Forti whirled around. A man in a suit was stepping down. She tread backwards into the tunnel, tugging her veil back down.

“Hey, what did I just say?”

When he got to the ground, she halted. His face was hard to inspect as the underpass’s only light sources were the bioluminescent mushrooms. The man was amused that Forti wasn’t questioning him and thought well of her vigilance.

“Be not afraid, Mir. Daetaer. I am Rongyae, an encomiur.”

Forti kept her face blank, but the odium rolled in her stomach.

Encomiurs customarily wrote biographies of the deceased, indispensable to the living who were left behind, and sometimes with permission, they published the stories to earn money. An ancient, venerable trade, until a modern trend tarnished its integrity: taking creations the deceased had unfinished or never publicly produced to develop them into commodities for selling, sometimes at the behest of the relatives.

The concept was initially spectacular, to make bygone wishes into reality, but its execution led to vultures picking at the dead for quick wealth schemes and mobbing funerals for any scraps. Forti read articles about particularly famous encomiurs. They either were successful authors or fruitful in prying an invention off a corpse. She didn’t think much of the rumors or comments until some were waiting for her and her family outside the hospital, pouncing on them to be Vasi’s encomiur and inquiring if the young girl had any remarkable ideas or projects. The latter was asked half-heartedly considering the age at which Vasi passed, but it didn’t hurt them to do so, whereas Forti thought she would erupt into hellfire, set brazen faces ablaze with bruises and black eyes until they couldn’t speak even the first syllable of her sister’s name without fear. She understood this was their job. That was as far as she would pardon them.

“We already have one,” she responded.

“Ah, that’s too bad for me.” Rongyae didn’t move from the exit.

“Did you follow me here?” She asked.

“Yes.” Another silence ensued. She became restless, an urgency to go back to the funeral ringing in her head.

“I need to go back now.” She took a few steps forward, but Rongyae gave no indication of leaving. She was determined to brush past him if necessary and continued.

Forti was a meter from the suited man when he spoke again.

“Do you know what’s down there?”

“No.”

“It’s the Zhunseban.” She walked faster. This place was forbidden. Access to the catacombs under the communal holy land of death was strictly for the upper echelons of the ordained, the Geth of the Pahthian modality. Bodies both newly buried and from centuries ago laid at peace, each somewhere in one of the hundred layers of sectioned earth generations of the Geth had dug. Although Vasi was not to be entombed but cremated, all farewell ceremonies are held in front of the meadow of the Zhunseban, which Forti was motivated to return to immediately.

“Aren’t you curious what a Zhunseban is like?”

Forti veered around Rongyae. He trailed closely behind. Not wanting her back kept towards him, she hurried up the steps.

“I guess you don’t have an adventurous spirit,” he quipped with a shrug.

“I adventure if I can handle the contingencies.” She bit her inner lip. She shouldn’t have said anything, but he spoke like he knew her based on a single choice, and three hours of sleep loosened her tongue.

You don’t need to explain yourself. Don’t talk to him.

“Hmm, I suppose that’s wise. Or some could say you’re scared.” Why was he trying to rile her? What would he gain? An encomiur should be begging to be chosen, or was this a tactic?

Escaping out the painting, she weaved through the mess, hand on the door.

“You know, we have a lot of paintings and compositions like this in Valor Academy.”

Forti froze. Rongyae was scrutinizing the art with faux interest, hand on his chin like he was actively thinking. He looked older than her, but not yet an adult. He had a flat cap on, and his suit was crisp and tailored.

“Mir. Daetaer, what do you think of this piece?”

His eyes were gold. He was not human, but Forti could not remember if shining yellow was suearius or icthyian. There was no tail, and his ears were rounded.

He could be a fake. A crazy person, a con, a cheat. In the worst case, a dangerous individual. Or ValorA sent him as a condolence gift. He must be excellent at his job if the school recommended him. Yet why solely look for her? Why dispatch him here on this day? Their prestige doesn’t excuse their lack of courtesy or his arrogant behavior.

“I think it’s lovely.” She left the room.

