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Chapter Text

It was a crisp autumn morning in Takanda. A light breeze blew through the air spreading the smell of burnt sandalwood and ash from the red stone buildings of the different tribes and ornate temple turrets to the surrounding jungle, up towards the peaks of the holy mountains, and down into the mosan deposits below. The smoke came from the northwest part of the mosan city of Erussim where a large funeral pyre burned a smoldering red.

Gathered closest were Princess Priyansi, High Priestess of Takanda, and the Shankh Tribe holy women garbed in funeral white as they chanted their mantras and blessed the empty pyre. Though no body burned at its center, Q’Wasim and the rest of the crowd that stood behind the priestesses all knew for whom the great bonfire was lit. On this day, all Takanda had gathered to mourn the death of the Crimson Tiger, Prince Bharagaven.

Even though he was watching the wood burn in front of him, Q’Wasim still couldn’t believe this was happening. Less than a month ago, Gaven had been teasing him, so full of life and laughter and all ready to go marry his betrothed, Queen Fulmati of Shehrabad. Many had said the marriage was ill-fated. The rumors that surrounded the queen were less than flattering, but still, Gaven had brushed them aside and so had Q’Wasim. And now…

Gaven was dead.

Q’Wasim’s younger sister, Kaxa, squeezed his hand. He looked over at her. Kaxa was one of the strongest women that Q’Wasim knew and that wasn’t just because she was one of the tallest women, he knew either. Though she was one of the few women who didn’t look like a child next to his massive form, it was more than that. Despite still being a couple of years away from her Kamal Tribe pilgrimage, at 18, Kaxa was more than a substitute for their mom. His sister was usually far too clever for her own good, stubborn as a mountain, and reluctant to show weakness. And yet today, her obsidian eyes were filled with tears.

Kaxa, like most women, had had a soft spot for Gaven, Prince Gallant, as they sometimes called him, and couldn’t hold back her sadness. Q’Wasim was not doing much better. He was trying to stay strong for Kaxa’s sake, but he too was feeling bereaved. It had been hard to contemplate Gaven leaving the country to get married. To have Gaven be dead was…unthinkable.

All too soon the funeral rites were finished. People began to disperse. Priyansi was seeing them off. However, her job wasn’t done. She still had many other funerals to perform. Gaven’s entire ship crew was dead. Lost at sea was what Queen Fulmati had claimed. They couldn’t prove otherwise, but Q’Wasim knew his mind.

Regardless it was time to go. Kaxa gave Q’Wasim a little push and they were moving. He passed Priyansi. Their eyes met briefly. He wanted to go to her and comfort her. Her brother was dead and yet, he knew he did not have the right. He and Kaxa continued on.

As they left the cremation site, Q’Wasim heard someone say, “What are we going to do without the Crimson Tiger and the Agni? Takanda will be helpless.”

Q’Wasim turned to find the source of the voice. Was that all everyone was thinking about? Even Chinmay, Gaven’s best friend, had been speaking about the Crimson Tiger title yesterday. Q’Wasim had told off Chinmay then and he wanted to do the same with whoever had just spoken.

“Come on,” Kaxa said.

“But—” Q’Wasim protested.

Kaxa gave him another push. This one was not so gentle.

Q’Wasim gritted his teeth but kept walking through the sett stone streets of Erussim with his sister. Under Kaxa’s watchful eye, he kept his peace as he heard even more worried sentiments.

When they had finally returned to the privacy of their humble home in the Kamal section of the city, Q’Wasim exploded, “Does no one care that Gaven is dead!”

Kaxa gave him an even look. “Plenty of people care,” she claimed before taking off her shoes.

“No. They do not. They only care that the Crimson Tiger is dead,” Q’Wasim complained, forgetting his own shoes and following his sister to the hearth in the corner of the room. “After everything Gaven has done and everything he sacrificed. He agreed to marry that…that woman for the good of our country. He was a hero and yet—”

“Q’Wasim!” Kaxa said sharply, turning to face him. “Give it a rest.”

Q’Wasim glowered at her.

Kaxa focused on selecting a metal utensil to rekindle the fire. “You know why people are worried,” she said. “Both the Agni and Gaven are—”

“Lost at sea. I know,” Q’Wasim snapped. “But still, Priyansi just lost her brother and—”

“I’m sure Priyansi is worried about this too,” Kaxa said poking the embers to life. “She’s currently a high priestess without a Crimson Tiger. That is never good.”

Q’Wasim threw up his hands in frustration. Not even Kaxa understood. “I’m going out!” he announced before storming away.

Kaxa looked up from the fire that was just starting to grow and shook her head as she watched Q’Wasim go.

Chapter Text

A few hours later, Q’Wasim had reached the western outskirts of Erussim. The jungle stood there waiting for him. Within moments of him entering the familiar landscape of teak and rosewood trees, drooping ferns, fallen leaves, and ripening wild fruit, he had slowed his pace to a steady walk so that he could appreciate his surroundings.

Q’Wasim loved the jungle. It calmed him in a way Kaxa could not. Something about the sounds here, the sense of rightness and even the smell of the place, leather and dew with a hint of drupe. Although today, the effect was marred by the smoke in the air. The animals were hiding and everything seemed still. The marked difference was a reminder of why Q’Wasim had come here in the first place. It was not fair, but as was too often the case, Kaxa was right.

As much as Q’Wasim had respected and admired Gaven, he was the Crimson Tiger first to everyone. It had been that way since Gaven had first taken on the mantle at 19.

Ever since that day, Gaven had become more legend than man. Everyone had loved him. There had practically been a sub-religion devoted to him, but it had mostly been about his title. The Crimson Tiger, the protector of Takanda and its high priestess, the very embodiment of D’Shar, the tiger of D’Vati, was the country’s hope and their strength. And now…

Gaven was dead and Q’Wasim could not reconcile himself to it. He was a rock filled with deposits of grief, disbelief, worry, anger, guilt, and deepest and most sinister of them all, anticipation. Because despite his angry words to Chinmay yesterday, his rant to Kaxa, and his own guilt, Q’Wasim was excited. He could not stop his mind from thinking about how the Crimson Tiger title was there for the taking a year early. A whole year, he wouldn’t have to wait to earn the title or ask for Priyansi’s hand in marriage.

The idea of it enthralled him almost as much as it disgusted him. Priyansi’s brother was dead, and yet here he was coveting the title the man had left behind. He couldn’t even be like Gaven’s best friend, Chinmay, and claim he wanted the title for the country’s sake. Q’Wasim just wasn’t that pure. Of course, he cared about Takanda, but that was nothing compared to how he felt about Priyansi. He had so wanted to go and comfort her today. As it was, he’d be lucky if he saw her before the tournament ceremony.

So, there was the ugly truth. Gaven’s cremation ceremony had just ended and instead of properly mourning his friend and mentor, Q’Wasim, just like all the rest, was plotting how to replace him. To his shame, that had been one of the first things on his mind after the shock of Gaven’s death had worn off and it was still on his mind now. The tournament was next week. Without Gaven, Chinmay would be the hardest opponent, though the rest of the competition would be tough as well.

Q’Wasim stopped walking. He was halfway to the nearest mosan mine, but he shouldn’t be out here at all. He should have gone to the training grounds in the Vajra section of Erussim, but habit had brought him to the jungle.

Q’Wasim sighed. He could imagine Gaven’s face if he told the prince about this stupid mistake. His old friend would let out a hardy guffaw and slap Q’Wasim on the back way too hard. Then Gaven would say something like: “Wasi, you have to be the densest man I know. Must be why you like those rocks so much.”

Their audience, for Gaven almost always had an audience, would laugh with him. If it was a good day, Priyansi would be there too. Her mouth would twitch into that playful smile that she liked to hide while she was in public. The image was so real and so familiar that it hurt.

Q’Wasim held onto the tree beside him and looked out into the jungle. He let himself breathe in the smoky air and for a long while, Q’Wasim, truly mourned for his friend instead of contemplating the tragic death of the last Crimson Tiger.

However, all too soon, the other part of Q’Wasim’s mind told him, he was wasting time. The tournament was next week and the training grounds were available for use. He should be practicing.

Mother goddess protect him.

Q’Wasim turned towards Erussim and put aside his conflicted feelings for now. Gaven was dead, but even the prince had known the importance of the Crimson Tiger title. He would understand, probably better than anyone else.

It was time to leave the safety of the jungle and return to society. If Q’Wasim hurried, he could probably make it back to the city in an hour or so.

Chapter Text

It took Q’Wasim two whole hours to get to the Vajra section of Erussim, but when he had reached the training grounds, it took him less than a minute to realize he had forgotten to change out of his white funeral clothes.

After Q’Wasim swore under his breath, he looked around and considered his options.

The training grounds were empty. The chalk that marked the different areas was fresh and the weapons and equipment were all put away in their baskets at the edge of the dirt field. Since no one was there to witness his mistake, it was completely up to him to decide what to do.

Q’Wasim could waste yet another hour going home, changing clothes, and possibly eating something more than his breakfast of jungle fruit. Or, he could stay here, practice in what he had on, and deal with Kaxa’s scolds later when they inevitably happened.

It wasn’t really a choice. Q’Wasim got ready to practice.

Q’Wasim could still remember when Gaven first explained his workout to him. Gaven had spent more time exercising than most people slept. Running, stretching, weights, sparring, and then some, it had sounded impossible to Q’Wasim’s ears at the time.

When he had told Gaven so, the prince had just laughed.

That had been a long time ago. Now Q’Wasim had his own routine. It wasn’t as long as Gaven’s workout but unlike Gaven, Q’Wasim had a job. Luckily, Q’Wasim’s occupation wasn’t sedentary as his mosan research frequently required him to trek through the jungle and into the mines, but Q’Wasim would hardly call his work rigorous exercise. Thus, Q’Wasim’s practice routine focused mostly on doing the grueling training that he couldn’t get from his day-to-day work.

Today was technically a leg day, but Q’Wasim had been running around all morning. So, he did a few stretches and skipped the rest of his usual warm-up and weight routine. Next, Q’Wasim retrieved three of the largest metal weighed jackets from a weapons supply basket and a dozen ankle weights. He put on the jackets and strapped the weights onto his legs and arms. After checking to ensure all the equipment was secure, he went right into combat practice.

He was in the middle of this when a voice called out to him, “Wasi, what are you doing here?”

Q’Wasim stopped punching his imaginary opponent and turned towards the speaker.

It was Priyansi. The current High Priestess of Takanda like all High Priestesses before her bore a striking resemblance to the mother goddess. As such, she probably would have looked regal and downright unapproachable, despite her only being in her twenties, the smudges of ash on her flowing white sari, and the tired look in her large eyes, if she hadn’t been smiling at him with those full lips of hers quirked to the side.

Q’Wasim wasn’t sure when he had at first fallen in love with her. It had been like uncovering a gem deposit of mosan. At first, there had been nothing. Then a glimmer and the next thing he knew he had several kilos of something rare that was more precious than gold.

That was Priyansi.

“Wasi?”

Q’Wasim blinked and said, “Hi Priyansi.”

Priyansi’s teasing smile widened. “You didn’t hear a thing I said, did you?”

“Um.”

“I asked what you’re doing here. When I saw someone training out here, I assumed it would be Chinmay. Instead, it’s you. Did you know that you’re still in your mourning attire?”

Q’Wasim rubbed his neck and said, “Uh…I forgot to change?”

Priyansi stared at him for a moment and then she started to laugh. She laughed and laughed while Q’Wasim stood there feeling a bit like an idiot.

After what felt like hours, she quieted and Q’Wasim asked, “Are you done?”

Priyansi shook her head. “I am sorry.” She wiped away some tears from her eyes. “I just really needed that.”

Whatever indignation or hurt pride Q’Wasim had felt was gone. He came over to her and said, “I’m more than happy to oblige.”

“No, you’re not. I saw the look you gave me before,” Priyansi said with a smile still playing on her lovely lips.

“Yes, well…I have learned since then,” Q’Wasim said.

“Have you?” she teased. Priyansi was close now. Q’Wasim could make out the golden glints in her eyes.

“I have,” he replied gallantly.

“You have my thanks then,” Priyansi said in a prim voice.

The two of them stared at each other. They were alone together and it was another countless moment. Q’Wasim longed to close the distance and kiss her, but before he could override his self-restraint, Priyansi stepped back and said, “Does Kaxa know where you are right now?”

Q’Wasim tried not to be disappointed and answered, “Probably not.”

Priyansi sighed. “Of course not. Q’Wasim, it will be dark soon.”

Q’Wasim blinked. He looked up at the sky. It was late afternoon. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“Well, I have forced you to notice now. You should go. I have to go as well. So much to do when…” Priyansi let the sentence hang in the air.

“Priyansi,” Q’Wasim began.

“No.” Priyansi tried to wave him off.

Q’Wasim caught Priyansi’s hand. “Priyansi,” he tried again.

“Really Wasi, I’ve had enough of sympathies and condolences for the day. All I need is some rest.”

He took her other hand and held them both in his. “I wasn’t planning to offer either,” he said to their clasped hands. Then he looked into her eyes and said the truest thing that he could think of, “But you should know that you don’t have to put on a brave face. Not for me.”

Priyansi held Q’Wasim’s gaze. Her expression was tranquil and soft as was befitting a High Priestess, but her eyes were liquid.

Q’Wasim squeezed her hands.

“Wasi.” The single word was filled with raw pain and then Priyansi was crying big ugly tears just like when the two of them had been children. And just like then, Q’Wasim put an arm around her and she turned to cry into his shirt so that no one could see how her tears marred her dignified features.

