The next week.....

“We have to leave Lam Lathi. There's still some flying machines escaping to Capara!,” I gasp.

I stare at Alana. We were back in the city of Lam Lathi, The place we stayed was familiar, but not like home. Alana enjoyed it more than me. I wanted to get away from the midnight blue banners that hung on the walls. The pilot and his minions were approaching and I didn't know how much time we had. He was already getting closer.

“We're not doing that, Atjani. We're staying here in Lam Lathi. I won't allow you leave.”

Alana looks away from me. I could still tell she was keeping me in her sight. Our stone room grows cold. We shared it with two others who were preparing for another battle. We were all alone for now. I look out the window, fearful the last of the flying machines had left. I was still processing what Alana had said. What she wanted was suicidal.

I walk up to Alana and get in her face. I lower my voice vehemently at her.

“We're leaving. I have to find, Lani. You said we would.”

Alana makes eye contact with me. Her eyes glisten like brown gems and she looks down at her bandanna. It was still tucked in my tribal belt. It upset her.

“We're not leaving.”

“This is suicide!,” I protest.

“It's all or nothing, Atjani” interrupts Alana. “We'll keep our love stories and take nothing out of spite. You should know that. You are Ryoken just like me.”

I grit my teeth. “You promised!”

“I did. In a way you'll find both,” says Alana clearly.

I think about the ends I reached just to try and get back Melinal. I try to remember what I was holding onto. Only one living name in my past made me want to reach for it. It was like the stars and hoping you would find life somewhere out there. My hand touches a stone keepsake in one of my pouches. It was a table marker that Lani had used, to save a spot for me at the imperial inn. I thought she was dead. I went back and took it with me, to save her a spot at my heart. I had to find her.

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

In a burst of rage, I grab Alana's neck. We stare at each other, each unwillingly to take it too far. I could tell I was annoying Alana, as much as she knew my strengths and limits. Alana speaks.

“Let go. You won't do anything.”

“I could grab my knife,” I threaten. “I'll make sure it's painful.”

Our room friends arrive and I release Alana. Alana and I stare at each other some more. I was pissed and wanted to leave. I didn't want to perish with my suffering.

I look over at the two others. They were a man and his wife. He had just got back from the new front lines. I watch as he takes of his bandanna and returns it to her. He throws his helm aside. I watch as they kiss. They were happy to see each other. The ugliness of their situation made the moment worth all the pain. Like the contrast of light and darkness, or the moment when a stone table marker suddenly had meaning. I think of Lani one last time. Alana interrupts me.

“It's beautiful, isn't it.” she motions silently. “Returning for someone you care about.”

“I'd rather not be separated in the first place,” I mutter.

“Then you have no soul. You would rather know convenience over intimacy,” says Alana softly, She looks over at the couple. She hand signs “love story” solemnly. I could tell she was jealous of the couple. With all her influence and power at the stages, she was still was just a passing lover. Her whole life had been that way. She was just a lonely messenger, missing out on the true love Lam Lathi promised her in youth. Alana wanted a travel friend who loved her.

“Enjoy watching your love story from far away,” I mock bitterly.

Alana's pain was subtle. I could see it with the slight movement of her eyelashes. It seemed to disturb the red eyeliner around her eyes. She didn't like what I said, but remained silent. I head for the door. Before I reach it, Alana's eyes start to coat with silver tears. We struggle, until she flashes a quick memory into my being. The moment nearly becomes my own. It was a memory she stole from her Lam Lathi trainer.

“What did you see, Atjani?,” asks Alana mysteriously. She already knew the answer.

I pause with a mutter. Alana strengthens herself inside my being, breaking down my stubbornness. I try to hold back, but I give her what she wants.

“I saw a dancer girl crying by herself - arms around her legs. She had been whipped and was hurting. I asked her if she liked the messenger school. She pushed the hair from one of her eyes and told me only devils like hell.”

“Good,” answers Alana. She wanted me to feel her pain. Strangely, it brought us a little closer.