The sky is clear of any clouds. The sun shines unabashedly across the verdant forest. The wind is so humid that every breath feels like Layla is swimming in the creek near her hometown. To other people, the weather might be unbearably hot, but she's always run colder than most, even before she got her Cyro vision. The weather is so pleasant across her skin that she dozes off in her chair. Her half-closed eyes snap open whenever she notices colors moving quickly, but none of the attendants at the Palace of Alcazarzaray bothers her. They are too busy carrying out the orders of Lord Sangemah Bay to notice the half-asleep demihuman waiting patiently for their lord or the lord's debt collector to take Layla's payment.

"Is that seat taken?" A voice speaks directly to Layla. She snaps to attention immediately. She winces as her sudden movements cause her some vertigo, and a pair of hands reach towards her to steady her. Layla traces the hands up to the head they belong to. She parts her lips in surprise when she sees a pair of eyes as red as the Mourning Flowers that grow in the desert's northern regions near the Fontainian border. The carmine irises are radiating concern. Layla smiles apologetically, quickly shaking her head. She shifts slightly to gesture to the seat right beside her.

The person plops down in the seat beside Layla. She continues to watch them curiously, trying to remember where she knows them from. Anxiety pools in her gut as she comes to the conclusion that she should know this person but doesn't remember them. Layla hates forgetting people's names. It happens way too often, though. A lot of people will always come up to Layla, noting that they've talked before when Layla really can't remember them at all. In those cases, Layla doesn't even have an inkling as to where she knows them from. The same can't be said for right now. There is a tugging sensation in her head as if memories are trying to come loose like rocks in a landslide.

"Is something wrong?" The person asks, glancing at Layla from the corner of his eyes. He shifts subtly in his seat. He looks at antsy as Layla feels. When he tries to hide his shaking hands, Layla wonders if they're there for the same reason. Layla hates interacting with the debt collectors, too, and while Layla would never admit it, Lord Sangemah Bay always gives her the creeps. Layla feels like her existence is being weighed in the merchant's mind, and her worth isn't even equal to a single piece of mora.

"N-no, I just... I feel like... Well, have we met before?" Layla asks, scratching her cheek as she avoids eye contact with the man beside her. She will always feel a little bit sleepy, but she suddenly feels more awake than she did mere moments ago from nausea alone. If she falls asleep, Layla knows she is going to start puking. She has to stay conscious and keep her stomach under control. There isn't anything to be nervous about. Forgetting people is embarrassing, but at least it isn't giving a report in front of class.

"I don't believe so. Have you ever commissioned me to build something for you?" The man frowns, giving her his entire attention. Although he looks as confused as Layla feels, his erratic behavior has stalled where he sits. Layla feels some of her nausea slip away from her. Even if her cheeks burn like someone set a fire beneath her skin, at least someone is feeling better right now.

"Commissioned? Do you make astrology equipment?" Layla asks. She doesn't remember ever making commissions, but sometimes artisans will come to her with the goods she somehow ordered, specified, and paid for already. Since the items were already paid for, Layla always takes them. She feels bad about it until she realizes that she's missing the exact amount of mora the artisan mentioned. Layla doesn't know who is stealing her mora to pay for astrology equipment, but at least they always know what Layla is going to need for her next scholarly assignment.

"No, I'm an architect. You might know me by my title. I'm sometimes referred to as the Light of Kshahrewar. My real name is Kaveh," The man explains, shaking his head. He points to himself as he talks.

Layla frowns. She taps her finger against her chin. She looks through her memories for either the name or the title. Her thoughts are muddled from exhaustion, but she finally grasps on what she thinks the right one is. Layla went out with some of her classmates to Puspa Café a few weeks prior after an extremely difficult project. Since it was an opportunity to make friends, Layla did her utmost to stay awake when she probably should have been catching up on sleep. Her classmates eventually started talking about their futures. They listed a lot of famous graduates from the Akademiya who they aspired to be like. One of the people thrown around as the Light of Kshahrewar. Layla doesn't remember anyone saying the name Kaveh, but it doesn't seem completely unfamiliar.

But that wouldn't explain how Layla remembers his appearance? Did someone say that the architect was red-eyed and golden-haired? Layla doesn't remember. It hurts her head to think about it, so she chooses not to. Instead she focuses on the other fact she learned that night. She heard that the Light of Kshahrewar made the Palace of Alcazarzaray. "Oh! So, you were the architect for this place, right? I think I heard my classmates talking about it."

"Ah, yes, this is my magnum opus," Kaveh's face brightens with pride as he sweeps his arm across the architecture around them. Layla turns to look at all the features of the palace that she's never noticed before. She doesn't know much about architecture, so she's never truly appreciated it. She takes the time to do that now. She doesn't understand a lot of the nuances, but it must have taken Kaveh a lot of work. She can only imagine what her magnus opus will be. If she even graduates from the Akademiya. At this rate, she might as well drop out. Layla feels a sigh bubble in her lips as Kaveh glances back at her. "You mentioned classmates. Are you in Kshahrewar?"

"Uh, not exactly. I mean, no, just... no. Er, I'm in Rtawahist. But my classmates mentioned you because you're well-respected in your craft," Layla answers awkwardly. If her classmates knew she was making such a fool of herself in front of the Light of Kshahrewar, they would probably throw an even bigger fit than they usually do when she puts herself down or refuses to work with them. Layla decides that she's not going to tell anyone about this encounter. She would also really like it if Kaveh forgot all about this after they parted ways. She wishes she could redo her first impression with the architect.

"And that's the pinnacle of fame, huh? To be recognized by students outside of your own Darshan?" Kaveh answers with a chuckle. He smiles openly as he laughs. Layla's eyes widen as she watches his cheeks blossom with a pink color. It's... well, it's familiar, she thinks. She feels like she's met Kaveh before, but she can't tell where from. Maybe they have met before, outside of the rumors Layla has heard about him from her classmates. But where could she have seen an architect before? Maybe in the Grand Bazaar?

"I guess so. I don't know about the other Darshans, but a lot of the Rtawahist students are pretty... er, focused on their studies. They might gossip from time to time, but I haven't heard much about other Darshans. I just..." Layla trails off. She doesn't want to admit that she's also way too busy to worry about other Darshans or listen to her classmates gossip. That time at Puspa Café was a one time thing. It hasn't happened since, and Layla knows it will be some time until it happens again.

"I fear that's every student in the Akademiya. No one has time to think about anything other than their studies. It's a shame since so much wisdom is found through the interaction of the Darshans rather than the seclusion of them, but who am I to judge how the sages run the nation? There's probably a good reason all the Darshans are kept separate," Kaveh notes wistfully. He looks away from Layla with an expression in his eyes that implies he's thinking about the past. Layla lifts her hand hesitantly, wondering if she should try comforting her senior. In the end, Layla brings her hand back to her lap. She isn't in any position to comfort Kaveh since she barely knows him and doesn't know what has upset him. It feels like a betrayal to ignore Kaveh, though, and Layla doesn't understand where that feeling has come from.

"Layla," A voice calls out to her. Layla looks up sharply. The debt collector in charge of her stands at the bottom of the bridge that connects two of the platforms. Layla stands on her feet, ready to walk over to the man. Layla stalls as she passes Kaveh. She bites the inside of her cheek. Although she's probably made a horrible first impression, she knows that she has to end this respectfully. She bows at Kaveh with an awkward smile splitting her face. She meets his eyes— a strange melancholic pang echoing through her body— and says, "Thank you for the conversation, senior. I'll be sure to remember you next time!... If there is a next time..."

Layla turns away after Kaveh breathily responds to her, more sorrow pouring into his voice as he responds to her. Layla waves as she walks away from him. He waves back until they are out of each other's line of sight. Layla puts her hand back at her side, returning her attention to the matter of the goods she bought from Lord Sangemah Bay at a hefty price that has led to her current debt.

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Similar to floodgates opening, a surge of Cryo energy sprouts out from a Ley Line in the southernmost reaches of the desert near the Dark Sea. It condenses together quickly; like attracts like. As the abundance of unfamiliar energy decides whether to ascend into a crystalfly or descend as a slime, clashing energies fill into the rapidly forming pocket. Memories flowing alongside the elemental energy are stuck in the trap, unable to free themselves. Instead of forming an artifact like in a domain, the memories stretch the energy into a distinct shape. Nature decides that the Cryo energy will ascend, but instead of a crystalfly with limited intelligence, a nightingale with feathers as blue and pure as a frozen oasis shoots into the night sky.

The bird circles in the air before landing on the branches of a cactus, carefully to avoid the prickling spines covering the dark green material. The bird's keen eyes dart around the environment. While the creature's base is Cryo-aligned elemental energy, there are memories of both birds and humans flowing within the creature's mind. This affords it a certain amount of intelligence not applicable to other creatures of its composition or shape.

As memory and thought stabilize into a consciousness, the bird decides with its first impulses that it requires a name. The bird searches through human languages, sifting through definitions and impressions until one shines from the boundless sea like a solitary star in the Stygian void. The bird picks out this star with its talons, letting the light of the Ren merge with the rest of the bird's Akh. The Ren simplifies, transforming into an identifying sound to separate the bird from the rest of its kin. Bennu becomes the name of the Cyro-aligned creature, as intelligent as a human in the shape of a nightingale.

The next impulse is far more animalistic than the first one. Bennu, like most creatures, requires sufficient sustenance. While it possesses knowledge of human food, its current form is far more equipped to hunt for bugs scuttling across the golden sea and plants popping up like islands. Bennu lifts its wings, rising as its nature dictates into the air. Like all birds, the nightingale merges with the bright sky protecting the golden eye of the Aureate Lord.

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Layla rubs her arm tiredly. She exhales, attempting to release all her worries with such an easy method. Unfortunately, she only wears herself out more, accidentally letting her preserved energy waft off her body. She raises her hands to slap her cheeks. This attempt does marginally better than her previous one, but the stinging in her chest makes her want to cry. Well, it isn't the pain itself that makes tears rise into her eyes, but her genuine exhaustion paired with her frustration over trying to keep herself upright. Part of her feels like a failure for being unable to keep herself awake while she's literally walking to the room Aaru Village graciously provided for the contestants to sleep in, but Layla thinks she will feel much better about the situation and herself when she wakes up in the morning.

"Layla!" She hides her face in her hands. She really is going to cry. She hates interacting with other people when she's tired. It gets way too difficult to communicate when she can barely stand up, let alone pay attention to the conversational flow. Even if she can stay focused on the words, her brain lacks any ability to figure out any hidden meanings that other people might pick up easily. Layla has never been great at social cues, but it gets exponentially difficult when she's like this.

"Are you okay? Do you need help getting to your room?" The voice registers in Layla's mind as familiar. A name lingers on her tongue as she looks through her fingers. The name is swiftly replaced when Layla realizes that Kaveh is the person standing in front of her, not... Layla shakes her head with enough force to give herself a headache. She must be out of her mind if she thought that individual was speaking to her. Misinterpreting her head shaking as being an answer to his questions, Kaveh continues, "Are you certain? I'm sure Al-Haitham will help you to your room."

"Why are you volunteering me?" Another voice adds, drawing closer. Layla lifts her head completely, a sudden flare of panic providing her with just enough energy to realize that something is subtly wrong about this situation. Al-Haitham has been the commentator for the whole competition— and Layla has seen him from time to time while at the Akademiya— but for a moment, it felt noticeably different. Layla is grasping at loose straws at this point. She must have felt that odd sense of respect because Al-Haitham was the Acting Grand Sage for a while. He must have approved at least a handful of her requests for various assignments, so she has to respect him. Plus, he helped free Lesser Lord Kusanali. That must be something worth paying attention to.

"I'm really fine. I guess the desert took more out of me than I thought," Layla answers, waving her hands in front of her to quietly dismiss Kaveh's concern. Al-Haitham seems far less worried about her, but there is a hint of something in his eyes. Layla darts her eyes to the side. Well, it would be pretty cruel if the former Acting Grand Sage didn't care— at least a little bit— about a student's health.

"It seems to be a recurring theme for participants to underestimate the desert. I will have to revise the rulebook going forward," Al-Haitham crosses his arms over his chest. He assesses Layla quickly, perhaps determining her likelihood of passing out before she can make it to her room. Luckily, for as terrible as Layla feels, she's confident that she can make it back even with her low energy. While conversation is much more work for her than it would be for anyone else, she knows how to navigate the world while running on minimal sleep. It is the only reason she has survived at the Akademiya thus far.

"You don't need to say it like that. No one was underestimating the desert," Kaveh argues, glaring at Al-Haitham. His hands reach forward. Layla's reaction time is too slow for her to pull away, but she finds that she doesn't mind Kaveh checking the temperature of her forehead. His hands are cool. They are mostly soft, but she recognizes the calluses from sketching that mirror the ones on her own hands (though, Layla sketches star charts and Kaveh makes blueprints). The last observation is the one Layla feels the most distant from: Kaveh's hands are familiar. She doesn't know why, and she doesn't comment on it.

"Would it be better to say that the participants were overestimating themselves? You passed out. Tighnari nearly had a heat stroke. Faruzan got trapped in ruins. Layla had to rest at Aaru Village midway through the competition. Hat Guy knew when he needed to forfeit from the competition, so I cannot admonish him. Cyno was the only one who could participate the whole way through without hurting himself.," Al-Haitham lists everyone out. He fixes both Kaveh and Layla with an unimpressed stare. Layla blushes in embarrassment, rubbing the back of her neck. Unfortunately, Al-Haitham isn't wrong. Layla remembers coming back to Aaru Village because the heat was getting to her. She regained a little bit of confidence for a minute, but she thinks she fell asleep. When she regained consciousness, she had apparently scored high in the competition despite not remembering anything. She accepted the victory in the same way she accepted the reports her Guiding Star would sometimes give her.

"That's easy for you to say. You were in the shade of the pavilion the entire time," Kaveh remarks. While he seems just as embarrassed as Layla, he pushes through his emotions remarkably well. Layla stares at him in awe. She wishes she could be a lot more like him.

"It is precisely because I did not underestimate the desert or overestimate myself that I remained underneath the pavilion. If I were, however, to participate, I would not have given water— my most precious resource in the desert— to foxes," Al-Haitham rebukes. Layla puts her forehead into her hands when she starts to feel dizzy. Out of everyone to show concern for her, why did it have to be the two that go back and forth so quickly that she doubts even her Guiding Star could keep up.

