PXFIRE Creative Writing

[LKWayvern]

CREATIVE WRITING

Welcome to Pokemon Crossfire's Creative Writing competition! I am your host and judge, LKWayvern! Participating in this section is simple. Just make a short story based off of the prompt I give you, and incorporating any restrictions or parameters I specify in it.
Your short story will be read by me, and points distributed based off of the four following categories, each of them with twenty five points:

Originality Is this story something I've read half a million times? Is it a classic with an unexpected twist? Is it something I've never seen anything similar to before? Blow my mind with your creativity and make your story stand out to earn points in this category.
Characters Characters can make or break a story. Those with excellent command of characters, or can create a strong character-driven story, will end up with most of the points from this category.
Coherency Did your story flow? Was it easy to follow or did it jump around at random?
Spelling and Grammar How legible was the language used in your story?

Before we begin, I'd like for you to follow a couple rules. First of all, I'd like for these stories to be rated at PG-13. Meaning excessive swearing, excessive blood, and certain intimate situations are not allowed. Second, please do not disrespect real people in your stories, especially those on this website. Treat your fellow competitors with respect.
Also, in order to keep the competition all on even footing, you will not be allowed to use stories created prior to the round. In that vein, plagiarism is not allowed. Ever. Do not steal someone else's story to use for your entry, it's disrespectful, rude, and lazy.

Now, shall we move onto the first round?

Event 1
No time like the present! For our first challenge in the Creative Writing section of Pokemon Crossfire, you will have to write a short story centered around the theme of time!
Time is a rather broad topic. Time travel stories, stories told out of order, stories about prophecies, the possibilities are practically endless! So let’s add a couple parameters, shall we?
1) Supernatural Elements. Whether it be magic or manticores, ghosts or griffons, benign or malign, some kind of supernatural phenomenon or entity must be present in your story.
2) I’ll Spread My Wings. Include butterflies somehow in your story. They have some very interesting, contrasting meanings and symbolism that may inspire you.
3) May the Best One Win! Include a contest of some sort within your story!

You have two weeks.

Form:

Username:
Team:
Entry:
Other:

[LKWayvern]

Friendly reminder, the Day of Judgement rapidly approaches!
That is, Sunday. The deadline's Sunday. If you're participating, please make sure your entry is in by that day.

[Neo Emolga]

Chronoshock

The last two minutes were a blur that changed everything.

"We need an emergency evac now, damn it!"

"Lay down some suppressing fire, why-!

Bang. Bang. Chaingun fire everywhere. Everything around me was getting torn and ripped apart. The entire research facility was getting gutted into shreds and the Midnight Lance had absolutely no care about how much collateral damage was caused in this brutal ambush firefight. I felt like I was going deaf as I took cover behind a metallic storage cabinet while hammering, blasting, and violent thundering was surrounding us as everything was getting chewed apart. Obviously, those koldbloods wanted every last one of us animals dead.

My head was ringing and screaming as I tried to hunker down and cover my ears with my paws, dropping my D1 assault rifle and giving up my chance to return fire because it hurt so badly. And here I thought a featherhare's amplified hearing ability would have helped on this forsaken mission. Instead, here I was, trying to keep myself concealed as much as a white-furred winged rabbit could in a tiled room with a lot of metal tables, cabinets, and lab computers and equipment everywhere. If I had been outside in the snowy tundra, this would have been a heck of a lot easier as I could just bury myself anywhere in the snow. Not to mention this wouldn't have been nearly as loud. Instead, I was fifty feet away from the closest window and I really didn't think I could make the run without getting shot. Heck, I would have been lucky only to get hit with grazing fire after attempting that. So instead, as a metallic cabinet fell to pieces besides me, I decided my only chance at surviving was to play dead since I couldn't fight back anyway.

While my ears were ringing like a banshee was screaming into them, Sledgefist was dead. Surprised an crimodiak berserker like him went down but even those dark red, hulking bears can only take so much before kicking the can. Both sokie rookies, Baskin and Vas, were dead. Apparently the Midnight Lance sure didn't have any qualms about outright murdering two combatant monkeys only two weeks out of training. I was pretty sure Zip's wailing and screaming was a good indication that reckless headstrong kangamouse just got half of himself sprayed all over the floor. And then there was Clak. Clak, our misinformed kitty-cat squad leader who had been telling us the intel and mission details that HQ had spent three hours briefing us on was totally wrong. He was one pissed-off hazelcat when he realized how wrong everything had been. Was. Now he was lying on his back with his tongue hanging out and a big hole in his head.

Vortex Point was a deathtrap. Alpha team was killed, and now I was the only surviving member of Bravo. Wow, with Clak and Sledgefist dead, that actually made me the new squad leader. In fact, with both Alpha and Bravo teams dead, that made me the new commanding officer of the entire operation! Wow, what an honor. There sure aren't a whole lot of featherhares who ever get that opportunity. I wondered how long I'd get to enjoy that before I joined the rest of these poor souls. But for now, I had the privilege of getting to command all the remaining operatives. Me, myself, and I were definitely going to need rely on all my years of leadership experience for this one!

Only then did they stop firing. But the ringing and brain-stinging felt like it would go on forever.

"Nightkin, you there?" the radio crackled on, sounding like a gasp that I could barely hear. "Nightkin, what was that noise? What happened? What's your status!? Nightkin!?"

Sorry, HQ, Clak can't come to the phone right now. He's off meowing on a cloud with his newly acquired golden harp, kitty wings, and hula hoop halo. Some mission handler you are, Subcommander Vestin. Oh, go on, now try giving Sledgefist a call. Yeah, the same guy who had obvious doubts about this whole mission in the first place and you had to bribe to get him to agree to it. Funny, they say crimodiaks are as strong as they are dumb, but this guy knew the truth about this mission. We all thought it was a meaningful mission to "give hope another chance" and he thought it was suicide right from the start and he even broke a chair over the whole thing when he was overruled.

"Is anyone out there!?" HQ tried again. "Please respond!"

I did what I should have done three hours ago. I pulled the plug on my communicator headset. And just like that, I was on my own.

HQ would confirm it as a full-on "Status Black" and close the book on Operation White Splitter. They'd send messengers to our families back home about the great news and we would get to have our names etched out on the walls right next to thousands of other names that made it easy to just get lost in the list. No one would care to see my name "Raxo Winterpaw" on the wall when it was among thousands of others. "Oh, it was a noble sacrifice." "Oh, he died serving his country and all the people of Anironica, protecting our future." "What a brave and courageous featherhare he was." They were artificially fancy words that would just be forgotten about and I would just become an estimated casualty statistic.

HQ wouldn't send an evac for one operative. There was no way unless I was actually deemed "mission critical" and only because it was in their best interest to save me. Those carriers were way too expensive to risk an extraction. And there was nothing for over a hundred miles from here, so I'd be dead if I tried to escape on foot. I'd have to improvise flying a stolen Midnight Lance Aerohawk gunship and just the thought of that was hilarious. I'd be lucky if I even figured out where to put the ignition key in if I even got a hold of one.

That left me with one option. Continue the mission. All by myself. It was a joke.

For a minute, I thought it was actually completely impossible with Zip dead. He was the Prime Technical Operator and was the one expected to configure the Rift Channel Algorithms. I was supposed to be his supporting operator this whole mission. We had rehearsed the process dozens of times, but it was impossible for only one operator to do it by themselves.

There was, however, another way. HQ would be pissed I was even thinking about it, but, according to them right now, I was nothing but another dead bunny.

I actually had enough know-how on another way it could be done by hacking the system. To HQ, what I was considering was a "serious violation of protocol and standard procedure." My idea, as a more effective way to get things done and raise the finger to HQ for letting everyone die, was to employ Manascript. And my own personal Vexo Computer. Because at this point, if HQ was perfectly okay with me dying, than I was perfectly okay with crapping all over their protocols and standard procedures which had done nothing but sign us all up for expedited afterlife transition. What I was about to do was extremely unorthodox, but hell, you can't make an omelet without breaking a few eggs.

"Area secure!" one of the Midnight Lance scouts had reported back to the other damned reptiles.

The rookie actually fell for it. In the wake of the carnage, I had been playing dead by making it look like Vas's blood was my blood and the heavy metal cabinet that had fallen over had crushed the lower half of my body when really there was a nice gap in the collapsed drawers I was able to stuff my bunny butt into. I wasn't even sure it would work but it was the only shot I had.

"Everyone out and check the perimeter!" another one shouted in a gruff voice. "I want the compound swept for ten turmarks around! There are probably others out there!"

Nah, just us poor and unfortunate, shot-up mammals. What, these psychotic cyborg lizard kooks actually believed Anironica thought this one through and dropped a whole platoon into this strike zone? Well, judging from the way those Midnight Lance punks headed out, they had to. It was the only reason why they rushed out without checking for vitals. But, then again, if this had been a diversion, there was a window of opportunity and if there was anything about koldbloods I knew for sure, they didn't leave a whole lot of things up to chance.

After they left, I got to thinking about how exactly I was going to use my Vexo and Manascript to hack into the Rift Channel. Anironica hated Manascript, but it was an effective practice that saved my cotton-tailed butt on numerous occasions. They disbelieved all cases where Manascript was the link between science and magic even though I had been working with it for years and tried to convince everyone it was definitely great to work with. But they were dumb and refused to train in it. They always felt using it was disobeying orders and most of the commanding officers thought it was some inane computer voodoo. I hated them for that, but it didn't even make the top ten list when it came to how I truly felt about them.

The original plan was Zip would reconfigure the Rift Channel using a Temper Line and we'd all time hop that way. Yep, time travel. Because fifteen years ago, a little event called the Whiteout Crisis turned the whole world into a nuclear winter wasteland and it effectively killed more than half the Anironica mammal population while giving koldbloods the ability to survive everywhere and pretty much gain the advantage in this endless war. At the current rate, it was estimated all of us Anironicans wouldn't survive the next ten years because of the weather while these damned koldbloods would multiply exponentially. The only way to fix it all was to undo what caused the event to happen in the first place. And now I was going to have to find a way to do that all by myself. So far, no one had been able to successfully time travel back to the past, yet. There was a record that one team, Razor Squad, had traveled back in time, but considering we were still in a nuclear winter wonderland, it was easy to see they didn't finish the job for whatever reason. Obviously since we weren't getting any younger here, everyone stopped waiting for them to do something.

A Temper Line for time travel by a Rift Channel was a very vanilla way of doing it but it was a two-person job and it wasn't like I could tell Zip to walk off the hearty bullet breakfast he just enjoyed. And I couldn't conjure up an imaginary friend that could help me open the channel and work the Temper Line computer that was sitting in a puddle of Zip's circuit and hardware-wrecking blood. Plus the firefight most likely had given it more than enough holes to hang earrings from. My plan was to use my mission-unauthorized Vexo and bypass security by locking everything and everyone out except for me and all the other 0% of koldbloods and Anironica black ops that knew and were allowed to use Manascript. I was so disobeying orders right now and it actually felt good. It would at least ensure I wasn't followed back into the past.

Once the kooks had left to go find and gun down that threatening, mission-critical Charlie squad that would ruin their days with their nonexistence, I had to squirm my way out and get back up on my hind legs.

Since it was safe to actually use my ears again, I tried to listen for anyone or anything, but it seemed like everyone had rushed out in hopes of killing more of us mammals. For now, I picked up my D1 assault rifle, although I imagined firing this thing just once was as bad as shooting myself in the head with it. Everyone would hear it and I'd be one dead bunny.

If Zip was right before and the Rift Channel was up ahead, then I didn't have that much more to go. Thankfully, being light in weight and being able to fly a bit from table to cabinet to chair kept it quiet as I made my way around the research labs. And to think as I looked at the holoboards and charts, I already had a good idea of what kind of nano and cybernetic technology they were working on. Still, what I had in tech skills, I was missing in combat skills. Truthfully, if anyone should have survived that last engagement, it should have been Clak. I had only survived off of pure luck at the moment and there was no telling when that would be running out.

Oddly enough, as I was making my way through the cold, metallic halls, I heard several shots in the distance, as if they were coming from outside. They sounded at least several turmarks away, which was well beyond hearing range for anyone besides a featherhare. No doubt whoever was shooting was a koldblood, but who were they shooting at? Or maybe it was someone else shooting at them? I didn't know who it was unless the Midnight Lance had more enemies out there. But I couldn't stop to care.

As long as it keeps them busy.

When I got to the chamber with the Rift Channel, I saw two huge metallic doors and I saw they had put a heck of an electronic lock on this thing. This whole thing was pretty much a computer in itself. Now here, Zip probably wouldn't have had too much trouble using traditional means, but I wasn't about to try that nonsense and waste time. Instead, I decided to bypass the lock with my Vexo and my Manascript, because I wasn't about to try and see if I could "prove" anything trying to do this the "legit" way. That would only prove idiocy.

Within a few seconds, I had managed to disrupt the coding for the lock, "magically" reprogram it using fast typing of Manascript, and soon enough, the large metallic doors slid open after I electronically reprogrammed and disengaged the lock. I took it as a good sign no alarms went off and I hadn't gone senile since I last tried something like this out in the field.

Once I stepped inside the huge, vault-like room, I was a bit taken back. Rift Channels were way bigger than I thought they'd be. The whole thing was a giant, circular silver portal. As the doors closed behind me, I couldn't help but look at it curiously. Could this thing really be reprogrammed to work as a time machine? I was actually a bit anxious, remembering that no one had successfully pulled off being able to change this crappy, bleak, and cold future.

Still, that's what we came for. That's what the entire team got killed for. Change the future. Stop the Whiteout Crisis. It got me thinking that I'd also go back in time and maybe stop them from getting killed in the first place. Hell, this was worth a shot and would clean up the mess that just happened, also.

As I approached the portal, Vexo in hand and ready to play master chef with this thing's coding, suddenly I felt a weird sensation in my head. It suddenly reminded me of how my ears were ringing before and I was wondering if this was a result of that, but no.

Not when I heard... a voice.

"Be careful. There's no turning back after this..."

I looked around, wondering if I was being stalked or something, but that didn't even sound like a noise but more like some kind of telepathic message. Or at least I hoped so, because the day a featherhare can't even trust their own ears, they've got a serious problem.

Still, as I approached the portal and prepared to hack into the computer, I couldn't help but laugh and think why would I WANT to come back to this? The world was nuked into a permanent winter wasteland and anything with warm blood, self included, kept wanting to hibernate and then never wake up. Oh, and let's not forget two whole teams of Anironica black ops dead because of this mission. Truly, this was a memory I just didn't want to let go. Mama, grab the camera! We can put this one in the scrapbook and decorate it with all kinds of bows and pretty flowers! You know, the days when flowers still existed?

