This is a story bible for my serial Requiem of the Moth and other stories in the same setting. A reader suggested this to me and as Requiem is going into its fourth season, I thought a place to look up names and concepts might be not only useful but possibly even entertaining.

Feel free to skip around or refer back to it as you read the story itself. Obviously, writing the story takes priority but I will try to keep the information up to date too so you always find what you’re looking for, whether you’re just starting from chapter 1 or refreshing your memory before diving into the latest season.

I realise that illustrations might enhance the descriptions provided here. I’m toying with the idea of sketching some of the characters, fauna and flora myself but there’s no telling when I’ll get around to it or how well it will turn out. For now, it is what it is: words only. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy strolling through this world!

Important spoiler warning: I try to avoid spoilers when I can but there are some, specifically in the characters and factions parts. If you’re not up to date with the story, I recommend you skip those parts and return once you’re caught up.

The World of Maraytha

Maraytha is the fantasy world that Requiem of the Moth is set in. Believe it or not, I have been developing this world for nearly 20 years! In 2006, I first started scribbling ideas and maps into a notebook during class. Over time, I scrapped a lot, changed or polished a lot more, until the current version emerged.

The central concept is its cosmology: Everything consists of hsi, the breath of all sentient beings, living or dead, and sunh, the breath of the world. Through learning to control and manipulate one’s own hsi and the sunh of the world, one gains extraordinary abilities1. Acting in harmony with sunh is easy. Acting against sunh requires a strong will and a lot of effort because it would be acting against the natural flow of the world. Using hsi other than one’s own is often frowned upon or outright banned.

That being said, Maraytha is designed as a low fantasy world. This means that magic is rare and most people don’t know anything about it. This is why the characters in Requiem never use the word magic.

Maraytha is populated by many ethnicities but the Sedrivar are the most fleshed out among them.

The Sedrivar

The Sedrivar are short (160-165 cm on average) and appear delicate with pale skin and hair ranging in colour from white to grey to silver. They are extremely sensitive to sunlight and venture above ground only at night, if at all. This has led them to settle underground many generations ago. They also have excellent night vision and hearing.

Sedrivaris with its capital Kandamsin is located under a huge mountain range that houses precious metals and stones in its depths. The first settlers were miners, building ever more complex tunnels and cave systems as the Sedrivar came to not only work but spend their entire lives underground. Resources that require daylight to cultivate such as wood, vegetables, and dairy are scarce and coveted as luxury goods.

Sedrivar society is strictly divided into four classes:

1. the nobility or clans

2. the priesthood

3. artists, craftsmen (organised into drip houses), and merchants

4. farmers and servants

Relationships are ruled by intricate social rituals such as bowing, polite address, the exchange of gifts and favours, etc. This is especially true for the noble clans, commoner relations tend to be more relaxed in comparison.

The Sedrivar are governed by the Great Council consisting of representatives from all four classes. After protests, the Great Council was expanded several times to over 1000 members but effectively the noble clans are still in the majority. The clans also elect one ruler from their ranks called the Vesilim.

The Sethri (Forty) are elected from Council members and serve as court of justice as well as preparing new laws for discussion and voting in the Great Council. The Vessi (Ten), also elected from Council members, deal with security, intelligence gathering, prosecution of treason or other serious crimes against the government as well as anything concerning foreigners2.

There are many unique aspects of Sedrivar society and culture, such as the the drip houses that serve as family-run guilds, the fact that they’re highly hierarchical but also highly gender equal, or the traditions and customs surrounding the priesthood of the Deep that I’d love to dig into but that would go beyond the scope of this overview.

Let me know what you’re most curious about and I might expand on it soon!

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Fauna and Flora in Sedrivaris

Blackvein Moth

With their large, black wings criss-crossed by white and silver veins, these moths are prized by nobles and adorn only the most luxurious feasts. One such occasion was the annual trade fair taking place in Requiem Season 1, the Blackveins for which were hunted by Usira’s cousins Velin and Selin.

Oat Sallow Moth

Oat Sallows are small and pearly white grey-dotted wings. Shy and tasty, they are often used as garnish, so to speak, in an arrangement with larger moths. In Requiem Season 1, Yun accompanies Usira on a hunting expedition for oat sallows that goes horribly wrong.

Stormcloak Hawk Moth

These moths have large, dark grey forewings and vibrant orange-red eye-patterned hindwings. They carry poisonous dust they can spread by rapidly fluttering their wings, as Yun learned first-hand in Requiem Season 1…

Ruby Tapestry Moth

The wings of these mid-sized moths are red, orange, and grey with a tapestry-like pattern that gave them their name. The pupae are popular due to their sweet taste, often further sweetened by adding caramel or cinnamon. Adult moths taste too pungent to be enjoyed as a delicacy. These moths play a central role in Requiem Season 2, when some nobles fall sick after eating a meal of Ruby Tapestry pupae.

Calpia Moth

This rare pale moth often inhabits underground lakes in the coldest and deepest parts of the mountain range the Sedrivar call their home. Consumption is strictly forbidden as it is only used during clan bondings3: After raising a pair of Calpia Moths in the months leading up to it, the new partners combine their blood and give it to their moths to drink. The moths are then set free to signify their wish to always stay united as family. The moths’ behaviour as they fly from the cage is said to foretell what bonded life will be like for the couple.

Lougi

The Lougi is a medium-sized rodent native to the Zillia Downs. It feeds on fruit, vegetables, seeds, and small insects. When Usira visits the Downs in Requiem Season 2, he hears a Lougi sniffing around their packs at night, probably trying to steal their rations.

Noble Swift

The Noble Swift is a medium-sized bird native to bogs on the Zillia Downs. It is sooty grey to black with a distinct white collar and slight blue gloss. On average, they are 20 cm tall with a wingspan of 45-50 cm. As aerial insectivores, they feed on flies, dragonflies, mosquitoes, butterflies, moths etc. If given the opportunity, they also feed on moth pupae, providing an important clue for Usira in Requiem Season 2.

Glowshroom

Inspired by luminous moss, glowshrooms are mushrooms that can be harvested in sponge-like bushels and treated so their luminous quality is preserved for a long time. The Sedrivar tie these to their belts or carry them around in lieu of torches, as they are far easier to harvest and store than wood. They emanate a weak blue-green light that is nevertheless enough for the Sedrivar to go about their daily life.

Characters

Isvalri Usira

• Eyes: Pale blue

• Hair: White and very long, usually tied into a braid

• Age: 24

• Class: Craftsman

• Profession: Moth catcher

Usira is one of the best living moth catchers and member of the Isvalri drip house. When the Noe clan decides to sponsor his drip house, he also slips into the role of liaison between the clan and his house. This is how he meets Noe Yun and ends up working with him to protect both their interests.

Usira is hard-working and takes pride in his abilities. He always tries to do the right thing. His family and their drip house is everything to him. In a society as cruel and corrupt as Kandamsin, however, his is not the most practical attitude. Working with Noe Yun forces him to confront his own ideals in the face of a harsh reality of discrimination and social injustice and makes him question what he would sacrifice to survive.

Noe Yun

• Eyes: Orange

• Hair: Ivory and long, usually tied back in a messy ponytail

• Age: 26

• Class: Noble

• Profession: Vessi (intelligence officer), later treasurer of clan Noe

After creating Zhiva and Zhiven, his incredibly life-like puppet twins, Yun was hailed as the best puppeteer in the history of clan Noe. However, most of his peers are a little afraid of him. From his loner tendencies to his unnerving habit of using his scarred left cheek to make others uncomfortable, he defies expectations at every turn. His sole ambition is to become so powerful that no one can order him around or hurt him again. He seems to carry a mysterious grudge against his clan head Zakiva.

When he is forced to work with Usira due to the latter’s unique skill and insight, he has to confront emotions he has always pushed aside and choose between a lonely life at the top or a lesser position that allows him to keep Usira’s respect—and even affection.

Other Characters

in alphabetical order

• Caxian Lien: daughter of Caxian Yulie, in a relationship with Noe Izo

• Caxian Yulie: clan head, mother of Caxian Lien

• Isvalri Nanba: father of Isvalri Usira, bookkeeper

• Isvalri Selin: cousin of Isvalri Usira

• Isvalri Usaavi: mother of Isvalri Usira, head of Isvalri drip house

• Isvalri Velin: cousin of Isvalri Usira, obsessed with poet Ryliss

• Melyi: member of Ithreyesh, contact and advisor to Isvalri Usira

• Noe Cress: cousin of Noe Yun

• Noe Izo: cousin of Noe Yun, in a relationship with Caxian Lien

• Noe Lisith: uncle of Noe Yun

• Noe Shuli: aunt of Noe Yun, good friend to Noe Zakiva

• Noe Vylira: cousin of Noe Yun, exiled

• Noe Zakiva: clan head, aunt of Noe Yun

• Pai Rilan: socialite who runs regular arts salon

• Ryliss: famous and enigmatic poet, no one knows their true identity although most assume Ryliss to be a male commoner

• Ulan: member of Ithreyesh, contact and advisor to Noe Yun

• Yvara: maidservant to Noe Vylira

• Zhiva: puppet of Noe Yun

• Zhiven: puppet of Noe Yun

Factions

The Clans

As mentioned, the clans make up the noble class and elect their own ruler, the Vesilim from their ranks. The hierarchical system extends within their class as well, as they are divided into lesser and greater clans according to wealth and power.

Many clans are known for economic monopolies, patronage of certain trades or drip houses, or special abilities4. No one knows whether these abilities are hereditary or can be learned by anyone as their wielders are almost always greater clans that guard their knowledge jealously.

The Sedrivar are ruled by the Great Council and the Sethri but due to their majority in the Council, the clans still hold considerable sway. Over time, this has evolved into a sense of superiority. Most clan members see commoners as beneath them and think nothing of abusing their servants. To them, this is the natural order of things.

Noe

The Noe are famous for manufacturing and animating puppets. After refining this art over generations, their puppets could now be mistaken for living beings. They are employed as servants, bodyguards, and messengers, although they are still too clumsy to fight effectively. The Noe also patronise the theatre and craftspeople that supply their puppet parts. All in all, this clan is highly respected but also feared due to the uncanny nature of their puppetry.

Noe Yun, his cousin Noe Vylira, and many other characters appearing in Requiem are members of this clan.

Caxian

The Caxian are a minor clan and known for patronising body care and beauty product drip houses. Many of its members enjoy performing arts and sponsor young actors or dancers. Other clans look down on them because they have adopted performers once or twice in the past, which is frowned upon as diluting their noble blood.

In Requiem Season 2, a member of this clan falls ill after consuming a certain moth species and Yun is called to investigate.

Pai

The Pai are a minor clan known for their patronage of the fine arts, especially painting, metal sculpture, and architecture. Some of their moderate wealth is in natural resources such as stone and metals too. Members of this clan often have white hair and eyes in shades of blue.

In Requiem Season 3, Usira tries to befriend Pai Rilan by visiting her fine arts salon.

An Don

Clan An Don is known for producing talented public speakers, lawyers, and judges. Slowly but surely, they gained considerable influence due to their diplomatic prowess. The current Vesilim is a member of this clan.

Other clans

in alphabetical order

• Meruun: diligent officials and bankers but also frowned on due to their frequent association with the merchant class

• Shishiyyin: provide discreet “disappearing” (read: assassination) services to clans and the most wealthy merchants, as the Sedrivar believe that having one legal way of getting rid of your political opponents prevents them from resorting to illegal and potentially messier options. Due to its special position this clan has its own laws, regulations, and restrictions.

The Temple of the Deep

As its own class, the priesthood and especially the Temple of the Deep holds considerable power. Among all the deities and ancestors revered by the Sedrivar, the God of the Deep is the most important, giving shelter and providing resources such as stone, metals, precious gems, and food. He is the God of darkness, night, blood, and that which is hidden.

His priests wear black robes and dye their long hair black. They honour their God by dancing with ritual bells, which is why joining the priesthood is also called ‘taking the bells’. They regularly drink diluted and spiced blood to purify their bodies.

Since anyone can join the temple, it is a popular way for commoners to receive a proper education and employment. Still, the higher ranks are barred to those who lack the social connections or grit to claw their way to the top.

Drip Houses

The drip houses are a guild-like system for trades and crafts. Every legitimate profession in this category is required to carry one or more drip names. In addition, each profession is assigned a clothing colour for all members to wear. Many drip houses have been in the same family for generations, developing their own customs and rituals. Moth catchers, for example, venerate the Moth as their patron deity and maintain shrines dedicated to Her in their drip houses. They also venerate their founders and ancestors.

• Isvalri: the most respected (but not the only) moth catcher drip house, recently patronised by the Noe clan, members wear lavender clothing

• Silvedhri: explorers and gatherers who specialise in trips to the surface, equally admired and shunned due to fear of the sun and its effect on the Sedrivar, members of this drip house are seen as wild and adventurous, they wear light grey clothing

• jewellery drip houses: members wear saffron clothing

• tailoring drip houses: members wear ice blue clothing

Ithreyesh

This section contains major spoilers for Requiem of the Moth Season 2 onward.

Ithreyesh is a secret organisation dedicated to improving the lives of commoners, giving them more rights, and relaxing the rigid social class system. It recruits members from all classes and doesn’t enforce class hierarchy within its ranks. Due to its secret nature and dangerous activities, every candidate has to cut all ties to their old life by staging their own death and taking a new name before they are accepted as a regular member. All members wear dark, practical clothing and bat masks covering their faces. They seem to be trained not only in martial arts and acrobatics but also in mental skills such as hypnotism and emotional manipulation.

To finance their activities, Ithreyesh takes ‘donations’ from some clans and merchants. The means by which they take those donations can be questionable, as Yun learns in Requiem Season 2.

The leadership of Ithreyesh is shrouded in mystery. No one but the highest-ranking members know who they are or where they reside.

Previous chapter

Content warnings1

The Awakening of the Deep is published two twists after the Pai clan suppresses news of burglary at their mansion. It flattens the city like a gas explosion.

The clans reel as servants and drip house representatives start talking back, asking questions and demanding to be treated better. Noble employers are forced to compete for their employees. Commoners walk out of clan offices. The highest bidder win.

The Temple of the Deep is bombarded with criticism. Attendance drops but the High Priest locks his heavy coffers and convinces himself that clan donations will tide him over.

Merchants, fat from trading spices, surface plants, and other luxury goods, clamour for more council seats. Some demand the right to adopt a clan name for themselves—those either fall silent or disappear.

Clans stupid or desperate enough try to prevent their workers from leaving. Skirmishes break out, blood is spilled on hewn rock, mansions are raided.

Other clans keep an iron hold of their servants through violence and fear. The Noe rely on their puppets to keep order in their mansions and other facilities, as they always have. Most people grumble but stay in line.

With The Awakening of the Deep, the chasm between nobles and commoners has been bridged for the first time in history. One slim book, containing a story deceptive in its simplicity, has given not only a reason but a call to rise up against the clans. It has suggested a new creation myth and given the Sedrivar the gift of freedom from their old myths and traditions.

It will take time to seep into the collective consciousness but the first seeds of change have been sown in Kandamsin, the heart of their civilisation.

Of course, those who benefit the most from the current reign resist. The temple declares The Awakening of the Deep to be heretical and bans its possession. The city guard visits random households and seizes every copy found. The council investigates its publishing in hopes of seizing those responsible but learns nothing.

Suspicion keeps heads down and voices low in the streets. Fear turns into rage turns back into fear at the drop of a hairpin. Lightning hangs in the air, sizzling with danger and possibility.

When Yun approaches the city gate, two figures are silhouetted against the blue-green lights of Kandamsin. Is that…?

It is.

Usira is as pristine as ever in white clan robes, his hair braided and tied high on his head, amethyst earrings shining against his neck. He takes three steps to meet Yun at the gate and extends his arms, close to but not quite public affection. “Welcome back,” he says.

After the long journey through unbuilt tunnels, no two words have ever sounded sweeter. Yun grins. “I’m back.”

The man next to Usira bows. His face is so ordinary that Yun makes a point of committing it to memory, afraid he’ll forget as soon as he looks away. “It is an honour, Vessi.”

“This is Melyi, my contact,” Usira explains. “He has urgent matters to discuss with us.”

Yun narrows his eyes. The way he emphasised the word contact leaves no doubt that Melyi represents the organisation they’ve both been working with all this time. Mindful of the public, he follows Usira into the clan quarter. They don’t touch but their sleeves brush more than once.

At the Noe mansion, Yun leaves his entourage and ditches his dusty overcoat for a fresh one. Hiding his white robes and face under the coarse grey fabric and hood, he’s confident he won’t be recognised. Usira assures him that their reputation is restored but he still won’t take any chances. Not today.

As they descend in the basket lift, the city assaults his senses: fish sizzling on open grills, fragrant tea mixing with steam, sulphur from the bath houses, the grinding of stone in the workshops. He drinks in the glorious chaos of it all. If Usira knew, he’d never hear the end of it but Yun has missed Kandamsin.

Above all, he has missed the great game.

They duck into a tavern leaning against a bath house off the warehouse district, where labourers brush shoulders with artisans in the stuffy dim. While Usira orders at the counter, Yun leans close to Melyi. “Any news of Ulan?”

“Ulan?”

“The one who acted as my contact.”

Melyi nods. “Unfortunately she’s been detained. It’s part of the news we have to share.”

Usira returns with tea glasses and a bag of snacks. Yun shoves a handful of roasted nuts into his mouth before gesturing at Melyi to continue. Instead, Usira picks up the thread. “It’s my fault. She was accompanying me on that plan I hinted at in the letter. I messed up.” He looks down at his fidgeting hands. “I asked her to cover our tracks so our clan wouldn’t be blamed for what we did. She was captured.”

Still munching on nuts, Yun reaches for Usira’s hand. “Ulan always knows what she gets herself into. What matters is that your plan worked. Just tell me everything.”