"They needed the water as much as I did— You know what, this is not the time to be having this argument," Kaveh composes himself with a heavy inhale. As he exhales, he focuses back onto Layla. He gently places a hand on her shoulder, leaning down to peer into his eyes. "Are you certain you are okay? We wouldn't want you getting hurt on your way to your room."

The urge to cry descends upon Layla again. Kaveh's kindness is familiar for several reasons, but she focuses on the similarity between him and her parents. She hasn't seen them in some months. Even when she was with them, she was mostly catching up on sleep on her days away from the Akademiya. Her parents understood, but Layla still wishes she had spent more time with them. She doubts she will ever stop missing them, though, no matter how much time she spends with them.

"My... My room isn't that, um, far away. It's just... well, down this hall... er, I think. I'm in the same room as Madam Faruzan," Layla answers him, reaching a hand up to wipe the skin underneath her eyes. Thankfully, there are no tears smeared across her fingertips. She smiles, closing her fingers into a loose fist. Kaveh's eyebrows knit together as he stares into her eyes. Layla blinks as she stares into those carmine irises. She never knew how red Kaveh's eyes were before. Is this why her classmates consider him handsome? Is this why his title involves the word 'light'?

"You're right. It is down the hall. It should be the last one on the right," Al-Haitham answers. He places a hand on Kaveh's shoulder, pulling the architect away from Layla. Kaveh releases her shoulder with widening eyes, surprised by his own actions. Layla smiles tiredly at him. Kaveh returns her expression, looking as exhausted as she feels. Layla waves goodbye to Al-Haitham and Kaveh as they return to the room they must be sharing together. Layla ignores the sour taste in her mouth like she failed to say something important as she hurries to the room Al-Haitham directed her to. She hopes Faruzan isn't awake right now so Layla can immediately slumber.

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Survival is easy for Bennu. Food is plentiful in the desert for an unfastidious nightingale such as her. She could eat scarabs from the sand, fruits from the cactus, and the plentiful animals gathered around oases. Most creatures did not possess any elemental energy like Bennu did. They were also limited by their instincts when Bennu had access to wisdom. Bennu was careful not to overindulge, but she never felt pity for the creatures she trapped in ice and caught in her beak.

It was living that Bennu struggled with. Her belly was full, but her mind was woefully starving. She was left without entertainment for long stretches of time. There were instances when the behaviors of an animal caught her interest, but once she found the underlying logic, she was struck with the same sensation of needing something more. It was, without a doubt, the human influences on her Akh that turned her away from the simplicity of an avian's life. Her kin were satisfied with lives filled with hunting and flying, but Bennu needed something more.

To this end, Bennu started looking skyward for inspiration. It was there that she discovered what truly enraptured her attention. The sky during the day was monotonous. The golden sun was hot. The background was usually blue. Very infrequently did it become gray with storm clouds or a dusty brown from a sand storm. Bennu understood it at a glance, and she wasn't too interested in it. The only interest she found was its connection to the Aureate Lord, but even then, Bennu had little connection to him.

It was the night sky that Bennu was enraptured by. So often did creatures sleep during these precious hours, and Bennu didn't understand why. The stars were marvelous. There were many luminosities and colors. There were patterns to be found in connecting the stars. Bennu understood enough of it to know that she wanted to know everything about it. The night sky was her sanctuary as much as it was her gateway to another realm of wisdom, one that neither human nor bird would ever know. But the combination of the two— Bennu— would be the one to reach those soaring heights.

Unfortunately, Bennu's attempts were often thwarted by their form. A beak and talons were good for hunting, but the tools necessary to understand the world were difficult to recreate, let alone manage, with these hunter's weapons. Bennu thought back to the fractures of herself that were once human memories. While there are disadvantages to being human, Bennu reasons she can work around such problems if she were given the chance to experiment in a mortal form herself.

Bennu surveys the tribe roaming across the desert. Bennu has been watching them for weeks now to steal supplies for her own purposes, but she plans to borrow something even greater than a handful of seeds. Bennu waits in the shadows of the caravans. No one notices her, but she notices a long-eared girl with long black hair picking up a bucket from the back of the carriage. Bennu followed after the girl as she moved away from the caravan. She separated from the group, hurrying to a nearby oasis to collect water for survival. Bennu lands in the branches of a tree overlooking the oasis. The girl notices Bennu as she lowers the bucket into the water. Bennu speaks in the language she determined the merchants talk to each other in. "Greetings, human."

The girl startles. She looks around, shifting closer to the roots of the tree. She forgets about her bucket as she puts her hand in her lap. With wide, awed eyes, the girl responds breathily, "Hello."

Bennu tilts her head to the side. The girl clasps her hands together over her chest, sitting on her haunches as she stares up at Bennu. The bird stretches her neck to exude a more dignified aura, a strange haughtiness flowing through her meridians from her human memories. "It is my intention to form a contract with you. In exchange for allowing me to take your form, I will impart greater wisdom than you could ever achieve on your lonesome to both you and your tribe."

"My form?" The girl's awe is weakened by the tell-tale signs of fear in her eyes. Bennu suddenly feels more like a bird of prey than an intelligent creature, but she keeps her instincts at bay through sheer force of will alone. She is more than her animalistic disposition, after all. She is going to prove as much when she finally acquires what she desires most. Or, at least, acquires the first necessary tool to achieve her ultimate goal: human hands.

"Do not be frightened. I do not mean to usurp your body from you. I merely wish to mimic your appearance," Bennu assures the girl. Although there are quite a few human memories in her mind, she doesn't know the outer shell of the people those memories came from. They are fleeting, only snippets that imbue her with an intellect uncommon in her species. These memories keep the Cryo-aligned elemental energy in her body secure, so she cannot rid herself of them nor she can go searching for more. In this way, replicating the form of a human being is her easiest option— if not the only one.

"If that is the case... I accept the contract," The girl murmurs thoughtfully, lifting her forearm to Bennu. The bird flaps her wings. Her talons grip onto the girl's arm, and she is careful not to pierce the skin. Humans are breakable in ways that birds and Cryo-aligned apparitions are not.

Underneath the girl's wide eyes, Bennu carefully reconstructs the components of her body. It is a terribly different procedure. Bennu has no experience with changing her shape, and she learns immediately that it requires a lot of energy. Bennu pays the cost by absorbing the elemental energy around her, and she allows a few of her memories to slip away from her. The myriad days of being a preying bird and a nameless wretched human disappear in an instant, but enough of them remain for Bennu to have a sense of identity. Her wish, too, remains as clear as water in her mind.

"You look just like me," The girl gasps. Her hands reach out to cup Bennu's newly formed jaw and cheeks. Bennu is uncoordinated on her new hands and feet, but she manages to drag her body over to the oasis. She stares at her reflection. She looks exactly like the girl she contracted with, but their hair and eye colors are different. Bennu's hair is the same dark blue shade as her former feathers. Her eyes, however, are as golden as the radiant sun. Bennu places her hand in the water, causing ripples to cascade across her newly established appearance.

"It appears I do," Bennu speaks. The words feel different in her human mouth than in her beak, but her voice is the same. She reaches a hand to her throat, relishing in the sensation that rushes to her brain from both sides of the touch. She shivers as the wind picks up. She doesn't feel the cold the same way a regular human would, but it seems this body has natural instincts that Bennu will either overcome eventually or will agree with being necessary. While Bennu doesn't need to fit into human society despite wearing their skin, part of her thinks it would be easier if she had a few connections to the world she was insincerely copying.

"Oh, wait right here! I'll go get you some clothes! We can't let anyone see you bare," The girl startles  immediately, the novelty of the situation giving way to practicality and propriety. She leaves the bucket in the oasis as she rushes back to the caravan. Bennu frowns, watching her run. While it does not seem as efficient as flight, it is no less appealing. Bennu presses her hand against the trunk of the tree she sat in when she first made the deal. It takes a moment and all the strength in her body, but she manages to stand on her feet. She resembles a newborn animal as she tries walking forward, her off-balance feet splashing in the shallows. The reeds tickle her ankles, and a strangle sensation bubbles inside her body. She makes a noise that she quickly identifies as a laugh. The positive affirmation of her body spurs Bennu onward. Walking isn't too difficult once she's gotten the hang of it, but running might still be outside the realm of possibility.

"I brought you some clothes," The girl calls out, running over to the oasis' shore. She is holding the clothes she brought in her hands. She frowns at Bennu for a long moment. She sets the clothes on a low-hanging branch. She plucks one from the top. She beckons for Bennu to walk toward her. When Bennu is close enough, the girl begins dressing Bennu with the carefulness of a mother and child. She explains her actions as she does them, and Bennu commits what she can to memory under the assumption she is meant to change herself moving forward. She moves Bennu's blue hair off her shoulder, standing in front of her with a bright smile. "My name is Bahini! Do you have a name?"

"I do. My name is Bennu," She responds, forcing her face to match the Bahini's. The smile feels a little out of place, but Bennu doesn't mind too much. "Now, I shall tell you about the wisdom I promised you and your tribe."

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Layla sits in the outskirts of Aaru Village. She is close enough to the human settlement that animals generally avoid her, but she is far enough away that the lingering noises are no more than whispers masked by the prowling night winds. She sits on the rooftop of a building she partially rented with other visitors. She leans back against the parapet, tilting her head over the top to get a beautiful view of the night sky. The stars always shine brighter in the desert, so Aaru Village is a frequent studying stop for Rtawahist students in the days approaching their final projects. Everyone wants accurate star charts, and Layla is no exception. If she wants to pass this semester alongside her other, smarter classmates, she needs her project to do especially well, so she immediately set out for Aaru Village when she was given a few days to herself. The Akademiya says they should be used for 'relaxing,' but every student knows it is an opportunity to cram and Layla is doing just that.

Despite the anxiety that haunts her waking hours, Layla cannot bring herself to say she hates being in Aaru Village. The people are kind. The atmosphere is lively. The night sky's clarity is a bonus, and she enjoys hearing all the folktales the desert dwellers have about the constellations. The other students of Rtawahist might belittle Layla for being interested in the stories, but Layla is fond of pretending the constellations are brave warriors or dreadful monsters put into the sky by the gods that once protected these lands. She knows that the constellations tell the pasts and futures of the world, but the stories are no less intriguing, if not downright awe-inspiring or amusing.

Layla sketches one such 'story' onto her paper. The desert dwellers have sewn together two separate constellations to create a main character of a story about tragic love and loss. Layla is eager to hear the end of the story tomorrow evening. One of the storytellers promised Layla that they would tell her since she seemed so eager to hear the stories while also being respectful about what they meant to desert dwellers. The storyteller mentioned that most Akademiya students and faculty are dismissive of the stories of yesteryears. Layla can't say much about her peers, but she swore not to be like them, causing the storyteller to smile affectionately at Layla like a grandmother to their granddaughter.

"Is that you, Layla?" A voice asks, startling the poor girl. She sits up quickly, glancing around for the voice's source. Layla's uneasiness dissipates as she recognizes a pair of carmine eyes shining in the darkness from the ground in front of the building. Layla shifts, sitting with her legs folded next to her. She puts her arms on the parapet, staring down at the Light of Kshahrewar, Kaveh. He smiles at her, crossing his arms over his chest. "I thought I recognized that dark blue hair. What are you doing up there?"

"Well, I'm... er..." Layla hesitates to mention the star charts. She stares at them warily. Most of her peers would have already had their star charts finished. Layla is, unfortunately, a little behind everyone else. She is embarrassed about it, of course, but she considers telling Kaveh since he isn't a Rtawahist student. He might not know how early students are supposed to get their star charts done. But what if he does know? Would he be disappointed in her? Layla can't stand the thought of that for some reason. Maybe it's because Kaveh is so accomplished. Albeit, not in the same field as Layla, but his acclaim seems to bypass darshan boundaries if her classmates talking about him once or twice is anything to go by. She doesn't want someone like Kaveh to know that she's lacking.

Her silence prompts Kaveh into action. He finds the ladder she climbed up to get onto the rooftop. He sits in front of her. Layla turns away from the parapet, returning to her seated position. She leans against it once more. She brings her knees up to hide the sketchbook she uses for her star charts. Kaveh's smile doesn't disappear as he stretches his back, mumbling something about his age. When he settles, he gestures over to the charcoal sticks and erasers left by Layla's thighs. "Are you drawing?"

"Not quite... I'm making a star chart," Layla admits bashfully. She lowers her legs, tilting the sketchbook forward to show Kaveh what she's drawn so far. While it's upside down to him, the sky isn't so difficult to navigate that one cannot understand it from different axes.

"Is that so? I hear Rtawahist students have to make their own star charts. I can't imagine how difficult that must be," Kaveh responds earnestly. It might be because it's late, but Kaveh looks serene. He is smiling gently, and his eyes are one of the softest shades of red Layla has ever seen. It reminds her of a faded Eremite ribbon or the shades exuding off the sun during daybreak. Layla breathes out slowly. She doesn't feel as nervous as she did a moment ago, like her transgressions are mild mistakes not worth mentioning in this roseate presence.

"It isn't too difficult. You just have to remember that the stars gradually move during the night. It's why most students use tools when they are drawing star charts. I, well..." Layla trails off. Would it be too boastful to express that she doesn't need to use the tools because she's quicker than her peers? Layla doesn't want Kaveh to think too highly of her, but she also doesn't want him to think poorly of her for not having any tools on her right now. As she most often is, Layla finds herself between a rock and hard place. Neither are comfortable, per se, but she's been here so often that the familiarity more than makes up for it.

"I see. I think it would be fun to learn how to draw my own star chart. I'm pretty good with sketching architectural plans, so I might have a secret talent for star charts," Kaveh remarks with a half-laugh adorning his words. Layla's lips twitch with a smile. She likes that laugh. It rings pleasantly in her ears like silver bells jingling as — dances. Layla's smile disappears. Who was she talking about?

"Um... yeah, I mean... I don't know if it's the same, but— well, I could show you. If you wanted, of course! I know I'm not a master at it or anything. But I mean, I am still a Rtawahist student. Though I'd understand if you wanted a sage to instruct you," Layla says, waving her hand in the air as she tries powering through the strange emotions churning in her stomach. She'll think about the silver bells and the dancing woman (goddess) later.

