We are all just a few decisions away from becoming the ones we fear or pity.

— Excerpt from Meditations, by the Red Emperor

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If the man had any thoughts about his potential Title, he did not react to it. A flutter of wings and a large black owl flew into view, depositing a cream-colored mat into the man's arms. Those dark-blue eyes glanced down at the mat as the owl perched onto a nearby branch, settling and weighing down the branch. Even the owl's eyes glowed dark-blue in the night.

If your life is in danger, I will intervene. The spirit's reassurance seemed less solid when Molam realized that its voice sounded like a whisper in his head, but he had little time to consider it.

"I hadn't heard that a messenger from Sanctuary would be traveling with Galven's caravan." The man glanced at the symbol of Sanctuary embroidered onto the riding mat and for a moment the oppressive weight of his gaze lifted. Then those dark-blue eyes bore down on him and the air around him compressed. The earlier sensation of restricted breathing crept into his chest and the very air in his lungs took on a clammy chill, as though he were breathing the midnight air in a mausoleum.

"And why would one carrying the Oracle's own color be heading to JiangXi, a city of the Empire?"

The pressure lifted slightly, and Molam took it as a sign that the man was giving him a chance to live. Doing his best to seem unperturbed by the earlier sensation, he answered truthfully.

"The Oracle sent me to see if JiangXi can be freed."

The other shadows within the Forest murmured amongst themselves as GloomSire's dark-blue gaze hardened. The man whistled and the shadowy figures behind him leapt towards the burning wagons. The man himself dropped down from the trees without a sound and began walking towards him.

The heavy presence approaching him seemed to smother the very air in an entirely different manner compared to the dust he choked on earlier. Something reminded him of encountering a wide river in the darkest of nights – one misstep and he would slip into an abyss of nothingness.

Molam shifted his weight onto his back foot without thinking at the man's silent gait and felt a presence behind him, jolting him around. He found himself looking up at the pixiu, its dark-blue eyes glimmering down at him with a cold gaze.

The pixiu sniffed at him and growled, showing teeth coated with saliva. A whiff of the tangy smell of blood emanated from its mouth, and Molam looked beyond the beast to see GloomSire's men putting out the fires while salvaging what they could from the wagons. None of the bodyguards were anywhere in sight.

"My bond thinks you smell like EarthShaker."

Molam whirled around again at the closeness of the voice, coming face to face with GloomSire, but he stepped to the side so that his back was not turned to the pixiu.

"I do?" he asked warily, struggling to shy away from that mouth of teeth as it sniffed at him.

Another sniff, and then a snort. "He says he must be mistaken." GloomSire held a gloved hand up, and the pixiu padded over to him, the ends of its tail swishing to hit Molam's ear as it lowered its head so its master could stroke it. "Forgive my bond. He has a vendetta with EarthShaker."

Up close, GloomSire stood half a head taller than Molam. In the dying light of the fire behind him, Molam could see that GloomSire kept his entire body wrapped in black clothing, revealing only his two eyes that glowed a dark-blue in the night. On his waist was a black sash with several daggers outlined faintly against his body. The man's eyes gazed down upon him and Molam resisted the urge to stand taller, thinking of it instead as forcing the man to look downwards. Molam exhaled before he responded. "I can understand that."

GloomSire regarded Molam with an intense and silent gaze before he continued. "I have no intention of disrupting the Oracle's plans. But to free a city…" GloomSire stroked at the pixiu's snout, his eyes never leaving Molam's. "Should we expect a repeat of Kamisukawa?"

Kamisukawa. The last city to break away from the Empire of the Sun made its attempt almost a century ago at the height of its golden years. According to the records in the Fallen Star Pavilion, the resulting Massacre of Kamisukawa and subsequent River's Burning in the same night cemented the Prince's Title within the Free Cities as the Bloody Prince. Molam had passed by the remnants of the burnt city and seen it from afar – an ashen ruin that even the spirits of nature did not reclaim. All attempts to restore the land were forbidden by the Empire, making Kamisukawa an obvious warning to all of the penalty the Bloody Prince enacted upon cities that dared to disrespect the Empire's rule.

"The Oracle did not tell me what to expect, only where to go and what to seek." Molam responded simply in front of those glowing dark-blue eyes. Though there was no indication that GloomSire belonged to the select few that could See lies, Molam did not want to worsen his precarious situation any further.

"And what did she tell you to seek?"

Molam hesitated at the man's pointed question. The Oracle's words surfaced in his mind yet even there, it did not echo. Was it something that only he should know?

Tell him.

