The room felt strange, unlike any space I had ever been in before. The walls were made of wood, but not the old, weathered kind you might find in a shipwreck. This wood was fresh and clean, almost out of place underwater. As I cautiously moved forward, I saw two figures—Raroren, it seemed. One was slumped over a desk, while the other stood over them, deep in conversation.

  I froze, my body stiffening instinctively. It was just so unexpected to see them here. Without thinking, I ducked into the hallway, pressing myself against the wall. You’d be surprised how well someone as large as me can hide, as long as there’s no one directly behind me. I glanced over my shoulder to check if the coast was clear—no one, just that strange wall of water I had passed through. From this side, it seemed even more unnatural, a thin barrier between two worlds, the water rushing like a waterfall frozen in time.

  Their voices drifted toward me, and despite myself, I couldn’t help but listen in.

  “So, it’s confirmed. Even the temples are to be taxed double. I don’t understand how the emperor thinks we can sustain ourselves with so little.”

  I winced. This wasn’t something I was supposed to hear.

  “It is not our place to question the will of the emperor,” the standing Raroren replied, their tone stern and unwavering. “Our duty is to act upon it and execute it with unwavering precision.”

  Karson floated beside me, his form lighter in the air. He seemed to be trying to get a better view of the conversation.

  “We can’t just grow more plants,” the first Raroren said, frustration seeping into their voice. “Our society depends on meat, and the majority of the population can’t even digest plant matter. Would it be wiser to ask the flesh workers for more food?”

  “Most of society, yes, but there are those who don’t need meat,” the other responded, their voice laden with suggestion.

  “What are you trying to imply?”

  “The Yúi and the Wushii—they can survive on the temple’s produce.”

  “You would have the Raroren eat Yúi? Those mindless creatures are little better than insects, swarming and devouring anything in their path. And you dare suggest we corrupt Raroren souls with such vile sustenance? Imperial messenger or not, I have every right to execute you on the spot for speaking such blasphemy, human!”

  Human? From my hiding spot, it was hard to tell the two apart. Curiosity gnawed at me—what was going on here?

  The human's voice, when he spoke, was calm and cold, devoid of any emotion. “And what of the Wushii?” he asked, his tone as measured as the ticking of a clock. “Are they not a valid source of sustenance?”

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  “While those servants may be well-bred, we cannot simply bestow the honor of consumption so freely. It must be earned through hard work and devotion,” the Raroren answered, their anger simmering just below the surface.

  “Then your options are clear,” the human replied, his voice like ice. “Devote more men to hunting, feed your people on monstrous creatures, or find a reason to start a conflict with a worthy foe. The emperor’s will is not to be questioned, only enacted.”

  A heavy silence fell over the room as the Raroren considered the human’s words. The weight of his authority was palpable, as though the air itself had grown heavier.

  “The Sieki will dine on Yúi,” the Raroren finally said, their voice resigned. “And I will have to consider the other options you’ve presented.”

  The human gave a curt nod, his expression unchanged. “See that you do.”

  Panic seized me as the Raroren began to move, heading in my direction. Our eyes locked, and in that moment, I froze, unsure of what to do next.

  Without thinking, I drew the Okris knife I used for gutting fish and slammed it up under his chin. The blade wasn't long enough to reach his brain, and the man's eyes went wide in shock. With one hand, I grabbed his neck, and with the other, I pulled the blade forward, splitting his jaw in half down the center. Blood poured out in a torrent, spraying across me in a hot, sticky mess.

  The knife, now embedded and useless, was stuck, and panic surged through me. I had to act quickly. I grabbed both sides of his shattered jaw with each hand, gritting my teeth as I pulled with all my strength. The flesh tore and bones cracked as I ripped his jaw apart, splitting it vertically to the sides. His eyes still held that dumbfounded look, as though he couldn’t comprehend what was happening.

  In that brief, horrifying moment, I brought the knife up again, slamming it through the bottom of his mouth. This time, the blade drove deep into the base of his skull, burying itself up to the hilt.

  Oh no, I think I might have gone overboard.

  Karson’s voice broke through the adrenaline haze. “...Are you sure you’re not a Reiher? You seem to have the talent.”

  I sat there, in the hallway, covered in the blood of an imperial official. One side of the hall led to a group of priestesses, while the other led to what I could only presume was some sort of head priest or city official’s office. The weight of what I’d done began to sink in. The realization hit me like a tidal wave: I should never have come to the temple.

  The hallway seemed to close in around me, the blood dripping from my hands, pooling on the floor. I was no warrior, no trained assassin. What had I just done? The man’s lifeless eyes stared back at me, accusing, and I couldn’t tear my gaze away. I wanted to scream, but I was frozen in place, the knife still clutched in my trembling hand.

  Every sound seemed amplified—the dripping of blood, the distant murmur of voices, the pounding of my own heart in my ears. What now? What could I possibly do to fix this? The imperial messenger was dead at my feet, and there would be no escaping the consequences of my actions.

  I took a shaky breath, trying to steady myself. I needed to think, to plan, but all I could do was stare at the mess I’d made.

  I glanced at Karson, his form hovering nearby, as calm and collected as ever. He was the only one here who might understand, who might have an answer, but he said nothing more. His silence was deafening.