Sila sat in one tree near the island’s highest point and seethed.

She sat in a cradle between a branch and the trunk, an arrow knocked in her recurve bow as she watched the ironclad lazily make its way around the north end of the island.

It wasn’t like she intended to shoot, but...gods, did she want to.

Sila was an odd child. She had clear memories since she was a mere infant. She remembered the time inside her mother’s womb. She remembered coming into the world covered in blood, screaming at the icy touch of air on her skin and searing light of the sun in her eyes.

She remembered everything. She could never forget a face. Especially not those of her parents and brother.

But the face most prominent in her mind was that of Gongsun Guanyu. He was responsible for the murder and rape of her clan seven years ago. It was the prince’s first conquest. Something to celebrate for the Nikan. They celebrated by playing games that involved slaughtering the men in indescribable ways. They celebrated by taking the clan’s young women and selling into slavery the ones they didn’t keep for themselves.

Her parents were killed in the fighting, so at least the Nikan spared them that fate.

But in their wake, they left her fool of a brother. Orhan was so obsessed with preservation. Conserve the clan’s population, conserve resources, conserve their sovereignty, conserve tradition. He was so determined to live independently of the Great Khan. But either his horde would take their lands or the Nikan would finish them if he didn’t adapt with these changing times.

All he cared about was peace and order. Well, there could be neither so long as Guanyu was free to roam.

Sila didn’t regret leaving. But it had been so long. When would she finally get her vengeance? How much longer did she have to wait?

Even though the power of all her ancestors flowed through her veins, she was powerless on this island.

“There you are.”

Sila yelped and nearly fell out of the tree as Taya appeared next to her.

“H-How the hell did you get here?”

“Carefully.” Taya said, “I have a question for you: After you kill Guanyu, what are you gonna do?”

“Go back to my clan.” Sila replied.

“Go back to your clan and…?”

“And what?” Sila frowned.

“Good, so you’ve got nothing going on.” she grinned. “How would you like to come help me stop the apocalypse?”

Sila blinked, “The what?”

“Alright, so everything regarding your powers and the Nikan murdering everyone and the supernatural creatures you’ll probably see at some point culminates into this thing called the Armageddon Event. I’ll explain more later, but my group and I want to stop Armageddon from killing us humans. Does helping us out with that sound like an interesting opportunity?”

Sila sighed, “I’m still...processing the whole Armageddon thing?”

Taya explained the Armageddon event to Sila in more elaborate speech, including how the Plague worked, Shedim Mastery, the appearance of supernatural creatures and what little she knew of the Circle of Ancients.

The more Sila heard, the more she wanted nothing to do with this apocalypse.

“Yeah, I don’t think I want to be involved with that in the slightest.” She responded when Taya asked her to join them again.

“But we need Shedim Masters like you. Regular people don’t have what it takes to fight this threat. The more of us there are, the better chance we have at keeping humanity from complete destruction.” Taya insisted.

“All I want is to kill Guanyu, then go home.” Sila said, “And that’s that.”

Taya sighed. “Well, if you ever change your mind, let me know. Oh yeah, I actually came to find you because the boat’s done. We can leave.”

Sila’s eyes went wide, “Really?”

Taya nodded, “Come on.”

The Sklaveni dropped out of the tree, landing flawlessly on her feet as though she didn’t just fall twenty feet.

Sila climbed down and followed Taya down to the beach. Her chance was finally here.

Many of the men were in the dromon, but others were ready to push it out to sea. The boat itself had been taken off its scaffolding and placed in the sand.

Sila ran towards the vessel and climbed onto the deck.

“Khongirat. Brace yourself.” The blonde Ascommani, Katla, said.

Sila grabbed onto the railing on the edge of the boat.

Taya and a few of the men shoved the boat into the sea before climbing onto the deck as Katla pounded a drum near the back of the ship, coordinating the oarsmen’s rowing.

“Put your backs into it, men!” Captain Marcello shouted over the drumbeats.

Sila had to let herself get used to the rocking deck for a few moments. Water wasn’t exactly her favorite way to travel.

After she got over a stint of motion sickness, she steeled herself, drawing her bow and keeping her eyes to the north.

“You afraid that ironclad is gonna pop out of nowhere?” Ruhak, the Hikupti, asked.

Sila frowned, “No. Why haven’t you drawn your weapons?”

“Because...we don’t need to?”

“But how are you going to fight…” It hit her then, “You’re not going after him?”

