by Claire Luana
“You see this with your third eye.” Liliam tapped the center of her forehead. “It sees what is there but not there. You may open and close it at will, though it takes practice. With your focus and intention placed upon it, ask it to close.”
It all sounded very questionable to Rika, but she did as instructed. When she peeked through one eyelid, the world had returned to normal. She sighed in relief. “Thank you.”
Rika felt a tug at her consciousness. She peered over her shoulder but found nothing there.
“The god of endings seeks your return,” Liliam said, standing.
“I’m grateful for what you’ve taught me,” Rika said. “I’ll try to honor you all. To make you proud.”
“Protect our people. That is enough.”
Rika nodded, swallowing her guilt at deceiving the other woman. Herself. Well, she supposed she could help the Nuans while she was here. So long as it didn’t interfere with getting back to Kitina.
AFTER HER LESSON with Sarnak, Rika tried to get some rest. Though the weariness of her body pulled her down like a stone, her mind was a whirlwind, her emotions like shooting stars. Around and around her thoughts went, wild spirals of sorrow to despair to hope and wonder. This place. The throb of her wound. The soul-eater destruction. Gods and totems and past selves and Vikal. The surprising burst of his laugh. His thumb on her cheek tethering her to this world as her lifeblood slipped away. The malevolent green of his eyes as he grabbed her ankle and dragged her back into the center of the tent, tossing her into the remains of her father’s ashes. Her mother. Yoshai. What horrors were they facing? There had to be somehow she could know, that she could see. Liliam had said the stars were like doorways. Roads. Maybe she could find a window into her own world. But, a small voice demanded, what would she do if she saw the worst? Would she abandon Nua, now that she knew her history, had seen the threads tying her to this world? She traced the outline of her third eye tattoo, feeling its angles and curves. She wished she had a mirror to truly scrutinize it. She wanted to see herself—this Nuan version. She wasn’t sure whether it fit, or if she still felt like a hopeless imposter.
She turned these things over in her mind for hours, wearing them down like a river wears a pebble until her very essence was borne away in a current of her own worries. Knees hugged into her chest, she peered into the darkness with unblinking eyes, longing for unconsciousness to take her. Would she never sleep again?
Someone cleared their throat by her door, and Rika sat up quickly. “Yes?” she called, pressing a hand to her throbbing side.
Vikal stepped inside the entrance, his hands tucked in his pockets, a lock of hair falling over his forehead. “The people have planned a feast to honor our return. Would you like to come?”
“A feast?” Rika asked, wrinkling her brow. She wanted to itch at her third eye—when she moved it felt like she had something stuck between her eyebrows. “I thought there wasn’t much food left.”
“‘Feast’ is a generous term. But the hunters were able to kill a few deer, and they are roasting them. The people need something to lift their spirits. Especially the warriors that will come with us.”
“The attack is planned?” Rika pushed to her feet, straightening her skirt.
“It is,” Vikal said. Rika followed Vikal into the dark passageway towards the giant cavern—the Gathering Hall, Vikal had called it. “Nuanita castle is built on the sea. There are tunnels beneath that flood with the tides. They were designed as escape routes, but with Ajij’s help, we’ll be able to get inside. We make our way up floor by floor, killing any soul-eaters or thralls as we go. Stop at the treasury and pick up your totem and kill the rest of the soul-eaters we can find.”
“What about the queen? You said killing her would destroy the rest.”
“I believe she has traveled to your land. Kitina. She goes where there is the most…action.”
“You mean the most to eat?” Rika asked, her words bitter.
Vikal looked apologetically at her. “The sooner we free Nua, the sooner we can return to Kitina. There will be soul-eater vessels with astrolabes in the harbor at Surasaya, behind the castle.”
“Good,” Rika said.
“It sounds nice on your tongue, you know,” he said. He walked with his hands clasped behind his back, his head ducked to keep from brushing the tunnel ceiling.
“What?” Rika asked, feeling her cheeks heat at his mention of her tongue. He hadn’t meant anything by it, surely.
