks, almost shouting. For the first time in a while, her aggression makes my vision blur a little. A sign that I need to tighten my grip.

Nina...

My mind wills her into misery. It's hard to explain how, really. A simple process that every individual deemed fearless should know. If one doesn't know such a process, they might as well call themselves an Emanative slave. At my grip on her, Nina gasps in surprise, then groans in pain.

You will learn to shut your mouth. It would be in your best interest to listen to me, because I will never, ever listen to you. Do you understand?

It takes her a moment, which I generously give her. "You- I-" She groans again, as if starting to cry. "Fine, Khana. I under- I understand."

Chapter 4

A Speed Bump

"But here, in your mind- no... my mind, you can no longer simply will me into misery." Two spectral hands grab hold of my chapter, and all the pages inside start to burn away. Piece by piece, it turns to ashes. From beneath the dust emerges her face. Nina's mouthless skull. It would be so kickable if I could actually hit it without clumsily phasing through. Vee had tried that a while ago. "It does not work like that anymore, Khana! You are in here with me, not the other way around!"

The chapter she vaporized reappears on the shelf behind me. I have backups. "Come on, Nina! You made me lose my place. That's not very nice of you," I taunt.

Outside lies the burning hills, no doubt a result of her meddling. In an effort to extinguish mile after mile of burning forest and farmland, I brew a mental downpour. Given enough time, that should stop the flames.

"I do not mean to be nice. This is your punishment, Khana! This is your punishment for all that you have done! What do you not understand about that?" She snaps, floating directly above me.

I take a puff from my cigar, then tap the ashes into the nearby tray. "I understand. I understand completely. What you don't understand is that I don't care."

She huffs heavily, hyperventilating. Her fist rises into the air, and she brings it down into my head. For once, her hit actually makes physical contact. I recoil in response, and when I look back at her, my chair is gone, I'm standing up, and the environment has completely changed.

What was once my study is now a bustling town, full of people. They carry all these expensive riches with them, dressing themselves in treasures beyond average worth. A diverse range of species together in one place. Primitive humans, serpentine meluzina, alien shavii, feathered sirin, and those of my kind, setolvians. Despite being native to this world, they carry the least worth on the village streets. Some of them live out here, while others are busy trying their hardest to work three delivery jobs at the same time. Something about this place feels awfully familiar.

No longer does Ninetta float above me. In fact, she's nowhere to be seen. I call her name, standing out in the street and clad in my nightwear. A few people give me odd looks, but I pay my minders no mind. It's all a dream anyway. Speaking of which.

Bring me to my study, I think. However, my study never comes. I said bring me my study!

...

Nothing. Where is it? Where is Nina? If this is a dream, I should be able to manipulate it.

Fine. If this is her idea of punishment, I see nothing wrong with playing until the morning comes, or at least until I wake.

Looking around, various street vendors catch my eyes. Most of them are of human and Shavii descendance. A few meluz and Sirin stand out here and there, but not enough to concern me. Not a single Setolv works at a truly established business. They're all forest dwellers, I might add. The climate definitely suits them. It's nothing like my home climate, high up on the mountain. I'm really the black sheep here, despite being bleach white in fur color.

Beyond the crowd, I can hear the sounds of a nearby sea. The waves roll over one another in a succession that retains its rhythm constantly. Its clock is bound by nature itself, never to lose track, despite the moon's interference. Even though I can't see it, I can imagine it quite vividly. Again, another fault from my usual mentality. When I imagine places, they tend to form around me. That is not the case this time. It's as if this town has a grip on my mind that not even I can break. Rather, Ninetta holds that grip, and she's finally found a way to start working out.

Then it hits me. I know why I recognized this town. And if I don't have the power to manipulate my Emanation, there's no telling who does. Involuntarily, my legs start to shake. They start running on their own, hopping down the street, and away from the sounds of the sea. I agree with their mannerisms, pushing off the ground manually. I've never been the best runner, especially on concrete and without shoes. This is the fastest I've run in ages, for I know exactly what's coming.

The screams of the innocent fill the air behind me. Gunshots, sirens, panic, and hysteria. All of them overpower the sound of the tide.

Long ago, I learned the hard way that pain is very perceivable in my mind. I genuinely thought that wouldn't be the case, but I guess I thought wrong. The pain this can bring will be immeasurable. That's why I like reliving memories through text. If I tried that through a first person perspective, I'd be subjecting myself to utter misery.

My old bones in my old legs have a hard time carrying me down the street. With the concrete being wet, my feet slip again and again. I have to work twice as hard just to stay upright. If my tail would let me, I would've flipped backwards a while ago. Not voluntarily, of course. I'm not stupid.

