Exalted: Stewards of Creation

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Flat desolate fields of barren snow stretched on as far as she could see. She didn’t know if the bandits were still chasing her, but she kept on running regardless. The snow crunched beneath her bare feet as she stumbled along the frozen desert. For the past two days they had been hounding her at every turn, and she could feel they were just outside the edge of her vision. The full moon off the fresh fallen snow would normally make her stop and stare in wonder and awe, having never seen it until recently. Now, it was just an indicator to the brigands where she was going.

A stabbing pain came through her left shoulder and she looked down to see an arrow sticking out of it both ends, blood already starting to flow from the wound. No other arrows hit her. The impact had thrown her already exhausted body off balance and she was able to force herself on a little more before she over-corrected for the balance issue and went tumbling to the ground. The arrow tip grazed the ground and drug along slowly, twisting and widening the space made by the arrow. The woman screamed with pain. She sluggishly pulled herself to her feet and kept going. So long as they kept chasing her, she hoped that maybe the others would get away.

She fell to her knees and looked at the moon in the sky. It was beautiful. Was it the loss of blood making her delusional, or was there a woman walking towards her? She was like nothing the wounded fugitive had ever seen. Clad in all white, dressed very much like a ranger ready for battle and carrying a bow that looked like it was made of silver. Her steps left no imprints in the snow and she stopped before the woman.

She leaned down and offered a hand to the kneeling woman. The huntress’ hair flowed and matched the colors of all the clothes she wore. Pristine white. Upon her forehead was a white circle filled in and emitting light. She was breath-taken looking up and subconsciously put her hand in the one offered. The huntress slung her bow and put her hand on the other woman’s shoulder, drawing her in and gently, soothingly kissed her forehead while drawing the arrow gently out. The blood stopped flowing and the hole closed immediately. A slow intake of breath from the kiss’ recipient marked the flow of Essence around her, the pure raw energy of the world surrounding her as a silver-white aura surrounded them both. It was a moment of pure calm, clear of the chaos she had been surrounded by.

A cloud skittered by and obscured the moon. The raven-haired woman had closed her eyes and did not realize this, but she did feel the person disappear. She opened her sapphire eyes and realized that the huntress was gone and she was still surrounded by the aura. She felt a wolf’s tail swish against her legs, and turned to see the length of grey fur came from herself. Then the rush came.

Pure, unfiltered adrenaline started coursing through her. She was shaking with it. Her body was growing in height, and musculature. Fur covered her body, clothing vanishing from sight as she stood in what could only be called a cross between wolf and man, grown to a gigantic size of nearly seven feet. She felt the zeal of combat and the ease of doing it as bandits with swords and spears charged, thinking a beast had ambushed their prize. They were surprised when it turned and attacked them, howling out into the night.

She finally came to, the snow around her stained red with blood and littered with various pieced of the bandits. The woman realized how tired she was, and human once more slipped sideways and passed out into the snow.

Chapter Two
Faces of the Moon

“Jeez, look at this mess.”

“Do you think she’s one of us?”

“Look at the tail, you idiot. She’s obviously one of us. We’re too far from the Wyld for it to be a mutation.”

“I know that, stop making fun of me, Siaka.”

“You make it too easy, Sky-Dancer. Oh wait, she’s coming around.”

The black-haired woman slowly came to. Her eyes opened to see who she was hearing talking over her. Both were female and both had the falling moon behind them. The woman who was examining her, and was apparently “Sky-Dancer,” had a very angular face. The woman thought for a second they were Fair Folk, the shapeless nightmares that come into the world and kidnap any they find to feast on their dreams. She screamed and shot out backwards, right into “Siaka’s” legs.

“Easy, now.” Siaka knelt down to her. “Why not tell us your name?” Siaka was dressed in what could only be described as a bikini made of fish scales. Her tanned skin was traditional of the West, and her accent seemed to stem from there as well. She had matted brown hair that looked like she just came from the ocean, and her eyes were blood red. All along her rather exposed body were intricate silver tattoos and they seemed to dance over ever part of her form. Indeed one part end under her bikini top and emerged from a different side.

“Bai Lifen” The woman said, looking between them.

“Oh, relax, Lifen. We won’t bite… unless you ask.” She gave the person she was trying to sooth a large, toothy grin. It was like the mouth of a shark had been implanted in her face. Lifen let out another scream and bolted, this time into Sky-Dancer’s arms. The woman held her gently, calmly. She had red hair and dark, Southern skin. Her skin was covered in various tattoos just like Siaka’s and she soothed Lifen gently.

“Siaka’s just a Full Moon, sweetie. She’s really much nicer than this normally. It’s just that all the blood and things excite her. Comes from her totem, really.” Sky-Dancer was gentle, nuzzling her and massaging all the right pressure points. Lifen was slowly unwinding and turning to putty from what the woman was doing to her.

“Dancer, for the love of all things… Get your talons out of the girl. Jaguar wants her not to be spoiled. That’s her choice after she’s been tattooed.” Siaka seemed rather agitated at her friend. Bai didn’t realize it until she realized that Dancer was outright chewing on her neck and squirmed free. So far as she was aware, she was completely straight, and that was just awkward for her.

“Wait… how are we getting wherever we’re going?”

“Well…” Siaka turned and looked at a dogsled, a couple of arctic wolves tied to it as well, one of them was black with tattoos along its body. “Howler was able to convince these guys to come with us. I don’t think he’ll mind convincing them to carry us a little further.”

The wolf with the silver tattoos made a non-committal sound and turned to the others and then motioned up to Dancer. It then shook its head. Apparently those two knew what it meant, because Siaka walked up and began calling Lifen over to join her.

“Just sit here. I have to strap you in. Howler likes to run, comes from still being relatively young.” The wolf huffed and Siaka just laughed while she strapped Lifen to the front of the sled. She then covered her with an animal hide that had been turned into a comfortable blanket, and tossed her a parka as well. “Race you there, Dancer.”

“I look forward to winning.” Dancer was there one moment, and the next thing Lifen knew, she was shrinking, gaining features of a bird of prey. Clothing meshed flawlessly into skin and feathers until a red hawk remained. All the same tattoo designs stuck and next thing Lifen knew, she had taken flight and was heading toward the horizon, Siaka in fast pursuit with the dogsled.




