Year 606 of the Divine Empire

  Surendra had only gotten a few yards into the mouth of the cave before he realized that no one was following him. Turning around, he saw his three companions staring at him in some combination of fear and disbelief. No one had moved since his declaration, since what kind of fool would just go along with something like that?

  He gave out a heavy sigh before stepping a bit closer towards them. “Well? Aren’t you all coming? You didn’t think your training was over yet, did you?”

  Kanoa cleared her throat. “Uh. . . Are you serious? How in the world are we supposed to kill a magus?”

  “Same way you kill anything, I suppose. Shouldn’t be able to regrow its bones, so there won’t be any problems there.”

  “But aren’t they really powerful? Even Kehlani is afraid of magic users!”

  “Oh come on,” Surendra’s face was split between expressions of disbelief and mockery. “First off, isn’t Ailu a magus as well?”

  Ailu, the one person with the least rights to be afraid here, hid behind Kanoa as she responded. “Well yeah, but I’m just ten years old! I only know how to make water and make it deeper. . .”

  Surendra had a double take at that. Making water deeper. . . Wasn't that like spacial magic? If she didn’t fully understand her domain, that meant she was using advanced magics through sheer brute force. He was starting to wonder if the enemies in that cave were even going to be a threat.

  “That’s already more than most adult magi can. . . Oh forget it. The important thing is, I’ll be here to handle most of the threat. I have plenty of experience fighting powerful foes, so you children will cover me. Besides, you all are going under the assumption that this is a hominid magus.”

  Kanoa tilted her head at that. “. . . I thought all magi were hominids? You need to make a deal with a higher being, right?”

  “Not exactly. Most higher beings need their magi to make deals, otherwise there would be no point to giving them power. Animals, on the other hand, don’t have strong egos like hominids. It makes it easy to just give them a bond and manipulate them through it. These animals usually act as sacred beasts, so it’s a little odd that there’s one in a regular cave. Still, I know the signs of magic when I see them, and one of the pilikua nui down there can manipulate darkness on an instinctive level.”

  “Oh, that makes sense, actually.” Kanoa now looked much more relaxed. “It must be one of Pō’ele Hakahaka’s servants.”

  “Poe. . . What?”

  “The god of night? Kinohi’s eternal enemy?” Surendra only gave her a blank stare. “Well, he created the pilikua nui to hunt kālai, and sometimes he gives them the powers of darkness to destroy the Pomaika.”

  Ailu chipped in, seeing their mentor’s confusion. “He’s both the lesser deity of night and the spirit of those. . . pilikua nui. . . things. I’m not sure why, but he got exiled here with Kinohi a long time ago. I didn’t know you could make bonds with animals though!”

  “. . . I see. Well, that would explain it. Anyways, yes. Beasts can use magic, though not with any degree of control. The main problem will be how there are several regular ones as well down there. I’m guessing that the blessing of their creator has allowed them to form a pack, which is a little alarming. Regardless, if you people can’t deal with a bunch of animals, then I’m not going to bother training you.”

  With that, Surendra turned around and stalked into the cave. The others just looked between each other, then quickly hurried to follow him into the darkness.

  It seemed that the cave went quite deep, with the light quickly fading below even what eyes enhanced by the Ideals could see in. Fortunately, Surendra had brought a small lantern, which Kanoa was able to light with her bare hands and a few moments of concentration. With cautiousness no longer being an option, the four bravely forged further down the quickly narrowing tunnel. In total, it was a few hundred feet long, snaking in a wide downward spiral. The children of the group clung tightly to those more capable in close-quarters combat, their fears being rekindled by the slow descent. Neither of them were afraid of the dark, being used to Ailu’s ability to turn any body of water into the deep sea, but the fact that they hadn’t seen any pilikua nui yet was concerning. There were plenty of corners and pockets in the walls to set up ambushes, the ideal tactic for the predators, yet none of them were to be seen. They could have sworn there were shifts in the darkness before them, but nothing came of it but paranoia. It was impossible to shake the feeling that they were being led into a trap, as if their foes were trained hunters instead of wild beasts. Kanoa had heard stories of some pilikua nui having the intelligence of grown kālai. Some of these tales even described them being able to turn into their ancestral foes, infiltrating villages to steal children from their homes. She had ignored the rumors due to their lack of any real evidence, but it felt like anything could be real down here. This irrationality was only briefly paused when she felt Surendra’s arm halt her movement.

