The young scribe sits by the window, nibbling on fruit. He has been working hard, writing straight through to the end of the last chapter. O tells him he ought to rest a little, for his eyes look dull.

  Once again, O grows curious about the beautiful purple fruit in the basket. The scribe says it is called star apple. He goes on to say that it is a fruit his beloved is especially fond of, and one he himself loves as well. But he makes no attempt to describe or explain its taste to O, having failed before with the peach and the grape. Since then, O and the scribe have come to accept that there are some things language simply cannot express.

  In any case, O does not much mind not fully understanding such fruits. O rather enjoys watching the young friend savor them, and from that, imagining just how delicious they must be.

  The scribe eats as he watches two little birds squabbling on the grass in the yard. Then, all at once, he tosses a piece of star apple rind toward them, and the two birds flutter away.

  “Those Goyk…” he asks absently. “Why do they even exist?”

  The question leaves O slightly perplexed. ‘What do you mean, exist?’

  I have heard you speak of their history," says he. “But I mean this: why did the Creator bring them into being at all? Without them, might not everything be simpler, and more peaceful?"

  The Creator’s will likely lies beyond what O can understand. It is no easy question to answer. And so, rather than leave the scribe waiting, O asks in return,

  ‘Then let me ask you this: if the Goyk were to conquer all the lands of Ao’Mahgar, would they stop there?’

  “Certainly not,” he replies at once, without a moment’s thought.

  The scribe believes that once the Goyk have taken Ao’Mahgar, they will look for a way to seize Ao’Tuatiweh as well. He says that many people in his own land are much the same. They are always driven by ambition. They never know what is enough; once they have one thing, they want another, and then something greater still. Even if they were to rule all Aoringinas, the Goyk would not stop, but would go on setting their sights on other lands.

  “They may even invade my Round Land someday,” he concludes.

  O does not know what his young friend has gone through, or whom he has met, to come to such a harsh view of things. It cannot be good for him. Hoping to soften the scribe’s bleak outlook a little, O feels bound to explain more clearly, and even to say a few words in the Goyks’ defense. Not every Goyk is wicked at heart. Most common folk and soldiers know only how to obey the court’s commands. And because wrongful deeds are done so often, and because so many others do the same, they come in time to see such things as normal, even proper.

  It is much like the scribe’s habit of keeping an enormous rubbish bucket right beside his writing table.

  “What? What kind of comparison is that?!” he protests. “What does my bucket have to do with the Goyks and their wickedness? I find it very convenient to keep it here.”

  As if to prove his point, he flicks the rind of the star apple he has just finished into the bucket with a self-satisfied look. A swarm of flies rises lazily, then settles again a moment later.

  ‘Do you not think you ought to keep your dwelling clean?’

  “My room is my own. I may do with it as I please. I see no problem at all.”

  Near midday, the problem pays an unexpected visit, and the scribe has no time to tidy up. His girlfriend is greeted by the sight of what she calls a filthy pigsty, and by the smell rising from the rubbish bucket as well. She is disappointed, complains, and sulks at the poor fellow for the rest of the day. But in the end, the kind-hearted girl helps him set the room in order again, then gives him a painful pinch before taking her leave.

  Toward dusk, the scribe takes O out into the yard, not forgetting to bring along the last remaining star apple.

  He lies stretched out among the grass. The blades stand higher than his head. Idly, he plucks a stalk of grass, puts it in his mouth, and makes it waggle before his face.

  “Hmph. A whole afternoon wasted,” he grumbles.

  ‘Why do you call it a waste?’ says O. ‘You lose an afternoon, but gain a clean room in return. You are very fortunate to have someone beside you to remind you, and to help you set things in order.’

  “I cannot tell whether that is good fortune or bad luck. Pah.” He spits the stalk out, then takes the star apple from his pocket and breaks it in two, letting the milky drops run into his mouth.

  “My, how sweet this fruit is,” he says, smacking his lips. “Not at all like my girl.”

  With no spoon at hand, and lying there all the while, he eats in a very messy way. A little white sap seeps from the corner of his mouth.

  “Say, O still has not answered the question I asked this morning. Why does the Almighty allow the Goyk to exist at all? At times it seems to me that this world is like one of His books, and that He allows them a place in it only to make the tale the more interesting.”

  ‘To tell the truth, O does not know…’ O pauses for a moment. ‘But your question brings O to think of your room, if you will allow O to say so.’

  “Oh, do stop circling around the matter. Let me hear it.”

