The wind blows, yet by the time you see the boughs shake and the leaves fall, the wind has already gone.

Life's greatest tragedy is that most only experience it after it has left.

— Excerpt from Lost Winds, by an unnamed traveler. Unfinished copy written in the Old Tongue, stored at the Fallen Star Pavilion.

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"And I say this with finality, Lyka: I'm vouching for him. Let Primrose decide. Logically speaking, there's no need to keep his head covered either? He's already here."

Kalle's tone carried too much of a worried pitch for Molam to relax, but he was already forcing himself to avoid tensing up lest the blade dug any deeper into his neck. The hood had been tightened around his neck almost immediately as he entered some building and his sword stripped from him. Despite Kalle's vocal objections, various hands pushed him into what seemed like a room and forced him into a chair. He didn't bother struggling when they tied his hands behind his back with rope — the memory of the boy beating him was still fresh in his mind. Though he could not see, he could hear the voices of several people around him.

"While Prim is gone, I decide the matters of our safety." Judging by the way the blade was gripped to his neck and the immediate vicinity of the voice, the woman named Lyka held his life in her hands. "Where were you all afternoon, Kalle? You go up to the Shrine and then disappear for some time before coming back here with an unknown? Perhaps you're not as trustworthy as you say?"

"I said I brought him here to meet Primrose."

"And you think Prim should just meet anyone, is that it? You were brought in to be our alchemist. Focus on what you should be doing, not gallivanting about the city right before Winter's Sorrow."

"You think I'm the one not focusing? How about you stop trying to side-eye everyone that wants to join, Lyka? As the jail cells fill up with our members – what's your plan for replacing them? Or are you content with just allowing the city guards to bleed our manpower dry?"

"This is me focusing: on protecting us!" Lyka's voice took on an icy tone. "We haven't even found the person leaking our movements to the city guard and you're trying to introduce more people to our group? What if this one's a spy? On what basis did you bring him back?"

Kalle didn't answer immediately and Molam spoke softly, feeling the cold blade against his neck. "That's for Primrose to know right now."

"I don't remember asking you a question or giving you permission to speak." Lyka's voice hissed into his ear. The blade's pressure increased and Molam hoped that the spirit's lack of intervention meant he was truly safe.

"I understand you're wary after last week's raid, but this is not it, Lyka." Kalle's raised voice barked out with a sense of wariness. "It's important that Primrose sees him."

"You're very intent on getting Prim in the same room as this unknown, Kalle." The cold blade withdrew from Molam's neck. "What if you're the problem?"

"Lyka," several voices objected. "There's no problem questioning the outsider, but Primrose trusts Kalle."

"A knife, Lyka?" Kalle's voice dropped lower. "At least bring your spear."

"I don't need my spear to slit a throat." Lyka emphasized the last word.

Even with his head covered and unable to see, Molam did not need the finger grip digging into his shoulder to feel the tension in the room.

A melodic voice floated through the air. "And since when, may I ask, did we have the numbers to consider culling our own people even further at this critical time?"

Kalle's voice seemed more subdued, relaxed. "Primrose. I —"

"Prim!" The woman named Lyka's voice, though still loud, was more restrained as well. "Kalle brought some unknown man back here."

"You're making this sound like a lover's quarrel, Lyka," the voice of Primrose barely hid the mirth of her amusement, "Do we need this many gathered in one room to solve this issue?"

Footsteps. One by one, he heard people exiting the room, but Molam could not be sure how many left as he breathed into the darkness of the black hood.

"Now," Primrose's voice continued harmoniously alongside the sound of a chair being shifted. "Perhaps one of you can inform me as to the dispute we have here?"

Kalle and Lyka's voices rose in unison as they answered at the same time, and it was then that he heard the spirit's voice in his head.

Stay alert. This one is subtle with her Charm.

"—and if this one is a spy for the City Lord Agytha? Prim, I say we kill the unknown. Better to be safe than to be at risk."

"He's not unknown," Kalle's voice cut in. "Primrose, I know him from before. Just...take a look at him with your Sight."

