Tepin Silverfall was quite good at waiting. She’d had ample practice, after all. First, it had been waiting for all her plans to come to fruition. Then, it had been waiting for the Chos to cave to their demands. Then, it had been just waiting for her end in an empty cell. At this point, she was more than good; she was a pro at letting the hours and days waste away without losing her sanity.

  This time felt different. This time, with each passing moment, the urge to claw out her eyes grew. After several days of this, she felt like she was going to break apart from the stress.

  She thought she knew why. It all came down to control. While she’d been leading the Hidden Fang, every decision had been an inflection point. Every action had brought about a consequence. But, as a major player at the time, she’d had the ability to at least influence the outcomes she desired. That semblance of power had been her ticket to sanity. Whenever she’d felt like she was about to drown in stress, she could always just put in more work. That, by and large, had been enough.

  Strangely, when she’d been locked away, the opposite had somehow been just as effective. With her fate—a grisly and public death—already predetermined and lacking any power whatsoever to change that, she had found it surprisingly easy to just let it all go. Why stress about what you could not change? What was the use of getting worked up over the future when there was only one way said future could lead? She’d found it easier to simply accept what was coming and resign herself to it.

  Now, however, she found herself intensely invested in an outcome that would have overwhelmingly consequential repercussions for not only her but also her fellow Shells, Stragman society, and the very nation itself, and she was utterly powerless to do anything about it but wait. Nothing to do but sit and hope and trust in that foolish man and his associates to defeat the strongest Stragman in recorded history in a race to accomplish something that the Chos already managed to do not once, but twice all by herself. Nothing to do but lay on the hard floor, wondering how, with no prior experience, he was supposed to climb the tallest thing in the world, all while being led by somebody who couldn’t even handle being fifty paces off the ground without falling to pieces.

  Sadly, knowing the source of the problem did not seem to make it go away. Judging by the small clumps of hair she’d accidentally pulled out the night before, to say that Tepin was handling this poorly was like calling the Mother Tree a decent night light.

  She should never have agreed to the Challenge. What had she been thinking? All of this was—

  No! Such thoughts were poisonous. Poisonous and wrong. It would do her no good to despair now. And, it wasn’t like they’d had a better option at the time, anyway. If all this accomplished was delaying the inevitable, at least it had bought them a few more days. And, maybe, somehow, Gabriela might be able to take Rudra against his stupid, stubborn will and escape. Then, at least, something good would come of this.

  Or, maybe, through some impossible luck, they’d win. The odds, in her estimation, were astronomically low, but they were not zero. That man seemed to overturn her expectations with annoying frequency.

  But, whatever the outcome, Tepin could do nothing but wait, and by the glow of Ruresni herself, she hated it. With a small sigh, she returned to doing what she’d been doing for hours: looking out through the bars at the same view as the last few days, watching the Stragman elite while away the days.

  Sometimes, when a particularly wealthy and influential clan wanted to show off, they would hold a gala and invite the other wealthy and influential clans, many of which disliked each other. The result would be a large gathering of people purportedly having a great time, but with an undercurrent of tension, as if the fun could transform into a brawl from one poorly-worded joke or not-so-accidental slight.

  This was the same dynamic that Tepin had witnessed among the gathered Honos these last few days. Stuck here with little to do but camp and fend off the occasional giant beast, their party was entering yet another day. But, if she paid attention, it was not hard to see the fault lines drawn between the various camps.

  Some people were harsh traditionalists and wanted the Chos to remain in power, as that would ensure that the old ways would continue. Others cared less about tradition than they cared about keeping the current societal power structure intact, letting them rule over and exploit those beneath them. Others took a neutral stance. And then there were those precious few who seemed to want more rights and freedoms for the Shells. Tepin made sure to find and remember every one of them that she could.

  The exact compositions of each group were still incomplete, but she narrowed them down more and more each day. Some of it she would glean from interactions between people whose stances she knew and those she did not, noting how they treated each other—though she had to be careful; these people had plenty of reasons to hate each other beyond this particular subject.

  Others conveniently made their positions known more directly by simply stating them aloud where she could hear them. It was shocking the things drunk people would admit to when they thought nobody was listening, and in their eyes, nobody was. Even though she’d wielded more actual administrative power than twenty of them put together, she was a Shell and an imprisoned one at that. That meant she was, by and large, invisible. Inconsequential. Insignificant.

  The thought brought back the fire of old, that drive that had helped push her to do what she’d spent so many years doing. She’d used that invisibility then to avoid suspicion. Now, she used it to spy. Well... when people worth listening to were nearby, at least. Her neighbors at the moment were far too busy arguing about which types of wine were the best to give her anything to work with.

  The last way she learned who stood where was the easiest: they would show her directly. Being a bird trapped in a cage surrounded by dozens of people bored out of their skulls meant some of them had nothing better to do than harass her for their own amusement. Those people went on a very different, very special list.

  Her ears caught a sound nearby and swiveled to point in its direction, boosting her hearing. Yes, those were footsteps approaching her cell. One person. Male. No longer young by the sounds of his breathing, but still fit—though Honos had to be fit, so that didn’t tell her much.

  The fact that this person was alone, on the other hand, told her much. If this person just wanted to leave the party and be alone, there were plenty of equally quiet and solitary locations around. Choosing to come here, of all places, only meant one thing.

  Somebody wanted to chat.

  But, who? Tepin cut off her speculation at the start. There was no need to wonder when the answer would present itself shortly. Even still, she found herself surprised at the person who stepped into her view a moment later.

  “To think the Master of Ceremonies himself would deign to pay me a visit,” she commented.

  “The time seemed right, and the circumstances allowed it,” replied General Fernfeather-hono.

  “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

  The second-most powerful Hono in Stragma stared back at her through the wooden bars, his face neutral. “I figured it was time we discussed the future and your plans, Silverfall. Should events conclude as we hope, we will have a great opportunity before us. I would rather that we do not squander it.”

  “I’m sorry... we? I do not recall anything that would have created allegiance between you and us.”

  “Ah, but that is where you are wrong. This entire escapade only happened because of me. Or did you think that the traditions of our great society would truly allow a farce like this to proceed as it has, or even occur at all?”

  Tepin paused, calculations running in her mind. The man before her was more than just a powerful fighter and a good politician. He was also widely respected as the most knowledgeable Hono alive on the subject of Stragman traditions and how they affected modern Stragman law and procedure. This was the reason that he was the one leading the ceremonies and rendering judgments on what was permissible.

  In a way, this gave him a large amount of control over the current events. After all, if the Challenge had to proceed according to tradition, and he was the authority and arbiter of what those traditions were and meant, then he could influence the outcomes just through what he allowed and did not allow.

  Thinking back, Tepin realized that, from the moment that he’d insisted that Gabriela’s issuing of the Challenge was legitimate, nearly every ‘ruling’ of his had gone in her group’s favor. She should have picked up on it earlier, but there’d been so much else to worry about that it had slipped past her notice. And, judging by his remark, he’d pulled some serious shit to get things as they were.

  “I never thought somebody like you would be so willing to break with tradition.”

  The man shook his head. “I may be the preeminent authority in these matters, but that does not mean that nobody else here has some knowledge of the subject. I would not get away with something so brazen as breaking tradition to get what I desire. Bending, on the other hand, is a different matter.”

