<span style="font-size:160%;color:#6e1b37;text-align:center">\
Chapter 1 - A Shadow</span>
There's been a shadow sitting in the corner of my eye for three days now.
"Hari-ah? Do you want the pork bun or the chicken today?"
The shadow doesn't move. It doesn't get bigger or smaller. But if I look at it directly – it vanishes.
It always comes back. Slinking, walking on long thin tendrils of inky smoke, settling in the edges of my vision like it intends to stay.
"I'll take the pork, thank you."
I think it's observing me. I just don't know //why//.
Well, actually, that's not precisely true. I have a... theory...
<div>
"//Aih//, you look so tired today. I think you should have some of my ginger soup too, <span class="tooltip">nene.</span>"
<span class="tooltiptext">''Nene'': A term from Shu Bhai meaning 'little sister' or 'young girl/woman'. Used by older siblings to address their younger sisters, but also by non-family members as a friendly or affectionate title.</span>
</div>I look up at Mrs Hulyn, the local food stall owner who essentially keeps me alive. Her face has the sorts of lines engrained by a lifetime of love. For her family, her grandchildren, her tiny shop that squeezes almost in defiance of physics between two residence blocks. Love for food, for the ingredients which she barters for all over town at ungodly hours. She even seems to have a little love to spare for foolish customers like me – who might not know how to cook, but do crave food from their homeland.
<div>
"<span class="tooltip">Oba-sa</span>, you always say I look tired." It's eight pm and I've only just finished work. I //am// tired. I've spent the last two days sorting through the insides of a new grain tender model that has been sent for peer review. Of course the wiring was in total chaos. And of course my staff leader has only given me three days to do it. (That man smiles in a fashion extremely reminiscent of a smug frog when handing out unrealistic deadlines.)
<span class="tooltiptext">''Oba-sa: 'Oba''' is a term from Shu Bhai meaning 'grandmother' or 'older woman', used by family members, but also by non-family members as a friendly or affectionate title.
'''-sa''' is a slightly formal honorific used to indicate respect. Typically not used between family members.</span>
</div>\
"You looked tired this morning too! You are always my first customer. You young people these days work for too long."
"Well." I hum over the accusation. "Doesn't Oba-sa start work at three am?"
Mrs Hulyn humphs. "If you started every day with my ginger soup then you will be able to keep up. But nene must learn to rest too." She gives me a squinty look – like I disappoint her with my eye-bags.
Even without pulling apart the insides of poorly documented machines, this week has been worse than most. I've been having trouble sleeping more than an hour at a time – with strange and vivid dreams plaguing my sleep. My head, my skin, my bones have been aching with a week-long migraine.
"One wouldn't want to disagree with Hulyn-sa," I say. I certainly would not wish to imply that her soup theory is less than scientifically sound. She's probably got generations of evidence behind said soup, and the 'rest and relaxation' part... well. As I observed, she's hardly got the upper ground when it comes to comparing work hours.
It happens as she hands over my buns, (the pork, and a custard for later). Reaching out, my hands drift tiredly – bumping my fingers accidentally into hers; wrinkled and coloured by long hours beneath the sun.
//Tremor.//
A shiver. A quake. Rippling through the air, the ground, the spaces between our blood cells. All around us – like someone tossed a pebble into the pool of now.
My skin fizzes with static.
I don't want to //look// but it's too late.
My eyes – moving with an instinct I can't stop – lift...
It's evening, but the dark of the street is always held at bay by strings of colourful lanterns – geometric shapes made of reed-paper fill the streets with warm light in a dozen shades. But none of that light seems to touch Mrs Hulyn now. I watch, my heart thudding against my ribcage as a delicately woven black shroud slips out of... not really anywhere... and falls over Mrs Hulyn.
She can't see it, of course, but I know perfectly well what it means.
An omen.
...An omen of death.
A terrible chill sprints up my spine, and the world becomes a little faint. A fog has snuck through the streets, much too fast and all-encompassing. No one else is paying it any mind.
A glimpse – a fleck of light through that fog, I can see... a thread? Golden. Thin and fragile. It's coming out of Mrs Hulyn's chest.
Almost without any intention to do so, I reach for the thread.
//Touch.//
Light as a breath.
A vision spills into my mind.
<div class="indent" style="padding-left:40px;">//It's Mrs Hulyn.//</div> <div class="indent" style="padding-left:60px;">//She's walking her youngest grandchild to school. //</div> <div class="indent" style="padding-left:80px;">//She gets distracted waving to a neighbour as they make their way down the stairs of their residence block,//</div><div class="indent" style="padding-left:80px;">//(The steps haven't been cleaned in too long, they're slick with moss.)//</div>
<div class="indent" style="padding-left:105px;">//she trips–//</div>
I pull away. A sick swell of nausea fills the back of my throat.
"Nene? Aih! Are you sick? Look at you child, you should sit down."
That's a very sensible suggestion.
"Oh, no, thank you," I swallow, trying to block out the image of Mrs Hulyn's body crumpled at the bottom of the stairs, her wailing granddaughter nearby. "I'm fine." My hands are shaking, but it's okay, she can't see them – pressed to my belly and blocked from her perceptive eyes by the shop counter.
I refocus on Mrs Hulyn's worried face. "I just, ah, I didn't get enough sleep last night."
That part's even true, if that matters.
//What in the Strange was //that?////
There's still a ringing in my head.
I think, probably, I shouldn't have touched that thread. //I've never seen a thread like that before.//
But... The shroud still rests lightly around Mrs Hulyn's face, gently draped over her shoulders. It looks like lovely work. Probably someone in the neighbourhood will weave it for her specially once she passess.
Of course it's not actually there.
Not yet, anyway.
"Aih, you young people – it hurts my old eyes just to look at you. You think you can work-work all day and then what, head off into those Charges to play all night hmm?"
"Oba-sa," I complain shakily, "You know I'm too busy for that." Too afraid of the crush of people, in close with a thousand different ways for my brain to misfire.
//Never this bad. Never this clear. //
The ringing sound seems like it's getting louder.
"Too busy is right. I can still see well with these eyes, girl! You have hardly been taking care of yourself. You will get sick like this!"
"Mmm," I nod. "I probably will."
I glance down at her chest. The thread is gone.
Was it ever there?
Probably not. She certainly never saw anything.
It's just...
...I've always had a bit of a knack for... hunches.
//An inaccurate description, even when it's not as bad as this.//
Mrs Hulyn is elderly. Old enough to have many grandchildren whom she keeps imprints of hung on the central post of her shop, with twisted-paper blessings tied to each one every new moon. Her time to return to the cycle is probably close, irrespective. Hunches of old people dying are hardly significant.
I twist my fingers in the handles of my shopping bag. I can feel the warmth of the freshly steamed buns floating up towards me.
//I can still hear the little girl crying.//
"Here nene, I'm pouring you some soup now. You have a little drink before you go – it'll warm you up and get you stronger for your walk."
//It's so... unfair.//
People die in countless different ways. //How// someone passes is usually little more than a dice-roll made by the gods. Sure, some people get to roll with better odds – expensive doctors and the best of healthy living make a significant difference to a person's chances, but overall death is very rarely nice or kind. It certainly doesn't work out that the better a //person// is, the nicer end they get to have.
Mrs Hulyn has come out from behind her cart, her elderly face creasing with a worried smile as she presses a warm cup of soup into my chilled fingers.
Even so... For someone as generous and kind as Mrs Hulyn to die like //that//... And to leave her grandchild besides probably haunted by the memory for life... It just doesn't feel //right// at all.
Of course, I'm most likely just having a sleep-deprived hallucination about the whole thing.
...
Unfortunately, I've never been wrong about a hunch...
//And that was far more than just a// hunch.
"Oba-sa," I say, and I feel the air around me shiver.
The ringing is definitely getting louder.
//I shouldn't be doing this.//
<div>
If my <span class="tooltip">e'Ma</span> could see me now she'd get so mad she'd go quiet. The worst kind of mad.
<span class="tooltiptext">''e'-'': An honorific from Shu Bhai for family members and very close friends. It indicates respect but is less formal than '-sa'. E'Ma = mother, e'Pa = father. It can also be used before using a name.</span>
</div>\
One of the first lessons she imparted – without a direct word said, of course – is that there's things you can talk about, and there's things you should keep to yourself.
People back home are more superstitious than people here, but even for us, death visions are typically the realm of charlatans on street corners. A great way to lose friends and get unfriendly eyes on you from certain over-eager city officials.
So I already know, with a strange sort of clarity, that I absolutely should definitely //not// say anything to Mrs Hulyn.
I open my mouth.
<div class="choice">[[Be honest: tell her I saw an omen of her death|Chapter 1.2a - Be Honest]]</div>
<div class="choice">[[Lie: come up with a convincing lie about the dangers of stairs|Chapter 1.2b - Lie]]</div><<widget "are">><<switch $plural>><<case true>>are<<case false>>is<</switch>><</widget>>
<<widget "were">><<switch $plural>><<case true>>were<<case false>>was<</switch>><</widget>>
<<widget "s">><<switch $plural>><<case true>><<case false>>s<</switch>><</widget>>By Path Weaver Productions<!-- ANY CONTENT FOR THE SIDEBAR THAT ISN'T A LINK GOES HERE - WILL APPEAR ABOVE THE LINKS --><span style="color:#cc3366">Golden Omen</span> is an in-development interactive fiction game by Pathweaver Productions.
Written by Moana Moran. Copyright 2022-2025.
