Chapter XXV – The Candle-Bearer

Harry raced back, company security in tow. He had heard the bestial roar echoing across the oasis as he ran. He had a sinking feeling, knowing what it meant.

When he reached the shoreline, he could see other security personnel down the far end. With any luck they would be able to encircle Zhen Yan.

If she lived long enough.

There wasn’t much prospect of anyone getting close with Kal in berserker mode. Harry had seen it twice before – on neither occasion did it end well. And it had been made abundantly clear that there was no reasoning with him. Friend and foe alike were in grave peril the moment they came near him.

For now, Zhen Yan lived. Harry could see her darting around the enraged Kal, constantly remaining just outside his reach.

Good. If we can’t reason with Kal, perhaps we can reason with her. If she surrenders, we can find out why she’s chasing Mu.

Plus, surrender had to be a better option than facing Kal.

More security personnel were sweeping down out of the trees. Soon the ring would be closed, the combatants would have security on three sides, the water on the fourth.

“Don’t get too close!” yelled Harry.

From where he was, Harry could now clearly see the battle. Zhen Yan moved with a speed and elegance he had never seen in a combatant before. She was a mesmerising spectacle to watch, her tails swirling about her as she moved.

Kal on the other hand made for a fearsome spectacle. Even in his present state there was a precision to his movements. His punches were not great brawler swings, but were precise and efficient, every attack an attempt to off-balance his opponent, and catch her with a crippling strike. Muscle memory had clearly taken over, and a lifetime spent training for combat was not easily overcome, even under the haze of his curse.

Harry was ever impressed by the sheer skill Kal displayed in combat, alongside his awesome power. That was undiminished by his rage.

But he could see the fight was taking a toll, even if Kal didn’t realise it yet. Zhen Yan had landed many blows, and while they did not cut deep, there was only so much cumulative damage Kal could take, even in this state. Each incision of the fox’s blade had left a fiery gash behind. Kal was bleeding, but his blood was like liquid flame.

The security officer next to him halted. “The big man with you?” he asked.

“He sure is,” said Harry, his eyes fixed on the combatants. “He’s not normally like this. Good guy to have a drink with.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw the officer looking at him askance. The man levelled his weapon, taking a few more steps towards Kal and Zhen Yan.

“Cease fighting immediately!” he yelled. “We have you surrounded.”

There was no response.

“You’re not going to get through to him,” said Harry, quietly. “He’s not really there anymore in any real sense.”

“What’s wrong with him?” asked the company man, his face suggesting he was simultaneously repelled and fascinated.

“He’s born of an ancient warrior lineage, cursed by a dark god,” said Harry. “We haven’t managed to find a doctor that can treat that.”

The man fixed him with a look like he was sprouting complete gibberish.

“You’ve got more chance with the fox,” Harry added.

The security officer bore all the signs of someone who was less than happy that his uneventful job in the desert had suddenly become so eventful. Moreover, he appeared quite uncertain with what to do.

“Shoot her if you like. Though I’d like to ask her some questions, so ideally don’t kill her,” said Harry.

The man spoke in Jaril into a comms device on his wrist.

Two shots rang out a moment later.

Both missed.

But Zhen Yan could clearly read the writing on the wall. With an agile flip she extricated herself from her close quarters battle with Kal. A quick hand motion and there was a blinding flash of light. After that, she was nowhere to be seen.

Kal let out another roar.

The security officer yelled again at his wrist. He turned back to Harry. “What is going on?”

Harry shrugged. “She just attacked us out of nowhere. She can shapeshift, like I said, and she can apparently do that. I dunno. I’m not working with a whole lot more info than you here.”

“I don’t like not knowing what’s going on,” said the officer.

“Nor do I. But I can tell you one thing: we’ve still got a big problem on our hands. Kal just lost the object of his Flame. And that means it’s going to be real hard to calm him down.”

“We’re going to have to control him somehow,” said the officer. “Since you’re working directly for one of the Directors, we’ll try to employ non-lethal force.”

Harry looked Kal’s way. He was turning about, thrashing with his arms, his fury aimless. There was a mindlessness in his eyes; he could look, but not see.

“Why don’t you let me try and get through to him?” asked Harry.

“I can’t allow that. We will take care of this.”

He was beginning to regret getting security involved. They had not even come close to capturing Zhen Yan, and he was starting to become increasingly concerned that one of them was going to get killed.

Things are going to get a whole lot worse if Kal straight up murders one of these idiots.

But they weren’t going to let him closer.

They were moving towards Kal, who was still turning about continuously, but had thankfully not yet charged towards any of the company men.

Harry pulled out his tablet and found the number.

“Captain!” he said when he heard the voice at the other end.

“Mr Zhang, how can I help?” said Apollo in a cheerful voice.

“We have a bit of a problem here,” said Harry, “Kal and I were attacked. By some shapeshifting fox woman.”

“A Hulijing,” responded Apollo.

“Sure,” said Harry, though he was given momentary pause to reflect on the fact that Apollo was so unfazed by that last bit of information, and even knew what he was talking about. “But that’s not the main reason I’m calling. The fox lady’s gone, but Kal, well he…”

“The Flame of Phaiston ignited?” asked Apollo.

“Yeah, precisely.”

“It is a shame I cannot reach you,” said Apollo. “But we shall attempt to rectify this from afar. If you can place your device in projection mode so I can see Kal and he can see me, I can attempt to quench the Flame like last time.”

“You’ll have to give me a moment,” said Harry. “There’s Yarghun Company security everywhere here. They won’t let me get close—”

Harry had only been half-watching proceedings while he spoke to Apollo, but at that moment a guard had attempted to physically restrain Kal. He had caught a backhand and even from a distance, Harry could see a spray of blood and shattered, dislodged teeth across the sand.