It was almost daybreak when Siaka came to a small barbarian camp. Almost immediately after they came to a full stop, Dancer had swooped in as the hawk and changed back rapidly to human. Lifen couldn’t help but notice that the calves of her legs resembled larger versions of the eagle she had just been, complete with talons instead of feet and toes.

“What--?”

“Don’t worry, Lifen. We’re taking you to someone who can help you understand what’s going on.” They lead her to a tent covered with runes and surrounded by half-men, half-jaguar creatures. Each stood a full six feet, holding a spear of equal height. They all wore basic loincloths and had covered their flesh with trial tattoos and scars. Siaka walked right through the flap in the tent, unperturbed, and Sky-Dancer had to push and prod the newcomer to so much as approach.

“But what if they-“

“If they what? Magnificent Jaguar is their sire. They would not do anything to displease the one who birthed them all.” Dancer turned and looked to one. “Freshly chosen by Mother Luna. Still very skittish.” On hearing this, all of them chortled and Lifen could see they were good natured, but was hesitant as she moved slowly, cautiously through the flap.

The inside of the tent was luxuriant and Siaka was engaged in conversation with what looked to be the leader of this encampment. The man was exactly what Lifen pictured a general to be. Square chin, broad shoulders, piercing eyes. He tempered it all with a slight charisma and calm expression. The only things that gave him away were the silver tattoos and that he had pronounced fangs, similar to the jaguar-men outside. He wore a gold-colored amulet and matching bracers, but nothing else adorned his torso except for a small bell that he wore on his neck. At present, he was seated at a large table, a map of the North spread out before him, various figures on it that seemed to represent troop strength.

“Welcome, Child. I am Magnificent Jaguar. I am a Chosen of Luna, like those I sent to find you. Siaka tells me you are Bai Lifen, yes?”

“I am.” Lifen was shaking all over with fear. She felt Dancer’s hand come down on her shoulder and was settled slowly. She looked back and saw the woman smile warmly. She turned back in time to see a man enter, dressed as normally as she was. He had clothing traditional for heavy snow, but that didn’t stop wolf ears poking out from under his hood. His black hair matched the wolf from before.

“I believe introductions are in order,” Jaguar spoke, motioning around himself to the assembled people. All of them bore the tattoos and Lifen felt it meant something but could not explain how she knew. She just did.

“There is Depth-Prowling Siaka, or Siaka, for short,” Siaka did a little salute at her name and returned to the map, “Dances Upon The Wind, Sky-Dancer,” She gave Lifen a reassuring squeeze on her shoulder, “And lastly, the one who didn’t really do any talking, Howls Into The Night, Howler, simply put.” He made another grunt and whispered something in Magnificent Jaguar’s ear. The seated man nodded and waved him away. As he went to leave Lifen got to see the tail swishing gently back and forth behind him.

“By now I take it you’re wanting to know what all is going on around you.” He had returned his full attentions to the newcomer. She nodded and he continued, “Tell me, what do you think you know of the First Age to now?”

“Well, I do know that it was ruled by the Anathema, demons who had taken over the bodies of virtuous men and women, and gave them power to rule. The armies of the Dragon-Blooded rose up and slew them, pushing those they didn’t kill into the world beyond the edges of Creation’s elemental poles.” She looked at the man to see how he was taking her story of things.

“Go on, Lifen. This is your perception of the history of the world.”

“Well, the Dragon-Blooded set up the Shogunate, but it was a failure. Rarely were the feudal lords united. Then the Great Contagion hit. Nine out of every ten people died, and the bodies would not decay. Then, the Fair Folk came from all sides of Creation, spilling from the Wyld, seeking to destroy every bit of existence, but the Scarlet Empress used the Realm’s Imperial Manse to drive them back, sending them back into the madness beyond logic and existence.”

“It is a very good history you told me, Child. It is, however, inaccurate.” Siaka smirked and Sky-Dancer chuckled softly behind her.

“You see, dear Child, these so called Anathema were the Champions of the Gods, the Exalted. There were two types, Celestial and Terrestrial Exalted. I’ll start with the former.

There were the Solars, blessed by the Unconquered Sun. They were the Lawgivers and ordained rulers of Creation. They controlled the world as we know it, and more. They pushed Creation’s borders beyond what is in existence now. Then there were the Lunars. They were the Children of Luna. They were the Stewards, protectors of the Solars and of Creation. Each was bound inexplicably to a single Solar. Next, there were the Sidereals. You wouldn’t have heard of them. They seem to have written themselves from history. They were the Chosen of the Maidens: Mercury, Venus, Mars, Jupiter, and Saturn. They were the Viziers, ordained and Exalted by Fate.

“Lastly, came the Terrestrials, or as they are more commonly know today, the Dragon-Blooded. They were the soldiers of the Celestial Exalted. They had the easiest of jobs, to follow and to be lead by the Solars, be it in combat or any other pursuit.

“The Usurpation, the Dragon-Blooded rising up and slaying the Solars and Lunars, is the meeting point of out two stories. From there, they continue on the same lines, albeit in different capacities, but they do go on much the same.”

Lifen was shocked. She had just been told that everything she knew about the state of the world was a lie. “What does this have to do with me?”

“Don’t you know?” He turned to Siaka. “You didn’t tell her?”

“Sorry, slipped my mind. We figured that she knew.”

“Child, you are a Lunar Exalted. One of us,” She looked at them all, and could feel the tail of hers swishing gently. His words were outlandish to her, but they did carry a grain of truth to them. Somewhere in her core, they just radiated as correct.

“We learned one of our own had passed recently, and his Exaltation had always been fond of the cold North, so we came searching here and happened to stumble across you,” He stood, and she finally got to see how massive he was. He came about to the shoulders of the beastmen outside, but had a more intimidating appearance. He wore pants made of rough leather and cotton and his feet her shod in boots that where covered by the pants from the ankles up.

“There is more you need to be taught, so much more, but our time here is limited now that you have been found,” he turned and glared at Siaka, who looked away, rather embarrassed, “Someone tipped our and now the Wyld Hunt is on its way here. They think it’s only a few of us, so they dispatched three Dragon-Blooded, one of which is an Immaculate Monk.”