The spirit's prodding bolstered his decision. "The Oracle told me to 'Find the flower that blooms in flames.'"

GloomSire regarded him in silence, deep in thought.

"A curious idea, as I have never heard of such a thing." GloomSire seemed to shrug. "But then again, her cryptic way of giving advice would align with my experience."

"You speak as though you've met her."

The pixiu growled at Molam, its damp breath washing over his face and he smelled blood. Molam ignored the pixiu's dark-blue eyes, fixating his gaze on GloomSire's averted gaze.

When GloomSire finally responded, he still did not look towards Molam. "I met her last Summer's Warmth. She told me to 'wait in the sleeping forest for the winds to blow' and I have been here ever since."

Assuming GloomSire was telling him the truth, Molam could also make no sense of what the Oracle's words meant.

"That is difficult to unravel," he admitted. "I don't think it's windless in the Slumbering Forest?"

"Of course not. A large swathe of it even went up in flames almost two weeks ago. Thank the Gods that RainBringer acted swiftly to put it out." GloomSire shook his head. "I've found that the breeze blows freely in the Forest but what I am waiting for has yet to come to pass. At times I wonder whether I'm in the wrong forest."

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

A brief sense of curious kinship with GloomSire claimed Molam. Two people who had met the Oracle and were carrying out her plans without having much of a say.

"The legends never speak about how cryptic the Oracle can be," he murmured, and GloomSire's chin gave the barest of nods.

A few shouts echoed through the night sky and Molam turned on instinct to see the UnSeen dragging people out of their hiding places. With a start, Molam recognized one of them as Yolven. The moment between him and GloomSire broke – and Molam remembered their present situation.

"Rest assured; the UnSeen have no interest in bringing the Oracle's ire upon us or give the Whale a reason to pay us a visit," GloomSire pondered Molam before continuing. "One more question then. Was Galven's caravan involved in her plans?"

Molam hesitated, Yolven's armguard feeling heavy on his arm. For a brief moment the temptation to lie manifested itself as a lump in his throat. If he just lied and said that Galven's group formed a part of the Oracle's plans, perhaps the group could be saved. Even Puhraya's request could still be fulfilled.

But GloomSire's dark-blue eyes glowed at him and Molam felt compelled to answer truthfully. "No. I traveled with them for safety." He glanced at the UnSeen. "From … bandits. I'm not a fighter."

"That much is obvious." The pixiu snorted and laid down, eyes glowering at Molam from behind its master. GloomSire held out the riding mat towards Molam. "There are no other dangers between here and JiangXi, only the ones you were traveling with. You can be on your way or stay with us, though we have some things to clean up." He tilted his head towards the caravan. "Your choice."

"My horse is gone, so I will need to search for it." Molam accepted the riding mat but looked despondently towards Yolven as GloomSire's words echoed in his mind. There are no other dangers … only the ones you were traveling with. There was no sign of Puhraya, but then Molam remembered. He had last seen Puhraya right before the spirit warned of the owl, and then he had seen the owl fly to GloomSire.

His words came out of his mouth before he could stop himself. "Surely all you need is to take their goods and merchandise?"

Those dark-blue eyes glittered at him. "They're merchants heading to JiangXi, and all of them know about you. You are traveling to the Empire while bearing Sanctuary's sigil – and while marked by that curious color. Did you think that made you untouchable in the Empire? Were you not educated about what happened to the Frozen Saint?"

The full extent of the situation struck Molam as he looked at the remnants of Galven's caravan and a bruised Galven looked back at him. GloomSire's assessment brought back the wispy echo of a memory he thought he had long forgotten, of a village that he had once belonged to, of people that he had once trusted.

Yolven's words surfaced in his mind. Merchants buy and sell information all the time. If Galven was trading in JiangXi, then information was for sale as well. No doubt the Empire would be vastly interested in the Oracle's messenger and what he would be doing.

Molam berated himself internally for not understanding that his circumstances were not the same as the one during his years of travel. For the past few days, he had not been a lone traveler only those able to See would consider curious. He had been riding from ZhiXia City to JiangXi atop a horse bearing Sanctuary's sigil. Puhraya's request…Yolven's cozying up to him…Galven's allowance of his joining despite the merchant's obvious misgivings. Things had changed, but he had not treated it so.

GloomSire glanced at Molam and then reached out to lay a heavy hand on Molam's shoulder. "They're merchants, loyal to nothing but their pockets. Did you really think that Galven wasn't thinking of selling word to JiangXi's new City Lord that the Oracle had sent a messenger to the city? Any man can rationalize that the sale of information is innocent enough, and what the Empire does with that knowledge has nothing to do with him." The Titled One's hand patted Molam on the back. "For you to do what you need to do, you must know what you're willing to abandon."

