Though we approach the Gods for deliverance from suffering, sometimes results must be seized with our own hands. We fight through the darkness in the hopes that those who come after us no longer need to. So we are resolved to die, sowing the seeds of tomorrow with our lives, watering it with our blood and fertilizing it with our bodies.

For the children that come after us: we wish for you to have found peace in the light we intend to build.

— Fragment of an ancient mural bearing the faded insignias of the Hero's Companions. Translated by the Fallen Star Pavilion.

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JiangXi City

Molam placed the last cream-colored parchment onto the stack of finished reports on his left and rubbed at his temples, willing in vain for the headache to go away. The candle on his desk flickered innocently in the dimly lit study, the aroma of leymint and sandalwood permeating the air. Molam's swimming vision challenged Primrose's choice of incense; she had said it was good for focus.

The momentary distraction from his work reawakened the dull soreness in his lower back. Bernad the healer, perhaps at Primrose's direction, nagged at him almost daily about his health — yet both Bernad and Kalle refused to prepare a sleeping draught powerful enough to free Molam from the worries that kept him up at night. His pillow had not known warmth for days now despite the healer pressing a strongly worded recommendation to avoid working so late into the night.

But when the chilling darkness of Winter's Sorrow enveloped JiangXi each evening, every shadow on the wall reminded Molam of Lyka's empty stare and Agytha's accusing glare from that night. Molam could only escape into temporary solace by puzzling away the incomplete records and ledgers left behind by JiangXi's previous City Lord, dead at his command.

The Liberation of JiangXi. Or that's how the event became known in the city. Molam had heard whispers of other names of less savory reputation bandied about, but Primrose had recommended he quash them immediately. Kalle had protested, but a failed arson attempt on the Dao's gathering spot solidified Molam's decision to allow Primrose to influence public sentiment with a discreet and gentle hand. He did not need an unruly citizenry added to his growing list of tasks — or nightmares.

With the Empire's presence gone and Winter's Sorrow in full swing, Molam had dreaded the task of convincing the citizens to accept the Dao. But when the Dao had found the majority of the City's citizens ready for new governance, Molam grudgingly decided he had Agytha's draconian methods to thank. JiangXi's citizenry were more than grateful for the Dao's decidedly generous — or, comparatively generous — distribution of goods and resources to keep people warm and well-fed.

In hindsight, he admitted he should have foreseen the easy transition of power, but he did not regret overly preparing. Though he had read all of Agytha's notes — or at least, the ones that had survived the City Lord Mansion's burning — he had found little to no information as to why she had done the things she had done. The notes had only reaffirmed her true allegiance to Oasis and referred to some deal with the Empire, but any actual details were scant or beyond his understanding. A sensation gnawed relentlessly at his thoughts, the fear that he was overlooking something fundamental about controlling this city that belonged to the Empire. But whenever he sat down to search through all of the tattered ledgers and bookkeeping, no answers came up. Only more questions.

Another reason to avoid sleep. Molam glanced at the stack of reports he had finished reading, as though the information he wanted could be summoned out of the pages. In the weeks since the Liberation of JiangXi, he had spent his spare time not sleeping by poring over hundreds, perhaps thousands of salvaged reports of the comings and goings of JiangXi, not just during this Winter's Sorrow but also from the past few years. Even the tireless Shurra had complained to Molam about repeatedly diving into the frozen River Jiang in search of any leftover records blown away by the destruction, but Molam had placated her. He needed that information.

The more he tried to understand what led up to Agytha's control of JiangXi, the more something felt wrong. Molam closed his eyes, rubbing the tips of his fingers against his temples again. The migraine worsened and the shadows flickered against the wall, a grim reminder of the first time he had ignored the feeling of something being off and burned for it.

But what was wrong? Molam couldn't quite place a finger on it. Why had Agytha done what she did? Why had she been given the authority to do so?

He stared at a map of the world pinned on the wall. If Molam remembered his history lessons, the Prince had condemned the Lord of Sands to life in the Endless Sands after defeating him in the War of Crowns. Several decades after that, the Frozen Saint's Rebellion had seen the Prince personally kill the Spear and Shield of Oasis, the Lord's two children. Everything pointed to Oasis and the Empire being on less-than-friendly terms.