“Mr Zhang?”

“Yeah, Kal just hit one of the security guys. I told those stupid bastards not to get close.”

“Is the man alive?”

“I think so… yeah, he’s moving.”

“I am glad to hear it,” said Apollo.

At that moment Kal charged a group of the security guards. Their weapons erupted in a series of flashes, clearly on the stun setting. It did nothing to slow Kal. His fist slammed into one man’s midsection and he crumpled with a sickening crunch.

“Get back!” yelled Harry, running in the direction. “Don’t antagonise him!”

“Mr Zhang, get me on projection right away. You’re going to have to get close,” came Apollo’s voice.

The guards had scattered. Kal appeared to have once again planted himself in one spot. Without the singular focus on Zhen Yan, his movements were far slower than they had been. The guards had mercifully relented in firing their weapons at him.

“Kal!” yelled Harry, “Big guy!”

No response.

Harry touched a button on the screen of his tablet, and the image of Apollo materialised above it.

“Mr Nyx, it is Apollo, can you hear me?” said the Captain.

This time Kal’s head snapped around, his eyes fixing on the image of the Captain. There seemed to be a momentary flicker of understanding there.

But Harry immediately developed a concern that he was about to become the next focus of Kal’s ire.

“Mr Nyx, what you are experiencing is the Flame of Phaiston. It burns hot, but it is not all that you are,” said Apollo.

Kal took once step closer to Harry.

Harry began to consider whether he could outrun Kal.

He was fairly sure he couldn’t, despite being about twenty years his junior.

“Mr Zhang, please get closer.”

Great. That is not the direction I want to be heading.

But Harry complied. Slowly, cautiously, he walked closer to Kal.

“Please don’t crush my skull.”

Yet as Harry advanced, holding up the tablet, a black tendril lifted from the device, and floated out through the air, circling around Kal, settling on the sand in front of him. There the tendril wove itself into the form of a giant black cat with eyes of pure golden light.

“Phaiston, this man did not bargain with you. You are not entitled to him,” said the apparition of Apollo in a now booming voice. “Return him to us.”

In response Kal lifted his fists, clenching them, the bulging muscles of his arms tensing. A guttural growl escaped from him.

It occurred to Harry to wonder if this apparition had any capacity to physically stop Kal if he charged.

“Extinguish your flame, relinquish your control.”

Kal roared to the heavens.

Apollo hissed, arching his back.

“Give him back!” yelled the apparition, and there was a flash of golden light.

The apparition dissolved with the breeze and the projection of the Captain once again appeared above Harry’s tablet.

Kal slumped to his knees. The light faded from his burning wounds. His head hung forward.

He let out a long breath.

“It is done,” announced Apollo. His image yawned widely. “I shall leave the rest in your capable hands, Mr Zhang. He was difficult to reach. It was no simple task, pushing back the Starflow Tempest of the First Emperor’s Theophany from such a distance – all that before I could deal with the Bargainer. I think I shall require a nap.”

Harry reflected that he only partially understood what had just happened and been said, but it did appear that Kal was under control again.

He walked over to the hunched, kneeling figure.

Tentatively, he reached out a hand and placed it on Kal’s shoulder.

“Back with us, mate?”

Kal lifted his head and looked at him. There was a hollowness to his eyes, but understanding had returned. “What have I done?”

“Well, I don’t think you killed anyone… but security might have some questions for you.”

Nova collapsed into the bean bag.

“Woo! That was a good session. Thanks for coming to the gym with me, Ser-bear.”

“I don’t mind,” said Seraphina.

“Do you really not mind?” asked Nova. “Because left to your own devices, I feel like you don’t really leave this room very often.”

“I feel like maybe you don’t leave this room very often either,” said Seraphina.

“Well, if you don’t leave the room, I can’t leave the room, because… y’know… ghosts.”

“I understand,” said Seraphina.

“Speaking of which, where are we up to on that?”

“I believe I’m getting closer. I am seeing the spirit more often,” said Seraphina.

“Hrm,” said Nova. She was spread out like a droopy starfish, staring at the ceiling with her limbs hanging off the sides of the beanbag.

I gotta do it, she told herself.

“Sera, I think it’s time I faced my fears,” she announced, leaping up into a sitting position.

“But I thought you said you were banned from the kitchen.”

“Not---no, the ghost! The ghost we were just talking about!”

“You’re going to return to your own room?”

Nova shook her head fervently. “No, that’s much too scary. Imagine if I was in bed and then I thought I saw it looking at me through the window, so I put my head under the covers, thinking it was safe, and then when I opened my eyes, there was a little candlelight, and then it sticks its big ugly ghost face all up in my face, and then…”

“This is an elaborate scenario you have devised,” said Seraphina.

“Point is: no. I’m your roommate until we have definitively resolved this ghost problem,” said Nova. “However… I cannot go through life not gaming. And I think – for whatever reason – the ghost wants to talk to me. That’s why it stalked me. So, maybe if I play with you right next to me…. Maybe then… we can talk to the ghost and get this sorted.”

“Very brave. Perhaps you are correct. I have seen the spirit, but establishing direct contact is exceedingly difficult. It may indeed be significant that it first appeared to you,” said Seraphina.

Nova leapt to her feet.

“I am going to need to prep,” she said.

She moved her beanbag to position it facing the screen. This accomplished, she retrieved herself an energy drink, and cracked it open, the can emitting a satisfying hiss. With her free hand she scooped up Charlie, then fell back into the beanbag, Charlie now on her lap. She took a deep swig from the energy drink, then looked at Seraphina.

