“Hello. How are you doing?”

  “I’m good. Thank you. And you?”

  “I’m good.”

  It had been many months since the battle with Bankanzaku, and Hazahnahkah spoke to himself often in the mirror ever since. He wasn’t lonely or anything. It had just been some time since he had heard a real conversation. While he’d likely never meet any objects who could speak with him, he wanted to keep his skills sharp in case he ever did. Pun fully intended.

  Ysan and Ul spoke with each other while Hazahnahkah did this. Their relationship had changed greatly since Ul’s pregnancy. Her reliance on Ysan was great and her child was now almost due. Beaten and battered by the condemnations of the village, defeated by her realizations of Bankanzaku, and spirit broken over Xiun’s sudden change of heart towards her, Ul’s mother had not visited since the news of Bankanzaku’s disappearance. It was almost as if she wasn’t her mother at all. Hazahnahkah was beginning to understand why Ysan had acted the way she had when she had first found him—so dismissive of Xiun, even when she had stolen her clothes.

  If wealth was a great asset, it was Xiun’s only one, for she had little else in life. No love could she find, and no passion could she rediscover. The same was now true for Ul. Ysan was her sole guardian, steward, and company. It seemed to Hazahnahkah that Ul was exhibiting almost romantic feelings towards the woman as of late, to much of which Ysan spurned. If anything, this furthered Ul’s descent into depression. Reliance and regret were undertows persistent in pattern.

  Rumors of Bankanzaku never died, but they changed in nature. Although he was now being called “The Sewer”, people didn’t regard him with beauty anymore. His brother’s glory eclipsed him. Towers had risen into the sky into cities of steep steel swords along Serpent’s Ramble. Technology advanced rapidly in only several months. Beauty standards had changed as well. Many seasons had it been that the most beautiful man to have ever been blessed was Bankanzaku’s brother, Vikushak.

  The man had created the Bolt Horn Company. Much like Ysan’s makeup, it had greatly changed the world. People had stopped using candlelight, books, and horseback. Now, spotlights and windcarriages had flourished across the lands of Serpent’s Ramble. He seemed possessed by the thought of exploring Serpent’s Tail. At the behest of The Patriarch, he had readied an expedition to break through The Brown Aegis of Providence, but really it was Vikushak’s idea.

  The inventor had convinced their Patriarch to extend his request to Ysan as well, and this was a request she had gladly accepted. She wanted to know whether Vikushak had been telling the truth of his origin, and the man had kept too busy to be asked since.

  Leaving pregnant women had become a staple part of the culture since Bankanzaku spread his seed. Not only were men inspired by him, but children who grew into men as well. Too many single mothers and children playing in the streets unsupervised had reminded Ysan of this. As she hopped off the windcarriage with Ul, Imra came to greet her. The expedition group was already buzzing, nearly ready. Nearly every faction from The Fawn Cities had men and women stationed here, including knights, scholars, and mercenaries—all seeking to make a name for themselves with Vikushak.

  “I must be honest, I was not expecting to see you here,” Ysan said.

  “Most in the Elkoalkim Council have attended,” Imra answered. “This is, after all, the great Vikushak. I also plan to propose in honor of you and this event.”

  To Hazahnahkah, this somehow seemed insulting rather than honoring.

  Ysan did not seem to mind. She parted her hair gently. “You? Propose?”

  Imra glanced at a woman afar, busy with offloading cargo.

  “I mean look at her. Isn’t she perfect?” Imra asked back.

  Ysan gasped in disbelief. The woman looked so similar as she had once appeared five years ago. The only difference was a slight shape in the eyes and chin. Now, Ysan looked very different. Her lips painted red, her hair dyed brown, her breasts made large, and yet still! To think that she had gone far beyond the boundaries Imra had set as ideal. The woman finally understood now. It wasn’t that she was not enough, it was that she was too much.

  When Imra was out of earshot, Ysan whispered to Ul. “I think I’m done.”

