Perhaps we live to fulfill the story of how we die.

— Notes from Flangel the Wise's journal

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Molam's gaze fixated on Martyker's motionless body. Not because of me.

"Primrose, Scarlette. Find a Priestess healer and let me go to Martyker." Molam did not know if his tone was pleading or commanding. Was it even possible to be both at the same time? "Now."

The hands released him — he shoved himself up and forward. In his haste, he went off balance and stumbled to his knees, but he didn't care that it stung. He forced himself to his feet again, cursing his crippled shoulder and leg.

Step. Limp. Step. Stumble.

When Molam reached Martyker's body, he dropped to his knees.

"Martyker," Molam's throat clenched at the sight of the swordsman's injuries. Martyker's left arm was simply gone; Roxxa's merciless blade had managed a clean, horrifying slice through the shoulder. Desmi's harpoon had ripped a hole straight through the man's chest, leaving him in a pool of his own blood.

Martyker coughed, spewing more blood into his thick beard. His eyes fluttered open. "Molam?"

"It's me," Molam answered, cradling Martyker's head. Why was it so light? "The battle is over. Roxxa left. We're alive."

"Molam. I…" The swordsman shifted, then blinked, looking down at himself. "Ah. Right. I'm armless now."

Molam's fingers trembled as he tried to think about what he could do. "A healer's coming. Just… just hold on. It's not too late, we can still reattach —"

"Not this time, I'm afraid." Martyker smiled, a trail of blood dripping from the corner of his mouth. "Oh. Honorable Master."

A shadow loomed over them. Molam looked up to see Master Ji's towering figure, and then Nettie dropped down from the Whale's shoulder, landing on uncertain legs.

"Uncle Marty." She landed with a voice of disbelief. Then she ran towards him; Molam caught her before she could worsen the man's injuries.

"Not yet," Molam held on tight as she tried to tear away from his grasp. Small teeth sunk into his shoulder, but he ignored the pain as she fought him with a child's strength. "Nettie," Molam forced his shaky voice to be gentle, "Stay calm. A healer is coming."

"It's fine, Molam," Martyker coughed. The force of the cough caused more blood to ooze out of his wounds. "Nettie, come here."

The girl broke free from Molam's arms and collapsed onto Martyker's legs, hugging him tightly. Blood stained her clothes and skin, but she did not care as tears streamed down her face. "Uncle Marty. Uncle Marty. Uncle Marty."

"Heh, I can't even hug you back now." The girl squeezed her thin arms around him tighter, and the swordsman had a look of relief. "I'm glad you're safe, Nettie. Or your grandfather would have never let me hear the end of it."

Primrose ran up carrying Martyker's severed arm, a pair of Priestesses following her. The older Priestess knelt down and inspected the swordsman, her touch gentle but firm. She didn't even look at his arm, focusing entirely on the hole in his chest.

"Well?" Molam demanded. "What are you waiting for?"

The Priestess looked up at the others, then shook her head. "His heart has been fully destroyed." Molam's blood ran cold. The heart and brain were two organs no healer could fix. The healer's hands glowed as she drew them around Martyker's ghastly wounds. "I can only stem the flow of blood. Right now, he's only alive because he must be forcing the remaining blood in his body to flow with what aura he has left. But without the heart, when his aura runs out…"

No. Then, "No." The word forced itself out of Molam's mouth. Not Martyker. Molam looked towards Master Ji. The Whale of ZhiXia. Yes, Master Ji should have something. The former Commander of the Red Army, a Titled One with decades of experience… "Master Ji?"

The Whale's face darkened, a storm brewing behind his eyes. Each person — even the Priestesses — fell silent while they waited for him to speak, because surely he had an answer.

Then he spoke. "It is customary to bow three times when accepted as a disciple."

"Master… Ji?" Molam could not believe what he was hearing. Martyker's injury… did the man not hear? Martyker had no heart. Martyker was dying.

"Help me sit up, Molam," Martyker told Molam. "I know only one of your arms still works, but if you help me up I'll do the rest myself."

Molam reached down with his working arm and brought Martyker up. Primrose knelt down to comfort Nettie as she sobbed into Martyker's lap, attempting to pull the little girl away. The girl refused, tugging at Martyker's clothes, but Primrose managed. Just like with Molam earlier, Nettie bit at Primrose's shoulder as she struggled, refusing to be parted from Martyker.