  “I wouldn’t know either way,” she told him. It was the truth. She’d never had the time nor inclination to study such an archaic, niche subject when so much else had been more important.

  “Without my intervention, this would have ended at least three different times before it could have even gotten off the ground,” he claimed. “Your champion’s team, for example. While the challenger may be from elsewhere, those that accompany her must be Stragman—or, more accurately, they must ‘come from the forest’. This is, I believe, to ensure that the challenger has at least some support within Stragma. Otherwise, they could conduct what would amount to a four-man invasion and take control of the entire country.

  “It took considerable effort for me to convince the others that both Rudra and the girl ‘come from the forest’. Had the child not clearly been of Stragman ancestry, I don’t think even I would have managed it. Your Challenge would have come to an end before it could even begin.”

  “And, what, am I supposed to thank you? You just want your biggest obstacle to power out of the way.”

  The man sighed.

  “Must you ascribe my every action to political motivations? Can I not strive towards an ideal as much as any other fellow?”

  “The only people who strive towards ideals are fools and those who have lost so much or possess so little that ideals are all they have left. Last I checked, you are neither.”

  He chuckled. “I suppose I cannot deny that assessment.”

  “Then, why?”

  “If you must know, one of my children is a Shell—my second daughter. She was born weaker than others, and her body has never been able to grow healthy enough to pass the test to become a Fleg.”

  “Is that so? Strange, that I have never heard of her, and I made it a business to know of all Shells with connections to high places.”

  “It is a closely guarded clan secret. I am taking a big risk revealing it to you.”

  “And I am flattered that you would deem me trustworthy enough to hear it. But I must ask, what have you done to keep the existence of this child of yours from becoming known? Lock her away so that nobody outside your family could ever learn of her?”

  From the way Fernfeather’s gaze hardened, it looked like she’d hit the mark.

  “Don’t talk about what you don’t understand. I am merely doing what I have to to protect my daughter.”

  “Protect her? Sounds to me like you are more concerned with protecting your clan’s reputation. You would rather she forever be a bird in a gilded cage than live her own life?”

  “What choice do I have? I should not have to explain to somebody so versed in politics what terrible things the other clans would do to her just to bring me down even the slightest bit.” He shook his head. “What am I even doing? I don’t have to justify myself to you.”

  “That is a very good question, Fernfeather-hono. What are you even doing? I ask you again, why are you even here?”

  “I had thought that, should the unlikely come to pass, it would be best for us to work together. We share the same goals, and I could use your expertise. I see now that I was sorely mistaken, as it seems you would rather cling to your bitterness than make sensible decisions.”

  Tepin studied the egotistical man for a moment. Back when she’d been the Chos’s assistant, they’d been around each other frequently. She’d never had a reason to dislike him back then, outside of the dislike that came with his societal station. He’d treated her no worse than the other Honos, and better than many. But they’d always been associates at best—two coworkers interacting thanks only to proximity and overlapping responsibilities.

  The person standing on the other side of these wooden bars, on the other hand, irked her greatly. In a sense, he currently embodied all the traits of Honos that pissed her off. The self-assured swagger, the assumption of importance, the inability or unwillingness to view things in any way other than by looking down. The unspoken belief that everything would work out exactly as they wanted it to. It had already caused her to get snippy at him. Now, she decided that it would be best if she simply laid out her true thoughts for them both to see. Only then could she move forward.

  “Fernfeather-hono, I will be blunt. When I look at you now, do you know what I see? I see a man who claims to want to help my people but sat on his hands for decades and did nothing. I see a man who refused to make a move until the most perfect, most unlikely situation came to pass—an easy opportunity that wouldn’t even lead to repercussions against him should things not work out as desired. I see a man who claims to want to help the downtrodden but places their lives below his comfort and convenience. I see a coward.”

  “You dare—”

  “Now, you claim that you have been instrumental in bringing us to this bizarre present,” she continued, pushing through the Hono’s anger, “and I see no reason not to believe you. So, I sincerely thank you for your recent assistance. But you must understand that I view this on a far broader scale.

  “I began my efforts more than twenty years ago. I sacrificed much of what I had, including my already tenuous health, to push this world even a single step closer to the world I wanted it to be. And not just me. My comrades, and so many other Shells for that matter, put in the work year after year. They gave up so much, up to and including their lives, in the hopes of a better world for themselves and their families.

  “What have you given up? You, who had a million times the resources I ever had? Who had a million times the influence I could ever dream of? From everything I know and all that you have told me, you haven’t given up a damned thing. You did not hurt, you did not bleed. You did not put yourself at risk in any way. You sat back and waited until it was convenient. And now you come to me and assume we should be partners? That’s not how this works.”

  “I—”

  “Cooperation in an endeavor like mine requires trust, Fernfeather-hono—trust built on action, not words. If you truly desire to work with me, I will not say it is impossible. I am not foolish enough to throw away the advantages you might provide. But, a partnership requires mutual respect, and my respect cannot be bought. You will have to earn it.”

  A tense silence formed between them, growing longer and longer as the moments wore on. Fernfeather’s stare looked like it could bore holes into her skull. But then, to his credit, the man surprised her. He laughed.

  “You haven’t changed a bit. War room or cell, Tepin Silverfall will always be Tepin Silverfall, I see.”

  She returned his mirth with a smirk. “I can only be myself. To do anything less would be to dishonor all that I am.”

  “A true Stragman after all. Very well. Your point has been made. That being said, a... provisional cooperation would be wise, I would think. If, somehow, the outsider returns victorious, the chance for effective action might be shorter than you think.”

  “I suppose you are correct in that assessment. Very well, for the exceedingly short-term, let us discuss—”

  A shout from off in the distance cut her off mid-sentence. Fernfeather spun around, looking for the cause of the sudden commotion. Tepin did as well, though she could not see too many people from her limited view. The ones she did see, however, were all craning their necks upward.

  The Hono sighed, joining the others in searching the sky. “It seems this discussion is moot.”

  “Palebane-chos has returned?”

  “Not yet, but it seems somebody with better eyes than I spotted her. Ah, there they are. Perhaps a league left to descend. They’ll reach us within an hour, I’d wager.”

  “No sign of the others?”

  “None. Now, I must be going before our brief association becomes known. With the mood she’s bound to be in, I need to be...”

  His gaze still skyward, he trailed off, a perplexed expression forming on his face. It took Tepin a moment to realize that he was no longer looking towards Ruresni’s trunk, but rather straight above them. His eyes grew wider with every passing second, and he took one step back, then another.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “It’s—”

  “—aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA—”

  WHAM!

  The cell shook like it had been hit by a boulder. For a long moment, Tepin became so disoriented that she had absolutely no idea what was going on. Everything spun around her and she would have surely fallen over had she not already been seated. Pain shot through both her ears, bringing the world to an unnerving silence; all she could hear was a high-pitched whine inside her head.

  Clutching the bars, she willed her mind to focus through the pain, look outside, and figure out what the fuck just happened. When she succeeded a few moments later, what she found made her wonder if she was perhaps hallucinating.