Find out more about <span style="color:#cc3366">Golden Omen</span> on our website https://pathweaver.productions/golden-omen. If you would like to get updates when future chapters are released, you can sign up on the site for our newsletter.
''Twine templates and macros credits''
<a href="https://www.motoslave.net/sugarcube/2/docs/">Sugarcube 2 Documentation</a>
<a href="https://github.com/ChapelR/custom-macros-for-sugarcube-2">Chapel - custom macros collection</a>
<a href="https://github.com/cyrusfirheir/cycy-wrote-custom-macros">Cycy's custom macros</a>
<a href="https://www.w3schools.com/css/css_tooltip.asp">Hover Text</a><span style="font-size:200%;color:#6e1b37">''Glossary of World Information''</span>
<<if ndef $Chapter1_3>>Red Thread is set in a world similar, yet also unlike our own. This section records information you find out on your journey.
<<else>>
This section is for keeping track of information you learn on your journey<</if>>
<<if def $Loc_ShuBhai and $Chapter1_3>>\
<span style="font-size:160%;color:#6e1b37">\
''Countries''</span>
<span style="font-size:120%;color:#5e182f">\
Shu Bhai</span>
A nation in the east of Aoh which consists of hundreds of small islands set amongst large expanses of shallow waters. Set on the equator, Shu Bhai is very hot and mostly dry. The lands feature hills made of a particular type of pale rock called zehex which resists erosion. Most homes and structures are carved into hillsides of the rock, and almost all transport is done via boat.
The people of the country live primarily off the plentiful and sustainably farmed shellfish and the abundant Louh reeds which grow in the shallows. The reeds provide both a sponge-like core which is made into a bland but nutritious food, and fibrous casing which can be easily converted to textiles and several other useful materials. This reed is extensively farmed by the locals as it's Shu Bhai's main export.
<</if>>
<<if def $Loc_Kcet and $Chapter1_3>> <span style="font-size:120%;color:#5e182f">\
Kcet</span>
One of the most powerful countries in Aoh. Kcet is positioned in the centre of the various continents of Aoh, and shares a land border with Alubi. Kcet is extremely focussed on technological development, and is a trading hub. The country has one of the highest disparities between rich and poor in the world, with a large criminal underbelly which syphon technological power off the central lines, and a range of rich families which control a significant amount of trade and development.
<</if>>
<<if def $Loc_Alubi and $Chapter1_3>> <span style="font-size:120%;color:#5e182f">\
Alubi</span>
One of the two nations on the central continent oh Aoh, sharing its eastern border with Kcet. Alubi has had a dramatic shift in social rhetoric in the last several decades -- with popular belief shifting to views that 'magic' is something which has been invented to control people with fear mongering, and in the country 'witch hunting' has become legal. Most 'witches' get sent to re-education camps, although in some rural areas they are occasionally killed. (Witches being a not gender specific term, although it's more often levelled at women than men.) There is a strong social rhetoric about following the ways of 'logic and reason' and 'throwing off the old superstitious ways', particularly in New Age conservative communities.
<</if>>
<<if def $Loc_MveuninCity>><span style="font-size:160%;color:#6e1b37">\
''Locations''</span>
''Mveunin City''
The capital of Kcet. A bustling metropolis on the western coast, near the border to Alubi. Mveunin City has with the biggest port in the world and is a hub of modern trade and development. It has a highly transient population, which causes friction between locals and other groups.
<</if>>
<<if $Loc_Puddles and $Chapter1_4 is true>>\
''The Puddles''
An area within Mveunin city, largely inhabited by immigrants. The area is low-lying and floods easily.
<</if>>
<<if $Chapter1_1 is true>>\
<span style="font-size:160%;color:#6e1b37">\
''Terms and Phrases''</span>
''Nene'': A term from Shu Bhai meaning 'little sister' or 'young girl/woman'. Used by older siblings to address their younger sisters, but also by non-family members as a friendly or affectionate title.
''Oba-sa'': '''Oba''' is a term from Shu Bhai meaning 'grandmother' or 'older woman', used by family members, but also by non-family members as a friendly or affectionate title. '''-sa''' is an honorific used to indicate respect, usually towards non-family. Typically not used for family members, unless the family is very formal or of high status.
''e'-'': An honorific from Shu Bhai for family members and very close friends. It indicates respect but is less formal than '-sa'. E'Ma = mother, e'Pa = father. It can also be used before using a name.<</if>>
<<if def $Know_MoHab and $Chapter1_4>>\
''Mo-hab'': Short for 'Mobile Habitat', mo-habs are housing units which can be pulled out of residence blocks, transported, and slotted back into a residence block in another place. Common in the big cities and for people who work in roles which require them to move from place to place. They come in a range of standard sizes to fit into res-blocks in any nation worldwide, and are moved through a network of over-sea-and-land monorail-style shipping and transport lines.
Most people live in a single-unit mo-hab, but as families grow and for more well-off people, additional units can be purchased and connected into a multi-unit mo-hab (often called a multi-u). It's not uncommon for people to take holidays and bring their mo-hab or one of the units in a multi-u with them, and as such tourist locations often have massive res-blocks which offer a range of deluxe services for use during a visitor's stay in the block.
Mveunin City has the highest ratio of people living in mo-habs to permanent housing, with the mo-hab occupiers being over two-thirds of the populace.
<</if>>\Insert achievements hereAn interactive story
/* Relationships */
<<set $DarienRomance to 50>>
<<set $DarienFriendship to 50>>
<<set $PlumRomance to 50>>
<<set $PlumFriendship to 50>>
/* Skills */
<<set $SkillDeath to 0>>
<<set $SkillBalance to 0>>
<<set $SkillLife to 0>>
<<set $SkillPast to 0>>
<<set $SkillPresent to 0>>
<<set $SkillFuture to 0>>
<<set $SkillDreams to 0>>
<<set $SkillChaos to 0>>
/* Personality Traits */
<<set $PersChaos to 50>>
<<set $PersOrder to 50>>
<<set $FateChanger to 50>>
<<set $FateFulfiller to 50>>
<<set $PersHonesty to 50>>
<<set $PersBravery to 50>>
<<set $PersPractical to 50>>
<<set $PersKindness to 50>>
<<set $PersDeceptive to 50>>
/* Story Progression */
<<set $Chapter1_1 to false>><h3>StoryInterface</h3>
The StoryInterface special passage, used by creating a special passage titled StoryInterface, allows you to override the default UI layout of Sugarcube.
At its most basic, it consists of a div with the id "passages" that displays the data from your passages on the screen, as shown in example 1. You can add more complex layouts by adding more elements to this passage, such as menu bars, splash screens, headers and footers, as shown in example 2.
Defining these divs is as simple as adding the necessary HTML to the StoryInterface passage; however, note that if a div is assigned a "data-passage" property, you should not add content to it within the StoryInterface passage. This property assigns a passage to that div. In example 2, the div with the id "ui-bar" has the data-passage property "UIBar", meaning it pulls its content data from a passage with the same name. These designations are case-sensitive.
If you're just starting out with Twine/Sugarcube, it's a good idea to familiarize yourself with the language and the UI before working with StoryInterface.
''Example 1''
{{{<div id="passages"></div>}}}
''Example 2''
{{{<div id="ui-bar" data-passage="UIBar"></div>}}}
{{{<div id="passages"></div>}}}
{{{<div id="footer" data-passage="Footer"></div>}}}
This will create a layout with three basic elements: the UI bar, the passage, and the footer. Content for the UI bar is found in the UIBar passage; likewise with the Footer passage & div.
<h3>Accessing the UI functions</h3>
Using StoryInterface by nature removes the built-in UI bar and the links contained within (Saves, Settings, Restart etc); these can all be replaced using their relevant APIs. The most common & useful of these are listed below. These commands can be placed inside links or buttons.
{{{UI.saves() - opens the save UI}}}
{{{UI.settings() - opens the settings UI}}}
{{{UI.restart() - restarts the game}}}
{{{Engine.backward()/Engine.forward() - undoes the previous action and returns the player to the previous passage/moves the player forward one action}}}
Similarly to the above, you can use {{{<<back>>}}} to create a button that automatically undoes the last action, or {{{<<return>>}}} to return to the previous passage without undoing any variable changes made.
<h3>Dialog functions</h3>
You can set up dialog options to pop up upon clicking a link or button, which allows you to share information with the player without adding a new passage to the player's history or changing the state of the game. In order to do this, you need to set up the Dialog box, tell it what passage contains the content you want to display, and optionally, add a title.
{{{Dialog.setup("Dialog Box Title");}}}
{{{Dialog.wiki(Story.get("PassageName").processText());}}}
{{{Dialog.open();}}}
Any of these commands can be used in the default layout as well as StoryInterface - if you want extra save buttons, back buttons etc.
<<back "Return">>
<<link "Settings">><<script>>UI.settings();<</script>><</link>>
<<button "Saves">><<script>>UI.saves();<</script>><</button>><span style="font-size:200%;color:#6e1b37">\
''Characters and Relationships''</span>
Throughout Hari-ah's journey you'll meet some key people and have the opportunity to develop relationships with them. This page records the status of those friendships and romances.
<<if ndef ($MetDarien or $MetPlum)>>\
<span style="color:#737373">You have yet to meet any of these characters, but don't worry, you will soon. </span><</if>>
<<if def $MetDarien>> <span style="font-size:160%;color:#6e1b37">\
''Darien Silverblade''</span>
Darien is a mysterious sword-wielding woman with steel in her eyes, but a charming smirk, and ARMS. She has short dark hair that does that effortlessly-gorgeous-dishevelled thing, green eyes, and some sort of red line on her face, starting in a pool below her left eye and travelling down her cheek.
