“This time, Chi, just let me get my shovel—”

With the frantic tossing of sand, Nahutala’s plea once again went unheard. She sighed and shook her head.

Zayza simply laughed. Chiwawo’s gusto was still such an unusual sight—in mere moments, he was neck deep in the crater he formed at the base of the Curving Peak, arms flailing like a baby dragon’s wings.

But given their success at the first site, Zayza understood his excitement. More than that: she felt it, too.

After all, the Sand Dragon’s burrowing pattern really did lead them to a discovery at Lake Hirokyauta’s shore. And Zayza could sense it—the great beast continued its cyclical movements even now. She was confident another stone heart awaited them here, too, at the second turning point.

The next message from Hiroko was a dig away.

“If I ever leave…please do not blame or forsake your people.”

The words Hiroko had carved into the first stone heart were undoubtedly a prayer—Zayza understood that much. That was the whole point of the practice. And yet, she still felt a personal connection to it. The Sand Dragon guided them straight to its hidden location, buried where they’d never find it on accident. And now here they were, about to unearth another.

She was convinced: it couldn’t be coincidence.

Zayza had almost pinpointed the second stone heart’s underground location by herself, but Chiwawo beat her to the chance. His excitement must have led him to forget that he’d planned to put her awakening senses to the test this time.

Regardless, Zayza was satisfied she could see it at all. There was a slight vibrational difference where they stood, so she was able to zero in on where it was buried deep. In her mind, she could picture it: the same type of smooth rock they’d uncovered by the lake.

Soon Chiwawo resurfaced, and immediately, he tossed the stone heart Nahutala’s way.

She jolted to catch it. “Hey! Show some reverence, will you? You really are just like my husband,” she grumbled. But fondness still cut through her criticism. This was too special of a moment for minor annoyances to keep her down.

“Well, what does it say?” Chiwawo urged. “Is it my sister’s?”

Nahutala nodded.

Zayza’s body flooded with anticipation. She remembered just how doubtful Hiroko had always been of her peoples’ beliefs. So to leave behind yet another prayer, clearly something had weighed on her heart.

Perhaps, something the three of them were meant to discover.

“It says,” began Nahutala, ’If I ever leave…’”

But she froze, reading the symbols over and over again.

“What?” pressed Chiwawo.

“Is…something wrong?” Zayza worried.

Nahutala still didn’t speak. Her gaze retreated from the stone heart, and then shifted again to avoid Chiwawo’s prying eyes.

Finally, she continued. “Well, it says…” Nahutala retried hoarsely, “‘If I ever leave…please do not forsake me.”

She spoke no further, and neither did Chiwawo. They became like ghosts before Zayza’s eyes.

It came back to her yet again: that soulless beam of white light. The one that evaporated Hiroko’s body in an instant. The one that she took on so Layla and Kotono wouldn’t have to.

Zayza had managed to block that memory for days. But it spoke a truth that, apparently, Chiwawo and Nahutala needed to hear.

She shook her head, earning only Nahutala’s attention. “I’m certain,” Zayza encouraged. “The way Hiroko lived her life, even in that last moment…I’m certain your Gods haven’t forsaken her.”

But Nahutala only sighed. If anything, Zayza’s words seemed to add more weight to her heart.

Zayza tensed. “Why not?” she stressed. “It seems the Gods answered her first prayer. Why should we doubt they would answer this one, as well?”

“Because she didn’t die a Holy Death.”

Though Chiwawo had spoken, he still didn’t turn to face her. He merely stared into the hole he dug.

“But…she sacrificed herself before my very eyes…” muttered Zayza. “How isn’t that ‘holy…?’”

“As I’ve said, Princess, I am afraid you still have much to learn,” came Chiwawo’s unusually blunt reply.

He took a step away.

“I…I am going to take a break. This trial may not be meant for me, after all. You two should still search for the third stone heart if you wish.”

“Chiwawo—”

Nahutala decided her attempt would prove useless. Her jaw clenched as they watched him retire towards the village.

Zayza could do little more than stare after his long steps. For the first time in weeks, he was separating from her—even despite his mother’s threats to watch over her at all times.

The lingering sprinkles of rain between them ceased, and a ray of the sun cut through the departing clouds.

“A ‘Holy Death…’” Zayza uttered to her remaining companion. “I’ve heard it mentioned several times now. But what…is it, exactly?”

Nahutala took another long sigh. Cradling both stone hearts, she came closer. “Hidakalans were born from the Gods Below. And so, we must return to them,” she said. Kneeling down, she pressed the stones to the earth.

