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Chapter Text

The first thing Raya felt was the cold. It bit at her fingers, chilled her to her very bone. She’s not sure if it’s the frigid water that’s so quickly leeching away at her strength or if any last trace of warmth had simply been turned to stone by the Druun when it had ruthlessly stolen her Ba.

She doesn’t know how long she’s been floating, just that her course had been left to the whims of the currents and it took everything she had just to keep herself afloat. But, almost as strong as her fear in that moment is a darker feeling. 

There’s something almost… satisfying about the way the water burns her throat, her eyes, her nose. The way her arms strain at the task of keeping her head above water and Tuk Tuk from getting swept away. 

It feels almost like penance. Like atonement. 

She remembers when she was younger, when she was first learning to use the Arnis , how she used to practice for hours on end to master the movements. She remembers the feelings of bitterness and fear and failure and nevergoingtobegoodenough that coursed through her when she would lose to the other children in a practice spar or stumble during a spin kick. 

If only those small inadequacies had been the extent of her absolute failure as a guardian. Because absolutely nothing could compare to the merciless, burning feeling of guilt coursing through her right now. 

In the same week she had been made a real, official guardian of the dragon gem, she had led an enemy right into her people’s most sacred cavern. Her actions had led to her father’s injury, the return of the Druun, and the petrification of hundreds, if not thousands of people. 

And all for what? Because she wanted a friend? Because of a stupid, onesided crush on a stupid, selfish (beautiful) binturi . 

She feels her grip on the stone start to loosen, hears Tuk Tuk begin to wheeze at the strain of having swam for so long, and she knows she has to leave the river soon. 

Still, a part of her wants to cling to this feeling, this pain. A part of her just wants to get swept away into the dark and just dissolve into one of the hundreds of river-tails like Sisudatu. 

Except Sisudatu had been a hero, and Raya was nothing like her at all.

The indigo hues of twilight have long since faded into the suffocating darkness of night. The only source of light comes from the piece of gem that is currently tucked into the folds of her shirt. Still, she keeps her eyes on the river bank until finally she spots an empty enough space for her to swim to. 

As she climbs onto the sand, making sure that Tuk Tuk is right behind her, she takes a look around to try and figure out where she is. 

She and her Ba had spent countless days walking along the river’s edge, telling stories, searching for fish, training together. She almost smiles at the memories before—

“Raya, don’t give up on them… I love you” 

And then she’s falling and falling and it feels like everything is moving so slowly and how is she still —

She feels a sharp nip at her finger and looks down to see Tuk Tuk, glancing up at her, concern shining in his kind eyes. She gives what she hopes is a reassuring smile back, and then stands to get a better look around. After a couple of moments, she realizes that she’s about a half a day’s journey away from her kingdom. 

‘You mean the kingdom you destroyed’ whispers a harsh voice in her head. 

Raya takes a look at the sky and decides that the sandy plot will have to do for tonight. First thing come sunrise, she’ll go back home and try to find someone, anyone, she knows. 

With the way the Druun had swept through her tribe, however, she’s not too hopeful. Still, it’s her job to try and help as many of her people as possible since… since her father can’t. 

She curls into a ball along the edge of the water, places the gem beneath her soaked shirt, and settles in for what will become one of many cold, sleepless nights. 

By the time she makes it back to Heart, the sun has just begun to signal mid-day. Usually, she would be practicing her sword skills with General Diwa by now or sneaking into the kitchen to steal a cookie from Eeya, the only chef that would let her hang around the food for longer than a minute or two.

Now, as she walks through the deserted hallways, staring at statue after statue of her fellow villagers, she can’t help but wonder what they would say to her now. 

Would her classmates turn away from her, disgusted by what she had done to them. 

Would Diwa sneer at her, call her the worst guardian she had ever trained. 

What would her father say? 

She reaches the last room in her journey, the war room. Here is where she knows most of her people would have gathered once the other tribes began to scatter. 

No one had expected a 500-year-old plague to return tonight. When the flare went off and her father rushed away, her people would have been expecting a battle. The children would have been sent to hide, and all the warriors would have retreated here to await orders from her father. 

What they got instead was a slaughter. A fight with an enemy no sword or crossbow could slay. 

Raya wonders how long they waited until they either escaped, or the purple fog of the Druun found them first. 

Sucking in a breath of resolve, she grits her teeth and pushes open the doors. 

‘Oh,’ She was wrong before. It wasn’t the Druun returning or the sight of her father turning to stone before her eyes that had stolen the last traces of warmth from her. It was this. 

Her eyes glisten with pooling tears. She doesn’t know what she expected, but somehow the sight of hundreds of her people, solemn faced, scattered around the room, was beyond anything she could have imagined. 

When she looks up at them, she knows the judgement she sees in their eyes is just her imagination. 

It doesn’t make it any less real. 

She has never heard a silence so loud before. It’s less something she understands, and more something she feels. This overwhelming sense of wrongness. She hears a strangled sob come from somewhere in the room and she frantically looks around, searching, straining for any sight of it. If she can just find someone, anyone . As she stumbles around, the sob becomes more frantic, louder, more strangled. She can hear Tuk Tuk rolling beside her in worry but right now all she’s focused on is just finding that voice if she can just find where it’s coming from—

With a frantic turn, she finds herself in front of a gleaming shield. Tears streaming down her face, eyes wide, chest heaving rapidly. There’s a moment of confusion, quickly overcome with understanding. 

There was no other voice. Because she’s alone. She’s alone. Her mother is gone, she died years ago when she gave birth to her. Diwa is gone, Raya found her body outside the throne room. Tala is gone, she found her classmate’s statue next to her mother Althea, the woman who taught her how to catch dragonflies at night. Anyone who’s left has scattered into other villages. And she knows where her father is. 

This devastating feeling of loneliness clings to her like sludge, makes her steps feel heavy as she leaves the room and walks aimlessly through what was her home. Somehow, she ends up back in the great hall. 

The polished jade walls, the towering ceiling and ornate gold accents that once filled her with pride now just spark a pang of longing. Plates of food are overturned and shattered along the ground, serving bowls of dango and platters of rice growing cold along the ground. 

She walks through the space, head down, eyes avoiding the sight of all the people who weren’t lucky enough to escape.  

Each footstep rings hollow against the marble floors until she reaches a familiar plate of stew and rice. She pauses, simply staring at a wooden and paper scroll, still left unrolled on the ground. 

With shaky hands, she reaches down and grasps it. The rendition of Sisudatu and the creation of the gem, her noble sacrifice, remains pristine. The story, laid out in paint from hundreds of years ago, almost seems to mock her. As if it knows that she is holding the shattered remains of the stone against her sternum, the remains of a sacred sacrifice.

She stares at it for a few seconds, devoid of any thought, any feeling at all. Just empty, heart as hard as the remains of her people, until… 

Rage  

A tsunami of anger and hate and bitterness nearly knocks her to the ground as she thinks about the girl who she trusted, the girl who betrayed her. Namaari. She’s just as much to blame for all of this as Raya is. While Raya had been too trusting, too stupid, Namaari had been cruel, had been trecherous. 

Raya clenches the painting between tightly clasped hands and starts to piece together a plan. She’s still the princess of heart. Still the guardian of the dragon gem. Still her Ba ’ s daughter. Even if it takes the rest of her life, she swears she’ll bring back her people, bring him back too.

And as for Namaari...

She’ll never forgive her. 

But when she pictures her sharp features, the way her silken hair rested against her narrow shoulder, how her eyes sparkled as they fangirled about dragons together, she ignores the part of herself that already has.

She wakes up early in her room the next morning, robotically changing out of the still damp clothing she had slept in the night before. It isn’t until she’s untying the knotted green fabric that she realizes she’s still wearing the dress from that night. 

‘Dressy or casual’ A confident smirk and a teasing lilt to her voice.  

‘Only a monster would choose to wear this outfit on the regular.’ Raya shoots back. Namaari giggles and she can’t help the flutter in her chest at the sound. 

Raya shakes her head, hoping to toss away the memories like the grains of sand still clinging to her braids. When she catches her own gaze in her room mirror, she can hardly recognize the girl looking back. Abruptly, her sight drops, and she focuses on the corner of her desk as she finishes changing and undoing her hair. 

She tries to ignore the wave of disgust that had flared up at the sight of herself, tries to ignore the way she can’t find the spark in her eyes that her Ba used to preen about to anyone who would listen. 

She puts on a simple outfit before realizing that she has no idea how to do her signature hairstyle. For years, her father’s careful hands had combed through the wavy locks into three even ponytails. She had tried to do it herself many times, but she could never quite master it. 

Her father had promised to teach her one day. 

For now, she leaves it down. She doesn’t have much energy for anything else. 

When it’s finally time to leave, she packs a small bag filled with necessities only: food, a change of clothes, some jade pieces, Fang’s relic scroll, a map, and the things she’ll need if she has any hope of connecting to the spirit of Sisudatu. She straps her father’s sword to her back, and the weight settles heavily atop her shoulders. 

When she stands to leave, she sees the bright gleam of the Sisudatu necklace she had been gifted. Immediately, she reaches down and snatches it from the floor where it had landed and is ready to toss it from her window and out into the garden. She winds back her arm, shoulder tense, but before she can let go… she stops. 

‘From one dragon nerd to another’ Namaari’s palm is so soft against her own. 

Raya doesn’t know what holds her back in that moment, but with an annoyed grunt she tosses the jewelry into her bag as well. She reaches down to Tuk Tuk, scratching his shell gently, before grabbing a bag of snacks for him. 

“Alright buddy,” she kneels and pulls him close to her, “from now on it’s just gonna be you and me. I’ve got your back and you’ve got mine. Ok?” 

He chirps back an affirmative and his unconditional love is enough to curl her lips into the closest semblance of a smile she can manage right now. 

With a steadying breath, she stands, and with a map clutched into one hand and the pale blue light of hope in the other, she leaves Heart behind.

Chapter Text

For days, Raya and Tuk Tuk journey away from Heart and towards the river’s end closest to them. As time goes by, she learns to sleep sitting up, her back to a tree or a hill, and Tuk Tuk curled into her palm for warmth. 

It’s rough. Rougher than she’s used to at least. Life in Heart had been as close to perfect as probably exists, and as the daughter of the Chief, she had not wanted for much. Sure she had trained, drilled day in and day out to become a skilled warrior, but nothing she had ever experienced could compare to this. 

