[b]Kalaya![/b] As Piripiri could have told you, beneath Kingeater Castle is a labyrinth of old passages. The rotten smell of roses is thick enough to choke you down here, and it is lightless. Close by, too close by, is the sound of Hell’s revelry: just behind a door, on the other side of a wall— but so, too, there is the sound of barked orders, and the clash of swords. Hell is martial in nature, in some of its seasons. Up there, you broke through some of the dolls effortlessly, knocking them aside with your sword, letting Fengye trample them, and oh! It was thrilling! But down here, you don’t have to worry about being chased (yet) or fighting for your life (yet). All you have to do is follow Fengye, one hand on the disturbance in the air that is her horse, and hold one hand over your face to avoid retching at the thick, intolerable smell of dead roses all around. Can it be that Ven is down here, too? Can you even fight her in the oppressive dark? Can you hope to protect two priestesses and yourself, here in the dark where danger could come from any direction? *** [b]Fengye![/b] The dream part of that was over faster than it could even properly begin. A burst through, a charge, the discharge of firewands, and then Kalaya kicked open a cellar door and the demon horse almost flowed down the steps. (It’s quite possible it doesn’t have hooves. It has something else?) And now you’re down here, in the aforementioned dark, with the aforementioned smell of charnel roses all about. The horse is the one actually leading you, and you have to hope that it’s leading you to someplace good, and not someplace like its home. The home that is so very, very close down here. [i]a-click-a-click-a-click.[/i] You hear the sound in the distance, now close, now far, as if it flows through the walls. [i]a-click-a-click-a-click.[/i] Like hail falling on the tiles of a roof. [i]And four winds birthed the Mother of Loss, and one was the grinding-wind, and one was the brilliant-wind, and one was the promise-wind, and one was the arrow-wind. And of these only the arrow-wind will kill, with a thousand darts, or with the arrows of Yes and No, or with a long knife, as she chooses.[/i] That’s as clear an omen as any as to who the horse belongs to. Kalmanka, the Arrow-Wind. She can be ten thousand arrows, or she can be a needle; she can be a black wolf, a silver swan, or a woman wearing a scale-coat of arrowheads. If Ven has called upon her, she is digging herself very deep in debt. But worst of all is that Kalmanka holds the arrows of Yes and No in her quiver-soul, with which she may inflame passions or shatter them. No sorcerer may command her to use the one without accepting that she will also use the other as she wills, and often to their doom. She could turn Kalaya into a sobbing berserker, or leave you with nothing but cold ash where your regard for her was. Zhaojun alone could face her and hope for victory. You? Never. *** [b]Piripiri![/b] You’re not fast [i]enough.[/i] Which is to say, there’s never enough time to do everything! A snake’s working its way up the highlander’s body, unnoticed, while you focus on carving out space around Azazuka, who’s trying desperately to catch her breath so she can try and help. And when the witch finishes her spell, well, you won’t have time to get away from Uusha. She’ll be [i]on[/i] you. But you set out to protect Azazuka, and that’s what’s important. Well done! Truly a triumph of the Dominion’s way. *** [b]Han![/b] [i]”Everything’s so hard,”[/i] a voice hisses in your ear. There’s a tickling sensation, like a tongue flicking against it. [i]”Isn’t it? And your heart’s been so heavy.”[/i] A comforting, knowing sigh. The kind that a good friend would make, listening to your romantic woes. [i]”Why don’t you sit down? Tell Aunty what’s been troubling you.”[/i] This is an excellent idea, probably. So excellent that, if you let the world keep getting kind of fuzzy and indistinct while you share your woes, for Aunty (and [i]definitely[/i] only her, who is the soul of discretion, and who’s listening nearby anyway?) to tut and console you. Your blood’s heavy, too. Isn’t it? Like it’s thick. And you feel warm. No, warmer. Like you could shed a few layers, too. It’s really comfortable. Like sitting by the fireplace. Take your shoes off, your very hard-to-digest shoes. And open up that heart of yours. *** [b]Giriel![/b] That’s very definitely a Heartache Worm on Han’s shoulders. One of Hell’s nasty little ambush predators, drawn to broken hearts and inner turmoil. Takes a very long time to digest its prey, but also takes a long time to get around to eating them; you’ll be able to get it off her once you finish, as long as you can get someone to pin her down. They’re nasty little puppeteers when threatened. You’re about to slip behind the screen, as it were. Like in a play. That’s where the fairies are. You’ll have to lead everyone down behind the screen, into the earth, through the tunnels. It won’t be a real place, and that’s very much by definition, but as long as you don’t linger you shouldn’t attract any nonexistent predators. Probably. More troubling is the fact that Uusha’s extremely intent on the waitress. In the “I have spotted a danger” sense. You’re likely going to have to defuse a very tense situation once you pull everyone behind the screen. What kind of stories do you like, Giriel? This is a very important question, so don’t lie to us now. We’re about to go backstage, after all.