“Our language. You speak it like a native. Not even Bahti will be able to find fault with your pronunciation.”
Rika let out a half-laugh. “I didn’t even realize we were speaking it. I guess my time with my past self opened up more than my third eye.”
“I am sure it was strange. I remember my first time meeting my past self, and I had a lot more years of training to prepare for it.”
“It was. Seeing all those versions of myself…even with what I’ve done…killing the soul-eaters…summoning Cygna…part of me hadn’t believed it.”
“What was she like?” Vikal asked. “Your immediate past self?”
“Patient. Savvy.” Unfairly beautiful, Rika thought.
“I did not like him.” Vikal said. “My past self. He behaved like a pompous ass.”
“Sounds like the coconut didn’t fall far from the tree,” Rika joked.
He looked at her in surprise, and then smiled. “I am a work in progress,” he said.
“How long does it take to get used to looking at the world through your third eye?” she asked. “It made me feel like I was going to keel over.”
“That is normal,” he said. “When I first opened mine, I got lost in the jungle. Lost! I was the god of the damn place, and it kept leading me away, these threads showing me things I had never seen before—plants, grottos, hidden places. My parents found me a day later in a little nest the jungle had made for me. I think the scolding was half for me, and half for the plants.”
“I can’t imagine you as a kid,” Rika admitted.
“You think I just sprang from the womb, fully formed?”
“You know what I mean. You’re so…serious.”
“I did not used to be. As a child, I was quite the prankster. I would grow plant limbs to trip people right and left. My mother was ready to abandon me to the mountain when Sarnak came to begin my training.”
“What happened?” she asked.
He grew quiet, his green eyes far away. “Something about your world being invaded, and your”—he paused—“loved ones dying…It sucks the joy from a person.”
Rika understood. After seeing her father turned to ash…she would never be the same. There would always be a veil of shadow over her world. “Do you think you can ever get back there? To who you were?”
“I will never be that carefree person,” Vikal said, looking at her. “But once the leeches are all dead…I would like to find some peace within myself. If there is any left to find.”
“I’d like that too,” she said, her words wistful. “Just don’t ever trip me,” she added. “I hate pranks.”
“You had a little brother,” Vikal said. “That makes sense.”
“Koji was the worst!” Rika said. “Is the worst,” she corrected herself, trailing off.
“We will go back before it is too late,” Vikal said, sensing what she was thinking. “I promise.”
Even though she knew it was a promise he couldn’t make, she clung to it, wrapping her worry and her doubt in it like a warm cloak.
They reached the end of the tunnel, where it opened into the soaring Gathering Hall. Fires danced below where they stood, casting flickering shadows on the glistening walls. A heavenly scent of roasting meat and spices perfumed the air, making her mouth water. The sound of a single wooden flute cut through the buzz of chattering voices, the melody cheerful despite its loneliness.
Tamar bounded up to them, a tornado of enthusiasm. She grabbed Vikal’s hand, bouncing on her feet. “The deer is almost don
e cooking!”
“It smells delicious,” Rika said.
Tamar’s eyes grew as round as the full moon. “You can understand me?”
Rika pointed to her forehead. “I’m a real Nuan now.”
“How did you learn it so fast?”
“I knew all along. I only needed to remember.”
“Are you going to dance with Vikal?” Tamar asked as she led them towards the end of the hall where the rest of the gods stood talking.
Rika and Vikal exchanged an embarrassed glance. “I didn’t know Vikal danced,” she said, raising an eyebrow at him.
“Oh, yes,” said Tamar. “After we eat! You should dance with him.”
“I don’t know how to do any of the Nuan dances.”
“Maybe you can remember. Like you did with our language.”
“Tamar, let Rika be,” Vikal said with a smile as they reached the other gods.
“Here comes the imposter,” Bahti said to Kemala, taking a swig from a cup that had been fashioned out of a coconut. Ajij stood with them as well, in addition to two well-muscled men who looked like soldiers.
“I go by Rika, actually,” Rika said coolly, nodding her head to the others. “Kemala. Ajij.”