The same section of buildings repeats itself over and over on both sides of the street. Soon enough, I'm the only one out here. Of course, ignoring one other entity. I can feel its heat beating relentlessly upon my back. For just a brief moment, I glance behind me. That oh so very morbid curiosity, wondering what will bring me a date worse than death. Not even the cat could be so curious.

A beast of pure flame, winged and gliding behind me. It's face resembles that of Nina and that of Deika. No mouth, no nose, just a pair of eyes sockets that are as bright as the stars above. In the very center of this beast lies the black silhouette of my younger self. I recognize him, because he is me. He drops orbs of bursting fire from his wings, like a jet carpet bombing an enemy encampment. Somehow, some way, I've managed to outrun it. By outrun, I mean I'm running just as fast as it, and it's still right behind me.

Just as I whip my gaze back around, something catches my feet, and I go flying forward. A block of ground, raised from the street for only one purpose. It's one of Nina's tricks, meant only to trip me as I stare death itself in the eyes. Damn it! The conniving wench!

I fall on my chest, scraping everything on my front side that isn't just barely protected by clothing. My body rolls over, and I fruitlessly cover my eyes from the blinding light above me. It seems to have halted, targeting me. With each flap of its wings, more and more heat is centered down on me. The ground shakes, and this beast's flames cycle through all their respective colors. Orange, to yellow, to blue, to white. Its wings envelop me, and the ground nor the town are no longer there.

The heat is unbearable. In its grip, I thrash around, but it's no use. Despite being held by a pair of seemingly gaseous wings, I don't think I can move at all. They singe my back and my tail, making me scream in agony as I'm cooked alive. Just as I start to think it can't be any worse, the black silhouette reaches up, then plunges a fist into my chest. It melts through my flesh, puncturing both of my lungs and throwing smoke into the air. No longer am I able to scream, or even breathe. The beast grabs at my heart, then violently rips it out. As my vision finally starts fading to black, it holds my heart in the air triumphantly. Given just a few more moments, and the organ pops, throwing smoke and boiling blood all over me.

I stare at it.

It stares into me.

I smile.

It can't.

The being evaporates, along with the silhouette inside it. My white void returns. Floating where the beast was, Ninetta folds her arms. Her efforts mean nothing to me. Slowly but surely, all my organs and charred skin return to their former glory. I take a deep breath, holding my smile at her. It's my dream, despite her control.

"So?" She asks.

"So what?" I ask back.

"Do you now know the pain you have brought unto thousands of innocent souls?"

I laugh. "I've known for a while."

Her body turns to fire, and she rises far above my head, hunching over me. "Do you know who you are dealing with!?" She screams.

My smile widens even further as I start to laugh. "A washed-up Emanation, who can't even keep her Fearless in check? Nina, you're nothing."

"I am not Nina!"

The words hit my brain like a brick. Several concussions ring throughout. If this isn't Nina, then who is it? Rather than the blood red form I'm used to, her flames change hue to orange, and her "clothing" stretches into more of a skirt, covering her entire form, down to her long, gloved hands. Her hair bursts into a roaring blaze. Surely, this isn't Nina bluffing me. This is someone else. No, something else. I try to back away, only to end up tripping over my tail and falling backward.

"Khana, you are on trial here!" It shouts. "We are no longer in your mind. You are in mine. Here, my eyes have bore witness to everything you have done. Everything everyone has ever done. As of right now, the only one occupying your body is Ninetta, who I believe deserves a little revenge after all the atrocities you have committed unto her." In backing away for a moment, this tremendous beast of flame folds her arms, still looking down upon me as if I am dirt. I feel like dirt, and yet less than. "That poor girl, confined to the tortuous mind of some old goat like you!" The eyes on its face shut for a moment, then re-open as it leans down at me once again. "Your actions have consequences, Khana!"

Sweat coats my brow. Dream sweat, but not my dream sweat. My elbows shudder on the ground, finding it hard to keep my body propped up under such mental pressure. "Who- who are you?"

The fire rises high into the void, towering off this thing's head. "I am Deika, your Goddess!" It forces the smell of burning wood into my lungs. There isn't any wood to burn. The scent is created by her mere presence, it seems. "But who I am does not matter. What matters is what you have done."

I wipe the sweat from my brow, then lean back on my hands in a more relaxed position. "Ma'am, I assure you that I've done nothing wrong."