“Right,” she said. “Pass me that controller. We’re doing it – we’re facing the ghost.”

Seraphina did as instructed, before rising to light several sticks of incense around the room. She returned to take up a position sitting cross-legged on the floor beside Nova.

Nova pulled down her goggles.

“What are they for?” asked Seraphina.

“The world makes more sense when viewed through these babies,” said Nova. “Nothing’s quite as scary when you’re getting number readouts, stats – all the good stuff.”

“I see,” said Seraphina. Although Seraphina’s face almost always carried the same neutral expression, Nova was fairly sure she did not in fact “see”. But that was okay. She and Sera accepted and supported each other. Whether they understood each other was immaterial.

Nova switched on the game.

She felt the trepidation rise in her as the projection sprung to life. The protagonist stood in the living room, her hair blowing in the wind, a rain of plum blossom flowers coming down around her. Classical Shang music played in the background.

“You ever think that Zhao Linyi looks kinda like Mu?” asked Nova.

“Zhao Linyi is taking on the role of an imperial princess,” said Seraphina.

“True,” mused Nova. “Mu’s hotter though. Wow, but how wild is that? We’ve played this game with an actual imperial princess.”

“It is very surprising. That we have done that,” said Seraphina. “Are you perhaps delaying starting the game?”

Nova looked Seraphina’s way. How oddly emotionally perceptive of the witch.

Her goggles informed her Seraphina’s body temperature was three hundred and six point four five. A warning for mild hypothermia sprung up.

Ha! thought Nova, Guess that explains why this room is always so warm.

“You still haven’t started the game,” pointed out Seraphina, and Nova realised she’d simply been staring at her friend.

“Okay, okay. I’m doing it, I’m doing it.”

She hit the button to start and braced herself.

The air in the room flickered and then Zhao Linyi was standing before them.

There was no ghost to be seen.

“This is your save, right?” asked Nova.

Seraphina nodded.

“Which route are you doing? Do you see the ghost more with particular routes?”

“I do. It likes Xu Jianyu the most. Whenever I’m talking to him, it appears in the background,” said Seraphina.

“Ghost shares the same taste as you,” muttered Nova, “Figures.”

The scent of the incense was starting to fill Seraphina’s perpetually dim room, and Nova felt a little of the edge being taken off her nerves. Just a little. She began clicking through dialogue options, her eyes constantly searching for that spectral figure holding the candle.

Nothing yet, but she hadn’t got to a scene with Xu Jianyu yet. That would be the moment of truth.

“I’ve been wondering, have you ever dealt with a ghost before?”

“I have twice,” said Seraphina, “But I don’t have much experience with the dead. On Hecate, witches never truly die, they simply sink back into the Miasma of Shadow. Eventually they re-emerge as new Sisters. Elsewhere in the Cosmos the lingering dead are rare. They usually only occur in places where there are significant Starflow anomalies.”

“Like Yarkan,” said Nova, still speed clicking her way through dialogue. “What usually happens when we die?”

“No one really knows. A common belief is that people become one with the Starflow when they pass, though there are countless belief systems throughout the Cosmos.”

“If its possible to be a ghost, then why doesn’t everyone just hang around and do more… living?”

Nova took one hand away from the controller for a second to give Charlie a pat. His tail wagged.

“It is difficult to know for sure,” said Seraphina. “But it is generally believed that spirits of the dead do not have a pleasant time. Most yearn for the release of true death. I do not think it is akin to living.”

“Hrm… sounds unpleasant.”

“It is widely believed to be. Do you have your own beliefs?”

“I dunno if beliefs is the right word, but I think I’m pretty happy to be one and done, y’know? Live this life, have a good time, then call it quits. I don’t think I want to be one with the Starflow or go to Heaven or anything like that. I’m not greedy.”

“I suspect that may be an unusual perspective.”

Nova shrugged. “Maybe. Guess I’m just an unusual gal.”

There was a scene change. The projection vanished for a moment and then sprang back. And there was Xu Jianyu.

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

“At last, there he is. See the ghost?” exclaimed Nova.

“Not yet.”

While she’d been talking to Seraphina and racing through dialogue, Nova hadn’t been closely following the plot, and she’d never done Xu Jianyu’s route before, so she wasn’t quite sure what was currently happening in the story. They seemed to be investigating a shady palace official together.

A full moon illuminated the scene of the ancient palace, as Zhao Linyi and the general’s son set out on their nocturnal investigation. The game’s soundtrack, which by day captured the hustle and bustle of the palace and its countless workers, had now taken on a subdued tone: a little diegetic nocturnal sound for atmosphere, and soft, sparsely instrumented music.

Click.

Click.

Click.

They headed out into a shadowy palace corridor, Nova quickly selecting flirtatious dialogue options. Out into the main courtyard.

And there she was.

A solitary figure, holding a candle.

Nova resisted the strong urge to look away, tightly clenching her every muscle. The temperature in Seraphina’s room – usually bordering on uncomfortably warm – plunged and the dim light grew dimmer still.

It was not like before.

The figure was not in the background, but standing alone in the vast courtyard. Even Zhao Linyi and Xu Jianyu had vanished. And though each projected scene typically featured only limited, looped animation, the figure began walking closer across the courtyard, walking towards Nova.

“You’ll stop it right?” said Nova, her voice trembling. “If it tries to… possess me or something?”

“I will do everything in my power to keep you safe,” said Seraphina.