A moment passed. Then two. Molam heard nothing but the sound of his own breathing in the darkness of the black bag.

Then, "May I have some time alone with our newest member?"

"Prim—" Lyka's voice protested, "As your guard, I should stay here with you just in case—"

"Respect Primrose's decision, Lyka." Kalle's voice seemed triumphant. "She has declared him a member."

"The two of you have other tasks. Kalle, we need a new batch of warming stones by tomorrow morning. And Lyka, go see if Shurra needs any help, will you? I trust you have tied his wrists together quite well for me."

"But—"

"Lyka." The melodic harmony of the voice seemed less soft now.

"I will stand outside. If you need me, you can —"

"If you insist on guarding someone, then might I suggest guarding Kalle? I think he tends to forget how dangerous it can be in the workshop we prepared for him and I would like to avoid the difficulty of replacing our alchemist. Kalle, bring Lyka with you, please."

The sounds of shifting feet and feeble protests, then the door opened and closed.

Silence.

A slow thrumming sound of the legs of a chair being dragged across the ground. Then, a soft swish of cloth as someone sat down again.

"Well then," Primrose's voice was closer now. It felt as though that alluring voice was intimately close, yet there was no sense of her breath in his ears. The sensation made him dizzy; it made no sense that one person could whisper in both ears at the same time. "That's an interesting color. Could you tell me about yourself?"

Molam took a breath and kept his tone neutral. "It seems improper for us to have a conversation as fellow members when I have this hood over my head and my hands tied behind my back."

"He speaks," Primrose's voice contained a note of curiosity, "Yet refuses to answer a question."

Fingers loosened the hood around his neck and the cover was pulled off of his face, leaving Molam blinking in the candlelight. As his eyes adjusted, his breath caught in his throat at the sight of the woman named Primrose.

Long eyelashes and well-groomed eyebrows decorated her large purple eyes. But more importantly was the voluminous, curly, burnt-orange hair that framed her face — and the blue flowers that adorned those fiery locks. The contrast of colors made the flowers stand out even more as the subtle ripples of her hair gave one the illusion of flames in which those flowers bloomed.

She lazed in her chair with her legs crossed and the hood dangling from a hand that draped to the side. The other arm was hanging on the back of her chair out of sight. It would have created the impression of a laid back woman, if her gaze wasn't observing his every movement as he looked around at the room.

It was small and bare, with a broken window that had been boarded up on his left and a solitary door behind her. The flooring was of dull-colored wood and lit candles were placed at the two corners he could see.

"Well?" Her glowing purple eyes locked onto his. "Do you feel like talking now?"

"And my hands?" Molam made no change in his tone.

She smiled slowly, her lips widening without showing teeth.

"You would have to pardon a woman's precaution, for a woman and a man alone in a room can lead to…" she let the hood drop from her hand as she leaned closer to him and placed her chin on her palm, "...dangerous outcomes. We recently had an incident that resulted in us losing quite a few members, and many in the group suspect we might have a traitor. Rest assured, however: if you honestly answer my questions to my satisfaction I will release you. Undoing your hood is a show of my sincerity."

"Very sincere," Molam shifted his eyes away from the bewitching eyes. "Ask away."

"Perhaps we could start with your name? And would you be so kind as to answer my question from earlier?"

Molam stretched his shoulders and neck, making her wait before he answered. "Molam."

When it was clear that he had nothing more to say, she exhaled with disappointment. "Sincerity should be met with sincerity, don't you think?"

Rolling his shoulders, Molam made a show of his hands being bound behind himself. "I am compromising as you have."

Primrose tilted her chin up and her glowing purple eyes narrowed. For a brief moment, her eyes reminded Molam of another set of eyes, dark blue this time, and his breath caught in his throat. Just like with GloomSire, Molam could not tell if Primrose's Sight included being able to tell if someone was lying and reminded himself to be careful with what he said.

"And what is your relation to the Oracle?"

He glanced at the blue flowers in Primrose's red hair. "The Oracle told me to look for you, and so here I am."

"To find me, is it?" She gave him a lengthy appraising look. "Can you tell me what specifically she said?"

