Whenever I consider how others fault me, I ask myself this: have they done better?

If not, what have they to teach me?

— Meditations, by the Red Emperor

----------------------------------------

Flames erupted around his wrist to engulf the fan as Molam lunged towards the Tempest, but she reacted faster than he believed possible. A swift backwards bound swung her right out of the range of his other hand, forcing him to keep a strong grip on her wrist lest she get out of his reach.

She raised a hand to strike at his grip — the feather's flames expanded in response, causing her to recoil instead. Growling, she let go of her fan and a burst of emerald wind seemed to fly it straight into her retreating left hand.

In response, Molam dragged her wrist towards himself to throw her off balance, using his greater reach to knock the fan away before she could snag onto it. To Molam's surprise, he found the Tempest extremely light; though she attempted to break free from his grip he could still hold on. Had her fight with the UnSeen weakened her so? Or was it IceMourne's Domain?

"Enough!" She stamped her foot down into the ground and used the momentum of his pull to strike her palm into his chest. The air rushed out of Molam's lungs as the pain radiated through his entire body, causing him to lose his grip on the Tempest's wrist and stumble backwards.

As he stumbled, he tried to regain his footing, but the force of her palm strike had sent him past the steps. He saw the world spin upside down as the stairs rushed up to meet him, and he could feel his body struggling to orient itself for the inevitable fall. But the pain pulsated relentlessly in his chest, leaving him disoriented and helpless.

A pair of arms caught him roughly and his world turned with Shurra's somersaulting leap. The Northern Warrior's jarring landing felt like another strike to his chest — Molam would have groaned in pain if he had air left in his lungs. He coughed up tangy blood and gasped for air, the attempt resurging the pain in his broken ribs.

"Molam, can you stand?" Shurra wasn't even looking at him, her eyes instead on the second floor.

If Molam could retort, he would have, but he decided that responding with anger would only worsen the pain. The tears ran freely down his face but he did not care — all he could do in that moment was try and focus on breathing through the spasms of twinging hot pulses radiating his chest to the rest of his body. The throbbing ache cramped his lungs as he struggled to breathe, desperately hoping the spirit would know his request even if he couldn't voice it.

Green wind picked up within the destroyed Mansion and the pressure of the wind expelled all of the brilliant specks of divine snow that had fallen in from the hole in the roof.

"I see. So you were waiting for IceMourne's divine snow?" The Tempest's voice echoed down from above, followed by her stepping to the edge of the stairs and into the air. "I retract what I said earlier. To try and bridge the gap in abilities by utilizing a dragon's Domain — I underestimated you."

She threw a hand forward at their group, fingers clawing at the air and pulled.

The illuminating glow of the divine snow fell silently through the desolate mansion, and all that could be heard was the raspy clutched heaving of their group as they fought for air. Once again, only Kalle, Shurra, and Molam seemed unaffected by the Tempest's skill.

But the brief itching throughout his body had done its job. Molam clutched at Shurra's arm, making her look at him as he wheezed through the pain to whisper hoarsely at her. "To them." He pointed at the group, coughing up more blood. The spirit was healing him but it was slow. Too slow.

She carried him over in a swift bound, landing in the middle of the group right near Agytha's body, almost slipping on the fresh blood that pooled on the floor. Agytha's blood. He looked away, willing the sinking feeling in his stomach to come back another time.

Molam held up his left arm. "Please," he whispered without sound to the spirit even as the choking gasps echoed around him. "Save them."

So be it.

The ring of flame manifested around his wrist, then expanded and became a dome of fire covering their entire group in a booming inferno, melting away the divine snow that fell about them and illuminating their immediate surroundings in a glowing, orange light.

The grateful heaving of the humans around him resounded, with even Shurra breathing a sigh of relief. She did not have a jade talisman like him and Kalle — was her auramancy only barely able to prevent the Tempest's skill from affecting her?

"So you can still exert that." The Tempest's voice echoed throughout the remaining walls of the devastated Mansion, her glowing green eyes apparent even through the conflagration that shielded them. She raised her arm backwards as she looked down upon them all, the air coalescing visibly around her fan. "Now that I've taken another glance, it only looks like Jett's, but feels completely different. Allow me to test it!"

