Sagan crouched in wait among the shrubbery, fighting the itch of the leaves brushing against his face. He peered through the haphazard gaps in the leaves, his sights zeroed on a feathered lizard basking openly in the sunlight. A pipe was poised upon his hands, one end poking slightly out of the bushes and the other pressed to his lips.

His spine was starting to ache from the pressure of adopting such a position. Clearly I'm not suited for this, he grumbled, silently, making a note to look into early retirement upon his return to Southcliffs.

If he ever returned.

"Now," Sunji whispered into his ear.

Sagan blew with all his might into the pipe. A projectile sailed out of the other end, flying through the air in an elegant arc... and landing way too far from the reptile with a thud. The lizard reared its head, took one look at the dart, and fled the scene upon the realization that an incompetent hunter was after its life.

Sunji let out a frustrated huff, leaving the bushes and brushing away the bits of organic matter that had clung to her moist skin. Sagan followed suit, though his movements were more of a slow, painful lumber.

"Stupid. Idiot," Sunji scoffed, wrenching the blowdart away from the orkhus's hands and pushing a woven basket into his arms instead. "Dummy. You suck."

"Where did you learn so many Orkhese profanities?" Sagan asked.

"I may have taken the liberty to broaden the child's vocabulary in the occasional instances where I took control of your body," Ishtalia answered in his head, her syllables trembling with the effort of containing a laugh. Sagan groaned.

Ah, the joy of sharing mind and body with a cosmic entity who may or may not be going out of her way to make his life miserable.

Sunji stalked off to locate a new target, preferably one that had not been frightened by Sagan's blunder. Eventually, they spotted a small reptile with translucent wings perched lightly on a reed, which bent under its weight. Sunji ducked behind a nearby tree.

"Sagan see," she hissed with eminent annoyance. The stygenian child loaded a dart into the blowdart and lifted the other end to her lips. Her hazel eyes were narrowed to slits. She appeared almost hungry, almost predatory, in the way she held herself. Sagan watched closely in silent fascination. At that very instance, she looked less a child and more a hunter, out for the blood of her prey.

Many orkhus would kill to be in his position right now. He'd known numerous scholars interested in the study of sociology, with many among them eager to study the lives of the reclusive stygenians, who seldom opened themselves to strangers. To be accepted, even welcomed, into their society was the opportunity of a lifetime.

And of all the people it could have been given to, it was given to Sagan. Nicolaus Sagan, the one orkhus who liked nothing better than to live in seclusion, watching the stars.

The more he thought about it, the more certain he became that the gods were using him as their court fool. Really, what were the odds that so many rare opportunities should suddenly throw his life into a hurricane like this? The probability of such a sequence of events happening to him was statistically near nil.

Yet they still happened. Ishtalia would deny it whenever he asked, of course, attributing it to a case of abnormally bad luck. And don't even mention "fate" — that word seemed to hit a sour spot on the goddess's ego. Sagan knew better than to bring up that topic again. A ranting goddess inside one's head was something best avoided.

The sound of the dragon-fly collapsing to the dirt brought Sagan's attention back to the material world. Sunji's dart had made not the slightest noise as it zipped through the air and buried itself right into the dragon-fly's side. It was a clean, efficient kill. Sunji straightened back, her face beaming with pride.

"See?" the girl bragged, transforming back from predator to child. "Sunji kill!"

She slithered towards the fallen dragon-fly with a gleeful laugh, lifting it out of the muck. She tossed it towards Sagan. Fumbling around, the orkhus managed to catch it with the basket he was holding before it fell onto him. He peered inside to see the growing pile of dead swamp critters — most of which should be properly attributed to Sunji.

He did, however, take pride in his one catch: a melon-slug. He'd caught it with his hands and killed it with a rock.

Maneuvering through waterlogged dirt still proved a challenge for the orkhus, though he was slowly (hopefully) getting accustomed to it. The mud sloshed and slurped at his feet, sucking on them like greedy mouths. His soggy clothes chafed uncomfortably, plastered against his skin. He watched as Sunji snaked through the wetland with ease, her tubular lower body propelling her across the clouded waters.

The babbles of a nearby brook told Sagan that they were close, and soon enough, they were greeted by the quaint, earthy huts that barely stood out from the swamp — a cozy little village by the river. Sunji slowed down to allow the orkhus, who was inhaling and exhaling air with the sound of a steam engine, to catch up with her.

A group of children that looked around Sunji's age passed by them, their raucous laughter puncturing the air. Sunji pointedly averted her gaze from them, her head held high in an almost haughty manner.

Now that Sagan really thought about it, he'd never seen Sunji playfully associating with the other kids... if at all.

"Sunji, why don't you ever play with the other kids?"