Lifen understood what he was talking about. The monks of the Immaculate Order were masters of the martial arts, each deadly in their chosen style, each emulating one of their five Immaculate Dragons. She’d once seen one of them lay waste to an entire bar simply for displaying a “graven image”, simply put, a representation that wasn’t one of their Dragons.

Siaka spoke up next, stepping away from the map. “She can go with Sky-Dancer and Howler. The can make their way to the forests that aren’t too far east of here and from there the Silver Pact can find her and give a more thorough explanation, Jaguar.”
He nodded in agreement, “Sky-Dancer, do keep an eye on her. Make sure she arrives safely into the hands of the Pact,” He sized Lifen up for a second, “Probably best for it to be the Swords.”

“Understood.” She stepped back, and held open the tent’s flap. Lifen turned and stepped through, not knowing where she was going, or where it would lead, but that she’d follow and learn as much as she could.

Siaka looked out over the snow-covered flat lands while Lifen departed with Howler and Sky-Dancer. She was worried that someone would kill the young Exalt before she got the proper training, before she was ready.

“Was it right to send her so early?” Jaguar put to words the question she had been thinking at that moment. She shrugged and went to collect her weapon she had left in the tent while she was in such a rush to find the newly Chosen.

“You know as well as I do what’s out there,” Siaka turned and looked to Jaguar, who had reassumed his Warform, the jaguar-man who bore much resemblance to the guards outside, “It is only for the best that none of the other types get their hands on her before she’s in the Pact.”

“You’re referring, of course, to Ma-Ha-Suchi?”

“Of course, Jaguar!” She blurted out, “If he got a hold of her, that might spell the undoing of what we worked for. You know as well as I do what’s going on here, about the under currents.”

Jaguar’s hand came up to stem her words, “Siaka, she is in good hands.”

“Good hands? You know what Howler did, and you sent him anyway!” She spun, the giant sword strapped to her back shifting softly in its ties. It was identical to a gigantic meat cleaver except that it had a handle centered on the blade, and was made of the same silver as her tattoos. She gnashed her teeth, but Jaguar wasn’t bothered at all.

“I know what he did. What he took from you cannot be returned, but you must learn to let it go, Siaka. Forgive. I will not ask you it of you to forget.” He turned and exited the tent. She turned and looked at the direction he went and departed the tent as well. She walked through the camp. It was being packed up and moved back to the northeast, where Jaguar would be watching his tribes. Siaka chose instead to go south. It was three days walking in this form to the sea, but she had other options, due to the protean nature of her Exaltation.

She walked for an hour or so, far enough that the camp couldn’t see her, and she couldn’t see them, before stopping and sniffing. “Fresh blood,” She looked around and couldn’t see the source, but knew enough to know a mortal’s blood would not smell like that. It had the distinct scent of rotting corpses, and immediately she pulled her sword off her back and spun, a clang of metal clashing with metal as she deflected the blow, and the person that erupted from the snow behind her.

The woman standing before Siaka was pale, drained of life. She had long, white hair that made the snow around her seem dark. Two jagged black streaks came from the front edges of her temples and tracked down, stopping three inches short of where her hair ceased at her shoulder-blades. She wore a black leather jacket, with shoulder pieces. Bones of some sort of creature were affixed on to each shoulder. Straps went along her low cut, v-neckline. They all met in the middle and a steel ring held the ends in place at her sternum. White trim along her neckline went up and around, to encircle a high, stiff collar.

Skeletal arms wrapped around her outfit’s abdomen, and the forearms crossed under her breast, the fingers splayed out over each one. Her belt depicted one larger, central skull, with two on the sides as the buckle. The skirt it held was tattered and torn, the larger portions still going down to her knees. The back of the skirt, still largely intact, went down to the back of her calves. Her knees and the front of her calves were covered with greaves and a spine pattern of bones. They overlapped with a pair of knee-high, black leather boots.

“Ah, Siaka…” She spoke with a very sadistic voice, “I was hoping you’d be someone else, someone fresher.” She pushed harder into the blades. Her own was huge, easily a foot and a half over the silver weapon of the Lunar. It curved out from the tip, following a very feminine shape for a blade. Along its black length, sigils and necromantic runes adorned it in red. The handle was unprotected and the pommel on it was capped with a red ball.

“If you are trying to capture our new Exalt, you’re too late, Maiden,” Siaka knew her full title, for like all Abyssal Exalted, the deathknights as they were called, had no names. The Maiden of the Mirthless Smile. She bore the smile now, and they broke contact, slashing and colliding again. This time Maiden’s sword let out wretched moans.

“Ah… still using that moonsilver butcher’s cleaver, Siaka?”

“Still using that damning soulsteel hunting knife, I see,” They broke contact again. A brand slowly appeared and the skin on Maiden’s forehead broke. It was a thick rimmed circle, with eight lines equidistant from each other and pointing away from the circle, like a dark sunburst. It oozed blood and Siaka hid her mouth behind her hand as she tried not to vomit.

“Is the little sharky disgusted by the power of the Black Exaltation?” Maiden was speaking in a mocking tone, lowing her weapon to a relaxed stance while the Lunar before her was trying to keep her stomach down. “Succumb, Siaka. Give yourself up. I can give you what you need to get revenge…”

Siaka kept her guard, “How do I know I can trust you?” Maiden laughed and then held out a pale white hand. She painted her nails black and they had a beautiful gloss to them. They had also been filed down to points.

“You can’t, but that’s half the allure for you, isn’t it?” She took a step forward, and Siaka brandished her weapon like she was still intending to use it, but the doubt settled in behind her eyes, “That’s it, just like always…” Maiden brushed the weapon aside, Siaka doing nothing to stop her as she drew closer.

“Back where you came from! Deathknight!” A voice yelled out from behind Maiden, and she wheeled, knocking her prey aside, snapping her out of the effect the Abyssal’s honeyed words had on her.