The deafening pressure of air slammed downwards and the dome of flame rushed up to meet it, the two forces crashing upon each other in a spray of sparking flares that lit up the darkness within the Mansion. With a sundering crack, the remaining walls of the Mansion exploded outwards at the force of the Tempest's gale, the roof threatening to fall down upon them. She swung again, the force of the auric squall blasting the first toppling bits of tile. The stone flooring outside of the fiery dome shredded in the cutting wind and members of the Dao dashed away from the edge in fearful panic.

Three more times, the Tempest made a full-armed swipe of the fan at them, and each time the blazing inferno almost seemed to cave in under the force and pressure of her attack. The final burst of compressed gale plunged straight at Molam, drilling through the searing firestorm in a penetrating emerald cyclone that made the terrified members of the Dao rush away from him.

But it, too, dispersed, a mere arm's distance away from his outstretched arm. And with that, the fiery Domain scattered into the wind and the darkness of night crept in.

The aura is spent. Take care of yourself, boy.

Molam barely had time to register the spirit's words as the Tempest's presence loomed over them. Once again, the luminous motes of divine snow began to fall into what was no longer the Mansion, but where it once stood. Their group huddled together in the cold of Winter's Sorrow and could only look up in the dark at those glowing green eyes.

And the fan that was now held limply by her side.

"She's spent," Molam rasped at Shurra, directing his eyes at the Tempest.

Shurra laid him down and launched herself at the Tempest, who lifted herself up in the night sky out of Shurra's reach. Now, the divine snow was falling steadily, briefly illuminating all that it passed like frigid glowbugs. Despite that, none fell onto the Tempest herself, and all that came close were blown away by a gust of wind.

"How unfortunate. Your Domain survived it all." Though the night sky was filled with the light blue glow of divine snow, those two glowing green eyes were unmistakable as they gazed down again. "And your gamble paid off." She held out her fan, capturing several flakes of divine snow. A moment later, she looked at Agytha's limp body. "And now there is no longer a reason for me to stay in JiangXi. You may have it. For now."

"Coward!" Shurra pulled a hand back and jettisoned her sword at the Tempest, who batted it away with her fan. "You would run from a fight?"

The fan swiped through the air and again, Shurra was thrown into a wall. "Don't get ahead of yourself, Northerner. I'm not running from you, but accepting your leader's proposal to leave this as it is for now as Oasis' loss. You think you qualify to even consider challenging me for a tattoo?" The Tempest looked down upon the rubble that Shurra was buried under, the falling divine snow briefly lighting up the Titled One's livid face. "How disappointing. Ever since the Frozen Saint's failure, the quality of you Northern Warriors has certainly fallen."

"Now that Agytha is dead and IceMourne's divine snow covers JiangXi, I'll allow your group to play host until Spring's Blessings." She turned upon them, the wind picking up in speed, causing the falling divine snow to blow sideways. "Molam, was it?" The words seemed almost whispered, yet were carried to his ears by the wind. "The next time we meet, it'll be under different circumstances."

And then all that was seen in the night sky was the falling light of IceMourne's divine snow.

***

"You're immensely lucky none of your ribs punctured your lungs. They simply shattered on impact."

Molam tried his best to not look at the healer's mottled face. The candlelight's flickering glow did not make the older man's skin look better, but the Sun had already set and the divine snow was not bright enough to illuminate his room. Part of him could not help but wonder if he should really be trusting himself to a healer with that sort of unmended injury. Another stray thought that surfaced was one of guilt: what if it was a result of an unfortunate circumstance of birth?

The healer, Bernad, washed his hands in a nearby basin of water, then immediately dried them with a cloth. "I've set your broken ribs and coaxed them to heal, but it will take some time to mend naturally. Don't exert yourself any more than necessary for the next few days, and I will come by each day to monitor any changes."

"Thank you," Molam exhaled gingerly, a reaction he had internalized from the pain from the previous night. "How long?"

"How long… before you get out of bed?" The healer shook his head, the act making the splotchy patches on his skin look as though they danced. "Until the next moon? Winter's Sorrow is here. You might be young, but overexert yourself and all you have is a bitter life ahead of you. The health of our bodies are the inescapable consequences of the lives we lead."