“Who, the prince?” Ruhak scoffed, “Of course not. Are you insane? We need to get away from them. If they destroy this ship, I doubt we can build another one before we starve to death.”

“What?” Sila exclaimed, drawing the attention of everyone on the deck. She found Taya and glared at her. “We have to go face him! You promised me I’d get to kill him!”

“If we had to fight him.” Taya said, “I’m not going to let you put everyone at risk so you can have your vengeance.”

Sila knocked an arrow and aimed it directly at Taya’s face.

“I dare you to fire.” Taya said.

Sila’s rage-contorted face fell slightly. She couldn’t hurt the Sklaveni no matter how skilled she was with her bow. So instead, she dipped the arrow in a pouch of oil and went to strike it on a strip of magnesium on her belt before Cecile, the Sarfan woman, stole the arrow from her.

“What are you planning to do, huh?” Cecile snapped, “Signal the ironclad that we’re leaving? Light the boat on fire? All for your petty desire for revenge?”

“Petty?” Sila growled, “You know nothing about me, Sarfan! Don’t you judge me!”

“I don’t give a damn what I know about you. Are you really going to sacrifice all these lives to kill one person? Don’t you think that maybe you’ll get another chance with all of us helping you? If you’re going to throw all those lives and all that opportunity away, there’s no other word to describe you aside from petty!”

Sila flinched. She’d told herself she would get another chance for years now. If they went and fought them...even if Sila killed Guanyu, the boat might get destroyed. Then what?

With all of us helping you.

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“Wait…” Sila muttered, “You’ll help me?”

“If you join up with us. Fighting the Nikan Empire is pretty high on our list of priorities. I have no doubt you’ll see him again if you join with Taya.” Cecile assured her, “Just...don’t be stupid, alright?”

Sila looked at the bow in her hands before finally letting it drop to her side.

“Does that mean you’ve changed your mind?” Taya asked.

Sila nodded, “Yes. And...I’m sorry.”

“Good. Let that be the last apology you ever make.” Taya said.

Sila allowed the dromon to leave with no intervention from her. But despite their willingness to help, Sila still felt she would not be allowed her revenge. But if it truly was a problem, she would bring it up later. For now, it was best to accept her new allies.

_____________________________________________________________________

When Ricco heard an ironclad was chasing after Taya and her friends, he had never needed to be disillusioned that they would get away without a fight. In all the time they’d spent more or less assembling a dromon from scrap, the Nikan prince had probably found the time to fix up whatever technology drove their steamship.

It still made little sense that he and his crew were now suddenly involved with a group of people who could use magic. Real magic. Not Banebending, which Ricco had always thought was underwhelming for all the attention that was put on it.

It was equally nonsensical that a prince of the largest empire in the world was chasing after them. And now chasing him.

That was just the way of things, he supposed.

Though the dromon got a decent head start, the ironclad was gaining on them once they noticed the boat missing.

For a good three days, the dromon was out of range of the ironclad until they were back out on the open ocean, away from the Koini Isles.

But on the fourth day, they launched the first fire lances. Spears with black powder rockets strapped to them.

Taya and her people were able to keep them off the ship.

The Nikan made a few attempts at firing explosives, but they were all either redirected or simply knocked out of the sky by Taya herself.

Today, however, the ironclad seemed intent on catching up with them.

“I see no choice other than to fight.” Captain Marcello said as the leaders of the three parties on their ship had gathered to watch the ironclad approach.

“I agree,” Taya said, “But I see no reason to prolong the fighting. If we can damage their ship in the right places, we can get an infinitely larger distance between us and them. Perhaps even make landfall in Koinelia without even seeing them.”

“How would we do that?” Katla asked, “Could your people do it?”

Taya shook her head. “I can’t damage their ship enough through the armor. And if I go under, the prince’ll be looking for me. Bjorn is just as identifiable and his bigger shows of power are too unpredictable as of right now. In fact, if most of my allies are missing, they’ll notice.”

“So how would we actually damage the ship?” Marcello asked.

“I can have Peng make an explosive.” Taya said, “We’ll light it up top. The fuse will still burn underwater. But we need someone to attach it to the ironclad’s hull.”

“My men are the only ones well equipped enough to fight off professional Nikan soldiers.” Katla said, “And frankly, I think that’s a suicide mission. If they don’t get swept away or drown under the boat, they might get caught in the explosion.”

“I can go.” Ricco offered.