Q’Wasim moved his hand along her back in small circles and said nothing. He just waited, pretending that this familiar act was as normal as it felt.

For a time, the two stayed like that together, with Q’Wasim nearly embracing her, but then Priyansi took a deep breath in. Her sobs ceased and she stepped away from him.

Like magic, when she lifted her face, she looked somehow even more regal than before. The High Priestess’s eyes and cheeks were dry. There was no redness in her eyes either. If Q’Wasim hadn’t been holding her, he never would have guessed she’d been crying. Priyansi however couldn’t forget, she said, “Wasi. I must apologize for that. I do not know what came over me. I should be—”

“It’s fine, Priyansi,” he assured her. Q’Wasim knew exactly what had come over her. Priyansi had remembered that she was an orphan and that her only other living relative had just died. Perhaps even more important than that, she had remembered that despite her being High Priestess, she was human. Q’Wasim didn’t believe she should have to apologize for any of that. Everyone deserved a chance to mourn their family.

Priyansi protested, “But Kaxa is going to be even more annoyed with you than she was before.”

“So be it,” Q’Wasim said with a shrug. “Seeing you was more than worth it. That hug alone was worth a lecture or ten.”

Priyansi was quiet for a moment before she smiled and said with false levity, “Wasi, you silly man. The things you say. Use that tongue of yours to apologize to your put-upon sister for being out so late and apologize for me as well.”

“Don’t worry. I plan to,” he said.

Priyansi gave him a sideways look before saying, “You better not forget. My honor is on the line too now.”

“I won’t let you down,” Q’Wasim promised with a hand on his heart.

Priyansi’s smile briefly turned genuine, but then the light in her eyes faded and she said, “I think it is time for me to bid you good evening.” She moved away from him. “Goodbye, Wasi.”

“See you later, Priyansi,” he said.

They parted ways and Q’Wasim suffered another attack of guilt. Gaven was dead, and yet Q’Wasim was feeling better than he had in days.

Chapter Text

Six days later, Q’Wasim stood at attention in the great garden of the Kamal tribe. Hundreds of medicinal plants and at least 14 different varieties of lotus blossoms could be seen from this courtyard alone.

Tonight, the entire Kamal tribe had gathered in the great garden and were listening to the tribe elder, G’Ruvu, speak. G’Ruvu stood in the center of them all on the ornate lotus dais.

Thin and bald with skin as dark as night, the elder, was the oldest member of the tribe. Despite this, G’Ruvu remained sharp and his wheezy voice carried an air of authority.

“Tomorrow is a day of great significance,” he proclaimed. “It will be the first time, in over a hundred years that we will use the lotus quest to select the next Crimson Tiger. The Kamal, Saanp, and Shankh tribes will come together to help with the ceremony. It will be an honor to serve the High Priestess in this way.”

Q’Wasim pretended to pay attention to G’Ruvu as he continued his long-winded speech. At this point, even the youngest apprentice in the tribe knew about the lotus quest. It was how the Crimson Tiger was chosen before the Agni amulet simplified the process.

The winner of tomorrow’s tournament would go on a journey to find the Erupuvvu flower. According to legend, eating the roots of that sacred lotus would connect the person to D’Shar, the tiger of the mother goddess. If D’Shar judged the person worthy, they would receive his blessing of strength, agility, and wisdom. Those who were unworthy died.

There were many tales about the deaths of unworthy candidates. It was why everyone was so worried about selecting the next Crimson Tiger.

“Q’Wasim!” G’Ruvu called.

Q’Wasim was pulled out of his daydreams and quickly responded, “Yes, elder?”

“You will be the guide on the Crimson Tiger’s journey to enlightenment. You are well-versed in the jungle’s mysteries.”

It wasn’t a question but all the same, Q’Wasim answered, “No, elder. I plan to compete.”

There was silence.

“Compete?” the elder repeated at last. He enunciated the word like it was a foreign concept.

“In the tournament,” Q’Wasim clarified.

Somewhere in the crowd, Kaxa groaned.

The elder frowned at Q’Wasim. “The Kamal Tribe has not competed for the honor of the Crimson Tiger in over 88 years.”

“I know, elder.”

“Our celestial armor has been lost for an even longer stretch of time,” G’Ruvu added in a quelling tone.

 “I have my own armor blessed by the High Priestess,” Q’Wasim countered.

“That will not protect you on the lotus quest,” the elder said.

“I know, elder.”

“Come now, Q’Wasim,” G’Ruvu said, in a placating voice, “You cannot—”

“I will,” Q’Wasim said firmly. “I am the Champion of the Kamal Tribe. Unless there is another who wishes to challenge my title tonight, I will fight tomorrow.”

People exchanged glances.

Q’Wasim was baffled. It wasn’t a secret that he planned to compete in the tournament, so why was the elder acting like Q’Wasim just thought of the idea of becoming the Crimson Tiger tonight?

G’Ruvu spoke slowly as if that would help with Q’Wasim’s confusion. “Q’Wasim, my boy, when we had the Agni, competing was unobjectionable, but the risks are different now. We are doing the traditional ceremony. That means tomorrow’s tournament will be just as deadly as the quest. You understand this. Yes?”

Q’Wasim nodded. Of course, he understood. Everyone knew that the tournament would be different this time. He said, “I understand the risk, elder. I still wish to compete.”

G’Ruvu silently scrutinized Q’Wasim and the elder wasn’t the only one staring at him. Q’Wasim could feel the entire tribe inspecting him like a plant that was in desperate need of pruning.

There was a time when Q’Wasim would have shied away from this type of attention, but that time had long passed. Q’Wasim ignored the pressing eyes of his peers and calmly met the old man’s gaze. The Champion of the Kamal Tribe refused to be intimidated.

Eventually, the elder’s expression shifted to resignation. “Very well,” he said, “I see your choice is made. You may compete as our champion. Tejul,” the elder turned to another tribesman, “you will act as the guide for the Crimson Tiger.”

Tejul nodded his head in assent.

The meeting continued, though people kept giving Q’Wasim odd looks and there were whispers.

Q’Wasim, the Champion of the Kamal Tribe and the prospective Crimson Tiger of Takanda, pretended not to notice.

Chapter Text

When they returned to their home, Kaxa was furious. The moment Q’Wasim had closed the door behind him, she snapped, “I cannot believe you did that!”

“Did what?” Q’Wasim asked. Q’Wasim didn’t think he had done anything. It had been the elder who had made things difficult.

Kaxa seemed to read his thoughts, for she said, “You completely ignored the elder even though he was trying to help you.”

Q’Wasim blinked. “Help me? How?”

“By giving you an excuse to pull out of the damn tournament,” Kaxa said.

Q’Wasim was silent.

Kaxa kicked off her shoes like they had personally done her grievous harm.

Q’Wasim watched as his sister began to pace around their dimly lit living room. “Q’Wasim, we are part of the Kamal tribe, the lotus tribe. We are healers and scholars. You spend most of your time digging around in the dirt. You cannot think that you are ready to compete against the other tribes.”

“Of course, that’s what I believe,” Q’Wasim said with a frown. “I wish you would have a little more faith in me, sister.” Even after all these years, it still hurt to know how much Kaxa doubted him.

“Faith?” she demanded. “How am I supposed to have faith in an oversized uncoordinated oaf from the Kamal Tribe whose only weapon is a suit of armor that weighs a ton and a half!”

Spurred on to defend Priyansi’s work, Q’Wasim stepped towards his sister and said, “That is not fair, Kaxa. You haven’t seen the latest model. It’s made from mosan I found in the western part of the jungle. It improves mobility by—”

“Q’Wasim, I don’t care how much it ‘improves mobility’,” she said, making a dismissive gesture. “It won’t stop you from getting stabbed by an arrow, or poisoned by a dagger, or cleaved in two by an ax. And don’t even get me started on Chinmay. He’ll—”

“Kaxa!” Q’Wasim said. Sharp as a knife, he cut through the rest of her tirade. He had tried to let her speak, but enough was enough. “I am not as weak as you think. I will become the next Crimson Tiger. It’s what I’ve been training for all these years. You know that. Everyone knows that.”

Q’Wasim couldn’t believe he was having this argument again. When Q’Wasim had first stated he wanted to become Crimson Tiger, people had dismissed the idea. The Crimson Tiger had to be the best warrior in the country. He was also the partner, protector, and political envoy of the High Priestess, making him the face of Takanda and the second most important person in the entire country.

Such a responsibility did not work with the traditional Kamal lifestyle. The Kamal tribe was one of the few Takandan tribes that was allowed to leave Takanda. Kamal tribespeople usually went on decade-long pilgrimages after finishing their apprenticeships at age twenty in order to gather knowledge for the tribe. As such, most of the Kamal tribespeople in Takanda were either young or elderly. Adults in the Kamal tribe were required to only return once to have children and frequently were not seen again until they were old men and women.

So, when Q’Wasim began training under Gaven, people thought it was a passing fancy. When Q’Wasim had eventually earned the right to learn directly from the Vajra tribe masters, only a few had taken notice. When it became known Q’Wasim planned to study geology with a specialty in mosan, more had been convinced. After all, the rare gemstone was only found in Takanda, and thus studying it would mean Q’Wasim would spend most of his life in the country. Finally, when Q’Wasim had cut his pilgrimage short, returning after a few years instead of the traditional ten, most people had been forced to realize he was serious.

No one had challenged Q’Wasim when he had declared himself the Champion of the Kamal Tribe two years ago. There were still people like Kaxa and Chinmay who doubted Q’Wasim’s skill, but it had been a long time since anyone had questioned Q’Wasim’s desire to compete. However, tonight first the elder and now Kaxa were trying to dissuade him.

And Kaxa wasn’t done, she said in a softer voice, “Q’Wasim, it’s like the elder said. Things have changed with the new ritual. Surely you must see that. Before, the tournament wasn’t a life-threatening competition and there were no celestial weapons involved. Now there’s a very real chance you could die tomorrow and I don’t want to lose you.”

“I know,” Q’Wasim began, “but Kaxa—”

“But nothing!” Kaxa shouted at him. “You are being a heartless fool!”

“I must do what I must do,” Q’Wasim said, standing tall and sticking out his chin.

“Argh!” His sister threw up her hands and this time, it was Kaxa who stormed out. She did not look back as she marched past him and out of their home.

When the door slammed shut behind her, Q’Wasim sighed feeling all of his anger and self-righteousness drain out of him like juices from a crushed fruit.

That hadn’t gone well at all.

Kaxa had never approved of his wanting to become the Crimson Tiger, but she had never been this against it either. Things had changed, but Q’Wasim’s resolve hadn’t.

Q’Wasim knew the Crimson Tiger title was not a mantle to be taken lightly. The Crimson Tiger was a warrior. He had to be willing and able to put blood on his hands to preserve the sanctity of Takanda and sometimes…

That blood was his own.

Q’Wasim knew that when he started on this path. Just because things were turning deadly sooner than expected didn’t mean Q’Wasim was going to back down. He planned to see this through to the very end.

Chapter Text

The day of the tournament had arrived. Q’Wasim had put on Priyansi’s latest armor and was looking at himself in the mirror. Over the thin undershirt and dark animal hide pants, the long mosan scale armor shirt gleamed red in the early morning light coming from his small window. The shirt matched the protective bracers on his forearms.

Long ago, the Kamal tribe had had armor like this but better. The legends say it was light as silk. His current armor, though lovingly made, was not that.

Q’Wasim stood up a bit straighter. Kaxa’s worries over the armor’s viability were unfounded. He was used to the extra weight. It was hardly noticeable. Really.

There was a knock at his door.

“It’s me.”

Kaxa.

Q’Wasim hesitated. He did not need another argument right now.

“I’m coming in,” she announced. She opened the door.

Their eyes met.

“Hello sister,” Q’Wasim said cautiously. “What brings you here?”

Kaxa lifted up her arms and Q’Wasim noticed that she was holding a dark red parcel. “I went to see Priyansi last night.”

Q’Wasim’s mouth went dry. He had no idea how Kaxa had managed that. With the tournament today, Priyansi would have been surrounded by attendants to help her with all the rituals that needed to be done last night.

Kaxa continued, “I wanted her to convince you to not compete in this stupid tournament, but instead she gave me this.” Kaxa threw the parcel she was carrying onto his sleeping mat. It landed with a clatter. “And,” she pulled out a piece of parchment, “a stupid love letter.” She stuffed a note into Q’Wasim’s hands and then without ceremony, turned to leave.

“Kaxa,” Q’Wasim began, catching her arm. “Wait a moment.”

His sister went still before slowly turning back to face him. “Yeah?”

“Thank you,” he said.

Kaxa looked like she wanted to cry, but all she did was say, “Just try not to die, okay Wasi?”

“Of course,” he said confidently.

Kaxa closed her eyes and laughed. Then she slipped out of his grip and strode out of the room like it was any other day. The door closed behind her.

Q’Wasim stared at the door for a moment, before looking down at his note.

Wasi,

 

I was wondering how to get you this armor when Kaxa appeared in

 my bedchambers with fire in her eyes. She wants me to tell you not

to compete today. I cannot. I know I should, but I cannot. I want to

believe in you, even if it makes me selfish and a horrible friend. My

only consolation is knowing that even if I told you to stop, you

would see through my lie and compete anyway. So, I am opting to

skip all that and talk to you about this newest armor instead. It is

made from that new sample that you gave me a few weeks ago. I

did not want to say anything before this because I did not think I

would finish testing this new version in time, but I managed it

somehow and now, it is ready for battle. Besides aesthetics and

materials, the other main difference is the cutting technique I used

for the beaded scales. I have to admit I’m quite proud of this

version. I hope it brings you luck.

