Sorina:


    “RAITEN!” I yell, not that it does much. This clan bastard hides amongst the stalks, so I must hunt him down like a dog. I knew it — I knew from the moment I saw his gaze lingering on me, like some predator sniffing out its prey. Sorayvlad will never leave me alone. Well, if that’s how it''s going to be, I won’t go down easy.


    My dagger thrums along the strings of the lute and I play the slower, methodical song of the Jade Queen and her throne. The sound spirits of wind coalesce around me, under me, surround me— their long stretchy arms reach through the crops, feeling the barley and berries, the corn and wheat. No flesh.


    “He’s sneaky, that man,” one of the spirits whispers in my ear. I nod, looking to the sky. I called for Gold-Mist an age ago, but it has not yet arrived to aid me. Though I feel it drawing near. A prickling fear is eating at me now: despite the fact that I disposed of Raiten fairly easily, his immortality may be a problem. He’s another poor dog of my clan no doubt. Regardless, I can’t let him upturn everything I’ve built. I’ve sacrificed too much for that.


    He must die. Somehow.


    It won’t be impossible: after all, you’ve seen immortal slaves be slain.


    “Something approaches us,” another spirit of mine hisses. I raise my dagger and harp, ready to play a harsher tune to deal with whatever comes. If it''s Umbrahorn again I’ll have to dispose of him. Erot will be angry, but I cannot let Sorayvladians roam free.


    The fields across from me rumble; the corn stalks shake. I turn to them and start eeking out a tune. I know this sound. It is Umbrahorn, tearing through the ground as he swims.


    Then, I exhibit the most peculiar sight I’ve ever born witness too: Raiten, with his long dark hair flowing behind him, rides shirtless atop of the back of Umbrahorn. His white shirt is tied around the shark’s fin and he uses that to steer. It is like a comedy or a play — my mouth hangs open just looking at the two of them.


    Snap out of it! I issue out a dark tune meant for stories of storms assaulting fishing ships far into the great seas and obligingly, my sound-wind spirits go forth, slicing into the crops and soaring towards my enemy.


    But rather than meet me head on, Raiten and the Umbrahorn swerve right, going past us. For a brief moment, it looks as if Raiten will be flung off by this maneuver. Yet somehow, he catches himself on the shark’s side, gripping tightly to the fabric of his shirt.


    They pass me.


    I glare at Raiten’s unmarred face.


    He looks ahead.


    Then, he and the shark spirit are gone, heading back along the trail of destruction I left from the shed.


    I grimace.


    “Coward!” I yell after him, trying to goad some sense of stupid from the man. Obviously, my voice is heard or ignored.


    Something bumps into my back, making me stumble forward. I turn, ready to slash my dagger at whatever it might be, but it''s just my cloud transport, Gold-Mist, patiently awaiting for me to get on.


    I grab on to its soft golden folds and sit myself atop the thing, staring after Raiten’s retreating form.


    If I have to chase you down, so be it.


    …


    Raiten:


    My world has gone insane. I ride a hammerhead shark through the vast fields of Erot’s family, clinging on by a shirt and the strength of my feet grips on Umbrahorn’s hide. I thank the Thunder Tower for teaching me how to climb barefoot — it comes in handy now. Umbrahorn tears a path forward, his destruction flinging dirt and crops of all types to our sides. They trail in our wake, like the afterimages of lightning when I use amulets.


    “How far are we?” I hear Umbrahorn rumble, his voice traveling up my spine.


    “It should be in the shed, I hope. Unless it somehow got flung away when Sorina blasted me full of her sound magicks.”


    Umbrahorn starts grumbling: “this stupid mayor thinks she can come on MY farm and start attacking MY guests and insult me by daring to use her petty little spirits against me? Well I’ll show her. We’ll show her how great I am, we’ll beat her down and…” he trails off, continuing to mutter and complain. For how polite the spirit appeared to be earlier, his rage is quite legendary now.


    I plant my feet across his fin, straddling it while standing taller to get a view over the heads of the next corn crop batch. I see the half-broken farm shed to our right.


    Giving Umbrahorn a pat while bracing my feet, I tell him “take a right turn—”


    Something sharp and invisible grazes my cheek, drawing a deep cut.


    I turn, finding much to my annoyance, Sorina is hot on our trail. She rides atop a golden cloud that whizzes past crops with incredible speed and Sorina plays harsh, singular chords that issue forth fast moving sound-magicks at us.


    “AND NOW SHE RIDES A HEAVENLY MOUNT? I’LL MAKE HER PAY FOR HER IMPUDENCE!” Umbrahorn roars. Then, he surfaces, dipping low and exploding out the ground, arcing in the air and flinging me upwards. I nearly lose my grip. The white shirt unloops and panic ensues. My arm stretches out, bare muscles straining as I reach and grab for his fin, re-looping my shirt to it. You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    Then, as Umbrahorn dives down, he spins, making my stomach hurl from the violent movement. Impacting the ground once more, he speeds away from the shed, towards Sorina.


    “What are you doing?” I yell before dodging under a speeding wind blade strummed out by Sorina.


    “Blight your stupid amulets, we can take her!” Umbrahorn roars. I groan in frustration. More wind blades hail at us. They are difficult to spot from afar, however, when they near, the wind takes the form of spinning swords and daggers, spears and arrows. Umbrahorn dodges and weaves and I do my best to stay on. I am not left unscathed: thrice my right side is grazed, twice my chest is pierced and I am nearly flung off. Once, a wind dagger hits my toe and the pain is so niche that it takes me by surprise. I blink through the torment, drawing Sorina’s dagger from my loins and raising it as we near her.