Sunji tilted her head, her brows knitting together in confusion, until she saw the direction Sagan was pointing to. He could almost see the gears turn in her mind as she tried to process his question, a dark shadow gradually settling over her features when realization began to dawn on her. The expression her face held immediately seared itself into the orkhus's mind.

It was one he'd never seen in the ever-cheerful girl, straddling somewhere between deep melancholy and fettered rage. The storm that had brewed over her countenance dissipated as quickly as it came, replaced by a mischievous grin.

"Sunji scare them," she replied, cryptically (and purposefully so).

"Um... okay, and why does Sunji scare them?"

"Khusele find Sunji ramikha. They keep Sunji ramikha," she explained. Her face bore the air of nonchalance, though her voice betrayed a slight sorrow. "They scare Khusele also find them if they talk with Sunji."

Ramikha, as Sagan had picked up over his stay with the stygenians, was their word for "mother". The Khusele was how they called the batrachian stygenians.

Which meant... oh, gods.

Sagan felt as if a pit had opened up in his chest. He found no words to say to the girl — nothing that could possibly comfort or encourage her. Years of actively avoiding social interaction had whittled away his tact.

He did, however, gain a deeper understanding of how Sunji might have viewed the world, albeit disturbing to think about. The "finders keepers" philosophy Sunji had imposed onto him was a bitter reality distorted into something that a child's innocent mind could accept.

"Come," she said, tugging on his sleeve. "To ri-ver."

Sagan wordlessly obeyed, following her as the thoughts continued to turn in his mind. He saw several other stygenians there, young and old, carrying woven baskets very much like the one Sagan held under one arm. They took the lids off their baskets, upturned them, and arranged part of their kill onto it. Sunji did the same. She took Sagan's hard-earned melon-slug and placed it on the lid of the basket.

"What are you doing?" Sagan inquired. This custom was new to him.

"Gift," the little girl answered, clasping her hands together as if in prayer. "To sea god."

Sagan watched in reverential silence as the other stygenians ended their prayers and set the woven platters adrift along the current of the river, perhaps in hopes that their offering would reach the sea god.

Ishtalia scoffed. "Stygenum? God? That aquatic oversized crocodile slumbering who-knows-where in the Mist-covered seas? Mortals really have no taste."

There was a lot of hurt and disgust in that tone. Mostly disgust.

"There are much more powerful cosmic entities in this world, and they choose to worship planetary beings? How very close-minded."

Sagan had attempted to learn how to tune out the goddess's unwelcome rants over the past few days. It had worked, once or twice, but one had to admit that the Voice of Goddess was hard to ignore. So, he learned instead to refrain from giving any response that might further sour the divine being's mood.

Sunji finished her prayer and pushed her plate into the water. It bobbed slightly, spinning around in place, before letting the current wash it away seawards. The girl watched her offering disappear into the distance with a wistful smile, before turning to regard Sagan.

"Oh!" she exclaimed. "Ramike Kia Inka with Sagan, correct? What gift she want?"

If Ishtalia had a chest, it might have swelled with pride at that point. If she had a face, Sagan swore it would have a very smug grin plastered on it.

"See? Even a crocodile-worshipping child could acknowledge my superiority! If only you and your conceited kind could—"

A strange noise resounded through the air, like a stampede of yaks barreling towards their direction, accompanied by a series of dissonant croaks. Sagan heard a splash, one, then another, followed by screams. When he looked, he saw caecilian stygenians — the ones that he had seen devoutly praying to their god — dropping into the water. For a fleeting moment, he wondered if this was part of their ritual, until he saw the tendrils of red that curled around the water as the bodies were carried downstream.

Stygenians scrambled in panic, knocking over their baskets and slithering away as fast as their serpentine limb could carry them. From the dense foliage, wild faces emerged, attached to torsos painted in jarring colors, which were in turn attached to... webbed feet.

"Khusele!"

Sagan narrowly avoided an arrow that zipped past his ear, ducking in time grab Sunji by the waist and hoist her up into his arms. His eyes locked for a brief moment with those of his assailant's. Their eyes were round as marbles stuck into the sockets of their flattened skull, pitch black and devoid of all but its thirst for war.

Sagan would not give it.

"Get out of here, fast!! Run!!" Ishtalia shrieked in his head, hysteria raising her shrill voice up another octave. Even without the Voice of Goddess ordering him to flee, the orkhus would have done so. Sunji was strangely quiet in his arms, like a doll in his arms. He didn't have the leisure to check on her.

He was razor-focused on avoiding death by impalement.

The village was chaos as the batrachians stormed it, kicking aside everything that stood in their way. The warrior caecilians had already advanced, confronting the batrachians in an attempt to allow the women and children to make a swift escape. Sagan looked around helplessly in the commotion, trying to secure a route for himself and Sunji. A batrachian came at him with a spear, his neck inflating with a harsh croak.