"That sounds wonderful! When you get some free time, I would like to learn from you. In exchange, I can show you a thing or two about sketching buildings," Kaveh's smile is brighter for a second. Layla thinks she has seen the sun at night for a moment. It is a foolish metaphor, but it permeates in Layla's mind as she eases into Kaveh's attention. He lifts up for a second, gesturing to something in the distance. "I'm here to help build a learning center for Aaru Village. I'll be here for a little while, so if you're leaving soon, we'll probably have to schedule something during your vacation from the Akademya."

"I heard about the learning center. Lord Sangemah Bay is sponsoring it, right?" Layla blinks, remembering her classmates laughing about it. None of them seemed partial to the idea, but they were warmed up to it after someone mentioned who the patron of the project was. Layla didn't listen too much, but she was never against the project even when it was just a library meant for desert children.

"Yes," Kaveh sighs, looking away from Layla with a heavy expression. Layla winces, wondering what she said wrong. As she opens her mouth to backtrack, Kaveh wears a weary but kind-hearted smile on his face. "But whatever it takes to give more opportunities to the desert children, right? They deserve a chance as much as any of us do. We are a nation of wisdom, after all. It simply wouldn't do for us to reject different kinds of wisdom or discourage our citizens from seeking enlightenment."

"Oh, yes! That must be why I like hearing the stories about the constellations so much!" Layla realizes, feeling her lips turn upwards into a smile. She claps her hands, tilting her head to the side. Kaveh's eyes widen. Layla cheeks flush with embarrassment. She chuckles awkwardly, scratching her cheek. She tries explaining herself. "When I'm in Aaru Village, I like hearing the storyteller talk about the constellations. They have so many stories that the rainforest doesn't. I probably like it so much because it's just another form of wisdom to learn. I mean, learning is usually... er, challenging, but um... the stories are nice."

"I didn't know the desert folk told stories about the stars. We should probably find a way to record them onto paper. The children might better enjoy learning how to read if it was a story they were familiar with," Kaveh says, a smile creeping onto his face. He sheepishly admits, "Though, I would also like to hear the stories for myself."

"Oh, well, the storyteller told me she would finish her current story for me tomorrow. I could retell it to you. Unless you wanted to come with me. I don't know if she'd like that, though. I mean, nothing against you, Mister Kaveh, I just don't know... Well, you know how it is. Sometimes the desert dwellers are wary of those that come from the rainforest. Not to say you're someone to be wary of. I just meant—" Layla waves her hands in front of her.

Thankfully, Kaveh chuckles again. He lifts a hand to stop Layla's useless meanderings. "Don't worry, I understand what you mean. Despite our unification, there is still much divide between the desert and rainforest. But I'm glad that you've opened up to the people of Aaru Village and that they've opened up to you in return. With a few more people like you, we might just be closer to connecting all of Sumeru."

"I'm not..." Layla was going to say she wasn't that special, but Kaveh suddenly stands up. He stretches his arms above his head. The moonlight cascades across his form, and Layla's breath is stolen from her mouth by the biting winds. There has always been something unnaturally familiar about Kaveh. It is even stronger now. Layla feels, at least for a moment, that she's known Kaveh for a long time despite their scattered meetings since that fateful day at the Palace of Alcazarzaray.

He turns to look at Layla with a half-smile on his face and crimson moonlight reflecting in his eyes. "I apologize for taking up so much of your time. I enjoyed our conversation. We should do it again next time."

"We should," Layla agrees with a certainty in her voice she didn't know she was capable of.

Kaveh laughs lightly. As he moves over to the ladder, he glances over his shoulder at her. "Now, don't stay up too late. It might be hypocritical of me to say, but you shouldn't waste the entire night working. You need to sleep eventually, especially when one sounds as tired as you do."

Layla doesn't respond, but she nods and smiles as Kaveh disappears. She looks over the side of the parapat. He walks back toward the center of Aaru Village. Layla thinks he might be staying with Candace and the village leader. Layla shakes her head, looking away from him. She has work to do. She needs to at least finish this chart if she's going to sleep tonight like Kaveh asked her to.

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Bennu was completely ignorant of how swiftly civilization could change. In a matter of years— which felt like mere days to someone as long-living as her— the nomadic caravan she was reluctantly adopted into became part of a stationary city-state. The tribespeople traded their tents for houses made from stone. They traded their freedom for security. A few individuals felt troubled by this change, but the majority adapted as quickly as they could.

Bahini settled faster than most. She was not born with a wandering heart even if she was prone to taking risks in her daily life. She was an orphan in the caravan, so she didn't see her family as a 'home' as the other tribespeople did. She saw the four walls she built with Bennu as the only home she's ever known.

Bennu, similarly, has no concept of a home, so she imagines that this house she knew instinctively how to construct is as close to a nest as her avian mind will ever build.

It changed when a man from another tribe first saw Bahini and Bennu in the market. In a few words, he was able to woo Bahini. They will be married in a few weeks. Bennu was still mostly unaccustomed to human affairs, so she did not understand until Bahini sat her down to explain the customs of marriage and family. Bahini swore, however, that no matter where her heart stayed, they would always be sisters (as Bahini called them and the other tribesmen adapted when they realized Bennu wasn't going anywhere). They would always be twins even when Bahini grew into a beautiful woman while Bennu retained the same appearance she traded wisdom for many years ago.

"You have pretty hair," Bahini notes as she brushes through it. Bennu sits at her sister's dressing table. She finds herself in this plush stool every night because she doesn't care for her body in the way Bahini says she ought to. Even if Bennu started brushing her hair every morning and evening, she doubts she would escape this position. Bahini enjoys styling Bennu, and it has molded into a nervous habit over time. When Bahini grows agitated, she will sooner find her sister's hair to mess around with than address the source of her issues. Bennu doesn't understand in the slightest since she deals with her problems immediately with a stubbornness no one in the city-state appreciates.

"I am inclined to agree since I have the same hair as you did," Bennu responds. She stares at the strange mechanism in her lap. She has been working on a device that utilizes mirrors and lenses to magnify the distant night sky. It will make everything easier as she tracks the movements of the stars. She got the materials from a local merchant who was saved by her informing them about a sandstorm that would have otherwise killed them. Despite not having many talents and visibly never aging, Bennu is allowed to stay in this city-state as long as she provides accurate predictions to the magistrates and remains with the socially accepted Bahini. There is also a matter of her assisting in monster attacks, but very few people know about her involvement in that.

"True, but my hair was never this lovely shade of dark blue. It reminds me of the night sky," Bahini's lips twitch a smile. She begins humming as she slides the brush through said hair even though Bennu doesn't feel any knots. At this point, Bahini is using the brush as an excuse to run her fingers through Bennu's hair. The avian doesn't care either way, but she's learned that talking to Bahini about her refusal to speak her mind only leads to arguments Bennu would rather avoid.

After some time, Bahini sets her brush on the table. She leans her chin on top of Bennu's head, her arms folding around Bennu's shoulder. She squeezes lightly, sighing heavily. She turns her head, pressing her cheek into Bennu's hair. The avian looks at the mirror. Her sister's dark eyes are focused on the distance, not seeing the world physically around her. Bennu pushes her head back. Bahini startles. She pulls back, keeping her arms around Bennu's neck. Bennu stares into Bahini's eyes. The older-looking of the two (but not the chronologically older one) smiles faintly. "Will you sleep with me tonight, sister? I fear a nightmare will sneak into our home."

"It would be a fool with a death wish to commit such a transgression against the household I have chosen," Bennu remarks. She rises to her feet. She is shorter than Bahini, but she carries herself with enough dignity and strength that it never feels like she is looking up at the purebred human. Bahini, too, never looks down upon Bennu as if the avian's intelligence more than accounts for her stagnant appearance. Bennu is a reflection of Bahini's youth, but she never says as much as they link their arms together. Bennu will always be Bahini's equal— her 'twin.'

"It pleases me to know you would kill my nightmares," Bahini giggles to herself. On light and graceful feet, she dances to her bed on the other side of the room. With far less grace, she throws herself onto the bed. She bounces on the mattress. It was a gift from Bennu, part of the wisdom she promised to Bahini and the rest of their wandering tribe. A bed like this— a wooden frame, a mattress stuffed with feathers, a blanket sewn from wool— was something only the wealthy possessed. Bennu found all the necessary materials. She taught the humans to make a bed, and they taught her how to physically accomplish the steps she remembered as wordy instructions. It was a success, and Bennu personally made this bed for the one who agreed to take care of Bennu even after their deal was more or less fulfilled on both ends.

Bahini lies on the headrest, tapping her hand against it. She stretches her arm into the space beside her as if reaching for something. Her fists close around the open air. She wears a twisted expression. "I wonder if Abbas would also kill my nightmares."

"I do not believe humans are capable of such feats, but if love is truly as all-encompassing as your stories presume it to be, I imagine he would do as such as soon as he learned one was lingering around you," Bennu shrugged, putting the unfinished instrument on the table. She lies on her back, waiting for Bahini to grab onto her. While the desert nights are often cold, the room preserves heat exceptionally well. Combined with the blanket, Bahini uses Bennu's naturally chilly aura to combat the heat she ensnares herself in.

"It must be true," Bahini calls out as she leans over Bennu to blow out a candle. Darkness fills the room a second later. Bahini clings closer to Bennu, burying her face into Bennu's shoulder. It doesn't take long for her breathing to even out, but Bahini is a light sleeper. Bennu remains silent and still for a long time after her sister finally falls asleep.

Truthfully, Bennu does not need to sleep very often. She can get by without much rest because of her status as an elemental. Bennu chooses to sleep for several reasons. Firstly, it makes her seem more human since these bipedal mortals are required to sleep every night. Secondly, it allows her to recharge her jnana energy. Every living being seems to possess it in some capacity, and Bennu has an overabundance of it due to her unique physiology. Bennu is not completely sure what jnana energy is, but she knows it equates with dreams.

Her discovery of this led to her greatest invention yet: the Celestial Dreamsphere. It utilized Bennu's Cryo energy and an individual's jnana energy to rapidly ascertain their fate. Once the fate-line was discovered and read, it would be conceptualized into a dream for the individual in question to witness. Bennu was told that the dreams were often confusing, but they did— in every way that mattered— come true. It was a little more metaphorical than most people liked, but Bennu believed it was her magnum opus despite her not creating that many impressive machines so far.

Another drawback of the Celestial Dreamsphere would be how long it takes to ascertain one's fate. While it is much faster than human astromancers, it still takes quite some time. Most people weren't willing to give it a chance since it was too long of a wait. Bahini, however, was always eager to have her fortune read. For these reasons, the Celestial Dreamsphere is often deployed in Bahini's room to soak up her jnana energy while she rests.

Bennu summons it now. It resembles a crib mobile with a central moon-like sphere shimmering with pure Cryo energy. A halo made from a dark gold-bronze metal hovers above the sphere, letting strands of Cryo energy descend from it with stars at the very ends. It floated in the air above the bed, filling the room in pale blue light. Bennu stares at the slow-moving halo and the moon that rotates in the opposite direction at the same speed. She feels the jnana energy trickle into the sphere as she closes her eyes, preparing to rest for the night.

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The samachurl lifts its staff into the air, brandishing the wooden stick as a weapon. A moment later, the Anemo energy in the air shifts to form into cyclones that tear the grass from the dirt. The samachurl sways back and forth as it waits for the tornadoes to scoop up its prey. Layla throws a Cryo shield up around her as she rushes between the Anemo vortexes. Her clothes pull uncomfortably, but she doesn't stop until she's holding her sword over her head. She swings the blade down immediately. The edge cuts through the samachurl, slicing the inhuman creature into two. A second later, it disperses into flickering sparks. The Anemo energy in the air unspools back into regular wind.

Layla turns around abruptly. Her shield remains around her as a wooden one slams into her body. Layla slides back, digging her heels into the rough earth to keep her from going too far. The mitachurl stops its charge. It heaves the shield into the air, ready to decapitate Layla in one hit. She roughly dodges by throwing herself underneath the mitachurl's arm. As she steadies herself behind the beast, she summons the Celestial Dreamsphere. The crib mobile hangs in the air, reigning down shards of Cryo energy. The mitachurl howls like an angry beast, and Layla swings her sword into the black fur. She is no better at sword fighting today than she was when she began learning, but she continues to persevere until the beast lies at her feet.

Layla's sword falls out of her grasp. She collapses onto the ground a second later. She buries her face into her knees, trying to get her breathing under control. Layla decided to learn how to fight when she kept encountering monsters during her travels to make new star charts. The acquisition of her vision helped her a lot, but she isn't good at the physical side. Her shield is handy at keeping her safe, and she trusts the Celestial Dreamsphere ( a strange device she found on her desk shortly after acquiring her vision, probably a gift from the Stars' Blessing) to unleash the damage she cannot.

Still, Layla would like to be even a tiny bit better at using the sword she bought with much of her allowance. An instructor would cost too much, and it isn't like Layla has a lot of time to dedicate to learning. She is mainly doing this for protection. A secondary reason, if she were to give one, would be to keep herself healthy. She is keeping her body in shape, and at the same time, she is tiring herself out enough that she will probably fall asleep and stay that way for long enough to remove the eyebags on her sullen cheeks.

When her chest no longer heaves, Layla rises back onto her feet. She reaches into the air to pull down the Celestial Dreamsphere. She holds the Cryo moon in her arms, hugging it tightly. It feels cool against her sweaty skin. She sighs contentedly, leaning her full body weight onto the object as the halo disappears for her comfort. Layla closes her eyes, tapping her fingers against the glass-like edges of the ice-forged object. She could fall asleep like this, but she has the strangest dreams whenever she sleeps near the Celestial Dreamsphere. She supposes that might come from the name— a 'dreamsphere.'

Layla heaves a laborious sigh. She pushes off the Celestial Dreamsphere, allowing it to disappear into frazzled Cryo energy. She picks the drops the samachurl, mitachurl, and the other hilichurls left behind. Layla only needs the samachurl's, after all. She eyes the others curiously. She wonders who she could give those to.