"Do not test me, Khana!" She bellows again. Slowly, the environment around me starts to shift away from the white void. It fades into what looks to be a construction site. A very familiar one at that. This is one of those towers the Grand Vizier built not long ago. Vee's scout and an old friend of mine, Yoll was supposed to investigate them, but he never returned. Had to leave his son with us. Mira. A good little boy, despite his heart problems. He tries, he really does. I taught him everything he knows about invention. All he asked Veran about hunting and fighting was met with reluctant teachings and hesitations. She didn't want him to hurt himself. If only she'd treat Natascha like that. Little Mira became a sort of brother to our Natascha, even though he's technically her cousin. Sometimes, she was a bit too rough with the boy, but he's doing just fine with it. We've been trying to find Yoll for a long, long time. His wife and my sister, Rada, lives with us currently. The monastery in which Veran and I live has the potential to accompany many, but rarely does it take that role. She cares for Mira as much as she can, and she's pretty good at it. Before Mira, she raised nine children, all with similar birth defects. Yoll's family is known for that. Even he had them. Still, nothing metal prosthetics couldn't fix. Thus his last name, Stalin, meaning "Made of steel". She doesn't like Vee, but they get along well enough to cooperate. Both of them agree that Mira should not be asking Veran about how to properly hurt someone as much as possible without killing them. He just won't stop.

"You have no idea what you have caused." Workers around myself and Deika hobble around with equipment in their hands. Machinery operates tirelessly to assemble this skeleton of a spire. Floating in the center of this site is what looks to be an emanation, similar in build to The Goddess and Nina. Except this one is a male, hued in purple. His eyes glow white, and they survey all these workers. "Do you see him, fearless?" Deika points to the deep, deep purple emanation.

I rise from the ground, dusting myself off. Dream dust. My old muscles shake and shiver on their own, but I can still stand alright enough. "I do."

"That is the Vizier."

Really? No one that I know has ever seen him before. Personally, I was sure his presence was a mere hoax, made up by Deikan radicals. The legends are true. "How could that be the Vizier? He's so small." Of average size for an emanation. Nina is at least a foot taller than him.

"Yes, Fearless, but his mind is not." Her straight point turns into a lightly outstretched hand, gracefully gesturing towards him as she speaks. "The crimes you have committed caused his reign." I look up at her, speechless. "I created him not long ago. You had gone too far. Now, I regret it, but you had to be stopped."

I smile, laughing at her foolishness. "Something tells me it didn't work."

"Now is not the time to toy with me!" She completely snaps. Like waves of leaking natural gas, I see her form create heat distortions in the air. It's sort of a second aura, opposed to just the flames.

She doesn't scare me. Though it's been quite a while, I've met with her before, and from experience, I know she's not the sort of person to send her subjects to damnation based on solely back-talk. Though when she wants to teach a lesson, she has the tendency to be cryptic, and reluctant to show herself completely. This time is different. "Sounds to me like you're trying to correct a mistake you made, not just mine."

"Khana, I will end you." Her blazing face meets with mine as she bends down. "I mean it."

From her heat, the tips of my hairs are starting to turn black. Not that it applies in the real world, but it still hurts. "Fine. Say what you need to say. My lips are sealed."

She narrows her stare at me. However, my word is taken, and she rises back to her normal posture. "I created the Vizier because you could not be stopped." Once again, her hand stretches out toward the Vizier, as she says he is. I still don't think this is real. It's not, because it's a dream, but that's beside the point. This couldn't be a memory of the Goddess herself. Another one of Nina's tricks. Then that begs the question, why am I unable to fight her? Goddess, there has to be a way out of this.

She turns to me again, away from the vizier. "You addressed me?"

Oh- oh my... "I- uh-"

"As I expected. Now listen, will you?" Deika takes a deep breath, then turns back around. This time, I am fully attentive. It's real. I am where she says I am, and she is who she says she is. Never before have I been more afraid for my life. "I sent him here with a goal in mind. To quell the Fearless any way he could. And so, he did."

Time itself seems to speed up, all the way until the tower is completely built. Deika and I now stand in a big hall-like room. It's circular, and its floor is lined with granite. "He built a following, and from that following, he built his army, and from that army, he built his empire. Once the first tower was finished, he never left its confines again." She looks back to me. "At first, it seemed promising. People were flocking into his cities, which he called 'containment facilities', each given a numerical specification. They were advertised as a way to escape the wilds, and rest in safety and in luxury."

