“This form is weak to you,” Norwe the Sloth’s voice came from the sloth with no movement of their mouth, “But it is mighty to the leaves and to the grass. Just as you are a weak creature to me, to the likes of the liar or binder, you are strong. Strength and weakness have many forms to take my dear artist, maybe broaden your horizons a little?”
Herah exhaled a long stream of smoke and glared before dropping the Maker-sloth to the dirt. The soothsayer’s scent shifted sharply, then Alex dropped to his knees and caught the Maker-sloth in his arms.
“What the fuck Ashbrain!?”
“I won’t be insulted by someone I hold.”
“Ahahahaha!” Norwe the Sloth laughed, their voice intermingled with static that caused the artist to wince away. Everyone else did the same. Once the laughter passed, the Maker-sloth raised both arms and waved to the air. “This world is home to plants, the Oni, and the Rot.”
“Oni?” Herah asked, more to test the word in her mouth than voice her question. It felt foreign and like another language.
Now that I think of it, it’s odd that everyone here knows Ahcend.
“Big, ugly, and cruel Japanese demons.” the soothsayer answered, his eyes once again shifting about. Alex rose up, awkwardly holding Norwe the Sloth in his arms like one might hold a grenade they knew faulty.
“Thanks, I know what the fuck Japanese is.” the artist replied with a roll of her eyes.
“You seem to understand the concept of demons, however.”
“Fuck off.”
“Now now,” the Maker-sloth interjected, wagging a claw at both Herah and the soothsayer, “This group of Oni you will be facing is very different then what you’re used to, in the cases of my perfect liar and miserable soothsayer, or something you’ve never faced, in the cases of my dear artist and precious binder.”
Perfect, miserable, dear, and precious? Why call us by those descriptors?
Norwe the Sloth turned to the artist and winked, causing Herah to recoil.
“And the Rot?” the binder asked, now standing and approaching alongside the liar.
“Think of it like Fire,” the Maker-sloth started raising claws to mark off descriptors “Overwhelming, endlessly hungry, destructive, and creative. Rot is a splendid child of mine.”
“That doesn’t say much.” Max said, frowning at Norwe the Sloth and her brother.
“Who said I had much to say, my perfect liar?”
The liar bristled under the Maker-sloth’s words, the artist smelling the discomfort the nickname caused Max. Probably not the first time this reaction occurred, but the first Herah noticed. The artist turned to the liar and the pair met eyes for a moment. Like back in the room, a question passed between the pair. This time however, the question came from Herah.
Are you okay?
Max nodded, and the artist realized then a small kinship had formed between the two.
Two allies, Herah thought, grinning to herself and puffing her chest out slightly. This is easier than I thought.
“There’s more to it than this, my dear artist.”
The artist frowned to herself, more smoke leaving her nostrils as her eyes went back to Norwe the Sloth.
“So, why are you here?”
The Maker-sloth gestured towards the surrounding clearing, bathed in the soft glow of the rays of starlight that peaked through the treetops to paint this land of red, brown, and green.
“Were you going to do your act without knowing what it was?”
Herah’s frown deepened but didn’t say anything else.
“Now, my dear artist,” the Maker-sloth held their arms out to the artist, “Will you carry me to our destination?”
Herah’s lips curled and a growl tore from her throat.
“Fuck no.”
“Ashbrain!”
The artist flipped Alex off.
“Bite me, I’ll not carry someone who insults me.”
“Dammit! Just fucking ta—”
“My miserable soothsayer,” Norwe the Sloth’s words came out low and honeyed, “Will you deny me as well?”
The soothsayer snapped his mouth shut, a grimace marking his face.
Lâche. Herah thought as the Maker-sloth lifted an arm and pointed the way.
Without another word, the Gifted and their Maker set out.
Alex marched slightly ahead of all the rest, Max behind and close to his side while Owen went ahead of the artist. Herah purposely chose the back to keep the binder in sight but also to travel at her own pace.
As they walked, the artist let most of her attention focus on taking in this new planet. From the ground, everything appeared so different. Generally darker, but not so dark it felt like night. Moist dirt, fresh grass and dead lives all bent, scrunched, and stuck to her scale feet. Her ears heard feet treading across unliving and alive plants, cool wind whispering as it flew gently by, leaves shaking and falling, and Norwe the Sloth acting as tour guide.
