Disarm Evil

Chapter 12: Broken

In yet another attempt to ease our anxieties, Miya rides on my back as we stroll alongside one of the many waterways that cut through Sudihatosema, carrying water from the central lake to the island's edges. The air is filled with the enticing aroma of freshly baked goods. Families meander between shops, and children gleefully run around, laughing and skipping stones.

It's a refreshing change to stretch our legs and breathe in the fresh air as we make our way to witness the splendor of the four sanctuaries. I purposely refrain from visiting the site too frequently to preserve its magical allure. Overexposure can easily transform beauty into mundanity. Considering all of the time we've spent in Hosudiha, the contrast is bound to intensify the otherworldly effect of experiencing such a sacred space.

"What if they can't prove their wrongdoing? What if they want to... punish us?" I ask.

"How would they know it was us? You were wearing a mask, right?" Miya counters.

"Yeah... I'm not sure. Somehow, I have this feeling that my identity could be exposed. And perhaps they remember the pattern on your wings."

"Unlikely. It's not bright enough down there for anyone to discern the patterns on my wings," Miya reassures.

"You're right. Maybe I just need to take it easy."

"Here's the plan," Miya says, "I'll keep my senses alert for any familiar biosignatures, and you keep an eye out for recognizable faces. We'll only start worrying if we have a valid reason."

"Okay... but the worst part is that I can't remember any faces," I say, "Maybe it was too dark. However, I do remember the sergeant's face. I'm just not sure what to look for."

"Hmm... I mean, I can't exactly visualize their biosignatures either, but I rarely forget someone as important as them. I'm confident we'll recognize them if we sense their presence."

Miya struggling to recall a biosignature is unusual. When did ve ever have difficulty remembering someone? Suddenly, every unfamiliar face fills me with a sense of unease.

We approach an exquisite stone archway adorned with stained-glass windows stretching over top of the arch and emanating colorful light.

On the far left of the window, the glass art portrays representatives from each vetu race—a yetu, a notu, an atu, and a bitu—gathered around a perfectly circular ring of fire. The scene is brimming with color and vitality. However, as one's gaze shifts to the right, black shards of glass begin to seep into the scene. The same figures that were once near the circle of fire now seem to retreat into the shadows. Leading the group of vetu is a bitu. This is why even the most highly exalted pale-furred bitu can still get crap from some people belonging to certain denominations of Ritufani.

Further to the right, more black glass emerges, and even though the circle of fire is distant now, the vetu shield their eyes and bodies from it, as if the mere existence of the thing that once brought them life now causes immense pain. Continuing to the right, the fire becomes a mere speck, and the vetu have turned against each other. Amidst the fighting figures, ghostly monsters appear, mirroring the hostile postures of the vetu. It's as if they no longer see each other as vetu but rather as these monstrous apparitions.

At the farthest right is a close up of Ritu surrounded by darkness, about to make Ver next move.

We pass beneath the grand archway, and the world opens up into an expansive outdoor space. Rows upon rows of white marble pews face a magnificent stage, adorned with marble sculptures of joyful vetu rising and forming an arch overhead. Sunlight penetrates the arch, giving it a radiant golden glow. At the apex of the arch, a glass star directs a beam of light down onto a marble trough cradling a marble atu infant at the center of the stage.