All of a sudden, sirens screech to life, and the lights on the ceiling flash red. An alarm system. I never thought I'd see him again, but Yoll comes running through the big front door, a shotgun in his hands. My old friend scans the room for targets, and finds them in a squad of troopers walking through one of the many interconnected halls inside this facility. Indiscriminately, he opens fire, even though they are unarmed soldiers, probably returning to their positions from a scheduled break. His cunning, his skill, it's overwhelming. I'd expect nothing less from someone who works under Vee's command. The first shots ring out, and a good three workers fall limp, their insides gushing to become outsides through the holes this maniac has punched. Meanwhile, Yoll thumbs in shell after shell after shell, firing rapidly at the now scrambling troopers. Those he can't shoot are engaged in the fierce melee he serves them. One of his kicks is able to break a certain trooper's neck on the first attempt.

Their blood paints the floor, as well as their killer's face. Yoll stops to completely refill his firearm before continuing on. "Intruder alert! Lockdown initiated in foyer T-2!" A voice blares over the sound of droning sirens. With a violent slam, every one of the exits are sealed with metal shutters.

Yoll himself can't help but worry as some piece of machinery lowers itself from the ceiling. He's trapped. Before he even has the chance to run, the machine fires an electrified net at him. Yoll, this once proud warrior, collapses to the ground, screaming as his muscles spasm uncontrollably. Now I know. I know why he hasn't returned. The poor man. Just following Vee's orders, and now he's gone. Whatever the Vizier has done to him over these years, it's too late now. My guess is he's dead. Feasibly, I can't see any other outcome.

The Goddess breaks my train of thought in continuing her narration. "Then he closed the walls of each city after a certain... incident. People were not happy. Those in his army had no choice but to listen. The Vizier stated that he was still operating under my influence, when he obviously was not." Time accelerates again. The lights return to normal, and what used to be a front desk has now been cleared away for empty space. A group of soldiers now walks in through the front gates. They march perfectly in tune with one another, assembled of one species alone. Humans. Then a squadron of Setolvians follow behind them, but something is off. Their coats are gray, and they wear no shoes on this slippery floor. Even more concerning, every one of their facial horns is short. Not entirely unlike Vee's, but that's a birth defect. This looks more like genetics.

"Let us pause here." The scene stops entirely, frozen in time at Deika's command. She floats toward the group of setolvians. I follow close behind, waiting for her to elaborate. "Do you see these members of your kind, if you could still call them that?"

I nod.

Deika yanks off one of their helmets with her flaming hands. Usually, in memories, if a feature is concealed by clothing, taking it off will result in distortion. However, this thing's face is clearly visible. "These are a subspecies that rose up after the Vizier's rule. They are known as urban dwellers..." She pauses for a while, tossing the helmet aside. "Come a little closer, Khana. I want you to see what you have done."

On feet that were not made for such an action, I shuffle forward, coming face-to-face with the dweller in question.

"They are like you, but not. The fur they bear is short, and their eyes cannot see much without a street-light to accompany them. Their legs are more comparable to twigs than the catapults you and your brethren had been granted." Her hands run along his face, and down his form, thoroughly examining every last bit. "Oh, and look at this horn." She places her hand on the ivory spike, which sits just above his nose. "Disappointing, yes?"

I nod again.

"Khana, even their runners have changed." Deika bends down and picks up one of the soldier's feet. "His paw pads? They are made of rubber, suited only for an environment of concrete and smooth stone. To keep them from growing out too far, he must run eight miles on a daily basis, or risk his an imbalance in his stance." She takes another deep breath on her way back up, meeting my gaze once again from several feet above my head. "Do you now see what you have done?"

What I've done? I did none of this. It was her. All her. A knee-jerk reaction to my meddlings in the mortal realm. Still, there's that burning feeling. The thought that I may suffer eternal damnation if I do not please her. "My Goddess, I am sorry, for I do not see what I have done to bring these poor souls such pain."

"AAARGH!" She roars, her form billowing, and the tower falling around us. It just turns to dust, and the dust turns to atoms, and the atoms turn to nothing before they even hit me. Deika bellows with what seems to be three voices at once, rattling the ground beneath my feet. "Khana, if you were as blind as you are acting now, you never would have committed such crimes!"

In a rare lapse of reason, I stutter out my next sentence. She's just too much. "I- I- I'm sorry!" I feel the need to yell over her thunderous vocals. "But nothing- But I- I don't know!"

"Then the blind shall see!"

Chapter 5

The Perfect Rhythm of Terror

It's all black. I can't feel anything. Not even my hands. If I could, I'd reach for my face and slap myself, just to feel something. As hard as I may try, there is nothing. My eyes could blink, but how would I tell? There are no eyelids, nor eyes. No mind to think, yet I still think. What the hell is going on? Where's Deika? Where did all of it go?

