> One day the great Crimson Swordstress came upon the Adamantine Awoken, who was traveling upon a colorful raptor. "O, most venerable one, great conqueror of reality! Please, tell me, for my mind is yet troubled. My daughter has taken the path of the witch, for the purpose of finding power. How can I speak with her to persuade her out of this baleful path?"

>

> The Awoken raised an eyebrow. "Tell the Thus-Come-And-Gone thus, have you loved her all your life?"

>

> "Of course!"

>

> The Awoken always could tell lies from truth: that is the perfection of enlightenment. "Very well. Then you must know, the witch path and the sage path and the scholar path and the ascetic's path are all paths equal on the stream to enlightenment."

>

> "But her motive be selfish, Awoken. She will only cause harm! I do not want her to live her next life in the Hells."

>

> "She will only live her next life in the Hells if she doesn't awaken within this life, and if she doesn't perform her rituals. No doubt you have done something to have pushed her onto this path. Listen closely: you will war with your daughter in the far future, this is inevitable. She will be commanding roving warbands of demonkin, and you will be powerless. Then you will find the witch path as she did."

>

> from The Journey-Song of Dattreya Wairini

Sungai the horse looked fleetingly at Raxri. A look of judgment. A look of contempt? What a strange horse. What an expressive horse.

The look was oppressive. Completely oppressive. Raxri felt like they were crumbling, hands disjointing under Sungai's almighty gaze.

Sungai exhaled as if in confirmation or affirmation, after a moment.

"Thank you Sungai," Akazha said. She mounted Sungai and then offered her hand to help Raxri. Raxri took it.

"Thank you, great witch."

"Don't thank me yet," she said. "You never know: I might lead you yet into certain death, and I will use your screaming soul as an ingredient for my elixir. Hyah!" She stirred Sungai into a gallop, and off they went, riding out of the temple complex and down the broken set of stairs that led up to the temple.

More of those split gateways flanked the stair path at specific intervals, looking like arches but with the top section removed. "Heaven Mountain Gates," said Akazha. "Going through such gates bears to the soul the climbing of the mountain and, subsequently, the symbolic entering of heaven. The entrances are always found at the top of tall mounts."

"I see." Raxri stared at the gates. Its old architects carved it out of ebon night stone.

Eventually, the stone path ended with the last Heaven Mountain Gate, and they burst out into a dirt path that wound up. The path was decidedly flat, leading to a slight grassland before it eventually fell into the sea. Though the Horned Moon watched on this night, the sea was pure black.

Now Upon The Pemi Lowlands

Further off into the distance of the sea, Raxri saw the distant shadow of a giant man's torso, at least fifty fathoms tall, walking across the waves. It walked with a slow gait, truly like a giant walking across an ocean. When the man's eyes--a set of two balls of fire--met Raxri's, they immediately turned away to watch the trees pass by. Sungai galloped at a brisk pace.

"Tonight is a night of the Highest Horned Moon," Akazha said as they brought out coral prayer beads. "It would be best not to let your eyes wander. The Dead and the Unwelcome walk here galvanized. But so do we witches."

Raxri watched as Akazha uttered a mantra eight times quickly before blowing into her prayer beads and then throwing her hand into the air, letting the gathered wind cover them. Raxri felt low pressure envelop them as if the winds wrapped around them and protected them.

The dirt path carried them close to the shoreline, where ghastly jellyfish and bioluminescent eels swam underneath the waves—hunting, abiding. Raxri couldn't help but find it beautiful, the non-deluded movement. Shadowmen lurked nearby, standing by the coast, unfettered by the cold night winds. The winds now were strong, you see. Not a storm, nay, but the natural ocean wind all the same.

The shadowmen's eyes blurred white. They held in their hands gloom-swords like mantis-blades. They watched Raxri and Akazha ride past.

Eventually, they arrived at a ruin. Wooden stilt houses abandoned, a destroyed stone spirit house in the middle, seemingly by a stream. The stilt houses had fences about their undersides. No more life here. Raxri conjectured this ruin was once a stopping point for travelers but has now fallen out of favor.

Sungai flew past when Raxri heard a low groan. Panic? Pain? "Wait! Akazha, I hear someone inside."

Akazha stopped Sungai right as they crossed the bridge. "Within? Impossible. These ruins are dangerous, and no one pilgrimages to that Temple anymore."