 

As High Priestess, I know that the mother goddess and her

servants will choose the next Crimson Tiger, and whoever he is, he

will be perfect for me and Takanda. As Gaven’s sister, I am

distraught to be replacing him so soon. And as your friend, I hope

you survive today.

 

I wish I could say more than that, but again, I cannot. Already, you

using my armor has caused enough controversy. I know you

understand. You always do.

 

May the mother goddess protect you,

 

Priyansi

High Priestess of Takanda

Q’Wasim reread the letter.

Selfish.

That was a good word for it. He too was selfish. He knew it, but in this case, he did not care. Q’Wasim went to his sleeping mat and unwrapped the new armor. He smiled. It did look different. Instead of ruby, most of the gems were more of a garnet color. Some even looked black. As it was Priyansi, she hadn’t been content with just a random assortment for his official tournament armor. The scales formed stripes, like a tiger. Q’Wasim dawned the new armor with pride. However reluctantly, Priyansi was on his side. She had once again resisted Kaxa’s demands and her own conscience.

She wanted to believe in him. She wanted him to win. She had come so close to outright saying it was so. More than the armor, which was a bit lighter and a closer fit, this letter had been what he needed to uproot the doubts that Kaxa and the elder had tried to plant last night.

He felt ready.

 Q’Wasim walked out of his room filled with renewed hope.

Chapter Text

Q’Wasim stood with Kaxa and G’Ruvu and looked out at Āviri Lake. Located south of Erussim, the Āviri was vast. All of Takanda waited along its northern edge so that every man, woman, and child could see into its depths to the red bottom and ancient tiger statue that lay at its center.

Although, most people’s focus was directed elsewhere. Coming towards the lake from the city was a procession of holy Shankh tribespeople. They sang, played their conches, and beat their drums.

Behind them all, was Priyansi, dressed in white with silver jewelry and headdress that contrasted with the sea of color proceeding her. It was apt. The noise and expressions on every member of the parade looked livelier than the High Priestess. Perhaps others were fooled by Priyansi’s closed-mouth smile, but Q’Wasim knew better.

Priyansi was nervous.

The High Priestess’s congregation cut a path to the lake through the crowd and then peeled away to let her through their ranks. The music grew louder and voices rang out bright as stars as Priyansi approached the water’s edge.

Q’Wasim felt himself tense. Kaxa grabbed his hand. He could feel her fear.

“It is alright, Kaxa,” he murmured into his sister’s ear. Q’Wasim knew it should be.

Kaxa only grunted in response. She was unconvinced.

They had both seen Priyansi do this once before. Though even Q’Wasim had to admit he felt a bit ill at ease. That day had been different. He had not known Priyansi nearly as well then as he did now, so he, like the rest of Takanda, had seen High Priestess Priyansi perform her sacred duty. He had been mesmerized by the way her white sari flowed around her like a cloud as she waded deeper and deeper into the lake.

Today, he, like Kaxa, saw the girl, and Q’Wasim could not help but remember that Priyansi could not swim.

This was the thought that came back to haunt him as Priyansi’s head sank under the water. Her silver headdress soon followed and then she was completely submerged.

The High Priestess did not stop there. She continued her descent towards the very center of the lake where the Crimson Tiger statue waited.

Time passed. Kaxa’s grip became painful. Q’Wasim was forced to release the breath he was holding and gulped down air. The steady beat of the drums rattled his heart and still, Priyansi went on, walking along the lake bottom, unhurried and graceful.

The High Priestess did not falter until she reached the statue several meters below where Q’Wasim stood and knelt down. Because of his central position, Q’Wasim could not fully see what Priyansi did next, but he remembered this from before. He could picture Priyansi cupping the stone tiger’s cheek and whispering something into its ear.

After what must have been only a few moments but felt like much longer, the High Priestess rose but did not stand. For, the stone tiger had yielded and she had found her seat on its back. It was the statue that stood up and began to walk to the far side of the lake with the High Priestess riding upon it.

As the stone tiger ventured closer to the lake edge, both it and Priyansi changed into something more. The statue became less stiff and more alive with each step. Meanwhile, the silver and white of Priyansi’s holy attire were filled with color. White became red and silver turned to gold. When they exited the Āviri, it was not Priyansi and the stone tiger who appeared on the other side. No, as the music crescendoed, it was D’Vati and D’Shar, reincarnated, that turned and faced all of Takanda.

The High Priestess lifted up her arms, all ten of them, and the lake’s water rose up in a cloud of steam before her people. The tiger roared and the crowd went wild in exultation. The noise seemed to chase away the fog. It blew past the High Priestess and into the jungle behind her, leaving the lake empty and dry as firewood.

The shimmering mosan sand that covered the lake bottom was now mostly white. The only red that remained in the Āviri was a seemingly small square patch at the center of the sand valley. Thus, the ritual was complete. The fighting grounds were ready.

It was time for the tournament to begin.

Chapter Text

Across the chasm that had been Āviri Lake, the High Priestess spoke in a voice that reached the sky. “I, High Priestess, Priyansi, embassy for the mother goddess, D’Vati, come here seeking a new tiger for myself, my home, and my people. Who among you wishes to compete for the great honor of standing by my side as the next Crimson Tiger?”

Sound erupted from the crowd and with it, a warm wind began to gust through their ranks, carrying their voices back to the High Priestess. Q’Wasim made sure to roar out his assent, hoping Priyansi would hear it.

When the noise finally died down, it was time for the tribe leaders to speak. Each of them stepped forward into the mosan sand.

As was tradition, the Saanp Tribe was the first to speak. Their tribe’s leader called into the morning light, “The Saanp Tribe will compete. We promote Nayan as our champion.”

No surprise there. People said the athletic huntsman was a fine warrior.

However, things soon became less regular. The next leader announced, “The Khadga Tribe will not compete.”

Q’Wasim made the mistake of looking at Kaxa. Her face was grim.

“It is nothing,” he tried to assure her. A champion from the Khadga Tribe almost always competed. Their tribe’s weapon of choice was a talwar sword.  Q’Wasim knew that of the ten weapons, he had one of the biggest advantages against a sword, but Q’Wasim was not overly worried about the Khadga Tribe’s refusal to compete. A Crimson Tiger had to be ready for anything. As such, he had done his best to prepare for all the champions and their weapons.

Q’Wasim continued to listen as the other tribes announced their participation. After each tribe had spoken, the High Priestess commanded, “Champions, come forward.”

Q’Wasim did not hesitate. He moved towards Priyansi. His bare feet dug into the white mosan sand.

Only four people including Q’Wasim had stepped into the Āviri. That was half the usual number. As the crowd roared for their champions, Q’Wasim stole glances at his competition.

Closest to him was Nayan of the Saanp Tribe. He was the eldest of the champions as well as the smallest and the most agile-looking. Q’Wasim thought Nayan looked well suited for the Saanp’s tribe’s celestial weapons, a set of poisoned twin daggers. However, Q’Wasim did not know for sure.

Nayan, like most of his tribesmen, was a hunter and could be gone from the city for weeks, even months, at a time in search of his next kill. Because of this and the fact that Nayan was at least twelve years Q’Wasim’s senior, most of Q’Wasim’s knowledge about the warrior was hearsay.

The next champion, Saahas, was Nayan’s opposite. Q’Wasim knew a fair bit about him. The Champion of the Trishula Tribe was tall, lanky, and the youngest of their group, closer to Kaxa’s age than Q’Wasim’s. Though, despite the young man’s lack of experience, Saahas held his tribe’s celestial weapon, the trident, with confidence. It was well-earned. Q’Wasim had sparred with Saahas quite a few times over the years. Saahas was good, very good. However, unless something had changed in the last few months, Chinmay was better.

Chinmay, Champion of the Vajra Tribe, nephew of the leader of the Takanda’s elite guard, wielder of Vajra Tribe’s celestial weapon, the mace, and Gaven’s best friend, had been a pain in Q’Wasim’s side ever since Q’Wasim had begun his training. Chinmay thought Q’Wasim was a waste of the royal siblings’ time and Q’Wasim thought the same thing about him.

Regardless of Q’Wasim’s low opinion of Chinmay, Q’Wasim was still concerned about facing the Champion of the Vajra Tribe. He had been Gaven’s best friend for a reason. Chinmay was a fierce and dedicated warrior of Takanda and everyone knew that Chinmay was the crowd favorite to win today, including Chinmay himself who had just noticed Q’Wasim looking at him.

In response to Q’Wasim’s perusal, Chinmay puffed out his chest. His eyebrows quirked up and he took in Q’Wasim and his armor. Then Chinmay smirked and returned his gaze to the High Priestess.

Q’Wasim gritted his teeth at Chinmay’s dismissal, but before Q’Wasim could dwell on the insult to himself and Priyansi’s hard work, the High Priestess spoke again and captured Q’Wasim’s attention. Priyansi’s voice seemed even louder than before as she proclaimed, “Last night, I consulted with the stars.” Priyansi slowly gestured five of her hands at Chinmay. “Chinmay, Champion of the Vajra Tribe, it has been determined that you shall be the first to compete. Choose your foe.”

Chinmay took a few more steps forward and bowed his head. “It is an honor, High Priestess,” he said with false humility. Then he turned and looked at each competitor. His gaze lingered on Q’Wasim. The smirk reappeared before he faced Priyansi again and announced, “I challenge Saahas, Champion of the Trishula Tribe.”

Q’Wasim glowered at Chinmay’s back. He had done that on purpose! Q’Wasim could just imagine Chinmay’s over-confident reasoning too. He wanted to fight Saahas, the competitor Chinmay respected most, so that the next round would be easier.

“Arrogant fool,” Q’Wasim muttered to himself as the High Priestess spoke over him in that same carrying voice. “He has chosen his path. Chinmay, Champion of the Vajra Tribe and Saahas, Champion of the Trishula Tribe, show me your worth. Prepare for battle.”

The crowd burst into cheers once again, but it was less animated than before. Everyone was too preoccupied by the sight of the two champions making their way down to the center of the Āviri where the blood-red battlefield awaited.

Chapter Text

Over a decade ago, Prince Bharagaven had been presented with the Agni and became Priyansi’s official Crimson Tiger. That had been an easy ceremony.

Priyansi had been too young for any serious suitors and Gaven had already proven himself to be formidable in battle. Thus, when Gaven announced that he would challenge his father for the title, no one else saw a reason to participate.

Back then, Gaven and his father had used swords. The royal family is not associated with any one tribe. Each family member is versed in all the ceremonial weapons, but Gaven had always had a preference for swords. His father knew this and humored his son by matching his weapon choice.

Their fight had taken minutes and Gaven managed to win against the elderly Crimson Tiger without spilling a single drop of blood. It had all been so civilized and clean.

Today’s ceremony was not that.

Q’Wasim watched the two champions below. Chinmay and Saahas were breathing hard and shining with sweat. Their bodies were covered in bruises and gashes.

Saahas had definitely gotten better since Q’Wasim had last seen him fight and Chinmay was well…Chinmay. Each mark on the other’s body had been a hard-fought trophy. Saahas had reach and flexibility, but Chinmay was stronger. The two champions seemed evenly matched until Chinmay swung his mace at Saahas’s head.

Instead of dodging, Saahas caught the mace in between the prongs of his trident. Saahas then jerked the trident upward, intending to rip the mace out of Chinmay’s hand. It was a move Saahas had tried before, but this time, Chinmay did not twist the mace out of Saahas’s control. The Champion of the Vajra tribe let go of his weapon and lunged past Saahas’s trident to tackle Saahas to the ground.

The move took Saahas completely by surprise. He slammed against the red sand with Chinmay on top of them and the two struggled for control. However, without weapons, Chinmay had the upper hand. His weight and strength began to overwhelm Saahas. Soon Chinmay had him pinned and was pummeling him with a deadly ferocity that made the young tribesman look like a practice dummy.

The overpowered champion did his best to fight back against the onslaught. He punched, kicked, twisted, and scratched, but it was not enough. As time went on, the lanky tribesman’s counterattacks got weaker and weaker until they finally stopped.

After a few more punches, the Champion of the Vajra tribe stood up, his fists red as the mosan sand beneath him.

People’s eyes darted between Chinmay and the battered bloody body on the ground. There was quiet as everyone waited to see if Saahas would rise.

He did not.

A queasy eternity passed before the High Priestess, at last, proclaimed, “Chinmay, Champion of the Vajra Tribe, I recognize your worth. Victory is yours.”

Chinmay raised his fists and roared in triumph. His tribe joined in on his celebration. Their jubilation washed over him. The sound of it followed him as he proceeded to walk up to the other side of the Āviri.

The High Priestess witnessed both Chinmay’s ascent to a spot several meters below her and Saahas’s exit as the Trishula tribesmen carried away their champion’s body. Perhaps it was the distance, but Q’Wasim could not sense even a flicker of sadness in Priyansi as she watched Saahas’s departure. Seeing Priyansi’s apparent indifference made Q’Wasim wonder if she would look just as calm and impassive if something like that happened to him.

Right after he had that dark thought, Priyansi announced, “Nayan, Champion of the Saanp Tribe and Q’Wasim, Champion of the Kamal Tribe, show me your worth. Prepare for battle.”

Just as Q’Wasim was about to follow the High Priestess’s orders, Kaxa gripped Q’Wasim’s hand tightly. It was one last silent plea for him to give up.

Q’Wasim squeezed Kaxa’s hand in reassurance before pulling out of her grasp. Then he headed down to the fighting grounds that were now stained with Saahas’s blood.