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One of the first skills the caravan taught Bennu when Bahini introduced the elemental to everyone was how to fight. She is certain it was originally used as a way of punishing or taunting her. It was an attempt to draw out her inhumanity, to prove to Bahini that Bennu was not human and could never pretend to be. Despite their expectations, Bennu stuck through the training even when it felt more like a one-sided beatdown. After time, her training grew more serious as the warriors of the tribe realized how powerful someone who could freely manipulate Cryo energy was. Her skill with the sword was laughable at best, but that could be solved with some careful instructions. What she had against her peers was more than enough to give her the opportunity to survive with the tribe instead of being forced away.

With such diligent training, Bennu surpassed even her instructors. She was as quick and agile as a bird and as tenacious and sturdy as an elemental. Paired with her human-like determination, she was able to fully operate using Cryo energy and a sword to cleave opponents in half. While Bennu only wanted to learn about the stars and make apparatuses to expand what she could observe, she didn't exactly argue with the tribespeople when they assigned her the responsibility of protecting the tribe alongside the other warriors. They would never give an outsider like her command, but she was the first choice for any solo missions. The more dangerous it was, the more likely Bennu would be sent since Bahini was the only person to object. Orphans and elementals had no place in the tribe if they couldn't do something beneficial, so Bennu made Bahini stop and found enjoyment in what she was forced to do.

Bennu's skills did not diminish even when she gained a permanent residence instead of allowing her wings to ride the wind and her feet to tread the sand. The city-state's magistrates recognized Bennu as one of the most capable warriors of her tribe. She was given a position to guard the outer walls of the city. They were, apparently, constructed as replicates of God-King Deshret's own glorious kingdom. Bennu didn't care much for politics or religion, so she nodded as the magistrates explained. She took her sword, and she stood at her post for many hours until another warrior from a different tribe came to relieve her.

The monsters of the desert are hungry beasts at the end of the day. Through various methods, they recognize that humans or foods exist within the gates. The monsters attack without any forethought. Any warrior worth his title could take care of the monsters, but none are as swift and ruthless as Bennu. Even the more humanoid monsters are cut down without any remorse, and this includes any enemies sent by rivaling city-states. While most are vaguely aware she isn't human like the rest of them, it will never be clearer than the times when Bennu is covered in thick red blood with bodies at her feet and an emotionless expression in her eyes.

Bennu genuinely does not care as much as the other warriors do. They seek glory as they cut down intruders. Bennu only wishes for peace— not for the city-state but for herself. She hates the noises the monsters make, and she despises humans that do not know how to sneak properly. She is merciless because of her annoyance. When she isn't fighting, she is studying the stars. When her duty happens during the hours of daylight, she tinkers with her machines. It is even better when the monsters or humans drop resources Bennu confiscates as her own to incorporate into her designs.

It is very rare, but sometimes, people that do not register as enemies will come to the gates. Bennu is very adamantly told not to deal with them. She lacks social graces, they imply without actually saying. Bennu understands all the same. Bahini frequently says something similar in kinder terms. The reason she has been mostly outcasted from society is because she does not conform to it. She is allowed to remain because of her fighting capabilities and mechanical contributions, but no one is going to ask her to handle diplomatic affairs.

A rather large group of people travel toward the gate. Bennu sets her chin in her hand as she watches the menagerie of people enter into the gate. They are dressed in brightly colored fabrics and precious metal accessories. They are beating drums as they meander into the city streets, and Bennu believes a few of them are singing. She doesn't understand music well, but she considers it to be a beautiful voice. She leans closer to get a better look. She wonders what all of these people are doing because they don't seem like the usual merchants. Is this a delegation from another city-state?

As Bennu searches for clues, her eyes drift to the palanquins being carried into the city-state. There are three of them, all dressed up with as much expensive jewels and fabrics as possible. They are designed differently from one another, however. The first is made from gold with red and black fabrics. The next is made with silver with green and white fabrics. The last one is made from some strange iridescent metal with exclusively purple fabrics. Bennu frowns at the palanquin the same moment the wind lifts the fabric up. For a split second, Bennu's golden eyes stare directly into a pair of red eyes. Though, red is an understatement. Those are the eyes of blood, of daybreak, of fire— alarming and wondrous in equal measures. The fabric closes in the next second, but that moment doesn't end for Bennu. A new feeling settles uncomfortably in her chest. The inkling of infinite wisdom spirals behind her eyes, though Bennu would never be able to see it for herself.

She shakes her head. She grabs onto her sword, staring at the last of the delegation. A few monsters were attracted by the ruckus. Instead of blowing the horn to alert the other guards, Bennu leaps into the fray without any back-up. She needs to work off her excess feelings. She needs to slide back into herself, and that means sweating until she can't breath and wearing more blood than clothes on her body. She almost pities the monsters. They came at the worst moment possible.

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One heavy weight slides off Layla's shoulders, and another one takes its place immediately. She stands outside the classroom, back pressed into the stone wall. Several of her classmates shuffle out of the classroom's open door. Some chatter quietly amongst themselves, but most act as exhausted as Layla feels. Finals are difficult for every student, after all. Even the ones recognized as geniuses like Layla (recognized by other people, of course, as Layla is not of the same opinion) struggled with the sheer quantity of questions, each worth the same amount of points as the last despite the difficulty gradually increasing from page to page.

Layla is happy to have finally finished the test. She doesn't think she's done awfully, but she won't know until the end of the mandatory vacation. Testing is over for every darshan. The Akademiya will be devoid of students for the next few weeks, but the teachers and other administrators will stay until they have graded every single paper. Even if Layla's test is the first to be graded, her teacher isn't going to sneakily tell her if she has been permitted another year at this fine establishment.

Layla buries her face into her hands. It would be extremely embarrassing to fail after making it this far. Layla doesn't know what she would do if that were to happen. She would never be able to face her parents again after everything they have done to get her this far in life. She would never be able to face her teachers after everything they've put up with over the years for the sake of her education. What would Layla even do if she couldn't become an astromancer professionally? She doesn't have many other skills. She could become a fortune teller in the Grand Bazaar, but no one would trust her predictions if she didn't have a diploma giving her words sustenance.

"Excuse me." Layla's head jerks up. A tremor moves down her spine as she recognizes the voice's source even before she glances into the teal-and-orange eyes. Layla hurriedly composes her expression, straightening her back as best she can. Al-Haitham raises an eyebrow at her, gesturing to the doorway Layla is standing beside. "Is the professor still inside?"

"Oh— um, yeah, I think so, at least," Layla chuckles awkwardly. She shuffles away from the door. She glances into the room over her shoulder. She can hear her professor muttering to himself, but she doesn't think he's started grading papers yet. He won't start until all the students have gone to their dorms for the night. The seniors told Layla and her classmates it was because the students used to sneak into his classroom to discover what their grades were. He didn't like this for several reasons, so he started hiding the papers he graded only after he was certain he was completely alone.

Al-Haitham nods his thanks. He steps into the door frame. He looks around the classroom, and he must find the professor. Layla watches him go. Rationally, she should hurry back to her dormitory. She could start preemptively studying for the next semester or catch up on some much-needed sleep. She could head to the House of Daena to research what other career paths are available to her given her current academic level. If she really wanted to, she could head to a local coffee shop. She could ask her classmates if they found the test as difficult as she did. Or they could talk about anything other than the test because thinking about even the first question fills Layla with so much anxiety. Did she even write her name correctly? Would she get points docked if she misspelled her own name?

"Layla," Al-Haitham acknowledges her, a tint of curiosity in his otherwise neutral tone. He steps out of the classroom, raising an eyebrow. Layla panics. She hadn't realized she had spent so much time standing in the middle of the hallway. She glances around quickly for some abstract excuse the former Acting Grand Sage might believe. She doesn't find anything worth lying about. She could explain that she was lost in thought, but she doesn't know how well that particular truth will work with someone as serious as Al-Haitham. "Did you have a question for your professor?"

"Ah, no. I wouldn't— We just tested, so I know now isn't the right time. I'll come back and ask if I have any questions later," Layla answers immediately, waving her hands. She doesn't want people to think she was trying to cheat. What if her professor thinks Layla is exactly like his old students? What if Al-Haitham thinks that way? Somehow, Al-Haitham thinking that way about her feels worse than her professor assuming the same thing.

"Do you have a question for me, then?" Al-Haitham asks, voice trailing as he looks around the hallway. Even though he has gone back to be the scribe of the Akademiya, he is still a very busy man. Layla isn't worth even a second of his time, so why does she keep wasting it? Why is he letting her? Al-Haitham seems like the type to simply brush people off when he doesn't want to interact with them anymore. Al-Haitham could tell her to get lost, and she would thank him for giving her a reason to scurry away like a sinful rat in the Sanctuary of Surasthana.

"Yes," Layla says even when she means 'no.' She absolutely meant to deny having any questions, so she doesn't understand why her voice so confidently betrayed her. Al-Haitham's face twitches with surprise, but he is quick to dismiss the careless emotion. He inclines his head ever so slightly, prompting Layla to continue with whatever question her voice believes she has for the scribe. Luckily, her voice continues betraying her instead of leaving her to flounder about not actually having a question. "Do you believe people change given enough time? If we see the devastation of our actions, are we capable of changing our ways if we desire to? Or will we always repeat the same mistakes we have always made?"

Al-Haitham is quiet. He narrows his eyes at Layla, but he at least seems to be seriously considering her question and weighing his answer. Layla feels the warmth in her body drain out of her. She shivers with the cold, tapping against her vision to make sure it isn't acting up. She doesn't know where that question came from at all. She doesn't know what answer she's looking for. She doesn't have an answer to the question herself. She spoke unconsciously, letting something deeper and stranger inside of her ask the scribe. Could it be the Stars' Blessing? But what would a blessing need to know from a mortal man?

"Everything changes in life, even if it is slowly. If a human has the resolution to change, they are as capable of it as anything else in this world. But a change does not mean the devastation has gone away. Mistakes define a person as much as their intentions do. Even if they change, they must be held accountable for what they have done in the past. But even criminals should be treated with respect after they have served their sentence," Al-Haitham answers, putting a hand on his chin as he thinks. He isn't hesitant in his answers so much as extremely thoughtful. Each word is handpicked with the utmost care and sincerity despite Layla's question being arguably foolish. Neither Rtawahist or Haravatat— Al-Haitham's darshan— deal with human nature. A discussion like this will do nothing for either of them in the long-run.

"Thank you," Layla replies. She feels queasy all of a sudden. She really should have gone to her dorm as soon as class was over. She's probably going to be sick for the next few days. She always is after major tests. Layla rubs her forehead sympathetically. "I will excuse myself. I'm sorry for taking up so much of your time."

Layla doesn't wait for Al-Haitham to respond. She walks away from him, and when she thinks she's far enough away, she starts running. She almost doesn't make it to a trashcan before she starts puking.

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Bahini links their elbows together as they join the crowds gathering in the marketplace. Bahini's other hand is preoccupied holding onto Abbas' hand. With the three of them linked together, none of them can get separated. Bennu has the distinct feeling that Abbas would prefer if Bennu disappeared for a few hours so he could spend some alone time with his betrothed at the festival. Bahini would be disappointed if she heard Abbas say anything like that, however, and it isn't like Bennu and Abbas don't get along fine. Abbas is just a little more prone to jealousy than his peers. He isn't a terrible man besides that simple fact, and he will probably get over it once he's gained a little more maturity. Bahini will shower him with enough affection for him to forget that she is almost unhealthily attached to her younger twin sister.

"What is happening?" Bennu asks, gesturing to the large mass of people. Although the marketplace is often swarmed with a lot of people, this is several times more than it is even on the busiest days. Bennu is almost surprised by how many people live in this city-state. Bahini is genuinely awed, the expression lighting up her face like sunlight reflecting across polished metal. Abbas is wary, glaring at every person that shuffles a little too close to the group. This includes people who get too close to Bennu, but the avian doesn't entirely know what to make of that.

"The magistrates have big news to share with the entire city-state," Abbas explains, his voice rough and nearly inaudible with how lively the crowd is becoming. The three of them settle into a free space. They are given a slightly wider berth than everyone else because of Bennu's enigmatic status. Bennu glances at the people closest to them as she moves strands of her hair over her shoulder. The ones who meet Bennu's eyes flinch away. They must be from a different part of the city-state.

"But a lot of people are gathering because they want to see the three god-kings," Bahini whispers into Bennu's ear. As she pulls away, a bright smile fits perfectly onto her face. It seems she is primarily here to see the god-kings, too. Bennu would rather be at the gate, protecting this large crowd, but she was dragged here by Bahini after she begged Bennu's commanding officer to give her a few hours. The only reason the commanding officer gave Bennu permission was because Bennu was adamantly shaking her head behind Bahini's back. Bennu should challenge her commanding officer to a duel. She doesn't care if she wins or loses— she just needs to get a few punches in.

"There they are!" Someone gasps. The entire crowd grows uncharacteristically silent as three figures emerge on the stage usually used to administer news. The first figure is a gold-and-orange-eyed god with shoulder-length gray-white hair cascading down his back from underneath a black and orange helmet. His armor is made from similar materials, and he carries a staff-like spear in his hands. The next figure is a green-eyed goddess with snowy white hair and green tips wearing a matching dress, vines circling around her arms like sleeves. The final figure to emerge is a goddess with long hair in varying shades of purple (a pale, almost white shade near her roots that steadily becomes darker as it curls around her waist). She wears flowing white and purple clothing, and an amethyst crown settles nicely between her curling horns.

Like the sun produces light and heat, these three figures each exude pure divine energy. It is somewhat controlled as they sit in the three thrones prepared for them by the magistrates, but it moves throughout the crowd. More sensitive individuals hunch over, protecting themselves from the unseen threat. Bennu is more sensitive than most, but their divine energy isn't dissimilar to elemental energy. She stands firm even when the goddess' ruby-colored eyes meet her golden ones in the crowd. The goddess smiles serenely, looking away from Bennu as the magistrates take the stage.

The magistrates are known for overdoing it when they have news to share, but they are decidedly succinct today. Bennu is grateful since she has never been great at deciphering their flowery language. Even she understands that the magistrates are informing the crowd that they are no longer an independent city-state. They are joining Valivija, the kingdom of the three god-kings spanning across most of the desert. They will pay tribute to and adopt the religion of the three god-kings in exchange for protection and access to their secure trade routes. The people will be taught how to construct devices necessary to a civilization's growth.

