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Agony. Torture. Crippling, unending pain.

The past months had been a waking nightmare for Maiya.

She thought she had it under control. While the pressure she’d felt upon assuming the mantle of the Blessed Chosen was unlike anything she’d experienced, Maiya was no stranger to pain.

The pain would subside, eventually. She merely had to tough it out like she always had. Or so she’d naively thought.

Days passed, and yet the pain did not subside. Instead, it grew and grew, seeping into her. For this was no physical change. It was something deeper. Something that touched at the very core of her being.

And she’d been utterly unprepared to deal with it. The situation had worsened to where even the Children had grown concerned. This was not a normal reaction, they said. Something was amiss.

Yet instead of seeking help, they prayed, believing Maiya’s issues to be a sign of strength. A testament to the great power the Hallowed Prana Swarm was bestowing unto her.

If only they knew the truth.

Mind polluted with the fog of pain and stress, Maiya had sealed herself in her chambers. She’d lost her appetite and had stopped eating entirely as of late.

Her muscles, once well-toned and hard, had atrophied, leaving her weak and barely conscious.

Maiya slept more and more these days, feeling her life slip slowly away. When Cirayus finally called to check in on her, it was far too late. She was so weak that she could no longer even hoist herself out of bed to pick up the orb.

Maiya couldn’t recall a single time in her life when she’d felt this horrible.

I’m going to die… Aren’t I? Maiya thought, wiping the sweat from her brow. The fever had persisted for a week now, and showed no signs of abating.

When the Communication Orb flared to life, Maiya barely registered it. A voice full of concern came through.

Cirayus again, asking for her. Maiya wanted nothing more than to tell him of her pathetic situation, if only to have someone to talk to. How many times had it been? She’d lost count. She was sure the orb would lose its charge soon, and then it would be too late.

And then a new voice sounded.

“Maiya?”

Maiya’s heart skipped a beat. She knew that voice. It was dear to her. So terribly dear.

"Vir…” She rasped through her parched throat.

As if possessed by some almighty force, she rose from her bed… And immediately crumpled on the cold stone floor. Pain wracked her body. Her bones throbbed in protest. But Maiya was undeterred.

Her body might’ve withered, and her muscles may have atrophied, but in this one moment of clarity, her mind functioned.

Undaunted, Maiya drove every shred of her willpower into forward motion, putting one arm in front of another to haul herself across the room. The effort left her dazed and her vision darkened.

She slowed.

Less than a pace away, Maiya’s body finally failed her. She couldn’t go on any longer.

“Maiya, if you’re there… Please. Please answer me!”

Vir sounded so desperate. So worried.

This voice struck something deep within her. If only for one final time, Maiya wished to hear that voice again.

She extended her arm, reaching as far as she could. Her fingers stretched…. And wrapped around the orb.

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“Maiya! Are you there?” Vir shouted through the orb.

“It’s no use, lad,” Cirayus said as he bounded across Chitran territory toward Panav. There was no time to be lost, and while Maiya’s lack of communication sickened them both, there was no choice.

They’d decided that, while Vir could easily keep pace, there was no need for both of them to burn prana uselessly. He rode atop the giant’s right shoulder, like he’d done long ago within the Ash. Shan alternated between riding on Cirayus’ left shoulder and running beside them.

“The last we talked was months ago,” Cirayus said. “She’d been preparing to battle the Blessed Chosen, and after that, nothing.”

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“Something went wrong,” Vir said heavily.

“Perhaps. Or it could simply be that her orb malfunctioned or broke. Or perhaps Maiya’s duties took her away for a time, much like yours did.”

“She’d have said something,” Vir replied. “She’d have told you what was happening. If she couldn’t, it means something unexpected has transpired. Something terrible.”

“We shouldn’t jump to conclusions, lad. I say we keep trying.”

“And if that doesn’t work? What do we do then?” Vir asked, at his wits end. “I should go back for her.”

“It’s impossible, lad. You know this.”

“Not impossible,” Vir said. “Not anymore. I can stabilize Ash Tears now. I can make Gates, Cirayus. The Ashen Realm is no longer the unnavigable wasteland it once was. It doesn’t need to be.”

“I’m telling you, lad, you can’t just—sorry?” Cirayus came to a jarring halt. “What did you just say?”

Cirayus froze, comprehension slowly dawning.

“I said—”

“Vir…”

A feeble voice from the orb silenced Vir’s words, and both pairs of eyes locked onto the orb.

“Maiya!” Vir said, grabbing the orb. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

From her voice alone, Vir could tell she was weak, but it was her next words that caused his worry to balloon into full-blown panic.

“It’s… not looking good.”

Vir locked eyes with Cirayus, their expressions grim. For Maiya, of all people, to say this, she truly must’ve been in mortal peril.

And here he was, realms away, unable to lift a finger to help. Vir’s heart raced, and it felt like the weight of a mountain crushed his shoulders.

“Save your breath, lass,” Cirayus said, starting to bound again, albeit at a slower pace. “Tell us only what we need to know. What ails you?”