I linked up the Vexo and prepared to hack the crap out of this thing and pretended I didn't hear that lame warning. There were some really complicated algorithms in this mess, but it was nothing my Manascript couldn't handle. And to think in the old days, they wrote magic in books and studied it for ages until they grew beards and had a serious Vitamin D deficiency. This was the new, high-tech way of doing it. And I loved it. And while others were good with guns, sneaking, or junk like that, this is what I was a wizard at.

Once I hacked my way into the portal, I set the time back twenty-five years. Ten years before the Whiteout Crisis events. That would give me enough time to track down the origin point for the attack and stop it so it never actually became a thing. If I pulled this off right, it would save the lives of millions. I doubted it would end the war between Anironicans and koldbloods, but it would at least prevent them from getting the severe upper hand and permanently mess up the world just so they could breed like a virus.

Soon enough, the portal opened with a bright, white light and then a swirling blue and black vortex opened in the portal. Twenty-five years. It was time to go back to when things were better. And rewrite what it had become.

I approached the portal, but once again, someone tried to warn me.

"Everything happens for a reason..."

"...you're going to regret doing this..."

"Buzz off and let me do my job," I muttered.

I then walked through the portal. I didn't know what to expect and whatever this voice was didn't exactly help with the encouragement. Heck, I could have screwed up the whole thing and walked my way out of existence. When I stepped it, I instantly felt like I was sucked in and suddenly everything was blurred into darkness. In those last moments, I thought I had totally screwed everything up.

---

I didn't bank on my flight being intercepted.

I quickly found out what exactly happened to Razor Squad. More importantly, I found out why they didn't exactly come home, share stories around the campfire, and write songs about it.

I found myself suddenly standing in some ancient circular stone chamber of some sorts. Glowing arcane symbols on the white stone walls, ancient architecture, strange monuments, and yet I recognized there was magic here. While the use of this kind of magic was incredibly old, it was along the same bloodline as Manascript. It was like an ancient city from probably thousands of years ago, but the stonework looked pretty fresh. It was bizarre, how could the ways of old be in a place made with old-style carvings yet look like it was finished just yesterday?

This was definitely not twenty-five years back into the past. This didn't even look like the same planet anymore. So either I screwed up the programming or someone screwed with my mission.

"I'm afraid I can't allow you to proceed any further..."

And it was that voice, only this time I heard it directly and it wasn't trying to break into my head. I looked around but I couldn't see anyone, but in a place just brimming with magic, I wasn't stupid and knew I needed to be ready for anything.

"Whoever you are," I spoke out, gripping my assault rifle, "don't underestimate me. Many have looked down on me just because I'm a featherhare but trust me, it's a big mistake if you do. There's no way I'm letting that lizard-infested nuclear winter happen. I don't know what you did but I not letting whoever you are stand in my way! Let me do my job and there won't be trouble."

I saw some flickers of movement and I stepped closer to take a better look. It was a small, fluttering thing like a moon moth, but when I got a closer look, I saw it was some kind of blue and indigo glowing butterfly instead. For a moment, I thought it was a totally unrelated thing until I realized it was this glowing blue and indigo butterfly that had been talking to me this entire time, both in person and screaming in my head back at the research lab.

"Time is like a river. It will always flow in one direction."

"...If you try to swim against it, it will only wear you down and force you to ride with its flow."

THIS is the thing that stopped me? What the hell. I came here to undo a nuclear winter disaster, not listen to some bug's philosophy.

"This ain't no river," I told the bug, realizing actually trying to shoot the thing with this gun might be somewhat tricky with it fluttering around all over the place. "That's my world, my country, my family, and my squad that are dead or dying out there! Who the hell are you to tell me no!?"

I just headed toward the exit. I wasn't going to listen to this thing. I didn't know where pray tell I was, but I'd figure some way out of it. There was still plenty I could do with just a Vexo and some knowhow.

"I have sensed your skill..." the glowing butterfly spoke to me. "You might have been a skilled and talented wizard in another age and another time. But perhaps... if it weren't for so much anger..."

I looked over my shoulder, but I kept on walking. But then, I sensed it trying to cast some kind of spell. I recognized the words, and they were spoken instead of scripted, but I knew what it was trying to do. It was trying to freeze time around me and lock me in a stasis. Hell no to that. I immediately Manascripted a coded barrier to lock it out, and suddenly the protective translucent wall formed a gray barrier between me and this bizarre magi butterfly. As expected, it blocked against the hocus pocus that bug was trying to churn out and caused its spell to just splatter against it.

"You want a fight, little bug?" I asked it, furrowing my brow in anticipation to retaliate. "That was a dumb thing for you to try."

"You say not to underestimate you because of your size," it tried to lecture me again, "and yet you make the same mistake."

And I didn't expect it to grow. And grow. It went from being just a tiny butterfly to suddenly taking on a giant form that swelled in size to what had to be almost five times the size of a crimodiak. I just watched and gawked as I saw whatever this thing was become a colossal monster that even a freaking crimodiak with a chaingun would have trouble fighting. What kind of freaking butterfly was this thing!?

I just chucked the D1 assault rifle aside. That thing was just going to slow me down as it would only shoot splinters compared to how huge whoever this thing was. I had no idea how I was supposed to fight this enormous colorful bug, but damn it, I was at least going to try to figure something out.

"Azurana, Chrono Custodian," the now freaking gigantic butterfly spoke to me in an oddly serene voice. "And you are Raxo. Raxo Winterpaw."

"This needs to happen!" I shouted at her, knowing I wasn't just going to be okay with everyone dying. "And I don't care who you are or how big you can get. You're not stopping me!"

I didn't care if she was some time janitor or whatever. And I didn't care if she knew old school magic or my name. She wasn't going to let me get out of here, so if she wanted to duke it out, then fine. I needed solutions. I didn't come all the way here just for a butterfly's philosophy.

Despite never seeing an old school wizard in action, I recognized the spells. Instead of programmed scripts, they were incantations. And I recognized this one as being an attempt to set the whole damned floor under my feet on fire. I quickly spread my wings and launched myself into the air by springing up on my hind legs, but as soon as I took flight, I knew flying was not going to be easy in here. I just barely caught enough air before the floor under me turned into an inferno that lit the room with light and filled it with a hell of a lot of heat.

"Good," she told me as the glow from the flames illuminated her beady-eyed butterfly face. "You're very spry and very capable. It seems maybe there is hope for the new age of wizards."

Wizard? Far from it. I barely got a chance to practice any of this crap because of how contraband it was. Hell, Vestin would have been all over my butt for even just owning the Vexo if he knew about it. As this Azurana began to cast another spell, I recognized the words and knew she was trying to conjure up a blizzard. Again, I had to settle with coding a magical barrier and put it between her and myself. It held up for a little while before the force of her spell broke right through it and then took a swing at me.

I was thrown against the wall and slid down to the floor, causing me to stumble. Again, I tried to code something into the Vexo to slow her down, but instead, all I got was the sudden shock of seeing her impale the Vexo computer with an icicle. The whole thing short-circuited and I just barely managed to toss it away before it popped in a miniature explosion and was reduced to nothing but twisted chunks of metal and busted circuit boards. And to top it all off, it even smelled bad.

Holy crap, I was just horrified. Without that thing, I was screwed. My entire career was toast without that. Not only could I not do Manascript without it, but now I couldn't hack a single freaking computer with that. That could easily mean I was stuck in whatever god-forsaken era this was. I didn't even know where this was, either.

Azurana loomed over me and I just tried to evade her sight. Thankfully, with her being so huge now, I was a lot more evasive compared to her and I could be a lot more nimble, but I had absolutely no way of fighting back. I was freaking helpless here.

She attacked with a thunderbolt spell, and as I flew upward, I just barely managed to dodge through the raging forks of blazing white lightning as I came within secmarks of getting fried. I came close to hitting the ceiling and had to U-turn my way back down, only to find out she had filled the air with some kind of pink pollen powder. Oh hell. I was breathing so fast that I couldn't help inhale heaps of that stuff, whatever it was. I had no choice but to land when I was becoming too dizzy and disoriented and if I didn't stop flying, I could have crashed and snapped my neck in this place. Heck, even after landing, I struggled to try and stay on my feet. And then to top off even that, I suddenly felt very light-headed and sleepy.

"Stop, just stop..." I told her, coughing and trying to stay away from her by just walking away. "I just don't want to die."

Bloody hell, the pinkish powder was everywhere in the air. It smelled like overly sweet sugar, but I knew what it was trying to do. It was some kind of sedative and the last thing I needed was to fall asleep right here. I probably wouldn't be waking up ever again after that.

"Even though you lost, you survived longer than most did," Azurana told me, shrinking down and returning to normal size. "But I cannot allow you to change the course of time. Many have tried to, but they have all failed. And with good reason."

"So there's no hope?" I asked her, just barely able to breathe. "Everyone got killed for nothing? What the hell, how can you possibly think that's perfectly okay?"

"As long as I am here, time will always move onward, not backward," Azurana continued. "And you need to understand that. Trying to turn back what has already advanced is like a butterfly that wants to go back to being a caterpillar."

"Things were better then," I told her, remembering how it used to be when I was really young. "My family was alive then! And my friends. And the real life I once had. What makes you think this is a beautiful future we ended up with? It sucks!"

And yet, it didn't seem to make her care. I swore, she was as cold as a stone. How could anyone not be bothered by what happened? The only ones who benefitted from that icy apocalypse were the koldbloods. So that was it, then? I just had to accept them winning everything? It would have been better to just go out in a blaze of glory.

"Listen to me," she urged, fluttering around. "There is something you need to understand, and it applies to all creatures. Not just us butterflies."

I couldn't imagine what, but I decided to listen anyway since trying to fight it out wasn't going to go over well especially after seeing how this resolved the first time. For a moment, it seemed like the drowsiness was fading off a bit and I wasn't going to flop asleep after all. I figured that was probably because she didn't exactly want me to drop and snooze right when she was trying to explain something. She probably decided to dispel most of it for now.

"Did you know that before a caterpillar can become a butterfly, it has to die?" Azurana told me, wondering if I knew this already. "But the beauty of it is that even after becoming a butterfly, it still remembers things it learned when it was a caterpillar."

"So what do you mean?" I asked, wondering where she was going with this.

"It's simple," she replied. "You have no reason to fear death beyond losing the opportunity to learn more about the world you're in. For what you learn here, you take into the next."

Was she serious? I wasn't really so convinced there was some kind of easy afterlife just waiting beyond this. I knew how some things were often too good to be true. And considering what I had dealt with in this life, I had every reason to be skeptical.

"So exactly what kind of afterlife are we talking about here?" I asked, wanting some kind of answer on that.

I definitely wasn't going to jump and start believing her on this one right off the bat.

"That's for you to find out in time," Azurana told me. "Until it is your time, learn what you can with the time and the life you have left, because I assure you, it will stay with you in the journey after this one. Fight, survive, and instead of trying to undo what has already transpired, let it strengthen you as you overcome it through your own actions. And this is the competition you face with everyone else in the world. You only have this once chance to learn whatever you can before you have to move on and leave this world behind. And some of those things you may not have another chance at learning."

It didn't give me too much of a lead on what to expect after I kicked the bucket as a featherhare, but I got what she was saying about everything else. Turning back time wasn't an option like I thought it was. And then... I suddenly figured it out.

"So that's it..." I told her, sighing. "Turning back time would actually wipe away the memories of what was learned. It would be impossible to change the future because... I would no longer no what's coming. No one would."

"Precisely," she nodded. "And as a result, very little, if even anything at all, would change as a result of turning back time. Ultimately the same things that took place twenty-five years ago would simply transpire again because what was learned since then would be gone."

There were still so many things that didn't add up, but it seemed like all I had really gained here was just knowing there was a sense of futility. But what did it all mean in the end? All those killed or dead simply moved on? I felt like she wasn't going to give me the answer when it came to what to expect after I died, but there was something else I wanted.

"If what you're saying is true, then just help me with something," I requested out of her. "I'll admit, I always had a passion for Manascripting. But I was always told to cast it aside and let it die with the ways of old. You've shown me this isn't something we can afford to lose, especially after even the koldbloods completely gave it up. And you know way more about magic... the real magic, than what I can do. Help me learn it. Teach me as much as I can learn until I can easily teach others. This is one of those things I know will help them survive and as you said, prepare them for whatever comes next."

I had good vibes coming from this. Maybe this trip would be more about what there was to gain from moving ahead instead of pulling behind.

"I thought you'd never ask..."

"...but deep inside I always knew you would."

[Noblejanobii]

The Butterfly Epoch

Groceries clattered to the floor as Muzapo stood frozen in the doorway of the room of the hotel resort he and his brother had been assigned. The xokhafel was paralyzed in shock and fear at the sight that lay before him. He took a tentative step back, talons clicking on the tile floor, and fear grasped at his every nerve as he began to shake. A few feathers dropped from his wings to the ground as Muzapo began to tremble more before screaming out,

“Maykrotot!” It wasn't long before other residents came rushing to the scene and the proper authorities arrived shortly thereafter. After an hour of chaos and despair, Muzapo finally found respite and was able to sit down on the edge of the fountain in front of the resort hotel. He could feel the eyes of the angels all around him burning into his skull, but Muzapo was still too in shock to give a proper reaction. Instead, he just stared at the star filled sky, wondering, what had Maykrotot done to deserve this? Muzapo leaned back a bit further, his bright green eyes landing on the flag bearing the emblem of the angel regime, a tortoiseshell butterfly. Ah, right, that's why.

Muzapo's thoughts slowly migrated their way back to the events of the few days prior. It was just after the future Queen, the first ever thilthana xokhafel angel hybrid, was announced to be of mating age. Queen Vasníka had decided to keep with xokhafel tradition and host a competition for her marriage rights. Seven bachelors would be competing, three angels, two alhein xokhafels, and two betsweis xokhafels. Locating the most beautiful and the strongest in the land, Muzapo’s brother had been selected as one of the alhein competitors. However, what the Angel Monarchy failed to realize was that Maykrotot and Muzapo were agents of the Haskótte, a small rebel group bent on overthrowing the ruling angels and hybrids and freeing the planet of Alsondysi from its oppressors. Having seen some of the other competitors, Muzapo had been confident when they first arrived that Maykrotot could win any competition that was thrown at him. But now it was looking as if all hope for Alsondysi and the xokhafel people was lost.

“So one of the alheins was assassinated?” Muzapo lifted his head a little at the sound he recognized to be one of his brother’s angel competitor’s voice. It was Antioch Argo, the prince of an angel ruler from another planet. Of the three angel competitors, Antioch was boasted to be the strongest of the group, and from the visible muscle on his arms, Muzapo was willing to put money on that claim.

