Thump-thump.

Thump-thump.

Mai listened to her beating heart, which reminded her that even in her current state, she still drew breath.

Not that that meant much.

Mai sat in a small cabin, in the bowels of the blasted ship Ascendant. Somehow, both she and Savel had managed to survive the explosion; somehow the ship had managed to run the Makini blockade.

Some might have called that luck. Mai didn’t.

After the explosion, Mai had been knocked unconscious. She had woken up what others said to be three days latter, in the ship’s infirmary, with her body burned.

And she had woken up with Savel, standing over her. His right arm was in a sling, but other than that, he had been in good health.

Savel had informed her that all was going to be all right, for him at least, and ordered the ship’s healer to fix her wounds, to make her look aesthetically pleasing, once again. And so the healer had.

The man had not been very capable in magic; so incapable, that he had not even been able to fix Savel’s arm. But he had been able to ease the blisters that covered Mai’s skin into nonexistence.

The burns still hurt, even now, days latter. But she no longer had blemishes upon her skin, and, apparently, that was all Savel cared about.

Much as he had before Broken had brought down Asan Paril, Savel kept Mai in a single room. The difference was that now, the door was locked instead of guarded.

Savel no longer had the resources to waste manpower, and Mai was glad of that.

From what she knew, the ship was bound for the lands of the Amzu, the House of the seafaring traders. The House of Merchants. Ishad’s House. From the Amzu islands, Mai was told that then the ship would head south, on the rivers, and eventually end up in Ehajdon’s capital.

But Mai cared little for such technicalities.

In the end, what mattered was that Broken had brought down Savel’s city in flames around him, but he had not been able to kill Savel. He had not been able to kill her. And now, by reports Savel had made Mai aware of, Ishad had been killed by Eton, and Broken had been captured by the Makini, to rot in a prison carrack for the rest of his life.

That was what mattered.

Oddly, Mai cared little about herself. Even if Broken was gone, he had taught her things, things invaluable. She would not despair for her fate, because if she despaired, she could not think constructively.

She would find a way out of this mess, one way or another. She only mourned for Ishad, and for Broken. It had taken her days to fully calm herself, after she had learned that the one she loved was dead.

But still, despite it all, she found that tiny bright spot, and clung to it, for all she was worth.

Mai’s situation, at the moment, despite the ever-lingering pain of the burns, was actually quite comfortable. While Savel called her Casari-spawn whenever they came across each other, the rest of the crew was actually rather courteous. Her room was lavish, and made for one of the upper class. There were bookcases within, with actual books, so Mai was not bored. From what she knew, Eton’s fireball had blown apart half the deck of the ship, but down here, in the bowels of the Ascendant, everything was neat and orderly.

And so, Mai plotted her escape. Admittedly, the plot was only in its beginning stages. She had a vague idea of somehow getting off the ship, when it docked for supplies and repairs in the Amzu territories.

As she lay on the bed then, she leafed through a book called Fallen Humanity. It, unlike most of the books on the two small bookcases, was nonfiction. It extolled horrible choices that some people were forced to make, and how life was unfair. The book seemed to be very much from an atheistic perspective, but somehow, it nevertheless insisted that life had meaning.

It spoke that people who were jaded were making the world fallen, and not the other way around.

The appendixes of the book were filled with studies about what the majority of people would do in certain situations, and what sort of people chose the opposite, and so on.

Even though the book was well over a thousand pages, with tiny print, it was far more interesting than all the fanciful tales Mai had read, the ones that formed the majority of what was on the bookcases.

Mai wasn’t sure if everything she read made sense, but the book convinced her of a point that Broken had hardened in.

She was no helpless damsel in distress, waiting to be rescued. She could do that much by herself.

She wondered if the old Mai, the one before Broken had come along, could have dared think as such. She doubted it.

Even if Broken had failed in his physical attempt to rescue her, he had still provided Mai with services invaluable. He had given her the strength and courage to go on, even in situations where it seemed all hope had faded.

Such as this one.

Mai mentally shook herself out of the sudden funk. However, she knew it had only come because she had thought about the truth. And the truth was, though she knew escape was most certainly possible, she wasn’t sure if she, herself, had what it took to do as much.

