Below the Heavens [Trad Epic High Fantasy]

Look back at the hardest choice you ever made.

That last moment will define where life takes you until you face our next one.

I believe life is merely a series of moments where we make choices with increasing difficulty, with everything in between just facing the consequences of those decisions.

We feel trapped in the end. Living our consequential lives chained to the last decision, avoiding the next one in the fear it only takes us somewhere worse.

I find myself there right now.

— Except from Flangel's Journal. Middle section.

Middle Tiers, Oasis

The dungeon where they held Ayden was designed to adhere to the bare minimum of the Lord's laws.

A solitary ray of light filtered through a set of double-slits in the roof, drawing a set of bright reflections on his neck, traveling down his naked torso throughout the day. The Lord had decreed all Oasians were entitled to the light of the Sun, and so even these places were modified accordingly. Sunlight was given, and it was from more than one slit. Generously designed to obey the Lord's word.

As the law decreed, even prisoners were to be fed thrice a day. And so they did. Mouldy bread, thin gruel, camel's milk. The first few days had seen him vomiting, retching on his knees as the manacles held his hands apart and far above his head. The camel's milk must have also spoiled in the heat, for he had the runs and the ever-pleasant sensation of feeling his own diarrhea drip down his legs.

The wardens had beaten him for the offence of giving them more work to clean. It was planned, for they could not otherwise touch him without assumed resistance. Such were the Lord's laws.

Minimum water was a right as well, for it was the Lord's merciful decision to ensure people had their bare minimums. Ayden thirsted; the vomit had seared his throat, and the runny evacuations had parched his body of whatever water he had. His head hurt and his vision swam; but there had been nothing written about when he was to be given his allotted water. They dumped it over him while burying blows in his midriff; Ayden soon learned it was better to choke on water in his lungs than to keep his mouth closed when water was coming. Breathing could come later, but the body needed water now.

The half-healed wound in his side alternated between bleeding and clotting, for his body did not have the water to bleed freely, yet their fists always found a way to worsen the wound. A healer gave him a mending every two days, for he was not allowed to die under the Steward's watch. However, the Lord's laws said nothing about how he was to live.

"Kill me," he whispered to them one day. They ignored him, but worried he would take matters into his own hands. To prevent him from biting his own tongue, one stuffed his mouth with the rag they had used to clean up his prison. They force-fed him after pricking his neck with a needle dipped in drowsiflora, giving him thinner gruel that did not need to be chewed.

And so Ayden went through his days in half-delirium, chained to the wall. The Sun's light signaled the start of a new day, and the wardens would creak open that door yet again. The feelings in his arms had already gone; every once in a while they suddenly loosened the chains on his manacles and his arms would come falling down. He used to howl at the pain of movement; he believed they were better off numb. The sudden rush of blood into his hands and fingers caused them to burn as though on fire.

He'd learned to react, gritting his teeth the moment he felt the chains move — clink clink clinkclinkclink — and they'd come crashing down, along with the deadened things called his arms and hands. Ayden would suck in a forced breath through the odorous rag; his heart betrayed him, pumping fresh blood into his upper extremities to gasp those muscles back into life. The starved limbs always screamed as they experienced momentary resurrection and Ayden groaned with the pain. He could not hiss with his mouth full.

Sometimes he would lose his balance because his exhausted body had been held up by those chains. After much trial and error, he'd discovered the least painful strategy for handling this: roll onto a shoulder, no matter how painful it was to abuse a newly awoken limb. The first time he'd simply fallen forward, he'd broken his nose. It had bled freely. He'd been too delirious to eat afterwards.

The water thief was so lazy he didn't want to feed himself, they would say.

Pain was a daily motivator and hunger was a relentless taskmaster. But worst was the all-consuming thirst.

Thirst gnawed at his sanity.

Ayden fought the demands of his flesh, hoping beyond despair for himself to refuse the water and throw up what they forced down his mouth. But he fought in vain, for his body refused to give up that which it desperately craved.

Some will to live chained him to reality, and those chains were made of hope.

Steward Jyori seemed to appear whenever he'd found his resolve, whenever he'd successfully gone a full day without eating or drinking. Each visit, she asked him the same questions. How did you get in? Who else was involved? What did you see?

Ayden said nothing, for the Lord's laws protected him if he refused to answer.

The Steward continued this process unperturbed. Perhaps some law or another required Steward Jyori to see him often if she meant to keep him instead of surrendering him to Steward Ryu.