“That’s what the message from the hotel management said. No doubt one of the other angel competitors did it. Xokhafels are competitive and all but in this type of competition and with the high stakes that it has something tells me they wouldn’t kill each other. At least, not this early on.” Muzapo watched as Antioch and the other angel approached, unable to keep from eavesdropping slightly. He wasn’t sure if they realized he could understand what they were saying. They were speaking in Angelicus after all, the native language of angel-kind. However, it was a fairly well-known fact that xokhafels could pick up other languages faster than any other species on record, with usually two days being needed at max for fluency. Muzapo and his brother had only arrived at the resort this morning and Muzapo was already fluent in Angelicus.

Muzapo reached up and rubbed one of his horns. It was a nervous habit to rub the curve where the splash of neon green lay on his right horn. Now it felt somewhat painful to perform the action since the main reason he had developed this habit was because it reminded him that his brother would always be there for him. They had the same right horn after all, somewhat of an uncommon trait but not entirely unheard of in xokhafel families with multiple children. What was he going to do now though?

“Ah!” Muzapo snapped back into focus when he realized Antioch and the other angel had spotted him. The young alhein leaped to his feet and began to walk back towards the hotel, keeping his eyes low and clicking his tongue silently so he didn’t accidentally bump into someone while he wasn’t looking. “Wait! Please wait!” Muzapo paused and turned around to see Antioch running towards him. Muzapo turned around but kept his eyes cast somewhat downward. This angel was a prince after all, and Muzapo was well aware what angels thought of the xokhafels as a species. Antioch slowed as he approached Muzapo and cleared his throat. “Maykrotot, your brother?” Antioch asked, now speaking Xokhafien, Muzapo’s native tongue. Muzapo raised his hand and shook his head a little.

“It’s all right, you don’t need to try and speak Xokhafien. I speak Angelicus. Yes, I am Maykrotot’s younger brother.” Muzapo bowed a little. “Please to make your acquaintance, sir.” Muzapo jumped a little when Antioch placed his hand on Muzapo’s shoulder.

“Please don’t bow,” Antioch answered, now speaking Angelicus. “It’s embarrassing for you. And please, no sir, just called me Antioch. This is Rox, my half brother.” Muzapo glanced over Antioch’s shoulder and spotted the other angel smiling at Muzapo. He waved but otherwise didn’t say anything. Still, that was interesting. Half brother? Meaning this Rox person was half whatever the native species of Antioch’s homeworld? Or something else? “I just wanted to offer my condolences,” Antioch said, the concern very apparent on his face. “Rox and I just received the news when we were on our way back from the store. I don’t know if you and your brother were close, though I assume so since he brought you here with him. But either way, it is not easy, losing a brother. I know our kinds do not get along very well.” That was an understatement if Muzapo had ever heard one. “However, should you need someone to speak with about this, we are here to listen.”

Muzapo glanced between the two, his eyes narrowing slightly in suspicion. Was this some sort of ploy? Some tactic to cause Muzapo to let his guard down before they killed him too? Muzapo wasn’t sure. But, if it was, then these two were very good actors. After a moment, he relented. He would keep on guard, but for now, they didn’t seem too harmful.

“Thank you,” Muzapo replied, “It’s… unexpected. Usually when we host competition either for a betsweis or a thilthana, while competitors can be seriously injured, killing in general, especially before the competitions… it is not something that has been done since the ancient historical times of our planet. It was outlawed centuries ago. But, to be candid, I think the news has yet to set in.”

Neither Antioch nor Rox seemed shocked at this admission, though Antioch’s already sad expression grew more sympathetic at Muzapo’s words. The two brothers exchanged a look, unspoken words passing between them before Antioch looked back at Muzapo. Running a hand through his blonde hair, Antioch paused to think over his words one last time before making his reply.

“Have they given you another room to sleep in for the night?” Muzapo shook his head. This technically was an angel run resort despite plenty of xokhafels that worked there. Muzapo was pretty sure they were just going to let him fend for himself as a result, that was the usual attitude angels had towards xokhafel problems after all. Antioch, however, did not seem aware of this, his horrified expression evidence enough. “Well, as much as I know you'd probably prefer to spend the night with other xokhafels, Rox and I are willing to open our room to you as well if you wish to stay with us.” At the lack of an immediate yes or no, Antioch seemed to fumble before mumbling, “Just come by if you like, Room 323.” With that, the two brothers continued on their way inside the resort, leaving Muzapo alone.

Thunder began to rumble in the dark sky. Muzapo looked up, barely able to spot the clouds in the darkness. A purple light crackled across the sky, causing Muzapo to flinch and try to cover his eyes, the brightness hurting his eyes. Another rumble echoed shortly after, and a soft drizzle followed, sizzling as it landed on the buildings and ground. Several angels that were walking outside began to yelp as the droplets hit them, either quickly scrambling for their protective umbrellas or dashing inside nearby buildings to take shelter. The few other xokhafels that were outside, however, didn’t even bat an eye as the rain came down. Muzapo blinked a little as the acid struck his face, but he didn’t mind. His species had an immunity to the acid after all, and it actually felt somewhat refreshing right now. Muzapo closed his eyes and spread his arms a little, letting the acid drop on his as he stood in silence. It was only when it was too late that Muzapo’s sharp hearing kicked into gear and caught the quick clicks of xokhafel talons. Muzapo opened his eyes again just in time to have a bag thrust over his head and his hands wrenched behind his back.

Muzapo was given a rough shove forward as the individual behind him began to force him into a running pace. Muzapo’s heart rate began to increase, fear gripping his heart as the images of his brother’s body back in their room raced through his mind. Were these the people that had killed Maykrotot? Were they coming to kill him too? But why? They were just trying to help! Muzapo was suddenly shoved to the ground and thrown into what he presumed was an opening to the underground. Muzapo crashed to the ground, the wind being forced from his lungs. Muzapo began to cough from the stuffy air inside the bag. But his hands were now free! His captor must have let go when he was thrown down the hole. Muzapo quickly yanked off the bag and found himself surrounded by other xokhafels, all wearing pieces of cloth tied around either the horns, arms, neck, or anywhere it would fit that bore the picture of one of the native moth species of Alsondysi, the Haskótte.

Muzapo felt somewhat relieved at the sight. He sincerely doubted these were his brother’s killers. As tough as they all looked, Muzapo knew better. After all, his brother had been one of their members, and Muzapo technically was one too. That explained the bag over his head anyway. Since the fine print of his membership was blurry at best, they treated him as a bit of an outsider.

Muzapo scanned over the familiar faces, wondering what they were doing so far away from their main hideout halfway across the planet. Had the word of his brother’s murder spread that fast? Maybe, but they would have to travel by portal to be here so quickly, and since xokhafels weren’t allowed to use portals, that ruled out that theory. That only left the theory that the Haskótte members had traveled here on foot days ago to possibly provide Maykrotot backup in the competition.

“What happened, Muzapo?” one of the members asked in a somewhat stiff voice. Muzapo glanced over at the speaker, a betsweis named Hablitís. Muzapo glanced down, not wanting to face Hablitís. Anyone else but them.

“I-I… I don’t know. It just happened. H-How did this a-already spread s-so far?” Muzapo reached up and grabbed his head. “I just opened the door a-and there… there he was…” Muzapo’s eyes went out of focus as he began to think about the scene again. He covered his mouth and began to cough, causing Hablitís to rush over and crouch down to Muzapo. They cupped Muzapo’s cheek and ran a claw through Muzapo’s hair in comfort.

“Hey hey hey, calm down, Muzapo. Sh sh sh. It’s okay.” Muzapo lifted his head slightly, trying to look Habiltís in their eyes. He could hear the continual soft clicking that was allowing Habiltís to see in the darkness. And yet, they were still smiling softly at Muzapo, their blue eyes filled with comfort for Muzapo.

“I-I’m sorry… I know Maykrotot-” Habiltís put a finger to Muzapo’s lips and shook their head.

“It’s okay. It appears it wasn’t meant to be. I don’t mind. It was a risk we both took when we joined this line of work. Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it.”

“Besides,” another much deeper voice interjected, “we’ve got bigger problems.” Muzapo looked over Habiltís’s shoulder and saw a much larger xokhafel standing off to the side with his arms crossed. The alhein did not appear pleased. “Because you couldn’t protect your brother we’ve got no in with the Queen now! Not unless we get lucky enough to have another alhein member get selected, which isn’t going to happen,” he growled out. Muzapo’s lip quivered and he choked out another sob. “So why didn’t you protect him, Muzapo? Was it just a simple accident or are you cooperating with the angels for the downfall of our society?”


“I-I’m not-”

“You’re not what? One of us? You can bet your last feather on that one. You have never been.” Habiltís hissed at the alhein, baring his fangs at him before looking back at Muzapo in hopes of possibly salvaging the boy’s confidence. But, the damage was already done. What little self-esteem Muzapo had been retaining prior to being thrown down this hole was broken. There was another low rumble of thunder outside as the group stood in silence, only to be interrupted by another xokhafel lowering their head down into the hole.

“Zhamós, sir! The spies in the hotel had reported back. We have a theory as to how Maykrotot may have passed, sir.” The angry alhein that had been yelling at Muzapo turned and arched his head upwards towards the betsweis that was now climbing down to join the small group. The betsweis paused at the scene, recognizing Muzapo and realizing what they had interrupted. They froze. This was obviously a very bad time to interrupt.

“Well? Out with it! We haven’t got all night!” Zhamós growled at the smaller xokhafel. The betsweis flinched a little before stating,

“It appears room service was ordered for all the participants and their plus ones. Originally, the investigators were saying only Maykrotot’s room service was poisoned, but one of the maids said they heard that one of the angels, the Prince of Earth, also had poisoned food but was not there to receive it.” Muzapo sucked in a sharp breath, causing several xokhafel to look at him in explanation.

“Th-That must have been Antioch and Rox’s food,” Muzapo whispered. Zhamós turned and approached Muzapo, shoving Habiltís out of the way and lowering his face to Muzapo’s.

“You know their names?” he growled out. “You aren’t supposed to talk with angels, Muzapo, remember? They’re the enemy here.” Habiltís stood up and shoved Zhamós back, getting in the leader’s face.

“I heard the whole scene, they approached him, not the other way around. They were offering their condolences for Maykrotot. Surely that is acceptable interaction. And can you take into account for one second that, since this wasn’t exactly avoidable, had Muzapo not been out when the food arrived he could be dead too.” Habiltís crossed their arms and swished their tail in anger. Habiltís looked at Muzapo and extended a hand to Muzapo. “Come on, Muzapo, I’ll take you back.” Muzapo looked between Habiltís and Zhamós anxiously before taking Habiltís’s hand and standing up. Moving over to the ladder back outside, Muzapo climbed out first with Habiltís right behind. It was only as Habiltís moved to cover the hole back up that Muzapo heard Zhamós shout,

“Don’t go soft on me just because you’ve lost your pretty boy, Habiltís!” Habiltís didn’t react to the comment, covering the hole then leading Muzapo through the rain back towards the hotel. Muzapo walked with his arms by his side, unsure of what to say or do. Here Habiltís was, trying to comfort him when they were obviously in pain too.

“Don’t listen to him,” Habiltís said quietly to Muzapo. Muzapo did not look up at first, merely listening to the sounds around them. He could hear the crackling of thunder, the tempo of the rain, and below it, all Muzapo could barely pick up the soft clicking of Habiltís's tongue that was allowing him to see. How was he supposed to respond? How could he comfort his friend?

"No… Zhamós is right," Muzapo answered, the shame he felt conveyed through his tone, "I should have been there to protect him. At least if I had been there Maykrotot would be alive, not me." Habiltís froze for a moment before wrapping their arm around Muzapo. The alhein flinched at the action but did not move away from Habiltís.

"Muzapo, don't think that way. Zhamós is not a good person to take life advice from, trust me. Your brother would want you alive, not the other way around. In fact, I have no doubt had it been you that died, I'd be giving him this same speech because he would be so distraught. So please don't be so upset, we'll all get through this, I promise. Just stay strong. Maybe hook up with an angel or two while you're here." Muzapo's face flushed light blue and he glared at Habiltís, the betsweis smiling back at him.

"Habiltís!" Muzapo hissed. Habiltís laughed and ruffled Muzapo's hair.

"I'm sorry! You're just so much fun to mess with, Muzapo. But, despite all of this, at least try to enjoy your time here a little. It's not common for everyday small town xokhafels like us get to visit the grand capital city of Haufálesima." Habiltís had a point there. It was Muzapo's first time visiting the capital city, and it was a beautiful sight. The skyline was lit up, almost as if it were the daytime, but not near as bright.

"Yeah, it's too bad you can't see it. This is an absolutely beautiful city." Habiltís shrugged and pat Muzapo's head.

"I'll get to see it in several hours. Even if it's not as impressive as at night, I'm sure during the day it's still very pretty." Muzapo nodded his head, spotting the hotel a short ways off. He didn't really want to go back yet. He was enjoying talking to Habiltís, it was helping in distracting him from his pain. But, still, he had to return eventually, he supposed. Habiltís seemed to sense Muzapo's hesitation and asked,

"We're nearly there, aren't we?"

"Yes," Muzapo replied in a quiet voice.

"Well then, I suppose we should part ways. But before you go I need to give you something." Habiltís reached under one of his chest robes and produced a small purple cloth, the same material for all the armbands and bandannas the members of the Haskótte rebel group wore. It was old, obviously having been worn quite a bit. On the other side was the Haskótte moth, but it was small, almost hidden except for the bright splotches of green. "Your brother left this behind when he came to the competition for fear of getting caught with it, for obvious reasons. I probably shouldn't even give it to you until later when you're not at such a huge risk but… well, I feel it would be heartless of me not to offer. I was holding onto it for him, but, I think you might take more comfort in it than I will. So, if you want it, it is yours." Muzapo reached out, almost taking the bandanna before hesitating. After a moment, Muzapo shook his head.

"No, you should keep it, I've got a physical connection to my brother right here," Muzapo answered, taking Habiltís's hand and placing it against his right horn. "You need one too." Habiltís smiled before mumbling,

"Oh trust me I've had plenty of physical connections with your brother." Muzapo shoved Habiltís away as the betsweis laughed at Muzapo's obvious disgust. Muzapo stuffed the bandanna in Habiltís’s chest wrap, waved his hand at Habiltís, and started to walk away.

“I’ll see you later, Habiltís,” Muzapo called before dashing through the acidic rain to the hotel. Taking one of the towels provided at the door, Muzapo dried off then stepped inside. The hotel lobby was almost empty except for the xokhafels manning the front desk and a familiar half angel who was asleep in one of the chairs. What was Rox doing down here? Was it really that late? Muzapo checked the nearest clock and frowned. Okay, it was a little late but most xokhafel would stay up for another two hours or so. It then occurred to Muzapo that Rox probably wasn’t used to the time shift. Walking over to the half angel, Muzapo gently tapped his shoulder. “Hey, Rox?” The half angel snorted, his brown eyes flickering open before looking up at Muzapo. Running a hand through his strawberry blonde hair, Rox grinned at Muzapo and stood up.

