1 | Stories of a King

Tomera (toh-me-rah) noun

The ancient language of Tomesh.

Archaic; from the name Tomer, the sand god

who gifted the language.

---

The desert keeps many secrets. One blow of the wind and anything can disappear: a chest full of treasures, a road, a house, a village. A language.

The people of Tomesh had always kept the ancient language alive, breathing and walking like the people who used them. The children were taught of nothing but the language even before they could speak their first word, which was, of course, Tomera . Before they could say pahl- father-they knew the sacred tongue of their people. Before they could call their mother mahl , they knew what language rolled out of their tongues .

But not all had Tomera as their first word. There were some babies who were simply too stubborn. Nascha’s first word was sohm- breast-which she may have associated with food. And food was what was on her mind as she stepped out of the threshold of the stone chamber, squinting against the bright sun and the orange slopes of sand beyond the hard, hot earth of the desert. She dreamed of food, like she did many other things. And she began to imagine what her mother may lay on the table tonight. Then she sighed, her shoulders dropping. The sun was still too high. Night was coming slow.

“ Swajeh! Swajeh! “ Older sister. She turned and found three familiar forms running up to her, fine clouds of sand flying behind them. Their brown legs were white with dust. “Tell us the rest of the story!” Peru, the older of the three, begged, her eyes glinting eagerly.

Nascha looked behind her at the darkness of the chamber. The faint sound of wood against metal, and metal against stone, echoed for her to go back inside.

“Please, Swajeh, “ the little boy Naid pleaded, holding his twin sister’s hand.

“You said you’ll finish your story today,” said Peru. “You promised.”

Nascha turned and secretly smiled when they followed, feeling important, getting a taste of what princesses may feel to have someone crave for her every word. “Very well,” she said, absently dusting fine sand off her wrap, a blue-and-gold cloth wrapped around her chest, stopping just midway to her navel. “Where were we?” she asked, coming to a stop against the red stone wall where there was shade.

The children formed a semicircle at her feet, oblivious to the blistering heat of the sun. “The old woman’s garden! The scorpions!” Naid said.

“Ah, yes,” she said in a knowing voice. “The scorpions appeared that day-”

“Night,” Peru interrupted. “You said it was night time.”

“Night, yes,” she said, crossing her arm over her chest, one finger playing over the gold plate around one arm, and leaned against the giant wall of rock smoothly carved and polished by the builders of the village. “The scorpions appeared that night and ate the old woman’s garden. Everything she planted- parl, heller, breet -they all disappeared overnight.” The children chuckled, imagining the horror on the old woman’s face. “And when she found them the next day, she stormed right next door.”

Peru gasped. “She’s not going to Nari, is she?”

Nascha nodded. “She is. And she accuses Nari of witchcraft.”

“But Nari is no witch!” Naid shouted. And his twin nodded, too angry to speak.

“Yes, but remember that Nari told her to watch out for scorpions, to not sleep because they may come for her garden.”

“She did not mean that,” said Peru.

“Yes, of course. She only wished the scorpions would come. And they did.” She paused for a moment. “Maybe she is a witch and she doesn’t know it.”

The three children gasped in disbelief.

“What happened next?”

“The old woman went to the village chief and he believed her. They took Nari and made her march down the road miles and miles away from their village. And they left her in the middle of the desert to die.”

“No!”

“And the old woman killed all the scorpions and crushed them to feed to the soil. And she grew new plants. But she could not grow more breet . They don’t like scorpion flesh.” Peru snickered while her two siblings still fumed over Nari’s fate. “And Kafif left.”

“But he loves Nari!” Peru cried out.

“Nari is a witch. She is dead to them.”

“Then he does not love her enough.”

“Indeed.”

Nascha waited for the children to digest the story. Again, it was Peru who spoke. “What happened to Nari? Is she really dead?”

“She was eaten by the desert,” Nascha said, nodding her head toward the vast belt of dunes far ahead. Every child in Tomesh was told never to venture into the dunes alone. They knew the dangers that await them there. Fear flashed across Peru and her siblings. “But not everything the desert hides is dead,” she added and their eyes filled with hope as their eager smiles replaced the fear. “Sometimes, it just keeps them for a while until they’re strong enough to survive.”

“The great spirits of the desert,” Peru said with awe.

“ Om Miativ ,“ Naid murmured. Praise the spirits.

“Nascha,” a voice said from the threshold. Alika, the young priestess, was glaring, most definitely not because of the sun. The children jumped to their feet and ran away, leaving Nascha to deal with trouble. They knew, as well as Nascha, that it was forbidden to loiter around the king’s tomb.

---

The tomb was buried underneath the sands. All tombs were, but most especially those of the royals. Dead kings and queens, princes and princesses… They all lived in the belly of the desert. Quiet, sleeping, waiting to come back to life. And to make sure that they can return in all their glory, their tombs had to be perfect that not even the rain that came once every end of the year could seep through.

The giant buttes were just hard, empty crowns over the tombs. The façade and the threshold were carved into the giant mountain rock. The mouth of the tomb, as Nascha liked to call it. She stepped through it, the powerful light from outside blinding her for a moment before her eyes adjusted to the yellow glow from the torches. She looked around the empty antechamber, which was larger than her room-larger and taller than their house. The walls and ceiling were painted gold and red, blue and black. The ancient Tomera letters were carved on the stone walls, one character dancing with the next, creating a magnificent story of the great ruler.

Up ahead, almost hidden in the shadows, was another doorway with a set of stairs leading below into another chamber. Her footsteps were drowned by the constant thumping of wood against chisel, and chisel against rock.

She emerged in the larger chamber, this one more golden than the one above. Yet, this was not where the king shall be placed once he dies. This was just the eduali , the worship room. And as the Tomera word suggested, the king did not take it lightly. The chamber was covered by his incredible glory, telling whoever stood there that he was blessed by the god of fire from conception to death. It took Nascha’s father ten years to complete the room.

She followed the thumping sound of chisel and wood down another staircase, this one narrower than the last, leading right into another chamber-the most important of all. The tomb. Vimati . It was just as beautiful as the last, as golden as the desert and the sun outside. Columns of polished black marbles from Achnus lined all sides of the room, and they, too, were carved with more Tomera words, telling whoever understood them-and even those who could not-just how magnificent the owner of the tomb was.

And he

’s not even dead yet, Nascha wryly thought. Sometimes at night, before another day like this would begin, as the sound of chisel continued to ring in her ear, she would hope (with so much guilt) that the king would die. He was a fair leader, a good man in many ways, but he was obsessed with his tomb. And this was where Nascha grew up. Day in, day out, she spent most of her hours here, learning and watching her father work.

That’s what their family did. They carved on walls, but not just any walls. Their people were the guardians of the royal tombs. They were the builders, the scribes, and the priestesses. And Nascha’s family was the best scribes in all of Tomesh.

They were the only people who could read and write Tomera, the most beautiful language she had ever known, yet they could not use it anywhere but the tombs. So here they were, preparing these chambers and wait for their owners to die; then guard the dead and pray they would someday come back to life. Nascha believed, however, that they were more than that. Surely there was something more to just carving words on stones.

“Did Alika find you?” her father’s amused voice asked. He stopped what he was doing, but the sound still rang in her ears, which would continue until they went home, as it always did after a long day in the tomb.

“Yes, Pahl, “ she replied, dragging her feet toward another opening. It was too small that she had to hunch as she climbed down.

“Your tools,” her father said. As she reached for her hammer and chisel, her father laughed. “You look like you cannot wait until your twenty-first rain.”

When a woman reached their twenty-first year in Tomesh, they were free to leave home and be with a man if they so wished. Or somewhere else, too. But that was not always the case because women in Tomesh would always opt to stay and continue their family’s legacy.

She was eighteen now. Only three more rains and she would be free. “Oh, yes,” she said, turning her back on her father. “I can’t wait to leave this tomb and make babies.”

His laughter echoed behind her until she reached the last chamber of the tomb. The arnucc . Treasure room. But contrary to its name, it was the chamber that was given the least importance. That’s why she was here. That’s why her father assigned her to this room.

She hated and loved it all the same. She hated the words she had to carve, the story she had to tell. But she loved it because it was her secret. This chamber shall hold all of the king’s treasures-everything he would need for his journey in the afterlife, the ones that would sustain him until he returned to the land of the living. Perhaps the king would fill this one with boats and chairs, golden robes and delicious foods. Fancy chariots, saddles, and even preserved horses covered in gold. But this room would also house Nascha’s deepest passion: stories.

On the walls were the carved stories of the king in his afterlife. All fantasy, of course, as most of his stories were in the other chambers. But on the floor, obscured from sight by the dust of her carvings, were hundreds of tales from her own imagination. Here, she told her own stories. On one slab somewhere, she narrated how the king died in his bed. In her story, he burned in his sleep, but the fire did not eat the bed, nor the room. A beautiful mystery without an answer because she had not thought of a good one yet.

One slab of stone after another held more fantastic stories of war and devastation, of how Tomesh saved everyone from the ultimate villain mankind had ever known. There were hundreds of these stories, ones she carved years and years ago. Stories of a king, the one after him, and many others more glorious than them. Stories of magical people, of dragons and magical ashes.

Her secret.

At first, she hid her writings at home, but her mother would always find them. She would burn them and force Nascha to ask forgiveness from the sand god of Tomesh, the creator of Tomera . “It is a sacred language, Nascha,” her mother would always say. But Tomera was too beautiful a language to not be used in creating worlds and stories. Telling stories through mouth to Peru and her siblings was not enough for Nascha. And so she carved them in the only place she knew no one would ever question. Her father only inspected the walls because they were the only important parts of the chamber, not the blocks of stone floor always covered with dust and sand.

She walked to the far corner of the room, the only space left for her to carve on. When her father resumed his work, Nascha did the same. She knelt on the floor and continued her story. Where was she? Ah, the prince died and the dragons emerged from the sea, breathing fire on the lands.

Nascha would not work on the walls today because she could always work on them tomorrow, or the day after. Or the next.

But there would be no tomorrow, because tomorrow she would learn that her secret wish had finally come.

King Amatif finally died in his bed. He burned in his sleep, but the fire did not eat the bed, nor the room. A horrific mystery without an answer.

2 | Because Tomera is Sacred

ray

es

hka

(ra-yesh-kah) noun

Self. Soul. Being.

---

Their people did not believe in coincidences. Everything happened for a reason, and words, when spoken, were intentional. Even a lie.

Because Tomera is sacred.

Nascha, however, wanted everything to be just a coincidence. She stepped out of the door, the gold bangles around her ankles jiggling as she stopped, turned, and walked back into her room to frown at nothing on the wall, thinking with a frown.

It must be a coincidence. She could not have foreseen it, right?

The king burned in his bed. He should not be the only person who burned to death, right? But how many had burned without the fire eating everything else around them?

Her eyes narrowed at a question.

What if she

…

She whirled on her feet and shook her head. No, it could not be her . She was the worst candidate.

They were a myth. None had been born for centuries. But then, everyone in Tomesh believed them.

What if she was the one ? Born three centuries after just as predicted? She turned and paced again. No, she could not be.

Or she could be.

And if she was, her world would dramatically change. If she could prove she was the one

everyone was waiting for, she would live like a princess. She did not have to work in another tomb. Everyone would kneel at her feet, everyone would praise her. She would live in the palace in Kgosi, dine with the royals, and seat beside the reigning king. She would be higher than any administrators, even the advisor.

She turned around and stepped out of her room, this time reaching the kitchen where her mother was cooking. “Prepare the table, Nascha,” her mother said. “We have much to do later for the ritual.” She did not hear her mother’s words. Her mind was elsewhere, living in a dream again. A possible future. A beautiful one. “Nascha.”

Nascha the Great Oracle.

“Nascha!”

She blinked and found her mother sternly looking at her. The woman was wearing her most beautiful headdress today, a yellow silk cloth wrapped around her head. Her earrings were especially bright, as well as the gold cuffs around her arms.

“Yes,” she absently said, setting the table not because she heard her mother, but because she knew it was what the woman wanted. “Mahl,” she called later as she ate her meal. “Do you believe the Oracle will come soon?”

“Of course,” her mother said, kissing her thumb and raising it in the air. And Nascha knew her mother had been praying the Oracle would be born within the Yakine family. “Why do you ask?”

“I’m curious. What if the Oracle is already here with us?”

“It’s possible.”

She swallowed. “How did he discover his gift?”

“He had strange dreams that came true, of course. Visions given to him by the sand god. He saved Tomesh many times. He objected to his sister’s marriage with a man from another tribe. That was, of course, as we know, a very good premonition. The man turned out to be Ashmun.”

The destroyer.

“And because of him, the entire Umoji empire was saved from Ashmun and many others like him.”

“Do you know if he has ever…carved?”

“Carved?”

“The last Oracle.”

Her mother shook her head. “No, of course not. He was a priest. Why are you asking things you already know?”

“Has he ever told stories and they came true?”

“An Oracle’s visions are not stories . You know that.”

“But what if he made up stories or gossips and they started to—”

“No such thing as coincidences, Nascha,” her mother said, shaking her head. “The Oracle always knows they are seeing the future and they share what they know to save us all.” With a sigh, her mother added, “If the Oracle is here among us, I hope their gift reveals itself. With King Amatif gone, the empire may be in danger once more.”

Nascha forced her food down her throat and did not speak again. She thought about the king and how he died. The hairs at the back of her nape stood. It happened two months ago. The news only reached Tomesh a week ago and by then, the royal entourage had already been traveling for a month to take the king to his resting place in the Belt of Temples.

Here. In Tomesh.

After her meal, she left her mother writing a Tomera prayer for tonight’s ritual—and stepped out of their stone cottage. The sky was dark blue above with a hint of stars, turning orange on the horizon where the sun was setting. The desert was calm; the air growing cold. Torches were lit everywhere: outside the other stone houses, the roads, and even far beyond in the desert. A sign of mourning and welcome.

Nascha thought of the tomb and coincidences.

“Swajeh!” Peru’s voice called from somewhere. The girl ran toward her in a gold wrap, gold cuffs, and sandals with strings crisscrossed around her legs. “It happened! It happened!”

She frowned. “What happened?”

“The scorpions,” Peru breathlessly said. “They appeared! Outside old Gaera’s house—in her garden. They ate everything!” Peru swallowed, eyes wide with amazement. Then alarm registered on her face. “B-but we don’t know who Nari is in your story. What if she—what if she is you?”

It took her a long while to answer. “Silly,” she said with a laugh. “My stories are not true, Peru.”

“But they are true! Tell me who Nari is. We should warn her!”

Nascha shook her head. “Go home, Peru. It’s just…” She paused. There is no such thing as coincidences in Tomesh . “It’s just a story.”

“But—”

“Go,” she said, her heart at her throat, her mind slowly realizing what was happening. She ran back inside the house. “Where’s Pahl?” she asked her mother.

“He’s in the tomb—Where are you going?”

“To the tomb.”

“But it’s closed.”

She stopped cold, heart a big lump in her throat. “What do you mean? You said father is there.”

“Yes, for the threshold ceremony. They closed the tomb for the arrival of the king tonight.” Her mother frowned at her. “What’s the matter? Why are you so pale?”

She shook her head and rushed to her room. She needed ink and paper.

She had to remember all of them. As she rummaged through her room for her writing articles, flashes of things she only imagined came back to her. And without regard for handwriting, she wrote and wrote. And she did not know how long she spent doing that, remembering the stories she made up and carved in the tomb.

What happened after the king

’s death? Was it rain? When did the fire start? And the prince…what happened to him again? What else did she carve? Dragons? Wars?

A huge part of her felt stupid. Dragons? They were not true!

But what if they were not, and they only came true now?

“Nascha, I have to go,” her mother said from outside. “Charan’s daughter was dragged to the chief. I can’t believe this is happening! Of all time, it has to happen before the night ritual!”

She froze. “Charan’s daughter?”

“Karei. You know her, don’t you?”

“Old Gaera’s neighbor.”

“Yes, the one. Gaera’s garden is gone, covered with scorpions, and now she’s accusing Karei of witchcraft. We can’t have this tonight…”

She did not hear the rest of her mother’s words because her own blood was rushing to her ears. The names in the story she told Peru and her siblings were fake. But she imagined old Gaera and Karei’s faces as she narrated her tale.

“Oh, I’m dead. We’re all dead,” she murmured under her breath as her eyes wandered around the paper and her handwritten texts.

“Calm down,” she told herself, holding her writing stick firmly over the paper to keep her hand from shaking. “Oracles foresee the future. You cannot be an Oracle. You did not foresee anything. No vision, no dreams. You just told… stories .”

And they were coming true.

Nascha swallowed through her constricted throat. She had every reason to be frightened because her carvings inside the king’s arnucc were not just fantastic and magical… They were also mortifying.

---

Kgosi was filled with canals built for transport. They ran all over the land, further down south, to the west, and to the east as far as Han’ia. Months of travel could be reduced to mere weeks. But the canals could not pass through most of Tomesh, not when the dunes blocked the path to the Belt of Temples.

The entire royal entourage had to disembark their boats and step into dry, loose sand. Against the cold, with the stars to guide them, they traveled through the night. They slept in the heat of the day and awoke as the sun set to continue the journey. No one complained, not even the queen, who stayed quiet inside her closed carriage tent, because, for centuries, the dead had to be carried through the desert.

Prince Laku knew very little about the dunes in Tomesh, but he knew it was a sleeping monster. “The wind could eat you alive,” his father once said. But danger was not his priority at the moment. There were people to guide them through the dune belt. His mind was elsewhere, scattered like the sands that blew low across their caravan.

As they neared the Belt of Temples, located at the foot of the last dune they had to cross, he looked up at the sky. He decided to travel on foot for the remaining of the journey, tired of sitting inside his carriage. Beside him walked his young advisor. “If I meet an unfortunate fate now and step into a pocket of air and get buried alive, it will be a problem,” he told Kalesch.

The young man did not smile at his humor. “If you fall, the first thing you should do is stop talking.”

Laku snapped his head at the man. They may be of the same age, and the man may be a scholar and a mentor, and now advisor, he was in no authority to talk to him in such a way.

“If you talk, the sand will enter your lungs and you die faster,” Kalesch added, the Kgos words rolling out of his tongue in the way it always did with those who spoke Tomera—curly and smooth.

“Ah, yes, of course,” he said, clearing his throat. “I know that.”

“And you do not move.”

“Or the sand will eat me faster.”

Kalesch did not say more. They both looked on, at the line of yellow lights at the foot of the dune. The torches made a clear path toward the tomb from the nearby village. Other villages not far behind the Belt of Temples were also lit yellow, mourning the loss of their king.

King. That was his father. And soon it would be him. What a shame.

He did not want to think about that for now. It was enough that his father’s death was still a great mystery, one he would be forced to face after this trip. There were things he had to settle, one of them he dreaded the most—taking a queen.

“Are you going to visit your wife while we’re here?” he asked Kalesch.

