Takasa Aiya gripped the Silencing Daggers, one under her chin in her left hand and the other still poised at her side. Each was a foot of honed silver embedded within a chiseled blue hilt slick with sweat and rain. She huffed. It had been three storms since anyone had been silenced with either blade, but tonight was not like most nights. Tonight, she would wield them as she had in the past, strike down her clan’s enemies, and feed the earth with their blood.

“I can’t strike them all, not before my damn time limit is up,” she told her brother.

Takasa Koji stood cross-armed to her side in the training grounds. Beads of evening skywater dripped down his face and robes, illuminated by shielded lanterns dangling from stone posts throughout the courtyard. The cool air was filled with an ominous breeze. Eight fish-headed wood totems, each ten feet high, gazed down at them in a circle. About two feet in diameter, each was equally spaced from the others, bearing slash marks in chaotic patterns. She could see judgment in her brother’s watchful eyes as Koji spoke those dreaded words for the dozenth time.

“Try again.”

She almost denied him, almost asserted that it was pointless, that she’d been hacking and cutting for nearly an hour with no progress. Shozhu would come for their departure any moment now. No, she wouldn’t allow that. For too long she’d subjected herself to these futile attempts at manifesting her full abilities, even if reluctantly. She was not one to give in, however humiliating. Life was an accumulation of accomplishments–so too was her honor.

She wiped long strands of black hair from her face, sleeve adjusting to reveal the river tattoo on the side of her wrist. Three parallel flowing lines. Coming here had been a last-minute decision on Koji’s part, with no time to prepare. Thus, the two wore bright blue robes with billowed sleeves, as was custom of the Takasa clan.

The courtyard sprawled around them, walled in by pink leafed ash trees and the looming Takasa estate. Their deity’s altar, a wide stream, burbled softly through the yard. Crickets chirped, and there was a damp-earthy scent, bending around gardens, wood benches, fountains.

Aiya closed her eyes and altered her mind.

When she opened them, a deep blue like the ocean had pooled over the usual dark brown of her irises, her pupils black islands. With sudden energy, she burst from the ground and landed against the side of the pole in front of her, crouching on its surface. She pulled her dagger across it, then pushed off to one across from her.

Landing with a smack against wet wood, her dagger sliced here too, cutting deep into the totem before gliding off its slick surface. Not a moment later she was gone, already landed to mark her third. As silver cut into the target, there bubbled that familiar sensation: an instant of uneasiness and fear coupled with a break in her focus.

Then, she saw it.

Aiya failed to shake the numbness from her body in time, pushing off the totem at only half her normal strength. She flew halfway across the training ring and tumbled to the ground, hands clawing for grass as she rolled to a still. She was glad for the cushioned fall provided by the soft field. The robustness in her frame faded away.

A light drizzle fell from the dark sky, freshly coating her with dampness. The light blue silk robes adorning her were grass-stained, likely beyond repair, but at this point she didn’t care. Nothing bothered her except for the frustration of her repeated failure. Her gaze moved to the towering totems. From this angle, they appeared like predators who had finally succeeded in tiring out a rather tenacious prey.

Koji took shape above her, offering his hand. He was two years her senior, twenty and towering a full head above her when he stood at her side. He kept his expression neutral and chose his next words carefully, steeling himself against the urge to reprimand her. Aiya perceived the concern showing in his eyes as dark as the rolling clouds. When it came to training, hers most of all, he was solicitous.

His offered hand remained. “Is that all?”

Aiya took it and got to her feet. Save for the purling stream, the central courtyard felt quiet now. There was not even the soft rustling of leaves in the backdrop. Even the chilled air held still in anticipation, awaiting what fateful turn of events would come.

“Try again,” Koji told her.

“Brother, it’s no use, I can’t align myself for long enough without—”

“Cease your grumbling and get back up there.”

His tone was stern but his eyes were sincere. He hated seeing her like this.

“It’s a stone’s throw for you,” she muttered. For him, maintaining alignment with River’s deity was child’s play. She ought to have attained his adeptness years ago, but it was when she displayed her power in full that she began to falter. Koji’s anxiety for her own safety tonight was understandable, but that made it no less a burden on herself. Her face went hot with shame. Koji hadn’t been hard on her up till now, yet she was sure she sensed his patience thinning. It wasn’t long before their lives would depend on their adeptness.

