The most heartbreaking part about the world is that there are ghosts everywhere and they are scared of scaring you. But that is the fact of death: it is only ever a transitory state. Hence why it is known as the Interstitial. The "afterlife" is nothing more than a boundary.

Treatise on the Various States of Life and Unlife

Raxri took a single step. A flinch from Sintra. A tension in Angko's shoulders. What are you doing? their silence asked.

"We are not here to trouble you further," Raxri's voice was a low tide. "We are here to satisfy your anger. To let you hold it, fully, so you may finally embrace your nature—which is fire."

Through a curtain of tears, Usisi laughed—a sound like cracking coral. "What are you, some kind of monk? Leave. What… what comes after I get what I want?"

"Peace," Raxri said. "You will move on. There will be rest for you, Usisi."

"No. There won't. I will light the flame of the next life. Then I will keep living."

"But it will not be *you*, will it?" Raxri's words were gentle, precise. "The next being… it will be another. A new soul. You will not have to carry this life—what was done to you, what you have done—into the next. Though its weight may yet keep you in the Whorl."

Usisi sighed. "Why am I crying?" She wiped at her cheeks, a child's gesture. Her tears were tiny, burning suns.

No one answered. Raxri, instead, offered: "Trust us. We will free you. Your suffering does not have to be eternal."

"But I want the impossible. I want Trasan slain. I want him to suffer as I have suffered."

Raxri's mind was a swift, dark current. "He will. That is inevitable. All beings drink from the cup of their own actions. But you must trust us. We will slay him for you. We will win. But we need your blessing."

Usisi's gaze was a physical pressure. Sintra Kennin held his ground, a statue in the periphery, unafraid. "You are stubborn. No sane person does this for a ghost. Especially one who has haunted them."

"It is because I understand. And I can only empathize. No one should suffer such a fate." Raxri knelt. The floorboards were cold. "Grant us your blessing. I will be the agent of your karma. I will enact your vengeance."

Usisi's scowl remained, a carved mask. "Perhaps you are the instrument of Trasan's final karma." She released a breath that smelled of salt and ash. "Then go. Earn my peace."

Raxri bowed, a deep folding of the self. "We will."

"You should know—I cannot go near Trasan's palace. He has sewn it shut with talismans and wards. They are tied to his soul-force. To his four great generals, the Shark Knights. I am barred from the Ocean Lord's house."

Sintra Kennin gave a single, slow nod. "We will find a way."

Usisi's burning eyes found him. "It pleases me to have a Spirit Prince for my cause."

Sintra offered a lax, almost weary, salute.

"We will see to it," Raxri said.

Usisi's voice softened to a murmur, like waves in a distant cave. "And know this truly: High Chief Trasan's roots are deep in the Oceanic World. If you succeed, the repercussions will ring across the whole of Maritime Law. There will be consequences."

"We will be prepared for such repercussions," Raxri nodded. "They will be but ripples in the grand scheme of the Law."

"Your tenacity has no bottom. You would walk through hell for someone as inconsequential as me?"

"No one is inconsequential. Hell is nothing to justice," Raxri replied. Angko's face contorted into an impressed grimace.

Usisi exhaled. As she did, every candle in the room bloomed with a spectral, blue flame. "Very well. Take these." She offered a single stick of magenta incense, and a porcelain holder shaped like a begging-bowl teacup. "I will keep the hauntings of Imos quiet while you work. If you need me, light this. Call my name three times before my lithograph in the attic. You will find it. But you may only do this once."

Raxri bowed again, lower. "Does the ghost queen set a deadline for this work?"

She looked at Angko. Angko managed a tired smile.

Usisi said: "I can wait. I have waited ten years. I can wait a few more. But you will show me proof of your work. If you do not… the next time you step into Imos, I will kill you and yours with the force of a thousand burning ghost-suns."

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

Sintra Kennin gulped. Raxri only nodded. "We will do our absolute best. High Chief Trasan will fall. You will get your peace."

Usisi breathed again. "Forgive me for harrowing you. I trust you… against my better judgment. Become my blade. Hone your edge. May your sharpness reach its mark."

"Our thrusts will pierce his heart."

***

After, Angko doused them in incense smoke. "What are you doing?" Raxri asked, as the fragrant grey curls enveloped them, a second skin.

"Cleansing the Negative Spirit," Angko said, her movements a ritual dance. "Ghosts are storehouses of it. It clings like silt."

"Negative Spirit?" Raxri tilted their head.

"The world has Spirit, just as we do. Some call it 'energy'. 'Dark matter'. 'Vibes'." Angko spun the incense bundle. "It is a parascience. Negative Spirit attracts misfortune. We need all the positive Spirit we can get."

"And what makes Spirit positive?"

"Gods. Joyful places. Worship. Anything born of positive human emotion." She led them down the stairs. "But your road is rough. I have felt Trasan's wards. I cannot break them. I cannot defuse them. The only one I know who could is the Ultramystic. And the Ultramystic is notoriously pacifistic."

Raxri looked to Sintra. "We will see if we must deal with the wards at all. Thank you, *achi* Angko. For everything."

