“W-who are you?” the demon’s voice carried the same authority Vir experienced before, but this time, perhaps because the demon was about to piss himself, the compulsion was easy to break.
“A Warrior of the Ash.”
Vir expected them to ridicule him for not having named a clan, but instead, the demons clutched their weapons tighter.
They were on edge, and it was his words, more than his actions, that triggered it.
I guess that title really does carry weight, as Cirayus said. Besides, they couldn’t exactly question it, having seen him walk out of an Ash Gate. Works for me.
“Now, unless you’d like to join your friends here,” Vir gestured to the groaning and screaming ape-men, “I suggest you put your tail between your legs and scram.”
Vir didn’t wait to see if they’d taken his advice. He Leaped to Cirayus, quickly catching up with the remaining three demons.
Tch. He clucked his tongue. Only three left?
Vir met Shan’s gaze, and he could swear he saw smug satisfaction on the wolf’s face.
It didn’t last long. Vir Blinked, barreling through Cirayus’ pursuers. His momentum, and theirs, did the rest. They slammed face-first into the desert. They did not get back up.
Vir threw a smirk at Shan, who growled in displeasure.
“Well, that’s not exactly how I intended to return home,” Cirayus said as they jogged.
“Tell me about it. So, who were those demons? Do they belong to a clan?”
“Hmm? You mean I never told you about the Kothis?”
“Uh, Kothis?” Vir repeated.
“The Chitran. They’re monkey people.”
“No,” Vir said slowly. “No, Cirayus, you never did.”
2THE REALM OF DEMONS
“Maiya? Maiya, can you hear me? Please, say something!” Vir said for what must have been the hundredth time.
“Might be these orbs don’t function across realms, lad,” Cirayus said, resting a hand upon Vir’s shoulder. “You can’t know.”
Cirayus put the orb back into Vir’s black Imperium rucksack, which he’d smothered in ash, hoping to disguise its exotic fabric.
Vir ground his teeth in frustration. Cirayus had hit on the crux of the issue. They couldn’t know. They couldn’t know if Maiya was alive and simply unable to communicate, or…
No! No, I refuse to believe that. I won’t. Not until I have proof.
Cirayus had laid out all of their gear and was checking everything over, inventorying their stock. Vir brought his black, untearable pack from Mahādi, though he’d hardly used it for anything yet. With Balancer of Scales, it’d always made sense for Cirayus to carry all of their gear. At least, in the Ashen Realm. Here, where prana was so scarce, the Bairan couldn’t use his powers so freely anymore.
“We’ll be needing to resupply soon,” Cirayus said. “Plants don’t grow nearly as well here, in the Demon Realm. Especially this far east. Away from the Ash Boundary.”
Vir only half heard him as he stared blankly at the sunset-dyed desert, feeling empty. It was always sunset here, which meant the Demon Realm was perpetually cast in shades of red, orange, and yellow near the sun, and the blues of dusk on the other end of the sky.
Good for Dance of the Shadow Demon. Not so good for one’s mental health.
Vir never knew how something so pretty when it occurred only a few minutes a day could look so warped when it became permanent.
The Demon Realm was… not right, broken in a different manner than the Ashen Realm’. The sun hung eternally in the same position, half of it hidden, half peeking just over the horizon. Never quite day, though never quite dusk, either.
At first glance, the Human Realm appeared the least broken of them all… until Vir recalled it lacked the moon that was supposed to hang in the sky at night.
They’d been here only a day, and already Vir felt out of place. The near-total lack of prana only made it worse. Having grown used to the Ashen Realm, Vir felt like a fish out of water.
Having grown so used to Micro Leaping everywhere, it took real discipline to walk normally. It was awful. Like he’d just lost his legs and was hobbling around on crutches.
This, despite his muscles absolutely rippling with power. Far more than they ever had throughout his life. He had to put in effort to explosively jump via his muscles, whereas prana was effortless.
Once again, Vir had to conserve his prana usage, and once again, he had to wear face paint to disguise himself. The only difference was that the color was now red instead of cream, and he no longer had to change his eye color. Most demons had red eyes.
And yet, all of those paled next to his worry for Maiya.
“We need to go back,” Vir said at last. “I need to know if Maiya’s safe.”
Cirayus, who was on all sixes packing the gear back into his oversized rucksack, paused to regard Vir.
“I know how you feel, lad. You’re in a foreign land. Natural to miss the lass. You’re worried. But going back will take as long as it took to come here. You know these communication orbs do not function in the Ashen Realm. What if she’s simply away from her orb? What if she tries to get in touch with you while you’re in the Ash?”
Vir was sure the demon would scold him for even thinking of going back. He thought Cirayus would blame Vir for turning his back on the Demon Realm. Yet he did none of that. He used something far more potent—reason.
“That’s… fair,” Vir conceded. “Going back won’t solve anything, would it?”
Like Ashani, Maiya’s fate was something that would linger in Vir’s thoughts—except this was much worse. Could he even be functional without knowing she was safe?
“Based on the Chitran activity, I think it’s safe to say we’re in Chit lands. Or more accurately, Gargan lands that they’ve usurped. And, judging from the ambient prana levels, I’d say in the far eastern reaches of the territory, at that. Samar Patag ought to be to our west. Which is both lucky and unfortunate.”
“How is that unfortunate? Didn’t you hope we’d end up in Garga?” Vir asked, darkening at the thought of the monkey people. He’d assumed the command the Chitran had over him had been a Chakra ability, but it wasn’t. It was a Chitran Bloodline Art—Coercion. The ability to subtly influence the thoughts of others.
The worst part was how insidious it was. By the time one detected they were under the influence, it was usually too late.
I’ll have to keep an eye out for the prana signature of their tattoo, Vir thought, regarding the miserable landscape around him.
He found it hard to believe people really lived in these infertile, prana-starved lands. It made him wonder how any culture could survive in such a barren climate. Let alone prosper.
“Aye, though I’d hoped we would start anywhere else. This is hostile territory for us. We’ll have to keep a low profile wherever we go, but we’ll have to be extra cautious here. At least, in Baira, I could’ve shown myself.”
“So, what’s the plan?” Vir asked.
“The plan is for you to get us some supplies. And I think I’ve found just the place.”
Having grown up in a village, Vir thought he knew better than most what a village was. One or two main roads—usually dirt-paved—with dozens of smaller streets surrounding them. A temple, a dozen or so shops, and a hundred or so homes.
As Vir walked through the deserted roads—calling them roads was too generous, for they were no different from the cracked clay outside the village—Vir understood what an actual village looked like.