"Nettie, your Uncle Marty will tell you one last story, so listen carefully." Martyker's voice seemed progressively weaker as Molam helped him to his knees. "Do you remember all the stories I've told you?"

"Nettie doesn't remember," the girl sobbed, struggling to break out of Primrose's grip. "Nettie doesn't remember anything of the stories you've told. So please… tell Nettie all the stories again. Nettie wants to keep hearing stories about the Armed Swordsman."

"Once upon a time, there was a man who wanted revenge for his siblings." With great difficulty, Martyker faced the Whale on his knees and bowed, touching his head to the ground. "He thought it would end his father's grief."

Molam looked up as though it would contain the moisture in his eyes, then looked back down again when the swordsman straightened up. The Oasian had done his best to protect him. He owed it to Martyker to watch.

"Then that man failed, and saw that he would need to become a Titled One before he could try again," Martyker bowed again. Molam could not believe he could still make these movements with those injuries; the man must have been moving through sheer force of will. "He thought he could do this by going on a journey of self-discovery."

Shurra had walked over. She started to say something, then fell silent when she saw Martyker's injuries as he straightened up from the bow. Her mouth pressed into a thin line.

"During his travels, he saw the Free Cities and how it needed more than just another Titled One." Martyker bowed one last time, the effort splitting his wounds and renewing the flow of blood. "So he thought it needed something… more."

Madam Scarlette laid a hand on the Whale's arm. The Whale of ZhiXia said nothing, looking down as Martyker lifted himself up again. When Martyker straightened himself from the bow, the Whale knelt down to hold the man by his shoulders, a solemn expression on his face.

"I accept you as my disciple, Martyker the Armed Swordsman."

Molam had never seen that expression on Master Ji's normally stoic face. The man, who normally looked in his late thirties, suddenly looked to be the centenarian he truly was. Sorrow etched deep lines upon his weathered face. His eyes, normally sharp and focused, carried a distant look as he looked into Martyker's eyes.

But more importantly, Master Ji had referred to Martyker by his Title. There were no set rules for being given a Title, but few actions legitimized it more than another Titled One respecting it.

"Honorable Master Ji." The swordsman grinned. "I can now say this to you as your disciple. It is just my opinion, but steel does not need to be under the Sun to shine bright."

"You have never been just a reflection." The Whale's voice dropped lower. "You brought much light into the world."

The words seemed to delight Martyker, who then looked to Molam and the others. "What's with your faces?" His eyes misted over. "Don't blame yourselves. You've done nothing wrong." Martyker looked towards Master Ji and Nettie. "Can you bring my sword to my father?"

Nettie shook her head, wailing as she tried to reach Martyker with her small hands.

"Don't cry, Nettie. Remember: only upturned lips can catch happiness. Here. Let me show you."

Martyker smiled for them, his pearly-white teeth shining through his blood-matted beard.

Then he went limp in Master Ji's arms.

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Later that evening, mursashu caravan

"Mursa, may I ask a question?"

"Oh? That's rare, Jyuni," Mursa Shang looked up from his writing. Jyuni, her silky black hair rippling down one shoulder, returned his gaze impassively from her side of the desk. Ledgers were stacked between the two of them, which Jyuni was sorting out for Mursa Shang as he reviewed their current inventory. He was glad to see the caravan had suffered little in the destruction, confirming his decision to leave the Arena early. "You took the initiative to ask me a question."

"I normally don't need to wait for you to be talkative in private," Jyuni responded coolly. "You delight so much in foisting your wisdom onto me."

"How hurtful, Jyuni, how hurtful," Mursa Shang chuckled. "Especially when I'm just trying to maximize the amount of knowledge I give you before God Yven invites me to his stony halls." He set down his brush. "You should practice knowing how to direct conversation yourself, my apprentice. Being inscrutable is a negotiation tactic, yes, but it's never as good as always being in control of the situation."

"A wonderful demonstration, Mursa."

Mursa Shang cleared his throat. "Well then, your question?"

"Were the results what you wanted?"