The frigid sleepless nights that left her shivering. The scorching sun in the daylight that slowly burnt every bit of exposed skin. The pangs of hunger that came from having to ration her already limited supplies. The aching of her feet from the endless march towards the first stop in her journey. 

Still, it’s nothing she doesn’t deserve. 

If anything, she feels worse for Tuk Tuk, so used to life inside the palace and all the lychee nuts he could eat. 

They play games together sometimes to pass the time. When the weight of her task feels too heavy, or the cuts and bruises she’s accumulated begin to sting just a little too much, Tuk Tuk will stop rolling to instead tap against her feet. Then, she’ll sit down, rest, and try to guess the different things he attempts to draw in the dirt. 

Those moments are some of the few that still bring her joy. She prefers not to wonder about what might have happened if something had happened to Tuk Tuk that night. 

If the current had separated the two in the river. 

If Namaari had stomped instead of kicked. 

She never stays in any place for more than a few hours. Step by step, endless day by endless day, she works her way towards the first river-tail near her. In the beginning, she stays away from the scattered homes along the riverside, more comfortable working through her rations and staying alone than relying on the kindness of strangers. 

When she reaches the first river’s end, she can’t help the bubbles of hope that rise in her core, shooting electric tingles down to her fingertips. Even though she’s been trying to keep clean by washing in the stream whenever she can, she can’t seem to rid herself of the grime that still manages to cling to her clothes, under her nails, against her jaw. She still hasn’t managed to do anything besides a simple braid with her hair, and even that became difficult after she broke her only comb. 

Raya really hopes Sisudatu doesn’t mind the mess. 

By the time she has everything set up for the ceremony, her skin is practically buzzing as she kneels down and lights the first flower. She almost forgets to remove her shoes, quickly kicking them off to set aside. 

“What if this is it buddy! Toi what if we actually are about to meet a dragon!” For the first time in a week, she can feel herself start to hope, and as she speaks, Tuk Tuk begins to chirp excitedly. 

She takes a calming breath, but that spark still glows softly behind her sternum as she centers herself. 

As she begins the sacred chants, she lets her mind drift to the countless days she and her Ba had spent together reciting them. If she kept her eyes shut tight enough, it was almost as if he was kneeling down right next to her. When she finishes the ceremony, she waits with bated breath for something to happen. 

Anything. 

After a few too many silent minutes, she begins to panic. 

‘Maybe I said the prayer wrong! Maybe this isn’t actually the right place! Maybe I was supposed to bring an offering!’ 

‘Maybe Sisudatu won’t respond to the girl that wrecked the world in the first place.’ 

She tunes out the last thought and cracks open an eye. Nothing has changed. No mystical dragon is waiting for her. 

“Well,” she turns to Tuk Tuk, “we knew it was a long shot. I mean what were the chances of this working on our first try. Guess we’ll just have to keep going!” Her eyes are closed as she smiles at him, but she can still feel his disappointment. 

He was just as excited as she was, and his feeling of dismay cuts into her as she gets over her own breaking heart. 

In that moment she promises to keep her hope buried so deep not even she knows how to find it. Afterall, he doesn’t deserve to feel this heartbroken every time they check a river. That’s just a burden she’ll have to carry herself. 

She spends the next year checking every river around Heart. She uses the jade she has to buy food when her supply runs low, but otherwise she and Tuk Tuk remain virtually alone. 

From time to time, she’ll return to her tribe. Sometimes to see if anyone has returned. Sometimes to replace things like her shoes or clothing when hers become too torn to use or to adjust to the changing seasons. Sometimes she visits just to sit next to the statue of her Ba and talk. 

She tells him stories about her travels. Recounts the time she heard a pair of fairy-bluebirds calling to one another in the forest or when a stampede of wild elephants had stomped across a mudplain when she was visiting her 16th river. 

She tells him about how lonely she gets sometimes. Only when Tuk Tuk is away searching for bugs to eat, of course, but she’ll share the way she misses real food and warm baths and the feeling of him combing through her hair in the morning. 

On days when the sunset is just a little too beautiful, the kind that he would have stopped everything he was doing just to stare at, her eyes will well up with tears and her voice will crack when she speaks to him. 

“It’s been months since I’ve heard my own name,” she once said. “It’s been longer since you called me Dew Drop.” 

Time becomes much harder to follow after so many days spent in the wild. She isn’t sure when her birthday passes, but she knows she missed it when she journeys into the heart of Talon to replace her torn vest, and catches word of New Years celebrations getting prepared. 

That night, as she watches fireworks flash across the night sky in mesmerizing bursts of color from the roof of Talon's massive palace, she allows herself to be selfish for just a moment and starts a list.

Staring at those bursting lights, listening to Tuk Tuk’s ecstatic purrs at the sight, she lets out a carefree laugh and decides on at least one thing she’ll do once she finds Sisudatu and brings back her tribe:

#1 Watch these fireworks, on this rooftop, shoulder to shoulder with her Ba.

Barely a reed’s distance away, beneath the Heart princess’s feet, another young girl is looking up at those same explosions. The brilliant purple and crimson hues cast off from the whirling sparks reflect sharply off of her mother’s silver hair. 

“I just don’t understand why we couldn’t stay in Fang for Tết this year, Mæ̀,” Namaari says politely, doing her best to keep an edge of frustration from sharpening her tone. Her mother knows how much she hates going on these diplomatic missions, especially on what is normally such an exciting night in their tribe. 

All around her, Talon dignitaries are laughing raucously and recounting stories from the old year. Performers walk through the great hall, spinning ribbons and dancing to the booming music of a band playing somewhere in the room. 

This is the first party she’s been to since… 

Her mother turns away from the railing both are leaning against to face her. “Morning Mist, I’ve told you already. Our alliance with Talon is more important than ever now. This year has been… exceedingly difficult, and the people of Talon are the primary suppliers of the gunpowder we need if we are going to complete our canal. We need to maintain our relationship if we are to secure this deal with them. The protection of our people is more important than celebrating with them.” 

Namaari knows this already. She’s heard some version of it about three or four times now, but it doesn’t change the deep-seated discomfort that’s buried like a rambutan pit in her stomach. First she had to wear this stupid outfit with it’s inefficient pointy shoulder pads, then, she couldn’t bring her serlot into the city so her companion is stuck waiting with the rest of their guard, then she found out that she was the only kid her age attending this study party, and then she was being forced to eat stupid Talon food that doesn’t taste nearly as good as the food she had shared with—

No. She’s not going to think about her. Because if she thinks about her then she’ll have to think about that night. And if she thinks about that night she’ll have to think about the foot she had planted between the shoulder blades of her frien— her enem— that girl. And if she thinks about that then she’ll think about an arrow flying through the air, then the splitting of a sacred relic, then a man turning into stone, and then she’ll think about running and running and leaving her behind, and running away because she was so scared and praying that the smoke doesn’t touch her Mæ̀ —

So she’s just not going to think about it. 

Instead, she’ll think about this lame party and those lame musicians, and those lame danc— actually the dancers are pretty. Pretty cool! Very pleasing to watch. But because of their skill! Not like because of their long flowing hair and their carefree smiles and their billowing skirts that make it seem like they’re about to take flight with each step...

Anyways… 

She focuses back on her mother, on the creases between her eyes that seem to get deeper with each passing season. She knows that people everywhere are struggling after the loss of Heart, the largest producer of sugar cane and rice in the land. 

There had been talks about going back to try and salvage the farmland, to distribute the precious materials in the central city, but no kingdom had been able to stomach the thought of what would essentially be grave robbing. 

Few people had journeyed back to the towering tribe, but those who did spoke of the chilling silence. The heartbreaking sight of thousands of people now solid stone, adults and children, no one had been spared in the Kingdom of Heart. Barely a hundred had managed to make it out of the city in time. 

Namaari had asked her mother one day to check to see if Ray—that girl had survived. Her mother had simply brushed back her hair and kissed her forehead. She promised to let her know if she ever heard anything about the lost princess. 

That had been months ago. 

Namaari is many things, but optimistic isn’t one of them. 

Still, as she watches an impressive combination of fireworks go off, burts of shimmering amethyst and staggered spirals of golden light, she closes her eyes and prays that she’s safe. 

When the dazzling display ends, she almost imagines that she can hear her laugh. 

Chapter Text

By the time Raya finishes searching the rivers near her homeland, she’s thirteen years old (probably) and so so tired. Still, she can’t rest until her people are brought back and her tribe is restored. 

It’s also around this time that she runs into a problem. Until now, she’s been in areas that she knows her way around. Everything she’s faced has been a known danger. As she moves further and further away, however, she can no longer rely on her knowledge of the land for sleeping and finding food. Her brief visits back to Heart will also become unmanageable the farther away she travels. So after one last journey back home to grab as much jade as she can, and to lay a lotus flower at the feet of her father, she begins to make her way along the southwest coast of the river. 

By now, Tuk Tuk is less peach and more coconut as he rolls alongside her. His steady presence has kept her sane these past months, and she thanks the spirits every day for his unconditional support and unyielding friendship. 

The farther she goes from Heart, the deeper she gets into unsettled territory. Unsettled in the sense that the people here are less… legally inclined… than those from one of the 5 kingdoms. When she was younger, her father had forbidden her from journeying this far, and she can’t help the chill the courses through her at the memory of his warning. 

“There’s a reason why the people who live to the west weren’t a part of the great dragon, weren’t a part of Kumandra, Raya. I pray every day that you never find out what that reason is.” 

Still, she has to keep moving if she has any hope of finding Sisudatu, and really, what’s the worst that can happen? 

The first town she comes across is small. Almost too small to really be called a town. It’s built into the river atop docks, similar to the way Talon’s own kingdom is structured. As she had walked through the surrounding woods, checking the river ends she had passed on the way, she had been struck by the amount of statues lining the area. It’s the amount of children, really, that disturbs her the most. While there are still adults, scattered around here and there, the woods are littered with statues that barely come up to her waist. Some are even smaller, no more than 1 or two years old, left petrified in the woods. Their tiny palms cupped upwards as if asking to be held. 