“Exactly twenty centuries, four hundred five years, thirty-six months, fifteen weeks, fifty-six days, thirty hours, forty minutes, and eight seconds ago, I created life, only plant life on this planet and named it Bizzarro! It grew without issue for fifteen of these centuries before I introduced the Oni to spice things up a bit.”
Such odd time scale, though I guess time wouldn’t be tracked the same across all universes.
Trees hundreds to a thousand feet tall and ranging from two feet to four dozen thick surrounded the group wherever they went, with dozens to hundreds of feet separating each. Every tree wore red bark which only ranged in saturation, some as vibrant as rubies while others were as faded as bloodstains. A few saplings (if her textbooks, the liar, and the binder were to be believed) filled the empty spaces between these trees, most likely to die in the stiff competition that filled the forest floor. Hugging many of the grown trees, sparse bushes used red flowers with long, spindly petals to reach out towards anywhere light poked through strongly.
“Born from mask, the Oni are the sole non-plant lives that live upon Bizzarro.” The Maker-sloth said, now sitting on the soothsayer’s back with their arms wrapped around his neck. “For their entirety, they’ve lived in harmony with the land. Most of it at least. They tend to the plants and trees, live out of stone buildings, and will kill any intruders who they find. Simple creatures, though again, not as simple as the Oni you two know, liar and soothsayer.”
Witnessing so much newness at once, nearly overstimulated Herah, so the artist made sure to keep her senses on the weaker side. Still, with all Herah gathered, shock and amazement ran rampant internally.
So, this is what it’s like to be somewhere so completely new. I can see why you love traveling so much Dad, it’s intoxicating. Wish I could appreciate it without the chatter.
“Some would call them savages, others monsters, I prefer simply to think of them as Mortals. For is that not what you all are at the end of the day? They might seem like just another monster to you, but there is complexity to their existences. Whether it’s as complex as yours is for you to choose. Though, you might all benefit from thinking them lesser.
The billions of new smells that the artist had been sorting out were all nearly categorized. Many variants of the same spicy bark or earthy leaves or sweet flowers registered. Though a few standouts appeared here and there; chief amongst them a repugnant rot that Herah guessed related to the Rot that Norwe mentioned earlier.
And is mentioning now.
“So, they now praise the Rot and the Log, and will do anything for it!”
“They made a religion around a log?” Max asked, finally adding another voice to the air. The liar squinted at Norwe before looking at everyone else for some form of confirmation.
“We have as well, sis.” Alex responded while hopping over a bush, clearly tired of all of this.
“Bullshit.” Max responded, crossing her arms and stepping around a few saplings.
“The Naruto fandom.”
“That’s fake.”
“No it isn’t, those cultists from two months back were real worshipers.”
“Ar—” the liar stumbled, nearly tripping over a root as thick as the artist’s head, “Are you being serious?”
“When do I joke?” the soothsayer asked, trampling a patch of grass.
“Rarely.”
“There you go.”
“Oh my god.”
“Oh your Maker or Norwe,” Norwe the Sloth interjected, drawing attention back to themselves, “God was my sibling.”
“Was?” Max asked, stepping around a shrub.
“God’s dead.” The Maker-sloth responded, Herah picking up on an edge to the words.
Whose God? the artist thought to herself. The liar’s shift in scent and smell of surprise further piqued her interest.
“When did that happen!?”
“That’s not important for any of this.” Alex answered.
“Kinda is.” Norwe the Sloth added, causing the soothsayer to turn to look at the Maker-sloth peeking their head over his back.
“What?”
“What?” Norwe the Sloth responded, cocking their head to the side before thrusting a furry arm forward, “And here we are!”
The group broke out into a meadow, a small sea of glowing black and white flowers. Spreading out to stand side by side, all four noticed in the center, a peculiar tree.
Smelling of ash and metal, the tree stood smaller than most others in the forest, about half their height and width. Beyond that, its overall texture and shape differed from the rest as well. With smooth, grey bark the tree looked like an upright handbell with a star-shaped crossguard made up of thick branches. Strewn all across the trunk, knot-shaped lumps and smaller branches ran up the tree’s length, with every branch having some number of ash-grey leaves growing out. The largest amounts of these leaves sat at the very top of the tree, serving to create the treetop’s bell-shape while smaller clumps big enough to sit on sat at the ends of the five center branches.
“Looks like a Donneur de Frêne.” Herah mumbled to herself, looking up to the tree with narrowed eyes. A glance towards the white and black flowers made the artist blink, then snap her attention back to the tree, “That is a Donneur de Frêne!”
