Roxxa EarthCaller's duel with the Prince took place at a location once known as Mooneye Plateau on the border of the Northern Plains, just north of Crescent City. Only the greatest auramasters in Crescent City and from the Northern Tribes dared observe the fight in person; the more safety-conscious had only gathered at the nearby villages to claim proximity to such a rare event.
We collected various testimonies by interviewing those willing to discuss what they saw — the notes and transcripts can be found in the latter section of this compilation. The duel lasted a mere hour and resulted in the formation of Mooneye Lake where Mooneye Plateau once stood.
More importantly, Roxxa offered the Prince her head after declaring her loss. To everyone's surprise, the Prince praised her tenacity and skills instead, telling Roxxa that she was a warrior worth fighting. Upon hearing this, Roxxa pledged to serve the Prince in exchange for his guidance.
This blindsided the Northern Tribes, particularly the White Bears, who were particularly devastated by the loss of a pillar of their tribal strength. To this day, many Northern Tribespeople refer to Roxxa Norradóttir as Roxxa the Traitor.
While there are probably few that dare utter it in her presence, I have heard less savory terms in private.
— Excerpt from Those Who Serve, by Scholar Tory
In front of Sanctuary
As Komura cradled the two boys and their mother, she felt the weight of their trembling forms in her arms. Terror gripped at their bodies and Komura tried desperately to shield them from the chaos raging around them, but each thunderous crash and agonized cry threatened to shatter whatever semblance of safety she could offer.
Images of faces she couldn't save haunted her. The last look of several faces had imprinted themselves onto her mind, their desperate expressions pleading for salvation morphing into a moment of stark, profound clarity. It was the critical point where the body realized something the mind had yet to accept: their fate was sealed and nothing could be done besides accepting God Yven's call.
Some would scream. The noise deafened. But worse was when the screams cut off to sudden silence — the absence of sound weighed heavier on those who still lived.
Shouts echoed inside Sanctuary. Komura looked around, seeing some Priestesses with a pained look in their eyes as they tried to stay calm and in charge of the residents attempting to take refuge. But even some of the Priestesses seemed overwhelmed by the harsh reminder of their mortality, kneeling down with the others to rock back and forth in paralyzed fear.
Komura closed her eyes, trying to hear her own thoughts over the cacophony of anger, disbelief, and grief. The danger was real. The OutCast did not care for the consequences. The people would die.
And her own thought surfaced too, in the voice of her own mentor Priestess Ori.
All you can do is save as many as you can.
***
Second Street, ZhiXia City
Molam gasped awake. His body seemed to be bathing in fire, then the pain in his abdomen spiked at his sudden intake of breath. In mere moments, Molam had learned of a vicious new cycle of pain whenever he reacted and he soon degenerated into silent gagging, hesitant to take anything more than short breaths.
It felt as though a lengthy time passed before the pain softened to an angry itch, then a light throbbing sensation. When Molam could breathe again, he found himself in the fetal position on his side. He did not dare move at first, not trusting his body to function without further punishment.
"Molam?"
Molam looked up with blurry vision, seeing Shurra's giant shadow. The Northerner's features, caked with dirt and mud, came into view. Her normally expressionless face looked ghostly pale as her light blue eyes stared at him. He blinked, then realized the sticky liquid running down his chin onto his chest was his own blood, dripping from his mouth.
"You're alive?" she asked in disbelief. "But… your lungs. Your ribs…"
"I…" he wheezed, then stopped. His throat still felt raw, the sensation one would have if they spent the last day shouting themselves hoarse.
"Wait," he croaked the syllable at Shurra. He lay there, unwilling to move. The immediate pain was gone — it was the fear of a fresh wave of pain that kept him from moving immediately. But he couldn't afford it; they were still in the middle of a battle.
Slowly, cautiously, Molam rolled over onto his back, testing his body in small wary movements. He tilted his head, checking for fractures and wincing at the dull ache in his neck. Head seemed okay. Left shoulder and arm… good. Right shoulder — he sucked in a rattle breath. Something was still painful and had yet to heal. Panic coiled around his chest, mixed in with the pain from earlier. Was his right arm dislocated? Broken? Why hadn't that been healed? But he could do nothing about it; he forced down the panic and moved on, hoping it could be addressed later.
A hand clenched — good, so the fingers still functioned. He didn't want to move his torso yet, so Molam turned his attention down to his legs. The right leg worked, and the left leg was stiff. The only thing preventing him from moving was sheer pain, so he willed his body to move slowly, feeling the tense muscles stretch out once again. The itching throughout his body continued to be concentrated on his midriff; he did not dare look, content with waiting for the healing to finish.
"Molam?" asked Shurra in a tense voice.
"Alive," he managed to rasp out. "Wait."
The wait seemed agonizingly long, and his ears picked up the sound of fighting somewhere. The enemy was still out there. But he couldn't do anything about the speed, only practice meditative breathing until the itching eventually subsided into an angry buzz.
Molam tensed himself, checking his body again. The shoulder was still useless. The stiff leg was probably unable to display the full range of movement, but it should allow him to stand. He looked up at Shurra, reaching with a hand. She pulled him up to his feet, then caught him when he stumbled on his injured leg.