Still, she knows that the woods aren’t going to cut it tonight, and that she needs to find a real place to sleep in town. She hopes that the people there are nicer than anticipated, but something in her knows to prepare for the worst. Before she enters the town, she tells Tuk Tuk to stay hidden in a nearby cave. When she knows it’s safe, she’ll come back for him and her sword, after all, no reason to make them think of her as a threat. 

Raya makes her way onto the wooden bridge connecting the dirt to the floating shacks, and walks up the rickety boards into the middle of the settlement. Most of the houses are missing a piece or two, a side-wall here, a roof panel there. Long mudstained curtains hang in place of doorways and there are a handful of men and women sitting outside, just staring into space. 

The humming of insects rings in her ears as she approaches the woman nearest to her. 

“Um… excuse me? Ma’am? I was wondering if I could rent a room here for the night? I’m not messy, I don’t want any trouble or anything, and I’ll be out of your hair by the morning.” 

The woman is old, probably nearing the end of her life-cycle. Her skin stretches across her face like tight leather, splotches of patchy red skin run up the side of her jaw. The woman’s face is expressionless as she stares at Raya, but there’s a glimpse of something calculating in her gaze that causes a cold sweat to break out even in the burning daylight heat. Finally, the woman’s eyes squint closed and she peers up at her with a smile that’s more gum than teeth. 

“We don’t get travelers here often,” she begins in a light rasp. Raya can’t exactly place the accent, but the way the words lilt, how each syllable is almost sharp, causes that feeling of discomfort to only grow. “But that don’t mean I can’t make the room for a pretty little girl such as yourself. After all, what kind of person would I be if I left a child out in the night, alone? You can call me Bian.” 

Raya takes a second to weigh her options. On the one hand, she’s never been one to ignore her instincts, and her father had warned her to be wary of these people, but on the other hand, her instincts had failed her spectacularly before and there was no way she could make it in this area on her own. 

“What’s your name dear.” Bian asks kindly, “Can’t just be calling you girl if you’re gonna be spending the night.” 

It’s been so long since someone said her name and she can’t help the sense of longing that blossoms in that moment. “Raya— my name is Raya.” 

Mind made up, she smiles back, curls her hands into the customary greeting her father had taught her, and gently bows. Regardless of where the woman is from, she’s still her elder, and if there was one thing her father had taught her, it was the value of respect. “I am in your care.” 

After returning to get Tuk Tuk, and tucking him into her traveling satchel beneath her extra set of clothes, Raya gets herself settled into the small home. She left her father’s sword in the cavern, buried beneath a pile of leaves and moss. No reason to draw any more attention to herself than necessary. 

The quiet is still unsettling, but there’s nothing she can do about it now, and it’s nothing she can’t deal with. 

Afterall, she’s only there for the day. Tomorrow, she’s back to her search and off to find another town. The old woman, Bian, hobbles around her house and lays out an aged bamboo mat next to one of the holes in the wall.

“I’d offer you more but this is all that I got. Gonna have to just make do.”

“It’s more than enough. Thank you for your hospitality.” She responds. 

“Well, I’ll have supper on in a bit. Ain’t nothing fancy but it’ll fill you up.” Bian hobbles around the sparse kitchen area, picking up roots and spices as she moves. 

“Oh no I wouldn’t want to impose,” Raya politely states, though the idea of a warm meal does sound appealing. As much as her father loved to cook, she never quite took after him in that regard. “I have more than enough to eat.” 

“Nonsense! No child is gonna come into my home and leave tired and hungry!”       

She thinks about the hours she used to spend sitting in the kitchen with Eeya, watching as the bubbly chef would chop tamarinds for sinigang , her favorite meal after hard training days. Raya would scurry around the kitchen on days when foreign dignitaries visited, watching as each cook would come to life trying to translate the history of Heart into the meals they served. 

“When you share a meal with another, little one, you are saying ‘thank you’ and ‘I trust you’ at the same time.” Eeya shared as she heaved a bag of rice flour over one shoulder. “You can learn much about a person from what they choose to serve.” 

Her father always said to have faith in others, so ignoring any lingering feelings of hesitation, she smiles back at this woman who has so kindly opened her home to a stranger. “Well, so long as it’s really not a bother,” she finally concedes. 

They sit mainly in silence as Bian begins to cook. After some time, the old woman limps out of the house without a word. When Raya sees that she’s gone, she opens up her bag to find Tuk Tuk still hidden safely. 

The armadillo-pug blinks up sleepily at her as the light from the nearby candles and the mid-day sun seeps into the opening. Beneath him lies their chunk of the dragon gem, wrapped softy in cloth to keep the glow from being too obvious. 

“Just wanted to check in on you buddy,” she whispers to her still groggy companion. “You’re doing so great! After I eat I’ll find a way to save you something, ok? When she goes to sleep I’ll let you know and you can come out. Love you!” 

His only response is a slow nod and a wide yawn. Raya hears uneven steps nearing the thick curtain-like door and quickly closes her bag, smoothly rolling over to her previous spot. 

“Sorry dearie,” Bian steps into the room with a bowl and some spoons in hand, “like I said before, I don’t get a lot of company, and even less that stays for supper. I just had to stop over my neighbor’s house to borrow some things. If you wanna come over to the table now, I’ll pour you a nice bowl of my famous five-spice stew.” 

Raya walks over and picks one of two chairs at the small tabletop. The wood is rotted in some places, probably from the rain that she imagines might pour through the hole directly above them on stormy nights. Near where she sits, tiny lines seem to be etched into the table. For a second, she places her hand atop the wood curiously to trace the marks but pauses at how her fingers seem to fit perfectly atop the grooves. There’s a brief moment of confusion, but before she can think too deeply about it, a bowl is dropped in front of her and the scent of cloves, curry, cinnamon, ginger, and something… softer fills the air. She can’t quite place it, but the smell is enough to make her mouth water. The sight of the first real meal she’s seen in months brushes away any other thoughts and she turns to her hostess with a grateful smile. 

“This looks amazing Bian, thank you so much.” 

Bian has settled into the spot across from her, dropping her cane to the floor with a startling bang. She sighs softly and places her own bowl of the deep currant-colored broth gently across the table. Grabbing a spoon, the woman takes a spoonful and slurps it loudly between chapped lips. 

“Ahhh-nothing soothes the soul quite like a warm meal between new friends.” 

Raya watches her take a couple more sips before grabbing her own spoon. Her first sip is magical. The stew is the perfect blend of spicy and savory, lingering pleasantly along her tongue. She takes a startled breath before beginning to inhale the bowl in front of her. When she finishes her serving, she beams at the older woman. 

“That was delicious Bian! Thank you so much for the meal.” She wipes sweat off her brow as she continues. ‘Huh, it must have been spicier than she thought.’  

“I could taste four of the spices, but I couldn’t quite figure out what that last one was?” She watches as the woman across from her sets down her own spoon to answer her question. Raya ignores the tickle in her throat that signals the start of a cough. She puffs as quietly as she can into her elbow, trying her best not to be rude. When she glances back up, Bian is staring at her intently. What had been the gentle, squint-eyed smile of a kind old woman had slipped into something colder. Almost… amused. 

Raya tries not to think too much into it, but when her vision starts to swirl and her head begins to feel foggy, like the time she tried too much of the pomegranate wine an ambassador from Fang had left her father one summer, she can’t help the panic that starts to swell. 

Bian is still smiling. Eyes just looking down at Raya as she coughs rack her small frame. “Oh, I’m afraid I can’t tell you that, dearie. It’s a town secret.” 

Everything feels too hot, too hot, too hot. She’s drowning, but she’s thirsty, and she’s choking, but there’s nothing in her mouth, and why can’t she stop sweating, why is everything so warm all of a sudden. She tries to stand, but her legs buckle beneath her and she ends up crashing into the ground with a heavy ‘ thump.’ She tries to get back up, but no matter how hard she tries, it’s like trying to swim against a riptide. Inevitably, she knows she’ll get sucked down. 

Still, she twists her head to look up at Bian, but when she catches sight of the woman, it’s no longer the same aged face looking back. Instead, the smiling eyes, rounded cheeks, and youthful complexion of a familiar cook stare back. When she opens her mouth and kneels down, the motion of her lips doesn’t align with what she says. 

“You can learn much about a person from what they choose to serve.” 

When she blinks her captor wears a new face, a younger face. Sharper eyes glance back, the right hidden by a curtain of pin-straight hair, but the hand that traces against her cheek is much too rough, the nails too long. 

“Rice or stew“ When had Raya opened her mouth?

“This is actually one of the first times I've had rice in a while. Fang may look nice on the outside but we have some pretty big holes on the inside.” 

She looks to the door and in walks another man. She tries to ask for help, but her thoughts are too scrambled. Just choking gasps manage to escape her. When she looks up at him, her neck twitching at the shift, her breath gets caught for another reason. 

“We’re not going to poison them, and we’re not going to fight them. We’re going to share a meal with them.” Her father’s face gazes at her with pity, but his mouth is unmoving. Everything is so loud. 'Ba' she wants to scream 'help me please!' 

"We're going to poison them. stop. We're going to poison you. please. Pretty on the outside, holes on the inside. stop talking. Share a meal, Raya. Rice or Stew Raya. It's just five spices. What's the fifth? That's a secret. I trusted you. You can learn much about a person from what they choose to share, Raya. Everything is getting so mixed up, everything is blending together. What was in that soup? 

 “Lemon grass from Heart, palm sugar from Fang—” She knows that isn’t right. That’s not the recipe—

She can only make out fragments of sentences. “ ... taking … long! — Why is she… don’t tell me it… too soon! — Need to crush… for next time.” 

“There’s a reason why the people who live to the west weren’t a part of the great dragon, weren’t a part of Kumandra, Raya.” 

And then everything 

d

  i

   s

  s

o

  l

   v

 e

s. 

Chapter Text

Things had been tense in Fang ever since the shattering of the dragon gem, and anyone could see that the strained intertribal relations and rising food scarcity were taking an especially heavy toll on the royal family. Namaari, once a shy but happy child, grew more reserved and stone-faced each day. It pained them all to see a girl so young walk around with such an immense but invisible burden hanging to her shoulders. Still, she and her mother kept their heads up and devoted every day, every second to the growth of Fang, and the people of Fang were in turn devoted to them. 

So when the young warrior suddenly hisses in pain and clutches at her forehead as she’s walking from her end-of-day training to meet her mother for dinner, everyone around is understandably concerned.