“An Ash Giver?” Max questioned before looking back at the tree, “I—I don’t think we’re looking at the same thing.”
“We’re not.” Alex confirmed with a grunt, before narrowing his eyes, reaching up to his nose, and repeatedly tapping it, “Though it's odd, the tree looks like it's flickering.”
“Me too,” Owen added, reaching up to his hat and crinkling it while looking up and down in the same spot the tree should be, “For a moment it was a Herald tree, now it's flashing between that and some grey one with weird knots on it.”
“That’s the Donneur de Frêne.” Herah said, and as soon as the words left her mouth the air changed and the other Gifted’s scents shifted sharply. Suddenly all three seemed to become properly aware of what the artist saw.
“Ah, I see” the soothsayer said, before his thumb and middle finger met and snapped past each other, making that weak crack Herah heard earlier, leaving his thumb and index finger pointed towards the tree.
“Oh shit.” the liar cursed before looking to everyone else then back at the tree.
“By the goddesses,” the binder flinched away, stepping back just a little behind the artist, “What happened?”
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“Like earlier with the room,” Alex waved towards the Donneur de Frêne, “The tree is superpositioned. Though I don’t know whose perception it's tied to.”
“All of you, my dear artist is just dominant in this regard.”
Herah blinked, and when her eyes opened, Norwe the Sloth hung from one of the Donneur de Frêne’s lower five branches.
The artist snapped her eyes towards the soothsayer’s back and saw nothing there before looking back at the Maker-sloth.
Forgot they could do that.
“This is it.” Norwe the Sloth said, patting some leaves of the tree.
Herah looked at her gathered companions and got various shrugs and head-shakes in response. Exhaling a long stream of smoke, the artist turned back to the Maker-sloth.
“What?”
“Your Act, this is your Act, my dear artist.”
“What?”
Alex sighed and put a hand to his head.
“Living up to the name, ashbrain.”
“No,” Max raised a finger and wagged it, “I feel like Herah’s valid on this one, bro. Unless you understand what we’re supposed to do from Norwe touching a tree and calling it our “Act”.”
Owen stepped out from behind Herah and waved Norwe the Sloth down.
“Excuse me, Norwe?”
“Yes, binder?”
“What exactly do we have to do with the tree or trees?”
“Defend it from the Oni.”
A shift followed, everyone’s attention snapping towards the tree.
“Defend it,” the binder said, turning a frown to the Maker-sloth, “Why are they attacking it?”
“Who knows?” Norwe the Sloth responded, shrugging.
“You do, right?” the liar said, stepping up with a frown and shake of her head.
“Yes.”
“So?”
“So what?”
Max and the Maker-sloth shared a silent stare before the liar’s scent gained the whiffs of annoyance.
“I don’t like you.”
“Max!” the soothsayer shouted, his face as aghast as his eyes snapped to his sister.
“Don’t worry,” Norwe the Sloth giggled, the sound like that of waves crashing into a cliff, “I love you.”
“So, we just defend a tree?” the artist asked, thoroughly done with this entire conversation.
We have our fucking Act. Now we just need you to leave.
The Maker-sloth nodded.
“In three days, excluding today, the Oni shall try in mass to destroy this tree. I task you all with defending it when that time comes.”
Norwe the Sloth lifted an arm and thrust it out behind themself. Faintly, over seventy miles away (a distance that should’ve been impossible to see thanks to the curvature of the planet and her height from the ground), a pillar of purple light appeared so oddly that Herah felt compelled to take notice.
“Freaky.” the artist mumbled to herself.
“That’s not upsetting in the slightest.” Max murmured, an odd thing for the liar to the say. Herah thought it true while her nose smelled the dregs of distress from Max.
“But why are they trying to destroy this tree?” Owen asked, finally reentering the conversation.
“If you wish to learn why,” the Maker-sloth pointed at the gathered Gifted, “That’s up to you. Though, I would ask if you’re sure you want to know?”
The binder tilted his head to the side, his smell a mix between confused and worried.
“Why would I not? All life should be understood.”
Norwe the Sloth, let out a snort.
“An interesting opinion.”
Fully done with all of this, the artist blew a stream of orange flames from the side of her mouth. This sent everyone’s attention her way.
“That all?”
The Maker-sloth swung their body up onto the Donneur de Frêne’s branch.
“In terms of your Act, yes. But I do have two additional things to add.”
