Through another sightless labyrinth she reached the surface once more, only to realize it was not too unlike her dream.

  The full moon was not as perfectly centered, and neither haunting nor the Thing waited for her arrival, but the crimson tinge to the stars above was impossible to ignore, and the faint smell of ash mixing with the cave's musk and mold brought to mind the worse. Hugging Agare tighter, she shuffled towards the exit.

  Her Will was the first to notice the change, as her arms punctured through brittle, omnipresent folds of membrane, decayed to an ocean of mush yet ever so recognizable. Then it was the heat, uncomfortable and growing with every step, less like the warmth of the sun and closer to dipping oneself into a slowly boiling cauldron.

  They emerged into what might have been a hill once, now bisected by a deep gorge. Her feet sunk to the ankles in a soft, sandy mass from which several stalks emerged, fading luminescence still wittering at the tip of some the only mean by which she recognized the field of Ring Flowers. That was odd: from what she recalled from Elder Seneschal, they only bloomed for the duration of the solstice, they should all be gone by now.

  It took far too long for her to notice how the ground wavered in wrinkles, how uneven the depth the flowers grew from. Agare caught on first, his Mark fixing on the distance as she dug by the kicks to reveal a great, dark shape below.

  She could have simply looked to the horizon, in the far distance, where it's body rose towards the sky.

  It stood over the land like a mountain crowned in antlers. Words failed her. Even to call it a god was a gross understatement. Be it the wrinkled thing cursing some corner of Treil into abandonment, or the monster who ruled Lesser Hollow from its Throne, to compare it to such minuscule pests was a disrespect that threatened her very life.

  Was it a world then? A realm? The hand of the Starlit World itself, long dead and never dying, dozens of mummified fingers reaching for salvation, contours wavering as if dancing with the wind, though such mundane things could never hope to move such a magnificent existence.

  At some point she may have forgotten its name, it's tale. Under its might, she was forced to remember.

  The Sun Sapling.

  "That madman desecrated the Crimson Grave." No weakness or attempt at neutrality could hide the awe in Agare's voice. "By Eligor, how could someone be so brainless?"

  Not desecrated, absconded. It was a story older than Lesser Hollow, one even she had known by heart once.

  Ages past, the Fruit of the Earth had fallen from the Father Celestia, and germinated into men. The forefathers of humanity banded together to create the first of herds, serving the Father in all his needs, while the Father made the earth plentiful and the homes of men inviolable. It was a golden era of happiness and fulfillment.

  Of course, good times never last forever, and men had not been born alone. From the seeds of the rotten fruit, germinated the worms, the Rootgnashers, who fled down to the dark but nurtured hatred for their twin kind. Little by little, they devoured the Father's roots and tempted the hearts of men to putrefaction, until the faith was abandoned and their maker was left untended. That was how the Father Celestial came to pass.

  However, just as men died and were sent to the earth to be subsumed and purified, eventually be born anew, so would the Father return. His body now gave his sinful Herd the light of day, but his soul was cast into a seed, as small as a maiden's fist, from which he would return as his own Son when time to gather the all believers into the Great Herd was at hand.

  When she was young, she thought that was God. Blasphemy.

  It had been here all along, far more perverse than God could have ever been, the one responsible for the Scorching Season, for millions of deaths, for the suffering she had to endure for through out all her life.

  But she did not fight it, did not curse it. She shrunk over herself, keeping Agare as close as a precious treasure, eyes locked with the ground and Will restrained through willpower like manacles of steel. Maybe it was because Priga was all and all was Priga, maybe it yet another unseen layer to her Wills perception, or maybe it was simple self preservation, but the Graveyard she learned one absolute truth.

  Some things, even dead, should not be called for.

  They were not welcome here. Nothing was. Something vile had transpired here, something it would never forgive them for, no matter the fault.

  Trying to shake away thoughts not her own, she turned and walked away, careful not to be noticed.