  “With what?” Ul asked.

  “Being a woman.”

  “Why?”

  There was really only one reason, Hazahnahkah knew what she would say from watching her days and nights.

  “It’s exhausting.”

  It was true. How was any woman supposed to improve as ferrymaiden, inventor, or artist if so much energy was expended on presentation instead of fulfillment? Fulfillment from presentation being the worst of all. How was she expected to do great things when she had time for so little? Ysan was tired of it, so she simply stopped, but Hazahnahkah knew it was not being a woman that she was truly tired of, but rather, being invisible. Being seen did not mean being accepted.

  The encampment lasted a week before Vikushak arrived. He was grinning ear to ear as he marched toward, leaves crunching beneath his feet like firecrackers. “You look younger!” He cried. “How great it is to see you again, dear old friend.”

  Hazahnahkah was used to seeing his face now that he and Ysan were practically two of the wealthiest individuals in The Fawn Cities. The sculptor and inventor was a hairy man very much clean shaven, trying constantly to replicate the appearance of his brother. He was really not that ugly, especially when he was smiling so brightly and so often.

  “You look happier.”

  “Perhaps I am forced to!” Vikushak yelled once more at the clusters of tents, destriers, and scholars. “Now! Shall we begin?!”

  They broke free of the leaves, oak, and berry bushes to where a hot breath of cascades burned a clearing into the earth. To the disappointment of many, these waters did not wind in reverse. It was only when the blue parted into black that things became strange. Expeditioners claimed they were lighter, less tired, and felt a difference in the world. Others said they were tail struck.

  Hazahnahkah noticed no change strange to him and took more interest in the commotion of his company. After all, what depths had gone less explored than the shadow and brilliance of the human mind? It was to his shock to learn this expedition was not fully dedicated to exploring Serpent’s Tail.

  The trip was in part to search for Bankanzaku, who had retreated into Serpent’s Tail from the hail of hatred caused by his vast impregnation of women. This was most bizarre because Hazahnahkah had begun to smell Bankanzaku, but he smelled the man everywhere. Burnt hair and ripe grapefruit. It must have been The Serpent’s Tail playing tricks on him. Bankanzaku was nowhere near, and even if he was—his scent wouldn’t be on nearly everyone.

  This journey was more important than Bankanzaku though. There was a town only Vikushak knew of beyond Serpent’s Ramble. Everyone was certain of his leadership and that if he said so, other worlds beyond The Serpent must indeed exist. Hazahnahkah never questioned the existence of other worlds. He questioned why Vikushak required aid to traverse them. Ysan was in danger, yet surely she knew this. Ul knew this too and still she went, even with her belly as swollen as it was.

  However it was not hatred for Bankanzaku that steered her. She spoke with Ysan with wonder and excitement. Both of them were giddy at the thought of finally going beyond Serpent’s Ramble, then, the shout of a knight startled them.

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  Several knights actually. They were playing with the walls, pitter pattering in the darkness against the drip of the caverns.

  The water—it was rising.

  Everyone’s wonder and excitement deepened a million fold.

  Where there was a trickle, there was a deluge. Roaring and bellowing swallowed them from all directions as cascades began to rise into the ceiling.

  Ysan could not drop her gaze as she traveled along it. “The waterrise.”

  Plants that normally grew along the floor soon sprouted along the walls, and the feeling of lightness made it quick to go beyond one's intended step. The wonder did not remain pure for much longer after. A man paced an inch too great against the earth in its darkness and was swept up in a torrent’s wroth. He was pulled into the back stone sky, screaming. They tried looking for him, and found nothing but a reflective pond staring back at them from above. It was hopeless. He was gone. Flying and swimming for any creature was impossible.

  Eventually they reached an expansive narthex of caverns, drops, and bridges. They seemed almost manmade, but almost not. Below was a stirring pool of auburn and rust leaves, although this was not the season of harahm.