Molam turned his head, determined to look away from Yolven. The low-burning embers that remained within the campfire seemed to dance with the murmuring chant in the back of his mind. A chant that called for rain and for wealth, if RainBringer would accept the boy that the villagers were about to burn.

"I think it's best I get to JiangXi alone." The words seemed almost foreign to him as he spoke them. "But my horse…"

His mare trotted out of the darkness towards them, eyes glowing a dark-blue. GloomSire raised a hand to caress its brow and pressed his forehead to the mare's in silence. "She's fine. Just a tad spooked, but I know she will take you to JiangXi safely. Here, allow me to help you onto your horse."

Molam could barely register the shouts of anger as the UnSeen tied up the remnants of Galven's caravan while he readjusted the riding mat on top of his horse. It was all he could do to ignore the sounds as he prepared to mount the mare again. Were they pleas for help or the chanting of prayer? It was beginning to blend and sound all the same in his mind.

He turned to GloomSire, the burning remnants of the campfire throwing a large shadow onto the ground now and found himself staring into the dark-blue eyes of the owl perched upon GloomSire's shoulder. His motions felt sluggish, as though his body was submerged in cold water that weighed him down by his very clothes.

I was right to join you.

His wrist flared with heat and Molam jolted to his senses. He looked down to see GloomSire stroking the mare's mane again with a tender look, then tapped her on the middle of her head and the glow expired from the horse's eyes. He looked to Molam, the earlier gentle expression gone from his face. "A small gift. I wonder – did you break free of that from your own fortitude or the Oracle's protection?"

"You call that a gift? You reminded me of something I wanted to forget." Molam bit his lip in anger before responding with gritted teeth. "I see why they call you GloomSire."

"Forget?" The man's lips curled. "Be careful, messenger of the Oracle. What better gift can you give someone besides preparing them for their own survival?" He leaned in close and Molam shivered at those dark-blue eyes. "While I do trust the Oracle's judgment, you have already disappointed me once. I hope forcing you to remember will keep you alive in the future." GloomSire's voice took on a harder tone that made Molam's blood run cold again. "You might be able to forgive. But never, ever, forget. Consider it … sincere advice, from another that has met the Oracle."

Molam held out his hand for the reins. "I should go."

"A wise choice." GloomSire passed the reins to Molam and then another hand held out the cloak he had received from Priestess Komura. "Before I forget; your mare is quite patient, but she does ask that you loosen up on the reins, if you will?"

Wrapping the cloak around himself, Molam mounted the horse wordlessly and adjusted himself atop the riding mat before guiding the horse away from the campsite. The light of the burning caravans receded behind him until he turned a bend around the Slumbering Forest and all he had was moonlight.

Molam nudged the mare into a brisk trot that broke into a full gallop. He urged his horse faster as though he could outrun the images in his mind, yet the rhythmic clatter of the horse's hooves against the trail did nothing to silent the echoing pleas for help that he left behind. The wind rushed past his ears and the moonlit path stretched ahead into darkness and Molam closed his eyes, his vision blurry as he lied to himself that he had no choice, that he could bury the burning shame of making a decision he hated.

***

Molam drowned in darkness, his nose filled with soot and smoke as the flames seared around his frame. The bonfire illuminated the crowd as they watched him burn, their chanting voice of prayer invaded his ears and reverberated in his mind.

"We pray to Rainbringer for rain! For a long life with good health!"

He found himself in a smaller form, struggling with the rope that bit into his wrists, his neck, and his legs and chafed against his bleeding skin. Try as he might, all the biting against the gag and rope only served to chafe the corners of his mouth. Pleading with his eyes accomplished nothing, and when his limbs struggled against the bonds it only served to split his dry skin more, dripping his blood into the burning pyre below.

There was — no, there had been no escape. His position above the lit bonfire hid none of his suffering from the villagers that gathered, yet none came to his aid for they had come this far with steeled hearts and the ever-present reminder of hunger. He had trusted them and they had made their decision. All that needed to be done was for them to see this act through to the end.

Through the smoke and flames he saw the village elder, staring at him with an expression that spoke of pain, loss, and resolve. The elder's lips moved and the words echoed to him in his dream just as it had carried to him as a boy.

Only those that face the hardest choices know the brittleness of morality.

When Molam woke up in the Castle in the Sky, he had told himself he would never be like them. He couldn't. No one who sacrificed others like that could possibly be human.