Usira squeezes his hand, collecting himself. Aided by Melyi, he explains about Ithreyesh, about the manuscript, its connection to the Pai clan, its publishing and the ripples it has sent through the city. When they fall silent, Yun stares at Usira. “What hidden depths you reveal!”

Usira flinches as if Yun insulted rather than complimented him. “I wish there had been a way that didn’t hurt the Pai. Rilan hasn’t sent a word since.”

“Congratulations on making your first enemy.” At Usira’s murderous glance, Yun lifts his hands in peace. “You did it to survive. I’m glad you learned that lesson. It’ll be easier going forward.”

“I don’t intend to do it again.”

You might have to.

And Usira knows it too. After gulping the rest of his tea, he prompts: “It’s your turn. I’m dying to know how you pulled off that trick with the puppets.”

Before Yun can reply, Melyi stands. “And that’s my cue. Honourable Vessi, I’m glad you made it back to the capital safe and sound. These are dangerous times but with influential and bold personalities such as yourselves supporting our cause, I believe we can come out on the other side stronger than ever. Thanks to you, our goals are within reach. You will hear more from us soon.”

With a fresh bag of roasted nuts, they trail him outside and wander back towards the cliff. Yun weighs the words on the tip of his tongue but the time for secrets is past. If they are to work towards this new goal with Ithreyesh, they’ll have to share everything. “I knew there was a way to control puppets created by others,” he begins, “because when Ulan contacted me for the first time, she used Zhiva and Zhiven to send threatening messages. What would be more effective than making a Noe mistrust his own puppets?”

“I had no idea. Was she a Noe before she joined?”

“I’m almost certain she was a clan member but if any Noe with her capabilities disappeared in the last fifty yarns, I would know.” He shakes his head. “Anyway, it took a lot of persisting and negotiating before she taught me. I lost more twists than I would’ve liked and had to make concessions to Ithreyesh. Not only money,” he explains, “but favours to be redeemed as well. I’m at least as much their creature as you are now.”

“If Ulan isn’t a Noe by birth, does that mean anyone can control your puppets?”

Yun sighs. He should’ve known his clever bonded wouldn’t be distracted. “Only those with Noe blood can create and breathe life into puppets. Ulan, however, has perfected certain skills that enabled her to meddle with their instructions.”

“What skills?”

Yun pins Usira’s gaze. “Not here. If you insist, I’ll show you back at the workshop.”

“I do insist.”

He nods. “As you wish.”

They walk on. After a while, Usira asks: “What are your plans for Shuli?”

Yun hums, drawing out the silence. The tea and nuts have taken some of the exhaustion of the road and replaced it with mirth. “She has a gift for finance but she’s too conservative. Large-scale change will come, whether she supports it or not.”

Usira speaks slowly, as if reciting a memorised poem. “On the whole, the clans prefer new blood to lead them, keep them fresh. After we worked so hard for ours, I think most of your relatives wouldn’t mind seeing you at the helm.”

“You’ve been listening to your tutors.” Yun grins. “Indeed, I believe it is time to give Shuli the treasury and have her do what she does best. Are you relieved?” After all, Usira asked him to spare her. Zakiva, on the other hand… no one has the right to interfere between Zakiva and him.

But Usira doesn’t ask about the former clan head. “I’m glad,” he says instead. When Yun offers him the nuts, he takes a handful and chews. “Before all this, I never thought you would listen to me. Not only you, anyone… I was hesitant to stick my head out, afraid helping others would ruin me and my family. What could a commoner like me even do? But it’s different now. Melyi tells me my new position makes me a valuable asset to the organisation. Anyway, I can’t look away anymore. Whether you’re their creature or not, you’ve given me courage.”

Yun’s skin tingles. He doesn’t know what to say so he blurts out: “Vy believed in their cause.”

“Noe Vylira?” Usira snorts. “Didn’t see that coming.”

“You didn’t know her and apparently I didn’t either.” Yun sighs. Back at the foot of the cliff, he watches two noblewomen get into the basket lift. They shouldn’t recognise Usira and him but he still pulls the hood deeper into his brow. “You’re not the only one who got inspired. True, I denied the effect you had on me for the longest time. I thought it was a weakness I had to eliminate. I still do but…” He sighs. “You also convinced me that our world doesn’t have to be this cruel. That we could try and change it for the better.”

Usira shoots him a wary glance. “I told you how commoners were suffering under the clans so many times, trying to get you to see. Why now? What has changed?”

“What has changed…” Yun faces Usira in the shadow of the rock wall. Sun and heat, they might be in public but no one is watching them anyway. He stands on his tiptoes, pulls himself up by Usira’s shoulder, and presses his lips against Usira’s. “What has changed, you fool, is that I love you and I want to make you happy.” He flashes a crooked grin. “Turns out, caring for one commoner makes you care for all of them.”

Yun likes to think that Usira’s sigh isn’t as long-suffering as his usual ones. Under the hood, he tangles one hand in Yun’s hair and kisses him again, nipping at his bottom lip. “You’re infuriating.”

“I take that as a compliment.”

The way back to their quarters is the sweetest agony.

Author Notes

And that’s a wrap on Requiem of the Moth season three! On a scale from fine to epic, how do we feel about it?

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This chapter sat in my drafts for the longest time for two reasons…

First, I wanted to make the first part more show, don’t tell but ultimately decided against it. When I recently watched Brandon Sanderson’s excellent lectures on writing fantasy and science fiction, one piece of advice stuck out to me: Yes, doing or acting is always more powerful than telling. It’s the difference between “Charlie was nervous” and “Charlie tapped his foot”. An amateur might interpret this as: I have to show all the time. A pro, however, knows that showing also takes more words and uses both wisely, depending on what the story needs. In this case, as it’s the last chapter in the story arc and I wanted to give it a zoomed-out, large-scale feel, I thought a little exposition might be better than drawing it out with multiple smaller but wordier scenes.

Second, I knew Usira would ask how Yun managed to control Zakiva’s puppets but hadn’t decided on the details of how that would work yet. We writers sometimes procrastinate on important plot decisions, don’t we? In the end, it turned out to be something Yun can’t really explain in words, or in public. Plus, it provides a neat little bridge to the next season, doesn’t it?

Speaking of next season: While there’s no thrilling cliffhanger this time, I do hope the overall situation in Kandamsin makes you excited for more… Needless to say, Yun and Usira are going to need their renewed resolve to weather the storm to come!

Behind the scenes, I’ve enjoyed a little break from Requiem but I’m excited to dive into planning and writing season four now! So excited, in fact, that I designed a new banner, the one adorning this chapter.

Do you like it? I’m proud to say that this one is 100% AI-free too, something I’ve wanted to achieve for the longest time. While I love that AI can provide us with great art for our stories, I’m aware that current generative AI training methods are highly unethical and will refrain from using any AI-generated art in this newsletter going forward.

While I work on season four, there will be short stories and other goodies to tide you over. As always, thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts in the comments!

Previous Chapter

Content warnings1

“My lord, breakfast is ready.”

Usira burrows deeper under his blanket. If he pushes his nose into the pillow, there’s still a trace of Yun’s scent: ginger, the oil he uses in his workshop, and some herb Usira can’t identify. It’s been four twists since Yun’s exile. To his own surprise, Usira has forgotten what it’s like to sleep alone. To think through his worries, ideas, and decisions alone.

He thought they were starting to trust each other, to share their plans. Then again, if Yun was anticipating his punishment—and Usira knows him too well not to suspect he had at least an inkling—, he never deigned to warn Usira.

“My lord.” Something tugs at his blanket. A stab of light cuts through the darkness before he yanks the blanket back over his head. “My lord, I’m supposed to take good care of you. Breakfast is ready.”

Of course, it’s Zhiva. She’s more persistent than her twin, tugging at the blanket until he lets go and sits up. Her face is as expressionless as ever but he imagines rebuke behind those porcelain features. It helps him accept the tray she sets on his lap, the clothes she lays out on the armchair.

He hardly tastes the food. For the past four twists, all he did was meet his tutors, study, and sleep in the empty bed. His dreams are dark and bloody. This morning, too, his eyelids are heavy with the residue of his tossing and turning, trying to escape a labyrinth full of guards and poison darts.

After his flight, Melyi stopped by his chambers only long enough to take the manuscript. No questions answered. Rumours of the Pai and Rilan’s lack of communication have told him all that matters: Bini’s true nature was discovered, his body likely destroyed. He hasn’t seen Ulan since they parted by the back door and fears the worst.

Of course, Ithreyesh has never shared any information beyond the strictly necessary. Ulan could be fine, serving the organisation elsewhere in the capital.

Far from the reason he uses to soothe his conscience, the images he can’t unsee haunt his dreams: the twisted thrill of creeping through a hostile mansion. His heart pounding out of his chest. Whispered arguments, each decision one of life and death. Blood spraying as Ulan slits that guard’s throat.

Wasn’t he supposed to be the upright one? Usira has lost count of how often he has donned his dark cloak and stepped out into the corridor, only to be reminded by Zhiva or Zhiven that he shouldn’t leave. He can’t visit his family shrine and ask forgiveness of the Moth. He’s no longer Isvalri but Noe, expected to pray to the Deep and venerate ancestors who would’ve spit on him.

*See what you’ve done to me, Yun? I’m starting to understand you.*

Of course, he admits while chewing the last bite, he would do it all over again and worse—if it meant saving his bonded and their clan. He can’t go back to who he was before.

Sighing, he gets dressed. How much time would Yun allow for grieving the past? Usira knows the answer.

“Let’s go.” He nods to Zhiva and walks over to the library, greeting his etiquette tutor with a nod.

As he listens to the lecture on cutlery and manners during official banquets, however, part of his mind drifts again. Yun would allow no time at all for sentimentality. Weak, he would scoff.

Then why aren’t you back yet?

Usira balls his hands to fists, forgetting the silver fork in his right. He promised Yun he would do everything he could to hasten his return to Kandamsin. He’s been hiding from his own shadow long enough. It’s time to talk to the new clan head.

“The loan is sealed, I signed the papers at the temple this morning. That should tide us over for the foreseeable future.”

A groan. “Don’t expect me to pat you on the back for taking my place. He got us into this mess, he should be the one labouring to fix it. Begging us to keep him.”

“I thought we agreed on his punishment.”

Usira hates to cut off Shuli’s cool alto but he can’t listen any longer. He shoulders past the puppets into the office. “If I may, honourable ones, I have some doubts concerning his punishment.”

Zakiva shoots up from the cushion she’s been lounging on as if stung by a scorpion fish. “How dare you march in as if this belonged to you?” Diminished with only two puppets flanking her instead of the usual four, she still crowds him with sleeves fluttering and eyes blazing. “Leave at once.”

Usira doesn’t budge. Over her head, he says: “Honourable one, my bonded always spoke of you as a woman of wisdom and fairness. He trusted you above all others.” Above me. “I hope you will at least consider what I have to say in his defence.”

“Impertinent!”

Shuli watches him over her scroll-laden desk. Her office is larger than Yun’s but shows the same signs of serious work. Unlike her predecessor, she isn’t concerned with the privileges and luxuries of her new title. The only personal touch is her love of jewellery showing in the fine pieces scattered over silver dishes, trays, and stands. “You would defend him? If my intelligence is correct, he deceived you too.”

“I would defend him. The circumstances of our bonding may have been haphazard but I agreed to be bonded to Noe Yun out of my own free will. I vowed to support and…”

The rest is drowned by a scream as one of Zakiva’s puppets grabs her arms and the other lunges for the desk. Before anyone can draw another breath, Zakiva has her arms pinned behind her back and a silver letter opener digging into her neck. A single crimson drop wells up.

Shuli stands. “Unhand her!”

The puppet holding Zakiva tilts his head. “Noe Yun requests that you give orders to end his exile now. If you refuse, we are instructed to turn this into a sea of blood. You have one stalactite drip.”

“What… Don’t touch me!” Izo bursts in, followed by another two relatives whose names Usira doesn’t care to remember. They’re stopped at the door by Zhiva and Zhiven. Judging from the muffled shouting and noise, a scuffle must be brewing outside.

Shuli turns to her own puppet, who has been waiting in the corner. The girl steps between her and Zakiva—a silent warning. Rubbing her temple, the clan head meets Usira’s gaze. “Did you…”

“I had no idea.” Even as he says it, however, Usira wonders if Yun’s full name was what triggered the attack. That his bonded can control puppets created by others though… another secret he neglected to share or a new breakthrough?

Shuli starts pacing behind her desk, ticking points off on her fingers. “If he controls the puppets in this room, we can expect the same for all our puppets. We don’t know how he does it. We can’t create new puppets because we’d be prevented to access our workshops. We don’t know if new puppets wouldn’t be under his influence as well. We’d need hired help to clear the house of puppets, which would make us not only vulnerable but a laughingstock.”

She stops. When she faces the room, she’s wearing the expression of someone who has lost and knows it too. “Get me the fastest courier you can find.”

Usira crosses the office to Zakiva. The puppets don’t move as he brings his face close to hers. Oh, it might be exactly what Yun would do in his shoes but he can’t pretend he doesn’t enjoy seeing her scared out of her wits. “This doesn’t belong to me? Looks like it belongs even less to you.”

Author Notes

Only one chapter to go in season three! If I’ve done my job right, you should start seeing all the threads come together as we gallop through the finale and anticipate Yun’s triumphant return.

I finished writing season three a while ago. I haven’t felt the urge to return to Yun and Usira until last night, when I had an idea for how I want to conclude Requiem. Yes, season four will be the last one—fingers crossed, unless it turns out to be longer than 15k words, in which case I will split it into two seasons.

Still, I never expected Requiem to get as big as it has over the last two years. I thought it would be novella length, around 30k words. Instead it has grown to over 60k, with the last season still pending. That’s a novel—shorter than the high fantasy genre standard but still a novel. I don’t know if I’ll write a full recap but one thing I can say now is that I’ve enjoyed the writing process and I’m happy with the result. I’d be excited to clean it up, iron out the inconsistencies, and publish an ebook version down the line. (With fees and currency exchange rates being what they are, I probably won’t be able to afford professional editing or cover design but I still want to do what I can for Yun and Usira.)

Anyway, spooky puppet action at a distance—can you guess how Yun managed to turn Zakiva’s servants against her? Let me know your thoughts in the comments!

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Stay tuned to find out in the next and last chapter of season three!

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Content warnings1

“I’ll retrieve the puppet. You get out now.” Ulan yanks the door open and light floods the landing.

There’s shouts of surprise. Usira ducks and rolls, which probably saves his life. Jumping to his feet, he sees Ulan has jammed something into one guard’s neck from behind—more poison.

His own opponent is raising his sword. Usira grabs the climbing rope coiled at his belt and flings it out in a wide arc. When it tangles with the blade, he yanks on his end. The guard stumbles. It’s not enough to throw him off his feet but he’s bought time and an opening. Ulan appears behind the guard and slits his throat in a shower of blood.

The thump of his body on the floor turns Usira’s stomach. He swallows.

Ulan never hesitates. She wipes her dagger and drags him into the corridor. Before long, Usira gets his feet under him. Welcoming the rush of the flight instinct, he realises they’re headed back to the kitchen. In a nerve-wracking series of starts and stops, peeking around corners, moving as silently and quickly as possible, they reach the door. Ulan looks back at him. Usira has barely caught his breath when she pushes inside.

Of course, it’s not deserted anymore. Cooks and servants are milling about, preparing breakfast for their lords and ladies. Not one of them screams or even stares when they pass through.

At the back door, Usira’s patience finally frays. “Did you have to… do that?” he hisses, pulling at her shoulder. By the Moth, there was so much blood. The taste clogs his nose.

Ulan’s eyes glitter. “I ran out of darts. What did you want me to do, wrestle with them until reinforcements arrived?”

“That was never…”

“Part of the plan?” She grabs his hand and squeezes hard. Usira flinches as his bones groan in protest. “The plan burned as soon as your puppet was captured. Now, if you still want me to retrieve him, you listen to me and go home. Pretend nothing happened. I’ll take care of the rest.”

Usira’s mind reels. The truth is, he can’t think of a better solution. He’s useless in a fight, he’d only be a liability. Never mind Bini, if Usira is caught, his gamble is over. Not even Yun could break him out of that mess.

He prays Ulan is as ruthless as the glittering eyes behind her mask suggest.

“Go in darkness,” he says and, on shaky legs, slips out the back door.

Y,

Have you been well?

Truly, I have half a mind to

I wasn’t planning on telling you this way but then again, it was you who neglected to mention that you would be exiled for what you did. Like it or not, I know you too well by now. You must have anticipated Shuli finding out about your trick and punishing you for it. I bet you appreciate the irony of someone punishing you for bestowing the title of clan head upon them—it certainly isn’t lost on me.

If the news has not reached you yet, it will soon. I only wish to add that I did it only to restore our reputation. Being shunned by the Pai is a risk I was willing to take. Of course, I hoped to avoid it but I do not regret taking it for the sake of our clan and our future.

As much as I hoped to change you, it seems I have changed too.

I am writing this letter to confess to you that I have been associating with a secret organisation that works to bridge the class divide, to create a better society. In my dealings with the clans, I have seen commoners pay a hefty price for noble whims and excesses. You know I have often felt frustrated about this and wished it could be changed.

Well, this organisation is working towards that change. They call themselves Ithreyesh and have made me an extraordinary member. Needless to say, this knowledge must not fall into the wrong hands but I felt it important to confide in you, as you have confided in me about your plans regarding the clan headship. And as I have supported you, I ask that you support me in this decision too.

As angry as I am with you for disappearing on me, I will do anything in my power to have that order voided and get you back to Kandamsin. Never doubt that I want you here.

Then again, you have probably made arrangements yourself and do not require my help. Be that as it may, I have one last request: Do not punish Shuli for what she has done to you. I know you to be cruel to your enemies but in this case, I implore you to think before acting rashly. She has always been an asset to our clan—even I can see that—and her sense of integrity will prevent her from stabbing you in the back for her own gain. If she does, you had it coming. (One thing I understand very well about her.)