  The ythera, a rather uncommon plant found in northern Stragma on or close to the ground, was largely known for its unique method of seed dispersal. When the time came in their life cycle to release its pollinated seeds, the ythera would constrict its petals, bunch up, and, with a spurt of air, spew out a cloud of seeds that would float through the air, spreading far and wide. This behavior had earned it the colloquial name ‘the sneezing flower’.

  Ythera seeds were colored a rather pretty sunset orange, with puffy, almost fur-like hairs lining the husks of the tiny seeds, helping them catch whatever air currents could be found near the forest floor. Harmless to animals, the seed clouds were normally nothing more than an occasional momentary novelty for those nearby.

  There was one place northwest of Kukego, however, where that changed. In that one particular area, for reasons unknown, a veritable legion of them grew, forming a sea of blooming flowers covering the forest floor. During certain times of year, so many ythera would ‘sneeze’ out their seeds that the air would be nearly choked with thousands and thousands of little dots that enveloped you like an orange fog. Tepin had been there once with the Chos, and she’d found it a novel experience and quite the pretty sight, though the pain of cleaning them off her clothes and getting them out of her hair afterward had soured her on it a tad.

  Now, looking through the bars, that memory was all she could compare this to. Countless little dots floated through the air like ythera seeds, filling her vision. But, instead of orange, these dots shined a calming blue that lit up the world from every direction with a ghostly glow. Swirling upon the currents, the motes created a mesmerizing light show that left her stunned and in awe of its pale beauty.

  Reaching out with trembling hands, Tepin managed to snag several of the dots as they floated around her cell. Focusing her vision on the small things in her hands doubled her headache’s intensity, but she managed to study her catch long enough to realize what she was looking at.

  These were flower petals, or small, crushed fragments of them to be precise. Even with her temporarily reduced mental capacity, it didn’t take long for her to put together just how close the glow of the petals was to the glow of the Mother Tree. Looking out again, she gazed at the sight with new eyes. The motes danced through the air like a million playful fairies, casting the world in ever-shifting divine luminescence.

  The others, such as Fernfeather, stared at the world around them with a reverence equal to Tepin’s own. For one long, wondrous moment, there were no factions, no quarrels, no castes. They were all simply Stragmans bathing together in Ruresni’s grace.

  That is, until, with a low groan, something fell from atop Tepin’s cell, landing with a limp thud like a sack of grain. Snapped out of her reverie, Tepin stared at the unmoving form an arm’s reach away from her. It was a person, she soon realized—face down, covered in tattered, blood-covered fabric. A sack was strapped to their back, numerous gashes in it giving Tepin a peek at what little of its glowing blue contents remained inside it.

  “Ooooouuuurrrrrgggghhhh,” the figure groaned. “She is soooo getting the sandal for this...”

  They... had won.

  “The rest of her team isn’t even here!” the Palebane-aligned Hono shouted. “There is no way that it counts! It’s inconceivable!”

  “It is entirely conceivable,” asserted Fernfeather, putting on the act of the annoyed official having to explain the rules for the tenth time. Tepin knew differently, of course. The joy of coming out on top against ridiculous odds aside, the man was secretly delighting in his role as chief arbiter of the Challenge and its rules.

  She could tell that, behind his aggravated facade, the man was loving every opportunity he got to not only tell his rivals how wrong they were but also to rub their loss in their faces. She was enjoying the show as well, as her ears had finally stopped ringing half an hour ago.

  “As I have said half a dozen times already, the only stipulation is that the leader who returns with the prize first is the victor. The status of the rest of their party is irrelevant. Besides, a good leader understands that all decisions come with a cost and is willing to pay with blood if necessary.”

  “They’re not dead,” muttered Gabriela—or was it Carreno-chos, now? Either way, for being the winner of this contest of massive ramifications, few if anyone seemed to even notice her or pay mind to her words; they were too busy arguing amongst themselves.

  “What about that prize, then? How can you call what she brought back legitimate? You can’t even tell if it’s the proper thing with how it all got smashed to tiny bits!”

  “Several survived intact within her sack, and they match what Palebane returned with. There is no doubt as to the outcome. Carreno-chos climbed the Mother Tree, harvested the petals, and returned before Palebane did. No amount of hollering will change these facts.”

  They had won.

  Akhustal Palebane and her fully intact team had alighted on the forest floor about an hour ago, filled with triumph. Said triumph had turned quickly to outrage upon learning that their challenger had beaten them back, but against Tepin’s earlier expectations, no blood had been shed. Instead, the outsider had silently stared down the visibly seething former leader and, against everything Tepin knew of Akhustal’s character, she’d backed down without a fight and left to her tent.

  Something had happened up there, something between the two of them. Tepin was sure of it. Thanks to years spent in close proximity to the overgrown bruiser, Tepin had known the moment she’d sighted her former boss that something was off. Palebane never went anywhere without her club nearby. She ate with it, slept with it, and even took it with her when she needed to take a shit. Seeing her without it now, it almost felt like she was naked.

  Tepin couldn’t imagine that woman losing her most precious item. Therefore, the only explanation that made any sense to her was that Palebane had lost a fight with Carreno-chos and lost her weapon in the process. The way she’d corralled her anger in a situation where she’d normally let loose only lent more support to Tepin’s conclusion.

  With the contestant herself retreating, that left only her supporters to argue her case, and they were not having a good time. Given the facts, their arguments relied more on their concept of the spirit of the rules rather than the actual text. Fernfeather, however, was running circles around them.

  “There is no room for interpretation here,” he was currently saying, the argument having only gotten messier, with two more people joining in while Tepin had been lost in her thoughts. “Among not just those assembled here but across the entire country, I am the unmatched expert in these matters. However, if you truly cannot accept my judgment alone, there are several others around who are learned enough to corroborate my rulings—at least in objections as rudimentary as yours. I welcome you to go bother them instead of me, but you will only hear the same truth I have explained to you from a different mouth.”

  They had no legs to stand on. This whole fiasco was as good as over, and they had won.

  They had won!

  She still couldn’t fully wrap her mind around it. She’d so resigned herself to a reality where the opposite was true that she still didn’t know how to handle things. Now, she alternated between waves of pure, heady giddiness while reveling in the sheer unlikelihood of this particular outcome and gut-wrenching anxiety when she thought about all the uncertainty that was to come.

  So much more work was now laid forth before her. So many important decisions to consider, political alliances to form... Whatever else might come, the ousting of Palebane alone would send shockwaves through all of Stragman civilization. To say she foresaw a truly daunting future was putting it lightly. But, Tepin wouldn’t have it any other way.

  Seemingly fed up with the endless bickering, Gabriela turned away from the others and approached Tepin’s cage. She had yet to change out of her torn clothing or wash herself, making her look like some street urchin that had climbed out of a well rather than the head of a nation.

  The current lighting didn’t help either. Though the petal fragments had long since settled upon the ground, they continued to shine as brightly as before. This meant that everything was illuminated not just by the tree above but also by a pale blue glow from below, giving the area and everybody in it an otherworldly aura. The effect was particularly stark with Carreno-chos, who appeared almost more apparition than human.

  “From the bottom of my heart, you honor me with your presence, my Chos,” Tepin said with a bow.

  “Stop it,” Gabriela grumbled. “I get enough of that from the others, not that it seems to be doing me any good. You’d think being the leader of a country would mean that people would listen to you.”