"I heard it." Raxri hopped off Sungai. As they did, they felt a change of pressure; their ears popped. "There, it's louder now." More sounds of groaning.

Akazha similarly hopped off, commanding Sungai to stay with a wave of a mudra. "They might be Undead."

Raxri walked into the small copse of stilt houses. "Hello? Is anyone here? We can help."

A voice immediately replied: "Oh! Oh, over here!"

Akazha caught up just as Raxri found a little boy peeking behind a shut window. Raxri walked up to the stilt house, climbed the ladder, and looked into the window from the elevated front porch.

"Hello. What are you doing here?"

The boy was small, waifish, wrapped only in a sarong. Together with him was a little girl, no doubt his sister. Raxri offered his hand, and the boy shook his head.

"We came here to swim," said the boy. "But we took too long to get out of the water. The night caught us and now binds us to where we hide!"

"Why? Where do you live?"

"Blacklight Town," the girl replied.

Akazha came up behind them and said, "Blacklight Town? That's quite a ways away. Mind you, it's not very far, but it's still about half a sun- movement."

"Yes." The boy bit his lip. "But... I'm sorry. We wanted to watch the March of the Sea Monks is all!"

Raxri shook their head. "Why can't you--"

The groan, again.

Akazha's eyebrows furrowed. She turned and summoned her kalis and then let go of it so that it hung in the air again. "More of these reanimated..." Akazha commanded her kalis to become her step. She stepped onto it and then off it to climb down from the elevated porch of the house.

Two walking wights shuffled into view, rusty blades in their hands, loose sarongs and tunics clinging onto desiccated, falling flesh. They groaned with every movement.

"Slaying them brings no karmic consequence," Akazha said to Raxri, eyes burning bright blue again. Her kalis danced and dispatched the wights handily—clean bisections and then butchering into many fine chops. "The Reanimated are not sentient beings. They are cages for a Mindstream. Such Mindstreams are chained to be auxiliary powering sources for the walkers-in-death. It would be of the highest merit to free such Mindstreams so they may journey the Whorl again."

"How?" Raxri asked, somehow more interested in that than the Dead-Walking-Again before them.

"Magick, sites of great emotional atrocity, or places cursed by wizards, are catalyzed by the Hunting Moon to trap a Mindstream into these bodies, preventing reincarnation. Slaying such creatures lets the Mindstream continue into the Whorl. We must deliver unto them Certain End, for them to begin again."

"So these ruins... Something must have happened to them...?"

"Indeed," said Akazha, sighing. "The Invincible Blade Princess cast the Utter Islands into disarray. The Second World Revolution failed and ended the world. We live upon a divine corpse, Rarxi Uttara. Remember it well."

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

The undead, now dispatched, Akazha turned to the kids. "Come along now, children--" she stopped. She pressed her index and pointer finger to her forehead and looked like she had an eye on her brow. A moment passed, and then she sighed. Raxri watched her and then turned to the window where the boy and the girl were.

They were not there.

"They're free now," said Akazha.

"What?"

"Those children... They were those." She gestured to the corpses with her lips. "They were the relics of their Mindstream. Now freed."

Raxri inhaled, a heavy weight on their hearts. They uttered a mantra, one that arose from their lovingkindness. One that they remembered, even if nothing else returned to memory: "AHOM DAYA ZINTA."

"Do ghosts arise from such sites?" asked Raxri as Akazha walked past them on the way back to where Sungai was.

"Some of them, yes. Others are pakta, hungry ghosts who must serve their time due to their past life. Some specters arise from Mindstreams so burdened with passions that they stay in the intermediary state of ghosthood. This is why many people perform rituals for their dead, so that they may pass on."

"I see."

Akazha smiled then. "I enjoy this. Imparting my knowledge onto someone so stupid. Refreshing."

Raxri blinked, then followed after Akazha. "Do you not think the ruins must be cleansed?"

Akazha shook her head as she mounted Sungai once again. "I fear those are the last of the lingering souls there. It is a ruin true, now. Inert. Dead."

"And it's because of the Invincible Blade Princess..."

"Yes. Come. We've much to discuss."

Raxri mounted Sungai as well, and off they galloped. Over the bridge, down finally into the coastal region, and then into a path in the forest by the base of the lower mountains, where fireflies still danced like lamplights.