Spare Shuli and she will work for the glory of our clan until the end of her days.

May the Moth Deep grant I see you soon.

Fondly,

U

Yun barks out a laugh.

“What is it?”

Crouching by the fireplace, he feeds the letter to the flames. Usira’s code was crude but likely served its purpose of obscuring the contents from readers other than him. “Oh, nothing. I’m merely surprised at my own good luck.”

“Do not slander the Deep, Yun.”

Without leaving the place by the fire, he turns to the woman lying in bed: padded blanket up to her chin, hair in an artless knot. Her body emanates the pungent smell of prolonged illness, her orange eyes are dying embers. He hates how those eyes strip him bare even now. “The Deep has never been particularly good to me,” he mutters.

He stares at the flames, twisting and devouring the last scraps of paper. Perhaps she has a point—who could’ve foreseen that bonding himself to Usira would lead to this? Not only has his bonded proven he’s capable of playing the Great Game on his own merit, he has also allied himself with one of the most powerful players behind the scenes.

And the irony of it all: that they were both working with the same organisation all along!

Moved by the tingling in his body, Yun straightens and paces the room. It’s so small, he’s barely taken four steps before he hits the wall. He doesn’t mind. Unlike his bedridden roommate he won’t be here for much longer.

He risks a glance. Of course, she’s watching him. She’s been watching ever since they locked him in with her—it’s all she does besides sleeping. And what a stroke of genius that Shuli should throw him in with that woman. He would’ve applauded her for it, if he weren’t also furious with her.

You don’t know what you’re asking, he thinks at Usira. When he feeds another log to the flames—only the best for the Noe, even the exiled ones—, the shower of sparks provides little satisfaction.

Still, Usira knows him well enough to have guessed at his precautions. His soldiers might be on the move even now, throwing the stone that will cast ripples all the way to this backwater settlement.

Before long, Yun will be back in the capital arguing with his dear bonded and all will be well. As for said bonded’s request… He still has some time to mull it over, doesn’t he?

Author Notes

It’s not recommended to introduce a completely new character in the last third of a story—in this case, season three—but this is more of a teaser of what might be looming in season four. And I couldn’t resist giving Yun some (inner) action while he’s waiting for his comeback plan to kick off. Will it be successful and bring him back to Usira?

We’ll find out in the next chapter!

Meanwhile, I’ve been working on a new idea behind the scenes. I try not to reveal too much about new stories in the early stages in case they don’t work out but one thing I can say is that the initial idea was inspired by reading Paradise Lost and getting fascinated with Milton’s portrayal of Satan.

He is and will always be the arch-fiend, of course, but Milton is a master at making him relatable to us in moments like this, when he sees Eve and dreams of loving her…

Thoughts, whither have ye led me! with what sweet
Compulsion thus transported, to forget
What hither brought us! hate, not love; nor hope,
Of Paradise for Hell, hope here to taste
Of pleasure; but all pleasure to destroy,
Save what is in destroying; other joy
To me is lost.

I had a lot of thoughts on this one, so many, in fact, that there might be an essay on this underrated classic waiting in the wings.

Anyway, if you’ve been been following Requiem this far, I can’t thank you enough! I hope you’re excited for the season climax. Any ideas on how it’s going to turn out? And who could this mysterious woman be that Yun is stuck with in this chapter? Let me know in the comments!

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I might be able to do something about the latter.

As Usira hurries through the streets, hood up and grey cloak billowing behind him, he thinks of that conversation. Has he said too too much too soon? True, he finally knows where the manuscript is, thanks to his friendship with Pai Rilan and Zhiva’s efforts. Melyi has promised that their reputation will be restored once it’s back in Ithreyesh’s hands. And yet…

He can’t forget Pai Rilan and the kindness she has shown him from the first gathering. No doubt she would suffer if the book went missing from her clan’s vault. Can he afford to spare her feelings when Yun and his own clan are in danger?

His lips tingle, remembering Yun’s kisses. He still can’t believe that Yun, the aloof Vessi holed up in his office, has come to him to celebrate his triumph. For once, Usira doesn’t want to think of the means he used to get to that end.

He opens the back door to the familiar scent of mould and incense wafting from the shrine to his left. Home. Part of him is glad to put those thorny questions out of his mind for now. He ducks into the shrine, welcoming the gloom.

“Who’s there?”

The low hiss cuts through his prayer for luck—ironic—and he scurries behind the statue of the Moth. It’s too early in the morning even for moth catchers, or so he thought.

The approaching figure is familiar. “Usira?” he asks, squinting into his direction.

Usira debates only briefly before he steps into the green glowshroom light. “You’re up early, Velin.” His cousin barks out a surprised laugh and they clasp hands warmly. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same, my Lord. Thought you’d gotten too high and mighty for us lowly commoners.”

Usira gestures for silence and listens into the courtyard. Satisfied they’re still alone, he whispers: “I only came to borrow a few odds and ends. Keep quiet about this.” He peers at Velin, noticing for the first time his dishevelled hair and bulging pockets. When he tilts his head, a single silver earring shines on his left ear. “Come to think of it, what are you doing here this early?”

“I couldn’t sleep and came to pray, just like you.”

When Velin smiles, Usira catches an echo of his cousin’s adolescent mischief. Could he still be on his wild bat chase for that poet Ryliss? Usira thinks of coaxing the truth out of Velin, who has been getting into trouble since he could walk, but then he swallows the words. They’re not children anymore, their world not as clean-cut as it once was. “Whatever it is you’re doing, be careful.”

The smile fades. “You too. Whatever it is you came to prepare for, I know you’re doing the right thing. For what it’s worth, I believe in you. The Moth keep you and all that.”

“The Moth keep you.” With one last glance, Usira dons his hood and leaves the shrine. The storehouse is located next to it and blissfully deserted.

“Careful now, don’t break it. It should give easily.”

The woman in black shoulders past Usira to examine the latch and line up her crowbar. One push and the latch springs open—thanks to Zhiva’s prior manipulation.

Usira shudders at the whine of the door but the pantry they slip into is deserted so early in the morning. Once they’re in the narrow walkway between shelves, he looks back at his companions: a short puppet dressed in a courier’s brown tunic and satchel and the woman. Almost as tall as him, she’s wearing the typical Ithreyesh mask with its flat snout and pointed leathery ears, a mask he now realises is modelled after the face of the common cave bat.

“I appreciate the help but I’d like to clarify a few things before we move on. Can I count on you to follow my lead?”

“Yes.” Through the mask, her voice is a muffled but firm alto. “But I should warn you that my top priority is the manuscript, not you.”

What is that manuscript, he ponders not for the first time, that Ithreyesh considers it more valuable than any of its individual members and associates? Melyi refused to tell him. Perhaps it’s better that he doesn’t know, in case he gets caught. He nods. “According to my intelligence, they keep it in a vault under the mansion. It’s not a secret—I’ve seen the entrance in the main hall past the front doors but it’s heavily guarded. They keep a lot of valuable art down there, paintings, sculptures, and more.”

“Guards?” the woman asks.

“Hired.” Pai isn’t wealthy enough to keep their own household guard. “I was told you had combat and stealth experience?”

She nods. No doubt she’s conducted her own research. “Leave the guards to me. The puppet will scout ahead and act as lookout. If he notices anything suspicious, I will know.”

Usira lifts his brows at her. “How will you know?”

“Not your concern.”

Usira stares but the black mask is inexorable. Is she saying she can communicate with puppets from a distance? If she were a Noe, he should’ve met her or at least heard of her by now. Does Yun know that Ithreyesh has access to this skill? But she’s right, as long as she keeps up her end of this unlikely partnership, it doesn’t matter how she does it.

Usira tiptoes to the kitchen door and presses his ear against it. “One last thing. What should I call you?”

“Ulan.”

The kitchen is silent. They use Bini, the courier, to scout the corridors and arrive at the lobby without a hitch. Squeezing into an alcove decorated with a swirling fire and water relief, they observe the two guards by the narrow doorway leading to the vault. Ulan takes them out with twin darts to the neck. “Tranquilizers,” she explains as they enter the spiral staircase although Usira hasn’t asked.

They leave Bini tucked away by the entrance. The stairs are smooth as blown glass, worn down by generations of Pai feet. Usira focuses on not slipping until they reach the bottom landing. With only a smattering of glowing mineral veins in the rock, it’s dark even for a clan mansion. They’ve hardly taken two steps into the corridor when a bobbing glowshroom light appears around the bend.

There’s nowhere to go. After another dart in the neck, they shove the guard into a dark corner and take his glowshroom. “We were suspecting patrols down here,” Ulan whispers. “Try to avoid them whenever possible.”

The corridor opens into the first of several caverns, hewn from the rock in rough chunks that betray the vault’s age. Between shelves, covered racks, and chests in all shapes and sizes, sculptures stand eerie vigil, their features hidden in shadow. As they progress, the sweat chills on Usira’s skin. He doesn’t dare ask how deep they are or how long they still have to go.

Thanks to Ulan’s expertise, they traverse the first cavern undetected. When they reach a sheer drop, Usira is glad for his climbing equipment and offers Ulan some chalk. “What a rare treat,” she comments while coating her hands. “Thank you.”

The climb takes barely a stalagmite drip. The second cavern is pitch-black and, judging from the echo, larger than the first. “This is the deep vault,” Usira whispers. “The manuscript must be hidden around here but I have no idea where.”

“At least there are no patrols,” Ulan agrees. “Still, they might come and check for light. Keep the glowshroom covered.”

As liberating as it is to not have to tiptoe anymore, Usira is aware of the time. Every drip they spend searching is one drip closer to detection and failure. What if Bini is discovered? What if they get stuck down here? Usira is carrying rations out of habit but those will only last them one or two nights.

He swallows the rising panic and pauses, wiping his clammy brow with a sleeve. If he were a Pai, where would he store a book he didn’t want found?

He remembers Rilan’s salon, the conversations, the art. She displayed a painting that had been languishing in storage for over fifty yarns, forgotten until the owner died and their grandchild wanted to sell everything. Later, Usira came across the artist’s name, Yan Sivai, while leafing through an old art book in the Noe library. A famous oil painter, he was more well-known for his attempts to display an ideal society. It’s the first time Usira has encountered the word utopia.

Yan Sivai’s portrait had been stern but sketched with an enlightened glint in his far-seeing eyes—a visionary. Come to think of it, isn’t an ideal society also what Ithreyesh is working to create?

The Moth must have heard his prayer. When he casts the glowshroom light over his surroundings again, there it is: a statue bearing that same face as that sketch. It has the wavy hair cut at shoulder length, the chiselled features, the far-seeing gaze.

Usira holds his breath. Could it be…?

Before long, Ulan joins him in examining the statue. Yan Sivai is wearing a long-sleeved robe, his belt and hems adorned with rich swirling relief. When Ulan presses against a knot near his wrist, there’s a click and the sleeve’s outside slides open like a trapdoor. Usira extracts a slim book bound in red bat leather. The title reads The Awakening of the Deep, the author Glass Knifefish, before Ulan drops the glowshroom.

“Bini has been captured.”

Usira shudders. Shoving the book into his tunic, he hurries back after her. He has never scaled a wall so fast. If Bini has been captured, it’s only a matter of time until reinforcements flood the vault and they start suspecting the Noe. Yun’s puppets pass for living beings at first sight but under scrutiny, the truth will come to light eventually.

The Moth must still watch over them, however, returning them to the spiral staircase without a hitch. “We have to leave Bini,” Ulan hisses, taking two steps at a time.

“With any luck, they haven’t discovered what he is yet,” Usira protests. “I have to get him back.” He couldn’t face Yun and confess he antagonised the Pai, one of the first clans to reach out and welcome him into their circle. He’s had enough second thoughts as it is. With Yun’s wrath added to the pile… By the Deep, he wanted to rescue their reputation, not ruin it further!

“It’s too risky.”

They’ve reached the entrance to the vault. Usira catches Ulan’s hand before she touches the metal. “I have to. I owe it to my bonded to at least try.”

“You owe it to him to get out of here unscathed,” she spits, her husky voice brimming with anger, and snatches her hand back. “Fine. I’ll help.”

“Thank you.”

Ulan’s eyes flash behind her mask. “There’s one condition.”

Usira forces himself to wait.

“I’ll retrieve the puppet. You get out now.” Before he can respond, she yanks the door open and light floods the landing.

Author Notes

It’s been a while since we’ve seen Velin or his twin Selin, for that matter… By joining clan Noe, Usira has renounced his old family and drip house allegiance. I don’t think it would be forbidden for him to visit them, just frowned upon. Hence he’s sneaking around in the middle of the night. Plus, he doesn’t exactly want to advertise what he’s going to do with that climbing gear.

The Sedrivar are an underground society and their capital Kandamsin is located in a huge cavern. It spans multiple levels so most residents would be proficient in climbing to some degree—excluding the nobility who use basket lifts, of course. Moth catchers, however, would be alpine climbers as opposed to your standard casual mountaineer, able to scale any surface efficiently. They would’ve investigated ways to make climbing easier and safer too, such as coating your hands with chalk for better grip.

Climbing chalk was only “invented” in 1954 but I imagine Sedrivar moth catchers would’ve paid attention to which rocks and materials aided vs. hindered them when climbing and figured out the effect of chalk even in their pre-modern society.

And on that note, I won’t keep you hanging on the cliff that this chapter ends on for too long… probably.

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“I apologise for ambushing you like this, at this time, but this cannot wait. You are the only one I can confess to.”

Noe Shuli invites her guest to take a seat in the armchair. Her puppet, who has been with her for twenty years, serves tea so strong, its scent alone would wake one from deepest slumber—just how Shuli likes her tea. She waits until Zakiva has taken a sip. “Not at all, I am delighted at this rare visit from you. Besides, I’ve supported you through difficult times before. What is it?”

“As you know, we are struggling. Our reputation has suffered a heavy blow and as a consequence, our partners have been doubtful about continuing their business with us. A number of investors have withdrawn. We are facing a financial crisis.”

This is not news to Shuli. With any luck, her countermeasures will come to fruition soon. “I am confident we will pull out of this crisis too.”

Zakiva, not meeting her friend’s gaze, observes the puppet instead: a female servant with round cheeks and small black eyes. “I am afraid there is more to it than that. I have been careless with our money, which has added to our difficulties. You see, as clan head, I… the constant pressure, it is… difficult to escape. I delight in what small pleasures I can but these pleasures, you see, they have become costly too.”

Shuli follows her gaze. As the only Noe who doesn’t enjoy beautiful faces on her puppets, she can’t claim to understand Zakiva. “I hear your daughters hardly ever attend the social gatherings they are invited to. They always stay cooped up in their workshop.”

“The large, well-appointed workshop I gifted to them.” Zakiva nods. “I am glad you understand. They are talented, if not as talented as him. I am unable to resist the allure their creations are endowed with but I admit this cannot go on. It is hurting our clan. It shames me but I have come to ask your help.”

Shuli’s hand twitches. If it were her son confessing his misdoings, she would touch his head, his shoulder to signal that mother would take care of it. Zakiva, however, is her clan head before she is her friend. In the end, she gestures for more tea instead. “I am glad you have come to me. It is not…”

“I have brought shame upon our clan,” Zakiva blurts out. “If I cede the title to you, no one else has to know. We can correct these mistakes quietly, swiftly, and steer the Noe to new prosperity. You have always had a better head for numbers, Shuli.”

Is she speaking not to her advisor but to her friend now? Shuli is moved by the sentiment. After all, Izo is married and safe under her watchful gaze. She has no enemies to speak of, nothing to fear if she were clan head. Briefly, she thinks of Yun, his razor-sharp smile. He all but admitted he wants her to lead. And lastly, there would be that other advantage, which she cannot afford to neglect in her calculations.

“Do you mean it?” she asks. “This is a serious matter.”

“I might be out of control but I am not a child, Shuli. Do you wish me to command instead of ask?”

Shuli bites back a smile at the familiar disdain. Her friend always had to throw her weight around to cover up her insecurities. Without that pressure, she would be able to breathe more easily. “I accept.”

Zakiva stands. “Wonderful. I knew I could count on you, my friend. I will send the deed immediately, arrange the ceremony. No reason to wait, would you not agree? May the Deep bless us once again.”

Shuli inclines her head as Zakiva strides out of her quarters. What a change of heart, she thinks. There is hope yet.

Yun is going to burst.

Laughing, he rounds his desk and strokes the puppet’s cheek. “Well done!” As expected, his praise doesn’t elicit any joy. Empty yellow eyes stare back at him. “Pity I can’t keep you around but then, I wouldn’t be better than the original, would I? Anyway, I have other triumphs to look forward to.”

And part of him is relieved to put her away. I am simply too good, he thinks as he hurries through the city, scaring myself with my own puppets.

He flings open the library door, flies toward Usira’s widened eyes and captures his lips. After a moment of surprise, Usira returns the kiss. Yun nips at his bottom lip, then soothes with his tongue when Usira growls. This is unlike anything they’ve had before, no words, no thoughts, only desire. Yun clings to Usira’s body against the chill of the library. Thank the Deep they are alone.

Too soon, Usira retreats. Flinging up his arms, he bids Yun to stay put until the scroll-laden desk is between them. “What’s gotten into you?”

The suspicion in his voice shocks Yun like a bucket of ice water. Right. The first time they got this intimate, someone was murdered in the street following his command. The second time, he was stalling a conversation he didn’t want to have. Usira isn’t stupid.

This time is different though. He smiles. “It worked. She took the bait.”

“What… Wait. You mean…”

“What else would I mean? Usira, she believed it!” Not content to stand still, Yun rounds the table to catch up to Usira. With great effort, he keeps his hands to himself but whispers in the taller man’s ear: “We will have a new clan head.”

Finally, Usira smiles and puts one hand on Yun’s head—a gesture that has become his default of affection. “I knew it would work. You’re a genius, after all. Getting her to believe she was talking to her best friend…” He shakes his head.