"Ah, yes. Yes…" Mursa Shang looked out of the window of their temporary quarters, seeing the shadow of YiZhi Mountain and Sanctuary. "The Dao survived and the Empire did not obtain their heart's desire. More importantly, Molam survived. He's proven his value beyond his connections. And now that the Oracle told us it's possible… we have use for him yet." He looked back to Jyuni. "When you are Mursa, be vigilant about maintaining a semblance of neutrality while befriending all sides."

"Then why do you look so pained?"

"Do I?"

Jyuni pointed to her left brow. "You have a habit of raising your eyebrow like this when you don't like the price."

"I do not." Mursa Shang relaxed his face, immediately self-conscious. His eyes darted up towards the left as though he could somehow see his own brow without a mirror. "...do I?"

"It is slight," Jyuni responded, "Only I would have noticed since we spend so much time together. Which is why I am asking because I do not understand — you seem unhappy even if you got what you wanted?"

"I could tell you," Mursa Shang kept his face impassive. "But then you'd accuse your Mursa of being talkative."

"If you can't make it quick, then never mind." His apprentice looked back down to her work. "I have numbers to balance for our upcoming trip to Oasis."

Mursa Shang sighed. Jyuni could be so difficult to tease.

"Jyuni." The tone he used made her look up, wariness in her eyes. "Unfortunately, this lecture will need to happen if you do not yet understand. The Dao's leadership — mostly Molam and Primrose — is sharp. Not just as a buyer, but as a seller."

"You think he's going to gouge us in price?"

"Maybe." The Mursa leaned back in his chair. "The lesson we are revisiting here is one of timing. Quick — what was the cheapest moment to buy the Dao's alliance?"

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"At the moment you made a deal with them, when they needed an ally."

"Very good. And while I committed to a stance of neutrality, I did nothing that would bind us to them. Do you know why?"

"Because you always verify the value of what you buy."

"Precisely, my dear apprentice. The Tempest in JiangXi was one thing, but this time… the OutCast was certainly determined, given the destruction we saw in her quest to kill him." Mursa Shang tapped his armrest, deep in thought, "And yet Molam lived. Him, and those that follow him. That means it's not a fluke. Well, him being chosen to carry the Oracle's color was already a good indicator of his value, but now it's more…" The tapping stopped, "...tangible."

"Isn't that what you were hoping for, if you were going to align us with the Dao?"

"And therein lies the problem. I wasn't willing to gamble on something so unverified, and that opportunity is now gone. Molam is no fool either; he knows that we know, and anything we try with him will have a greater price attached to it. I also didn't stay to help him against the Empire's four Titled Ones."

"Perhaps you should have, to win his trust?"

"Against the Tempest, Islander, HushFang, and the OutCast?" asked Mursa Shang in amusement. "Let's not speak about the bit where I would have explicitly gone against the treaty with the Empire and implicated the rest of our people. You must not place a lot of value in your master's life if you think I should participate in that fight."

Jyuni blinked at him, then grinned slyly. "Should I answer that?"

"Don't you dare."

"Then my final question instead. Why are you so certain Molam will make it expensive for us? My experience with him is that he's… fair."

"Don't think that, Jyuni. You have him all wrong." Mursa Shang spoke more urgently than he intended to. Jyuni had sat up straight at the seriousness in his voice, a look of surprise on her face. "You have yet to spar with him with just a contract or chessboard between the two of you. He will exploit any mistake and by the time you're scrambling to undo your last mistake he'll make you reveal two more. Unfortunately, we need to speak with him."

After a moment, he then shrugged, "And if Molam doesn't make it expensive for us to form a true alliance, then he isn't who we want to align ourselves with in the first place. Do you understand, Jyuni? If this happens, it must be expensive — or not at all."

"I understand your reasoning, Mursa, but…" Jyuni looked at the map of the world behind her Mursa. A circle had been drawn around Mur, pulsing with the golden glow of her Mursa's aura. "I still see no reason why he will succeed where all others have failed."

"Ah, I've forgotten to tell you." Mursa Shang tapped the sapphire ring on his left hand. "The Oracle told me that we'll only clear DuskWing's Curse out of Mur with the help of a greater spirit. And I believe Molam can use spirits."

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Near the ruins of Techoria

Rei entered the tent to a curious sight. Roxxa sat in a chair opposite Ruskru as he inspected the Northerner's wounds, glowering. Desmi hung upside-down behind them, Ruskru’s red sash holding his ankle in midair.

