That night, Soso split us into three smaller groups: two tasked with observing the estate from different vantage points, and a third in charge of hiding our mounts. As usual, Soso took me along. I’d never seen him looking so severe; he always was unruffled no matter how dire a situation, but the desecration of the shrine had visibly shaken him.

We gathered at a safe distance from the estate, which gave us a clear view of the place as the sun went down and the two moons began to appear in the sky.

“Fools, fools, stone-deaf fools… Bone-deep stupid, the lot of them. Their heads are so full of sand the wind couldn’t even pass through…” Soso muttered under his breath.

That’s when I spotted the estate flag: two horizontal stripes, the bottom green and the top black with four white arrows. I hadn’t realized which estate Soso meant by “Last Estate,” until I saw that flag, I knew who they were. It was the Manthir family estate. I’d never encountered them personally during my days as a Raamite templar, but I knew enough about who they were: a small, isolated cadet noble family, highly reliant on the M’ke emporium for trade and on Abalach-Re for defense of their modest holdings. Strangely, the flag did not sway, it hung stiff, as if coated in resin.

“I know them,” I whispered to Soso. “Or at least know of them.”

“The wind is listening, dear friend.”

“I… uh… I think I could just walk up to them. Those are the type of folks I dealt with most of my life.” I continued, feeling confident yet foolish about my proposal.

Kue’er and Vritrik crawled back from an advanced observation point of the estate. “They’re either well hidden or they really don’t have many guards out there.” said Kue’er.

“I couldn’t smell more than four guards wearing badly-cleaned kank armor.” continued Vritrik.

Soso looked at me, waiting for me to continue my train of thought.

“I think I can make it work…” I said aloud to myself as I thought about how to proceed with the plan. “I’ll go straight up to them as an exiled templar coming for small trade. If they still pray to Badna, I shouldn’t have an issue.”

Kue’er let out a nervous huff as he looked incredulously at my idea. Soso, on the other hand, had his eyes closed as he meditated on the idea, letting it stew for a few moments. “Well, Tail-less, that is what you are after all - an exiled templar.” He nodded, approving of my idea.

We waited to put our plan into motion until the first moon disappeared from the night sky and the first shy rays of sun began to appear. This gave us time to gather more information about the estate. Their situation was visibly dire - the estate was clearly reduced to a shadow of its former self since Abalach-Re’s fall. Several buildings lay empty and abandoned, some slave quarters visibly hadn’t seen any use, and the tari could easily move around some unmaintained dusty irrigation channels. They had a handful of guards, barely a few more slaves, and by the look of the fields, they probably struggled to feed everyone.

The tari packed my erdlu with enough interesting goods to trade to make it worthwhile, yet not enough to invite outright theft.

“When you go inside, Tail-less, we’ll be watching,” Soso murmured before I departed. “If the sun sets and you haven’t returned, we come for you. If you signal…” he demonstrated a tap pattern, “we come faster.”

———————————————————————————————

I downed a generous cup of rakra to calm my nerves. Its fire still burned my throat as I steered the erdlu toward the watch-tower. To my relief, I spotted the broad prayer-runes of Badna: symbols favored not by those who paid lip service to the city-state’s cult, but by the very few who were true believers.

Before I could see the guard in the tower, I noticed several starving crodlu wandering loose, ribs sharp beneath their hides. Nearby there were two straw mannequins with stones crammed in their mouths and ropes inked with Badna sigils. This was odd, I never encountered any of this in the Queen’s temples, nor as a servant of Badna. “The Queen hears.” came from the tower.

“And Badna watches over us.” I replied to the religious greeting, raising my eyes toward a shaved-head archer with his mouth covered in thick black paint. The man aimed his arrow straight at me. I raised my right arm and held my wrist with my left hand, which symbolized our willingness to submit in devotion to Badna. He didn’t lower his bow, but loosened the tension in the string; his look unsettled me. The guard looked malnourished and half-crazed.

“I come to trade, beneath Badna’s watchful gaze.” I called.

“The Queen will hear.” he shouted back, then nodded toward a barrack a hundred yards away. I nudged my erdlu forward toward the barracks. As I passed the prayer-runes in silence, I noticed the wet sheen on the runes as if they had just been painted. But when I squinted to have a better look, I realized the runes were what appeared to be thousands of black glistening maggots forming the symbols. I felt nauseated and overcome by an immediate headache, and tapped my erdlu to gain some speed.

The fields leading to the barracks were scarred with several black, ashed circles: defiling magic. A slow hum came from the direction of the barracks, a hymn rising in crescendo. I couldn’t make out what it was, as the drilling headache kept growing. I stopped my mount for a moment to empty my guts, bile burning my throat. A man emerged from the barracks - a slave; he looked dishevelled, his mouth also smeared in black.

“The Queen hears!”, I greeted from a safe distance. The slave raised his hands and greeted me back, but said nothing in return, only opening his mouth to let out a dry wail.

“You’re mute, friend?” I asked, to which the slave nodded, keeping his mouth open. As I got closer and he took the reins of the erdlu, he still had his mouth open. It seemed his tongue had been cut out, and I thought wise to not ask more.

At this point it was clear the humming hymn was coming from the barracks, a poorly maintained barn with sagging walls. Yet, it still felt as it resonated from inside my head. I could hear the words becoming more clear. “Badna, Badna, take our tongues, take our sight, in darkness we serve, in silence we feast…”

The slave smiled at me, his black-stained lips mouthing Badna, and the hymn suddenly stopped coming from inside the building, yet I could still hear it echoing in my head. People began moving inside the building, and the door soon opened.

The first thing I saw was the tin mask shining in the dark, staring at me.

“At last, her scribe returns.” came from the tall, thin woman wearing the mask. The voice echoed in my head once more. I stood frozen at the sight of her mask and the black cassock: one of the arch-sadhus of Badna.

The people left the building, all with their heads shaven and their mouths smeared in black paint. Half of them were babbling incoherently, while the other half kept their eyes firmly on the ground as they exited in a rush.

“Enter, Eitros.” came the voice from behind the mask. I wasn’t mad enough to enter of my own accord, but the voice came inside my head, repeating the order and commanding my legs.

Everything turned black. Only the arch-sadhus remained, who shone like a pillar of light. I noticed her body convulsing as if having spasms, and then she too disappeared into the darkness. Only the mask remained, glowing brighter, growing larger, overwhelming everything.

My body trembled. Pain surged through my skull, a throbbing pulse pounded behind my eyes, as if my own head were a drum about to split.

Then came the sound.

A hum at first, low and constant. The hum grew louder and filled my ears, the only sound I could perceive. My memories began to unravel, peeled back painfully: my childhood, my mother’s voice, the warmth of early sun. Ripped from me one by one.

I resisted instinctively. I knew enough of the Way to brace my mind against the incursion.

That was a mistake.