Marcello sighed, “Not again, boy. Quit throwing yourself to the sharks.”

“And yet I still live, don’t I?” Ricco said. He looked at Taya intently. “Whatever I have to do, I can handle it.”

“I admire your confidence,” Taya said, “But Katla’s kind of right.”

“Doesn’t change a thing.” Ricco assured her.

Taya nodded, “Alright, then. Let’s get ready for a fight.”

During the next hour, everyone on the ship was preparing for battle. The Ascommani all wore goggled helmets and chain mail and carried wooden shields, painted in a myriad of colors and designs. Each man appeared to be paired with a woman, save for Katla and Bjorn.

Ricco’s crewmates readied crossbows.

“Oi, Ricco!” Tariq, a lanky Qahtanad who had been on the crew for a year longer than Ricco had clapped him on the back, “I heard you’re going to kill yourself again!” he chuckled, “Maybe this time you won’t fail!”

Ricco scoffed, but smiled. His crew’s morbid sense of humor was a comforting thing.

As Tariq left, Taya stepped up to him, holding a cast iron canister with several teeth on its ends. She gave him a coil of rope with a metal hook on it as well.

“Use the rope to keep yourself from getting swept away.” She said, “After that, you need to pin this to the hull by the teeth. The bottom of the hull is wood, so it should go in easy. Once you light the fuse, you’ll have three minutes before it explodes. Got it?”

Ricco nodded, “Don’t worry about it.”

“Once we engage them and they’re distracted, light the fuse and dive.”

Taya cracked her neck and turned just as the ironclad was upon them.

Ricco tied the rope with the hook around his waist as tightly as he could. He may have not expected to come back from this alive, but at the very least, he wanted his last job to be done well.

He had never really had much of an interest in living for almost a decade now. He just needed a way to go out that would do some good.

“Shieldwall!” Katla cried, causing the Ascomanni to form up to block the incoming arrows from the Nikan crossbowmen on the enemy ship.

Ricco ducked down to evade any stray bolts.

Taya and her magical allies didn’t hesitate to get themselves onto the boat and start thrashing the Nikan.

Ricco grabbed a flint and steel from his belt and lit the fuse with a few strikes.

He slipped off the other side of the dromon and into the icy depths of the ocean. He took in the largest gulp of air his lungs could handle before diving into the darkness. Holding tightly to what little grip he could gain on the bottom of the dromon, Ricco watched as the two boats continued moving, though slower than usual.

He pulled himself under the hull of the dromon and pushed off with his legs. But while between boats, the ships were moving forward faster than he was. Ricco barely embedded his hook into the wooden underbelly of the ironclad.

Ricco let himself be dragged along until he was behind the boat and could come up for another gulp of air.

After submerging again, he pulled himself back under the ironclad and grabbed the explosive from under his arm.

He tried to push it into the wood, but being underwater made it nearly impossible to do so. Ricco wrapped his hand around his rope, pulling it taught and tried to hammer it in place with his hand. He got half of the teeth into the wood, but wound up pulling his hook loose.

Ricco flailed around soundlessly, letting go of a dangerous amount of air in a panic. He hung onto the half embedded bomb while pulling his hook to him. Ricco stabbed the hull with it once again just as the explosive came loose.

Mind racing with frustration, a lack of air, rapidly approaching time limit and the muffled sounds of combat around him, Ricco undid his belt and stabbed another hole in the boat's hull and tied the bomb onto it by threading the leather through the holes.

His chest was sore from a lack of air, but he didn’t have time to surface before the bomb went off.

The roar of the explosion reached Ricco’s ears with a giant wave of force and heat at his back. Excruciating pain racked his body as heat seared the skin on his back and threw him into the side of the dromon, knocking his head on the wood.

This was it. Finally.

Burning, disoriented, and suffocating, Ricco clung tight to the hull. He felt that if he let go of it, his arms would have the strength to do anything else.

Why? Why was he holding on?

He urged himself to let go, but a massive force in his mind countered his own thoughts and halted his control over his muscles.

But his air was running short. Ricco was practically drowning himself at this point. It was pointless for whatever part of him still wanted to live. Darkness crept into the periphery of his sight as the depths slowly drained away consciousness from him.

If he lost consciousness, he’d let go and be swept away. If he tried to go up for air, he wouldn’t be able to grab onto the boat a second time and be swept away.

No way out. He was helpless.