Chapter Text

Q’Wasim stood on the battlefield and let himself look at Priyansi one last time. Even with her new appendages, it was her aspect that truly made her seem like a divine being. Q’Wasim knew Priyansi had to be horrified by the results of the deathmatch just fought in her honor, but the High Priestess sat on her Crimson Tiger as serene as a lotus flower in a pool.

Q’Wasim tried to absorb some of that impenetrable peace into his own being as he faced his opponent, Nayan of the Saanp Tribe.

Nayan squatted into a fighting stance. The hunter held a katar knife in each hand. Q’Wasim eyed the fang-like weapons as they gleamed in the sunlight. The Snaap tribe was named after the snake of D’Vati. As such those white mosan blades were coated in snake venom.

Q’Wasim settled into his own fighting stance. He was ready.

As Q’Wasim’s focus was off of Priyansi, the sound of her voice surprised him when she suddenly shouted, “Let the battle begin!”

Nayan sprang forward, quickly cutting the distance between him and Q’Wasim.

When the blow came, Q’Wasim let the Nayan hit him.

The hunter’s blade made contact with Q’Wasim’s armor. There was a short ringing sound before the blade bounced off the armor scales. The force of the recoil caused Nayan to stumble and fall back.

Unfortunately, Q’Wasim was too slow to take advantage of Nayan’s fumble.

The hunter recovered and thrust his knife upward to try the catch the underbelly of the scales. Q’Wasim once again did not evade the strike. He instead grabbed the attacking arm and pulled, using Nayan’s own acceleration to force his blade up in the air.

Nayan was not deterred. He attacked with the other arm only to lead to the same result. Now Q’Wasim was holding up both of Nayan’s arms in the air like a toddler.

Q’Wasim brought his hands together, hoping to hold Nayan’s with one so that Q’Wasim could use the other to grab the knife blades.

However, the instant Q’Wasim’s grip loosened, Nayan kicked off of Q’Wasim’s armor.

Q’Wasim held tight, but the hunter was counting on it. The little man swung up and then over Q’Wasim’s head, forcing Q’Wasim’s arms to stretch back.

Still, he did not release Nayan. Q’Wasim did not want to give the hunter access to his vulnerable neck.

This handed Nayan the opportunity to use the last of his momentum to crash into Q’Wasim’s back. The impact was the last straw.

Q’Wasim let go of Nayan and toppled forward. Countless hours of training came back to Q’Wasim in that moment. A big guy like him was not meant to be on the ground. Q’Wasim twisted and rolled so that he landed on his back. It was a good thing because Nayan was on him and there was not enough space for Q’Wasim to get up.

Nayan went to plunge his knives into Q’Wasim’s legs, but Q’Wasim was not having it. He fought back, kicking with all his might. One of the knives flew out of Nayan’s hands and a couple kicks later, Q’Wasim had managed to strike Nayan and drive him away.

Q’Wasim wasted no time leaping back into a standing position. He planted his feet just in time to see the end of Nayan backflipping back into his own neutral stance.

“You are faster than you look, flowerchild,” Nayan called. He was breathing hard and there was the beginning of a bruise on his chin, but the hunter was grinning.

Q’Wasim did not respond.

“What is this?” Nayan taunted as he slowly backed away from Q’Wasim. “I finally get to hunt something that is not an animal and I still do not get a decent conversation?”

He was stalling. Q’Wasim scanned the battlefield.

“Eyes on me, flowerchild,” Nayan said, but it was too late. Q’Wasim had spotted the knife.

It was equidistant from them.

Q’Wasim said, “How come you never trained with the rest of us? I would have liked to have seen you try some of those moves on Prince Gaven.”

Nayan barked out a laugh. “I bet you would, but the prince was too proud for that. We were far more circumspect in our bouts.”

“You two fought in the jungle then?” Q’Wasim asked.

As they talked, Q’Wasim and Nayan were both moving closer to the spare knife.

“In the jungle, in the palace, out on the city streets,” Nayan said with false easiness, “wherever he was alone, there was a chance I would be there with my knives. It was great fun.”

“I never knew. When did that all start?” Q’Wasim asked.

Nayan opened his mouth to answer and that was when Q’Wasim lunged for the knife.

Nayan fell for the bait and reacted to Q’Wasim’s faint, throwing himself at the knife and leaving himself vulnerable to Q’Wasim’s true attack.

Q’Wasim pounced on the hunter and over 150 kilos landed on Nayan’s back. The hunter cried out in pain.

Q’Wasim ignored him and reached for the knife, not the one that was underneath them both, but the other knife that was in Nayan’s outstretched hand. Because of the awkward angle, Q’Wasim had to twist his body and wrestle Nayan for it, but before long, Q’Wasim had the knife in hand and was kneeling over Nayan while Nayan now lay on his back. The hunter’s arms were pinned and his dark eyes were looking sardonically up at Q’Wasim.

“Going to kill me with my own knife, flowerchild?” Nayan asked.

Q’Wasim stared down at Nayan. That was exactly what he was going to do. That was what he had to do. Q’Wasim’s gaze flicked upward. He expected to see the crowd, but he must have been turned around because his eyes met Priyansi’s. He could actually sense the tension underneath her façade. She was waiting for him up there.

“Yes,” Q’Wasim said to her. “Yes,” he repeated to Nayan. “For Takanda and for her.” He would do much worse than this.

Nayan barked out another laugh. “Try it then.”

Q’Wasim raised the knife up in the air. It wobbled slightly in his grip. Q’Wasim tried to take a steadying breath but it did not help the sick feeling in his gut. He had never killed someone before.

Nayan smiled up at him. The hunter’s white teeth looked like stars in the morning light. The shine of them compounded Q’Wasim’s nausea.

He just had to do it.

Q’Wasim brought the knife down but it seemed to move in slow motion and that was not the only thing. His whole body began to fall forward. Q’Wasim could not stop it.

He fell on top of Nayan with a dull thud and the knife fell from his hand.

From underneath him, he heard Nayan chuckle, “Your legs were open, flowerchild. Victory is mine.”

Q’Wasim wanted to argue, even as he finally noticed the dull pain coming from his right calf. The small cut should be nothing, but Q’Wasim could not even open his mouth. The world was going black and he was so very tired.

Chapter Text

A young awkward Q’Wasim waited nervously in the palace hallway outside of the High Priestess’s rooms. He’d never talked to her before, not really. He rarely talked to people period if he could help it. Still, there really was no one else he could ask and she was Prince Gaven’s sister and more importantly, Kaxa’s closest friend.

“Oh! Q’Wasim, is that you?”

Q’Wasim looked up. There she was, Princess Priyansi as people called her. Q’Wasim tried to believe Kaxa’s often spoken words that the High Priestess was just a kid like him, but it was impossible.

The princess might appear young and innocent to some people. She was small for her age, but Q’Wasim knew from experience that size was not a measure of wisdom or maturity. Because he was already taller than some of his tribesmen, visitors from other tribes would walk up to Q’Wasim with complicated questions or pressing demands expecting him to be a seasoned expert with all the answers only to find a painfully shy apprentice instead.

Meanwhile, Princess Priyansi was his opposite. Q’Wasim found her intimidating. To him, not even the High Priestess’s doll-like features and adorable pink saris could diminish her air of sophistication and now, this very grand and cultured young lady was standing right in front of him.

With a brief raising of her eyebrows to show something that might have been surprise, the High Priestess asked, “Should I assume that you are here to see me, or is there another reason you are loitering outside my quarters at this late hour?”

Her tone was not unfriendly, but Q’Wasim could feel his cheeks warm. He hadn’t even begun speaking and he was already making a mess of this.

The High Priestess waited patiently for Q’Wasim to say something, making him feel even more ridiculous. He was wasting her time.

He felt like sinking into the ground.

“It is alright, Q’Wasim,” she said more gently, “I know my schedule makes it difficult to see me. Please tell me what is wrong and I will try to assist you.”

Before the High Priestess could offer some more well-meaning but embarrassing encouragement, Q’Wasim muttered to the floor, “It’s about Kaxa.”

“About her upcoming birthday?” the princess guessed.

Q’Wasim looked up at her, relieved. “Yes! It’s Kaxa’s first birthday without our mom. Usually, Mom did most of the work but now it’s up to me, so I was wondering if you might be able to tell me what gift Kaxa would like. I know I’m her brother and I should know this stuff, but I’m horrible at choosing gifts and I really don’t want to mess this up so…yeah…” After that flood of words, his voice trailed off and Q’Wasim looked at the ground again waiting for Priyansi’s response.

The High Priestess was quiet for a while before she said, “I am honored you approached me with this issue, however…”

Q’Wasim felt his shoulder slump.

Priyansi’s voice sped up a bit as she added, “a gift is a very personal thing. Though, if you really want my opinion, I would say that Kaxa has been reading about healing techniques from the Akasa tribe in Bhreenam recently. I think a gift related to that would be appropriate.”

Q’Wasim waited for her to say more.

She did not.

Q’Wasim’s first instinct was to call it a night. As usual, he had tried and failed, but this was Kaxa’s birthday. His little sister was so often taking care of him. Just this once, he wanted to be the responsible and reliable one. So, instead of mumbling his thanks and backing away as quickly as he could, Q’Wasim forced himself to say, “I thought that too. Or at least, I thought that I should get her something research-related, but I really am lousy at picking gifts.” He dared to look at the High Priestess again, hoping that he could will her into giving him another answer.

Their eyes met and Priyansi smiled at him.

It was nothing like her serene High Priestess smile. This smile had none of the peaceful grandioseness that the reincarnated goddess was supposed to show. It was sweet and a little mischievous. Q’Wasim liked it.

Something of his thoughts must have been written on his face because Priyansi’s eyes widened for a second before she assumed a more placid expression.

The High Priestess spoke evenly, “I suppose I could be more specific.”

Q’Wasim nodded eagerly.

Her playful smile returned for a moment before she started giving suggestions.

They discussed a few different options. Then she made the mistake of asking Q’Wasim about his apprenticeship and the boy was off, avidly explaining the basics of geology to the little girl.

Instead of acting bored, like Kaxa and the few other people Q’Wasim felt comfortable talking to, the princess listened and actually asked him follow-up questions. Before he knew it, a couple of hours had passed.

It was Priyansi who called attention to the time. “I am truly sorry Wasi, but I have to go to bed.”

“Wasi?”

“Oh no…I…Q’Wasim, I apologize. I was not…it is just sometimes Gaven and Kaxa call you that and I…I did not mean to presume…” Priyansi was beyond flustered.

It was the first time he had seen her like this. Q’Wasim was learning a lot about the princess today. “It’s alright,” Q’Wasim said. For once, he was putting someone else at ease. “I don’t usually like that nickname, but…I like how you say it.”

“Oh…” she said simply.

He smiled and she gave him another small smile in return.

“So,” he asked, “Can we meet again?” As an afterthought, he added, “To discuss Kaxa’s birthday I mean.”

“Yes,” she said, “Yes, let us do that.”

“Tomorrow?”

She nodded and told him when she would be free.

After that, there was a moment where neither of them said anything. They just looked at each other.

Then Priyansi broke the silence. “I should go.”

“Right,” he said, moving away from her. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” she said as she opened the doors to her rooms.

Only after Q’Wasim had turned the corner and was out of her sight, did she add in a voice she probably thought he could not hear, “See you soon, Wasi.”

Chapter Text

Q’Wasim tried to open his eyes. After moving his lids enough to catch a glimpse of a dim room, a wave of pain began with his eye sockets and spread down to his toes. He let his eyelids fall shut, feeling exhausted from that small movement.

However, he was to have no rest, for his efforts had not gone unnoticed.

“You’re awake!” a voice boomed. “Priyansi, he’s awake!”

Q’Wasim moaned softly and wished they would stop making a fuss. He would be asleep again in moments if given the chance.

He was not.

“Hush, Kaxa, you’re talking too loud,” Priyansi whispered in a voice that made his ears ache.

Q’Wasim felt someone take hold of his hand. The person held it gently, so it only hurt a fraction more than the rest of him.

“Welcome back,” Priyansi murmured sweetly. At least Q’Wasim assumed she said it sweetly. In his current condition, it was hard to tell.

“I’ll go get a doctor,” Kaxa’s voice blared out.

Q’Wasim moaned again.

“Kaxa, I said—”

A door slammed shut. Q’Wasim felt the sound with every bone in his body.

 “—hush.”

Priyansi sighed. “I’m sorry Wasi. She’s just relieved that…that you’re alright.” Priyansi continued to hold his hand and talk quietly.

Q’Wasim’s body seemed to accept this treatment by degrees. Soon, her voice became more soothing than irritating and her touch ceased to bother him, but there was another problem. He was being subjected to a strange rain. It was hot and…salty?

Oh!

Q’Wasim’s hazy thoughts came into focus. Those were tears, Priyansi’s tears. She was crying.

“No,” he rasped.

“No?” Priyansi said, pausing her monologue of nice-sounding empty words.

“Don’t,” he managed.

Priyansi tried to let go of him but Q’Wasim squeezed her hand ever so slightly and he told her, “Don’t. Cry.”

“Wasi.” Priyansi let out a sob and fell upon his chest.

Q’Wasim stifled a grunt. She was heavy as a mountain.

“You could have died, died while I just sat and watched. I…I…”

“No,” Q’Wasim repeated. He wanted to say more, but his mouth was so dry and useless. He changed tactics and fought gravity. Everything was sore and aching. His limbs seemed to be made of solid Cinnabar, but somehow, he managed to briefly lift his right arm so that he could wrap it around Priyansi.

“So many people have died and are going to die because of me,” she said, “I can’t…” Her words were lost as she descended into more tears.