Ruskru's brown eyes looked at Rei. "Where is Kymja?"

"She chose to limp," Rei shrugged. "You know how she hates flying." She indicated at Desmi's punishment. "Are we finally trussing up the womanizer?"

The upside-down Islander waved cheerfully at her.

"Not quite. Ruskru is coming to terms with the idea that Desmi is not at fault in that swordsman's death." Roxxa seemed indifferent to Ruskru poking at the gaping wound in her shoulder. Rei had no idea how Roxxa maintained her look of passive disinterest; she could see the muscle and sinew pulse with each beat of Roxxa's heart. "You can let Desmi down now. It's entirely my fault. He didn't know about the Prince's hopes for recruiting Martyker."

"Stop moving, Roxxa." The Eclipse's face darkened further, his eyes still focused as he pulled another gleaming sliver of metal from Roxxa's wound, depositing it onto a nearby tray. "I never said you weren't to blame, Roxxa. You say that Desmi thought the swordsman was an enemy and that's why he went for the heart; but you took away his other arm first? Whyever would you do that?"

"I thought that he would seek us out to restore his arms," Roxxa responded. "Given that he could take the Prince's offer. I didn't think Desmi would take that as an indication the man was an enemy."

"Hard to think otherwise when you sever someone's arm, Roxxa." Rei leaned back to watch Ruskru work, wincing at the soreness in her body. She was too tired to float. "Tense moment like that, even I would have done the same."

"Is it possible he didn't die?" Ruskru directed the question at Desmi.

Desmi shook his head. "I, ah, went straight for the heart."

Ruskru sighed and the sash loosened from Desmi's ankle. He caught himself by bracing his palms against the floor, regaining his balance with two paces towards Rei. Flipping himself back up, he smiled and winked as though mere acrobatics could impress her.

"The swordsman's death is the smallest of our issues," Ruskru glared at Roxxa as he continued cleaning the wound. "You were sent to retrieve the Prodigy, not kill the Oracle's vessel or be involved in so many deaths and destruction at ZhiXia City." He paused. "You weren't selected to lead so you could allow your judgment to be clouded, Roxxa."

"My judgment hasn't changed," Roxxa's face was deadpan, and Rei could respect how the Northerner did not even flinch. Ruskru had healed her once before; he could not heal as painlessly as those few who specialized in it. "It doesn't matter that the Oracle seems to have chosen someone weak as a vessel. His existence represents that the Oracle is ready to move again, and that will only bring about more death. More destruction." Her voice became flat. "We've missed two chances to kill him now."

"Not ‘we.’ We did not set out to kill the Oracle's vessel. You failed. And now you've used up your token from the Prince."

"I was trapped."

"Desmi and Rei returned for you."

"The opportunity was there," Roxxa's tone became defiant, her bandaged fist pounding into her armrest. The chair's leg crumpled, leaving her balancing on a three-legged chair. "There were no other Titled Ones — I still stand by the decision surrounding the circumstances."

Ruskru gave Roxxa a light stare. The Northerner didn't quite meet his gaze. "I told you earlier," said Ruskru, "to not move." A pause, then he pulled out another sliver of metal. "This wound is already complicated enough to clean, what with the amount of splinters that sword left in the muscle."

"I apologize," Roxxa grumbled, leaning back in her chair. It creaked, tilting backwards. "Will I regain full use of my arm?"

"Eventually. This will take me multiple sittings. You are lucky he didn't kill you — that blade almost reached your heart." Ruskru began pinching together the skin around her wound. The dried blood, having long coagulated during their half day of escape, sank under the skin as the wound itself knitted together under his touch. "All I can do right now is clean and close the wound so it doesn't fester, but everything beneath the skin will need time."

Satisfied with his handiwork, he pointed at the white scar. "You're going to stay with me over the next few weeks so I can reknit the muscle as best I can while making sure your hands heal correctly. And there is nothing I can do to stop it from scarring. But perhaps you were looking forward to a tattoo?"

"Tattoos are for victories," Roxxa responded woodenly. "This will be a good reminder of my failure."

"Which brings me to our main topic," Ruskru closed his eyes and sighed, leaning back into his chair. "You returned without the Prodigy."