“There were limitations, of course.” Yun shrugs, trying not to think about how Usira’s hands feel against his face: calloused but warm. “Zakiva is so obsessed with her little coterie of puppets, she takes them with her everywhere. If she were to admit to that addiction and ask for help, however, she could conceivably leave them behind to show that she means it. Everything else, body language, expressions and so on, can be programmed. Aunt Shuli is perceptive, I’ll give her that, but she has blind spots the size of the Zillia Downs when it comes to her closest relatives and friends. Like most people, she only sees what she wants to see.”

“I can’t imagine how she would feel if she found out.”

“She won’t.” Not for a while, at least. “She’s busy negotiating a loan with the temple. I have no doubt she will squeeze them for all they’re worth. That will tide us over until we’ve regained our losses and reputation.”

“I… might be able to help with the reputation problem.”

Yun tilts his head. “Oh?”

“I’ll tell you later.”

Yun considers digging but he’s simply too high on success. “Look at us, working together.” Chuckling, he stretches and Usira bends towards him like a flower towards the glowshroom light. Unity with another has never tasted so sweet.

All the sweeter because he knows it won’t last.

Author Notes

For this season, I’m sticking to one-word titles. This one is a bit of an exception but I couldn’t not allude to the phrase “The ends justify the means”. The question is: Do they really? Does Yun still believe it? And if he has lost his ruthlessness, what does he have left to fight with? For now though, he’s pulled off a daring stunt and has earned some celebration with Usira, don’t you think?

Slowly but surely, we’re nearing the end of Requiem of the Moth Season Three… This is one of the chapters that answers questions and ties up loose ends. You might remember Yun showing Usira his latest puppet creation in chapter five and (if I did my job well) wondering who it resembles. Did you guess it was Zakiva?

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In other news, changes are coming to Occam’s Lab. I’ve been thinking and working on things behind the scenes for a while now but I’m still not sure when to share with you all. It should be soon—rip off the band-aid and everything. Stay tuned!

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They take their places before the priest. The priest speaks the words and they reply as instructed. They share the cup of spiced diluted blood—spiced with dill for luck and bark from a tree called white willow for long-lasting love.

For the traditional jewellery exchange, Yun presents Usira with one of his carnelian earrings. Warned beforehand, he knows that Usira has nothing to give in return but is surprised when Usira’s father steps forward and drops something in his hand: a small obsidian hairpin. It must have been fashioned before commoners were forbidden from wearing their own precious stones, a family heirloom. Yun is still as Usira uses it to pin a strand of hair over his right ear.

Later, they move to the balcony attached to Shuli's quarters to complete the last ritual: giving their blood to a pair of Calpia Moths to drink before releasing them into the deep. When Usira unfastens the latch and opens the cage door, they take off together, fluttering up into the magenta-veined gloom.

“An auspicious omen,” Shuli says.

“Hard to believe,” Usira mutters. Yun squeezes his hand and hopes it’s reassuring. He'll take all the luck they can get.

Instead of the lavish banquet, they take a light meal in Shuli's receiving room. Zakiva excuses herself after barely a word to Usira but at least they’re relieved from her disgruntled presence. When Usira's parents bid them goodbye, he instructs his puppets to escort them back.

Promising Usira he will return soon, he visits his workshop. When Zhiven and Zhiva return from the drip house quarter, he walks over to his office. If the disaster has taught him anything, it’s that he has to fix their reputation and looming financial problems as soon as possible.

“Are you so caught up in bonded life that you’ve deluded yourself into thinking he could replace me?”

The familiar smoky voice drifts into his office first, followed by a black silhouette. Yun isn’t sure if she deliberately pitched her tone so as not to startle him or if it’s merely a side effect of her nature. Ulan is a ghost. Her speech and manners suggest noble upbringing but all inquiries into her identity have turned up a whole lot of frigid nothing.

Glaring at her, he gestures with his quill. “If you’ve only come to nag, leave now. I’m busy.”

In one fluid dancer’s motion, she takes off her mask and perches on the edge of the desk, with her hip so close to his hand that he feels her warmth. “I know, which is why I’ve come to help. You did well keeping quiet about the bonding after that ceremony but Noe stock still fell by a lot. Investors are pulling out of your holdings like hounds smelling the rot. If your reputation isn’t restored, you’re looking at financial ruin.”

“How I’ve missed your sense of drama.” At her deadpan look, he sobers up. “I’ve been taking precautions, stashing away as much raw silver and gems as possible—not a lot but better than nothing. As for the crisis,” he sighs, “Usira is a fast learner. I’m counting on him to help counteract the reputation problem.”

“You’re waiting?” Ulan is incredulous. “You don’t have time to sit around while he’s playing puppet mansion with his tutors.”

Yun rubs his left eye. It feels as if a pickaxe is pounding away at his temple.

Ulan leans closer. “Are you unwell?”

Ignoring her concern, he jumps out of his chair and downs the cup of tea offered by Zhiven. “I’m trusting Usira will do his duty in time. Until then, there’s something more urgent I need to discuss with you.”

Ulan still has a delicate furrow between her pale brows but eventually she nods. “Go on.”

“I’ve been meeting with the clan elders, trying to talk them down, but they’re not pleased. I’m expecting an attempt to replace me as treasurer of the Noe.” Perhaps he spoke too soon, bragging to Usira about his hermit habits. Word on the wind is that even his other position might be in danger, despite the fact that Vessi are city officials, not beholden to any single clan.

“Only the clan head can do that.”

As if on cue, there’s a knock. Zhiven admits the courier, who bows in the mechanical way of all Noe puppets—his own excluded. “Greetings from the esteemed head of clan Noe to Noe Yun, honoured Vessi and treasurer of clan Noe. My mistress wishes to remind Noe Yun that she has given him a most urgent task and that he reportedly has not spent as much time in the workshop as needed for its completion. She is asking if there is anything hindering his progress that she can provide and hopes to hear an update from him soon. Honourable Noe Yun, may I ask for confirmation that the message has been heard?”

“I have heard the message. Go.” Upon registering the correct phrase, the puppet exits. Yun clicks his tongue. “Little more than walking parrots. I should be ashamed.”

He turns to Ulan just in time to catch her eye roll. “So Zakiva isn’t pleased with you either. If I didn’t know better, I would think you were asking to get kicked out of your clan.”

Yun gestures for Zhiven to bring more tea and returns to his chair. Time to get serious. “What I say next must not leave this room.”

Ulan widens her eyes, the tea forgotten in her hands as soon as she has accepted it. Finally she nods.

“Zakiva is too old-fashioned, too rigid in her thinking. She does not innovate. Do you know what happens to clans who don’t innovate?” They die.

“You wish to dethrone her,” Ulan whispers. Her amber eyes are glowing in the dim. “And who will you put in her place?”

“Shuli.”

She wrinkles her nose. “You, who always works alone, who never shares his secrets or plans with anyone, want to put someone else on that throne? Why not take the title for yourself?”

“You of all people should understand that I prefer staying in the shadows. We have that in common, don’t we?” She presses her lips together, not rising to the bait. “The paperwork, the public attention are little more than shackles. I can accomplish much more as I am now. If giving up some control to someone like Shuli is the price I have to pay, I’m willing to pay it.”

Ulan’s face betrays her lingering doubt but she doesn’t protest further. Yun watches her closely. “You know, I’ve changed my mind about your presence here. There’s something you could help me with, if you’re willing.”

“I am willing if it serves our interests.”

“It doesn’t.”

She arches one brow. “Why would I do it then?”

He leans forward. As usual, the evil grin effect is lost on her but he simply can’t shake the habit. “Because you feel bad for trying to have me assassinated? Because I’ll give more to your organisation if my clan is in a better place? Because you like me and you want to see me happy? Pick any reason.”

She sighs. “Let’s hear it.”

Author Notes

Sometimes you need chapters in a serial that don’t provide a big bang, that are gearing up for future action. It can’t be avoided. I hope I still provided some entertainment with the bonding ritual and the progression of Yun’s machinations. What could he possibly want from Ulan? Any ideas?

Since I don’t have much to say about this chapter, I’ll share that I’m editing and writing this from a small café in Helsinki, Finland. I’m visiting for one week on a work trip and we have some fun activities planned. Beyond the excitement of being in a new country, it’s amazing how well our client is taking care of us here. I mean, our hotel has a sauna (completely normal in Finland, or so I hear) and a rooftop pool! Definitely going to enjoy that later.

There will be no newsletter next week because I’m moving into a new apartment, which will be exciting but also exhausting. I’ll have to jump in right after coming back from Finland. The rest of April should be back to business as usual.

Talk to you later!

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Content warnings1

Usira shuts himself in the Noe library and studies. His tutors are strict and carry faint disapproval in their voices—born out of disdain or envy? Reading for drips on end makes his eyes sting and his head pound. When he can't take it anymore, he wanders the cold corridors or visits Pai Rilan to converse about art and listen to her describe her latest discoveries. He longs to move his body more but doesn't dare spend too much time out on the streets. The social invitations have waned as the nasty rumours spread.

They're built on those first accusations hurled by Shinzi and Pai Ezen: He's of common descent and will never be worthy of the clans. The Noe are lowering themselves by accepting him into their midst. Some Noe agree and hurry to deny any blood relation to Yun. Some suspect Yun was adopted, picked off the street by his soft-hearted parents, and claim his origins as reason for his eccentricities. Some claim conspiracy against the clans as a whole, pointing fingers at the common quarter.

Usira wishes he could defend Yun but is advised by everyone to hold his tongue. Secretly he's glad for the respite too.

He sees Yun late at night and sometimes early in the morning, leaving just as Usira sits down to breakfast. He tells himself this is a critical time, that they will have the rest of their lives to get to know each other. The excuse nags at him but he's too busy to do anything about it.

Before he knows it, the bonding ceremony is upon them.

He meets Yun in the family shrine’s shadow: His bone-white hair is loose over his shoulders, some strands tied up by tiny red flowers over his ears. They're both in simple charcoal robes. Whereas Usira only wears the amethyst ring given to him by Yun, Yun is granted the accessories of his status as clan member and high official: earrings with large carnelian pendants, his fingernails painted blood red and filed to a point.

Yun touches the tiny braid Usira fought to keep in his hair, one last tribute to his former life as a moth catcher. When Usira lifts his brows, he shakes his head. “You are luminous,” he whispers before sweeping past, long sleeves trailing, to face the Noe, both ancestors and living.

Usira follows with a lump in his throat.

They come to stand before the priest, all in black with long robes and dyed hair. As he rings the ceremonial bells and begins the address, Usira's mind wanders. It snaps back only at the end: “... any concerns regarding the bonding of these two, they shall speak now or be for…”

“Liars!”

One voice is followed by more. “What a barbarian, marrying a commoner!” “They were lowly from the start!” “Intimidating us into tolerating them with their creepy puppets. It’s not right.” “Run back to the high caves, where you belong!”

They’re not like us.

Blood pounds in Usira’s ears. Yun is staring into the crowd, as if he could strike them silent with a single glance. There’s a scuffle where the cries are loudest, people jostling to get closer to the shrine, others dragging them back. Noe puppets are lined up by the walls, motionless, unblinking, half-hidden in the dim.

How could he ever think the clans would allow him be bonded to Yun? He must’ve been delusional, carried away by the flow of events and Yun’s burning determination. He should’ve known better. He should've known they wouldn't acknowledge this bonding. He should’ve asked more questions, shaken Yun for answers. The shame heats his cheeks.

Every single face he turns to is a cold mask. No one will help—this is exactly what they expected. They were only waiting for the best moment to strike him down.

He turns on his heel, back to the alcove they entered through, but Yun catches his sleeve. “No, it’s been sealed,” he shouts over the commotion. “We have to follow the proper way of things. Go through.”

The ritualised walk to the banquet hall, flanked by relatives on both sides. Usira casts his gaze over the crowd. He was told his family would be invited but he sees no trace of his parents, the twins, or any other Isvalri—good.

Yun yanks his arm. “Let’s go.”

Usira lunges himself off the platform, into the roiling mass of bodies. The heavy robe gets in the way, the sleeves catching and dragging him back but he uses his elbows to forge a path. Something or someone pulls at his hair. A blow to the ribs sends him stumbling against Yun but they right themselves and push on.

Eventually they make it to the doors. Metal clinks against the wall next to Usira, a hairpin catching the light, before the heavy doors slam shut. A handful of puppets lean against the stone to keep them shut.

“By the Moth, what,” Usira begins but Yun doesn’t stop for air. He yanks him on by the hand and Usira is too stunned to do anything but stumble after him.

In the corridor, they meet Noe Shuli who waves them through a smaller door and up a winding staircase into a parlour. Zakiva is already sitting on a fraying daybed with a glass of tea, her zircon headdress gleaming in the shroom light. Two of her puppets hang back by the dusty trinket shelf. "This is a waiting room for the priests," Shuli explains. "It's attached to the shrine but hidden so no one else will come up."

As soon as the door closes behind them, Yun drops Usira’s hand and slams his fist on the nearest tea table. “Who was in charge of the guest list? I will have their sun-fried head!”

Shuli, resplendent with her crimson ornaments and matching pointed nails, straightens. “I thought it wise to have a mixed audience, lest they say clan Noe doesn't tolerate any criticism. I didn't expect anyone would actually protest the bonding. We lost a lot of respect in the past few twists.”

Yun glares at her but doesn't say anything.

Lost respect. Bile rises in Usira's throat. It's all his fault for agreeing to the bonding. He could've refused the temptation to return to his family, his home, could've kept running to protect everyone. Instead, he returned only to make one blunder after another. Diplomat? Sun-blasted nonsense. Yun can't claim his reputation will survive unscathed after this.

The edges of his vision dim. “Yun, your foundling is awfully pale,” someone is saying just before his knees give out.

Strong arms prop him up long enough to land on a cushion instead of the cold stone floor. The dust fills his nose and he sneezes. When he looks up, Yun's warm gaze is inches before him. “Rest,” he whispers and pushes a glass of warm tea in his hand. “We're far from giving up.”

Grateful, Usira lifts the glass and inhales the ginger scent. Above calming his stomach, it reminds him of Yun’s quarters, meals at his table, tea and sweets by the cackling fire—the place that has become home to him in the last few twists. He takes a sip and exhales. “What's the plan?”

“Naturally, we wait until the uproar has blown over,” Zakiva declares. “This only happened because you were in such a hurry, Yun.”

Usira catches Yun exchanging a glance with Shuli. Are they allies? Yun certainly shares a better understanding with her than he does with Zakiva, his own clan head.

“Respectfully, it wouldn’t be a good idea to wait,” Yun says, not sounding respectful at all, “Any longer and we'd be giving them more fuel for protest. No, if we want peace, we have to get it over with as soon as possible.”

Zakiva swirls the tea in her glass but her face is rigid. “The longer this goes on, the more harm our name will suffer. As you know, I have been lenient but I will not allow the Noe to be dragged through the mud any longer.”

As you know? The ginger is clearing Usira’s head and he makes a mental note to ask Yun about that later.

Yun slaps the table again. “There is nothing you can do to prevent my bonding to Usira.” His voice is dangerously low. “Nothing at all. You might as well get out of the way.”

“Yun,” Shuli cuts in, “this is no way to speak to your elders. Still...” She turns to Zakiva. “I'm not too proud to admit that I agree with his assessment.”

Zakiva's eyes flash. She's about to snap back when a door at the back opens and the priest enters, bowing deeply. “Forgive the sudden entrance, honourable ladies and lords. I have brought the Isvalri representatives.” Usira's parents enter behind him, unharmed. If Usira hadn't already been sitting, he would've collapsed from relief now.

“Good,” Shuli says. “With all witnesses present, we will commence the ceremony at once.”

Zakiva looks as if a bucket of ice water had been emptied over her. Yun nods in response to Usira’s questioning glance—Now? Yes, now.—and offers his hand.

Author Notes

What a wild ride!

I put this scene off for the longest time because I wanted to a) come up with a bonding rite that would fit seamlessly into Sedrivar culture as it’s been portrayed so far and b) make their flight through the room really exciting.

Action scenes are probably one of my biggest weaknesses as a writer. Yes, I write fantasy but my preference is of the cosy or mysterious variety, not the epic or thriller one. Even this scene barely qualifies as action and yet I wanted to study some great action scenes to see what I could learn. Some of the most thrilling writing I’ve read recently was in Samantha Shannon’s Bone Season series2 so that would’ve been my masterclass.

Except I kept putting it off so I just wrote the scene instead. Did it come out well? That’s for you to judge.

Obviously, being bonded won’t solve any problems for Yun or Usira, so stay tuned for the next chapter… As always, thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts in the comments!

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Content warnings1

Yun has always been an early riser. It’s only when he leaves his quarters and the corridors are silent that he realises how early it is. He was talking with Usira about clan politics and more late into last night. Not in the habit of trading so many words at a time, his head is pounding as if he’s had too much algae wine but he’s also too worked up to sleep.

He returns to his quarters for breakfast. As he is nursing his second cup of tea, Usira emerges from the bedroom.

Yesterday, Usira was imposing with his hair up, bejewelled, and the amethyst ring on his finger. Today, he’s wearing the same clan robes but his hair is only half up, with messy locks cascading down his back. No jewellery. It’s the first time Yun sees Usira this casual. It’s magnificent.

He stands. “There’s something I want to show you. Come.”

“What about breakfast?”

Already reaching for the door, Yun shrugs. “Take a plate. I’m not squeamish about eating at the table.”

He doesn’t look back but listens to hurried steps until Usira has caught up to him. “Where are we going?”

“Wait and see.”

Yun debated this decision long and hard. The workshop is his sanctuary, the one place where no one disturbs him, where he can be himself. But Usira is to be bonded to a Noe, after all—knowledge of puppetry will be as crucial to him as the rest of his education. He’ll never be able to animate puppets himself but he should be familiar with the theory.