“So you finally made it back. Antioch and I were a bit worried when the desk said you never came back inside. I assume they still haven’t given you a new room?” Muzapo glanced over at the desk attendants, two of which shook their heads no. Unbelievable. What did the hotel management want him to do? Sleep in the same room as his brother’s corpse? Actually, that’s probably exactly what those awful angels wanted him to do. Rox saw the attendants shake their heads and sighed. “Man, they really do not like you guys. Well, the offer from earlier still stands. You can stay in Antioch and I’s room.” When Muzapo didn’t respond immediately, Rox became a little flustered and coughed awkwardly. Muzapo sighed a little and shrugged.

“Well, I can’t exactly turn you down unless I want to sleep outside. So… sure.” Muzapo wouldn’t lie, he was still suspicious of these two. But after the supposed attempt on their lives and the silent offer of a bed or even a carpeted floor, Muzapo felt like it was an offer he couldn’t refuse. Still, the way Rox’s eyes lit up told Muzapo that it was more than such a simple offer to him. Muzapo gestured for Rox to lead the way and the two exited the lobby, heading towards the elevators.

***

There was a loud banging on the door of the hotel room. A chorus of groans filled the room from the three men inside. Muzapo slowly sat up, rubbing his eyes. The room was fairly dark, some light peeking through that disoriented Muzapo’s vision. He started to click his tongue, attempting to get a better visual when Antioch opened the door and light flooded in from the hallway. Muzapo winced, covering his eyes and diving back under the covers of the bed he was in to try and hide from the light. He heard Antioch begin to speak with the person at the door.

“Hello?”

“Yes, are Antioch and Rox Argo staying here along with Muzapo Voyir?” Antioch yawned before answering,

“Yes, that's us. Do you need something? I thought the opening ceremonies started in twelve hours.”

“Yes, well, I came to inform Muzapo Voyir of some news I am sure he will be excited to hear.” Muzapo rubbed his eyes and decided that he had to climb out of bed now. Covering his eyes, Muzapo began to click his tongue again as he climbed out of bed. He stumbled, still having a hard time getting a feel for the room, and placed his free hand against anything he could for guidance and balance. As he approached the door, Antioch placed a hand on Muzapo’s shoulder to help him stay steady. “Are you Muzapo Voyir?” the attendant asked.

The attendant was female. She was speaking too loudly, obviously an angel from the accent and the lack of courtesy towards the sensitivity of xokhafel ears during the day. Muzapo’s echolocation told him that she was tall as well, pencil thin, and was holding a block shaped thing of some kind. A clipboard maybe?

“Yes, I am,” Muzapo mumbled back.

“Good! I have come to inform you that given the recent circumstances with your brother not only are our top angels on the case but that there's been a breakthrough.” Muzapo was willing his entire life savings he knew what it was. But he had to act somewhat surprised. Wouldn't want to make the angel feel less important.

“Oh really?” Muzapo asked, leaning forward ever so slightly to fake interest. “Did you find who murdered my brother? Or possibly a clue?”

“We’re very close to finding the murderer, I believe. We tested some of the food your brother was given when all the contestants were sent dinner and his food was poisoned! We are questioning the kitchen staff now to find the other perpetrator.” Yep, go figure. Though interesting.

“Oh thank you so much, I'm glad you have a lead. That puts me somewhat at ease. I'm glad to know we have such capable individuals on the case!” Muzapo detected the lady’s chest puff out ever so slightly. The ego strokes were working.

“Well I am glad you feel that way, Muzapo but that's not the end of the good news. The hosts of this event, recognizing the turmoil you must be going through, want to offer you a chance for the pick me up of a lifetime. Congratulations, Mr. Voyir, you have been selected to take your brother’s place in the competition for the queen’s hand. And there's no need to worry about failure. Should you lose, you will still be rewarded handsomely, like all participants, but with other special perks unique to your situation. We can go over that in more detail, later on, should you accept. So, Mr. Voyir, what do you say?”

Muzapo wasn't sure what to say to that. On the one hand, it felt a bit suspicious how quickly they had replaced his brother in the competition, and with all the added incentives too. It felt weird. But on the other hand, this was his chance to prove his loyalty to the Haskótte members. They needed another alhein member selected, and here was his chance. But… was it really worth it? He had been targeted too, so staying in the spotlight would only increase the ability to kill him. Still, his brother had accepted, despite all the initial risks, so why shouldn't he?

“That's a very tempting offer. Sorry, it's just a lot to process this morning. You know us xokhafel, daylight always makes us a bit more disoriented.” The lady laughed a little, enjoying the self-deprecating humor. “But nevertheless, with such a tempting offer, as well as the coupled kindness I know the leaders of the event are giving to me by making this offer, I feel like there's no way I can refuse. I would be a fool to not accept.” Once again the woman puffed out her chest ever so slightly. She was obviously proud of herself for having sold the deal. Simple-minded angel.

“Well, I'm certainly pleased to hear that. We will be releasing the news to the presses shortly. Please be prepared for the opening ceremonies in twelve hours. And we wish you the best of luck.” With that, the lady departed and Antioch closed the door. Muzapo heaved out a huge sigh and collapsed against the wall.

“Whoa!” Antioch rushed over and began to check Muzapo’s forehead. “Dude, are you all right? You're not sick are you?”

“No no,” Muzapo mumbled, trying to steady his rapid heartbeats. “I just… can’t believe I’m actually doing this.” Muzapo suddenly felt a laugh bubbling out his chest. He couldn’t see them but Muzapo was sure Antioch and Rox were giving him funny looks. If the situations were reversed he certainly would be. Muzapo finally sighed and shook his head. “Am I crazy?” Silence answered the question. Muzapo could hear heavy breathing, the slight head movements of the two angels. Rox coughed a little awkwardly, before stumbling over thin air and crashing into the wall. Poor kid was apparently a klutz.

“Ouch uh… heh maybe. But aren’t we all just a little bit crazy? Plus, they did offer you what sounded like some hefty rewards should you survive this so uh… well, I don’t think it was that crazy for you to accept.” Rox reached over, causing Antioch to move back some. “Come on, let’s get some more sleep. You don’t seem to be doing too well in this light.” Muzapo didn’t resist as he was escorted back to bed. He was still groggy, and he needed the sleep.

“Thanks,” Muzapo replied as he climbed into bed. “Xokhafels are naturally nocturnal creatures. If our eyes are green, which most are, it means we can only see at night. Thankfully for us, Alsondysi has a thirty hour night cycle. But during our three hours of sunlight, we usually sleep. If you see us up, it means we either have blue eyes or are using echolocation to get around.”

“Is that why you were clicking your tongue like that? And why does having blue eyes make a difference?” Rox asked, his voice close to Muzapo’s ear as he pulled the covers up over Muzapo. Muzapo sluggishly nodded his head.

“Yeah. Just normal talking has a similar effect, but generally, we make clicking noises, as they give the best description of things around us. I don’t know the science behind it but it’s true for me.” Muzapo turned over and folded his arms behind his head as best he could. Swishing his tail back and forth under the covers, Muzapo continued, “I don’t know the specifics about blue eyes, but I do know a blue-eyed xokhafel personally. They and my brother were pretty close. Having blue eyes is a rare birth defect, usually the result of either some form of difficulty during the pregnancy or, more recently, inbreeding. It means they can’t see at night, they can only see during the three hours of daylight. They can use echolocation too, of course, but they’re practically blind for most of a regular xokhafel’s day. Thus, normal activities are very difficult for them.”

“Inbreeding?” Muzapo heard Antioch take a tentative step forward. He had a horrified tone to his voice, indicating he was unaware of this. Then again, most visitors didn’t care enough to look into the specifics of xokhafel society or weren’t even aware they needed to care about the people that served hand and foot on them. “What do you mean inbreeding? You guys do that?” Muzapo shook his head, his face contorting into a disgusted expression.

“Ew gross, no of course not. Not willingly anyway. I’m from one of the few villages still left on Alsondysi that isn’t a breeding camp for the many resorts on this planet, so you don’t have to worry about my bloodlines. But those guys at the front desk? If they’ve got birth defects like blue eyes, detached wings, or a horn count other than two, they are probably inbred offspring. Not that they get to decide that, but you know, that’s the way life goes. The angels here don’t care so long as they get their servants.” Muzapo felt the mattress sink a bit as someone sat down next to him.

“That’s… awful. So they really do treat you guys like animals?” Antioch asked, his voice trembling ever so slightly in shock. Muzapo nodded his head. That was the truth, plain and simple. Xokhafels were seen as trash by the angels that ran this planet. Alheins were destined for physical labor and servicing resorts. Betsweis were destined for breeding camps, seen as too imperfect and disgusting to work at the resorts. Thilthanas, as rare as they were, were destined to work at resorts as well, but in the least desirable services. Some alheins were subject to it too, but male angels were much more predatory than the females. Xokhafels were just slaves to the angels, that’s how it was. “I thought those were just rumors. I never realized it was this bad. So I presume all the xokhafels competing are hoping to change that, right?”

“Oh how naive,” Muzapo responded without thinking, another laugh bubbling from deep inside him. Rox and Antioch stiffened in silence as Muzapo laughed again, the sound sour in tone. “No, my brother and I were probably the only ones thinking that way. More than likely, the other three are just hoping to escape their old lives and the poverty that comes with it. Why work to change a species if it risks all the luxuries in the world?”

“I… I’m sorry. I didn’t… this is just awful.” Antioch heaved a heavy sigh before placing his hand on Muzapo’s arm. “I hope one of us wins the Queen’s hand. I don’t intend to let this injustice stand any longer. I’ve seen the effects of it on our home planet, and while I can’t fix the issues there, maybe I can help things here.”

Muzapo didn’t reply, rather, he lay in silence. After a moment, Antioch got off the bed and walked elsewhere. Muzapo wasn’t sure where as he was no longer using echolocation to view the room. Instead, he let sleep take him. He had already ruined their morning mood because he had been sleep-deprived, so best to fix that later.

***

Twelve hours after receiving the news that he was now a contestant, Muzapo now climbed to the roof of the hotel building with Antioch and Rox close behind. The other contestants and their plus ones would be there as well. No one had any idea exactly what was going on, just that the contestants were told to wear flight gear but that the plus ones needed to dress nicely. Thus, while Rox was in a suit, Antioch and Muzapo were in loose clothing that allowed their wings great range of movement. In fact, Muzapo was not even wearing the usual chest straps that were required of xokhafel in public angel territory, because you know screw them those things were uncomfortable and made flying extremely difficult. Muzapo even had a pair of goggles to protect his eyes from the wind since, at heights like this, it could be dangerous to fly without proper protection.

The wind whistled loudly as the trio stepped out onto the roof. Muzapo scanned the other people spread across the rooftop. He spotted several groups of reporters immediately, and it was not hard to pick out the other five competitors. Three other xokhafels and two other angels, plus their guests. Muzapo narrowed his eyes slightly, trying to recall what he had read about the other contestants.

“So the Prince of Earth has finally decided to show his face! Oh, and he brought his little brother too. Did you hire a xokhafel servant while you were here or is he the other contestant? Looks a bit too scrawny to be a contestant if you ask me.” Muzapo’s expression twisted into a snarl at the approaching angel’s comments. He remembered this angel. Prince Raven Sincock of the planet Tehokyu, an angel known best for his black color scheme. Except for the tips of the bangs that hung over his left eye, those were colored gold, the angel was almost entirely black in color. His short cut hair was black, his wings bearing onyx feathers, and even his flight clothes faded in with the night sky somewhat. If it weren’t for his pale as white skin, the angel could be mistaken for a fancy statue. Still, Muzapo recalled that his appearance at this competition had apparently caused some controversy in the angel world. What was that about again?

“Hello again, Raven. It’s a pleasure to see you’re doing well. You obviously remember my brother, Rox, and this is Muzapo, the replacement contestant for Maykrotot.” Raven turned his head and scanned Muzapo over as if he were inspecting a piece of meat that was about to be cooked. Finally, the angel grinned and stuck out his hand.

“Ahh I see, well a pleasure to meet you then I guess. Don’t get your hopes up on winning though. The Queen is mine, I can guarantee that.” Muzapo swallowed roughly at the silent threat and stared nervously at Raven’s hand. Did he want a handshake? Was he allowed to do that? Muzapo mentally slapped himself for questioning himself over a stupid freaking handshake and reached out, giving a firm shake. This caused Raven to laugh, leaving Muzapo even more confused than before. “Oh man! That takes guts, kid. You’re still good, but you gotta be pretty brave if you’re willing to shake a fallen’s hand.”

Fallen. That was the source of the angel controversy. Raven was a fallen angel. Said to be some of the most despicable angels there were angels that bore the label of fallen were said to be created in one of two ways. Either they were born fallen, like Raven, or became fallen by committing some sinful act that, when judged by a council of archangels, was so horrible, the only suitable punishment was to be stripped of all rights and labeled fallen. The latter was far less common in modern times than it once was, but this still did not remove the stigma from fallen angels, especially not with people like Raven running around. Though it probably did not help Raven's case that his father was the infamous Ramiel, an archangel watcher best known for his fall from grace through the teaching of forbidden knowledge to the people of his planet.

"I see no reason to discriminate given the status I hold," Muzapo replied simply, earning a howl of laughter from Raven. The fallen angel held his stomach as he laughed, red eyes filling with tears at the joke that he obviously found much funnier than anyone else on the roof. Finally, another angel walked over and wrapped her arm around Raven's shoulder.

"Raven, I think you're scaring the poor boy," she said curtly before looking over at Muzapo. "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Muzapo. I'm terribly sorry for your loss, but I'm glad you chose to participate despite it all. I'll be rooting for you." The woman paused, knitting her golden eyebrows together before lightly whacking herself in the forehead. "Oh, how impolite of me, I didn't introduce myself. I'm Araxie Sincock, Raven's sister." The fallen angel curtsied, smiling at Muzapo before leading Raven away from Antioch, Rox, and Muzapo. She was a lot nicer than Raven, but perhaps it was because she was not pure fallen? Muzapo was unsure, but her golden hair, green eyes, and vibrant color scheme, from her teal dress to her brown boots, indicated she was a regular angel. Yet, her wings were solid black like Raven's wings.

"Don't let him get to you. Raven is all bark and no bite, like most other fallen angels," another angel said as he approached. Muzapo heard Raven shout in protest from across the roof but he did not care to listen to the callous words of the fallen angel prince. Instead, Muzapo looked the approaching angel over, recognizing his distinct appearance immediately.