<</if>>
/* Darien Friendship */\
<<if def $MetDarien>>\
<span style="font-size:120%;">''Your friendship with Darien is:''</span>
<<if ($DarienFriendship gte 90)>>\
The bond of a lifetime. You and Darien are fast-friends and almost nothing could shake it. You trust her with your life and she with yours.
<<elseif ($DarienFriendship gte 70)>>\
Close friends. You don't know many people you know and trust like Darien, and she clearly feels the same. You treasure this relationship.
<<elseif ($DarienFriendship gte 60)>>\
Friends. You're still getting to know each other but Darien is a huge help and has already saved your life! You have a good feeling about her.
<<elseif ($DarienFriendship gte 50)>>\
Neutral. You don't know each other that well yet. Darien seems like an interesting person but she's hard to get a read on.
<<elseif ($DarienFriendship gte 40)>>\
Cautious. You and Darien haven't really clicked. She's no doubt a strong warrior but you're not fully sure of her motivations.
<<elseif ($DarienFriendship gte 20)>>\
Chilly. Darien has her priorities and you have yours. Trusting her would be unwise.
<<elseif ($DarienFriendship gte 1)>>\
Hostile. You wouldn't trust Darien as far as you could throw her. She's hiding things from you and she is a loose canon to boot.
<</if>><</if>>\
/* Darien Romance */\
<<if def $MetDarien>><span style="font-size:120%;">''Your romance with Darien is:''</span>
<<if ($DarienRomance gte 90)>>\
True love. You never dreamed you would ever love someone like this, have the fortune to have someone love you back just the same way. It must be destiny. Fate? Hah. But... it feels so true.
<<elseif ($DarienRomance gte 80)>>\
Lovers. It's easy to get lost in her eyes, and she loves it when you do. You would never have thought almost getting murdered over and over might bring you love, but heck, you're not complaining.
<<elseif ($DarienRomance gte 70)>>\
Romantic. You feel all fuzzy when she looks at her, she looks at your mouth kinda often, you like it when she does that flippy thing with her sword.
<<elseif ($DarienRomance gte 60)>>\
Saucy. It seems like she wants you, and you kinda like her, so where to from here?
<<elseif ($DarienRomance gte 50)>>\
Flirty. Darien likes to flirt, and smirk, and wink. Does it mean anything though? There's a part of her which always seems reserved.
<<elseif ($DarienRomance gte 40)>>\
Uncertain. Sometimes Darien says things that are a bit flirty, and sometimes you say things which maybe sound a bit flirty, but did you mean it? No idea. You kinda feel like it might just be for the show of it.
<<elseif ($DarienRomance gte 20)>>\
Awkward. You two don't really click that way.
<<elseif ($DarienRomance gte 1)>>\
Non-existent. That's not your vibe and that's okay.
<</if>><</if>>\
<<if def $MetPlum>> <span style="font-size:160%;color:#6e1b37">\
''Pepper Plum''</span>
Pepper Plum is a local herbalist, healer, and not-very-lowkey Witch. She's from Aluivian, if her accent and looks are anything to go by, where witch hunting is still legal. No wonder she's in Kcet now. Plum is friendly, bubbling, with huge brown curls, warm brown skin, and honey-golden brown eyes. She's often distracted with plans or experiments, and her shop is known to occasionally emit small explosions.
<</if>>
/* Plum Friendship */\
<<if def $MetPlum>><span style="font-size:120%;">''Your friendship with Pepper Plum is:''</span>
<<if ($PlumFriendship gte 90)>>\
Besties for life. Meeting Plum was a gift. She's the kindest, most loyal, and relentlessly true people in the world. You'd give anything for her, and you know she'd do the same for you.
<<elseif ($PlumFriendship gte 70)>> \
Close friends. Plum is one of the most generous and lovely people you've ever met. You're so grateful that your paths crossed.
<<elseif ($PlumFriendship gte 60)>>\
Friends. You're still learning about each other but where would you be without Plum! She's been a literal life-saver. She seems sweet and is so giving. You're lucky to have met her.
<<elseif ($PlumFriendship gte 50)>>\
Neutral. You don't know each other that well yet. Plum is energetic and kind, but you're just feeling each other out.
<<elseif ($PlumFriendship gte 40)>>\
Wary. Plum is absolutely generous, but you're a little unsure. No one is //this// nice to a mostly-stranger.
<<elseif ($PlumFriendship gte 20)>>\
Frosty. Plum has a moral backbone of steel and is, frankly, kind of overly optimistic about the world. You can't really understand her priorities. You're a lot more practical than her and your ideals are often at odds.
<<elseif ($PlumFriendship gte 1)>>\
Hostile. Plum is trying, but your politics are wildly different. You don't have time for someone seeing the world through rose-coloured spectacles, and she thinks you've got a heart of stone. Some people are just destined to not get along.
<</if>><</if>>\
/* Plum Romance */\
<<if def $MetPlum>><span style="font-size:120%;">''Your romance with Pepper Plum is:''</span>
<<if ($PlumRomance gte 90)>>\
True love. You're not quite sure how you deserve to be in the same room as Pepper Plum, let alone loved by her, but somehow she thinks you hung the moon. What are the chances? She only has to exist for you to feel like your heart is overflowing. For this, if nothing else, you are blessed.
<<elseif ($PlumRomance gte 80)>>\
Lovers. Wow. What a ride. You get to kiss this girl? You'd think you'd won the destiny-lottery if it wasn't for the fact that people keep trying to murder you. Irrespective. Plum is one in a million.
<<elseif ($PlumRomance gte 70)>>\
Romantic. Even if Plum wasn't one of the most adorable people to have lived, her heart is of solid gold, and you feel warm whenever she's near. She lights up whenever she sees you and makes your heart race.
<<elseif ($PlumRomance gte 60)>>\
Heated. Those freckles are so distracting. You've caught her staring at your hands with a hazy sort of look a few times. Does this mean she likes you back?
<<elseif ($PlumRomance gte 50)>>\
Flirty. Plum is adorable and you keep finding yourself flirting by accident. You're not sure she realises though?
<<elseif ($PlumRomance gte 40)>>\
Uncertain. Plum is really cute, and really nice. You're not sure if she's into you? Or girls in general? She's cute but you don't want to hurt her. You're not good at romance stuff.
<<elseif ($PlumRomance gte 20)>>\
Neutral. You think she's pretty but she's not really your type. A bit of a hurricane.
<<elseif ($PlumRomance gte 1)>>\
Non-existent. You two aren't interested in each other like that, and that's fine.<</if>><</if>>
Golden Omen<!-- ANY LINKS FOR THE MENU GO HERE -->
<<if settings.achievements>><<link "Achievements">>
<<script>>
Dialog.setup("Achievements");
Dialog.wiki(Story.get("achievements").processText());
Dialog.open();
<</script>>
<</link>><</if>>
<<link "Relationships">>
<<script>>
Dialog.setup("Relationships");
Dialog.wiki(Story.get("Relationships").processText());
Dialog.open();
<</script>>
<</link>>
<<link "Skills">>
<<script>>
Dialog.setup("Skills");
Dialog.wiki(Story.get("Skills").processText());
Dialog.open();
<</script>>
<</link>>
<<link "Glossary">>
<<script>>
Dialog.setup("Glossary");
Dialog.wiki(Story.get("Glossary").processText());
Dialog.open();
<</script>>
<</link>>
<<link "Credits">>
<<script>>
Dialog.setup("Credits");
Dialog.wiki(Story.get("credits").processText());
Dialog.open();
<</script>>
<</link>><!-- IMAGES ADDED HERE APPEAR IN THE SIDEBAR ABOVE THE GAME TITLE --><span style="font-size:200%;color:#6e1b37">''Your Skills''</span>
<<if ndef $SkillsActive>>
Your skills are not yet active. Progress the story to unlock Hari-ah's skill-trees.\<</if>>
<<if def $SkillsActive>>\
When you earn 'Thread' or 'Stealth' points in game, you can choose to add them to the skill areas under Thread or Stealth skills. A Stealth point can go into any of the Stealth skills, and a Thread point can go into any of the Thread skills, but only once. Once you've made your choice your decision is fixed, so consider your choice before you press the add button.
<span style="font-size:160%;color:#6e1b37">\
''Thread Skills''</span>
Hari-ah's natural abilities mean that at times she can potentially succeed at any of these skills below, but the chance of success will depend on how much you've invested in her 'growth' in a skill tree, and on chance. Acquiring particular skills will reduce or eliminate the chance element for specific actions.
<span style="font-size:120%;color:#5e182f">\
''Sense Fate''</span>
Sense the fate of yourself and those nearby. <span style="color:#cc3366">[Acquired]</span>
<span style="font-size:120%;color:#5e182f">\
''Fate Dreamer''</span>
In your dreams, visit those whose fates are unusually caught between one strong outcome and another. Influence the outcome to ease the tension in the Weave. (Automatically acquired when more than two points are assigned anywhere within the Thread skills tree.)
<span style="font-size:120%;color:#5e182f">\
''Visit Fate''</span>
Increases your ability to see others' fates, both past and present.