When Yun opens the door, Usira takes one step inside and freezes. His gaze takes in the whole sun-blasted mess: two sooty but sturdy metal worktables, crates bursting with limbs, racks and shelves of fingernails, jewel eyes, paint cans, brushes, cogs, wrenches. Rolls and rolls of scribbled blueprints. Leather aprons and spare tunics on a stand in the corner. The large fireplace, where Zhiva is stacking wood.

To give his hands something to do, Yun clears the nearest tea table of empty cups so Zhiven can set down the tray he’s carrying: a fresh pot of ginger tea, two cups, the cookie plate.

When he turns, Usira is lingering by the first worktable, staring at Yun’s latest work. “I was wondering how they were made. People talk, you know. No one has even touched them. There were whispers about bringing corpses back to life.”

Yun grins. He’s always enjoyed a good tale. “We get away with a lot but snatching the dead from the Deep where they belong? Not even I’m that bold.”

Ignoring the fresh tea in Zhiven’s hands, Usira nods at the puppet. “Can I touch it?”

“Of course.” Yun steps closer and sips from his cup. He takes the fact that Usira hasn’t bolted screaming as a sign of success. While the other man runs his fingertips over smooth shoulders, hair, cheeks and rosy eyelids, he explains: “The parts are manufactured by contractors but I assemble everything here. I don’t trust anyone to see their faces beforehand and keep quiet about what I’m doing here. This one is finished as far as construction goes.”

“It looks just like her.” Usira shakes his head in disbelief.

Yun kneels on the opposite side of the table, caressing the puppet’s head, playing with its hair. “And when I animate it, it will move and sound like her too.”

“How…” Usira bites his lip. “Are you allowed to tell me?”

Yun grins at him. The flickering fire light casts Usira’s face in shadow—meaning his own is probably illuminated in orange, highlighting his scars. As usual, however, Usira meets his gaze straight on. “This is my realm. I can do whatever I want in here. I only ask that you don’t speak to her or me until I’m done.”

With Usira’s glacier gaze prickling on his skin, he fishes the script out of a knot of notes, finds the mark where he stopped yesterday, and whispers the last lines in the puppet’s ear. It doesn’t stir. There’s no way of testing for flaws in the script—he can only program the puppet once. Finally, he whispers the phrase that breathes life into the shell.

A middle-aged woman opens her yellow eyes and sits up. When Yun speaks, she focuses on him. “I am your master, my word is law. I will begin instructing you now. Whenever I ask ‘Do you understand?’, say yes to indicate you have understood and internalised my instructions. If you have trouble understanding or internalising any instruction, say no instead. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” the puppet says.

Zhiva stokes the fire twice before he’s run through initial instructions. Usira’s stomach is growling like a disgruntled lougi but he looks on until Yun gives him permission to speak. Then he opens and closes his mouth several times. “I don’t know what to say. It’s a wonder.”

“I am the best, after all,” Yun drawls, even though the awe radiating from Usira is doing something funny in his chest. While they share the snacks and tea, he makes the puppet walk around the workshop. She won’t be needed for a while yet but it’s good that Usira knows what’s coming.

Before they exit the workshop, Usira touches his shoulder. “Thank you for showing me. I understand that you don’t invite others in here and I’m honoured to be the first. I’ll keep the knowledge close.”

“The Deep take you if you spill our clan’s best-kept secret.” Yun opens the door and gestures for Usira to lead on. “I instructed Zhiva and Zhiven to admit you at your leisure. For now, back to politics. We’re going to have the bonding ceremony as soon as possible to give my dear relatives no room for protest. It will be an extravagant affair, of course, befitting my social standing and titles.”

“I’m not ready,” Usira squeaks.

Yun doesn’t contradict him. “Learning manners and etiquette will be your focus for the next four twists. I hired tutors in clan history and social education for you. Mistakes will be inevitable as you’re new to our customs but with any luck, we’ll be able to prevent huge blunders. Try to learn fast but keep socialising too. You can’t afford to live like a shut-in.”

Usira shoots him a doubtful glance. “You live like a shut-in.”

“When I can afford it which is most of the time. Don't believe I haven't paid a price for my freedom.” When Usira keeps spearing him with those glacier eyes, he flashes his teeth. “I'm the honourable Vessi. I'm also the Noe treasurer. I work myself to the bone for my illustrious clan. It just so happens that the nature of my work allows me to indulge in these shut-in tendencies.”

Usira sighs. “Someone has to pick up the slack.”

Watching his profile, Yun can tell that the former moth catcher needs confirmation. “Don't worry, Usira. You were a negotiator before all this, speaking for the Isvalri. Once you've memorised the details of your new role, it's not that different. Rilan already likes you. Unlike me, you're good with people.”

“If you say so...”

“I do.”

They’re lost in thought. When they reach Yun’s quarters, they spot someone standing by the door: a boy in servant’s tunic. “My lord, this humble one is here to deliver a letter to you.” To Yun’s surprise, he isn’t looking at him—but at Usira.

“The sender?” Usira asks.

“Lady Pai Rilan.”

As soon as Usira takes the letter, the boy turns on his heel and jogs off.

Yun smells the vanilla scent on the paper where he’s standing. When the door to his quarters is shut behind them but Usira keeps staring at the letter, Yun gestures. “Go on.”

“You do it.”

Yun waits, giving him time to change his mind, before he opens the letter and reads by the fire. He laughs. “What did I tell you? It’s better for this sort of thing to happen sooner rather than later but… this must be some sort of record.”

Usira plops onto a floor cushion and buries his face in his hands. “Not helping.”

“It seems that you’ve angered the sender of one of the social invitations you turned down. A certain Meruun Zao.” He snorts. “Not the first Meruun with egotistical tendencies I’ve encountered2. It must be a family trait.” After seeing Usira’s face, he continues: “He’s telling everyone who will listen that the Noe are developing delusions of grandeur, aiming for Vesilim, but that their bonding a dirty commoner into the clan proves their lowly origins and that they shouldn’t be given any official positions and robbed of their council seat.”

“How many problems can this Meruun Zao create for us?”

“Given that he’s treasurer and acting right hand to clan head Varisei, I wouldn’t dismiss him out of hand. On the other hand, Meruun can be considered a mid-tier clan at best.”

“He’s slandering your name… our name. The clan won’t be happy about this, not that they were happy about us before.” Usira runs a hand through his hair and straightens. Yun ignores how deliciously mussed he looks with a few more strands escaping the knot and focuses on his glacier eyes instead. They’re bright. “What can I do to fix this?”

Yun grins, throwing the letter on the sofa. “I shall take this opportunity to demonstrate my next lesson: We have others do the dirty work for us whenever we can get away with it.”

Author Notes

First, the most important question: Did you catch the Ghost in the Shell reference I managed to squeeze in?

Second, this is one chapters that I rewrote from scratch after changing direction and plotting out the rest of season three. Originally it was just Yun and Usira talking at the breakfast table before the courier arrives with Rilan’s warning. Boring! I like this version much better, mainly because of the foreshadowing. Who does the puppet look like? Any ideas?

I’ve wanted to give the Noe puppets a more important part in this story for a long time—now it’s finally happening! With all the discourse around AI and consciousness, it even feels… dare I say it… timely. I can’t claim I planned that when I first started thinking about this story, it’s more that the themes and questions I’m thinking about at any given time end up surfacing in the fiction I write. Requiem, too, is a time capsule of the interests and opinions I’ve been holding over the last few years of writing it.

What’s your opinion, do you believe puppets (AI) could develop consciousness or not? And what would it look like? How would it behave? I’m not an expert by any means but I hope you’re enjoying my portrayal.

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Content warnings1

“How do I look?” Usira asks.

Zhiva stares back at him. “Apologies, I do not understand.”

Shaking his head, he wills himself to stop fiddling with his hair, his earrings. For the first time, he’s dolled up in pristine white clan robes, his hair arranged into an artful bun instead of the usual braid, fingernail-sized amethyst pendants dangling from his ears and Yun’s amethyst ring on his finger. His sleeves are embroidered in moth catcher lavender—a detail that will be altered out after the bonding ceremony, the tailor explained.

For now, he lingers in the space between Isvalri and Noe, neither one nor the other. He can’t wait any longer to forge connections though and so he allows Zhiva to lead him to the Pai mansion. More modest in size, it nevertheless features delicately sculpted sills, lintels and wrought iron doors. The patterns of waves and flames intertwining are so mesmerising, Usira nearly forgets his nerves. Nearly.

At the door, they’re greeted by a fresh-faced servant. Her bow is too deep but Usira swallows his protest, merely following her through corridors into a softly illuminated living space. Several white figures are already reclining on cushions, rugs, and low daybeds.

“My ladies and lords, Isvalri Usira, the esteemed bonded-to-be of honourable Vessi Noe Yun, has arrived.” Everyone rises at the announcement. The servant bows again and disappears.

The first to approach is a young woman whose snow-pale hair falls in artful curls over her shoulders, adorned with midnight-blue gems and her nails painted the same colour. Her sapphire eyes are sharp but not hostile. “Usira, welcome. I am honoured that you are gracing this humble salon with your presence.”

Even if he isn’t well-versed in it himself, Usira has heard enough smooth talk to know she’s delighted that he has accepted her invitation first. Word travels fast in the clan quarter. Of course, she can’t know that he isn’t only socialising. Today is for scouting, staking out the territory, observing his prey. He gives a modest bow, barely more than a nod—certainly more shallow than he would’ve bowed as a moth catcher. “The honour is mine. I have heard much about your gatherings and hope to learn more about fine arts too.”

Polite nothings, with a grain of truth mixed in. His research has revealed that her salons are immensely popular for connecting painters, sculptors, writers, and other artists with wealthy patrons. Pai Rilan stands at the centre of the capital’s art scene. Someone as social and well-connected as her provides a perfect gateway into clan society.

Of course, Usira is counting on the clans being curious about him too. Some guests throw glances at Zhiva until he sends her out with a nod.

Rilan leads him around the room for introductions. When everyone has settled once again with rosehip tea and candied snacks, she asks: “You hope to learn more about fine arts? I believe everyone gathered here is knowledgeable in one field or another. Is there anything in particular that you are drawn to?”

Usira smiles. “Sadly, I don’t presume to know much about art. I wouldn’t know where to start but I’m eager to learn. You see, I have often thought moths beautiful too, their natural beauty but also how artfully they are arranged for… our consumption.” Not your consumption. I belong to this crowd now. I’m eating at their table.

Part of him still can’t believe it.

“Moths beautiful? Some might show pretty colours, it is true, but the living ones are simply repulsive. The way they cling to walls and flutter to the light…” The speaker shudders, perhaps exaggerating. It’s Shinzi, introduced by Rilan as a famous painter. If he is patronised by the Pai, Usira can’t afford to anger him. The words of protest lodge in his throat.

“Tell us, Usira,” someone else is saying, a girl younger than him who shares Rilan’s snowy hair and round-cheeked features, although her eyes are a darker blue. If memory serves, her name is Rileevi. “In your time as moth hunter, have you ventured far outside the city?”

She means to ask how close he’s been to the surface. “I have come as far as the Zillia Downs on many expeditions but rarely farther.”

“Your eyesight has not suffered?” she asks. He detects nothing but genuine curiosity in her voice.

Before he can reply, Shinzi interjects. “They say that too much sunlight can mess with someone’s head too. Those who venture above might carry damage in their bodies that we cannot detect.”

Patronised by the Pai or not, Usira is starting to dislike the painter. “As a matter of fact, my eyesight is fine. Thank you for your concern,” he says to the girl. “I have never heard of any other damage caused by sunlight. Of course, I am neither a physician nor a Silvedhri. They know much more about the surface and possible effects of sunlight than moth catchers do.”

“You have had dealings with the Silvedhri?” Rilan asks. She is sipping from her cup but in her eyes is a spark of interest.

“We hire them as guides for our work on the Downs and other locations close to the surface.”

“Have you not found them crude or strange? They are different from us. Venturing to the surface is one thing but travelling in the light for yarns on end? It should be deadly.” This from a male clan member sitting next to Shinzi.

“I have not,” Usira retorts, “although I cannot say what techniques they use to withstand the sun.”

“Foreign blood,” someone murmurs into the tense silence. “Primitive nomads.”

“To join us here… The light, the heat clings to him too.”

“And what does it say about those beating down primitive nomads that they cannot come up with more stimulating conversation topics? This is quite enough.” Rilan stands and gestures towards a veiled canvas. Usira hasn’t noticed it propped up next to the fireplace until she draws attention to it. “Have we not gathered today to admire this piece that has recently come into my collection? It is my pleasure to present a recently discovered piece by an old master, provocative oil painter Yan Sivai. Let us unveil it now so your curiosity can be sated.”

Usira leans forward to gaze at the painting. As the evening moves on, he can’t shake the feeling that Rilan saved his face. Shinzi and his clan member friend were two words away from lumping him in with foreign blood and primitive. They behave for the rest of the day, perhaps kept in check by Rilan’s presence.

When the gathering breaks up, Usira is the last to leave. At the door, Rilan clasps his hands. He starts—in his experience, clan members refrain from casual touching.

“I must apologise for Shinzi and Ezen. I try to reign in their tendency to be crude whenever I can.”

“It is no matter,” Usira says, then hesitates. It’s much too early to hint at the book he’s been asked to find. However friendly Rilan was today, she’s still a stranger—and bound by social rules and customs he is only starting to grasp.

To his surprise, she breaks the silence first. “Usira, forgive me for offering unbidden advice but do not despair. You may be an outsider now but I have noticed your intelligence and will to learn. If you keep at it, you will not stay on the outside for the rest of your yarns.”

“Truly?”

She smiles. “Truly. And I will be of assistance to you as much as I can.”

He smiles too. “You have my gratitude, Rilan. I shall thank the Deep for making your acquaintance today.”

When Usira enters the Noe quarters, Yun is lounging on the sofa by the fireplace, empty dinner plates on the side table and a cup of tea in his hand. “Welcome home, dearest,” he drawls.

“I don’t know what’s worse, your timing or your jokes.” Groaning, Usira lowers himself onto a nest of cushions. He’s been sitting down, sipping tea and feasting on delicacies, and yet he feels as exhausted as if he had swum through frigid Lanvin Lake. Attentive as ever, Zhiva immediately serves hot fish broth.

Yun watches him devour the food. “I thought you wanted to see me. Here I am.”

Usira swallows. “I want to see you when I have time and energy to question you about everything I’m stepping into. The clans. Society. Politics. Since you kept evading me, I was forced to look for answers elsewhere. At the moment, I just want to eat and sleep.”

“I wasn’t evading you.” Yun sighs. “I had to take care of urgent matters. Did you find the answers you were looking for?”

I’m looking for a banned book so I can join this secret organisation working to take power from the clans and give it to the people. No, I haven’t found any answers yet. Usira bites his tongue. After draining his bowl, he asks: “What could be more urgent than educating your future bonded?”

Irritation flares in Yun’s eyes. “Here’s a lesson: We don’t give out anything for free. You tell me about your day and I’ll tell you about what I’ve been doing since I proposed.”

Usira steals a glance at Yun. The firelight is dancing in his orange eyes, turning them to molten heat. Tonight, too, he keeps his face angled away, hiding his scarred cheek. Something about his profile tugs at Usira and he can’t help but soften. “Alright.” He recounts the gathering at the Pai mansion, the discussion of fine arts, the bullying, Rilan’s kindness.

When he ends, Yun’s eyes flash. “I can’t say I’m surprised. Artists like to overreach and conveniently forget that they stay commoners, no matter how highly their art is valued. You will rise above the likes of him soon enough. It’s only jealousy speaking with his voice.” Before Usira can protest that he doesn’t plan on abandoning his roots, Yun continues. “Rilan, on the other hand… She’s one to watch.”

“Can I trust her?”

Yun hums. “I don’t know her personally but judging from her reputation, yes. They say she’s unusually sincere. Connected to half the clans too.”

Is Yun praising him for reaching out to Pai Rilan? Usira doesn’t dare believe it. Ignoring the strange feeling in his stomach, he hands the empty bowl to Zhiva before returning his full attention to Yun. “Your turn.”

Yun blinks at the fire. “I was…”

“No. Look at me.” That’s what has been bothering him: Ever since the announcement, Yun has refused to look Usira in the face. Usira, however, is sick of secrets and excuses. Well, if he wants to change their relationship, he should lead by example. “We are to be bonded. I might struggle and blunder, in fact I’m sure I will, but I am grateful to you for calling me back. By the Moth, I didn’t want to go into exile. I’d rather be called outsider and primitive than live far from my family, my people. I’m here only thanks to you. I’m willing to work hard to be who you need me to be. I’ll do everything so you don’t have to regret taking me in.”

All through his speech, Yun hasn’t moved. Now he faces Usira, baring his face to the flickering firelight. “I do not regret taking you in. Never.” He sighs, pressing his eyes shut for a beat. “I said I was busy, didn’t I? I thought you’d be fine on your own for a while but I can tell now I was mistaken.”

“I am fine on my own.” Usira considers. “I will be.”

Yun’s mouth twitches, a shadow of his old sardonic grin. “Here’s a revelation for you: I was not planning on bonding myself so soon. I’m not used to sharing… anything. I will try though.”

Will you try? To make it work? The question Usira couldn’t answer on the day of the proposal. “Let’s try together.” And because they’ve taken the first step, because he’s feeling invigorated, he lifts his hand.

Yun, however, turns away again. No. Not yet, perhaps. Wondering, Usira touches his hair instead and is enchanted when Yun doesn’t shy away. His hair is soft and fragrant, carrying memories of their first night together.

Author Notes

In an odd plot twist, I’ve almost finished writing season 3! There’s one last scene waiting to be written, and of course all the usual pre-release editing. The good news for you is that I’ll be able to reliably publish one chapter every two weeks or so until it’s all out there!