The young man’s face did not change. It remained unreadable like the foreign desert. Laku sometimes wondered if his advisor was capable of laughter. Now that he thought of it, he had never seen Kalesch smile, not even once. The man seemed to find no joy in anything, not even Laku’s jokes.

“No,” Kalesch said. “It’s not the time.”

“But she’s your wife.”

Kalesch looked at him, as if to reprimand. “In Tomesh, we only meet our wives on their twenty-first rain.”

Laku blinked in wonder. “Really?” Kalesch only nodded. Silence followed them for a while. “What is wife in Tomera?”

“There is no word for wife in Tomera.”

“Husband?”

“None.” At his silent confusion, Kalesch said, “There is only rayeshka .”

“Spouse?”

The young man looked on at a distance, as if he finally encountered something he had no answer to. When Laku thought he would not answer, Kalesch finally spoke. “Self. Soul. Being,” he said in Kgos. “ Rayeshka is all that.“

“Hm,” Laku muttered thoughtfully. “Rayeshka.” He looked at Kalesch. “And you treat her as your being?”

“Once she turns twenty-one.”

“How do you do that? Force yourself to treat one other person as your…soul, your being?”

“I do not know.”

Laku made a dramatic stop, staring at Kalesch with eyes wide open. “You just admitted you do not know something, Kalesch.”

“I know you are delaying us all, Your Highness,” his advisor said. “We should move along before the sun rises.”

He ran after the man with a grin. “You should teach me more Tomera.” His advisor refused to answer, as he always did whenever Laku was talking nonsense. But the prince wanted to talk nonsense. He could not yet face his father’s death, nor his mother’s grief and fears.

And most especially the visitors that would soon arrive in Tomesh.

3 | The Daydreamer Daughter of Kam Yakine

arnucc

(ar-nuk) noun

Treasure room, particularly in a tomb.

---

The Belt of Temples was miles away from the last dune that separated Tomesh from the rest of its land. They were a collection of buttes, giant rocks stretching as high as the mountains. King Amatif chose his tomb to be at the back, standing alone near Pareysha, the village where Nascha lived.

She watched the king’s servants carry the king’s coffin, a large golden box carved with his name and story of birth, all in Tomera. One would think that as someone who carved the ruler’s stories in the tomb’s chambers, her family would be in the forefront of the crowd, but no.

Her father stood with her mother far, far away from the tomb while she stood with her two older sisters at the back. But at the very least, they were on the side of the aisle made for the king’s last journey. The moon was bright, and the butte cast a shadow over them. The night was supposed to be cold, but the hundreds of torches spilled sweat down Nascha’s temple.

She felt nothing as the coffin floated by, save for curiosity. One tiny corner of her mind wondered what a burned body looked like while the villagers around silently cried in mourning. The royal entourage was quite long. Priests, scholars, administrators. These people were dressed in gold and blue linens, their headdresses golden as the sun they worshiped in Kgosi. And as they all filed down toward the tomb, faces flat and stern, Nascha felt a sense of doom. She stole her sisters a look, both of whom were trying their best to look as stern as the entourage, their husbands doing the same from behind. Then she turned and found the other villagers wearing the same faces, although their eyes glimmered with tears.

She looked away, guilty for her lack of sympathy, for not having the ability to summon a tear. She swallowed and leaned over just a little to look down the path where the tomb was. Alika, the priestess, stood at the threshold, waiting for the coffin, probably wearing the same flat and stern look on her face, one she did not have to summon because she always looked flat and stern. Was the woman feeling excited? She had been trained to guard this tomb and the day had finally arrived for the start her long, boring life of waiting for the dead to come back to life.

“Nascha,” her oldest sister, Breikh, murmured, pulling her back. “Stay still for once.”

It was hard to do, even without her inner dilemma. She was always restless in moments like this. Rituals were never her thing. And the ritual had not yet even started. When would this entourage end? The queen’s carriage tent had not yet even passed. Or that of the prince’s. And they had been standing here for hours!

Again, she swallowed, her toes curling in her sandals. She had to find a way into the tomb. Just earlier, the villagers sent Karei to the house of the village chief on suspicion of witchcraft. Because of the ritual, they had to postpone her trial. Now, the woman was locked somewhere. And Nascha knew they would find her guilty and that they would send her out to die in the dunes. She knew because she told the story.

She looked up and instantly saw the golden carriage tent, its flaps drawn closed as it floated down the path, carried by four servants in kilt and blue headdresses. The queen. She also told this story—this exact moment. In fact, she carved it on the floors of the arnucc .

Nascha almost groaned when she saw the prince walking behind his mother’s tent, face serious and unreadable, eyes looking straight ahead. He was tall, built just slightly imperfect than the statues that surrounded his own tomb in another butte not far from here. His hair was long, tied high and behind his long headdress. And beside him walked the pride of Tomesh himself: Kalesch Djozeh.

The son of Tomesh’s Great Scholar; advisor to the future king of the empire. He walked past without taking his eyes from the head of the entourage. Or was he looking far ahead at the tomb—at the threshold where Alika stood waiting? Could he also feel the eyes of his own people following him, their pride as they watched him walk beside the prince and future king? He must be used to it by now, she thought. Ever since he was young, Kalesch, along with his family, knew he was destined for greatness.

She did not realize she was leaning over once again until she caught her father’s gaze. His eyes were not reprimanding, which was odd. He was looking at her with a smile, even a look of wonder. She frowned and awkwardly straightened, leaning over to her sister, Hashek, to whisper, “Did Pahl drink something?”

“What do you mean?” Hashek murmured back, stealing their father a glance.

“He gave me the same look he threw the queen’s carriage tent earlier.”

Hashek snorted and immediately covered her mouth with her hand when Breikh threw them a look. It had only been a month ago when Hashek left home. After turning twenty-one, she finally joined her husband in his home. Breikh did the same eight rains ago, which was why their eldest must have forgotten how to have fun.

But whatever fun Nascha felt was immediately dispersed as the entourage finally ended and the ritual began. Suffering comes with chanting hundreds of Tomera prayers , she thought many hours later when the sun finally rose and settled over the Belt of Temples, moving the shadows slowly with its great, bright light.

And finally, the king’s coffin was delivered inside. And men—the builders—pushed large slab of rock that perfectly fit the doorway. Nascha felt her stomach churn as she imagined the arnucc in the darkness, her writings still on the floor.

Many prayers and incense later, the king’s treasures were carefully placed outside the threshold where they shall wait for others to arrive. By tradition, the king shall spend some time alone inside the tomb while neighboring nations came to pay their respects, carrying gifts—gold and silver, fine linens and preserved animals washed in gold. And the tomb shall be opened again so the king could welcome the gifts before it shall be closed for the last time until he returned from the land of the dead. So far, no tomb had been opened more than twice.

Her eyes stuck to the golden treasures. They would be her way into the tomb. She did not know yet how she would do it. Her plan was imperfect, but if her recollection was right, she had three months to stop everything horrifying that would follow the king’s death.

---

Tia watched her two little sisters dozing off on top of the horses, their balance astounding as ever. She, however, was as still as the sands around them. The sun had just set, replaced by a starless sky. The dunes were quiet, but a gush of wind swept past them. She frowned. Rain was not due in Tomesh. It only came once at the end of each year.

Unlike Achnus, Tomesh was blessed with a vast land of golden sand and bright skies. And unlike Achnus, their rain, however scarce, was not black.

She looked behind her. Their caravan was small, but the gifts they brought along were priceless. Her mother, riding beside her, back straight and head held high, caught her looking and offered a reassuring smile. “Are you worried?”

“No,” she said, looking away, back to her two sleeping sisters, thoughts on the other children in Achnus; and their mothers, their brothers, their fathers. Everyone who prayed for the success of the mission.

The mission of her brothers, she corrected silently. She, Tia Turvass, princess of Achnus, was only here to deliver the mission to them.

“We have to do our best, my daughter,” her mother said, voice soft but determined. It felt strange to see her mother on a horse, much more so on such a dangerous journey. She would not have to do this if her husband was still alive. Her place was with their people, to be with them, to offer them her gentle, comforting presence, not here in Tomesh where the desert could swallow them and blow their traces away. “This may be our last chance to save our people.” But Yrlissa Turvass was a queen and her people were her children. She was making a sacrifice.

Tia nodded. Yes, they had to do their best. She had to do her part.

But the voices in her head were telling different things. One was afraid, the other mocking. She shut them off because in this journey, she was in command.

---

Nascha would not have felt anything if anyone dragged her home. Her legs were dead after kneeling and standing for hours, her mouth dry from murmuring Tomesh prayers for the king.

Her sisters had already gone home with their husbands, and she was left with her parents. Her mother, of course, went off with her friends to see to Karei, the woman accused of witchcraft. She should be with them to plead for the woman’s case, perhaps even confess that it was all her fault. But what would she tell them? That she just told the story, and it came true? They would not believe that. They would think she saw the future, that she was the much awaited Oracle. But they would not think that either. She, Nascha, the daydreamer daughter of Kam Yakine, the girl who always found ways to escape to somewhere to do nothing could not be the next Oracle.

If she was lucky, they would only think she was making up stories again. Or that she was crazy.

“Hurry,” her father said, taking her by the arm, gently urging her down the path that did not lead to their house. “Before the rain arrives.”

“Pahl, I can’t feel my legs,” she said, tired, mind drifting to her mother, Karei, her guilt, the king and the tomb… the arnucc and the stories she carved there. “Wait—What rain?” she asked, looking at her father.

He looked more determined than before they started the ritual earlier. His eyes glimmered. He was excited. Then she saw the road, and she knew where they were headed. It only led to that one house. “This is the way to the House of Djozeh.”

He did not answer and Nascha panicked. “Pahl, I’m sure they are busy people. We can return tomorrow.”

“No, it has to be tonight,” her father said, walking briskly. She stumbled on her feet because she could not feel them. But as she tried to catch up, she managed to reassure herself. She could not feel any worse than she already was so she might as well humor her father.

But moments later, while she was still catching her breath, she had to hold it again. Her father, her very dear father who was also a dreamer in one way or another, breathlessly asked for the audience of Kairo Djozeh, the Great Scholar of Tomesh, and his son, Kalesch Djozeh, who was also unfortunately home.

Both men, still in their ritual headdresses of blue and gold, looked slightly scandalized as they stood facing Nascha and her father. She could not meet their gaze, so she just bent her head. But then her father took out a piece of paper and it passed Nascha’s vision as he handed it over to Kalesch. While her eyes told her brain what they saw, her father announced, “My daughter may be the Oracle.”

Nascha’s head snapped and with her wide brown eyes, she gaped at her father in disbelief. He sounded hopeful—looked hopeful. No … he looked desperate for it to be true. Then she looked at the paper in Kalesch’s hand. And then at him as he read, his thick dark brows fused in incredulous confusion as he did so.

And he froze, as did his father and Nascha and her father. Outside the House of Djozeh, a very distinct sound slowly grew. White noise that disrupted the silent, mournful air of the desert.

Rain.

Nascha’s eyes flickered back to the paper in Kalesch’s hand where she had written, as she remembered, that the rain would come early to mourn the king’s death.

Kairo Djozeh was looking at her as if she was water sprouting out of the sands. “You were right, Kairo Djozeh,” her father said with a proud smile. “The next Oracle is in the Yakine family.” People were outside now, shouting in wonder as the rain surged on and on, falling harder like it did last year. While Kairo Djozeh’s gaze flickered to the closed door with awe, his son tore his gaze from the paper to look at Nascha with a bewildered frown.

Her father caught the look, and he said, “She knew it would rain today. She wrote it there, just as she wrote the king’s death.” A short pause. “Your rayeshka is the Oracle, Kalesch.”

Nascha flinched at the two words: rayeshka and oracle. She swallowed, speechless, then forced herself to meet her husband’s eyes. He did not look so pleased.

4 | And What Else Did You Carve?

usha

(u-sha) noun

Foreigner; someone from another land who comes to another not their own; an outsider; a stranger

---

They only met on four occasions: first when she was five and he was eight, second on their engagement day when she was ten and he was thirteen, and third on their wedding day when she was sixteen. And that day of the ritual when her father declared her as the next Oracle.

It was not a rare thing. It was only common for a woman to marry at sixteen and only get to know her husband on her twenty-first rain when they could finally be live together and build their own family. Nearly everyone in her village had gone through the same, but Nascha was not sure if they experienced the same strange feeling. She could not grasp the reality that she was tied to a man she barely knew. Much more so to someone like Kalesch Djozeh. He was too… high. He had always been. As scholars, their family was the most respected in their village. Kalesch mastered Tomera before the other children his age could even properly yell sateh —stop. He went wherever his father went, carried his scrolls, read them during formal ceremonies, and was writing his own before he turned ten. It was not a surprise when King Amatif personally selected him to be Prince Laku’s advisor.

And being an advisor to the prince of the Umoji Empire placed him higher than anyone in Pareysha, even the other villages in Tomesh. So why was he married to the youngest daughter of a scribe?

But after that short and awkward meeting at the House of Djozeh, after Kalesch strongly suggested that they keep the Oracle discovery a secret until they came up with a plan, Nascha finally realized why Kairo Djozeh chose her to marry his son. And it was not because she was pretty (although in her mother’s opinion she’s a pretty girl, and she agreed to some extent). She looked like every other girl in the village, except for the times when she would sometimes sneak out and hide somewhere to do nothing during certain ceremonies, or even during normal days. She was normal.

So it sparked such a huge curiosity when she was told she’d be marrying the son of the Great Scholar. No, that was not what her father told her. He had said that Kairo Djozeh chose her. What did he see in her?

Now, many years later, she knew the answer. They believed she was the next Oracle. Kairo Djozeh had guessed that the next Oracle would be from the Yakine family. Nascha was actually disappointed that the Great Scholar would even make guesses . He was a scholar for a reason. So how did he make the guess? Had they, the scholars, come upon some ancient texts that said so? Did they have knowledge from the previous Oracle that they did not share with everyone? That must be it, she thought, because surely scholars did not just guess. Kairo Djozeh’s guess must have been a calculative one. Otherwise, she would hate to disappoint them if she did not turn out to be what they guessed .

Her father forbade her to tell anyone, even her mother. He was elated, of course, but she couldn’t even feel the same. She had her own internal problems to deal with. Karei, the woman accused of witchcraft, was undergoing trial and Nascha could not let the woman die. It would be too much for her conscience.

She had to do something to stop it. Stop everything. And as soon as she thought about everything, she began to panic again. She jumped out of bed, giving up on sleep. Through her open window, the moonlight was blue, slicing through her room. Her parents were next door, sound asleep. Looking out the window, she could see the silhouette of the butte—there, right in the center of the frame was the tall rock mountain that held the king’s tomb.

She rubbed her face in frustration, froze with a thought, and hesitated for a tiny moment. Kalesch Djozeh told them to wait. But how could she? She was not sleeping tonight and she had nothing to do but fret over what she had done. And waiting was never her best talent. The children, Peru and her siblings, could tell anyone anytime. Turning, Nascha grabbed her thickest and darkest wrap and sneaked out of the house.

And so it was that she was later somewhere else, hidden in the shadows of a large rock, sitting on the cold hard ground watching the two people standing before the rock door of the tomb. Her father had carved Tomera prayers on its surface. Enchantments to make the tombs impenetrable. And so far in Tomesh history, no tomb had ever been broken into. None.

Maybe because no one tried, Nascha thought. Sometimes, she disliked herself for doubting the beliefs of her people. Why did they give Tomera too much regard? Yes, it was an ancient language, and yes, it was supposed to be gifted to them by the sand god. But who could prove that? The ancient writings? But those writings could have been written by someone like her centuries ago. Someone who had the same fantasy as her.

What if we are believing a lie? A fantasy? Just like what I wrote in that arnucc?

It was not that Nascha did not believe in magic. In fact, she liked magic and she wished they existed. She just wanted reasons. Why was Tomera so sacred they could not use it elsewhere? Why—

Well, now that she asked the question, she thought she had the answer. Maybe her people were right after all. Maybe there was a reason they could not use Tomera just anywhere.

Because it really has magic.

She groaned and closed her eyes against the view of the two motionless priests, burying her face in her hands, sliding it up to fist her hair and tug in frustration and helplessness. She was too frail to even move that rock. And what would happen to her if she entered the tomb? The king’s journey in afterlife might be disrupted. Worse, she would be inside a dark chamber with a dead man—a charred one at that.

“What are you doing here?”

She jumped in surprise, scrambling to her knees, and stopped, stupefied.

Kalesch.

She tore her eyes off him and found Alika Phyrah walking toward her two companions, wearing her white priestess dress, the gold band around her head and arms and hair catching the moonlight. From afar, she looked like some kind of a desert deity who would punish a girl planning to trespass a king’s tomb. Or even kill the same girl for a selfish reason like stealing the man she loved. Nascha’s eyes flew to her husband. “Were you with her?”

“I asked first,” he said, looking down at her. He was in a blue and gold wrap, his dark hair gently moving with the wind except for the locks with tiny gold rings in the end—just like hers, only that hers were a total mess. He was not handsome. His nose was too high, his lips too full. But he had a well-sculpted jaw, one she would love to carve on a stone just because it had a sharp angle. His deep-set eyes sparked an uncomfortable feeling within her. Or it may be the way his long, thick brows dipped down in an eternal frown that made Nascha wish she was not married to him. She could also think of other good reasons, but since they were already married, it was too late for that. If she lived to her twenty-first rain, she would have to live with this man who frowned and who liked someone else.

“I couldn’t sleep,” she said, looking at the hand he extended. Around his wrist was a wide gold band, and she saw her reflection there. She looked stupid and scared. Her long black hair could house an egg or two. Clearing her throat, she stood without taking his help. It was too early in their marriage to touch each other. “What are you doing here?”

His eyes were on her—specifically her hair, which she did not bother to fix because attempting to do so would only make it worse if she did not remove the gold rings. “I had to discuss some plans with the priests.” He started to turn, then stopped to wait for her. “I’ll walk you home.”

She did not argue. She was lucky enough to get caught doing nothing. He was not following her. And why would he follow her? He was here to talk with the priests. Or rather, just one priestess .

She had never spoken to him directly before this day, nor had she shared a walk with him. Was this how her sisters felt when they had to finally get together with their husbands? Did it also feel like they were walking over pockets of air hidden underneath the dunes? Everyone in their village had always been baffled why the Djozeh family chose her. They had assumed, even Nascha, that they would ask Alika Phyrah, the priestess. She had spent more time with Kalesch since they were young. It had always been that way in their village. The scholars were above all, the priests above the rest. But things were so as they were because of a guess Kairo Djozeh made. No one may ever discover why she was chosen until Kalesch could prove she was indeed the one .

“You don’t believe I’m it , right?” she asked, stealing him a glance. His eyes were on the road ahead of them. They had just entered the village, now walking on a stone pavement, each one perfectly laid out better than Nascha’s current state of mind. The stone houses were built close together, with narrow paths in every block that led to more houses. The entire village sloped up the hill to loom over the foot of the village.