<span style="font-size:90%">Current points in tree: <<print $VisitFate>>
<<if $SkillThread gte 1>>Add point: <<button "[+]">><<set $VisitFate to Math.clamp($VisitFate + 1, 0, 5)>>\
<<set $SkillThread to Math.clamp($SkillThread - 1, 0, 5)>>\
<<script>>
Dialog.close();
Dialog.wiki(Story.get("Skills").processText());
Dialog.open();
<</script>><</button>><</if>>\
<<if $SkillThread lt 1>><span style="color:#737373;">You currently have no points to assign.</span><</if>></span>
''Level 1'' -- you can successfully concentrate and travel to the past of a person nearby. (Requires one point in Visit Fate) <<if ($VisitFate gte 1)>><span style="color:#cc3366">[Acquired]</span><</if>>
''Level 2'' -- you can successfully concentrate and travel to the present of someone connected to something or someone nearby. (Requires two points in Visit Fate) <<if ($VisitFate gte 2)>><span style="color:#cc3366">[Acquired]</span><</if>>
''Level 3'' -- you can successfully concentrate and travel to the past or present of anyone that has a connection to you or something or someone nearby, even if that connection is vague or tenuous. (Requires three points in Visit Fate) <<if ($VisitFate gte 3)>><span style="color:#cc3366">[Acquired]</span><</if>>
<span style="font-size:120%;color:#5e182f">\
''Careful Weaver''</span>
Increases your ability to change fates without generating threat.
<span style="font-size:90%">Current points in tree: <<print $CarefulWeaver>>
<<if $SkillThread gte 1>>Add point: <<button "[+]">><<set $CarefulWeaver to Math.clamp($CarefulWeaver + 1, 0, 5)>>\
<<set $SkillThread to Math.clamp($SkillThread - 1, 0, 5)>>\
<<script>>
Dialog.close();
Dialog.wiki(Story.get("Skills").processText());
Dialog.open();
<</script>><</button>><</if>>\
<<if $SkillThread lt 1>><span style="color:#737373">You currently have no points to assign.</span><</if>></span>
''Level 1'' -- threat generation when changing fates is reduced by 20%. (Requires one point in Careful Weaver)<<if ($CarefulWeaver gte 1)>><span style="color:#cc3366">[Acquired]</span><</if>>
''Level 2'' -- threat generation when changing fates is reduced by 40%. (Requires two points in Careful Weaver)<<if ($CarefulWeaver gte 2)>><span style="color:#cc3366">[Acquired]</span><</if>>
''Level 3'' -- threat generation when changing fates is reduced by 60%. (Requires three points in Careful Weaver)<<if ($CarefulWeaver gte 2)>><span style="color:#cc3366">[Acquired]</span><</if>>
<span style="font-size:120%;color:#5e182f">\
''Tug Thread''</span>
Increases your ability to change fates successfully.
<span style="font-size:90%">Current points in tree: <<print $TugThread>>
<<if $SkillThread gte 1>>Add point: <<button "[+]">><<set $TugThread to Math.clamp($TugThread + 1, 0, 5)>>\
<<set $SkillThread to Math.clamp($SkillThread - 1, 0, 5)>>\
<<script>>
Dialog.close();
Dialog.wiki(Story.get("Skills").processText());
Dialog.open();
<</script>><</button>><</if>>\
<<if $SkillThread lt 1>><span style="color:#737373">You currently have no points to assign.</span><</if>></span>
''Level 1'' -- increases your chance of successfully changing a fate by 20%. (Requires one point in Tug Thread)<<if ($TugThread gte 1)>><span style="color:#cc3366">[Acquired]</span><</if>>
''Level 2'' -- increases your chance of successfully changing a fate by 40%. (Requires two points in Tug Thread)<<if ($TugThread gte 2)>><span style="color:#cc3366">[Acquired]</span><</if>>
''Level 3'' -- increases your chance of successfully changing a fate by 60%. (Requires three points in Tug Thread)<<if ($TugThread gte 3)>><span style="color:#cc3366">[Acquired]</span><</if>>
<span style="font-size:160%;color:#6e1b37">\
''Stealth Skills''</span>
Hari-ah has some unpleasant people to avoid, and will need to get better at not being seen or heard. Investing in the skills below will mean Hari-ah has a better chance of successfully avoiding detection in key moments of the story.
<span style="font-size:120%;color:#5e182f">\
''Soft Footed''</span>
Your experience with being sneaky makes it harder for people to hear your movements.
<span style="font-size:90%">Current points in tree: <<print $SoftFooted>>
<<if $SkillStealth gte 1>>Add point: <<button "[+]">><<set $SoftFooted to Math.clamp($SoftFooted + 1, 0, 5)>>\
<<set $SkillStealth to Math.clamp($SkillStealth - 1, 0, 5)>>\
<<script>>
Dialog.close();
Dialog.wiki(Story.get("Skills").processText());
Dialog.open();
<</script>><</button>><</if>>\
<<if $SkillStealth lt 1>><span style="color:#737373">You currently have no points to assign.</span><</if>></span>
''Level 1'' -- you're sneaky, you're quiet, you're probably not going to fall on your face and make a huge sound. Probably. (Requires one point in Soft Footed) <<if ($SoftFooted gte 1)>><span style="color:#cc3366">[Acquired]</span><</if>>
''Level 2'' -- you're getting good at being quiet. Someone would have to really be paying attention to hear you at all. (Requires three points in Soft Footed)<<if $SoftFooted gte 3>><span style="color:#cc3366">[Acquired]</span><</if>>
''Level 3'' -- STEALTH QUEEN. No one is going to hear you. A mouse isn't going to hear you. A creature with giant ears isn't going to hear you. Banger. (Requires five points in Soft Footed)<<if $SoftFooted gte 5>><span style="color:#cc3366">[Acquired]</span><</if>>
<span style="font-size:120%;color:#5e182f">\
''Blend-in''</span>
Your experience with being sneaky makes it harder for people to see you sneaking about.
<span style="font-size:90%">Current points in tree: <<print $BlendIn>>
<<if $SkillStealth gte 1>>Add point: <<button "[+]">><<set $BlendIn to Math.clamp($SoftFooted + 1, 0, 5)>>\
<<set $SkillStealth to Math.clamp($SkillStealth - 1, 0, 5)>>\<<script>>
Dialog.close();
Dialog.wiki(Story.get("Skills").processText());
Dialog.open();
<</script>><</button>><</if>>\
<<if $SkillStealth lt 1>><span style="color:#737373">You currently have no points to assign.</span><</if>></span>
''Level 1'' -- you're getting a feel for sneaking without being noticed. Blend in with the shadows, that sort of stuff. (Requires one point in Blend In) <<if ($BlendIn gte 1)>><span style="color:#cc3366">[Acquired]</span><</if>>
''Level 2'' -- you're getting good at not being seen. Most people wouldn't spy you at a glance. (Requires three points in Blend In) <<if ($BlendIn gte 3)>><span style="color:#cc3366">[Acquired]</span><</if>>
''Level 3'' -- CAMOUFLAGE MASTER. Even in broad daylight no one is going to notice you. It's all about attitude. Walk like you belong. (Requires five points in Blend In) <<if ($BlendIn gte 5)>><span style="color:#cc3366">[Acquired]</span><</if>>
<</if>>
<<if settings.achievements>><<notify 3s>>Achievements active!<</notify>><</if>>Ultrices in iaculis nunc sed augue lacus. Duis ultricies lacus sed turpis tincidunt id. Amet dictum sit amet justo donec enim diam. Sodales ut eu sem integer vitae justo eget magna. Amet justo donec enim diam vulputate. Turpis egestas sed tempus urna et. Erat imperdiet sed euismod nisi porta lorem mollis aliquam. Quis varius quam quisque id diam. Ultricies mi eget mauris pharetra et ultrices. Nulla at volutpat diam ut venenatis tellus in metus. Accumsan sit amet nulla facilisi. Libero nunc consequat interdum varius sit. Sit amet tellus cras adipiscing enim. Urna et pharetra pharetra massa. Libero justo laoreet sit amet cursus sit. Mattis aliquam faucibus purus in massa tempor nec. Pellentesque habitant morbi tristique senectus et. In nisl nisi scelerisque eu ultrices vitae auctor eu.
<div class="choice">[[next - pronoun setting|3]]</div>select your pronouns:
<div class="choice">[[plural - they/them|4][$plural to true,$they to "they"]]</div>
<div class="choice">[[singular - he/him, she/her, xe/xem|4][$plural to false,$they to "she"]]</div><<if settings.achievements>><<notify 3s>>Achievements active!<</notify>><</if>>Elementum nisi quis eleifend quam adipiscing vitae. Ullamcorper dignissim cras tincidunt lobortis. Dictum varius duis at consectetur lorem donec massa sapien. Eu scelerisque felis imperdiet proin fermentum leo. Massa id neque aliquam vestibulum morbi blandit. Nec dui nunc mattis enim ut tellus. Rhoncus dolor purus non enim praesent elementum. Ante in nibh mauris cursus mattis. Nullam non nisi est sit amet facilisis. Orci sagittis eu volutpat odio facilisis mauris. At risus viverra adipiscing at in tellus integer. Ultrices neque ornare aenean euismod elementum nisi quis eleifend quam.
<div class="choice">[[next - pronoun setting|3]]</div><<liveblock>>$they <<are>> happy.
$they <<were>> sad.
$they run<<s>> down the road.
<</liveblock>>
<div class="choice"><<link "She/her Pronouns">><<set $they to "she">><<set $plural to false>><<update>><</link>></div>
<div class="choice"><<link "He/him Pronouns">><<set $they to "he">><<set $plural to false>><<update>><</link>></div>
<div class="choice"><<link "Xe/xem Pronouns">><<set $they to "xe">><<set $plural to false>><<update>><</link>></div>
<div class="choice"><<link "They/them Pronouns">><<set $they to "they">><<set $plural to true>><<update>><</link>></div><<set $Chapter1_1 to true>>\
<<set $FateChanger += 2>>\
<<set $PersHonesty += 1>>\
<<set $PersBravery += 1>>\
<<set $Chapter1_2a to true>>\
<<notify 3s>>Glossary updated<</notify>>\
"Oba-sa..."