  “I’m sure that will come in time. Many are simply too stunned right now and have yet to accept what happened. Also, if I may, you are a slight bit less intimidating than our previous leader.”

  That brought a small laugh from the exhausted woman.

  “What of the others?” Tepin asked, unable to hold the question back any longer.

  “I don’t know,” Gabby admitted. “They were alright last I saw them, but they still have a long way to go and I’m not there to protect them anymore. If I still had the remote control to summon our zeppelin I could just use that to pick them up, but I can’t find it in the remains of my pack.”

  “Well, at least you left your sword with them. Even Rudra would be able to fend off most threats with a weapon of that caliber.”

  The other woman stared at her sheepishly. “Ummm...”

  “You did leave it with them, yes? That’s why you don’t have it on you?”

  “I, uhhh, lost it.”

  “You lost—? How do you lose something so precious?!”

  “Look... a lot happened up there! There were bees, and fire, and hallucinogenics, and...” The Chos shook her head. “Anyway, did you by any chance see a giant burning beehive come crashing down anywhere?”

  “Oh, is that what that was?”

  “You did?”

  This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

  “It’s hard not to notice a giant ball of fire in the night sky. I’m sure everybody here saw it. The only question is if they were sober enough to remember it later.” Tepin pointed through the bars. “It came down in that general direction, northeast of here. I didn’t get the best view of it, myself. You might want to ask somebody else. They might have sent out a scouting party to check it out.”

  Gabriela let out a sigh of relief. “Thanks... Speaking of which, I need to get you out of there, but I don’t know who has the keys. Who should I be talking to?”

  “I do not know who possesses them now,” Tepin admitted. “However, as much as I loath this wooden prison, I would prefer to stay here for the moment. Tempers are still high, and this cell is adequate protection against anybody who might decide to vent their anger over the contest upon ‘the uppity Shell who acts above her station’.”

  The Chos’s expression darkened. “Who said that?”

  “That is unimportant, as many who did not say it surely thought it. I am merely erring on the side of caution for now.”

  “If that’s what you want.”

  “A temporary measure, I assure you. It should be safe for me to step outside by the time the ceremony starts, so don’t worry too much. You look like you’ve been through enough on your own.”

  “Ah... don’t mind me.”

  “I’ve spent decades of my life serving as the Chos’s assistant, and the Chos is now you. Minding your health is part of the role, and you do not appear well.”

  “Ah, it’s just that I’m still getting over the whole... you know.” She pantomimed an object falling with one hand and then splatting against the flat surface of her other hand.

  “With the way that happened and how you refer to it, I assume your trip back down was not intentional? Did you fall off by accident?”

  “No, it was what we like to call a ‘Pari Special’. You know how I am with heights. I think the one who raised her was very much a ‘whatever doesn’t kill you makes you stronger’ sort of person, and Pari just took that train of thought and ran with it.”

  “Thrown off the Mother Tree against your will? I guess that explains the sandal.”

  Gabriela grunted. “You heard that?”

  “Of course I did; you said it right in front of me. I must admit, it’s amusing to know that childhood discipline is the same even across worlds.”

  “You, too?”

  “Of course. My mother believed wholeheartedly in the sandal since there’s always one on hand. Perfect for a misbehaving child no matter where you are, be it at home, at the market, or atop the great boughs of Ruresni.”

  “Hahhh... I don’t know. That’s why I’m having second thoughts; Pari wasn’t misbehaving, she was simply... being Pari. She thought she was helping me with my fear of heights. It’s just that, in her very Pari way, she decided that the best way to help was to follow the saying ‘anything that doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger’.”

  Tepin scoffed in disbelief. “What sort of expression is that? That might be the stupidest thing I’ve heard in a long while. How would losing a finger or a limb make you stronger?”

  “I think it’s supposed to mean mentally strong,” Gabby clarified.

  “Maybe so, but even then, I would never interpret such a saying to mean ‘throw your companions off cliffs’.”

  “Nobody would except her. Pari had a very, uh... unique upbringing, raised in a very extreme situation by a guardian who was just as over-the-top. I think it left her all twisted up inside. I think it’s a minor miracle that she became a super sweet child instead of a mass murderer wiping whole cities off the map with giant clouds of poison gas.

  “Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if she’d met and bonded with somebody other than Sofie. I don’t know if you remember Sofie, but she’s probably the least ruthless person in Scyria—almost the polar opposite of Pari’s first guardian. I fear that she would have become a very different child. A far worse one.”

  “So after all that reasoning and jumping through mental hoops, in the end you’re just going to let her off the hook because she’s cute.”

  “I...” The new Chos, fearsome warrior about to lead millions, deflated like a balloon. “I just don’t know if I could bear to see her cry again. Of all the things I’ve seen since I came to this world, nothing has ever made me feel more powerless than that little girl’s tears.”

  “How soft.”

  “You only say that because you’ve never had kids. When you become a mother, you’ll understand.”

  “Then, I suppose we’ll just have to see, should one day I be so lucky.”

  “And besides, how mad can I get when we only won because of what she did? She saved us, even if only by accident. Because seeing how quickly the others made it down, I can say for sure we would have lost by a full day at least if we’d just kept climbing down.”

  “Well, in that case, I suppose we can only be grateful for her misguided but auspicious actions.”

  “As they say, ‘sometimes it’s better to be lucky than good’.”

  “At last, an expression I can wholeheartedly agree with.” Tepin shuffled her feet anxiously. “Speaking of gratitude, I want to be sure to convey to you while I have the chance just how deeply grateful I am for what you have done for me and all of my people. Words are nowhere near enough to fully embody my appreciation.”

  Gabriela looked away, uncomfortable. “I haven’t done anything yet. I didn’t even come here for anything except Rudra. This whole mess is mostly his doing.”

  “Even so, I want you to know that, should you need my help in any way, I will do all that I can to assist you.”

  “I think you’re doing more than enough as it is. You’re giving up your other half, aren’t you?”

  “It is vital that he goes with you, yes? Then, he must go.”

  “But, I haven’t even told you the reason yet.”

  “You can tell us later; the details are not significant right now. What matters is that your reason is so important that you willingly subjected yourself to days of mental torture on the off-chance that you would be able to take him with you. That alone speaks volumes.”

  “Still, even if that were the case, I don’t think I would be able to do it if I were in your position.”

  “It will not be easy, but I have ample experience in depriving myself of things I desire for the greater good,” Tepin said with a smirk. “Do not waste your time pitying me. I will survive. Besides, it will allow me to focus on other things which are also important. I am sure that just assisting whoever you put in charge of the Shell situation will take up more energy than I possess.”

  Her new leader looked at her quizzically. “But, I was going to put you in charge.”

  Tepin stiffened. “Me?”

  “Why not? You have more experience than anybody else I could choose. Rudra told me all about it. I can’t think of another option that gets even close to your resume.”

  Plans and contingencies flashed through Tepin’s mind. The transition from a society with a permanent underclass to one without was sure to be a rocky one. There would be an overwhelming amount of problems to address for years and years—so many that just thinking about them all tired her out.

  Still, the Chos’s words rang true. Who else would Tepin feel confident in with such a monumental task? The list of names was dreadfully short. The only people with the influence to make something work—Fernfeather and his ilk—were also the ones most likely to see it as an opportunity for self or clan enrichment. They would be useful in many ways, but she could not see things going smoothly with one of them in charge.