Nova felt some reassurance at Seraphina’s words, but though she had told herself she was ready for this moment, seeing the spectre advancing towards them was more terrible than she’d imagined. Instinctively, she mashed buttons on the controller, but nothing now happened. The figure drew ever closer.

“Scutum lucis,” whispered Seraphina, and a shimmer of purple light appeared in front of Nova.

“It is gonna stop?”

The room was growing darker. It felt as if the already low lights were moving farther and farther away, their light struggling to reach Nova. The scent of the incense began to change too – becoming musty, old, stale… decayed. And all the while the temperature continued to drop, so that Nova could now see thick clouds with each shallow breath she took.

Instinctively she recoiled, pulling her feet up off the floor, tucking them up on the beanbag. She gripped the controller so tightly it felt like it might break, though it was useless in the face of the spirit. Charlie nuzzled into her, sensing something was wrong.

“H-hello?” she managed, but the spirit said nothing, drawing closer, its movements otherworldly.

The candle gleamed brighter as the darkness crowded about.

Close now.

From among the folds of cloth Nova could see one dark eye, devoid of life, yet gazing at her all the same.

Then a new light appeared. An amethyst gleam spread across the room, driving back the shadows. Beside Nova, Seraphina rose to her feet, then her feet in turn rose into the air, light gathering about her.

“I, Seraphina of Hecate, Sister of the Melusine Coven, Daughter of the Witching Star, command you, spirit, to speak your part then leave this world in peace,” intoned Seraphina, her voice attaining an eerie, mystical quality, as if speaking from far away and in a vast, echoing cavern.

The spirit halted its advance.

The shadows drew back, the temperature began to rise.

A soft and weak voice spoke, straining, as if from a throat as dry as the desert sands. “I… seek… him…”

Seraphina’s feet once more touched the ground. The light about her abated.

“Who do you seek?” asked Seraphina.

Before Nova’s eyes the spectre was becoming less a projection of the game and more an entity of this world, though its robes seemed to billow, as if blown by some ancient wind, that she could not feel.

“Across… the stars…”

Each word sounded as if it were being dragged painfully out.

“…My…”

“…Love…”

Nova didn’t realise she’d been holding her breath until she began to feel light-headed. Slowly she exhaled. Her gaze remained ever fixed upon the apparition before them, but she spoke now to Seraphina.

“Any idea what it is trying to say?”

“I believe it is looking for someone,” said Seraphina. “Someone it once loved.”

“Well, I hope it doesn’t think I’m it’s lover. Because I don’t swing that way. I mean… women… but also – and more importantly – dead people…”

“I don’t think it’s in love with you,” said Seraphina. “But it does appear to have been drawn to you.”

“Free… together…” came that pained voice.

“I don’t understand,” said Nova.

“There is a way,” said Seraphina.

She walked over to one of the shelves that ringed the room and took down from it a gourd painted with strange symbols. She opened it and dipped her fingers in it. Some gelatinous ooze of shifting colours emerged, long strands connecting to the witch’s fingers. She put it in her mouth and sucked the substance from her fingers.

Then she turned to Nova. “You must partake of it also.”

“Ah… what is that?” asked Nova, aghast.

“It is the distilled essence of the Miasma of Hecate. It will allow us to better peer across the veil between worlds and commune with the spirits.”

Seraphina walked over to Nova, dipping her fingers once more into the gourd and then holding them up in front of Nova’s face, slowly dripping with the slime.

Nova gave her a questioning look. “Okay, but you made this weirder than it had to be. And it had to be pretty weird.”

Nonetheless, she leant forward and sucked the ooze from Seraphina’s fingers. Almost immediately she felt nauseous and light-headed. The room spun. Things settled once more, but every light source appeared to emit a flickering aura. Every boundary was hazy, each thing seeming to meld into the next so that in a moment it was as if there were no discrete objects at all but a unified gestalt.

She tried to look up at Seraphina, but with the movement of her head, the whole world swam about, once again sending waves of nausea through her.

Seraphina bent over and kissed her on the forehead and Nova felt some of the nausea abate.

She attempted to speak, but struggled to find the words, her voice coming out in slurred and elongated syllables.

“Shh,” said Seraphina, holding a finger up to her lips. “It will be easier once we are in its realm.”

With one hand Seraphina reached down and took Nova’s hand. With the other she reached out, towards the spirit’s candle.

The flame spread quickly, wreathing the witch’s body, then Nova’s.

It did not hurt.

Flame turned to billowing black clouds, then nothing.

Nova now felt the ancient wind.

It blew among the black saxaul trees and the tamarisk shrubs and across the dunes and the rocky flatlands, whistling among the old stones piled upon each other by the hands of those long passed from this world even in this distant century.

The sun hung low over the undulating landscapes of the desert, so that the houses cast long shadows. And among the red and orange and pink of those vast desert skies, were immense starships, like mountains, toppled upon their sides, yet suspended above the shifting sands.

In the distance arose the monolithic towers of Karbaliq, mountains still bound to the sand and soil of Yarkan.

Three of them stood there, observing this all. Nova. Seraphina. And the one who bore the ever-burning candle.

They watched as the family walked from the house, parents, grandparents, children of many ages. They walked out and stood upon the hillside gazing as the smaller craft descended from the heavenly titans above, coming to settle upon the sands.

The adults held back the children, or at least the adventurous among them. Others of the young ones clung to their parents’ legs, shyly gazing as the newcomers emerged from the landing ship.

The Candle-Bearer spoke. “In this time, we knew little of what lay across the stars. Only the keepers of the arcane lore remembered those interminable generations spent aboard the Clanship Kulkana. We were the people of the valleys and the oases, the Jaril. The Confederacy was far off, the Great Ruin further still. Yet these people came from across the stars. They spoke of inconceivable wonders.”

