As Venice helped Doug and Betty get Ruark into the sleeper car, the rest of the group went about gathering the supplies the Aerthicans had attempted to pillage. After everything had been packed back up, they quickly moved the caravan north from the valley near a river and set up a small camp.

Doug exited the caravan as the rest of the group was preparing lunch and approached Lola. "We need you and Venice’s help extracting info from our new Da’i Kii friend."

"Why do we have to talk with him?" Lola complained.

"Because he seems slightly less closed off toward Venice, and you two are a package deal," the elder Sage replied. "So get in there and talk to him."

A nearby Aurora scooped up Rook in her arms. "We’ll go with them," she remarked. "After all, this all started with the four of us."

Amah loudly cleared her throat as she stepped beside the musician. "Pardon, the five of us," Aurora corrected.

"Technically eight, if you’re counting Tsu, Ho, and Shi," the Sun Spirit added.

Doug groaned as he grabbed the two women by the shoulders and pushed them in the direction of the car. "Just get in there and get some information out of him!"

Briefly rolling her eyes at the display, Lola turned and trotted up the stairs into the sleeper car. Venice, Aurora, and Amah’s footsteps sounded softly behind her.

In the car’s dim lighting, she could see Ruark reclining on the cot she and Venice typically shared during the evenings. The piece of armor that had covered his left arm sat on the floor adjacent to him. "They just had to put you in our bed, didn’t they?" the Buhund snarked.

The Da’i Kii scoffed. "Don’t get too fussy. I have no plans of staying here once I regain my composure. After sleeping for six centuries, I doubt I’m going to be able to go back to sleep for a long while."

A scraping noise echoed out from by her feet, causing her to jump. As she glanced down, she saw that the arm armor piece was attempting to move on its own. "Just ignore that," Ruark advised. "My prosthetic tends to get a mind of its own when I take it off, but it’s usually harmless."

As he leaned forward to face the Buhund and her companions, she could see that the left sleeve of his jacket was tied in a knot that ended at his shoulder—he was missing an arm.

"A prosthesis?" Amah mused out loud.

"Define ’usually harmless’!" Lola demanded.

"It’s little more than the arm from an old suit of armor that I enchanted," the Da’i Kii soldier explained. "I linked it to my mind to serve as a replacement for the arm I lost. Not a perfect solution, but it works."

Lola looked to Venice, hoping he had some way in mind to change the subject. "Mr. Ruark—" the carpenter began.

"What am I, your statesman?" Ruark interrupted. "There’s no need for formality."

Venice sighed sharply. "Ruark, based on your full name—"

"Ruark della Chiave di Ferro."

"Do you always interrupt people when they’re trying to ask you something?" Lola growled.

He chuckled. "Sorry. I’ll stop."

The carpenter bit his lip. "Do you know someone by the name of Reanja della Catene di Ferro?"

The Spellsword’s expression turned sharp and unamused. He glared icily as he turned to face them. "How do you know that name?" he seethed.

"How do you?" Lola countered.

His eyes lit up with rage. "How do you think I lost my arm?"

The room fell silent.

"Reanja is my sister," Ruark wearied. "Half-sister, technically. We were born to the same father, but different mothers. Both our mothers were An-Da’i Kii … hers from Jord and mine from Zamin."

"She disfigured you?" Aurora beseeched.

He averted his eyes. "She did that and worse. She murdered Maple, my Na’Kama.

"The War of the Five Tribes brought out the worst in my people," Ruark explained. "It made many of us do things we’re not proud of. Reanja, however, seemed to revel in the horrible things she did. She eventually turned on her own tribe; against all of the tribes. Are you telling me that she’s still alive?"

Amah stepped forward, nervously swaying from side to side. "About twenty-five years ago she warred against the Sages of Prithvi, clad in a cloak and iron mask that hid most of her features. She proclaimed herself ’the Witch of the Iron Chains’ and terrorized the entire nation," the sun spirit explained. "I was the High Spirit of the Sun at the time. The other spirits and I lent our strength to the Prithvian Sages in order to stop her, and it seemed as if we had succeeded."