And yet, the Empire seemed to have abandoned JiangXi's citizens to their fate at Agytha's hands. The Prince's seal had even been involved.

Why? Molam only had questions, and he did not know how to begin answering any of them. Those who could have answered him were both dead. And one had burned most of the evidence he could find.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, glaring at the stacks of books and reports neatly arranged in the bookshelf to his right. It felt as though he had sat down to a dragon chess board already in play, but he was not allowed to see where any of the pieces were. And while he contemplated his moves, the players in the dark had a knife to his throat.

Catching himself mid-thought, Molam clenched a fist. All he had to do was deliver the World Tree's elderwood to the Oracle to go home. He was neither playing to win nor lose, only to survive. So long as he survived, and returned home, the board would no longer matter to him.

But the nagging feeling that he was overlooking something critical would not go away. That, and the stacks of papers on his desk reminding him of all that needed to be done before they could return to ZhiXia. Before he could go home.

A knock on the door pulled him out of his reverie. Molam looked up as two runners came in, each carrying another stack of papers. Placing the papers down onto his desk, they took a step back and saluted, a gesture Molam could not get used to.

He glanced down at the report on the top of the pile. A missive from the local scholars at the City's small Library, reaffirming their belief that Spring's Blessings was at most three weeks away. Pending any drastic change from IceMourne's yearly migration, of course.

"Any news of Techoria?" Molam asked aloud. JiangXi's residents had given many names to the eerie event where day had briefly lit up the night. Privately, Kalle had explained to him and the others about the SunFlower, and what the brilliant flash of light could possibly mean when it came to the siege of Techoria. Molam had sought details on the event ever since.

The runner on the left, a stocky man wearing one of Kalle's darker gray cloaks, shook his head. "News has been lagging due to the closed roads, sir."

"And I assume the same with regards to the Empire's movements," Molam murmured, glancing at the new pile of paper. The two looked at each other, and Molam waved his hand in dismissal. "Thank you for everything. Please, ensure you have something hot to drink before you leave, and as always, let me know of anything that you think needs to be said. Let the guards know I am not to be disturbed."

The door opened, but it didn't close. Molam looked up to see the stocky runner hesitating at the door.

"Yes?"

"It's…it's not something big right now, but if it's something that might need to be said…"

Molam forced himself to be patient. "If it's on your mind, it might be on other people's mind. Tell me about it, and I will decide if it's something I should deal with."

The man grimaced with a chipped tooth, as though regretting lingering. "I know that with the combined might of Shurra and yourself that the Dao beat back the Tempest, but … ZhiXia has never gone long without a defending Titled One, sir."

Molam immediately caught on. "ZhiXia's location makes it highly valuable to both the Empire and Free Cities alike, is what you mean. The lack of a defending Titled One means that other Titled Ones can freely enter or attack the city at any time."

The man nodded. "I don't know how strong you are as an auramaster, sir," he began, "But I can sense there is no Domain over the city. A rogue Titled One can easily come in and wreak havoc."

Tapping his chin, Molam contemplated the man's words and found they had merit. Titled Ones without clear allegiances were the hardest to predict, and they were less likely to be hampered by IceMourne's divine snow. Truth be told, without a Domain he had little insight or control over who entered JiangXi. Until now, he had been reliant on IceMourne's divine snow and the idea that he would not linger here when Spring's Blessings came, but what could he be certain of? A Titled One — or more — could have entered JiangXi right now and he wouldn't know.

"I can give this some consideration. But luckily, we currently have Winter's Sorrow to rely upon to keep the news of JiangXi's change from traveling far. We won't need to wait until Spring's Blessings for —" Molam stopped, looking at the man's face. "Is something wrong?"

"It's…" The man looked down and heaved a sigh. "You're right. The other Cities are most likely just hunkering down for Winter's Sorrow too."

"You seem distraught." Molam observed. "Is there a reason you seem particularly worried about an attack soon?"

