Koyote rested her chin on a knee and asked, "You know how people in Harabara usually get to places on yunduls or wolves? The first were domesticated by Harans, making them great travelling companions. The former, on the other hand, were used by the beastmen as a quick way of travel. They're much faster, that's for sure, but not as resistant to the tricks and turns of most of Harabara. You'd think it's weird that they don't live in Lignoria or Malikan, given their origins, but I guess you gotta adapt, eh?"

She stopped for a second, moving back and taking a deep breath. The room she and someone else found themselves in was rather spacious, although cramped at first glance. Its walls were of the same redwood as some of the poles on Mount Yosei, but its colour changed into a more subtle brown. There was a big curtain obscuring the outside, albeit, the light still peeked through the small holes.

Koyote fixed her hat with one hand, but the other stayed put in one place, as it usually did. Even with all the time that passed, a massive wound still hadn't healed itself, and not much was to change. Either way, she rarely ever focused on it.

Her broken arm was the result of her very own actions.

"Wolves came from the few forests, later found by the Harans, now pretty much resembling the dogs of Prope Portam. They adapted to the situation at hand, even if it was difficult, they always fought to get their share of this world and that's why they're still here, to this day." she raised a finger. "Can't you say the same things about humans?"

The other person shook their head.

"Come on. You know what I'm tapping into." Koyote sighed. "The Morians, Olala. I know that the two without any Haran descent had a lot of trouble adapting to the new circumstances, but alas, they tread the island's roads without bigger issues. The different terrain doesn't scare them, they've seen the power of the volcano and they've battled the few which plague Galliath. Much like wolves, at first living in a place which completely opposes their 'origins', they found their purpose, and something to hold on to." Koyote leaned back. "You respect people who fight against the tide, as you'd always respect a wolf."

"But you'd never show the same heart to a coyote,"

"Exactly how the saying goes, Olala."

Olala rolled her eyes, staring at the ground.

"Because coyotes never adapted. They're distant cousins, I'd even argue, brothers, but you only think negatively when they come to mind. They're not friendly to most humans, they live their own lives, but no one speaks of them as highly as for someone like Dakarai to title a book..." she stopped. "What was it again? The Wolf and the Human?" she asked.

Olala subtly nodded.

"What about the human and the coyote? I thought Dakarai would know, of all people, but then again, he's shown multiple times to completely exceed my expectations." she crossed her arms. "Do you know why?"

"No."

"Because a coyote saved me once," Koyote said.

Olala didn't add anything else. She scratched her head once, but that was about it for her efforts. Although she didn't seem interested, Koyote knew she'd listen.

"Back when I was five, I went down with a really bad fever. Living in the middle of nowhere proved to be a hassle, especially when it came to finding help. You only relied on the people you had, and when no one could answer your questions you had to search somewhere else." she put her hands together. "Dad went out once, at least, tried. The wolves had trouble getting through that day's sandstorm and the only thing he came back with was a broken leg. Then, Mum was trying to keep us alive despite the hurdles along the way, and even if the people of our village tried to help, nothing was accomplished. But do you know who managed to do something, though?" she looked at Olala. "Your father."

Olala breathed out.

"Dakarai was always a friend of my parents. You'd die of boredom hearing all their stories about him and Dad meeting in Windsdale once while on their hunting course."

Hunting courses were exactly what the words entail. There were a lot of Haran animals in the deserts, but only a select few were allowed to be eaten or used for wool and whatnot. Part of the Harans' belief, especially concerning their polytheism, was that animals were holy to some extent. The course taught you what and where to strike, allowing you to do so in the first place. Hunting without a finished course was a punishable offence.

"Even though Dakarai himself was always keen on books, he had to get inspiration from somewhere. He knew his stuff better than my old man." she looked up. "It wasn't necessarily a favour, but he always thought of my family before himself. He set out, but unlike him, he didn't ride a wolf. Actually, from what I recall, he left without anything except for the most important items. The trip would take him about a week if the sandstorm persisted." she shook her head. "Surprisingly, though, he returned the next day, riding atop a coyote." she smiled.

Both nodded.

"They were, obviously, much smaller than our wolves, but Dakarai found enough space for himself and me. He dragged me out of bed with my parents' yells, but with a tight beam on his face, we set out towards something in the distance." She said. "I remember how the sand kept hitting my face, despite Dakarai's best efforts to protect me. I recall coughing out for air during those few hours, I watched the moonrise, not necessarily sure if it would be the last time. You know what I knew, though?"

Olala furrowed her eyebrows.

"That the coyote helped us out. Never mind the stereotypes, rough fur or a smaller, weaker body. In the face of this soon-to-be tragedy, it still showed compassion to the people who despised it. I seldom think that it was only natural for it to help. Dakarai told us that he found himself completely lost, but the only thing that rescued him was that one damned animal. In record time, we stopped near an opening in the ground, one of the seven grottos of Harabara. I wish I could tell you what it looked like, but I couldn't see anything through the darkness. Your father held my hand, and led me down a path, etched in with stairs before showing me a room formed in the depths of the canyons." she sighed, deeply. "That's when it all began, as I recall. The very first time I ever heard the word Swannes."

