Wati’s stream of tears wet the stone slab that she was hugging. Her hand gently stroked its inscription: Aryo Kutoharjo.

Soldiers from her cohort occasionally came to console her. None of them managed to rouse Wati from the horizontal dirt mound adorned by a basket of flowers. Consequently, she got the attention of the disciplinary section. They forced her to run three laps around the base of Fort Ndelosor, equipped with gears that weighed three times the weight she had to carry during the march.

The ordeal lasted for three hours, during which she had to maintain a constant pace lest she got whipped. Her face hit the dirt once she finished her final lap. Her limbs felt so numb that she wouldn’t be surprised if they fell off. Wati gazed at the sky. Somehow the punishment felt more arduous than ever. She closed her eyes, thinking of lying down for a while. That was when she felt a whipping on her leg.

Wati trudged back to her tent. Two days ago, it was bustling with the cheer and laughter of her peers. Now it was silent, though Aryo's bedroll was deafening.

Once, and only once we're satisfied with everything…let's get married.

The statement echoed inside her head. Wati rolled the bedroll and held it tight. Her face sank into its softness, inhaling whatever scent of him that remained.

“Aryo…” Another wave of tears covered her eyes.

Wati fell to her bedroll. She thought she still had time and regretted not holding on to him tighter that night.

After allowing her to snuggle for two hours, Aryo fell asleep first. Hence, they snuggled until dawn. It was her toughest struggle against temptations. She thought their relationship would be doomed had she devoured him whole, but now there would be no relationship at all.

“Aryo…”

In the morning, kun skimmers were served for breakfast. They were served in all kinds: grilled, roasted, fried, stewed, et cetera. Normally, the soldiers would have to accept whatever was handed to them. This time, they were free to choose. The queue in the mess hall was beyond counting.

Kun skimmers’ meat had a smooth texture. They were easy to tear and chew. The birds’ body oil made the meat naturally salty in a delicious way. It was a luxurious dish that no Dankers could resist, but Wati failed to revel in it. Thus, she failed to finish her meal when the bell rang.

Wati was bonded and dragged onto a stage in the middle of Fort Ndelosor’s encampment. The disciplinary section undid her armor and dropped her to her knees. They raised Wati’s arms before cuffing her neck, ankles, and wrists. Wati gulped as she watched the headsman, who had a contemptuous gaze, strode before her. His right hand reached for a crimson whip on his holster.

The whip lashed out on her back. Wati’s screams were heard halfway through the camp. Tears rolled down her cheek. Memories with Aryo couldn’t distract her from the pain.

After an excruciating seventy lashes, a different headsman approached her. He was carrying the helmet that contained her unfinished breakfast. The headsman, who had been flogging her, forced her mouth open and kept it that way. He shoved what was left of her meal into her mouth, one spoonful at a time, and gave her no time to chew. Wati vomited a good portion of it, yet the headsman scooped and forced her to swallow it as well.

Wati collapsed as soon as they released the cuffs. She couldn’t move, and her consciousness was fading. With her gasping, Wati beseeched Visha, the god that she had just insulted through her misconduct, to alleviate her physical and mental woes.

A sudden growing heat agitated her. Amidst the garden of fire, a mansion stood, raided by a group of armed Dankers of unknown affiliations. She heard screams, both of agony and rage. She shouted her parents’ name but there was no answer. A strange figure approached her, his black cloak was unscathed by the fire. His bright-amber eyes looked down on her with a clear intent to kill.

Wati woke up in a medical ward. She glanced at the sitting pillow beside her, wishing that Aryo was there. She inhaled deeply and reached for her back. Her dorsal palm was met with a rough texture that stung when touched. Wati fell to her mattress again and shriveled, knowing that she would bear the shame for the rest of her life. She covered her face and cried again.

At sunrise, the Eightieth Legion was summoned. Wati’s back still ached when she moved. The healing Mantra she had learned had done little. She was given a carriage filled with a month’s worth of rations — normally pulled by a pair of nyambek. Wati positioned herself to pull it. Her new squadmates sneered at her while she was doing so.