What she saw next went beyond all bounds of logic. It was an eagle made of pure Essence, hitting Maiden. It then exploded and fire began engulfing everything around her in flames. The very ground was set ablaze. Siaka was spared thanks to having been pushed away, and immediately raised her weapon to continue the fight. She saw Maiden on fire, and that was beginning to settle, but there was a larger glow from a dozen yards off. A woman dressed in a woolen cloak with hood, obscuring all her features. A sword was sheathed on her back. Her hands, clad in battered, brown leather, were held forward towards Maiden and she glowed with a burning corona of Essence. A mark glowed on her head, a circle half filled in, leaving the bottom of the thick rimmed circle open to expose light colored flesh.

Maiden finally managed to put herself out and turned to the sorceress, “You! I’ll kill you. Pathetic Solar sorceries are no match for me.”

“If that is what you wish,” The stranger pulled her sword from the sheath, a gleaming four-foot long daiklave that she held gracefully in one hand, “Allow me to send you whimpering back to the Mask of Winters.” They charged each other and while Maiden had raw, overwhelming strength the woman she was fighting moved elegantly, weaving and blocking each strike that she made.

Siaka was transfixed as she watched the fight. A Solar of the Twilight caste, the sorcerers and wise-men of their age, should not be meant for combat, yet here she was defending herself against a Dusk caste, the deathly warriors from whom the term ‘deathknight’ stemmed.

Maiden was fighting this enigma, slashing and hacking with both hands on her weapon. Her foe vaulted, dodged, and ducked as though she wasn’t even there.

“I would say I’m enjoying this, but you are simply holding me up from moving on,” The masked woman spoke eloquently, and then spoke softly in Old Realm, the language of magic, “Woda doragon kalawe!” Her arm not wielding the daiklave warped and changed into a wooden claw much like one could find on a dragon of the same element. Maiden made another slash and this time the sorceress caught the blade with her claw.

“You lose.” She stepped up to the Maiden, spun her blade to where the pommel pointed toward her foe, and slammed it full force into her, releasing the claw that held the weapon at the same time.

“How do I lose, sorceress? You will simply run out of Essence if you keep using it on spells like that. And then you can be beaten,” Maiden laughed, wiping some spittle and blood from her lips that had come out when she was hit, “What can you do? This Lunar is frozen in awe at my beauty, surrendered to me even. I think I’ll give her over to the true seductress, though. The Lady of Darkness in Bloodstained Robes has long awaited a Celestial Exalt she could seduce and conquer.”

At that exact moment, Siaka struck her with the flat of her daiklave, knocking the Maiden out, “I do not like to be used… And I never will be again.” She kicked the soulsteel weapon away and approached the Solar, extending a hand.

“I am Depth-Prowling Siaka, Full Moon Lunar of the Silver Pact. You would be…?” She anticipated an answer, but the woman just walked away, heading northeast.

“Who I am is of no consequence. If you are wise, you will leave before she awakes and makes good on her threat,” The sorceress was returning her weapon to the sheath on her back, her hand returning to normal. “I will not bail you out a second time.”

Siaka was tying her own weapon back to its place and glanced down at Maiden, “You’re right, probably for the best,” Her gaze went back to the sorceress, “Can I at least have your name?”

“If you insist. I am Thrice-Resplendent Yuhara Ayane, sorceress in dedicated service to the Unconquered Sun,” She hadn’t stopped walking, and as the winds kicked up around them from an approaching snowstorm Siaka turned and slowly continued her trek south. The sea awaited and she had lost time.

Lifen was walking through the snow with her two guides. She didn’t know what she’d see. She’d only heard the Immaculate Order speak of any person of great supernatural power that wasn’t a Dragon-Blooded or a God-Blooded as Anathema, the demon-possessed. Sky-Dancer and Howler didn’t look possessed to her. They simply looked different. It wasn’t an unnatural, inhuman different, just an ‘I come from somewhere else’ different.

“What’s your story, Lifen?” Sky-Dancer dropped into step beside her, Howler still walking ahead of them. “There has to be some sort of secret behind how you ended up in the frozen north.”

She looked away, uncomfortable with the question. “Sky-Dancer… not now, please.”

“When you’re ready, then,” She nodded in understanding and moved to catch back up with Howler. After a few more minutes they both stopped on a small rise.

“Why are we stopping here?”

“No point in trying to go too far, too fast. We have a long time to go before we reach the Silver Pact. You’re about as far as you can get from where we need to go,” Sky-Dancer was calmly moving aside the thin layer of snow on the top of the rise and Howler was busy unfurling bedrolls that he literally pulled from nowhere.

“How is he doing that?” Lifen was amazed. It was something she’d never seen before.

“Oh, he’s just pulling them from Elsewhere, Lifen. You see, Elsewhere exists as a sort of… What’s the way Jaguar described it, Howler?” She turned quizzically to the man, who was still wrapped in his parka.

“Pocket dimensions,” He spoke gruffly, digging out more snow around the fire pit, “And she should learn this for herself.”

“It speaks!” Sky-Dancer slightly mocked him and received a huff in response, “Yeah, it’s a pocket dimension for storing anything you can lift with one hand.” As if to accentuate her point, she held both her arms out to her sides and two loud cracks resounded in the air. Where there was only empty space before, there were now two moonsilver daiklaves, both just at three feet in length, in Sky-Dancer’s hands. They were dual-edged and seemed to be in perfect balance as Sky-Dancer held them effortlessly. Dancer was also surrounded briefly by a glow of silvery-white energy. On her forehead was a crescent moon.

“It’s really easy to learn how to store things in Elsewhere. You can only store so many as is equal to the Essence that is inherent to you at the time, and you’ll know when you hit that cap because the items you try to send once you reach that maximum fizzle and shake rapidly, but nothing else.”

“Dancer, stop showing off and come help me finish setting up the camp,” Howler turned his head and barked the order almost, “And for the love of Creation put those things away.”

Two more pops and another flaring of the silvery aura, and they were gone again. Lifen had to admit that was the most unnatural thing she’d seen all day. Said day also included seeing a woman turn into a bird, and then back.

“Hey, Sky-Dancer,” She asked timidly.

“What is it, Lifen?” The woman looked up, leaned over a pile of snow and sweeping it aside.

“How did you change forms?” She immediately blurted out. “I meant, how did you turn into that hawk from earlier? Can I do it to?” Sky-Dancer laughed and went back to work, shaking her head.