"Should you be moving?" Shurra asked in a worried tone. "I can't believe you healed that. Your spine looked snapped. At least five — no, ten healers would have been necessary…"
Molam pointed at his useless shoulder so Shurra could see he wasn't whole, then limped towards her.
"There," he pointed upwards. Far above them was a window, affording an easy way out of the building they were trapped in. "We move," he rasped. They couldn't afford to be stuck here; if the OutCast hadn't come to confirm his death, then the others must be delaying her. They would need help without a Domain. "Now."
Extricating themselves from the debris, they emerged blinking into a scene of destruction. Molam could not believe his eyes. The street had collapsed in on itself, the buildings on either side toppled over the middle. A thick haze of dust smothered the air, making it difficult for Molam to find the source of the fighting he heard. Broken bricks and shattered glass littered the ground around them, and the scent of the Festival's food and drink could still be detected. All of the stalls had been upended, their contents disrupted and spilling into the chaos left by the violent upheaval.
It had been one thing to read about the fighting abilities of Titled Ones and see some of the geographical remnants of their battles; it was another to experience it. The OutCast looked gravely injured, but she was brute forcing through all the obstacles they could muster as though it were just rice paper.
How had Master Ji suppressed four of them by himself?
"The Traitor had this much left in her?" Shurra shook her head. "Why not use it earlier?"
"She said it as much," Molam turned slowly, nursing his shoulder as Shurra followed him. He found that it did not hurt as much if he whispered instead of using his throat. "She wanted to avoid killing anyone else to respect the Festival. Or perhaps she wanted to hide her fatigue from fighting Master Ji, because I imagine she needs to conserve enough aura to escape too. But now we're closer to Sanctuary, I think she can no longer hold back."
When the dust began to clear, they saw the continuation of their previous fight. It seemed the echo had been freed; Molam suspected Martyker had taken the chance to break through its prison when Roxxa threw him there. Even with only one hand each, the echo and Martyker occupied most of Roxxa's attention as Primrose and Shurra attacked from afar, leaping around dilapidated buildings and staying off the ground. Any missed daggers or needles were quickly returned to the women via Martyker's ability.
But the flow of battle seemed different. Martyker and the echo were keeping Roxxa in place. The echo invaded Roxxa's immediate space with a surprising display of hand to hand combat; its staff was nowhere to be seen, perhaps destroyed earlier. The tip of Martyker's greatsword wove in and out her space as well, nicking her at times as he looked for opportune moments to cut and stab Roxxa from behind the echo's onslaught. The greatsword moved with deceptive agility, and Molam suspected Martyker applied his aura in ways that pulled at the tip to achieve such sharp maneuvers.
Roxxa stood her ground, diverting her attention between blocking and parrying their attacks while keeping an eye looking about, responding to the intermittent flashes of colorful clothes flitting between the dilapidated buildings. She minimized her movement, choosing to dodge Primrose's blades with just a pivot of her good leg and warding off Scarlette's thrown needles with her injured hand.
What changed? Molam couldn't quite place it at first, but then he realized: Roxxa was only defending herself.
And then the OutCast noticed him and Shurra standing afar. A brief look of shock passed over her face, then her features darkened along with a change in her fighting stance. A great swing of her fist made Martyker and the echo step back, then she stomped forward on her good leg, bringing forth a surge of spikes. Martyker, clearly hobbled from an earlier injury, brought the flat of his blade up to block the attack as it surged down the remnants of the street. The force of the blow sent him flying upwards, where he flipped over in midair and landed awkwardly next to them on the fallen building, favoring his left leg.
"A tree without leaves is not dead!" Martyker's voice contained both surprise and relief. "When your Domain disappeared… I thought the worst."
The echo was not so lucky. Slowed by its multiple injuries, the echo could not move in time to avoid two spikes impaling it: one in the stomach and the other in its left thigh. The OutCast limped slowly up to the struggling echo, holding out her weapon as she deflected Primrose and Scarlette's projectiles with her other arm.
Shurra made to move, but Molam gripped her arm. "No."
"But the echo—"
Roxxa raised her weapon and beheaded the echo. Molam grimaced; though he knew it wasn't real, it still felt as though he was seeing Master Flangel die in front of him. The aura-created body dissipated, and the OutCast wiped the blood from her eyes before looking up at them again, those twin orange glows focusing on Molam.
"I see your Domain is gone, and yet you live." As she limped towards them, blood flowed down from her temple and the tens of open wounds laced across her body. Her clothes hung in tattered rags, revealing bandaged breasts and tattoo'd scars. The fingers on her left hand, still crushed from her fight with Master Ji, did not seem to bother her. She coughed without breaking eye contact. "You're a surprisingly hard one to kill, vessel of the Oracle."
I'm not sure I want to hear that from you, thought Molam, but did not want to waste his voice replying. He backed away from the edge of the building, scanning around them. The destruction of the street had caused the earthen wall to fall down towards Sanctuary, providing them a clear path through half of the street.