  Before them was a hole, or at least a point where the lava tunnel took a sharp curve downwards. One could scramble down it for a few yards, but it quickly dropped off to the point where they would need to climb. When the lantern was held above the opening, it was obvious that the light did not reach the bottom. Turning back to the group, Surendra directed his questions towards Kanoa.

  “Tell me, pilikua nui are good at climbing, right?” Kanoa nodded. “Shit. Sasqals can all climb pretty well, but I have my doubts with all of you. Ikaika, do you think you could get down there the fast way without getting hurt?”

  Ikaika slammed his claws together excitedly. “.--. .-. . .--. .- .-. . -.. / . -..- -.-. .. - . -..”

  Kanoa coughed, providing a translation. “He seems. . . eager.”

  “Heh, knew I liked him for a reason.” Surendra turned to the children, kneeling down. “Alright brats, hop on.”

  “. . . I’m sorry? Shouldn’t we be grabbing ropes?”

  “A sasqal has no need for ropes. Hop. On.”

  Turning to each other, the two shared a wordless conversation for a brief moment. After which, Kanoa simply shrugged and clambered onto Surendra’s back. Ailu followed soon after, though her new ride could feel her shaking as she hung onto the other shoulder. Fortunately, at their age they could just barely fit onto the large, simian back. With only a laugh as a warning, Surendra hung the lantern on his belt and leaped into the hole. He only grabbed onto the opposite side after multiple stomach-dropping seconds of falling, the impact so great that Kanoa could barely hold on with her Ideal-fueled strength. Jumping back and forth between walls, the trio was able to quickly clamber down the shaft. As quick as this method was, it could not compare to Ikaika, who simply focused his core power into his arms, grabbed onto the cave wall, and slid down with a scraping noise that could likely be heard even on the surface. As he landed with an audible THUD, his companions only a couple jumps down to the bottom. Fortunately, they were close enough to hear his rhythmic warning.

  “-. . .-. ...- --- ..- ... / -.. .- -. --. . .-.”

  Being the only one who could understand him, Kanoa unhooked her new swordspear and translated once more. “Get ready, it sounds like we’re expected.”

  “Oh, Celestia protect me!” Ailu let go of Surendra’s back and landed yards below, cushioning her landing with a large bubble of water.

  It was only when Surendra landed was his lantern able to reveal the full threat that surrounded them. The chamber they found themselves in was large enough that the only wall they could see was the one to their backs. The rest of the room extended out some distance, unknowable due to the overwhelming darkness. Still, on the edges of the light glinted the brief revelations of tooth and eye, as the pack of predators yowled at the enemies who had invaded their den.

  No one was entirely certain of what to do, even Kanoa and Ikaika who had heard tales of the pilikua nui their entire lives. Kanoa knew what they were capable of, having helped fend one off all those years ago, and that made the situation all the more disorienting. The beasts were meant to be solitary creatures, ambushing isolated figures in order to guarantee success. The pack that had formed due to the presence of a magus threw this knowledge into oblivion, with any tactics these advanced hunters came up with being a complete unknown. Ikaika had never even seen one before, having spent most of his life underwater. As confident as he was with his strength, the concept of a magic beast prevented him from making any rash movements with confidence. In the end, Surendra was the first to walk forward, brandishing his black staff in preparation for the attacks that were bound to arrive. Still, he wasn’t about to let himself get surrounded, so he stuck just close enough to the wall that he didn’t have and blind spots-

  Kanoa’s voice rang out. “Surendra! Above you!”

  Without the time to look up, he could only raise the staff in what he hoped was a good enough block. Unfortunately, it was only enough to block one swipe as the beast fell from the damn sky. Nursing the new claw marks that decorated his left shoulder, Surendra turned and looked at his attacker. The pilikua nui, while the same shape as its brethren, was unmistakably the magus they were looking for. Its fur and shell, once wood brown, were now pitch black with little specks of glowing white dots peppering its back. As it moved, the specks themselves didn’t, almost as if the beast’s fur were a portal to the night sky. Realizing it had failed to remove the largest threat via surprise, the magus gave out a sharp whine. As if this was some kind of signal, its pack immediately moved in as one. Everyone barely had time to reposition as a wave a fangs and claws descended upon them.