“Princess!” a young woman passing by exclaims, “are you alright?”

Namaari was not, in fact, alright.

If anything, she only seems to be getting worse with each second. Vaguely, Namaari hears someone yell for the Queen, but she is too focused on the sudden onslaught of pain bombarding her senses to pay much attention. Her head is pounding, but she doesn’t know why. Nobody had hit her too hard, or any harder than normal at least, during training, and this wasn’t the usual hunger headache that she got when she was too busy to eat lunch. 

No. This was something completely different and so much worse. 

‘Oh no,’ she feels her eyes begin to well up, ‘please don’t start crying. Please tell me you’re not about to start crying in the middle of town.’ 

The idea that her people might see her break down only serves to make her more panicked, which only seems to bring more tears, and Namaari can’t seem to stop the unbelievably frustrating cycle. 

What might have been minutes or hours passes before she catches a glimpse of her mother kneeling down in front of her. The end of her mæ̀ ’s white dress becomes coated in dirt from touching the unclean floor, and Namaari almost tells her this before another white-hot flash of pain shoots through her skull. 

“Morning mist, my darling, please ,” Namaari doesn’t think her mother has ever sounded this concerned, “tell me what’s wrong. Where are you hurt?”

And that right there might be the worst part of this. Because Namaari could easily say that it’s her head that’s the problem, just one too many sleepless nights finally catching up with her, but subconsciously, she knows that’s not right. 

No. If anything, there’s some part of her that knows, almost instinctively, that this pain isn’t fully her own.  Even thinking that makes her feel crazy, and she knows that there is no possible way she could somehow explain a feeling that she doesn’t even understand herself. And then, all of a sudden, it vanishes, and all she's left with is the lingering notion that there had been this unfathomable sensation only moments before. 

For one of the first times in her life, she has no idea what to say to her mother. So instead, she settles on the easiest thing she can verbalize right now. 

“I don’t know, mæ̀. I don't know .”  

When Raya regains consciousness, it feels like a Spine warrior has taken one of their axes and attempted to split her skull in two. She’s lying face down in the mud, tremors still wracking her body, and when tries to reach for her eyes, she realizes that her arms are tightly bound behind her back. As she spits out bits of dirt and grass, she can faintly still taste blood and curry, oddly, not the worst combination. 

She still can’t take a deep breath, and her throat feels like she’s just tried to gargle a cup of sand, but at least the coughing has stopped. Her sweat-soaked clothes stick uncomfortably to her body and as she stirs a new voice sounds from above her. 

“Ah… most don’t wake up this quickly.” She looks to the left and sees an older man sitting cross-legged atop a small mound of dirt. “Then again, we weren’t supposed to leave another offering for a couple of weeks at least. Bian knew we didn’t have nearly enough root ground up to knock you out for long, but that woman just does what she wants.” He tosses out a hand as if to say ‘what can you do’ and makes an almost disappointed noise at his own words. 

“Of-” her voice rasps, “offering?” 

She wishes she were imagining the crazed gleam in his eye as he speaks. “Why, to the Druun of course! How else are we supposed to please their spirits?” There’s an almost fanatical edge in his voice as he says this. As if every word makes complete sense and she’s the one in the dark. Raya sits up as much as her ribs will allow, and tries to get a better look around. 

Everything is slowly starting to make sense. Those statues she had found, the children without parents. Bodies stretching all along the perimeter of this town. Bile begins to rise in her throat, and she’s not sure if it's the remnants of the poison they had clearly somehow slipped into her bowl, or if it’s just the horror pooling in her stomach as he talks. 

“W-why...why would you —why would you want to please their spirits?” By now, the sun is setting and the sky is starting to glow a sickly crimson, the color of a festering wound, of cinnamon-spiced stew, of blood gushing out of an arrow lodged in a thigh. The shadows of the trees around her stretch into distorted fingers, their inky blackness only highlighted by the stark redness of the world around them, and it's as if the forest is reaching out to her, as if it wants to drag her into its depths and never let go. 

“The Druun are the true gods of humanity, and they are a god of vengeance and wrath! They came to humble us so that we may escape the promises of false idols, false gods like the dragons. They were angered by our hubris, the depravity of humanity, and that's why they returned! Humans are the true plague, and it is our duty, our obligation, to demonstrate our submission to Druun. So… we leave them sacrifices! To prove our obedience! Our fealty!”

As he says this, he stands and throws his arms into the air, as if overcome by some invisible passion. The world around them is awash in furious hues of scarlet and rust, and then, as if someone had blown out the sun like a candle, the entire forest is enveloped in darkness. 

In the absence of light, Raya seems to find the strength to respond. “Why would you say that! The dragons are our protectors, they gave their lives to save us from those monsters! Why would you turn away from their teachings and their sacrifice? Away from the history of your people. You and your village are the depraved ones, leaving babies to get turned into stone, killing those who turn to you for help!” Raya can’t help the hate and anger that seeps into every word. She’s never been so horrified. 

“Tell me Raya, if your dragons are so powerful, so deserving of your praise, then where are they?” The man’s words spill from his lips like sewage. “Where are your dragon’s little girl? Why don’t you call out to them to save you? Try all you might, your fantasy of being rescued by some benevolent myth is never going to happen. And while you play make-believe, the rest of us will have to make due in reality! The dragons are gone and the Druun are here, Raya. And guess what, they’re hungry.” 

He laughs and waves at something behind her, and she scrambles to twist so she can look behind herself. 

She can barely make out the silhouettes of the men and women sitting on the dock, watching the scene unfolding in front of them like some holy rite. The bridge is still pulled out, likely so that the man in front of her can run back to safety when the Druun comes, too much of a coward to risk his own life, to sacrifice himself. 

Suddenly, the whole forest quiets. The buzzing that had been almost non-stop since she had arrived was gone. The only thing she can hear is the heavy breathing of the man above her. He begins to stand, and the thought of being left alone sends a wave of strength through her.    

“ Wait!” she screams. “Please—please don’t leave me! Please! I’ll do anything! I’m only a kid! I haven’t even lived yet! Please! I still need to see my Ba again! My people need me! There’s still so much I need to do, so much I haven’t done! I’ve never even kissed a girl! Please. Don’t kill me before I’ve even had a chance to live! ” 

She knows her father would be disgusted to see her beg like this. On her knees, face a mess of snot and tears, nothing like the proud guardian he had raised, but she doesn’t care. Right now, all that matters is that she’s going to die. She’s actually about to die. All alone. Hungry. Tired. In pain. 

And how sad is that? When she tries to think about her life, the 13 (probably closer to 14 at this point) short years that she has existed on this earth, she can’t think of a single thing she has contributed to the world, to her people. All she’s done so far is manage to ruin everything good in her life. Her existence has objectively made everyone worse off, and it’s the thought of dying before she can fix her mistakes, bring back those taken by the Druun, that sends another shiver of panic down her spine. 

This can’t be it. 

For a brief moment, it seems like her plea might have struck something in him. He pauses for a second, and she imagines that his mask of devotion has cracked for just a second before he turns back around. 

Instead, a cruel smile paints his lips. “You chose the wrong gods, Raya.” And then he’s gone. Up the bridge and onto the wooded dock. 

Raya lays frozen, tears still streaming silently down her cheeks. Her shoulders are hurting from the way they’re tired behind her back, but no matter how hard she tries, she can’t get them loose. Around her wrist, she can feel the rope cutting into her skin, the wounds weeping alongside her. The sun has set already, the world around her pitch black.

Try as she might, she can’t even see the stars. 

Her last thoughts spin through her skull like a whirlpool of emotion. Memories of everything she still wanted to do are dripping in regret. Her grief over the fact that she’ll truly never see her father's smile one more time is a tidal wave that crashes over her again and again and again. The guilt from not being able to save her people like she had promised barrages her like a hurricane, each drop of rain a life that she had ruined. She’s filled with anger at these people who would disrespect everything she holds so precious, her history, the lives of others, the trust that others placed in them. And finally, a splash of disappointment creeps through her as she thinks about the fact that she will never fall in love. 

With everything that had happened, the return of the Druun, the consequent quest for Sisu, the constant struggle to survive, her old dreams had been left in the dust of her lavish past. But in this moment, as everything comes into focus, her heart aches at the fact that she had never fallen head over heels for another. 

A name and face flash through her mind. She ignores them both. 

She wonders if what she is about to experience is truly death, or just a pause in life. If she is to really die, then she guesses that there would have been no bringing back those already turned to stone anyways. Then, at least, she will be able to see her father in the afterlife. 

It’s the second part that scares her more. The idea that her consciousness will simply remain trapped in a cold, hard, tomb of rock. Neither aware nor existing. Nothing more than a stone tossed into a lake on a hot summer day and left to sink into oblivion. 

‘Well,’ she laughs to herself bitterly, ‘I guess I’m about to find out.’ 

Then, two things happen at once. 

The purple mist of the Druun begins to pour into the clearing in front of her, billowing out deceptively softly across the dirt. 

And… 

A rolling noise begins to echo out from near the dock, the sounds of a shell on wood cutting through the silence of the night. 

Just as it seems like the Druun is about to swallow her in its violet maw, Tuk Tuk comes sailing through the air, her bag trailing behind him. In a flash, he’s falling onto the ground in front of her, and out spills the dragon gem from where it was wrapped up. The Druun lurches away as if struck, and Tuk Tuk wastes no time in biting through the restraints wrapped around her wrist and torso with his deceptively sharp teeth. 

As soon she's free, she takes a stumbling step towards the shining blue light of the gemstone, and before the Druun can try to attack again, she lifts it above her and her friend. Amidst the darkness of the night, the oppressive blackness surrounding them, the gem shines like a beacon of hope, and the Druun seems to roar in anger at the sight of it. 

Only, it’s not just the Druun. She looks back towards the dock and sees the villagers standing, outraged at this turn of events. Her arms are burning, the unknown poison still coursing through her system. Even just holding up the stone is shooting hot flashes of pain down her forearms. 

But her pain doesn’t matter, because Tuk Tuk had just saved her life. Had come rolling in like her guardian angel, despite how afraid she knows he must have been. The least she can do is make sure that they make it out of here. 

So, teeth gritted, eyes narrowed, left hand grasping her bag and right hand wrapped tightly around the gem, Raya pushes herself to her feet and runs. She doesn’t know where it comes from, but all of a sudden there’s this burst of energy. 