He hesitated briefly, contemplating the likelihood that he may be utterly wrong about the situation, then decided it was too far along to shy away from the topic and went with honesty. "The Oracle instructed me to come to JiangXi and search for you. I asked at the Shrine, and the Head Priestess introduced Kalle to me. We already knew each other, and when I told him who I was looking for, he brought me here. And now…" Molam directed his eyes pointedly at Primrose's burnt-orange hair with its light-blue flowers, "I believe the phrase 'the flowers that bloom in flames' would mean something to you."

Primrose's gaze never left his eyes while he spoke, though her brow furrowed when he repeated the Oracle's hint. She stared at him for a long moment after he finished speaking, then shifted in her seat.

"These," Primrose gestured at the blue flowers in her hair, "Are called satem flowers. When I met the Oracle several years ago, she suggested I once again take up the tradition of my ... upbringing. That phrase would confirm to me that you are the person I am waiting for. I'm surprised you got this far: she can be frustratingly cryptic, given the restrictions she has. Was it by luck?"

Though Molam had never heard of a tribe, clan, or named family that wore flowers in their hair, the practice did not seem off to him. More importantly, Primrose claimed to also have met the Oracle many years ago and now he understood what the Oracle had meant when she said she had prepared what he needed.

"I was 'lucky' that she had already put most of this together for me. Some would even call it preordained, for lack of a better term." Molam loosened his shoulders even more and stretched his neck before he responded. "I suppose this little group of yours came to be at the Oracle's request."

"Quite. This little movement has been a few years in the making." Primrose smiled, a slow curve of the left side of her lips. "And now, you are here."

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

Frustration mounted again; anger radiated within his navel at the realization that if the Oracle had planned all of this years in advance, she had perhaps not wanted him to go home in the first place. Or had it been RainBringer? Did the Oracle plan this knowing she would not open the Stairs for him, or had she thought that he would come back down the Stairs again?

"You seem angry that you aren't the only one to have met the Oracle." Primrose's glowing eyes hadn't left his face.

Molam saw no reason to correct Primrose's misreading as he resigned himself to accepting the present circumstances. What the Oracle had planned for, what RainBringer had planned for, he couldn't confirm any of it now and it didn't matter when he considered what Priestess Komura had reminded him of. "You were waiting for me."

"Yes. I was beginning to wonder if the Oracle had forgotten she promised me someone, though I must say: You are not quite what I expected."

"You were hoping for the Whale of ZhiXia." He said wryly.

"I had hoped. Or any Titled One for that matter. But as you are the one wearing the color of her approval, I can only trust her judgment." Primrose leaned in close, bringing the subtle scent of the satem flowers to his nose as her eyes locked against his in a searching manner. "So tell me: why are you here?"

Molam looked her in the eye. "Because I want to go home."

Primrose's eyes widened and she laughed, starting with a soft restrained tinkling that became a full-on giggle, one that had her doubled over in hysteria for several moments before she regained her composure. "Now that," she admitted, "Was not the answer I expected at all. Perhaps you didn't understand my question?" Her voice took on a more serious tone. "I want to know why the Oracle sent you here."

He thought of what RainBringer wanted, and what the Oracle wanted, then shoved those thoughts aside as he focused on Primrose's question. He asked himself the very same thing. The Oracle had told him that he was allowed to keep what he gained in the city for his own purposes, and that she had prepared everything he needed within JiangXi. He had thought she was going to give him an army then, and still had little answer about how he was going to transport the World Tree's elderwood back to Sanctuary on his own. With a start, he looked at Primrose and through her, the opportunity she represented, given to him by the Oracle.

He kept it simple and direct. "I am here to take control of JiangXi. I suppose I'll start by leading."

Primrose leaned back, placing her chin against a closed hand, her expression inscrutable. "What makes you think you can?"

"I can understand that this is very sudden and unexpected given my unannounced arrival." Molam kept a firm tone even as he challenged her. "But to correct any potential misunderstanding about the reason why I am here: The Oracle sent me here to lead what you've built."