  One of the veteran expeditioners seemed to have been here before. “We call this here descent The Serpent’s Arse, and the tunnels, The Serpent’s Great and Numerous Booty Holes.”

  “Don’t pay attention to him,” Vikushak whispered.

  Ysan did not seem to intend to, but Hazahnahkah did. That man, and some of the men behind him—seemed slightly off. Their gait had a certainty to it, as if they were overly familiar with this strange realm. Their steps were the steps one had when walking in one’s own home.

  At this, Bankanzaku leapt down to them from a plummet of crag and grass. His bare feet shook the land, sending even the hooves of steeds into a cluttered jumble against the dirt. Cracks split, sending the fearful and startled to their backs, knees, and retreats. Most were quite brave, holding their ground or charging him down. Bankanzaku made a mockery of them. Grabbing and tossing his assailants and their spears aside. Vikushak shouted at his brother to stand down or face further force, but his voice was swallowed by the clashing of cries and bodies. When all was said and done, only Vikushak, Ysan, Ul, and those that had backed away stood to face him.

  Hazahnahkah examined the man. His characteristics were incredible. This was the most powerful human he could recollect by far:

  Health (source of vitality and abilities): 200,680,000

  Energy (source of stamina and abilities): 391,269,850

  Agility (speed of actions): 160,100

  Regeneration (rate of recovery per hour for Health and Energy): 500,000,000,000

  Tenacity (resistance to unwanted effects): 900,000

  Strength (physical or mental reality manipulation potency): 96,525

  [Bankanzaku’s Abilities]

  Unknown.

  The fact that he could veil his innate talents and potentialities from scrutiny were also greatly concerning, for from Hazahnahkah’s experience only the most black-hearted did this. The man’s absurd regeneration was also a mystery. It stood against conventional evolution for an organism to recover faster than it could endure. He had effectively built [Reraise] through physical characteristics alone. This could be a problem.

  Bankanzaku pointed to Hazahnahkah. “They say here lies the heart of all seven seasons, but I only see one, I only see you. I see the truth. I see the real you. You may take many forms. Perhaps one for each world traveled, but I can see you still as you were, as you are. The real you.”

  Everyone was confused, Ysan most of all. “You’ve spent too many Clests without others. You have gone mad in hiding.”

  “I may be mad, but you are empty.” Bankanzaku paused. “Empty, and perhaps…wise.” He ripped a quill free from his shoulder’s flesh. “Give me the sword. I have this to trade.”

  At this, Hazahnahkah realized that Bankanzaku had been speaking to him—not in a conversational way of course—in an objectifying way. No one else understood. Hazahnahkah barely understood himself. What was clear was that Bankanzaku sought to own him. It was clear that’s why he allowed himself to be found.

  Bankanzaku’s lip raised with disdain. “Don’t tell me… You still expect me to return for my children?”

  “Your children are not yours. You never took care of any. You have no claim.”

  “No claim because I do not care for one. Give me the Creator Blade.”

  “That… That is the Creator Blade….?” Vikushak asked, eyes wide, voice weak. “The Sword of Seven Seasons?”

  Hazahnahkah vaguely recalled being titled this. He thought little of it.

  Ysan glowered at Bankanzaku. “You’ll get nothing—”

  Before she could finish her sentence, the man speared her through the chest with the quill he had taken earlier. Ysan slid back from the force, startled and stumbling. Bankanzaku leapt at what he saw as an opening. He was mistaken. Hazahnahkah had allowed him to attack her so that he would draw close.

  At this, Hazahnahkah activated his Second Terror: The Terror of Creation. The power to create anything had endless potential expression. In this case, a blessing to his wielder that could only be perceived by humans as instant and infinite renewal, as well as practical invincibility. Rather than preventing injury, it created a self-correcting molecular field around the body. This field constantly checks reality against his wielder’s “ideal state”, which was a template defined by what he believed Ysan wanted. Within a fraction of time and space, Ysan’s chest was fully healed. This was the same Terror Hazahnahkah had used to revive her many years ago. She grabbed her chest, and gasped at him knowingly.