  Around the late morning, she ascended a tall, steep hill to peer at the horizon.

  The Crimson Grave expanded in all directions, an endless field of ash and charred, undefinable ruints poking out of the ground, vision obscured by walls of distorting heat and dust storms. After hours of walking she no longer knew where she came from, and if it wasn't for the eternally vigilant peaks of the Ivian Chain, wouldn't have the slightest clue how to direct herself.

  She did not, however, look towards the ever guiding Mt. Tremor. To see it from this angle was also to see the abominable Sapling, which through the briefest glimpses at its twisting image she learned only grew worse and more absurd in broad daylight.

  There was one recurring type of landmark, one she would have rather avoided if not for need: dead gods. Some sprouted out of the gargantuan roots that pockmarked the landscape like parasites or vestigial limbs, while others tore out of the soot among lingering traces of destruction to become deformed monuments at their end.

  The idea came to her when she spotted a procession of dark figures in the distance. At first, she had almost confused them with people, before she came close enough to see the limping rearguard, left to lag behind, wobble as if half liquid. Apparitions, soot spewing black cadavers, other undead monstrosities with harder to describe shapes, all quietly following one figure, hunched yet taller than her, lanky with a long tongue of flame emerging from the cracks between its scapulas.

  Following behind, a sudden tension in the World of Will jolted her back to attention, thamkfully nothing but another spasm from their omnipresent Sapling. At least, she was happy to know she wasn't the only one getting scared, the way all the apparitions shivered in unison, emitting a deeply distressed gurgling moan.

  "Hey, Agare." She spoke by the whispers, the first words she had dared say since sunrise. When none of the apparitions ahead reacted, she continued. "Do you want to hear a story?"

  "This isn't the place, nor the time," he said.

  "And is there going to be another time?" she said.

  She waited for his answer, and only began when she realized there would be none coming.

  "When I was young, Elder Seneschal used to gather our family together and tell stories. At the time, I didn't know most of them were from books he had brought from outside in secret, but I don't think I would have cared, I just really, really liked them! I specially loved the chivalry ones, about all those invincible knights fighting for their fallen kingdoms, trying to restore honor to their names, or just protecting the weak and the innocent.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  "The Elder liked the sadder stories, those ones that end with the heroes losing everything and dying, and I... t-the Holly Seneschal from back then really something in those. She already knew she hated Lesser Hollow and that Lesser Hollow hated her back, from the way visitors to the Elder would look at her, or talked about her even to her face, and she wanted to escape all of that so, so bad.

  "So one day, Holly Seneschal decided she wanted to be one of those heroes, and fight for her loved ones."

  Buffeted by a cloud of dust, she shut her mouth briefly, protecting her eyes and mouth with an arm. The procession, crossing a ravine where jagged pieces of masonry reached upwards among shattered halfs of boulders, did not lose pace, even those physically bent by the wind.

  Agare took the opportunity to speak. "You're referring to yourself in third person again."

  "I-it's hard to explain!" she said. "J-just listen to me for now, and I'll try to make it make sense, alright?."

  ",,, Go on then."

  "We, Hazel and I, used to be forbidden from leaving the house when we were really young, but I figured how to slip out to explore. First time I got one good caning over it, then I got clever and it became harder to figure out when I left or not. By the time he gave up and made me promise to stay out sight, I even knew how to slip Cassia and Hazel out too!

  "But I couldn't stay out of sight. I don't know how you got in that day, but there used to be saying that all ways in the Hollows bring one to God. I-I don't that was wrong, but I was always brought back to either where I started exploring from or the village. It was alright by me, I liked to people watch when I had nothing else to do, but then people started noticing me..."

  In the distance, a shape stood from the haze, much too large to be another hill, much too far. Paying more attention, she noticed its smaller siblings forming a small chain, like some humpbacked creature buried under stone. The ghastly parade, however, changed directions at a crossroad, leaving her with a dilemma.

