“The Demons came for you?” whispered Varey.

We were walking through the streets, with a retinue keeping distance from us. Viruka was walking on ahead, taking in much of the sights.

“Will you two come here or must I slow to you?” Viruka said, irritated. “You seem not to even be enjoying the festivities.”

“Go ahead sister, we’ll come soon!” said Varey. She sighed and went on her way. “You don’t jest when you say this, Yurva?”

“If only that was the case. I’m sure Druzhat will speak more on it. But I’m supposing he’ll need to be cautious of his words, given who we saw among them.”

“Who?” asked Varey, gulping.

“Daryurah, the Lord of Death,” I said.

His eyes grew wide, and horror swept his face. “Why should he side with the Demons? We know in the annals that he went with them to keep watch. But doesn’t his domain reign in the Lower Realms? If anything, he should be bringing the Demons with him! You’re sure you didn’t see a specter or demon impersonating him?”

I shook my head. “If only that were the case, but I know few would impersonate a god, lest they provoke their ire. The Gods have drunk the Vaisvyamah, rendering their power and position in the Heavens secure. While the Demons assail us we have the Gods support—at least in part.”

“You sound unsure,” he said, “but I suppose it was only in the early days that the Gods fought beside us.”

“No use worrying about it now,” I said, “the kings will find some resolution to this.”

We hastened and reached Viruka, and she said, “Done now are we?”

“Indeed my fair princess!” I said, laughing.

“Well, it is good that we should all be together again.” She turned to see something catch her eye. “Oh! Look! There are performers!”

We pushed into the throng and moved toward an amphitheater. The space was packed, and many that couldn’t be seated stood in the aisles. There were three performers on a stage performing all sorts of tricks with the powers. This was one of the few times where the Servants wouldn’t meddle with its external use.

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The performers danced fire, earth, and water in their hands, and using in combination, they created myriad spectacles of light, bursting crackers, and steam.

We continued to watch to see their use of the elements become seemingly more arduous. Their control held steady, and they each levitated themselves higher. When they stood above the whole of the theater, they held earth molten to its core. They gathered what looked to be thirty of them, then shot them high, streaming with fire and air, and encased in water.

The sound of their paths seemed familiar. When they reached their zenith they burst, leaving in their wake grand spectacles of light that boomed in our ears! Lights issued to all sides, trailing for minutes on end. They covered the edges of our view and seemed to spread to the horizon, letting fall beads of light. Their sounds, with the spreading steam, were like the voice of thousands of dragons. There was a light dew from the condensation. And the ash of the earth was warm upon our persons. Like this, it continued several times, until it fizzled to light sparks. It reminded me of the fireworks of my past life, yet altogether greater than what I knew.

“Whether residing or visiting, we hope you enjoyed our performance, Marhan of Yudhruman!”

The audience whistled, cried, and clapped their hands in applause.

“That was wonderful!” said Viruka, whistling. She indeed had a boisterous side! “What did you two think?”

“A grander sight I have yet to see,” said Varey. “It was as if the serpents of old returned, but now to us instead of the horde afar!”

“What a dreadful comparison!” said Viruka, shaking her head.

“What of you, Yurva?” said Varey, slapping my back.

“It reminded me of home,” I said, and then covered my mouth. I had let my speech run ahead of my thoughts.

“You mean Koshapa?”

I shook my head. “I guess I should give it another try. Varey and Viruka, remember when we first met you asked me what Khurzetak meant by my already having died once.”

“Yes,” he said, “but what does that have to do with this?”

“What if I told you I had died, and came to this world with my memories intact?”

He looked to me dumbfounded. “Well, I would say you’ve gone mad!”

He laughed, but I was serious.

“What for would you say such a thing?” asked Viruka, looking to me worried. “We go either to the Heavens, or Hells, or the Halls of the Ancestors. There are stories of the Gods taking other forms, yet when they die as such, they return to what they were originally. But you strike me not as being a celestial. Unless you are!”

“No, no, that’s not what I mean,” I said sighing. “I suppose the idea as such doesn’t exist here. Which makes sense, given how long we live.”

“Long?” said Varey. “I would say it’s rather short in comparison to how long a celestial lives. They’re lifespans can outlast a single cycle of the ages!”

“What would you do with that much time?” I said, curious. “I feel it much too long with just mundane things.”

He became suspicious, as like all others. But what he said after was rather interesting.

“Well, let’s humor what you say. Supposing you died and came here, how does life from then compare to now? What properties did it hold that weren’t here?”

I contemplated for some time. The ruckus of the crowd slowly silenced. And when it did, I answered, “This life is ideal.”