  It would have to be her after all.

  “Very well. I accept.”

  The other woman smiled, her slouch lessening as if a weight had been taken off her shoulders. “Thanks. I don’t know what I would have done if you’d said no. You’re the only one I can trust.”

  “I just told you I would do anything you asked of me, did I not? How could I say no?”

  “Great. I...” Her eyes took on a far-off look. “Do you hear that?”

  “What, that buzz? Likely some large insects nearby. Perhaps some of the bees searching for the hive you spoke of.”

  “No, I know that sound. That’s—”

  “Your flying craft,” Tepin answered, pointing up towards a large, dark shape above that had just come into view from behind one of Ruresni’s massive children.

  Staring up at the craft, Gabriela let out a harsh hiss. “That son of a—!”

  “What is it?”

  “The control for the zeppelin went missing! I thought we’d lost it when running away from this giant snake that lives up at the top of the tree—” Wait, Alu’khan was real?! “—but it seems like a certain somebody swiped it instead while I wasn’t looking!”

  “Strange. There would be no reason for anybody to do that, especially since riding on it would be an instant forfeit, unless—”

  “—unless they knew ahead of time it wouldn’t matter because the contest would already be over! Unless they knew that Pari was going to send me off the edge!”

  “It was part of a plan?”

  “Has to be! Explains why I couldn’t feel her stick the candle to me, either! They must have laced the soup with some sort of drug... Gah, that bastard! I should have known something was going on when I saw those two whispering to each other!”

  “Perhaps it is instead a certain red-haired Hono who deserves the sandal.”

  “...You know what? I think you might be right.”

  The coronation ceremony the next afternoon, if you could even call it such given that there was no crown to be found, went on far longer than it needed to, but the same could be said about most public ceremonies. Standing at the back of the assembled crowd of Honos and the smattering of others who’d also come along, Tepin had to watch as a seemingly endless parade of people give long-winded speeches about honor and whatnot. To nobody’s surprise, Fernfeather took the prize for the most superfluous oratory.

  All the while, Akhustal Palebane had to stand off to the side of the stage and watch as power was stripped away from her. The woman would stare at her replacement with a barely restrained fury. Then, her gaze would shift to her spouse and that rage would become mixed with confused betrayal. Then her focus would return to Carreno-chos and the anger would be distilled back into its purest form once again.

  Tepin almost felt pity for the woman.

  Finally, at last, it was time for Gabriela Carreno-chos to begin her reign.

  “She sure doesn’t look very Chos-like, does she?” an amused voice quipped from beside her.

  Tepin looked over to find that Fernfeather had snuck up on her while she’d been stuck in her thoughts.

  “What are you doing all the way back here?” she whispered.

  “I wanted to talk to you as soon as this is over,” he whispered back. “We have much to go over, such as how to best work together to steer Carreno-chos towards our mutual goals.”

  “I thought you didn’t want to be seen associating with me.”

  “Not while there was a chance you might lose, no. That is no longer a concern.”

  “You really are an opportunist.”

  “I believe the word you are looking for is ‘politician’,” he sniffed.

  Tepin couldn’t help but snort. She’d much rather that Rudra was by her side, but all the members of the Challenge were still stuck up on the stage.

  Still, the Hono was correct on one thing. The outsider did not appear very Chos-like, with her relatively slight stature and complete lack of status markings. That would change in the future, Tepin assumed, once she got back from this critical mission that she desperately needed Rudra’s help with. But as of now, a commanding presence she did not possess.

  She seemed nervous, not that Tepin could blame her. Experience would help mitigate that—experience and time. For now, though, the woman—now cleaned up and wearing intact clothes, thank the Mother—stood on that platform and looked out at her new subjects with the stare of a limrel faun realizing it had wandered next to an anetil hive.

  “Uh, ri—” she began her voice shaky and weak to the point that Tepin almost couldn’t make out her words.

  The Chos let out a small cough and cleared her throat.

  “Right, can everybody hear me?” she resumed, her voice now more firm. “I don’t know how this is supposed to go, exactly, so I guess I’m just going to make a few declarations and be done with it.”

  A woman who was all business. Tepin liked it. It would make working with her all the easier.

  The Chos pulled out a piece of paper and began to read from it.

  “For my first proclamation, I, uh...”

  Hesitating again, she glanced over toward Caprakan Bloodflower, who gave a small nod. The Chos frowned, but the man’s gesture also seemed to reassure her.

  “For my first proclamation, I hereby exile Akhustal Palebane from this nation! She will be allowed two days to prepare, after which she must leave the forest and may not return for a period of ten years!”

  A chorus of gasps and murmurs swept across the audience, including one from Fernfeather. Tepin gave him a questioning glance.

  “No victor has ever done something so unjust to the loser before,” he told her. “If this is her leadership style, then we are in for interesting times...”

  Little did he know just how right he was about to be.

  “Next, I hereby declare the concepts of Shells, Flegs, Blou, and Honos to be null and void. No Stragman may look down on, command, discriminate, or abuse another based on their martial ability or strength. We are all equal in the eyes of the Mother Tree, and so we shall be—all equal in the eyes of each other. In accordance with this, all positions shall be granted from here on to those who would best execute the duties of said position, not merely on who is stronger. As of this moment, castes no longer have meaning.”

  Tepin nearly fainted. Was the Chos insane?! Yes, Tepin wanted to free the Shells, but even she understood that to do it in one fell swoop would create tremendous backlash!

  As if the prove the point, the entire crowd of Honos erupted with vehement outrage. It was to be expected; they’d basically all been told that a large portion of their power and influence was no longer theirs by right. Even the more sympathetic of them, such as Fernfeather, were nearly frothing at the mouth.

  “She’s mad! She’s bloody mad!” he hissed through clenched teeth.

  “Hey!” Gabriela shouted. “Enough!”

  Nobody listened.

  Tepin could feel the headache growing already. She’d handcuffed herself to a leader who didn’t seem to have it in her to be a Chos. Her future had just become so much more—

  BOOM!

  An explosion from the air above the stage rocked the area, the shockwave even knocking some people—Tepin included—onto their rears.

  “ALL OF YOU, SHUT IT!” the new Chos roared, her voice overwhelming and silencing the crowd. Her face crimson with rage, a vein bulging from her forehead, she stared down at the rest of them, eyes burning with aggravated malevolence. “WHAT, YOU HAVE A PROBLEM?! TOO BAD! I DON’T SEE ANY OF YOU STANDING UP ON THIS STAGE! I’M THE CHOS NOW, YEAH? SO WHAT I SAY GOES! THAT’S HOW IT WORKS WITH YOU PEOPLE, ISN’T IT?!”

  “You have no right—” somebody up near the front began.

  “I HAVE ALL THE RIGHT I NEED! I WON! I’M IN CHARGE NOW! YOU DON’T LIKE IT?” She opened her arms wide, and Tepin caught a glimpse of two small, waxy cylinders in her left hand. “I’M RIGHT HERE! TRY SOMETHING! I DARE YOU! AND WHEN I RIP YOUR STILL-BEATING HEART RIGHT OUT OF YOUR CHEST WITH MY BARE HANDS, MAYBE THEN YOU’LL REALIZE THAT I AM NOT TO BE MESSED WITH! DO YOU UNDERSTAND?!”