Norwe appeared a foot away from the Herah and the rest, in their six-armed form. Everyone flinched, and the artist felt a shift in her Maker’s mood and noticed a change in their form. All but the bottom pair of arms sat at their side, while the bottom busied themselves performing magic tricks (maybe?). Upon their torso, the galaxies still drifted by, but now a stray blue star appeared between them and rapidly expanded.
Norwe raised their top left hand, just as the star went supernova and began engulfing the entirety of their torso.
“One, you are not to kill each other. Doing so will cause all of your immediate deaths and in the case of soothsayer and liar, immediate universal destruction.”
Norwe raised their top right hand, as the nova spread further and further, the multicolored light began to reach all across their body.
“Two, you are to entertain me. What you really want to do, what you really have to do, is get me invested in you. I’ll care about everything you care about. I’ll ignore what you ignore.”
Norwe dropped their top two arms back to their side, as the supernova finally reached their eyes and began spilling into both blackholes.
“You can fight amongst each other, do whatever you see fit for the scenario, fuck off and ignore what I set out for you entirely, even attempt to kill me if you wish.”
Soon, Norwe’s entire body cleared of everything, leaving the blankness of space, and the two black holes still serving as their eyes.
“Just know, don’t be too quick, don’t be too easy, and that your actions will have consequences.”
Then they disappeared, leaving the artist alone with the other Gifted.
“Norwe worries me.”
Herah turned to the liar, the one to speak, and saw Max frowning more to herself than anyone else.
“I think there’s more to the Oni as well.”
This got all three looking at the artist.
“Why do you say that?”
“Norwe talked about the Oni like one might savages, above animals but below people.”
“Sure, you’re not just feeling insulted?” Alex asked, before strolling past Herah and towards the Donneur de Frêne.
“Fuck off.”
The soothsayer reached the tree and looked it up and down, before turning back to the rest.
“I think you’re making this more complicated than it has to be Ashbrain. We got our Act; protect this stupid tree then we’re on to the next. Shouldn’t be hard to protect, it’s making it entertaining that we have to worry about.”
The artist growled, walking forward quickly followed by Owen and Max. Just as they all reached the tree, the liar stepped in front of Herah and threw a thumb back at the tree.
“Why is it called an Ash Giver?”
An honest curiosity filled Max’s question and her eyes, causing the artist to pause for a moment before sighing and walking past the liar. Stepping past Alex with only a glare, Herah made a waving motion for all the others to get from under the tree before placing a hand upon the smooth wood. Each Gifted took a step back, just out of its range.
Safety ensured, the artist drew her hand back an inch before slamming it back into the bark. The tree shook, black ash falling from the shaking leaves and blanketing the flowers and Herah.
“Interesting,” Max said, before crouching down to touch the ash. Before her finger could make contact, the soothsayer caught his sister by the shoulder and glared at the liar.
“Ashbrain,” Alex rolled his eyes at the artist’s responding growl, “What’s up with the ash?”
Herah scoffed, before pointing at the ground and forcing some orange flames from her heart and into arteries leading down into her claws. An orange bead of fire formed at the tip of her index claw, which the artist dropped onto the ground.
FWOOOSH!
The ash ignited, bathing Herah, the flowers and the tree in fire.
“Herah!” The binder and Max both stepped forward, but the soothsayer crouched and stuck out his arm stopping both of them.
“You saw her head on fire earlier, dummies, Ashbrain will be fine.”
Just as Alex finished his words, the artist inhaled all the flames and let out a small burp. All the fire now gone, Herah stood unhurt.
“So, the trees produce flammable ash,” the soothsayer said, studying the ground and tapping his nose, “Defense against predators I assume?”
The artist nodded.
“I thought you’d never seen plant-life before.” Alex repeated that same motion from earlier, making another snapping crack as his finger and thumb pointed towards the flowers.
“Not in person,” Herah smiled as her thoughts drifted towards her parents, “My dad loves these trees and had me draw some when I was little younger. Dad taught me all about them, normally some aimant miracles would be living in its bush.”
“Miracle magnets?” the liar asked, “What are those?”
“Metal rodents with magnetic tails that led us to metal in our younger days.”
“Should we be worried about the ash?” Owen asked, before giving the tree leaves a worried glance.
“No.” the artist looked around, gazing at all of the glowing flowers at everyone’s feet. “Planet is too cold for it to combust naturally like back home. Hence why its ash has grown so many pétales éclatés.”