Primrose's eyes narrowed and she did not respond immediately. When she finally spoke, her voice contained a thin edge. "You are speaking quite boldly for someone tied to a chair."

Molam lifted his chin, baring his throat. "I've traveled a long way to do what the Oracle believes I am best at. Either I walk out of here with your support ..." He allowed the pause to hang, "or I shouldn't walk out of here at all."

"You were right that I have been waiting for the Oracle to send someone," Primrose spoke slowly, a finger twirling a curly lock of hair, "But surely you understand this can't be that simple. The people I lead would be hesitant to follow an untested leader such as yourself — chosen by the Oracle or not. And seeing as you did not walk in here shouting about being sent by the Oracle despite having a blade held to your throat, I believe you have a reason for keeping it hidden."

Seeing him nod at her statement, she continued.

"And so you bring to me two problems – we have no Titled Ones of our own, and the one the Oracle sent has no merits that could get the group to fall in line. Perhaps you could give me a reason to convince them to listen to you?"

Molam closed his eyes and inhaled slowly as he thought. Primrose's words made sense, and for a brief moment he almost wanted to say that he stole from the Shrine in Crimson City. But he decided against it. The goal here was to convince the people she gathered that he was worth following.

"Well?" She prodded.

He pressed his lips together at her urgency, the beginning of a plan forming in his mind as he organized what he had learnt about the city. "The people that were lost to the city guards. They're still alive, I assume? We will free them."

"We?"

"Us. Though you can give the order," Molam conceded, "The plan is mine. I don't know if you have a plan for freeing those members? If my plan succeeds, the freed members will know who to thank. And while we're at it, perhaps we will Free the city too."

"Quite the declaration. Do enlighten me as to what will happen should your plan fail and all of this amounts to nothing?"

"Your caution is noted, but the Oracle chose me for a reason." Molam held the gaze of her glowing eyes as he said firmly, "Right now the Tempest is away and the city's residents are desperate. We won't fail."

Hesitation flitted across Primrose's eyebrows and her lips pressed together, her glowing eyes searching his determined face.

"You seem disillusioned enough to believe what you are saying. I haven't had someone use my Sight against me in a long time." Primrose closed her eyes and laughed grimly before looking at him again, the purple glow gone. "Very well, I'll agree to your terms. And should we succeed, I will inform the rest that it was your strategy that accomplished this, and look for a way to share leadership." Molam frowned at this, but Primrose continued. "Now, there's just one more thing…"

He resisted the urge to snap his gaze back to her with alarm, instead meeting her eyes slowly.

"What is it?"

"Perhaps you could help assuage my feeling of unease." She had shifted without him noticing, and Molam felt his stomach lurch as he became more aware of Primrose's hidden arm no longer swaying out of sight behind the chair. "It might be due to your sincerity and unwillingness to come across as belligerent that you've allowed yourself to be shackled by mere rope. But even if the Oracle did not send me the Whale of ZhiXia, surely you are trained in aura?" Her features seemed to harden. "Though I don't doubt you have the Oracle's aura cloaking you, it would be remiss of me to not wonder: why do I only See white?"

A wan smile crept across Molam's face. "I wouldn't know. I cannot See."

But she did not relent. "I wonder – can you release yourself?"

Molam's mind drew a blank even as he instinctively flexed his wrists against the rope that bound him. Only one option available to him, and he rubbed his wrists together in the hopes that the spirit was listening.

I suppose I will deign to help you here.

The rope around his wrists erupted in flames and Molam almost flinched, but he kept his gaze level at Primrose as the strands burned and became ash, the scent of burning rope filling the room. When the rope had burnt through, Molam rolled his shoulders and pulled his hands to the front and blew away the ash on his hands. He was grateful for the spirit's mindfulness in not burning him as well.

Molam stretched his sore muscles and rubbed the feeling back into his wrists as he looked at Primrose, whose face was inscrutable. The door burst open as a dark-skinned woman ran in with a naked spear.

"Prim, I smelled smoke, and...how did this man become free?"

He recognized her voice as Lyka's as she stepped in between him and Primrose, the spear leveled at his chest.