But she would try.

I am not helpless, she told herself. I am not helpless.

It was late that night, and so, as Mai had already been fed, she drifted off to tired, tired dreams.

“I am Slytherayaim,” came the hissing, mocking voice. “And I am here to tell you a number of things.”

“What?” Mai asked the Nari, as they hung in the darkness of her mind, of her dreams.

“I told you, that you would be sorry, if you did not run and hide, Princess,” said the Nari. “And now, I can see you are sorry.”

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“Broken said you were Eton,” responded Mai. “Stop showing yourself as a Guardian. You are no Nari.”

“Yes, I am,” said the snake-shaped figure. “I am Slytherayaim.”

Suddenly, Mai believed him. Even before her dream-mouth could ask the question, her mind wondered, How can this be?

The Nari gave her an odd sort of smile, and, between them, a table emerged, and two chairs.

In the two chairs, Mai and the Nari sat, opposed. Blackness surrounded them, but upon the table, there was a game board. A game board, for the game known as Drau-Omon. It was a complex game, for the testing of skills between warriors, and other nobles. There were two sides, each with twenty pieces, some warriors, some common soldiers, and some priests. Mai had never played the game herself, so she knew little more. However, what she did know was that the pieces on this board, wood with etched squares, were not positioned for the start of a traditional game.

“Do you wish to know your misstep?” asked the Nari. “I am obliged to reveal all to you, by the rules of Jin. The rules of honor.”

“I do,” said Mai, confused, but willing to be enlightened.

“Look upon the board,” said the Nari, and the pieces began to move. Two set up close to each other, one an obsidian warrior, the other a white marble figure covered in a cloak but with the hint of inhuman eyes, and turned face to face.

Mai knew who was who. The obsidian warrior was Broken, and the other was Slytherayaim, the Nari.

“My Immortal meets your Warrior,” said the Nari. “At the Holy Citadel, I and Broken talked, and he trusted me. He lost his last name because he trusted me, but he trusted me, nevertheless.”

On the board, the Immortal figure pulled away from the Warrior, and darted away, to the very side of the board. The Warrior seemed to shrug its tiny shoulders. Then it turned, and ran face to face with a white colored piece, that looked like a hulking armored man, and while, tiny to Mai above, loomed over Broken’s avatar, on the table.

“The Warrior meets the Construct,” said Slytherayaim. “The Warrior meets the Construct right after he met with the Immortal, and yet he did not want to see the connection. And since he was blind to the color of the pieces, he only saw one enemy, not two.”

On the board, Broken rushed from the Construct, only to nearly run headlong into another figure.

“The Acolyte comes into play, now,” said the Nari. “You know him as Eton.”

On the board, two other figures, smaller came near Broken, and, on the board, he shielded them from the Acolyte, as he drew his tiny sword.

“The Lady, and the Servant,” said the Nari. “The Warrior knows these are obsidian pieces, and so he knows he must protect them.”

On the board, a figure Mai knew to be the Priest arrived, colored black, and he helped Broken chase away the Acolyte.

“With the help of another, he does,” said Slytherayaim. “And then there was much rejoicing.”

Mai saw the Lady and the Servant press their tiny mouths together, as the Warrior looked away.

“For a time, things were happy,” said the Nari. “But what was not known was that the marble forces had only poked and prodded, to find weaknesses. Weaknesses that were quickly exploited.”

Out of nowhere, a marble Warrior marched up to Broken’s piece, and shoved him away from the Lady. Away from Mai.

“Savel,” Mai breathed. “You were pulling his strings.”

“We played with his emotions, in such a way he never even knew he was being used,” said the Nari. “We merely, through the Acolyte, weakened the Lord just enough that the ever-jealous Warrior could take advantage of the situation. But he performed well.”

As the figure known as the Lord approached the Warrior who was Savel, Savel knocked him away, and started dragging the Lady.

The Acolyte appeared again, fought with the obsidian Warrior, and slew the Servant. A black piece known as the Monster appeared, which Mai knew represented the cave spider, but it was brought down by rows of advancing marble Footmen. The Owl appeared as well, but it too was brought down.