"I… will keep that in mind. Thank you, Bernad."

The healer shook his head. "I heard the Tempest was exhausted from her fight with the GloomSire, but even so, you shouldn't be so lax in your defenses. A Titled One is still a Titled One."

Molam's eyes reacted to a knock on the door.

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

"Come in."

Molam felt a pang of annoyance that Bernad was the one who answered — the man hadn't even so much as glanced at Molam to see if he was ready.

The door opened, and in came Kalle followed by blue flowers in burnt-orange hair.

"How is he?" Kalle asked immediately.

"I'm here, you know."

"Primrose. Kalle." Bernad greeted the two of them, then answered, "He will recover." Bernad was putting his tools back into his pack, then looked at Molam pointedly. "You have Kalle to thank for stabilizing your condition throughout the night before I arrived."

"Yes, thank you, Kalle." Molam glanced at Kalle meaningfully, but the man only gave him a look of exasperation.

Bernad nodded with approval, then hoisted the pack over his shoulder. "Molam just needs time to recover and there shouldn't be any long-term complications — as long as he stays put." The emphasis was directed at Molam, but the healer's eyes met with both Primrose and Kalle. "The two of you are responsible for ensuring he stays in bed and heals. I will go see to Shurra's injuries now."

The door closed behind the healer as Primrose walked to the chair near his bed. Kalle paced about at the foot of the bed, waiting for Primrose to settle herself in after she arranged herself. Molam found it interesting that Primrose was back to wearing a simple black dress, with hints of purple in its folds. Then again, after seeing her in action last night, he doubted that Primrose chose her attire for vanity's sake.

Molam chose to take the initiative. "How is the city?"

Primrose responded with the barest hint of a shrug. "Initial reports suggest it will take time to strengthen our hold. Winter's Sorrow is here, so the people are more likely to be barricaded in their homes, but I did instruct the Dao to make it clear that we will be providing support and resources within our means."

"And the guards?"

"Non-combative." Kalle paused at the window, looking out. "As you predicted, none of them liked Agytha."

Agytha. Lyka too. The reminder ate away at Molam as he tried to ignore the feeling gnawing away at his stomach.

"Did you do as I asked?" Molam murmured. "Regarding Lyka."

Kalle frowned, an expression that narrowed the scar that ran across his face. "Yes, I secured her body myself and we buried her with the rest of ours. But now that I can," Kalle turned his head to check that the door was closed before he came closer and lowered his voice. "I need to ask. Why?"

Molam looked at Primrose. "Did you not explain…?"

"It's good to know that even an alchemist of your skills doesn't understand the heart, Kalle." Primrose wasn't returning Molam's gaze, looking with unfocused eyes at the armguard on his bedside table instead. "The rest of the Dao can't be allowed to know that I failed in detecting a traitor in our midst. Molam wanted to prevent the trust within the group from breaking apart."

"Ah." Kalle opened his mouth as though he wanted to say something, then it seemed as if he thought better of it. "Well, I see. That does make sense."

Molam could not shake off the feeling that they were not here to see whether he was recovering, but it seemed as if neither wanted to proceed with the topic they had in mind. "Well, the two of you came for something, yes?"

"Molam, we —" Kalle started, but Primrose held up a hand.

"Kalle. Go to Shurra's room and make sure she doesn't kill Bernad. He's our only healer."

"But Primrose, your aura hasn't returned yet."

"If Molam was a threat, he would have killed me yesterday during the raid on the City Lord's Mansion."

Kalle took a breath, looked at Molam, then heaved a sigh. "Sorry, Molam. It's just… Lyka. We've been on edge. I didn't mean to imply you were untrustworthy."

Molam nodded. "No problem, my friend."

"I'll let you two get on with it then." Kalle winked. "Don't worry, Primrose wouldn't bully a patient. I think."

"If you make me laugh right now, Kalle, I'm going to die. And if I don't, I'm going to kill you after."

Kalle waved at the two of them, then closed the door behind him.

"And so, here we are." Molam tried to catch Primrose's gaze, but she stared down at her hands, clasped together in her lap. Her white knuckles made him wonder if she was trying to prevent herself from trembling. "How is your recovery?"