Resigned, Aiya stood, arms hanging at her sides and eyes closed, her breaths becoming deep and rhythmic.

She concentrated on her deity.

Her proximity to the “river” made it easy. There in the background, the gurgling stream existed as an altar to the deity, the imitation of a river. It was no longer a necessary aid for her mediation, although it made slipping into this state of mind much easier, like the coalescence of water, leaving absent the mental strain of separating her mind from tangible reality.

Tension released from her muscles and her mind softened, allowing her thoughts to flow freely before they settled on the one and only other thing in existence. The river engulfed her consciousness, not a mere thought of the physical land feature, but of all its spiritual and metaphysical meaning. Meanings she had spent years pondering and studying. The river was strength, a natural substance molded into a force possessing its greatest potential. It freed itself from the natural prisons of water, the great mountains and the unyielding earth below them, and carved its path to the sea. It was speed and it was hungry power, drowning any land creature who dared overstep its boundaries.

But above all it was life. Through the river, civilizations arose and fell. It was clean drinking water, bathing water, a trading route and irrigation for crops. It was far more than gleaned the eyes at first glance, a deity whose glory lay incomprehensible. Incomprehensible, to a disorienting degree, was how it felt as Aiya gazed across the infinite well of power it offered and could only fathom a small part of it. Above her flared spiritual orbs of light as numerous as the stars.

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She sank deeper into the trance until she could hear every lap and current of the river, as if she were leaning over it with an ear above its surface, or as if she had become the surface. All other senses dissipated and she was left floating, watching water ripple in her mind. She and the river became one. Her deity was as much a part of her as she was a part of it. She directed that sacred power inwards and felt a surge of energy and strength. Before even realizing she had opened her eyes, she was flying through the air, propelled by legs that could crack the ground beneath her.

She landed on a totem, slashed it, then swung herself to the next, curving the blade upwards as it slid off the wood. The same ‘v’ shaped pattern they always used. That made it more difficult, taking longer to properly mark all the totems. She chose this strategy years ago for herself, without instruction from Shozhu, before it caught on with her siblings. She would not give herself the easy way out, no matter the exhaustion nor frustration. This she had sworn to herself. She hated failure, but cheating herself was a far greater disgrace.

She was determined to get her ten marks this time.

Aiya leaped from pole to pole, furiously slashing then moving onto a different target. At this speed, landing with any sort of balance was impossible, so upon reaching the small surface she immediately pushed off to avoid falling. A haze of water and splinters sprayed with each mark.

There was her sixth. A tie for her personal best.

She kept her mind with the flow of the river, running forcefully, hindered by nothing. She wouldn’t think of what was coming. Such was the only way to prevent it.

I’ve got this. It won’t happen this time, she thought. Power sang and emanated through her frame, offering endless vitality. She was a blur, like the swift glide of a hornet stinging victim after victim. Seven. Eight. Raw power filled inward. She would accomplish her goal this time. Then she would do more. Fifteen marks was her personal goal. She could do at least that much. Ten marks came first. She still had yet to reach ten.

Nine.

Her alignment with her deity wavered. An all-too-familiar fear bubbled up in its place, and despite her best efforts her concentration faltered for only a second.

A span of time just long enough for that malformed thing to bleed into her vision.

Her eyes widened, and she saw it. That gross, decaying body, like a corpse dissolving at the bottom of the river. A sickly green-black color of rotting skin, the deformed jaw revealing decaying gums, devoid of any teeth. Its sunken features were forever curled into a smile, ghastly and malicious, a wide taunting grin that possessed Aiya’s dreams as a child. Why she couldn’t force it away like her brothers, Aiya didn’t know. She only knew that it was here in front of her, arms spread out to catch her mid-flight, bobbing as if submerged under water. Her periphery sank into blackness, leaving the bloating corpse to consume her vision. A wisp of breath barely escaped her lips as her stomach went plummeting down her abdomen. It was here, really here in front of her, because she could smell its putrid odor, hear its ragged breaths, feel the tendrils of cold seeping from the tears in its skin. Blood froze and left her body rigid.

It’s not real!

The thing never lost its effect on her. Lucidity came slowly gnawing at the fear that had briefly frozen her in place. She had failed to overcome this terror countless times. She wouldn’t let it continue to paralyze her. Clearing her mind, Aiya squeezed her eyes shut. It’s just an image, Aiya, conjured by your brain which can’t possibly comprehend the power of the river! She opened them again. She would not look at the thing itself, much less its eyes. Much less those fattened sockets of pure hatred.