“Hush now,” Q’Wasim said, but his wisp of a voice went unheard.

“Mom, Dad, Gaven, Chinmay, and now you…” she continued.

Q’Wasim could not stand this talk. He ignored the cries of agony from his body and squeezed Priyansi as tight as he could.

“Ow!” she said. He could feel her glaring at him.

With the same determination, he made his desert of a mouth eke out some audible words, “No more of that. High Princess. I’m not…dead.” Then he cracked his eyes open to make his point clear.

Priyansi’s face was closer than expected. He could actually see her skin drying and her eyes losing their bloodshot appearance. However, even her divine powers didn’t erase the bit of dried drool on her left cheek. Not that any of that mattered because the look of astonishment she wore on her face right now was the most beautiful thing Q’Wasim had ever seen.

The expression was only there for an instant before her gaze turned critical and she said, “You could have fooled me.”

Q’Wasim’s mouth quirked. “You sound…like Kaxa.”

Priyansi smiled at him. “You silly man.”

“The silliest,” he agreed.

This was another moment. Q’Wasim could almost ignore his pain entirely as he looked into her laughing tear-filled eyes. If he could just summon a bit more of his strength and lift his head a few centimeters, he would be able to give Priyansi a kiss.

There was a knock at the door. Priyansi scrambled up and away from him.

Q’Wasim groaned.

“Sorry,” she said. “Did I hurt you?”

“No,” he lied.

Another knock.

“Come in,” Priyansi called softly.

Kaxa and G’Ruvu strode in.

“He is still awake?” the elder asked.

“Yes, but…” Priyansi began.

“We cannot delay this, High Priestess,” the elder said. “We must complete the ceremony.”

It was then that Q’Wasim remembered. The ceremony. The tournament. He had lost the tournament. Priyansi was…she was…

“And I told you,” Kaxa put in, “You can’t burden him with all that now. He can barely move.”

“The Saanp Tribe assured me that he would be better by tonight,” the elder said. “We need to press on.”

“No,” both girls protested.

“Who won?” Q’Wasim asked, suddenly desperate. “Who won?”

G’Ruvu put a hand on his shoulder. “No one has won, Q’Wasim.”

“But…” that didn’t make any sense. Nayan had beaten him, so either the hunter or Chinmay should have won the tournament.

“The lotus found the other competitors unworthy,” the elder explained, “You are the last.”

“But Chinmay,” Q’Wasim began.

In the background somewhere, Priyansi was making an odd breathy sound and Kaxa said something comforting to her, but Q’Wasim wasn’t focusing on them. He was staring straight into the elder’s eyes.

He watched the man’s grim expression as G’Ruvu said, “Chinmay is dead, my boy. They’re all dead.”

Chapter Text

Q’Wasim listened as G’Ruvu explained that Chinmay, Nayan, and even Saahas had all died. Saahas had succumbed to his injuries whereas Chinmay and Nayan were deemed unworthy, meaning they had eaten the sacred lotus root and had not survived.

Q’Wasim either because of his size or perhaps Nayan’s mercy had been able to receive medical aid fast enough to be kept alive. And thus, he was the last champion available to finish the quest.

“It must be tonight,” the elder concluded. “These things should not be delayed.”

“But the poison…” Priyansi began.

“He has a choice,” Kaxa argued.

The elder shook his head. “Poison or no poison, he made his choice when he entered the tournament.”

Kaxa opened her mouth to protest, but Q’Wasim spoke first, “The elder is right.”

Three sets of eyes focused on him.

“I made my choice and anyway, I am a big guy. The poison should wear off soon enough.” He was already feeling a bit better. Q’Wasim tried to sit up. It felt like he was being stung by an entire nest of giant hornets, but he managed the movement with only a few winces and a single exclamation.

Kaxa’s expression was dark. Priyansi looked worried, but the elder nodded in approval.

“I will return at sunset,” he said, “Fast healing, Q’Wasim.”

Q’Wasim nodded and the elder left. With him gone, nothing could mask Kaxa’s and Priyansi’s silent displeasure. It loomed as large and as dark as a mountain’s shadow.

“I’m not dead yet,” he reminded them.

Kaxa stuck out her chin, unimpressed by this miracle. “That stupid flower might just be toxic you know. There may be nothing holy about it,” she declared.

The High Priestess did not argue.

Bolstered by Priyansi’s silence, Kaxa continued, “This is ridiculous, Q’Wasim. You lost the tournament. You shouldn’t—”

“Enough!” Q’Wasim said sharply.

Kaxa glared at him but said nothing more.

“Priyansi.” He reached out a hand to her.

The High Priestess hesitated, glancing at Kaxa. Kaxa just rolled her eyes, so Priyansi took his hand.

“Kaxa.” He reached out his other hand to his sister.

Kaxa huffed and grasped it.

He looked at both of them, meeting each pair of eyes in turns, knowing he had to make his words count. “I am sorry.”

“I am sorry I lost,” he said to Priyansi.

Then he turned to his sister. “I am sorry for making you worry.”

“Q’Wasim…”

“Wasi…”

“I am sorry you two don’t believe in me. I know I am clumsy and a bit of an oaf.”

Kaxa snorted.

“Alright. Maybe I’m a huge oaf,” he amended.

“Humongous,” Kaxa confirmed.

Priyansi did not say anything, but she did smile.

“But I mean well, don’t I? I try my best. I survived the tournament,” he said the last sentence to Kaxa.

Then he gazed into Priyansi’s eyes and added, “I have a chance at being the next Crimson Tiger.”

Priyansi squeezed his hand.

Finally, he said to both of them, “So please, no more tears, alright?”

Kaxa glared at him again. “I’ll cry if I want to.”

That made them all laugh.

The rest of the day, Q’Wasim stayed in bed and spent time with the two of them. He asked them about their work and for new gossip he did not care about. Soon they were repeating old stories they all knew about their triumphs, mishaps, the other champions, and Priyansi’s lost brother. The sun crossed the sky. The shadows shrank and stretched. Gaven’s spirit watched over them. All the while, Q’Wasim recovered his strength and tried to mentally prepare himself to complete the lotus quest and replace his departed friend.

Chapter Text

It was late in the afternoon when Priyansi broke the peace within the small sick room by standing up and saying, “I am really sorry Wasi, but I have to go. I…I will see you tonight.”

Before the High Priestess reached the door and Q’Wasim could blurt out a goodbye, his sister let out a put-upon sigh. “Hold on Priyansi,” Kaxa said, standing up as well.

The High Priestess turned back.

“Don’t run off just yet,” Kaxa said, walking over to her. “I’ll give you and my brother a minute.” 

The High Priestess tried to object as Kaxa moved past her. “Kaxa,” she began, “that’s really not—”

But Q’Wasim interrupted Priyansi’s protest with, “You are the best, Kaxa.”

“I know,” his sister said with a smirk before she disappeared through the door.

It closed behind her and suddenly Priyansi and Q’Wasim were alone. There was a stunned silence as they stared at each other. 

Then all at once, they both started to talk.

“I should really—”

“I just want—”

They closed their mouths.

“You first,” Priyansi said.

“No, you,” Q’Wasim said, “You’re the princess.”

“High Priestess,” she said.

“High Princess,” he corrected.

She smiled. It was a very old joke, but he would use it as long as it made her eyes twinkle like that.

“Very well,” she said. She took a deep breath and then surprised him by asking, “Is there any chance I can convince you not to go through with the ritual?”

“Do you truly want me to withdraw?” he asked, watching her face.

“I…” She turned away from him and said in a very small voice, “You could die.”

“Or, I could live,” Q’Wasim argued. “I have done so once already.”

“Wasi…”

“Priyansi…”

She tilted her head up. Q’Wasim suspected Priyansi was appealing to the mother goddess. “Why do you always make me feel like a spoiled child?” she asked the room. “If only I was not so…”

“Good?” Q’Wasim suggested.

Priyansi let out an amused sigh.

“Wise?” he tried again.

“Wasi…”

“Kind? Responsible?”

“Wasi!” Priyansi turned back to him, exasperated. “You are such a silly man,” she declared.

“The silliest,” he conceded, “but I was telling the truth. You are all those things and more. I am glad that sometimes you remember to be spoiled and childish.”

She gave him a reluctant smile.

Q’Wasim smiled back, before he said seriously, “Priyansi, my mind is set on this course, so my answer is no. Even you cannot convince me,” because though he did not say it, Q’Wasim now knew for certain that he would rather die than watch some other man become the Crimson Tiger.

“I suspected as much,” Priyansi said, dissatisfied, “but I felt I had to ask. I needed to know if I could stop this as Kaxa always said I could. I have lost so many people I care for in the last two weeks. I thought…I thought I could do this, but watching you and everyone else risk their lives while I do nothing…”

“You did not do nothing,” Q’Wasim argued, “I was fighting in your armor and your letter was very helpful.”

“Wasi, please,” she said, “I only tried to provide you with the celestial armor you deserved as the champion of your tribe. And that note,” she smiled grimly. “It was nothing compared to your sacrifices on my behalf. Always, you are giving me everything, and I…” She closed her mouth on the unspoken taboo sentence and Q’Wasim could see the effort it cost to be silent.

“Priyansi,” he said before beginning the slow process of getting out of bed. As he forced his still sore muscles into action, he told her, “You are the High Priestess of Takanda, the embodiment of the mother goddess, D’Vati. You are wise, kind, responsible, and good. That is why even when you are tempted to act like a spoiled child, you still cannot forget who you are. You are honor-bound to stay impartial in this and you have the nobility to try to perform that duty.

I admire your resolve and strength. I do not begrudge you or your dedication to the sacred vows. As you are, you have given me, a mere oaf from the Kamal Tribe, more than enough.”

“Kaxa is wrong, you know.” Priyansi gazed up at him. She was aglow with something between grief and joy. Her eyes shone. “You are not an oaf,” she told him, “You are a dreamer. I…I love that about you.”

“I love you too.” He had said it. He had not uttered those words in years, not since that day in the eastern mines. Saying them again now filled him with hope, confidence, and longing.

The two of them felt the memory of that cold, dreary, and cherished morning, as he once again said, “I want to spend the rest of my life with you, Priyansi, and to do that, I am going to become the next Crimson Tiger. That is my promise to you.”

Priyansi looked ready to weep.

Q’Wasim took a step towards her and held up his arms, asking a silent question.

She glanced between his face and his open arms. Her voice was strained as she said, “I should not.”

“I know,” he said. He took another step forward and gently wrapped his arms around her.

“I am a horrible high princess,” she mumbled, hugging him back.

“High Priestess,” he corrected her, “and no, you are not.”

From outside, Kaxa called, “Can you guys wrap it up? I said a minute, not like 5 hours.”

Priyansi began to pull away, but Q’Wasim shouted, “Go fetch me some fruit, Kaxa!”

“I’m not your personal servant, brother!” she shouted back, but then he heard her obediently stomp off.

Priyansi and Q’Wasim exchanged a look and in the next moment, they were laughing.

They were still smiling when they pulled apart.

“I will see you tonight,” Priyansi said.

Q’Wasim nodded. “By tomorrow, we will be engaged,” he promised.

“Wasi!” she cried.

He just grinned at her.

“You—”

“Silly man, I know,” he said. “See you later.”

“Until then,” she said.

“Until then,” he echoed.

And with that, she was gone.

Kaxa eventually returned with a partially squished mango, but the mood was not the same without Priyansi. It was almost a relief when the elder arrived.

G’Ruvu waited outside so Q’Wasim could say goodbye to his sister. Q’Wasim gave her a hug.

Kaxa had held it together most of the day, but she was crying now. “Stupid oaf!” she muttered into his chest.

He rubbed her back.

“I know,” he said.

Kaxa squeezed him tight and then they broke apart.

“I’m fixing mom’s Ginne Appa for breakfast tomorrow,” she announced.

“With extra peanuts?” he prompted.

“Of course,” she said flippantly.

Q’Wasim smiled. “I will be there.”

Kaxa almost smiled back. She almost burst into tears again, but she did neither. The young woman just jerked her head in a nod and left as if this was a goodbye like any other.

Q’Wasim really hoped it was.

Luckily for him, there was no time to dwell on Kaxa, Priyansi, or anyone else because as soon as the door closed, the elder opened it again and entered.

G’Ruvu eyed Q’Wasim and asked, “Can you walk as well as you are standing?”

“I think so.”

“Good,” he said. “I have bought a change of clothes. We unfortunately have no celestial weapon to give you and the armor you wore two days ago will not do. You go in this and this only.”

The man held out a pile of white clothing.

“I understand,” Q’Wasim replied, taking the outfit.

Q’Wasim put on his ritual garb and in less than a quarter-hour later, G’Ruvu was leading Q’Wasim away from the sick room to begin the lotus quest.

Chapter Text

Q’Wasim and G’Ruvu arrived at the edge of the jungle. As the elder had predicted, there were two men waiting for them along with Priyansi and a sleuth of priestesses.

The High Priestess came forward, riding on her stone tiger. She was once again wearing her ceremonial red and gold sari with a headpiece that looked like the sun and a smile as serene as the moon.

The reincarnated goddess spoke in a clear and carrying voice. “Q’Wasim, Champion of the Kamal Tribe, I am in need of a new Crimson Tiger. Will you aid me in my search?”

Q’Wasim responded with the lines the elder had taught him days ago. “I will, High Priestess. As D’Vati has D’Shar, you will have me.”

“D’Shar is a valuable ally,” she responded. “Let him decide if you are worthy.”

“As you wish. I am yours to command,” he replied.

She nodded.