“We need to verify,” he said. His voice was just like any normal Tomesh man, but it lacked soul. Character. He could very well sound like the king if the man could talk inside that tomb. “There is a process.”

There is ?

“But it can be not true, right?” she asked hopefully.

His eyes moved sideways, landing on her. She blinked away and looked at the inclining road ahead, feeling her tangled hair and the weight of the rings attached to them. “It can also be true,” he said.

The hairs on her arms stood. Oh, she could think of many great things if she turned out to be the Oracle. But she could also think of many terrible things. Such as sitting in a chamber full of men talking about politics, or having guards around her all the time. They would constantly ask her if she saw the distant future of the empire. If the stories of the previous Oracle were ever true, then she would have the same life as him. She would be bound to the royal family as their most important advisor. There would be no time for herself or the things she enjoyed doing—which was nothing .

“You believe it then?” she asked.

His tone when he asked, “You don’t?” gave her the image of him frowning. She shrugged and said nothing. That’s all she could do if her opinions disagreed with Tomesh beliefs. “You don’t want to be one?”

Nascha just realized she was having a conversation with her husband. Her rayeshka . She shivered at the word. The word felt surreal. It felt… big. And so ambitious. She, a scribe, married to a scholar.

“Nascha,” he said, stopping. She did too, because he just called her by her name for the first time. This was their first walk, their first conversation. She was hoping to sneak into a tomb tonight, not walk down the road with a man as if they were…well, they were married. Perhaps that’s the only thing that was real tonight and even that did not feel right. “If you are who your father hopes you are, you will have to accept it.”

She was already shaking her head before he finished, and he frowned, his eyes narrowing with curiosity. “I don’t think I’m the…” she leaned closer and murmured, “Oracle,” and leaned back to meet his intimidating gaze. “I think I’m something else.”

“What do you mean?”

Could she trust this man? She moistened her lips and looked around. If she told him, he may think she’s crazy. Or a witch. Or he may believe her and think of her a murderer.

“Nascha,” he said again, voice curious and low.

She stepped back. She knew something they did not. She knew her story. “I think I’m something else.”

“What do you mean?”

“I did not foresee the king’s death. I wrote it,” she said. “I carved it inside the arnucc.”

He remained motionless, but his eyes started to understand what she was trying to say.

“Months ago—and it happened just as how I carved it.”

“You are saying you killed the king.”

“Well, I did not light the fire that charred him. You know that. I was here in Tomesh,” she said with a flicker of annoyance in her eyes. “I did it with a chisel and a hammer inside a tomb and I didn’t even mean it.” And I there’s also Karei who will die in the desert if I don’t stop it.

He looked scandalized, as anyone would if they believed her story. “You used Tomera to carve a story—”

“And that’s the only rule I broke.” As he opened his mouth to speak, she held up her hand. “If you’re going to drag me before anyone to accuse me of murder, you need to know something important first.” Kalesch paused and waited. He was a patient man, Nascha realized. But his patience was a different kind. It was silent, but it was also demanding. “The things on that piece of paper are just the start of my stories.”

He stiffened. “What else did you carve, Nascha?” he asked.

She bit her lip. “But first, promise me you will not turn me in.”

He shook his head in disbelief. “I don’t even think I believe you.”

“ Supposing that you do, promise me.“

“ Supposing that I do, I will not drag you anywhere to turn you in because you’re my…“ he faltered, looked around, not saying the word. Maybe she wasn’t the only one uncomfortable with the word. “Turning you in will bring trouble to both our families.”

She blinked in surprise realization. “Of course,” she said, lifting her chin as if she had always thought of that.

He stepped closer, and she held her breath. “What else did you carve in the arnucc?”

She cleared her throat and took a step back. “Actually, I don’t remember everything. There were too many stories.”

“Stories.”

She nodded and bit her lower lip. “Do you think you can talk to Alika? Ask her to let us sneak in the arnucc?”

He looked like she just told him their world was ending. “Impossible.”

“Why?”

“Because the tomb is sealed, Nascha.”

“Not if we open it.”

“We can’t. It’s sealed by a powerful enchantment.”

She blinked at him in disbelief. “Don’t tell me you believe they work.”

His frown deepened. “And don’t tell me you don’t believe they do.”

The scoff that escaped her must have given him the answer, and he just shook his head.

“I really need to get into that tomb, Kalesch,” she said, calling him by his name for the first time.

He searched her face, his own filled with incredulity. “Why?”

“Because I really need to destroy my carvings.”

He shook his head again, his lips in a tight smile that did not look like a smile. “What I’d actually do is wait for what will happen next for more proof.”

Ah, so that’s the kind of wait he was talking about. Not an excellent plan.

“Was the rain not enough?”

“The rain is nothing but—”

“A coincidence?” she asked, brows arched high.

His jaw tightened.

“There is not such thing as coincidences in Tomesh, right?” Before he could utter a reply, she added, “If you know what I carved in there, you will be as desperate as me to not wait.”

“And what else did you carve?”

“Your death.” This time, Kalesch looked genuinely alarmed that she almost did not add what she said next. “And Prince Laku’s death and the destruction of the empire.”

5 | Who Are You?

haynee

(hai-nee) noun

Expression of unknown origin common among the people of Tomesh; used to express shock, frustration, sadness, happiness, sympathy

---

The people of Tomesh may be wise, but they were ignorant of many things. They were too secluded from the rest of the world and understandably knew very little about the other lands. They were always curious about the ushas and the lands they came from. And so, when the first batch of ushas arrived, everyone was peering through windows and doors, others a little more shameless, ogling at the parade down the streets. Nascha, of course, was among them, eating baked brye sprinkled with sugar.

Her eyes were on the girl riding atop a horse. Her face was covered by a sheer white cloth, which made Nascha even more curious. The woman riding beside her was also covered in the same way. The younger woman’s skin was brown, just a little lighter than hers. Her head was wrapped in the most beautiful golden cloth, which glimmered under the bright sun. Her back was erect, her head held high, looking straight and upward at the sloping village ahead. They were heading up there, near the House of Djozeh, where they shall hold camp.

Around Nascha, merchants were talking about their plans. They should pack and transfer to the camp and set up their kiosks. These ushas would need food and maybe clothes. Also trinkets. Or maybe a show to entertain them. Nascha’s attention was drawn to the other riders. They, too, had their heads covered with colorful fabrics. And their horses dragged carriages covered with the same fabrics–yellow, blue, teal.

These people were from Achnus. Nascha had never been there, but she had heard stories. Their black stones were precious, but their land was not. It was dark there, they said. And it may not be true, but an aunt had told her that one of her friends from Kgosi said that Achnus was covered in ashes. Popping the last piece of her bread into her mouth, Nascha brushed her hands together and craned her neck to see more of the princess from Achnus.

“They say her name is Tia Turvass,” said the woman beside her. “And that woman riding beside her is their queen, Yrlissa Turvass.” Nascha turned and found old Gaera, wrinkled face crumpling as she squinted at the parade. Nascha, stepped back. She knew it was her fault that this woman’s garden was ruined by scorpions, but she still detested Gaera. The old lady had nothing good to say to anyone, especially Nascha. Today was not an exception either, because as her eyes wandered to Nascha, she shook her head with disapproval. “ Haynee! Your hair is turning white, dear,“ she said. “It’s all that tugging. Your hair rings are not level. What would your husband think if he sees you?”

He did not say he dislikes it, nor did he say he likes it. She did not say the words. All she did was offer a tight smile and step back. Old Gaera looked away with disappointment, as if she bore Nascha into the world, fed her, taught her Tomera, and found her a husband only for all the hard work to not pay off. For this lady, everyone was a failure.

Meeting Gaera reminded her of her predicament. Karei was transferred to one of the prison cells in a nearby butte, far away from the king’s tomb. The village chief was still deciding when they would take Karei out to the desert.

As she walked away, her thought drifted a little to Gaera’s comment about her hair. She walked into the kitchen that morning to present the horror to her mother. “What happened to your hair!” her mother had cried out. “It’s turning silver! It’s all that tugging, Nascha! Go to your room now and don’t come out without fixing those rings!”

Of course, she tried fixing the rings, but she did not bother to walk out her bedroom door. She climbed out the window and that was how she found herself watching the parade. And now, as her thought shifted back to the most urgent problem at hand, which was Karei’s fate, Nascha spotted Kalesch from the other side of the street, looking around. He had a short wrap over his shoulders. His legs were wrapped in leather, secured by strings from his sandals. He looked just like every man in the crowd, but he stood out only because he was taller than most.

Nascha whirled on her heels and ducked under a kiosk selling red scorpions coated in caramel. And then she sprinted into a small alleyway. She was not avoiding him because they awkwardly parted ways five nights ago. He did not seem to believe her when she said he would die soon, while she could not even show him she was sorry he would, because how could she grieve for a husband she did not even know?

“Terrible, isn’t it?” a voice asked.

“Yes,” she absently nodded, thinking about her future as a widow in the Djozeh family. The Oracle Widow . What a terrible name.

“The sun is worse here in Tomesh,” the voice added.

“ Om miativ, “ she murmured, because that’s how you should respond to ignorant fools who did not know their words may have angered the gods. Praise the spirits indeed for such fools, for they made the world a little interesting.

“I’ve heard that before,” the voice continued to say beside her.

“I’m sure you did,” she said with a scoff, only to stop walking, realizing she was having a conversation with someone not herself. Her head snapped to the right.

The man grinned, his lips stretching almost to his ears. Nascha thought she had seen him before, but could not point out where. He must be one of the ushas from Achnus, she deduced. “Hello,” he said, looking over his shoulder at the road she came from.

“Why are you not among your people?” she asked.

“What does om miativ mean?”

She continued looking. “Praise the spirits.”

“Ah, wonderful words.” He sounded like someone who enjoyed anything. Even his body language said so. His hands were behind him, his gait easy, and he inspected everything with interest. He was dressed expensively, the fabric of his breeches glimmered with his movement. His leather sandals looked like they were from Han’ia where the best cows lived. “Were you watching the parade?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Did you see the princess?”

“Of course, but not her face.”

He nodded. Then he stopped, grinning at her. “What has been bothering you?”

“Nothing.”

“You have the same look my mother wears whenever she thinks something terrible is about to happen.”

Nascha swallowed. This man must have been following her. Had he been following her? Kalesch warned her about ushas. Now that she may be the Oracle, anyone would want to take her away. As he said, she was a powerful weapon. “I should go,” she murmured, making a sharp turn.

“I’m lost,” the stranger said.

“Go back to the main road. Someone will help you. I need to go.”

“Did I scare you?” the man asked.

“No,” she lied over her shoulder before dashing away.

Where should she go next? Home?

Of course not. Hours later, her stomach was rumbling and she was listening to the same man talk about himself. She decided he was not a danger to her. He was not capable of hurting anyone because he loved everyone who could offer him praise and awe.

He said his name was Kulah, and he was from Achnus. He was not lost, but he was looking for someone, he said. His sister. She ran away from the parade earlier.

“Ah, I guess she’s now at the camp,” he said when she frustratingly suggested that they go straight to the village chief for help after hours of searching.

“Then I hope you can go back to your camp safely,” she replied, turning to leave. But again, he ran up to her and asked about other things. How were the houses built? Where did they get their rocks? And then he back to talking about himself. He was an expert swordsman, and he was also good with the bow and arrow, but not so much because he missed three marks since he started learning.

Nascha looked around, no longer listening as her thoughts jumped from one problem to another. Kalesch and his lack of urgency in preventing his impending death, Karei’s impending death, and the many more deaths to follow. Why did she carve too many deaths in that arnucc? Why not world peace? Why not gold and riches for her and her family? Why not a completely different future where she did not have to carve on stones, where she could just write stories in Tomera without them coming true?

“…and when she realized who I was, she fainted. Right there in front of me, at my feet, in front of hundreds of people. She still wears the bump in her head to this day…”

She groaned inwardly. Kulah should stop talking. Not only could she hardly understand his fast Kgos tongue, but she could not also—

Wait. He was talking in Kgos too fluently for someone who said he was from Achnus. As far as she knew, they used Achun. This man was a liar. He was not from Achnus. He was from Kgosi. And surely, that lady did not faint at the sight of his bare chest. And a head bump did not stay too long.

And that’s when it clicked. Where she saw him.

She stopped walking and waited until he also did the same. She peered as he turned to look at her curiously. Oh no. She had been strolling around the village with the prince! Nascha looked around. They were almost alone on the side of the road that led to the Achnus camp.

“Do I have something on my face?” he asked.

Nascha shook her head. “No.” She continued her walk, thinking about how she should act now. But why would she be intimidated by him? He was out pretending to be an ordinary man and she should treat him as one. And why was he following her? Was he interested in her? The thought almost made her slap herself. She and her fantasies!

“I should really go home,” she told him.

“Let’s go to the Achnus camp,” he said instead. “Aren’t you curious?”

She looked around again. If something happened to this man, she would be in trouble. It was enough that his father died because of her.

“Nascha!” someone called behind them. Her sister, Hashek, was running toward her, eyes wide. “They’re taking Karei out tonight,” Hashek said breathlessly. “Mahl and the others are pleading her case. Will you come and join us? What happened to your hair?”

Nascha’s eyes went to the prince, then back to her sister, who was also now looking at him with a frown. “I’ll go there. And my hair’s fine, just too much tugging,” she hastily said, turning her sister to face her. “Go ahead.”

Hashek stepped closer. “This is not Kalesch. You can’t spend time with other men if your husband is in the village.”

“He’s lost,” she lied. “I’m taking him back to the camp.”

Her sister’s eyes glimmered with interest. “He’s from Achnus?”

“Yes.”

Hashek stole Prince Laku another glance. “He looks familiar.”

“He has a very common face,” she murmured under her breath. “Go. I’ll join you later.”

Hashek nodded. “Yes. The more the better. We can’t let another woman die.”

When her sister walked away, the prince turned to her with interest. “Who’s dying?”

An idea came to Nascha. This was the prince. He had power. “A woman in the village was accused of witchcraft.”

“A witch?”

“But she’s not,” she said. “An old neighbor who hates her accused her. And now they’re sending her to die in the desert.”

“That’s horrible.”

“I know.” She continued to lead him to the camp. “Someone should do something about it.”

“You’re joining them tonight? To appeal her case?”

“No,” she said. “I’m going to rescue her.”

“Rescue her? How?”

“I don’t know. I’ll find a way.”

He fell silent, and the longer he was, the more she was losing hope. Maybe she shouldn’t have told him of her plans.

“Do you need help?”

She contained her excitement. “Are you offering one?”

He shrugged. “It sounds fun.”

“Not if I get caught.”

His eyes glimmered with excitement. “We won’t,” he said, grinning from ear to ear.

---

Laku did not think he would enjoy his stay in Tomesh, but he was starting to. He just met a good friend, a woman who seemed to be completely amazed by him. She listened to his stories intently, not because she knew he was the prince, but because he was interesting.

He should be praying with his mother, but he was too restless to be in one place for hours. His father was not going anywhere. However, a woman needed his help. As the prince of the empire, he needed to save her. And what was the best way to show his greatness but by rescuing this woman as an ordinary man without using his power as prince?

Again, that night, after saying he was not feeling well and needed to rest, Laku slipped out of the grand tent set up by the royal servants behind the butte of his father’s tomb. It was far enough from the village, and most definitely far from the people of Achnus who just arrived today.

On the cover of the night, he easily escaped the evening prayer. By the time he reached the village, he rearranged his wrap over his shoulders and whistled his way to the meeting place. He did not know his new friend’s name, but he intended to change that tonight. He should know his comrade if they were to go on this mission together.

She was already waiting, still in the same wrap she was in earlier, and her hair was still as messy with the silver strands poking here and there. Did she even go home? She looked surprised to find him. Did she think he had no honor?

“Well?” he asked, looking over his shoulder. “The talk with the chief did not go well?”

“No,” she replied with a shake of her head. “As expected.”

“Then should we rescue your friend?”

“She’s not my friend.”

“Then why are we rescuing her?”

“Because it’s my—because she is not a witch. There’s no such thing.”

He smiled at her. “You don’t believe in magic.”

She looked away. They were at the bottom of the stone stairs that followed the slope of the village not far away is the camp of the Achnus people.

“Are you sure you’re coming?” she asked.

“Of course.”

She still looked unconvinced. “If we get caught, you will do anything in your power to keep us from trouble?”

“Of course!” he said. He could do that. He had escaped many troubles in the past because of who he was. This one was no exception. He just wondered how long he would last as Kulah, the ordinary man. The last time he ventured alone, his guards found him within an hour.

He followed her into a dark alleyway. “We’re going to shadow them up to where they’ll take her. Then we’ll take her back.”

“And after?”

“What do you mean?”

“Where are you going to keep her?”

She paused. Goodness, she had no plans.

“It’s fine. We’ll take her to the camp of my people.”

“You’ll take her home with you?”

“She will not survive hiding in this little village,” he said. He could take the woman to Kgosi. She could be one of the servants if she wished.

“You’re right. And you’re very generous.”

He grinned. “I am, am I not?”

She smiled and nodded.

And it was so that they found themselves hiding behind a big rock not far away from the butte where the said witch was being kept. There were people outside, talking. His comrade was frowning at the scene.

“What’s the problem?”

“Alika. She’s a priestess,” she said.

He narrowed his eyes and saw a woman dressed in white. “And?”

“I don’t know. It’s strange.”

“Are you here to witness the killing of the witch?” a voice asked behind them. Laku and his comrade whirled around to find a beautiful woman staring at them with the most charming smile he had ever seen. Her hair was wrapped in a blue silk cloth, her brown skin shining like copper under the gleam of the moonlight. She was perfect, he thought. “I heard there’s a witch killing tonight.”

“Who are you?” Laku’s comrade demanded.

“Oh, forgive me. I’m Zaria of Achnus,” the girl said, giving them a slight bow, a giggle bubbling out of her mouth as she did so.

“Where did you hear about the witch?” Laku’s friend asked, obviously unhappy to have an intruder.

“The man who sold me the fried scorpion with caramel,” Zaria said, brown eyes wandering to him. And stayed. She flushed and bit her lips. “Hello.”

“Hello,” he greeted.

The comrade turned to him. “You know each other?”

“No,” he said.

“But you are both from Achnus.”

Zaria’s brows lifted in amusement and curiosity. “We are?”

“Y-Yes,” he lied. “We are.” Clearing his throat, he held his shoulders back and offered the woman a bow. “My name is Kulah.”

She just nodded, staring at him in wonder. Well, maybe he did not look ordinary, after all, he thought. But then Zaria turned to his comrade again and asked, “And yours?”

The woman lifted her chin without a smile, looking at Zaria suspiciously. “Nascha.”

“What a beautiful name,” Zaria said.

“So is Zaria,” Laku said, stepping closer to the woman. “But we should hide.”

Zaria blinked. “Why?”

“Because we can’t—”

“We should all go back,” Nascha interjected, giving him a sharp look. Was she irritated because he was paying Zaria attention?

“Will you walk me back to our camp then?” Zaria asked him, batting her eyes.

“Of course,” he said.