Pointedly ignoring Lyka's spear, Molam deliberately mirrored Primrose's sitting posture and laid his chin on a clenched fist.

"Are you satisfied?"

Primrose smiled, leaning forward to push aside Lyka's speartip as she offered him a hand. "Welcome to our group, Molam. We have some work to do."

***

You were in danger of dying.

Molam lay down on the straw bed and relaxed his shoulders. Though the ropes around his wrists hadn't been particularly tight, it had pinned his arms behind him in such a way that his shoulder and back muscles demanded reprieve. Primrose had moved him to another room, but it was one without windows and he had heard two people standing guard outside.

But the private and hopefully temporary jail meant he could talk freely. "I had it all under control."

Did you now? Including the part where you tempted both women to kill you? Both of them almost took you up on the offer.

The exhaustion of the day's events ran through his head as Molam pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes closed in thought. "Primrose wouldn't have. I'm just moving a bit fast for her to adjust. I wish the Oracle had told me more about what to expect, but I suppose this lack of proper explanation from her falls under whatever restrictions from the Gods she's working with. Or maybe she thinks that the less I know the more I need to rely on her."

Being auraless, you don't have much of a choice but to rely on those that possess it.

"It's not something under my control, is it?" Molam grit his teeth, then relaxed his jaw. "I don't want to get into another argument, but is it something you presume I don't think about all the while? As though it's just something I can do if I simply put my mind to it?"

Acknowledging you were inadequate will be a valuable lesson. Humans die easily and have no method of rebirth, yet you lack the self-preservation that others of your kind have with your relentless pursuit of increasingly dangerous stakes.

"We might not be able to rebirth like you," Molam tried to break the moment with levity. "But at least one human has come back from the dead."

What RainBringer's daughter did for you was unique. Having already paid your aura as the price, your soul has nothing else to offer God Yven. Be careful with your life.

Molam rolled onto his side. "I'm alive. The moment has passed. Instead of worrying about aura I can't even see, I have other things to think about, like trying to locate the World Tree's elderwood for your rebirth."

Lacking something is no adequate excuse for ceding one's control over preparing for it.

The words haunted him. Annoyingly so, like when they had first met and he had almost been killed by the spirit until it read his memories. Yes, he had not planned around it. But there was no such thing as a perfect plan. There were always going to be unknowns.

There were always going to be things he could not control.

"I have not ceded control over it. I just…" He sighed, "I'm working around something I don't have and don't understand. I feel blind to what everyone else can sense and the worst that can happen is to reveal it."

I can tell you to the best of my ability, but lying for your pride only serves to hurt yourself.

The words stung despite the spirit's offer. "Then tell me. Start with Primrose. What was that at the start? It was like it was impossible for anyone to refuse her." He left off the bit where he almost confused Primrose's voice for the voice of RainBringer's daughter.

As I said, Charm. Quite a high level skill, on her end. Not quite at the level of a Titled One, but enough to make it difficult for anyone below a Titled One to refuse her.

Feeling a sense of contrite shame at his earlier anger, Molam murmured, "Thank you for keeping my head clear then."

On the contrary, because you cannot perceive aura it has a muted effect on you.

"Oh." Molam felt sheepish at his premature admission of gratitude. "Well in that case —"

But nevertheless, I am still your benefactor. Or did you forget my help at the end?

Molam smiled at the spirit's change of tone despite his sore shoulders. "Yes, yes. Well then, I'm glad we found another use for you besides keeping me informed about dangers that I cannot detect." Molam sighed, wanting to rest but his thoughts were swirling with what he had learned and how he could best use it. "We will need to come up with ways for me to tell you I need your help. At least several nonverbal actions, but I assume you're always listening anyway?"

Masquerading as someone that can use aura now? Imagine how many times you would have died without me.

"Well then, should I consider it the Gods' blessing for me to have you here to remind me about my mortality?" Molam twisted back onto his back again, staring up at the ceiling in the dark room, lit only by the light that peeked in from under the door. He stretched his neck to the side, holding the position to ensure that he was still limber. "Not to mention you barely did anything when we met GloomSire."