Compared to how I wrote previous seasons, this process suits me much better. It’s easier to keep track of everything that’s happening at the same time, to plan and foreshadow later events. If you read season 2 in one go, you will notice some inconsistencies that stem from me trying and failing to juggle everything, struggling to publish the next chapter in time. Lesson learned.

I’m still thinking about content strategy for this newsletter. In terms of views and engagement, the fiction seems to do so much worse than the nonfiction, especially now that I’m writing more about my Japan adventures. It seems to be dragging down the stats but I also don’t want to stop publishing fiction. What to do?

I don’t know. Don’t look at me, I don’t have any answers! I’m just trying to hold the balance between what I want to write vs. what gets attention, all the while trying to “grow” this little corner that I built two years ago—a balancing act if there ever was one. Writers, how do you do it?

Next Chapter

Previous Chapter

Content warnings1

I would have you create a puppet twin for me. Do this and you will stand at the top with me, always.

Yun bows at the waist. Lifting his head, he meets the yellow eyes of the woman who said those words to him six yarns ago. Not enough time to cool his white-hot rage. It’s a struggle to keep his voice bland. “I am at your service as requested, my lady.”

Zakiva doesn’t offer him a seat. Instead, she peers at him from her ornate carved bench, surrounded by not one or two but four unblinking puppets dressed in servant tunics. This terrace, located behind her quarters high up in the Noe clan mansion, is comfortably furnished with benches, tables, cushions and even two scraggly pale vines looping around the entryway. A small fire burns in the iron brazier next to Zakiva, the height of luxury. The most striking feature, however, are the high rock wall and ceiling: aglow with blue-green mineral veins. This terrace has always been part of the reigning Noe lord’s or lady’s quarters. Yun covets it not so much for its beauty but for the security, surrounded by the clan and impenetrable mountain on all sides.

“If you thought the title of treasurer gave you the right to decide clan matters on your own, I regret granting it to you.”

Yun has never been good at grovelling. Nevertheless, he bows again. “My humblest apologies. I suspected you would be less than pleased but something had to be done fast, to avoid losing one of our most valued allies. Name your price and I will pay it.”

Faint giggling. Zakiva’s daughter Limei lounges on a bench nearby, nibbling on candied snacks and observing him with eyes the same shade of yellow as mother’s.

Zakiva scoffs. “Valued allies? No moth catcher is that good. If one drip house is ruined, another takes its place sooner or later.”

Yun swallows the spark of rage scorching his throat. What irony, that his own clan head would throw the cold blood into his face that Usira keeps accusing him of. Commoners are all the same. Replaceable. Faceless. Pawns. Yun has learned otherwise. It’s only one commoner that he cares for but with a start, he realises it doesn’t matter. Caring for one has opened his eyes to all of them.

It will weaken your standing. Ulan should be laughing to herself. She was right. There’s no wriggling out of this one.

“You, however…” Zakiva smiles. After the accident, she has never been able to look at his face again—instead, she stretches lazily and gestures at the nearest puppet. The male leans down and she caresses his cheek. “You are the product of generations honing their craft, building upon the research and innovations of their predecessors. It would not do to punish you too harshly. Instead, I would merely have you fulfil what I asked of you six yarns ago.”

Yun tenses.

Zakiva keeps caressing the puppet, gazing at his porcelain face. Her puppets have always been sorry shadows of his, obedient but clumsy, artless. No one could mistake them for anything more. “Construct my perfect double to shield me from harm. Your twin servants are as impressive today as they were back when you created them. I have been told you spend considerable time in your workshop. Surely your craft has improved.”

His workshop is locked and secured several times over. No one but him, Zhiva and Zhiven has breached its threshold. No one knows what lies on the table there, completed but for that last life-giving breath. His craft hasn’t improved so much as leapfrogged into the darkest, profoundest depths of puppetry. Depths that no Noe has glimpsed before.

Zakiva can’t know, not yet. She has been lusting after his puppets for a long time. He bows again, hiding his unease. “As you wish, my lady.”

What lucky irony, he muses as he takes the stairs back into the mansion two at a time, that Zakiva can’t bear to look at him. He gets away with much that others would have glimpsed in his expression.

He’s made up his mind. It’s almost as if she invites deception and so he will procure a gemstone dagger to stab her in the back with.

The Temple of the Deep melts into the darkest corner of the city, wedged at the foot of the clan quarter but also close to the lively drip house district. The priesthood has always been connected to both, making them one of the most powerful factions of Kandamsin.

Before entering, Yun fishes a new earring with a teardrop-shaped rose quartz pendant out of his sleeve and puts it on. In the outer hall, he is met by a young priest—black robes, black-dyed hair—and shown into a meeting chamber. Shuli sits by the blood pool, sipping from a silver cup. At the sound of his footsteps, she rises and meets him halfway. “I would not have believed it possible but you did it. Izo is overjoyed. You have my gratitude.”

He lets her clasp his hands for a brief moment. “I’d rather have your support.”

She glances at the rose quartz earring. “It is an excellent piece you selected. It suits you although I am surprised to see you wear a soft colour such as this.”

“My tastes have been undergoing a change.”

“Evidently.” Her smile is as far away from Zakiva’s grimace as the Noe mansion is from the Zillia Downs. “I was consulting with the priests about the marriage. We have come to a preliminary agreement. Sit and enjoy the comforts of their hospitality with me a while longer.”

As Yun joins her on the soft grey cushions, shot through with silver and gold embroidery, the same young priest serves another cup of tea so dark it appears black. It’s fragrant with spice, leaving a pleasant burn on his tongue.

“There is no blood in this one,” Shuli explains when he eyes the liquid. “You should put more time into cultivating your relationship with the priesthood. It never hurts to be on good terms.”

Yun tucks that piece of advice away. As Vessi, his work is as far removed from the priesthood and their domain as it gets but his aunt is right: Every clan leader and high advisor frequents the Temple of the Deep, consulting and employing the priests for weddings, funerals, and other ritual blessings. It’s a mutually beneficial relationship: The Deep sanctifying the clans’ claims to power, the clans keeping the temple’s coffers filled.

What Shuli is implying is that he might find himself at the top of their clan sooner rather than later. He hopes it’s not in the way Zakiva wants. You will stand at the top with me, always.

I’m not good at sharing.

Then again, he hardly lusts for the clan headship the way others do. It’s practically walking into the hunting net on his own too feet. If he could only find an amenable or easily controlled ally, someone more palatable to the public…

“You command respect both in our clan and beyond. You’ve weathered the storms of politics for longer than I have been alive,” he says. Shuli swirls the liquid in her cup but he can tell from how she holds her head that she’s listening. “Far be it from me to seed discord between old friends but you must have noticed that our esteemed leader is losing her touch.”

“It is her greed that has elevated her to her current position.”

“The dose makes the poison,” Yun says darkly. If Zakiva’s greed was a sharpened spear point once, it’s whittled and rotted down to a blunt edge now. Construct my perfect double. Her request for protection might be genuine but more than half of it is her desire to show off, parade the best puppetry the Noe can offer in front of other clans. It’s an open secret among their relatives, however, that Zakiva hasn’t set foot in a workshop in at least six yarns. Her power is borrowed.

Shuli eyes him, likely gauging his sincerity, how deep he is into plotting a coup. He returns her gaze. After everything they’ve been through with Usira and Izo, they’re beyond candied words and clever feinting. “Who would you put in her place?”

Of course, she would strike at the heart of the matter. Yun grins. “I haven’t decided yet.”

“Come back with all the details decided. We shall take the future in our hands then.” She drains her cup and sets it down with a clack. The young priest appears to refill it from his iron kettle.

As Yun leaves, he doesn’t delude himself into thinking she hasn’t identified his bluff for what it was: There are no other candidates for the Noe headship—only him and Shuli herself.

Usira, he thinks into the morning gloom, learn fast. You’re forcing my hand.

Author Notes

Wondering what Shuli meant about Yun’s rose quartz earring? It’s a throwback to chapter 10 of the previous season when he negotiated for her support in exchange for his silence about her son Izo’s illegal procuring of cinnamon. To seal the deal, she offered him one piece of jewellery created by her favourite drip house. The rose quartz is the piece he chose.

In my efforts to write ahead, I have several chapters waiting in the wings now. This means I haven’t been thinking about Requiem too much since going back to work last week. Instead I’ve been reading David Bowie. A Life by Dylan Jones and thinking about Bowie as an artist. The way he created different characters for his music and the stage is deeply inspiring to me.

I’ve also been thinking about what to do with Occam’s Lab. I love that all of you, dear readers, are supporting me but I won’t deny that I had loftier ambitions for this newsletter. After two years, it’s not going as well as I hoped it would so I’m thinking of what to change. Rebrand is a nasty marketing word but it describes what I’m thinking of.

Most likely it’s only the presentation that will change, not so much the content—don’t worry, I’ll still find a way to wedge in my fiction somewhere.

Next Chapter

Previous Chapter

“Master left early this morning.”

Usira runs a hand through his combed, partly braided hair. It’s been three days since the proposal and he hasn’t seen a whisper of Yun. The puppet twins are in and out of his living quarters. Usira suspects Zhiva in particular has been instructed to attend to his needs as she is the one to serve his meals, lay out his clothes, and, more often than not, answer his questions. “When will he be back?”

“Apologies, I do not know.”

“I don’t mind waiting, not at all. Not like I’m doing anything else anyway,” he mutters to himself. In the meantime, Zhiva lays out breakfast on the tea table by the fireplace. After three days, Usira is still in awe at the luxury the clans enjoy: candied flowers and root vegetables arranged on a silver plate, steaming ginger tea, poured from a cast iron pot into delicate glass cups.

As he’s chewing his last bite, there’s a knock and a small but sturdy woman wearing the ice blue of tailors bustles in, covering the sofa and cushions with heaps of clothing fabric. She bows, takes one critical look at him and all but commands: “Stand, please.”

Usira is startled into obeying and she takes out a fine knotted rope with which she proceeds to measure his height, the length of his legs, his arms, the breadth of his shoulders, his waist, chest, neck, and the Moth knows what else. Her movements are so fast, so efficient, that he loses track of the rope. He looks at Zhiva. “Has my future bonded booked the best tailoring drip house in the city to attend to me today?”

“He has.” Oh, he knows Zhiva cannot project emotion but her voice still sounds too serene for his tastes.

“Yet he hasn’t deigned to grace me with his presence to explain or supply advice. I understand,” he says to no one, certainly not the puppet.

“What manner of garments shall the lord be needing?” the tailor asks.

Usira doesn’t know anything about clan fashion—only that none of his moth catcher robes will suffice. “Everything, I suppose. I’m not a lord though, no need to be so formal.” Not yet.

She blinks. “Apologies but the honourable Noe Yun has neglected to mention what status the lord will be occupying. The garments will need to be adjusted accordingly, you see.”

Usira is dumbstruck. What else is there besides future bonded, bonded and all the other synonyms that escape his memory at the moment?

Yun chooses that exact moment to stride in and decree: “Usira will be my consort, not my equal partner.” Without looking at Usira, he adds: “If I named him as heir to my titles and possessions, they would murder both of us in our wedding bed, if not earlier.”

Usira stares at Yun who seats himself at the corner desk and takes out some papers as if he were alone in his office. How easily he says words like heir and wedding bed! No doubt he has thought long and hard about this latest scheme. Now that Usira is rested and has been bored for drips on end, he has a million questions burning on his tongue. The tailor is still here, however, holding various fabrics up to his chest, tilting her head, clucking under her breath. Everything she has brought is white and silver—clan colours.

Never again, Usira realises, will be wear the moth catcher lavender of his drip house. White and silver are to be his colours, signalling his allegiance to a clan he will be tied to for the rest of his life. A clan that doesn’t welcome him.

All he can do is stand there, ball his fists and stare poisoned needles at Yun, who keeps scribbling. Eventually, the Vessi stands, wanders over to the tea table and picks at the snacks Zhiva laid out after clearing the empty breakfast plates.

He barely lifts his hand before the puppet slides a cup of hot tea into it. Despite his frustration, Usira is impressed. He’s rarely witnessed Yun interacting with his puppets in an everyday environment, outside his quarters they merely act as bodyguards or couriers. It’s a surprisingly intimate sight.

“This is the sort of information I should know,” he says to Yun, who’s still not looking at him, and gestures—at the richly appointed quarters, the crackling fire, the tailor, everything. “I’m not used to this. Everything you’ve absorbed as a young child, I need to be taught. Now.”

Yun savours his tea, staring at the wall. “You’ll have tutors.”

“What I need,” Usira snarls and stops when Yun looks straight at him. What I need is you.

“Do you understand how busy I am? Patience.” He sets the cup on its saucer and strides out the door.

Usira wants to scream. Instead he is forced to answer the tailor’s questions about accessory preferences and complementary colours. When she finally leaves, he indulges in another cup of fortifying ginger tea and sits by the fire. “The letters, please,” he asks Zhiva.

Yesterday, Melyi surprised him by striding into his Noe quarters as if he owned them. Ithreyesh would give Usira a chance, he said, with Melyi serving as his personal contact. Soon you will start receiving invitations from clan members, he advised. Carefully consider each and every one of them. If there are any names you’re not familiar with, investigate them. You shouldn’t rush your replies, take a few days at least. Accept those that are known to enjoy gossip, they are the most likely to respond to well-placed questions. Cultivate your relationship with them over the next few twists. They will be your best teachers.

It’s true, Yun isn’t known for his social graces. He’s considered a maverick, admired and feared for his puppetry and the way he has been accumulating influence. Likely he doesn’t get many invitations at all.

With shaking fingers, Usira unfolds the first letter and reads. Pai Rilan of the fine arts Pai clan, known for her salons bringing together artists of all kinds, be it painters, sculptors, or architects, with wealthy patrons. Hers is a familiar name. The Pai clan, Melyi has told him, has stolen something of ours that we want back. It’s a manuscript, loosely bound in red bat leather. It was supposed to be released through a Pai-owned publisher but they confiscated it before it left the house. Destroyed all but one copy.

Why was it confiscated? You don’t need to know. Where do the Pai keep it? Find the answer and Ithreyesh will welcome you as a member.

True, Usira has collected information on clan members to ease negotiations before. He has never spied on them though. It leaves a bitter aftertaste on his tongue but what can he do? Beginning with Pai Rilan’s, he sorts the invitations into three piles: accept, decline, and need more information. Zhiva brings paper and writing utensils, and Usira gets to work composing his first reply.

He will tackle this like he would a large-scale Blackvein Moth hunt: by gathering information, devising a strategy, and executing, all the while learning on the go and adjusting to changing conditions. His mouth quirks. Why not think of the clans as a new moth species he is hunting?

Only you can help us get that manuscript back. Don’t waste our trust. Indeed, Usira is hunting again—only this time his client is Ithreyesh, the clans his prey.

Author Notes

I haven’t put much thought into this but I imagine the Sedrivar use woodblock printing for mass-produced books and cheap illustration, like woodblock prints in the Japanese Edo period (1603-1868). Japan had a fascinating publishing culture during that time, which I touch on briefly in my article Tea and The Art of Social Climbing. Handwritten manuscripts were in use alongside printed books. They could be book copies for personal use, journals, commonplace books, primers etc.

In rural communities, then, texts might be found in manuscript copies rather than the printed editions that were easily available in cities, and this was as true of Sinological texts as it was of light fiction and even primers1.

Banned books were often circulated as handwritten manuscripts, which might give you an idea what that Ithreyesh manuscript contains and why the Pai didn’t want it published…

On the high end, manuscripts could include religious works commissioned by temples or decorative works commissioned by the clans. Imagine lavishly decorated tombs of family genealogy, illustrated family trees in the style of the Book of Kells… The exhibition I visited in Dublin’s Trinity College was so inspiring, I want to write a short story or three about book culture in Yun’s and Usira’s world now.

Next Chapter

Previous Chapter

Content warnings1

Usira wakes in an unfamiliar bed with the softest grey sheets he has ever felt, like smoke under his fingertips. The lone glowshroom on the dresser illuminates severe iron furniture, fine jewels gleaming on trays. A faint scent of spice hangs in the air. There’s only one place he can think of he might have been brought to in his exhaustion, after Yun brought him back from certain exile and proposed to him in front of the clans.

He stands, belting his silk nightgown. Beyond the door, he finds a reception room, sparse and cold as a crypt. The two familiar puppets by the tea table turn in unison when he steps out.

“Where’s Yun?”

“At work,” Zhiven says. Meanwhile, Zhiva prepares tea and arranges covered plates on a tray.

Usira waits but no more explanation is forthcoming. Of course, puppets only answer to direct questions. They wouldn’t be able to read his confusion or anticipate what other information he is missing. “Are these his quarters in the Noe clan mansion?”

“Yes,” Zhiven confirms.

Now that he’s not half-dead on his feet, the enormity of what happened since his return to Kandamsin weighs down on Usira, crushing him. Bonded to a Noe. And not just any Noe—the Vessi and clan treasurer.

“I have to visit my family,” he blurts out as Zhiva takes the lids off steaming dishes. Usira’s stomach growls but neither hunger nor the inviting scent registers in his head. “The Isvalri drip house,” he adds when neither of the puppets comment.

“We were instructed to feed you and see to your every need here.”

Did Yun expect him to sit around and wait for his return? If so, he’s out of luck. When asked, Zhiva lays out an everyday outfit with nondescript hooded overcoat on the bed. The puppets seem perplexed but they don’t stop him from leaving.

He remembers Yun proclaiming his innocence but the city still feels hostile. He keeps the hood up until he enters his family home. The inner courtyard is a whirlwind of activity, his father’s office knotted with relatives and clan messengers.

Yun has kept his word, after all—his family is recovering. They’re overjoyed to see him again and congratulate him when he tells them what happened after his return. Two drips later, Usira waits by a side gate until a familiar face melts out of the shadows.