He turned to Nascha, who was staring at the priestess standing outside the manned chamber again. “We can still follow them after I escort her back to the camp,” he told her under his breath.

She shook her head and turned away from the butte. “It was a crazy idea, after all.”

“But—”

“You should go,” she said, stealing Zaria a look. “Take her back to the camp.”

He nodded and watched her walk away. His eyes wandered back to the butte and at the priestess. Then he faced Zaria again, smiling down at her. She knew he was not from Achnus, but she still invited him to her camp. Ah, what a lucky night, he thought. Far better than going after a condemned witch.

---

Tia woke up to the sound of the local merchants offering their goods. Her sisters had their arms around each other, still much asleep. Their tent was large enough for the three of them, but their mother had to stay in another.

She felt like she had not gotten enough sleep as she dragged her feet to the washstand. There, she splashed water on her face, wondering where Zaria or Nym went to last night. She was certain either of them sneaked out.

Moments later, as she wrapped her head in white and gold cloth, her mother walked in with a servant, also with turbans around their head. Back home, it protected them from the ashes. Here, they did not have to wear them, but it felt strange not to. It was part of who they were, a reminder of the land that waited for them.

“Perfect. It matches your dress,” her mother said, gesturing at the white and gold dress hanging over the servant’s arm.

Tia threw her silent question with a frown. The queen was dressed as grand as the dress the servant held. “It’s time, my daughter.” Walking over, her mother fixed her turban. “The prince has finally asked to see you.”

She had been waiting for this moment, but it still sent a shiver up her spine, coursing to the tips of her fingers. This would be the first time she would meet her betrothed, and she had to make a good impression. If only she could summon Zaria’s charms, she would, but the woman was nowhere around at the moment.

After being dressed in white and gold, and after her lids were painted blue and gold like a butterfly’s wing, Tia walked out of the tent and into a small open carriage, which was basically just a chair sitting on two long rods for the servants to carry. She was not covering her face today. Her people, the ones who went with them, all stared. So did the people of Tomesh, their faces filled with awe and wonder as they gazed at her beauty. The servants carried her gently down the streets and farther out of the village. Her mother was close behind in another.

They passed the butte where King Amatif was laid to rest. Treasures were outside the stone door, all waiting for more. She looked over at the distant slopes of sand dunes and wondered when the other ushas would arrive and what they would bring for the king’s tomb.

The journey to the royal camp was faster than she had anticipated. And by the time she and her mother were ushered through various tents, she was breathless. However, she held it when they finally came to a stop in front of the largest tent. It towered over them, casting shadow against the sunlight. It was white, the flaps adorned with gold and blue paint. On either side stood poles that held the Kgosi flags, also gold and blue.

A servant whose chest was bare save for the open half-wrap over his shoulders, turned and walked into the tent. From outside, they heard their names being announced. Her mother reached for her hand and squeezed it before she stepped forward, hiding Tia from view. Her servant made a quick fix of her white and gold wrap, her turban, the gold earrings and the cuffs around her arms.

The Kgosi servant came out and held the flap open for them, eyes cast downward. Then her mother, gracious as ever, stepped forward. In her shadow, Tia did the same. She did not feel nervous, nor was she anxious. She just felt strange.

“Praise the sun god for this momentous moment, Your Majesties. The people of Achnus are saddened by the king’s passing, but we are hopeful for a bright future once Prince Laku is king,” her mother greeted in Kgos with a bow of her head, giving Tia a quick view of the queen and prince of Kgosi who were both sitting in the middle. Servants holding gigantic fans were in harmony as they moved them up and down; others were still as rocks, holding trays of drinks. The inside of the tent was covered in blue and gold carpet with sheer white curtains to separate other spaces: one with large yellow pillows, another large wooden tub filled with water, and on the right, a giant bed in red and gold.

“We are glad you have arrived safely, Queen Yrlissa. Has your journey been well?” Queen Yarah asked in Achun. Her voice was thick, strong with Kgos accent.

“The desert god protected us, Your Majesty,” her mother retorted, adamant to use Kgos.

“I understand you came with the princess.” This time, it was a man’s voice. He sounded excited, but also a little… condescending? He had the right to be, Tia thought. He was here to put his father to rest, not to have his future wife be forced onto him.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” her mother replied, finally stepping aside.

Tia did not bow. She looked straight, right at the queen, who was looking as pleased as the people in the village earlier. Then her eyes veered to Prince Laku, her future husband, the man she would have to kill to save her people. He was already standing, eyes wide, mouth open in wonder.

“You,” he said, pointing at her. “Zaria!”

Her mother stiffened. So did Tia.

Zaria, you stupid girl. What have you done!

Within, in one of the three corners of her mind, Zaria’s giggle echoed. But it was another voice that answered. “She made you sleep again and met the prince,” Nym said in a very irritated voice. “I wanted to play last night, but she took over!” the little boy’s voice whined. Zaria only chuckled in response.

Tia’s hand balled into a fist. Shut up, the two of you. I’m on the spot now. “Go to sleep,” she murmured under her breath.

Zaria and Nym did as she ordered, stepping back into their corners, but Tia could still feel their presence. She gave them a silent warning not to come out. They promised, but as always, Zaria always broke her promises. And now, like always, Tia had to fix her stupid mess.

6 | But I Want to Go Out and Play

sateh

(sah-teh) verb

Cause something to stop happening; cease to happen

Archaic; from the ancient song Ushas From the North

---

Laku was frowning at a scroll, not reading it, but thinking about Tia Turvass. She was an odd girl. Did not even utter a word while they dined together three days ago. Was she embarrassed to be in his presence? That she assumed a different identity, met a man, and then allowed him to kiss her? But why should she? Technically, he did the same. On the contrary, it should please her he was the same man she met that night because he knew he was. It doesn’t matter. It would not be long before she would show him her sweet and charming side again.

“You’re not paying attention,” his mother reprimanded beside him.

“I am,” he murmured, blinking at the scroll before him. “And it’s in Tomera.” He turned to his mother, then to Kalesch, who stood before them with his hand at his sides. “I can’t read Tomera.”

His mother sighed and gracefully reached for the scroll, rolled it, and handed it back to Kalesch. “Just tell us what it says.”

Kalesch nodded and started speaking. “The last Oracle foresaw that the next one would be born three-hundred-and-six years after his death. That was eighteen years ago. We have been in constant search for the next Oracle, and we—my father—believe we have found her.”

“Your wife?”

“Rayeshka,” Kalesch corrected with a nod, face impassive as he said the word. “She predicted King Amatif’s death among others.”

“How certain are we that she’s the one?”

“We’re not. We can only wait and see if her other predictions will come true.” A small silence followed. Laku did not know what to say, or if he had anything good to add at all. His mother seemed to be waiting for something else, so he did the same. “But we may not want to wait, Your Majesties. She has predicted the death of the Kgosi empire.”

Laku’s eyes widened. “What do you mean the death of the empire?”

Kalesch looked him in the eyes, the way he always did whenever he wanted Laku to absorb whatever he was about to say. “She foresaw that the empire will fall following your death.”

To hear he was about to die was incredulous more than it was mortifying. Who said Oracles were real? In this day and age, they should stop believing about myths. He had always found it ridiculous that they had a temple of the last Oracle in Kgosi, which to this day, people still prayed on like he was a god. And looking at Kalesch now, he could tell that the man also did not believe everything he just said. But his mother did, and she had stood in alarm at Kalesch’s revelation.

---

Karei was sent out to the desert and it was all her fault. Her mother wondered why she would not go out of her room, her father asked if it had something to do with their secret . It had nothing to do with possibly being the Oracle. It had to do with her own secret. And the fact that her own rayeshka

would not believe her, and that he did nothing to stop Karei’s banishment, was very disappointing. Even Prince Laku was more interested in a pretty usha girl from Achnus. She was being failed time and time again because she asked the wrong people for help.

Rolling on her bed, she wondered what she could do. Getting into the tomb to review the things she carved into the arnucc was the main goal. But she could not do that now. She would have to wait for when they opened the tomb again to deliver the treasures inside. For now, the only possible thing was rescuing Karei. Should she go to the desert and search for her? But it was forbidden and dangerous. Should she risk it anyway? She should, but where would she start? How was she going to do it?

She buried her face in her pillow and groaned. Last night, she joined her mother and sisters to pray in front of the king’s tomb. Alika was there to receive their offerings, but Nascha knew the woman was also present when they sent Karei out. The two women were never friends. So why did she go to the forest to send off Karei? It was not a priestess’ job.

A tiny voice—an idea—nagged at her. An echo in her endless series of disconnected thoughts. “What if it has something to do with the tomb?”

Apart from her father, Alika was the most obsessed about the king’s tomb. She wanted it to be perfect, to be the best. Everything she did was for the tomb. It would be her life’s legacy. So what could be the connection between the tomb, Alika, and Karei?

The first answer that came to her arrested her. Oh, she was horrible just thinking about it… But… But what if it’s true?

No, don

’t think about it, Nascha. Sateh! It might come true. Don’t talk about it to anyone. It’s horrible!

Her door opened and her mother rushed in, picking up wraps along the way. “Get dressed, Nascha. Wash your hair until your scalp hurts. Then we’ll fix those hair rings.”

“What?” she absently asked, willing her mind to focus on the moment.

Her mother straightened, stern look on her face. “I don’t know why, and your pahl is not telling me, but both the queen and the prince asked for you.”

---

He must now think I

’m boring, Zaria whined inside Tia’s mind.

He must think I

’m crazy, she retorted with ire. How many times have I told you, Zaria? You’re not taking over while we

’re in Tomesh.

I wanted to meet him, replied Zaria. We had a great time. And now, it has been three days and he has not yet called for us again. You made a very bad impression.

I

’m not happy about what Zaria did, Nym inserted, but I agree that you did a terrible job, Tia. You said he needs to like you. Staring at him without saying anything was not a good idea.

He talked too much, she reasoned.

He talks about interesting things, Zaria said. Maybe I should take over. Make him like us more.

No. You do as I say. I

’m on the spot while we’re here. No sneaking out, no games. My body needs rest.

But I want to go out and play, Nym whined.

She closed them off with a blink. It was easy for her now, but she had not yet mastered how to keep them out whenever she was asleep. Zaria always found a way to take the spot when her mind was at rest. And Nym would do the same. It was hard enough to share the same space in her mind with them, but it was harder to share the same body. Most mornings, she would wake up tired with no recollection of where she went or what she did. And they did not always share what they did. Nym would, but it was always about playing outside. Zaria, on the other hand, would not get into details. Even now, she refused to tell them everything she did with Laku.

It would help if they were useful, but they were not. All Zaria cared about was having a good time with men her age, and Nym always wanted to play with other children. They told her she was too serious, that she had to loosen up.

“The most important thing, my daughter,” her father said a long time ago, “is that you remain to be the strongest when you’re awake.”

But that’s the problem. She was stronger than Zaria and Nym when she was awake, but not when she was asleep. For so long, her childhood had been filled with fear of sleep. She did not want to close her eyes, afraid that when she opened them, she would have no recollection of what she did—what they did.

“We’ll post guards outside the tent,” her mother told her after their visit to the queen and Prince Laku. “If they do something that will endanger our mission, your brothers won’t be pleased. For now, do not worry too much about it. The union is still happening.”

No, it isn

’t, she thought to herself. He

’ll die before the wedding . She searched for Zaria and found her in her bright corner, still awake.

I

’ll let you kill him, Tia, don’t worry. I just hope you’ll let me play with him before you do.

---

The royal camp was blessed with shade. It was tucked between two buttes, the one that held the king’s tomb, and the other where the queen’s future tomb was also being built. There were only two ways to get in: the two ends of the valley created by the two buttes, and both were heavily guarded. The air inside the valley was cool, a stark contrast to the blistering heat of the open desert field between the village and the Belt of Temples.

Kalesch was already waiting for them. He was in a blue and gold wrap, his hair covered in white cloth, secured by a simple gold band. But it was the pendant hanging from his neck ornament that gave her pause: a purple diamond stone encrusted with a gold star. The sign of their marriage.

She tore her eyes off the yeshka and forced herself to look at him. Did he wear it today because they would be facing the royal family? She knew she was wearing hers because her mother forced it on her.

Her father, of course, traveled with her, quite ecstatic. He only told her mother to not worry, that Nascha did nothing wrong. Oh, the guilt that ate her almost made her sick. But now, worry took place. Seeing Kalesch reminded her of what she told him: her carvings, how they came true. What if he told the prince and the queen? Kalesch did not believe her, so it was possible. Was he delivering her to her death?

The feeling of dread was worse when Kalesch stepped forward and told her father that only Nascha was allowed inside. Then she was hurt for her father when his face fell in disappointment. “Why not?” she questioned angrily.

“It’s fine,” her father said, pushing her toward Kalesch. “Go with your rayeshka. I’ll wait for you outside.”

“It’s best if you go home, Kam Yakine,” Kalesch told her father. “I’ll take Nascha back myself.”

“But—” Her father stopped her protest with a smile. But the despondent look in his eyes clenched at her heart. “I’ll wait for you at home,” he said. Nascha shook her head. He wore his best clothes today. Why could he not join her? “Take care of my daughter, Kalesch Djozeh,” he added, stepping back.

Nascha gritted her teeth. Her father had been looking forward to this moment more than anyone. For someone who shared everything with his wife, he said nothing to her and kept everything a secret just because he was told to. He had been practicing what he should tell the queen, even practiced his Kgos on the way here. He even asked her mother to cook something nice for when they returned because he had great news to share about Nascha, their dear youngest daughter. And now he was being pushed aside?

And what would she do without him?

“Nascha,” Kalesch said beside her, voice even. As her father turned away, she glared at her husband. He looked away and cleared his throat. Was he guilty? Well, not enough!

“If something happens to me, you better save me,” she murmured under her breath.

He did not say a word and stepped forward. She looked over her shoulder again and forced a smile when her father waved at her before he turned the corner and disappeared.

“I swear, Kalesch, if something happens to me, you better save me,” she repeated.

“I heard you the first time,” he murmured back, this time touching her elbow.

The tent was beyond her imagination. It was golden and red and bright. It had everything she wanted, except the people inside with her. Servants lined the path to the center of the space where the queen and the prince sat.

And just as she expected, the fool’s eyes widened and he gaped at her. “You! My friend!” He laughed, turned to his mother, and laughed some more. “Goodness! I did not know Pareysha is that small!”

“Friend?” Kalesch asked, turning to her.

“He was lost,” she lied, throwing Prince Laku a look of warning. The man nodded conspiratorially.

“You sneaked out?” the queen asked.

“I was lost,” Laku lied. “I only meant to get some air.”

Unlike Nascha’s claim, no one seemed to believe him. The queen faced her, studied her. Laku was doing the same, smiling at her, then at Kalesch, amused disbelief on his face. Nascha would not call the queen a beautiful woman or an ugly one. However, she looked expensive. The crown on her head was long, making her appear taller than her son. And it was probably heavy too. Her earrings were grand, covering her ears. The necklace was nearly as large as her wrap. She would not survive if she stepped into an air pocket in the desert. She would just fall right in a heartbeat. When she smiled, the sharp edges of her face softened and the long, blue painted lines over her lids disappeared into the folds. “My dear, I hope you are feeling well.”

Nascha smiled. What else could she say? She was not feeling well.

“I hope you’re ready for your journey.”

She was just thinking about the food her mother was cooking, the things she would tell her father and how she could make him feel better after this visit, that the queen’s words did not immediately register. When they did, Nascha thought she heard wrong. She turned to Kalesch, who looked baffled.

It was her husband who asked, “Journey?”

The queen nodded. “If she is the Oracle, she cannot stay here. The other ushas are on their way.” Her eyes never left Nascha. “We can’t let them discover your existence, Nascha Yakine. Everyone will want to get their hands on you.” She turned to Kalesch. “Escort your rayeshka to Kgosi. Take Laku with you.”

The smile on Laku’s face froze, and he blinked in confusion. “What?”

The queen lifted her chin to show the finality of her decision. “We must keep the Oracle safe.” She stood and went to Nascha, took her hands and brought it to her lips. Did the queen just kiss her hand? Om Miativ! “It is an honor to be living the same lifetime as you, my dear.”

Laku had also risen, looking more like a lost child than a man who would soon be king. “Mother, in case you forgot, we still have much to discuss,” he said. “Did she not predict my death? Perhaps we should talk more about that. We’re not even sure she’s the Oracle.”

“That’s why you’re coming back to Kgosi where it’s safe, son. We’ll talk once I get back after the final closing of your father’s tomb. As Kalesch said, we can’t waste time proving she’s the Oracle. Your life and that of the empire is on the line.” She let go of Nascha’s hand. “Before one or both of you gets killed, you must leave Tomesh. No one can find out.”

7 | I Hope You Have a Plan

shek inah

(shek i-na) idiom

an expression generally used to wish someone blessings or protection, specifically from the desert gods; often used in farewells

archaic; first found in the ancient temple of the third Oracle

---

She was not supposed to be with her rayeshka outside the village, and even if they were in the village, they could not spend the night together anywhere. That unspoken rule had been broken twice now, and both times Nascha was uncomfortable. Also this time, she was feeling many other things. She did not want to go—not without telling her family, not when she still had to save Karei, who may now be lost somewhere in the dunes. Not with the prince, and most definitely not with Kalesch.

They were accompanied by two guards. “Two of our best,” the queen had said. Two guards to protect the crown prince and the Oracle. ‘How good are they?’ She wondered, stealing the two men a look. The fire from their little camp danced on their flat faces; a dark line was painted across their eyes and nose, making their gaze more intense and dangerous.

Prince Laku was talking, had been for hours now. If there was anyone excited about the journey, it was just him. After the queen told him he did not have to finish the rituals for his father’s tomb, Laku was fast to order for his clothes to be packed. Hours since they left the Belt of Temples without word from anyone, with two guards, and five horses, the prince was still talking about his childhood in Kgosi, how the place was filled with canals of water, how he used to escape the castle to go on little adventures. “I will take you around,” he told Nascha too many times since learning she had never been to the capital of the empire.

Nascha was awed by the man’s narcissism. For someone who grew up with so much attention, shouldn’t he be tired of himself? Strange, really. And tiring. Beside her, Kalesch was silent. What could he be thinking?

“How have you ever lasted this long?” she asked.

“My ears learned faster than my will,” he murmured back.

She smiled at Laku, nodding when the prince raised his brows at her while he talked, probably asking for a sign that she understood what he was trying to explain about the canals.

“I hope you have a plan,” she murmured to Kalesh. “Taking me away from the tomb is not a good idea. I really need to get to the arnucc.”

As she expected, he did not answer. He, too, was pretending to listen to Laku. They had just eaten a good meal of roasted elker prepared by one of the two guards. “As the queen said, we’ll talk once we reach Kgosi,” Kalesch said, taking the wooden skewer from her. “Why don’t you rest?” And to Laku, he said, “We have a long journey ahead of us tomorrow, Your Highness.”