That ritual was complete. Now, they all entered the jungle, save G’Ruvu who just watched as they disappeared.

Tejul of the Kamal Tribe and a man of the Saanp Tribe led the way. The other priestesses trailed behind with Q’Wasim and Priyansi walking side by side in the middle. It was to be a long trek.

Q’Wasim kept glancing at Priyansi. He’d never been this close to her while she was in her divine splendor and yet, it was not close enough. The High Priestess and her tiger moved silently through the jungle at a steady pace that belied the rough terrain. It was almost as if they were both less real and more real than all of their surroundings. Their presence was both unspeakably beautiful and deeply unsettling.

Q’Wasim yearned to speak and reach out to the woman he loved, but G’Ruvu had been very adamant. There would be no touching or talking unless the High Priestess gave Q’Wasim leave to do so. He was nothing until she deemed otherwise.

After an age, Priyansi, at last, returned his gaze. Before Q’Wasim could recover from being the subject of his goddess’s full attention, the High Priestess began another ritual conversation. “You are from the Kamal Tribe,” she said.

“Yes,” he managed, “the lotus is the symbol of my people, a gift from D’Vati.”

She nodded. “Then you should know the story of this ritual.”

“I know what you wish me to,” Q’Wasim said deferentially. “I am a mere servant of D’Vati, servant to you.” Q’Wasim let his eyes say more than the words he spoke.

Priyansi’s eyes widened ever so slightly in response, before she said smoothly, “Every true servant of mine must know this story. Listen well to the Legend of the Crimson Tiger for it is a tale you will soon join.”

Chapter Text

“Long ago when the ten tribes were mere groups of people, there was much war in Takanda. The people battled over land, resources, and mosan.

Then a girl was born.

Each tribe claims she was born from their ancestors, but none know for sure. The girl had no father and her mother died in childbirth, thus the babe was born without parents to care for her. Of course, the people who oversaw her birth vowed to raise her as their own, but then she was taken outside for her first glimpse of moonlight.

And the tigers came.

Her temporary guardians tried to fight the animals off but the tigers would not be deterred. They were immune to the people’s weapons and single-minded in their purpose. Eleven tigers in all, claimed the girl and it was then that the people saw her for what she was:

The mother goddess reincarnated.

And thus, she earned her name:

D’Vati.

Years passed and D’Vati grew. The tigers surrounded her as she rode on the eleventh tiger’s back and traveled the forest. She went around helping the people of Takanda. Until one day, she grew tired of their squabbling. She challenged the greatest warriors of the jungle. She fought them in the Āviri and defeated them all. Then D’Vati spoke to her people and created the ten tribes of Takanda. She said,

‘You are my hunters and gathers, Saanp Tribe.

I give you this gift.

You are my farmers and ranchers, Sudarshan Chakra Tribe.

I give you this gift.

You are my priestesses and holy men, Shankh Tribe.

I give you this gift.

You are my artists and artisans, Parashu Tribe.

I give you this gift.

You are my warriors and guardians, Vajra Tribe.

I give you this gift.

You are my administrators and advisors, Khadga Tribe.

I give you this gift.

You are my historians and philosophers, Trishula Tribe.

I give you this gift.

You are my traders and travelers, Bharji Tribe.

I give you this gift.

You are my miners and builders, Dhanushaurtir Tribe.

I give you this gift.

You are my healers and alchemists, Kamal Tribe.

I give you this gift.’

As she spoke these words, to each new tribe D’Vati sent a tiger and transformed him into a sacred gift. With a new purpose, the tribes set about building the city of Erussim and establishing the great country of Takanda with D’Vati as its High Priestess and leader.

All was well until the girl came of age. D’Vati was beautiful, more beautiful than all the flowers in the jungle, and all the mosan in the mountains, and all the stars in the sky. Many men wished to wed her, but D’Vati refused all their offers.

The tribesmen began to fight again, thus D’Vati decided something must be done. She went to a lotus pond deep in the jungle and prayed for clarity. It took 108 days and 108 nights, but after her long prayer, she had her answer.

She gathered together every man who wished to marry her and said,

‘I will only marry a man of strength who can best all others in his tribe.’

Many men left for they were not strong enough.

Then she said,

‘I will only marry a man of courage who is willing to die in service to me and Takanda.’

Still more left for their valor was fleeting.

D’Vati nodded to those who remained and she said,

‘I will only marry a man of loyalty who will follow me wherever I may go.’

Thus, the men followed her through the jungle and to the sacred pond.

At last, she said,

‘I am divine.

Thus, my partner must follow me into divinity itself.

Sit with the last of my tigers.

Partake in the flesh of the erupuvvu root.

And meditate here in the waters of this pond.

If you are worthy, then you will follow me to a place beyond death and become my partner in all things.’

And thus, the men sat in the waters of her sacred pond facing the last and most beloved of her tigers. Under the great animal’s gaze, each of them shared in the flesh of the erupuvvu root.

By night’s end, only one had survived the ordeal. He was both man and tiger. Their souls had merged together to form this new being. When morning came and he opened his eyes, they shone red with his new power and everlasting devotion.

Thus, it came to pass that D’Vati’s true partner was reborn as:

The first Crimson Tiger:

D’Shar.

As D’Vati has D’Shar, I, Priyansi, High Priestess of Takanda, also desire a partner of strength, courage, and loyalty, who is able to transcend their mortality and share in my divine existence until death and thereafter.

Tonight, we shall know if you, Q’Wasim, Champion of the Kamal Tribe, will become my Crimson Tiger.”

Chapter Text

Darkness had begun its reign by the time the holy procession arrived at D’Vati’s sacred lotus pond. Though Q’Wasim had stumbled upon the place before during his excursions into the jungle, it was transformed on this night. For, the pond which looked like a murky oversized mud puddle in the daylight now appeared as black and vast as the sky with its own smattering of scarlet stars.

When Q’Wasim and the High Priestess reached the edge of the pond, she dismounted from her tiger and said, “Q’Wasim, Champion of the Kamal Tribe, sit with my vahana. Share in the flesh of the erupuvvu root. And meditate here in the waters of this pond. If D’Shar deems you worthy, then you will follow me to a place beyond death and become my partner in all things, my Crimson Tiger.”

“As you wish, High Priestess,” the Champion of the Kamal Tribe obediently responded before he waded into the pond. When he reached the center of the shallow waters, Q’Wasim turned back to Priyansi and sat down.

Between him and the High Priestess stood the tiger. The vahana revealed its nature. The statue was too focused on Q’Wasim to bother with breathing.

Q’Wasim tried not to let the tiger unnerve him. He had a ritual to perform, so he lifted the closest erupuvvu flower out of the dark water. Then he turned the red lotus over to reveal its white roots and offered them to the living statue.

The tiger’s eyes bore into Q’Wasim’s as it crept slowly over to him.

Q’Wasim met the vahana’s unyielding gaze and watched as it sat down and took a surprisingly dainty bite out of the erupuvvu root.

Once the tiger closed its eyes to meditate, Q’Wasim looked up at Priyansi. The High Priestess’s expression was unreadable, but the sight of Priyansi gave him comfort.

Q’Wasim did not take his eyes off of her as he bit into the white roots of the erupuvvu flower. They tasted better than expected. The flavor was complex, sweet, sticky, bitter, and…

Q’Wasim opened eyes that he didn’t know were closed. He was still sitting in the sacred pond, but Priyansi, her vahana, and the rest of the holy procession were gone. The pond was now redder than blood. It seemed the stretch into the crimson sky. And yet, Q’Wasim barely noticed these changes because standing before him was his mentor and old friend, Prince Bharagaven, the last Crimson Tiger.

Chapter Text

Prince Bharagaven looked just as Q’Wasim remembered him. At over two meters tall, Gaven was the only person in Takanda who could look Q’Wasim in the eye. However, unlike Q’Wasim who was frequently described as big and awkward, the extra height only made the gallant prince seem even more self-assured and powerful. Even the characteristic dark red eyes and sharp-toothed smile of the Crimson Tiger looked friendly on the prince’s face.

And right now, Gaven was grinning ear to ear. He quickly pulled Q’Wasim up and into a huge hug, exclaiming, “Wasi! You made it! I wondered when you would show up.”

Q’Wasim did not respond. He could not believe it.

Gaven was here.

Gaven was alive.

Gaven was hugging Q’Wasim and saying, “It is good to see you too, you big oaf.”

Q’Wasim shook his head. “This isn’t possible. You’re…”

“Dead?” Gaven said, pulling away a bit.

Q’Wasim could not look his old friend in the eye.

“I am,” the prince confirmed, sobering. “I’m not here as Gaven. I am here as the Crimson Tiger. This is your last test.”

Suddenly things made a bit more sense. “So…” Q’Wasim began.

“Think of me as a ghost,” Gaven supplied, “If you become the Crimson Tiger, I will move on.”

Q’Wasim nodded, trying to process Gaven’s words. This was probably why the Crimson Tiger ceremony had been so soon. Gaven’s official farewell ritual to help his spirit rest was supposed to be ten days after his funeral.

Gaven clapped Q’Wasim on the shoulder. “Now that the introductions are out of the way. You should prepare yourself for battle.”

“Battle?” Q’Wasim repeated, still disoriented.

“Yes.” The Crimson Tiger stepped back and gestured to somewhere behind Q’Wasim.

The Champion of the Kamal Tribe turned and saw ten tigers with black and golden orange fur sitting patiently before him.

“I see you have not miraculously found your celestial weapon,” the Crimson Tiger said, walking over to the tenth tiger, “but things were going to be a bit unbalanced anyway.”

Gaven knelt down and touched his head to the tiger’s. The animal chuffed softly before turning into red mist and surrounding the best warrior in Takanda.

When the mist solidified into red armor, Q’Wasim felt his heart thud hard. He knew that Priyansi would be awed if she had been there to witness the true armor of the Crimson Tiger. It was a masterpiece with sanguine scales that were as small as those found on fish skin.

Q’Wasim struggled to swallow his own awe as Gaven knelt down to commune with the sixth tiger. “As for me,” Gaven said, “the weapon I choose for us is what else, but swords.” The sixth tiger became mist like the tenth. The vapor hovered around Gaven’s hands and soon the prince was holding two mosan talwars.

He tossed one at Q’Wasim.

Q’Wasim dodged the weapon. It fell with a splash into the red liquid that surrounded them.

Gaven threw his head back and started to guffaw. “Wasi!” he managed after a few moments, “you were supposed to catch that. I know you could have.”

“Perhaps,” Q’Wasim replied, already bent over and searching the opaque liquid for the weapon. The Champion of the Kamal Tribe had not been interested in losing a hand before he had even begun their duel. He thought he was perfectly fine with picking the weapon up from out of the blood pool.

While Gaven chuckled in the background, Q’Wasim fruitlessly splashed around. The talwar seemed lost. However, when Q’Wasim stood up to ask for help, he found that the weapon had appeared in his dominant hand.

“This place is very strange,” Q’Wasim observed, swinging the sword experimentally, “but I like this talwar.” It was perfectly balanced and fit in his hand like it had been designed for him.

Gaven barked out another laugh. “Some things do not change,” he declared, “but I hope that I will not say the same for your swordsmanship. I would like some semblance of a challenge today.”

Q’Wasim smiled up at the prince and his familiar banter. There was nothing strange about Gaven being full of confidence.

“I will do my best,” Q’Wasim promised.

“Let us hope it is enough,” the Crimson Tiger replied, “Now.” He lowered himself into his stance and the tigers around him dissolved into mist. As it fell back into the blood pool, he asked, “Are you ready to begin, Champion of the Kamal Tribe?”

Begin?

“Wait,” Q’Wasim said. This could not be it. He had so many questions. “Do you not want to talk more? About Priyansi? Or about your…death?”

Gaven swung his sword in a slow showy arc so that the red mosan blade lay centimeters between them. “Wasi, if you live through this, I do have some final words, but for now…” The Crimson Tiger’s eyes flashed bright red and his face went stern. “We must fight.”

Chapter Text

Q’Wasim knew that Gaven tended to overextend himself to bait slower opponents. Q’Wasim had hoped to use the prince’s overexaggerated style to tire him out a little. Even the prince slowed down after a while and tonight he was wearing armor. However, this prolonged fight was taking more of a toll on Q’Wasim than Gaven.

While the prince only had a small cut on his calf that had already stopped bleeding, the Champion of The Kamal Tribe looked like he had spent an entire day climbing thorn trees. Blood decorated Q’Wasim’s limps and there was a horrible gash across his middle.

In spite of all his training, the Champion of the Kamal Tribe was not used to fighting without his armor.

Q’Wasim dodged the prince’s latest attack in the nick of time. The blade swooshed past Q’Wasim’s shoulder and the prince grinned. “You’re better than I remember, Wasi.”

Q’Wasim did not respond. Despite the prince’s compliment, Q’Wasim could hear the unspoken words. Yes, Q’Wasim had gotten better, but it was not enough. This felt too much like the practice duels they had fought when they were younger. Gaven had not even gotten serious yet. He was still playing.

Meanwhile, Q’Wasim was too preoccupied to bother with wiping the sweat from his brow. It was good he did not try because the prince’s next attack was so fast that Q’Wasim was forced to parry. The parry worked, but that did not stop the prince.

A fist pounded Q’Wasim’s side.

Blood gushed from the open wound on Q’Wasim’s stomach. Q’Wasim grunted from the pain, but this was what he had been waiting for. The Champion of the Kamal Tribe’s left hand reached out and grabbed Gaven’s arm before the prince could pull back for another punch. All the while, the blades held in their right hands continued to clash, wavering back and forth. Since Q’Wasim had captured Gaven’s left arm, it was now too dangerous for either of them to back down.