  Fifteen seconds later, Surendra was still fighting for his gods damned life. This magus was both relentless and near completely unpredictable, mostly due to that frustrating magic. It seemed the beast could disappear and reappear in any connected darkness, and was using that trick to hit its opponent from every angle. Surendra’s only saving grace was that those stars in its coat were still visible in the darkness, so he could tell when it had teleported when he saw them vanish. Even still, the thing was fast, so much so that he could barely keep up. This was more than just the speed of a hunter, it seemed like the thing was also incredibly light despite its large size. With its muscles still able to provide the same amount of force, blocking those attacks felt like deflecting arrows. The sasqal was a blur of black and white as he swung his staff furiously, parrying each claw swipe yet unable to make any attacks of his own. This only stopped for a brief moment as both of them halted a couple of yards from each other, panting heavily. It was probably foolish, but Surendra took this moment to glance back towards his allies. It was in this action that his heart stopped.

  It wasn’t that they were struggling. In fact, Ikaika and Ailu seemed to be doing quite well. The pāpaka was a wall of shell and strength, clobbering any pilikua nui that got too close. Surendra wasn’t quite sure what Ideal he was using, but it was clear that he was quite devoted to it. Each strike cracked the shells of his opponents, sending the beasts flying back with enough force to fling them back into the darkness. There was no technique nor training behind his fighting style, just the raw strength of a monster that walked upright. This was not a hunter taking down its quarry, but instead a pack of beasts learning that they were no longer the apex predators. Of course, there was only so much he could do against the dozen or so creatures that wanted him dead, which made it fortunate that he had such a powerful ally at his back. While Ailu was not in the state to stand at the front lines, her magic made their opponents into easy targets. While some were bound with thick ropes of floating water, others seemed to be slowed down by some invisible force pressing down on their backs. It was a known fact that few people could effectively take on a hominid magus, and Ailu was making it very clear why that was the case. Against this pair, this pack of monsters that would have had all of Kālepa trembling in fear resembled a bunch of rabid dogs being put down for their own sake.

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  No, there were no problems there. The beasts were being dealt with even more easily than Surendra had expected. If it weren’t for how much of a nightmare this magus was being, this fight might have already been over. What concerned him was the ten year old kālai that was now barreling her way towards him, ducking under multiple leaping beasts in the process.

  “What in the world do you think you’re doing, brat?”

  Kanoa reached him right as the magus was able to recover. Strangely enough, it seemed as if the beast had completely shifted its attention. Surendra followed its eyes to his pupil, as a strange sort of energy began to fill the room. The sheer animosity he could feel, something unreasonable to expect of a wild animal, radiated strongly enough that even the child felt the need to step back. The shadows deepened, little pinpricks of light similar to those in the magus’ coat forming within them as the flames of an old rivalry blazed with furious intensity.

  Kanoa breathed in deeply, feeling the influence of Kinohi’s heat roiling within her. In the back of her mind, she could hear the goddess laughing. She was reminded of the feeling of when she channeled the raw power of her patron all those years ago. It had not been the first time one had received such a blessing, and yet her reaction to it was unique from those who came before her. It was an awful feeling, as if she had become the kindling for a fire meant only to destroy all that came in its path. It was that feeling that led her to avoid associating too deeply with her nature as Pomaika, but right now it was hard to ignore the use it could have.

  She looked up to Surendra. “You can’t beat it.”

  He narrowed his eyes in response, returning to a defensive stance in anticipation for when the magus took its next move. “Hmph, what do you know?”

  “Pō’ele Hakahaka doesn’t just give people power, he refines them into weapons in his war against Kinohi. I thought that was just a story, but can’t you see? These powers are perfect for a pilikua nui, and you said it yourself that a beast shouldn’t be able to control its powers.”

  Surendra deflected another blow. It was easier this time due to it being entirely focused on Kanoa, but not by much.

  “. . . I’ll admit I underestimated it. You have a plan?”

  “I might.” Kanoa flinched as a claw missed her left eye by an inch. “I can make it mad with my blessing, but you have to hit it before it gets me”

  Surendra cocked an eyebrow. Of all the plans she could have come up with, he wasn’t expecting one that understood killers to that degree. No matter how good a fighter someone may be, there was always one moment where they were completely defenseless: and that was the moment of victory. For whatever reason, no creature could resist the impact of making a decisive, killing blow. It didn’t matter much if they had other people to worry about, but if they were unaware of anyone else for some reason. . . Well either way, he didn’t know if he’d be able to last long enough for the others to lend a hand. Especially not with someone to protect.