“You look well, friend.” Melyi smiles. “I must admit, I checked the Elimen’s Mouth2 earlier than planned, hoping for a message from you. Apologies for not being of much help. If the rumours are true, it all worked out in your favour though.”

Sensing his curiosity, Usira nods towards the alley. “Not to worry, there’s still something you can help with. Care for a walk?”

The walk morphs into a climb. Usira is determined to burn off his restless energy and Melyi is determined to tread where they cannot be eavesdropped on. When Usira doesn’t speak immediately, Melyi takes the lead through narrow tunnels, traversing ledges past sheer drops into the Deep, following glittering turquoise veins in the mountain. He’s familiar with the warrens surrounding the city, more so than Usira, who has always hunted farther away from civilisation.

After half a drip, Usira is out of breath. It’s Melyi who insists on a break. “No shame in exhaustion after everything you’ve endured.”

With a frustrated huff, Usira leans against a narrow ledge jutting from the wall. They’ve reached a clearing, the ceiling high enough to stand and softly illuminated in blue. “I’ve never liked making excuses for weakness, however valid they may be.”

Melyi hands over a hip flask. “What is it you wanted to ask of me?”

Usira hesitates but they haven’t seen another sentient being in over a drip. This is as good a place as any. “Let me join Ithreyesh.”

Melyi’s mild features cloud. “I can guess what brought this on but it might not be the solution you’re looking for.”

“Why not? I haven't accepted Yun’s proposal but I'm already at a severe disadvantage. All my yarns as moth catcher won’t help me once I’m… up the cliff. I’ll have nothing. You said your organisation needs me specifically. I’m willing to help in exchange for information and influence with the clans.”

“What makes you think we have that influence?”

Usira rolls his eyes. “No need to play coy. You’ve clearly made some progress, otherwise you wouldn’t have spoken about your goals that openly with me. How long has Ithreyesh been around?”

“More perceptive than I thought.” Melyi grins. “He might have already taught you more than you realise.”

Usira hands back the flask. “I’m not willing to rely on him alone. Our relationship has never been stable, I suspect it will only get worse.” When Melyi is silent, he pushes off the seat. “Think about it if you want.”

Another half drip later, they emerge into the low, oddly angled mess of hole-in-the-wall eateries and pawnbrokers that is the outskirts of Kandamsin. Melyi ducks into a tiny tea shop and leans over their cups, so close that Usira smells his breath: mint, crisp as a new silk robe. “There are certain conditions for becoming a regular member. The candidate has to give up their previous identity before they can be accepted into our ranks.”

When Usira lifts a brow, he supplies: “They have to die. Stage their own death so no one from their old life expects to ever see them again.”

“Dramatic.”

Melyi spreads his arms, as much as he can without knocking into the patrons to his right and left. “You can’t do that, obviously. Your new status as his betrothed has only increased your value. I might be able to convince them to make you an irregular member. A sleeper, if you will.”

“Yes.” Usira drains his glass and sets it down on the table with a bright clink. “You told me we need to push back against the clans. Where’s your passion now? I’m uniquely positioned and ready to act but I need intelligence and direction. It’s a perfect match.”

Melyi sighs, massaging his brow. “Very well. I will inquire.”

Under the exasperation, Usira is sure he sees a spark of intrigue. “Thank you.”

“Whether you’re accepted or not, there’s a some advice about clan society I can give you right now. The first few days are crucial to how you’re perceived, treated, and judged,” Melyi begins, leaning even closer. Usira listens with every fibre of his battered body as he explains.

“As I said, he is your weakness.”

“You only said helping him would weaken my social standing.” Under Ulan’s piercing gaze, Yun crosses his office and hurls himself into his desk chair. He’s neglected his Vessi duties for far too long and the Great Council doesn’t need another reason to be displeased with him.

“We’re beyond nit-picking, dear ally.” She perches on his desk corner. “What’s done is done. You have to be careful not slip up in public. Deny that he means anything to you. Your dramatic gesture has caused ripples in society. They’ll use every opportunity to get the rest of the story out of you but you must insist that it was pure calculation.”

Staring at the ledger in front of him, Yun tightens his grip on the quill. “I don’t recall appointing you as my personal advisor.”

Ulan ignores him. “Usira too. He will be treated as a clan member starting now but he’s not used to public scrutiny. He must be instructed about how to converse, how to conduct himself, and soon.”

“Are you volunteering?” he snaps.

She scoffs. “I’m merely here to make sure that our precious patron will be able to patronise us for a while longer. I will act as advisor, yes, if needed. I am not, however, a private tutor for your little plaything.”

Yun is up and has the tip of the quill pointed at Ulan’s right eye before she can blink once. “I would advise you to watch your tongue.”

They both know that Ulan could’ve danced out of his reach. Yet she hasn’t, which says more than her next words. “Forgive me, I merely wanted to make you listen. I do not recommend getting involved with him in any way. You can't take back the proposal, obviously, but keep him as far away as you dare.”

Slowly, he retreats and sits. A smattering of ink has stained the ledger, tiny compared to his outburst of emotion. He sneers at it, as if that will erase it. “I will consider it.”

“Yun…”

“No.”

Sighing, she slides off the desk and paces in front of it, occasionally glancing at his work. Yun is torn between barking at her to stop and refusing to utter another word. When Zhiva serves tea, she takes her cup and drains it in one gulp. “This is incorrect,” she says and points at a line. “This expense went to security for An Don Shio instead of Shenven. They were concerned after her strict ruling in the Shishiyyin case.”

Yun corrects the error. “Sun-blasted twins.”

Later, he asks Zhiva to serve candied roots and fresh tea. Ulan insinuates herself into his break by joining him at the fireplace and picking the ginger pieces off the platter. “There’s something else.”

“I’m glad you didn’t come just to provide advice I never asked for.” When she hesitates, nibbling on her ginger, he adds: “Out with it.”

“You never got any more leads about that assassination attempt, did you?”

Yun stares at her profile. “Are you offering?”

With effort, she tears her gaze from the flames and faces him. “It was us.”

Yun continues staring at Ulan, her flawless face radiating guilt for the first time he has known her. Again, he notes how familiar she is with him, as if they had been friends for many yarns. She has a nose for his moods—often gauging correctly but not always. This must be something she expects him to get angry over. “Explain.”

“The assassination attempt. It was us. We wanted to frame Vylira, of course. We also wanted to inspire a sense of urgency in you. Now that you know about us, you would do well to remember what we could do if you disregard our suggestions.”

She says all that with eerie calm but lacking any menace. Even as an Ithreyesh agent, Ulan is too clever not to have her own opinions about everything. Her body language tells him that she doesn't approve. *Interesting.*

He keeps her waiting for another moment before he smiles. “Wonderful.”

She rolls her eyes. “Don't play games with me. Not now.”

“I mean it, my dear intruder. All this time I've been stressed out of my mind thinking someone out there still wanted me dead. Our past communications tell me that Ithreyesh doesn’t want me dead anymore, they’re just warning me against crossing them. Well, the warning has been received. I am suitably impressed and ready to pay my dues.”

She stares at him for another breath, then nods. “Good.” Draining the last of her tea, she stands. “I’ll be back soon.”

It's progress, Yun thinks, that she now deigns to bid him goodbye before disappearing without a trace.

Author Notes

Welcome back to Requiem of the Moth! Can you believe it’s already season three? It’s been so long since I published season two that I’ve forgotten what I usually talk about in these author notes.

Since the last ended with a bang, for this chapter I wanted to take a step back and check in with both Usira and Yun, to see how they were doing, what they were struggling with, who they were talking to. The web of relationships is getting ever more complex, to the point where I probably need a chart to keep track of everyone and their (changing) motivations. It might be fun to check in with older characters too, bring them back for a chapter or two.

One of my goals for this story arc is to utilise a little more planning ahead and foreshadowing. At the moment, I’ve built up a buffer of several chapters, which I hope to keep up in the following weeks and months.

Either way, I hope you’re as excited as I am to revisit Yun and Usira, our ruthless clan official and incorruptible moth catcher, now stuck together for good. It might not be as action-packed (hah) as previous seasons — their main challenge will be navigating society and life as a bonded couple but I hope you will nevertheless keep following their story and let me know your thoughts in the comments!

Next Chapter

Previous Chapter

“By all the moths under the mountain, what have you done?”

Yun makes to steer him out of the parlour, perhaps store him away in some bedroom until the fuss has blown over but Usira plants his feet by the fireplace. The wood scent coats his nose and weighs on his eyelids, but he doesn’t know how long his outrage will fuel this interrogation of the Vessi.

Eventually Yun relents. “As I said, it’s the only solution. I am sorry.”

Usira shakes his head. He doesn’t even want to ask but staying ignorant would be worse. “Say it.”

Yun signals to Zhiven for tea. Of course, a pot is already prepared. “Finding the true culprit wasn’t enough. After everything, only a grand gesture could restore your family’s reputation. Something that would keep you in the clans’ good graces once and for all. You had to be so tightly connected to us that there was no separating. Hence the proposal.”

When he finishes, terrible calm has settled over Usira. He ignores the tea cup offered by Zhiven, its flowery aroma. After a while, Zhiven sets it on a side table. “Why did you break your promise to me? You took the proof I offered but didn’t say anything about our contribution. Wanted to keep all the glory for yourself, did you?”

Yun is gazing into the fire. “They wouldn’t have believed me. It would’ve weakened my position, had I insisted you were innocent. Caxian and the other clans, they were obsessed with painting you as the culprit. They didn’t want to see anything else.”

“You should’ve left me to rot in the sun,” Usira mutters and grits his teeth when he is yanked by his arms.

Suddenly Yun’s hot gaze is right in front of him, barely a hair’s breadth away. “Never.”

Usira wants to run. The fire, the flowery tea aroma, and Yun, close enough to kiss… it’s all too much. “You used me. What do you think I am, one of your puppets?”

Yun is shaking his head even before he finishes speaking. “I apologise for the way it had to be done but I’m not sorry I proposed the bonding. It’s the ideal solution for both of us. If you’re willing, we can forge a meaningful alliance. If you…”

Usira barks out a laugh, squirming but too tired to break Yun’s grip. “Can I even say no?”

Yun’s silence is answer enough. Usira sighs and with it, all anger seeps out of his body. He sinks to the floor, causing Yun to release him. “You’re using me again. I guess I deserve it for not being able to quit even though it’s clear that I mean nothing to you.”

After a beat, Yun kneels before him. Usira stares at the tea on the side table, anything but Yun’s burning gaze. The steaming tea reminds him of a similar moment long ago, the moment Yun asked for his trust for the first time.

When Yun speaks, it is in the same quiet tone. “If you meant nothing to me, I would’ve let you flee… wherever you were planning to go. I would’ve struck you from my memory the moment you left Kandamsin. If you meant nothing to me, I wouldn’t be here, trying and failing to explain myself. You make me vulnerable. You might think me invincible but being around you is dangerous for me. With this, I’ve given my enemies another reason to come for me. It doesn’t matter though. I can’t leave you.”

Usira’s mind latches onto that detail. “You… can’t?”

“I can’t.”

“We still have something in common then.”

“What a pair we make.” Yun laughs softly.

Their gazes meet. The fire is dancing in Yun’s, glowing, and Usira wonders. If Yun has ever been honest before. If there’s hope for him to change after all. “I thought you felt nothing for me.”

“I tried hard to feel nothing for you. I failed.” One corner of his mouth lifts ruefully. “There’s something I have to ask. Will you… try? To make it work?”

Try. Change. Usira’s head spins. The throbbing behind his temples is back with a vengeance. “I don’t know. This is a lot. I haven’t even slept in…”

Yun’s gaze softens. “Rest. Forget I asked.”

In a dark corner of his exhausted mind, Usira suspects Yun is being a coward again. He wants to hold on to that thought, capture that new side of the Vessi before it vanishes like smoke through the cracks, but the strain is rapidly catching up with him.

And so he rests.

Author Notes

We all know that relationships require compromise but how much change can you ask from your partner before they start bending themselves out of shape? Do you even have the right to ask them or should you wait for them to initiate? And if you don’t address it, how would they even know you’re struggling? We have this rose-tinted image of soulmates being so in tune with each other that they just know but in reality, that rarely happens. I’m someone who longs to understand others so this is something I think about a lot.

As usual, I take my characters and let them work out these questions through the story. I wonder what answers they will come up with in season three…

Anyway, this concludes season two! Will Usira come to terms with Yun’s proposal or is there a fight brewing on the horizon? And how will Yun’s family react to having a commoner thrust into their midst? Let me know what you think!

I might or might not edit season two before starting season three... There’s quite a few aspects I’m unhappy with. Here’s my tentative plan for the coming weeks:

• Compile season one and two into one downloadable ebook. I’ve never had to format an ebook before so let me know if you have any resources for that!

• Release a detailed analysis of the mistakes I made writing season two. It’s already written, to be published within the next few days!

• Requiem of the Moth will go on a short break while I figure out what happens next. With season three, I’d like to have a better idea of the plot and have a 2-3 chapter buffer at all times.

Stick around for more clan politics and relationship drama in season three! In the meantime, feel free to check out some of my other pieces, such as this one:

Next Chapter

Previous Chapter

Content warnings1

Usira sleeps fitfully. It’s as if his body has realised he’s alone and decided to be constantly vigilant.

Yes, he has been on solo hunting expeditions but never on the Zillia Downs, never this far from his family. The Downs are too dangerous to hunt alone and the Isvalri take care of each other.

He knows sleep keeps him healthy and strong, along with food and drink, but he can’t stop his mind running off into painful directions once he closes the tent flap and then his eyes. Whether he will survive on his own. Where he should go. What he should do. How he could earn money. Perhaps he could cook. Preparing the moths they catch has never been his area of expertise but he remembers the basics. He can make simple campfire meals. Surely cooking follows the same pattern, no matter the ingredients.

He decides he will learn more and be a cook. Offer his services to a merchant caravan, then settle down… somewhere far away.

When Selin finds him after two sleepless twists, Usira fears he might be hallucinating.

Then he is relieved he doesn’t have to become a cook after all.

His eyes water when he sees the green-blue lights of the city. Silently, he thanks the Moth. No matter what happens next, he is grateful for getting to see his home, his family again.

Selin has been infuriating in his lack of useful answers. “The true culprit has been found. You’ll be cleared of all charges as soon as you’re back.” Who is the true culprit? How have they been found? What about their reputation?

No answer.

The long way back to Kandamsin gives Usira ample time to contemplate possibilities, come up with his own scenarios and turn them over in his mind.

Which is why he is not surprised when, after passing the gates, he is handed over to two hooded servants, separated from Selin and led through the winding corridors of a familiar government building. He is also not surprised when he is shown inside a parlour and the lone silhouette standing by the fireplace turns out to be Noe Yun.

Noe Yun who has snatched away the proof they gathered on the Downs and with it, any chance of redeeming their reputation. Noe Yun who has only ever sought to maximise his own power. Noe Yun who has been distant and cold. Noe Yun who looks at him with unreadable ember eyes now.

“You,” Usira whispers.

The smooth dark walls echo his voice back at him.

One corner of Yun’s mouth quirks upward. He keeps the scarred side of his face angled away. “Welcome home.”

“This is not my home. What am I doing here?” Usira has learned his lesson—twice. He can’t think of a reason why Yun would jump in to save him now. Even if he did though, Usira certainly won’t fall to the Vessi’s feet in gratitude.

The half-smile fades. He beckons Usira closer to the fire. “I did what I could on my own but you’re not entirely out of danger yet. I have a proposition. Your fate, and by extension your family’s fate, will depend on your answer.”

“Anything to help my family.”

“It might… no, it will most certainly change your life forever.”

It’s not like Yun to hesitate. When Usira steps closer, he notices Yun’s outfit: finest silvery-white silk, the sleeves of ceremonial length but unadorned. He wears only his family amethyst ring—the one Usira returned before his flight—and earrings with pale teardrop-shaped pendants. His bone-white hair is piled on top of his head with a few braids artfully falling over his cheek, trailing down his back. “Why are you dressed like that?”

Yun lacks his characteristic sharp irony. Instead, he radiates… sadness? No, that can’t be it. Surely Usira’s exhausted mind is playing tricks on him.

“It’s the only solution we could think of. I’ll ask again: Do you mean it?”

Usira wonders about that we but there are more pressing concerns. “Anything. Still, I’d like to know what it is I’m agreeing to.”

“You will in a moment. Come with me.”

Wrought-iron double doors open onto a raised black marble platform. The dimly lit hall beyond holds a crowd in pale finery: clanspeople, officials. To the right, an ivory-robed figure stands with her quill poised—a council scribe. There is to be an announcement worth recording.

Yun bows with a flourish of sleeves, elegant clan member from head to toe. “Welcome, all. Praise be to the Deep and the Moth on this happy occasion. Some of you may have heard already but I am pleased to announce that the parasite that has been tormenting us for far too long has been banished from our kitchens and dinner tables for good. The culprit behind the poisonings has been found at last and languishes in captivity as we speak. The investigation is still ongoing as his true identity and motive remain a mystery as of now. However, I can assure you that his name is not Isvalri.”

Whispers race through the crowd but Yun isn’t finished yet. With another flourish, he indicates Usira.

“On behalf of the Sethri, I shall issue a public apology to the Isvalri and especially to Isvalri Usira, who has been wrongfully accused of poisoning multiple clan members. Usira, know that you have been found innocent.”

Usira bows his head. With every word from Yun, the uneasy feeling in his gut grows but he has been around clanspeople long enough to recognise a show for the masses when he sees one. He will play his part as agreed.

“I cannot begin to express the shame of these wrongful accusations. As I was tasked with mediating in this conflict between clans and drip house, I have offered to personally make amends. In their wisdom, the Sethri have approved my suggestion. My apology consists of two pieces: First, I have gained permission for Noe Izo to marry Caxian Lien. It is my sincere hope that clan Caxian, one of the first victims, will accept this apology for their prolonged suffering from the parasite while the investigation was stalled. Second… Usira.”