“Not bad, Wasi,” Gaven said before trying to jerk free of Q’Wasim’s grip.

His bid for control did not work. This was a battle for the honor of the Crimson Tiger. They both had partaken in the erupuvvu root and gained the strength of the tiger. This meant the prince had lost his divine advantage and Q’Wasim knew it. He had been testing Gaven’s limits all fight and now had come the time to begin to act on his reconnaissance.

Gaven’s eyes brightened to a blood-curdling scarlet. When his knee went up to try and ram into Q’Wasim’s middle, Q’Wasim pulled on Gaven’s left arm. The unbalanced prince twisted and suddenly his back was to Q’Wasim.

Gaven’s talwar shot up just in time to stop Q’Wasim’s blade from reaching his neck.

“At last,” the Crimson Tiger said, “you have finally decided to fight.”

Q’Wasim’s only reply was, “Yield.”

“Never,” the Crimson Tiger declared. “Show me your worth, Champion.”

It was just like in the tournament. Q’Wasim told himself not to hesitate. As Q’Wasim swung his blade, the Crimson Tiger hooked his legs around Q’Wasim’s. Then the prince used his weight to fall forward, dodging Q’Wasim’s strike and causing Q’Wasim to fall forward as well.

Q’Wasim would have found himself on top of Gaven if not for the Crimson Tiger’s armor. When Q’Wasim made contact with it, the recoil had him flying backward.

Q’Wasim crashed onto his back and rolled. He made it to a kneeling position before Gaven appeared above him. The prince’s talwar blade came for Q’Wasim’s head, but Q’Wasim was ready for it.

The Champion of The Kamal Tribe swung his own blade as hard as he could at a specific angle. The two talwars collided causing a loud ringing sound. Then as Q’Wasim predicted, the mosan blades repelled each other. The Crimson Tiger’s eyes widened in surprise as he lost his grip on his weapon. The sword soared out of his hands and into the blood pool.

And thus, the tides of their fight had truly turned. Gaven was now on the defensive.

The weaponless prince dodged and evaded most of Q’Wasim’s attacks. He even got some more hits in, but Q’Wasim did not relent. Despite the tears in his eyes, Q’Wasim knew it was now or never. He had to murder his old friend for Priyansi and Takanda.

Q’Wasim began his finishing attack by swinging his sword low.

The prince jumped to avoid it as Q’Wasim knew he would.

In response to Gaven’s risky retreat, the Champion of the Kamal Tribe twisted his wrist and drove his talwar upward toward Gaven’s unprotected sword arm.

The sharp blade cleaved through the prince’s flesh. Gaven stumbled back as his right arm fell into the blood pool.

Q’Wasim, still crying but determined, struck again while Gaven was howling in pain. The Champion of the Kamal Tribe succeeded in cutting off Gaven’s other arm. He then kicked the now armless prince into the blood pool.

When Gaven landed on his back, Q’Wasim made sure to stand above him, placing a foot on Gaven’s stomach to stop him from escaping. This time he did not ask for Gaven to yield. This time, the Champion of the Kamal Tribe was prepared to do what he must. Q’Wasim’s blade was swift as it honed in on Gaven’s neck.

Somehow though, the talwar did not get there. Somehow Gaven caught the blade with his hands, hands which were attached to arms that Q’Wasim had just severed moments before.

The Crimson Tiger grinned at Q’Wasim’s bafflement. Then he twisted his hands and Q’Wasim lost his grip on the talwar.

Gaven tossed the sword aside and stood.

“How?” Q’Wasim began.

Gaven slapped his armored chest and said, “I have the blessing of the Crimson Tiger’s celestial armor,” as if that explained everything.

Q’Wasim wanted to ask more, but Gaven was done talking. His fist slammed into Q’Wasim’s stomach.

Q’Wasim bent over, gasping from the pain as blood poured out of him, but Gaven did not relent. Another fist came down on Q’Wasim’s exposed back. Suddenly, the Champion of the Kamal Tribe was again in the blood pool. He tried to get up, but Gaven’s knees landed on his back and the prince’s left hand pressed his face into the sanguine liquid.

As Q’Wasim splashed around helplessly, Gaven’s free hand dipped into the blood pool and retrieved his mosan talwar. Then Q’Wasim’s old friend said, “I truly am sorry you never found your celestial weapon, Wasi.”

With those regrets uttered, the Crimson Tiger took his reacquired sword and sliced through Q’Wasim’s neck. The blade of the talwar was so sharp that Q’Wasim died before he could fully comprehend his loss.

Chapter Text

Q’Wasim gasped. His hands came up to grab his neck.

It was still there.

His head was still connected to his body.

Relieved, Q’Wasim opened his eyes and looked up. He was not face down in the blood pool anymore. However, the Crimson Tiger was still standing over him and looking as deadly as ever. “Do you accept defeat?”

“What happened?” Q’Wasim asked.

“I killed you,” the Crimson Tiger said simply.

Q’Wasim stared at him.

“Don’t you remember?” Gaven asked.

Q’Wasim remembered all too well. He squeezed his neck softly for reassurance as the feeling of panic returned. He had been so helpless before, unable to get free, and then…

He had died.

He had failed.

Q’Wasim’s newly healed stomach clenched. “Is it over then?” he asked.

“Do you accept defeat, Q’Wasim, Champion of the Kamal Tribe?” the Crimson Tiger asked once more.

Something about the way he said it made Q’Wasim look at his friend more closely. At that moment, the man before Q’Wasim did not seem like his friend or even Priyansi’s brother. Q’Wasim became aware of the divine being that stood above him and he understood.

This was a divine test.

“No,” the Champion of the Kamal Tribe announced, crawling out from under the Crimson Tiger and standing up. “I do not accept defeat.”

The Crimson Tiger nodded his assent. Then he walked past Q’Wasim to the row of tigers that had reappeared. He communed with the fifth and tenth tigers. As before, the beasts changed to red mist which solidified into the Crimson Tiger’s celestial armor and two celestial weapons. However, this time, the Crimson Tiger was not left holding a red talwar in each hand.

The Crimson Tiger gave Q’Wasim one of his black mosan maces and said, “Let us begin once more.”

Then the two of them got into their stances and began again.

Chapter Text

After the 23^rd time Q’Wasim awoke newly slain, Gaven said in a pained voice, “Wasi, this is getting a little sad.”

“I don’t care,” Q’Wasim said, getting up. The Champion of the Kamal Tribe was far more concerned about which two tigers the prince planned to commune with. It had been after Q’Wasim’s fourth death that he realized that each tiger represented a different weapon. The prince always selected the tenth tiger who transformed into the celestial armor, but his second choice seemed to change every time.

Many of Q’Wasim’s deaths thus far were due to him simply not understanding what the celestial weapons could do. Despite training with all of them at one time or another as was traditional, here in this strange place, Q’Wasim found that the goddess’s sacred gifts often had unexpected secondary abilities such as the Snaap Tribe’s daggers becoming actual snakes in his hands or the Shankh Tribe’s conch being able to emit a deadly sound attack.

Q’Wasim did his best to adapt. As he gained experience with the tools available to him and tried new strategies, the battles between him and the Crimson Tiger became more and more evenly matched. If Gaven had not been wearing the celestial armor, Q’Wasim might have even managed to win a couple of their 23 duels. However, the Crimson Tiger’s sacred gift fatefully healed his wounds and repelled many of Q’Wasim’s attacks, so the armor-less Champion of the Kamal Tribe remained at a perilous disadvantage.

Thus, Q’Wasim was sliced, chopped, stabbed, shot, poisoned, shocked, deafened, burned, drowned, bludgeoned, and left to bleed to death multiple times. Each defeat was somehow more painful than the last and yet, when the Crimson Tiger once again asked, “Do you accept defeat, Q’Wasim, Champion of the Kamal Tribe?”

Q’Wasim’s answer remained the same. “No,” he said to the seemingly unassailable divine being before him. “I do not accept defeat.”

Chapter Text

In the wake of his latest revival, Q’Wasim was taking his time standing up. The physical pain of his defeat left him after each death, but his memories were still fresh.

Limbless, Q’Wasim had been unable to defend himself and thanks to the time-altering powers of the celestial trident, the Champion of the Kamal Tribe had gotten to experience the blossoming pain of each and every wound on his body one agonizingly long instant at a time as the Crimson Tiger attacked Q’Wasim again and again and again and again.

The unending and ever-multiplying feeling of different parts of his sensitive flesh being slowly torn apart thread by thread past the point of him being a sentient bloody mass of pain was not something Q’Wasim could easily forget. However, after much practice, the Champion of the Kamal Tribe had gotten into the habit of putting aside his gruesome recollections of his many past defeats by the time he finished standing up.

He could and would be horrified later.

Thus, when the Champion of the Kamal Tribe straightened to his full height, he was ready to begin yet another battle.

Meanwhile, his opponent’s attitude had not changed. The Crimson Tiger was pacing, or rather prowling, back and forth. Any trace of Gaven’s previously cheery demeanor had long since left. The Crimson Tiger’s red eyes glowed bright and he wore a dark look that did not belong on the prince’s face.

The Champion of the Kamal Tribe hoped that the Crimson Tiger would soon ask him whether he accepted defeat and then fetch another set of weapons so that they could begin. However, Q’Wasim suspected things would not be so straightforward this time.

It had been after Q’Wasim’s 51^st revival that the Crimson Tiger had growled out his first true question, “If you were forced to choose between the High Priestess and Takanda, which would it be?”

“Both,” Q’Wasim had said without hesitation.

The Crimson Tiger had closed his eyes. “You cannot choose both.”

Q’Wasim had not backed down. “I must choose both,” he explained. “Priyansi would never forgive me if I chose her over Takanda and I would never forgive myself if I chose Takanda over her.”

“Idealistic nonsense,” the Crimson Tiger spat. “You do not understand the concept of sacrifice. Accept defeat so you will never have to.”

“No,” Q’Wasim responded, “I will learn, if need be, but I will not accept defeat.”

The Crimson Tiger had said little else for a time, but after Q’Wasim’s 163^rd revival, he had declared, “This is meaningless! You are only getting worse. You will never defeat me.”

“I still do not accept defeat,” Q’Wasim had replied resolutely.

The feral look the Crimson Tiger had given Q’Wasim in response had not been human. It caused Q’Wasim to get into his fighting stance on instinct. On that occasion, the Crimson Tiger did not bother to summon a weapon. He had pounced on Q’Wasim and used his nails and teeth, sharpened to claws and fangs, to maul the Champion of the Kamal Tribe to death.

After that, there was seemingly no hint of Q’Wasim’s friend left in his opponent. There was only Q’Wasim and the Crimson Tiger now. The two fought until Q’Wasim’s death again and again and again and again. Nothing but the change of weapons, Q’Wasim’s attempts at new strategies, and the occasional outburst from his opponent, disrupted the rhythm of death and revival.

Thus, Q’Wasim was well-versed in the signs. He saw that before they would begin this time, the Crimson Tiger was going to speak once again.

The Crimson Tiger’s voice was steady, deep, low, and angry as he said, “I have bested you over a thousand times and yet still you persist. You, boy, are the biggest fool I have ever had the misfortune to meet.”

“You are not the first person to tell me that,” Q’Wasim said, smiling slightly. The familiar insult brought back memories.

How would Chinmay, G’Ruvu, and Kaxa feel about sharing the same opinion as the immortal Crimson Tiger?

“How dare you take this lightly!” The Crimson Tiger snarled at him. “This is serious, boy. I had to repeatedly murder the prince’s best friend earlier. I slaughtered him to death dozens of times with the prince’s own hands. Do you find that amusing?”

“No.” Q’Wasim sobered at the thought. “I am sorry.”

“Your apologies mean nothing to me,” the Crimson Tiger growled. “I do not need sympathy. I need you to accept defeat, so I can find a worthy vessel.”

“But I am the last champion,” Q’Wasim pointed out, a bit confused. More than once he had wondered what would happen if he was foolish enough to accept defeat. All the other champions were dead after all.

This time, the Crimson Tiger smiled. It was not a pleasant thing. “I have my ways, boy. Ways the people of Takanda seem to have forgotten. So, worry not and stand aside.”

“No.” Q’Wasim’s answer was as unyielding as the great mountains that surrounded his home. “I will not stand aside. I will not accept defeat. I will never accept defeat.”

The Crimson Tiger roared at Q’Wasim, but the Champion of the Kamal Tribe did not flinch. There was no way for the Crimson Tiger to hurt him that had not already been tried.

Q’Wasim’s only response was, “Shall we begin again?”

The Crimson Tiger grumbled something inaudible.

“What was that?” Q’Wasim asked.

“I said: No,” D’Shar, the first Crimson Tiger, declared in his low dangerous voice.

“No?” Q’Wasim repeated, finally worried. Was it over? Had he reached some sort of limit? Had he failed too many times? “But I—”

“I am thoroughly aware of your inane answer, Q’Wasim Champion of the Kamal Tribe. I see you better than you see yourself,” D’Shar claimed as he prowled even faster. “You are another love-struck spawn of the Kamal Tribe who is even more foolhardy and ridiculous than I was in life. You should have been dealt with a long time ago and yet here you are, like a weed that refuses to die: Stubborn, overgrown, and useless!”

Q’Wasim relaxed a bit. He recognized the senseless frustration for what it was and said, “You can insult me all you wish.”