Bahti spluttered in his cup at her words, and Rika only just managed to keep her satisfied smile in check.
“I see your time with Sarnak has been fruitful,” Kemala said with a ghost of a smile. “You are looking more Nuan by the hour.”
Bahti turned on his heel and stormed across the cavern, joining another group of men chatting by a brazier.
“Do not mind him,” Ajij said. “I for one am glad to see your third eye is working. The sooner you kill the leeches on the island, the sooner we can get out of this gods-forsaken cave.”
“You don’t like it here?” Rika asked.
“Do you?” Ajij asked. “Cut off from the sky, the stars, the mountain pressing down upon you? Bahti may feel as comfortable as a worn pair of sandals here, but I have been too far from the sea for too long.”
Rika nodded. It did feel oppressive to be underground, as if her soul was anxious within her—anxious to be freed from this cave, to return to Kitina. “Vikal said there’s a plan.” Rika said.
Vikal appeared beside her. “We will discuss it at length tomorrow. Tonight, we celebrate. The food is ready. We should begin the feast.” Vikal placed his hand on the small of her back, leading her towards the edge of the cavern. Her skin pebbled at his touch, and she felt a surge of disappointment when he broke contact.
“Gather ’round,” Vikal shouted as they came to a stop next to a table ladened with food. His voice boomed through the cavern, and the people turned as one, the din falling silent. The other gods and goddesses fell into a line next to them, facing the crowd. Rika had never seen all the inhabitants together at once—it had to be a thousand people, maybe more. “This cycle has been difficult,” Vikal said, his voice grave. “We have lost many loved ones. We will not forget them. But neither will we linger in the past. The future is filled with hope. The goddess of bright light has returned to us!” Vikal hoisted a fist in the air and the crowd roared. Rika balled her skirt in her hands, stilling her urge to step back. To run. “She came from a foreign world, to help us take our home back from the leeches. She freed me from their compulsion. She can kill them. I have seen it with my own three eyes. With the gods reunited, we will be victorious!” The crowd roared again, accompanied by clapping and whistling and stomping of feet.
Sarnak leaned over, his wizened face jovial. “No pressure, right?” he whispered. Rika gave a weak smile.
“We do not have much, but it will be enough. Tonight, we eat, and celebrate, and remember what we fight for. We remember joy, and love, and freedom. We have each of these things so long as we have each other. The leeches cannot take them from us!”
The crowd roared even louder this time. Vikal waved, soaking in their applause. It seemed that despite his fears, the Nuan people still had faith in Vikal as their king.
When the noise of the crowd finally died away, Vikal turned and ushered her toward the table of food. Rika hesitated, looking back at the mass of thin, hungry faces. There was no way this food could feed all these people. “I’m not hungry,” Rika said, though her stomach ached within her.
“We eat first,” Vikal said. “It is symbolic. They will not eat unless we do.”
Rika sighed and helped herself to a spoonful of tana root, a plop of mashed orange that she knew would sustain her, though not be remotely satisfying. “Will this do?”
Vikal nodded. By the meager portion he put onto his own plate, she thought he understood.
Against the cavern wall was a low shelf of stone that had been covered with a green cloth. Rika sat down between Vikal and Sarnak—on display. It felt strange, sitting above the people who now lined up to place a few morsels on their plates. Rika’s discomfort increased when a woman came forward, and with a reverent bow, offered her a single gold bangle. Not wanting to be rude, Rika took the bracelet from her, admiring it in the light. But when she looked up to return it, the woman was already gone.
Rika peered into the crowd. “Where’d she go? I can’t keep this.”
“It is traditional,” Vikal said. “To make offerings to the gods and goddesses. Small tokens.”
“Is that what those things are in the hallway outside my door?” Rika asked.
Vikal nodded. “People started leaving them as soon as word spread that you had arrived.”
“But they have so little,” Rika protested. “I don’t want anything from them.”
“They will be insulted if you refuse,” Vikal warned. “And take it as a sign of your disfavor.”