After an impassable amount of time, dots appear in the void. White dots of varying sizes and brightnesses. Some of them shimmer, while others remain stationary. They form big clusters, like that of the night sky. Stars. Comets roar across this never-ending expanse. I want to follow them, but I do not have a neck with which I can do so. Ignoring the lack of free will, it's easy to appreciate the vastness of it all. That which lies beyond is full of life and death. Lots and lots of death. Regardless, more death than I've caused. Whatever it is that Deika wants to show me, it's not working.

Once more, out of the black appears a figure. Not a person-sort-of-figure, but a familiar little ball. A lonely dwarf-planet orbiting a small, red star. The star is almost the size of the planet itself, yet they both stay at considerable distances from one another. Setolvia and E. Setolvia's body lies on the black expanse like a marble, which has been haphazardly cast in its mold. The northern hemisphere is almost all ocean with a cluster of ice at the pole. My older home. The continent on which I grew into a man. Setolvia's great ice-berg. Then, surrounding the southern pole is everything else. All the land. The real land. Not some ice, which is only stationary because it's frozen all the way to the ocean's bottom.

Surprisingly, this Setolvia bears no towers. A time before the Vizier. As I am forced to stare, a small light breaks out near the great ice-berg. It shimmers bright while the planet rotates away from E, shining in the night. I haven't seen a map in a while, but I'm certain that's Materam Bay, my old village.

Mere seconds pass, and another orange light flares up on the southern continent. It expands further and further, then dwindles. But as such, two more spring up next to the outage. They expand, then four more. All of these lights leave behind a blackened surface, contaminating the greenery. Large settlements are enveloped in the light, never to be seen again. The four turn to eight, and the eight turn to sixteen. Setolvia's lonely moon, Lazarus, named for the legend behind its odd surface structure, turns to black out the light of E. While the dust and rock on its exterior is purple, there's a big, black star that lies in the center, always facing setolvia. In the midst of the eclipse, its purple surface turns a bleach white, and the black star's blackness intensifies. I don't even think such a color is possible without some bends in reality itself.

Legend has it that Lazaron, the God of death, lives in the moon. He is Deika's immortal enemy. Constantly, they fight with one another. Her heavenly armies fight his horde of Blackstar for eternity, and his Blackstar fight back in turn. They never end. Long ago, this legend became more factual than my ancestors initially assumed. The Blackstar are real, and they do work for Lazaron. At night, and under the cover of rain, they roam the planet as a force of death. Any soul they kill is added to their numbers, lost as a slave to Lazaron's power. It was the first purpose of the Fearless. The Blackstar hate the light, so we burn them. Our job is to keep the living alive and the dead down. The Blackstar is the dead that won't stay down. This all gave rise to a certain ritual in setolvian culture. It's been around since before the Shavii, the Humans, the Sirin, or the Meluz came about. When someone dies, we burn their body and take their horn in remembrance of their good deeds. I see now that I have burned many bodies, but never have I taken their horns.

The fire spreads further and further, and the black star grows bigger and bigger. More than half the continent is covered in fire or ash. It won't stop. Why won't it stop!? A tower springs up out of the ashes. They're known for being visible from space, as well as miles around. Then another, and another. The fires are quelled, and the greenery starts to regrow, yet the towns that were once the source of the flames do not. Two more great spikes of tinted metal rise from the ground, and as the planet makes one more rotation, it comes in perfect alignment with Lazaron's lunar star. The once black and starry sky fills out in complete white, and after, it's just the star. Setolvia no longer rotates. E no longer exists.

"Do you now see what you have done?"

Yes, my Goddess, I do.

"Do you see what this will bring?"

Yes, my Goddess, I do.

"Do you know why I am doing this?"

Yes, my Goddess, I do.

"Do you believe you are guilty of your crimes?"

Yes, my Goddess, I do.

"Then your punishment will not go without understanding."

Goddess?

"Hm?"

Have mercy.

And just like that, I wake. I wake in a horribly cold sweat. My door is open. Veran isn't there. Light of mid-day shines in, illuminating the room and my sad, sad self.

Nina?

No response.

Nina!?

Nothing.

She's gone.

I mean, if that's it for my punishment, I think I'll be-

Bang!

Gunshots, across the house. They don't belong to any weapon of mine. I know the sounds of my craftsmanship by heart. These were made...

Bang! Bang!

...On an assembly line. Artificial creations, made without passion.

I thrust myself off my bed, throwing the covers away. No time to change into combat gear. Judging by the sound, they should be right down the hall. Slowly, quietly, I shuffle to the door and peek my head outside. There they are. Two troops, belonging to the Vizier. They both wear spherical, black helmets with mirrored visors. Below that is jackets of toughened combat gear. Bullet-proof vests and whatnot. The one on the left carries a machine gun, while the right holds a handgun. Their heavy boots stomp on the floor, shaking my home at its foundation.