The man standing before them was the ruler of the planet Anglovia, better known as King Malak. There was no mistaking the man's heritage. From his long flowing golden hair to his glittering sapphire eyes and his radiant skin, this man was definitely an angel if Muzapo had ever seen one. Given the size of his wings and the two dots under each of his eyes, Muzapo was able to make a strong guess that Malak was a rank two archangel. Immediately realizing he was in the presence of someone who could easily kill him, Muzapo bowed his head, raised his folded arms, and extended his leg backward in a traditional xokhafel bow.

"It is a great honor to be here with you, King Archangel. Thank you for the advice, I will have to take it to heart." Malak smiled a little and put his hands on Muzapo's shoulders.

"I am glad to see you are up to date on your manners, Muzapo. You are one of the surprising few." Muzapo resisted the very strong urge to roll his eyes. Of course, Malak was referring to the other xokhafel competitors. Everyone was supposed to be briefed on the statuses and such of the other competitors, hence why Muzapo knew so much about the others. However, Muzapo doubted the other xokhafels cared enough to actually learn it. Even Maykrotot had been less than pleased to be drilled on the subject. Muzapo, however, enjoyed learning about other cultures and the significant figures that dwelt within them, so he had made no issue at this request. But that was somewhat of an anomaly, Muzapo supposed.

“Of course, your majesty. I might request that you forgive my fellows for their lack of courtesy, no doubt they are shocked by your brilliance. It is not often that we get the honor of meeting an archangel, such as yourself.” Malak smiled a bit wider at the flattery, his gold hair blowing towards Muzapo in the wind.

“Well if the request were coming from anyone else, I might refuse. But since you have been so polite, I will forgive them for now. Do try to teach them some manners, won’t you?” Before Muzapo had the chance to reply, Malak walked away, moving towards Antioch and Rox to have a more private discussion. Realizing it was something he was not meant to hear, Muzapo walked over to the other side of the roof to greet the other xokhafels. None of them looked towards him as he approached, instead practically ignoring him until Muzapo was right next to them.

“Ah, Maykrotot’s younger brother, welcome. Glad to see you could make it. Though, quite candidly, we were all expecting you to return home following the tragedy.” Muzapo looked over at the alhein speaking to him. Where Muzapo’s brother had been the alhein representing strength, this alhein was definitely the representative of beauty. His feathers were a rainbow of colors and his plumage was very large. Even his tail was completely made of feathers that, Muzapo recalled from his reading, could be spread in a large semicircle of various colorful patterns reminiscent of the Earth creature called the “peacock”.

“I appreciate your condolences, Jamoheit, but it would have felt wrong for anyone else but myself to replace my brother. This was his spot, and I hope I can live up to the legacy he was going to leave.” Jamoheit smiled at Muzapo’s feigned confidence and nodded his head.

“Brave words, young one. I wish you the best of luck. You’re going to need it.” Jamoheit, having lost interest, left Muzapo with the two betsweis competitors to go flirt with some of the angels in the area. He was a predator if Muzapo had ever met one.

“High crest,” one of the betsweis muttered as they crossed their arms and rolled their eyes. “He’s as arrogant as they get. Still, that was very brave of you to take your brother’s place, Muzapo. I hope you succeed somewhat in your endeavors. You are taking on a large burden that should not be yours.” Muzapo smiled a little and bowed his head in a signal of appreciation.

“Thank you, Quastinami. I wish the same for you. Only one of us can come out a winner, but I hope we all receive a reward in some way. Though I am not sure what exactly I would want.” The betsweis laughed, lowering their arms and sighing. Muzapo glanced over Quastinami, the betsweis representing strength. His arms, legs, and wings had the muscles in them to back it up, even if they were not entirely visible. His feathers were fairly dull to boot, another sign of strength. It was common knowledge that if a betsweis had more brown feathers than any other color like Quastinami did, then they were born with the natural gift of immense strength. This fact was also somewhat true with alheins, but betsweis were much stronger than alheins in many cases. Still, one thing about Quastinami made Muzapo frown. Both betsweis were still wearing their chest covers, albeit more flight-enabled ones. Of course. These stupid angels always had their prejudices.

It had always perplexed Muzapo why thilthanas and betsweis had to cover their chests when in public areas where angels were known to frequent or inhabit. In Muzapo’s village, none of the sexes, alhein, betsweis, or thilthanas, were required to cover their chests. The only thing required was lower half coverings, which served little purpose now other than preserving tradition, but at one point in time served as both protection from public dominance establishment and as a way to further symbolize societal ranking. Still, Muzapo had no doubt in his mind that the angels would have required xokhafels to wear such garments anyway given they also wore such coverings as well. Muzapo was unsure why angels were so sensitive to the sight of reproductive organs, though he recalled Habiltís often joked that it was obviously because the angels were jealous theirs were not as impressive. Whatever the reason, it was a real pain in the rear end for all xokhafel involved.

“Th-That’s nice of you to say, Muzapo. Thank you. Though… I doubt I’ll win anything. I’m just happy someone thought me pretty enough to bring me here.” Muzapo shifted his focus to the other betsweis. They were the youngest competitor, that much was obvious, but they were also giving Jamoheit a run for his money in the beauty department. The betsweis, known as Zimita, also had plumage of a variety of colors. The difference between them and Jamoheit, however, was that while Jamoheit’s feathers held all the colors known to xokhafel kind, Zimita’s only held those of the brightest rainbows, causing them to stand out amongst many xokhafels due to their interesting color palette. Muzapo reached out and ruffled Zimita’s hair, giving the smaller xokhafel a confident smile.

“Don’t worry about it. If anything I think you’ll be one of the most popular competitors.” Zimita’s eyes lit up and they opened their mouth to reply when a trumpet sounded across the roof. Muzapo turned around to see several angel guards land on the roof. The news crews scattered across the roof started rolling as the angel guards descended from the portal not too far above the roof. Then, out of the shimmering purple portal, another figure descended. Muzapo and all the others standing on the roof lowered onto one knee and bowed their heads in respect as the Queen touched down onto the roof.

“All rise!” one of the angel guards called. As Muzapo stood up, he leaned forward ever so slightly, attempting to get a better look at the Queen. It was his first time seeing her, as Muzapo only knew of her through the information that traveled by word of mouth. She was as magnificent as they spoke of, if not more so. Her hair was dazzling, an alternating of gold and platinum caressing her radiant face that matched her horns of the same color. Her horns curled from the side of her head towards the back, where it split into three spikes, the symmetry of the horns signifying her hybrid heritage. Her eyes were a brilliant xokhafel green, and the wings attached to her arms were a mixture of soft grays and whites with specks of gold. The four wings that flapped behind her were also white but gave off a golden glow that made them hard to look at for too long. She was dressed in solid white robes with a large tortoiseshell butterfly on the chest, hiding any other plumage she might have, but her feet were that of a normal angel. Truly, she was a beautiful woman. It was no wonder she was in line for the throne, not only was she the daughter of a Seraph, one of the highest classes of angels, but she was truly magnificent in appearance. She deserved a better husband than what this rigged contest could provide her.

“Hello to you all,” she said, “it is a pleasure to make all your acquaintances. I am very excited to see you all here. Ever since I was little and I first learned of xokhafel cultures, I became very eager for this day. I am Princess Valika, as you all know, and I have come to inform you of the details of your competition. But first, all competitors need to put on a wristband.” Princess Valika waved her hand and one of the angel guards began to approach each contestant. When he reached Muzapo, Muzapo took the wristband and began to examine it. It looked like an ordinary wristband but obviously, it was more than that. Muzapo shrugged to himself then slipped it on. Once everyone had theirs on, Princess Valika continued her speech. “These wristbands will allow up to keep track of your vital signs during the competition. This will allow us to determine whether or not a player is dead should they go missing throughout the competition.” That raised a few eyebrows. Go missing? Wouldn’t that be kind of obvious if they didn’t show up to a tournament round? “Your competition is a fairly simple one in theory. In a few minutes, we will open up a portal that will lead you to another place and time, and you will fetch a specific item for me. The first competitor to return with the item will become my husband.”

“Wh-What?” Zimita whispered, their legs starting to shake in fear. Muzapo wasn't quite sure what she meant either. Another place and time? That implied the competition was taking off Alsondysi. That certainly would be a first for a mating competition but, then again, this was no ordinary fight for the lady's hand. Muzapo reached over and placed his claws on Zimita's shoulder in a supportive gesture. They seemed to appreciate the comfort, their shaking calming a bit.

"Now I know that's a vague description, but I assure you, this competition would be one for the history books. As natives to Alsondysi know, the top of this hotel is in the middle of one of the lowest and fastest air currents on the planet, the Haluras. Two miles away, a portal with a blue coloring will open shortly. All seven competitors will fly to the portal and, upon entry, will be transported to fourteenth-century Japan, on Earth." Muzapo glanced over at Antioch. The angel did not show any emotion at first glance, but Muzapo noticed that he looked a bit paler than usual. Wonder why that was? "You will be fetching for me one of the Imperial Regalías of Japan, the sword of valor known as the Kusanagi. The first to return with it will be my husband." That seemed like a simple enough task but Muzapo doubted that the people this artifact belonged would just hand it over. Still, he had already signed up for this, he was not going to back out now. "So, without further ado, let's get this started! Competitors, line up along the edge of the roof!" Is it starting now? Muzapo supposed she has stated that but still, a bit quick to jump right? Maybe it was to prevent people acquiring tactical advantages or something.

Muzapo and the other six walked over to the roof. The four xokhafels got down into a crouched position, their front claws gripping the edge of the roof while the back legs were bent, ready to push off at the word "go". The three angels all leaned forward, somewhat off the roof, with their wings spread. Muzapo lifted his tail into the air somewhat, his eyes focused straight ahead. He lowered his goggles over his eyes, those that had them doing the same, and silence settled over the roof. Muzapo slowed his breathing, deep breath in, slow breath out, deep breath in, slow breath out. Then, in the blink of an eye, there came the shot.

"Let the games begin!" There was a loud crack and all seven competitors leaped off the roof. The three angels rose high into the air current while the four xokhafels dove before opening their wings and lifting into the air. Muzapo and Jamoheit opened their tail feathers as well, Jamoheit partially opening his in a small semi circle while Muzapo's stuck close to his tail in pairs of feathers along the spine of the tail for more directional control. It wasn't long before the two were gaining and passing the angels. First, they passed Antioch, then barely flew past Malak. Problem was, Raven was much further ahead of them, outside of a reasonable flying reach at the speeds they were going. Still, that didn't mean Muzapo couldn't make a close second. Flapping his wings, the xokhafel started to edge forward after Raven. Then, from behind him, came a shot.

"Hey! Dude! What the shagena!" Muzapo glanced over his shoulder at the xokhafel swear word and saw Malak slashing at Quastinami with a long dagger. The betsweis tried to play keep away but it was obvious Malak was not going to stop. Well, drastic times call for drastic measures. Quastinami flapped his wings, putting him higher into the Haluras, then dove and scrapped his talons across Malak's right wing. It only tore away a few feathers, but it was enough to scare off Malak. He flapped his wings and shot ahead, catching up with Raven as if it were nothing. He whispered something to the fallen angel, his expression only giving a glimpse of how enraged Malak was. Raven nodded his head and spun around, continuing to fly backward towards the portal. Muzapo furrowed his brows as he watched Raven hold his hands in a very strange position.

"Get out of the way!" Antioch shouted above the winds. At the same moment, a black bow with a notched silver arrow appeared in Raven's hands. He released the arrow and it shot forward, obviously enchanted by some form of magic as it fought against the winds of the air current. Muzapo quickly angled his tail downward, causing him to rise so quickly he nearly exited the Haluras. He kept his eyes below, watching as the others attempted to dodge the magic arrow. Antioch, Quastinami, and Jamoheit all managed to navigate out of the arrow's path, but Zimita, the weakest flier of the xokhafel contestants, was not so lucky. They cried out as the wooden arrow stabbed through their left wing. Zimita tried flapping his wings desperately but the betsweis began to plummet towards the ground.

"Zimita!" Raven and Malak entered the portal without a second thought, but Muzapo was not about to let Zimita die because of sabotage. Shifting his position, Muzapo slowed himself down enough to be able to fly high enough to avoid the portal. He then tucked his wings and folded in his tail feathers, entering a steep dive after Zimita. He did not care if he lost the winning spot, a fall from this height meant certain death! Muzapo exited the lower part of the air current and quickly started to gain on the failing Zimita. They were thrashing about, trying their best to get some sort of grip on the air but with a damaged wing they were not going to be able to recover very well, if at all. Muzapo waited until he was almost right next to Zimita before shouting,

“Hang on! I’m going to grab onto you with my talons!” Expanding his wings, Muzapo lifted himself up a little before grabbing Zimita’s arm with his talons. Unfolding his tail feathers, Muzapo started to navigate back towards the Haluras but suddenly found he was falling too. Zimita’s dead weight was a lot heavier than Muzapo had anticipated. His breaths came more quickly as Muzapo started to strain himself from trying to carry double his weight. He was not strong enough! Muzapo was really started to regret skipping out on manual labor in favor of doing research. Finally, Muzapo dimly realized he was not going to be able to carry Zimita through the portal. He would have to let them down somewhere else and hope for the best. Muzapo started to scan for a good drop off point when his load felt quite a bit lighter.

“Muzapo! Come on! What are you dawdling for? The portal is closing!” Muzapo’s head snapped in the direction of Antioch’s voice, the angel holding onto Zimita from below. The combined strength of the two made it easier to fly. Giving a few hard beats of his wings, the trio ascended back into the air current’s path. With the extra help from the high wind speeds, rescuing Zimita was now simply getting to the portal. Having never traveled via portal before, Muzapo braced himself slightly as they dove in, unsure of what to expect. He was forced to close his eyes, the lights overwhelming him for a few split seconds before he found himself with a face full of dirt.

“Oh thank the elders, they all made it!” Muzapo groaned loudly and lifted his head. He immediately winced at the sudden influx of light. “Oh yeah, sorry, don’t open your eyes. It’s day time here.”

“Thanks for the heads up, Quastinami,” Muzapo replied sarcastically. Why were they grateful he had made it? Muzapo didn’t see Quastinami or Jamoheit diving after Zimita when they were struck with Raven’s arrow. “Who all is here?”

“Just us,” a voice that Muzapo recognized as Jamoheit answered, “The other two angels were long gone by the time we exited the portal. Daylighter’s advantage, you know. Quastinami and I decided better to not test fate by wandering around in these unfamiliar surroundings during the day. Worst case we’re like three hours behind right?” Muzapo frowned at the assertion. They were on Earth, weren’t they? That meant that the days were different.