  “I understand!” somebody shouted.

  A male Hono that Tepin did not recognize jumped up onto the stage. He seemed fairly young—somebody who’d become a Hono after her imprisonment, most likely. Unslinging a large axe from his back, he held it out, brandishing it with clear skill. “I understand that you must be stopped here and now!”

  Gabriela blurred, seeming to almost teleport in front of the poor sap who had far more courage than sense. Before he could even move a muscle, she stabbed her hand into his chest. The man looked at the arm embedded deep into his chest with a disbelieving expression, seemingly unable to even comprehend what had just transpired. Then, with ruthless finality, she pulled.

  The Hono could only watch as the Chos made good on her promise, literally ripping his heart from his chest with a large portion of his ribcage coming along for the ride. Blood and viscera sprayed all over the stage, staining the stage and coating the Chos’s face, hair, and clothes. Yet, despite that, the woman looked upon this horrid, disgusting scene with utter disinterest, as if this exact experience was so common to her life that it had become utterly mundane.

  As the man’s dead, gaping body collapsed to the floor, Carreno-chos turned around and stalked slowly back to her previous spot, her body language displaying her annoyance at having to deal with such a trifling matter more than anything else. With a flick of her arm, she threw the man’s heart toward Rudra’s general direction, letting it bounce and roll over by his feet.

  “Bring that fool back later,” she commanded, blood still dripping from her. “I’m not done with him.”

  Tepin stared, awestruck at the woman’s sudden transformation. It was like she’d become a whole other person! Her every movement and every word carried with it an aura of terrifying, casual violence that screamed that she was not somebody to be trifled with. It was enough to make Tepin want to shrink down and hide in a hole somewhere, lest she be noticed. That, and the blood. The blood added a lot.

  “I WILL ASK YOU ALL AGAIN...” the Chos roared. “DO. YOU. UNDERSTAND?!”

  The proud and mighty Honos—or, ex-Honos, she supposed—muttered their subdued acquiescence. Even Fernfeather looked on with an expression that said he was realizing he’d bitten off far more than he could chew this time.

  Tepin grinned. Maybe Gabriela did have what it took to be Chos after all.

  “That’s what I thought,” she snorted, giving the stunned and appalled crowd a contemptuous look. “Next order of business. Tepin, get up here.”

  Tepin’s grin vanished as all eyes turned towards her. Though she had long been in a position of high authority, being the assistant, even the chief assistant, meant that people were too busy looking at those you served to pay much attention to you. This many gazes made her quite uncomfortable, but she took a deep breath and steeled her spirit. It wasn’t like this was a surprise.

  With forced calm, she stepped forward and made her way toward the stage, the assembled people all parting to allow her an unobstructed path. This was new, she thought with a half-smile. She rather liked it.

  On the way across the stage, she approached Rudra and the other members of the Chos’s team, who stood in line with the others of his team on the back left corner of the stage—Palebane and her team, meanwhile stood in the same configuration on the right. He still held the dead fool’s forcibly liberated heart in one hand, while his other tightly clutched the beastkin child’s tiny hand and wrist to keep her from doing anything unfortunate in this heated moment. As she passed, he gave her a worried look, which Tepin returned with a serene smile. She refused to show her nerves now, not even to him. Appearances were too important.

  Standing next to the Chos, Tepin felt ever smaller. Even her leader, who was not a large woman by any Stragman standard, stood a full hand’s width taller than she. Together, she thought, they were likely the two shortest people here—child excluded, of course. But, her Chos did not let that impede her, and Tepin could not either.

  “I am sure that you all know who Tepin Silverfall is,” Carreno-chos began, once again glancing at her now bloodstained paper. “She has worked alongside you all for many years and has both vast knowledge of and vast experience in the workings of this country. In fact, with how much she was responsible for, day in and day out, it was sometimes joked that she was more of the Chos than Akhustal Palebane was.”

  Tepin glanced over to her former boss. The ex-Chos continued to glower, though her attention seemed fully on Tepin now. Lovely. Still, to Tepin’s confusion and relief, despite the continued clenching and unclenching of her fists, the giant woman continued to stand and stare, but that was all.

  Thank Ruresni for small blessings.

  “That is why, with great satisfaction, I hereby renounce my position as Chos, leader of Stragma, and appoint Tepin Silverfall in my place.”

  What. Wait. No, that wasn’t—

  Once again, the crowd erupted with angry shouts and protests, all while Tepin’s previous conversation with Gabriela replayed in her head. Only then, with the added benefit of hindsight, did she realize that the two of them had been discussing different things in their minds.

  When Gabriela had said ‘I was going to put you in charge’, Tepin had assumed she meant in charge of the project to transition their society to one without the concept of Shells, one that valued all its people. But no, she’d meant in charge of the entire country. And, like a fool, Tepin had accepted! She should have known something was off. She should have realized from how relieved her answer had left the other woman that she’d agreed to something far bigger than—

  “THAT IS ENOUGH, YOU WHINY BABIES!” Gabriela exploded, drowning out the objections. From up right next to her, the vibrations of the woman’s voice shook Tepin like a million tiny earthquakes. “I DON’T CARE THAT SHE WAS A SHELL! I DON’T CARE THAT SHE CAN BARELY FIGHT HER WAY OUT OF A WET PAPER BAG! I DON’T CARE WHAT SHE DID IN THE PAST! I TRUST TEPIN SILVERFALL TO DO THE JOB BETTER THAN ANYBODY ELSE, SO TEPIN SILVERFALL IS THE NEW LEADER, END OF STORY! YOU WILL TREAT HER AS YOU WOULD TREAT ME, AND THAT IS FINAL!”

  She stepped up to the edge of the stage and leaned forward, her hands on her knees. Her voice grew quiet but somehow kept its edge—no, it felt even more dangerous, as if what it had lost in volume it had gained in concentrated malice that dripped from her every word.

  “Now, I’m sure that some of you are thinking about putting up a fight down the line. Political resistance is one thing; I am not stupid enough to think that I can abolish disagreement. But when it comes to the more underhanded things, like sabotage or stirring up resentments and provoking violence among the people, I want you all to listen very closely.

  “I am not your leader anymore, and I may not be around all of the time, but I will be keeping tabs on what goes on over here. If I find that any of you are undermining Tepin, I will show not just you, not just your family, but your entire clan exactly why the rest of the world refers to me as ‘The Monster’. Whatever you’re imagining, it will be worse.

  “As for your new Chos, know this: I have learned all your faces, and I have a very good memory. Should anything bad happen to her, even if it’s just an ‘unfortunate accident’, I will erase every single one of you from existence whether you were involved or not.” She smiled again—the smile of a predator looking at her prey. “Her safety will be in your hands, so make sure to protect her with everything you have, alright? You saw what I can do and how easy it will be for me to do it. Next time, there will be nobody to bring you back afterward.”

  Holding up her still-bloodsoaked hand for all to see, she slowly and clearly asked, “Understood?”

  A sea of silent, subdued, sometimes fearful stares answered.

  “Great.”

  Standing tall once more, she turned and walked over to Tepin, patted her on the shoulder, muttered ‘You’re up!’, and left the stage.

