Sungai the horse looked fleetingly at Raxri. Then he exhaled as if in confirmation or allowance. "Thank you Sungai," Akazha said. She mounted Sungai and then offered her hand to help Raxri. Raxri took it.

"Thank you, great witch."

"Don't thank me yet," she said. "You never know: I might lead you yet into certain death, and I will use your screaming soul as an ingredient for my elixir. Hyah!" She stirred Sungai into a gallop, and off they went, riding out of the temple complex and down the broken set of stairs that led up to the temple.

More of those split gateways flanked the stair path at specific intervals, looking like arches but with the top section removed. "Heaven Mountain Gates," said Akazha. "Going through such gates bears to the soul the climbing of the mountain and, subsequently, the symbolic entering of heaven. The entrances are always found at the top of tall mounts."

"I see." Raxri stared at them long. Its old architects carved it out of ebon night stone.

Eventually, the stone path ended with the last Heaven Mountain Gate, and they burst out into a dirt path that wound up. The path was decidedly flat, leading to a slight grassland before it eventually fell into the sea. Though the Horned Moon watched on this night, the sea was pure black.

Now Upon The Pemi Lowlands

Further off into the distance of the sea, Raxri saw the distant shadow of a giant man's torso, at least fifty fathoms tall, walking across the waves. It walked with a slow gait, truly like a giant walking across an ocean. When the man's eyes--a set of two balls of fire--met Raxri's, they immediately turned away to watch the trees pass by. Sungai galloped at a brisk pace.

"Tonight is a night of the Highest Horned Moon," Akazha said as they brought out coral prayer beads. "It would be best not to let your eyes wander. The Dead and the Unwelcome walk here galvanized. But so do we witches."

Raxri watched as Akazha uttered a mantra eight times quickly before blowing into her prayer beads and then throwing her hand into the air, letting the gathered wind cover them. Raxri felt low pressure envelop them as if the winds wrapped around them and protected them.

The dirt path carried them close to the shoreline, where ghastly jellyfish and bioluminescent eels swam underneath the waves—hunting, abiding. Raxri couldn't help but find it beautiful, the non-deluded movement. Shadowmen lurked nearby, standing by the coast, unfettered by the cold night winds. The winds now were strong, you see. Not a storm, nay, but the natural ocean wind all the same.

The shadowmen's eyes blurred white. They held in their hands gloom-swords like mantis-blades. They watched Raxri and Akazha ride past.

Eventually, they arrived at a ruin. Wooden stilt houses abandoned, a destroyed stone spirit house in the middle, seemingly by a stream. The stilt houses had fences about their undersides. No more life here. Raxri conjectured this ruin was once a stopping point for travelers but has now fallen out of favor.

Sungai flew past when Raxri heard a low groan. Panic? Pain? "Wait! Akazha, I hear someone inside."

Akazha stopped Sungai right as they crossed the bridge. "Within? Impossible. These ruins are dangerous, and no one pilgrimages to that Temple anymore."

"I heard it." Raxri hopped off Sungai. As they did, they felt a change of pressure; their ears popped. "There, it's louder now." More sounds of groaning.

Akazha similarly hopped off, commanding Sungai to stay with a wave of a mudra. "They might be Undead."

Raxri walked into the small copse of stilt houses. "Hello? Is anyone here? We can help."

A voice immediately replied: "Oh! Oh, over here!"

Akazha caught up just as Raxri found a little boy peeking behind a shut window. Raxri walked up to the stilt house, climbed the ladder, and looked into the window from the elevated front porch.

"Hello. What are you doing here?"

The boy was small, waifish, wrapped only in a sarong. Together with him was a little girl, no doubt his sister. Raxri offered his hand, and the boy shook his head.

"We came here to swim," said the boy. "But we took too long to get out of the water. The night caught us and now binds us to where we hide!"

"Why? Where do you live?"

"Blacklight Town," the girl replied.

Akazha came up behind them and said, "Blacklight Town? That's quite a ways away. Mind you, it's not very far, but it's still about half a sun- movement."

"Yes." The boy bit his lip. "But... I'm sorry. We wanted to watch the March of the Sea Monks is all!"

Raxri shook their head. "Why can't you--"

The groan, again.