"She returned a little over fifteen years ago and stole the very light from Lumea’s sky," Venice continued. "We lived in the dark for that entire time."

Ruark tilted his head and looked past them, out the sleeper car’s door. "Yet the sun still shines. Who stopped her?"

"Still in my position as the High Spirit of the Sun, I joined with the High Spirits of the Moon and Stars to use the last of our strength to select a champion," Amah offered as she knelt down to scratch behind Lola’s ears. "She and her friends traversed the darkness to stop Reanja and restore the sun, moon, and stars to their rightful place."

The Da’i Kii leaned forward. "You chose a Buhund as your champion?"

"Hey, I got the job done, didn’t I?" Lola remarked.

"You also let Reanja live," Ruark added.

"She was not in a position to dispose of Reanja," Amah interjected. "I, however, was and I abhor violence. Instead, I reached into her spiritual core and removed her magic. In hindsight, her being a Da’i Kii would explain why it was so difficult to remove."

Lola cocked her head at the Sun Spirit. "You didn’t know she was a Da’i Kii?"

"They’d been extinct for centuries. We honestly thought she was some occultist that had adopted the naming structure of the Da’i Kii Metal Tribe as a cruel joke. I personally assumed she’d used some sort of forbidden youth spell to keep herself young and to temper her magic."

"I suppose you wouldn’t remember the havoc she wreaked during the war," Ruark sighed.

Amah looked away with a glint of shame in her eyes. "You know that I and the other Spirits could not ignore a decree made by one of the Grand Spirits, no matter how senseless it may seem. I stand before you trapped in a material form as punishment for that exact sort of disobedience."

Lola pawed at her leg. "Would you mind giving the rest of us some context? What are you talking about?"

"Athena hates the Da’i Kii. We were created eons ago from ordinary humans using her golden blood as a catalyst, without her permission, and she’s held onto that grudge ever since," Ruark answered. "She ordered the entire Spirit Order to turn a blind eye to the War of the Five Tribes."

"You could say that many of us have portions of our pasts that we’re not proud of," Amah offered. "However, to get to the point, Reanja is back. An Evil Spirit from several millennia ago found her and fused a Bogba’el to her soul. She’s got a new form of magic and both of them are plotting to destroy the very fabric of reality."

"One of those annoying shadow creatures?" Ruark entreated.

Venice shuddered. "They’re not annoying, they’re dangerous!"

"Almost everyone here has lost a loved one to one of those horrible things," Rook interjected. "I lost my wife, Venice lost his best friend, and from what Doug told me as a toddler Aurora saw her mother devoured by a Bogba’el right in front of her own eyes."

The last few words of Rook’s sentence echoed in Lola’s ears. "Saw her mother devoured by a Bogba’el right in front of her own eyes."

They sounded over and over again, resonating deep inside her mind.

#

It seemed as if something inside the recesses of her memories had come loose. She recalled a dark night; dimly lit by the candles and lanterns she’d grown accustomed to during the days of the Empty Sky. She’d hidden behind the remains of an old shrub, cowering in fear at the arrival of an inky mass of familiar yellow eyes. A black Buhund stood outside of the shrubbery, poised to attack the creature.

"Stay hidden, Sunmark," it whispered to her. "I won’t let it get you."

The black Buhund lurched forward as the Bogba’el’s jaws opened wide.

She cried out after her mother, the monster’s growls drowning out her pleas.

#

Her eyes welled up with tears, stinging and hot, as she struggled to breathe.

"Lola, are you all right?" Venice implored.

Her grief was overflowing. Unable to hold it back, she began sobbing loudly.

"What on Lumea has gotten into her?" Rook asked.

Amah wrapped her arms around the Buhund in a tight but gentle embrace. "Take deep breaths," she instructed. "Try to calm down, then you can tell us what’s wrong."

Lola attempted to comply but still struggled to breathe. "My mother was eaten by a Bogba’el!" she wailed. "I was a puppy. I couldn’t do anything! She told me to hide, and all I could do was watch!"

