Year 612 of the Divine Empire

  Returning to one’s hometown after years away is always bound to be an odd experience. It is strange to return to a place that feels so familiar, yet contradicts your memories in ways that make you question your own recollection. Everything feels smaller and dirtier and less bright, far more mundane than your nostalgia would have you believe. Many people are led to believe that their homes have gone downhill somehow. That in their absence, places simply decay and shrivel until they resemble a disappointing parody of the originals. Others prefer to think that they themselves were the ones who changed. It’s only natural that years in another place while experiencing all kinds of influences and new encounters would lead one to shift until they no longer fit into their old stomping grounds. Both of these perspectives are reasonable conclusions to come to. At times they are even accurate. You can’t expect both people and entire cities to remain the same over years of progress, after all. These are, of course, still excuses made for our inherent inclination to remember the best parts of a simpler time.

  As strange as this can be, one can imagine how much worse it is to return somewhere that you can scarcely remember. Somewhere you only have the vaguest recollections of when you were so young you could barely understand the world around you. This was the situation that Kanoa now found herself in, looking at the town of Ho’okahi. Due to the unusual nature of her upbringing, she could only somewhat remember a couple of blurry images. That undecorated room where nothing ever changed. That view of the village from the second floor. Those stares filled with disturbing hope. None of them truly matched with the sight that lay before her. There were a handful of buildings that felt oddly familiar, a scent in the air that brought back some indistinct memories. It felt like rereading a book that you had barely paid attention to the first time around. There was a moment where the world felt incredibly still, as if this village had taken a moment to slow down as she tried to piece together those unpleasant memories into some sense of familiarity. The moment didn’t last, of course. It was a bit difficult to focus on the past with a spear suddenly pointed towards your throat.

  “Are you listening to me?” The irate guard in front of Kanoa made a harmless jab at a plate on her neck. “Who are you and what do you think you’re doing here?”

  It hadn’t taken long for Kanoa and Ailu to be surrounded by Ho’okahi’s guards. The second the two had been noticed at the edge of the village, its protectors had stood at attention and quickly mobilized to apprehend the potential invaders. For all of the flaws this place had, their dedication and competence in preventing any outside influences was almost admirable. For what it was worth, the influences in question likely would have raised eyebrows in any of the villages in āina Hānau. Kanoa’s sense of fashion, while based on kālai standards, would be most generously defined as ‘eccentric.’ Ailu was even more of an odd sight, given that no person of any culture would be able to assume what she was at first glance. Now that they were far away from any humans, she felt comfortable taking on her hybrid form. Most of these guards barely knew what a human actually looked like, so amusingly enough they just assumed that was what she was. The two of them could be best described as unusual no matter where in the world they were, which in a place like this meant that they could only be seen as a threat.

  Allowing her attention to return to the situation at hand, Kanoa assessed the danger she and her friend were now in. Ten guards surrounded them, all pointing their spears with the intent to skewer them at any sudden movement. The one speaking to her seemed to be in charge, based on his general demeanor and the amount of decorations on his spear. It was carved with various designs, with the teeth of sea beasts hanging around the head, a clear indication of various foes defeated. More so, Kanoa’s Erudite Eyes could see that this guard captain and one of his subordinates were exemplars of notable strength. Both were around her own level of core power, with the captain having a slight advantage. This would be a tricky fight if negotiations broke down, though Kanoa had no intention of spilling blood here. A magus and exemplar working together would likely be able to overcome these guards, but slaughtering their way into the village would only make negotiations more difficult. Besides, Kanoa wasn’t yet ready to take a life.

  Nodding her head as a sign of respect, she addressed the leader. “Apologies, sir, but I have business here. If you would be so kind as to answer a few questions, my companion and I will be on our way.”

  The captain scoffed, amused by a woman talking back to him for once. “And why should I humor you? This village is home to the true faithfuls of the goddess. That you weren’t butchered like the heretics you are is already a mercy.”

  Kanoa smiled at this as she reached for an emotion to amplify. It wasn’t hard to find, as her disdain for this man was already bubbling up even without her need for heat. Allowing her displeasure to grow, her warmth began to swell and spread. Soon, everyone in this circle could feel it. Whispers began to fill the growing crowd as the truth was made clear to them. It was a bit of a gamble, as despite her clear connection to the goddess Kanoa was clearly not in line with the beliefs of these zealots. Even still, it was clear by the captain’s discomfort that she had at least secured a foothold in the negotiations.

  “I’m a bit insulted, sir.” She smirked a bit at this newfound edge. “I thought my faith was clear for anyone to see.”