Out of pure instinct, I raise a quick fist into the air and throw it at them. Nothing. No fire. It's gone with Ninetta. Shit, shit! They both fire my way, and I back up into my room. The shots hit the other side of my gaping door frame, tearing the ancient wood to shreds. I have to act fast! Uh- uh- shit, shit! Uh. I scan the room relentlessly. There's something. There has to be something. There it is! They stop on Vee's handgun. It's fully loaded, eight rounds in the clip, and one in the chamber.

Off the dresser, I grab it, then disable the safety. With a click, it's cocked, loaded, and ready for action. "Come and get me" I whisper, silently shuffling up to the left side of the door. Since my room is on the left, the one carrying the machine gun will likely be the first to peek through. When I paint my ceiling with his brain, it's likely that the other one will back off. Perfect. All I need to do now is wait.

The stomps come closer, and closer, and closer. My heart beat is in sync with them. A perfect rhythm of terror. Veran says she lives for these moments. Honestly, I'm not sure how she still exists at this point. Speaking of my Vee still existing, where is she? She's not in bed with me, and the door was wide open. Wherever she is, I hope it's a safe place.

The second I see the machine gun's muzzle pass my door frame, I grab the grip and shove Vee's gun into the chin of the intruder holding it. His strength may surpass mine, but I still have that little element of surprise. I pump the trigger three times in his head, all before he even has the chance to shake out of my grab. Just as I predicted it would, his head spatters all over the place. Some on my face, some on the second intruder's face, much more on the ceiling. Blood and yellow spinal fluid practically rains from his body. The now headless machine-gunner falls into my left arm, allowing me to use the body as a shield against my second attacker. I raise my weapon at the one toting the handgun. His jaw hangs agape, his very soul latent with fear.

It's a standoff, but not really. One shot above his top lip sends him to the ground, writhing. Not as messy as I'd hoped, but it's still smart to conserve ammo when I can. Even knowing the Vizier as little as I do, there's probably more of those troops around here. Poor Vee. I hope she's handling herself well. And what of Natascha!? Dropping the body, I actually start to sweat. Veran? She'd be fine. Natascha though? Not so much. What of Rada and Mira? Rada herself has never been too oriented towards combat, unlike her husband, Yoll.

In a panic that I'll never be used to, I hop down the hall at sprinting speed. There should be four shots left in the clip. That better be enough. I'm banking on it.

The staircase offers some difficulty. There's no reason why this home should be combat-oriented. It's not. Especially when it comes to Setolvians. We don't do well going down stairs. Trying to go down multiple steps at once is a solution that comes to mind. However, it's also a mistake. On my first try, I stumble, hitting my chin on the stairs, then flipping around, landing on my back and "rolling" the rest of the way. It's more bouncing in a vertical circle than it is rolling.

I fall out into the main hall, but quickly return to my feet, despite all the bruises, and a broken tooth. Once I manage to shake off the dizziness, the sight before me is near impossible for me to imagine otherwise. Veran, sitting in a corner, her legs bent and broken in ways that make me want to vomit. She's crawling on the floor, moving towards what lies at the end of the hall. A drop ship, part of the Vizier's army. Two troopers drag someone behind them. A small someone. A someone I know. Mira.

I raise my weapon to shoot, but then I see Rada run past me. She holds no weapon, yet charges anyway. Motherly instincts or not, she's ready for a brawl. With just three bounds, she clears the entire main hall, then opens her arms to tackle one of the troopers to the ground. The trooper's gun is dropped, and a fist-fight ensues. Her clawing, scratching, and kicking versus his lowly struggling. Painting her once white-coated body in his blood, she kills him quickly and painfully.

Mira runs away into some far-off room, taking the opportunity to flee while the last trooper is distracted. He fires upon Rada without relent, and as she's riddled with holes, I raise my weapon to do the same to him. "Rada!" I shout, unloading into the trooper from all the way across the main hall. As she goes limp, he does the same. I'm about to rush over and help both of them up when that dreadful thought crosses my mind. Where's Natascha?

Then I see her. Standing at the back of the drop ship with restraints all around her body. Next to her is... No way... It's Yoll! I sprint for the exit, where the drop-ship lies. My gun is empty. Even if it was full, I don't want to risk hitting my little girl. I drop it, passing Rada. "Natascha!" I scream.

"Dad!" She screams back, reaching for me, yet unable to move.

The ship starts to rise off the ground, and I put all my weight into each of my jumps. Come on! Come on! I have to go faster! The Drop-ship's back hatch starts to close. Go! Fucking go! I run out the front door, then make one final leap. Come on!

