Author's Preface
It was a new day, and with it, a clear sky over the Gaulf Strait.
Thanks to our intervention, the remaining forces of Mai’wen’s army escaped to a previous checkpoint near the district border. Teleportation circles had been established along our supply lines, so distribution of medical aid was far faster than anticipated.
I wanted to say that all was well, that a miracle had been born, but my consciousness would not allow me such reprieve.
Though I managed to save a few, I could not save all. Countless men and women watched as their comrades were banished to a realm of slaughter, a hell among hells, and in my infinite incompetence, I could not save them.
Many approached me and the other Problem Children with words of praise. Thank you for your service, they said. I could not have survived without you, they cried. But what was I supposed to say? Must I greet them with a smile as their comrades lay dead at their feet, their rancor sticking to my flesh?
I could not do it. Though it was the duty of a hero to inspire hope with a cheerful smile, it seemed all too inappropriate for me. There was nothing to smile about, nothing to celebrate. Even with the power of Twilight, salvation remains ever elusive. Such was the nature of war.
This madness would end with only one outcome; the death of Skadhi Bhattacharya.
“That’s a nasty expression you got there. Something happen?” Lieutenant Sahyat approached me with a lit cigar clenched between her teeth. Her body was covered with low-grade restorative talismans, with her left arm held in a sling.
“What hasn’t happened?”
She took a drag of her cigar. “Sorry, it was an insensitive question. Shouldn’t be asking a soldier something like that.”
“No, it's fine.”
An awkward silence brewed between us. It’s not like we were particularly close, given our position as subordinate and superior, so I couldn’t fault her for the inappropriate question.
The first to break the silence was the Lieutenant. “Told Derrick about this early, but Atreides is still alive. He returned home upon completing his objective.”
“I see…that’s good.” I let out a small sigh of relief. “I got the feeling that someone like him wouldn’t die easily, but I’m glad you told me.”
“Yeah, of course you’d think he’s alive, that jackass.”
“Hm…?”
“A real snake, he is. No, maybe more like a roach. He’s the oldest member of the Problem Children, and during his acts of service, he always manages to come away with a victory, even if it costs an arm or two. I always hated it, you know? That boy is far too willing to sacrifice himself.”
“Were you two close?”
“Well…” she dozed off, avoiding eye contact. “I suppose? He’s certainly the most reliable subordinate I’ve ever had, but his personality also sucks.”
“I can’t exactly disagree, but this reminds me, how is the general? Has her condition improved?”
“...” She went silent, her hand trembling as she removed the cigar from her mouth. “Best you see for yourself. Follow me. I’ll take you.”
Lieutenant Sahyat guided me to the general’s recovery quarters. It was a large, heavily guarded enclosure.
They saluted. “Welcome back, lieutenant.”
“Thank you. Now, let us through.”
“By your leave.”
We entered the large tent. Before us laid Mai'wen, unconscious at the center of the large medical apparatus. Her body was positioned horizontally on a narrow examination bed, her long hair spread across the surface of her head. Numerous cables, wires, and medical tubes were connected to her body and extended outward into the surrounding talisman tech. Some run from the sides of the bed toward large mechanical devices, while others disappear into equipment positioned above and around her. It formed a broad, symmetrical framework with articulated mechanical arms, cylindrical instruments, and large panel-like components arranged at her sides.
Something about her condition reminded me of Keresaspa, a human drifting between reality and fantasy, life and death, dream and waking.
With an almost solmen expression, Sahyat sat beside the sleeping general, tightly clutching her motionless hand.
“...She doesn’t appear to have any grievous wounds,” I inquired. “What’s the issue?”
“That is precisely the issue. Her body is fine, more than fine, but her mind cannot return to her.”
“Her mind?”
“ Wúxiǎng (無相) —the Dharmic principle of nothingness. It was originally a term used to describe the world as it appears to the liberated mind, free of the rigid boundaries our minds project onto them, but its meaning changed a bit with the religion’s emergence in the west. If one can erase the signs, the labels of the world, then the perfect blade would be forged. Mai’wen is that blade. However…it isn’t perfect.”