“When a Hidakalan’s bodily life ends, and our bodies are buried, we believe the Gods below come to retrieve our souls. They carry us down to be one with Them forever. But…”

“But Hiroko…died far away from Hidakala…” Zayza finished thinly.

Nahutala nodded. “There is some disagreement…most elders believe a Hidakalan must die on holy ground to earn a Holy Death. Others believe as long as the body is buried here, the Gods will retrieve the soul. But for Hirokyauta…”

She lifted the stone hearts away from the sand. “...That debate does not matter. Her body never returned.”

There was no body left, Zayza knew. She couldn’t bear to bring it up.

“Then in that case…what becomes of the soul?” she wondered.

The question felt strange on her lips. Azvaylen had no concept of an afterlife, and historically, it never did. Even the Zinn had no place for it in their tradition. While Oflenur used to teach her about Hudskür deities and their heaven, her mind never held much space for the idea. For an Azvaylen, death was death.

Nahutala seemed to suspect such a view by the way Zayza had asked. She spoke slowly, as if to ensure the burden of her words wouldn’t become lost in the air.

“It fades away forever,” she expressed. “We will never share life with her again on the other side. Hirokyauta…has ceased to exist.”

Zayza stiffened. She already lived with that reality for everybody she’d lost.

And yet, despite that familiar understanding, this still felt wrong. Hiroko was the savior of Hidakala. She was the inspiration to her friends. She grappled with her belief in these faceless Gods, but she still honored them in her own way.

So why would her supposed creators abandon her?

That couldn’t be right.

No, more than that: it wasn’t right.

The memory triangles…Zayza pondered.

Chiwawo and Nahutala had surrendered to the truth of her fate, as their culture had taught them. But in spite of Zayza’s own beliefs, in spite of what she saw with her own eyes, she refused to reach a conclusion.

Not until she had answers for the phenomenon in the Dream World.

“Chiwawo is struggling to come to terms with an eternity without her,” Nahutala said, breaking the silence between them. “He was leaning on the stone hearts to bring him closure. I know, because…I was doing that, too.”

Nahutala stood. Against all odds, she managed a smile and handed Zayza the second stone heart.

“I would still like to learn what the third one says,” she clarified. “But Chiwawo should be there with us. Let’s give him some time.”

Zayza was about to suggest it herself. If there was any emotion she understood, it was what Chiwawo was feeling right now—although the way he saw it, much more than a lifetime without his sister awaited him: an eternity did.

Allowing her feet to break from the holes they’d dug beneath her, Zayza nodded to Nahutala. Quietly, they retired towards the village.

~

The sand molded to Zayza's steps, still claylike due to the morning rainstorm. While it made for easier walking, she had grown accustomed to the typical desert terrain.

Now that she thought of it, though, the storm had come with impeccable timing. The condensed sand must have made Chiwawo's digging efforts several times easier than it would have been otherwise.

Perhaps it was more than a coincidence, just like the Sand Dragon's constant burrowing route.

Zayza couldn't sense the dragon’s movements deep beneath the ground anymore. After all, it had been hours since they paused their exploration. She wondered if this trial had expired with the dragon's departure.

Had they failed the test?

The first stone heart had filled them with life, only for the second to deflate it. If there was any meaning to gather from the first two stones collectively, Zayza was at a loss for what it could be.

The tents all around cast long shadows across her path. Peering at her simple surroundings, she seemed to be in the right place.

Zayza shuddered a bit to herself as she recalled her inquiry for directions. The Hidakalan men she spoke to, toned and young like Chiwawo, snickered to each other when she asked where to find his tent. Their knowing smirks made their interpretation of her intentions all too obvious.

At least, she figured, their misconception wasn't negative. The children always stared like she was a spirit, and sometimes a few of the elders would mutter under their breath when she passed by. If the worst Chiwawo's peers could do was have the wrong idea about all the time they spent together, she could live with that.

Besides, they were kind enough to start her on her way. She'd only been to Chiwawo's tent during her first day here, and that morning was a daze. If their guidance proved accurate, she was about to arrive.

It was quiet in this part of the village. Every neighboring tribe member seemed to be busy elsewhere, likely catching up on any work the storm had delayed. Zayza approached the purple and white tent before her, and paused at its closed flap.

“H…ha’ sanbarka, Chiwawo,” she attempted.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“You said it wrong,” came Chiwawo's calm reply.

Zayza figured that much–she'd forced the customary greeting off her tongue just as unnaturally as the first time Nahutala taught her.

“It was very close, though. Come in, Princess.”

The shade inside immediately cooled her. Only a sliver of the gradually retiring sun shone in through the break in the tent entrance. It was just enough to see Chiwawo, who sat beyond the ray at the back facing the wall.