They said it would not take long to reach Kgosi. They would not be crossing the desert. The queen had told them to go north and travel by sea. Not the safest, but if they traveled in disguise, they would be fine. That’s why she was in a gray cloak and her hair wrapped in a dull green cloth. Kalesch was wearing the same cloak, but his hair was tied back like any common villager around Tomesh. Laku was in a darker cloak, his hair also wrapped in the most unassuming white cloth. He enjoyed being in disguise, as he said.

Nascha looked behind her, at the small tent erected by the guards just for her. Their camp was nestled behind a sloping mound of sand to hide their fire from any other travelers.

Laku asked Kalesch questions about their journey ahead, most of them already answered hours ago. He eventually stopped talking, yawning and crawling back into the tent he had to share with Kalesch. One guard was already asleep, while the other would stay awake to keep watch.

“Aren’t you going in?” Kalesch asked.

“I can’t sleep.”

“Maybe get inside your tent and try ?”

She looked at him. Sometimes she wondered why people looked different the more she spent time with them. Or maybe it’s just because she noticed more things every time she did. His nose did not look as high as she disliked nights ago. They complimented his high cheekbones if she looked at him at an angle. His jaw was still worthy of being carved on a stone. His eyes looked different now that it seemed alive with firelight. It felt like they were talking to her, saying she should feel safe because he was with her. And maybe she should really try seeing him as her rayeshka because, after all, he was.

Her eyes dipped down to his mouth. Not too thin, not too full either. Just ordinary. And someday, she would have to kiss it. Her sisters said so. And they shared that they liked it, kissing. They enjoyed more as well, they said, and she would also discover them with her rayeshka in the future.

The thought made her face heat up so she looked away and rolled on her knees. “Fine,” she murmured. “I’ll try.”

Inside her tiny tent, she knew Kalesch had not moved from his spot. For a while, she led herself to believe he was staying so she would feel safe. And it gave her just enough time to calm her mind and finally ease into sleep.

She was a heavy sleeper. It took her longer than most to get into it, but once she did, she was gone. The world could shake and she would not even realize she’s dead until she was. And that night, Nascha felt nothing when someone entered her tent later and gagged her mouth with a cloth. In her dream, she was with Kalesch and he was smiling at her like he did with Alika when Nascha saw them together in the market many years ago before their wedding. She did not also realize she was being bound by one of the guards because her dream Kalesch was holding her hand. It was an interesting twist of reality because in the dream, she liked him. And she could read Kalesch’s mind and feel that he liked her too.

It was strange. In reality, she did not like him, but her dream self felt otherwise, so she obliged. And with curiosity, she tried to listen to Kalesch talk. But like in most of her dreams, she had trouble hearing anyone. She just knew what they were saying. He was talking about her hair. She frowned. What was wrong with her hair?

“White,” he was thinking.

She looked down at the tresses over her shoulders. She did not see it entirely, but her dream self knew everything had turned silver. “They’re silver,” she corrected, but she was not talking. She was just thinking it because she knew the dream Kalesch would understand. Because he was her rayeshka. They were one. He was her soul, her being.

“Ugly,” he was trying to say.

Now, that’s just plain harsh. Silver hair was not ugly. It was beautiful! No one in Tomesh the same age as her had the same hair. Messy . No, they were not messy! They were just a little unkempt. Why were they talking about her hair too much? Should they not be talking about something else? Much better, should they do something? Like kiss? Or take a walk in the dunes? Like proper rayeshkas would.

And suddenly, they were. Not kissing, but taking a walk. He was still holding her hand, and he was smiling. Careful . Yes, she knew what he meant. Air pockets. She should not step on one. If you die, I

’ll have to marry Alika.

“No,” she murmured, shaking her head. “Not Alika.”

Then don

’t step into a pocket.

Yet she did. Her foot stepped on sand and did not plant there. It fell through, into a large air pocket in the sands, and she was falling. Kalesch tried to hang on, but he had to let go or else he’d also fall. Why? She knew why. As she fell into an endless space beneath the desert, she saw him standing on the edge of the hole. Beside him was Alika in her priestess white dress, Nascha’s yeshka hanging on the gold band around her neck. Kalesch was wearing his too.

No.

“No!” The word did not come out as no because her mouth, as she realized waking up, was gagged. She was not falling into an endless air pocket. She was on a horse in the middle of the desert!

---

Tia was stunned. She did not realize something interesting could happen tonight. While she watched the little camp from afar, thinking how this unexpected turn of events could jeopardize their plans, the girl named Nascha was carried out of her tent, gagged, and bound, and taken away by the two men back to the direction they came from.

What

’s happening?

She ignored Zaria, and also Nym who was whining in his corner, wanting to take the spot to play.

There had been too many mysteries since that afternoon. Laku and his advisor were suddenly traveling out of Pareysha with two guards and another Tomesh girl. To where? Back to Kgosi? Why? But now, the Tomesh girl was taken by the two guards.

As she chewed on her cheek with questions, the advisor crawled out of his tent, poked his head inside the Tomesh girl’s tent, and then rode off as well, taking the same direction as the guards who took the girl, leaving Laku alone in their little camp.

Why would he leave a prince over a girl?

What

’s happening?

This time, Tia answered Zaria. “They’re leaving the prince for us to play with.”

---

She did not know who her abductors were, but she had a strong guess. The one riding in front of them looked very much like one of the guards sent to guard them. Also, she did not know how long they had been traveling while she slept. All she knew was that they were in… the Belt of Temples?

Of course, she tried to move, but then she couldn’t. They bound her like one would a corpse. They traveled for like another eternity that by the time they reached the familiar butte where she had spent most of her days at, her body was sore all over.

Helpless and confused and scared, Nascha closed her eyes until the horses stopped and the man hauled her over his shoulder. She watched the world upside down, the ground above her and the sky below. Her blood pooled to her head, and she closed her eyes again, praying for the sand god to help her, for her father to arrive and rescue her.

Kalesch and Laku were too far away, probably asleep. Or were they dead?

Why were they taking her back to the king’s tomb? Was this part of the queen’s plan? Was she the villain in this story?

If only the men talked, she would know. But one thing was for certain: this was not part of her stories . She never carved this to happen. Perhaps she should have, and perhaps she should have given herself some sort of power. One that could make her stronger than her abductors.

The night was chilly, but cold sweat rolled down her temple over her head. The wind howled, the sand scrunched under the shoes of the man carrying her. And suddenly, she was on the ground. Laid down, not thrown. She kept her eyes closed as more footsteps arrived, this time lighter.

“You’re done here,” the man’s voice said. Laku’s guards left with their horses.

Nascha was lifted once again, this time more gently by two sets of hands, and then she was carried in the arms of someone. Her heart went to her throat as she opened her eyes.

They were not in front of the king’s tomb. No, not at all. They were walking at the side of the butte, stopping at the foot of the stairs, where one stone plate was pushed to the side to reveal a hidden staircase.

Eighteen years. She had spent most of that in this butte, around it, and inside its chambers. But she had never seen this staircase. How was it possible?

But it was not impossible. They were just scribes who had to carve where they were told to. They were not the builders who built everything from the surface down, nor were they the priests who planned the tomb with the king.

Their path was lit with torches. It was colder underground, the sound more distinct, each step an endless echo that died in her ears. Nascha realized the person carrying her was a priest. He was wearing white, and so did the man walking behind them. Another journey into a narrow corridor of earth and they finally emerged into another chamber. This one she was familiar with: the eduali . The worship room.

And in the middle of the golden chamber, Nascha saw her.

Alika was dressed in white, hair perfectly ringed, her ears, neck and arms adorned with gold cuffs. She looked patient and stern at the same time as she watched. And, as if out of nowhere, as if he had always been there with Nascha from the time she was abducted, Kalesch emerged from behind one of the priests and stood beside the priestess.

And just like in Nascha’s dream, the two of them watched her being carried to the center of the chamber where another girl’s body was already laid out on a rectangular stone.

Karei.

Dressed in blue and gold, hands over her chest.

Dead.

8 | A New Home

yhel

(yel) noun

a place where one feels safe

Archaic; from the song about the first Oracle coming home

---

Nascha now knew why Alika was present when they took Karei out into the desert. She took the woman back and placed her here. But why? Did she kill Karei? For what?

Somehow, a part of her knew. Nascha felt sick just thinking about it as she gazed at Karei’s unmoving form on that stone. She looked at peace. But she should not be dead. She was too young, had not even yet lived to her twenty-first rain to be with her rayeshka, a young man in the village who may now believe his wife was dying in the desert.

“Why?” The question rolled out in a whisper as soon as they took her gag off. No one answered her. Alika was just staring at her with her perpetual stern look. Kalesch was silent beside her, not looking at Nascha, but at the two priests. He gave a slight nod, and they walked away. Nascha was still bound, standing helplessly in front of them.

“You’ll need her to be willing,” Kalesch said to Alika.

The woman only nodded, stepping forward. “To be here tonight is an honor, Nascha.”

Did she mean she, Alika, was honored to be in front of Nascha, the Oracle?

“Not everyone is given the honor of serving the king in the afterlife.”

Blood drained down her face as she realized what Alika meant. Her eyes darted from Alika to Karei, then to Kalesch. The bastard! He took her here! He planned all this!

“No,” was all she could muster. She stepped back, the little her binds would allow. “No!”

A flash of anger and irritation crossed Alika’s beautiful face. Kalesch stepped forward. “I’ll talk to her,” he said to Alika.

“No, it’s my duty as the priestess—”

He took Alika’s hand and squeezed. Gentle, like a man would touch his lover. “I’ll talk to her.” Alika conceded with a smile before she turned. Nascha’s jaw tightened at the sight, at the betrayal. How did she kill Kalesch in her stories again? She really hoped it was tonight, she thought, as he took another step toward her.

“Don’t come near me,” she warned.

Kalesch stood close, towering over her. “I’ll tell you everything in the arnucc,” he whispered.

“I don’t want to go with you,” she said, looking at the side to where Alika patiently stood.

“You want to,” Kalesch gritted out. It was only then that his words sank in. The arnucc .

Hope, a tiny bit of it, sparked within her. Was this a part of his plan? If it was, then he was a genius! She did not say a word, and he took it as a yes. His hand wrapped around her arm. “I can’t walk,” she said. She was bound down to her thighs. He bent down, untied her, and straightened to full height, but leaving the binds around her wrists. She could run now, but the two priests could be outside standing guard.

This man was her rayeshka. They may not be the friendliest, but they should be a part of each other. There may be no love between them, but they were bound by Tomesh and the god of the desert, like the sands to their land, like the sun to the dunes. She should trust him blindly. Or, in this case, boundly .

“You don’t have to take her away,” Alika said as Kalesch led her by the hand.

“I have to,” he said. “I need to show her something in the arnucc.”

“She knows everything in the arnucc. She carved its walls. She knows what the king has to go through in the afterlife.”

Kalesch stopped and turned to Alika. “She needs to understand.” For a moment, the two of them just stared at each other, lovers who could not yet be together. “Please.” That one word from Kalesch and she nodded.

They walked toward the opening that led down to the vimati. Nascha’s legs shook as they climbed down, and before her feet landed on the last step, her eyes were closed. The king was here and she did not want to see him.

“He’s inside a coffin,” Kalesch’s voice said.

She opened her eyes and, as he said, the golden coffin stood on a slab of stone in the middle of the room. The perfection to her father’s pristine work. And it was sad he could not see it. Who would have thought that something dead could make this place whole?

“We have to hurry.”

Kalesch turned to her, eyes darting over her shoulder. She felt his breath as he took her bound hands and freed them. Then he took the right one and guided her further down the path. She looked down. They were holding hands. Like in her dream, he was leading her somewhere. Hopefully, not over an air pocket. No, of course not. He led her to the opening that she had walked through too many times. Never had she ever imagined she would ever feel surreal doing it again.

“What’s happening, Kalesch?” she asked.

“You told me to find a way to get inside and I did.”

“By offering me as a sacrifice?” she hissed behind him.

He stopped, looked over his shoulder, and said, “Yes.”

She tugged at her hand and waited for him to continue down the stairs. The arnucc was empty. Just as she left it. Kalesch was already looking down, his face filled with disbelief. “And no one saw this?”

She shrugged. “No one expects to find something remarkable on the ground.”

“This is not remarkable,” he said, shaking his head, dashing forward to the far left corner. “Dragons?” he asked over his shoulder.

She looked down and read the words at the tip of her toe. “And snakes that could swim through the sands.” She looked up and found him staring at her. “Kalesch, what’s happening? What’s Karei doing here?”

His jaw tightened.

“This is insane!” she hissed, walking over. “You’re taking women as sacrifice!”

He did not look as horrified. He knew about this. Maybe also half of the village. Did her father? “How long has this… this monstrosity been going on?”

“Since time.”

She shook her head. “And I don’t know about it?”

“Because it’s a secret only known to the priests and scholars. The secrecy is part of the ritual.”

“Because it’s evil!”

“It’s tradition.”

“You’re killing people.”

Kalesch sighed, stared at her with patience, like he did when he tried to explain to Laku for the fifth time that they would board a ship disguised as friends traveling together. “Nascha, the priests do not kill the maidens.”

She frowned, not understanding what he meant. His eyes told her the rest of the words. “They kill themselves.” She swallowed the ugly taste in her tongue. “But why?”

“It’s an honor to be serving the king.”

“He’s dead! How do you serve a dead king who can’t eat or move?”

“He can’t journey the afterlife alone.”

“And I won’t join him there!” She growled. “What was Karei thinking? That she would come back to life with him? When?”

Kalesch bent down to catch her gaze and silence her. “You’re not joining him if you don’t want to.”

“ If I don’t want to? Of course, I don’t want to! Why do you even consider it?“ Her eyes widened in disbelief. “I bet you want me to. So you can be with her!”

“Who?”

“Alika!”

He blinked at her in confusion. “She’s a friend.”

“And once I’m dead, I’m certain she won’t stay a friend.”

“What are you talking about?” He shook his head. “You always talk about the silliest things.” He looked down and clucked his tongue. “And apparently, you also write about them.” As she formulated a rebuttal, he added, “Take in everything you can. We have to remember everything you carved.”

“What?”

He looked at her again. “Memorize what you carved, Nascha.”

“I can’t memorize everything!”

“They’re your stories. You can memorize them.”

“Well, not everything!”

“I’ll take the first half and you take the rest.”

She swept her gaze across the floor. “Can’t we just break them?”

“If we destroy these and your stories keep coming true, what do we do then?” he asked. “We have something to come back to now that we know the way to the tomb. But if we destroy these, there will be nothing left for us if we need to find more things from these stories.”

“You’re thinking we might have to go back?”

“Probably,” he murmured, bending down to read a text. “You wrote very specific details. We won’t be able to get all of them right. A floating island with waterfalls draining into the ocean?”

She grinned. “Cranash, the city in the sky.”

He was not smiling. He was already at work, studying her stories. Nascha remained standing where she was, looking at him. He perused her carvings with brows fused together in concentration. “Kalesch,” she said, moistening her lips.

“Hm?” It did not sound like the way her father would absently utter the sound around her mother, or her. It just sounded like how Kalesch would utter it to someone who should be doing something more important than standing in the middle of a chamber while a priestess was not far away, waiting for her to kill herself.

“You’re not going to let her kill me, are you?”

Kalesch turned to her. “Of course not. They can’t kill you.”

“Then we can walk out of here?”

She froze when she read the uncertainty on his face. And before she could erupt again, he said, “We’re going to walk out of here.”

“She will allow that?”

“What makes you think otherwise?”

Nascha rolled her eyes. “Has anyone said anything about getting a proposition to kill themselves so they can serve a dead royal? No. It only means every maiden died and I don’t believe they all said yes.” When he just looked at her without his face telling her she was being irrational, Nascha gasped and started to breathe harder. “Oh god, she’s going to kill me anyway, isn’t she? She hates me for marrying you. This is going to be her revenge!”

“Don’t be silly,” Kalesch said. “Alika will not kill you.”

“No, I don’t think she’ll let me survive—”

“Nascha. Stop,” he said, coming toward her. “We’re getting out of here. Focus on what we have to do first.”

Nascha swallowed and looked him in the eye. “You will not let anything happen to me.”

He nodded, eyes on her. “No, I won’t.”

She believed him then. And so, for the next minutes, Nascha read through her stories. She did not have to read slow like Kalesch because as she skimmed through each tablet, she was reminded of the details. However, she stopped once when she realized her thoughts were drifting away again. Her eyes went back to her husband. “Does this mean we’re also not leaving Tomesh?”

“No. We still have to go to Kgosi.”

“But if we tell the queen, she’ll understand.”

“No, she’ll have you beheaded.”

She gulped. “Then this stays a secret?”

“Have you told anyone else?”

She shook her head.

“Then this stays between us.”

“And what will we do in Kgosi? That’s where the war starts, Kalesch.”

“That’s why we have to go there before it happens— if it happens. We need to get to the temple.”

“What temple?”

“The Eye.”

She blinked. “The temple of the last Oracle? Why?”

He looked at her. “Finish what we came here for. I’ll tell you more about it when we get out of here.”

She looked at him in awe. “So you have a plan.”

This time, his gaze lingered. “Nascha, you’re my rayeshka. I can’t let anything happen to anyone because of you.” Of course, because it meant he would also suffer the consequences. “And I can’t let anything happen to you.” He turned around and focused on his task as if he said nothing that caused her to eyes to blink in surprise and her heart to stutter.

Nascha finished the rest of her stories, keeping everything she could in memory. Once, she commented that he should have at least brought paper and ink, but Kalesch said, “And risk everything coming to life?”

“Then you don’t think they’d all come true?”

He studied the stories again. “You wrote flood covered Kgosi after the king’s death. That did not happen. It skipped right to the rain here in Tomesh.”

“You’re right,” she said, nodding with relief. “So the war may not happen.”

“But it’s not something we should risk,” he said. He turned to her, and she fell quiet. It was time to leave and face Alika.

---

Laku did not believe Tia when she said she was just getting some fresh air. Who would travel for miles to get fresh air and come upon a camp and find a prince? No one, save for a princess who could not wait to spend another night with the said prince. If it was not for the weird situation he found himself in upon waking up—which was waking up with everyone else gone—he would have invited her into his tent. But everyone left him in their camp… Why?

She said the two guards took Nascha and Kalesch went after them. His advisor should have at least woken him up, but he didn’t. Again, why? He threw Tia a sideway glance. The two of them were outside his father’s tomb, hiding from view, back to where they first met.

There were two priests standing outside the tomb.

“Do you know about the hidden doorway?” Tia asked.

“Of course,” he said. “I was there when my father designed his tomb.”

“Is that a known feature?”

“I assume. How do you think we’ll get out of the tomb once we come back from the dead?”

She frowned at him, her face beautiful in the moonlight. “You really think you’ll survive the afterlife?”

He blinked at her in disbelief. “I’m one of the best with swords. And I have high precision with arrows. I will survive the afterlife.”

“What good would those do if you’ll be in the land of the dead where everything is dead? Who would you kill with swords and arrows?”