Venice knelt down. "Easy now!" he insisted. "Grandmother told me your mother rejected you and you barely knew her as a puppy. Where is this coming from?"

Ruark turned, getting up from the cot. "I sensed some sort of charm being undone from her just a moment ago. A weaker, likely flawed charm, but a potent one nonetheless."

Venice’s face looked pensive as he attempted to assist Amah in calming down Lola. "A memory charm," he muttered.

"A what?" Aurora entreated.

"When Turin was consumed by a Bogba’el, Grandmother cast a memory charm on me to make me forget it," the carpenter explained. "It’ll completely seal any memory, but one fatal flaw: any small reminder of the memory that would normally activate the memory chain leading to it will completely undo it. In my case, the other children at the orphanage unintentionally reminded me Turin had existed and undid it."

"So she cast it on Lola to hide the memory of seeing her mother consumed, then lied to you about what happened to her mother to keep it from being unearthed?" Aurora pondered. "You have a big mouth, Rook."

The rooster’s feathers ruffled. "How was I supposed to know that was the case? Venice didn’t even know."

Lola continued sobbing loudly. Ruark sighed heavily, drawing in close to her and loudly snapping his fingers to catch her attention. "Listen to me, dog," he said. "What you see at the forefront of your mind did indeed happen, and it is painful. However, that moment has passed. You are not there. You are here."

The Buhund took a deep, ragged breath as her sobs ceased.

"The memory you see is nothing more than just that: a memory, a thought," he continued. "Our bodies can often react physically to thoughts, which is why it is important to remember that they are simply mental projections. There are many years between you and what you just remembered. Let the thought pass through you as if it were transparent and the effect it has on your body and mind should be nullified."

Lola continued taking deep breaths. Every inhale and exhale seemed to slow her heart rate, returning her to a state of calm.

"Where did you learn that?" Venice asked.

"It’s a mindfulness technique for use by those who have survived traumatic events," Ruark explained. "It was taught to me by the Grand Mage of Luce Vera while I recuperated from my last fight with my sister. It took several centuries of dreams and nightmares to master it."

Amah continued to stroke Lola’s head, almost in rhythm with her breath. "Feeling better?"

The Buhund sniffled. "Relatively."

"I will help you, if it means the opportunity to stop my sister," Ruark offered.

Lola and Amah looked up at him. "You do realize I won’t allow you to kill her?" the Sun Spirit replied.

"You can try to stop me if you wish," the Spellsword seethed. "However, right now it appears that your best option is to accept my help regardless of what fate I may be planning for Reanja. If you wish to save this world from this evil spirit, then whether or not its salvation comes at the cost of her still-beating heart in my bare hand should be among the last of your concerns."

"That’s vulgar!" Aurora interjected.

"She choked the life out of Maple right in front of me," Ruark growled. "The scars on my face are from the swords I threw at her being deflected, but she still corroded my left arm right off my body. A smile was plastered to her face the entire time. Death is a far more merciful fate for her than what she truly deserves."

"Enough," Amah commanded. "I won’t allow you to ransom the world’s fate over your single-minded need for vengeance!"

"You mentioned training your Buhund for combat," the Da’i Kii interjected. "None of you have experience teaching a dog to wield a weapon. I, however, trained my Na’Kama to fight with one. You need me more than you think."

Lola coughed. "We’ll accept your help."

"Are you mad?" Amah thundered.

"You’ll get your vengeance, but only under our conditions," the Buhund offered. "It can’t interfere with our ability to stop Mikaboh, and it can’t result in needless bloodshed."

Ruark stood silent for a brief moment. "The Empty One?" he begged.

Amah nodded. "He is free and he is plotting to undo all of existence. How he plans to do it, we do not yet know … but he is a resourceful and cunning creature."

The Da’i Kii groaned in frustration and extended his flesh and blood hand to Lola. "I will accept your conditions."