She pounds her way through the trees, tripping over roots and stumbling in the darkness. She doesn't know where she's going, all she knows is that she has to get away, leave, get as far from here as possible. Every step hurts more than the last, but she refuses to stop. Stopping right now means the difference between life and death, the difference between her Ba’s life and remaining a statue forever. 

Every couple of feet, she checks to make sure that Tuk Tuk is still beside her and is relieved to see that he’s easily keeping pace. 

Her heart pounds against her ribcage like a herd of wild banteng being chased by a rabid tiger. Predator and prey. Because that’s all anyone was in the wild. 

All she is now. 

She thanks every spirit she can think of that the town she chose was mainly just a bunch of old people. Granted, they were kidnapping, child-murdering, old people, but those qualities didn’t make them any faster. By the time she makes it to another body of water, a small pond that seems shallow enough to be without predators, but deep enough to rest in, the village has faded away into the darkness of night. 

Raya places Tuk Tuk on her shoulder, crawls into the water until it reaches her hips, and satisfied at the depth and the distance between them and the dry land, she sits down and allows herself to rest. 

And just as soon as that strange energy had arrived, it vanishes like wisps of smoke from a dying campfire. Though the cool water helps to soothe some of the lighter aches, the thin cuts across her face and arms from plowing through bushes and reeds, everything just feels like too much. 

Her wrists burn from her struggles against the rope for so long, her throat aches from the coughing fit the poison had induced, and her chest isn’t faring much better. Plus, with all the running, she’s fairly certain that she’s torn something. 

‘Somethings .’ she chuckles dryly as her back, knees, and shoulders burn in protest. 

Still, as she looks up at the sky, so much brighter here than it had been just a mile away, she can’t help the smile that cracks across her face. Tuk Tuk shifts gently atop her shoulder, his comforting growls vibrating pleasantly along her neck. 

“Thanks buddy,” She knows he understands that it’s for more than just the impromptu comfort. The deadpan look he shoots her way and the underlying layer of fondness is all the message she needs. 

‘It’s you and me,’ His eyes say, ‘I have your back, and you have mine, remember?’ 

She lets out a short huff of agreement and turns her head back up towards the stars. 

“We’re alive.” 

Not even 2 minutes later, a curse is hissed out between gritted teeth. 

“Pakshet! The sword!” 

Chapter Text

When the sun begins to crest over the horizon, Raya too rises to prepare for the new day. Her legs are stiff from shifting from kneeling to standing to sitting for hours on end. Her clothes are soaked, and what had once been a comforting chill was now a burning cold. Her teeth chattered whenever the breeze would drift by, and her body was still feeling the effects of whatever Bian slipped into her meal. 

She began to walk out of the water, joints cracking intermittently. Once she was out, Tuk Tuk hopped down from her shoulder and stretched out his stubby legs. She reached into her bag, thankfully waterproof, and was pleased to see that her change of clothes was still mostly dry. 

She doesn’t waste any time in switching out of her drenched bindings and replacing her outfit. Once she’s ready, they begin the slow journey back to the village so that she can collect the things she left nearby. 

It’s a slow process. Raya has to stop frequently to catch her breath and rest her shaky legs. By the time they make it back to the cave, it takes every ounce of strength not to just collapse. She reaches the patch of moss that she had used to cover her things and is overwhelmed with relief at the sight of her father’s sword, untouched, next to a small pile of jade pieces and the ceremonial items she had hidden. 

At the sight of all of her belongings, Raya’s knees finally buckle in and she hits the ground like a sack of rice. Tuk Tuk rolls around to face her, but when he looks at her prone form, he just turns around and faces the mouth of the cave. A small but capable sentry, should anyone try to disturb them. 

Raya weighs her options. 

On the one hand, the town is barely a quarter-mile away, and at any moment a Druun could come bursting into the cave to turn her to stone. 

On the other, she doesn’t think she’s capable of moving. She takes a deep breath, focuses on moving her arm, and—

Yeah. 

She’s not going anywhere. 

Instead, she places her trust once again in her friend, the friend that’s protected her more times than she can count, and finally, mercifully, drifts off to sleep. 

She knows that she’s dreaming in the way that a person might feel the phantom pain of a lost limb. Though her brain may try to convince her otherwise, she knows that a moment like this isn’t hers anymore. It’s nothing more than a rotting foot that got caught in a bear trap and had to be sawed off. 

Nothing but something that brings her pain. 

But knowing that she’s dreaming and wanting to leave are two completely different things. Because right now, as she sits at a dinner table with her Ba, Eeya, and Namaari, she can’t find it in her to care. They are in her favorite garden by the palace, the one that seems to be perpetually in bloom and that lets in just the right amount of sunlight. The four of them are laughing at something she can’t quite remember, something she can’t quite put into words. Whatever it is though, it’s making the lines around her Ba’s eyes crinkle in the best way, and Namaari’s twinkling giggle is music to her ears. 

Eeya is serving up plates of rice, and each of them takes one from the lovely chef with a smile. 

“All right everyone, I hope you enjoy my FAMOUS coconut rice with just a hint of ginger!” She exaggerates the words in a way that only such a talented chef can.

Raya gasps. Eeya’s coconut rice is just too die for and she can’t help the feeling that it’s been something she’s craved for weeks. She makes eye contact with Namaari who looks so content just sitting with them in the moment that it makes Raya go soft with affection. 

(Raya ignores the acidic voice that’s raging at the sight of the other girl. The voice that threatens to break through this idyllic scene and remind her why moments like these are impossible now. Why would she want to ruin such a perfect moment?)

Her Ba picks up his spoon and takes a huge bite. 

“Delicious as always Eeya, my sincerest compliments to the chef!” She groans at his poor attempt for a joke but inwardly is glowing at the sight of him so happy. 

Namaari takes a smaller taste of the rice, and her tiny smile is all Raya needs to see to know that she too is enjoying the meal. 

Eeya takes a seat next to her, serves up a heaping portion of rice for herself, and settles into her chair with an overstated puff of exhaustion. 

“So Raya, what’d it feel like?” She asks, before eating a large spoonful of the sweet dish. 

Raya pauses the raise of her spoon to her lips. Her brow quirks in confusion. “What do you mean?” 

Eeya continues chewing, “I mean” she swallows, “what’d it feel like to almost die?” 

Raya freezes. “What?” Her spoon hits her plate. 

Namaari chimes in, halfway finished with her own serving. “Yeah Raya! How did it feel? Did it hurt? Did you wanna cry?” The questions are shared with an easy curiosity, as if she were merely asking for her favorite animal or her favorite color. 

Her Ba wipes his mouth politely with a napkin before contributing. “Were you relieved maybe? Grateful that someone was finally going to put you out of your misery?” 

Why would he say that? Of course she wasn’t. She had a mission. She was going to bring everyone back, no matter how long it took! 

“What are you all talking about? Stop asking these stupid questions so we can eat.” Raya just wants to stay here for just a little longer, just ignore her problems and sit and eat sweet rice with the people she loves. 

Plus Namaari, she guesses. 

She picks up her spoon again, about to shovel food into her mouth, before Eeya speaks again. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Sure of what?” She responds.

“Are you sure you want to eat that?”

And Raya freezes. She stares at the rice, the pure white pile of fluff on her spoon, and as her hand begins to shake, the small granules tumble off and back onto her plate. Except her plate is now a familiar-looking bowl, chipped in the corner and filled with a deep red stew. The table is older, and when she looks at the wood, she can see those scratches she had been so transfixed by. The markings left by other victims attempting to put up some kind of fight in their last moments. 

She raises her head to look at her companions, all three taking sips from the rice-turned-soup. She wants them to stop, to spit back the food, but it’s as if she’s been glued to her chair, her mouth wired shut. She just has to watch as each of them finishes their bowls. And then they all calmly look at her. 

Slowly, her father begins to cough. He’s followed shortly by Namaari, and Eeya comes next. Their solemn gazes don’t leave her own until they physically can’t keep their heads raised. Raya is crying at this point, but she still can’t move, can’t do anything but watch as one by one their bodies start to convulse, their heads smack against the table, and then they all fall still. 

She sits, surrounded by their bodies, praying, begging, to wake up. No matter how hard she tries, though, she’s stuck sitting in her chair, watching their bodies lay unmoving all around her. She doesn’t know how long she sits there, just staring at their bodies. She knows it was far too long.  

It seems even in her dreams, she can’t find peace. 

She wakes for the second time, drenched in sweat and in pain. 

The vivid images from her dream flash behind her eyelids, and she quickly rolls over and vomits the little food that she had left in her system. She is nearly sick again when the taste of cinnamon and curry coats her tongue beneath the acidic taste of her own vomit. 

The dream is already starting to fade from memory, but the way that it made her feel is still coursing through her body. And what makes her angry is that Namaari was there, invading her thoughts and acting as if she belonged with her family. Why would she care if some backstabbing binturi poisoned herself or enjoy one of her favorite meals? Why did the sound of her easy laughter make her feel so warm ? 

And then it hits her, the message her subconscious had been trying to share. She didn’t stop anything, she just barely saved herself.  In fact, she didn’t even save herself. Tuk Tuk saved her. And now she knows what’s going on and she’s doing absolutely nothing to stop it.  If she leaves, the next person that the village kidnaps (and she knows , with a kind of resigned surety, that there will be a next one) will be her fault. She knows what’s happening, and she can either do something about it or try and stop them from ever hurting anyone else the way they had hurt her. 

Still, what can she even do? No one cares what happens in unsettled territory. There are no laws to apply to the people here, no unified sense of morality to appeal to. She looks at her father's sword for just a moment and flinches away at the thought that had almost crossed her mind.

No.  

She can’t just station herself outside the village, warning everyone to stay away. She’s on a mission, and every second she wastes is a second longer that she doesn’t ever get back with her Ba. But she has to do something! Her father would never have abandoned others to such a horrible fate, so she can’t either. 

‘Or’ a smaller, darker voice proposes, ‘you could just leave. Everyone you love is already a statue, your people are all already frozen in time. Why should you have to help those from other tribes? What have they ever done for you besides fight one another and leave you behind as collateral? Maybe they deserve this.’

She thinks of babies with their hands cupped upwards, cold and alone, and thinks ‘they didn’t deserve that.’ 