As Forti expected, Rongyae ran after her. In this open environment, she could shout and people would come, she could escape if he was harmful.

“Whoever painted it did a remarkable job,” she commented before he could remark about her exit.

“I agree.” He followed along.

“How do you feel about it, Mir. Rongyae?”

He was impressed by how smoothly she said his name. Not many could do so, even after hearing him say it, requiring repetition and polite probing to check whether they pronounced it correctly.

“I think it’s tragic. Two hearts ripped apart, reaching for each other but unable to grasp. Have you ever felt such love?”

“Maybe.”

They went down a corridor. Gothic windows exhibited a large inner garden of maintained greenery. In a corner, under the shade of an overarching tree, monks sat on smooth rocks, chanting a sutra to ruminate and discuss later, their united voices a muted droning.

Forti meandered over to an alcove with a rounded bench, flush with light from a window directly across, and sat.

Rongyae broke the silence.

“Give me your analysis about the painting,” he said.

“Why?”

“I’m curious what you thought about when you saw it.”

To humor this person out of interest, or to deny out of mild spite for being ordered. Forti realized this was the most direct this elusive person had been, however, and decided to concede, because she had to figure out why he was here talking to her. She reflected on the painted woman and her lover’s grief-stricken expression.

“The lady didn’t look like she was reaching out for him. Her open palm seemed more like she was telling the man not to follow after her. And the dragon was crying. If it were evil, wouldn’t it be happy to pull them apart?

“So to me, I found the narrative of the painting to be about a woman selflessly letting herself be grabbed by a lonely dragon. She might’ve loved the dragon more than the man, or she yielded herself to whoever was more pitiful, because she knew the other could take care of themself. Rather than lovers ripped apart, it felt more like… a lover’s sacrifice?”

Forti disliked how she ended her sentence with doubt after talking that much, but she couldn’t retract it. Repeating the phrase with an assured tone would be futile and clumsy in her opinion.

Though she knew it shouldn’t bother her so much, an unusual unease creeped up her spine at the thought of showing any hesitancy to this sharply-dressed individual. Like dropping a mouse in front of a snake.

Stop worrying over pointless things. Just don’t be daunted next time.

Rongyae simply hummed.

“What was it that made you think like that?”

Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

“At first, the woman’s hand, but the longer I looked, I think it was more because of the dragon, for its tears.”

“Then if the dragon wasn’t crying, would you have thought differently?”

“Maybe.”

“What if it was crying to fool the audience into sympathizing with it?”

“Are you really an encomiur?”

Rongyae was startled by the question, and then laughed. The pull of his lips and peek of his fangs reminded Forti of a fox, and she speculated he was of mixed-species.

“No, I lied.” He gave a teasing grin. “I’m here from Valor Academy to share with you that Vasibeth Daetaer stayed true to her morals throughout the entrance exam. I was one of the students injected in the practical to test applicants. Many were tempted to cheat and hurt others in hopes of advancing, but your sister was immune to it all, and for that, she got in.”

Forti swallowed hard. She asked for his id and he promptly handed it. The metal card had miniscule scratches from use. The credentials appeared legitimate with the blazing crest of the academy that didn’t scratch off, and Rongyae Geim’s photo was almost identical to his real profile, suave smile and all, just a little rounder and more youthful. She passed it back and leaned against the curved, stone wall with a sigh.

Of course Vasi got in. The girl who dreamed of changing the world. Who jumped back up whenever life shoved her down. Who had her whole life ahead of her. She deserved to go to the greatest school in all the realms. That ValorA saw in Vasi what Forti did made her elated to the far reaches of the galaxy and back, and that Vasi would never get to know it herself pulverized Forti’s heart into dust. The double feeling was unkind. Rongyae glanced at the young woman beside him. It seemed she was trying to hold back her tears. He licked his lips.

“I’m sorry for your loss. It’s a loss for ValorA as well, as we do not intend to replace Vasibeth’s spot with anyone.”

Warm hands fell on Forti’s shoulders. She was displeased by the contact, but remained placid to watch his next actions. Rongyae had her turn to him, and although she wore the covering, he somehow found her eyes. She noticed there were flecks of grey dancing around his pupils.