And then, as the Warrior who represented Savel held the Lady triumphantly, Broken’ piece was led away by the Footmen. The Footmen who were the Makini.

“And so, we reach this moment in time,” said Slytherayaim. “The Acolyte will soon enough slay Broken, and I will kill you as soon as the Ascendant reaches harbor in the Amzu lands.”

“I don’t understand something,” said Mai. For some reason, thinking on her fate seemed less pertinent then understanding how that fate had come to be.

“I am obliged by Jin to answer your questions,” said the Nari, patiently. “Ask, and I shall tell.”

“I understand how you manipulated Savel,” said Mai, “but how did you get the Makini on your side?”

“They only needed the slightest bit of manipulation,” said Slytherayaim, “for the Council of the Makini understood that you and Broken were too dangerous to be kept alive. “Our spy in their court, Eton, was all the influence they needed. The Council really does want you dead.” The Nari paused. “As does Ehajdon, after a time, but I will not allow him to use you for his ends.”

“Eton?” asked Mai, confused. “But, he’s a demon. Demons and Nari hate each other. On your game board…” she swept out a hand, “he, nonetheless, served you.”

“Think, Princess,” said the Nari. “He’s no demon, just a weak little man we molded into what we wanted. The Makini think he’s a Terrasanu, but he’s no such thing. There were so many hints to this, and yet, neither you, nor Broken, nor Ishad caught on. He has a specialized gift for magic; he can blur, but that is the extent of his abilities. He uses poisons we provide for everything else.”

Mai knew the truth when she heard it. She, Broken, and Ishad had been duped. Slytherayaim and the other Nari had won, totally and completely. Only one other question remained.

“Why?” Mai asked. “I always believed in your kind, even when my friends thought I was being silly. I always knew the Nari were real, and I thought you were keepers of order. The Guardians. The…” she paused. “The good guys.”

“I am a Guardian,” said the Nari before her. “I hold to the natural order. And you are an abomination. The only reason you still live is because of the one you know as Broken. And he is the spawn of chaos, now.”

Mai looked upon the board, again. Armies of white Footmen fought and died on the board.

“What is this?” she asked, as she saw the men, all on the same side, slaughter each other.

“The way this are supposed to be,” said Slytherayaim. “The natural order of things does not have to fit with your definition of good, or even your definition of sane. Out of the chaos, the unworthy die, and within it all, a beacon of order is crowned. That is what the Nari guard.”

“But, the prophecies, they are of hope,” said Mai. “The Chosen One is anointed by the Nari to save the world.”

“Indeed,” said the Nari. “But we are the ones that bring the Empire to the brink of destruction, when each dynastic cycle says. We orchestrate it all, not just the parts suitable for bedtime stories.

“When Broken became involved, he etched a crack in the complicated pattern. Everything he touched became obsidian, became corrupted. But soon, everything will be fixed again. When this ship docks in the Amzu lands, we will be able to draw you out, so we can kill you, and dispose of your body with ease. That is the story, the parts past, present, and future. Are you satisfied?”

“How could a simple noble do so much, and nearly ruin your order?” asked Mai. “How could you not plan for him? Who is he?”

“The truth is buried,” said Slytherayaim. “Even the Jin cannot force me to say his true name, for that name is cursed. But, once, he was a ruler, great and powerful. Once, a long time ago, people knew who he truly was, and his enemies feared him. Millions of soldiers swore oaths in his name. The one you know as Broken nearly ruled the Empire, but not quite.”

“My God,” said Mai.

The Nari looked at her. “You have heard the answers to your questions. The Jin is satisfied.”

The game board disappeared, and so did the chairs. Mai and the Nari were standing again, in the blackness.

Then the Nari faded out of existence, and Mai was all alone.

Then she woke with a start.

All around Mai was the cabin, with the books. She still felt a determination to somehow get out of the mess she had been placed in, but she was also sullen. The dream conversation had left her with a looming sensation that she stood no chance against the ancient forces that propelled the universe.

And indeed, Mai didn’t see herself having a chance against the ancient forces that propelled the universe.

If only the Nari were human, then she might have a fair shot.

Mai picked up the book Fallen Humanity from the foot of her bed, and, for want of anything else to do, began to read.