> Do you remember what I told you? Never trust a witch. Now go. There will be time left. Do it for the working class.
>
> From Missive of Karunin of the Lazuli Winds to Wonian Revolutionary Okuro Dakasenshi
Atamataran's Fryinghouse was open for business only from sunset to midnight. "It's good for business," she would say. "There's a lot of workers working night hours now, due to the increased demands of the international market."
Raxri Uttara, Sintra Kennin, Ampalila, and Akazha Han Narakdag sat around a low table, squished inside a small alley where the rice shop was open. The alley was formed by two tall stone houses. They ate fried rice from a porcelain bowl. The fried rice was cooked uniformly across them: yellowed from turmeric, fragrant from the garlic, soy sauce, and green onions. Slightly creamy due to the coconut oil used to cook it. Mixed in with bruised lemongrass and pandan leaves. Topped with dried anchovies.
For their viand, they had ordered a fish dish, whereupon galunggong was similarly fried. Each of them had a porcelain platelet of soy sauce mixed with cut chilis, fish sauce, and calamansi juice.
It was a dish fit as a dinner. All around them were dockhands and other laborers. Raxri noticed the usual workclothes here tended to be a simple collarless, sleeveless that reached the midriff, a bahag and then a short cloth around the waist as outerwear, and then a simple white, blue, or otherwise undyed cloth wrapped around the head as a bandana. Everyone smelled vaguely of fish or ocean, and everyone was somewhat slightly shimmering from a light sheen of sweat, a constant in such a humid region despite it being relatively cool and comfortable.
Somehow, it felt cozy to Raxri. It felt like home. I must be going mad.
They ate in silence. It was a reprieve after all. Only in quiet can one hear the heart loudly.
Sintra Kennin did not look like he sweat. Captain Ampalila had some sweat on her brow but she would quickly wipe it away. When she got fed up with having to keep wiping away sweat droplets, she brought out a kerchief with geometric patterns and tied it around her head like a turban, similar in style to Raxri and Sintra's tengkolok.
Akazha only wore a kemben, a saya, a tapis, and her jewelries now. Her arms, collarbones, neck were all dappled with sweat. Raxri finished their rice--it was delicious--which they ate with a spoon (Raxri wondered if this was the norm for all internationally participating communities). Then they removed their tengkolok and reached over to Akazha.
"What are you--" Akazha stopped from eating and jolted and tried to pull away, but Raxri shook their head.
"Cool it. I'm just wiping away your sweat. You can't let that dry on you." They did not know why they thought that, just that they knew it to be true. A common elderly proverb to children and the younger generations.
Akazha did not resist. She froze, even, as Raxri wiped her arms, her shoulder, her neck, her chest.
"There," said Raxri, after everything was done. "Fresh like a baby."
Akazha rolled her eyes and scowled. "Thank you, I suppose."
"Worry not," said Raxri, shrugging. Then, to get over feeling awkward, they immediately looked around and said: "Huh, there seems to be an influx of people now."
"True," said Akazha, though she was back to eating her rice.
Ampalila smiled and coughed. "Ah, yes, right. Sintra Kennin? What was that lead you talked about?" She picked up a porcelain cup and drank water from it. She immediately refilled her water with the phoenix-spouted kendi.
Sintra Kennin had finished his food. He had finished two galunggong. There were only three left, which was just as fine. Raxri wasn't as hungry as they thought they were. Their hands shivered, subtly, after what they did.
"Right!" Sintra Kennin pointed with his lips to Raxri. "Raxri Uttara said that they were assaulted by a ghastly phantasm just last night."
"Well," Raxri looked at Akazha quickly, who was eating her fried rice without looking away from the bowl. Raxri cleared their throat. "A-Ah, well. I was checking u-up on Akazha--" Akazha blinked slowly, but did nothing more, "--and saw the white wraith face to face with her. When it realized that I could see it, it started running after me. And I had to run as fast as I could to the river, where the water made her dissipate."
"A woman wraith?" Ampalila tapped her chin with a finger. "Dangerous. The women ghosts are relentless and vengeant. They are the ones victims of the living worlds' injustice. Those that stay as ghosts, clinging relentlessly to this life, will never pass through the Interstitial without proper justice done to them. Or until a buddha arrives to forcibly enlighten them."