“Are…” Zayza uttered. “Are you alright?”

“I apologize. I’ll come join you now,” Chiwawo said. “My duty is to watch over you, and I neglected it.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

Chiwawo didn’t reply, so Zayza figured he guessed that already. He lifted some sand and watched it slip through his fingers.

Then, suddenly, he let out a breathy laugh.

“What is it?” Zayza wondered.

“Do you remember…when my sister brought you and Kotono here the first time?” he asked.

She could practically feel the ornaments of her old dress weighing her down under the Hidakalan sun. Come to think of it, she and Kotono must have been quite the odd spectacle for the Hidakalans that day.

“Yes. That feels so long ago…” Zayza remarked. “Why?”

“That was the only time she ever returned home,” Chiwawo said. “And to do so with two outsiders, as proudly as she did…the tribe had no idea how to react.”

He laughed again, this time more fully, at the memory. It validated Zayza's experience: though they didn't stay long, Hiroko introduced them to practically everyone in the tribe besides the busiest members, and while most were friendly, they were awfully baffled. Zayza couldn't possibly remember everyone's names.

“That trip came out of nowhere…” Zayza reflected. “She canceled several obligations to make it possible, even though we only stayed one night.”

This time when Chiwawo lifted the sand, he let it linger within his palm longer.

“Over these past few moons, I've come to understand why she did that,” he said. “It was for the time we're in now.”

Zayza's eyebrows furrowed. Hiroko was a Predictor, but she couldn't have predicted that far into the future–especially not a future like this.

But she combed through the countless memory shards she'd earned of her friend, and she smiled.

No–not ‘predicted,’ she knew.

“The life of a Hidakalan warrior can be fleeting, and Hirokyauta lost enough of our brethren to know that well,” Chiwawo said. “She was laying the groundwork for you. She was making sure that if anything ever happened to her…you two would be safe with us. That was how important you two were to her.”

A silence befell the tent. But instead of discomfort, Zayza felt peace.

He's right.

She hadn't picked up on it then: Hiroko's nuances when she first insisted on the trip. But with Hiroko's memories now mixed into her own, she recalled something:

Just before speaking, Hiroko had kept gazing at the triangle tattoos all over her body. Unquestionably, it was on her mind.

But so was something else.

“You know, Chiwawo…” Zayza started, “She was thinking of more than just protecting me and Kotono that day.”

She took a small step deeper into the tent.

“She was thinking of you, too.”

Finally, Chiwawo shifted to face her. His icy eyes were full of questioning.

“You believe Hirokyauta wanted you here for my sake?” he asked. “What led you to think that?”

Zayza hesitated, her face flushing at how it sounded out loud. “W–well…”

Hiroko's memories, she knew. So many were focused on him that day.

She couldn't hear exactly what was going on in Hiroko's mind during that time–only the images and senses she'd experienced. And yet, seeing through her eye movements, feeling her chuckles, speaking her words…

Zayza simply knew it: Hiroko was determined that Chiwawo meet her and Kotono that day. Not only for their sake, but for his.

Even if she couldn't piece together why.

“So do Dreamers have a Daydream World, Princess?”

Zayza blinked. She could tell he was growing accustomed to how often she'd burrow into her thoughts mid-conversation.

But though he awaited her elaboration, there was nothing else Zayza could say.

Not without giving him the truth.

She glanced around the tent to dodge Chiwawo's gaze. But its utter plainness left her no distraction to latch onto.

“Well…” she evaded, “for starters, this tent could use a bit more decoration.”

“Huh?”

“But also…how else would get to you hear about Hiroko's adventures beyond Hidakala?”

This reasoning–though improvised–sharpened Chiwawo’s attention much more than the first.

“True…” he nodded, “although, she did tell me some stories that night.”

“That's only the start of it,” said Zayza. “And that doesn't even count all the things she wouldn't want your parents to hear…”

Her mischievous grin rose Chiwawo's eyebrows.

“I can tell you all about it,” Zayza told him proudly. “See? It's meant to be.”

Chiwawo shook his head. “You are a little more mischievous than you look, you know.”

“So I've been told.”

Stirring suddenly, Chiwawo rose to his feet. “Then let's do it.”

“Hm? Do what?”

He skirted the heat stone pit to acquire a few nearly-organized appliances.

“Come. I'll teach you to prepare a meal,” he invited. “Then, you can tell me of Hirokyauta's life after she left.”

He smirked.

“And maybe I will tell you her embarrassing childhood stories from before.”