He opened his mouth to answer, then closed it again. “Good point,” he murmured. “Then maybe I should stock my arnucc with incense and enchanted stones. And a few horses to ride so I can get away from—Where are you going?” She had suddenly sprinted, bent low to her waist toward the hidden doorway. His eyes widened as she stealthily did so.

And before he could blink again, she was gone, climbing down the doorway on the ground. Laku stole the two priests a look. One was standing close to the block of stone door of the tomb, too high up to see the doorway below. The other was inspecting the black marble jars, gifts from the people of Achnus. As the priest bent over the opening, Laku dashed after Tia and climbed down the narrow stone steps.

Why was he even here? He should be sleeping in a tent. “Tia!” he hissed, searching for her. “Tia?” he whispered again. Then he found her standing beside an open vestibule that led into a golden chamber. He was about to speak, but she silenced him by signaling with her finger over her mouth.

He inched his way to the other side of the vestibule and realized they were not alone. Voices echoed from inside the chamber. A woman and Kalesch.

“…he needs an Oracle in the afterlife. She can assist him back into the living world, Kalesch. Don’t you see? He’ll be the first of the royals to do it! Then everything we do here will be validated. Everything we believe in will be acknowledged by everyone else. Tomesh will no longer be just the desert of the dead.”

“She isn’t willing,” Kalesch said. “She’s as much needed here in the living world as she is in the afterlife.”

“But you took her here. You want her gone!” A ringing silence followed. Faint footsteps. “Unless you needed her to be here for something else.”

“No, she’s—”

“What did you do, Nascha?” the woman demanded. “What is it with the tomb that you needed to get?”

“Alika, there’s nothing. I didn’t want to be here and I don’t want to die for the king!”

“No! You must be with the king. If you are who they say you are, then he needs you.”

“I refuse to be sacrificed for one man,” Nascha’s voice replied.

“You’re both hiding something. What is it?”

“There’s nothing to hide, Alika,” Kalesch’s calm voice replied. “We’ll talk more. I’ll return after I take Nascha back to camp.”

“No, you’re going away with her. You’re leaving me here.”

Everything confused Laku at this point. What was going on? Sacrifice? What were they talking about? He relayed his silent questions at Tia, who just looked at him with a clueless look. Ah, they were not yet on the stage where they could reach each other’s mind.

“We’ll talk, Alika. When I get back.”

No, he mouthed at Tia when she poked her cloth-wrapped head out of her hiding place to look. But then he wondered why they had to hide. If he came out now, he was almost sure the priestess would do nothing to him.

On the other hand, if he based his actions on the tone coming from the golden chamber, he should probably stay hidden. There were less words, but the silence and the lack of any other sounds felt like the situation was growing seriously tense. Then came the footsteps. His heart thudded. What if they were found out? And so? He was the prince. He could get away with anything. If there was anyone who should feel nervous, it would be everyone in that room. They left him in the middle of the desert alone!

“What are you doing?” Nascha demanded, her voice now frantic.

“Alika, let her go,” Kalesch said.

At that moment, Laku realized something serious was really going on. And perhaps Tia did too because she finally came out of her hiding place holding a… dagger? Where did she get a dagger? Wide-eyed, mouth hanging open, Laku consciously—or maybe unconsciously—followed. And the sight that greeted them made him stop. A woman in a white dress was holding Nascha from behind, holding a dagger against Nascha’s throat. Kalesch stood in front of them, arms stretched before him, palms open as if to calm the woman down. And in the middle of the golden chamber that flickered with lights from the torches, another woman lay asleep on a stone bed. “What’s going on here?” He did not mean to ask it aloud, but the words came out so loud that it echoed around the chamber.

That distracted the woman in white, and Tia, warrior princess from Achnus, dashed toward the woman, grabbed her hand holding the dagger, simultaneously kicking Nascha behind one knee. The stealth move caused Nascha to fall on the ground, giving Tia enough room to hurl the priestess on the ground by her arm. And all hell broke loose.

Kalesch reached for Nascha and pulled her to her feet. Tia had her back on the priestess, having discovered the woman lying on the stone bed which, Laku now believe, must be dead. Otherwise, she would have woken up from all the noise. Tia did the most unexpected thing. She jumped to the side, dropping her dagger, looking scared. Her hands flew to her face as she shook and stumbled back. Was she crying?

The priestess was unexpectedly quite capable. She shot back to her feet, all the while grabbing the dagger from the ground and rushing toward Nascha, eyes wide with fury and intent, dagger rising in the air as she launched herself forward.

“No!” Laku screamed. Kalesch looked over his shoulder and before Laku could take a step, he whirled around, arms around Nascha, carrying her with him to use his own body to block the priestess’ attack. His back arched, his eyes wide. “No!” Nascha screamed as she fell. Kalesch did, too, right above her.

At that moment, Laku could not move as he stared at Kalesch. The priestess stumbled back, shaking her head. She dropped the dagger, now stained with blood, and screamed at her bloodied hand. “N-No.”

“What have you done?” Laku asked, slowly moving toward Kalesch.

“Kalesch?” Nascha was saying, pushing her rayeshka until he rolled to the side and on his back.

“What’s happening?” Tia heard Zaria ask and she realized she was not on the spot. She knew Zaria was in control, and the woman stumbled back in fear. Gaining control, she pulled Zaria back and like donning a pair of gloves, she got her body back. Her eyes swept across the room: at the dying advisor, the crying Nascha, the stunned Laku. And the priestess whose hand was covered in blood.

Pushing Zaria and Nym aside, she grabbed her dagger from where Nym dropped it earlier when he accidentally took over. She straightened and rushed forward. One step, then another. And before anyone—those inside her head and out—could say anything, she slashed the priestess’ throat. “Meet Amatif in the afterlife,” she whispered in the woman’s ear. “And tell him Umoji is ours.”

“Kalesch?” Nascha’s voice echoed in the chamber. Tia dropped the priestess gurgling in her own blood and looked at Kalesch. He was blinking rapidly, swallowing hard, trying to consume another second of life, and then another. “We have to get help,” Nascha told Laku, who was staring at Tia with eyes wide in horror. “Prince Laku!” Nascha’s scream finally gave him the sense to move and kneel beside his dying advisor. “Get help!” Nascha screamed.

Tia only had a few seconds more to think.

Let’s go, Tia, Zaria said.

Yes. I

’m scared, said Nym.

Tia, don

’t, Zaria warned, tone serious. Don

’t do it.

Her eyes flew to the dead woman on the stone bed—the sacrifice. Then she looked around the room. The fires danced from their torches, the only constant life in this bloody chamber. She stepped over the dead priestess, ignoring Zaria and Nym’s pleas. If Nym had not accidentally taken the spot earlier, she would not have lost her momentum. If Zaria did not follow after Nym, Tia would have had enough time to kill the priestess before she attacked Nascha and Kalesch. The accidental switching rarely happened, and of all time and place, it happened tonight, she bitterly thought.

This is our fault , she silently thought.

I don

’t care. They’re all going to die anyway. Once your brothers succeed, Zaria reasoned. There’s too much blood here, Tia. I don’t like it.

“He can’t die,” Nascha told Laku. He was not even saying anything. He should move and call for help, but he was too stunned after he witnessed too many deaths in a matter of seconds.

Useless man.

“I can help him,” Tia spoke, coming near. Nascha looked at her, eyes wide with desperation, tears streaming down her face. “But on one condition.”

“What?” Laku asked in disbelief. Finally, his face showed something other than shock. He looked at her with disgust and outrage. “You just killed that woman, a man is dying, and you’re making bargains?”

“She was trying to kill her,” Tia said, pointing at Nascha, staring Laku in the eye. “Saving this man will require a sacrifice from me. I’m willing to do that if you take me with you to Kgosi.”

He blinked and shook his head incredulously.

“We’ll take you,” Nascha said. “Please, save him!” She bent over the dying man, holding his hand, shoulders shaking. The silver strands of her hair clung to her tear-stained face. Tia finally realized what the priestess meant earlier about this woman being the Oracle. And now she knew why they were traveling back to Kgosi. “Please!” Nascha, the Oracle, cried.

“Give me your word,” Tia said to Laku.

His jaw tightened. Tia glimpsed a different side of him. One that could be dangerous and ruthless like the kings before him. “We need him,” Nascha begged Laku, her words filled with meaning. “I need—please.”

Laku’s gaze held Tia’s. “Save him and I’ll take you anywhere you want.”

Tia nodded.

This is stupid, Zaria hissed.

She ignored the voice and blocked Nym’s incessant plea to escape to safety. She stepped forward and knelt beside the advisor. Then she turned to Laku and with one swift move, she knocked him unconscious with the base of her dagger. “Relax, he’s not dead,” she said to Nascha. “Let go of him.” The woman’s hands tightened around Kalesch’s. “Let go. He’s going away fast. I can’t save him if he’s dead.”

Nascha warily let go, swallowing tears.

Tia stood and dragged Laku’s limp body beside Kalesch. “I can’t give him back his body,” she said. “Not until it’s fully healed.” She looked Nascha in the eye. “And not until I get to Kgosi.”

The woman looked confused, but she nodded anyway. She was that desperate, Tia thought. She had witnessed the same desperation too many times before, back in Achnus, when she cared for their dying. Some of them she saved, but the rest were just too keen to go.

Zaria and Nym were silent. They knew they could do nothing now that Tia had made up her mind. With her thought space fully her own, Tia knelt between the two men—one dying, the other sleeping. Then she reached for the wrap around her head and pulled, freeing her silver curls. Tia Nascha’s tiny gasp of surprise, tugging on two silver strands. She tied one around Kalesch’s wrist, the other around Laku’s. Then she tied the two strands together, connecting the two men. She did not have to do this, but it helped. Like a horse with its reins, she needed a guide.

Closing her eyes, she searched for the soul she needed to save. And there he was, sitting in the center of his own mind, face covered by his hands. She could read his thoughts just as she could Zaria and Nym’s. “Kalesch Djozeh,” Tia called. He did not hear her at first. They often did not. “Kalesch,” she tried again, and this time he lifted his head. He was not wearing a wrap around his head. His hair was long, tied at the nape. “You have to go if you want to live.”

He sounded confused. He did not want to die. He was thinking about a war, about Laku. And he was thinking about his rayeshka, the Oracle of Tomesh and his vow to keep her safe. “Come,” Tia invited.

“Where?”

She focused on the two silver hair strands that pulled her toward Laku. She reached for Kalesch. “A new home.”

9 | I Have a Compass

obseumtozh

(ob-som-tosh) adjective

cozy, quaint, or peaceful. A special time spent with someone that brings a feeling of wholeness, meeting someone in secret to keep the warm feeling to yourselves, or the feeling of happiness for having spent a secret time with someone.

---

Laku opened his eyes, confused. He could see nothing but darkness and twinkling lights. Then the throbbing pain in his head reminded him of a bad dream. Or was it? Did it happen, or did it not? Did his future bride knock him unconscious inside his father’s tomb?

How dare she!

He jerked up in a sitting position, only to realize that he had been lying directly on desert sand. There was a fire to his right, and two women sat around it, silent as the absent wind.

“What happened?” he asked, although he did not have to. He was slowly remembering, and his eyes went straight to Tia. Her beautiful curly silver hair reflected the fire, so did her stoic face.

It was Nascha who spoke, voice hoarse. “We escaped.” She took a long breath and murmured, “Three nights ago.”

He scrambled to his knees in disbelief. “I’ve been unconscious for three nights?”

Nascha nodded. He turned to Tia and scowled. “You knocked me unconscious.”

It was Tia who nodded. “It was the only way to help Kalesch,” she said, voice clear, far from the charming Zaria he first met.

Kalesch.

He looked around, hoping he did not look as stupid as he felt. “He’s alive then?” he asked.

Nascha bent her head, tears rolling down her face.

“What did you do?” he asked his future bride in an accusing tone.

“I saved his soul.”

A little dizzy, he moved closer to the fire. “What do you mean by that?” he asked. He frowned at Nascha, but the woman could not seem to speak. And so he looked at the only person who had the answer. If they had been traveling for three days, she did not appear tired like Nascha was. Her head was carefully wrapped by a dark cloth, her face clean, and her eyes looked alert. “What do you mean?” he repeated.

His eyes flickered to the small tent behind her. It was closed. He looked around again, not finding Kalesch. The weight in his midriff coiled as his mind began to wrap around what happened and the conversation at hand.

“I took his soul and planted it in your body,” Tia said. Laku blinked, his mouth dropped.

“W-What?” he asked, dumbfounded. “Are you serious?”

“His body will continue to heal as you serve as his soul’s vessel,” Tia further said.

“You mean it will rot,” Nascha coldly said. Laku’s eyes followed the finger she pointed at the tent. “Everything that dies rots.”

“Not if his soul is safely tucked away,” Tia replied, lips barely moving as she sternly gazed at Nascha. It seemed that the two women had been having this discussion for three nights.

“You cannot even prove that Kalesch’s soul is inside him ,” Nascha said, pointing at Laku who could only blink, his hands absently roaming over his chest and arms, unconsciously checking if he still had full control of his own body.

“It takes a while for a soul to wake up in a new vessel,” Tia said, eyes on Laku.

“What do you mean by that?”

“That Kalesch may wake up in your head,” Nascha said with a scoff.

“It doesn’t happen right away,” Tia said. “His body may heal before that even happens.”

“How do you know?”

“Because this is not the first time I’ve done this.”

Nascha shook her head and stared at Laku in disbelief. “Do you believe her?”

He blinked again. His eyes flickered from Nascha to Tia to the tent. “It’s magic? It exists?”

Nascha groaned while Tia just stared at him, the corner of her mouth curling.

“It is older than the world,” she said, answering his question. “You are both too old not to believe it by now. You should have long overcome your skepticisms.”

Again, he blinked, fool that he was. Nascha, on the other hand, jumped to her feet. “I don’t think you’re being honest. You manipulated us into taking you to Kgosi and now you’re making up stories so we’ll hold our end of the bargain. Don’t think you’re fooling both of us.” She harshly brushed the tears from her face with the back of her hand and walked away.

Laku, for some reason, found himself scrambling to his feet and following her, leaving Tia. “Wait,” he called out to Nascha.

She said something in Tomera over her shoulder which sounded like, “Leave me alone.” He continued to pursue her until they were far enough from the fire and the princess of Achnus, his future wife and queen. Also a soul-controlling witch and a… killer. “I order you to stop,” he ordered. To his surprise, Nascha did. She turned and angrily faced him. “What made you say those things?”

She frowned and scoffed at him. “Because what she’s saying is impossible.”

“So is the story of you predicting the future,” he countered.

That made her freeze.

“You should be the last person to not believe in magic.”

“I only believe in the one that I experience,” she said, lifting her chin. “And so far, I do not see Kalesch being alive.” She pointed with her finger. “His body is inside that tent. It’s not breathing. It’s…dead. His… soul, wherever it is, is nowhere. Not inside you, not in the desert.” Tears welled in her eyes. “My… Kalesch is dead and it’s all my fault.”

“No, it’s that priestess’ fault. It’s my father’s fault for wanting maidens in the afterlife. If there’s anyone to blame, it’s—”

“Me,” she cut in.

Laku sighed. “Very well,” he said. “It’s your fault.”

She blinked at him, tears and all. “It is, isn’t it?”

“If you say so,” he said. “As it was my fault that I let Tia lead me to the tomb. If it weren’t for us, Kalesch may still be alive. That priestess may have succeeded and you’ll be a sacrifice inside my father’s tomb.” He stepped closer and stole a glance in Tia’s direction. “Look, my friend, I don’t trust her either.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Why don’t I believe you?”

“I would really love to believe her, trust me, but I’m the prince of this empire. Why do you think we chose a princess from Achnus to be my bride?”

“Because they’re the closest enemy.”

“Exactly. It just so happens that I like her—or liked her, really, because she was quite charming when we first met. You were there, so you should know. But she’s not the same woman who tried to impress me that night, do you agree? It only means she has a motive,” he said, murmuring his words as if Tia was behind him. “I suggest, my friend, that we believe that she has magic.”

Nascha looked utterly confused. “Why?”

“Because it will make us cautious,” he said. “You’re saying you want proof, right?” She nodded, wiping her tears with the back of her hand. “I suggest we wait for Kalesch’s body to…” Laku awkwardly tried to relay the rest of his statement by raising his brows and nodding. But Nascha continued to stare at him in confusion. “You know…”

“What?” she asked.

He grimaced. “We can wait for his body to… smell,” he said, grumbling the last word.

She gasped. “You mean rot.”

Clearing his throat, he arched his back and lifted his chin. “You say we’ve been traveling for three days. If she’s telling the truth that there’s magic going on here, then his body should have already… you know…”

“And if she’s lying?”

“Then we’ll take her straight to the courts of Kgosi. I’ll behead her myself.”

She nodded, although she did not look convinced. “Then we’re still traveling to Kgosi?”

“Yes.”

“Just the three—four of us?”

Even counting Kalesch’s body, Laku was not confident. But he could no longer trust anyone, not after what the guards did. “Those guards could be anywhere. And if the priestess had told anyone about you, then you are in danger. We have to move along.” He took a long breath and let it out with a small smile. “You and I are comrades in this journey, Nascha, my friend.” He shrugged, adding, “I can lose a bride, but I can’t lose an Oracle.”

After their talk, he left Nascha and returned to sit beside Tia. She remained quietly staring at the fire. He stole her a glance and loudly stretched. “I guess you did not feel safe to seek refuge in the royal camp?” he nonchalantly asked.

“We argued about what to do. Going to the royal camp was out of the question. It wasn’t wise to be carrying two unconscious bodies, one of them the crown prince. We would have been killed before we could explain.” She gave him a look.

“Oh,” he said, pretending like he had not thought of that. “You could have woken me up.”

“That’s not how it works.”

He nodded his head a few times. “Right.”

What else should he say? What else should he ask? His head still throbbed, and he was still confused. Was she telling the truth? Was she an enemy? But she saved Nascha. And as she said, she saved Kalesch, wherever he was inside him— if he was inside him. “Nascha says you know the way to the ocean.”

Tia nodded. “I have a compass.”

Laku awkwardly grinned. He would not admit he was afraid of Tia, but he could say he was slightly wary. The people of Achnus had always been a mystery. There were many stories about them, their mountain, and their dark history. When his father first told him he was to marry their princess, he threw a fit. Then he started to have nightmares. Thankfully, Tia was beautiful, and she seemed graceful. Until that night he witnessed her kill someone like it was nothing.

She could do the same to him.

But not if I could make her feel like she could not kill me.

---

Nascha was not a crier, but that night, the tears just kept flowing. After Tia, the woman she first knew as Zaria, convinced her that it was safer to travel back to the desert instead of getting help from the queen, she tried not to think of what happened in that tomb and how things could have turned better than it did.

But the horrors she witnessed nights ago were not one her mind could easily conjure to disappear. The lifeless body of Karei in the eduali , the deranged look on Alika’s face as she tried to kill her. Kalesch and how he tried to save her. Tia killing Alika.