But, a plan starts to piece itself together in her mind. And while she knows her father would disapprove, would call it cruel, would be horrified to know that his daughter could even put together this kind of idea, a cold, resentful, angry part of herself just calls it fair. 

With renewed strength, she grabs her belongings and makes her way back to the den of Druun worshipers, collecting dry twigs, brittle leaves, and crumbling tall grass as she walks. After tonight, they won’t be causing problems for anyone else, hopefully ever again. By the time the sun has set, and the people are all settling into their homes for the night, Raya is positioned like a ghost in the woods just out of sight of the town. 

A part of her hesitates about what she’s about to do. 

She’s scared of the larger part that doesn’t. 

Raya waits until she’s sure that everyone is gone before creeping her way onto the wooden platform. Years of training moving her body on autopilot as she hangs around the village’s support beams. She’s careful to stay out of the murky water, unsure of the dangers that lurk in the mysterious depths, and manages to swing her way onto the far side of the small village. 

Then, it’s time to put her plan into action. She builds piles using her assortment of dried goods at each corner of the town first, and once there are enough positioned she grabs the matches she normally would use during her prayer ceremonies for Sisu to light them all, one by one by one. 

She sprints along the dock, steps still heavier than normal, the burst of fear at being caught, getting trapped in the flames, keeps the lingering pain from crippling her.  

By the time she’s finished and positioned high behind the branches of a towering tree, the villagers are beginning to walk out of their houses, clearly confused by the smell of smoke. That confusion quickly turns to panic at the sight of the fast-spreading flames hungrily devouring the floating city. Some scramble for buckets to try to put them out, but by now it's too late. 

This time, the night burns red for a different reason. 

As everyone pours out of their homes trying to escape the smoke, they are forced to make a choice. Stay and burn alive or leave and try to outrun the Druun already encircling the area. Just like she suspected, the noise and light had dragged a massive swarm to their location. 

Raya hopes that she didn’t miscalculate their priorities, because, as much as she hates them all for what they tried to do to her, already did to so many others, she doesn’t think she could stomach the thought of knowing that she had killed someone. 

‘If you can’t find Sisu, if you can’t reverse this, you might as well have.’ But no. That doesn’t matter. Because she’s going to find Sisu. She’s going to bring back her Ba and her people. It’s a perfect plan. Once she brings back Sisu and the dragon uses her magic to bring everyone back, the villagers will be returned as well. And with the Druun gone, they’ll no longer be a threat to anyone else. 

So long as they choose to run. 

When they make the choice to try their luck on the dry land, she’s relieved. And as she watches them get swallowed by the lurking Druun, she can’t help the simmering sense of satisfaction that arises at the sight. 

With the dragon gem tucked safely into her hand, and Tuk Tuk laid out right alongside her, she watches as one by one, they’re turned to stone.

Some manage to make it out past the heavily swarming Druun, but most are too old, too frail, to make it much farther. She watches as their screams are swallowed up in purple smoke and their wrinkled features are smoothed beneath gray rock. Her father had told her that a warrior, a guardian must always be willing to accept the consequences of their actions. Must always see through what they start. So she watches and listens as men and women are swallowed indiscriminately and shouts of terror fade into the still quietness of night. 

Raya doesn’t fall asleep again. She doesn’t think she could manage facing her father right now, his look of horror because of what she had done, imaginary or not. 

Chapter Text

Raya spends the weeks after that night visiting each river on her map as quickly as possible. She takes to sleeping behind waterfalls or finding secluded areas where she’s sure no other traveler would dare to follow. In between trips she practices with her father’s kris, in case she has to defend herself. 

It’s not like she’s scared or anything! It’s just, sometimes, when the sun starts to set and the shadows get longer, or she swallows a sip of water too fast and has to cough to clear her throat, the line between then and now, memories and reality, becomes a little too blurred. 

When she lights a candle for Sisu at each river, she ignores the terrified screams and the sound of pounding, frantic footsteps that ring in her ears.   

She resolutely refuses to look at her wrists, the skin having just started to fade from the deep red lines of rope burn into pale raised scars. Two permanent reminders of her own inadequacy, her own bad judgment, the death-no. not dead just... stone. She hadn't killed anyone. Nevertheless, the reminder makes her feel sick, so instead, she keeps them tightly wrapped in bandages and soft clothes. When she goes back to heart, she’ll try and find a pair of forearm guards to borrow or even see if she can find her old gloves.  

For now, it’s just easier to live like this. Just her and Tuk Tuk. When she gets to the places that are a little more familiar, tribes that have established laws and rules that she can put just the tiniest bit of faith in, maybe then she’ll spend the night somewhere a little more comfortable. 

Until then, she and Tuk Tuk do their best to hide from the Druun and the other threats that lurk in the forest. She learns how to catch and scale a fish and even manages to cook small meals for herself using whatever she can scavenge. Flavor and texture, both things that had been of immense importance to her once upon a time, became meaningless. All that matters is that it keeps her from losing more weight than she can healthily manage and that it doesn’t make her sick. Again. 

(For berries that look so similar, the smallest difference in shade can mean the difference between a delicious snack and a delirious night)

All the while, Tuk Tuk is beginning to grow at an alarming rate. At this point, he’s almost too big to fit into her bag when he needs to rest and she’s nervous for when he starts needing more food than she can find, more than she can afford. 

Nevertheless, they continue on their journey in relative peace after that first life-threatening encounter. 

It isn’t that much of an issue for a while. It even becomes familiar. Routine. Travel along the river. Find an end. Say the prayer. Leave when Sisu doesn’t return. Find some food. Feed Tuk Tuk. Eat what's left. Go to sleep. Repeat.  

Unsurprisingly, it's that complacency that almost kills her. 

In the Heartland, the wildlife is known. Very few predators live around such a massive settlement and the few that do generally leave her people alone. After all, even though they were peaceful, they were still warriors, still threats. 

In the west, she doesn’t have the benefits of living with a herd, and she forgets sometimes how little she actually is. How much of a target her size makes her in a world where the strong fight the weak. She forgets that being small automatically puts her in the latter category. 

She and Tuk Tuk are nearing the edge of her map, the final river tail this far west when she hears the rustling of a nearby bush. Immediately, she tenses but doesn’t stop walking towards her goal. They’re almost done searching these rivers, and her eagerness to leave this place and go back to Heart, back to the known tribes, overrides some of her better judgment. 

Tuk Tuk reacts before she does. Something about his animal instincts, the kind that keep a harmless creature such as himself from being another predator's dinner, have him squealing and pawing at her leg. 

That split second makes all the difference, and she’s just barely able to swing her father’s sword up and around her body, cutting the nose of a giant animal that had pounced at her from behind a collection of dense foliage. The massive beast roars in anger at the wound, and the sound tears through the area like the crash of a fallen tree. Raya flinches in fear away, picking up Tuk Tuk and placing him in her satchel to protect him. Two quick backflips have her at a comfortable distance and she takes a moment to study her opponent.  

The creature in front of her looks like the bears that would roam around the forest around Heart on occasion, but its nails are so much longer, like sickles hanging from its feet. Its fur hangs in long black tufts, framing its pale long face. And there's a look of wild aggression that she's never seen on any animal before. 

The blood that drips from its snout only serves to highlight its snarling features and she only has a split second to react before it’s pouncing at her with another terrifying growl. She scrambles to get away, but it moves much faster than she anticipated. 

“Argh!” She screams as hooked claws sink into her soft skin, tearing into her side before she can fully dodge away. Blood gushes from beneath her ribs and the coppery sharp smell floods her nose. 

Tuk Tuk stirs in her bag, frantic chirps conveying his concern. 

Quickly, she unravels the sword and tosses it around a nearby tree branch, attempting a move she had watched her father do countless times. In an instant, she’s flying through the air, narrowly avoiding another swipe to her legs. 

“That was a close one buddy,” she wheezes to her companion. 

At his responding growls, she lets out an amused laugh. 

“I don’t think it’d be all that fair to big, furry, and ugly over there if I let you at him. Just save all that strength for the next time you have to save my butt.” 

Once she’s firmly planted on the treetop, she tries to stop the sluggish bleeding from her side. Beneath her, the bear growls and paces. It’s staring up at her, eyes radiating an unspoken fury at her escape. 

She grabs the roll of bandages she keeps for emergencies and tries to wrap it around her side. Her hands keep slipping and the pain of trying to twist her arms around makes it an almost impossible endeavor, but eventually, she manages to somewhat secure the wrappings around her body.

From the brief look she had gotten at the four bleeding slashes, they were deep. Dangerously deep. The kind that would have had her bedridden for at least a couple of days and with constant visits from the palace healers. 

Instead, she gets a roll of slightly stained cloth wrappings, whatever pain-numbing herbs she can eventually find, and the hope that whatever water she decides to wash in doesn’t give her an infection. 

When she looks back down, she nearly screams at the sight of the beast below her attempting to climb up the tree. Its claws acting as all the leverage it needs to move up the branchless base. 

Frantic, she tries to think of something to do to stop its progress. With shaking hands, she grabs her father’s sword and lashes it out at the advancing predator. The strike lands across its entire body like a whip, stretching from its right outstretched paw to its left hip. The bear falls backward from the pain, hitting the forest floor with a heavy ‘ thump.’  

At the clear threat, she poses with such a long-ranged weapon, the bear tries a new strategy. She watches as it backs away, eyes locked on the tree trunk, and the only cue that she gets is the sight of its powerful hind legs tensing in anticipation. She scrambles to grab Tuk Tuk and her satchel and wraps her body around the branch, every ounce of strength holding on as the beast rams its body against the tree and tries to shake her loose like a particularly stubborn mango. 

Another scream tears through her as the rough wood scrapes against her side, but she manages to hang on. It tries again and again and again. Still, she refuses to let go. Even as her vision goes hazy with blood loss and her teeth smash together at the force of its hits, she remains steadfastly attached to her perch. 

Eventually, the bear gives one last growl before limping off into the undergrowth, disappearing from sight after a while, most likely leaving to tend to its own wounds. 

Raya heaves from exertion and lifts a trembling hand to open her bag and make sure Tuk Tuk is alright. Though the seams of her satchel seem close to bursting from the excess weight, she is too afraid to take him out in case he were to somehow fall off. 

“We’re okay,” she breathes a heavy sigh of relief. “We’re okay buddy.” 