  “Fine. Do it. You better not let your parent find out about this.”

  “Alright!”

  Kanoa closed her eyes, trying to reclaim that past feeling, to use that raw power of the goddess that she knew she was capable of wielding. This wasn’t like using her core power. She wasn’t looking within, but farther away. She reached out towards Lua Pele Nui, the volcanic seat of divinity. She sought the strength of its heat with all her might, desperately ignoring the clash of wood and claw. Unfortunately, there was no power to be found, only a voice she had not heard in years.

  “Who exactly do you think you are? Do you think a greater deity is just someone you can call upon whenever you need aid? I may find you entertaining, but don’t push your-”

  “I’m sorry alright? I really need this right now, so please forgive me!”

  Surendra gave her an odd look. “Who are you talking to?”

  “Oh, you need this, do you? Don’t think you’re so special, child. I’ve only put a mere decade into your existence; not nearly long enough to consider it an investment. Unlike you, I have all the time in the world.”

  Kanoa was starting to panic. “So I don’t even matter? Why bother helping me if you’re just going to let me die later?”

  “Uh, Kanoa? What is happening? Is there a problem?”

  “Yes, Kanoa, is there a problem? I made a choice on a whim when my power was in enough abundance to waste a bit on a broken child. No one forced you to be here, so why don’t you-”

  “OH FOR THE LOVE OF EVERYTHING WOULD YOU SHUT UP? HELP ME OR GO AWAY, I DON’T WANT TO DIE IN A STINKING CAVE!”

  This outburst of pure frustration was enough to stun every living being in the room, from the beasts to the ones they were attacking. Surendra had to back away, as the heat of this sheer. . . indignation was enough to singe his fur if he got too close. It wasn’t the strength of Kinohi, not even close, but you could see something. Something else boiled within Kanoa, a fury she had never experienced before, at least directly. It seemed as if there was more to the power of a Pomaika. It was not simply the heat of Kinohi, it was a piece of her core nature. A petty, violent tyrant who relished in strife. To a magus bonded to the domain of her ancient rival, it seemed as if the goddess herself was standing before it, if only for a moment. The beast’s only choice was to strike forth with all its might, all else forgotten in the chance to live up to its creator’s wishes. By the time Kanoa had regained herself, its head had already been caved in with a black bo staff. She could only hear that voice, ringing in her head.

  “AHAHAHAHA! Oh, finally! My apologies for my inconsideration, child, but I just had to see if you were ready. I’ll be excited to see what you’ll be able to do, now that you finally know how to use your own strength.”

  With the last of the pilikua nui crumpled on the ground, the tension in the room could finally release. Or at least, it would have if everyone’s concern had not immediately turned to Kanoa. She kneeled on the ground, breathing too quickly to have been taking in any air. Her mind reeled with what had just happened, what she had just become, if only for a second. Ailu rushed over, wrapping her arms around her friend, but the young kālai could barely feel it. All she could feel was the thumping of her heart pounding. She could feel herself slipping into unconsciousness, not from exhaustion but simply to escape from what was happening around her. As her vision went black, Kanoa recalled one final thing. The stories she was told about Kinohi were different back in Ho’okahi. Here, they only described her creating the volcanos that became āina Hānau and forming the kālai from lobsters crawling on the heated stone. These stories were probably true; she had no reason to think otherwise. But there was something else that Makaio had claimed. Something she knew in her core to be a fundamental truth that could never be unknown. The storytellers of Kālepa called Kinohi the goddess of fire. Makaio called her the mother of war.

  —

  Midnight

  Makaio had been swimming for hours. Even with his arms screaming, he continued to push forward, not slowing down for a second. It wasn’t like he wasn’t able to stop; even the most reckless of kālai hunters knew when they needed to just float to recover energy. No, he simply had no reason to preserve himself any longer. Makaio did not wish to die, but he also had no real attachment to life. Not even he knew if there was a concrete goal ahead of him, or if he was simply hoping to find something before oblivion took him. So he kept swimming.