  The captain lowered his spear and gritted his teeth. “Do you think that alone is enough to be trustworthy? What’s clearly visible is your complete disregard for our ancestral ways, given your garb and. . . choice in companions.”

  Kanoa glanced back at Ailu, who gave her a shrug while allowing her core power to well up. “Whether you’re willing to believe me or not, I am on a divine trial granted by Kinohi herself. Either aid me or get out of my way, but I would hope one of her faithful would not interfere with her will.”

  “I. . . I see.” Whispers filled the area again as the captain formulated a response. “And what kind of trial would see you coming to our humble village, oh blessed one?”

  Ailu snickered at the term ‘humble,’ though was quickly silenced with a hard look from her friend.

  Kanoa continued. “The goddess has sent me to. . . deal with a certain individual. A man of some significance here, to my understanding. I believe he goes by the name Makaio.”

  At this, a smothering silence swept over the gathering. The villagers all went still at the sound of that forbidden name, their intrigue and fascination twisting into fear. Ailu and Kanoa glanced around, confused at the tension that now filled the air. Clearing his throat, the captain began to offer an explanation.

  “Ah. . . Well, I suppose it was a matter of time.”

  “You know of him, then?”

  “You’d have a hard time finding someone here who hasn’t.” Everyone shifted uncomfortably as old shames began to be unveiled. “Like you, Makaio believed himself tasked with a divine trial. Whether or not he was mistaken, he undoubtedly failed in his mission. You see, he had attempted to raise a Pomāika like you that had been born out of wedlock.”

  “Did he now?” Kanoa hoped that her heat hadn’t given away her nervousness as she struggled to keep a straight face. “And how, exactly, did he fail?”

  The captain shrugged. “I am uncertain. The child was raised in seclusion and trained in her duties, as she should have been. But for whatever reason, the first time she had been brought out to perform her duties, she immolated herself in front of the whole village.”

  Kanoa was about to speak out about what ‘should have been’ before Ailu put a hand on her shoulder and spoke in her place. “So the Pomāika is dead, then? What happened to Makaio?”

  “We aren’t certain what happened to the child, but Makaio was at least offered some mercy for his failure. We allowed him to remain in the village, though his position as alaka’i was obviously stripped from him. That was until about six years ago, when he disappeared without a trace.”

  “Six years ago?” Kanoa was starting to get suspicious, as that timing seemed a bit too coincidental. “Do you have any idea where he may have gone?”

  “Of course not, why would we?” The captain laughed. “Why should we bother to understand a failure like him? Everyone had been satisfied in forgetting about him until you showed up.”

  Kanoa sighed, unsurprised by this. “Fine. Would you at least let us investigate his old house? He may have left some clues behind.”

  He shrugged. “I suppose. I’ll warn you, though, no one’s wanted to touch it since it was abandoned. The wood’s probably a bit rotten by now. Follow me.”

  The crowd parted as the captain began leading Kanoa and Ailu towards Makaio’s old house. Uncertain of how to react to any of this, the villagers simply returned to their duties without much fuss. This event would certainly be discussed quite thoroughly in the years to come, primarily from the implications it had. It was known that there were Pomāika in the other villages, though they were mostly known as failed champions. As far as anyone was aware these people had been blessed as a way to redeem those who had strayed from the path put forward by the goddess, only to fail and be tainted by those around them. And yet here she was, a blessed one who clearly stood against the traditions of her people. Everything the people of Ho’okahi knew about the world told them she should have been abandoned by the goddess, but instead she had received a divine trial. There were implications to this, and the villagers were not so deluded that they could not see that. Kanoa was not aware of this at the time, but this day she had planted the seeds for a great amount of discord in the future. Not that she would have cared in the slightest by the time this chaos came to pass.

  Kanoa was more concerned with the village’s present than any of its developments to come. As she was led through its corridors, she was overtaken with the sensations of a place that she had not been to in a decade. She experienced a variety of emotions as she looked over the various houses, the most prevalent being disbelief at how incredibly. . . boring it was. Whenever Nohea had described Ho’okahi, they had always been as vague as possible. This had led Kanoa’s imagination of this backwards town to distort into some bizarre nightmare. In reality though, it merely resembled her true hometown, just less. There was less life, less color, and less people. It was so small compared to Kālepa, barely half the size even without the human additions. These people had been raised up as the antithesis of the kālai’s vibrancy for so long that the reality was somewhat underwhelming.