Bennu feels uneasiness sweep through the crowd. Many tribes joined together many years ago to protect themselves, but they never imagined they would be joining Valivija. Bennu didn't see this merger happening, either, but she isn't surprised to hear the news. It is inevitable that a kingdom as prosperous as Valivija would continue expanding. Bennu is more surprised that this unification is happening without bloodshed. She doesn't want it to, of course, but she wouldn't mind participating in a war at some point. It might be interesting.

When the magistrates are done relinquishing their power to the divinities, they vacate the stage. They join the crowds as if they are regular citizens. The three god-kings remain in their thrones for a long moment, surveying the crowd with varying expressions on their faces. King Deshret (Lord Al-Ahmar, the god of the sun and desert sand) appeared unbothered and rather unimpressed. Greater Lord Rukkhadevata (Verdure Lord, god of wisdom and life) looked curious and kind-hearted. Nabu Malikata (Lord Sabaa, queen of all oases, goddess of flowers and festivities) was grinning brightly with an irradiant look in her carmine eyes. The people are as still and silent as rocks in the desert as they wait for the three god-kings' first decree for their newly acquired city-state.

Nabu Malikata rises to her feet first. She moves like petals in the wind as she stands front and center on the stage. Tiny silver bells jingle in the air as she settles into place. She gazes across the crowd with an adoring expression on her face. She genuinely resembles a fairy from the stories told at midnight around bonfires. She soaks in the attention for a second longer before she speaks, her voice as soothing as cool water on a hot day and glittering like thousands of gemstones crushed into a fine powder. "Let today mark a joyous occasion worth celebrating. These lands will know peace for many moons to come, and we should all raise our glasses in toast to such wondrous news."

Nabu Malikata moves her hand to the side. Some of the musicians the three god-kings brought with their delegation pick up their instruments. There is a moment when the musicians deliberate what to play, but they find their way together before anyone can soak in the awkwardness of the silence. Nabu Malikata's smile widens as she begins spinning around on the stage. She dances more elegantly than anyone else in the city-state. Bennu doubts she will ever see anything as beautiful as this again, and she's never engaged in the arts in any tangible way before. She just knows that her breath was stolen from her chest in the same way everyone else seems to be holding their breaths, not wanting to disrupt this marvelous moment even by existing near it.

As Nabu Malikata bows, the entire crowd roars with applause. Nabu Malikata flushes a pretty shade of pink with pride. Bennu moves to clap her hands, but she is faced with an obstacle. She stares down at her hand curiously. A yellow flower shining with moonlight grows in her palm, the wiry roots circling around Bennu's fingers. She stares into the heart of the lotus, cupping the plant with both hands. It is a Nilotpala Lotus, a flower that doesn't grow anywhere near here. Additionally, it only blooms at night, so Bennu doesn't understand how the flower is soaking up sunlight without withering away. She feels sympathy for the flower, however. She covers it in the shade of her body as best she can, and she focuses her aura on keeping the flower cool instead of letting it bake in the sun's fiery gaze.

When Bennu looks up from the flower, she meets Nabu Malikata's eyes for a third time. This time is different. This time, it feels like Nabu Malikata has won. Bennu just wishes she knew the cost of losing.

🪽
🐦

Layla sits in the Grand Bazaar. While the day is still early, there are a number of people meandering from stall to stall. Old friends jovially call out to one another. Customers barter with merchants, both sides trying to get the best deal for themselves. Some vendors yell out brief, flattering descriptions of their wares. Members of the Zubayr theater laugh merrily together as they start building the set or finishing the final touches of the costumes. One or two people are practicing their lines— their dramatic way of annunciation giving them away. Layla watches them with a disconnected form of interest.

"Umm... Nilou..." Kaveh's voice stretches out from underneath the dressing room door. Layla glances away from the crowd to the door. She sees Kaveh's feet move closer to the entrance, and she frowns at his odd choice of shoes. The bronze material of his sandals are familiar in a way that makes Layla want to wretch. She shakes her head, slapping her cheeks. She has been feeling nauseous for days now. She really wishes it would go away, but she doubts it will until her acceptance or rejection to Akademiya's upper years arrives at her dormitory.

"I'm sorry, Kaveh. I should have checked which bag I was giving you," Nilou giggles to herself as she opens the door to her dressing room. While Nilou is supposed to be playing a princess character, she is wearing a suit more fitted for a prince. Nilou pulls her hair into a ponytail, glancing at the mirror hanging on the back of the door. She smiles cheekily at herself. She looks over at Layla as she finishes. "I look a lot like a handsome prince, wouldn't you say?"

Layla opens her mouth to agree when Kaveh steps out of his dressing room. She realizes immediately what sort of mix-up occurred when she sees Kaveh wearing a flowing dress with a short skirt. The fabric flows across his body, fitting pretty well despite being tailor made for Nilou. He wears a veil over his blonde hair, the fake horns curling from his scalp as if they naturally grew there. Kaveh shuffles self-consciously on his feet, causing the silver bells tied around his wrists and ankles to jingle. Nilou's smile splits across her face. "You look very beautiful, Kaveh!"

"I think so, too, but I don't think this is going to help the tailors," Kaveh chuckles, scratching his cheek. He turns to look in the mirror. He places his fingertips on the glass. A strange expression crosses his face, but it disappears as soon as he turns around. He moves his hands toward Nilou. "We should probably trade outfits."

"Oh, I think I could play the part of the prince," Nilou laughs excitedly. She does the first few steps of the prince's dance before turning her hand to Kaveh. She leans down onto one knee with a genuine smile crossing her face. Kaveh sighs, but he takes Nilou's hand. She pulls him into a dance. It isn't graceful in the slightest since Nilou barely knows the prince's part and Kaveh doesn't know how to dance at all, but they both giggle like little children as Nilou pretends to be a prince and Kaveh tries to fall in line as a princess.

When they are laughing too hard to continue, they pull apart. Nilou claps her hands together excitedly. She turns from Kaveh to Layla. Her smile diminishes immediately. Worry overtakes the clarity in her eyes as she rushes to Layla's side. She reaches her hand down to wipe Layla's cheek, and the girl only realizes now that she's crying. Nilou tilts her head to the side with a frown. Kaveh looks over Nilou's shoulder with an equally concerned expression. "What's wrong, Layla?"

"Nothing, nothing, I promise. I guess I'm just tired," Layla swears. She looks away from the two of them to rub her eyes. She bites her lip to keep any traitorous noises from exiting her lips. She can't believe she's crying. She actually enjoyed their dance. She doesn't understand why she feels so... so mournful all of a sudden.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have let you—"

"No! Please, don't say that! I asked because I wanted to help out with the set. I wouldn't have come if I didn't want to do it, you know?" Layla jerks her head up, waving her hands in Nilou's face to silence the poor dancer. The day prior, Layla accidentally met Nilou on Treasure Street while Layla was searching for new supplies to buy. They knew each other vaguely from the Interdarshan Competition, but Nilou is a naturally friendly individual. She was quick to greet Layla. The conversation flowed like clear water with Nilou's guiding hand, and they eventually began talking about Nilou's upcoming performance. The set was going to involve a night sky. Catching the hint, Layla volunteered to help paint the set since she knew the night sky well. Nilou was hesitant to accept the help, gazing pointedly at Layla's eyebags, but the Rtawahist assured Nilou that she was fine. She genuinely wanted to help out. It would take her mind off her final, after all, and she was interested in the story the theater was putting on this time.

"You should take plenty of breaks," Kaveh reminds Layla, his voice taking on the same kind-hearted fondness it did when they met each other back in Aaru Village. Kaveh was here for much the same reasons Layla was. After overhearing about the performance, he volunteered to help out in any way he could. In the end, he was tasked with drafting a set the others would build. While his task was already accomplished, Kaveh lingered behind to assist with other matters. Including, but not limited to, helping Nilou test the costumes for their durability and comfortableness.

"I'll go get us some water!" Nilou snaps her fingers. She moves away from the duo to search for something cool to drink. Kaveh shakes his head slightly as she leaves. He turns around to sit beside Layla instead of going to change his outfit. Layla doesn't know why she thought he immediately would. He seemed uncomfortable in it earlier. She finds it odd that she would take precedence over his comfort, but he's always been like that.

"Are you sure you're feeling alright?" Kaveh asks, nudging her shoulder with his own. The ringing bells make Layla close her eyes. The air feels hot and dry for a moment. A scorching sensation burns across her skin. She can taste sweet honey on her tongue. She is left with the unmistakable feeling that she's missing something. The emptiness settles around her heart like a bird with clipped wings. Layla feels like that all too often— like she should be able to fly but simply cannot.

"I'm just worried about my final. I guess I've been losing sleep over it," Layla huffs, letting her eyes open. Recently, she has been distracted by fake memories. They are moments that feel real even though she's never experienced them. She has never flown in the sky like a bird, and she's never eaten honey in the desert. But the realness of these faux recollections are slowly driving her mad. She doesn't know what to do about it. Should she try to ask a professor from the Akademiya? Maybe even Lesser Lord Kusanali? No... no, that wouldn't be right. Layla will deal with this on her own.

"I've been there. I remember waiting for my verdict. I could barely eat or sleep in the days leading up to it. But you know, that isn't very healthy. You don't want to pass out a moment before you can learn about your future. In any case, you've already taken the test. You've completed the course. There isn't anything you can do now, so try not to worry about it too much. You seem like a bright student. I'm sure you've done all you can, and I know that will be more than enough," Kaveh reassures Layla. He reaches out to take her hand. He squeezes it, letting the touch remain for a long moment. Layla squeezes his hand back out of habit. The disquiet inside her chest eases away into a barely recognizable ache. She feels like she's meeting an old friend.

"I'll remember that. I promise I'll start taking care of myself better," Layla makes an oath and means it. She would feel much guiltier about breaking this promise than any other before. The thought scares her a little, but the certainty of the statement comforts her in other ways.

"I brought back water!" Nilou calls out. She kneels in front of Kaveh and Layla, setting a cup in the hands not currently holding onto each other. Layla pulls her hand away (with some internal resistance, probably from whatever traitor made her ask Al-Haitham those foolish questions) to hold the cup with both hands. She sips on the water, letting the refreshing taste wash away all her misgivings about the situation. For one brief moment, she doesn't feel exhausted or anxious. She just feels like a feather in the wind.

She loves it.

🪽
🐦

Festivals are generally regarded as special events. They are filled with music that anyone can dance along to. Wine flows like water, and the meat is tenderized to perfection for every slobbering mouth to feast upon. Everyone is bursting with energy and excitement, allowing the night and day to blend together in their half-conscious minds. Festivals are for the merriment of the people, if not their betterment.

The consequence of the festivals, however, is the beasts that thunder towards the beacon of light, sound, and smell in the distance. Many of the guards have forsaken their duty to participate in the singing and drinking. Bennu is not like them in the slightest. She has never been partial towards festivals. She isn't affected by alcohol the same way humans are, and she doesn't have any interest in dancing, singing, or partying. She instead keeps a hand on her sword. There is only reason she would participate, and Bahini is thoroughly distracted by her betrothed. Bennu dismissed herself as soon as a free moment was given to her. She left through the gates, letting them fall shut behind her. She could still hear the music and smell the ripened fruit in the air, but she quickly masked both the grunts of beasts in her ears and their blood permeating in her nose.

Bennu sits on a rock when there is a lull in the endless battle against the ravagers of the red desert. She uses a stick she found to draw shapes in the ever-shifting sand. She continuously stares up at the sky to double-check her calculations. She bites the inside of her cheek. As clouds begin to cover the crescent moon, she summons her Celestial Dreamsphere to supply her with light to work by. She pulls her knees to her chest, finishing a rather complicated formula in half the time it would take other astromancers.

The Celestial Dreamsphere begins spinning faster after a moment. The light pulsated faintly. Bennu looks at it with a frown pulling her lips downward. She presses her palm against the sphere to stop its sudden movement. The jnana energy burns against her skin, but she ignores the spreading frost across her skin as she looks around. She rises to her feet in an instant, drawing her sword from her pocket dimension (a true sign that she's become a warrior). She turns around, placing one foot on the tip of the rock to gaze down at the disturbance to her peace.

Her golden eyes meet a similarly colored pair as the wind steadily picks up around her. Her hair unravels around her shoulders as she recognizes the prickling divine aura of King Deshret. He stands a few feet away from her. While she's given the height advantage because of the rock, it feels like he's staring down at her. She grits her teeth. The urge to submit floods her meridians, but she refuses to conform to them. King Deshret might be a god and her new ruler, but she is not a subservient human. She might not be well-renowned, but she is still an elemental of an opposing element before she is a nightingale or a human.

King Deshret does not speak. His fingers shift on the staff of his spear, turning it into a sword. His body twists faster than any human ever could, and perhaps even swifter than the most deadly of beasts. Bennu barely has time to dodge as Deshret crosses the few feet between them and slams his sword into the rocks beneath her feet. Bennu's form flickers for a moment, and ice-forged winds spread from her back to soften her descent back onto the sand. Deshret's head tilts upward, his golden eyes glowing beneath the shadows of his helmet. His eyes narrow into slits, and Bennu has to force her knees to remain upright when they just want to hit the sand and beg for forgiveness.

Bennu startles when she feels sand climbing up her thighs. She strikes the sand with her sword, ignoring how dangerously close she gets to cutting herself. She twists her body, coating the ground in a thick layer of ice. The sand shuffles underneath the ice, but the sliver of moonlight they are shrouded in is incapable of melting the ice. Bennu stands on the ice, raising her sword to push the sword's edge away from her body. As Deshret passes her, he lifts his knee to slam into her stomach. Pain blossoms like a flower across her skin, and she is flung backwards. She lands among the broken chunks of rock, feeling the slanted edges slice open her flesh without mercy. Bennu's wings stretch from her back, flapping once to lift her back into the air. She places the toes of her shoe on a rock chunk, watching with morbid interest as the sand climbs up the rock to capture her.