Akazha's eyebrows furrowed. She turned and summoned her kalis and then let go of it so that it hung in the air again. "More of these reanimated..." Akazha commanded her kalis to become her step. She stepped onto it and then off it to climb down from the elevated porch of the house.

Two walking wights shuffled into view, rusty blades in their hands, loose sarongs and tunics clinging onto desiccated, falling flesh. They groaned with every movement.

"It is okay to slay these," Akazha said to Raxri, eyes burning bright blue again. Her kalis danced and dispatched the wights handily—clean bisections and then butchering into many fine chops. "The Reanimated are not sentient beings. They are cages for a Mindstream. Such Mindstreams are chained to be auxiliary powering sources for the walkers-in-death. It would be of the highest merit to free such Mindstreams so they may journey the Whorl again."

"How?" Raxri asked, somehow more interested in that than the Dead-Walking-Again before them.

"Magick, sites of great emotional atrocity, or places cursed by wizards, are catalyzed by the Horned Moon to trap a Mindstream into these bodies, preventing reincarnation. Slaying such creatures lets the Mindstream continue into the Whorl. We must deliver unto them Certain End, for them to begin again."

"So these ruins... Something must have happened to them."

"Indeed," said Akazha, sighing. "The Invincible Blade Princess. She happened to the entirety of the Utter Islands."

Raxri knew that name, but they had forgotten what it meant—what it entailed and who it was.

The undead, now dispatched, Akazha turned to the kids. "Come along now, children--" she stopped. She pressed her index and pointer finger to her forehead and looked like she had an eye on her brow. A moment passed, and then she sighed. Raxri watched her and then turned to the window where the boy and the girl were.

They were not there.

"They're free now," said Akazha.

"What?"

"Those children... They were those." She gestured to the corpses with her lips. "They were the relics of their Mindstream. Now freed."

Raxri inhaled, a heavy weight on their hearts. They uttered a mantra, one that arose from their lovingkindness. One that they remembered, even if nothing else returned to memory: "AHOM DAYA ZINTA."

"Do ghosts arise from such sites?" asked Raxri as Akazha walked past them on the way back to where Sungai was.

"Some of them, yes. Others are pakta, hungry ghosts who must serve their time due to their past life. Some specters arise from Mindstreams so burdened with passions that they stay in the intermediary state of ghosthood. This is why many people perform rituals for their dead, so that they may pass on."

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

"I see."

Akazha smiled then. "I enjoy this. Imparting my knowledge onto someone so stupid. Refreshing."

Raxri blinked, then followed after Akazha. "Do you not think the ruins must be cleansed?"

Akazha shook her head as she mounted Sungai once again. "I fear those are the last of the lingering souls there. It is a ruin true, now. Inert. Dead."

"And it's because of the Invincible Blade Princess..."

"Yes. Come. We've much to discuss."

Raxri mounted Sungai as well, and off they galloped. Over the bridge, down finally into the coastal region, and then into a path in the forest by the base of the lower mountains, where fireflies still danced like lamplights.

Pemiwood's Edge

At first, the forest was composed of the kinds one would see near the shore: coconut trees, strangler figs, palms, and areca, among others. But as they rode deeper, following the light and crooked forest path, the trees turned into large, towering pili and rosewoods, mahoganies, and ironwood trees. Even now, as the fireflies lit the path (no doubt, Raxri thought, a twist of witchcraft), she could see the glowing eyes of arboreal animals watching from above. Bearcats, flying lemurs, cloud rats, giant flying foxes, and eagle-owls watched them. Some of them, no doubt, were spirits in their own right.

Raxri noticed that Akazha was chanting something. This mantra sounded more like a prayer.

The path led them to a small clearing in the forest, where even the canopy broke free, revealing the Horned Moon that still watched. Raxri knew something smiled from up there.

Sungai stopped before a tall stilt house with several annexes, which gave the impression that it belonged to royalty. The house was built upon thick ironwood pillars, and each pillar was carved with geometric inscriptions and talismanic engravings to strengthen its spiritual hold against the dark.

Akazha climbed down from the black horse and removed a small rattan bag from his side. Raxri followed suit, hitting the ground with a thud. Then, she led Sungai on his reins toward a nearby hut. This was also an elevated stilt house, but the under-section was much taller and had multiple fences to allow Sungai to rest within.