Among the newcomers was a tall man of radiant beauty. His long black hair fluttered in the wind, as did his robes of silk. His eyes were both kindly and wise. Yet for all his benevolent aura at his waist he bore a sword.

One of the children broke free from her elders’ clutches and ran to greet the newcomers.

The Man of Beauty greeted the child with gentleness, ruffling her hair and giving a radiant smile.

“He was their General,” said the Candle-Bearer. “He and I thus made our peoples’ first contact.”

The child looked up and saw the boy standing behind the Man of Beauty. Each smiled at the other.

The wind gathered power and the sand swirled about. All faded from view.

They walked among the hardy grasses of the desert.

A few yurts were arrayed around the fire.

The totems stood tall and proud.

The Man of Beauty sat with the people of Yarkan, drinking their tea. The young girl sat to one side of him. On his other sat the young boy. Though still a child, his features were unmistakably those of his father. In time there could be no doubt he would acquire that same otherworldly beauty.

“I feared speaking to his son.”

The wind gathered again.

“At first.”

The scene dissolved.

Children splashed among the reed-filled shallows of the oasis, while the adults sat among the poplars on finely made carpets, drinking floral-scented teas and feasting on fruits and nuts. The Man of Beauty was there, speaking animatedly with the bearded Qam, as others listened in and nodded at the wisdom. Standing silently behind the Qam was a veiled woman.

“She was our Lore-Keeper, the protector of the ancient secrets of Karbaliq.”

The girl and the boy were older now. She splashed him; he splashed her back. They laughed and tumbled together below the water, churning the muddy shallows.

Once more the scene dissolved.

The Lore-Keeper spluttered and coughed.

The girl stood watching, the Qam at her side.

“You shall learn from her while she yet lives,” he said. “For you shall be the protector of Sanctum of Karbaliq and the knowledge of the ancients in time.”

Older still, the boy led the girl among the trees one dark night, holding her hand, a great smile upon his face, as they made their way, hurried and hushed, up the steep slope. They reached the top of the dune and sat upon it. A great glow was on the horizon. As they sat and gazed out, the moon rose, an immensity through the thick lens of the atmosphere, seeming almost to fill half the horizon.

She leant her head upon his shoulder.

The silvery light of the moon spread across the desert.

He reached with one hand, as soft as could be, and raised her chin to look into his eyes. He smiled at her. Swallowing, she smiled back, giving the smallest of nods. Slowly, unsure at first, he leant forward. His nerve was almost lost, but she closed the rest of the distance, bringing her lips to touch his. They wrapped each other up in their arms and tumbled down among the sand, their lips never parting.

The moon shone down its radiant light.

Nova shivered. No longer from the cold. No longer from fear.

It all was swept away, each moment in time like the shifting of the desert sands.

“Which is yours?” asked the girl on another night.

The boy considered the glittering array spread across the firmament. He was about to lift his hand and point, but the hand fell back down once more. Instead, he reached and lifted the candle that cast a flickering light across the scene. He leant in close to the girl, so that he could view the stars from her perspective, placing his head on her shoulder, their cheeks touching. He lifted the candle, slowly, carefully. In a moment he had it just right.

“Look,” he said. “That is my star. Now, if ever we are parted, you can keep it with you.”

He passed the candle to the girl and she held it close to her chest, the light dancing upon her face, illuminating the awe written plainly upon it.

That night too passed.

The Man of Beauty faced the Qam. The man’s son, a strapping warrior whose handsome visage threatened to outshine even his father’s, stood resolute, yet sorrowful at his side. Immense warships filled the blue desert skies.

“War has come and I must answer the Emperor’s call,” said the Man of Beauty.

The Qam nodded. The girl stood behind him, among the others, her face streaked with tears, though her posture was proud and unbent by the sorrow of the moment.

“The fulfillment of man’s duty is his honour.”

“Though Great Sheng Hua calls, and though the Cosmic night may be long, it is my hope that our peoples shall share a prosperous history together, and that I may once more enjoy your hospitality.”

Nova swallowed deeply, feeling a lump in her chest. The Candle-Bearer had not spoken in some time, nor did she speak as the sand rose again.

“You have a duty,” said her father. “You cannot leave.”

“Do I get no choice?” she demanded of him.

“They did their duty to their people; you must do yours.”

“It isn’t fair!” insisted the girl.

“Perhaps not. But if the ancestral knowledge were to pass from the Cosmos, then our people would be lost. Countless generations have lived and died to bring us to this moment. As a Lore-Keeper of Karbaliq, you are one of the chosen who may ensure that they can endure. We that are remembered are never truly lost, and someday others will be called upon to remember you.”

The sun rose and set. The dunes shifted. Lives were lived.

Darkness overtook everything, and the trio stood in some deep chamber.

“The Sanctum of Karbaliq,” intoned the Candle-Bearer.

A woman in Yarkanese dress stood before an altar. It was not the girl, the Candle-Bearer, but some woman Nova had not seen before. Nova understood innately that she was now witnessing something that occurred long after the Candle-Bearer had passed. Yet as a Lore-Keeper of Karbaliq it was as if she witnessed all that transpired there.

“They are coming,” said the woman before the altar, her voice shaky. “The Khagan will not abandon his people. He will remain in Karbaliq until the last day. But our armies cannot triumph this time. The enemy brings the power of God with them. I implore you Lore-Keepers, help our people endure this storm. Help our memory live.”

The storm came.