#

As the Broodrail rapid clacked along beneath her feet, Reanja joylessly looked upon the landscape dyed a deep red by the setting sun through the vehicle’s window. "So let’s recount your plan," she yawned. "You drive this otherworldly monstrosity of locomotive all the way to Prithvi, straight into the Marsh of Sorrow. As the two merge, the resulting chaotic energy will bore a hole clean through the fabric of both the material and spirit worlds, causing both to collapse within a matter of minutes."

Sitting lazily in a nearby armchair, Mikaboh rolled his eyes. We already explained it to you, deary. There’s no point in restating it.

She turned to him, a slight scowl running across her face. "I’m just trying to deduce where my role is in this mess," Reanja implored. "If you’re going to destroy reality itself, what was the point of empowering me to be one of your generals?"

The spirit rose from his armchair. As a Child of Nothingness, you need not fear oblivion, he explained. When we return to the void, you see, we will need soldiers that will stand apart from the forces already there. Beings like you that embody true emptiness are just what we need, but we can’t just stop at one.

The back door of the train car blew open loudly. A quartet of Bogwraiths flew in holding a set of captives: an older man dressed in rags and a woman dressed in the garb of an assassin.

Release them.

The monsters loosened their grip on the two captives.

"Who are you and what do you want with us?" the man asked.

Why, we were once the High Spirit of the Stars, Mikaboh explained. We’re simply looking for volunteers to help us in our quest to return things to their purest state: nothingness.

Alessa nervously toyed with her hair in a vain attempt to tidy it up. "So what made you assume we’d volunteer?" she interrogated.

The specter let out a low cackle. Our Bogwraiths roamed the land with one simple set of instructions: find only those with empty hearts and return them to us, he explained.

A pair of Bogba’el seeped up from beneath the floorboards behind him, their inky forms swirling into his outstretched hands. What we offer to you is power … Power that will allow you to change the world and return it to nothingness. This is power beyond riches, beyond fame; you will take part in reshaping and rebuilding reality from within the void itself. All you need to do is accept the emptiness within you, and allow us to fuse a Bogba’el to your very soul. If you are worthy, you will gain power. If you are unworthy, however, your soul will be consumed and you will live the rest of your days as a Bogwraith. The choice is yours.

The woman stepped forward.

"Alessa, have you lost your mind?" the man questioned.

Mikaboh grinned widely. Why fear opportunity, Colonel Brooks? Don’t you wish retribution against the foul reality that has wronged and dishonored you?

The man took a deep breath and stepped forward.

The specter chuckled. Excellent.

Mikaboh cackled wildly as the Bogba’el in his hands flurried toward Brooks and Alessa.

#

Ruark had busied himself by immediately beginning Lola’s combat lessons. The exercise he’d chosen was a simple fencing lesson, taught via a levitating sword. He sat comfortably nearby as Lola attempted to defend herself against the enchanted blade.

The Genesis Chakram glowed wildly as she held it clenched tightly in her jaws, attempting to block the swings and slashes the Spellsword was directing toward her. Block after block, the blade grew more aggressive in its assault, narrowly missing her tail and ears several times as she dodged it. "You’re not trying to kill me, are you?" she panted.

"Maybe I am," he replied. "Do you think any enemy you face is going to try to miss you with their sword? It’s important you learn how critical each and every moment in battle is from the beginning."

"What?" the Buhund exclaimed. She threw down the Chakram.

"Don’t throw me like that, you dullard," a voice echoed in her head.

"Time out!" she insisted. "I’m not letting you cut me apart, you psychopath!"

A concerned Venice approached with a violet harness in his hand. "You’re seriously trying to kill her during training? Doesn’t that defeat the purpose of teaching her how to fight?"

The enchanted sword fell to the ground with an unenthusiastic thud. "I’m merely attempting to wound, not to kill," Ruark huffed.

The carpenter knelt down next to the Buhund. "Maybe you shouldn’t take this so seriously?" he suggested. "She’s a dog, not a Da’i Kii warrior."

"One of the greatest Da’i Kii warriors I ever knew was a dog," the Spellsword retorted.

"She didn’t become one overnight, did she?" Lola countered.