  "Your Elder taught you to fight," Agare said, and she made a decision, heading towards the small mountains. "Strongest kid in Lesser Hollow."

  "Y-yes. Gave me tips, anyway. I mean, he had to, the first time the laddies caught me in the woods, they beat me black and blue and send me home in tears. I was so mad I asked the Elder to kill them for me, h-heheh."

  "That sounds unlike you."

  The comment caught her by surprise. A flash of disgruntlement quickly cooled; he was right, it really did, didn't it? "That was the Holly Seneschal of then. It's what I thought I needed to be to protect myself. And she loved every part of it! Breaking a lad's nose for the first time with a punch was better than the first time I ate Uluun! Beating them up, running when I was overwhelmed, hiding and waiting for dusk so they stopped looking for me, even taking the beating was fun when I knew I had an actual fighting chance!

  "And I got good at it. At six I could actually beat laddies twice my age, and when I teamed up with Hazel? She was always pretty small, but she had one nasty bite!" She giggled to herself. She would never forget the day her sister latched on so tight the little lad had to roll on the floor to pry her off "Cassia... Playing with her in the woods was pretty cool, but she was too easy to scare.

  "Got the Elder screaming until he spat literal blood once because I kept bringing them with me! But it made me feel right, so I kept on at it. Thought of myself like some noble warlord, scary yet respectable, that eventually if I won enough... something would happen, I guess. Something had to change. Never stopped to think too hard on what."

  A tendril the length of a forearm crept over Agare's head, almost touching already sore clavicles again. He leaned forward on her grip, turning his head slighty to peer at her. "Almost never works," he said.

  She shook her head. "Yeah, but I didn't know. They started searching for me in bigger groups, brought adults to chase me down, but I knew the woods too well to get caught, so I only got bolder, started to hurt them worse, would show myself when watching wives on their chores just to get a reaction.

  "One day, I was... I don't remember, but I kicked a particularly persistent laddie a couple years older in the groin and stomped him brown with mud. He left with tears in his eyes, and I went home proud. The next day, I'm going to the river with Hazel to catch riversquids, and he ambushed us in the middle of the way. He wasn't alone this time.

  "He brought a proper lad with him. Tall, wiry, with a really vicious smile. Never said a word to me, just stared and smiled. And I... I should have known. O-or rather, I knew I should have grabbed Hazel by the hand and booked it, I was actually afraid of the way he was looking at me, but I-I just figured, that had to be it, right? If I could beat him, I would have proved myself in some way, right?!"

  "You didn't." Agare's words cut her to the core.

  "Of course not. Didn't get the chance to throw a slap before he kicked my legs under me and stepped down on my chest! The smaller one started to laugh and say things at me, but the bigger lad just kept smiling, like I was the biggest joke down there.

  "A-and you know what's funny? I-I was actually a little happy, figured out that would be m-my moment, you know? E-even if I died it would be like the stories, and everyone would hear how tragic my life was and pity me and regret the way they treated me like some disgusting worm that dug its way out of the floor! B-but instead of killing me-"

  The memory still sent shivers down her back. Lifetimes ago, and she still couldn't forget the pain, the sardonic grin as she bled.

  "I-instead of killing me, he picked up a rock and smashed my hand apart."

  She let herself trail into silence, waiting for Agare to comment. Why? Did she want his opinion so badly? No, that wasn't it. Like all those years ago, she wasn't sure what she wanted, only that she wanted something.

  For her wait, she got nothing.

  "I-I'm going to say this, and I know it's odd but... I feel like Holly Seneschal died in that moment. All those dreams, those ideals, that fearless arrogance—she never- I never had felt a pain like that before. I know I screamed until I couldn't talk for days after, but the only thing I remember is the pain.

  "Hazel saved me. They got so focused on me they missed when she came back with a rock of her own and bashed the lad right on the temple! Don't think I saw it though. Next thing I know I'm back at the Elder's house, and everyone is around me while the healer tried to patch me up. I was chocking on my sobs, but I'm sure I heard him say he wanted to cut my hand off."