“Not eaten in forever. My fault,” Maiya said, chuckling feebly, which turned into a hacking cough. “Not the issue. It’s the pressure, Cirayus. Can’t take it anymore. The weight of their souls. Everyone.”

Cirayus frowned. “You speak of the link of the Blessed Chosen? With the other Children of Ash?”

“What’s she talking about?” Vir asked, mind racing to comprehend their discussion. He cursed himself for allowing himself to be gone for so long. There was so much he’d missed. So much he didn’t know.

“Months ago, Maiya mentioned the Blessed Chosen had a certain… Awareness, of all the other cultists,” Cirayus said. “How this can be, I do not know, though it struck me as similar to the Chitrans’ Bloodline Arts. Either that…”

“Or Chakra,” Vir muttered.

“Aye,” Cirayus said. “Lass, this power of yours. Does it feel like it touches something within you? Something… deep?”

“That’s… exactly how it feels,” Maiya said, coughing weakly.

Cirayus stroked his beard and looked off into the distance, where distant lightning clouds struck the jagged mountain tops.

“Then this may indeed be a Chakra issue.”

“What’s… Chakra?” Maiya asked.

“Not important for now,” Cirayus replied. “What matters is that we may have a way to aid you.”

Vir’s eyes widened. “The Foundation Chakra. If she learns that…”

“Aye, it might just stabilize her mind,” Cirayus said. “‘Tis impossible to know if the Foundation Chakra alone will suffice. This may also require her to open the Life Chakra, but opening the Foundation should at least provide her some relief.”

“But can humans even open their Chakras?” Vir asked. “I’d never even heard of the word until I met you.”

“Let us hope that, for Maiya’s sake, they can,” Cirayus said softly.

“I… Didn’t catch that,” Maiya said, barely louder than a whisper. “What are you guys talking about?”

“Just that we’re confident you’ll pull through, lass, though I warn you, this is no easy solution. It will be a long and arduous path.”

For anyone else, Cirayus’ words may have sounded discouraging. But they both knew Maiya’s character. She wouldn’t take it that way, and her next words proved it.

“I don’t care,” Maiya said. “If it helps…”

“That’s a good lass. Now, listen to what Vir and I tell you. And listen carefully.”

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Vir waited in anxious silence as Cirayus bounded across Chitran territory.

Maiya tried. She really did. For hours, she followed Cirayus’ instructions, remaining at the very edge of her consciousness.

To no avail.

“I can’t go on,” Maiya said at last.

“You need food and water,” Cirayus replied. “We shall continue once you’ve eaten.”

“No! We’ll continue,” Maiya said stubbornly.

It was clear she wasn’t in the right frame of mind, and likely hadn’t been for some time.

Vir wondered how the Children had let their precious leader fall into such a state, but the Blessed Chosen was the closest being they had to a god. If Maiya had told them to leave her be, they’d likely have obeyed.

If only I was there with her. I could do more.

Vir had always had Cirayus to help boost him along his way. Maiya had no such aid. She’d have to struggle alone, with what limited instructions they were able to give her.

“Once again, picture the mountain,” Cirayus said in a deep, calming voice. “Picture its great peaks. The mountain of stone. Its foundation. For thousands of years, it has stood, unyielding.”

Maiya had finally managed to sit up, and was currently cross-legged, eyes scrunched in frustration.

She shook her head. “Nothing.”

“Er, Cirayus? Do you mind if I try?”

Cirayus gestured with his two right hands. “Of course.”

“Er, Maiya? I think the image might be the wrong one. For us, I mean. I want you to picture something else. Something you should know very well. Imagine the Godshollow.”

“Okay…?”

“Now imagine yourself looking up at the largest one—in the center of the forest.”

“Big Red,” Maiya said, smiling gently.

“That’s right. We used to stare up at that tree for hours—you even fell over backward trying to crane your neck once,” Vir said.

Maiya chuckled softly.

“Imagine it in as much detail as you can. Now think of its roots, piercing deep underground, and spreading wide.”

“We found a root the size of a trunk a hundred paces away,” Maiya said.

“We did. When we traced it back to the tree, we could hardly even believe it,” Vir recalled, lapsing nostalgic.

“I can almost smell the forest, Vir,” Maiya said, a smile creeping up on her emaciated face.

“Good. Now think of how many centuries it’s lived. Of how many storms it’s weathered, and fires it’s survived. Think of how many Brijers have looked upon its great trunks.”

“I can’t even imagine,” Maiya whispered. “It’s… overwhelming.”

“Right. It’s survived everything. It’s always been and always will be. Nothing can bring it down.”

“I feel it. I feel it, Vir!” Maiya said excitedly. “I feel its strength flowing into me. Calming me.”

Vir exchanged a surprised glance with Cirayus. “That’s… great, Maiya! Keep at it. With a few months time, you’ll eventually—”

“Vir! The voices,” Maiya exclaimed. “They’re softer. Not gone. But softer.”

“Er, that might be something else, Mai. It takes months or even years to—”

“No! The pressure’s going away! I think… I think I did it, Vir! We did it!”

Vir’s surprise turned into outright bewilderment.

“You have got to be kidding me.”