My stomach lurches.
There's no way to make this sound even a little bit normal.
I can practically //feel// my mother's tight hand on my shoulder.
"I don't see why you'd believe me... In fact it would really be quite odd to believe me, but..."
I reach out, my hand hovering just above hers.
"Do you... believe in omens?" I ask.
Mrs Hulyn's eyes widen with surprise, and she glances quickly down the street. It's instinctive, and I can't help but do the same. Witch hunting is illegal here in Kcet, and back home in Shu Bhai, but the hunters could slip across the western border from Alubi if they were smart enough. It's enough of a worry that lots of people just... avoid any talk of magic. Especially in public.
<<set $Know_WitchHunters to true>><<set $Loc_Alubi to true>><<set $Loc_Kcet to true>><<set $Loc_ShuBhai to true>>\
"What... kind of omen, my dear?"
Is she just pandering to a sleep-deprived customer? Perhaps. But she's also old enough to remember our ways before the northerners came, old-fashioned enough to refresh those prayers for her children diligently every month...
I'm already making foolish decisions, so I lean in closer, trying my best to ignore how my skin feels like it's sizzling slightly.
"I can't properly explain this, but I saw–"
What in the Strange //did// I see, precisely?
I try not to... //see things//. Try not to get hunches or feelings. It... doesn't work particularly well. When I was younger I... It... It was harder to ignore when I was little. Harder to tell reality from... the rest. Easier to just blurt out things which other people didn't need to hear.
There was an incident...
Mm. Shifting towns was enough to shake off the worst of the consequences. My mother's tight smile on my first day of my new school was an even better lesson than the way the other children had started running away from me after–
//Ah. Not the point.//
Still, I can't just do //nothing.//
"I... sometimes get a... sense of things?" //I haven't had a vision so clearly since I was a child.//
I thought it was going away.
"Sometimes... an image."
My teeth are aching.
Mrs Hulyn's mouth parts, and she whispers, "Does your family have some of the blood, then?"
No. Not at all. There's no stories in our family history of anyone with 'gifts' or a knack. Nothing after the age of the gods passed.
<<set $Know_GiftsInBlood to true>>
I wince. "Something like that."
"What did you see?" Mrs Hulyn asked. She's interested, a little breathless with excitement. I feel almost faint with relief. This could have gone considerably worse.
Though there is still that feeling like someone's about to snap a branch across the back of my neck. Pressure, intent.
"I saw a veil. No. A shroud."
Mrs Hulyn's breath halts, and she places her hand over her heart. "For me?" She shifts – it's not a full step away but it's close. //Oh, it hurts.//
Even the elderly fear death, I suppose. Probably more than the young.
"I just–" I say quickly, too late to back out now, "–I think it might pass over, if you just take extra care around stairs, for the next few weeks."
Mrs Hulyn pauses, confused.
"I'm so sorry, I can't explain this properly, I just..." I scramble for something reasonable to say, but all I have is something close to the truth. "I just have this... //feeling// something terrible might happen."
Mrs Hulyn hesitates, looking unsure. I bite my lip, wrap my hand around hers. "Please, just be extra careful," I say.
There's a //CRACK// that I'm pretty sure only I can hear – just as Mrs Hulyn nods. "Alright dear, I'll make sure to be careful."
The world blurs for a moment, and I feel a brush of air, as though a piece of fabric was lifted away, just past my cheek. I can see that thread again – emerging from her centre. It vibrates and burns bright gold while a high, discordant sound echoes through the air for a moment – like an instrument played poorly.
I grab onto the side of the food cart and try to smile through a wash of dizziness as the world rearranges. It's almost like I can feel threads shifting and intertwining invisibly all around us. Like that one change has spun out into a thousand others.
Then I see, just as I'd almost forgotten about it – in the corner of my vision. The shadow. It moves. Its body changes into something pointed and... interested, somehow. It shivers and swells, looming up large for a split second, as if eager and surprised. Then, as fast as a blink, it scuttles away and out of sight, leaving my mind free from observation at last.
//Ah.//
//I think I may have... made a mistake.//
<div class="choice">[[Next|Chapter 1.3 - Danger]]</div><<set $Chapter1_1 to true>>\
<<set $FateChanger += 1>>\
<<set $$PersPractical += 1>>\
<<set $PersKindness += 1>>\
<<set $PersHonesty -= 1>>\
<<set $PersDeceptive += 1>>\
<<notify 3s>>Glossary updated<</notify>>\
I need to make this sound believable without Mrs Hulyn realising that I've literally seen how she dies.
I scramble for a reasonable lie.
"Did you hear recently, um, about the woman who broke her leg on the stairs coming down from her res block?"
"No?" Mrs Hulyn is obviously confused by the sudden topic shift, but she's also always keen for gossip. She heads back into the stall, never one to let the endless list of tasks get away from her. "Was she local?"
She means – is this 'woman' from the Puddles, like us – the area where all the immigrants gather and brush shoulders, because somehow being close to someone from one country over from your own is less jarring than constantly mixing with the citizens born and bred here on the other side of the planet.
"Uh, of course." This will make my improvisation more relatable, surely. "I believe they're... looking into some city staff who have been poorly attending to their responsibilities in the Puddles. Not keeping residence blocks clean enough. There's... a great deal of moss and slime building up."
My teeth are aching, like someone's about to pull out a tooth. //Is this what lying feels like all the time?//
Foolish question. Of course it's not. I'm doing something fundamentally //wrong,// I know it.
Mrs Hulyn tsks. "I would believe that, nene! Mr Hulyn was out clearing the access way just the other week, and with his back! I was telling him it was city staff's job to do it but he just kept on about how it didn't look nice."
"Yes! I think you should take extra care." That feeling of //pressure// is still lingering, but I don't think I've made enough of a difference. That veil is still clinging to Mrs Hulyn's weathered face.
//This is so foolish. As if someone like me can change anything.//
When I was a kid I used to get feelings like this sometimes. I even used to spill out things I would have been better off keeping to myself. Things that luckily most people waved off as being the sort of nonsensical fantasies kids come up with, but... then it happened a few too many times.
There was... Well. My mother – if she ever spoke of it at all – just called it //the incident//. Too many people knew about it. I'd drawn too much attention trying to stop...
<<set $Know_TheIncident1>>
Anyway. I learnt my lesson about trying to alter the way things happen.
//Then why can't you walk away now, Hari-ah?//
//I...//
I reach toward her – my hand hovering above hers. Mrs Hulyn was born well before the Accords (which filled Shu Bhai with what my father calls 'filthy colonisers' and the government calls 'cultural partners'), so she remembers what it was like before we had to tuck away things which made city officials get nosy about you 'disturbing social harmony'. She always hands out protective reed weaves on Longest Night and once gave me a scarf stitched with the marks for prosperity and health.
<<set $Loc_ShuBhai to true>>\
I can afford a little...
"Please Oba-sa. I just have a... a strange feeling about this. Do be really careful, especially in the next week or so."
Something about my tone must give something away, because Mrs Hulyn gives me a close look, peering uncomfortably deep into my eyes. "Alright dear," she says, more serious than usual. "I'll remember."
There's a sharp, high noise which comes from nowhere in particular, and yet everywhere at once, and I see that thread again, emerging from Mrs Hulyn's chest. It vibrates and burns bright gold. I taste copper on the back of my tongue, and I clutch Mrs Hulyn's hand as a wash of dizziness hits me as the world seems to rearrange itself.
It's almost like I can feel threads shifting and intertwining invisibly all around us. Like this one change has spun out into a thousand others. That fine lace veil, almost as if caught in a breath of wind, lifts away from Mrs Hulyn's and fades out of sight.
Then I see, just as I'd almost forgotten about it – in the corner of my vision – //the shadow//. It moves. Its body changes into something sharp and... interested, somehow. It shivers and swells, looming up large for a split second, as if eager and surprised, then as fast as a blink it scuttles away and out of sight, leaving my mind free from observation at last.
//Oh. That doesn't seem... positive.//
<div class="choice">[[Next|Chapter 1.3 - Danger]]</div><<set $Chapter1_3 to true>>\
<<notify 3s>>Glossary updated<</notify>>\
From above, a resonant CLAP of sound comes.
Mrs Hulyn and I both wince and look up.
"Aih!" Mrs Hulyn exclaims, "Since when did that weather woman say there were thunderstorms coming?"
I observe the clouds with great suspicion. //I'm reasonably certain there //weren't //any forecast.//
All the hair on my arms lifts.
...Maybe it is just from the static in the air.
//Maybe it is from me being //reckless// with things I don't properly understand!//
Unexpected weather? Ridiculous. It has been several years since I haven't //known// what the weather was going to be. Or whether my tram would be late, or if someone was going to spill tea on me.
It's not as if I //try// to know. I just...
Know.
//Curses!//
I frown up at the threatening thunderstorm. The clouds are moving fast, thick and curling shapes, as if they're scowling back at me.
//Is this //my// fault?//
//No no... surely not... //
...
//There's no amount of visions or bargaining with elderly women which could make the // weather// change. Right?//
...