But starting the second week, she began offering him hope. His mother Kaylah was working undisturbed in her restaurant. As far as she could tell, the only missing would-be water thief was his twin sister, unless he was willing to kindly offer up any more names?

The tidbits of news always sent him into relief. They hadn't found Aliyah yet.

Thank the Gods it's just me.

Ayden understood what the Steward wanted. The Lord's laws forbade her to allow him to die under her custody, and the hope breathed poisonous life back into his body against his own will.

When he'd next tempered his resolve, the Steward brought him his mother's cooking.

"She brought it for you every day," said Steward Jyori, feeding Ayden personally with a spoon. "I thought that you'd appreciate it over what they've been feeding you."

He had known it from the first whiff; Amma's cooking, always too much with the seasoning but expertly grilled over an open flame. His stomach had betrayed him, and he found himself opening his mouth.

Chewing.

Swallowing.

Crying.

Once again, Ayden found himself unable to relinquish life.

When his shrunken stomach no longer accepted a full plate of food, the Steward took a ginger bite of the food for herself.

"Oh my," Steward Jyori covered her mouth as she chewed. "Now that is full of flavor! Almost too much. I now see why the wardens were eating it themselves."

Ayden, with a full stomach for the first time in weeks, fell into another stupor. In his delirium he vaguely recalled the Steward bringing the wardens in front of her, making them answer simple questions on their knees. What does he say? How many times has the prisoner attempted to bite his tongue? Who authorized the force-feeding? Does he murmur in his sleep? How have his wounds not yet healed? Which healer is responsible for…

Clink clink clink clinkclinkclink — twin shocks of pain shot up Ayden's arms when his hands hit the ground, sending him gasping awake in pain.

"Wake up, water thief," said the wardens. "The Steward is here to see you."

Again? Ayden opened his bleary eyes, blinking away the tears of pain. The twin slits of Sunlight reflected off the ground; it must be close to noon.

"Open this." The voice asserted.

Another voice. One of the wardens. Ayden could not see them because the reflected Sunlight almost blinded him. "Steward, I highly caution against entering the cell while the prisoner's chains are loosened."

"Open," the voice repeated. Slower. More commanding. A moment later, the fumble of keys being brought out and a hurried scraping of key against lock could be heard. The voice added, "And you. Bring me a chair."

A different male voice. The other warden. "We have stools here for the wardens. I could fetch a chair from the office, or will a stool suffice, Steward?"

"A stool then. Wipe the seat."

The cell-door creaked open. Steward Jyori's figure came into view, looking down at Ayden as he felt the blood pumping sluggishly through his arms. She then turned around to inspect the offered stool before sitting down.

"Bring his water," she said. A warden entered, bringing a cup. "Don't just stand there. Give it to him."

The man seemed unhappy, but obeyed. He stepped forward, putting the cup down on the ground in front of Ayden. Their caution was unwarranted; Ayden could scarcely move his arms forward, much less up, if he even wanted to try and strangle them. All he could do was watch as they moved back.

"Have a drink," the Steward gestured. "I tend to find myself thirsty whenever I wake, and I imagine you must be too."

The dungeon air had gone still, save for the faint rattle of chains and the sound of water being lifted. Steward Jyori leaned forward on her stool, one elbow on her knee, and peered down at Ayden as he eyed the cup. He didn't move.

"I said drink, not stare," she said softly, voice light but edged. "Unless you plan on having a conversation with a dry throat, then who am I to judge?"

Ayden resigned himself to the conversation. In truth, the thought of fresh water enticed him. By now, his arms had moved from fire to tingling and he'd regained some control over his fingers. He stretched out a manacled wrist. The chains to his side clinked, but the slack was long enough for him to reach the cup. He gripped it, keeping watchful eyes on the Steward and the wardens, then leaned back against the wall to enjoy his prize.

Cool water ran past his cracked lips, tasting almost sweet against the grimy slime coating the inside of his mouth. Wariness kept him from losing himself to the indulgence; one eye looked straight ahead, half-expecting the wardens to come up to administer corrective corporal punishment with their fists.

But nothing happened. The wardens stayed at the back. The Steward sat there on her stool, inspecting him with slight curiosity.

Jyori waited until Ayden drained the last drop. He didn't lower the cup until it was empty, his throat working with audible gulps. When he finished, he let the cup dangle from his fingers. It slipped from his grip and hit the ground with a dull knock.