"There were… complications," Rei spoke up. "We didn't expect another Titled One to show up. The one leading the UnSeen. If he hadn't broken our formation —" She fell silent when Ruskru opened one eye and looked at her.

"We don't move more than two of us at a time without good reason," Ruskru spoke softly. "That I sent four of you should have been a good enough indicator of the importance of securing the Prodigy. Did you forget? We need the SunFlower. And yet, you all came back empty-handed."

His tone stayed unchanged, but Rei's senses tingled.

"No," Ruskru corrected himself thoughtfully. "More than empty-handed; you've broken the unspoken agreement between the Empire and Sanctuary. One of you went off by herself to attack the Oracle's vessel, and failed to kill him anyway. Two of you accidentally killed the swordsman our Prince intended to recruit. Three of you had the Prodigy within your grasp and couldn't return with her. Roxxa even used up her token from the Prince." He leaned forward in his chair. "Four of you went; and four of you failed."

"Our tokens are our own. When we use them is for us to decide." Roxxa did not back down. "Shouldn't you be focused on our next course of action rather than the mistakes?"

"I am emphasizing your 'mistakes' because none of you seem to understand the weight of consequences. This has become worse than JiangXi, where we had a convenient excuse for the Empire to leave. All of Sanctuary and ZhiXia City knows you four were there — you've made a big enough mess that it can't be unmade and your mistake…" Ruskru looked around at them, his tone deadly, "is the Empire's mistake, do you understand?" He paused. "What would our Prince say?"

The air within the tent had gone stiff. Rei avoided the Eclipse's gaze, the pressure emanating from him overshadowing her immediate thoughts. Desmi hummed from the back of the tent, helping himself to the food on the tables.

"Relax, Ruskru." The voice sailed in from outside the tent, then Kymja limped through the taut woven fabric. Rei noticed the ginger way Kymja treated her left leg and the shallow gashes all over her arms, courtesy of their fight with the Whale. "The Prince would say he's glad we came back in one piece." She looked towards Roxxa, then amended herself as she slumped into a nearby cushion, "Or at least, we'll be in one piece, once you heal us. We escaped the Whale of ZhiXia; is that not something?"

"Empty. Handed." Ruskru emphasized the words. "Four of you were sent to retrieve the Prodigy so we could have the SunFlower's design. While some of you certainly managed to make a big mess of things, we still don't have the Prodigy or the SunFlower."

"Aha, but that's not quite true." Kymja held out her open hand. "I believe I obtained the next best thing."

Everyone's gaze focused on the ring glinting in the middle of her palm.

"I took it off the Prodigy," Kymja added, then tossed it towards Ruskru. "The aura is the same as Flangel's Staff."

Ruskru inspected the ring, then his sash brought a hooked staff to him. Flangel's Staff. Touching the staff to the ring brought forth a harmonious ring echoing through the tent.

"It's real," Ruskru frowned, "But… sealed. Only the designated person or someone who can navigate the seal can open it."

All of them looked around at each other. None of them had studied seals to any depth, an alchemic specialty. A seal put in place by a Master Alchemist could only be navigated by one of a similar caliber.

"The Prince?" Rei suggested. "We already have the ring and confirmed it's the real one. We don't need to open it ourselves; the Prince is a Master Alchemist."

"We could," Ruskru seemed unsure, "But having the ring is one thing. We do not know if the SunFlower's design is inside. Imagine our shame if the Prince awoke and we presented a ring that did not contain what he wanted?"

"We could bring it to Zaem," Desmi offered. "They have four Master Alchemists. One of them should be able to study Flangel's seal."

"No," Ruskru stowed away the staff, still looking at the ring. "I don't trust the alchemists of Zaem with Flangel's ring at all. We'll need to discover who Flangel meant to have this ring, or find a Master Alchemist with no relation to Zaem."

"This sounds like a dead end," Roxxa grumbled. "Only Techoria and Zaem produce Master Alchemists. The Prodigy is the last of Techoria's Master Alchemists and she may know who the ring was meant for, but she will be guarded even further now that we failed to retrieve her. And since the rest of Techoria's alchemists are dead, Zaem is our only option left."

"If we're looking for an alchemist not affiliated with Zaem," Rei spoke up. "I think… there might be one more."