It came in an instant. It was a thing beyond description, like the Cosmos itself being rent apart by unfathomable and indescribable power, a reconstituting of the raw substance of reality.

It was the most terrible thing Nova had ever experienced.

It was over in an instant.

The woman was gone. The Sanctum was quiet.

The Candle-Bearer spoke. “We answered her call as best he could. The great maelstrom arose, threatening to draw the myriad dead down into the depths beyond the Cosmos and we gathered – all the generations of Karbaliq’s Lore-Keepers – and we held them. Kept them here, so that one day our people could arise once more.”

Nova was trembling.

“That woman… was she the last Lore-Keeper?” asked Nova.

“Her apprentice survived. The one name Barchin.”

“Perhaps it would have been less cruel if the Emperor had left no survivors,” said Seraphina. “I know a little of what it is to be among the last of your kind.”

“Perhaps… but Barchin and those few began the process of rebuilding.”

“And the dead lingered on,” said Seraphina.

“I did my duty…”

“You did well. Can you not be at peace now?”

“No,” said the Candle-Bearer, “I must know my love’s fate.”

The Sanctum was gone.

Normalcy returned.

And with it, the last shreds of Nova’s strength. The things she had witnessed and felt, the fear, the tension, the longing, the love, the sorrow, the joy – it all flooded over her like the water from a shattered dam. She collapsed into sobbing. Ugly sobbing. Sniffling, body shaking sobbing.

“There, there,” said Seraphina, patting her on the back. “There, there.”

Nova looked at her through the tears. “I—I’m s-sorry,” she said, through the sobs. “I don’t kn-know what c-c-c-came over me.”

She squeezed her fists tightly shut, steeling herself. Another sob wracked her body. Matthias fluttered over with a tissue in his beak.

“Th-thank you,” she said, taking it from him.

Raaark!

She blew her nose hard and scrunched up the tissue. She took a few deep breaths.

“Okay… okay. I’m good.”

“I am glad,” said Seraphina, her face betraying no hint of what she might be feeling. “That was very emotional. I feel like crying myself.”

Nova squinted her watery eyes at the witch’s blank face. “Do you?” she said. Then with a gasp she turned. “Oh! She’s still here!”

The Candle-Bearer stood in the centre of the room, exactly where she had been before they had been transported into Yarkan’s distant past. Yet she was different. Her face was visible now. Lined and sunken, a deathly essence about it, yet otherwise an unremarkable face. A human face.

“Thank you,” said the Candle-Bearer, and her voice was not the excruciatingly raspy sound it had been before, but as it had been during the visions they had seen.

“We want to help you,” said Seraphina. “Tell us how we can do so.”

“I came here looking for him,” said the Candle-Bearer.

“The boy… the boy we saw?” said Nova, letting out a little sniffle. Matthias hopped over with another tissue.

“I thought I saw him… in your memories…”

“My memories…” said Nova, puzzled. “I… I’m sorry, but that was… like… thousands of years ago.”

“This record you have… it appeared to be a record… of him.”

It struck Nova all of a sudden.

“Oh wow… it’s Xu Jianyu!” she exclaimed.

“You are right,” said Seraphina.

Then Nova realised the full weight of it all and she felt herself teetering once again upon the brink of ugly crying.

“Oh no… I’m so sorry,” she said.

“I do not understand,” said the Candle-Bearer.

Nova glanced over at Seraphina, trying to work out what to say.

“It isn’t real. It’s just… a game…”

“A game?”

“It’s based on the past, on history… sorta… but it’s not real. It’s not something that actually happened.”

“The boy you loved,” said Seraphina, “He came from Sheng Hua, did he not?”

“He did, from across the stars, like the Clanship of old. His father was a great general of Sheng Hua – of the Nine Suns, they called it.”

“This game,” said Nova. “It’s like a story, but one you can take part in. It’s ending changes depending on the choices you make.”

“It is a story set in the times of the Sheng Hua Emperors,” said Seraphina.

“Xu Jianyu, he is a character in the game,” said Seraphina. “He is the son of a general of Sheng Hua.”

“Oh…” said the Candle-Bearer. “I see.”

Nova wasn’t sure what to say. A sense of deep disappointment and loss filled the room.

But Nova Reid was not one to give up.

“Sera, there must be something we can do to help,” she said. “I have been training for years bringing fictional lovers together. That time was surely not a waste! I’m gonna find this… ghost’s… also certainly very dead lover.”

“I’m not sure,” said Seraphina. “Perhaps… no… I do not know.”

“Then let’s work it out,” said Nova.

The Candle-Bearer was silent, her head bowed.

“I can grant you rest,” said Seraphina. “You must be tired after all these millennia.”

“I had to do my duty. I let him go, so I could do my duty.”

“And you did it,” said Seraphina. “Let us take up your burden now. Rest with me. I can find a safe vessel to contain you. We will find him and we will awake you when we do. Even if it takes centuries.”

“Better not take centuries,” said Nova, “I don’t have centuries.”

“I am tired,” said the Candle-Bearer.

“Of course,” said Seraphina.

For the first time in a while, Nova smiled. “I’m sorry our game wasn’t what you hoped it was. But if you like… you can play with us a while, before you rest. I dunno… I find it kinda… relaxing. It’s silly, but it calms a troubled mind.”

The Candle-Bearer smiled too. “I would like that.”

Nova looked Seraphina’s way. The witch nodded. “Of course. We still haven’t completed Xu Jianyu’s route anyway.”

Nova returned herself to the beanbag, Seraphina took up her customary spot beside her. And the Candle-Bearer took up a place between them.

As she was about to resume the game, something occurred to Nova.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course, friend,” said the Candle-Bearer.