Sagan flicked his hand in a swift gesture, willing the moisture around him to freeze into a solid chunk of ice and chucked it towards the shocked stygenian's face. The attacker recoiled. Sagan fled.

Amidst the din, a voice rang clear above them all.

"Wait, go to the chief's hut!"

In his panic, it took Sagan a moment to register that it had come from Ishtalia.

Why?

"You need to secure the Primeval Flames."

Sagan blinked, stopping in his tracks. Was that really a priority right now, when the life of a child as well as his teetered precariously in the balance?

"Yes, it is. Trust me," insisted the goddess, as if able to hear his thoughts (which she was).

Sagan had never been the religious sort. He had always been open to the possibility that the gods and goddesses of Jordarys existed, but he had never put his faith into any one of them. There wasn't much of a need to, especially as his kind had lost the knowledge of their patron god (who, by the sheer upheaval of fate, had turned his brain into her personal residence).

But now, he began to understand the blind faith of the faerie saints, who claimed to hear the echoes of Solaith and Lucanor in their prayers. When a goddess was giving you a direct order, it was hard to say no.

So, for the first time in his life, Sagan put his life into the hands of a deity. Even if, in this case, that meant his own hands.

He swerved towards the direction of the central hut, still clutching onto the stygenian child. Her hands were entangled in his clothes, clinging for her life.

Etiquette completely slipping his mind, the orkhus kicked down the door to the chief's cottage. Splinters showered through the air. The chief of the caecilians was there, bent over the makeshift pyre that held the sanguine-hued embers. Horror contorted his visage, before relaxing into an expression of pure, immense relief when he saw who his trespasser was.

"Sagan!" he cried. "You and Sunji are safe. Good."

"Sorry about the door, Rappia."

"Take the Fire. Run. You must!"

He lifted the basin that held the flickering flames from its three-legged stand, thrusting it towards Sagan. He carefully set the near-catatonic Sunji down onto the floor, taking the Primeval Flames in exchange.

"What do I do with-" Sagan began, but he was cut off by a sudden scream from Sunji.

When he turned, he found himself at spearpoint. Many of them.

"Toa na Akhlamera!" barked the burliest of them. Sagan noted the assembly of jewelry that hung from his neck, the bracelets clasped around his slimy wrists, and the more ornate motifs that were painted on his body. The Rappia of the caecilians, unarmed, met the frog chief's gaze unwaveringly.

"Naze!"

With a loud wrathful croak that shook the walls of the hut, the frogs lunged at them. Sagan put himself between Sunji and the raiders, his eyes sealed shut as he waited for the spears to pierce through him.

"What are you doing? Use my blood!"

His eyelids flew open against his will, and Sagan was forced to meet the would-be bringers of his death in the eye. He felt his trousers chafe at a pair of small, trembling hands. Sunji pressed her head against him, tears leaking from her closed eyes.

An electric sensation ran through his nerves. His hands raised against his conscious control, the Primeval Flames sticking to his fingers as easily as bending water to his will.

You mustn't think of the Primeval Flames as fire. It is much different from the fire spells you are already familiar with, a memory of his mother's voice instructed. It is more like manipulating an ever-burning fluid.

Agonized wails filled the hut as the smell of burning flesh began to permeate the room. Crimson invaded his vision, the raging glare of the Primeval Flames painting the world red as it devoured everything it touched, alive or not. In the blaring heat, Sagan froze, his hands lingering in the air.

"No–"

His stomach turned as scarlet became the only thing he saw. His knees threatened to buckle under his weight. All of a sudden, his hands felt filthy, like they shouldn't belong on his arms. Like he should sever them from him before they contaminated his entire being. A sudden purple sheen cut through the red.

He felt his consciousness thrown all the way to the back of his head, as it always did when Ishtalia assumed control. His body lurched forwards, grabbing Sunji with one hand and the chief of the caecilians with the other, thrusting the basin into the chief's arms.

Stuck in the corner of his own mind, Sagan renounced control.

Please, Ishtalia, just get us out of here.

"That's what I'm doing!"

Whatever happened after was a blur in his memories.

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Chapter Writer: VeryBigMess

AN: So, one would have thought that being cooped up at home 24/7 would give me plenty of time to write. It certainly did.

I just haven't been using it to write. I don't know, I'm just not in the mood to read nor write these days. Funny how that happens, huh? When I had school and a swamp of schoolwork and exams to get through, I've always itched to write. Now that it's all let up, I don't even have the will to do so. I know I say this all the time, but I guess this is why this chapter feels... really off to me. It feels very uninspired. And I'm sorry about that.

Still, better to get this over with than let it fester for a month and more. My list of chapters requiring extensive editing has just grown longer in size XD

Anyways, thank you for reading!