Deshret twists his sword in his hands. He attacks her again. His face remains impassive as Bennu struggles to parry each hit. Pain shoots up her arms every time, and her ice-forged wings shatter like glass under the immense wind pressure coming off their strikes. The lack of wings hurt more than anything else. Even the pain of them shattering is nothing compared to her inability to escape the desert's heated ground in exchange for the night mists holding her like a mother cradling a child.

Bennu's human body is not capable of keeping up with a divine warrior. Her sword, too, can't withstand Deshret's strength or the material his sword is made from. The blade shatters the same moment Bennu is forced onto her backside. Deshret puts his foot on Bennu's chest, holding her down. The flat edge of his sword nestles underneath her jawline, tilting her head upward until her neck is exposed. Deshret stares at her from the bottom of his eyes as if she wasn't worth his time. Bennu scowls, anger surging through her body like an avalanche sliding down the distant mountains (ones Bennu doesn't remember so much as instinctively knows because of the Cryo inside her). Bennu uses her forearm to nudge Deshret's sword away. His foot slams deeper into her chest, knocking the air out of her lungs, but she pushes through the pain. She kicks her feet up. She grabs a shard of her broken blade. In the split second she's airborne, she strikes Deshret with the broken shard, ignoring how it deals just as much damage to her as it does to him. She lands back on the sand, letting go of the bloodied shard.

Deshret straightens. His figure is imposing, and daybreak trickles out across the sky behind his visage. The red-orange light reflects across his metal armor. He raises a fist to his face. He swipes his thumb across his cheek. He stares at the golden ichor dripping down his fingertips to his palm. He raises an eyebrow at Bennu. Her hand continues to throb with blood-red pain, but his cheek heals in an instant. He regards her carefully. She heaves a breath, glaring at him. His head tilts to the side curiously. "I should know better than to doubt her."

Bennu doesn't know what that means, but she doesn't get to make a comment about it as Deshret rushes forward quicker than before. He grabs her face with his full hand. His fingers squeeze into her skin. She fights against him, but she can't stop herself from sinking into sleep.

🪽
🐦

"Keep your elbows up," Al-Haitham calls out as he teleports from his standing position to the nearest enemy. The treasure hoarder stumbles back at the Dendro-charged punch slams directly into his face. Al-Haitham doesn't waver. He keeps his momentum going, summoning his dual-swords to cut through the remaining members of the loosely affiliated organization spreading to every corner of Tevyat.

Layla raises her elbows higher as she stares down the scope of the treasure hoarder's crossbow. As he shoots the arrow, Layla dodges out of the way. She continues rushing forward. The treasure hoarder stares down at his boots as he tries putting another arrow into his machine. Layla doesn't give him another chance. She strikes through the leather straps around his off-white shirt. He falls to the ground, landing roughly against the grass. Layla kicks the crossbow away from him— a lesson she learned after being shot in the shoulder by a treasure hoarder she thought was down a few months prior.

"Don't throw your entire body into each stroke. You need to maintain balance, or even a light breeze will knock you over," Al-Haitham continues. His Dendro-infused sword makes work of several treasure hoarders in the time it takes Layla to finish one off. She feels terrible for leaving so much to him, but she knows that he wouldn't appreciate her apologizing in the middle of a fight.

As before, Layla tries following his instructions. She has always been light on her feet, but he's right about her general lack of balance. She isn't exactly strong, so she feels like the only path to success is using her body weight to account for the strength she lacks. It makes her hits harder, but it also leaves her open to being pushed aside too easily. Layla has stumbled plenty of times in fights. It is never a fun experience, and she has more than a few scars on her pale skin from such encounters.

"There are two ways to defeat an opponent physically stronger than you. The first is attrition. You are faster than your opponents. While your hits might not be strong individually, you can deal many more hits in the same time it takes your opponent to deal one. As long as you dodge their hit, all of your sword strikes will accumulate. Your opponent will either die by a thousand cuts or grow too tired to continue fighting," Al-Haitham notes. His swords disappear. He steps over the groaning bodies, ignoring their pleas for mercy. Al-Haitham stops behind Layla. He gestures to the remaining treasure hoarder. The black-haired man holds a hammer that would shatter Layla's bones with a single strike. Al-Haitham moves Layla's elbows up, but he doesn't finish off the last treasure hoarder for her. He just steps back, gesturing to the remaining man. "The other way is to use their strength and weight against them. With such a heavy weapon, he will be as off-balanced as you are, especially after he swings it the first time. Use that opportunity to strike."

Layla narrows her eyes at the treasure hoarder. The man shifts on his feet. He readies himself to leap into the air. Layla wonders if he heard a word Al-Haitham just said because he is doing everything Al-Haitham said Layla should take advantage of. Layla feels pity in her stomach, but she can't allow such feelings to stop her from protecting herself. These treasure hoarders attacked her first. They wouldn't even listen to her bargaining. Layla has every right to defend herself. The former Acting Grand Sage said so, and Layla trusts someone with that title to know the Akademiya's rules better than she does. She really hopes the General Mahamatra won't come after her.

The treasure hoarder jumps into the air. He tries slamming his hammer into her body. Layla leaps one way, and Al-Haitham teleports some distance away. The hammer cracks a few pebbles. The crunching sound makes Layla sick, but she pushes down her biting fear as the hammer hurriedly swings in an upward arc. Layla ducks down to the ground. She swings her leg out to knock into the man's ankles. She pushes his wrist as far up as she can, letting the hammer's heavy weight help her bring the large man sprawling on the ground. Layla hurriedly stumbles onto her feet. She points her sword at the man's throat, using her foot to stomp his wrist. He hisses, letting go of the hammer. Layla attempts to move the hammer away, but she isn't nearly strong enough for that. Al-Haitham teleports in to deal with the aftermath.

The treasure hoarder grumbles, cradling his wrist against his chest. Layla keeps her sword at his throat. She is careful to center her body weight so that the man cannot do to her what she did to him. Layla glances at Al-Haitham. He is nudging the hammer further away with the toe of his boot. She looks into her eyes. He gestures to her sword. "Why did you choose a sword? Would a catalyst not have fit you better?"

"Well..." Layla begins, looking away from Al-Haitham. She stares into the treasure hoarder's eyes. He glares at her, and she doesn't know why she expected him to help her get out of this situation. "I just felt like a sword would be better, I guess. I use it for exercise more than protection."

"That is the same reason I picked the sword," Al-Haitham admits, summoning the Light of Foliar Incision. The white and green blade shines pristinely in the waning sunlight of the late afternoon. Layla glances down at Cool Steel, the sword she purchased some years back. She takes good care of it, but the blade's age is beginning to show. Layla probably should have learned how to properly care for a sword, but she doesn't really have the same. She wipes it down with a rag and she sharpens it with a whetstone. She might need to see the blacksmith about getting a new one or improving this one. "You aren't terrible with a sword, but you need to remember what I said today. Your lack of balance is going to be the reason you lose almost every fight you participate in."

"I'll do my best. Thank you for teaching me," Layla meekly replies, bowing her head. Al-Haitham hums in response. He starts grabbing the collars of treasure hoarders. He ties them together with thick rope and sturdy knots near the base they are illegally squatting in. It was a coincidence that Al-Haitham showed up. Layla was searching for a good place to read some new textbooks she purchased. The treasure hoarders attacked her first, and Al-Haitham showed up in time to rescue her from a near-fatal hit. He was here for the treasure hoarders specifically, a task he gave himself when he discovered a book he was waiting for had been stolen by these ruffians. Now, they both wait for the Matra, the ones who should have prevailed against these rogues.

"You should return to your previous activities. I will wait for the Matra and file a report," Al-Haitham says as soon as he finishes tying up the last treasure hoarder. He sits back on a chair, bringing a book up to his face. He is no longer paying attention to her, though he must be still conscious of the treasure hoarders.

Layla smiles gratefully at him one last time before she darts away like a desert fox. Instead of reading her textbooks, she finds a place to practice the knowledge Al-Haitham graciously imparted to her.

🪽
🐦

Bennu knows she is dreaming. She has always known when she is within dreams. She is a highly cognizant being, after all. She also knows, faintly, when she is not in her own dream. She doesn't know where that assurance comes from. Perhaps it is because this dream is taking place in a land Bennu has never been to. These trees are taller and greener than they would be in the desert, and the ground beneath her feet feels more like riverside mud than endless sands. Bennu knows this is a beautiful dream that does not belong to her.

Presumably, it belongs to the figure in the distance. She sits on a swing made from vines and flowers. A nightingale— a real one, not a fake one like Bennu— nestles into the figure's palms. She is careful with the bird, and she stares at it like a doting parent. She pushes the bird into the air. She watches the nightingale fly away, disappearing into the peerless blue sky. The figure looks away from the nightingale's departure to stare into Bennu's eyes. She smiles kindly, beckoning for Bennu to approach her.

Bennu, for better or for worse, does. She stands at the feet of the white-haired goddess. She stares into those bright green eyes, finding a highly detailed design expanding across the irises. The goddess smiles at Bennu. She sets a hand on Bennu's cheek, brushing the avian's skin with her thumb. "He is quite the brute, isn't he? I tried telling him to speak with you, but he finds it better to fight at least once. It is how he understands people, I suppose. It is probably our fault for letting him spend too much time with his machines and not enough time with mortals."

"Is there a reason King Deshret would want to understand me?" Bennu asks, ignoring the fact that she isn't a mortal. She has lived longer than most humans, and she will live for hundreds of years more. Her only misgiving about that is the simple fact that Bahini will die before her, but Bennu doesn't preemptively think about the grief that will befall her one day.

"Nabu Malikata is curious about you. She sensed your nature as an elemental. When she asked the magistrates about you, they revealed your capacity for astronomy. Her curiosity in turn made Deshret curious about you. He might have wanted to understand why the magistrates called you a great warrior," Rukkhadevata admits, putting her hands in her lap. She smiles at Bennu, looking every bit as a compassionate fertility goddess as everyone depicts her as in their stories. "In truth, there is another reason this happened, but I would like you to learn for yourself. The best knowledge is the kind we find and rationalize on our own."

Bennu is not given a chance to ask more questions as she's forced out of her dreams by the guiding hand of the goddess of dreams.

🪽
🐦

Layla buries her hands into the sand. The grains fall between her fingers as she lifts her hands into the air. She watches them crash back into one another, losing all sense of self in exchange for being part of a grand collective. She wonders if the grains are happier being a desert, or if they would rather retain an identity independent of each other. This was his ambition, but did even he understand what world he was asking for?

"Hello," A voice calls out behind Layla. She turns away from the sand to meet the uniquely designed green eyes of a little girl. The girl moves across the sand. She sits on her knees beside Layla. She moves her hair over her shoulder. She places her hands into the sand, mirroring Layla's actions. Layla watches the grains combine with the others. She moves her hand into the waterfall, collecting a palmful of sand. She cradles the sand against her chest. The little girl smiles somberly. "This is a surprise."

"What is?" Layla asks, blinking warily. She drops the sand back into the endless desert. She cannot see any buildings or ruins breaking apart the horizon. Only dunes rising and falling with the relentless wind.

"You are. I met you when you were a little girl. I never imagined you would be someone I knew a long time ago," The little girl giggles. She rises high enough to poke Layla's cheek with her little finger. Layla blinks in surprise. The girl giggles even louder, even as she seems sadder than before. "I will admit that I am curious about how you were able to so concisely split your identities. The others will struggle with the past bleeding into the present, but you are able to push such annoyances into one state of mind."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Layla grumbles wearily. She's tired. Not in the sense that she wants to sleep (she is far too familiar with that feeling) but in a much, much different way. She feels like she's been wandering the desert for many moons without reprieve. The sky is as barren as the wasteland she treads across. There is no destination and no starting point, only the imperative need to continue moving forward. The wind will guide her, she hopes, but she knows deep down that nothing is going to save her from the damnation she willingly agreed to experience in exchange for preserving his last wishes.

"It seems the division is stronger than I thought. You will understand one day, Layla. When that day comes, it will be your choice whether you accept your past or leave it behind. Neither choice is better or worse than the other. No one will judge you no matter what you decide to do," The little girl sorrowfully nods. She pats Layla's hand. As soon as her little hand retreats to her side, a sand storm sweeps across the desert with enough force to choke Layla into wakefulness.

🪽
🐦

Bennu should not be doing this. She should have stayed home with Bahini and Abbas, helping them plan the wedding despite barely understanding what a wedding is in the first place. She should be standing at the gate, waiting for monsters to intrude despite the new soldiers entering the town at the behest of the three god-kings to protect their newly acquired city-state. She should be drawing star charts, reading fortunes, or enlisting people to sleep under the Celestial Dreamsphere so that they might bear witness to their futures.

She should not be following an escort across the desert to the observatory King Deshret recently built (no one says as much, but Bennu wonders if it was made exclusively for her. It's a silly thought since King Deshret didn't know about her until a few days ago, but the thought lingers like a disbelieved truth). She doesn't need an observatory to do what she has always done, and she should be able to put her curiosity aside. She hasn't spoken to Deshret since their fight. She hasn't spoken to any of the god-kings since her dream with Rukkhadevata. But an escort came directly to Bahini's house, requesting Bennu's presence. Bahini was reluctant to let her sister go alone, but she pushed Bennu into agreeing since it was a summons from the Lord of the Desert himself. No one could refuse him; not even Bennu.

She still could have found an excuse. She could have refused on the grounds that he needed to apologize for attacking her unprompted and knocking her out. He had the decency to deliver her unconscious body to Bahini's house, but Bennu didn't think that was nearly enough.

Despite this, Bennu stands in front of the large observatory perched on a sandy cliff. The escort stands off to the side, waiting for Bennu to enter into the stone building. Bennu taps a rhythm against her thigh. She shouldn't have come, but she did, so she better hurry and accomplish the task Deshret left for her so that she might get back in time for Bahini's wedding. There are only a few more moon cycles until the ceremony, and Bennu swore to attend even if she didn't understand.

The observatory is predominantly a single room. There is a short antechamber housing the only entrance, but the next room takes up the rest of the space. The roof is made from glass, but there are shutters that can be slid over the see-through material to cast the entire room in darkness. There are many star charts and logs left across every surface, each one penned by intelligent minds Bennu has only heard of. There were a few machines that seemed to have been made by Deshret, but there were also machines that Bennu created that had been refined with rarer materials. Bennu frowns. She doesn't understand how King Deshret found out about those. Did he disguise himself and talk to Bahini about them? But she wouldn't be able to explain them in this much detail despite Bennu often telling her about them.