And so as the night wore on, more individuals approached Rika, handing her small tokens—a frangipani flower, a stick of incense, a strip of golden fabric, a piece of fruit. With each offering, Rika felt her heart open more and more to the Nuans, cherishing a spirit that could be so generous in the face of so little. She knew what it meant for these people to surrender some small piece of the outside world—how hard it must be to come by a flower or a piece of fruit after a month inside these caves. By the time the flutist began a new melody, and a space was cleared for dancers, tears trickled down Rika’s face. Vikal said nothing but took her hand in his own, hidden behind the fabric of her skirt. She knew she should retrieve her hand from his, but she needed the comfort desperately, so she sat still as stone, soaking in the warmth that flowed between them.
The dancing began with a group of women who took to the floor, their feet bare against the rock. They began an intricate dance, weaving in and out of each other, moving towards the gods and away from them like waves. “It is the ashiak,” Vikal said. “A dance to welcome the gods. And goddesses.”
As the melody drifted away, the women floated off the stage. Cayono stomped into the center of the space to cheers and whoops. The flutist picked up another tune, this time faster and more serious. Cayono began to move and stomp and twist, his movements captivating. “He is depicting a warrior preparing for battle.” As soon as Vikal explained, the movements of the dance sprang into context. Cayono moved effortlessly, seemingly weightless for a man so large. Emi and Nanase would have been impressed.
Cayono finished his dance to cheers and applause, and a new individual took the stage. The dancer wore a crude mask of black cloth tied into a semblance of shaggy hair. “Normally, when these dances are done, we have elaborate masks and costumes to depict the characters. They had to make do with what they had, obviously.”
“What is this dance about?” Rika asked.
“The gods’ defeat of great evil,” he said.
“So just another day on Nua?” Rika joked.
“Exactly.”
Rika watched as several dancers began to perform an elaborate fighting dance, sparring across the stage, several in black supporting the masked dancer, others in shades of faded green, red, blue, and white. When a woman in white battled one of the dancers in blac
k, Vikal leaned over. “That is you. In the white. The goddess of bright light.”
Rika turned in surprise and found her breath stolen as she realized how near his face was to hers. Her awareness narrowed to a pinpoint as the music fell away, the movement of the dancers dropped from sight. There was only Vikal. Caramel skin, dark stubble, three eyes as green as lily pads. He was looking at her with an intensity that radiated off him in waves.
A cheer went up from the crowd and his gaze was gone, ripped from hers, leaving a lingering absence. Rika let out a breath, looking back at the center of the cave. The dance floor was empty, and the people were cheering, hollering, yelling for the king. And for her. She looked around in confusion, utterly lost.
Sarnak rescued her. “They want you two to dance.”
“I don’t know how to do these dances,” she said. The last thing she wanted was to stumble over her feet in front of all of Nua.
Sarnak tapped his third eye, and Tamar’s suggestion sprang to mind. Maybe she just needed to remember.
Vikal turned to Rika with an apologetic look on his face. “Are you up for it?” He held out a hand.
“If you let me make a fool of myself, I will kill you,” she said, putting her hand in his. The crowd went wild with cheering and clapping. Rika stood and saw Tamar with a group of girls dancing and jumping in delight. She couldn’t help smiling.
She took a deep breath and willed her third eye to open. Thankfully, it complied, but the surge of light and sensations made her stumble.
Vikal was there at her side, his arm under her elbow. “Are you all right?”
She nodded, looking at him. In her new vision, she saw the threads of silver power tethered from her, running up through the cavern and past her sight, presumably to the stars far above. But when she looked at Vikal, all she could see was radiance, a green aura of fertile soil and broad leaves and all that was right with the Earth. He was exquisite to behold—like this, she could see his immortal nature. But that wasn’t all. Between them stretched a thousand, a million tiny threads and fibers, weaving and twining and wrapping them together, pulling them towards each other. A hundred lives and pasts and loves, memories and sorrows. They were impossibly intertwined, so closely tied that there was no logic to separating. To being apart. They were supposed to be together. Fated.