"I never knew buddhas could forcibly enlighten," said Raxri, tapping their finger.
"It's one of the perks of achieving it, but from what I've seen it can only happen to those that already did follow the Law. But we digress."
"Right," said Raxri, shaking their head. Akazha was no longer staring. She had finished her bowl and was staring at Raxri. "The ghost was horrifying to look at, of course. I tried to fight back against it but it overwhelmed me. What do we do?"
Akazha inhaled. "You have your Third Eye open?"
Raxri blinked. "Oh, what Sintra Kennin mentioned? My Third Eye being open?"
"Not everyone has theirs sensitive," explained Akazha. "Many people forcibly keep theirs closed so they can choose to live without seeing the horrors. Weaklings."
"What does it mean to have a Third Eye open?"
"Either you were born naturally open or... Raxri Uttara of the Past cultivated it open. The latter has interesting implications for your past, at least," said Akazha.
"I have some ideas as to our next plan of action. I have people that I can glean information from as we need it. They're going to be my go-tos. You will have to sit tight and wait, however."
You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.
Akazha nodded. She seemed like she was a bit more back to herself. "We can try and intensify our occult resonances so that we have an increased chance of having the ghost arrive at our door again. She could potentially be a ghost similar to a patayenak, ghosts of women who died in childbirth or from domestic violence."
"Intensify our occult resonances?" asked Raxri.
"Yes. You should know this now, but the world of ghosts is an intermediary state, between death and rebirth. Due to this, ghosts are commonly unseeable to the untrained eye. They blend into the surroundings, or awarenesses slip off of them like some sort of optical illusion. They are often invisible even to those that cannot see them or have not the senses for them. However, once you see them, they will never stop. They will keep hounding you down. It's that old adage too: they go to the ones that can see them.
Sintra Kennin shivered. "Ah, ghosts... I suppose I cannot let you two do it alone, but I sure do wish we can finish it quickly."
"Why? You're afraid of ghosts, Sintra Kennin? But you're a spirit?" Raxri wondered how much different they were.
"Yes well we're not beings whose justice was denied. We are beings born into this world. Even some gods, especially Tellurians, are afraid of ghosts. Ghosts left to fester, rot, and haunt can get so strong, as their very being drains and vampirizes the ambient Will around them, turning merit into evil karma that they wield."
Akazha continued: "Hence why one of the most lucrative businesses in the Utter Islands is that of Exorcism. Any self-respecting community or polity would not be caught dead without an exorcist. Often shamans are good enough exorcists, but professional exorcists are those that learn everything about handling ghosts and demons."
"Yes well, you do that. I will spread the word," said Ampalila, rising to her feet. "Tomorrow, let's meet at dawn in the river banks north of the town. I can relay whatever information I can grasp there as well as continue your lessons," Ampalila pointed at Akazha.
Akazha bowed gratefully, "I will look forward to it, master."
Ampalila nodded, bowed to Raxri and Sintra Kennin, and then left.
Raxri said: "Wait, you're a student of Ampalila now?"
She smiled and said: "Yes, learning the Gun Oracle System. Hence this." She pointed at the long gun slung across her back. "You never wondered?"
"Anytime I see you with something new I just assume you've always had it." Raxri scratched their head.
Akazha rolled her eyes. "Anyway. We should get going. Let's head to the night market. We have some ingredients that we must purchase."
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The three of them made their way to the night market. Lotus lights and palm leaf torches kept light upon the wares being sold and mosquitos away. The night market was not at the docks, it was a few streets away from it. The streets still led to the night market from the docks, so it was a particularly strategic position.
The streets were slick with water, no doubt wet from all the produce being brought in from the barges. Some of the fishes, shrimps, octopi, and other seafoods were preserved in earthenware jars filled with ice, a practice common in more northern islands but has become indispensable for preserving foods for trade. When they would bring out those trade goods, the ice no doubt would melt.
There were stalls for about-to-go-bad vegetables, fish and meat preserved in jars of vinegar and salt, carved wooden trinkets such as cup holders, cups, bowls, utensils, chopsticks, pillars. There were even some selling newly oiled steel weaponry. Some were even selling earthenware jars filled with ice, which was particularly popular nowadays so that people could store more food for any drought periods.