Bennu steps to the main table in the room. The entire table is bare save for a single scroll. Bennu picks the parchment from the table. She unfurls the paper, skimming the message until understanding dawns on her. For some reason, Deshret wants Bennu to determine the fate of Valivija. It would be a difficult task considering it was the fate of an entire nation, but Bennu looked around the workshop. She might as well use all these finely crafted instruments.

Bennu immediately started tracing out the necessary constellations. She predicted their movements with calculations. She was forced to make several additional star charts to improve her accuracy, but the nights and days blended together for her as she struggled to ascertain the fate of an entire nation. She dozed off during the daytime, allowing her nights to be spent entirely focusing on the stars. It was difficult work. The farther into the future she went, the more imprecise the calculations seemed to become. She was forced to return to an earlier point several times to reassess what went wrong the first time.

It took much longer than any of her other fortune-readings, but after the sun rose and fell twenty-seven times, Bennu came to a single conclusion. She stared at her predictions emptily for a long while. She needed sleep and food desperately, but she couldn't move away from the parchment. She left an ink-stained hand on top of her prediction, ignoring the word for as long as she should. She eventually went back to the drawing board to search for mistakes, but she came to the same destination every single time without fail.

As the sun rose for the twenty-eighth time, the massive doors were pushed open. Without a single attendant to accompany him, King Deshret stepped into the observatory. He stood at the entrance to the main room. The door remained open behind him, letting the blinding light of dawn frame his perfect silhouette. Bennu turned around to face the god-king. His helmet was removed, allowing her to see the way his eyes bled from molten gold around the edges to a crisp orange ring right around his pupil. For a moment, he seemed concerned about her, but Bennu wouldn't know. She dropped to her knees immediately, staring at the hands splaying across the cool marble ground.

"I am inadequate. I have only found one fate to befall Valivija. This nation will be damned to devastation. The entire nation will be left in ruins. A monster of dark fire and memory will drown the nation in poisonous tears. It will be a greater tragedy than even a god could suppress," Bennu whispers, feeling tears rise into her eyes. She has never cried before. Despite looking like a human, she doesn't possess many of their faculties. Still, she watches as the tears land on the back of her hands. "I am a failure."

"You are not. You have seen the future I was warned would happen to my nation," Deshret disagrees with her assessment of herself in the same breath he agrees with the fate that will shatter Vilavija into pieces. Deshret's sandals echo against the floor as he stands in front of her. Bennu pushes against the ground, leaning back against her heels. She stares into his eyes. He reaches a hand to her. "I will break the shackles of fate if that is what it takes to save my people. I ask for your assistance in this endeavor, Bennu Most-Radiant. In exchange, I will help you reach the sky."

In a moment that would be recorded for centuries, Bennu took the hand offered to her and became one of King Deshret's seven sages.

🪽
🐦

"I was under the impression you didn't want anyone knowing about where you live," Al-Haitham crosses his arms over his chest. He stares at Kaveh with an unimpressed expression. He glances once at Layla, but she doesn't seem to be worth a moment of consideration when her presence in this house is primarily because of Kaveh. Al-Haitham will sooner find answers from Kaveh than Layla, and they all know it.

"Of course, I don't want anyone knowing, but Layla needs our help. She doesn't have anywhere to stay! I couldn't let her live on the streets even if it was only for a few days," Kaveh argues. He looks at Layla with desperation in his eyes. "Please don't tell anyone I'm roommate with Al-Haitham."

Layla is quick to nod her head in agreement. While she didn't know Al-Haithm and Kaveh shared a house together, she isn't overly surprised. When they aren't working, they are more commonly together than apart. The only times Layla doesn't see them side-by-side is at the Akademiya, and even then, Kaveh sometimes arrives to converse with the grand scribe. Layla has seen it a few times, and she's heard about it on numerous more occasions, especially knowing that hearing Kaveh or Al-Haitham's name is enough to grab her attention.

Al-Haitham sighs heavily, something tired rising in his expression. "Where do you suppose she will sleep? Need I remind you there are only two bedrooms and an office."

"She can sleep in my room after I wash the sheets. I'll sleep on the divan or in the office. I wouldn't be the first time," Kaveh waves his hand at the laughably easy problem to solve.

Al-Haitham raises an eyebrow. Layla shakes her head, trying to wave her arms despite a backpack of her belongings sitting on her forearms. "No, no, I'll sleep on the divan. I'm the guest, after all. You're already being so kind letting me stay with you. I don't want to take your room from you."

"It's because you're the guest that you deserve the bed," Kaveh turns to face her, putting his hands on his hips.

"That makes no sense," Al-Haitham huffs.

"You don't have the right to say anything. You don't know how to treat a guest," Kaveh glares at the scribe unflinchingly. Everyone Layla knows— including herself— is a little scared of Al-Haitham because of his reputation, appearance, and status. Kaveh, however, simply says as he thinks without letting Al-Haitham's power feed or diminish anyone's ego.

"You're right. The only guest I've ever hosted became a freeloader."

Kaveh's face turns red with embarrassment and shame. "That is not true! I pay my rent on time!"

"You were late last time."

"By a day— You know what? This isn't the time or place for this. We have an audience," Kaveh huffs with a deep breath to calm down the brilliant blush across his face. He turns to Layla with a compassionate smile. He takes her backpack out of her hands, holding it against his chest. "Let's go set you up, yeah?"

Kaveh marches over to a side hallway, presumably to his bedroom. Layla follows after him, nearly screaming that she really will be fine on the divan. She hears Al-Haitham chuckle, wishing her good luck. He reminds Kaveh with a yell that it is his turn to make dinner. Kaveh answers Al-Haitham snarkily, but he keeps ignoring Layla's insistence on sleeping on the divan.  Kaveh sets Layla's backpack on the ground. He starts to pick up the scattered objects in his room. Layla awkwardly snatches her backpack. She wants to help him clean, but she doesn't know where any of these objects go. Instead, she takes the opportunity to hurry out of the room. She lands on the divan, hugging her backpack against her chest.

"Are you sure?" Kaveh asks, head appearing around the corner. She smiles kindly at him. She trades her backpack for a pillow. Kaveh sighs and shrugs helplessly. He returns to his room. When he comes back, he is holding a folded blanket for her. He sets it on the cushion beside her thigh. "If you're really okay with this. Just let me know if you change your mind."

"Thank you for doing this," Layla repeats, pressing her face into the pillow to hide her bashfulness. She probably wasn't going to sleep on the streets. While the dorms were partially destroyed by an experiment gone wrong, she assumes the Akademiya would have found different lodgings for everyone. It isn't as if there were many students displaced since most have returned home for the holidays. Layla would have gone home, too, if her parents hadn't come down with a contagious sickness. With both dreadful coincidences overlapping, Kaveh swooped to rescue Layla from her confusion over what to do next. She could have waited for the Akademiya to tell the students where they could stay in the meanwhile, but she couldn't refuse Kaveh's generous smile no matter how much she wanted to.

"There's nothing to it," Kaveh admits. He points toward the kitchen. "I'm going to start dinner. Is there anything in particular you want to eat? Or anything you can't have?"

"There's nothing like that. I'm good with anything," Layla explains. The only food she doesn't like are these weird sleeping gummies she was told to try out during her early years at the Akademiya. It cost so much mora, and it barely let her sleep for a few hours. It just wasn't worth the mora she spent.

"If that's so, I'll just make something simple tonight. I don't want to overwhelm you on your first day with us," Kaveh chuckles. He moves to the kitchen. Layla follows a moment later. She stays at the door frame, not daring to interrupt the architect as he toils away in the kitchen. Layla knows how to make a few simple dishes. The easier it is to make in the great outdoors, the better. "Would you like to help?"

Layla's eyes widen. She thinks about it for a moment, but she ultimately agrees. She wouldn't mind learning how to make something new. Maybe she can make it for her parents when she returns home.

🪽
🐦

Bennu carries a basket of fresh fruits and warm bread with her as she travels through the palace halls. The cheerful music echoes in the hallway, and the shadows of dancers strike firm silhouettes on the walls lit by Deshret's candle-like contraptions. She hums to the beat, skipping instead of stepping as she reaches the end of the hallway. It splits into two opposite directions, but Bennu climbs onto the windowsill. When she unravels the windows latch, she transforms back into a bird. She carries the basket in her talons, flying to the nearest tree. The branches hang over the still waters of an oasis. Bennu's weight causes the branch to dip, letting flower buds fall into the water. They float like lotuses, though Bennu doesn't pay attention as she transforms back into a human. She leaps down from the branch to the roots, feeling the water splash against her ankles.

Bennu sets the basket between the large tree roots. The food smells delicious, but Bennu does not touch it. She leaves the basket as she folds her legs underneath her. She clasps her hands together in a pose similar to praying. She doesn't frequently pray, but on nights like this one, she finds it easier to communicate when she resembles a devout worshiper despite arguably being the sage with the least amount of faith— other than Sage Apep, of course. But it isn't a fair assessment since Apep hates the gods and Bennu is only indifferent towards them.

"How are you, sister? Have you been well?" Bennu asks the empty air. As she suspected, Bennu went on to live much longer than Bahini. Bennu tried preserving her sister's life, but as Nabu Malikata would say, death is what gives life its meaning. Bennu said goodbye to her sister, and she was permitted to bury her in Nabu Malikata's private gardens. The tree serves as a gravestone, allowing Bennu to always find where her sister was laid to rest.

Bennu remains a moment longer even after giving her offerings to the dead. She can still hear snippets of the festival in the wind. Bennu has grown fond of celebrations during her time as a sage since it was mandatory for her to attend. This celebration, however, is a bittersweet one that Bennu is all too happy to purposefully avoid even if Deshret will punish her later for disobeying his direct orders. Whatever punishment he will think of will be nothing compared to the strange sorrow that makes Bennu want to cry for the third time in her life (the first time being when she told Deshret about Vilavija's fate, and the second time being when Bahini departed from this world).

"There you are." Bennu smiles ruefully. She chose a very poor hiding place if she wanted to remain secretive. Nabu Malikata would obviously know when someone entered her private gardens. Bennu was only hoping that the Master of the Banquet— Nabu Malikata's official title in the triumvirate she formed with the other god-kings— would be too distracted with the celebration to investigate the familiar intruder. Bennu could dispatch any of the guards easily. Nabu Malikata is someone Bennu could never raise her sword against despite having grown quite skilled with it under Deshret's guidance.

"I am here," Bennu responds, moving a piece of hair behind her pointed ears. She rises onto her feet to greet Nabu Malikata properly. Despite being a sage who wants to return to the sky, Bennu has grown quite loyal to the god-kings and the nation they preside over. While Bennu is indifferent to divinity in general, she is close to giving up her title as a 'sage' in order to become a 'priest.'

"Hello, Bahini. Please forgive me for borrowing your sister," Nabu Malikata remarks, squatting down beside the tree trunk. She runs her fingers over the roots until dark purple padisarahs sprout from the ground. Nabu Malikata rises to her feet, reaching a hand towards Bennu. Since this is her queen and goddess, Bennu takes the hand without hesitation. She allows Nabu Malikata to escort her out of the garden. The guards stationed at the doors show their respect for Nabu Malikata and Sage Bennu as the two pass through the golden light of the door frame.

They enter the main room. Nabu Malikata squeezes Bennu's hand as she lets go of it. Bennu watches her goddess return to her position at the head of the table. Deshret and Rukkhadevata sit in their thrones, leaving an empty one between them. They both seem to be enjoying the festivities, but there is an air of tension between them that anyone would recognize if they knew the god and goddess as well as the sages do. Bennu wishes she could do something for her god-kings, but the problem they have is one that cannot be solved by Bennu's hands or talons.

"Bennu!" An arm is thrown over her shoulder. Bennu smiles despite herself as she meets Shesepankh's eyes. The Sage of the Jinn pulls Bennu into a merry dance, spinning her around until they are standing among the other sages. There are only six in attendance at this party since Apep does not frequently participate in mortal affairs. She rarely comes by for meetings as it is.

"You have returned," Hermanubis says cooly, standing directly to the side of Deshret's throne. The god-king glances at his sages, but he does not reprimand them for speaking amongst themselves. The partygoers are almost too drunk to think, so they are unable to understand the staggered conversation of their leaders' magistrates. "Did you bring offerings to your sister?"

"Only the juiciest fruit and crispiest bread," Bennu agrees. She breathes in the scent of the celebration. Wine and honey, fruit and flowers. None can truthfully say that Nabu Malikata is not a wonderful hostess, able to plan and throw magnificent parties that would make even the gods smile.

"Good. Let tonight be for more than partings," Hermanubis murmurs, looking away from Bennu. He stands taller, casting a protective vigil over his lord. Bennu does not say anything in response. Deshret needs all the comfort he can get tonight. One of his oathbound friends is leaving him— leaving their entire nation. Though the contents of their argument are unknown to even the sages, Deshret and Rukkhadevata have severely disagreed about something important enough to fracture their friendship and this nation. In the morning, Rukkhadevata and her priests will head eastward to the land surrounding Valivija. None knows what she will do yet, but she has made up her mind. Not even Nabu Malikata could mend the broken bond, so she instead threw a glorious farewell celebration for the Verdure Lord.

Bennu leans forward. On the other side of the thrones, on Rukkhadevata's side, Heryshaf is mediating a lively debate between Thoth and Sebek. Several philosophers and scholars are sitting at the sages feet, listening intently while they sip on a shared goblet of wine. Bennu leans back. While she wishes to be anywhere but here, she doesn't exactly want to be over there, either. She has never been fond of their debates even if she has participated in a handful when they begin discussing the firmament above their heads.

Despite the greatness of the party, it eventually comes to an end. Usually, these sorts of celebrations end at daybreak when everyone is drunk or asleep. This time, the party ends unofficially when Deshret has grown too agitated to remain part of the reverie. Hermanubis accompanies his lord. Shesepankh snorts beside Bennu, diving into the crowd to lap up the remaining wine and escort the jinn to their resting grounds. The other three sages start to usher the mortals to guest rooms or their personal abodes. Bennu staggers behind. She is closer to humanity than the other sages are, but she doesn't want to be among them at the moment.