  It only took a couple of minutes to reach Makaio’s old home, and it was wondered why the captain had even bothered to guide them by foot. There weren’t many two story houses in the village, and the layout wasn’t nearly confusing enough to lose yourself on the way there. It was painfully obvious that the man was just trying to maintain some kind of authority over the situation, though it wasn’t really important enough to warrant pointing out. He gestured wordlessly towards the building once they arrived, giving the pair a moment to get a good look at the place.

  The building had clearly once been quite ostentatious, at least by the standards of the kālai. It was carved with all sorts of images, showing the various achievements of past alaka’i. It was strange, then, to see a location with so much history in such a state of disrepair. There had been no effort to protect the wooden structure from the elements, with all manner of rot and decay marring its walls. It looked mere weeks away from fully collapsing and falling into the sea below. For all of Kanoa’s disdain for what this village represented, it did feel like a shame to allow so many old tales rot away due to the failings of a single resident. It felt backwards to discard an entire building like this, and made her feel grateful for her parent’s help in escaping this place. She stood there for a while, as if trying to record as much of the sight as possible before it was allowed to decay in its entirety. She only stopped when Ailu poked at her shoulder signalling that it may be best not to linger here for any longer than was necessary. With a nod, the two entered the ruined house.

  The interior was somehow in an even worse state than the exterior, with every surface tinged with green and grey from the various molds and fungi that found their home in this dark, damp haven. Everything here smelled like a compost heap, a fact that Kanoa was especially pained by. The enhancements granted by her Curiosity came with a significant boost to her senses, far more so than any other Ideal. While her sense of smell wasn’t usually strong enough to cause any issues, being surrounded with such a pungent aroma more than crossed that line. Forcing her core power to any body part other than her nose, she began scanning the first floor for anything significant.

  It was a fairly ordinary room, or at least used to be. As the sleeping areas were up above, this floor was used only for dining and entertaining guests. Kanoa felt as if this was a bit excessive, but it did show off the elevated status of an alaka’i. Many of the human’s houses were set up similarly, so this was simply the standard for how most people chose to live. It was something they were quite proud of, or more so were able to look down on the kālai for. Kanoa did wonder what the big deal was, as their houses still had all of the same elements despite the difference in format, but that was likely just another quirk of the smooth-skinned race. Regardless, there didn’t seem to be any concrete clues on the first floor. By the looks of it, the area had already been quite sparse from disuse even before it was abandoned. What was left of any decorations or seatings had been piled up in corners of the room and were now so worn down to the point of being barely recognizable. It seemed there wasn’t much that could be gleaned here.

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  “Hmm. . . I guess he didn’t spend much time here?” Ailu looked around with mild disgust, being careful not to step on any rotten floorboards. “Maybe there’s more to see upstairs?”

  Kanoa simply stared into space, lost in her own mind as she tried to take in everything around her.

  “Kanoa?”

  “What? Oh, yes.” The heat in the air twisted with anxiety. “Let’s go.”

  Slowly, Kanoa started to make her way to the second level. As Ailu followed her, she couldn’t help but notice her friend looking. . . distracted. More than usual, at least. She didn’t even bother to check the steps in front of her, almost falling through before Ailu grabbed her shoulder when one of them snapped from the slightest pressure. By the looks of it, this place was bringing back some memories. Kanoa never talked about this period of her life beyond the fact that she used to live in this village. With Nohea also being reluctant to give any details, Ailu could only guess at what it must have been like to live in this house. Based on the roiling heat that filled the air, it was clear that there weren’t many good memories here.

  “Hey, Kanoa?”

  “Yes?” Kanoa said.

  “Are you. . . doing alright?”

  There was a long silence as the two of them reached the top of the staircase. “. . . I’m fine. These were my and Makaio’s rooms.”

  The second floor of the house consisted of a narrow hallway connected to two rooms. It was far less decayed up here, likely due to being farther away from the corrosive sea mist. The floor did still creak and bend a bit more than most people would feel comfortable with, but at least the wood wasn’t actively falling apart. The two room entrances were each covered by a curtain, as was the norm. There was no real way to distinguish the two, but Kanoa instinctively pushed open the curtain to her old room. It wasn’t a memory, not truly, but something built into her from years of repetition. As she entered, there was a wave of. . . something. Not nostalgia, not dread, not even any real recollections. Still, rumbling through her head was something.

  This was probably the most pleasant part of the house they had found so far. The smell was faint enough that unenhanced senses could barely detect it, and the room was filled with natural light. Hollow would be the best word to describe this place. Other than a rotting sleeping mat and the ruins of some old scrolls discarded nearby it, the room was entirely empty of any embellishments. It felt like a half-hearted attempt to replicate a bedroom. The barest necessities left to dust from negligence. There was nothing important here, but still Kanoa slowly paced through it, taking in the space that had once been her home.