She still didn't look at him. "Kalle tried his best to concoct an antidote given what he knew about it so I can move about as normal, but only Oasis has the true recipe. I should be able to circulate my aura in another day or so."

Molam waited, but it felt as though Primrose wasn't going to be forthcoming. "What's on your mind, Primrose?"

Her clasped fingers visibly tightened. "Everything."

Molam exhaled a wheezing chuckle, then winced at the pain in his chest. "If you are here to talk to me about everything, we shall be here quite a while."

Her eyes raised to look at him. "What have you been hiding from me?"

"Hiding? What can I hide in front of your eyes?" Molam paused. "What are you doubting?"

"You didn't tap your aura at all against Lyka or Agytha." Primrose exhaled, then raised her head to face him fully, her next word tinged with a hint of steel. "Explain."

Meeting her gaze without blinking, Molam wished he could stop time to consider his words. "When Lyka knocked me to the wall, I had to heal."

"That suggests you weren't physically reinforced. Why?"

He took a gamble. "I… am poor at physical reinforcement."

"I can believe that." Her deep blue eyes fell to his bandaged torso. "Is that all?"

"Do you not trust me?" Molam turned it on her with a smile. "It isn't as though I fought the Tempest and came up with the plan that allowed the Dao to take control of JiangXi. I am obviously a prime suspect."

She didn't return the smile. "When Lyka joined me years ago, she did so by saving my life."

"Oh." Molam swallowed painfully. "Well… now we know Lyka's allegiance is to the Lord of Sands, which is why she was perfectly happy to kill the Red Army soldiers."

"I —" she stopped, then unclasped her hands and brushed aside a stray lock of orange hair. Molam wondered if the deep chill of Winter's Sorrow was what caused her hair to look bushier than normal, and the blue flowers shimmered each time she moved her head. "I trusted Lyka."

"Lyka had a jade talisman. You can't blame yourself for not Seeing that."

Primrose's expression darkened and Molam added, "We succeeded. Despite the… unexpected mishaps, we succeeded. I know you two had history together." A memory flashed from his youth, of the children that had led him to the bonfire. "And… betrayal hurts because it comes from those we trust most. I hope, for your sake, that Lyka is the only one to betray your trust."

"I know Lyka was the only one, I just…" Primrose looked down again. "I guess I wanted it to be anyone but her."

"Don't ever make the mistake of feeling inadequate because you trusted another, Primrose." Molam trained his gaze at Lyka, the shadows dancing just out of his direct vision. "Lyka's allegiance had always been to Oasis. It is not your fault that she is not deserving of your trust."

Primrose's lips flattened briefly. "And you?" Primrose looked up, her eyes searching his face. "Where is your allegiance? To the Oracle, I presume?"

A memory of Lyka as she sat across from him and her expression when talking about duty crossed his mind. Then that memory of Lyka looked at him, her gaze the same as the one that had stared at him as he carried Primrose away. His breath caught and he tried to breathe; and immediately clutched at his chest in pain, the memory of Lyka dissipating in his narrowed vision.

"Are you all right?" Primrose's hand clasped his and he felt her other hand lay reassuringly on his back. "I can call Bernad—"

Molam waved dismissively. The blessed pain had distracted him from thoughts, but he whispered to her through gritted teeth. "My allegiance, is it? Would you accept it if I told you I simply wanted to go home?"

Her fingers clenched against his hand, then as though realizing it, she let go.

"This must be quite the place to come from, for you to think so fondly of it. What's your home like?"

"I—" he paused, swallowing the pain, hissing through it. "I had two very, very different homes. Both places took me in when I had nowhere else to go." Another pause — a different kind of ache in his chest. "And both that took me in decided it would suit their purposes if I no longer lived there."

He had intended a calculated answer, yet somehow the pain forced out the truth. "The Empire of the Sun forced each of my homes to make a choice — and I am the product of that choice. You want to know my allegiance? Then let me tell you: my allegiance belongs to all those that suffer from the Bloody Prince's actions."

"Committing yourself to helping so many people?" Primrose gave him a murmuring smile. "Will that help you go home?"

Molam went quiet. For a moment, he couldn't meet Primrose's gaze. Then he looked out the window at the setting Sun and said, "This is part of going home."