  Tepin and the assembled Stragmans ogled each other in awkward silence as Tepin’s thoughts ran at a hundred leagues an hour. This was not something she’d ever envisioned for herself. An administrator with broad powers bestowed by the Chos, sure, but the Chos herself? It had never once crossed her mind as an even remotely feasible possibility.

  Maybe it was just her Shell upbringing. Living her whole life immersed in her society’s culture had affected even what she’d been able to imagine. Deep down, subconsciously, she’d long ago rejected the idea that she could be worthy to rule. How could a Shell be Chos? It was impossible.

  But now, here she was, staring out at a future filled with more challenges than she knew how to handle. First of all, she couldn’t just undo any of what Gabriela had just done. To reverse Gabriela’s previous orders would be to undermine her authority, which in turn would only undermine her appointment of Tepin and therefore also weaken Tepin’s own already-shaky authority.

  That meant she was stuck with the monumental cultural whiplash that was about to hit all of Stragman society, despite her thoughts on how it could have been better executed. Palebane was still respected by many of the people here, so she’d have to do something to soothe their outrage over her expulsion. Then, of course, there was the matter of her, a former Shell, holding the highest office in the land. So many of the people in front of her would reject her authority just because of her background and weakness.

  But, then again, the vast majority of these people had already taken orders from her—in a different context, sure, but it still had to count for something. They had listened, and they had obeyed. Few, if any, over the years had argued against or criticized her judgments. If she wanted her role as the Chos to be respected, she had to start with that. She had to act like she knew what she was doing. Nobody would believe she deserved to be up on this platform if she herself did not believe it and act accordingly.

  Gabriela’s very real, very terrifying threats would help keep everybody in line for now, but even that could only do so much. People would plot in dark rooms away from her watch, and unless people occasionally felt her wrath, the power of her ultimatum would wane as time went on. No, in the end, it would be up to Tepin to secure her safety, and the more she thought about it, the less impossible it seemed.

  Yes, she had never envisioned herself as the Chos, but was this really so different from the various scenarios she’d imagined over the years? In those flights of fancy, she’d pondered all sorts of plans and advice for her imaginary ruler on how to best do all sorts of things. Why couldn’t she also be that imaginary ruler? All she had to do was listen to herself and take her own advice.

  She could do this.

  “Hmph, very well. I will accept the honor and responsibility of leading Stragma into the future,” she said, her voice cracking at first but growing stronger as she went on. “To begin, I want to say a few things. First, Carreno-chos’s decrees shall stand unaltered. The caste system is now dead.

  “I know that losing your Hono titles feels like you have been robbed of something that is ‘rightfully’ yours. Still, before you fall into resentment, I remind you all that power comes in many forms. Money, resources, and influence will continue to be the currencies around which our society orbits, and you all have more of that than anybody else. Though we are about to go through a massive, chaotic shift, nobody is better prepared to handle what is to come than you and your clans.

  “There is also the matter of your positions, both in the army and in domestic government. Though it was until now inextricably linked to your status as a Hono, even without the castes, such positions still come with significant influence, authority, and status.

  “What’s more, there will always be a place of great respect for powerful warriors in this land. No matter how the future unfolds, we will always need and honor the strong.

  “What I am trying to convey is that, while soon few people will speak the honorific ‘hono’ after your name, very little else will change for you and the people you care about. When this is all over and done with, you will all look around and find that you remain the elites of Stragma, just as you were before. You will be fine.

  “As of right now, I do not see the need for any large-scale roster overhaul. I have worked with the vast majority of you for a long time, and with a few exceptions, you are all competent at what you do.

  “I advise you, however, to not take your privilege for granted. The levers of governance are no longer exclusive to you. With the castes abandoned, even the highest of positions can now be claimed by those outside this small group, and I will not hesitate to replace any one of you should a more capable person arise. If a Fleg can better manage our prisons than you, they will become the head of our prisons over you. If a Blou can better organize our beast subjugation task forces than you, then you will soon find yourself reporting to them. My first responsibility is to the safety, security, and prosperity of Stragma and all its people, not your wounded egos.

  “If you do not like that idea, then I suggest you focus on becoming the best version of yourself that you can be. Strive for self-improvement, listen to those around you, and respect those under you. You all pride yourself as the best of the best, and so I will expect you to prove it. I hope you expect the same from me. I swear to you now that I will endeavor to be the greatest Chos this land has ever seen, and I ask you all to hold me to that.”

  Her little speech seemed to be sinking into her audience, though she doubted it would have anything more than a minor effect. After all, old prejudices died hard. Still, any words that could blunt what was to come were words worth speaking.

  “From now on, all the rights and privileges of a full citizen are conferred to every person in Stragma regardless of might or skill. This will cause a great deal of strife, at least initially. I will be counting on you all to do your duty to help mitigate what is to come to the best of your abilities. Even if this new world displeases you, look at it as simply saving the lives of your countrymen. I will never question your love of Stragma and its people.”

  She took a deep breath.

  “With that said, we will embark upon our return journey come midday tomorrow. I expect the entire camp to be fully packed by tomorrow morning. Generals Brightleaf, Darkmaw, and Runningbird—you are to assist Palebane-chos with anything she requires to prepare for her journey beyond the forest. When the time comes for her to leave, you will escort her the entire way to ensure her safety. The outcome of the Challenge does not erase Palebane-chos’s years of honorable leadership and her legacy shall command respect.”

  Tepin found those last words much harder to say than the rest, but hopefully, her vocal acknowledgment of the former Chos would somewhat temper the indignation of her fans. Plus, she had to make sure that Palebane was really, truly gone.

  “Now, before I dismiss you all, I want to speak to the following people: General Fernfeather, General Sapstalker, General...”

  “I wonder if you grasp the irony of using compulsion through strength to try to remake a society that operates on a foundation of compulsion through strength,” Tepin told Gabriela.

  “Yeah, I know,” the momentary Chos admitted. “It’s just that I don’t have much else to work with.”

  “Even so, any other Chos would have simply beaten that man down and had him locked up instead of tearing out his vital organs.

  “Yeah,” she sighed, running a hand through her newly washed hair. “Are you sure he’s alright?”

  “He’s quite fine, I assure you,” General Bloodflower replied.

  “If you say so... I just... I feel like I went too over the top...”

  “No, you were great! As good as we could have hoped!” he assured her. “Besides, he did volunteer. It was his choice—he’s secretly proud of it, even, now that’s he’s alive again.”

  “Ruddy have super cool power!” Pari chirped. “Bring Pari back like nothing ever happened!”

  “Though it does help that he can’t remember you ripping his heart out, I suppose,” the Stragman admitted.

  “Strange you of all people would say that,” Rudra rumbled. “I recall you refusing to let me push you back before your torture.”

  “That was that and this is this,” Bloodflower stated, waving off further comments.

  “Wait, hold on. Go back,” Tepin cut in, rubbing her forehead. “The man that you killed... was a plant?! You orchestrated that whole thing?!”

  “Of course!” Caprakan laughed. “Nobody knows anything about her, so we had to drive home in the minds of everybody watching that she is a Chos to be feared, respected, and obeyed without question. Otherwise, her decrees would not have gone over so well.”