That one was dangerous, yes. I would have done something about it if he meant you harm, but even a burgeoning Titled One is a bit too much for what I can do with this feather.

Molam closed his eyes, trying to focus his thoughts on how he was going to readjust his interactions with the spirit as they chattered away about what the spirit could do and how he could signal it. But the spirit's words and their meaning echoed soundlessly in his thoughts, haunting him the way words always did when he had a nagging feeling the speaker was right.

An image of Primrose, sitting across from him, sprang to mind. How would she kill him? Would he even know?

The image of Primrose brushed back her hair and the orange flames cascaded down her back; his eyes unfocused and he found himself bound once again. But it wasn't just his wrists — all of him was bound, his limbs restricted painfully as the flames surrounded him. And behind Primrose, the shadows of all the people of his original village.

As a child he had made the mistake of trusting those that could take his life. The Oracle may have prepared this group for him, but Molam had no interest in making the same mistake again. Five years of wandering the land had taught him that people were the same everywhere.

And they couldn't be trusted.

***

Primrose walked to her room, seeing Lyka sitting on the bed with her back turned to her, dabbing an oiled cloth against her speartip. She closed the door and sat down on the bed, their backs touching as Primrose loosened the daggers hidden around her body, setting them to the side one by one for inspection.

"So this is the one you've been waiting for." Lyka's voice echoed from behind her. "Given how little you've talked about the intended leader for the better part of the last few months, I thought they would never show up."

Primrose held out a hand and felt Lyka give her the oiled cloth. Dabbing the cloth gently at one of the blades, she admitted, "I suppose I lost faith too. Or I was simply too distracted by all the happenings around JiangXi."

"No one can blame you for that. It has been quite a difficult year."

"But now that he's here," Primrose inspected the dagger, then slipped it into its leather sheath and slipped the rest under the pillow. "Things will be different. The Oracle's role for me to find people has kept me out in the open for too much. When Molam takes my position and I can return to my specialties, I hope you get along with him as his guard."

A hand on Primrose's shoulder made her turn to see Lyka's amber eyes, her gaze full of worry. "That would separate us."

Primrose slipped a hand under Lyka's reach and gently tapped Lyka's nose. "Only when we go about our duties. We can always find each other for rest."

Lyka's nose twitched at her touch, but her cautious nature continued. "What if I don't believe Molam should lead? I guard our leader. And that's you, Prim."

"It's a lot to ask of you and anyone to immediately place your trust with him, so I won't. Place your trust with me, Lyka, and that I know what I'm doing." Primrose caressed Lyka's chin and placed their foreheads together. "Or at least, the Oracle knows who she's choosing. Whom you guard should have no measured impact on how you guard them, yes? Carry out your duty, Lyka."

"My duty." Lyka's eyebrows furrowed, then she looked away, her hand falling from Primrose's shoulder. "I never thought I'd admit this openly, but sometimes I wish I didn't have duties."

"Don't we all," Primrose stood up and began untwisting a satem flower from her hair.

"What are you doing?" Lyka stood up in alarm.

"I only wore these for so many years so the Oracle could tell Molam how to truly find me. They've served their purpose."

Clambering over the bed at her, Lyka's hand gripped gently at her arm. "I like the look."

Primrose laughed. "Do you know how hard it is twisting these in every day?"

"And the results are astounding, Prim. You could even try other flowers now, right?" Lyka pulled her into a hug and then they fell onto the bed, then she brushed a stray strand of hair away from Primrose's face. "I think the flowers should stay. Don't be ashamed of where you came from, Prim. I've barely seen any flowers growing up in the Endless Sands and you've shown me so many."

Primrose pressed Lyka's forehead to her lips, then held her close as they cuddled for warmth.

"I'll keep the flowers in then." She promised. "And like that dream you had, we'll have a place where we grow our own one day, Lyka. Once we've done our duty and sown the seeds of tomorrow."

"Once we've done our duty." Lyka echoed. "I can only hope there's still a place for us, then."

Their fingers entwined as they drifted off to sleep.