She wonders if she even knows the meaning of that word anymore. Nothing about this is okay. The alternative, however, is that she bursts into tears and never stops. Like a part of her wants to. Like she knows she would have once upon a time. 

At this point, it feels like she’s cried enough for one lifetime, so instead, she’s okay. 

She has to be. 

She doesn’t try to go down. Even as the hours pass and the sky darkens overhead. Every cracking branch and foreign sound seems to be amplified somehow, but its not like she’s scared! This is just the smarter move… tactically speaking. From up here, she can survey her surroundings and take the time necessary to try and bind her side properly. 

From so high, she can see the purple light of the Druun moving throughout the woods, and she even gets a nice view of the sun setting over the western mountains. One by one, the stars peek out from behind the indigo blanket of night, until the sky is filled with thousands of glittering pinpricks of light. 

It’s actually pretty beautiful. 

The two don’t leave that branch until sunrise the next morning. 

By the time they make it to the last river, both are exhausted from the sleepless night and residual fear. Raya quickly sets up the ceremonial items, kneels down despite the burning pain in her side, and rushes through the necessary prayer. As soon as the last words are out of her mouth, she’s standing up, collecting her items, and ready to go. 

Without a backward glance at another failed attempt, she looks down at Tuk Tuk and says with a grateful sigh. “It’s time to go home buddy.” 

Meanwhile in Fang… 

After a couple of months, Namaari forgets that strange feeling of the pain-but-not-pain. While people in her tribe had theorized and discussed what could have been the cause, ultimately the issue had fallen to the wayside amidst rising food insecurity, inflated prices of traded goods, and every other problem that seems to be plaguing Fang. 

And while the doctors and royal advisors had never really found the source of her headache, Namaari had theorized a little on her own. It isn’t until all this time later that she accepts the sensation for what it was. 

This time, when that blinding hot, indescribable feeling lights up around her side, she doesn’t panic or question its origin. Because now she knows, this is just a punishment. The universe’s way of saying that she would be reminded of what she had done whenever it saw fit. 

‘Did you really think you could destroy the world and nothing would happen? That you could ruin everything and there would be no punishment?’

So Namaari, like the warrior in training that she is, just grits her teeth and accepts it. Even if this unexplainable sensation makes her want to collapse, to just curl into a ball for however long it will last.  After a time, the cutting feeling disappears and she’s left only with the memory of suffering. She’s grateful that these strange bouts don’t leave any marks on her body. Feelings, at least, she can keep to herself. 

Because anything else would be admitting that there was something wrong, and her people have enough to worry about. Her mother has enough to worry about without Namaari selfishly making herself a priority. 

So instead she trains, she learns, and she devotes herself even more intensely to making sure her people are taken care of.  All the while, she thinks of the lost princess of Heart. When her mother noticed her growing distress at the lack of information on her almost-friend, she had sent a small squadron of Fang soldiers to Heart under the guise of cataloging any known Fang citizens that had been turned to stone. When they returned, she had taken her aside and told her their findings. 

The Heart chief Benja had been among those found. 

His daughter was not. 

And while she’s grateful that her mother tried to help, the not knowing just makes her feel worse.  When she thinks of the girl, she feels a tightness in her chest and an aching around her heart. This pain, at least, she knows is her own. 

For some reason, that scares her more than anything else. 

Chapter Text

The closer she gets to her home, the worse she seems to feel. For days, staying awake and alert has been a brutal one-on-one slugfest against her own body. 

Though she had tried her best, the gashes in her side that she had received all those weeks ago had become searing and red with infection. To stop the gushing blood she had been forced to cauterize the wounds, and while that had kept her from bleeding to death, a nasty infection had set in around her ribs. There was only so much she could protect against with her few rolls of bandage, limited medical resources, and having to constantly duck into murky lakes and rivers certainly definitely didn’t help. 

Things had only really started to get bad these past few days, and she doesn’t know why but part of her feels like if she can’t manage to treat herself today, she won’t get a second chance tomorrow. If anything, it feels like she’s been running on borrowed time since she woke up this morning, as if she was a candle stealing light from a nearby torch after already burning to a nub. 

So she’s desperate. A feeling she’s gotten used to living on her own, but still a powerful motivator. But so long as she’s able to get back to Heart, she can find medicine, properly dress and treat her wounds, and hopefully regain enough strength to get back out searching for Sisu. 

She walks up to the bridge connecting her home to the mainland, relying heavily on the bridge's railings with each step, and takes a brief moment to spend time with her father. 

“Hey Ba,” she starts with an awkward laugh, “long time no see.” She’s not really sure what to talk about. What do you say to the lifeless husk of your father’s body after two years of practically no human contact? What can she tell him that wouldn’t make him ashamed? Wouldn’t make him disgusted by the person she’s become. She's grateful that he can's see her right now, drenched in sweat and dirt and blood. Hair matted. Thin scars already covering her arms and face.   

“I-uhh” She starts with a stutter. “I miss you. I’m working hard to bring you and everyone else back, and I promise I won’t let you down! Again, at least. And-and I’ve been making a list, a list of all the things we can do together once I find Sisu. I think you’ll really like some of them! I’ve been doing pretty, pretty good I think. I learned how to cook a rabbit... it was pretty gross actually,” she laughs, a tired, joyless huff, “I never was as good a cook as you.”

She shakes her head and struggles to come up with things to say. “And-ummm... I’ve been getting better with your sword! I fought a bear with it and it was a super weird bear too with weird claws and long fur. You would have been like ‘great moves Raya!’ And then you would have said something like, ‘ bearry good job,’ and I would have groaned because that’s so dumb, but secretly I would have laughed and then you would have smiled cause secretly you would have known that I was secretly laughing and-it was-it was pretty cool...” She chokes back her tears, the pain in her heart distracting from the burning of her side. 

“It was actually pretty scary,” her voice cracks on the last word. She takes a deep breath, ignoring the way her side flares at the expansion of her lungs, and wipes away the tears pricking at the corners of her eyes as she rises to her feet. 

“Don’t worry Ba, I’ll bring you back soon.” Raya clutches her father’s outstretched hands as she passes and she’s not sure if it’s her own body heat radiating from her palms or just the fever making her feel delirious, but for a second… 

For a second it feels like he’s holding her hand. 

She lets go and keeps walking. 

When Raya and Tuk Tuk finally step off the bridge and into the main foyer, it’s to find the palace almost completely overrun with plant and animal life. 

Vines once carefully maintained to create an atmosphere of peace and nature now tangle messily throughout the hallways, the overgrowth stretching from floor to ceiling. The sounds of small animals scurrying atop polished stone floors echo throughout the grand ballroom, and with every step towards the medical ward of the kingdom, one flower or another is crushed underfoot. 

There’s an almost cruel juxtaposition. A place practically bursting with life so filled with the lifeless. She keeps her head down and her gaze away from the bodies still frozen and scattered throughout the hallway. 

Every couple of steps she thinks she can hear them calling out to her. 

‘Traitor’

‘Murderer’ 

‘Failure’

‘Your fault’ 

‘Your fault’ 

‘YOUR FAULT’ 

This she knows is the infection. Statues can’t speak, her father is a prime example of that. For some reason, that doesn’t make it hurt any less. 

There are signs that others have been in the palace as she walks towards the medical quarters and the thought of another tribe violating her home sends a hot flash of anger pulsing through her chest. It makes her feel sick and warm. 

She pretends it’s the rage, not the dangerous fever coursing through her body. 

It’s understandable, she reasons, not that it makes her any less furious. With no one left to guard their supplies and resources, it was only a matter of time until some thieving baklat or another decided to steal from her people. To desecrate what’s essentially become a tomb for everyone she’s ever loved. 

Still, she hopes that the medicine she needs hasn’t been taken yet. While Heart had been prosperous, the tribe built on great farming land with enviable natural defenses against predators, the true hallmark of her people was their mastery of the healing arts. Their use of herbal remedies and understanding of the plant life around them surpassed any other nation and made their products a profitable substance to trade for in every market. 

All Heart children were required to learn how to make healing salves and treat wounds from an early age, and that knowledge is what has helped keep Raya alive many times over the past two years. 

She knows that there should still be a bottle of the pansit-pansitan tonic that her people would drink to treat the worst types of infections, the ones like her own. And if she were mistaken and it was all gone, then she also knows where she can find the flowers and sprouts to make another batch. Though the ingredients had been heavily guarded for generations, it was the last thing she had learned to make before…. 

Before her lessons had stopped.  

But as she feels her strength waning with each step, she prays it won’t come to that. 

Tuk Tuk rolls alongside her as they walk, occasionally supporting her when she stumbles. Her friend had gone through an immense growth spurt on their journey back, and he now reaches to just above her knees as they walk. 

‘I’m almost there. I’m almost there.’ She repeats this mantra again and again, her single-minded determination the only thing getting her through the arduous trek. When she was younger she used to avoid the medical-wing like morning drills on a rainy day or extra servings of eggplant at dinner, and the irony of her desperation is not lost on her as she limps through the hallways. 

She reaches the room (finally, finally ) and pays no mind to the fact that the door is ajar as she steps into dusty but well-lit space. Her breath of relief gets caught in her throat, however, as she takes in the two occupants already there. 

Raya can’t control the vitriol that laces the next words that she speaks. “What are you doing here, binturi?”

Because right in the middle of the room, reclining atop the examination table, an empty bottle of tonic on the ground beside her, is Namaari. 

Namaari isn’t even supposed to be here. She’s supposed to be in Fang, learning how to fire a crossbow from the back of a serlot with General Danh and the rest of the kids her age. Instead, because the spirits seem intent on making her life miserable, she had woken up with violent chills and a burning fever that had sparked seemingly overnight. 

What was even more strange was that the heat seemed to be radiating from her ribcage more so than anywhere else, as if there was a fire buried under her skin that no amount of water or ice could subdue. 

When this had first happened, everyone had been frantic trying to figure out what the problem was, and Namaari was no exception. Now that she understood what was happening, that this was her punishment, she was less scared and more resigned to simply suffering in silence. 

And the pain from that had faded relatively quickly, so she had hoped this strange fever would pass the same. 

When she had stirred awake, drenched in sweat and aching, she thought that the effects would dissipate with time. But when she was still shaking nearly two hours later, and over an hour late for her hand-to-hand lessons, she admitted that something might be wrong. 