"I understand we don't have a Titled One right now. But…" The man's eyes flicked back up to Molam. "During Winter's Sorrow, a Domain over the city can prevent the worst of IceMourne's divine snow. My daughter is too young to circulate her aura properly and my wife must keep her warm every night." He held his hands out as though begging. "I know that the Dao are doing their best to distribute warming stones, but…"

"I understand," Molam responded, though he had no inkling as to how he could even begin to fix this. Though he had instructed the Dao to do their best with regards to distribution of warming stones and Kalle's specialized cloaks, the needs of almost thirty thousand residents could not be adequately addressed when they had only just gained control over it. Once a week, he personally read the list of names that had died in IceMourne's bitter chill, before handing it off to Head Priestess Cerelia so she could lead prayer over the pyre. The list had never been shorter than two pages. "And I'm sure your daughter might not be the only one. Thank you for bringing this to my attention. I will have Kalle look into a possible solution for this problem first thing in the morning."

"Oh, thank you, sir. Thank you!" The man pressed his hands together and touched them to his head.

"I don't know how swiftly Kalle can help." Molam tried to temper the man's expectations. Kalle was probably his only hope. He had no Titled Ones at his command, and they weren't exactly easy to meet. Molam briefly contemplated asking Mursa Shang briefly, but wondered if he could even afford the Mursa's asking price. A mistake on his part for not thinking of this during negotiations.

The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

"It is enough that you cared, Molam sir."

The door closed behind them and Molam sighed, slouching slightly in his chair. He rubbed his bleary eyes, staring unfocused at the undried ink on the desk as the candlelight flickered across the paper. He had predicted this degree of paperwork to some extent and planned the Dao's… liberation with minimal damage to the city, but the destruction of the City Lord's Mansion and Agytha's burning of paperwork had left much more complications in administration. He envied the Tempest, who had clearly made a tactical retreat to avoid the dreaded bureaucracy and overseeing of logistics for JiangXi.

And there was much work to be done. Though he had secured Mursa Shang's food resources for the city, distribution had not been part of the agreed terms. Molam could hear Mursa Khan's derisive "hmph" in his head as he thought about the mistake. Too focused on the goal without thinking about the next step.

Then Molam started, eyes darting around the room. That disembodied "hmph" was not in his head, and the candlelight cast two shadows against the wall on his left. He reached a hand towards a dagger on his belt as his heartbeat picked up speed. Molam cast his mind out for possible reasons why he heard the sound from behind his back. His desk faced the only entrance in the room and Primrose had given him two guards at all times, on account of her belief that he could no longer use his aura.

For someone to be behind him could only mean they had slipped past the Dao's guards or found another entrance into a room with only one door and a barred window. For Molam or the guards outside to not have noticed meant that it could only be one stronger than even an auramaster.

JiangXi City currently has no Domain. His earlier thoughts caught up to him through the pounding of his heartbeat. Had the Empire already made its move? A determined Titled One could force through IceMourne's divine snow and enter the city — even with an army.

"I seem to have quite the guest." Molam spoke in a forcibly calm voice, his fingers curling against his dagger's hilt. "And what does a Titled One want with me this late in the night?"

"I see Sanctuary's messenger was far more than I expected." The familiarity of the voice sent chills down his spine. "Did you ever find the flower that blooms in flames?"

"I did." Molam relaxed his shoulders just slightly. GloomSire had spared him last time, yes? "Is there a reason the leader of the UnSeen is here to see me?"

An arm reached past Molam's shoulder to pinch out the candle's flame and all became dark. "You wanted to know why I am here?" GloomSire's toned shifted, suffused with a hint of grief and anger. "Perhaps you can guess."

Molam's grip on his dagger tightened as his thoughts raced. "I treated the mare better as you requested."

Far off in the distance, Molam heard the hooting of an owl.

"I'm very glad to hear that, but that's not why I'm here." GloomSire's unchanged tone kept Molam on edge. "I'm here because the Whale of ZhiXia told me you were the one who stole from the Bloody Prince." A heavy hand weighed down on Molam's left shoulder in the darkness and GloomSire's voice came closer to his right ear, the warm breath palpable in the chilly air. His next two words whispered death. "Did you?"

Molam could have sworn the guardsmen outside his door should be able to hear the blood pounding in his ears. "I did."

"So you admit it."

"I stole from the Bloody Prince to fulfill a task for the Oracle." Molam attempted to explain, but the hand on his shoulder clenched, the fingers digging painfully into his flesh.

"And then you shifted the blame to the UnSeen."