She closed her eyes, and warm tears flowed anew. She did not want to believe Tia. In fact, she just wanted to wake up and realize everything that had happened so far had been nothing but a nightmare. She would rather work in the tomb and carve until sunset. In fact, she could just wake up and never tell another story to anyone. If it only meant she could be back home with her family and with a living rayeshka .

She returned to camp and found Laku asleep. There was not a part of her that believed he was wary of Tia. If he was, he would not want to sleep with the woman nearby. Tia was awake, but the woman said they should get more sleep before they continued on with their journey.

“Are you sure you know the way to the ocean?” she asked. They both spoke in Kgos, and they both had accents. If they were in a better circumstance, it would be an amusing subject to bond over.

Tia looked at her and gently smiled. “I know you’re wary of me, Nascha of Tomesh. It makes me wonder why you even endured our journey thus far.”

“I had no choice. I couldn’t just leave Kalesch’s…” She could not finish her statement and just bent her head. “If what you say is true and his soul can return to his body, I would want to see it for myself.”

“I understand that my gift can be quite unbelievable, but for my people and I, we live with it.” She turned to Nascha, eyes growing gentle. “You don’t believe my magic because it doesn’t suit your people’s beliefs. What I can only tell you is wait. In time, you’ll realize that your rayeshka is alive. And the moment we get out of this desert, you will witness more truths and even magic beyond your imagination.”

She had to chuckle at the last statement. “I don’t trust my imagination.”

“Maybe you don’t have to.” Tia looked beyond at the darkness. “How far have you traveled outside of Tomesh?” She did not answer because she was ashamed to admit she had been nowhere outside of Tomesh. The hairs on her arms stood when Tia smiled at her knowingly, as if she knew her secrets. Somewhere in her mind, she could hear Kalesch telling her it would not be wise to tell anyone, even Laku, about her carvings, and she agreed. “I understand,” Tia said, nodding her head slowly. “You’ll be surprised how magical the world is, Nascha of Tomesh. And once you experience it, you will go back to this moment and laugh.” They stared at each other for a long while before Nascha blinked away and said, “I’ll stay up a little longer.”

Not an hour later, she was sleepy. The stars became a blur as her eyes stared blankly up in the sky, the arms around her legs becoming slack as sleep became heavier to fight off. But Nascha fought it. She shook her head, blinked a few times, and murmured prayers to the sand god. She prayed for a short night, a safe journey, and no more abductions. And soon, she was asking questions again.

What was Tia? If her magic was real, then how could she do it?

And why is her hair silver?

She looked down and twirled her own silver tresses. Her imagination was taking her to unbelievable probabilities again, and she shook her head, slapping her cheek. “Get a hold of yourself, Nascha. Think logically.” Like how Kalesch would if he was here.

And then again, the tears returned.

I can

’t let anything happen to you…

How could he have said those words, keep them, and then just leave her?

She stood and walked away from their little camp, unbothered by the cold. If it would keep her awake, then it was welcome. She did not go far, though. After being bound, the events in the tomb, carrying two bodies, and traveling with Tia, she did not have the energy.

Standing in one spot, she looked down. What were the odds that she was not standing over an air pocket—That her weight would make it cave in and swallow her whole?

“Nascha,” a voice said behind her.

She looked over her shoulder and slow turned. It was Laku. But somehow, it did not feel like him.

He walked closer, his brows morphing into a familiar eternal frown. “It’s me, Kalesch.”

10 | Must Be Wind

adee

(a-di) adjective

something that pleases the senses; beautiful

---

Tia was doing her best not to burst out and demand for Laku to shut up. In a mile or two, they would be crossing another dune. It had been days since he woke up and he had done nothing but talk about the desert and what Kalesch had told him about it. Yesterday, he discussed how he planned to take care of everything once they reached Mirache, the seaside trade village. “I know everything about ships,” he had said. And then went on to talk about the ocean, how vast it was, and only stopped when Tia said she grew up surrounded by it.

Now, as they traveled through the night, he worried about Kalesch. The man’s body was being carried by another horse along with their tents. And to his surprise, and also that of Nascha, it did not smell. By now, the two were starting to believe Tia and her magic and were now bickering how they should hide Kalesch’s body once they reached Mirache. Laku suggested they should just wrap the man along with their tents and no one had to know he was there. That made Nascha blow up.

“He’s adorable, isn’t he?”

She would have answered aloud, but since Laku and Nascha were not aware of Zaria and Nym, she talked to the soul silently. “He’s a joke.”

Nym laughed, but also took the opportunity to talk to Tia. The last few days, she rarely gave them any attention to focus on her task. “Can I play later?”

“No. We need you to stay awake with us.”

Nym was a djoser , a human compass. Or he used to be. Human, that is. When he was on the brink of death, his soul was saved and planted into Tia’s great-grandmother. Unfortunately, they lost his body. Literally. They never found it again. But he still had his ability as a djoser. Thus, his soul was passed on from one generation to another until Tia received it from her mother. Djosers were rare. Many nations had them, and to have one was a great advantage. They did not just know where to go—they also find things.

“We almost got lost yesterday because of you,” Zaria told Nym. “We could have died. We barely have enough food for the horses.”

“I got us back on track, didn’t I?”

“And we lost valuable time!”

“Quiet,” Tia ordered, her head aching at the childish arguments—Nym and Zaria inside her head, and Nascha and Laku outside.

“But I want to play, Tia,” Nym whined.

“You can play some other time.”

“You always say that.”

“I promise you’ll get your time once we get on a ship.”

The child seemed satisfied. Zaria was sleepy, so she retreated, useless in this journey as she claimed.

Tia looked to her right, realizing that the outside argument had also waned. Nascha was dozing off on top of her horse. Laku, on the other hand, thinking he won the recent argument about salt water, still buzzed with stories. Tia stopped her horse and jumped down. They might as well set up camp before sunrise.

“ If we keep the same pace, we

’ll reach Mirache in a week,“ Nym said. That was fine with Tia. She did not want to tire herself, nor the others. She may have a djoser to show them the way, but she did not really have reliable companions if unexpected things happened. If they ever encountered anything that would require physical strength, she had to keep Nascha and Laku fit to fight.

They did not complain when she told them they needed to rest. Six nights of setting up camp, three with Laku and the other half with Nascha, the two women easily fell into a routine. Laku, of course, fell into his, which was sit around the fire Tia built to talk and watch while the women worked. They did not complain either because it gave them reason to push him into doing something: carry Kalesch’ body into the tent.

At first, Laku made a lot of excuses. He recently injured his back, or Kalesch was too heavy, or he was the prince of the empire and thus should not be expected to work like a laborer. All of which did not work. Tia and Nascha only stared at him until he reluctantly moved and dragged his adviser’s body into the tent.

They saved food and water as much as they could. Nascha had to constantly be on guard because Laku could be as sneaky as he was lazy. “If you don’t talk too much, you might not need more water,” Tia heard Nascha tell him on more than one occasion.

The fire was set, the tents erected with Kalesch in one, and the three of them chewed on roasted lamb meat, each portion just half the size of Laku’s hand (as he complained multiple times).

“You know, I once traveled to Akash with my father.”

Finally, Laku said something interesting for Tia. She turned to him and asked, “For what?”

“Peace,” he said, eyes rolling up as he thought. “But then, it might have been more than that. I don’t know. Can’t remember much.”

“You traveled to a land completely opposite yours and you don’t remember much?”

“Why?” Nascha asked. “What’s with Akash?”

“It’s completely covered in snow,” said Laku, grinning at Tia. “I remember that much, princess.”

“So it’s true. The stories,” Nascha said with wonder. “What did you do there? Tell me—Was it cold?”

“Biting cold, that’s what I remember telling my father. Very cold like the desert during winter, but it’s different because you get wet because of the snow and if you’re not careful, you could die.” He looked ahead at the distant dune they would have to cross. “Fascinating how two things could be so opposite and still be equally beautiful.” He winked at Tia. “Very much like us.”

It was Nascha who groaned and rolled her eyes. “She will not like you if you keep on doing that.”

“Doing what? Teasing her?”

“More like irritating her.” Nascha looked at his skewer. “Are you done?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“Then aren’t you going to sleep?”

“I’m not sleepy.”

“You were tired earlier before you had to deal with Kalesch.”

“I was, but now I’m not.”

Tia knew the only way she could free herself from the constant noise of the two. She stood and announced, “I’m going to sleep.”

She crawled into her tent and sternly ordered Nym to rest. “No playing. I’m serious. We need you for the rest of the journey.”

---

The silence that followed Laku’s sleep was like the one Nascha suffered after a long day in the tomb, when the sound of hammer and chisel still rang in her ears on their way home. And even when it disappeared, she still dreaded it because she knew it would start again in the morning. But now, she anticipated Laku’s silence because it meant one thing: obseumtozh.

She was also tired, but she kept herself awake. She took off her wrap because discomfort helped. A shiver ran through her as she absently stared at the flowers on the ground, but really, she was not staring. She was lost in nothing as she thought of nothing.

To keep her secret a secret, she stayed away from the camp. When she heard footsteps approach, she turned and found Laku walking toward her. She knew it was him, but she still silently waited as he instructed.

“Obseumtozh.” At his word, her shoulders relaxed and she let out the breath she had been holding.

Kalesch—or Laku’s body—walked closer and stopped to stand beside her. His gaze landed on the budding pink flowers at her feet. Beautiful in the eyes, poisonous to the touch.

“Well?” she asked, bending low to peer at his bent head.

He shook his head. “I can’t figure out how to do it.”

For two days now, Kalesch had been trying to regain consciousness while Laku was awake. He could feel he could do it, he said. When she asked, he said he could feel Laku’s presence whenever the prince was awake. “Like I’m asleep but on the brink of waking up. I can hear him, but I can’t force myself to stir away.”

“Like a nightmare?”

“No. More like I’ve been working for seven straight days and finally got to rest. My mind is awake, but my body is not.”

“Well, your body is not awake, in case you forgot,” she had said, but he did not laugh at her humor. He only said, “But I think I can do it.”

Now, three nights later, she was not so sure. But she did not tell him that. It was bad enough that he was half-dead. “Maybe you need to practice or something. Train your mind.” She straightened and sighed. “We can really use your silence while on the move.”

Kalesch turned to her. Or rather, Laku’s body did. And Laku’s brows fused in the way Kalesch willed it. “You like my silence, or you dislike the absence of his?”

“Both,” she said. “I’m glad you’re not a chatter.”

They fell silent for a moment. She did not mean to insinuate that she liked him, but what she said was true. Being in Laku’s presence for three straight days was exhausting. If she were home, she would have loved to be alone with her thoughts. But on this journey, she wanted a companion who could give her peace while feeling safe. She did not know Tia well enough and she may never feel safe with the woman. Laku was just too talkative to even allow her peace.

“What did it feel like?” She asked the question that she was hesitant to ask the first night he woke up. She looked at him, trying to imagine his real face. “When you were…pulled out of your own body.”

As he stared at her, oddly very Kalesch in all ways except that he did not look like his face, Nascha thought he would not answer. But he said, “I felt everything.”

“What do you mean?”

“It was painful,” he said. “The kind of pain I never experienced. But the moment it was over, it was…serene.”

Then maybe you

’re really dead. She did not also tell him that. That was just horrible. “How do you think she did it?” she asked, stealing the camp a glance. The fire was still going, and Tia’s tent was closed.

“I don’t know,” Kalesch said, looking at the horizon. She scoffed and he asked, “What?”

“I just realized that the great Kalesch Djozeh does not know everything after all.”

“I never claimed to know everything.”

She sighed. “We should make that announcement once we return home.”

They fell silent, the one she liked. One with a companion, one with security and peace. The feeling overwhelmed her again. What was wrong with her? She sniffed and she knew he knew she was crying and he let her. She was tired of their journey, she was afraid of what would come. She was afraid of herself, of what she had created. And she was frightened to encounter people like Tia, ones who could conjure magic. And most of all, she was afraid she may never get Kalesch back home.

“The fact that she can do this kind of magic should make us wary. We have to keep this a secret.”

She sniffled, wiping her tears, blinking the rest back. “I know. You already said that.”

“You can’t tell Laku.”

“I know.”

“We have to reach Kgosi and go to—”

“—the Great Library, I know,” she interjected. “To know more about the last Oracle.”

He looked at her again, his face patient. “You must be annoyed.”

“You keep repeating your instructions as if I’m a child.”

He nodded. “I’m sorry. I can’t help it.”

She stole him a glance. “You’re used to things being in order and to seeing your plans take action.”

“No, I’m used to always being there,” he said. “Knowing what Laku does and preventing his mistakes before he makes them.”

“You were not always there there ,” she murmured.

“What?”

“Nothing,” she said, looking away.

“What do you mean by what you said?”

“Nothing.”

“Nascha…”

She sighed. “I only meant that you were not always there… I mean here, in Tomesh.”

“You mean with you.”

She did not reply. Instead, she kept her gaze on the dark horizon. They were rayeshkas, but they were not really. She had not yet reached her twenty-first rain. And he liked Alika, whom they had not yet discussed. Was he mourning her death? He must be. But she refused to talk about the woman who tried to kill her. “But I’m glad you’re here now,” she murmured. “To remind me of our goal. Reach Kgosi and get to the Great Library.” She met his gaze. “After everything we went through, with the journey we’re taking, it’s easy to forget why we left home in the first place.”

He nodded. She wished he said something that would give her strength or comfort. But then she thought maybe he needed it more. He was the one stripped off his own body and trapped in someone else’s, after all.

“I have to go,” he said, turning away.

She blinked. “Already?”

“Laku needs to rest.”

“I’m almost done writing the stories,” she said. That made him stop walking. “You should start telling me the ones you memorized so we can document them.”

He nodded and lifted his hand and guided her back to the camp, his fingers lightly closed around her arm. Weird, but surprisingly pleasant. Warm, too.

“Will you come out tomorrow night?” she asked in a whisper.

“I might.”

“Might? You mean you’re not sure?” Why? What could a soul be busy about?

“Maybe.”

He let go and urged her toward her tent. “Go and rest, Nascha,” he whispered.

---

To travel while the sun was high was almost impossible in the dunes. The heat loosened the sands, pulling them halfway back with each step, making the distance seem twice as long. If they wanted to cover more distance, they had to wait until midafternoon and continue for hours until they found a good face in a dune to set up camp.

Most days, they slept well. Not another living thing came their way except for the occasional sand creatures—lizards, scorpions and the likes—that Nascha captured for them to eat. No danger seemed to be coming. But on their fifth day, they reached the most dangerous part of the desert: the dead sea . An endless flat land with scattered bones of lost travelers, it was feared by many, even the people of Tomesh. And in the blasting heat of the sun, it played with the mind. The mirage could lure a tired and desperate traveler toward an endless journey, giving them an illusion of water on the horizon, only they were not walking toward an oasis, but their death. Only the most experienced, those who could read the stars and the wind, could survive the dangerous crossing.

Tia had to pay extra close attention to their supply of water, stored in goatskin, for this journey. She did not worry about direction because she had Nym. What she worried about was the signs of life a few days away from them. Earlier, she noted camel droppings, perhaps a few days old. It could mean a caravan. And a caravan meant people and she did not want to be bothered by them. And Laku would prove uncontrollable if he ever met another soul.

“We should head northeast,” Nym told her, and so they did while she warded off questions from her two companions. How did she know the way? Where was her compass? They were easily distracted, Tia found out. She would just bring up a topic and Laku would immediately jump on it. And Nascha would shut off, expertly pretending she was listening.

For the first time, they had to set up camp in an open field of nothing and they all felt uncomfortable. “It’s like I’m naked,” Laku complained before he went to sleep. Tia agreed, but she was as eager as them to reach their destination. Once this last leg of their journey was over, once they reached the sea, they would jump into a ship and reach Kgosi.

And she would join her brothers.

And then they would reclaim their land.

“I can feel something coming our way,” Nym told her.

“What?”

“I can’t tell. It’s moving fast.”

“Must be wind,” Zaria said. “You once caused panic, remember? You think we were about to get attacked. It turned out to be a storm.”

“I don’t know. It’s different. I don’t know what it is.”

By morning the next day, as they were sleeping, they found out it was not a storm. In fact, after what happened next, Tia hoped it was a storm.

She woke up feeling like she was swaying, as if she was on top of a graceful camel. No, not that, she thought as she sat, studying her thick blanket, her small tent. It felt like being on a boat.

With a frown, she crawled out of her tent and found Nascha’s head poking out of hers. Laku was still asleep in his. “What’s happening?” Nascha asked, voice laced with alarm, her black hair a mess, tangled with the rings and thick strands.

She did not reply and instead searched for Nym. But the child was not around like he always was whenever he was afraid. Zaria was as confused, on the verge of panic.

Then she heard it. A rustle. And she looked down and found the sands moving in a fluid motion. Like the ocean. Her eyes flew to the other tents and realized they were moving, too. Like debris floating in the sea. And beyond…

Beyond, what should have been a flat, vast desert was now rows of rolling golden hills.

Waves.

Moving like the sea.

Nascha yelped when a big sand wave carried them on top, tents and horses all once. But unlike the ocean, the float was compact. But that did not mean they did not sink. For a split second, she wondered what it would feel like to drown in sand.

“Move slow!” Nascha shouted when Tia scrambled out of her tent. Tia swallowed, confused. The waves of sands continued—a small one, a big one. Nascha, a woman of the desert, lightly moved to the next tent. As she shook Laku awake, she shouted for Tia to get Kalesch.

“What’s happening?” she asked Nascha.

“I don’t know!” Nascha said, but somehow, Tia could tell she knew something.

Tia wadded her way toward the sinking tent as the horses neighed not far away, struggling to keep afloat. She reached for the end of the wrap that covered Kalesch’s body and waited for the next wave to carry it back on the surface before she pulled.

Somewhere, she heard Laku screaming. And Nascha screaming for him to shut up. Get the horses! Save the tent! Close your mouth!

Heart racing, her hands tight around Kalesch’s wrap, Tia looked ahead and her eyes widened in both horror and wonder.

A giant wave as high as the hills of dunes they left behind was coming their way, sending ripples of tiny waves.

And there, approaching them, was the thing Nym could not name. Something that should not be in the desert or anywhere on land.

A giant ship.

11 | Pirates of the Desert

mermeyeh

(mer-me-ye) adjective

a devastating event that causes one to lose the ability to think

---

They were cascading down the rough, hot sand wave. Laku, of course, was the loudest. His head bobbed up and down as the waves came stronger and more frequent. Nascha held on to the horses, searching for Tia and found the woman using Kalesch’s wrapped body as a board to keep herself afloat.

She saw it too, the ship. It was magnificent in sunlight, its giant sails stretched as the strong wind impelled it forward. Toward them. Yet there was no time to marvel because they were drowning without water. And if they could not swim out of the way, they’d die.

Nascha was buried from the waist down. Tia was still on top of Kalesch’s body. But Laku could barely stretch his neck long enough with each passing wave. Even the horses were doing better than him. “Don’t move too much!” she shouted, frustrated and afraid. For someone who boasted about his dancing skills days ago, he could not harmonize with the waves.