//It must just be a coincidence.//
I feel jittery and unsettled all the same, and it seems like there's an odd shiver around the corners of the world. //Damn it.//
I've never really been able to //change// something like that.
There's a loud rumble of thunder.
I wince. //Perhaps I'm not //supposed// to be able to change things like that.//
"You better get home nene, you'll get soaked when those clouds come down."
"Yes. You're right, Oba-sa. Thank you for the soup."
"Hurry yourself on now!"
Mrs Hulyn waves me off, winching out the rain sails on her cart. I turn to head towards home, calculating which route I can take which will involve the least drenching, even as I walk. I could stop somewhere to buy a cheap umbrella, but getting soaked feels oddly like a reasonable punishment if I just interfered with some sort of cosmic order...
<div>
My <span class="tooltip">mo-hab</span> is fitted up in a residence block only a few streets away – through the winding narrow alleys of the Puddles' markets. My parents set me up with it before I came to the city. It's in Shu Bhai style. Big white zehex stone blocks making up the walls – which back home help to keep us cool in the summer, and don't get slippery even when the sea gets a little high and sneaks into our homes. Of course, across the ocean here in northern Kcet, keeping cool is hardly a priority. Since moving to Mveunin City, I've had to add four sun lamps into my hab just to stop myself from wilting. \
<span class="tooltiptext">''Mo-hab'': Short for 'Mobile Habitat', mo-habs are housing units which can be pulled out of residence blocks, transported, and slotted back into a residence block in another location. Common in the big cities and for people who work in roles which require them to move from place to place. They come in a range of standard sizes to fit into res-blocks in any nation worldwide, and are moved through a network of over-sea-and-land monorail-style shipping and transport lines.</span>\
</div>\
<<set $Loc_MveuninCity to true>><<set $Loc_Kcet to true>><<set $Loc_Puddles to true>><<set $Know_MoHab>>\
Another crack of lightning breaks the sky into sharp relief for a split-second, followed near-instantly by a greedy rumble of thunder, and the rain arrives. Tumbling down in thick, heavy sheets. Around me my fellow late-night commuters let out various sounds of dismay.
"I'm sorry," I whisper fruitlessly, pressing my hands into apologetic shapes they can't see.
The feeling of something being //wrong// is still with me.
I tap my fingertips against my thumbs one after the other as I make largely unproductive attempts to dodge in and out of the rain. Logically, how could //I// have caused something like this? I am only one small engineer on a very big planet. Yes, I've had strange dreams, unerring hunches, and a great propensity for scaring children, but I've never been able to...
I step out of a covered stoop one-second too late and get hit with a huge gush of water from an overflowing awning.
I hiss out a dismayed sound and push my soaked hair out of my face. I peer up at the clouds. "I didn't //intend// to cause any sort of cosmic distress, alright?"
My father likes to tell me that even though the gods left us, they still listen to our words. I don't know if that's true, but I certainly feel like someone might be pouring punishment on my head. Literally.
<<set $Know_GodsLeft to true>>\
As I leap over puddles and duck out of the way of chiming trams, the memory of the sung harmonies of the nuns at my cousin's birth blessing waft through my mind. The long chants told of the Mother weaving together the world. Of the warp which sustains the weft. Life and death and… Those sorts of things.
Cosmic things.
Was that what I saw? A thread of the Mother's weave?
I can't help but laugh a little at myself. There's no witch on the planet who claims to be able to see something like //that//.
//But then, what on earth was that shadow?//
The way it reacted when I changed things... And then it //left//. Where did it //go?//
I finally arrive at my res-block and I quickly slip onto the delivery platform, punching in the code for my mo-hab. The familiar electric hum of the platform, lifting me up eight floors as I shiver and drip, should be a comfort after the weirdness of the evening, but that tremor in my spine is just getting worse and worse.
The platform reaches my floor with a soft chime, and is about to slide across the access way to my door when that tremor becomes a clanging, ringing jangle through my whole body.
<span style="font-family:Nanum Brush Script"><span style="font-size: 32px">Danger!</span></span>
I slap the emergency stop button. Gasping for air against the horrible feeling.
Something's wrong. More than just cosmic-wrong. Something... near. Something ahead. Something to do with //me//.
//But what?//
I nervously peek through the small window on the platform. The access way down to my door is empty but–
I have to press a hand to my mouth to suppress a wave of nausea surging over me from nowhere.
//Unpleasant.
More significantly, this is more of those… strange cosmic feelings.//
On the small chance those gods are listening, I say, "Unspecific feelings of dread are not tangibly useful forms of cosmic communication."
There's no change. I take a deep breath. //Think the situation through like an engineer Hari-ah.//
Maybe...
//Fact: Information is the most valuable part of sound decision making.//
And I do have… a method… of obtaining //some// more information.
If I'm willing to risk further cosmic… discord.
Of course, said discord is largely just conjecture on my part. At least if I try then I may learn if my actions do influence…
Whatever is occurring.
I back up against the furthest wall from the door. I can't see a soul out through the bleary glass, but it feels safer somehow to be further away. I press my hands to my chest...
Is this a good decision?
//What alternative do I have?//
I take a deep breath and…
I... search? For that strange... knowing?
<div class="choice">[[Next|Chapter 1.4 - Searching]]</div><<set $Chapter1_4 to true>>\
<<notify 3s>>Glossary updated<</notify>>\
//Falling.//
At first there's nothing -- but then I begin to fall. There's nothing around me but darkness, and yet I feel the rush of air over my skin, my body twisting in a void.
There's no sensation of stopping, of coming to rest, but then – I'm stepping through a doorway.
Thick… the weight of that indecipherable darkness is like a damp spring fog. But then, light comes through like a slow knife cut. Dim, long thin grey lines become visible. Slowly becoming stronger until they toss long beams into the thick dark. Up, over, then down.
Archways. Doorways? Just like the one I just stepped through.
I find myself standing there, surrounded by these doorways. A circle. Eight archways in total, and a circle in the centre of the floor. I cautiously avoid stepping inside it.
Before I can begin to try to puzzle the meaning behind the thinly lit shapes, I feel a pulse, similar to what I felt before, in the centre of my chest. Two of the doorways seem to shimmer, just a little, then ever so slowly, the dim grey begins to limn in gold. As if someone was pouring liquid gold down a thin channel.
It's unerringly similar in shade to the golden thread I had touched.
Once the golden light meets at the bottom of each shape – in perfect sync, the gold begins to spread from the outside-in on each arch, filling the void within. Lines, meeting and looping and filling. Thread-like, the lines connect to each other, supporting each other. They seem random at first but slowly the shoes begin to form into shapes. Images.
I'm standing just shy of the circle in the floor, and each filling arch is to my direct left or right – three and nine on a clock face.
<div class="choice">[[Investigate the archway on the left|Chapter 1.5a - Arch on the Left]]</div>
<div class="choice">[[Investigate the archway on the right|Chapter 1.5b - Arch on the Right]]</div>Here's some normal text for contrast
<center>
<table>
<tr>
<th></th>
<th>Life</th>
<th>Balance</th>
<th>Death</th>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Bonus</td>
<td><center><<print $Life>></center></td>
<td><center><<print $Balance>></center></td>
<td><center><<print $Death>></center></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<th></th>
<th>Past</th>
<th>Time</th>
<th>Future</th>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Bonus</td>
<td><center><<print $Past>></center></td>
<td><center><<print $Present>></center></td>
<td><center><<print $Future>></center></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<th></th>
<th>Dreams</th>
<th>Chaos</th>
<th> </th>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Bonus</td>
<td><center><<print $Dreams>></center></td>
<td><center><<print $Chaos>></center></td>
<td> </td>
</tr>
</table>
</center><<set $Chapter1_5a to true>>\
I step a little closer to the archway on my left. The image that's forming is of an… ocean? But facing up, waves lapping the image from top to bottom, rather than along the base -- on a 90-degree angle from what you would expect. Peeking out from between the waves is a face. I woman? A man? Or... perhaps neither? Hard to say. Even the figure’s expression is indecipherable. One moment, it seems weighed down with grief, the next, creased with heavy joy. The person in the waves has one hand splayed out to keep balance in the water as their body floats on the surface, the other hand is reaching out.
Towards me?
I'm not so sure. The figure's gaze seems tuned towards something in the distance.
I turn.
On the other side of the space. The other door.
<div class="choice">[[Investigate the other door|Chapter 1.6 - Second Door]]</div>
I step closer to the right hand archway, warily inspecting the lines. The image that has coalesced is of a figure. Vaguely feminine but with a somewhat genderless shape to them. Hair piled tall on their head in an ancient, romantic style. They're standing with arms reaching out, but one leg raised. Something about the posture makes it seem like they're about to take a step backwards, rather than forwards. All around them, there are billowing swirls of what I think must be representations of wind. Swirling around the outreached arms. Pulling on the hair and tugging on the body, almost if the wind is ushering the figure away. Onwards?
The figure isn't looking in the direction it is being pulled. It's looking towards… me?
…No. I don't think so.
The figure's face has a kind of calmness to it, a light in the eye. Hopeful? Something… compassionate, perhaps?
I turn and look across the room. To the other door.
<div class="choice">[[Investigate the other door|Chapter 1.6 - Second Door]]</div>
<<if def $Chapter1_5a>>\
I cross the room. The opposite image is very similar to the first. This doorway has a figure who is being embraced by swirls of what looks like wind. This one is also upright, arms reaching outward -- although this person has one foot raised, and their posture looks almost like they are stepping backwards. Into the wind. Away from the other figure. The expression is almost as difficult to read, although there is something more peaceful… or… light… about their face?