"I did not shift the blame onto the UnSeen." Molam pieced it together at the way GloomSire's line of questioning focused on something he had stolen. The Tempest had left to subjugate the UnSeen because the Prince had ordered it. And the Prince had ordered it because… "If the UnSeen have suffered the Empire's actions as a result, it has nothing to do with me. It is an unfortunate consequence of circumstance."

Bandaged fingers encircled his neck. "How do I know you're not lying?"

Molam felt his jaw stiffen and resisted the urge to swallow. He paused, then spoke slowly. "Do you have the Sight? If not, you can still kill me then if it makes you feel better for those that died at the Tempest's hands. But will killing me truly quell your grief?"

A harsh intake of breath, followed by an exasperated grunt. The hand on his shoulder and fingers around his neck gripped even harder before the pressure let up. Molam rotated his shoulder gingerly to ensure nothing had broken and forced himself to swallow the lump in his throat before he asked in a soft voice. "How many did the Tempest kill?"

When GloomSire finally answered, the voice came from somewhere in front of Molam in the dark room of his workspace. "All of them."

The door opened and candlelight flooded in. "Molam, sir," stammered a voice he recognized as one of his guards. "I know you said to not be disturbed, but…"

"I told you that we would come in the morning, Yao-ren." An unfamiliar voice, deep and resonant, echoed into the room. A towering figure blocked out most of the light as he ducked into the room, paused, and then plucked a candle out of its holder as he entered. The candlelight illuminated a large man holding a straw hat as he looked down at GloomSire, who seemed to be looking out the window defiantly. The larger man's grizzled black hair ran in an untamed braid down his back and past his bare elbows where Molam could see a tattoo on each arm — a tiger on the left and a whale on the right.

"You didn't have to come." GloomSire responded without looking back. "Nothing happened. I am level-headed."

"That's one way to put it." The larger man lit Molam's extinguished candle and returned his own to its original place. "An erased presence does nothing when you reek of bloodlust. How do you think I knew?"

GloomSire grunted. "He's alive, it doesn't matter."

"True. He is."

The other one turned to look at Molam, who had frozen still at the unexpected second man. To address a Titled One by their name was enough disrespect to provoke wrath or indicated one's higher status. He coupled that with the rumored set of tattoos and identified the larger Titled One as the Whale of ZhiXia.

Molam collected his thoughts in front of his guardsmen, smoothing his tone to ensure none of them made any moves that he would regret. "I seem to have quite the number of guests tonight."

"Our mutual acquaintance here," the Whale pointed at GloomSire, "Decided that he could not wait to confront you."

Molam looked past the two at his guards, who cowed in the Whale's shadow. Perhaps they wouldn't make any sudden movements, but he still needed to send them away. "Thank you for being vigilant, but I've been expecting them. Close the door — no one is to disturb us."

They attempted to mask their looks of fear and confusion as they backed out of the room. The door closed and the Whale's face stretched into a small smile. "You've been 'expecting' us."

"It was the fastest way to send them away without fuss." Molam responded impassively.

"A poor lie. Made worse by the fact that two of us can See you lying."

Molam had no interest in lingering on the topic. "Why are the two of you here?" He asked flatly.

The Whale raised an eyebrow as if contemplating him. The man then leaned forward and placed his left arm onto Molam's desk. In the flickering candlelight, it seemed as if the rippling image of the tiger scowled at Molam. "The Oracle sent me to escort you back to Sanctuary. Yao-ren joined along the way."

"The one you brought almost killed me."

"If you had died so easily then you couldn't have been as useful as the Oracle thinks." GloomSire shrugged.

The Whale held up a large hand. "You wouldn't have died," he told Molam straightly.

"I see." Molam felt his voice become muted, then shook off the sensation as he addressed the man. "This is our first time meeting and I have my guesses as to who you are, but shall I refer to you as 'Whale' or 'the Whale'? I would like to avoid another…" Molam closed his eyes, remembering the ghostly feeling of bandaged fingers around his neck, "Near-death encounter from a displeased Titled One."

The Whale's lips curled and his eyes twinkled. "You could refer to me by name: Ji."

A sense of alarm flooded Molam's veins at the invitation and he hesitated. The tattoo of the tiger leered, its closed mouth still baring fangs. He chose his words carefully. "You would tolerate that from someone who isn't even Titled?"

Leaning in, the Whale shifted fully onto the table, his other arm's tattoo swimming in the light. "You seem fully on guard."