“You’ve been watching over Karbaliq,” said Nova.

“Since the day I took up my post as a Lore-Keeper.”

Seraphina’s head spun to face Nova. She had clearly realised where Nova’s questions were leading.

“A man was killed in Karbaliq. Not in ancient times, recently. An offworlder,” said Nova.

“Yes,” said the Candle-Bearer, “He was with those who seek to build over Karbaliq.”

“That sounds like our guy,” said Nova.

“Can you tell us who killed him?”

“Of course.”

Zhen Yan had dwelt a time in the shadows, considering her next move.

She was angry with herself: angry for failing. Yet she knew why she failed. She had grown arrogant and reckless. She had attacked head on, and her opponent had proved far mightier than she could have imagined. Far mightier than she herself.

But she had lived.

She had always ensured that she got her targets. No bounty went unclaimed, no commission unfulfilled. Yet, she had an even more important rule: she should live. For as long as it was in her power.

That was the promise she had made long ago – to one who did not live. And whatever wretched existence she had, she would not give up on it, never give in to the allure of death. It would have been easy to give in, to join her beloved in death.

But she did not.

And she would not now.

Thus, she had fled before the accursed warrior Kallistos, and now she lurked in the shadows and licked her wounds, contemplating what path would take her to Princess Mukushen. She had satisfied her first rule by living, but not yet her second: the target must be found.

While she considered this course of action, she had more immediate concerns. Her wounds were considerable. To a human they likely would have been permanently debilitating, if not lethal. But Zhen Yan was no human, rather she was a Hulijing of the Cloud Sparrow Clan, and a Resonant of Daqi, the Laughing Star. Through Resonance alone she could not truly heal her wounds, but by shifting form she could redistribute the damage, spreading it across her whole form instead of having it concentrated in one crippling injury.

She needed medical treatment. And painkillers.

And alcohol.

She had restrained a company worker when first she arrived, taking on her identity, but that form had been revealed now, and was thus useless for mingling among the people at Karbaliq. Zhen Yan had donned a hooded cloak and marched the gagged woman to the edges of the protected zone, there releasing her. Killing may have been her life’s work, but she saw no point in taking the lives of those who were neither targets, nor stood between her and her targets.

She was no longer worthy of her beloved’s affections, but that did not mean giving herself over wholly to cruelty and depravity. Tragic, though, that the noble and good should die so young, yet the wicked like Zhen Yan should live on, sewing death and misery, in selfish pursuit.

Yet there was no time to dwell on such things. Practical matters called.

Among the immensity of Karbaliq, lonely places were easy to find. Some people enjoyed being alone. Such people were easy prey.

A man this time. They would be on the lookout for a woman.

He sat by himself, smoking and drinking, headphones on. He sung loudly to himself in Jaril, his voice slurred by the effects of alcohol. Zhen Yan was swift and silent. A dart to the side of the neck brought him low. A little of her fox magic and no one would see her handling the body back to her lair.

He awoke groggily.

“You should drink less,” she told him, taking a swig from his bottle. It was foul stuff, but almost instantaneously the pain throughout her body became a little more bearable.

“Wha--?” said the man.

She brushed his face with one of her many tails. “Tell me about yourself. Leave nothing out.”

He was confused and reluctant to begin with, but after she twirled her knife a little, he found greater enthusiasm. He was not a great prize. She had been hoping for security – such an individual would allow her to discover where Mukushen had gone, but he would at least help her secure medical care. After that she would find one of the company security officers.

She was impatient, but she would not let her impatience lead her to the brink of disaster once more.

What was it the Eleftherians said? Hubris brought Nemesis? Something like that.

“Alright,” she told the man at length, as she began undressing. “Strip.”

A moment later two versions of the man stood naked, facing each other. Zhen Yan bent down and dressed in his discarded clothes. This completed, she wadded up some of her old and discarded clothes and gagged him. After tying his hands, she gave him another little dose of tranquiliser.

“Sleep now,” she whispered gently, “I will release you once I’m done with this form.”

She looked down at his stocky frame.

“Not the most beautiful creature, are you?”

With a wave of her hand her true form was returned. “Oh well, just another one for the repertoire.”

She sat down on the floor and took out her tablet. Big Bai had asked for reports on her progress at frequent intervals, but she didn’t think he needed to hear about this disaster. It would be sufficient for him to know when she had Mukushen, and Tavian was dead.

She scrolled through her job files. Security might be able to help her find out where Mukushen was – that remained the plan. However, it occurred to her that if Mukushen wasn’t here, as Harry Zhang had said, and she hadn’t returned to Yengishahr – and Zhen Yan had found no sign that she had – then surely, she must be somewhere in the vicinity, if not in Karbaliq itself.

That probably meant she had spoken with one of the Qamlar. As Zhen Yan understood it, it would be very difficult for a Resonant in particular to leave the protected zone without one of the tribal Resonants.

She took another swig of her victim’s terrible spirits, grimacing as it went down.

“Hrm,” she said out loud.

What was the next step?

As Mu and Tavian approached one of the larger yurts in the camp, she felt a degree of trepidation. This was the big moment. Was her theory about the Clanship correct? Was that truly Toghrul and Sayan’s grand plan? And was she truly about to offer herself up? Atoning for her ancestors’ crimes by rebelling against her own family, her own people?

Though on that last point, Tavian had helpfully pointed out that they’d already committed so many crimes on Shangxia, that rebellion against the Empire was hardly the threshold she was making it out to be.

Nonetheless, much about this moment felt pivotal in Mu’s mind.

And nerve-wracking.