“All Lunars can. We all start with our True Forms. There’s the human form, with its own Tell. Then there’s the animal form. It’s the form most suited to your personality, also called the Spirit Shape. Mine is a hawk. It reflect what the elders called my free-spirited nature.”

“Free in other ways too,” Howler’s slight mumble there.

“Shut up, you!” She playfully tossed a snowball at him and he yelped.

“Howler’s an eastern Threshold wolf. He’s very quiet and sneaky. Probably the reason he’s a No Moon. Wait, do you know about Tells?” A quick headshake was her response, “A Tell is some sort of manifestation of your Spirit Shape regardless of what shape you are. Most people can’t perceive them, but a few can, and once someone’s seen it, they can identify you automatically. Examples include Howler’s ears and tail, and your tail for that matter, and my taloned feet and bird legs.”

“And Siaka’s teeth?” Lifen was guessing as to the nature of this one. It seemed to fit.

“Exactly like her teeth! You learn really fast. You might make a good Changing Moon,” she kept on working until the small little camp had been made. She then went to the two meter wide fire pit and Lifen realized that there was no wood to be had. Sky-Dancer seemed to have thought of this, though, and pulled out a small gem that looked like a brilliant inferno, frozen and condensed into a gem no bigger than a clenched fist. She set it down in the middle of the circle and scampered quickly out when the stone tumbled to its side and then instantly jumped back to straight up, erupting in a fire that Lifen judged big enough to warm a dozen people comfortably.

“What… what was that?”

Dancer looked over at her, a comically quizzical expression on her face. “You mean you’ve never seen a hearthstone before?” She walked over to Lifen and motioned her to sit, which she promptly did.

“Hearthstones are part artifact, the man-made wonders of the world, and part natural phenomenon. There are things in the world called demense. These are naturally occurring places in creation where Essence pools as it flows along its various paths in Creation. They have effects which are too innumerable to name, but only a few apply to any given demense. Powerful sorceries can be used to cap these demense and created what are called manse. Manse allow for the powers of the demense to be controlled and put to a purpose useful for people. At some point determined by only the demense itself, a hearthstone grows. Each hearthstone is aspected to one of five elements of Creation: Air, Fire, Water, Wood, and Earth. There are also the rare occasions of Celestial manse: Solar, Lunar, Sidereal, and ---“

“Sky-Dancer, don’t you dare tell her about them until she’s ready,” Howler cut in abruptly. The woman turned and gave him a look Lifen couldn’t see but he held up his hands. “All right, but this one’s your call.”

The woman turned and resumed her explanation, “As I was saying, there’s a fourth type of Celestial manse; Abyssal. They shouldn’t occur naturally in Creation, but due to a massive collection of death that occurs in a given place, shadowlands begin to form. Shadowlands serve as portals to the Underworld for those who wish to escape from it. They also are capable of being capped and turned into Manse as well due to the collection of death-tainted Essence.”

“Abyssals? Why didn’t Jaguar tell me about them when he told me about the First Age?” She tilted her head in curiosity. She’d heard stories about the sacked city of Thorns, far to the south and how it is now controlled by the Deathlord, the Mask of Winters, and his Deathknights. Occasionally she heard the term ‘Abyssal’ used in the place of ‘deathknight’, but this was rare indeed.

“That’s because they didn’t exist in the First Age. When the Solars were defeated during the Usurpation they were supposed to come back and choose new hosts, but they never came back. A few Solars survived, and their Exaltations continued to pick the worthiest people, until they died and the cycle started again.”

“Though, in the past five years something strange has happened. The Solars have been returning in droves, and there’s no denying it,” She looked at Howler, who shrugged, and then turned back to Lifen, “But something is amiss. All of them haven’t returned. Only half of the 300 Solar Exaltations have returned. Then the Abyssals showed up, and the Silver Pact has only been able to identify 100 of them. Why is this important? Some think that the Abyssals mirror the Solars too well.”

“How is this?” Lifen was taking it all in as well as she could. Obviously Sky-Dancer had years of experience and could correlate all these things.

“The Abyssals mirror the Solars. The former serves death and destruction, while the latter strives to life and creation. Abyssal castes and their marks also mimic the Solars, but something isn’t right. Fifty or so Exaltations are missing, unaccounted for,” Sky-Dancer mused, pondering the possibilities, “These could be the most elite of the Deathknights, a reserve and Shadow Guard serving the Deathlords directly, and wielding powers we can’t possibly explain.”

Sky-Dancer fell quiet, and Lifen thought hard about it. An answer came to her mind, but it was so outlandish that it didn’t even register as logical. Then again, she was sitting next to a fire sustaining itself. Logic was effectively out the window.

“What if they weren’t in the hands of the Deathlords, but being used by some other entity?” Sky-Dancer and Howler were both looking at her fully now. This was a theory they were rapt to hear. Lifen took a deep breath and continued, “What if they ended up not in the Underworld, where the Deathlords reign, but somewhere else entirely?”

“Like Malfeas, the Demon World?” A male voice spoke from the rim of the fire’s light, behind Lifen. Howler immediately got to his feet and growled at the origin of the voice. Lifen turned and as she did she heard two familiar pops from behind her. Sky-Dancer had summoned her daiklaves again. There was also a third pop, and she cast a glance over her shoulder to see Howler holding a moonsilver bow, having discarded his parka and drawing arrow an arrow from a quiver that had been carefully hidden beneath.

“Come now,” the voice spoke, stepping from the shadows. It was a man wearing a breastplate with affixed chain skirt and shoulder guards. He was wearing greaves on his shins and a bracer on his left forearm. It had what appeared to be metal leaves sprouting from it and it was all in a brassy color. Built into the bracer was a katar, an isosceles triangle of brass-colored metal, extending out eight inches past the fist. The metal was slightly thicker than a normal blade and had a toothed edge. The blade extended from the an image on the bracer, depicting the head of a demonic ape. The arm not wearing a bracer was demonic in its appearance, glowing with a sickly green Essence. He was a very pale man with flowing black hair. His eyes had unnatural green coloring to them.

“Let’s not fight,” he spoke, just over the roaring fire behind the Lunars.

“No. Let’s,” Sky-Dancer shot back, and Howler loosed an arrow. The stranger’s arm came up into the way and mutated and grew into a gigantic crab claw, the arrow bouncing harmlessly off.