Molam's eyes flickered towards the tattoo, which remained stalwartly in its place, before he tilted his head at GloomSire. "He came trying to decide if he should kill me. How do I know what you do or don't want… Master Ji?"

The tattoo'd image of the whale seemed to rise from the depths as Ji laid his chin on a closed fist. Up close, Molam could see Ji's dark eyes contemplating him. "I see the rumors of your boldness have some merit."

"Oh? What have you heard?"

"Though the Oracle commanded, I was curious enough to want to see you for myself. I heard you threatened the Oracle within Sanctuary and almost provoked the Leviathan. Is it apt for one who has died once to be so careless with their second life?"

Molam saw GloomSire in his peripheral vision turn to look at them at Ji's words, but Molam did not dare turn his gaze away from the Whale's oppressive presence. Part of Molam wondered if he was currently under the effects of either's Domain. He then wondered if the jade talisman would even work to prevent the effects of a Titled One's Domain at this distance.

But he leaned back and gestured at himself. "As you can see, I am alive. And from what it sounds like, the Oracle sent you as reinforcements. Helpers, one would say," he added pointedly.

"In a sense." Ji shrugged. "The Oracle values the group she has been cultivating for several years now. She had high hopes for you and I understand you succeeded in stealing from the Empire twice."

"Don't accuse me of stealing something I bought with fair value." Molam glanced at the door to ensure it was closed, then looked at the Whale and spoke in a low voice. "As you said, I'm on my precarious second life. I'm not going to waste it being the Oracle's tool." He ignored GloomSire's presence, trusting his gut feeling that the man was the type to stay silent about these matters. "I assume you know I am going home."

"So I have been told." Ji's dark eyes did not flicker. "I am not the one you need to convince."

"Enough." GloomSire interrupted. "When are we leaving for Sanctuary?"

Molam held his hands out in a helpless gesture. "It is currently Winter's Sorrow."

"We can easily carry you through the divine snow."

"While I don't doubt that, I have a binding agreement with Mursa Shang to return to ZhiXia together when RainBringer spreads Spring's Blessings." Molam glanced at Ji, "The mursashu have agreed to help me bring the elderwood to ZhiXia."

"That's too long." GloomSire walked forward, his shimmering dark blue eyes transfixed on Molam. "We can't wait for Spring's Blessings. We leave tomorrow."

Molam met GloomSire's gaze. "You do understand how a binding contract with the mursashu is enforced, yes? What purpose is there in bringing my body back if either God Yven or God Gered claim me?"

The room darkened — as though the candlelight's very nature had changed. Through the darkness, piercing blue eyes filled Molam with a chilling sense of dread, one that seeped deeply into his bones. Molam's fingernails dug into his palms; the chill of Winter's Sorrow could not even compare.

The very next moment, Ji stood up. Molam blinked, refocusing his vision. GloomSire was nowhere to be seen. Warmth — blessed warmth — soaked his body again, and the candle's flame flickered innocently.

"Thank you for taking the time to meet with us." The Titled One pushed his chair back into place. "As Yao-ren and I have had a long journey, I have reminded him to get some rest in his room. You must be patient with him, for he has recently lost many he cared for."

Molam's hand reached for his neck, where he could have sworn he felt the clammy grip of bandaged fingers. Nothing was there.

He lowered his hand. "Then I take it that the two of you will stay with us until Spring's Blessings."

Ji pushed open the door, where the posted guardsmen had increased in numbers from two to six. They pushed themselves against the wall as Ji stepped through the doorway and into the hall.

"Until Spring's Blessings," Ji responded as he left. "Good evening to you gentlemen."

Molam exhaled, watching the guardsmen's turned heads as they all watched the Titled One leave. One of the men stepped in and Molam recognized him as the one from earlier.

"Molam, sir. Did they bring bad news?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Why would you think that?"

"The Whale of ZhiXia only leaves Sanctuary when things are… bad," the man finished lamely.

Rubbing his eyes, Molam leaned back in his chair and stared at his candle before he responded. "In this case, I'd say they brought good news. In fact, we now have a possible solution to your problem."

The man seemed confused. "We do?"

"Yes. Remember how ZhiXia feels undefended with no Titled Ones or Domains? Now we have two."