Before descending into the chasm with Ina, Varayana told Arjasoot to stay behind.

“But why?” Arjasoot asked, hating how shrill and squeaky they sounded as they spoke. “I could help! I can help!”

“By setting everything on fire?” Varayana asked dryly. “And what if your flames burn my parents alive? Helpful, indeed…”

Arjasoot recoiled from the verbal slap, casting their eyes down to the ground.

Varayana scornful look slipped away, a paint-like facade dissolve by a tide of shame. “That was cruel and wrong of me to say," she whispered. "You’ve been a gallant traveling companion all the way, Arjasoot...and that’s exactly why you need to stay behind.”

“And leave you to fight a mad God alone?” Arjasoot hissed.

“That’s exactly why I can’t let you do this!” Varayana hissed back. “You’ve got a God of your own to fight, don’t you?”

Arjasoot fell silent.

“I’ll confess, I’ve been treating you wretchedly,” Varayana admitted with a sight. “But even in this bitter state of mind, I can’t ask you to risk you home for the sake of a place that’s already doomed.” A pause, then: “I won’t ask you that.”

“You don’t have to ask...” Arjasoot said half-heartedly.

Varayana bit her lip and said nothing.

“What is it?” Arjasoot asked, taking a step forward, lines of smoke rising from their quivering hand as they held it out. “There’s something you’re not saying: don’t deny it, Vara!”

Varayana’s head dropped down, the gold metal links of her head-dress falling to veil her face. “Damn the Gods,” she said. “Damn the Deiuos and all their stupid thrones.”

Ina frowned, but said nothing.

“What is it?” Arjasoot asked one last time, and this time softly.

“The Curse of Love,” Varayana said. “The first and worst of the God-Curses I received.”

Arjasoot’s soot brow wrinkled up in confusion. “The Curse of Love…” They repeated. “Does it force you to fall in love?” An equally horrible thought occurred to them" “Or force others to fall in love with you?”

Varayana shook her head. “Nothing so complex.” Calmly, clinically, she explains the nature of her curse, pronounced upon her by a vengeful deity:

“All who Love thee shall be doomed to die in thy sight. Doomed to give their lives for thine own.”

Varayana’s words echoed through the shattered walls of the temple, thrumming with the weight of portent.

Arjasoot shivered, then spoke:

“I don’t suppose that Curse refers only to human sexual love? Because I’m fairly certain I’m not attracted to you that way. At all.”

Varayana turned and gave Arjasoot a look.

Ina turned and gave Arjasoot the exact same look.

“Ah!” Arjasoot said, raising their hands and waving them back and forth. “Don’t mistake me! I hav no doubt you’re very sexually attractive! I’m certain that there’s thousands of men, women, and hijra who want to copulate with you…!”

Varayana covered her mouth with her hand, stifling a snicker. The slightest of grins marred Ina’s usually tranquil features.

“Bother,” Arjasoot said with a sigh. “I seem to be utterly rubbish at lifting people’s spirits.”

“I forgive you,” Varayana replied, composing herself. “And that’s the problem, Arjasoot. We get along too well. And to the best of my knowledge, the Curse of Love can be triggered by any kind of love.” Varayana spoke like she had a mouthful of ashes: “Any kind of love.”

Ina’s eyes widened ever so slightly. “So that’s why you took so long to come home,” she whispered. “You feared you would hurt your kin and clan.”

“The only reason I dare to help you now is the knowledge that my mother and fathers are in mortal peril,” Varayana told Ina. A nervous chuckle escaped her lips. “There’s very little I could do now that would make things worse.”

Arjasoot found their voice at last. “If what you say is true, “ they said to Varayana, “you need all the help you can get. What if you fail to save you kin because you don’t have me at your side?”

Varayana nodded. “A fair enough point, Arjasoot,” she says. “In fact, I would be glad to let you come with us...if you swear to me now that you bear no fond feelings for me. If you swear that you’ll gladly leave me to die if it means you would survive.” Varyana’s eyes were clear and wide, piercing Arjasoot to the core as she spoke. “Can you swear to do these things, Kindly Spirit?”

Arjasoot felt a hint of moisture in his throat, a tickling bit of con question from the moisture thick air that filled Wedwel Dom. “I s-swear,” they said, sparks and wisps of smoke fluttering from their mouth as they spoke.

Varayana smiled sadly and shook her head. “Liar,” she said, taking a step back and leaping into the churning chasm.

“Vara!”

Arjasoot rushed to the edge of the Chasm and peered over the side, their heart-flame churning in their chest.

They sighed in relief: Varayana had landed on the top of a thick sturdy tree root. With her carp tongue blade drawn, she carefully crept along the massive root, descending it like a staircase as it spiraled down into the depths.

“Do not blame her,” Ina said, leaning down and speaking directly into Arjasoot’s ear.

Arjasoot flinched and inched away from the Priestess. "What do you mean?" They asked.

“Varayana is simply trying to overcome her fears, in her own way,” Ina said softly. “She will do everything she can to keep her fears from coming true, to defy her fate as best she can” The Priestess of Eleutha took up her axe with both her hands. “And I promise you I will do the same,” She told Arjasoot, bending her knees and preparing to leap down after Varayana.

“Wait!” Arjasoot said, voice cracking with desperation.

Ina froze in place.

What should I ask her, Arjasoot wondered? Many questions came to mind:

How can I save my people from the Drowning Court?

Should I go after Vara, prophecies be damned?

What’s the right thing to do? Please, by all the Gods, tell me what’s the right thing to do?

“Have you heard of the Godcarver, and how it can be found?” They asked Ina instead.

Ina frowned and thoughts about it. Then, to Arjasoot’s surprise, they told them something new:

“I’ve heard of the Godcarver before,” Ina said. “My mentor once shared secret wisdom with me.”

A thrill of hope ran through Arjasoot, kindling their heart flame. “I would count such knowledge as precious beyond compare,” they explained.

“Then I will share it with you,” Ina replied, “for the Godcarvr must only be wielded by those who bear the greatest need. This is what my master told me, and more besides...”

Ina cleared her throat and spoke quickly. Arjasoot listened without complaint.

“The Godcarver does not yet exist,” Ina told the Smoke Spirit, “but it will appear in a flash when the conditions are right. The Godcarver can be forged, but not through the art of hammer and flame. The Godcarver is made not from metal, but by an alloy of anger, the rage of gods and mortals. And when the Godcarver is unsheathed, the guilty shall be judged without discrimination.”

Arjasoot stayed silent, quivering with excitement, grateful yet hoping for more...

Ina cleared her throat. “That is all I was told,” Ina told Arjasoot. “I pray that this secret knowledge will give you the help you crave.”

The Priestess of Liberty turned and leapt into the chasm, following after Varayana.

And just like that, Arjasoot, Smoke Spirit of the Hearth-Vale, Heir to the Tribe of Glass, was all alone in a murdered city.

Next Chapter: Chapter Twelve