I look back, then forward again.
One reaching out, floating on the surface of deep water, the other stepping backwards, into the embrace of wind – still looking into the eyes of the other.
<<else>>\
I cautiously cross the room. The opposite image is somewhat similar to the first. This doorway has another outline of a figure, gender also indistinct, but where the first was being pulled at by wind, this one is floating on a vast ocean. The ocean surface is upright, the water illustrated from top to bottom of the doorway instead of across the base, so the two figures mirror each other.
This figure has one arm splayed to the side to keep their balance in the water as they float – their body just barely breaking through the water's surface – and the other hand is reaching up and out. Their expression is indecipherable. One moment, it seems weighed down with grief; the next, creased with heavy joy. Their eyes seem turned to the distance, like they're reaching across the room to the other figure.
<</if>>\
They… at least by my assessment, seem connected.
If they're omens, they're not omens I know. And yet… there's something… slightly familiar…
That //tug// in my chest pulls at me again.
It reminds me of why I am here.
I am… for the first time in my life… //trying// to see.
My visions often come upon me like an uncontrolled, hurtling monorail. Unwelcome, a surprise, vivid and sharp. Or sometimes more like a snake slithering beneath a door, casting omens over friend and stranger alike, silently and without notice until it's hemming in your thoughts.
I've never experienced //this// before.
The two archways stand there, gold-limned and shining. A choice.
This is a choice.
A choice to use my…
To use this…
//Magic.//
But how?
I touch two fingers to that spot in the centre of my chest. The spot that has been thrumming this whole time. The thrumming gets stronger, //louder// in the dark-filled space. There's a flicker of movement in gold. The lines are moving again on both pictures, but this time only one line – so thin I can barely see it. From the top of the archways to the base, bisecting each image.
I'm surer now than I was before. Archways, doorways. Doors. What do you do with doors?
You walk through them.
But there are two doors. A figure floating in an endless sea, and a figure stepping backwards into the wind.
Golden thread.
Golden doors.
I need to make a choice.
<div class="choice">[[Try to enter the door of water|Chapter 1.7a - Enter the Past]]</div>
<div class="choice">[[Try to enter the door of wind|Chapter 1.7b - Enter the Future]]</div> <<set $Chapter1_7a to true>>\
The water door it is.
I get closer, and slowly reach out.
My fingers make contact–
–the figure in the water's eyes dart to meet mine.
I start and go to pull back, but the door is already opening, and a tug at the centre of my chest pulls me forward before I can think.
Submersion.
The cool hold of a still lake.
At first I see nothing.
Then, light.
The light slowly shifts and then forms into a dimly lit room, with several shapes slowly coalescing into figures as the vision stabilises. The first looks like a man; tall, and narrow-bodied, with grey hair shot through with unnaturally bright yellow streaks. He's speaking to a different figure who becomes clearer as it approaches the man.
This person appears to be a woman. She's smaller, petite and with elegant, pixie-like features, but she somehow gives off the impression of coldness, and… strength. Something about the haughty way she carries herself and the sumptuous fall of the unfamiliar robes she wears makes her appear reminiscent of an unforgiving queen from a wisp-tale. Her hair is mostly a pure twist of silvery grey hair, held up in an elaborate coiffure around her face, but is marked by a shock of white at one temple, and black at the other.
Both people give off a strange vibe. Something about the way they move, their clothes, even the colours of their skin and hair...
The woman is talking. I have to focus hard to hear the words.
"–leave quickly now, we don't want to lose the scent again."
"Of course my lady," the man replies, bowing his head.
Their voices sound strange. Their words don't //sound// like Trade Tongue, or Shu Bhaian either, but for some reason the words seem to make sense to me.
The woman looks down and sneers. It's only then that I notice that //the shadow// from earlier lurking beside the man, huddled low and simpering.
"And don't be reckless. Make sure you bring her to me to confirm what we suspect," the woman says. "We have enough time for that, at least."
The man scoffs. "Shouldn't I just dispatch her? Even if we're wrong, surely it doesn't matter if we cut out a random—"
"Don't be a fool," the woman snaps. "Our absence from court will already have been noted by some, we can't afford to attract further attention by killing with no good cause. Especially with the current //sentimentalities// at court. And if you are… thorough… the Clan in question might take more notice than we would prefer."
The woman gestures to something in the man's hand, and I strain to see what it is. The light hits it as the man turns, and–
The vision fills with light as if someone had swept up the scene with a broad gold-dipped paintbrush. The figures both still in place – frozen mid-conversation.
The frozen figures become almost blurred as the vision shifts focus to what the man is holding. It becomes the only clear-edged thing in sight.
A long thin pole, topped by a golden blade. A spear? It seems… oddly makeshift? The handle is simple wood, then the blade is bound tightly to the shaft by wire.
But the blade itself is different to the rest. While the shaft is simple and crude, the blade looks like finer craftsmanship than I've ever seen. Long and thin, curved on one side. It looks as if it's made of pure gold – although of course it can't be, that would be a foolish metal to use for a weapon. The blade is carved with intricate, delicate filigree, and the whole room seems caught in the golden shine of it.
It would be beautiful, if it weren't filling me with a terrible dread.
Even as the people stay frozen, in the vision the blade lifts above them, and they fade out of sight. Slowly, the blade swings downward. I see it fall upon a golden thread. I can almost hear the //snick// as the thread is severed. And then more follow. A thousand more threads break -- a tapestry's fabric weakens terribly as the warp and weft come undone around an unnaturally cut thread. A hole forms. A ragged wound.
I return to my body as if I am punched back into flesh. Dizziness, nausea surges, and I stumble– blind. My hands fall on something and there's a cheerful chime and a whoosh of air.
//Oh no.//
I blink my eyes rapidly, but that surging feeling of danger alone is almost enough to tell me what has happened. My vision comes back even as I hear rapid footsteps.
The delivery platform's doors have opened. The hallway for my level stretches out in front of me. And there's a man stepping out of my MoHab's door.
<div class="choice">[[Next|Chapter 1.8 - Blade to Blade]]</div><<set $Chapter1_7b to true>>\
I choose the door of wind.
I approach, and slowly reach out.
My fingers brush the surface – it's cool against my skin.
As I make contact – there's movement. The figure's eyes move, shifting to look right at me.
I start and go to pull back, but the door is already opening, and a tug at the centre of my chest pulls me forward before I can think.
Air. Rushing past me. Wind blowing over my cheeks. I feel weightless, falling without falling. And then, light. Colour. Humidity pressing thickly against me.
I see a street. It's dripping, familiar with the sounds and scents of the Puddles. There's jumbles of shops and closed frontages to either side of the narrow street. It's vaguely familiar. I think I've been down it a few times – it's not far from my home, off on one of the cramped side streets. I don't think the trams even go down there.
There's the sound of running feet on wet ground. I turn and see what looks to be a man. He's tall and thin; grey hair and a severe, bony face which looks like it's spent too many years frowning. At his feet is //the shadow//. The one which had been haunting me for days! They both scan the alley, as if they're searching for something. The man is out of breath.
"We were almost upon her!" the man says.
The shadow makes a chittering noise. Then, with a scratchy, hissing voice which doesn't seem to come from any mouth I can perceive, says, "Sssshe can't have got farrr."
The man curses. "We waited too long."
"You sssaid you wanted to make sure." It has a slight accent. Between the hisses. Perhaps of someone from Riddauyn in the south.
"And did it really take days for you to ascertain?" The man seethes, still searching about.
"I waited 'til ssshe did something. 'Til sssshe used that kkkind of magic. Like you ssssaid." It makes a hacking, sharp series of noises.
"I should have observed her myself, instead of wasting my lady's time on the word of a ghost."
//Ghost?//
The shadow makes more of those hacking noises. "If you could've, you never would have made me help you." It slithers up a spouting pipe and peers about. "What you even gone do with her? Kill her?" it hisses as it comes back down.
The man curses and kicks a dirty box out of his way. "Lady Cleareye wishes to confirm for herself whether the girl is what we suspect."
The creaky voice of the ghost rises, sounding angry. "I know wwwhat I saw! She changed sssomething, right in front of me she did! Made an old llllady live longer!"
I feel a coldness grip me. Are they really…
"Hmph," the man sounds haughty, unimpressed. "We'll see."
The shadow makes a growling noise but both of them start scouring the street, looking behind composters and peering into shop frontages.
"Damn it all! I don't have the time for scrounging around amongst the detritus of these ants!" the man says after a few minutes of apparently fruitless searching. "I must deal with her before we have to return!"
The shadow is just a blob of moving, wispy blackness, but it seems nonetheless to radiate displeasure. "Returrn hey? How do you plan on doing that? How did you and that lady even get here? We haven't ssseen… people like you for a long time."
The man humphs. "It wasn't easy, and I don't have infinite time. Or patience, creature! I need to make sure we erase her before the window to return shuts. I won't leave abominations like that wandering about!"
//Are they…//
//Is this really about… me?//
This man, if he's really looking for me, he wants to…
The shadow hacks that sharp sound again. "Erassse her huh. Is that why you have that thhhing with you?" The man twitches, but the shadow doesn't seem to notice. It just continues on as it peers beneath stairs and checks dark corners. "Never seen sssomething more like an ah-hah-haaaabomination than that," it says, making a sort of clicking noise, somewhere between laughter and a nervous sound.
The other man harrumphs. "As if a creature like you would understand," he says tightly. "It's insurance." He sounds defensive though. "Just in case. It can't be helped – if she has become powerful in her gifts, it might be the only way to kill her and keep her dead."