"A well-earned drink," she said at last, folding her hands in her lap. "Now, are you in the mood to talk?"

Ayden didn't answer. The water had slaked his thirst, but his voice was still raw from disuse.

Jyori tilted her head slightly, her voice dropping into something between casual and calculated. "I saw her again this morning, you know. Your mother."

That made Ayden's eyes flick toward her, just briefly. But still he did not answer, for that was nothing new. Maybe there was food. Maybe there wasn't.

"She keeps trying," Jyori continued, brushing a speck of dust from her robes that likely wasn't there. "Even though she knows the food may be tossed out. Even though she knows you might not be in any state to eat it. She still brings it. Personally."

Ayden's tongue scraped over his cracked lip. "She shouldn't," he rasped.

"Why? Because of you?" Jyori smiled faintly. "Or because of what it costs her?"

"Because…" He paused, swallowing. "Because it's not safe."

A long silence passed between them. Ayden could feel the heavy gaze of the wardens behind the Steward, standing still and silent. His fingers twitched slightly, feeling the cold stone beneath him.

"Mm. Sensible, considering Kaylah's … unfortunate lineage. But she's your mother, Ayden. And mothers aren't known for their sense of self-preservation," Steward Jyori said, still seated. She didn't raise her voice. "Bring in the food."

One of the wardens moved. The scrape of sandals on stone. A moment later, Ayden heard the squeal of hinges, and a warden entered into the reflected Sunlight. He carried a covered plate. The food and a spoon was set down within his reach, but he did not take his eyes off the Steward.

Steward Jyori gestured at the food. "Well then, have at it. Charred breast with fig reduction and cracked millet."

That was his mother's prized recipe. Ayden's stomach growled at the thought, then he uncovered the food with trembling hands. The scent of his favorite spices hit him, causing his mouth to water even more.

"This seems untouched," said Ayden, inspecting the food. The previous ones had all had a bite taken out of them. He sniffed again; it was his favorite spices — sunpepper and garlic — but this was not Amma's blend. The ratio was slightly off; the garlic too overbearing. Not a mistake Amma would make. "And it doesn't seem to be my mother's cooking."

"Ah, you are correct! This is not fully her cooking. As a matter of fact, she couldn't find the time to char the meat herself today, so I took to the task. I've been asking her to share her recipes and skills with me, you see, so I thought I'd stand in and ask you for your opinion," the Steward smiled. "It's not poisoned. I wouldn't need to do that."

"Then you should have a bite," said Ayden, pushing it towards her. Truth be told, he was loath to share even a single morsel with Steward Jyori, but it was important to watch the Steward eat it regardless. "My mother always said you can't improve, ah, if you don't taste the results of your own work."

"How kind of you to share, and how wonderfully careful you are! Then by all means, let me demonstrate." The Steward leaned down, sliding the plate towards her. She dug the spoon into the grilled meat, taking an exaggeratingly sumptuous bite for Ayden to see. A few moments of chewing later, she swallowed.

"Mmm, I think I see what you caught. There's something off about the taste." A moment later, she murmured, "Is it the spices?"

Ayden found her distinguished palate laudable despite his own misgivings. "That's impressive," he admitted. But still, he egged her on. "Have another bite, tell me what you think is specifically wrong there."

Not that it mattered to Ayden whether the Steward actually learned or not. No; it was more important for him to check whether anything was wrong with the food at all.

But the Steward ate the second bite without a problem, chewing thoughtfully. She swallowed again, then said, "I think the pungency of garlic rather overpowers the citrus finish of the sunpepper."

"My mother taught you well," Ayden agreed begrudgingly. His stomach growled.

"Are you finally in the mood to eat?" the Steward asked, waving the spoon in the air. "Or are you still waiting for me to come down with food poisoning or the like? I can assure you this is perfectly edible." She set the spoon back on the plate and slid it towards Ayden.

"You're probably relying on our Lord's laws that a Steward can no longer do unto others what we wouldn't do to ourselves, yes?" asked Steward Jyori. "There's a great story behind that; are you aware of it and how it pertains to your mother's father?"

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

"I'm aware. And not particularly interested in hearing it again. No, I'm confused because I never thought a Steward like you would ever consider cooking for someone else, much less someone like me," Ayden muttered while examining the food. She'd eaten two bites, that much was certain. "I'm sorry if hesitation is considered offensive."

