> LORD OF THE FAR NORTH CLOUD REALM, the farthest from any living continent. Once the Warrior-King of Malefic Spirits, he has since been enlightened to the Adamantine Path of the Florescent Law by the Thunderbolt Blossomed Datreya Warinini. To atone for his misdeeds, he has completely taken on the responsibility as a God of Wealth and Fortune, to give back to those that require it. Becoming the Patron God of Merchants, he has been indispensible in facilitating trade and connecting all of the Utter Islands together. The idea of using joss sticks as currency was pitched by him and facilitated with the help of the 12 Gods of Fortune.

>

> Interestingly enough, not just a god of merchants, Vaizzan has also become a god of mercenaries and warriors. In the rising tide of eventual war and the threat of the Latter Day of the Law, Vaizzan’s Warrior-King Aspect is arises. He takes up the vajra blade once again.

>

> From Movement of the Winds Volume 1, About Dang Hwan Hri Vaizzan

It is well known among all the beings across the fractured and fragmented Utter Islands that it is safer than not to stay within one's house once the Dark has settled in. This is why it was imperative for Akazha, an erstwhile witch herself, to find shelter at sign of first moonrise.

Galakal showed them inside the stilt-house cottage. Raxri had asked why the town had spare houses lying around. Sintra Kennin explained that making such houses tended to be relatively easy with the surplus of materials and the abundance of manpower looking for labor to render unto. And any sane port town or trading town requires a good working merchant district or visitor's enclave to properly function. Else, where will the good merchants and travelers stay while waiting for the next monsoon wind? Or for the next ship? It was imperative that they have a housing quarter such as this.

The cottage was wide enough. The main room was split into three by way of bamboo wall-partitions. Enough to fit a bed each. The third room was the attic's, intended for cloistered maidens.

"That seems like a fitting cloister for me," said Akazha, nodding at the attic room. "We will take it, great Galakal. Name your price."

"50 joss a night should be enough," said Galakal, smiling. "Just keep it clean and don't make too much of a mess. I will personally come here to clean for you according to your demands."

"Good. Thank you. Here is for the first night." Akazha fished out joss sticks, differently colored, and gave it to Galakal. Galakal buried it into a hemp satchel.

"Thank you, and a pleasure. Please, make yourself at home, and ask me for anything one might need. Simply ring the bell at the front fence. Goodnight." Galakal left as quickly as he arrived.

Akazha furrowed her eyebrows at that, wondering what that might be an omen for.

Raxri saw that the largest section of the cottage was the living room. There was a table and four cushions around the table. Though that was mostly it. To cook, it seemed, one needed to go out of the stilt cottage and into the pit for the stone stove.

"Seems comfy," said Raxri, smiling. Moving as if they hadn't suffered a major injury to their arm. "I suppose we must chase rest?"

Akazha nodded. "Yes. Let us. Please. I will see you all in the morning."

"Wait," said Raxri, wondering. "Where will we bathe?"

Sintra Kennin--who had to duck underneath a lot of dangling accoutrement and embellishment, pointed with their mouth outside of the front window. "Witness. The river lays before us. We need only to walk over."

"How convenient," said Raxri, tapping their chin. "I will bathe first, then."

Akazha paused at that. She said: "Sintra Kennin. Prithee tell me what Moon Phase it be as of the moment?"

Sintra Kennin raised an eyebrow, and then shrugged and walked outside. Raxri waited for him. He came back inside and said: "It seems the moon is Nigh-Horned, witch."

"Hm. Then it should be passing safe," said Akazha, shrugging. "Though I will not gamble it. Go, Raxri, bathe. But do not go alone. Sintra Kennin?"

"Of course. I do not need to bathe, being a river dragon and all. But I will accompany a friend."

Beaming, Raxri said: "All right then. We go." And they walked out to the river.

Bathing at night was Raxri's favorite time. It did not have the stinging chill of the morning, and it had the quiet anticipation of rest. The night sky was illuminated by the Moon, now.

Raxri waded into the shallow river banks and dipped naked until their chin was dipped underneath the rushing waters. Their bandaged arm, however, they kept aloft, above. It became a humorous sight, watching Raxri bathe but with one arm up. The great warrior Sintra Kennin watched, perched atop a rock, in the guise of a giant catfish, lounging against the Moon's light.