  ‘Well… let O see whether this sounds right. If not for you, your room would never have turned into a pigsty. But if not for you, there would also be no one to clean it, no one to remind you; you would not be pulling such a miserable face, and you would not have to find some way to set it right again. And then afterward, you would only let it fall into disorder again. Whether your dwelling is a bedchamber, a study, or a pigsty depends on how you keep it, and on what name you give it.’

  “Dear me! First the rubbish bucket, and now the pigsty! Apart from telling stories, O talks of nothing but absurd odds and ends.” His friend cries out and no longer wishes to speak with O. He turns away to look at the sky and the clouds.

  In truth, this question lingers long in O’s mind. Why do the Goyk come into being at all? The more O thinks on it, the more O feels that the scribe is not without reason. If there were no Goyk, would not the lands of Aoringinas already be at peace?

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  Are the Goyk part of nature, or nature’s other face? Like the underside of a leaf, like the darkness behind the light: where one is, the other must be also. Perhaps nature brings them forth and allows them to appear in order to close the circle of growth, flourishing, decline, and destruction; to bring the latter half of that cycle to fulfillment. Only then does their existence accord with the order of things.

  O wonders whether those Goyk—who always believe themselves above every other kind—would ever stoop to look at the smallest blade of grass beneath their feet, and see that it is no less strong or important than they are, or than any other living thing. They would see that the things which are firm and strong, like roots and trunks, all lie below, while the things which are soft and fragile, like leaves and flowers, rise above only by leaning upon them. And if they widened their gaze, they would see that forests, clouds, and waters are always upheld by the solid earth beneath. If only they could see how contrary they are. If only…

  “Come, O, let us go back inside and go on writing the tale,” says the scribe. “It is Sunday. I ought to be resting this evening, but my sweetheart has already taken the whole afternoon from me.”

  ‘Most gladly, my diligent friend. O too has been wanting to tell more.’

  ~~~

  All the lands, archipelagos, and scattered islands of Aoringinas had been set in order by creation itself. The hardest, hottest, and most vigorous realms lay at the lowest level. Above them, the realms grew gradually grew softer and cooler, so that life might flourish. At the bottom lay the Grandcrytal of Ao’Hanoorat, solid and burning; above it came the Grandcrytal of Ao’Mahgar, soft, porous, and warm; then the Grandcrytal of Ao’Tuatiweh, with its vast waters; and at last, the frigid archipelagos.

  The whole surface of Ao’Tuatiweh was covered in water. Yet its waters were by no means calm, and not merely because great waves rose and fell across them. This Grandcrystal had heights and depths, plains, plateaus, and mountainous regions, yet all of it was terrain shaped from water. There were mountains of water rising into the sky, as well as abysses and hollow basins of immense depth. Across the boundless, pale-golden ocean stretching to the very edge of the continent, slender currents of ochre, azure, green, and indigo wound and spread in every direction. At times they gathered into one; at others they ran side by side, forming broad streams whose colors shone like a rainbow.

  The landscape here was no less vivid or majestic than that of Ao’Mahgar, born of the wondrous interplay between the mass of golden crystal below and the ocean above. Where the golden crystal was concentrated and strong with the Bright Power, the water rose into broad uplands, even into towering mountains. Where the golden crystal was less abundant, and other kinds of crystal took its place, the water sank into lowlands, or else became utterly hollow, empty to the very bottom.

  Islands were still found upon the ocean. Besides those formed of earth and stone, there were also clusters of islands drifting upon the surface of the water. They looked like islands, yet were in truth a kind of colossal creature. These beings allowed many other creatures to dwell upon their backs, while the greater part of their bodies remained submerged beneath the water.

  Across the skies of the Grandcrytal stretched countless magnificent bands of cloud, alive with endless shades and forms. Some hung low, drifting just above the sea. Others rose higher in vast layers. They gathered abundant moisture, and when full, poured rain back upon the ocean. Thus the cycle of water rising into cloud and cloud returning again to water continued without cease, never once at rest. And within those dense layers of cloud, innumerable islands and archipelagos could be glimpsed, suspended in the air.

  ~~~

  The last remaining Oawgiboni stood within a stretch of exposed land, where golden crystal bearing the Dark Power forced the sea far back. Around it rose a vast ring-wall of water, towering high and steep on every side. Nor would it be wrong to think of this place as a gigantic abyss, for it lay sunken deep amid the ocean.

  At the heart of this sacred land, the pure-white Oawgiboni floated like a colossal cloud, casting down its roots like a shower of rain. Within the Floweroots trailing to the ground, the fallen warriors lay at rest. Delicate ivory threads slowly drew near from the Floweroots and spread a soft, silken covering over their bodies. Here they were returned to Mother Earth, departing in greater peace and dignity than those whose bodies had been left behind in Ao’Mahgar.