“Burst petals?” Max questioned, her understanding and rapid translation slightly disconcerting for Herah.
It’s nice to be understood by someone closer to my age, but it’s so odd for that someone to be an alien.
“The flowers explode when you pull them from the ground.”
The binder and liar went rigid, shock and fear strangling their scents. The soothsayer reacted none to the new information, instead standing up and turning towards the purple beam in the sky.
“Enough about the tree, we should plan.”
“And?” the artist asked, nostrils flaring as smoke shot from them.
Alex tsked and frowned, his scent fluctuating as a rising annoyance stuck to it.
“And we have three days to prepare, so we should start sooner versus later.”
Herah exhaled more smoke before stalking over to the soothsayer.
“Who made you leader?”
Alex let out a sigh and turned to look up at the artist. His eyes narrowed into a glare which Herah matched.
“No one, but if we’re going to work effectively, someone has to take charge.”
“And that’s you?”
“Well, it isn’t you.”
The artist growled.
“The ash does that mean?”
The soothsayer pursed his lips, scoffed and tilted his head forward while maintaining eye contact. Altogether, Alex somehow managed to give Herah the impression of being looked down upon from below.
“Come on, Ashbrain, you’re not that dumb.”
“Fuck off!” the artist cursed through tight fangs, green fire bursting out in thin streams.
“Sadly,” the soothsayer raised a finger and pointed at Herah, “I’m stuck with you, so I can’t.”
I’ll tolerate no further insult. the artist thought, raising a hand and popping her claws.
“We still need to fight, don’t we?”
Alex drew the wavy blade from his long shirt pocket and levied it at Herah.
“Guess I gotta let you waste my time.”
“Woah, woah, woah.”
Max strolled up between the arguing pair and placed a hand on both of their chests.
“Let’s pull back a minute, you two.”
The liar paused, before giving an experimental squeeze of the hand on the artist’s chest.
“I forgot you don’t have clothes on.” Max mumbled, her face turning red before dropping her hands with a small squeak. The soft and light smell of her embarrassment amused Herah enough to get a giggle and her immediate cooperation.
The soothsayer frowned but made no move, giving his sister space to speak. After a few moments to collect herself, the liar’s face returned to its normal pale as Max glared at her brother.
“Alex, would you stop sucking your own dick and acting like you’re the coolest guy here? You’ve been nothing but rude to Herah since we’ve gotten together.”
The liar then turned to the artist with a smile and bowed her head.
“Herah, I’m sorry for how he’s acting but I also have to ask you not to rise to him like that.”
Max rose up from her bow then looked between the two.
“Why don’t we separate for a little bit, and let all our feelings die down? Then we come together and make a proper plan about how to solve all of this? In something as big as Recompense, we can’t afford infighting.”
Herah frowned, her anger eaten away once again by the liar’s smile. Looking over to Alex, his own frown matched hers.
Max is right, I’m trying to make allies of these weaklings. Well, Herah regarded Max for a moment, taking the liar in and thinking over all her actions since they’d first met, Two weaklings. I’m still not sure with you. Maybe you’re strong.
An odd shift and the blossoming of confusion in the soothsayer’s scent sent the artist’s attention back to the soothsayer. His eyes now held a sharp edge, one that promised violence. But instead of swinging, Alex slipped his blade back into his weird shirt pocket.
“You right, sis.”
“Fair.” Herah answered.
“Thank you both.”
The artist turned away from the humans and began walking away.
chink-chink
The jingling of metal and the smell of a forge followed after.
Once Herah reached the edge of the meadow, the artist paused and turned back to find Owen standing behind herself.
“You’re going to follow me?” Herah asked.
“Yes.” the binder responded with a nod.
“Why?”
“I’m your charge, aren’t I?”
The artist curled an eye up at that, before tapping her nose as the stink of worry and aroma of certainty registered in her mind.
“Not the only reason.”
Owen’s eyes widened, then the binder shook his head and smiled.
“You give me the impression of someone who is used to being alone.”
Herah frowned at that.
“Why would that make you come?”
Owen walked past the artist still smiling, stepping into the thicket of trees once more.
“You also give me the impression of someone who doesn’t like that.”
Those words gave Herah pause, a warm and bubbly feeling forming in her chest as her mind worked them over.
I’ve never had someone say something like that to me. The artist looked down and smiled a small smile. It feels nice.