  “You call that going over well?” Tepin shook her head. “To think that I believed it all. How did you manage to fake such convincing fury?”

  “Fake?” Gabriela repeated. “Oh, no. That was all real.”

  “Truly?”

  “I have, ah... let’s just say years of frustration built up. It was surprisingly much easier than I expected to just let some of it out. It also helped a lot that with their behavior I could just view them all as disobedient brats refusing to listen.”

  It was near evening now, and Gabriela had decided it was finally time to explain the whole reason behind her actions. So, Tepin, Rudra, Pari, and Gabby had all taken a walk deeper into the forest to be alone. General Bloodflower was here too for some reason.

  “Oh, and why are you here, exactly?” she asked him.

  “Well, we needed him to make this,” Carreno-chos explained, gesturing to the giant, paces-thick airtight cocoon of roots that surrounded them. The only reason they could see at all was that they’d brought along some of the crushed petals to light up the pitch-black darkness. “Just to make sure nobody can eavesdrop on us. Also, after all the help he’s given me, from joining our team so we didn’t forfeit to guiding us up the tree, plus helping me write the decrees and all that—” Ah, so that explained why her proclamations had sounded so ‘official’ and unlike her. “—I just felt like he deserved to know.”

  Tepin shrugged. “It’s your secret. I won’t tell you who you can or cannot share it with, but I will encourage you to share it soon. I still have a lot on my plate, not to mention that we will run out of air in here eventually.”

  “Alright, I guess it’s time. It’s complicated, so you might as well sit down.”

  “If what you say is true, then I suppose I cannot begrudge your actions,” Tepin allowed.

  “Wild. Just wild,” Caprakan chuckled ruefully. “The end of the world, huh... and from what I hear of the dragons and Kutrad, it’s already on its way.”

  “There’s still a chance that this is all off the mark,” Gabby insisted. “Yes, I’ve felt this occasional terrible burning, but that doesn’t necessarily mean it’s a sign that I’m going to explode. It might just be some sort of backlash that comes with my powers.”

  “No, it’s happened to me as well,” Rudra told them. “It was terrible, like I was losing control of something powerful inside of me.”

  Once more, they lapsed into silence.

  Eventually, Gabriela stood up. “We should go soon. There’s a lot we have to do and this has already put us days behind schedule. We’ll meet you back at the camp. Come on, Pari. Let’s head back.”

  The root structure unraveled, exposing them once more to the warm evening air. Together, the child and former Chos walked off.

  “Yeah, sounds like a good idea,” Caprakan said a few moments later. “Silverfall-chos, we should talk very soon about what I’ve been building these last few seasons and the allies you might not yet know you have. You aren’t as isolated as you might fear.”

  With that said, he turned away to walk off as well.

  “Hold on, what about you?” Rudra interrupted, grabbing the general’s wrist with his large, strong hand. “Don’t you think we deserve some explanation as to why you have done all of this? Why you insisted that your own wife be exiled?”

  The expulsion decree had come from him?! Why?! Tepin couldn’t make heads nor tails of it.

  “I must agree,” she stated. “I distinctly remember you as a staunch conservative traditionalist. Was that all a front? What would bring you to do something like this now?”

  The man let out a single, sad laugh. “I’ll tell you later, alright?. Right now, there’s one person who deserves to hear my reasons before anybody else. Speaking of which, I need to go to her before she does something she’ll regret. Later!”

  With that and a casual wave, he walked off into the forest towards who knew where, leaving just Tepin and Rudra behind, alone.

  “What does he mean he’ll tell us later? I won’t be here later,” Rudra grumbled.

  “It’s fine. We can speak through our Manys every night, alright? I’ll relay what he tells me to you another time.”

  “Alright, I suppose that would work. At least, while I’m still...”

  Tepin scowled, knowing what was about to come.

  “I should—”

  “You’re going,” Tepin cut in.

  “But I might never see—”

  “You’re going.”

  “I just think—”

  “Don’t make me exile you too. I will if I have to.”

  “I don’t know how I will manage to go on without you, Tepin. I don’t know if I can handle being alone again.”

  She let out an amused snort. “You will not be alone. You already made some friends just these last few days, did you not? Even the child seems to have taken a shine to you, though I cannot imagine why.”

  “You know that is not what I meant.”

  “Yes, I know. Still, I say this is not the same as before. Even if we are apart, you will always be with me, for you are forever within my heart, and I within yours. We are not abandoning each other.”

  “I...” He let out a forlorn sigh, his gaze falling to the earth.

  Tepin reached up and grabbed the lunk—her lunk—by the hairs of his beard, pulling his head up to look her in the eyes. “Heed my words, Rudra Kapadia. I love you. I love you more than I ever thought possible, you foolish man, and every moment that you are not here with me will feel unbearably empty. And yet, you cannot stay. You know it. I know it. If even a fraction of what they fear is true, then your mere presence here could endanger the lives of everybody in Stragma, including myself. If you must, don’t think of this as some form of forced separation. Think of this as a way of protecting the ones you love.”

  “I suppose you’re right,” he admitted, though his voice still lacked even a drop of enthusiasm.

  “Of course I’m right. I’m the Chos. It is my job to be right,” she told him with a wry smirk. So, do not despair. We will speak often—every night we can. Perhaps, should circumstances allow it, we might even visit each other. But if, in the darkest of nights that is not enough, I want you to remember this:”

  Tepin wrapped her arms around Rudra’s neck, pulled herself up, and began what would become an excessively long, incredibly passionate kiss. He still ended up having to do most of the work, of course, his strong, burly arms lifting her up to his level with ridiculous ease, but that was beside the point.

  At long last, they broke contact, Rudra setting Tepin gently back down on her feet.

  “Well, do you think you’ll be able to remember that?” she purred.

  He smirked, the first non-glum expression she’d seen from him in hours. “I don’t think I’d be able to forget it if I tried.”

  The strange, hovering vehicle pivoted about, a dull roar building from various sections of its body. With surprising nimbleness, it accelerated, gaining altitude quickly. Though Tepin had an ever-growing flood of problems to tackle, she stood and watched it float away, taking with it the love of her life almost assuredly for good.

  Still, she stayed strong. She’d learned long ago that life rarely gave you what you wanted, and that the best way to handle that was to face it head-on. She would not cry.

  Only once the strange ovoid craft finally passed behind a tree and out of sight did Tepin allow herself to relax just slightly. It hurt to keep her secret from him. She wanted to tell him. Oh, more than anything, she wanted to tell him. But she could not risk it, for she knew her love too well. If that foolish oaf ever found out, he would insist on staying no matter the consequences. Tepin could not allow that. Not while the safety of the world was at stake.

  A polite coughing from behind her interrupted her thoughts. Scowling at the intrusion, she turned to find one of the only people at the camp who was not a Hono—well, former Hono; it would take her a while to fully wrap her mind around how different everything she’d known her whole life had become in that last day. The former Blou gave her a tentative bow as she searched her memory for who this fellow was. She’d definitely seen him before, some time ago, but... Ah, rightB!

  “You would be the Many handler, would you not?” she asked.

  “Yes, my Chos. I bring you a message from the other handlers back in the migration.”

  “Very well. What is it.”

  “It’s the Otharian Many. He’s dead.”