She focused on the dark nothingness at the corners, bringing her thoughts back to the river. The river was all that mattered, all that existed, and in it her fears did not. In it was complete power, peace and tranquility.

Slowly, the blackness began to fade.

It was already too late.

As the figure vanished, a totem pole materialized in its place and caught her forehead. Hard. Her head smacked off of it and her body tumbled to the ground. She sat up feeling her forehead, groaning in pain. It had already started to swell. She knew she was being pathetic. All that determination had only led to another failure.

Koji appeared at her side. “It happened again?”

Aiya said coldly, “What do you think? We’ve been at this for an hour! I’ve been at this for years! I still can’t get myself under control.”

“You’re near a breakthrough, I can feel it. You’re bound to figure it out eventually.”

She scoffed. “Empress’ soul. For all the admiration Shozhu gives you, you sure are naive. I’m just not as good as you.”

“Wrong. You’re surprisingly good for the short amount of time you have access to the river. You just need to extend your alignment longer.”

“Well, shit, Koji, thanks for telling me something I didn’t know.”

She regretted the harshness of her tone, set on by her rumbling frustration that couldn't be stopped. No, it wasn’t frustration, but anger. Anger stewed from long years of disappointment. Koji insisted they test themselves as much as possible in the last hour before they slipped through the Hebi Lord’s defenses and massacred the traitorous clan. While the more casual use of her power was simple, he knew she’d always had trouble exerting herself for more than thirty seconds.

“You need to remain calm, Aiya. Getting worked up only-”

“Hinders my growth, I know Koji. Did you notice that repeatedly following your advice has gotten me nowhere?”

“It works when you take it as a whole and not in pieces,” he said, irritation creeping into his voice. “You get angry every time you slip. Frustration like that interferes with your progress.”

“Why don’t you just admit that I’m not where I need to be, that I’m disappointing? Father does, Shozhu too. I could handle it coming from you.”

“They don’t know what they’re talking about.” The words came out sharp, cutting away the next retort forming in Aiya’s mind. He exhaled with closed eyes, letting his shoulders relax and taking a moment to gather himself before giving her a sincere look. “Don’t talk like that. You know I don’t see you like the others do. I…You and me, Aiya, we’re really family. I won’t pull statements like that out of my ass for you if I don’t mean them. You’re…I’m sorry for making us come out here tonight. I thought it might make a difference, but…damn, it seems our time is up.”

It wasn’t just the two of them anymore. She spun to face an approaching Takasa Shozhu, his oversized noble robes trailing down the stone steps leading into the training circle. He was a heavy, pudgy man. He appeared strong, assured, possessing an upright posture and sagely beard combed to his chest. There was, however, a slight limp to his step, some injury sustained in battle, or perhaps caused by long years of the deity’s weakening effect on the body.

“I trust the two of you to be ready?” came his gruff voice, almost a growl. Everything from the man’s mouth sounded growling and hostile to Aiya.

“Master Shozhu!”

They hurried to bow to their uncle.

“We are clear and confident about tonight’s task, I hope.”

“Of course, master,” said Aiya. Their time was up. Their mission tonight was simple but twofold: confront a noble traitor and kill him, as well as any hindrances, and to burn down the estate after the fact.

“Remember,” Shozhu demanded, face serious, “You are to simply go in, massacre, set the entire place ablaze, and get out. Leave no one alive and nothing unburned. Return as soon as possible, and be sure to bring the weasel’s head back with you.”

It was a nasty duty, a silencing duty. It was, however, necessary.

An avowed duty of the Ginju; unsuspected nobles by day, powerful, supernatural forces like Wailstorms by night. Sweeping and indiscriminating, creeping through households and over borders, descendants of their High Clan whose abilities few had ever witnessed. Few ever knew them personally, but all Erru knew of them. They knew the stories of well-guarded lords of the past, considered invulnerable one night and unrecognizable or headless the next, done in by what could only be Ginju, never heard, and seen only by their acts. They were imagined as beastly, as Erru exaggerated to monstrous effect.

“Understood,” the two Ginju replied in unison.

Tonight, the rumors would prove true. There would be a monstrous display of might, and, come morning, they’d have another dead lord for the history books.