"Oh, don't mind me at all! In fact, I have no problem telling you why I'm feeding you," the Steward leaned forward, inspecting him with her chin on her hand. "I'd like to employ you as a spear wielder for an upcoming Water Game. Consider cooking for you my… sincerity."

"Can't say I'm feeling any need to participate," Ayden replied. "I have no camel in this race."

"Don't be too hasty," Steward Jyori wagged a slender finger at him. "I believe you do. Your sister —"

"Aliyah?" Ayden demanded. Oh Gods. Had they found her? Caught her? "What about her?"

"Oh, not Aliyah. Your other sister: Lyka."

The unexpected name drove any coherent thoughts from Ayden's head. "...Lyka?"

Steward Jyori tapped her chin. "Normally this would be considered classified given the nature of the operation, but I should bend the rules for you as you are family, shouldn't I?" She leaned her chin on an open palm, gazing at Ayden. "Lyka is dead. I recently found out from the mursashu."

Lyka is dead. The words echoed hollowly in Ayden's mind. "What?"

"Died in JiangXi City, in service to our Lord. Well, as much as one could say in service when she failed her mission to bring back supplies, but there's little use in blaming the dead." The Steward shifted her chin onto her other hand, peering down at Ayden from her stool. Even sitting, she was still tall — or looked it, given her voluminous hair had been tied up. "And of course, here's why the issue of the Water Game matters to you. I've heard that the person who killed Lyka is a woman participating in this Water Game. And just to be clear: I intend to vote for lethal rules — which I believe Steward Clayton will also be voting for — meaning killing will be allowed." She paused, then added almost slyly, "Given this would present you with an opportunity to kill your sister's murderer, I believe I have your interest now?"

Lyka's killer… Ayden snapped his eyes back into focus. Lyka was dead, but who was telling this to him? "I have no reason to believe anything you say," Ayden stated sullenly. "I'm not participating in your game."

Steward Jyori did not flinch at Ayden's refusal, but answered as though she had expected his pushback all along. "You'll have a chance to refuse to play on the day of the Water Game, in which I will have another person replace you." She shifted her legs, uncrossing then crossing them again. "You might wonder why you specifically, and that's because you would have both the motivation and training. It's unfortunate, but the only other person I can rely on is in his retirement years."

"You're very confident I would participate," Ayden stared back at her. Lyka is dead rang in the back of his mind.

"Oh but you will. And perhaps you should be eating now to regain your strength for that day?"

Ayden could find no reason to refute that, even if there was no current proof that Lyka was dead. And the food still smelled delicious even if the ratio of the spices was off. He pulled the plate over to himself, spooning some of the cracked millet and meat for a bite.

The savory taste of charred meat paired well with the stiffness of outer skin. She didn't marinate it long enough, Ayden thought; but then again, the meat must have been select quality. Ayden couldn't quite place it; Amma preferred to use sandhen or quail breast, but those had the bitter taste of desert origins. The color did not give it any semblance of poultry meat, but camel breast was normally not as fat as this. Chewier, even. He could only assume the ingredients available to a Steward must be vastly different from those used in a poor district's restaurant.

Then came the fig reduction. Thick and dark, the sweetness clung to the meat in ways that enhanced the spices. A sour aftertaste blended well with the bitter taste of char, forcing his tongue's attention away from the heat of sunpepper blooming in his mouth.

Finally, the millet existed to round out the playful taste. Cracked grains had been softened in a broth of leftover moonmelon rind and bone stock, giving the millet itself a lightly earthy flavor. While others may have considered it the dullest part of the meal, Ayden knew from Amma's experiments that it carried the plate on its own. Without it, the meat would have been too heavy, the fig reduction too sour, the spices too pungent, and the sunpepper too hot.

He took another bite. Slower this time. It wasn't Amma's cooking, but it was close and that was what mattered.

"How do you find my cooking?" Steward Jyori asked him.

Ayden swallowed, then answered, "Acceptable on its own, but not a replacement for my mother's."

"Acceptable, hmm? Kind enough, but at least you're eating," the Steward shrugged, then shifted her seating position again. "I was going to tell you about why the Lord added additional rules on Stewards after Luyi the Lazy's treatment, and how this pertains to what a respectably hard-working woman your mother is, wasn't I?"

"You can talk, I don't have to pay attention to your little play-acting storytime," Ayden replied.