“...”
“Call it an error, a misinterpretation. Mai’wen’s Uniqueness is a distorted manifestation of this principle. She erases the boundary between self and others, but the dangerous part is going back to normal.”
She picked up a small hourglass. “Do you know how many particles are in a single hourglass?”
“...Do you seriously expect me to know that?”
“Ha! Sorry, just go along with my nonsense. How about another example? How many particles of sand are in the Barrens? Pick a number, any number.”
“I’d say…4 septillion?”
“Close, but it's around 10 octillion. Off by three exponents.”
That isn’t close at all!
“The general is merely one amongst octillions, an immeasurable void from which no ordinary person can return. If she wants to wake up, she’ll need to sift through that impossibly large haystack to find the needle called Mai’wen. ”
“And how long is that going to take?” I asked.
“At the earliest, a few days.”
“At the latest?”
“3 years, maybe more.”
“...”
“Ha! You should see the look on your face!” She let out a laugh, half genuine, half forced.
“I doubt it's anything pleasant…”
Did the lieutenant always like teasing this much? This really wasn’t like her.
Sahyat softly caressed the side of Mai’wen’s cheek. It was filled with the sorrow and longing of a lost lover. “Look, I’m not gonna pull your leg on this, Ereth. We’re fucked.”
“What…?”
“Though some would argue otherwise, it’s largely understood that Mai’wen is the strongest of the generals. She was supposed to be our trump card, our sure fire hit against Skadhi, but now…”
She looked down at General Mai’wen with longing eyes. “We’ve got nothing left. Game over.”
“Don’t we already have two generals here?” I inquired. “Shouldn’t we be enough?”
“You really don’t get it. An apostle isn’t just some canon fodder. Even one is enough to warrant the interception of multiple Divine Generals, and sometimes, even that isn’t enough. Have you ever thought of why we have the Problem Children? Because the king was generous or something?”
Her tone became harsher.
“No…it's nothing like that.”
“He took you all in as backups, replacements in case any of the generals fell in battle. That’s why there’s only 4 of you. Can’t exactly replicate talent of that level. The crime shit was just a legal cover-up, an excuse to house and control you.”
“...”
“If we lose Mai’wen, our strongest asset…who knows what will happen to the kingdom? Humans are already vastly inferior to the shura in numbers, and we don’t have the same level of power as they do individually. Without her…”
Her gaze was one of dejection. The mask of competence around her had collapsed, revealing the fear underneath. I could not blame her for her outburst, nor could I refute her accusations.
She wouldn’t be wrong to assume Mai’wen as a hero, her hero. With the strength of a thousand men and the wisdom of the Dharmic faith, she had already achieved my dream. She was the hero I could not be.
However, that hero was gone.
Left to fend for her own mind amongst a sea of “everyone,” none could take up her position. Nobody could wield her power. But even so…
“I’ll do it. I’ll become our trump card.”
She looked at me with pained, tearful eyes, before slumping her shoulders. “You can’t.”
“I know that, but I will.”
“This isn’t a game, Ereth. Hopeful wishes don’t mean anything alone.”
“Yeah, you’re right. Dreams alone don’t mean anything. They didn’t mean anything to our soldiers in the strait, and they certainly don’t mean anything now. I’m not so foolish as to believe that I’m special, unique, or particularly competent. Something that selfish, that arrogant and egotistical, would spit in the face of all the lives we’ve lost. And yet, it doesn’t matter if I’m not strong enough. I must be strong!”
“...”
“I won’t use their deaths as an excuse to run away, to bury my head in shame. That’s why…” I extended my hand to the lieutenant. “I’m asking you to put your faith in me.”
“...”
“I’m not asking for your admiration. Hell, I’m not even asking you to like me; but please, just this once, trust in my strength, in our strength!”
“...”
“...”
A deafening silence followed, before lieutenant Sahyat met my hand with her own. It was weak, trembling with all the fears and anxieties of a soldier, yet she took my hand all the same. She wiped the tears from her face and said, “Okay…just this once, I’ll believe in you.”