[doindent[“You’ll have to try better,” There was a soft buzzing sound, and as the claw came down the teeth on the katar were moving like a chainsaw, entering one opening on the mouth and exiting out the other, “Much better.”

Sky-Dancer ran forward and slashed with one of her weapons, that claw not blocking, but coming up and launching her backwards, effectively stopping her attack as she sailed five feet through the air. She landed and rolled, another arrow flying over her head from Howler only to be cut in half by the katar.

“Lifen, run!” Howler yelled, notching another arrow while Sky-Dancer’s blades clanged off the large arm. “We’ll hold him off!”

She nodded and turn away, running away from the fight, and into the darkness. Howler turned and saw the fight, Dancer able to dodge the claw’s every strike, but not able to get near him for the modified katar and the aforementioned claw. His attention, however, was focused entirely on Sky-Dancer, leaving him open. Howler released his arrow and it sailed right for the man’s temple. The claw didn’t block it, and the katar was tied up holding off Dancer, so he tilted his head where it sailed harmlessly by.

“You know, for Lunars, you are surprisingly underwhelming. My master ensured me you Lunars were better warriors than this,” He frowned in disappointment. His claw snatched out and grabbed Sky-Dancer, changing into a squid tentacle, tightening and lifting her over his head. He then rocketed her forward and his arm returned to normal, but the momentum didn’t cease, and she sailed into Howler, sending them both to the ground.

“So this is all the Changing Moon and No Moon castes have to offer? Pathetic really.” He walked forward to them, the katar still spinning its teeth. The shape-shifting arm had returned to its starting form. He raised the weapon attached to his arm, prepared to strike them both down when a voice came from behind him and to his left.

“Deda ofa Obasidiana Buterefilies!” The man turned just in time to see Ayane’s cloaked form surrounded by a swarm of black butterflies. At a silent command she gave them, they began swarming around the brass clad man. He swing at them with his katar, even putting his arm back to the claw to try and assist, but they were too quick, and wherever they grazed his skin, they left gashes that oozed blood.

“They aren’t your opponent, Malfean. I am. Face me and have a foe worthy of your mettle,” She drew her sword with its single-edged golden blade and black handle, “Or be called a coward.”

“Clever of you to discern what I am. That will not avail you, however,” He walked forward slowly, having dispatched the last of the butterflies. Sky-Dancer and Howler took this opportunity to regroup. Sky-Dancer snuffed her hearthstone with a thought and the man spun to see where the light had gone, but both of them were gone, retreating from the rise as hawk and wolf in the direction Lifen had gone.

“Tell me,” he said, turning to Ayane, “How does it feel to know you face Moros, the Sands Triumphant, Defiler in service of Cecelyne, the Endless Desert? Tell me, Thrice-Resplended Ayane.”

“When you learn someone’s name, it is customary to learn why they are named such, Moros,” Ayane quipped back. Moros charged forward, swinging with his katar, to meet the golden daiklave.

“Still using pathetic oricalcum weapons, Chosen of the Sun?” They clashed again and again, oricalcum meeting claw and brass. They were in a dead heat and broke contact after a particularly fierce exchange of strikes and parries.

“Truly an opponent worthy of my full power.”

“And you of mine, Moros,” They charged each other, Ayane muttering one last spell, “Invulunerabile Sikine ofa Boroneze.”

The spell took effect just when she wanted it to. Her skin hardened into bronze and his blow grazed off, allowing her to sink to one knee and slide past him, effectively hamstringing him. She came back to her feet with her falling forward behind him. Somehow the slash was bigger than the actual cut she left, and was flowing with blood.

“One weapon, two blows,” She sheathed her sword and continued on her way, following Howler’s paw prints into the distance, leaving Moros cursing and yelling for her to come back and finish it while he clawed on in pursuit.

In the Yu-Shan, the Heaven above Creation where the Gods and spirits reside, there is a secret lost to most of Creation. A select few know it, but none of them can prove it. It is because of who this secret is about that even if someone were to know it, they had no way of proving it.

The Sidereal Exalted exist, and they’re the major functionaries of Destiny and Fate.

In a small performance hall, one such Exalted was dancing gracefully. She would not normally be doing this, but all Sidereal Exalted are allowed a sabbatical to relax and enjoy life. Hers began tomorrow, and the Bureau of Destinies had intentionally slacked her workload. After all, for the three months she’d be gone, no one wanted to agitate her on her last day. Chosen of Serenity or not, the Lady of Azure and Crimson, Hitomi to most everyone in Yu-Shan, was still very temperamental when her sabbaticals were interrupted or held off until the last minute.

She disappeared backstage for a small break. She found a full-body mirror and admired her reflection. She had dark brown hair hanging in a French braid down her back, and her eyes had been turned blue by her Exaltation that she received from the Maiden of Serenity, Venus. She wore a cerulean blue tube top made of fine silk, and it only covered the well endowed chest she had. Her pants were made of the same silk, wispy and starting to become see-through starting at her knees and progressing down. Her feet were shod in delicate dancing slippers as white and pale as fresh snow.

She was an effigy of beauty. Her face was sculpted just right. Her features were slightly elfin, graceful in the balance between sharp angles and soft curves. She knew that in Yu-Shan, almost every spirit, god, or Sidereal with the least taste in appearance as it was defined by humanity watched her steps, keeping their tongues in their mouths. She was, after all, married.

“Hello, love,” a male voice behind her said, wrapping arms around her waist. She looked up at the reflection and smiled, settling back against the man. He had a dark complexion, blonde hair flowing down onto his chest and red eyes showing he was a Chosen of Mars, the Maiden of Battles. He was dressed like an oriental functionary, nice fabrics adorning him, but he still carried the subtle nature of his Maiden. He was always ready for battle. On stage, music could be heard, a mix of rock and altered voices from a quintet of Sidereals that were known in Yu-Shan’s music circles as “The Night of Fallen Stars”. The song was one of their slower ones, telling of a Solar and her Lunar mate when the Usurpation occurred, from the Lunar’s perspective. He was ordered to leave his mate, and because of their bond was forced to accept it as the Sidereal lead Dragon-Blooded stormed their once private vista.