Pemiwood's Edge

At first, the forest was composed of the kinds one would see near the shore: coconut trees, strangler figs, palms, and areca, among others. But as they rode deeper, following the light and crooked forest path, the trees turned into large, towering pili and rosewoods, mahoganies, and ironwood trees. Even now, as the fireflies lit the path (no doubt, Raxri thought, a twist of witchcraft), she could see the glowing eyes of arboreal animals watching from above. Bearcats, flying lemurs, cloud rats, giant flying foxes, and eagle-owls watched them. Some of them, no doubt, were spirits in their own right.

Akazha chanted something under their breath.

The path led them to a small clearing in the forest, where even the canopy broke free, revealing the Hunting Moon that still watched through emptiness.

Raxri knew something smiled from up there.

Sungai stopped before a tall stilt house with several annexes, which gave the impression that it belonged to royalty. The house was built upon thick ironwood pillars, and each pillar was carved with geometric inscriptions and talismanic engravings to strengthen its spiritual hold against the dark.

Somewhere behind the cottage, a spirit house stood, with the deity within replaced with what looked like a prayer wheel... though its script glowed with a low blue light. The offering platform had wires that looked like... streams of water flowing out of it. The tubes snaked into the earth, and then presumably, into the house. A faint sound also emanated from the spinning prayer wheel... it sounded like a slow, melodious chant of mantras.

Akazha climbed down from the black horse and removed a small rattan bag from his side. Raxri followed suit, hitting the ground with a thud. Then, she led Sungai on his reins toward a nearby hut. This was also an elevated stilt house, but the under-section was much taller and had multiple fences to allow Sungai to rest within.

"Good boy, Sungai. Thank you for riding with us. Have a rest." Akazha kissed Sungai on his cheek and then exited the stilt house. "You, follow me."

They climbed up the ladder--a goodly ladder, the thick ones that were more like stairs, belonging more to princes--and arrived at the front porch. Akazha removed her straw reed sandals, opened the lid of a porcelain dragon jar resting beside the entrance of the first doorway, and rinsed her feet with water. Raxri did the same, removing much of the accumulated dirt and soil. They realized then how thick the callouses on their feet were.

Witch's Hut

Akazha's home was quaint: it wasn't too large, but it had two levels (as signified, Raxri had thought, by the two roofs). The living room was spacious, with a recessed middle and a table, allowing easy sitting. On one side, however, was a table filled to the brim with palm leaf scrolls and leaf manuscripts. Some brass jars of ink threatened to spill. A stele with some fresh blood lay beside a sheet of dried palm leaf--the paper of the Islands.

Above Raxri, a canopy of beams kept up the second level, and from that canopy hung multiple threads of differing colors. Some of them were prayer beads, others were threads of precious jewels. There was also a piece of bone, a skull, and a hanging clay pot.

Akazha moved through the room with comfort. She pressed her finger against a circular, blackstone button installed to the side of a room. The same lotus-lights lit afire with pureflame blossomed out, illuminating the room in a pure white glow. Akazha pressed it again, and the glow turned from a pure white to a comfortable halogen orange. Are these the same lotus lights that lit the Vault of Souls? They saw that the blackstone installation also had similar "veins" blossoming out of it, coursing through the wall, returning to whatever battery powered it.

"Sit. Make yourself at home," Akazha said, somewhere from another room.

Raxri nodded.

It took Raxri a moment to notice that Akazha had disappeared into one of the four annexes of the cottage (turning the home into a four-roomed complex). Eventually, she returned with a wooden tray, whereupon an intricately filigreed wooden box, a tiny knife with a dragon handle, a teapot, and two porcelain teacups sat.

"Do you hunger yet?"

Raxri's stomach grumbled and groaned.

Akazha laughed. A light laugh. The kind of laugh a mother or a sister would make. She said: "I've some claypot chicken rice I've cooked a few movements ago. Linger, for a while."

Raxri bowed deeply, folding both their hands in front of their mouth. "I thank you deeply and kindly."

"Good, I like it when you appreciate things." And she disappeared into the annex again, which Raxri figured out by now was the kitchen.

Raxri blinked and then decided it would be too awkward to continue simply standing there. So they sat in front of the table where the box was. Raxri contemplated what it could be when Akazha returned, bringing a clay pot with white rice and steamed chicken thighs within, doused in soy sauce. To Raxri's grumbling stomach, it might as well have been Amrita.