The crackling voice laughs, nasty and low. "Hypocrite..."
The man straightens and waves a sharp hand at the shadow. "Enough. She must have moved on. Or maybe that other foolish other one is helping her. What an imbecile. As if we're not the ones solving //their// problems." He shakes his head. "Let's go."
As they head off, I see a swirl of pale light, and look up. Neither the man or the shadow react, but above one of the shops, I see the figure of a woman floating in the air. She has chocolate-brown skin, and hair which is white at the roots then turns to black. She has an arch above her of floating fabric, and on it features the phases of the moon. Gentle light radiates like a halo around her. She's instantly, uncomfortably, familiar. I've seen a picture almost identical in a book I pretend I don't own.
It takes a moment, but I visualise the words beneath the picture.
Moon. The love of Night. The priestess of healing, peace, of protection. Of the blood of women, the blessing of childbearing.
The Moon doesn't look at me or at the man or his shadow. She simply raises her hands and covers her eyes.
The man wanders past the shop which Moon hovers above. He doesn't look inside.
There's a small shift of movement at the very back of the shop. A curtained interior window – the curtain twitches open less than a centimetre.
The Moon remains blind, and the man and his shadow leave the alleyway.
It takes me a second of staring foolishly at the scene, but then I recall another part of Moon's purview. She who guides those lost in the dark. The wayfinder.
And if the wayfinder is blind…
So are those who seek.
Tug.
The vision starts to fade around the edges. I feel a pull to return to my body.
But even as the colour drains from the scene, the omen of the Moon turns her face to me. She drops her hands, and dark eyes take me in.
I can feel my feet leave the ground. Wind is curling around my ankles, but the Moon holds out a hand to me.
Caution might advise not taking the hand of mysterious gods inside more-mysterious visions, but the Moon's face is gentle and kind.
I reach out. Though I can't say my hand's not shaking.
When we touch, she smiles, and her face is surprisingly friendly – her eyes sparkling with a humour I can't understand. She weaves our fingers together, then takes my other hand, places it on her heart, then places her own on mine. She looks at me intensely, as if I'm supposed to make something of the gesture.
I frown down at the way we mirror each other. "I… don't understand…"
She presses more firmly against my chest, makes eye contact and tightens her grip.
"What–"
But the wind is up around my waist now, then sweeps around me, whisking me away from the Moon. She nods, still looking at me warmly. Like she has faith.
I'm thrown back into my body with a thrum of sound. It feels almost like I'm inside a huge bell which has just been struck. My body shakes and vibrates, my vision swims and my knees don't feel like they want to hold me up.
I stumble forward blindly. My hands fall on something and there's a cheerful chime and a whoosh of air.
//Oh no.//
I blink my eyes rapidly, but that surging feeling of //danger// alone is almost enough to tell me what has happened. My vision comes back even as I hear rapid footsteps.
The delivery platform's doors have opened. The hallway for my level stretches out in front of me. And there's a thin, familiar, grey-haired man stepping out of my MoHab's door.
<div class="choice">[[Next|Chapter 1.8 - Blade to Blade]]</div>
It's the man from the vision.
//He was inside my hab.//
<<if $Chapter1_7a is true>>\
On the heels of the man, a tumble of smoke and darkness follows. It's the shadow. It makes a hissing sound and grows up tall. I hear a scratchy voice saying, "That'sss her!"
<<else>>\
The shadow tumbles out of my rooms at the feet of the man, and it hisses and grows. I hear a scratchy voice. "That'sss her!"
<</if>>\
The man pins me with a glare and he gestures sharply with one hand. "Come here, girl!"
I blink, my vision swims, and I almost take a step forward, but then he shifts and I see a hint of gold behind him. \
<<if $Chapter1_7a is true>> \
It's //that spear// from my vision. An omen in the flesh. He's hiding it behind his body, but it's there nonetheless. That horrible thing which made a //hole// in the weave. People say the weave is woven by none other than the Mother herself. There shouldn't be anything which can //damage// it.
<<else>>\
He's holding something. It looks like some kind of spear – a long shaft tipped with a straight-edged golden blade. That persistent sense of //danger// becomes a body-rattling siren. There's something in me telling me that weapon is beyond-dangerous. Beyond any common knife or blade. Something //wrong.//
<</if>>\
My stomach lurches, and I feel my knees go weak.
Despite the strong urge to throw up, I shake my head. "No," I reply to the man. "I don't think I will."
The man looks startled, and he glances at his hand in confusion, then scowls at me. "Blasphemer," he spits.
I have no idea what that's supposed to mean, but I don't care, I need to get //away//. I stumble backwards and smash my hands against the buttons in the platform bay to close the door. It feels like my lungs are empty and straining. I've never used my power like that before. Never //tried to see// before a vision came on its own. My whole body is shaking and my vision is crackling in and out of focus as if lightning is breaking through my eyes. I try to reach for the platform's buttons to send me back down to street-level, but I can't coordinate my limbs and hands.
The man and the shadow slam up against the platform's doors.
"Filthy thing," the man sneers, his voice muffled by the glass, even as he's putting the blade edge to the door seam and starting to lever the doors open. "You think you have a right to exist?"
I collapse against the back of the platform's walls. The shaking has overcome me. Being so close to that blade is too bone-rattlingly awful, and my arms and legs stop listening to any command I'm giving them. //Move Hari-ah. MOVE!//
It's not working.
I'm going to die.
But there's a //flash// of green light just as the man wedges the doors open, and an overwhelming CLANG of sound.
I peek my eyes open -- not even aware of when I shut them -- and see that, instead of me being decidedly dead, there's a new figure standing right in front of me, facing the other man. A slender, silver sword blocks the fall of the golden spear.
The new person does something quick with their wrist which makes the man cry out, and sends the spear skittering out of the man's hand, back down the access-way. The man curses and stumbles back after his weapon. The shadow dodges around the man and puts itself between us and him, swelling up and hissing at us. The new figure turns to look at me.
They appear to be a woman. I take her in in the instant we have as the man scrambles for his weapon. She seems so //real// in this hallway, as if the world is more defined and sharp now that she's here. She's tall and broad shouldered, with short cropped black hair half-falling in her eyes. She's dressed in a short-sleeved tunic which bares strong, muscled biceps and vambraces which cover her forearms. She has startlingly vivid green eyes, and below the left one, a red line pools underneath the eye and drips in a straight thin stripe down her face.
Her gaze travels up and down me, and she looks sort of slightly surprised. "Huh," she says.
Down the hall, the man gathers up his awful blade. The shadow skitters away, giving the man and weapon a wide berth.
"You might want to be careful using that skill of yours, sweetheart," the newcomer says to me, shifting her gaze to the man. Her voice is low and husky. "Handy for me to find you, but it also means everyone within a few leagues can feel you at it."
<<if $Chapter1_7b is true>>\
Oh. Was that how they were following me in the vision?
<</if>>\
The man advances angrily. "Do you have any idea what you're getting involved in?" he snaps at the woman.
The woman tips her head, watching the man closely. "As far as I can see it–" She spins her sword in her hand lazily, "Doing your job for you?"
"Arrogant!" the man snaps, and lunges at her.
They trade blows frighteningly fast, the woman spinning and sliding in what looks like a fluid, effortless dance, while the man jabs the spear in sharp, precise movements. He doesn't seem to be able to get a hit on her though, and the deadlock breaks as she flips into a spinning kick from a low stance, kicking him hard his core, and he gets pushed back down the access way, tumbling into the shadow as he goes.
The woman looks back to where I am still pinned in place, frozen. There's a bright light in her eyes, a sheen of sweat along her brow, and she has a wild grin on her lips. "You're going to need to run." She jabs a thumb over her shoulder. "I'll keep this one busy."
She slaps the 'down' button on the platform, and gives me a nod. "Be careful, and don't let anyone find you."
<<if $Chapter1_7a is true>>\
"Wait." I scramble up and grab the sensor on the doors. I can barely string a thought together but I have to warn her. "Be careful of– of that blade. I think if it cuts you… something terrible will happen."
Her eyebrows lift, and she glances back at the man for a second. Then she nods back at me, her expression grown dark. "Thanks. I'll be careful." She pushes my hand off the sensor. "Now run."
<<set $DarienFriendship to Math.clamp($DarienFriendship + 2, 0, 100)>>\
<<else>>\
"Wait." I scramble up and grab the sensor on the doors. My limbs barely do what I tell them but I have to know more. "Who are you?" I manage to squeeze out.
"Me?" She gives me a piercing look – for that second her face is hard, and analytical, sizing me up – but then she shrugs and winks at me. "I suppose I'm here to save you or something."
She pushes my hand off the sensor. "Now go."
<<set $DarienFriendship to Math.clamp($DarienFriendship + 1, 0, 100)>>\
<<set $DarienRomance to Math.clamp($DarienRomance + 1, 0, 100)>>\
<</if>>\
She slips out of the platform just as the doors are closing.
I can hear the man snarling at her through the glass. "You're a traitor to your people, girl!"
The woman drops into a ready stance. "I'm pretty sure that's my line," she says coolly. And they go blade to blade again, even as I descend out of sight.
It only takes a few seconds for the platform to reach street level. When it does, I stare out dumbly at the still-raining evening for a split-second.
Then I give myself a hard slap to both cheeks.
//Get it together, Hari-ah!//
My legs are still shaky, but it seems like the stakes are essentially, 'run or die', and I don't particularly like the idea of dying today.
So, breath caught in my throat, I run.
~...~...~
To be Continued...
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