"Oh, is it a sore story for you?" Steward Jyori shifted again, placing a palm on the stool and leaning back, bracing her weight on the arm. "Or did your mother always shy away from telling it, and close your ears to hearing it?"

Ayden ignored her, choosing to eat instead. Lyka is dead. If it was true… and her murderer was going to participate in a Water Game… he would need his strength. He spooned more of the food, chewing vigorously but carefully. It wasn't fully his mother's cooking, but now that he had tasted it more, parts of it were. There was no one else who made the cracked millet the way she did; turning scraps into the best tasting meals were Amma's specialty. The meat wasn't her usual fare, but it would help him regain his muscles.

"Any cook would take pride in seeing how their food is enjoyed," Steward Jyori observed approvingly. Seeing almost no reaction from Ayden, she simply continued as though she'd planned on telling it all along. "In a way, I'm grateful to your grandfather. You see, I also grew up in the Lower Tiers. Part of the group that Luyi the Lazy wanted to help when he raided the reservoirs with his friends, planning to steal from the three main Houses and redistribute their wealth to the poor."

"I'm sorry he failed," Ayden replied with a full mouth, despite his own initial decision to not pay attention. She framed it deliberately to get me to listen, he realized, but he'd already answered. "And I'm sure he'd be happy to see you've climbed your way to your lofty position now."

"Oh, he would, wouldn't he?," she beamed back at him. "I don't suffer from thirst anymore, though I admit it remains a mainstay of my nightmares. But more importantly," she added, "You were using the rules added after Luyi's punishment earlier, weren't you? A Steward can only do unto others what they would do unto themselves. Making me eat two bites was quite cautious of you."

Ayden said nothing. He'd gone through half the plate, and no adverse reactions had happened. She was right; there was no reason for her to poison him when she could simply have him killed, but the Lord's laws forbade her from allowing him to die in a dungeon under her watch.

Yet he couldn't enjoy the food. Lyka is dead. No, he corrected himself. Someone is telling you Lyka is dead. You don't know whether it is true or not.

"Did you ever hear about why there was such an outcry over Steward Clayton's actions? The things he ordered when Luyi and his friends were made examples of?"

His spoon paused. Amma had never spoken of it, and had gone the extra step of forbidding Ayden and his siblings from listening when others talked about it. Morbid curiosity had always followed Ayden throughout life, but he'd always obeyed his mother's words by leaving the vicinity whenever the topic came up. Amma must have had her reasons.

But there was nowhere to go for Ayden, chained in his dungeon.

He dug the spoon into the food anew.

"Oh, no curiosity? Or perhaps — you already know?" The Steward cajoled him. "Then I won't waste your time here. However, what you don't know is that it directly instigated how I chose to act from then on. You see…" she leaned forward, winking at Ayden, "Despite our Lord's decision to enact better rules in response to Steward Clayton's actions, I learned a valuable lesson watching your grandfather suffer his public humiliation. You can't just disrupt the existing order; those at the top won't tolerate it. After all, they work so hard to maintain that which benefits them, don't they?"

"It's been disrupted before," Ayden replied. Lyka had been the one to teach them history. "The Empire's Prince banned slavery."

Steward Jyori laughed. "Ah yes. The singularly noble act of He Who Drinks the Sky. Tell me," she adjusted herself, leaning forward. "Do you believe most Oasians are free?"

No. The answer echoed in his head before Ayden decided to say it aloud. "No."

"Of course not. And so long as a system exists to enforce an order of hierarchies, there will always be those who believe themselves free so long as they don't wear chains." She paused, then noted, "You've stopped eating."

"Your little sermon's killing my appetite," Ayden said dryly. "Funny how the ones sitting comfy at the top are always the ones telling us not to shake the ladder."

"And deny you the satisfaction of climbing the ladder yourself?"

"Maybe I don't want to climb ladders," Ayden told her. "Maybe if you weren't all making us climb ladders, we'd be able to do the things we want to do with our lives. Maybe if you –" he sighed, then shrugged. "I don't think you'd care to understand if you've done nothing about it, Steward."

Steward Jyori pondered him carefully, then asked, "And what would you do without the pressures of life? Smoke krysleaf to distract yourself from the world? A waste of water?"