“However, we believe you are qualified to enter ValorA in her stead.”

Forti stopped breathing.

“You just said no one would replace Vasi’s spot.”

“We are not replacing. We are offering a position for you.”

“No, thank you. That belongs to Vasi. Just because I’m her sister doesn’t mean I earned it. It’s not right.”

Rongyae looked at Forti in composed astonishment.

“That was a very fast rejection.”

“Just because it’s fast doesn’t mean I didn’t think it through.”

He let go of Forti.

“This offer does not come from nowhere.”

Forti surmised this must be why they were having this private discussion, why he sought for her. He was fortunate that she left the funeral. Or did he predict I would?

Suspiciously, she asked, “What about my brother?”

“We won’t be extending the proposition to your brother.” Rongyae discerned the ire flaring behind Forti’s eyes, but waited for her inquiry to explain. She asked why in a deceptively calm tone.

“We already tested him. He is not what– Excuse me, not who we need. We need people like Vasibeth.”

Forti was irked, because her brother was exceptional in his own way. However, before she could question Rongyae on what exactly about Vasi the school desired in their students, he jumped up. A spark shone in his eyes though the sun was behind him, and his grin transformed from crafty and clever to boyish and genuine. An uncontrollable vigor was rebounding inescapably inside him, and that aura surged through Forti like a static shock.

“Forti,” he called her name in a sincere cadence. “You refusing our offer means you are meant for ValorA.” He extended an open hand.

“Haven’t you once dreamed of accomplishing great things? Isn’t that why when you were Vasibeth’s age, you tried for our school?” The statement hit like a dagger to the heart.

“We are very sorry for your loss. I’m sorry for your loss, but this offer is not a condolence or compensation. We truly believe you possess the quality that your dear sister had, and our school needs it now, more than ever.”

Something bloomed in Forti’s chest at Rongyae’s words. It resonated with his inviting hand. Her mind felt acute like a gliding bird, and the world’s clarity clattered around her like dropped silver spoons. This was just her, this person, and a chance. Her hand reached out.

“Forti!” Panting down the hall stood Wyver.

The moment shattered, like a dropped glass bottle smashing into many precarious pieces that no one would clean after. She looked at her brother, then back up at Rongyae, hand withdrawing.

“Don’t worry Forti,” Rongyae said. His shrewd smile reappeared as if everything before was only a dream. “There will be one test coming soon that you’ll have to go through to actually get in ValorA, but I believe in you. All you have to do is believe in yourself and be you.”

He almost walked away, but remembered another thing.

“Oh, and I lied again. I came here to scout you out, but everything else I said was true. The school will send a formal letter about your sister’s results on the official release date, so don’t blame the school for what I did here today. I wanted to meet you for myself.”

With a final wave, Rongyae vanished around the corner. Wyver sprinted up to Forti, brows furrowed over the stranger and his elder sister’s safety. He lifted up his veil.

“Forti, who was that?” Forti raised her own.

“Someone from ValorA.” She caught her brother’s flinch. “He told me Vasi made it in ValorA.”

“…Anything else?”

“I’ll tell you later. Is the cremation starting?” Wyver nodded.

Forti and Wyver, faces covered once more, joined the gathering around Vasi, who was carried in her flammable, ivory coffin. Placed on a translucent tray pulled from one of the furnaces, she looked like she was sleeping in an unenclosed cocoon, floating above ground. Forti petted it lovingly as if it were a tender creature.

Goodbye Vasi.

Only Vasi occupied her entirety, the encounter with the feigned encomiur basically forgotten.

Now that the siblings had arrived, the funeral could end. Gently, the wall swallowed the body, and the pastor closed the door. She escorted the group into a room. Behind a glass pane on a lower floor, the casket was in a transparent box to be engulfed in white flames, the color caused by emrephor salts filled in the ducts.

In their elevated area, like an operating theater, people took their seats, family sitting at the front. Forti gazed at where Vasi’s face should be, shrouded by the flowering design. After today, only ash and the ornament cloths spread over her sister would remain, the latter to be flown like kites for four days before being given to her parents.