  Before Bankanzaku could leap back, Ysan had already swung. The man’s arm went hurling through the cavernscape.

  What followed the grievous injury to the man was a swift and furious exchange, which concluded with three beastly gashes in Ysan’s left shoulder and Bankanzaku—bleeding out and on his knees.

  “There will be no trade—” Ysan’s legs failed, she grunted, shocked as forehead met rock.

  There was poison spreading through her. The rhythm of her bloodstream was all wrong. Hazahnahkah could hear it, but could do nothing so long as she was not touching him. He had made sure to fall by her finger tips, but it seemed she could not even move those. He was an inch away and by himself he could not swing. Without touching his wielder, his powers were greatly muddled.

  Despite his own mortal wound, Bankanzaku laughed. “An arm for the Creator Blade. Now that is a good deal.” He picked up Hazahnahkah. “My poison is the Poison of The Ten Trillionth God. It is the poison of no cure but my mercy.” He reeled forward as a harpoon ran him through from behind. His blood painted the earth as he blew blood through his teeth.

  Harpoon cannons rumbled to the higher edges of the chasm as the rest of the main body of the expeditionary force arrived in full. It was hard not to hear them, but Bankanzaku seemed so sure of himself he must not have cared. Even now, he yelled confusedly at how this could have happened, and commanded the weapon he wielded to heal him. Hazahnahkah patiently waited for the man to die, which to his surprise, seemed like it would be forever. Vikushak then tore Hazahnahkah from Bankanzaku’s grip.

  “Why?” Bankanzaku asked.

  Vikushak frowned deeply, but it seemed fake. “It was difficult for me to do this.”

  “Why?” Bankanzaku pleaded for an answer, expression contorted with grief. “I love you. Why would you do this to me? How could you do this to me? After everything I’ve done for you, all the women I’ve screwed over, all the children I’ve left behind… I did it all for you!” He rocked the caverns with a hammering fist. “I knew they’d hate me. I knew they’d eventually turn to you. I knew they would see you as the beautiful man you are, and I made sure that they would come to regret it. This world you’ve created. This world where attraction is not invested without moral consequence. You could not have created it without me!”

  “I agree with you. But why do you care about that?”

  “About what?”

  “About all that shit that came out of your mouth?”

  “You don’t care?”

  “I’m gay,” Vikushak said bluntly. “Even if I was not, why would I care about women? Or men? I don’t care about such stupid things. I don’t care about relationships. I care about the advancement of the human race… All hail humanity.”

  “... Oh...”

  “So what will you do now? Go around impregnating every man with your hate and love for me? Dear brother, that is a very strange thing to do and it does not help my sleep.”

  “There is no regret and atonement more relentless than a child,” Bankanzaku said. “If I could, I would. Perhaps I would have found a way if you had not betrayed me… Brother… Brother… I would have given you the blade. I would have given you my life… had you not taken it by force!”

  “Oh please… we both know how undying you are. You’re still talking, aren’t you?”

  “Give me the Creator Blade.”

  “I don’t think I will.” Vikushak tilted Hazahnahkah, and at that the howling song of the tunnel winds seemed to hum a different tune. “I think it likes me. This blade.”

  Like was a strong word. Hazahnahkah was curious at best. He needed Vikushak to return him to Ysan so he could heal her, but that was not what he did. His hand raised high, Hazahnahkah clasped tight.

  “I am going to create a new world. I know you believe the one I’ve made now is good, but it can—it will be better. The less work people do, the more satisfied they are. Ysan’s makeup and my electricity both illuminated this to me. Faster, easier, better. Ten thousand years we’ll be boundaries away from where we are now, but why wait ten thousand when we can have it now? Let us skip the spearbird’s journey. Let us be done with life and death! Oh, Creator Blade! Create a world without the journey between life and death! A world without women or men! A world with no divide! A world where we are all weapons.”