During the march, Wati often got left behind. Not only did she have to endure her muscles screaming for rest, but she also had to deal with other soldiers occasionally kicking the carriage, throwing trash at her, and hurling humiliating insults. Additionally, she had to erect the tent for her squad, do their laundry, cook, and clean their equipment. At night, she was forced to sleep outside, keeping watch.

Wati waited until everyone was asleep before taking refuge behind the tent. There she knelt, with eyes teary and hands shaking. She looked aloft, turning her sorrowful face to the party she was truly at odds with.

“Praise the Three…” she said. “The Holy…the Almighty…”

Wati knew no other well-known praises to her gods, so she was stuck repeating that phrase.

From Aryo's shoulders, everything seemed within reach. The pleasing view had blinded her so much that she thought worship was unnecessary. How arrogant, if only she realized it sooner. Clearly, the Almighty Three wanted her to repent.

Visha would still caress her, Vahsani would still strengthen her resolve to endure His promise, while Vhisa would still give her guidance. But how audacious would she be for asking Them those boons, after disregarding Their blessing for so long?

Though their mercy was endless, Wati had to atone for her impiety. She promised to Vahsani: a pilgrimage to Kramat Limo — the greatest repentance that a Danker could do.

On the fifth day of the march, Wati was too exhausted to climb. She ran ahead and appealed to her squad, telling them they would starve if the carriage was stuck at the base of the hill. They told her that it would be her fault and kept marching. Wati asked every passing soldier for help, but none of them even looked at her. The disciplinary section only cared about shouting at her to move on, before threatening her with another set of punishments if she failed to arrive on time.

As the column disappeared over the hill, Wati tried pushing the carriage from behind. Even with all her strength, she could only climb five steps before it pushed her back down. She collapsed beside it. Wati pulled her legs close and let her face fall to her knees.

Wati fished a parchment from her backpack. Inside it was a painting of Aryo’s face. She gently stroked his delicate cheeks. Had they run away from the kun skimmer that day, she could still touch his fair oval face, or caress his short brown hair. Wati covered her mouth. Two droplets of tears wet the parchment. She pressed the picture to her chest, crossing her arms on top of it.

“Why did you leave so early?” Wati regulated her breath in an attempt to stop crying. “What do I have to say to her?” She wiped her eyes.

The ground quaked. She quickly returned the parchment to her backpack and prepared to act. That was when she noticed the creeping dark gray bastion with seven wheels. It had a flattened dome. Its comically long nose looked like a clothespin. Its dark gray paint was mixed with tints of dark juniper in a random but oddly aesthetic pattern. The bastion was about as tall as a Kun Skimmer and five times longer.

The bastion suddenly stopped. Wati marveled at its grandeur, which was evident as it stood ten steps away from her. The human giant emerged from the bastion and looked down on her.

“Do you need help?”

“You speak in Akk-Soro?” Wati said in a surprised tone.

“Thanks to your friends,” the giants nodded in the direction of the marching column.

The color of the giants’ clothing was a mix of multiple shades of greens. Her helmet was half-spherical, and her chest plate had a lot of pouches and packs.

Wati briefly looked in the direction where her legion had gone. “I wouldn’t call them friends,” she said.

“You’re the one that was flogged the other day, aren’t you?”

Wati pressed her left shoulder guard and looked away.

“Unfortunate,” the giants said. “I guess you would refuse my help with that carriage?”

“You’re a guest. You shouldn’t be doing my things.”

The giants raised an eyebrow. “Why did they leave you here, though? I thought helping a fellow in need was a collective responsibility for your people.”

“I’m…I thought so too.”

The giants sighed. “What’s your name by the way?”

“I’m Wati Kusumasari. You can call me Wati.”

The giants nodded. “My name is Mey.”

“Mey who?”

“Mey.”

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“Don’t you have a surname?”

“I’d rather not reveal.”

Wati stayed silent.

“Hold on…they want you to pull that carriage but they wouldn’t provide for you when you encounter an actual issue with it?”

