Teal hair, soft nose, tiger eyes. Her hair was shorter now. The measurements, angles, and shapes of her face all fit together just as Ysan’s did, but were slightly off—different—her long earlobes didn’t seem as long anymore, yet it was her. It was really her. Or maybe she had an older sister Hazahnahkah never knew of? A distant relative? No, it had to be her. She had a ferrymaiden’s water gourd strapped to her side, her little makeup baggie, and her arm—It was as Hazahnahkah last saw it, severed right where September 6th last sliced. The aging couldn’t have been natural. If it wasn’t for her face, Hazahnahkah may not have recognized her.

  It just didn’t seem probable for even a prodigious human to excel so greatly on her own. Her qualities had increased ridiculously since they’d last seen each other:

  Health (source of vitality and abilities): 18,700

  Energy (source of stamina and abilities): 37,200

  Agility (speed of actions): 11,000

  Regeneration (rate of recovery per hour for Health and Energy): 90

  Tenacity (resistance to unwanted effects): 2100

  Strength (physical or mental reality manipulation potency): 550

  [Ysan’s Abilities]

  Unobservable.

  Well, that was strange. Had Ysan learned to cloak her abilities as well? Hazahnahkah was more impressed than anything else. Excited even.

  There were so many questions the sword had to ask, but no means to write them. Nobody was going to pay any attention to what Hazahnahkah had to say, even Hwayoung. They were speeding away through the opium dens while Ysan, Zalaster, and Freyja led ahead. The sword quickly realized why the structure of the dens was so reminiscent of the caverns of Serpent’s Tail. They were. Yurreth’s servants must have actually somehow managed to carve out entire landscapes and haul them airborne to the city. They went on for miles and miles, and when they finally opened up they were closer than ever to the monolith which marked this location as the dreams that Knife had given them.

  Shortly, Ysan walked off towards the enclave, where the chasm’s runoff met the jungle’s overgrowth, and blew into a whistle.

  The naked man’s form soon arose from the dark side of the forest, slow, obvious, and gentle, like a lost buck. Hazahnahkah couldn’t believe it. That he was still out and about, replicating the havoc he had caused all those years ago. Then again, it was hard for Hazahnahkah to believe any of this: The Fawn City Patriarch, Ysan, Bankanzaku. His fragmented pasts were coming together all at once, and it was all because of Knife.

  Bankanzaku bowed. “Beautiful. Like water in a drought.”

  “You came,” Ysan said.

  “You called.”

  “... Thank you.”

  Hazahnahkah was worried, but could not grasp what Knife was planning. She led Ysan here as she had Nazaki’s men. Where Nazaki and Knife were, was another matter.

  But their pursuit was smooth. Bankanzaku carried on, clueless to them. Moss sank their feet and swallowed their footwork. Bird calls pulsed throughout the trees and washed away anything else. Nor did Hazahnahkah worry for Ysan’s safety. Bankanzaku was now in all ways opposite to the man he was before: kind, thoughtful, and selfless in his sacrifice. He carried all of Ysan’s things, checked for unstable ground by himself, and when animals attacked, he used his own flesh for the shield he lacked. Mayhaps the man had changed, but change had come too far too late. Hazahnahkah still felt he must make right the mistakes the man had made.

  But Hazahnahkah didn’t want to make more mistakes trying to rectify another. There was no water, no blood, no ink for his thoughts, and with desperate speed he etched words into the tree which hid Hwayoung, Maria, and Lazul. Hazahnahkah did not like doing this, but he had no choice but to use another living creature as his paper.

  “I am sorry tree, if you can hear me.” Hazahnahkah listened, and heard nothing, and with a quick bout of thanks, he finished his work upon its body.

  TAKE YSAN WHEN BANKANZAKU NEXT SLEEPS.

  Hwayoung cocked her head. She seemed especially distressed given that she knew Hazahnahkah would only use trees to write in an emergency. “Why?”

  KNIFE BROUGHT HER HERE FOR A REASON.

  “You think she wants to kill her to get back at you?”

  CLEAR AS DAY.

  “But wouldn’t she want to kill me instead, given that I surrendered her? Why bring those with dreams all this way? Would it not matter if Ysan was brought to Osayn and killed there?”

  MANY THINGS HAVE REASONS AND THEY CAN ALL DISAGREE.

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  “But you’ve beaten Bankanzaku before.”

  BUT HE ESCAPED. I FAILED TO PROTECT YSAN AND UL. I WOULD RATHER KEEP THEM SAFE THAN EXACT JUSTICE ON THEIR BEHALF.

  “Nazaki is hunting Bankanzaku, the sooner we get Bankanzaku, the safer Nazaki is. Don’t make this all about yourself. I have people I care about too. Ysan chose this.”

  AND SO DID NAZAKI.

  “But we’re watching over Ysan now.”

  BUT YSAN IS THE ONE IN HARM’S WAY.

  “And Nazaki is too! We don’t even know if he’s nearby!”

  YOU THINK HE WILL RETURN HOME WITH YOU IF YOU CLAIM FAVOR WITH THE ORPHANSPAWN?

  “Why wouldn’t he?”

  I THINK HE WILL FIND ANOTHER REASON TO STAY, AND IF NOT THEN KNIFE WILL GIVE HIM ONE.