A guard found her not long after, apparently sent by her trainer to bring her to class, and when he saw the state she was in, he had promptly yelled for the palace medic to be called in. 

As time passed, and no one could figure out the cause of her surprise illness, one young medic had suggested a trip to Heart. Everyone in the five tribes knew of their medical prowess, and they had all felt the effects of their absence in the form of rising death rates from what were once preventable illnesses. Fang, who had been the most alienated after the return of the Druun, had felt that burden especially. 

For the Fang advisor to think she was in serious enough state to warrant a trip to the desolate kingdom… 

In the end, to avoid the appearance of Fang taking advantage of the abandoned Heartlands and making their relations with the other tribes worse, Namaari and Chief Physician Thuy sailed alone along the southern channel, and after about a day on the water, they made it to the island nation. 

Namaari had gone breathless at the sight of the towering stone arch that eclipsed the land, the image bringing back memories of a disastrous night and the rancid feeling of guilt that still reared its head on sleepless nights and days when the problems plaguing her nation piled higher and higher.

That feeling only grew stronger as she passed statue after statue of former Heart citizens. So many people, gone. Frozen in time forever. Not alive but not really dead either. She and Thuy walked through the grand halls and overgrown rooms of the palace, and her pride had only lasted so long before she had assented to being carried. They weren’t quite sure where they were going, but after a while the two managed to stumble into a room filled with what looked like medical supplies and vials of unidentifiable liquids and sweet-smelling creams. 

Thuy had laid her down onto one of the raised examination tables in the room, before avidly searching every cabinet, closet, and bag for something to help. Namaari just focused on not losing consciousness, something that was frustratingly more difficult than it seemed. Eventually, she was handed a small vial of an almost glowing viridian liquid, and Thuy helped her raise the bottle up to her lips and drink. 

Afterward she had fallen asleep and she had no idea how long she was out before something in her started screaming at her to wake up. 

When she managed to slip out of the comforting darkness of her slumber, she was half convinced she was still dreaming, because there, right in front of her slowly welling eyes was-

“What are you doing here, binturi.”

And Namaari wants to throw up for an entirely different reason now. 

‘Of course.’ She wants to laugh, or cry, or scream, or even some combination of the three really. ‘In what universe would she actually be happy to see you.’ She had forgotten, in that instant moment of relief at seeing her not-friend alive, where they even were in the first place. She had forgotten about all the people, petrified corpses really, lining the halls right outside of them, and that she had been the one to put them there. 

The anger in her voice, the hatred radiating from the other girl's blown pupils and snarling lips almost hurts worse than the fever. But before she can sink any further into the familiar pit of self-depreciation and criticism, a lightning bolt of that dragon-forsaken pain strikes again at her ribs and has her clutching her side.

She cuts off a scream, gritting her teeth against the worsening onslaught, and when she clenches her eyes shut, she misses the way Raya drops to the ground, clutching the exact same spot.  

Thuy, however, does not. 

Raya should have known better than to think that anything could possibly work out in her favor. Because why would the spirits ever do anything to make her life easier? No. In the midst of all her rage at the sight of Namaari , she forgets the reason for her trip back to Heart, forgets the infection currently ravaging her body and the poorly treated burns covering the expanse of her ribs. 

Her body reminds her very quickly, however. 

In a second she’s curled over her burning side, head swimming as she tries to focus on just not passing out. It had taken everything ounce of willpower and pride she had to make it into this room, all to see Namaari and some scary-muscly-lady from Fang stealing her people’s medicine and invading her home.

With her luck, she bets they took the last vial of what she had walked literally days to reach and she’ll end up dying from infection in the middle of the medical wing in front of the last person she would ever want to see her this weak. Because the spirits would just love to take what little shreds of dignity she has left and turn them into tree-shrew food. 

Looking at Namaari again is just another blow to her already crumbling mind and heart and just… everything. It doesn’t take long for her to realize her fight to stay upright is a losing battle and she nearly vomits when her knees hit the ground with a painful thud. 

Everything hurts. It hurts. It hurts so bad. She’s so tired of everything hurting.

In her agony, she misses the way Namaari arches forward, her figure a parallel of her own suffering. 

Thuy, however, does not.

Chapter Text

As Raya awakes every sense is quickly overwhelmed with needle-like pricks of anxiety. She can vaguely feel the softness of some kind of cushion beneath her and to her left a cold stone wall but her head aches too much to even attempt trying to open her eyes. 

‘Where am I? What happened? Where’s Tuk Tuk? What is-’

Like the gentle embrace of the first spring rain, the tension washes off of her stiff form. There’s something so… warm pressed against the length of her right side. She can’t even describe the sensation that overcomes her in that moment, just that she hasn’t felt this… calm in months. 

The survivalist in her is screaming to wake up and get moving. To open her eyes and register the potential threats around her, but she ignores that cutting voice in her head and instead shifts her body to press her back against the wall and drape her arm across the unknown person lying next to her. She can feel them move softly in response and Raya registers the gentle press of a forehead against her own. 

It’s easy to pretend in this moment that she’s with her Ba. Or even to imagine that she’s waking up from a night of raiding the kitchen with her school friends and an impromptu sleepover. With her eyes shut like this, the only thing that exists in the world is just this feeling. This sense of safety that at one point was all she had known. 

But it’s a testament to how fragile all the good things in her life now are, that this moment can be shattered with the rasp of one word. 

“Raya.” 

And she knows that voice. Knows the sound of the only person who can say her name and make her feel the complete range of human emotion. 

Raya’s eyes fling open and she almost hisses at the way the light burns her sensitive eyes. She shoves back and separates herself completely from the frozen form of the girl next to her. Namaari yelps as she tumbles to the ground from the force of her push. 

“Get off of me! ” 

The words are hissed between gritted teeth and her eyes well with tears at the burning sensation running alongside her ribs (no other reason. It’s just pain. She wouldn’t cry for anything that trivial , not anymore. ). She drops onto the cushion and groans in pain as her vision starts to swim. When she reaches towards the source of her pain she finds new clean wrappings had replaced the dirty, blood soaked wraps that had been on her previously. Her face heats up at the knowledge that she had been undressed in her sleep, but that embarrassment gives way to exhaustion as black spots begin to fill her sight. 

She closes her eyes for a second, but a new voice cuts into her brief reprieve. 

“Wait, you can’t sleep! Not yet!” 

‘ I’m not sleeping’ she wants to say, but her mouth feels like it’s full of mud. Something softly begins to tap her face and a cold cup is brought to her lips. Water pours into her mouth and the cool liquid is like heaven on her tongue. She swallows and it burns against her dry throat and all of a sudden- 

“Ahhh-nothing soothes the soul quite like a warm meal between new friends.” 

A closed-eye smile. 

She’s choking. 

“I’m afraid I can’t tell you that dearie-it’s a town secret” 

She can’t breathe.

Cinnamon on her tongue. 

Too hot too hot she’s too hot everything is burning she’stoohotwhatdidshedrinkshecouldn’tseehwatshewasdrinkingeverythingwasredwherearethestarssheneverevengottofallin- 

“Raya!” Soft hands on her face. She knows this voice. Knows these hands. Her eyes fling open and here comes that feeling again, everything just gets quieter. Namaari’s eyes are so warm, so kind, just as beautiful as she remem-

No. 

Raya reaches up and smacks the hands away from her. She ignores the hurt that cuts across the other girl’s face and ignores her in favor of the strange woman standing above both of them. 

She clears her throat and rasps out, “what do you want?” She tries to sit up straight, pretend even a little that she’s alright, but that one sentence takes more energy than she’s comfortable admitting. 

The woman’s eyes narrow for a second before she begins to speak. “You need to tell me how to make your people’s strongest elixir, the green one.” 

That gets more than a one word response from Raya. “Đụ má, địt mẹ mày! ” The immediate coughing fit is more than worth it. 

Namaari gasps at the phrase but the older woman simply smirks in response. “If you think you can get it yourself then be my guest, but otherwise, have fun wasting away alongside the rest of your people.” 

Raya freezes. The screams of her people echo out around her, manic laughter at the prospect of her dying with them like she should have all those moons ago. She glares up at the woman who had so callously thrown their deaths in her face, body vibrating from the force of her hate. She wants to say no out of spite. But, as much as she wants to die doesn’t want to give away that formula, she can barely sit up-much less walk all the way to the garden, pick the right bulbs, and then crush them down the way she knows she has to. 

Her jaw works to unclench and her nails cut crescents into her palms. This was all her people had left. The last thing the other tribes had yet to take from them. Whispers of ‘traitor,’ and ‘failure,’ and ‘unworthy princess,’ sounded around the room. 

“How do I even know you’ll give it to me?” a shaky breath, “that you won’t just take it and leave?” 

“We would never!”-”You don’t.” came two simultaneous answers. 

She watches Namaari turn surprised eyes toward her companion, “Thuy!” 

The woman- Thuy- her mind supplies, doesn't look back. “You don't know. But, what other choice do you have kid?” 

And as much as she hates to admit it, the woman is right. She has no one else. Sure Tuk Tuk could find the herbs, but making the actual tonic? No way. And if she died, who would bring them back? 

Who would bring her Ba back? 

The longer she stayed awake, the harder it became to ignore the pain and exhaustion tied to her limbs like iron chains. She had a decision to make. Her eyes squeeze closed as a tear traces its way down her cheek. ‘I’m sorry.’ 

She shakily recounts the ingredients and steps before laying down, face turned back towards the grey stone wall. Almost immediately, she lets the dark nothingness of exhaustion take her.  

When she wakes again, it’s to Thuy standing over her with a cup of the glowing green elixir. “Drink,” the woman commanded as she placed the cup in her hands. 

Raya forced down the panic at not knowing what was in the cup. At not having seen it get made. But at this point, she would either die from the infection or die from getting poisoned, so either way it didn’t matter. 

She gulps down the bitter liquid and wipes the sweat from her forehead, a lingering effect from her fever. Her hand comes back coated in grime and she laughs sharply at the sight. She’s disgusting, inside and out it seems. 

She settles down again, fatigue once again overtaking her. When her eyes close, she feels the press of a cool rag against her forehead. Each touch is gentle, almost hesitant, as her face and neck are wiped down. With every passing second, she feels cleaner and cleaner. She keeps her eyes closed, her dreams aren’t normally this nice.