“I…” Wati took a deep breath and sat down. “I don’t know. You can go ahead. I’ll just…rest here until I’m fit to pull the carriage again.”

Wati reached for her canteen and took a sip. She made sure that every drop went inside her mouth. She then leaned her head against the carriage and shut her eyes.

A deafening explosion startled her. Wati was astonished to find herself soaked by a pale golden glow. The sore tension in her muscles was suddenly gone. Her eyelids, which were heavy just a second ago, now refused to shut. Her armor and backpack became lighter. Her back injuries felt like they were never there. Wati stood up with the urge to jump immediately into action.

“D-did you…” Wati said.

Mey shrugged casually.

“A Mantra of Wellspring…”

“A mantra of what?”

Wati gasped as she approached the giants. “By the Almighty Three…” A powerful wizard who was willing to talk to her. Wati knelt and locked her hands together. “C-can I please be your apprentice? Please…please…”

“What?”

“Please mentor me on the arts of spellcasting,” Wati said. “I’ll do everything you ask of me.”

“No.”

“W-why not?”

“For your safety.”

“Then…is there anything I can do to reduce the risk?”

“No.”

Wati fidgeted her fingers. “W-what if I brought some scholars from the local university so that–”

“Listen,” Mey said, sounding irritated. “I can’t teach you my spells, and there’s nothing we can do about it. Now I suggest you move on while you’re still under the effect of my Renew and Retribute.”

Wati’s shoulders slumped. She lethargically rose to her feet and trudged to the carriage. The Mantra of Wellspring could save many lives. It was beyond her why the giants kept such a knowledge to herself.

“By the way,” Wati said to Mey. “Thank you for your help.” For the first time, Wati’s gratitude lacked a welcoming tone.

Mey only nodded.

Wati gripped the carriage handle tighter. The push uphill was not as tough as before, but her pace didn’t improve. Tending to a broken body was one thing. Tending to a broken heart was another.

At the venue to which she was summoned, banners belonging to different legions fluttered on various manned palisades and towers overlooking the premises. Wati had difficulty finding her legion in the commotion. After following the road for some time, an officer approached and told her where the Eightieth Legion had gone.

The banner of her legion stood on a steady inclination beyond the fortified compound. They were already in battle formation. She hastened her pace to rejoin her cohort.

The two giants in the middle locked themselves in each others’ arms. Ropes reinforced with the Mantra of Tuning kept them in place. Their dark green uniform made them stand out amidst the purple grasses. One was wearing a skirt, similar to hers. The other wore pants and less bulky armor.

Once she rejoined her squad, her cohort officer approached her. He ordered her to undo the ropes. Wati inhaled deeply and obliged. She was given a sack containing gems enchanted specifically to dispel any Mantra.

Wati walked down the incline, garnering curious attention from the other soldiers. She sighed. If these giants acted up as soon as she got them free, she would be the first casualty.

One of the bound giants had chocolate-colored hair. She approached her while the giants was talking to her friend who had golden hair. Wati met the golden-haired giants’ eyes. She showed excitement in Wati’s presence.

“Hey there,” the giants said. “Yes, you.”

The golden-haired giants slightly nudged her head upward against the rope, but it snapped her head back to the ground.

Wati circled around to find the giants’ face.

“Hello?”

“Did they send you to release us?” The golden-haired giants asked.

Her face was fixed toward her friend. Her arms were wrapped around her friend’s head. It was awkward for Wati to converse with a person who wasn’t looking at her.

“You…speak our language too?”

“Oh…uh…” she said. “This may not make sense to you, but we just got a…‘divination’...from a certain friend that blessed us with the language you speak.”

Wati looked uphill, toward the direction she came from.

“I take it that the other giant over there is your friend as well? You have the same clothes,” Wati said.

“You met them? Does she have long pale golden hair?”

“Her hair is pale brown, though her spells had pale golden glitter around them.”

“Spells?”

“Spells.”

There was a brief silence as the giants looked at each other indifferently.