  There was no need to turn back. No one particularly wanted him back in Ho’okahi anymore. He couldn’t blame them. He said it himself: the Pomaika was a test from Kinohi, a way to prove their loyalty and their ability to force her will onto the world. It was a lie. He hadn’t known it at the time, but it was so obviously a lie. He wasn’t sure exactly why he had lied to himself, that he had any real purpose in the goddess’ eyes. Whether he had trained that child or not would never have mattered, for the Pomaika would always follow the same path. They would always choose war. It was inevitable, wrapped into their very beings. Why did he know that? The stories may have implied it, but few others had connected the dots. Maybe they needed to realize the same thing as him: that their choices were meaningless distractions in the fates of higher beings. It didn’t matter. He lied to himself, then he lied to his people, and they made him an outcast for it. Cause and effect. The only thing he could wish for is that anyone bothered to notice he was gone. They probably would. He had left his dinner behind when he left. Someone would probably notice the smell when it began to rot.

  There had been a voice in the back of his head these past few years. It was what finally helped him understand the pointlessness of his life and the actions within it. He had appreciated that voice immensely, so when it finally made a demand of him after all this time, there was no real choice but to comply. It asked him to go to Moku Hāweo, so he did. He could see it in the distance, those glowing reeds resembling a pale blue horizon. It was only a mile or two away. He hadn’t really acknowledged any pain for a while now, so that would probably be a breeze.

  As he took his first step onto the island, Makaio couldn’t help but marvel at how beautiful it was. From the swamp he stood on to the distant mangrove forests, all he could see was that remarkable glowing grass. The stories claimed that the light of the reeds was meant to keep the dark god trapped on Moku Hāweo, that his shadows couldn’t pass through them. Those stories felt a bit foolish now. How, exactly, were they meant to keep him in? Wasn’t Pō’ele Hakahaka meant to be the god of the night? Only the light of day and the flames of Kinohi could restrict such a being such as that. No, this light was different. It was like. . . what was the word?

  “Starlight.”

  Makaio nearly jumped out of his skin. It was that voice! The voice that helped him see the truth of everything! But it wasn’t in his head now, was it? No, it was all around him, in the rustling of reeds and the howl of the wind. He had no other option than to kneel. What else could you do before the night itself?

  “Such compliance. . . Celestia above, you really don’t have anything left, do you? I thought I understood it with all that time I wasted in that vile head of yours.”

  He looked around, but still could not see the form of the dark god.

  “What do you think you’re doing? Do you really think I’d let you see me? You’re lucky I’ve even bothered to look at you.”

  He looked down. Fair enough.

  “Alright, listen. You’re the worst. I really, truly believe that. Maybe if you had bothered to do anything instead of just sitting around playing at rulership you could have garnered some interest from Kinohi, but you didn’t. You added nothing to the world, just ran in circles while pretending you were something important. Pathetic.”

  Tears rolled down his cheeks. It was true. He knew it was, but it still hurt. He really thought he was someone important. It was probably good that he knew better now, he just wished he could have done anything about it before it was too late.

  “You are lucky though, I’ll give you that. You see, I’ve decided to change my tactics a little. I will admit that I’ve been facing a very similar problem to yours. I as well have wasted a good portion of my life, with the only difference being that I realized it early enough to make a change.”

  Oh, really? Good for him. It’d be a shame if the gods were as flawed as mortals, but it looked like it was mostly the case.

  “You see, I’ve let myself get wrapped up in Hatred. I’ve used it too much, forced it on too many of my champions, and all it’s done is make me tired. That bitch Kinohi will still get what’s coming to her, but I need something more productive. You. . . aren’t that, but you do still have value. You can still empathize with mortals, and more importantly, can be empathized by them in turn. I can use that. You’ll be nothing but a tool and a weapon, but I’ll at least help you regain a sense of ego. Sounds good?”

  Makaio nodded. Not like there was anything else he could do.

  “Glad to see it. Why don’t you follow the white lights? You look like you need something to eat.”

  He looked up, seeing that a path through the glowing reeds was shining with pale white starlight. Without a word, he stood up and followed the path. Darkness began to crawl up his legs, slowly covering his entire body. His life’s journey may not have been over, but there was no further reason to strive towards the end. Here, he might actually be able to make a difference. Makaio looked down at his left arm, at the burn marks that now covered much of that side of his body. This mark of his failure, it would make a good reminder of where he came from. Even if he became nothing more than a puppet, he could use those scars to remember the scars he had left on the world. Smiling for the first time in years, he continued along the glowing path. It really was beautiful. . .