Akazha walked ahead of them, looking at each stall fleetingly. When she couldn't find what she was looking for, she sighed and asked a nearby helper-girl. "Excuse me. Prithee tell me where one can purchase generous amounts of salt and coconut oil from the market?"
"Oh, just at the end of the street, dear lady. Kerat sells some," said the girl. "Be careful, however. A witch peddles her wares there."
"All good and well." She turned to Raxri and Sintra Kennin: "Come now."
The three of them quickened their pace to reach the end of the long street that had been turned into the night market. At the end of it was someone selling saltstones and coconut oil within porcelain bottles. Akazha moved abnormally quickly, going directly to the seller--a dark-skinned young boy--and immediately buying a saltstone and two bottles of coconut oil.
As she shuffled around trying to get enough joss sticks to pay the boy, a voice resonated from behind them.
"Well damn me to the Ashen Hells!" The voice was clear, resonating from a woman's throat. "If it isn't the Witch of East Pemi, Akazha Han Narakdag!"
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Akazha froze. Raxri whipped around to see who had called out to them.
A woman around the same age of Akazha, though somewhat shorter. She looked absolutely emaciated, but she used that to their advantage to heighten her aesthetic appeal. She wore a loose kebaya--so large that it reached her thighs--and a hakama that reached up to her waist. The girl's hair was a shock of pure black, a wolf-cut in some sense.
She walked down a house's ladder when Raxri saw them.
She was not covered in tattoos as Akazha was, but she was absolutely bedecked in jewelry. Ear plugs expressing a great sun. Piercing around her nose, her eyebrows, her lips. Rings around every finger, huge bangles around her very thin wrists. Great and thick gold plugs turned into a great necklace around her neck. Across her back was slung a very long sword--so long that it looked more like a staff than a sword. But the garuda pommel and the damascened steel of the blade betrayed the truth of its nature. It was, in essence, a long and thin sundang.
Raxri began: "Who...?"
They were cut off with the girl walking up to Akazha--who was a full two heads taller than her--and slapped her behind. "What'ya doing back at Pemi's asscrack?"
Raxri blinked.
Akazha turned, her face solid like a bodhisattva. If there was anger in her mien Raxri could not see a trace of it. "What the fuck you doing here, Angko? I thought--"
"Hoy! You're the one that left me behind! Have you forgotten? Don't act like the victim here!" Angko pouted like a child, and her brow furrowed cutely.
"I told you where I was going." Akazha's face was comedically still unchanged. A true bodhisattvan serenity and placidity. "I told you that I had to leave because it was part of my training--"
"You left me alone for 3 years!" Angko's pouting face intensified. "And I had to--"
"You should be with the vajracharya still. What are you doing here?"
"Oh, the vajracharya told me to serve as a diviner here for a few months," said Angko, suddenly smiling. No more pouting. Raxri blinked, turned to Sintra Kennin, who was watching very intently. As if this was the first time he'd seen something like this unfolding before his very eyes.
Akazha mopped her face. Her bodhisattva calm dissipating and breaking. "Achi... I told you that that was the vajracharya's whole thing. We had to immerse ourselves to draw out real magick..."
"I know but it still made me sad." She pouted again and then stood with her hands akimbo. "But you've not answered my question! Why are you here!"
"You never asked that question," said Akazha.
"I ask it now!"
"I'm... on my way back. To Blacklight. To Guru Sutasoma."
"Oh!"
Sintra Kennin suddenly cut in. "Sorry, did you say, achi?"
Akazha fought down a smile. "Right. Ah, my manners."
"Yes, Akazha," said Angko. "You have forgotten your manners!"
Akazha smiled through the pain. "Raxri, Sintra. This is my achi Angko. A fellow disciple of the Ultramystic Sutasoma. Back then, we were the only two disciples of the mystic."
She saluted. "Hello! I am Angko of the Hibiscus Blade. But just Angko is fine. Or achi, if you're all around Akazha's age."
Raxri tilted their head to the side. "Achi?"
Angko raised an eyebrow. "Yes? If I hadn't known better you look suspiciously similar to--" Akazha swooped in and immediately blocked her mouth with her hand. "Why don't we go back into your house?"
Angko furrowed her eyebrows, incensed at first. But then, she realized what was going on, even though she didn't, really. She nodded. "Yes. There is privacy in my house, yes. Come in, come right on in..."