Herah then lifted her head and stepped after the binder, grinning while following her friend.
“You’re right.”
And as the pair walked away from their teammates and the tree they were to protect, the artist couldn’t help but think of the Oni and how Norwe the Sloth framed them.
Why should we think of you all as savages or monsters?
ONI
String Kujo cursed her god and his priest as she stepped into the cathedral. The star cursed both on principle and one out of hate.
The monsters are fucking here! Our final trial has arrived in all of its glorious bullshittery. And instead of meeting with me and the council to help strategize, Moon’s in here praying or some bullshit!
String marched forward in-between two rows of wooden benches, her golden boots clacking along black and white marble her people neither harvested nor shaped.
The house of a god has to be built by one. she thought mockingly, spitting on the floor as she tread over a mural depicting a log.
“Would you please not desecrate our god’s symbol, Chieftain?” A gentle, masculine voice called out to String from a few dozen feet ahead. “It’s unbecoming of someone of your position and influence.”
String marched up a small set of stairs and soon met the sight of a Kijin with ink black skin and white robes surrounded by four Oni dressed in pink, blue, green and black robes. The Kijin smiled at String, his solid white eyes holding a warmth that always annoyed her for how gentle it felt. The Oni looked at her, their permanent masks only able to express blank ferocity while their true visages remained hidden from everyone, including themselves.
“Hoshi Yua!” The four Oni shouted before bowing to the star. She always hated it when her people bowed to her. It spoke of a reverence she didn’t want nor deserved. But everyone seemed to like doing it, and she’d long lost the heart to say otherwise.
“At ease, disciples.” String raised a hand, and each Oni rose up from their bows. “Nice to see you four in good health: Wind, World, Rhapsody, and Sky.
Each disciple gave a respectful nod at the compliment before the star turned a glare onto the priest.
“Would you please show up to the fucking meeting when you’re summoned for it!? When I sent C.C. down here, she told me you were too busy!”
“Yes,” Moon nodded, giving his own bow to String before waving towards the surrounding pews. “With the arrival of our last trial, many people came here to pray or confess sins. And for them to confess, I must be here to listen.”
String rolled her eyes, annoyed enough at the thought of praying to the piece of shit who put them all into this situation and further annoyed that kept the priest.
“Their confessions aren’t more important than our survival.”
Moon frowned at String before shaking his head.
“It’s not the confession that’s important, Chief. It’s the relief and hope it gives that is. And our people will need much of both in the coming days.”
The star parted her lips, ready to retort but then she thought about what the priest said.
The people won’t just look to me for hope and guidance. Shit, I hate that some do already. Who am I to argue they don’t deserve such an outlet, especially now.
String frowned then nodded.
“I’ll give you that one, Moon.”
“Aotsuki Akuma!”
String looked at Wind, the disciple in pink robes in surprise, as she looked to Moon and bowed, the other three repeating the action. The priest frowned at the four then waved them off.
“Off you go. And remember, do not engage. You’re just looking, and I want my sons and daughters to come back home.”
The four Oni nodded before rising up from their bows and marching off. The star watched them walk out of the cathedral, and once the door slammed shut behind them, she turned back to Moon.
“Where are you sending them? I came here in part for those four.”
The priest let out a long sigh, before turning away from String and looking up at a stained glass window, high above near everything else in the cathedral and depicting a golden log. The star noticed how the priest just barely shook as he raised a hand to his face.
CRUNCH!
String winced at the noise and splatter of blood, as the sound of chewing filled the air followed by a swallow. Moon turned back to face her, blood dripping down his lips.
“To scout as I’m sure that’s the second reason you came here.” An exhaustion followed his words, one that spoke of pain and fear. “They are trained for it after all.”
The star looked back to the cathedral door, her own fear and pain bubbling up thinking of what they’d been sent to do. She didn’t want to send anyone off to scout out those monsters, especially if they weren’t to have her or Moon with them. But the council believed it best to have both Kijin in the village before the attack, in case the monsters preemptively struck, and String agreed. Still, it left a bad taste in her mouth.
“I wanted to ask you before sending them off.” The star turned back to Moon, “Are you sure about this? They might die.”
The priest let out a chuckle, one so low and filled with pained amusement it nearly made the String wince.
“They go out expecting to die, Chief.” Moon looked up to something the star refused to ever give attention to, for it only hurt to lay her eyes upon. “For they know that death must come for many of us to bring salvation to the few that shall remain.