    Her’s is a face of fury.


    That must’ve been how I looked, when I fought Hui. So… angry.


    What have I done to you Sorina? What incited this?


    Before I can think further on that, Umbrahorn dives his head lower, his fin disappearing beneath the ground.


    “What are you—” I begin, but before another word can be uttered, his tail surfaces and slaps into my back.


    I am catapulted straight at the speeding form of Sorina.


    Umbrahorn you bastard! I curl up, raise my blade and slash forward, taking a surprised Sorina by the shoulder and tackling her off the speeding cloud.


    We tumble into the grass while her cloud speeds towards Umbrahorn. Mounting her once more, I bring my blade down again, aiming once for her shoulder. I do not know why I hesitate to kill her considering everything she’s done to me. Perhaps it is a misguided sense of curiosity: a want to understand why she attacked me in the first place. Regardless, that curiosity does me no favors as Sorina dodges the blow by jabbing her shoulder blade into my chest and bridging me off her form.


    I roll away. She gets to work on her lute again, sending rapid-fire notes of wind spears. I duck low and spring forward, matching her relentless musical pace.


    She dodges back as I slash forward, my blade cutting through a strand of her hair. As she backs away, more notes thrum from her lute and a hail of wind daggers curves around us, taking me by the flank. I am pierced thrice and knocked into a crop-stalk, blood running down my exposed chest, body spinning to see Umbrahorn ripping through Sorina’s cloud-mount.


    It takes a while for me to stand. My body is a mess of slow-healing wounds.


    Sorina starts playing a slow tune. A set of wind-formed hands take my feet from under me, dragging me out of the stalk. I try digging the dagger into the earth, but it is merely dragged with me until the hands jerk me up and the blade is left upturned in the ground. I squirm and struggle, but nothing really works.


    Hanging upside down, caught by both ankles, I am brought face to face with Sorina. Her shoulder is slashed from when I caught her with Umbrahorn’s stupid catapult move. That is the only time I drew blood from her.


    Fear lances through me; I know she will inflict the greatest pains I have ever experienced. I can see it in her eyes. Those raging emerald pearls.


    She starts playing once more.


    Then, I am let free as Umbrahorn resurfaces near us and tackles Sorina, the two of them sprawling half a crop stalk away from me. I hit the ground face first — head goes spinning. Blood matts my hair. With a shake and slap, I get back on my feet and the sounds of battle echo through the fields.


    I look towards Sorina and Umbrahorn fighting. Though Umbrahorn caught her off guard initially, it seems she has somehow put him on the backfoot.


    I look back towards the shed.


    Grimacing, I start running towards the shed.


    Wait for me Umbrahorn!


    …


    Sorina:


    My hands work overtime, my dagger picking against the lute with all the speed I can muster. Umbrahorn’s giant head broke a rib or two, but I’ve been trained to ignore those minute pains. This spirit will not stop me.


    I fling a retinue of weapons at its circling form. The spirit hands chase after it, multiplying and dividing into smaller appendages to grasp any part of the great shark. When it surfaces to attack me, I deftly dodge and thrum a few daggers at its underbelly, pushing it further into the air and allowing my spirit hands to finally grasp it. But the beast is strong: it sheds some wood as if it is exploding, its bark flinging from it like dagger shards of its own, momentarily making the wind hands dissipate.


    Some shards hail my way, and I summon an air shield through an old romance lamentation using metered chords and some of my own whistling for once. My shield magic was never good — I always needed to supplement it with my own voice, which takes a toll on my body. Still, it works well enough to block his shards.


    The shark nearly dives underground once more. I am too fast for it. My song changes into a tune of vengeance and the spirit hands reform once more, striking into Umbrahorn and grasping it by the fins.


    “Unhand me filthy spirit user!” Umbrahorn says.


    “Listen Umbrahorn, stop protecting him. If you don’t, I’ll kill you too.”


    “You have no grounds to tell a GREAT SPIRIT what to do! You filthy lesser spirit user! Now unhand me so I can bite your head off!”


    “I’m sorry I have to do this then,” I mutter.


    Then, in the distance, the sky flashes. My playing falters slightly. Thunder rumbles, but there are no gray clouds to be seen.


    Again, another flash, this time I see it is red and furious. Thunder strikes quickly after, a loud and deafening sound. I yelp and cover my ears, dropping Umbrahorn on his back. He flops around for a moment, cursing.


    I yell over him: “What was that?”


    When he hears me, he starts cackling like a hyena. “Oh Raiten you little bastard you went for them, didn’t you?”


    I stare at him, confused.


    Then, a stream of lighting arcs through the sky, striking me straight in the chest. My body jolts and I scream, for the pain is fiery and more intense than any pain I’ve ever received in my childhood. My lute is burning. I throw it away and it cracks against the ground, sending a discordant, dying breath of a tune throughout the fields.


    My heart feels aflame. My head goes light. I fall. My eyes dim close.


    I feel like I’m living a dream, and in the depths of my subconscious, that crimson lightning strike replays over and over again.


    Then, I’m kicked awake by something. My eyes flutter open to see one of my own daggers pressed against my throat.


    “What was it you said again?” Raiten asks, looming over me. I whimper. He smiles. “Right: listen to me very carefully, Sorina. You’re going to answer each of my questions honestly. If you don’t, I’m going to slit your throat.”