"I thank you kindly again for your hospitality."

"Eat up. No good conversation arises from a stomach void."

Raxri did as instructed, wolfing down the clay pot with their hands.

Akazha watched, amused. "Good to see you haven't lost all your etiquette knowledge."

Raxri blinked. "Is eating with my hands not mannerly? Forgive me; this seemed most natural."

"Nay. Eating with your hands is the common way of eating here in Pemi and most of the Utter Islands, in truth. Despite the loss of your memory, it's good to see you have some of your reflexes still intact."

Akazha poured black tea onto both teacups and opened the wooden chest. Within were already prepared quids of betel nut. Akazha took a bit of lime, opened a bit of one quid, squeezed it within, and then wrapped the quid up again before placing it on the side of her mouth. Then she masticated.

As Raxri ate, Akazha prepared another quid for Raxri and placed it in front of them. "After dinner."

Raxri blinked momentarily and then asked: "What is this for...?"

Akazha half covered her mouth with her fingers. "Goodness. Not just memory but social norms as well. You truly must be studied. You know, even the dead I've actually talked to, the spirits and ghosts are still stuck in the mortal realm. They remember their past, sometimes with the uttermost clarity- too much, even. It only fuels their remorse and, therefore, their clinging. And yet you... you've forgotten everything, even what it's like to live here, in this world.

"Betel nut quids are one of the most important aspects of socialization and hospitality here in the southern isles. It's fallen out of favor in such utter regions as North Ra-om: there they offer tea or coffee or opium instead. But within the confines of our islands, it is mandatory to offer betel nut as a gesture of goodwill. Truly, even the gods are offered such betel nut, as a sign of hospitality and good faith. These social norms you must learn, lest you anger the wrong person. Or worse, a king.

Raxri nodded in understanding. Then they looked up. "Speaking of things I have completely forgotten," they said, swallowing some chicken. "What... powers the lotuslights?"

Akazha raised an eyebrow. "Electricity."

Raxri titled their head to the side. They asked: "And the electricity comes from...?"

"Well, they would usually be powered by a karma grid. Each major city or town has one," Akazha replied, scooping some rice into her mouth. "But I am not connected to one. This house is powered by a small karma engine. Mayhaps tomorrow you will see the karma engine behind the house."

"Karma engine...?"

Akazha tapped their chin. "It's... an engine that converts karma into electrical energy."

"That's possible?"

Akazha nodded. "It's hard to explain: it was invented and commercialized after the fall of the Invincible Blade Princess. Electricity powers the majority of the Utter Islands' machines, elevating all of us into a new age. Karma is converted through a mix of samadhi fires and powerful mantras. The prayer wheel is actually a furnace, while the mantras written upon it is the Karma-Ripening Mantra, a mantra that only monk-machinists can chant. So they write it onto the prayer wheels instead."

Raxri blinked. "Where does the karma come from?"

Akazha shrugged. "Devils, ghosts, demons, sacrificed animals, little spirits that wish to move on to the next part of the Wheel. Any being with Karma works. It forcibly ripens one's karma, but it does slay the being."

Raxri pondered the repercussions of such a thing.

"It's not murder, you should know," explained Akazha. "It's closer to suicide. Voluntary death. At least, the majority of karma engines are powered that way."

Raxri writhed. It's still technically killing someone, right...?

"Anyway," Akazha continued. "The act is inherently beneficial to those of Lower Paths. Burning your karma means your next Rebirth will be in a higher Realm. Demons and Hellbeings might be reborn as Animals. Pakta and animals might be reborn as humans. Some humans might be reborn as spirits. Some spirits might be reborn as gods! But it's not a science. Only the buddha can truly predict the ripening of karma."

Akazha swallowed her food and said: "You really have lost all memory. Everyone is born into electricity, more or less. To the point that we don't really ponder about the repercussions of the karma engine. "

Raxri swallowed a mouthful of the soy sauce-drenched chicken breast with white rice. The food lightened their mood. "Truly, I've forgotten the workings of this world completely. You must teach me!"

Akazha scoffed. "I'm no teacher. And I'm definitely no mother. Treat me in no such manner."

"I will not survive--" Raxri swallowed another mouthful; they had a big mouth, "--a day upon this land without a teacher, a guidance, a tutor. Please, I beg you!" Raxri was about to get up and prostrate themselves before Akazha, but she stopped them with a hand.