“Sorry to burst your bubble,” Antioch interjected, “But Earth has more than three hours of sunlight a day. Unlike Alsondysi, our days are twenty-four hours, not thirty, and how many hours of sunlight we get depends on where on Earth you are located. Given how high in the sky the sun is, I say we have got half a day left. If I could have a look at the flora and fauna, I could better pinpoint where we are, but the queen-to-be did say she was sending us to Japan, so there’s a start.”

“So how many more hours of sunlight do we have to sit through? And what are we going to do about Zimita’s wound? We can’t treat that using just echolocation eyesight. Most xokhafel doctors use both their regular eyesight and echolocation to properly treat a wound!” Quastinami shouted, their voice quivering. The poor betsweis was obviously starting to freak out, and Muzapo could not exactly blame them. He was feeling a lot less confident now than he had been when he had accepted that angel lady’s offer in Antioch’s hotel room.

“If I had to guess, probably six more hours, give or take,” Antioch answered. Muzapo’s echolocation detected the angel shifting to get a better look at Zimita’s wing. He was silent for several beats, brushing his hands across Zimita's feathers before sighing loudly. “I don’t know much about xokhafel anatomy, and I’m not a doctor, but maybe if we work together we can treat Zimita’s wound. First, though, we are going to need supplies, and I am not sure what we will be able to find in fourteenth-century Japan.”

“My wing is definitely shot,” Zimita said quietly, “I won’t be able to fly for several weeks, or months more likely. I’m useless here. Toss me back through the portal before it closes. I accept defeat because of my lacking flight abilities.” A tense silence settled over the group. Muzapo did not want to just toss Zimita back. This was not their fault! If anyone should be disqualified because of this, it was Raven. But sadly, that was not going to be the case. Muzapo clicked his tongue before stepping closer to Zimita and bending down beside them.

“If they want to toss you back, they are going to have to go through me, Zimita. You deserve a shot at this just as much as the rest of us. Antioch, can you tell us exactly what the injury looks like?” Just like Quastinami said, Muzapo was not getting a perfect view of the injury based just on echolocation. He could see that there was a solid hole through the wing, which was unsurprising given how high the wind speeds were in the Haluras. There is a reason flying up there without proper protections is very much against the law. Muzapo knew that the only reason they had gotten away with the little precautions they did was due to the high demand for the competition to occur.

While Muzapo was not getting a clear picture of everything around him, it appeared the injury was in the lower arm muscle of the wing, so he knew there was no way feathers had not been ripped away. Yeah, Zimita was definitely not getting back in the air for a while. But beyond these details, Muzapo was blind. His echolocation was having a hard time getting a picture here, probably because they were outside whereas most medical examinations took place in close quarters specifically for the reason that it allowed better echolocation pictures. Was there blood? Muzapo was uncertain, but it quite the likely probability that Zimita was bleeding very badly.

“Well, if we are doing this, we’re going to need to cut off circulation first. A tight knot of sorts needs to be fashioned from cloth or a belt or something,” Antioch instructed, tapping his chin as he looked through their surroundings. “We’ll need to find water to clean the wound, then we are going to need to wrap the wound itself, possibly put it in somewhat of a splint to keep you from straining it too much. Any ideas for supplies?”

“Use my chest straps,” Quastinami quickly suggested, the betsweis already moving to remove their chest covers. “Use one to cover the wound and the other to tie the arm. Not like I need them now that we are out of angel territory.” Muzapo noticed Antioch appearing to smile at that comment, seemingly just as amused at the concept of covering betsweis as most other xokhafel.

“Muzapo and I can go look for water and sticks for disinfectant and a splint. Even if it’s day, our echolocation should allow us to locate things without too much issue,” Jamoheit added, Muzapo nodding his head in agreement at the proposal. Antioch gave the trio a thumbs up and took one of Quastinami’s straps to tie Zimita’s arm.

“Be safe. If you plan to fly, stay low to the tree line. If we are in Japan, it’s highly likely locals will mistake all of us for yokai, which means they’ll most likely try to kill us on sight. I have no clue how close we are to a village or any sort of civilization, but better safe than sorry. Okay?” Muzapo and Jamoheit nod their heads in agreement before lifting off into the air to try to locate a water source. Sticking close to the canopy of the forest around them, Muzapo started to get a headache from the echoes of all the unfamiliar shapes, sounds, and other objects. Was this the world Antioch had grown up in? It explained why he was somewhat familiar with how Earth operated. But still, Antioch appeared very confused as well, meaning that he was not entirely familiar with this particular area. That could prove troublesome. Even worse, they had no idea what exactly they faced here opponent-wise. If Antioch knew, he sure was not telling. Muzapo angled his head to the side a little, picking up an image of what appeared to be a pond.

“Jamoheit!” Muzapo called out, “I think I can see something. This way!” Shifting his tail feathers in the wind, Muzapo followed the echoes of the image to a small clearing in the forest. He flapped his wings a few times as he landed next to a quaint pond. Jamoheit gracefully touched down next to Muzapo and nodded his head.

“This is as good as we will find on short notice. Go look for sticks nearby, I will bring Antioch and the others here.” Jamoheit took flight again, his feathers creating large gusts of wind as he lifted off. Muzapo paused, clicking his tongue several times to gauge his surroundings a bit. Tall trees very unlike those on Alsondysi rose all around him, possibly bearing flowers? Muzapo was not sure. He left a soft breeze rush over him before stepping into the woods and searching for fallen sticks and limbs for a splint. Uneasily stumbling along, Muzapo quickly realized this was going to be an extremely difficult task. With all the background noise that he was unfamiliar with, Muzapo was having an extremely difficult time discerning images from one another. While in his village on Alsondysi, he was familiar with his surroundings so he was able to easily tell the differences between details, everything around Muzapo was so unlike what he was used to, it was disorienting. For a moment, he entertained the thought of climbing one of the trees and breaking off a branch, but that was too cruel to the tree. Instead, Muzapo opted to blindly stumble around, touching things that looked like fallen branches with his talons.

After several attempts to pick up what Muzapo presumed were actually tree roots, he was able to locate a few sticks and started back to the pond. As he trotted back, Muzapo started to get different image echoes. He paused, swiveling his head in an attempt to get a better picture. His ears were faintly picking up on the sound of hoofbeats, but also something else that Muzapo could not place. He picked up the pace, dashing back to the clearing just in time to witness the others land.

Antioch set Zimita on the ground and the group got to work. Using ripped cloth from Zimita’s straps, Antioch carefully cleaned out the wound. The water was not pure, but they did not have the time to purify it. Using broken pieces of the sticks Muzapo had gathered and the cloth from Quastinami, Antioch created a makeshift sling around Zimita’s arm and wing. It was the best they could do for now.

“So what now? Do we attempt to locate shelter until nightfall?” Jamoheit asked the group. Muzapo felt uneasy about lingering. His thoughts lingered on the echo images from earlier. He could not shake the feeling that there was some sort of threat present, lurking just beyond their echolocation range. But traveling would not be an easy task either. Someone, meaning Antioch, would have to carry Zimita if they intended to fly anywhere.

“I want to get a better grasp of our location,” Antioch answered. “If we wait somewhere until nightfall I should be able to take a guess at our location based on the stars.” Even with their eyes closed, Antioch could tell from their expressions that all the xokhafels were very confused. “Earth has different constellations depending on where you are, just like flora and fauna. Problem is, I am not very well versed in flora and fauna so trying to pinpoint our location that way will not go over very well. Stars, however, I know a bit more about. It might be possible to determine where in Japan we are based on the stars. Or, at the very least, which direction north is.” Antioch paused then asked, “Do you all not observe the stars?”

“We do not,” Muzapo responded. Muzapo sat in silence for a moment, trying to figure out how to word his answer before explaining, “I cannot speak for all villages on Alsondysi, but in mine, there was an old legend about the stars. When xokhafels, as a species, were starting to grow and form civilizations, they worshiped the stars, believing they were their ancestors of the past watching over them with the gods that had always been there, guiding our species. The stars were praised, there were festivals surrounding them, and if you look hard enough you can still find poetry and songs about them. But, that all changed, when the angel nation attacked. According to the legends and documents from the times, those that studied the stars started to notice that the lights were growing larger each night. No one was sure what to make of it. Some thought that the gods were coming to visit and would be bearing gifts for those who welcomed them. Others thought that it was the apocalypse. I doubt anyone imagined it was both. It was an event that became known as, “Najiteri Katazul” or “Star Descent”. They came wearing crests of what we later learned was an insect called the tortoiseshell butterfly and spoke in a language no one understood at first. So the villages came together and elected representatives for negotiations. Two xokhafels and angel walk into a room, diametrically opposed, foes. They emerged with what they called a compromise that opened doors that were previously closed. The angel emerges with unprecedented financial power and a system he can shape however he wants. While the two xokhafel leaders get riches and luxurious lives in the world’s capital. But then, many members of the xokhafel species were slaughtered while others were rounded up and bred like animals. And when people tried to complain to the leaders that were high on fame, they denied ever agreeing to such a thing, and we all came to realize the pièce de résistance. No one else was in the room where it happened so we had no one to blame, not one to punish, and no way to rectify it. After our species nearly went extinct, they allowed a few villages, like my own, to prosper in peace, away from angel civilization. But to this day, because of that, young xokhafels in my village are taught to fear the stars.”

A heavy silence fell over the ground. Muzapo heard Antioch take a slow, deep breath as if he was not sure how to process this information. Muzapo was unsure how universal this information was, or if it even applied to the cultures of those outside his village. But Muzapo vividly remembered being taught as a child to never lift his eyes to the sky, lest he invokes the wrath of the angel monarchy for raising his eyes to them. It was part of the reason Muzapo never looked an angel straight on. He had always envied how Maykrotot was able to confront them with a head held high and the confidence of a thousand alheins. Muzapo doubted he would ever be able to do the same.

“I am sorry.” Muzapo tilted his head slightly at the sudden soft apology. Antioch had his head lowered, not looking at any of the four xokhafel around him. Was he ashamed of actions that were no fault of his own? “You do not deserve the treatment you have received. You are not the only planet that has suffered like this. Many angels within my generation have been fighting to free these planets from the dictators that control them. It will not rectify the wrongs of the past, but, at least I believe, it will give those planets, and the species that inhabit them, a chance to create societies and the future they desire.”

“Is that why you entered in this competition?” Zimita inquired, their voice carrying a note of hope within it.

“Yes,” Antioch responded, lifting his head ever so slightly so that he could look at those around him. “And while they may not look it, Raven and Malak also have the same intentions.” Jamoheit’s feathers started to puff up at the mention of the fallen and archangel. “I do not think they intended to hurt you. Well… at least I do not believe Malak intended so. Raven has always been a bit of a wildcard. However, I grew up with them, and despite their flaws, they have good hearts. Even Raven, a man that is about as untrustworthy as you can get, has good intentions. It is why, if he fails to win this competition, he will be competing against his father in a duel to become the next ruler of his empire.”

“He is challenging Ramiel? But that’s suicide!” Muzapo blurted out before he could stop himself. Muzapo did his best to ignore the strange looks his peers gave him. Even in his tribal village, Muzapo had been able to locate writings that mentioned Ramiel. This angel was powerful. He had read stories that claimed even the ruler of the angel’s domain could not defeat Ramiel.

“Yes, it probably is, but Raven wants to make a change. His methods are not always the best, but his intentions are good. That is why I think he may not have intended to hurt Zimita. I think he expected all of you to dodge in time. It was more than likely just for show, something to create a facade. But I do not know for sure.”

Silence fell over the group again. Muzapo began to wonder if his earlier assumptions about those around him had been incorrect. Perhaps having one of the angels win would not be so bad. Jamoheit opened his mouth to say something when a shout rose up from within the forest surrounding them. Muzapo shot to his feet, recognizing these echo images as clearer versions of what he had detected before. Several people approached them, riding steeds that made them much taller than Antioch or any of the xokhafels. Their voices were rough, scraping the insides of Muzapo’s ears as his brain desperately tried to translate this foreign language. He did not need a translation to know that these men were not friendly. He could tell from their tones.

“Be careful,” Antioch interjected in a hushed voice as he moved to pick up Zimita in very slow motions. “That is a group of samurai, warriors from this time that you do not want to mess with unless you have a death wish. They probably believe we are yokai of some sort. We need to get away from them, now.” So much for searching for shelter or bidding their time.

“Well, I doubt they’ve seen anything like us before. Let’s try to startle them then bolt,” Jamoheit suggested. “Antioch, carry Zimita and flee as soon as we start to distract them. Muzapo, Quastinami, ready your feathers and tails.” Muzapo felt a small smirk crawl onto his face, knowing exactly what Jamoheit intended to do. Turning to face the samurai, the trio of xokhafels angled their bodies forward and lifted their tails in the air. One of the samurai, presumably the leader, shouted something but it’s not like any of them could understand it. Xokhafels needed a few hours of immersion before they could be fluent in a language. Right now all they could hear was gibberish. “Now!” Jamoheit whispered.

Muzapo opened his tails feathers and began to shake them, letting out a hissing noise as he puffed out his wings as well, attempting to look as big and animalistically intimidating as possible. Quastinami waved their tail wildly in the air, their tail covered in spikes, not feathers. They even launched a few small ones into the ground between the samurai and the three xokhafels as a threat. Though, Jamoheit was probably the most terrifying. With his large amounts of colorful plumage, when he was puffed up and hissing like this, it was an absolutely frightening sight.

While the samurai leader did not seem phased by the display, Muzapo noticed some of the others shifting in their seats. But while it was not frightening to the samurai, this was a heart stopping sight for the steeds they rode. The animals started to make loud braying noises and pulled against the control devices the samurais had on them. The samurais fought against the beasts, attempting to remain in control, but it was not easy. Still, Muzapo felt his heart sink when the animals started to calm down and the samurais drew their swords. Shagena. They were so dead. And then, seemingly unprovoked, one of the animals bucked, slamming its back legs into the rider of another animal. All of the animals went wild again and if there was ever an opportunity to escape, this was it. Folding up their feathers, the trio split into the forest.

Antioch and Zimita were gone, Muzapo hoping they were far enough away to be out of immediate danger. He heard shouts and animal noises followed by loud hoofbeats as the chase began. Jamoheit, Quastinami, and Muzapo stuck close together, they could not risk separating now. They were better off together, as they were less likely to be picked off one by one that way. At least this way they may pose some threat to the samurai.

A high pitched whistle sang through the air before an arrow slammed into a tree next to Quastinami’s head. They yelped in surprise, shouts from far behind them growing in volume in response. Muzapo’s brain scrambled as he tried to figure out what they could do. They could not fly out of here, they would just be shot down. They could not outrun them, the samurai rode those beasts that were already gaining on them. Could they possibly hide? Muzapo felt like that was their only option, but that required them to find a shelter that the samurai either could not reach or would not find them in, which was extremely unlikely.