Raxri used some oils to coat their hair, and soap to wash away grime and debris from their body.

"How long have you been living without your memories, young Raxri?"

"For a few moons past, now," replied Raxri, working out a kink in their hair.

"Has it bothered you? That you know nothing about your past?"

"Of course," said Raxri. "I feel as though I am a babe once again, stumbling through this world and relearning everything I've erstwhile mastered. The glimpses and shadows of the past Raxri I've heard of sings to me of a Raxri I never thought I could be. They Who Danced Against The Heavens. Heaven Dancer. A warrior-mystic... but I am none of those things now. I am relearning everything. I do not know if I will ever be that being again."

A silence. A beat. Then Sintra asked: "Would you like to be?"

Raxri shrugged. They scrubbed their back. "That is a question I've no answer to for the nearest future. Perhaps... perhaps after a bit more living."

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

"Do not let it trouble you," said Sintra Kennin. Catfish tail swinging. "You are no less worthy of a person than you were when you were that Raxri Uttara of the past."

"Thank you, great Sintra Kennin," said Raxri. "But is it true? You've not heard of me nor my monikers before?"

Sintra Kennin shook their head. "There was a summons across the world of spirits about Raxri Uttara, but I have never heard of you before that."

"I see." Raxri finished scrubbing and looked up at the moon. "No matter how much I wish to start a new life without that baggage, I find that I cannot. My past comes to haunt me directly. What do I do with this knowledge?"

Sintra Kennin pouted. It was humorous to watch a catfish pout. "That I've no idea either. But perhaps, in our travels, we will find an answer."

"Hopefully," said Raxri.

As Raxri finished bathing and put on their clothes, Sintra Kennin glimpsed the shadow of a shadow. He blinked and looked at the river, and then at the river base. He could've sworn a white shadow passed by, with the face of a human...

***

They returned to their house with relative ease. Raxri, wondering, put on their sleeping clothes: a simple cloth and tunic, and then said: "Akazha will not bathe?"

Sintra Kennin shrugged. He had changed back into his hulking human form. "All I know is that she is now in her room."

Raxri raised an eyebrow and said: "Hm. Would you think it too rude if I chose to go up to her?"

Sintra Kennin thought about it for a moment. Then, he said: "Well, she never told us not to go up there. And you know her better than I do, so I will leave the decision to you."

"True. Very well."

Sintra Kennin retreated to their home, while Raxri climbed the ladder that led to the second floor of the attic.

The attic was clear of dust. A single window was cracked open to let cool wind in. The Almost-Horned Moon smiled down at them.

Raxri's gaze spun. Turned to the left, where he expected Akazha's bed to be.

And she was there. She slept on her side. She wore no top, and had a sarong on around her waist. A light thread blanket fell atop her. She did not move. Slight ticks of muscle and movement... she breathed still.

Raxri froze.

Hovering a few pawspans above Akazha, face looking directly at hers, was a white wraith, clad in ripped and torn sarongs and shawls and tunics. The being's face was deathly pale, her mouth the color of tar, her eyes empty holes. She watched Akazha as a tiger would watch their prey.

Raxri did not even move. The sense of warm-breath ticked off the ghost. Her face snapped to her left. Pit-eyes saw Raxri.

Fear gripped Raxri's fingers. Pried them off of the ladder. They fell to the floor with a thud.

The wraith rapidly clawed their way to the ladder and started climbing down from the ladder. Her feet and legs were broken and contorted in strange ways, and so she moved in broken and controted ways. Raxri turned around and ran.

They could not shout. Fear gripped even their vocal chords. They looked over their shoulder and saw the woman wraith stumbling towards him at erratic speeds. Sometimes quick, sometimes slow. As if to purposely throw Raxri off.

Raxri began chanting a protection mantra. They managed to grasp their Inner Winds well enough to sink into their Light Body Technique. As light as a feather, Raxri ran like an egret running on water. Quicker and quicker, without looking back. Raxri did not know where they were running to in specific, but when they saw the glistening waters of the river, they knew that that should do something at least.

Raxri ran and ran and ran. Until their footsteps padded against the shallow river bank. Until the only lit stone lantern cast dark shadows across the landscape before them.