They were members of the Gold Faction, supporters of sparing the Solars during the First Age, same as everyone in attendance, even the man holding Hitomi so tenderly. There were two, however… and their presence troubled the dancer.

“Ah, my dearest is as stealthy as always, I see,” Hitomi offered that up as small wordplay, having known he was there the whole time. She suddenly let her face grow full of graven severity when she next spoke, “Venus and Mars personally came from the Games. They’re in the front row.”

Naturally Hitomi spoke of the Games of Divinity. This game was highly addictive and the Celestial Incarnae: the Unconquered Sun, Luna, the Five Maidens, and to a lesser degree, Gaia, had been snared by this addiction. They were held in the Jade Pleasure Dome, and Yu-Shan reflected whoever was winning. Currently everything was cast in the light of the full moon.

“Are you sure they simply do not wish to see you dance? After all, you are the Lady of Azure and Crimson,” He nuzzled her neck, chewing on the nape of the neck, “I know I’m enjoying it.”

She huffed and looked at him in the mirror, “Prowl. If Venus was alone, I could see this. Mars would never come here unless she had a reason. You know her terse nature better than I do.”

He nodded. Mars was ever impatient and on edge. Prowl knew it was because she carried the weight of so many battles, deciding which soldier lives, and which soldier dies. She really did hold the life of each soldier sacred, but knew all had to meet their due end, when they would be delivered into the gentle hands of her other sister, Saturn, the Maiden of Endings.

“There is something happening in the Loom of Fate. The Pattern Spiders have been scurrying over sections recently as they’re wont to do. Even their progenitor Ansa Firstborn has come to specific portions of the Loom to see things,” His lips had left her neck, and he took a small suck on her earlobe, drawing an exquisite gasp from her. How he so loved getting little reactions like this from her, “You’re due back onstage, Hitomi.”

She realized he’d released her and that they were doing her introductions, “Sadly, I am,” she remarked before turning and darting off to the entrance, going through the motions with everything she had. It was not bright to give anything less than everything with the Goddess who selected you for Exaltation sitting in the front row.




After the various performances had been completed, Hitomi found herself sitting on the edge of the state, cross-legged and chatting with the younger members of the Gold Faction. Mars and Venus had stepped into the grand hall outside the smaller performance hall, and were handling issues about their purviews and what to do with certain items falling within them.

Prowl was watching her from about ten yards away. He wanted to ensure she wasn’t spirited away by some ambitious god who dreamed of slipping into the same bed as Hitomi. Thankfully, before Prowl had to beat someone into submission, Venus and Mars entered the room again.

The goddesses that they were, everyone they did not intend to speak with immediately vacated the room, lest they receive Mars’ ire. Venus’s chosen appearance was a woman in the height of nobility, adorned in cerulean gown that molded itself to every curve, and swoop in her form. The garment had no shoulders, and joined with the sleeves halfway to her elbows. It defied gravity in that it remained on her form, but all the ankle-length cloth required from the woman, who had hair and eyes matching her garment, was a shrug, and she would be as nude as a fresh-borne infant. Small azure wisps followed her, and would provide anything the irresistible, beautiful woman needed.

On the reverse, there was her sister, Mars. Her currently chosen form was one so rarely seen that both the Sidereals straightened to their feet. In the one thousand, seven hundred and sixty-nine years since their Exaltation they had each maybe seen this one a dozen of times, and that was only when she sought to understand humanity and the soldier’s bonds of fraternity with his fellows.

She had donned a crimson breastplate that exposed her toned stomach and arms. She had covered her arms in rough, brown leather and wore a red fauld, with pants the same as her bracers. In one hand she carried a chopping sword that was very much a styled Miao Dao. Her other hand held a shield made of burnished bronze. It was three feet in diameter and had no adornments. On her head was a bronze helm of Corinthian design, a large plume of red running down its center.

“Hitomi, Prowl. So nice of you to wait for us,” Venus was speaking coyly, maneuvering gracefully to see how the Maiden’s Chosen before her would react. Hitomi played it off gently, a chuckle and a shrug followed off by, “Well enough, and how are you, Venus?”

“I am quite well, thank you, Hitomi. I apologize, I would love to continue with these pleasantries, but my sister and I have business we must attend to here and now. I feel that-” She was about to continue when Mars’ shield bearing arm came up. She was especially on edge, telling her chatty sister to stop doing what she did best.

“You, He Who Prowls Like Thunder and Strikes Like Lightning, you watch the Loom of Fate, do you not?” Prowl nodded. He always was quiet around his patron goddess, simply for how intimidating she was to him. Her hands were eternally bloodstained and her eyes and hair, both matching her armor, were always intense. “What have you seen, Prowl?”

“I do not know exactly what I have seen, but something is coming. Ansa Firstborn, the progenitor of all Pattern Spiders, came from her den to personally inspect the things her children have found in the fabric of Fate,” He oversaw parts of the Loom when not attending a closely guarded secret of the Five Maidens. In one small aspect, there were six of them. Their ‘Little Sister’ as she was lovingly called came about as an extension of their ties to the Loom. Prowl was personally charged with caring for her, ensuring that she was well looked after. She had even given him a small china doll of hers. It looked harmless and innocent, but he could directly influence the Loom with it no matter his location, and could communicate with the Little Sister through the identical doll she held at all times.

“Allow me to enlighten you both then,” Mars walked forward quietly, her sandaled feet barely making a sound, “War is coming to Creation. This is the kind of War not seen since the Usurpation, or even the invasion of the Fair Folk.” She strode a few paces towards the Exalts, Prowl having reflexively slid toward Hitomi during the explanation. “We have come to the decision that you two are going to observe and make sure everything goes according to Destiny. You have the unique skill sets required.”

“And think about it, lovelies…” Venus had disappeared and reappeared behind Hitomi, massaging the Sidereal’s shoulders, “You get to spend time together doing whatever strikes your fancy. All we ask is that you just keep an eye out. Nara-O has been kind enough to keep you informed of your assignments. We won’t take your sabbatical from you. The last time either of you had one was several decades ago. We just ask this little service. Nothing, really.”

Hitomi and Prowl both agreed. After all, who refused two if the Incarnae and lived? In short order the two goddesses turned on a heel and walked out, leaving confused Sidereals in their wake.