She waved a dismissive hand. "I am in favor of the change you bring." She fetched a platter wrapped in banana leaf. "Rice cakes. For your home. And tell Akazha I miss her."

***

The Moon was a pale hunter high in the sky. The 20th hour. "I thought the ritual would take longer," Raxri said to Sintra, stepping through the door.

Akazha and Ampalila were at the table, eating fried rice from a leaf wrap. "You've returned!" Ampalila said.

"Welcome back," Akazha mumbled, her mouth full.

"We have rice cakes from achi Angko," Raxri said, setting the platter down. "She misses you."

Akazha rolled her eyes. Ampalila grinned. "How considerate. I love rice cakes!" She unveiled the offering: cakes the colour of bright pink lotus blossoms, alongside thin slices of pandan chiffon.

"Delectable. Perfect." Ampalila took a bite. "Also, Raxri—that outfit. A burgeoning beauty. Perhaps you should present femininely more often?"

Raxri smiled, a mock-embarrassed tuck of hair behind the ear. "Oh, Captain, you're too much…!"

Akazha rolled her eyes again. "Stop that. Don't." But a smile threatened at the corners of her mouth.

"How was the training, Akazha?" Sintra asked, sitting. He took a cake.

A shrug. "Good. The Captain is a diligent teacher. I am armed with new weapons. I will be sore tomorrow."

Raxri sat, lit a cigarette instead of eating. "These are so convenient," they said, exhaling.

Ampalila laughed. "Old pipes and cigars are for artisans. The common worker uses cigarettes." She turned to Akazha. "Apply your ointments. We have little time. Rest comes after you master the fundamentals."

Akazha sighed. "Yes, master. And you? What did your visit to *achi* Angko wrought?"

Sintra Kennin told the story. Angko's counsel. The encounter with Furusun. The audience with the ghost-queen Usisi.

When he finished, Ampalila laughed. "I knew you'd pull the boys in!" she said to Raxri. "And Ratra? Hilarious."

Akazha mopped her face with a hand. "So we must maintain that act with Trasan. But if the ghost speaks true… the High Chief has had decades to strengthen his Wards. Powerful, specialized. My Third Eye detected nothing."

Ampalila nodded. "That is what makes it formidable. Trasan is a true warlock."

"What is his level? In the language of cultivation?" Raxri asked.

A shrug. "Higher than me. He is an active participant in Maritime Law—a true High Chief. That is one of the few reliable measures of power."

Sintra Kennin folded his arms. "That does not bode well."

"No," Akazha agreed. "And if he is a Warlock of considerable cultivation, he will see through Raxri's surface-level changes."

Sintra's brow furrowed. "True shapeshifting can deceive the Unenlightened. But surface changes are easy to see through. For one with a cultivated Third Eye."

Akazha blew a smoke ring. "But cultivation is not a straight line. A martial artist may be defeated by a magick art. There is no single measure. Though, often, one highly cultivated in a single art is more skilled than a dabbler in many."

"I see," said Raxri. "So the ladder Abbot Wairojashra spoke of…?"

"A holistic attempt. It mostly applies to students of Giant Stone Monastery. The world is… complex," Akazha said, shrugging.

"And you have your *other* problem," Ampalila cut in. "The Shark Knights. A formidable lot. A funny thing—the High Chief needs no protection. So they are his errand boys. His charismatic force."

"But," Raxri mused, taking a drag, "they could shore up a martial deficiency, if he has one."

"True," Sintra nodded. "And he more than makes up for it. There are four of them."

"You met the second one. Furusun?" Ampalila leaned back, scratching her chin. "The pretty boy."

Raxri blinked. Nodded. "That's… one way to put it."

"Don't tell me you're enraptured," Akazha snorted.

"No. It's not that. He was… interesting."

"He is," Ampalila said. "His strength is extraordinary. He practices the Shining Cut Through The Void Art. A sword style from Amatsu. They say it can cut through anything. He never unsheathes his blade unless he must. Most techniques are performed with it sheathed. Interesting stuff."

"I suppose," Akazha stood. "Our first task is to learn the extent of Trasan's Magick and Martial Arts. Knowledge is half the battle. Then we plan."

"How do you propose we do that?" Sintra asked.

A shrug. "Perhaps those mantris we spoke with would impart that information?"

Sintra nodded. "Right. I will visit them tomorrow. Will you come, Raxri?"

Raxri nodded. "Perhaps."

"I will stay," Akazha said. "To finish my training."

Raxri turned to Ampalila. "Captain. What do you know of the other Shark Knights? It is crucial."

Ampalila tilted her head. "Hmm. The others are shrouded. The third is a young woman. Cloud Poison. An agent name, likely. Expert in assassination and espionage. Deathly beautiful, by Nunuk standards: clear brown skin, a moon-face, bright round eyes.

"The fourth is heavily clad. A mix of talismanic fiber and coral steel. Carries a hammer fit for arming giants. His name is Hri Pada Gusut. Some say he is a prince. Others say he is one of Trasan's bastards."

Raxri listened, intent. "And the first knight?"

Captain Ampalila shuddered. "As for the First Shark Kn—"

A knock resounded at the door.

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