Well...wasn’t this what he was looking for? He was a slave trader with nothing to his name and no redeeming qualities. This death, like everything else, would just be the way of things.

But could you die now without regret?

No one died without some regret. And even then, he hadn’t done much that he regretted.

Regretting nothing because you did nothing isn’t the same as living without regret. That’s just complacency. Stop trying to amend that by throwing yourself into suicide missions so you can die on ‘your terms’. Choose to live!

He didn’t have that choice. All roads ended in death and suffering.

No. Do whatever it takes. No means are out of the picture. There has to be a solution. There always is.

What means? What solution? There’s only death.

This life...this life is mine to do with as I please. I want to combat my struggles, not escape them! I want to live!

Air rushed down his lungs as water tried to force its way out at the same time. Ricco hacked and coughed up a barrel-full of briny seawater.

He was lying on wood. In the darkness. It was dry.

He was inside the hull.

Ricco pushed on his head and body to confirm he was still alive. He glanced down at the only dim source of light in the boat: glowing dull green marks on his right hand.

He felt the boat move at full speed again.

Ricco shoved one trapdoor into the hold up and climbed out onto the deck, to the surprise of about everyone on board. He staggered out, still coughing up seawater and staring at his hand.

“Captain? I think I have Plague!”

______________________________________________________________________

As Taya explained to Ricco and his captain about his glowing hand, Cecile tended to the wounded.

Despite technically both being pirates, there was a distinction between Mesogeonian slave traders and Ascomanni raiders. For one, she didn’t have to slap any Ascommani hands away from trying to cop a feel as she was bandaging them.

Luckily, the seadogs respected power enough not to test her when she threatened them with a glowing Plague Scar.

Cecile sat down next to Sila, who was the next person awaiting treatment.

“Can you hurry this along?” Sila muttered, avoiding eye contact.

Cecile didn’t think her words when they left that first day had been that harsh, but...well, it probably looked like quite a verbal lashing from the Khongirat’s perspective.

“You can’t rush medicine. Unless you want to end up worse than you are now.” Cecile said, “What’s the issue?”

Sila lifted her arm. The broken shaft of an arrow was sticking out from under her side, squeezing through a chink in her armor.

“Alright. Do you know what kinds of arrows they were using?”

“Barbed. I was wearing cloth armor underneath, but it still pierced a little. I can’t get it out.”

“That’s good.” Cecile said, then in response to Sila’s furrowed brow, “Relatively. It could be much worse. Take off your armor for me.”

Sila, with Cecile’s help, untied her lamellar chest plate and her gambeson. Her white silk undershirt was stained red around the arrow, but the bleeding didn’t look too excessive. The silk stopped the arrowhead from going in all the way, but tiny spines intricately lined the arrowhead.

Cecile grabbed the broken shaft and yanked the arrow out, eliciting a harsh curse from Sila. Cecile quickly grabbed a gauze pad and held it to the wound under her shirt.

“The wound’s shallow. Just keep pressure on it and you’ll be fine.” Cecile said, “Let me know if you want bandages. And good thinking with that silk shirt.”

“It’s still an outdated tactic.” Sila muttered.

“Hey, there’s always something to learn from the past.”

Sila groaned, “That’s what you think. But humans keep moving forward. We have to look to the future. Hanging onto the past is a fool’s errand.”

“Ironic.” Cecile muttered under her breath, “As a doctor, I know full well that there are invaluable wisdoms that can be taught by looking to the past.”

“Like magic incantations and healing elixirs?” Sila scoffed.

“Like Hikupti abortion methods and ancient Nikan surgical practices.” Cecile said, “But even those things we believed worked led us to discover many plants and herbs that had real healing qualities.”

“Time waits for no one, doctor. If you don’t keep up, it’ll leave you behind.”

“I have other patients to attend to. If you want to take up a conversation about how we should esoterically view time, talk to me when I’m not busy.” Cecile muttered.

Cecile began treatment on her next patient. Even if Sila wasn’t being a bit of a hypocrite, it was foolish to assume that people could always improve. Yes, there are infinite new skills and habits to learn, but one can only devote their life to so many. And as far as medicine was concerned, Cecile was at her peak.

She could help nearly any kind of known ailment. She wasn’t a researcher and frankly, how many diseases could there be in one world?

Cecile didn’t have to learn anything else.

Humans had nothing but the past to rely on. The question wasn’t whether you looked into the past. The question was whether you got stuck in it, obsessed with revenge, or if you learned from it.