Molam gestured at the others to come close, taking stock of the situation. He hoped that Primrose and Scarlette were still aware of their roles, staying close but out of sight. The echo was no longer and none of them could hope to match a Titled One. Though they had needed to join the fight, the echo had still accomplished what he was hoping it would do. Titled or not, the OutCast had skirmished against the Whale of ZhiXia, suffered multiple injuries, broken herself out of Master Ji's imprisoning ice, fought an echo meant to be her equal, then unleashed a wide-scale attack that seemed to have decimated a third of ZhiXia City. Her injuries were worse than before and her aura reserves couldn't be unlimited.
After a moment of consideration, he spoke through his pain. "This has gone on far longer than I expected."
Martyker guffawed grimly. Shurra shook her head, as though disappointed Molam had nothing more important to say.
"She can't have that much aura left," Molam continued his thought. Or so he hoped. The OutCast had surprised him at least twice now.
"I certainly hope so. All of us are low," Martyker muttered. "But are we certain?"
"Did she use her Domain when mine disappeared?" Molam asked pointedly.
Martyker shook his head.
"Then I'm reasonably certain." Molam winced at his pain. "She abandoned her Domain to rupture the earth in her attempt to kill me. I have no aura for a Domain, but she no longer has her greatest advantage. Our goal hasn't changed; we move to Sanctuary now."
Shurra nodded thoughtfully, "With her leg like that, outrunning her will be possible."
"We'll force the OutCast to choose." Molam winced at the pain of limping forward, his finger pointing to the fallen wall of earth. "If I head straight to Sanctuary, she will become impatient to stop me. Shurra and Martyker, the two of you harass and delay her from a safe distance. Be a problem, but only attack when her focus is on me. I want none of you to risk your lives — hear me?"
The Oasian sheathed his greatsword with a smooth, practiced movement, catching up to Molam in four giant strides. "You look half dead. One of us should accompany you, on the off chance she does catch up to you."
Molam began to protest, but his next step saw his knee buckle. Martyker caught him, helping him back to balance. "And to help you actually reach Sanctuary," Martyker added in a cheeky tone. "As my honorable master bid me to do."
"Fine. Shurra, remember to not put yourself in danger, especially if you think there's an opening for you to kill her. She might try and bait you with that. Even without her Domain, the OutCast may still be keeping a few tricks in reserve, like when she broke out of Master Ji's restraints. We don't want to be surprised again." Molam paused, then added, "When you make your first move, move in such a way that draws out the OutCast's Domain if possible. Scarlette and Primrose don't know yet, and it's good to confirm. We should do our best to share what we think we know."
Shurra reached forward as though she would pat him on the shoulder, but stopped upon seeing Molam's look of reproach. "Sorry, I forgot," she apologized for almost touching his shoulder, then added, "I'll keep that in mind. We can't let her win. Don't die." Then Shurra bounded away without waiting for Molam's response.
"I can't tell if she cares for my life or just hates her aunt," Molam grumbled, looking down the street towards Sanctuary. Since when did a single street seem to be so long?
"Maybe both," Martyker replied, grinning at Molam. "The secret to smiling is always assuming the best of others. Anything specific for me?"
"Walk with me, but backwards," he told the swordsman. "So you can keep me informed as to what's happening. This way I can focus on walking forward."
Molam faced down the last stretch between him and Sanctuary. Far down the street, he saw the last bit of people trickling in between Sanctuary's large pillars. It looked… so far. Since when has a single street looked like such a long distance? He took a deep breath, murmuring almost to himself, "All we need to do is survive."
"Sometimes, surviving is all that needs to be done for us to see the light of another day." The man faced the other way, as Molam had instructed. "From one cripple to another."
Molam looked down at his shoulder, then at his leg. "This will heal. The Priestesses are skilled."
"I wasn't speaking of your shoulder." A pause from the swordsman. "You seem… unable in some other way?"
The statement sent Molam's heart rate jumping. Did he know? Molam kept his voice even. "What do you mean?"
"I can't quite tell, but something about the way you act and speak reminds me of… well, myself. When I was still struggling with learning to use my left hand for everything." Martyker shrugged, then patted Molam's good shoulder. He continued in a serious tone, "Or maybe I'm just imagining things. I don't know what it is you're struggling with, Molam, but I want you to know that you'll get through it."
Molam paused midstep, then laughed despite himself. The unexpected kind gesture seemed absurd to him considering their dire circumstances. That it came from what had been a stranger just yesterday made it somehow more comical. "I would like to get to know you better after this, Martyker."
"It's the Armed Swordsman," Martyker winked at him from behind his beard. "But I'll allow you to call me by my name, Molam."
"The Armed Swordsman," Molam corrected himself with a raised eyebrow. Not the most bizarre of Titles, but he was not about to question the man's naming sense. Perhaps Martyker and Kalle would get along. "Let's go then."
Molam took his first step. His shoulder jarred painfully and his injured knee protested, but Molam did not stop. Sanctuary was just ahead. If he reached it with everyone alive, it was their win.
Limp. Step. Limp. Step.
One step at a time.