  Nothing felt out of place or out of the ordinary, so this room was likely the same as how she left it. She felt no emotions about it, just this numb feeling as she stared across the four walls. Well, she felt nothing until her eyes crossed the one window. Looking through it, everything Kanoa had once felt in this place came rushing back. The frustrations. The boredom. That feeling of exhaustion just from imagining the next day. She gripped the window frame so tightly the wood snapped, still looking out across that far too familiar sight. She could remember that longing, that desire for anything that could catch her interest. She had seen it now. That which was beyond this snapshot of her hometown. Soon, she would be able to see so much more. She just needed to get through this, and she would never even have to think about the view from this room ever again. Kanoa turned away, seeing Ailu standing awkwardly behind her.

  “Um. . . Are you ready to move on?” She wringed her hands anxiously.

  Kanoa let out a deep breath, “Yes. Sorry, I was just. . . distracted.”

  “There’s not much here. . . is this your old room?” Ailu said.

  “It was,” Kanoa said.

  “Oh, that’s. . .” She looked around the room once more. “What do you think he did with all of your things?”

  “He didn’t do anything,” Kanoa said. “It was like this before. Exactly as I remembered it.” She began to walk out of the room.

  Upon saying this, Kanoa felt a shiver go through her entire body. Feeling the house sway, she could tell that some great amount of power had just been thrown out near her. Looking back, she could see Ailu quickly reforming a smile on her face. Her hands were clenched so hard it was a wonder they weren’t bleeding.

  “Ailu?” Kanoa asked.

  “It’s nothing. Come on, there’s just one more room, right?”

  Deciding that it would probably be best to question that later, Kanoa pulled back the curtain leading into Makaio’s old room. Thinking back, she couldn’t remember a single time she had actually been in there before. It wasn’t as if she wasn’t allowed, but there just wasn’t ever any reason to investigate it. For as curious as Kanoa had always been, her experience with the man had left her thoroughly disinterested with anything related to him. Entering the room, it was clear that her lack of interest was well warranted. The place was almost as sparse as her own room, with only a meditation mat and rack of scrolls decorating it. It was about as boring as could be expected from someone like the former alaka’i. Or at least, it would have been. By the time Ailu and Kanoa had found it, the bedroom had been transformed into the lair of a madman.

  There were carvings all across the walls, depicting a variety of sayings, mantras, and symbols of Kinohi. The older ones were well formed, rough from inexperience but made with a knife and steady hand. The more recent ones were far more crude, worn in such a way that Makaio must have made them with his own claws. Kanoa was stunned by the sight. For all she could remember of him, Makaio was never an irrational man. He was stern to the point of cruelty, but always made sure to keep very clear control over his emotions. The man was a schemer and a manipulator. He couldn’t afford to act erratically. It was clear that in their decade apart, both of them had become very different people from where their paths diverged.

  Ailu ran her fingers over the carvings, curious that she could only read a small portion of them. “Kanoa, what is all of this? I didn’t know there were languages here other than kino and pāpaka.”

  “Oh, this is all in kino, just in a very old version of it. It’s tradition to write prayers and old tales in the ancient script.” Kanoa recognized a few lines of it, but it had been a long time since she had needed to memorize it. “Looks like the fool still clung to the old ways even after he lost it.”

  “So these are prayers?” Ailu asked.

  “Yes, it looks like he was copying an old form of punishment.” She took her notebook out of her bag and scribbled down a few of the symbols she didn’t recognize. “Those who failed divine trials would be trapped in a room covered with the messages of the goddess. The idea was that what the failures were lacking was an understanding of her teachings.”

  Ailu blinked rapidly as she tried to wrap her head around that. “That’s. . . really stupid.”

  “Indeed,” Kanoa said.

  “What about those?” Ailu pointed to the far wall. “Those don’t look like any symbols of Kinohi that I’ve ever seen.”

  Kanoa chuckled slightly. “That’s because they’re not. It looks like my theory was correct.”

  Ailu jumped up excitedly, only stopping when she felt the ground start wobbling. “So that means the plan will work?”

  “It means the plan is possible. Or at the very least that our path forward is clear,” Kanoa said.

  This carving that they were referring to was the only one not in theme with the others, and certainly left an impact. Made over a few older carvings was a bizarre design that covered half of the wall it was on. It resembled some massive, indistinct beast that didn’t match up with any that Kanoa recognized. It was a horrific fusion of various traits, from a chitinous carapace to a set of coiling tentacles that sprouted from various parts of its body. The design felt reminiscent of what an overimaginative child would imagine when told about monsters out in the woods. More importantly, it was identical to the descriptions of the dark god made by village elders during the retelling of old tales.