~

Zayza's laughter filled the tent until she covered her mouth, shaking in a fit of snorts.

“She…did she really…?”

“Just laugh, Princess, or you'll explode,” urged Chiwawo. “You are allowed to laugh in Hidakala.”

Pulling herself together, Zayza eventually sighed. She placed her straw bowl to the side of the heat stones, where Chiwawo had already rested his.

“I'm sorry…it can be improper during meals where I'm from,” she explained.

“Then I guess we are an improper culture,” Chiwawo shrugged.

“No,” Zayza insisted. “You are all lovely. In a way, being here is like being with Hiroko.”

Chiwawo walked over to check on the torch at the front of the tent, its warm glimmer having replaced the sun's light a while ago. Then he returned beside Zayza, his toes much closer to the glowing heat stones than she had the bravery to attempt.

“Speaking of that, it is your turn,” Chiwawo said.

Zayza had to take a minute before she could conjure something as silly as Chiwawo's tale. They'd spent probably hours now going back and forth, and through all the sharing, she realized just how biased memories could be.

She already knew most of the stories Chiwawo brought up–they were embedded in her mind now. And yet, Hiroko had seemed much more put-together in the way her memory triangles painted her than what Zayza was hearing now.

Chiwawo's perspective provided the real spice.

She watched him reach over and use a shovel to adjust the heat stones, his broad arm rising just before her. His black triangles, though fewer than his sister's, were vivid even under the dim light.

“They're…all for tribe members you've lost,” Zayza uttered. “Aren't they?”

“Twenty-one,” Chiwawo confirmed. “Mostly hunts. Our tribe requires suffering to keep it alive…but it is our home.”

Zayza stared at their empty bowls. She wondered just how much struggle and pain went into retrieving the meat they'd grilled. The cooking took a couple hours alone, but that was a fraction of the whole process–and clearly, it was the easiest part.

“And what about your markings, Princess?”

Zayza realized his eyes were on her now.

“Are yours to remember your fallen, as well? I see you have plenty on your arms and legs.”

“Not just there,” Zayza corrected. She turned her back to him and loosened her dress to show the interwoven continuation of her markings.

“Ah. I–I understand.”

“No you don't. You're not even looking,” Zayza accused. “You're such a shy man.”

“I am not a shy man. I am a virtuous one.”

Zayza found herself watching him perhaps the same way she'd expected him to look at her.

“Very well,” she said, shuffling her dress back up. “But these aren't actually tattoos. They're scars. The more pain a Dreamer has experienced in the real world, the more they can withstand in the Dream World. It is customary.”

“Then you must be quite a powerful Dreamer,” Chiwawo derived.

Zayza shrugged in humble agreement. “I wish they were symbols of those who have died, though,” she admitted. “I've lost many people. My parents, my elder sister, my guardian, friends…but we Azvaylens have no afterlife.”

She turned to reface him.

“I am more like you than you think,” she said. “I…I know what you're feeling right now, Chiwawo. That's why I came to see you.”

His eyes moved from her Azvaylen markings to the Hidakalan one on her cheek.

“Well then…if you yield your turn, Princess,” said Chiwawo, “I have many more stories I could tell you–times my sister saved my life, or someone else's, or grew stronger...”

Zayza smiled under the lessening light.

“It is late, though…” figured Chiwawo, “so–”

“I'd love to hear them,” said Zayza. “All of them.”

~~~

Just like the breeze, the cave before Zayza felt different this time.

The humble shape peeking out from the ground, along with its location beside the stream were the same–it was still hers. Although, a light blue was mixed into the usual purple glow emanating from the entrance: Hiroko's memories now rested there in harmony with Zayza's.

In the real world, it was becoming natural enough. The memories were growing to feel like one in the same, like Hiroko's had always been there.

But in this realm, she could sense it. This felt…off.

Incomplete, she knew.

While the memory triangles had no true home, this couldn’t be it, either. They needed to vacate eventually–to regroup with the few that remained outside Zayza's grasp.

Right…

She'd wondered why she hadn't yet continued her search, now that she was here. After all, she could sense it:

She only needed to look up.

They floated in the sky above the cave: the remaining cluster of light triangles. This time, they didn't evade her.

But it was because they couldn't. They weren't alone.

She couldn't feel its presence. It was incorrect. It shouldn't be there. It didn't belong in the Dream World.

And yet, it was here.

A heap of blackness surrounded the remaining memory triangles, ever interweaving and swirling. Limbs stretched out in its center, compressing the triangles.

Zayza wasted no time. Though she had no idea what this was, she'd faced equal nightmares before.

But once her green energy ignited around her and she took to the air, the blackness tightened further. The triangles’ twinkling elevated to a constant screech.

Zayza didn't risk getting any closer. But she glared as closely as she could.

Within the center of the triangles, a single blue flame burned.

A chalky laugh.

A hard embrace.

An ancient song.

Hiroko.

Zayza summoned more power. And in response, the blackness began morphing into a colossal being.

“Hiroko!!” Zayza cried. “Wait for me! I'll save–”

~~~

“Let's get you to your tent, Princess,” Chiwawo's low tone reverberated against her. “Like I said, it is late.”