My head collides with the ship's door.

I bounce off.

I fall to the ground, tears in my eyes. She's gone.

"Is this your idea of punishment, Deika?" I ask to no one. "Is this what you've done to bring the giant down?" There's an answer, at least I hope there would be. Somewhere, there's bound to be an answer, but I still can't hear it. "Tell me, you horrible piece of divine waste!" Right there, I break down on my front steps. The tears in my eyes wash away the blood that lies under them, yet it's not enough to cleanse my body of the wrong it has committed.

Chapter 6

One Week Later

I stand by her chair, where she's been sitting for the last three hours. Never has she been used to such prolonged stillness. Neither am I, honestly. My right hand rests on her shoulder, while she holds my left with both of hers. Goddess, she looks miserable. "Alright, Vee. I need you to try standing up for me."

She grips my hand very tightly, babbling in deikan. "But, my Khana, I don't know if it's okay. Please, just let me sit a little longer." Her eyes are like that of a child. A child who's lost her ability to walk. Even when she's injured, her persuasiveness is overwhelming.

"No. You want to run again, don't you?" But what she doesn't realize is that I've been practicing this skill, too. Now I won't be so submissive to her manipulative dominance. "When you're better, you'll run so much that I'll have to make you my little runner." I hold her back, pulling her arms gently in an attempt to orient Vee on her still-fragile legs. She hasn't really been this fragile before. With the way she conducts her line of work, any other woman would be dead in her shoes.

"Mmmmnh... Hey, hey, easy now. Not too fast... Ah! I said not too fast!" My Vee almost breaks her grip. I'm guessing she would've tried to clock me in the side of my head. Fruitlessly, of course. Gravity would bring her back down to the chair, or possibly the ground. Her muscular arms shake on my hand.

Most of my people would consider their lives over after their legs are broken. Those in my care are not most people. I've taken it upon myself to make some legs. Working with Vee for as long as I've bothered has forced me to learn how to replace bones. Never has she broken her legs, but one incident in particular forced me to give one of her arms an entirely new bone structure. She's not robotic, like Mira, but a lot of her bones are synthetic. Now both of her legs have joined that non-biological nature. Thankfully, her feet weren't damaged. Replacing toes is a very, very delicate process. Put the wrong piece in the wrong place, and it's ruined forever.

My Vee is stitched together from the waist down. That means no hardcore physical activity for the next three months, no hopping without supervision for the next two weeks, no hopping in general for the next three days, and no standing without a hand on me until further notice. Basically, no fun in general. Not that we're in the mood for fun of any kind. It's just nice to have something to take our minds off Natascha and Rada. With my lack of power and my age finally catching up, there's no chance of me seeing my daughter for a very long time.

Finally standing on her feet, Veran refuses to bend her knees, which makes her tail strain to keep her on solid ground. Her arms and her neck are quivering, because her legs have no means to do the same. I feel so sorry for her, really, I do. Nobody should be subjected to such horrible pain. Not even Veran. If neither of us were so greedy, we would have begged for death last week. We would be begging for death at this very moment.

"Words cannot describe how much I want to rip your head off right now," Veran mumbles through her gritted teeth. It pains me to see her this way.

"We're doing it for your health, Vee." I pause for a moment, thinking about something to take her mind off her legs. When I find the topic I want, I give her a smile. "Hey, why don't you try and speak English anymore?"

She frowns. Not that she wasn't already in a constant frown. "For Natascha. To try and be involved in her first language." My Vee sniffles, then buries her face on my shoulder. Her horn impacts hard on my bone. I almost wince, but just barely manage to hold out and comfort her. "And now that she is gone, I have no one to speak for."

This poor, broken mother uses my coat to soak her tears. Supporting her isn't easy, but I give my best effort, putting my arms underneath hers and carrying as much as I can. "Shush, my Vee. It will be alright. We are not the only ones suffering." She looks up at me, her eyes redder than usual. The liquid inside them pours down her face. It's so hard to reason with a face like that. "Mira's feet fall on our shoulders now. It is our job to care for him the way Yoll and Rada would have."

"I do not think I can take care of another child." Veran hugs me tighter, her hands slung over my shoulders. "Not after losing Natascha. She was the child we named together. How do you think I would feel if we lost a child we did not name?" The naming of a child is done in the form of a grand ceremony, long after the child is born and able to walk. It's just as important to me as it is my Vee. "What if we lose him the same way we lost her?"

"That will not happen."

She bares her teeth at me, squinting in anger. "How can you be so sure of yourself!?"