  The air became clear ahead of them, revealing the small mountains in full. Ghosts of all shapes and states waited on the other side of the Crimson Grave's labyrinth of distortion, many in number yet each alone, watching in restless silence. She briefly considered dispersing a few, just to see if they would lose interest, but it felt cruel.

  "I healed fast after that day, but their were consequences. I lost a couple fingers, and those that remained didn't work anymore. I couldn't gut the idea of getting hurt like that again, so I stopped going outside. And t-then... it couldn't have been more than a few weeks after that I started to get sick and changed.

  "Now that I think about it, the signs were there all along, weren't they?" she said, watching the pallid shell over her hands reflecting sun light through a coating of dust. The red in the sky was nothing beyond a suggestion by then, and if not for the empty desolation all around her, it would have been a perfectly pleasant, warm day. "Is this what is like for all the others like me, I wonder? Little clues, then something happens and it's everything at once?"

  "I don't think I'm the right person for that question," Agare said.

  "I know."

  "You never told us back then. Why?" he asked.

  "Consciously, I just really didn't want to remember. Also, I think I didn't want you all to know there had been another Holly before."

  "Because she had died?" Agare asked.

  She nodded. "As I grew older and learned what the Lesser expects out of a girl—o-or part of it, anyway, Holly's rebellious side died down, and the next Holly was modeled after Cassia." She couldn't help but scoff. "But I never managed the grace, heheh."

  But that didn't answer the question, not to herself. Why did she want to tell Agare, when she had kept it hidden for so long?

  "You know, I started to think I had cursed myself." She tried to articulate the buried thoughts, looking on to their audience for help, as if they were interested. "Holly Seneschal was the name Elder Seneschal gave me so I could fit in with Lesser Hollow, and I just spat all over it. Made myself a filthy animal in their eyes."

  "Impure."

  Agare's conclusion could have come from her own mouth. The exact word that haunted her mind to this day, the undeniable proof of her noxious blood.

  "It was all my fault,"she said. "If only I had obeyed the Elder, if only I had been a proper lady from the start and paid more attention to the things he tried to teach me-"

  "You would have found yourself at the sake place. You-" Agare hesitated. "You did what you knew to do. The only thing you must curse is your birth. That is the true evil."

  She found herself speechless at the unexpected agreement. Before she could question him, he carried on.

  "I know now, what she saw in you. She had noticed all along how similar you both are."

  "Y-you mean Marquise?" she asked. "I can't see how-"

  "You need to stop. To stop hating yourself, to stop blaming yourself for your own birth, for doing the best you could with what life handed to you, Marquise." He gurgled as if suddenly asphixiated, then continue. "I can't save you if walk down that path, I'm trying but..."

  "A-Agare?! W-what's happening?" She stopped cold as Agare was wracked by spasms, marrow deep quakes twisting his body as if trying to tear it to pieces. "Stop, you're going to hurt yourself!"

  "I-I! I shouldn't have burdened you. I shouldn't have admired you so much. I should have seen it coming, warned you they wouldn't care for your intentions, I-! If only I didn't, if only you weren't, i-if only-!"

  A final spasm, so strong it nearly ripped him out of her grip. A distant wet gulp, tendrils both thick and thin launched out of his Mark with enough speed to pull his head forward. They froze, reaching, wordlessly begging to be let out.

  "F-forgive me, Markosia!"

  And with that, he fell limp. Only the grasping coils out of his void maintained their starved focus on her.

  "Agare!" She shook him to no response. "Agare!"

  She looked one way or another. The way ahead towards the small mountains was clear, and she knew they were at the edges of the fallen Sapling's territory. Only the dead barred her way, those in the shape of humans and those in the shape of the divine, neither which looked inclined to follow.

  She could afford to be brave once again. Knowing what might be ahead of her, she took off running, never looking back.