As they drew closer to Sayan’s tent, her mind had been going over what they knew again and again. She felt sure she must have missed something, but couldn’t identify what it might be. There were certainly still plenty of unknowns. Su Bolin’s role and fate were shrouded in mystery. Then there was the curious fact revealed by Nova: Chinor had been the one to wipe the footage of the murder.

That she had rationalised: if Sayan sought to ensure Toghrul’s martyrdom, then even if Tavian’s full conspiracy theory was incorrect, it was at least true that both sides of the conflict had a vested interested in the truth of the murder not coming to light. Provided, of course, that the original assumption that Toghrul wasn’t the killer proved correct.

But it also suggested Sayan and likely Toghrul knew who the killer was. Moreover, it raised questions about why Chinor had helped them reach Sayan. Was her younger brother having second thoughts about the plan? Perhaps he wasn’t ready for Toghrul to die?

Many, many questions.

But few firm answers.

Yet, perhaps, one way or another, they would know a great deal more shortly.

Mu had half-expected to see guards posted at the entrance of Sayan’s tent, but no one stood there.

“Do we… just go in?” asked Mu.

“You first,” said Tavian.

She looked at him.

“What? I’m not walking into a lady’s tent unannounced.”

“You’ve walked into mine plenty of times,” said Mu.

“Announced. I walked into yours announced. Besides, it’s just you.”

“Just!? What does that mean?”

She shook her head.

She was still unwilling to admit that Tavian was invariably wonderfully effective at dispelling tension.

“Hello?” she called out. “Sayan?”

A voice emanated from within: “Enter.”

She pushed back the flap at the entrance. Apart from its size, there was little to distinguish Sayan’s yurt from any of the others. Notably, Sayan’s bed appeared to be as small and nondescript as the one Mu herself had been sleeping in, since arriving at the camp.

Mu removed her shoes at the entrance and walked inside, coming to a halt, and awkwardly loitering. Tavian followed her lead.

Aside from Sayan herself, Erkegul was also present, seated in one corner of the tent, seemingly immersed in reading. She looked up when Mu and Tavian entered. Mu smiled her way. She gave a fleeting smile in return, then hurriedly returned her eyes to her book.

Sayan’s gaze, by contrast was as fierce and penetrating as ever. Yet Mu was surprised by her appearance, nonetheless. Her hair was worn down, without the braids, the hairband, or any of the usual ornamentation. Her dress appeared to be of the design she typically wore, but she had foregone the tunic over it. She sat upon a cushion on the floor, cross-legged and barefoot. Not a spear, nor falcon was in sight.

Yet even appearing so casual, none of her presence was diminished.

“Take a seat,” she said, gesturing to two cushions.

Mu and Tavian did as they were told.

“Erkegul,” she said, and her daughter’s head turned. “Fetch our guests some tea.”

The girl obediently moved to fulfill Sayan’s bidding.

“Oh, and Erkegul?” said Sayan, the girl pausing at the entrance.

“Make sure your uncle got away with Atilay Mallam. They were supposed to be returning to Karbaliq.”

Erkegul nodded silently.

Sayan returned her attention to Mu and Tavian.

“Well, then, you have more questions?”

Mu was about to speak, when her tablet began to vibrate. Irritated, she glanced down. It was Nova. She would have to wait. She declined the call.

“Sorry,” mumbled Mu.

“Mu seems to have more important things going on,” said Tavian. Mu frowned at him. “But I’ll get straight to it. What do you know about the Clanship?”

Sayan laughed heartily. “Oh, I think I see where this is going. But I’ll humour you and play along.”

“We’ve been thinking over everything we know, trying to explain it. We cannot help but keep returning to one thing: Toghrul has decided to die,” said Tavian.

Sayan’s eyes narrowed. “He is willing to die for his people. He does not desire death.”

“Both you and he are willing to let him die though,” said Tavian. “And for what? You say he is willing to die for his people…. Well, okay. But how does his execution or exile help the people? What would actually demand such a sacrifice?”

Sayan’s jovial manner had gone now. “I have already told Mukushen that I am unable to provide you with the answers you want.”

“We want to help. Forget answers,” interjected Mu.

Mu almost physically recoiled as Sayan directed those raptor eyes her way.

“I do not care about your guilt, Aixin. That is a matter for you, and you alone. Do not burden us with it. We neither ask for, nor desire your help. You can render no greater service to our cause than simply stepping aside, boarding that starship of yours, and carrying on to some other world of your Empire. You have countless worlds. Today, we have but one.”

Even as Mu felt herself withering beneath Sayan’s words, her tablet began to vibrate again.

Not now, Nova! she barely restrained herself from shouting the words.

She focused again.

Sayan had no patience for half-measures and niceties.

What will sway her?

Ask her directly.

Tavian spoke instead, “Perhaps you do not need to be so alone. Maybe you don’t need our help, but is it ever such a bad thing to have more friends? We have a starship. We can connect you to others who may be sympathetic. What of the other worlds of the old Confederacy?”

Sayan looked unimpressed. “You think us so primitive that we cannot find ourselves a starship if we require one? Please, the only reason this one wants to help is because her world was shattered when she saw what that Empire of hers was capable of. And you, Mr Tavian? I’ve met your kind before. The only reason you want to help is to get into this one’s bed.”

“That is not true!” exclaimed Mu, outraged.

She glanced Tavian’s way.

Probably.

Her tablet vibrated once more.

Nova, I am going to kill you.

But it was a message this time.

Only a short one.

Mu had to read it twice before it properly sunk in.

We know who the murderer was.

Tribal leader. Woman named Sayan.