He lay there, leaning in his bed against the pillow until he heard Primrose stand up. He turned to see her smoothing her dress. "I see why you won the color of the Oracle's approval."

Molam looked up at her. "Tell that to the rest of the Dao."

"Your achievements as a strategist have been conveyed, but they hardly needed convincing." She produced a jade talisman from within the folds of her dress and placed it next to him. "Your achievements made quite the impression among those present, considering they have you to thank for their lives."

Looking from the talisman to her, Molam frowned. "Aren't you afraid you can't Charm me if I have this?"

"I don't think I'll need to. It wouldn't do for our new leader to be defenseless when we have two of these, yes?" She dangled her own in front of him, then made for the door. "Take the time to recover, Molam. I'll ensure things run smoothly until then, and will come update you once daily."

Molam slipped the talisman into his hand, feeling the cool jade against his palm. "Wait."

Primrose turned around, her hand on the door and the blue satem flowers shimmering with the motion. "Yes?"

"What is your allegiance to?"

She seemed to think for a moment, then a hand reached up into her hair to pluck a flower that she then tossed at Molam. The blue flower sailed through the air and landed right on him, tumbling down his chest and coming to a rest on the covering.

"Flowers." She hummed softly, the gleam back in her eyes. "You can keep some of your secrets, and so will I."

***

The door closed behind her, leaving Molam with just the blue flower. He picked it up gingerly, bringing it close to focus on its scent as he tried to ignore the quiet that had settled in his room and the gnawing feeling that had returned.

But the stillness would not be denied. After a moment, he set the flower to the side, picking up his armguard slowly. Its metal plates clinked as he felt between the leather and the metal for the feather to extract it.

The plumage rested lightly in his fingers and the silence weighed on him even more. The thoughts that he had been ignoring surged in the hush and Molam licked his lips unconsciously before he tried to break the quiet lull with his own voice.

"Fiery One." Molam kept his voice low, but the spirit was always listening. It had to be. The feather had lost its luster and warmth, but it was still there. Perhaps if he focused his eyes and thoughts on it, the shadows would stop moving.

He waited, but the lack of response didn't deter him. It was too silent in the room and the shadows were too loud so he whispered again — the spirit would respond when it wanted to. "I had a dream last night, you know. The elder of my village… I recognized him because always carried this knobbed wooden staff to help him walk. And… well, I think he was the one who made the decision. When they needed tribute, I mean. When they had too many mouths to feed."

The candlelight flickered and the shadows danced along the walls, causing his fingers to clench tightly around the jade talisman as though it would protect him from them.

"I used to wonder how the elder could make such a decision." Molam held the feather by its shaft, making it roll between his thumb and index finger. Perhaps if he spoke louder, the chanting would stop. "Growing up in RainBringer's Castle, I thought only the most heartless people could do what he did. But then again, the entire village followed his instruction. So I knew: it was just part of being human."

"So when I saw him last night, the first thing I did was ask: Why did you do it?" Molam's vision became unfocused, the feather an orange blur in his sight. "And you know what he said? He pointed his staff at me and asked: how was your decision with Agytha any different?"

The candle grew dimmer, sputtering at the end of its wick, but Molam didn't care. The shadows could dance all they wanted. All he needed was for them to stop chanting. Why couldn't they be silent as shadows should be?

"Remember when we met and you asked me if I'm human?" He swallowed, but he knew if he stopped talking they would only be louder. "Ever since I woke up in the Castle, I've tried my best to be different."

Outside, he heard people celebrating. Snippets of conversation reached his ears, unavoidable: members of the Dao thought celebrating their achievement of winning the battle for the city and fighting off a Titled One. They had won!

Normally, his thoughts would be focused on the next step, and the plan after that. The Dao had the city, and from here on, it would be simple for him to retrieve the World Tree's elderwood. He even had the manpower to help him move the elderwood to Sanctuary now. But as the thoughts tried to organized themselves, the candle died. The darkness only made the shadows louder in his head. They were jubilant to be there, eager to let him know that they were always going to be with him.

He let the feather fall from his fingers.

"But it seems I'm just more of the same."

Molam buried his wet face in his hands, guilty with the shame that he had lost.