Another arrow was launched into the ground near Jamoheit’s feet, another shot that was much too close for comfort. Muzapo risked a glance over his shoulder, attempting to get a better echo image, and felt his heart seize up in his chest at the sight of the samurai charging after them on the backs of beasts unlike anything on Alsondysi. Now he really understood why Antioch was afraid of these guys. Muzapo watched as one of the samurais notched another arrow and aimed straight for him. Muzapo forgot to click his tongue out of fear, and everything suddenly went dark all around him. He stumbled over his own feet and tripped, faceplanting into the ground. He desperately starting clicking again, catching the fleeting images of Quastinami and Jamoheit leaving him behind. Panic coursed through Muzapo’s body as he scrambled back to his feet. He started to flee again when a samurai darted out of the woods and cut him off. The surrounded Muzapo, leaving no room for escape. His legs shook underneath him as Muzapo shrunk down, covering his head with his wings and praying for a swift end. He had failed everyone. Would Maykrotot even acknowledge him in the afterlife for failing so badly? Muzapo whimpered, tears forming in his eyes as he heard one of the samurais unsheathe their sword. He dismounted and approached Muzapo, raising the blade. Muzapo stopped clicking. He did not want to see it coming. He waited in a tense, dark silence. But the strike never came.

There was a loud sickening thud and more shouts in their foreign language. Muzapo so wished he could understand what they were saying, but it was complete and utter nonsense. The only word he thought he understood was “tengu”. They kept repeating that word. Was that their word for him? Then came that same disgusting smacking sound again, several times over. Muzapo took a slow breath in then dared to click his tongue. He froze at the sight. Several samurais lay completely still on the ground. He could see arrows sticking out their heads, leading Muzapo to believe they were probably dead. He clicked his tongue a few more times, and after getting no echo images of any living samurai, Muzapo slowly unfolded his arms from his head and stood up.

“Jamoheit! Antioch! Zimita! Quastinami!” Muzapo called out, still terrified out of his mind. He was answered by a soft thump behind him. Muzapo tensed up and turned around to see a man much taller than he standing behind him. Muzapo took a tentative step back and trembled, attempting to perform a traditional xokhafel bow. Maybe this man would spare him if he showed respect? The man said something in his strange language, using that word, “tengu”, again. When Muzapo made no indication of understanding or giving a response, the warrior reached out and touched Muzapo’s shoulder. Muzapo lifted his head and the man offered him a soft smile. Muzapo stared at him curiously before smiling back. The man nodded his head then gestured to Muzapo’s right, in the direction that Jamoheit and Quastinami had run off. He pointed at himself then at Muzapo and then in that direction again.

“Do you want me to follow you?” Muzapo asked in Angelicus. The warrior assumed a perplexed expression before making the gestures again. Muzapo supposed that was a yes, so he nodded his head in understanding. The man gave a short nod of his head, then started walking in that direction, Muzapo following close beside him.

As they walked, Muzapo began to observe the man. He could not discern much because of echolocation limitations, but from what he could see, he could tell this man was obviously a warrior. He carried two swords on his left hip and wore a quiver on his back which contained several arrows. He also held a bow in his left hand. His hair appeared to be pulled back into a bun of sorts and he was wearing what Muzapo presumed to be traditional robes.

“Leave Muzapo alone, you samurai scum!” It was Jamoheit! The alhein leaped out of the trees and unfurled his feathers, taking on the same hissing appearance that he had to distract the samurais earlier. The man narrowed his eyes at Jamoheit and tried to say something in his strange language but when Jamoheit carried on hissing and feinting attacks, the man started to reach for an arrow from his quiver.

“Stop! Jamoheit, this man saved me!” Muzapo shouted as he dashed in between the two. The man paused, releasing the arrow he had started to draw. Jamoheit straightened a little, lowering his tail in confusion.

“He what? Are you sure?” Jamoheit asked, no doubt watching the man’s every move with disbelief and suspicion given the amount of clicking noises he was making. Muzapo nodded his head quickly and pointed to the man’s bow.

“He shot them all with arrows! I don’t know why but he saved me. He’s trying to take me somewhere. I think we can trust him. Please don’t hurt him.” Jamoheit stood in complete silence for a few beats before folding his feathers and calling out,

“Quastinami! It’s okay! We’re safe.” Quastinami lowered their head through the trees before dropping down. They did not look too convinced of their safety but made no sound of protest. Muzapo turned back to the man and pointed at the two other xokhafel. Muzapo then pointed at himself and then at the man. The man looked between the three of them before nodding his head and continuing in the direction he had been leading Muzapo.

The four walked in total silence, the only sounds being those of the nature surrounding them and the constant soft clicks that were allowing the xokhafels to see. The trees slowly became thinner and a clearing opened up revealing a small campsite. Was this where the man lived?

“Hey! Muzapo!” Muzapo perked up at the familiar voice, echo images of Antioch and Zimita sitting on the ground nearby. “You made it! I’m glad this guy was able to find you too.” Muzapo rushed over to Antioch and knelt down next to where the angel was sitting.

“Good, our distraction was enough to save you guys. But what are the odds you guys met this man too?” Muzapo asked. Antioch shrugged.

“Fairly likely given I’m the one that sent him after you.” Antioch gestured for the group to come sit down. Once everyone, including the warrior, was seated, Antioch continued. “Zimita and I ran into this guy while we were fleeing. At first, I thought he was a samurai but I quickly came to realize he is actually a ronin. I managed to convey to him that samurais were chasing us and he went back to fight them off and rescue you.”

“But I thought you said you didn’t understand what the samurais were saying,” Muzapo pointed out. Other than a few words, Antioch had yet to show any understanding of the foreign language.

“That’s because I didn’t. I don’t speak Japanese, or any language even remotely close to it actually. Other than a few specific words, I know nothing. But just saying the word “samurai” was enough to convey my message.”

“Um… Antioch.” Zimita tugged on Antioch’s shirt and whispered, “Now that everyone’s here will you tell me what a ronin is?” Antioch nodded his head and crossed his arms.

“So, a ronin is a samurai that do not have masters. Either their masters have died and they refused to commit seppuku or they fled for some other reason. Ronin are often seen as mercenaries of sorts. During this time period, they are not entirely uncommon.” Antioch paused then added, “And in case you are wondering, seppuku is ritualistic suicide. Samurais are supposed to commit seppuku once their master dies as a show of loyalty to their lord.”

“Tengu.” Muzapo turned his head ever so slightly at the sound of the new voice. It took a moment before Muzapo realized it was the man who had rescued them, the ronin. Muzapo shook his head. Whatever this guy thought they were, they most definitely were not.

“Antioch, what is a tengu? And why do they keep calling us tengu?” Jamoheit said before Muzapo could say anything. Antioch put a hand to his chin, pondering how to answer properly before explaining,

“In short, a tengu is a Japanese spirit. They’re often seen as somewhere between yokai and kami, or supernatural beings and gods. For a while, tengu were seen as creatures that brought signs of war, but later on were viewed as guardians of forests or spiritual people who had died but were not virtuous enough to enter Heaven nor sinful enough to enter Hell. So instead they remained here. We might have landed right around the time period when the image about tengu started to change, hence the varying reactions to us so far. As for why they think we are tengu, it’s quite simple actually. We look like birds. Tengu were often thought to take the form of a man fused with a bird of prey. And since we have wings and sorta look like birds, that makes us tengu, sorta. Just… for now, just go with it. Until you can explain the difference, it’s just easier to go along with it.”

“Well, give us about a day or so and we’ll be fluent in Japanese if this guy keeps talking to us,” Quastinami stated, gesturing towards the ronin. “Though, that would mean we would be two days behind the others. Is everyone okay with that?”

There were nods all around from the group. The group did the best they could to convey to the ronin that they would like to stay in his company for the time being. He did not seem to object to the proposal. That night, the group was forced to pack up and move, Muzapo able to understand Japanese enough to gather that they were technically on the land of what was known as a daimyo. From what Muzapo could grasp, they were feudal lords that were ruthless and hired samurais to kill trespassers, no matter who they were. They were only loyal to the shogunate. After that explanation, everyone agreed to keep on the move was a good idea.

Finally able to open his eyes and get a look at the ronin, Muzapo learned a lot about him that night. His skin was dark, similar in color to the plumage of a thilthana but not quite the same color. His eyes were brown and his robes were blue. His hair was black like the sheaths of his sword, but his bow and quiver were bright red. The ronin’s name was Akio, and he was once a samurai, but after his master was slaughtered, Akio swore revenge and had been traveling in an attempt to gain allies to aid him in his revenge in the future. Once all the xokhafels were fluent in Japanese, the group decided to try and gather some information from Akio about the Kusanagi’s whereabouts. This had some unwanted results.

“Disappeared? What do you mean it’s disappeared?” Jamoheit shouted in an exasperated tone. Akio raised his eyebrows in confusion, unsure as to why Jamoheit seemed so frustrated at this news.

“Yes. I suppose maybe you have not heard since you are forest guardians, but about two hundred years ago, the Kusanagi was lost at sea in Battle of Dan-no-ura in the Genpei War. Supposedly the shogunate has possession of the sword, but no one has been allowed to see it, so many are suspicious.” Akio tilted his head to the side, narrowing his eyes at Jamoheit. “Why the sudden inquiry into one of the Imperial Regalia of Japan?” Jamoheit appeared to start to panic at the question, but thankfully, Quastinami was there to intervene.

“The only way for us to leave Japan is for us to find the Kusanagi, so we were hoping to get some direction as to where it may be so that we could possibly find it and leave Japan.” Akio raised his hand to his chin and closed his eyes, seeming to think over the explanation before nodding his head, a bit convinced.

“It does not seem too unreasonable. Perhaps I could help you further then. We are not far from the city where the blade is supposedly housed. I must keep moving anyway, so heading towards Kyoto may not be a bad idea.”

Muzapo looked around at the others, his heart beating a bit quicker in elation. They had a lead! They were now one step closer to locating the Kusanagi. Given the expressions of those around him, the consensus appeared to be the same for everyone. They were headed to Kyoto to locate the Kusanagi.

Setting up camp a little bit earlier that night, Akio began to work with Antioch and Muzapo on plotting a proper course of action. According to Akio, he believed we were probably a few days from Kyoto, but he would need a map to be sure. The problem was most cartographers only worked with those who had lots of rice to pay for the maps and Muzapo was fairly certain that they did not have any rice. Then again, he was not entirely sure what rice was which threw a monkey wrench into the situation. So, Antioch suggested that they would probably have to steal one. Akio did not seem pleased at the proposition, like at all.

“What do you mean, “he said no”?” Antioch snapped, casting a sharp glare at Akio which the ronin returned.

“Exactly what I said! He doesn’t want to steal a map. It goes against his code of honor as a ronin,” Muzapo explained in an exhausted tone. The downside to his linguistic abilities was that Muzapo was often selected to be the translator, and since Akio and Antioch had proven to not get along very well, it was no longer uncommon for Muzapo to have to translate their fights to each other.

“Ronin don’t have codes of honor. They forsake them when they become a ronin. If he had a code of honor, he’d be a samurai, not a ronin,” Antioch persisted, causing Muzapo to sigh loudly and hang his head a little.

“Can we just come up with some other way to get a map? Perhaps we can ask a daimyo for one? Or just ask for directions?” Muzapo then looked at Akio and translated his proposition into Japanese. His response was immediate.

“No,” both men said. Well, they weren’t getting anywhere anytime soon it seemed. Muzapo stood up and brushed off his hands. He gave both men a disappointed gaze before stating in both Angelicus and Japanese,

“I’m going to take a break to cool off. Behave yourselves. I may be younger than you but I will bring down the hammer if I have to.” With that, Muzapo walked off, deciding to take a stroll. Currently, he would rather be anywhere but here, and he just wanted to be alone. It would probably be wiser to stick close to the camp since dawn was swiftly approaching but Muzapo just wanted to get away. Slowly picking up the pace, Muzapo descended down a hill and noticed the trees starting to thin in numbers. Muzapo stopped when he saw an abrupt ending to the forest. Had they been this close to a town the whole time? Muzapo frowned, debating whether or not to turn back now when the soft beating of wings caught his attention. Muzapo turned his head and sucked in a tight breath. Softly fluttering through the air right beside him was a black and blue butterfly.

At first, Muzapo tensed up. Butterflies were not indigenous to Alsondysi, only moths inhabited the planet, so the sight of one made him uneasy. It reminded him too much of the regime that controlled his home. However, this butterfly did not look like the tortoiseshell butterfly, nor did it seem to pose any threat. Swallowing roughly, Muzapo slowly extended his claws towards the butterfly. It fluttered above them for a second before landing on his claws. Muzapo watched in fascination as it slowly opened and closed its wings. Were all butterflies this nice? Had he been fearing such a gentle creature all this time? Muzapo tilted his head ever so slightly and dimly realized it was somewhat the same with his angel competitors. All his life Muzapo had been taught to fear the angels, but if Antioch’s words from a few days prior were anything to go by, that simply was not true.

Muzapo snapped out of his thoughts when he heard a crunching of leaves on the ground. The alhein swiveled his head towards the sound, making out a small woman through the early morning darkness. He froze, unsure of what to do in this situation. Would she react like the samurais from a few days ago or be more like Akio? The two stared at one another for several silent moments before the woman finally spoke up.

“You’ve met a terrible fate, haven’t you?” Muzapo blinked at the words, the phrase stunning him into silence. The woman unfolded her arms and gestured to the butterfly on his claws. “They say that butterflies only interact with those who have recently suffered a great loss. They carry the souls of our loved ones to the afterlife, bringing comfort to those that remain alive in the process.” Muzapo returned his attention to the black and blue butterfly. Now that he looked at it, the pattern on the insect’s wings was just like the pattern on Maykrotot’s left horn. Eleven shiny blue spots, neatly lined across the butterfly’s wing, just like the eleven shiny blue spots that had neatly lined in a column down Maykrotot’s horn. Before Muzapo could prevent them, tears began to trickle down his cheeks.

“Maykrotot…” he whispered, starting to shake as he choked out a sob. “I’m so sorry,” Muzapo mumbled as he shook his head. “It should have been me. It should have been me!” The butterfly’s wings stopped fluttering as if it were observing Muzapo’s actions. The woman watched in silence, not moving, but now she had a small smile on her face.