Reaching the rushing river they came to a stop. The river ran through their shins, threatening to sweep Raxri away. But they knew they would not. They staked themselves like a tree upon that river, using their Will to make heavy themself. So that the river will not win.

They turned around. Turnaroundturnaroundturnaround.

The woman crawled like a cockroach would, but with four legs. She crawled in an unnatural cadence. And then she crawled quickly, as if she would be able to reach Raxri. Raxri sank down--legs shivering--into a defensive stance.

She crawled. Slowly again. And then quickly. Her pit-eyes grew eyeballs now and they were unblinking for her eyelids had been cut off now. Her black mouth grew teeth and she had no lips.

Quickly again. She moved like a bullet towards Raxri. Her feet hit the rushing river water and--!

And she disappeared. Her form flickered out of reality, as if her corpus was sucked out by a great unseen god.

Raxri exhaled. They had been holding their breath all this time. The power of fear gripping at their lungs. Their Inner Winds allowed to surge free again, Raxri felt their legs weakening, liquefying.

When they ascertained that it was more or less safer now to return--something they had decided after a few moments when they felt like the wraith would pop up again--Raxri dragged themselves back to the cottage.

The moment they walked in, it was as if nothing had been knocked over. Nothing had been changed. No claw marks on the wall, no signs of the woman crawling across the floor. Raxri decided to rush straight into their room and close it. They leapt into their blanket.

Uttering a protection mantra, they found that they could not sleep no matter how hard they tried. Without opening their eyes, they reached out for Puksa--and miraculously found it without their hands finding purchase in something they would not want to hold.

Raxri's hand pulled Puksa into an embrace. They did not know if Puksa would be able to cut through such a fearsome wraith. They had never tried it against such a being before. They could only relent incredible belief and faith upon it.

With Puksa upon their hands, they quickly fell asleep, uttering still the Great Compassion Mantra.

***

The next day, Raxri awoke to the sound of the cockscrows. It was more or less daybreak. They felt exhausted. Their slip was one skewered through with fits of wakefulness and sudden chill that they had to fight through to continue sleeping.

They walked out the door. There was a kettle filled with hot concentrated tea on the living room table. Beside it was a pot of milk and a pot of sugar.

A fresh wind seeped in. The sound of workers working and shouting out instructions alongside children playing and studying. In the distance, the sound of the cockscrow still ongoing. There were sounds of chanting somewhere nearby, though they chanted in a different language than the one Raxri chanted.

The sun was already up. She cast a strong bright yellow light upon the world. The wind was cold against the natural heat of the sun.

Sintra Kennin sat on the table, sipping on tea. When he saw Raxri come out, he said: "Bad night of sleep?" Sintra Kennin wore nothing but a sarong around their waist. Not that one would ever need to hide his particular musculature.

Raxri nodded. They walked over to the tea. Beside it there were some breakfast glutinous rice cakes. They had to eat. And maybe get some water.

"You move as if you've seen a ghost."

"Where is Akazha?"

"She went out to see if there were any possible contracts we can scrounge up. Labor we can do. I told her I can do almost any labor. She assumedly knows what you are capable of."

Raxri blinked. They poured the black tea upon a tea mug. Sintra Kennin instructed them to only pour around two-thirds, and then filled the rest of it with milk and three teaspoons of sugar. "Stir," said Sintra Kennin. Raxri nodded and stirred it.

When the sugar was aptly dissolved and the tea was an interesting brown-orange color, Raxri sipped. It was a beautiful mixture and an interesting sweetness. Creamy, full, and still with a hint of bitterness from the black tea concentrate.

"This is dangkan-style milktea. Very sweet and savory, would you not think?"

"It is very tasty," said Raxri, nodding.

"It is said to have come during the Rheannan Conquest of south Hiraga Ra-Om. The floating city of Dangka was their main way of entering the great island."

"I see." Raxri contemplated on whether they should tell the story or not.

A shiver down their spine. The ghost could not get past the rushing river. Why was that...?

"Sintra. Have you ever seen a ghost before?"

Sintra Kennin tilted their head to the side. "I've seen my fair share, as a god of the river. Why?"

"Well..." Raxri decided to regale the tale of the ghost they'd seen the night before.