Olala looked up.

"He said that the people who lived there knew how to cure me, but that would require some sacrifice. Looking back, trying to compare human bodies thrown into the volcano, it was probably just a cold, after all."

"Why?"

"They changed my name. Dakarai picked it out himself." Koyote stood up, treading around Olala and pulling on the curtains a bit. "You can probably guess what he settled on."

Olala looked around for a few seconds.

"They'd call it a miracle." Koyote turned, the sunlight cascading over some of her face. "But I call it an equal exchange. Swannes always believed that something had to be given to receive. Some form of invisible deity or the power of humans." she furrowed her eyebrows. "You'd think I'd see. You'd think I'd know after witnessing something like this." she continued. "Maybe I did but... simply pushed all of those memories away. That wretched human itch to continuously ask for more saved me by destroying my life,"

Olala clenched her fist.

"I know you're still angry, Olala. I can say sorry a thousand times but-"

"Can't the Swannes bring someone back?" Olala quickly asked. "In exchange for someone else's life."

Koyote blinked a couple of times, turning to the girl. "No. They never will."

Olala gritted her teeth.

"Only an item from the heavens or witches could do so, and when they believed that the volcano hid the Holy Grail, they asked to borrow it," Koyote said. "The problem was, it could never have fulfilled their request. Mainly because the Holy Grail wasn't, and never was, there in the first place."

"Where, then?"

"Everyone I love would be back if I knew, Olala," Koyote said. "Everyone."

***

A thousand things in Galliath took a massive turn.

Ever since the volcano's eruption, it began to change and essentially collapse on itself within the passing weeks. The landscape was changing without much of an explanation, but if one were to take a closer look, if they even dared to do so in the first place, the only thing they'd find would be the remnants of a massive landform.

What once was a glorious mountain stretching over the entire island in the distance became a shell of its former self. Its highest points crumbled away, and whilst earlier it could've been compared in size to a chunk of Mount Aria, it was now closer to Mount Yosei, albeit still taller. Its sharp peaks and sudden rises in terrain changed into a massive crater in the ground, and while the magma below looked frozen, one item drop would suggest that it still swallowed, albeit slowly and unsurely.

The rivers and lakes it created left massive, brown dents in the ground. Such were carried down into Omer Narrows and formed another entrance into its depths. In turn, half of the town was destroyed, one-fourth greatly damaged, and some remained untouched, but signs of struggle were still present.

Such led to a lot of people now being homeless, if they didn't die on that tragic night. A heap of them moved out of the entire island and if they couldn't do so, they set foot into the natural terrain. When people once lived exclusively here, such was soon changed.

The Suna Forest north of the city became a refuge to poorer families. Treehouses and small huts were formed in already murky terrain, while the Ramona Forest started showing signs of another small town being formed, officially dubbed the Ramonium, housing thousands of other citizens, as well as the board of five women, at least for the time being. The unnamed palace, adjacent to the main street as well as left from the church, inaccessible to the public was completely sealed off, and even the cobbled streets with small statues detailing history were ripped out of the ground.

Ramonium resembled a very modest and tiny version of Omer Narrows, but in the place of the already formed cobble were either gravel or grassy roads. Most buildings were made out of wood, and there had yet to be any major landmarks present, 'except for the reimagining of the palace.

Despite efforts to rebuild what was once lost, such as the many gates and temples of Haran belief, and the canal which turned into a massive river going across the town, such were futile. Omer Narrows became a shell of its former bustling self.

Harans always were resourceful and creative people, as evidenced by the rich culture of villages present in Harabara. In short, building yet another house wasn't a challenge to them, but another pastime.

As for the Swannes Church nearing the Yosei Plains, with the board's decreet about weaponizing belief, the cave had been sealed off, with only one entrance used to empty its already hollow insides. Koyote and Genni were the two people specifically asked about the site, and while the latter had a hard time trying to admit to her earlier mistakes, Koyote assured her that she wasn't going to be punished.

Galliath didn't necessarily have a law and order system in place, it was pretty obvious when someone was doing something offensive. Such would result in a monetary reprimand or a few weeks in the jail cells below the ground, but in the case of the state of Omer Narrows nowadays, that specific offence was lifted.

Some buildings needed to be destroyed with a fair decision coming from the board. Be it, their state was already abysmal, or they were to be repurposed into something else.

Two seasons have passed since. Herbes had begun yesterday, and Koyote often reminisced how beautiful the temple looked during the season. Roses, as well as a plethora of different herbs and flowers, bloomed. Trees came back to life, the water was clear and not as cold as earlier, and everything seemed a little brighter.

Alas, the only thing they could look at nowadays was a massive staircase, leading up to a path connecting the soon-to-be Ramonium, with only one bridge above the river. The gates were either wrecked or taken down, with a small wooden sign detailing the site's past.