“We all experience terrible fates such as these. It is a part of life. We must respect and keep these tragedies in mind, but we must also never linger on them for too long. Mourn, but move on. You should not waste your life lingering on the life of another.” Muzapo sniffled and looked back at the woman. He lowered his eyes ever so slightly and protested,

“But it’s my fault he’s dead! I was supposed to be protecting him. He was going to be our homeland’s savior. But I failed and now he’s dead. It’s all my fault.” The woman solemnly shook her head and once again gestured to the butterfly resting on Muzapo’s claws.

“Do you think he would have come to find and bring you comfort if he thought it was your fault?” Muzapo paused, thinking over the woman’s words. Was that true? Was anything she said true? Had Maykrotot come to find him because he knew that Muzapo would feel this was his fault? That did seem like something his brother would do. How many times in the past had Maykrotot comforted Muzapo when he had been sad? Muzapo had long since lost count. But that didn’t change the fact that this was exactly the kind of thing that Maykrotot would have done for Muzapo if he knew his brother was harboring his guilt inside of him.

“Why do you not flee at the sight of me?” Muzapo asked, curious as to why the woman had stayed rather than attempted to attack him or flee.

“When I first set eyes on you in the darkness, I thought you were a malicious creature and I had prepared to exorcise you using my prayer beads. However, as I drew closer, I noticed how you looked at the butterfly, the guilt that clouded your eyes, and the sadness that consumed your expression as you stood there, so focused and deep in thought. I realized you could not be a creature of mal intent, the way those emotions of regret hung onto your expression. So I saw no reason to hurt you. I hope that was not an ill placed faith of mine.” Muzapo quickly shook his head and glanced back at the butterfly as it started to flutter its wings again.

“I mean no harm. My friends and I are simply trying to find our way home. I became frustrated while arguing with them and decided to take a walk.” Muzapo lifted his eyes to the priestess once again. “Perhaps you could help us? We are trying to find our way to Kyoto, but we are hopelessly lost without a map, and none of us believe we would be able to purchase one without being struck down upon entering a village first.” The woman chuckled in understanding and gestured for Muzapo to follow her.

“I can get you a map. Please, follow me.” Muzapo started to move after the woman when the butterfly suddenly took flight. Muzapo started to reach out for it, only for the butterfly to land in the curve of his right horn. Muzapo smiled, glad to know Maykrotot felt right at home there. Tagging along behind the woman, they entered the village as dawn began to illuminate it. They moved swiftly towards the largest building in the town near the center. It was a large wooden building with a foundation of stones. Muzapo noted how small everything else was, similar to his own home village. Were these people poor too?

The woman led him inside a wooden building that smelled of fire and something else that Muzapo could not place. She gestured for him to stay put and the priestess ventured into the back. Muzapo tapped his talons against the floor anxiously, a hollow wooden sound echoing throughout the building as Muzapo looked around the inside of the building. It was filled with golden statues and weird little smoking sticks. Muzapo wondered what sort of purpose this building served in their society. His village had no structures like this, but he imagined it was meant to be somewhat of a reverent place given all the statues. The woman returned a moment later with a piece of parchment in his hands. It had obvious ink stains on it from what Muzapo could see. He held out his hand but the priestess does not put the map in his hand just yet. Instead, she strikes the floor with her foot and suddenly a trap door opened underneath Muzapo. Muzapo instinctively grabbed onto the edges of the floor, trying to keep himself from falling in. He caught an evil glint in the woman’s eye as she stomped on his hands, causing Muzapo to lose his grip and tumble into the dark underground below.

Muzapo’s body crashed into the stony ground below. He groaned, scrapes and bruises no doubt covering his body now. He sat up, rubbing the back of his head and glanced around. He heard the soft beats of the butterfly’s wings as it fluttered above him then returned to its perch on Muzapo’s right horn. Muzapo squinted a little as he spotted two familiar shapes off to the side.

“Who goes there? Who else did that witch catch?” a voice shouted in Japanese. Muzapo blinked a few times before realizing it was Raven and Malak sitting off to the side. The two angels looked less than pleased to be here. They also could not see him in the thick darkness of the basement. Night vision for the win. Muzapo stood up and winced before somewhat limping over to the two competitors.

“It’s me, Muzapo. How did you get down here? Did she trick you too?” Muzapo asked in Angelicus. Raven folded his arms and huffed loudly before shrugging a little in obvious annoyance.

“After we ditched you lot, Malak and I realized we had no clue where we were going or what we were doing. So we decided to try and ask for directions,” Raven explained, switching back to Angelicus as well. “As you can imagine, that went over less than smoothly. We were chased by some villagers and fled, flying for a while before ending up in this village. It seemed pretty abandoned other than this old lady and a retired warrior. They welcomed us, fed us, and offered to give us a map to help us on our way to Kyoto. But before they gave us the map I got whacked in the back of the head and when I woke up I was down here with Malak and a bunch of bones.”

“The same for me,” Malak added softly.

“Why not just bust out then?” Muzapo asked, a little chilled at the thought that they had all been tricked so easily. He saw Malak shake his head. The archangel narrowed his eyes ever so slightly and sighed loudly.

“There’s something supernatural about those two. We tried to break out earlier. Raven never even made it out of the room. I stepped foot outside before suddenly getting devoured by… something. Then we were back down here. You’re welcome to try again, but something tells me that you won’t be any more successful than us.”

Muzapo scratched his head and glanced around the basement. It was made entirely of stone from what Muzapo could see. Now that he thought about it, hadn’t the base of the building been made of individual stones too? Flapping his wings, Muzapo ascended a bit before grabbing onto the wall and digging his talons in as best he can. Climbing to the top, Muzapo began to shake some of the stones in hopes of wiggling some of them loose. It took a bit of shaking, but finally, several stones came free and clattered to the ground, causing Raven to shout as one hit him. Muzapo hissed at Raven to be quiet before glancing around outside. He squinted his eyes, the growing daylight making it difficult for him to see. But it was a start.

“Guys! If we get enough rocks free from the wall we might be able to sneak out without them noticing,” Muzapo suggested. Malak grumbled something to himself that gave Muzapo the impression the archangel was not up for that idea. Raven sat in silence for a moment before standing and flying up next to Muzapo.

“If it gets me out of here and gets me to somewhere where there’s good to eat then I’ll try just about anything. Otherwise, I gotta eat Malak just to get him to stop complaining.” Muzapo chuckled quietly at the joke as the two began to work at pulling the rocks free from their foundation. After a few minutes of work, the two had a hole large enough for them to slip through. “Malak! Get off your lazy butt and get up here. Or else we’re going to leave you.” Muzapo watched as Malak remained still for a few moments before groaning loudly and standing up. Unfolding his large wings, the archangel flew up to the others and one by one they began to climb out. Muzapo immediately closed his eyes and began to click, the sunlight strong enough to disorient him now. That was when he saw them.

“Watch out!” Muzapo shouted, shoving Malak to the ground as the man Raven had mentioned earlier came out of nowhere and slashed with a sword through the air. His echo image vanished, but Muzapo knew the man was no gone. Now it made sense. “They’re ghosts of some sort,” he surmised. Standing up, Muzapo felt a rush of heat as Malak summoned his flaming sword. Raven adjusted his hand position and his bow formed. Muzapo did not have a weapon, so instead of the xokhafel opted to look as intimidating as possible by leaning forward, puffing up his feathers and tail, and hissing. Though with a butterfly on his horn, Muzapo thought the effect might be somewhat lost.

A soft breeze blew through the town and not even a mouse stirred. Then hell broke loose. The ghost man charged from the side again. Raven released an arrow that skimmed the man’s shoulder, causing the ghost to spin and change course for Malak. Big mistake. The archangel lifted his head then spun and slashed with his flaming sword straight through the man. The ghost screamed as the holy flames burned him through. Malak made the sign of the cross then turned to Muzapo and Raven, who were currently frozen in utter fear of Malak’s power.

“Remind me not to cross you unless I want to exorcised anytime soon,” Raven breathed out before glancing around. Notching another arrow, Raven frowned. There was no sign of the fake priestess anywhere. Muzapo clicked his tongue more rapidly, desperately trying to find some echo image of her when he felt something cold wrap around his waist. “Muzapo!” Raven shouted as the xokhafel was rocketed back into the fake temple, breaking through the wooden wall and thrown to the ground. Muzapo cried out in pain and opened his eyes instinctively as he felt a crack in his left shoulder. Given the immense amount of pain he was feeling, Muzapo guessed he had probably just dislocated it. Candidly speaking, he was surprised he hadn’t hurt it earlier but he wasn’t complaining.

The lady leaned over him, her appearance much more menacing than before. Her inky black hair waved in the air all around her as her narrow red eyes stared him down. Muzapo flinched as droll dropped down on him from between the ghost’s razor sharp teeth. Still, she was just a ghost. Perhaps she was faking the appearance? Muzapo slashed at her with his claws while stifling back a gasp in pain. The woman recoiled to dodge, giving Muzapo a chance to stand up, only to be knocked to the side again by the woman’s strong arms. Crashing into the wall, Muzapo groaned loudly, his consciousness beginning to swim. Everything started to go dark when he saw his blue butterfly fluttering in the air between him and the ghost.

“Maykrotot! No get out of there! She’ll destroy you.” Instead, the butterfly continued to dance through the air, as if it were trying to say that the ghost would have to get through it first before she could hurt Muzapo any further. The woman hissed at the butterfly and licked her lips before charging at it. A bright burst of light erupted from the butterfly, blinding Muzapo for a moment. When his senses reoriented, Muzapo felt his breath leave his body in shock at the sight before him.

Surrounding the butterfly was a translucent alhein xokhafel. He was larger than Muzapo and bore distinctly red and blue colored plumage. His skin was a similar shade to Muzapo’s and he wore black shorts. There were dark blue stripes all along his legs, arms, neck, and face, while his eyes were a bright neon green. He had shaggy dark blue hair that matched his stripes and curled down past his ears, almost masking the purple earring that hung from his left ear. His left horn was jagged and bright gold, almost mimicking the formation of a lightning bolt. His right horn held a soft curve with a bright neon splash on it, just like Muzapo’s horn. It was Maykrotot!

The spirit of Muzapo’s older brother glanced over his shoulder as he held the older ghost woman back by digging his talons into the floor and his claws into her shoulders. Maykrotot smiled at Muzapo before returning his attention to the woman. Roaring, he bit into the woman’s neck then throttled her, pinning the ghost to the ground. Maykrotot raised his claws and slashed the woman across the throat. Her image faded then vanished from view. Maykrotot stood up, the butterfly flittering around in his chest. He offered another smile to Muzapo and opened his mouth to say something, but Muzapo passed out before he could hear it.

***

Muzapo sat up suddenly with a loud gasp. Pain racked through his whole body and he instantly regretted sitting up so quickly. At least it was night. The experience would have resulted in a much more painful headache during the day. Muzapo let out another a long whine in pain, the sound drawing the attention of those nearby.

“He’s awake!” Antioch shouted loud enough for all those scattered around the campsite to hear as he rushed over to Muzapo’s side. Muzapo suddenly found himself surrounded by Antioch, Jamoheit, Quastinami, Zimita, Raven, Akio, and Malak. He looked them over in confusion. How had they met up? How had he gotten here? Where was Maykrotot? “Glad to see you’re okay. You’re probably really confused. Raven, would you like to explain?”

“I would love to.” The fallen angel leaned forward ever so slightly and grinned at Muzapo. “After you got dragged into the temple, another ghost showed up, a demon or something that was pretty powerful. Malak couldn’t one shot this one so we had to work together to fight it off. It wasn’t too hard to beat though, but we were still worried about you so we rushed inside the temple. And what do we find but you and that butterfly of yours have defeated that ghost lady all on your own. I never took you for much of a fighter, Muzapo, so color me impressed.” Muzapo started to open his mouth to protest but Raven continued talking, not allowing interruptions. “Still, you were not in good shape, so Malak and I picked you up and started to look around. We figured if you were here then someone else had to be close by. And sure enough, your little ragtag campsite was just a short flight away. Malak also swiped the map too, so good things all around.”

“Muzapo? Are you okay? You look a little pale,” Zimita said, concern flashing in their eyes. Muzapo hesitated to answer. From what it sounded like, Maykrotot had disappeared by the time Raven and Malak had appeared. He would probably sound completely insane telling the story of what actually happened. If the situation was reversed he would have a hard time believing someone telling him the story that the butterfly carrying the soul of his previously murdered brother had transformed into said brother and kicked a ghost priestess’s butt to save his life. In fact, just repeating it in his own head made Muzapo wonder if that is what actually happened.

“Yeah, just trying to process everything. Speaking of which, the butterfly that was with me, where is it?” Zimita gave Muzapo a strange look before pointing with their claws to the air above Muzapo. He could hear the soft wing beats as the butterfly drew closer, slowly descending to land in Muzapo’s lap. He slowly opened and closed his blue and black wings, and Muzapo smiled at the sight, a wave of comfort washing over him. “Thank you, all of you, for caring about me. But I think it’s time we continue on our mission. Now that we’ve got a map, it’s time to head to Kyoto.”

Cheers rose up from the group at the instructions. Muzapo watched as Maykrotot the butterfly took flight again. His blue wings shown brilliantly in the moonlight as he danced through the sky. A wide smile spread across Muzapo’s slim face as, for the first time in his life, Muzapo gazed at the stars.

[LKWayvern]

Thank you for your submissions. Week 1/2 is now closed. I will try to get grades out by Monday/Tuesday.
And now you get the opportunity to begin working on your Week 3/4 prompt!

Once Upon a Dream. Dreams and nightmares are something I personally find utterly fascinating. Impossible things can occur within them, and yet they are sometimes to some extent shaped by reality. In fiction, dreams of the future or of past lives sometimes occur. My favorite comic even takes place most in the realm of dreams. There are so many ways that these stories can go! But of course, there must be certain parameters.
1) And I Am Your Darkest Nightmare Too. Tell the story from the perspective of the villain!
2) I Dream in Colors. Be it dancing, singing, writing, or painting, have a character who is some kind of artist.

[Noblejanobii]

Question. When you say perspective of the villain, does that mean first person is required or can we still use third person?

[LKWayvern]

You can still use third person. I've seen ways that third person's still told from one character's perspective.

[Morzone]

Kind of bummed I couldn't get the first 2 weeks writing in in time, but oh well. it would have suffered if I'd rushed it.

Anyway, I have a question for the 2nd two weeks. Does the entirety of the story have to be from the perspective of the villain? I was thinking of a perspective change right at the very end to give a certain effect, but I wasn't sure If I needed to stick with the villain through the whole story.

[LKWayvern]

I'd prefer if the perspective was from someone decidedly not on the hero's side for the entire story, be it a single person or multiple people. But if that's what the majority of the story is told from, I suppose it could be from the hero's or one of their friend's perspectives for a short time.

[Morzone]

Alright, I'll see if I can tweak my plot line so I can keep it from the bad-guy's side of things.