Because Q’Wasim had heard it all before from people that knew him better, he was able to say without a gram of doubt that, “Your words will not change my answer. I will not—”

“I KNOW!” D’Shar roared at him. “I know you do not and will not concede defeat, that you still cannot comprehend how ill-suited you are for this responsibility. I know D’Vati is laughing at me even as she’s depending on me and waiting for me to join her at last. I know this is a punishment for my bias in the past, for letting the Kamal Tribe’s gift be lost, for hoping that I would not have to deal with your ilk so often. D’Vati is holding that weakness over me now by presenting you to me at a time such as this. She knows as well as I do that I would need your heedless impractical weedy stubborn foolishness to press on and find a perfect warrior to be this kingdom’s last Crimson Tiger, instead of settling for nursing the least awful option and…”

D’Shar had closed his eyes and stopped pacing. When he next spoke, his voice lost its fire, “she must know that I do not have it in me anymore. I am tired, Q’Wasim Champion of the Kamal Tribe. Takanda is tired as is your precious Priyansi. I lack the time, patience, and resolve to defeat you, find more Champions, and begin this all over again.”

There was a long silence as the divine being who had once been mortal opened his crimson eyes and gazed into Q’Wasim’s.

Q’Wasim’s soul was flooded with countless years of experience, hardship, and fruitless yearning, and yet, Q’Wasim was unable to keep the hope from his voice as he asked, “Does this mean you accept defeat?”

“I do,” D’Shar admitted bitterly, “if you want to call it that. Now, no more questions, boy. The prince wishes to speak with you. Something to do with his sister I expect.”

Q’Wasim nodded. Despite all the ominous things D’Shar had said and hinted at, Q’Wasim was awash with pure and unassailable joy.

He had won!

Q’Wasim, Champion of the Kamal Tribe, was going to be the next Crimson Tiger!

Chapter Text

Q’Wasim watched the bright red eyes of the previous Crimson Tiger darken. When the man next spoke, he was Gaven. Q’Wasim’s old friend said, “You…did it.”

“I did,” Q’Wasim said with awe in his voice. He had not lied to D’Shar. Q’Wasim would have kept fighting until he had won, but he was not upset to avoid more deaths.

Gaven grinned. “Congratulations, Wasi!” The prince wrapped Q’Wasim up in another hug and said, “My future brother-in-law! I am so proud of you! Priyansi is going to be in good strong stubborn hands,” Gaven declared, clapping Q’Wasim on the back.

Whatever lingering animosity he had towards Gaven for his part in the night’s events left Q’Wasim’s heart in that moment. He knew they had both been playing their roles. Now it was over and his friend was truly back. “Thank you. For everything,” Q’Wasim replied, meaning every word. “My hands never would have become so strong, good, or stubborn without your help, Gaven.”

Gaven shook with laughter at the odd statement and this time, he slapped Q’Wasim on the back hard enough to bruise. “You!” The prince of Takanda straightened his arms to look Q’Wasim in the eye. “I am going to miss your absurdly earnest nature, Q’Wasim. Truly.”

Q’Wasim, who was at a loss for more words, just nodded.

With a smile, Gaven continued, “Please, tell Priyansi that I love her and that I am sorry I failed.”

“I will,” Q’Wasim promised.

“Give her a hug too. She probably will not admit it, but she definitely needs more hugs in her life right now.”

“She does,” Q’Wasim agreed. The two of them often saw eye to eye when it came to Priyansi. “I will give your sister as many hugs as she can stand.”

Gaven’s smile widened into one of his full-on grins, but then…

It faltered and faded.

After several moments passed, Q’Wasim tentatively asked, “What is it?”

It was very unusual for Gaven to hesitate, but hesitate he did. Some more time passed, before he at last said, “Wasi, I know it will be awkward, but could you tell Chinmay’s family I am sorry as well? Please let them know that Chinmay fought bravely and that his passing was blessed by the gods. See that him, and Nayan too, receive the highest honors their tribes can provide. They were both good men, Wasi. I do not want anyone to doubt that. Chinmay was…”

Gaven closed his eyes.

Q’Wasim felt his pain and suspected Gaven was reliving one of his deadly battles against his best friend. Even so, Q’Wasim had no love for the fallen Champion of the Vajra tribe. Q’Wasim could honestly say he preferred Nayan despite their only interaction being a duel to the death. Chinmay had caused some of the worst parts of Q’Wasim’s adolescence and Q’Wasim’s adult experiences with the conceited champion and his elitist family were not much better.

Still, a Crimson Tiger of the mother goddess and a mere mortal champion were unlikely to cross paths in the afterlife. This was all Gaven could do for his dearly departed friend. Q’Wasim could not deny his request. “I will make sure it is done,” Q’Wasim vowed.

“Thank you,” Gaven said, regaining some of his composure. “I know I can trust you on this and more, Wasi. I know you will take care of all our friends and family as best you can. Even I cannot ask for anything better than that.”

Q’Wasim nodded, his throat tight again.

Gaven, too, went quiet, and for a while, neither of them spoke. Despite the silence, tears, and things still left unsaid, the old friends were content and smiling. Being here with each other felt better than any words they could come up with.

Sanguine mist came off the previous Crimson Tiger like steam off of hot water. As he and Q’Wasim spent their last moments together, Gaven’s form became transparent as though his image was merely a reflection through red glass. Though neither wanted to admit it, this meeting of souls was coming to an end. Gaven’s teary eyes filled with regret because even miracles have limits.

The see-through prince stepped away from his mentee-turned-equal and said, “I have one last thing that I need to tell you.”

Q’Wasim nodded, bracing himself.

“Wasi, after all the rituals and ceremonies are done, you must go to Shehrabad.”

The command tore through Q’Wasim’s wordless grief. Suddenly, he was filled with questions. Q’Wasim spoke fast, trying to make up for lost time. “What happened to you in Shehrabad, Gaven? I know your death could not have been a simple accident. Is your killer there? Is it the queen? Did she steal the Agni?”

The previous Crimson Tiger opened his mouth to answer, but he had become too insubstantial for speech.

“Gaven!” Q’Wasim shouted, reaching for him, but Q’Wasim’s hand went right through his friend. The strongest living warrior of Takanda stared at the prince, feeling helpless and scared of what came next.

Unlike Q’Wasim, Gaven was not afraid. His dark red eyes shone with affection and a bit of amusement at the futile but earnest efforts of his friend. Then Gaven gave Q’Wasim one last signature sharp-toothed grin before he dissolved completely.

Q’Wasim closed his eyes tightly, thinking it was all over. Emotions crashed inside of him. Fear, anger, guilt, longing, joy, and sadness came upon him like boulders in a rockslide, nearly killing him where he stood.

Until, at last, they settled.

Q’Wasim exhaled through his nose.

Their last meeting had been too short and now his friend was gone forever. And yet, after all Q’Wasim had overcome, all he had promised to do for his friend, their families, and himself, Q’Wasim felt able to try to exist in a world without Gaven there to provide support, guidance, and laughter.

Q’Wasim opened his eyes. He wanted to give voice to his new state of gratitude and resolve to carry on the Crimson Tiger’s and more importantly, Gaven’s legacy. He meant to begin a eulogy, but when Q’Wasim opened his mouth, sanguine mist rose up from the blood pool and rushed into him.

Q’Wasim stumbled back and gagged on the mist. He started to cough and cough, but there was no ridding himself of it. The mist was burning through him and igniting all of his past wounds from all of his battles.

The Crimson Tiger fell into the blood pool. He did not notice that he was slowly sinking into its depths. He was unaware of the strangled gurgle that ripped from his throat like the last cry of a dying beast. To him, life was once again nothing but unending pain.

Chapter Text

Q’Wasim opened his eyes. The torturous pain was gone and he could breathe again.

He stood up slowly and tried to get his bearings. He had barely registered that it was morning and he was back in the familiar Takandan jungle before someone surged forward and hugged him tightly.

“Wasi!” she cried out.

Q’Wasim looked down.

It was Priyansi. He was getting her all wet with the murky pond water, but she did not seem to notice.

“Priyansi,” he began.

“I love you!” she declared.

All the words Q’Wasim was going to say left his brain. He just squeezed her tight and said, “Me too.”

She laughed.

Around them, people were muttering and staring, but for the first time in their lives, Priyansi did not care.

Q’Wasim managed a smile. There was so much to say.

Gaven.

D’Shar.

The other champions.

His new quest.

But Q’Wasim started with something easy and just as important, “Marry me, Priyansi.”

“Yes,” his future wife replied, her face full of life and joy. “Yes! A thousand times, yes!”

Chapter Text

“Describe the plating to me again,” Priyansi said. Her quill pen was poised on a piece of parchment as she sat at a workbench, awaiting Q’Wasim’s response.

The two of them were in her private workshop. Priyansi had swaths of fabrics, a mixture of sewing and gem-cutting instruments, and enough mosan to buy several countries. Q’Wasim never got tired of viewing her collection. She had nearly every variety of mosan known to Takanda, from the transparent northern mosan used for windows to white, black, and of course, red in every shade imaginable.

However, today Priyansi had all his attention. They had managed to carve out some time together amid all of the rituals and meetings Q’Wasim needed to be formally recognized as Crimson Tiger. Ironically, both of them had seen more of Kaxa and even Chinmay’s family during their off-time than they had each other.

This was the first opportunity the engaged couple had had to be alone in days and Priyansi was determined to make it count. The two of them were already making good progress in preparing for Q’Wasim’s trip to Shehrabad. In the space of the last half-hour, they had identified the probable mix of mosan used to create the Crimson Tiger’s celestial armor:

A combination of different blood-red and black mosan varieties most likely from the southern or western reaches of Takanda.

However, Q’Wasim was less certain about the armor design itself. “The scales were thin as a fish,” he said.

“And the pattern?” she asked.

“It was alternating. Probably.”

She gave him an amused look.

“I know,” Q’Wasim said. “I wish I could have paid more attention to it, but…”

“Of course,” Priyansi said, cutting him off. “I apologize, Wasi. I should have realized. Knowing Gaven, he must have kept you quite…preoccupied.” Though his future wife’s reserve did not imbue the statement with the intensity his sister had displayed during her initial breakfast interrogation, Q’Wasim knew Priyansi well. He could tell she was yearning to know more about this. Q’Wasim’s only uncertainty was why he had not noticed sooner.

Priyansi had heard the bare facts of the quest along with the ten tribe leaders, but he should have gone into more detail about it after he’d relayed Gaven’s well-wishes and apology to her earlier this week. There had just been so little time then and she had not said anything to prompt him.

Today, Q’Wasim did not need more prompting. He decided now was the time. “Yes,” he began, “I was quite preoccupied. The easier parts were a lot like my early sparring sessions with Gaven.”

Priyansi grimaced in sympathy. “If that is the case, you do not have to talk about it. I don’t want you to summon bad memories for my benefit alone.”

“No,” Q’Wasim protested, “It’s fine, Priyansi. The quest was not always harrowing. Even with things being so serious and sacred, Gaven found time to act like his usual self. While he was thrashing me, he talked a lot. You know your brother.”

“He always chats away like an avid spectator to his own fights,” she supplied.

Q’Wasim nodded. “If he was not trying to encourage me, he was either laughing or boasting.”

Priyansi smiled at that as Q’Wasim hoped she would, so he kept going, doing his best to filter the ordeal of his quest into the good memories of Gaven’s teasing and his exploration of the sacred weapons. It felt nice to recall all the little moments of levity in an otherwise dire situation. As for the rest of his quest, Q’Wasim was once again thankful that his dreams were too full of D’Shar’s Crimson Tiger training to contain normal night terrors.

Priyansi listened to Q’Wasim, smiled, cried, and even laughed a few times. When she sensed he was running out of stories for her, she prevented him from floundering by asking, “What did Gaven say when you managed to win?”

Q’Wasim gave her a half-embarrassed smile, before admitting, “Gaven was pretty surprised, but he said he was proud of me.”

“Did he slap you on the back with enough force to knock over a boulder or three?” she prompted.

Q’Wasim gave her a look and in the next moment, they were laughing.

When the sound faded and all that was left was a sparkle in their eyes, Priyansi shyly opened her arms to Q’Wasim in an unspoken question.

He answered it in two steps.

As they embraced, Q’Wasim remembered one last sweet anecdote he could share.

“You know,” he began, “Gaven also gave me a very special request.”

“Another one?” Priyansi frowned up at Q’Wasim. She already knew about his promises to honor Nayan and Chinmay and protect her and Takanda.

“Yes,” Q’Wasim said. He gave her a gentle squeeze and added, “He wanted me to make sure you got enough hugs.”

“Gaven did not need to bother telling you that,” Priyansi huffed. “You have always given me plenty.”

“I try to,” Q’Wasim said, “but I am glad he said it. It was an easy promise to make and an understandable one. I can be forgetful.”

“About small things, yes,” Priyansi conceded, “but you never forget what is truly important. It’s one of the many reasons I love you.”

One day, Q’Wasim would get used to Priyansi’s new tendency to shower him with pronouncements of love in her attempt to make up for lost time. That day he would be able to reciprocate properly. Today, his mouth just blurted out, “Me too.”

“Oh, Wasi,” she said with that playful smile of hers, the one he had first fallen in love with. “You truly are a silly man.”

“The silliest,” he agreed softly, “but I love you all the same.”

“Me too,” she teased.

The two lovers smiled at each other. They were alone together and closer than ever before in more ways than one. This was another moment and yet it was something else entirely because this time, Q’Wasim did not have to hesitate and Priyansi did not have to pull away. Instead, the Crimson Tiger of Takanda lifted his beloved High Priestess up and she was ready. They were ready.

Their lips met.

Q’Wasim and Priyansi shared their second kiss, both knowing it would not be their last.