Ruark paused. "I suppose not."

"It’s time for a break anyways," Venice interjected. "I have something for you."

He slipped the harness over her head and gently began buckling it around her chest. The fabric was cool against her skin. "I threw this together pretty quickly under Doug’s instructions," the carpenter explained. "It’s made of some frostweave I got from Balrog."

He picked up the Genesis Chakram from the ground and gently pushed it onto a set of short prongs on the harness’ right side. It clicked in place. "You’ll need to pull it down to release it," he instructed.

"Why frostweave?" Lola asked.

"Because, according to Doug and Betty, your Unnatural Gift has a price," Venice explained.

"’The first time’s free!’" he exclaimed, mimicking Doug’s voice before clearing his throat. "After that, the use of your unnatural gift has a cost. All of them do. Mine makes me prone to repetitive stress injuries in my hands. Yours typically comes with the cost that your body temperature will rise to dangerous levels while you’re using it, so the frostweave is necessary to keep you cool. You’ll also have to eat a lot after each use due to the amount of energy you’ll burn up."

Lola’s ears perked up. "You’re telling me I have a valid reason to gorge myself on all the food I want?"

"No, it means you have to be careful about how much you use your ability," Venice replied. "We’re on a budget: we can’t afford to get you a mountain of food several times a day."

The Buhund grumbled in annoyance. "So what are the prices of everyone else’s Unnatural Gifts?"

"The cost behind them usually makes some sense in the context of what their gift is," Ruark interjected. "Running fast makes you overheat and burn up too much energy, hyperdexterity like what the carpenter and your soldier friend have can cause severe wrist and hand injuries, the musician’s songs will always be enchanted no matter her intent, and so forth."

"Are you saying Wesley has an Unnatural Gift?" Venice asked.

"I can see chi and mana as they flow," the Da’i Kii offered. "When he drew his sword earlier during the ambush, his chi very clearly flowed into his arms, wrists, and hands … which is typical of hyperdexterity gifts. Your other soldier friend appeared to pool chi into his eyes and brain during the same situation, so it’s likely he also has an Unnatural Gift. Although he may not be aware of it. I assume neither of them are."

"Don’t you have to be exposed to magic to awaken an Unnatural Gift?" Lola asked. "It doesn’t make any sense—the country they came from doesn’t really use magic."

Ruark shrugged. "It’s not as if I know the sordid details of where they came from."

The sun was setting in the distance. "It’ll be dark soon," Venice remarked. "Do you want to keep training?"

Lola looked back up at him. "Do you even need to ask that question?" she panted.

Amah made her way over to them, Sam following behind her. "How is she progressing?"

"She has the reflexes of a dazed snail, but I suppose that’s fixable over time," Ruark answered.

"Jerk," Lola huffed.

"The Genesis Chakram responds to her at least," Venice pointed out.

"Having a functional weapon is important, but knowing how to use it is an entirely different matter," the Spellsword criticized. "Maple’s vajra was always in great condition, but in the end it was her ability to wield it properly that made her an effective fighter."

Sam let out a loud bark in Ruark’s direction. "Do you even know what the word ’elitist’ means?" the Da’i Kii retorted.

The Parkahund garbled in response before letting out another bark. "Now you’re just being petty," Ruark sighed.

Perplexed, Venice looked down to Lola. "What did he sa—"

"Lola, don’t translate that vulgarity," Amah interrupted. "I’ve already heard it in one language; I don’t need to hear it in another."

"I don’t think I want to repeat it," the Buhund replied.

A brief but sharp gust of wind drew her attention away from the conversation between Sam and Ruark. She turned back to see a jet-black Parkahund standing a short distance behind them. White markings framed his steel-grey eyes, making him appear a great deal all the more fierce and intimidating. "I hope the evening finds you well, sister," he spoke.

Amah turned her head to look up at the mysterious dog. "Tsu? Why are you here?"

"The Spirit Order sent me," he explained. "New information has come to light. We haven’t much time."

Next Chapter: (Book 2) Chapter 12 - Battle Onboard the Broodrail