"Bennu." She should have started picking up drunkards. Bennu turns her attention to Rukkhadevata as the goddess steps across the stage. She glances at Deshret's throne with a mournful expression. She looks back at Bennu with a heavy sigh. She touches Bennu's cheek, smiling faintly at the avian. "This is our farewell, but I am certain we will meet again. If not in reality, then in our dreams. Continue serving Valivija faithfully."

Bennu nods, bowing to her goddess. Rukkhadevata moves away to give the others a private goodbye. Bennu looks at the mural painted behind the thrones. The three god-kings will remain together forever in the painting since it cannot be true in real life.

Bennu transforms into a bird to escape the teary feeling in her eyes.

🪽
🐦

Layla sits on the ground between the divan and the coffee table. Her knees are bent so she can comfortably hold her sketchbook against her thighs. She uses a fine-point pencil to sketch the rough image of a bowl according to Kaveh's instructions. Despite the fruit bowl being right in front of Layla, she feels like she isn't seeing it well enough to draw it. She doesn't understand how artists do this.

"You're doing fine," Kaveh reassures her. She leans against his legs as he brushes her hair. He leans forward to point at an oddly shaped line on her paper. "Don't worry about the details right now. Just focus on the basic lines. You know how to draw straight lines and curves, and this is just a myriad of those."

Kaveh leans back, continuing his mission of freeing Layla's hair of knots. While she has been staying with Al-Haitham and Kaveh, she has begun her 'lessons' in drawing. She's also taught Kaveh about star charts and logs, but those can only be done at night. In the evening like this, Layla will practice her drawing skills while Kaveh brushes her hair. She doesn't understand the latter part, but she doesn't stop him. Layla has always liked it when people brush her hair. It makes her feel like she has a sister, but she knows that isn't true. She doesn't have a sister. She just has this strange feeling in her chest.

It made Layla cry the first time Kaveh did it. He was extremely apologetic. Layla forgave him because she didn't know what was wrong with her. When she finally composed herself, she asked him to continue brushing it. Despite his hesitance, he eventually agreed to continue. Kaveh has been doing it ever since. Layla has managed to keep herself from crying since then even though part of her wants to curl into a ball and mourn for someone she can't even remember.

Al-Haitham's bedroom door opens. A moment later, he crosses into the living room from the hallway. He glances at Kaveh and Layla for a moment. In the next, he continues his trek to the kitchen. Layla listens to the faucet as she begins sketching the apple. Kaveh hums quietly to himself as he starts braiding Layla's hair. Al-Haitham steps back into the living room. Instead of returning to his room, he sits on the divan beside Kaveh. He opens a book to read, remaining silent as he sinks into the cushion. Layla doesn't get a chance to look at him as Kaveh moves her head to continue facing forward. Layla shrugs. She doesn't need to see Al-Haitham. She just keeps sketching the fruit bowl while Kaveh finishes braiding her hair. When he's done, she feels him lean back. He doesn't move away, however.

After she has sketched a rough outline of the fruit bowl, she looks over her shoulder to ask Kaveh about the next step. He is fast asleep against Al-Haitham's shoulder. The scribe glances at Layla. He puts a finger to his lips to keep her silent. She mirrors his expression. She turns back to the fruit bowl, deciding she'll figure it out on her own.

🪽
🐦

The padisarahs wilted in Bennu's hands. She stared at the petals as brown-black rot spread from the edges to the center. It didn't take long for ashes to settle in the palm of Bennu's hand. She closes her fingers around the particles. She raises her fist to her forehead. She exhales shakily, praying to the fallen goddess. Tears form in Bennu's eyes, but they do not fall. They remain in her eyes even as she hears turmoil erupt all around her. The sages are yelling at each other. The priests are begging for guidance. The corpse remains on the altar, silent as unseeing eyes stare out into the world.

Bennu slowly opens her eyes, staring between her wrists at King Deshret. He kneels beside the altar. He presses the back of Nabu Malikata's fingers against his forehead. He is just as silent as she is, and he seems as adverse to crying as Bennu is. Despite this, he remains on his knees, sinking lower and lower to the ground. The great, infallible king of the desert rendered as weak and helpless as a pathetic human in the face of death.

When the room finally hangs in silent anticipation, King Deshret rises onto his feet. He picks up Nabu Malikata's body. He cradles her close to his immortal chest. There is a faint tremble in his fingertips, but he otherwise stands tall and proud. With a heralding voice like an envoy of heaven, King Deshret commands them all. "Our dear goddess has entered the Golden Slumber. She has given me the knowledge necessary to allow everyone passage into this paradise. I will guide you all there, so have faith in me a while longer."

Bennu stares directly into her lord's eyes despite him being unable to look at any of them. She always knew Deshret possessed lofty ideals. Just as he would return her to the sky, he wanted to bring humanity to their final, eternal homes. His ambitions are pure and just, but Bennu does not know how far her master is willing to go to attain this victory against fate. He is willing to rebel against the heavens for a chance.

Hermanubis kneels before Deshret. The other sages follow in his wake. Bennu is hesitant, but she bends a knee to the Lord of the Red Desert. She closes her eyes. She opens her hands, letting the ashes of the padisarah fall away to the ground. She closes a fist, placing it against her heart. She swore once to guide Vilavija into a prosperous future, to defy the shackles of fate alongside Deshret. While this is not what she thought would happen, she cannot forsake her oaths. She will reach that ultimate paradise with Deshret. There, she will reunite with Bahini and Nabu Malikata. And there, she will finally reach the true sky.

🪽
🐦

She rises from the divan. She swings her legs over the side, lifting onto her feet. She looks around the dimly lit living room with slow-blinking eyes. There is a light leaking into the room from the shorter of the two hallways. She crosses the space quickly to step into the yellow-orange beams. She stands in the hall's entryway. At the other end of the hall, the office door is left wide open. Kaveh is bent over a table positioned in front of a window. He is sketching designs for a new client, toiling tirelessly into the night. His blonde hair has been let down, and it hangs around him like a curtain. He looks up for a moment when he registers someone looking at him. His lips twitch with a smile. He waves at her, murmuring something about going to bed soon.

She waved back, replying that she will return to the divan. She does, but she doesn't lie down to sleep. She sits on the edge. She stares at her hands curiously. She flexes her fingers. As she waits for sleep to overcome her, she hears the creaking of a door. She raises an eyebrow. Al-Haitham steps into the living room. He glances between the office and her. She smiles, shaking her head. "Would you like to talk?"

Al-Haitham narrows his eyes at her, but he ultimately decides to sit on the nearby chair. The two of them stare at each other for a long moment. She sighs wistfully. She starts the conversation. "We trusted you."

"What?" Al-Haitham replies in a whisper. His eyes flick to the hallway leading to the office.

"We trusted you, my lord. You told us you would save us all, and we believed you. We followed your plan because we thought it would lead us to the Eternal Oasis. We only found more misery."

"What are you—" Al-Haitham asks, but he cuts himself off with a funny look. He sighs, looking down at his hands. He doesn't speak for a long moment. She waits patiently for him, and he eventually concedes. "I know."

"Are you going to do better in this cycle?"

"In a way. I am not going to attempt the same mistakes I made before. Utopia is unattainable. Even if it were, the probability of achieving it would be too miniscule to destroy what has been maintained up till now. We are the closest to perfection as humanity will get," Al-Haitham nods.

"If that is your will in this samsara, my lord."

"I'm no longer your lord."

She smirks, shaking her head. "You will always be my lord."

🪽
🐦

Bennu places the bottle into the small pool of water. Despite being sealed and unconscious, Liloupar's power expands the glass to cause rapid plant growth all around her. Bennu sits on her haunches. She watches crystal flies swarm the area from a ley line disturbance. Bennu fondly recalls her creation. As if to remember it more clearly, Bennu transforms back into a nightingale. She lifts her wings into the air, leaving the shard of Liloupar behind. It pains Bennu to desert a former friend, but Deshret's punishments are absolute and unforgiving.

Bennu's only consolation is that Liloupar still has a fate. She will not die here despite being torn asunder. One day, her fragments will reunite and the Mother of Jinn will experience the miracles of life once more.

🪽
🐦

Layla considers herself to be a careful person. She often makes social blunders and minor mistakes, but she doesn't think she's a clumsy person. She, at least, always manages to take care of business before the deadline descends upon her like a bird of prey.

She could have been more careful in this instance, though. She, at least, shouldn't have gotten Kaveh involved. He wasn't even there when she and Al-Haitham attacked the treasure hoarders, so she doesn't understand why he was captured instead of Al-Haitham. Then again, she doesn't really know why she was kidnapped, either. It could have been for revenge, and that's probably the most likely answer, but it doesn't feel that way. No one is hitting her. They have only tied her up and ignored her. If anything, she feels like she's the collateral to Kaveh getting kidnapped. She guesses there are reasons to kidnap the Light of Kshahrewar, but it seems like too much of a hassle in Layla's opinion. Especially when the threat of Al-Haitham, Cyno, and Tighnari— Kaveh's best friends— lingers in the air as a nonphysical defense mechanism.

"Are you sure about this?" One of the treasure hoarders whispers to the boss of this whole operation.

The man glares at his subordinate. "Why wouldn't I be sure about this? Those damn Eremites are going to pay a fortune for this blonde brat."

"But what if we get caught?"

"We won't. The Eremites will get the architect. We get our money. Everyone turns out alright in the end."

"But what about the girl?"

"Eh..." The man murmurs, scratching his five o'clock shadow as he stares at Layla. While she refuses to flinch at his stare, she can't find the strength to glare at him, either. She's always been a weak person, and this isn't the first time her cowardice makes her feel deplorable.

Before a decision could be made about Layla's fate, the supposed buyers arrive. Layla recognizes the Eremites from their brilliant red headbands. She whimpers quietly beneath her gag. She isn't strong enough to take on the treasure hoarders on her. She definitely isn't equipped to fight Eremites. Even the weakest mercenaries were forced to survive until adulthood in the desert. Layla's life has been relatively easy compared to that. She doesn't have the strength or speed to defeat any Eremite even if she possessed a sturdy sword and her vision.

The treasure hoarders discuss with the Eremites. The bargaining is too quiet for Layla to hear. She looks over at Kaveh. His eyes are glassy from a hit to the head. He might have a concussion. He's doing an admirable job staying awake. Layla wishes she could help him even if she can't free either of them from their predicament.

An Eremite marches over to the pairing. He glances at Layla, but generally ignores her presence. He grabs Kaveh's shoulders, hoisting the architect over his shoulder. Layla jerks to reach for him, but a treasure hoarder grabs her shoulders. A knife presses against her throat to stop her movements. Layla whimpers again, going still. The Eremite rejoins his tribe. A different member sympathetically starts caring for Kaveh's head wound. That makes Layla feel marginally better, but she can't feel anything close to okay when a blade chills her neck.

"What should we do about her?" The treasure hoarder holding Layla back asks. The leader glances over at her. He sighs, rubbing his neck. He tosses the pouch of coins into the air, catching it immediately. He gestures vaguely in the distance. "Throw her off a cliff."

The treasure holder keeping a knife to her neck drags her onto her feet. Layla tries escaping, but his blade nicks her. Layla panics, wondering if she should stop breathing. Before she can make a decision, the ground disappears out from under her feet. Layla doesn't even get to scream because of the gag. She just plummets to the ground. She closes her eyes, tears falling upward from the force applied to her body.

Layla crashes into freezing cold water. Pain shoots through her entire body as permanent as the cold. She struggles to stop breathing, but her lungs burn within a matter of seconds. Layla wiggles her body, trying to emulate swimming even as her clothes drag her toward the sand-covered ground. She struggles against the binding around her wrists and ankles. If she can free herself from even one—

"Do you need my help?"

Layla stops moving. She whirls around, trying to find the person speaking to her in the near total darkness of the deep river.

"Calm down. There is no need to waste your energy. I'm only asking if you want my help."

Layla's eyes slam shut. She nods her head.

"Do you know the cost of that decision?"

Layla nods again.

"Very well."

Layla's eyes roll back in her head as Bennu takes control over their reborn body.

🪽
🐦

Bennu's lips part. She doesn't make a sound, but something deep inside of her comes loose. It leaves her in a single, shaky breath. She drops onto her knees. Her head tilts back to the sky. The stars twinkle at her like old friends, not the arbiters of her damnation. Warm tears fall from her eyes, sliding down her cheeks into the merciless sand beneath her. She lowers her hands into the sand, grabbing a fistful of the grains. She squeezes as tightly as she can, but her actions are childish. She can't hurt Deshret. His body died a long time ago, and his spirit departed from the world when he committed the ultimate sacrifice.

He left them all behind. The sages who fought their doubts to remain at his side. The sages who put their ambitions in his heart and their lives in his hands. He heartlessly dismantled their dreams. He died without an apology, without telling them how they could return to his side. He made them believe in him, then he abandoned them without even a goodbye.

Bennu wishes she resented him. She wishes, but she doesn't. She swore an oath to serve him. She is going to follow through until her end.

Bennu rises onto her feet. She transforms into a nightingale. She flaps her wings, daring to approach the constellation that shares her image. The cold wind whips through her feathers. Her talon scrambles across the misty clouds. The moonlight mocks her as the heavens cast her down for invading their territory. The life in her elemental is extinguished even before she hits the ground, returning to the welcoming embrace of her long-dead lord.

In the next cycle... Yes, in the next samsara, they will all be together again...

🪽
🐦

"Do you remember?" The little girl asks.

"Yeah, I think I do," Layla laughs airily. When she accepted the personality she had spent so long suppressing, she was given access to a whole archive of memories belonging to another individual who did not share her name but shared her soul.

"What are you going to do now?" The little girl asks, finishing a flower crown made from Nilotpala Lotuses. She sets it on Layla's dark blue hair. The little girl smiles at Layla, leaning down to meet her golden eyes.

"I'm going to continue serving my lords. That includes you, Lesser Lord Kusanali."

The little girl wraps her arms around Layla's shoulder. Layla hugs the little goddess back. Part of her is still Layla— still the anxious Rtawahist student who can't make friends and worries about every little thing. But she can't deny the part of her that is Bennu, Deshret's sage, anymore.

And no matter who she is, she wants to keep protecting the people she loves.