"As though those in the Upper Tiers don't enjoy their own vices. People smoke krysleaf to distract themselves from their woes." The mischaracterising accusation made Ayden more furious, so much so he momentarily forgot his confused grief. "You wouldn't understand, Jyori. I actually pity you. You also crawled up with effort, earning that seat of yours. You lived in the Lower Tiers. Yet now that you have it all, you begin to forget the ones you left, don't you? So keep on telling yourself that water belongs to a select few if it helps you feel comfortable in your seat."

"Oh, no no no," Steward Jyori wagged a finger. "You don't understand me at all. I grew up in the Lower Tiers, yes, but I was born in the Upper Tiers." She crossed her legs, stretching out her arms. "Perhaps you'd prefer a different story? My mother caught the eye of a man from the Great Families. Standard affair, as these things go; he wanted a new plaything, and she wanted to experience the luxuries of the Upper Tiers."

She finished her stretching and shifted her seating again, such that now her hands braced her weight on the stool. "And careful as she was knowing a married man like him could not possibly stay with her, we're all weak to affection. How sweet a cultured man could be, with his honeyed words and eloquent promises of a different tomorrow? She was a woman who had only dealt with the rugged love of rougher men, with their calloused hands and unwashed bodies. For her, the bliss of soft touches and gentle sighs were just irresistible after a blissful soak and full tummy."

"Let me guess," said Ayden. "The man's wife found out about this affair."

"Oh no, she knew all along! The concept of indulgence is only a sin for their lessers; she herself likes to enjoy a younger man to this day. But envy stems from not having what one also has, but what one cannot have." Steward Jyori paused, then said, "The wife was unable to bear a child, yet the mistress's tummy swelled. And so I became my mother's sin."

That was different from what Ayden had been expecting. But still, he found little reason to care, choosing instead to hurry her along in the hopes she could finish her storytelling and leave him to his own thoughts. "Let's hurry this along now, I can imagine how you ended up in the Lower Tiers. Congratulations. You lived, and now occupy the second highest station in Oasis. So, how does everything that's happened make you justified in your seat?"

She rocked from side to side, seemingly deep in thought. "Tell me," she asked Ayden, "Do you think most people remember the taste of their mother's breast? You look at babies so little they could scarcely live a day without help, pining away for a soothing breast — and I know it's rude to verbalize it, and yet I can't be the first to think so, right? — you just think: Gods, how could I have ever been that useless?"

Ayden watched her sway, unsure of what to say. "I… will say it was probably because you were a baby?" Moreover, now that he was thinking about it: what did that have anything to do with his question?

"I was," she nodded, "but really, we don't appreciate mothers enough when they assume the role. They really don't receive their dues, do they? Carrying a child for almost three seasons. Then after it's born, it's a useless little thing for another several years. And you're feeding it constantly with milk from your breast. Nursing, we're supposed to call it. But it really is feeding. The mother's role is to provide, and the baby's role is to receive. And there's nothing wrong with that, yes?" Her grin widened. "It's just the nature of things."

It hit Ayden then. "If you're saying that —"

"Luyi thought he could disrupt and upend the flow of water. But everything flows, Ayden. Water, money, food…" she listed one by one, then shrugged and added, "power. There are those who believe they can change the flow. And yet, it's always been easier to realize why people fight to be where those things flow, why they want that seat so very, very much. You take a step back from viewing the ladders and realize it separates those who understand the climb from those who do not know why they are climbing, or even more importantly, how to climb correctly. But the place where everything flows is always in your sight, and so at some point you begin to think: why shouldn't I be the one sitting there?"

"I've decided," Ayden announced loudly, if just to interrupt her. "That I'm not interested in being your spear wielder in your Water Game."

The wardens standing behind the Steward stiffened. Their eyes flickered towards the Steward, who hadn't reacted at all to Ayden's proclamation. Ayden wondered if he should say something else, but decided against it. He'd declared his intentions.

A moment passed, then several more before the Steward tilted her head.

"It seems you need motivation for your climb," Steward Jyori observed. "Is avenging Lyka not enough?"

Ayden did not meet her gaze, choosing to stare upwards. "Flangel the Wise wrote that one should think before acting. I know you want something. I have no reason to play your little game."

"I could release your mother."

His gaze flickered, but he returned it back to the slit in the ceiling. "What do you mean, release?"

"Oh, Aliyah visited Kaylah's Kitchen last night, did I forget to mention that?" Steward Jyori tilted her head, pondering. "Hmm, I must have been too eager to get your opinion on my dish."