  Hwayoung snapped at this. Her heartbeat spiked. She did not like this truth, and her instinctive lashing proved it. “You’ve never spoken with him, and how long did it take for you to realize your sister?”

  That wounded the sword. Hazahnahkah wasn’t sure if Hwayoung did this on purpose to quiet him. He wasn’t sure if she was right. Regardless, it was surprisingly cruel. Traveling back to Hwayoung, the girl was cruel, and the sword now liked her less for it. When Hwayoung brushed by the tree and to the next, she didn’t bother looking at the bark—not that Hazahnahkah was going to bother writing in it anyway. He had scarred that tree for nothing, gave it pain for nothing.

  “I am sorry tree,” Hazahnahkah wept, wishing now that trees could speak to blades. “Nobody listens to me either.”

  Knife had plans for Ysan. That much was true. The woman was in danger, and Hwayoung didn’t care. Hazahnahkah wasn’t entirely sure he could protect Ysan if his Terrors behaved as they had during the Seasonal, and there was no telling if Knife was somehow behind that too.

  Knife had a Ramble.

  Hazahnahkah had no idea what that Ramble was, or how many she had. If he had three, how many did his sister have? He was scared. He was terrified. He needed to act fast. Knife sat in the dark and did nothing when people died, Hazahnahkah wasn’t going to do the same.

  Night came, and Clest shrank in place of the moon as all the stars around them fell to only the darkest of dusk colors. Galfarys signaled to the group this was their chance to rest as well, for he could keep track of where everyone and everything was within the safety field range of his Ramble. This was perfect, because Galfarys was the one person Hazahnahkah trusted most. After all, he carried Lahahm, and it was thanks to Lahahm that he knew anything about Knife’s machinations at all. The spear was still sleeping, and it was time for him to wake. Hazahnahkah felt a bit guilty doing this, but lives were at stake. He activated his Third Terror and cut out a chunk from the spear’s blade, he awoke with a snap and a howl. Galfarys was the only one who leapt up with surprise. He bent over and picked up the piece of his weapon, scratching his head and scanning around for what could have possibly done this.

  “I’m sorry Lahahm, but I need your help.”

  “WHO GOES THERE. YOU DARE ATTACK ME AT REST. I’LL HAVE YOUR EYES.”

  “I don’t have eyes. I can repair you later. It’s me, Hazahnahkah.”

  “Oh my goodness! Oh my goodness! Hazahnahkah! Don’t repair me! I’ll treasure this mark forever! This is the best night of my life!”

  Hazahnahkah had briefly forgotten that Lahahm was his biggest fan, which perhaps did not mean much considering the spear was the only fan he had. The sword didn’t really like the idea of being worshipped on the basis of what others whispered about him, though. “A lot has happened while you were sleeping. We have time until sunrise, but let’s start off with the discovery that Knife is very likely my sister.”

  They spoke till the precipice of clouds turned red. The underside of Clest too, turned to the color of passion, and Lahahm had listened eagerly to everything Hazahnahkah had to say. He didn’t interrupt even once, and when Hazahnahkah told him of his plan to defeat Knife, the spear excitedly, but worriedly, agreed.

  “But there is something I must tell you,” Lahahm vibrated with fear and awe. “The knife has a plan, and it is not what you think.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She doesn’t want to kill Hwayoung or Ysan.”

  “What?”

  “She wants to kill—”

  SCRAAAPE! SCRAPE! SCRAPE! SCRAPE! SCRAAAPE!

  It was a whetstone. Galfarys had prepared to sharpen Lahahm and had plopped down by a creek during their conversation. He dragged the whetstone down the spear's edge with quaking force—SCRAAAPE—letting the grating shriek carry through the trees. Again—SCRAPE—louder this time, stone biting steel with violent friction.

  “Just our luck! And this man decides now of all times to sharpen anything in his life!” Hazahnahkah screamed. “Lahahm, can you hear me!? Lahahm!”

  SCRAPE. SCRAPE. SCRAPE. Any vibrations that came from the spear were distorted beyond belief, like whispers beneath a rusting train.

  Hazahnahkah cursed. Galfarys must have gone mad! Bankanzaku would hear them and attack! But the man did not! He was gone, and now so was Ysan. Hwayoung had sprung awake, glaring at Galfarys.

  “It’s begun,” Galfarys said. “They’re moving.”

  “Why didn’t you wake me?!”

  “I just did.”

  Hwayoung’s mouth hung open, and she sprinted ahead to let Galfarys focus on his Ramble. There was a clearing ahead, and a shadow of the monolith shown in the dreams Knife had given her dreamers now darkened them. Bankanzaku had stopped suddenly, and everyone had stopped, watching him.

  “I know you’re there,” he said.

  At this Ysan leapt back. Bankanzaku’s arms unfurled into massive sprawling clawed wings. One pinned Ysan to the ground, another went right for Hwayoung. However, neither of them were impaled by the talons. Everyone drew their weapons, but they did not attack Bankanzaku. The naked man grinned.

  “Hazahnahkah, we meet again.”

  At this, Lazul took cover with a warcry roar.

  “Hwayoung—it’s a trap!”