  The ownan who had survived Ao’Mahgar, together with the native ownan of Ao’Tuatiweh, had gathered in this circular land. Whenever the sky was stained crimson, widows, the aged who had lost their children, and the young who had lost their fathers would walk into the roots of Oawgiboni. Hand in hand, the living sang and danced, bade farewell to the dead, and prayed for them.

  Around one Floweroot, where more mourners had gathered than around any other, there knelt among them Lyndorin. Before the resting place of Master Tiknahah, she prayed:

  ‘OaaDoroa ~ O Oawgi Tiknahah, in the eternal realm, watch over your grandson in your sacred grace. May merciful Oaa bestow blessings upon Krutas. With all my heart, I pray that he may return safely ~ OaaDoroa.’

  Katuo and Rudidi came quietly to Lyndorin’s side and gently stroked her back. Then the three embraced and prayed together. Since returning to Ao’Tuatiweh, Lyndorin had grown pale and worn with worry for the one she loved. No one had seen Krutas since the battle.

  Those who lay at rest here were but a small portion of the dead brought back to Ao’Tuatiweh. Most of the warriors had fallen upon the Holigeng Highlands. Those who had failed to escape in time had been taken captive by the Goyk.

  ~~~

  ‘Lyndorin, I’m back...’

  A familiar voice. A familiar figure stood behind Lyndorin, his body marked with injuries and his brow bound with a ring of vines. She ran to him and threw her arms around Krutas.

  Katuo rejoiced for Lyndorin. How fortunate the they were, she thought. Was it chance, or had her prayer truly been answered? In a little while, I should pray to Master too. I will pray that Ramii may bring his mother back. I will pray that everyone may find a way to drive off the Goyk, and that not so many people will have to die anymore. Master, you taught me not to pray for gain. But if I am asking for others now, surely that cannot be so wrong. And what I ask seems only right, not greedy at all... does it not, Master? If you were still here, surely you would give me a wise and complete answer.

  Krutas was still conscious. Deeply moved, he said, ‘You are here, Lyndorin. I need only be by your side. So long as I still draw breath, I will find my way back to you.’

  Lyndorin’s eyes had reddened. She looked in anguish at the wounds upon his body. ‘OaaTitki ~ Thanks be above for showing mercy. I never stopped believing you were still alive. Where have you been all this time? And what of the others?’

  ‘I saw with my own eyes how many of our brothers were slain. Agud’Aga Voznugaid died a truly heroic death. I, along with many others, was captured by the Goyk and thrown into prison. Afterward, they took us out and worked us as slaves on the buildings they were putting up. They shackled us all, gouged out our Trueyes, and laid spells upon us. That was why I could send no word back to you. But having once fallen into their hands before, I knew enough to seize my chance. When the guards grew careless, I crawled down into a labyrinth of root-nests and escaped. This is the second time I have escaped alive from the enemy’s hands. But I could only flee alone... I was unable to save anyone else.’

  Krutas could not bring himself to meet Lyndorin’s eyes. He lowered his head and covered his face with both hands. She wrapped her arms around him again and rested her head against his shoulder.

  ‘The very fact that you made it back here is already a blessing, Krutas. Grieve no longer. Put your heart at ease and regain your strength. So long as we still live, there is still hope for us,’ Lyndorin comforted him.

  Over her head, Krutas saw a crowd gathered around one Floweroot. His voice caught in his throat. ‘Wh-who lies there...?’

  He dragged himself forward. His face had gone pale, like that of one bereft of his soul. He collapsed before the Floweroot, his whole body shaking with sobs.

  He cried out, ‘Why did it have to be you? O Grandsire! I should have been the one to die...’

  Tiknahah’s grandson remained kneeling there for a long while. Even after most of the others had gone, Lyndorin stayed beside him.

  Katuo and Ramii leaned against each other, gazing in silence at the two sorrowful figures kneeling side by side.

  “Do you see what I see, Ramii?”

  A moment passed before Ramii answered. “I do...”

  That was all he said. Katuo said no more either. After a while, she spoke again:

  “Ramii, I know something’s on your mind... I only wanted to say it aloud, to ease my heart. I keep thinking of the Goyk. Is there truly no way left to stop them? Even a’Boni, once the one thing they feared most, has already been countered by them. Tell me, what else in this world could they still be afraid of?”

  Katuo’s question drew Ramii back from his thoughts.

  He murmured, “Mosquitoes...”

  ~~~