Before the two of us can continue with our petty arguments, someone knocks on the door. I look at Vee. All her anger has flown away at this one minor distraction. My eyes shift back to the door. There's no easy way to put her down. "Come in!"

Mira slides the door open. His delicate hand jitters on the handle, like saying "help me" without even speaking. I want to help him, but putting Vee down would be fruitless at the moment. He needs to handle it himself anyway. The boy's voice comes out in a squeak. He definitely has that meek Steel voice. "Uncle Khana?" he asks. "Mom and I used to pray before bed. Is-" a sniffle runs through his nose. "Is it okay if I pray with you and Aunty Vee?"

I look at Veran, and she gazes up at me. My woman frowns, as if annoyed by the request. "You are carrying me," she says, bluntly.

"Fine," I reply, quickly shifting a hand behind her back. She rests in the pit of my forearm and my bicep. The area under her plush rump acts as a perfect place for me to bring her legs up off the ground. My eyes meet hers, and I ask that all-too-important question. "Is this alright?"

She smiles back at me. "It is so much better." Her legs stretch out in the air. The two catapults that keep her upright, undergoing maintenance is all. They'll be up and running in no time, but it'll still feel like ages to her. Then all her complaining will make it feel like an eternity for me. It's alright though. I'm willing to fight time itself for my Vee, the very last woman in my life.

"I am glad to hear your approval."

By the time I turn towards the door, Mira is gone. He probably went to the shrine already. That sculpture. That beautiful sculpture. It's all that's left to remind me of the ones we'd lost on that fateful day. All those memories play over and over in my head, like a broken record. If I could forget, I would. The way I'd treated Nina, the greed in my heart, the way Vee took me in her arms and said "let's sail the seas, pilfering from the weak. We will trample their graves, and with your power, we will burn any remnants to the ground." One amplified the other.

With my wife in my arms, I slowly shuffle out the door. There's a need to be extra careful with her. Any accidents could set us back another few days. Her thick, muscular tail drapes along the ground. My feet are extra weary of its presence.

The stairs beckon me. Those same stairs I'd fallen down at the start of all this. May I never fall again. Movement down these steps is slow and sluggish, both feet on one step at a time. I'm used to an even ratio of feet to stairs, but this is alright for now. I'm sure Vee doesn't mind me taking my time. With the more time I take, the more time she's given to rest her legs. She needs all the time in the world. "My Khana?" she asks.

"Hm?" I return.

"When this is over, will you help me find Natascha?"

The words rattle on and on in my mind. All the thoughts of days prior go away, as there is now only one goal to achieve. Find Natascha. "Of course I will."

With her arms around my neck, she reaches up and clonks her horn into mine. A gesture of affection on both sides of our split culture. She then returns back to her lying position in my arms. "Thank you, my Khana."

As we reach the bottom of the stairs, I see Mira, already knelt in front of the shrine. He looks so diligent down there. Whatever he's saying, it's between him and Deika, and I have no right to intervene.

In order for Veran to worship in front of the shrine, I have to set her up on a structure, which was built just for her in this time of need. It's a sort of cushioned bench, where she may kneel. Said bench sits on Mira's left side. To allow for Vee's participation, I quietly bring her to the cushioned aid, first setting her knees upon the bottom piece, then allowing her to rest her elbows on the top piece.

Once I've made sure she's perfectly situated, I move to Mira's right, then kneel on the floor, my hands upward in prayer. These old bones are rickedy, but they're still physically fit enough to pray to their Goddess. In front of me stands her perfect, golden grace. All her features shimmer in the eternal fires burning next to her. The fires symbolize her, and she symbolizes them. Interchangeably, they sway in the wind that intrudes through this open-air monastery.

My goddess, your punishment has brutalized me. Rather, it has taken the brutality from my stony heart. Now life feels lifeless. For the past week, I have silently wished for death, but on this day, I realize that even asking for release from this mortal plain is greedy. Such greed is no longer of tolerance. Not mine, nor yours. You may send me to limbo when I die. I deserve it. I was never a good fearless. I did not keep the living alive, nor the dead down. I did not follow your will. It would have been the least I could do, and yet, for the power you had given me, I was not worthy. It brings me great joy that you did not take my Vee, and if I were to die, it would put both her and Mira's life in a state of disrepair. That would be too greedy of me. I beg you for forgiveness in this hour of need. Never to return my power, but to keep me alive for the sake of those which I care. To punish me no further, as you have already taken so much. For the rest of my days, I shall follow your will.

[Insert final page with art of Khana, standing at the front door of his monastery, and looking out above the clouds at one of the Vizier's distant towers]

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