Her eyes drifted open. She was warm, nestled against a firm shoulder.

“Oh…”

She couldn't remember what story Chiwawo had last begun telling. It seemed the night had grown later than she thought.

Zayza sat back up. “I suppose you're right.”

Her heart pounded as they stood.

That flame…

Was it really what she suspected?

When I go back, will that all happen again? her mind raced. Or did I miss my only chance?

The night chill forced her to hug herself while they walked. Chiwawo draped a blanket around her from behind, but remained shirtless himself.

“...Are you well?” he eventually asked.

“Y–yes.”

“Is it the Dream World?”

“No,” Zayza lied. “I'm just…tired, is all.”

The blue flame flickered on in her mind.

Waiting for her.

Silence befell them for most of the way, and soon, Zayza spotted her tent under the moonlight.

She could go back to the Dream World as soon as she slipped inside.

“Princess…thank you for tonight.”

Chiwawo's steps slowed. Reluctantly, Zayza matched him.

“Hirokyauta is gone forever…but we have each other to remember her by,” he said. “She lives on within us. Our memories…they are her eternity.”

Struggling to contain the nervous tremble those words brought on, Zayza avoided his eyes.

You don't realize how true that is…

Stopping fully, Chiwawo placed his hand on her shoulder.

“I am unsure if this pain will go away,” he admitted, “but even if it does not…thank you for teaching me that tonight.”

Zayza's heart twisted.

It doesn’t go away, she knew. Not fully.

She turned from his face, standing stiff. A narrow sigh escaped her, and the words came forward in her mind.

This is a bad idea.

She knew it. And yet, she wasn't her genius sister. She wasn't Lammy.

It was a bad idea, but right now it was the only course of action that felt genuine to her.

Before she could contain it, the words erupted.

“Chiwawo…” she said, voice trembling. “I need to tell you something.”

“Hm? What is it?”

“I…I believe your sister might still be alive.”

At first, silence.

Then Chiwawo merely smiled. For a split second, Zayza thought he'd comprehended it much easier than she expected.

“Right. So you agree,” he translated.

“No. Well–yes, but…” Zayza stammered. “You should know…ever since I joined the tribe, I've been finding memories in the Dream World–memories I'd never experienced before. Because they're hers.”

Chiwawo's jaw tightened.

“I don't know how to explain it,” Zayza poured out. “I realized that whenever I learn more about Hidakala, I find more of Hiroko's memories. So I've been trying to learn as much as I can. Now I think…if I can piece the memories together…perhaps Hiroko will–”

“I cannot do this.”

Zayza froze. His voice was hollow.

“...Chiwawo?”

“Princess,” he stammered, “am I meant to grieve her, or not?”

The tribe's silence overtook them for a moment.

Zayza didn't know what to say. There was no answer to his question–not yet.

“I am sorry. It seems I misunderstood. All of this time, I thought we were trying to heal together,” Chiwawo said. “But your experiences with me–with all of us–were to help you explore something you cannot prove to any of us?”

“I…” Zayza tried.

Chiwawo raised his powerful hand above her. Zayza winced, but it came down on her head softly.

“If you find my sister there inside your head,” he asked, “will she come crawling out to see us all again? To live eternally with her people? Or…will she only be alive to you?”

“Chiwawo, please…”

He released his hand, distancing himself. His icy eyes were particularly enchanting under the moonlight, but only because they'd gone damp.

“You just helped me accept a world without Hirokyauta,” he uttered. “But Princess…I fear you are the one in denial.”

He turned to walk away. But this time, he headed away from the tribe, towards the final few tents on the outside.

“Where are you going…?”

“To hunt.” He didn't turn back as he replied.

“This late?”

“Our yield has been lower these past few weeks,” he expounded evenly. “They have not had my help. I will begin making up for that now.”

Chiwawo was already close to invisible, the desert darkness claiming his form.

“I was wrong, Princess,” he added lower. “I hoped maybe, a Hidakalan's world and an outsider's world could make sense together….”

His body fully vanished into the blackness.

“...but I am starting to see I was wrong.”