Kymja seemed surprised, and Roxxa frowned. Desmi continued to eat as he flitted around the back of the tent, unbothered by their conversation.

"You know of one?" Ruskru asked.

"It's not confirmed, but… the Dao at JiangXi seemed to have an alchemist." Rei covered the lower half of her face with her fan, suddenly aware of their gazes. "He wasn't my focus when I encountered the Dao, but it seemed he was quite capable as an alchemist. A Northerner."

Roxxa looked up with a frown. "My people eschew studying alchemy."

"Hmmm," Ruskru stroked his chin. "It's possible. Zaem does not permit their alchemists to leave their City. Rei — you're the one that brought it up. Do you recall seeing this alchemist in Sanctuary?"

"No. I remember a distinct horizontal scar on his face," Rei shrugged. "He wasn't part of the group we encountered, but he wasn't a battle alchemist either. It's possible he was elsewhere in the Festival."

After a moment, Ruskru raised a finger towards Roxxa. "Tell me… more about the Oracle's vessel." His brown eyes seemed unfocused as he pondered. "You said he wasn't combat-worthy, but he was the one giving orders. Were they effective and efficient?"

"Yes. It was the entire reason why I failed to kill him," Roxxa answered with a frown. Rei saw Desmi look towards Kymja, who shrugged. She shared their confusion. Why was Ruskru asking about the Oracle's vessel all of a sudden? Were they not focused on the Northerner alchemist?

Ruskru muttered under his breath, deep in thought. "Hmm… the leader… and the alchemist… but there's two? … no… it makes no sense to bring both… and JiangXi would need one…" After several breaths, Ruskru's eyes came to focus as he looked up again. "The alchemist — if he's a Master Alchemist — may still be in JiangXi."

Roxxa leaned forward. "You are certain?"

"No, but it's a likely possibility," Ruskru explained, a sharp glimmer in his eyes. "Given what Roxxa and Rei have experienced, the Oracle's vessel isn't a fool. He negotiated for Rei to leave JiangXi at Oasis's expense, but then left JiangXi as well? Someone had to supervise. My guess is he had the Prodigy with him and saw no need for another Master Alchemist. Either the alchemist is the one currently overseeing JiangXi, or they're helping whoever that burden falls to." He frowned. "At least, I'm reasonably certain about this guesswork. Do any of you disagree?"

None of them spoke up. Rei hid her smile behind her fan. The silence was everyone's tacit approval. Ruskru was doing his best to lead them the way the Prince would.

"I'll give it some time to consider it fully, just to ensure we don't have a repeat of ZhiXia," Ruskru put away the ring, returning the staff to its place on the wall. "We'll consider what to do with the ring later on. A good thing Kymja had the foresight to search the Prodigy, or this endeavor would have been an even bigger waste of time and resources."

"Excellent. Celebration, then?" Desmi looked up from a heaping plate. "It was a hard-fought battle."

"I envy your placid demeanor," Ruskru said dryly. "But being the least injured means you have things to do. The Northern Tribes are on the move and those ungrateful Twins are calling a moot, so you'll have to join Shoss." Desmi paused mid-bite, puffed out his cheeks at Ruskru, then returned his attention to what was on his plate. Ruskru ignored the silent complaint, then added in a mild tone at greater volume, "Ah, I forgot to ask. How was the experience meeting Ji?"

Roxxa let out a long sigh. "I didn't get to participate after he left ZhiXia and was free to unleash his full strength, so you'll have to ask these three."

Ruskru turned to the rest. "Well? How was it to meet the Whale of ZhiXia?"

Rei bit her lip. Kymja looked away, and even Desmi shifted side to side, clearly uncomfortable. Through an unspoken agreement, they hadn't talked about the shared experience amongst themselves while it was still fresh in their minds. Perhaps they were still trying to understand what they had just fought. Or maybe it was just the lingering dread. Rei had always felt that she wasn't much shorter than the others, but all of them felt equally small and insignificant in front of the giant waves summoned by the Whale of ZhiXia, tall enough to threaten even Rei in the air.

On land.

"If he wasn't cautious about injuring the Prodigy, I think I'd have lost an arm or even drowned," Kymja eventually said dryly. "I now truly understand why you rushed over when Shoss and Jett killed his disciples in Teljumaya." A pause. Then, "I expect the maps will need updating."