"Good boy, Sungai. Thank you for riding with us. Have a rest." Akazha kissed Sungai on his cheek and then exited the stilt house. "You, follow me."

They climbed up the ladder--a goodly ladder, the thick ones that were more like stairs, belonging more to princes--and arrived at the front porch. Akazha removed her straw reed sandals, opened the lid of a porcelain dragon jar resting beside the entrance of the first doorway, and rinsed her feet with water. Raxri did the same, removing much of the accumulated dirt and soil. They realized then how thick the callouses on their feet were.

When Raxri entered Akazha's home, they uttered a small mantra of thanks. Akazha's home was quaint: it wasn't too large, but it had two levels (as signified, Raxri had thought, by the two roofs). The living room was spacious, with a recessed middle and a table, allowing easy sitting. On one side, however, was a table filled to the brim with palm leaf scrolls and leaf manuscripts. Some brass jars of ink threatened to spill. A stele with some fresh blood lay beside a sheet of dried palm leaf--the paper of the Islands.

Above Raxri, a canopy of beams kept up the second level, and from that canopy hung multiple threads of differing colors. Some of them were prayer beads, others were threads of precious jewels. There was also a piece of bone, a skull, and a hanging clay pot.

It took Raxri a moment to notice that Akazha had disappeared into one of the four annexes of the cottage (turning the home into a four-roomed complex). Eventually, she returned with a wooden tray, whereupon an intricately filigreed wooden box, a tiny knife with a dragon handle, a teapot, and two porcelain teacups sat.

"Do you hunger yet?"

Raxri's stomach grumbled and groaned.

Akazha laughed. A light laugh. The kind of laugh a mother or a sister would make. She said: "I've some claypot chicken rice I've cooked a few movements ago. Linger, for a while."

Raxri bowed deeply, folding both their hands in front of their mouth. "I thank you deeply and kindly."

"Good, I like it when you appreciate things." And she disappeared into the annex again, which Raxri figured out by now was the kitchen.

Raxri blinked and then decided it would be too awkward to continue simply standing there. So they sat in front of the table where the box was. Raxri contemplated what it could be when Akazha returned, bringing a clay pot with white rice and steamed chicken thighs within, doused in soy sauce. To Raxri's grumbling stomach, it might as well have been Amrita.

"I thank you kindly again for your hospitality."

"Eat up. No good conversation arises from a stomach void."

Raxri did as instructed, wolfing down the clay pot with their hands.

Akazha watched, amused. "Good to see you haven't lost all your etiquette knowledge."

Raxri blinked. "Is eating with my hands not mannerly? Forgive me; this seemed most natural."

"Nay. Eating with your hands is the common way of eating here in Pemi and most of the Utter Islands, in truth. Despite the loss of your memory, it's good to see you have some of your reflexes still intact."

Akazha poured black tea onto both teacups and opened the wooden chest. Within were already prepared quids of betel nut. Akazha took a bit of lime, opened a bit of one quid, squeezed it within, and then wrapped the quid up again before placing it on the side of her mouth. Then she masticated.

As Raxri ate, Akazha prepared another quid for Raxri and placed it in front of them. "Afterwards."

Raxri blinked momentarily and then asked: "What is this for...?"

Akazha half covered her mouth with her fingers. "Goodness. Not just memory but social norms as well. You truly must be studied. You know, even the dead I've actually talked to, the spirits and ghosts are still stuck in the mortal realm. They remember their past, sometimes with the uttermost clarity- too much, even. It only fuels their remorse and, therefore, their clinging. And yet you... you've forgotten everything, even what it's like to live here, in this world.

"Anyway," Akazha continued. "Betel nut quids are one of the most important aspects of socialization and hospitality here in the southern isles. It's fallen out of favor in such utter regions as North Ra-om: there they offer tea or coffee or opium instead. But within the confines of our islands, it is mandatory to offer betel nut as a gesture of goodwill. Truly, even the gods are offered such betel nut, as a sign of hospitality and good faith. These social norms you must learn, lest you anger the wrong person. Or worse, a king."

Raxri swallowed a mouthful of the soy sauce-drenched chicken breast with white rice. The food made them smile uncontrollably. "You must teach me!"

Akazha scoffed. "I'm no teacher. And I'm definitely no mother. Treat me in no such manner."