Aliyah did what? Why would you go home of all places?! Ayden felt his heartbeat rise despite his forced breathing control. Amma's being held, but Steward Jyori cannot kill her without justification. If Steward Ryu finds out she took Amma, a resident of the Lower Tiers, they will clash.

… Unless this was agreed upon by the Stewards?

"So here's my proposal," the Steward smiled at him. Her white teeth glinted through the darkness. "I'll ensure she isn't harmed further so long as I believe you will do your part as my spear wielder."

"Isn't harmed further?" Ayden asked. "What have you already done?"

"She put up… unnecessary resistance during her arrest." Steward Jyori did not elaborate.

Ayden's heart sank. What did that mean? Amma was never a fighter. Ferocious, certainly, but she'd never trained her aura or beyond what basics she learned to keep her hands safe from knives and flame. Unnecessary resistance? Moreover, if Steward Jyori followed the Lord's rule about do unto others only what you would do unto yourself… what could have been done?

"I see you are motivated by the flow of anxiety." Steward Jyori stood up, brushing imaginary sand off her luxurious robes. "Remember our deal: so long as you participate willingly, you'll have a chance to avenge Lyka and prevent further harm to your mother. I'm a woman of my word."

"Wait. Wait!" Ayden shouted, his voice scraping out raw as the Steward turned to leave. He scrambled onto his knees, dragging the length of chain behind him with desperate clinks of iron on stone. "Further harm? What have you done to my mother?!"

Steward Jyori stopped. She turned back with a tilt of her head, amusement flickering behind her calm demeanor. Slowly, deliberately, she knelt until her eyes met his. "Don't you remember the taste of your mother's breast?"

She pointed at the plate beside him.

Ayden froze. His breath caught as he turned to the food he'd so greedily devoured moments ago. The char and glaze still clung to the meat, its texture still fresh in his mouth.

"No," he whispered, the sound too faint to be heard. His body rejected the idea, but his mind — oh, his mind raced back to the first scent, the first bite. Something off. Something different. He had thought it due to hunger, to his unfamiliarity with rich food after days of starvation.

But now… now he knew.

He looked back at Jyori. She was smiling, not in mockery, but as if she were testing a theory.

A sound left his throat — it should have been a question, a scream, a curse — but all it became was a strangled noise. His limbs shook, and for a moment, grief nearly overtook him.

But then came the fury.

He lunged, his manacled hands reaching for her throat, teeth bared. "What have you made me do!" he howled.

The chains jerked taut, halting him mid-lunge as his body slammed upright. Metal scraped against flesh and stone as he fought against the restraint, driven by a primal fury. "JYORI!" he bellowed, muscles trembling as he struggled forward, bit by bit.

But the wardens moved, yanking him back hard. His feet dragged against the ground, bare skin scraping raw. He clawed at the air, desperate to bridge the impossible gap between him and the woman who stood watching.

He spat. The glob of saliva arced through the air and landed short — a pathetic splotch at the edge of her sandals.

"Jyori, you—" he gasped, but his voice faltered.

His rage collapsed into itself. The food churned in his gut like rotting meat. He retched, his stomach twisting violently, but he couldn't bend far enough forward to vomit. The manacles held him upright, arms extended like a parody of worship.

His back heaved. Saliva dripped from his lips, but no food came up.

The horror bloomed in his mind.

I have eaten my mother's flesh.

Ayden whimpered, a small, broken sound.

A cry tore out of him — not rage, not defiance — something else. A boy's cry, the cry of a son who had failed to protect the one person who had once whispered lullabies into his ear as he fell asleep.

Ayden's body convulsed with dry heaves, every part of him trying to reject what had already been absorbed. His shoulders shook with the weight of grief and shame. And when nothing more could come out, he sagged against the chains like a puppet with its strings cut.

"I didn't know," he whispered to no one. To himself. To the void inside his chest. "I didn't know."

But it didn't matter. The knowledge was inside him now. She was inside him now. And he could never take it back. He tried to retch again at the thought, but his body betrayed his wishes.

"And now you know," Jyori's voice cut through his daze. "Meaning you no longer have the excuse of ignorance. I'll keep your mother safe — a healer is with her as we speak. That should help you focus on avenging your sister, spear wielder." Ayden barely heard the pause in her voice before she added, "Any further injuries will be… entirely up to you. I look forward to your performance in the Water Game."

The door creaked shut, leaving Ayden alone again. Save for the solitary Sunlight and the crippling sense of self-disgust.