  As the pair got closer to analyze it, they started to notice more and more details. This carving seemed far more intricate than the others, with all sorts of little flourishes hidden between the lines that formed the beast. Upon closer inspection, they resembled plantlife that wasn’t found on Moku Waena. Most would have been stumped by these details, but Kanoa was lucky enough to be the daughter of an artist obsessed with depicting all sorts of foliage across people’s bodies. She had seen these plants before, though they were a type that Nohea only carved when trying to make a serious statement. After all, even they would at least hesitate before giving someone kaha based on the island of glowing reeds.

  Kanoa’s face was plastered by a nervous smile. “Well, then. It seems like the legends were true. Ready for a swim, Ailu?”

  The captain of Ho’okahi’s guard stood outside of Makaio’s house, surveying the surrounding area. He wasn’t quite certain whether he was there to keep people out or in, but he was determined to be properly recognized by the Pomāika at any cost. To be included in the tale of a blessed one’s divine trial, even for a single line, was a great honor that he could not afford to miss out on. Acting as a guide likely wouldn’t be significant enough to be worth mentioning, so he thought as hard as he could for some way to leave an impact on this journey. He was right in the middle of formulating a plan involving smoke signals and woven headbands before he was startled by a loud crash behind him. Turning quickly, his mouth was agape as he watched some massive form bursting out from the second floor of the building. It looked like some kind of sea beast, though not a breed he had ever seen before. As this sea serpent slid into the ocean, he noticed the Pomāika riding the beast near its head. He stood there dumbstruck as the two of them began to swim out to sea, realizing now that it may be best to stay as far away from this tale as possible.

  Kanoa clung loosely to her friend’s neck, having been no more prepared for this exit than the captain had been. “Was that really necessary?”

  Ailu, before responding, looked back towards that ruined house that had somehow managed to remain standing. “It’s for the best. Actually. . .” Kanoa felt a wave of power as tendrils of water burst from the sea, grabbed onto the house, and dragged it under the surface. “I don’t want you to think about that place ever again.”

  Ailu continued to push through the water, swimming towards Moku Hāweo. For the longest time, she heard nothing but the sounds of crashing waves. It was only once they had gotten far away from Moku Waena, so far that they could barely see Ho’okahi anymore, that she heard Kanoa’s voice again. It was quiet, so much so that she could barely make it out. So quiet that she wondered if it had just been some strange imagining.

  “ Thank you.”

  —

  Elsewhere

  “Are you sure we shouldn’t do anything about that?”

  Makaio stood on the edge of a cliff, looking out towards a rowboat that had been slowly circling Moku Hāweo for the past day. It was far enough away that he couldn’t tell who was riding it, but it seemed unlikely that any of his kind would have use for such a device. Despite his growth in the past few years, he still hadn’t gotten over his distaste for foreigners.

  “What’s to be done about it? It is not abnormal for a predator to test the boundaries of a rival’s territory. If they truly want to challenge me, then so be it.”

  The voice spoke out from the cave behind him. Makaio had yet to see his master in all this time, for it was considered unseemly for a predator to be seen by prey. Apparently, he had yet to earn the title like those in the boat apparently had. Fighting back the urge to look behind himself, he began to respond.

  “Even so, they-”

  “If you truly want to worry yourself, I would suggest you focus on the other threats approaching this land.”

  Makaio attempted to look at any other figures, but saw nothing else. “. . . And those are?”

  “Hmm. . . Three blessed beings have set their sights here. Two travel together, wielding the power of my rivals old and new. The third is a fool bound to a corpse, though is by far the most dangerous of them all. You will have to fight at least one of them, so be prepared.”

  “I figured you would want to deal with them yourself,”Makaio said.

  “Normally, I would not deal with them at all. It is beneath me to do battle with a mere bonded. And yet, a trial has been offered, so I must comply. Besides, this is a very important moment for you, my dear magus.”

  He let out a long suffering sigh. “May I ask why?”

  “Heh. You’ll figure it out soon enough. I can’t say I know the whole story, but I get the feeling this was a long time coming. . .”

  A familiar anxiety rumbled through Makaio’s gut, but he knew he had no right to complain. If his master was right, which he usually was, then it was likely that his purpose was about to be fulfilled. That said, not even the dark god was truly prepared for what was about to occur. This night, eight beings would battle on this forbidden land. Of these beings, three would die, one would be lost to this realm, and one would take the first step towards a grand and terrible destiny.