“I’m trying!” he shouted back. At least his eyes were closed against the harsh sand wind.

He won

’t make it , Nascha thought. But this was not where he was supposed to die. But it looks like he

’s dying. Her heart stopped when his head went under and never emerged, and she shouted, “Kalesch!”

“Get to shore!” Tia shouted.

“What shore!” she shouted back angrily. How could the woman use Kalesch’s body like a boat?

“You know what I mean!”

Nascha’s mind reeled. She had to let go of the horses and swim away from the path of the approaching ship. Making up her mind, she let go of the horses and scrambled over the abrasive waves to search for Laku. Tia was doing well with Kalesch’s body and Nascha thought that if they ever survived this, she would not let the woman near her rayeshka again—both body and soul. And speaking of the soul, it was drowning somewhere.

She had to save Laku. But where was he? “Laku!” she shouted as another wave sent her on top. Before it rolled down, she bent to her hips, balancing herself, surfing the waves. “Laku!”

There was nothing but three horses neighing toward safety; nothing but Tia surfing away over the waves atop a wrapped body.

There’s nothing until…

One of the tents knocked her over, and she tumbled, rolling on moving sand. And then she was drowning. She was now one of the millions of sands rolling up and down, up and down. Which way was up? Which way was down? She could not tell.

The worst part was emerging, only to be buried again. If she ever emerged, Nascha was not sure if she could survive the injuries. Her body felt like being lashed and squeezed everywhere. Unlike water, this mass of sand was solid. Loose, but solid. Each tumble tugged at her limbs, each roll twisting her in all places, each rise and fall felt like the desert wanted to eat her, grasping every part of her it could.

But then something wrapped around her. Something more solid. Something more desperate.

Something not sand.

“Get up!” she heard him say. “Nascha, get up!”

Then a pull. A painful one. And she was on the surface again, coughing out sand, choking on it. “Focus!”

She realized Laku was holding her up from behind. “Brace!” he shouted just before the wave rolled down. “Wait… wait,” he said, then, “Run!”

They ran as far as they could before another wave took them high.

They braced. They waited. They ran. They stumbled from time to time, but he would pull her up before a fall. They braced, they waited, they ran. Breathlessly, fine sand entering their airways, their hearts drowning with as they went. If this went on, they’d die above or under the desert.

Still, he pulled. They braced, they waited, they ran.

Until it stopped, making them lose their footing and tumble a few more yards away. The waves had paused in a sudden stillness that rang in their ears. Breathless, hand in hand, they stood and looked over their shoulder. The ship had stopped just a few giant hills of sand away. She looked at Laku. No , she thought. It wasn’t Laku.

“Obseumtozh,” he said, holding her hand tighter. “It’s me.”

She breathlessly nodded, tearing her eyes off his to stare at the ship again. The sails were down and she could hear people shouting from above. Nascha swallowed in disbelief and awe.

“You carved this?” he asked.

Again, she nodded.

“What is it?”

“The Caravan,” she whispered, stealing him a look.

“What do they do?” he asked, eyes narrowed. A warning for her to tell the truth.

Nascha bit her sand-covered lip. “Pirates of the desert.”

“Nascha,” he said, shaking his head, his tone helpless.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured.

He sighed and pulled at her hand, guiding her toward Tia and his wrapped body. “Good thing I’m awake then.”

---

Tia’s heart hammered hard against her ribcage as she looked up at the ship. She looked behind her, at the dunes the waves had created. From her right, she could see Nascha and Laku approach. Their horses were nearly out of sight, galloping toward the horizon.

They were trapped. They could not even run and hide because there were at least three people looking over the ship right at her. At her feet, Kalesch’s body was almost unwrapped, his head poking out. Her own silver tresses were free, flapping against the wind.

“Captain!” someone shouted from aboard the ship. “They’re here!”

Tia could feel Nym, but he was too scared to come out. Zaria was still shaken, murmuring questions to herself.

Nascha and Laku arrived and Nascha asked, “What do we do?” But she was not looking at Tia. She was staring at, of all people, Laku, as if the man could come up with a good plan.

“Nothing,” Laku said, his eyes serious and seemingly wise. So unlike him, but maybe Tia did not know him well enough. Maybe he could be wise and serious if he had to. “Let’s see what they want.”

Tia frowned at them, then at their hands. Nascha pulled away from Laku’s hold and cleared her throat, smiling at her awkwardly. “It looks like I’m finally seeing the magic you’ve been talking about,” Nascha said.

She followed the woman’s gaze. The sand around the ship looked like frozen ocean waves. Her eyes veered higher at the hull of the ship, the gun ports that lined them, and higher at the deck where at least two dozen men were bent over the railing, looking down at them like they were the biggest—or most disappointing—catch of the journey.

Nascha must think Tia knew everything about magic, but she was wrong. This was the first time she had seen this kind of… phenomenon. If this was magic, then someone very powerful was on that ship. It took a lot of heka , blood magic, to move such a vast desert and make it carry a ship that’s designed for water. This was no simple heka trick. This was something someone was born with and someone had practiced for years.

Out of nowhere, something flew past them. Or swung past them. It landed on the ground perfectly and straightened to full height.

A man with a black wide-brimmed hat shaped like a ship, a gold feather attached to it. His hair was long and braided and… gold. He wore a black skirt over his breeches and high leather boots. And nothing else because his upper body was naked, covered with gold tattoos and… gold scarf he wrapped around his neck. His earrings (also gold) were round and covered his ears. This man was too flashy, too golden, that Tia was surprised his teeth were white when he smiled.

“My friends!” he greeted, raising one arm (a quarter of which was covered with gold bangles) in welcome while the other (also a quarter covered with a gold band) held on to the rope held by his men on the deck. “I’m Captain Meryus, twin brother of proud Maryus and the gentle and magnificent Maryes. Friend of the desert, lover of maidens, and foe of the rich!”

Tia and Nascha blinked at him. Neither of them knew the names he spoke of, but something in the way he said them hinted they should at least pretend to have an idea.

Meryus’ eyes traveled between them before they settled on Laku. Then at the dead body at Tia’s feet. His eyes rounded. “Who is that?”

“A friend,” Tia said.

“Is he dead?”

“No.”

Meryus lifted his hand and twisted his wrist, the one with the bangles. The sand beneath them moved. They stumbled, wide-eyed as Kalesch’s body was lifted higher so Meryus could inspect him. “Why is he wrapped?”

No one answered. Then the body was dropped. It rolled and Nascha extended a leg to stop it.

“You lost your horses because of me,” Meryus said, looking back at Tia and Nascha. “I apologize. I had an itch and lost control. To pay for your loss, I welcome you aboard the Caravan.”

Caravan. Tia had not heard of it. Not even from her brothers who knew many pirates.

Two more men swung from the deck and dropped behind Meryus. They bowed at Tia and Nascha. “We’ll escort you, fair ladies.”

Nascha stepped closer to Laku. Tia held her ground. Laku stepped forward. “We would rather you replace our camp. We can continue on our journey on our own.”

“Nonsense!” Meryus shouted, eyes ablaze with incredulity.

“Our captain doesn’t extend hospitality to just anyone,” said one of the men. The other brushed his wrap aside to show them his sword.

“We can manage on our own,” said Laku.

Something in Meryus’ dark blue eyes changed. The laughter wrinkles deepened as his eyes narrowed. “Oh, but we insist,” he said in a sinister voice which, by chance or will, sounded too practiced.

“We don’t really—” One of the pirates had swung down from the deck, circling wide behind them and kicked Laku in the back of the head. He landed beside his captain before Laku hit the ground.

Nascha gasped and Tia threw her a look of warning as she said to Meryus, “We’ll go. If you promise to take us to Mirache.”

The smile on his lips returned. “I promise.”

She tore her eyes off Nascha and stared down at Kalesch’s body and at Laku’s unconscious form. Then she looked up at the ship and the men sneering down at them. There was no way to go, no way to run. Growing up on an island, Tia knew enough about ships and pirates. But this ship was different. And these pirates were none she had even heard of.

She had heard stories of others like her, some she had met, others she was friends with. But none of them were as powerful as she. None was more powerful than her. Except this man who could move the desert.

Laku was useless at this point; Kalesch’s body a burden; Nascha was too naïve. They could not run away from these men.

So Tia smiled, like how she thought Zaria would. And she stepped closer to Meryus. “Will you protect us throughout the journey?” she asked, blinking, hoping it was enticing enough.

“Of course!” Meryus shouted, laughing with his pirates, as if she had asked for the only thing they knew how to do.

Tia moistened her lips and smiled. Nym had completely shut himself off. Zaria was in a mess of panic. “Then take us aboard your ship, Captain.”

12 | We Should Be Proud of What We Are

kadase

(ka-da-se) noun

patience; the ability to tolerate inconvenience without displaying anger or disappointment

---

Nascha nudged Laku awake but he remained still. She lifted her head and found twenty or so men ogling at her. And when they saw her staring, they all laughed. With no other choice, she joined them. It was the most awkward if not frightening moment of her life. Well, she could also consider the day of her marriage to Kalesch as equally awkward. And maybe also frightening. She had to drink on the same cup as him and she remembered trying not to gag because he was basically a stranger, and the thought of drinking his saliva awakened some reflexes in her throat.

“Where are you from?” one of the pirates asked.

“Here. Tomesh.”

“And who is that?” another asked, squatting down to inspect Laku.

“A friend.”

“And that?” He nodded at Kalesch’s wrapped body. His head was still sticking out because they had to convince everyone that he was just unconscious and not dead.

“My rayeshka.” Before they asked for an explanation, she added, “He’s sick.”

“Sick?” one man asked. “Then you need me!” And out of nowhere, a lanky man, almost skin and bone, stepped forward. He wore a short robe that bared his chest (ribs and all) which expanded with pride as he said, “I’m a healer.” And mysteriously, he added, “But no ordinary healer.” The men behind him nodded. “May I?”

She hesitated. Tia was not around, having been invited to join Meryus in his cabin. And Laku was still out, maybe also Kalesch (wherever he may be in the prince’s consciousness).

The healer looked like a man with sensitive pride. If she refused his offer, he may take offense. But he did not wait and Nascha realized his question was not an act of asking for consent, but just… well, a question spoken out of habit. Before she could say anything, he was already kneeling and she could do nothing but hold her breath as the healer listened for Kalesch’s own, hovering over his body, ear downward. And of course, he did not hear it. He took a bottle from one of the men and held it close to Kalesch’s nose.

“Hm…”

“What?” the men asked.

“Curious,” the healer said, looking down at Kalesch.

“Can… Can you help him?” Nascha asked.

To her bewilderment and that of the other pirates, the healer stood and said, “I need a book.”

“What?”

He walked away, murmuring under his breath. At that moment, Nascha thought it might have been a mistake to let the man inspect Kalesch. She turned to the other pirates and they collectively grinned and shrugged.

“Sure he’ll be fine,” someone said, nodding at Kalesch’s body. “Mika is the best.”

Honestly, Nascha wasn’t sure anymore. After everything, anything was possible now. Souls could be transferred; ships could float in the desert; carved stories could come true. What else was there to not believe?

People.

Yes. She could believe everything else but people. Kalesch was right. She had to be careful. But even that was difficult because she was alone. She did not have any useful abilities such as killing people like Tia could. And she was naive (as Kalesch once said) and gullible (as her sisters claimed). If she could not trust even herself, who could she believe in? Even her own thoughts were flitting most of the time to even be considered reliable. Just like now, she was thinking of too many things at once.

So, who to trust? Certainly not Laku. Even when awake, he could not save himself. Kalesch, yes, but he was trapped in Laku’s body.

She was alone on the deck with these men with no way to save herself. They were looking at her as if they had never seen a woman for so long. What if they did something horrible to her?

But…

But maybe she could do something.

Talent…

Special talent. What was hers? She moistened her lips then stilled.

Stories.

Now, that was a start. Now, she just had to think of how she could make something useless a little useful.

---

Tia stood before Meryus with a smile. The man had stripped off his wide-brimmed hat with its gold feather, now showcasing his fake golden hair. And Tia knew it was fake because she knew for certain what his true hair color was.

His cabin was large, filled with golden things. The only thing that was not gold was the centaur’s head hanging on one wall. It was black, it’s eyes golden and seemingly alive. She had never seen one before, or even a real one at that. If it was real, she wondered if it was alive. She knew people who could do that—keep beings captive by rendering them immobile. To suffer by bearing witness. Always seeing, never moving.

She tore her eyes off the centaur, forcing herself to believe it was dead (if it was real), and stared back at Meryus. His eyes looked amused as he measured her from head to foot and back, his arms crossed over his naked chest. The golden marks glinted against the sunbeam that sifted through the round window to the left.

“I’m pleased you decided to join us,” he said, lips curling with hidden mirth. Or maybe the effect was meant. He seemed to be someone who had spent a long time building a persona, and his smile came out as something he must have practiced in front of the mirror. Having encountered many people—and souls—in the past, Tia could easily tell if someone was hiding a secret. And Meryus was hiding something: his true self, the one he purposely adorned with golden things.

“And I’m glad you’re extending your generosity, Captain Meryus,” she said.

“Please, just Meryus.” He turned, his black skirt ballooned around him like a budding flower. “I invited you here for a reason.”

Her brows arched with what she hoped to be a look of confident curiosity, although her heart was slowly bounding up her throat. “And the reason is?”

His hip rested on the edge of his table, its surface barely there because of the scrolls of maps and countless golden miniatures. Resting his hand over a gold hand structure, he looked awkwardly uncomfortable. He must think he looked nice doing so. “I’m curious.”

“Of what?”

“You’re not from here,” he said, eyes scanning her face, then her hair. And never left. He lifted his free hand and suddenly the ship tilted ever so slightly. Tia’s hand caught the back of a chair. “You’re like me,” he said.

She moistened her lips and stretched her lips. “Like what?”

“You know what I mean.” He twisted his wrist and the ship turned to the left. Or rather, the sands beneath them willed it, because he willed it so.

“I’m not sure I get what you’re trying to say.” Deep inside, a chaos had ensued. Nym was in full-blown panic mode. If he was afraid, the child would cower in his corner. But when he was really frightened, he was almost uncontrollable. He would pester until Tia gave in and run to safety. She silently told them safety was not here at the moment and he would just have to try to live with it for now. Zaria was a different matter. She was calm now that she could sense true danger. And sometimes, if Tia was not strong enough, Zaria could take over the spot. For now, she warned the woman to stay.

I

’ll handle this.

“We both know you know what I’m trying to say,” Meryus said, chuckling. “Come on, tell me. It’s not everyday I get to meet someone like me.”

She shook her head, feigning confusion. “I don’t really know what you’re trying to say.”

“Come on, darling Tia,” Meryus said, tilting his head to the right. “Your hair is silver. Like mine before I colored it gold with the help of an alchemist. I recommend him. I have his address in case you want a makeover. He also does metallic green. I think that color will suit you best. Your skin is the perfect color for it. Reminds me of the sirens my twin sister Maryes trapped in her nets three autumns past.” He shivered at the memory. “Poor things. Canned for the black market.”

Tia’s face crumbled at the image, not because it looked horrible, but because it could be true.

“But enough of hairs and alchemists.” He jumped to his feet and walked closer. His steps were swift, but she was faster. She circled him and he whirled around with a laugh. “Now, Tia, I’m not going to hurt you. I’m just curious. Tell me what you can do.”

“Nothing. I’m just a traveler who wish to go to Mirache. One of my friends need help.”

“Yes, I know,” he said, “but there’s more to what you’re telling me.”

“There’s nothing more.”

He looked at her for a long time, stepped back and laughed. “You’re scared.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Am I powerful than you?”

She did not reply because it was true and also because she still had to pretend that she didn’t know what he was talking about.

“My twins are more powerful, I should say. And they make certain I know it,” he murmured. “Tell me—Where are you from?”

“Achnus. And many of us have silver hair.”

“Achnus, the mountain of ash. Interesting.” His finger played with his chin as he pondered. “I’ve been to Achnus twice.”

“You were?” she asked, arrested.

“Yes. And not many of them have silver hair.”

“You wouldn’t be able to know. We wear head wraps.”

“No,” he said, “because I know .” His eyes narrowed at her. “I know what you are, Tia. And as I sail us across this desert, I intend to know what you can do. I can be very persuasive, and by that I mean I can do things that will make you tell me the truth.”

The long silence that followed grew into a heavy and prolonged battle of determination. Tia held her breath until Zaria yelped in surprise at the knock from the other side of the door. A lanky man walked in, eyes wide with excitement. “Captain, may I have a word?”

“Later, Mika.”

But Mika didn’t listen. He walked to Meryus and raised to his toes and whispered something in the captain’s ear which was still covered by his gigantic gold earring. The man’s eyes were on Tia, his murmurs reaching her ears but not her comprehension. All the while, Meryus’ gaze was also on Tia. And then he stiffened, snapping his head at Mika.

The lanky man grew restless as he stepped back, sharing a look of excited understanding with his captain. Meryus slowly nodded and said, “Show me.” He turned to the door, stopped, and beckoned for Tia. “Come with us.”

The beating of her hearts, and that of the two souls within her, were as loud as the thudding footsteps of Meryus, Mika, and herself.

Don

’t do anything stupid, she warned Zaria and Nym when they finally reached the deck where Nascha and the unconscious Laku and the dead Kalesch were being catered .

The pirates all moved aside as their captain, led by Mika, approached Kalesch’s body. Tia shared a look with Nascha who seemed to be one second away from jumping off the ship.

Mika and Meryus were back to murmuring to one another, throwing questions and answers back and forth. And when Mika stopped and turned to Laku, Tia’s heart thundered against her ribcage.

The ship grunted against the ocean of sand beneath them while everything on the deck fell quiet—the other pirates with curiosity, two men with excitement and two women with utter terror.

Mika was leaning over Laku, hand on his chest, eyes closed. As if he was listening—no— searching . Tia closed her eyes to calm herself and Zaria and Nym. She opened them to reassure Nascha whose fear mirrored hers.

“It makes sense now,” said Meryus. He stood and faced Tia, eyes no longer curious. The smiled he gave her was full of knowing. Beside him, Mika also came to his feet to gaze at Tia with wonder. “Do you know why I came to Achnus twice, Tia?” Tia shook her head. “They told me about someone who could reap souls.” He chuckled with excitement. “When we failed to find the reaper, I said, ‘Be patient, Meryus, because patience gives glorious rewards,’ and I was right.” His hand touched his chest where his heart was. “Years…I’ve been patient for years. My patience brought us together in the most majestic ways possible. You’re the answer to my heart’s greatest wishes.” He looked around at his men and all of them cheered. “We’ve found my treasure!”

Tia shook her head. “I don’t know what you mean—”

He rushed to her. “No. Stop your pretense.” He was looking at her as if she was worth more than all the gold on his body and his ship. He twirled the strands of her hair around one finger. “We are Omens and we should be proud of what we are.”