“By the way…” The other giants said to her. “Did you see an oversized wagon with seven chained wheels and a long snout?”

“I think Mey, your other friend, was riding in it.”

“So are you here to release us?” The golden-haired giants said.

“They ordered me to,” Wati said.

Wati fished for a gem. Its white glow briefly captivated her. She stroked it once on the rope that restrained the giants. Both the glow of the rope and the gem disappeared. Wati then knelt before a pole on which the rope was tied. Wati cut the five knots tied on it.

There were twenty poles in total. Wati treated the set of knots on the next pole the same way. She took a break after finishing five poles. Though still bound to the ground, the giants were now able to move more freely.

Wati studied her sword for a moment, marveling at how its edges effortlessly cut through the ropes. How she would have liked it to chop that kun skimmer. How she would have liked to throw and see it pierced through the bird’s heart. She wished it at least harmed the accursed creature.

Wati clasped the grip of her sword. She saw her reflection on the blade and frowned.

Wati marched to the next pole, her steps were quick and heavier than the world. Wati swung her sword against the next set of knots with all her might. A bright violet flash jolted her back. Taunted, Wati struck it harder. Even with both hands on the sword’s grip, the rope refused to yield. It was she who conceded first.

Amidst the frustration and sadness, Vhisa’s light found her. The ropes alone broke immediately when faced with her sword. But with a Mantra — a might of the Almighty Three — they stood strong against her repeated rage-fueled strikes.

Tears rolled down Wati’s cheeks. She dropped her sword and fell to her knee. Once more she covered her face and cried.

“Uh oh.”

“Look at what you've done.”.

“I didn't do anything!”

“Now who's going to release us?”

“Hey, uh…don't cry, please. It's okay.”

Their signs were as clear as day. How arrogant she had been, for refusing to see them? Realizing it made her tears torrential.

Wati felt a nudge on her thigh. Calya was rubbing its head there. The poosh looked up at her as if it was showing concern. Wati threw away her helmet. She picked up the creature and hugged it close. The creature purred as Wati’s tears wet its fur. Wati felt the creature licking her cheek. Her chest still felt tight, but she could feel her tears drying up. Wati stroked and patted Calya as gently as possible.

She placed the poosh down once she felt better. Wati gave her a couple more strokes. Calya responded by pushing its head against her hand. Wati then drank from her canteen to restore her water level.

“Praise the Three…the Holy…the Almighty…”

Calya squeaked gently.

Wati gasped when an arrow struck the pole before her. A Shield-Bolt was crouching from where she had come. He was accompanied by three legionaries, one of them had a whip in his holster. Wati put her helmet back on and waved Calya away. She then returned to grab the sack of gems and continued her labor.

“So…are you okay?” the golden-haired giants said.

Wati responded after she cleared all the knots in the pole, “Fine enough to help you.”

The giants continued to speak in their language. The brief conversation ended with the chocolate-haired giants slapping the stomach of the golden-haired one.

After Wati finished the eleventh pole, the giants asked Wati to stand clear. They pushed upward and broke free of the restraints. The soldiers readied their weapons at them, as the giants undid the remaining knots. They turned their attention to Wati once they were done.

“So…what’s your full name?” The golden-haired giants said.

“Wati Kusumasari,” Wati said.

“How about your unit?”

“Why do you need to know that?” The chocolate haired giants said to the golden-haired one.

“Just in case.”

“Cohort Eight, Eightieth Legion,” Wati said.

The giants then looked beyond her. On the top of the inclination, Wati found the bastion sitting there along with Mey. The chocolate-haired giants showed the most excitement. She almost ran off but the golden-haired giants grabbed her hand.

“We’ll be back…” the golden-haired giants said to Wati.

“Just be careful, please,” Wati said.

The golden-haired giants yanked her friend closer. “Be careful.”

“Alright, alright…” the chocolate-haired giants rolled her eyes.

The giants jogged to meet their friends. Wati tidied up the ropes. Once she was done, the legion was summoned to Fort Njempalik.

Wati took a deep breath.