Hitomi had departed from Prowl’s company an hour ago, walking through the streets of Yu-Shan. She stopped outside a small palace with modest grounds. A moment of callous hesitation and then she strode into it. It was hers, after all. She strode past several clockwork humanoids that were meticulously caring for the manse in its owners’ absence. One or two of these automata stopped and greeted her with soft clinking of gears as they knelt briefly, then returned to their work. She walked into the manse and down the halls, encountering several other automata before reaching the room she sought.

She entered a massive hangar, a twenty-five foot tall mecha that looked to be made of almost basic steel, but the lights that flickered on as she entered gave it a kaleidoscopic feel. The Warstrider, a royal-class having been manufactured ages ago during the High First Age, resembled a graceful feminine form, clad in delicate, precisely made armor of starmetal. Hitomi ascended the ladder up to the cockpit and strode gently to it, hearing a familiar, female voice in her head. This was Hand of the Loom, the Warstrider whose owners were chosen by the Loom of Fate. It had achieved sentience during the awakening of its spirit, and had taken on a feminine stance to match its exterior.

“Welcome back, Hitomi. Did your performance go well?”

“It did. Venus and Mars were in attendance.”

“They were? How unlike them. They wished to speak with you, did they not?” Hitomi sighed. The Warstrider was very intuitive. It had not seen combat since the Shogunate Era, but continued to maintain her intellect. In the past thousand years since the Warstrider had been in her possession, she had never once seen it make anything that could be seen as a faux pas.

“Yes, they did. They wished to give Prowl and myself an assignment while we were on sabbatical. It would only be watching, and small tasks. They guaranteed it would not interfere with our relaxation.”

The mecha was quiet for the longest of times and then spoke carefully. “Oh, on that note, Nara-O, the God of Secrets, came by. He said that should you require my services, you would have to simply request me, and I shall be readied. When you reached the nearest Yu-Shan gate to Creation, I would be sent there.”

“Thank you, Hand,” Hitomi spoke sincerely. She had grown to respect the Warstrider’s loyalty to her. It seemed that nothing could break its connection to the pilot. She looked around at all the automata scurrying about, caring for her manse and for Hand.

“Hand, have you spoken with Aliana recently?”

“No, Hitomi. She has been too absorbed in the riddle you left her with to do much conversing with me. I have missed her company.” She could hear the slight sense of sadness in Hand’s voice.

“Thank you. I shall see you again in one season’s time, or if I need you sooner.”

“You shall be missed, Hitomi. It gets quite lonely here.” And with that, Hitomi parted from Hand’s company.

She came to a control room of sorts, more of the automata manipulating panels and punching buttons, a hologram of a winding, violet dragon in deep in thought above the circular set of stations on the center, a clear gem set into its forehead. It looked up at her approach and spoke in the almost childish voice Hitomi had never quite accustomed to.

“Greetings, Hitomi. I must express my apologies. I could not think of the answer for the riddle you left me,” Hitomi approached and smiled a little to herself, putting the sentient manifestation of the manse at ease.

“That is quite alright, Aliana. Please, inform me of the status of Hand and all automata.”

“Hand of the Loom is at peak efficiency. No problems reported in her frame, musculature, or exoskeleton. Weapons remain in optimal condition. The tonfa blades are currently undergoing balancing and adjustment. Sensors indicate all automata are functioning or in the repair bay for maintenance.”

“And the supply room?”

“Supplies continue at full capacity. Is there anything else you require?”

The Sidereal thought for a long time about the question and then spoke, “Have one of the automata bring me my own tonfa blades. I shall be away on sabbatical, and it would be nice to practice with them again.”

“As you wish,” she could see one of the automata receive the command and left to a different room, coming back with two sheathed tonfa attached to a sturdy belt. She took the belt and inspected the weapons. Their perpendicular handles were shaped and molded exactly to fit her hands, and the blades had been forged to extend to her elbows and up to the knuckles. They were a few inches from edge to edge, and could block various weapons as well as strike out. She tied the belt on and looked back up to the sentient representation of the manse.

“Aliana, I require use of the hearthstone,” She held out her hand gently, waiting for it, “I promise to return it as soon as I finish my stay in Creation.” The dragon had a sad expression on its face and looked at Hitomi, “Don’t look at me like that. It’s necessary. I need all the assistance I can get. I won’t be gone long.”

The image huffed and then the gem in its forehead began slowly pushing itself out and into the awaiting hand. It was perfectly spherical, about as wide as a small chicken’s egg. Set inside the sphere was a dodecahedron, each of its corners contacting the inside of the sphere. It had a perfect shape and was completely flawless as it sat in the center of her palm, nowhere near the edges of her hand. She tucked it into a small pouch that came up from a hidden compartment in the console, and tied it to her belt.

“Be safe, Hitomi,” The dragon said meekly, settling down into a coil on the flat platform over the consoles.

“I always am, little one,” She smiled and walked away, heading for the manse’s exit.




Hitomi slipped into her apartment and slipped her shoes off on the hardwood floors, stepping gently onto the tatami mats. She padded across them silently, everything quiet and calm. All the lights were out. Her sitting room had two packs on the low table. One was hers, the other belonged to Prowl. They had decided to share this apartment since their marriage, kept secret from almost all of the Sidereals.

She walked through the bedroom, the futon rolled out and partially open, and onto the balcony. That’s when she saw him, her love in all his glory. He was sitting on the rail, looking out over the magnificent mix of oriental architecture and wondrous technology that was Yu-Shan. One of the Maidens had taken a lead in the Games, so he was cast in starry night, accenting his dark skin with the soft glow. He’d changed down to a red, ankle length robe, hanging open around his chest. She knew this even with his back to her like it was. It’s always how he wore that long robe of his.

“Hello, my love,” He turned when Hitomi spoke. The leg that was on the other side of the railing pulled itself back into safety and balance.

“It is a beautiful quiet in Yu-Shan, with Saturn ahead in the games,” He offered her a hand, which she took and found herself spun with the hands stopping behind her back as Prowl flourished to his feet, looking her in the eyes, cerulean orbs to crimson, “A beautiful night to spend with one you love.”