Goodbye Vasi.

“Are you all ready?” Reverend Liues asked in a low, discreet tone to the parents, who gripped each other’s hands with resolved wills and banished tears.

“Yes,” Forti’s mother said with a voice drenched with mourning, but absent of any waver. Forti scrunched her eyes. Goodbye Vasi. I’ll miss you. I’ll always miss you.

Small, alabaster flames licked the sides of the cocoon, and Forti’s heart beat like a war drum. It was all she could feel, and then the sensation infinitely metamorphosized. To blood coursing in her vessels, electricity streaking through her brain, sinews pulling muscle and bone, lungs expanding with every breath. Awareness of her material existence heightened uncontrollably near a zenith of complete dominion over mortal flesh, bordering the spiritual. She could think of nothing about what was happening to her, she could only feel.

And heat mounted Forti’s arms, legs, and temples. Her back was under a siege of benignly warm whips, but an animalistic instinct frightened her of its eventual severity, of cruel, hot lashings that could melt skin and burn blood. Something had breached her being within the blur. Her body was not only her own. And just as she saw it down below, simultaneous as the setting of the sun and ascension of the moon, she felt her chest rise.

“STOP! STOP THE CREMATION!” She dashed out the observatory. Her parents, experienced from years of handling three, problematically intelligent children, were quick to react, and ordered the bewildered pastor to cancel the fires. Everyone flew after Forti, who tugged at the incinerator door frantically. Her paternal grandfather strided to his granddaughter to have her cease such a distressing act, but Wyver stepped forward as a shield.

Forti’s scream ignited him, as if through her voice a mysterious force entered and proliferated inside his soul, and he knew, without understanding, why she did what she did. He felt it, too.

Forti jerked the tray out. The coffin’s underside and flanks were singed, and the smoke smelled like burnt wood, nothing acrid. She whipped her veil over her head and peered in. She couldn’t tell if hope deluded her sight or if she saw truth. As delicate as a feather, she pulled down the fabric over her sister’s face.

Vasi was as pale as a corpse. Forti stared at closed eyes, then leaned over, and pressed her ear to her sister’s chest. She waited. A weak thump resounded.

She drew back, like something leapt at her, and went to listen again.

Thump… Thump…

It was slow and feeble, but it was there. Concentrating, she could hear the frail inhale and exhale of a life holding on. Forti looked at her brother, at her parents. She wasn’t sure if this was real, and ushered them over. Her mother leaned, just as Forti did, tears sprung in her eyes.

“Vasibeth! Oh– Oh Pahth!” Her mother fell to her knees, grabbing Vasi’s frigid hand as she dropped. She clutched it like it was rope at the edge of a cliff.

“Pahth, thank you. Thank you. Oh, Vasibeth, can you hear me? Vasibeth.”

Forti’s father looked intensely at Vasi with bated breath, and perceived the extremely subtle rise and fall of her torso.

“She’s alive,” he whispered without meaning to.

The people clamored around to witness it for themselves.

“Oh my Pahth!”

“She’s really alive?!”

“It’s a miracle!”

Rongyae had long left the establishment. He rode the unmanned aerial lift down the mountain, and strolled on a destitute dirt path of wildflowers and overgrown grass. An older woman with a long scar between her eyes, slanted to the right down the bridge of her nose, leaned against a black, tinted car, awaiting him. She was admiring the scenery above with folded arms when she heard the crunch of twigs and kicks of dry soil.

“What was she like?” She asked.

“Interesting,” Rongyae replied. “But she’s not the one.”

“That’s too bad. I was hoping in my lifetime I’d get to meet her. Guess the world will have to wait another some centuries.”

Rongyae threw himself in the passenger seat and sank into the plush leather.

“Hahhh… The moment we get even a hint, the universe rips it away. If I see that suearis, I swear I’ll tear him to ribbons.”

“Hey, don’t get any ideas. I’m telling if you go AWOL.”

“I won’t, I won’t. I wasn’t expecting much from the sister anyways.”

Liar, thought the woman as she started the car.