"I will not survive--" Raxri swallowed another mouthful. They had a big mouth. "--a day upon this land without a teacher, a guidance, a tutor. Please, I beg you!" Raxri was about to get up and prostrate, but Akazha stopped them with a hand.

"Pray, cease. I'm no god, I'm no sage, I'm no Awoken. You've no need." She spat out a glob of red, shooting it straight into a medium-sized hole to the side of the table, where it fell into a section walled-off section of the undersection. "No need to bow. I suppose I will have to teach you... my conscience would not allow it. But, Raxri Uttara, the way this world works is that you must give something to take something. So, on my end... what about this: let me examine you and observe you while I teach you so that I may glean some knowledge from it. In exchange, you get to learn how to protect yourself. From me."

Raxri swallowed yet another mouthful of claypot chicken rice and was immediately seized with the fear that they would finish the chicken rice too soon. Yet, they nodded. They knew they were in no place to negotiate. They hardly even knew where they were. "I agree to your terms, witch."

"Good. Let us see how well it goes. A curiosity like you... it might even stake me upon the path to wizardhood."

Raxri raised an eyebrow. "Wizardhood? What mean you? Are you not a wizard presently?"

Akazha spat out another globule—this one was the entire quid itself. Then, she drank some tea, gargled it in her mouth, and then spat it out again. Then she poured herself another cup and drank that normally. Raxri reached for their own tea and drank it as well. A warmth—the kind welcome on a cold night such as this—enveloped them. They could taste hints of clove and cinnamon.

"You will learn when we awake in the morning tomorrow. For now, enjoy your food."

Raxri shrugged. "I suppose that would constitute a lesson." And Raxri wasn't sure if they could retain such knowledge then.

Raxri ate until the clay pot was completely empty, almost licked clean of rice granules and even the soy sauce. They then finished their tea as well, a perfect downer for everything else. Akazha watched as Raxri took a piece of quid (she gestured for them to do so) and gingerly copied what Akazha had done, placing it onto the side of their mouth and then beginning to chew.

Raxri could feel a bit of a tang immediately, a bit of spiciness. Then that nutty flavor, then those seeds. Then the spiciness rose, covering their entire mouth, almost numbing it in the process.

"Be careful not to swallow," said Akazha. "When you feel like you are on the brink, spit it out onto that hole yon thither."

Raxri nodded. When they smiled, their teeth were already stained red. They spat out a piece and then continued chewing. After the first few seconds, it became almost second nature to Raxri. They'd done this multiple times before, in times past.

Before long, Akazha moved to pick up the claypot. Raxri rushed to grab it quicker, saying: "Effort not, master. I shall clean it."

Akazha smiled and said, "Nay, student, there is no need to do it so late in the night. Bring these to the annex first, and we'll wash them by the stream first thing tomorrow."

Raxri nodded and did as she asked. They remembered the annex Akazha had walked out of. Carrying the whole tray, Raxri walked into a kitchen more like a half room. Half the room was on the roofed elevated ledge, where all the spices were kept alongside multiple earthenware and porcelain jars, no doubt filled with food and other cooking accessories. Then, a ladder led to an open kitchen, still roofed, where a blackened stove sat. Various pots hung from a wooden beam attached to the two poles that kept the thatched roof up.

Raxri placed the tray onto a table and returned to the living room. There, Akazha had undressed herself of her garbs, robes, and veil. She only had a simple breast wrap around her chest, underneath her armpits, and then a cloth loincloth drenched in azure dyes, wrapping around her hip and covering all the way down to her thighs.

She looked at Raxri and raised an eyebrow. "Don't just stand there ogling. It's rude."

"The loincloth you wear... is this not the common clothing of men?"

Akazha shrugged. "It is, but 'tis be my home. I've no need for appearances, and it is far more comfortable besides. My room is upstairs, but here." Akazha walked towards the annex on the other side of the room and pushed the door open. Within was a spacious room with a soft down bed and pillows on the edge, an incense burner upon a low four-legged table, and a black mosquito net veiled over them. "Make yourself at home."

"Thank you kindly. I will do all that I can to repay you."

"Repay me by getting your memories back. Maybe something happened before you lost your memories that caused this to happen to you..." Akazha walked over to the ladder that led to the second floor. "Sleep soundly. We begin training at dawn tomorrow."