Yun steps back and faces Usira. Even on this grand stage, he hides his scars behind strands of hair. What has changed, that he is hiding what he has defiantly bared to the light before? Usira focuses on that puzzle, on Yun’s ember eyes to distract himself from the spiking dread.

“Allow me to reforge the bond between our two families, between us.” Yun slides the amethyst ring from his finger and offers it behind his right sleeve—shaded from all eyes and so all the more blessed by the Deep. “Allow me to offer this ring as a token, to express my wish to never cut this bond again in my lifetime.”

Time stutters. Usira forgets the pounding behind his temples, the heaps of dust and sweat in his travel tunic, the lead exhaustion in his limbs. He nearly forgets where he is, where they still are.

Yun holds the ring out to him. Familiar, almost comforting.

Usira doesn’t know who slides it on his finger. Who closes both their hands around it.

A voice rings out over the rising tide of crowd noise. “The Deep has witnessed the forging of a new bond. May it hold as strong as silk, run as true as blood. Rejoice, all, for the joining of these two families.”

Usira doesn’t command his feet to exit the platform and retreat into the parlour but someone is holding his hand, leading him. When his face warms, he realises he is back in front of the fireplace and his thoughts return, slow as steam rising from a hot spring.

When Yun appears at his side, he whirls. The words spoken not a drip earlier echo in his head. The forging of a new bond. The joining of these two families.

What was that? But it’s as clear as the light from a thousand glowshrooms: a public proposal. Usira stares at the ring on his finger, then at Yun.

“By all the moths under the mountain, what have you done?”

Author Notes

And the curtain falls!

For this chapter title, I was surprised to learn that the phrase pomp and circumstance originates from Shakespeare’s Othello Act 3 Scene 3 where the general mourns what he sees as the loss of his glorious military occupation.

O farewell,
Farewell the neighing steed, and the shrill trump,
The spirit-stirring drum, th’ ear-piercing fife;
The royal banner, and all quality,
Pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war!
And O you mortal engines, whose rude throats
Th’ immortal Jove’s dread clamours counterfeit,
Farewell! Othello’s occupation’s gone.

Whereas he laments the loss, nowadays pomp and circumstance are associated with excessive ceremony. Elaborate ritual is a big part of Sedrivar society, helping them define their place relative to everyone else’s place, their standing in the world. They would absolutely insist on the ONE right way of making important gestures or honouring important occasions, including… Yun’s proposal.

When worldbuilding specific details, I start by connecting them to the overall concept for the culture they will be associated with. Since the Sedrivar live in underground caves and venerate the Deep, something as important as Yun’s proposal is seen as all the more blessed if carried out in darkness, which is why he presents the ring in the shadow of his long sleeve. Isn’t it a romantic gesture too? For the Sedrivar, sex isn’t taboo like it was and still is in some Christian cultures but there’s still something beautiful and exciting about romance in private.

At the same time, Yun had to make a show out of it because Usira’s reputation was at stake. Reputation being very much a public concept, some sort of grand gesture was necessary. An apology and a proposal of partnership that could be merely professional but could also extend into the private… I hope I was able to strike the right balance.

Still, this particular proposal shouldn’t be seen as representative of how the Sedrivar usually handle this sort of occasion. Since it was so short-notice, I imagine Yun had to bend a lot of rules, involving symbolic ceremony, the blessings of ancestors and living family etc. Usira wouldn’t notice, of course, but other clanspeople might not be happy with this new sleight of hand. Then again, Yun has always done things his way, with little regard for propriety.

What sort of proposal is it really? That will depend on what Yun and Usira make of it. Either way, the next chapter will conclude Requiem of the Moth Season Two. Stay tuned for the aftermath!

Next Chapter

Previous Chapter

Content warnings1

The ferns have stopped dripping. Without the soothing background noise, the Zillia Downs are still, crystallised. It reminds Usira of something a Silvedhri told him at a clan gathering many yarns ago: that on the surface, the temperature and behaviour of the sky changes depending on the time of year. Seasons, they call it. He wonders if weather on the Downs is divided into a rainy season and a dry season.

Still, everything is wet and the light is stronger, nearly blinding. When he arrives, exhausted from his flight, he crawls into the first hole—not quite a cave—that he finds and hides until his various aches have quieted down.

He fashions a spare belt into a cowl and wraps his brow, shadowing his eyes from the glare. Many Sedrivar believe that even this little sunlight, as diffuse as it is, could blind them if they stay in these caves for too long. Usira wishes he had asked a doctor before sneaking out of the city. As it is, he hopes to intercept the next Silvedhri coming through and squeeze them for all the information he can get. He will need it.

I can never go back. The prospect makes him shudder.

He squints at the ceiling, comparing its structure to the rough map in his memory. He has drifted off to the southern tip of this cavern and cuts through a thicket of waist-high fern. On the other side, he finds the path he was looking for, that leads to a rocky ledge overlooking the entrance.

Vylira, too, was driven from Kandamsin after Yun took the treasury from her. Clan member that she is, however, she will never have to fend for herself in the wilds. She never had to completely cut herself off from civilisation. She never had to sacrifice herself for her family.

Clan members wouldn’t do what he has done, anyway. To them, family is just a collection of tacit alliances that can shift and change at any point in time.

That’s certainly what Usira is to Yun. Perhaps that’s all he ever was.

He shakes himself. It doesn’t matter now. He will learn to live on the surface and never look back. As long as he stays away, his family will be safe—that’s all he wants to think about.

Taking a deep breath, he climbs the rocky ledge—ignoring the fact that the last time he was there with Yun—and gazes over the lush carpet of plants and ponds below. If the Silvedhri find joy in their nomadic lifestyle, so can he.

Yun is halfway through the city when a woman he has never seen before stops him in the middle of the street. “Wait. Wherever you think you’re going, it’s a bad idea.”

“Excuse me.”

He makes to brush her off but she grabs his arm with surprising force. Hissing, he shoves her but she pivots and has his arm pinned behind his back before he can yell. His shoulder cracks, punctuating his surprise. He might not be the best martial artist in the city but he is also far from the worst. “Who…”

“Have you missed me?” she purrs into his ear and he finally recognises the smoky voice.

Ulan. “How did you…”

“Shhh,” she whispers. “I know about your moth catcher. As soon as I heard, I came… to warn you against doing something stupid.”

He flexes his arm but her grip is iron. Where has this woman trained to get so strong? “Unhand me!”

“Only if you calm down and listen to me. After that, you may storm off although I hope that by then, you will have reconsidered.”

“I don’t have the time.”

“It will be worth it, I vow it by Isvalri Usira’s life.”

What an odd expression. He nods. When she steps back, he straightens and adjusts his sleeves, huffing in barely contained anger. Every beat he is standing here, chatting, Usira might get farther away from the city. From where he is supposed to be. Still, he sends Zhiven to keep watch at the mouth of the alley. “Out with it,” he prompts.

Ulan leans back under a dark overhang. Even in the dim, her maskless features are lovely, her amber gaze full of spark. “If you force the city guard to scrap his crime using your only authority, it will weaken your standing. Significantly. You have worked many yarns to get where you are now. Will you really throw it all away for him?”

Contempt? He stores the observation for later inspection. “I have to save him,” he insists.

She observes him. He doesn’t bat an eyelid. Finally, she nods. “How?” There’s a command, a challenge in her voice wafting like precious wood smoke to the cavernous ceiling.

Yun takes deeps breath while his mind whirrs. Perhaps this is what Ulan wanted after all, to get him to slow down and think before acting. The Deep knows Usira brings out his anger, his desperation like no one else. “I need to give the guard someone else to arrest,” he begins. “Otherwise Usira will never be able to return to his family and keep his profession. Their reputation is in tatters.”

“The clans are out for blood.”

“We still have no clue who really planted the parasite though. It might have been the course of nature and the Isvalri were just unlucky.”

“I might be able to provide a culprit for you,” Ulan interjects.

He rounds on her. “You know who did it?”

“That’s not what I said.” She smiles.

Yun stares at her. Time passes as he digests. “You’ll give me something or someone to satisfy their blood lust in exchange for…”

“Your continued patronage of our organisation,” she says with a dainty little bow. “Of course, we’re not unreasonable. We won’t demand more than you can give but we expect you to pay promptly. No grumbling, no silly hide-and-seek games. You know I’ll always win those.”

As much as he still doesn’t know about Ulan, he is sure about that. An accomplished martial artist with the power to override command of his own puppets… If all Ithreyesh members are like her, it is an organisation to be reckoned with. To keep a close eye on. As if he didn’t have enough problems already.

“Are we agreed?” she asks, snapping him back to the present. First Usira, then everything else.

“Agreed,” Yun says.

When Ulan steps closer to whisper her plan into his ear, his eyes widen.

Author Notes

Since I’m still writing nonfiction rather than fiction, this is the last backlog chapter. Usira’s quiet loneliness far from loved ones clashes with Yun’s frantic leap to action to save ‘his’ moth catcher in a contrast that wasn’t pre-planned but still feels right. I hope Yun’s scene shows more of his true feelings too. He has to act cool and indifferent in front of other people but once he’s alone, there’s no stopping him.

(It’s not healthy to keep everything bottled up, you know.)

No matter how this season ends, I hope he learns to express his feelings a little more freely. It’s definitely part of the development arc I have planned for him, just as Usira might have to learn to be a little less righteous and judgemental. Ideally, the changes they’re undergoing will bring them closer together too, teach them to better tolerate each other’s faults.

I’ve been thinking about relationships. They require some compromise from both partners but it’s tricky to determine the golden ratio: who has to compromise more, who gives up less and why, where to draw the line and call it quits when it just doesn’t work. I’m still not sure whether Yun and Usira will find some equilibrium with each other as their lives remain turbulent. I hope you’re as eager as I am to find out.

Next Chapter

Previous Chapter

When Noe Yun calls at the jewellery drip house, the amber-haired boy answering the door almost slams it in his face. His eyes are as wide as saucers. “H-honourable Vessi?”

“I was told Noe Shuli would be here today. I have urgent business to discuss with her.”

“O-of course.” His voice cracks but he beckons Yun in and leads the way. This drip house has no spacious inner courtyard like the Isvalri one, only a narrow alcove with their ancestor shrine off the entrance. As a small jeweller in Kandamsin, it is nevertheless known for exquisite craftsmanship—not least of all thanks to Shuli’s patronage.

She likes discovering hidden gems, Yun thinks wryly, championing them. Shuli was the first to support him against Vylira. Had she hoped he’d be easier to control? Unlike her brother Lisith, however, she has never asked for anything in return.

The boy opens a door and bows. The room beyond is lit by countless glowshrooms wrought around the metal shelves lining three walls. Polished gems shine in the green-blue light. Yun, by no means an expert, can tell this drip house is confident in their skills by the copious light. Others might keep their show rooms dimmer, to better hide flawed cuts.

The elderly drip house head, in a saffron tunic with amber hair cropped sharply at chin length, sinks into a more composed bow than her younger relative—likely grandson. Shuli, as graceful as ever with red eyeshadow and nails, turns as if she was expecting him. “Yun. You wished to see me at once?”

The edge in her tone betrays her true feelings. Shuli enjoys visiting her jewellers, basking in their gratitude. He hoped the interruption would irritate her, temper some of that caution and cunning. “Forgive me. It is an important matter I have to discuss with you.”

She nods to the clan head. “You have not told me about your latest creations yet. I will call when I am ready.”

Once the door snicks closed, her features darken. “Is it about Izo?”

Yun joins her at the far shelf. The gems on these moss cushions are the largest in the room. Still modest compared to others but clearly meant for statement necklaces or hair adornments. “Some rare talent that you’ve discovered here.” He nods to the ruby on her left index finger. “One of theirs, I take it?”

“You know I prefer taste to indiscriminate displays of luxury.”

“Those who covet rarity inevitably relinquish some of their power. They become weak to that which they covet. Since they have convinced themselves they need it, they will go to great lengths to get it even if the supply runs dry.”

She sighs. “What has he done this time?”

“It must be a burden, to have a son both dim and spineless.” At her look, he smothers a grin. ”He has been badgering me for more cinnamon. Not a word while the Caxian clan members lay ill, only now… Coincidentally, the moths they consumed were prepared with cinnamon, which would have been much too expensive for a small clan such as them. One must wonder…”

Shuli gazes at the ruby on her finger before taking the ring off and holding it up. “He might not be what I wanted in a son but he is all I have left. If I had to trade this for his happiness, I would do it in a heartbeat.”

She must think of Izo’s elder sister who died many yarns ago. Yun has always been grateful that he has no close family to treasure, to mourn… but when he looks at the warm glow in her crimson eyes—reflecting the crimson stone—, he wonders if he might be missing out.

“What would Zakiva say to a match with a Caxian?”

Shuli turns that glow on him. “She would never permit it. If it were anyone else, I would agree.”

“You would trade anything for his happiness,” Yun prompts. Even your friendship with our esteemed clan head. He hardly dares to hope but there is only one reason why she would mention something like this in front of him.

“I would.”

“And I would do a lot to get your dear brother and nephew off my back. Our coffers are stretched thin as it is without those two blood-thirsty bats fluttering around.”

Abruptly, Shuli gestures at the gems on display. The ruby shines on her finger once again. “It is always hard to decide which piece to take for myself. Perhaps you might accept a small gift to celebrate our mutual understanding. You have achieved much in recent yarns, Yun. I would not want you as an enemy.”

A gift—for his silence. As he inspects azurites, sapphires, and even one fingernail-sized pale green jade, Yun decides Shuli is not capable of murder. Whoever tried to have him assassinated is still lurking in the shadows.

Not unlike a certain organisation he has recently become intimately acquainted with.

When he gets back to his office, someone in lavender robes is pacing in front of the door. His treacherous heart skips a beat, before the figure whirls.

“You have to help him!” one of Usira’s cousins pleads, his face contorted in pain that is lodged deeper than flesh. “Please! You’re the only one who still can!”

Yun steels himself. “Speak plainly. What has happened?”

As the moth catcher keeps stammering, Yun hauls him inside and orders Zhiven to guard the door. With a cup of steaming ginger tea in front of him, Selin—it has to be Selin, the twin who joined them at the Shrine of the Moth—slowly calms down.

First, he takes a small leather pouch out of his tunic and places it on the desk between them. When Yun opens it, he finds the amethyst ring he gave Usira as a sign of the Noe clan’s favour—a sign of their patronage and protection. He takes it and looks at Selin grimly. “Explain.”

“They came this morning… the city guard. They tried to arrest Aunt Usaavi.” Usira’s mother, the head of the Isvalri drip house. “Of course, she protested. Then Velin interrupted with a letter from Usira… They read it and turned the whole house upside down. Velin said the letter was Usira confessing to poisoning all those clan members! When they couldn’t find him, they stormed off. He’s gone. We don’t know what to do. Usira would never poison anyone! Honourable Vessi, he… he sacrificed himself for us.”

What he doesn’t say is that the Isvalri are betting on Yun to save Usira. Caring enough to do it.

The Deep spare me.

Author Notes

That escalated fast.

As we’re approaching the end of this second season of Requiem of the Moth, how do you think it will go? Will Yun agree to help Usira and his family? If yes, how could he possibly save them? If no, how will Usira live after his huge and noble sacrifice? Where will he end up? Stick around to find out!

My mind has been elsewhere these past two weeks. I’ve been focusing more on nonfiction, improving my craft. The truth is: If you publish both fiction and nonfiction in the same newsletter, the nonfiction gets significantly readers than the fiction. It’s frustrating but there’s not much I can do about it. Instead, I’m putting more effort into my nonfiction. It’s fun too. I have so many ideas jotted down, some outlines, some half-finished essays.

Right now, my favourite nonfiction genre to write might be media analysis from a writer’s perspective. There are many novels and videogames I want to discuss in-depth, to extract lessons for writers to improve our own craft. I’ve been working on one of those this week too, which will be a two-essay series. They take a lot of time and effort, research, thinking etc. so I’m thinking of making the longer ones paid. I posted a note about this earlier today.

Would you give a small tip (6€ per month, the price of a delicious cup of third-wave coffee) to read these analyses? If yes, paid subscriptions are available now! If not, no hard feelings and thank you for being here!

Next Chapter

Previous Chapter

When they had word of the first victims, the entire drip house sprang into frantic action, trying to control the damage, inspect their remaining stock, investigate.

This time, there is oppressive gloom, an atmosphere of defeat thick in the air. Usira finds his parents and uncle in the study. “Who is it this time?” he asks, closing the door. Selin and Velin are unpacking—he wants to spare them as long as possible.

“Lerythis,” his father says.

Usira leans against the shelf filled to bursting with thick ledgers: detailed records of every moth order they have ever received and delivered to the clans, going all the way back to the first Isvalri and the founding of their drip house. Now, his father is bent over the latest book on the desk and his mother perches on the only chair, arms crossed. His uncle lingers by the rickety tea table as if he wished to melt into the wall.

Finally, his mother snaps her fingers. “We’ll simply have to tighten our belts and work harder.”

“Nachai has pulled out too,” his uncle whispers. “I don't have to tell you that we only have two small deliveries for the next three twists1.” Despite their commoner status, the Nachai spice merchants are rich and resourceful enough to be able to afford moths—and they’ve always paid well. If they have gone over to the competition… “Our belts will have to be tighter than a dead bat’s wings,” Usira mutters.

“Keep your opinions to yourself,” his mother hisses at him. For once, no one protests and Usira bows his head. She is right. His every thought should be bent toward helping his family, not exercising sarcasm.

“What about the Noe?” his father asks.

The hope in his gaze stabs Usira in the chest. “The Noe clan might be able to help us but I’ll have to tread carefully. They’re conscious of their reputation too. Better to assume they’ll side with their fellow clanspeople.”

His father nods. “Our neighbours, too, aren’t willing to stick out their necks for us. They would rather burrow down with their clients than risk exposure.”

His mother snorts. “Mantises. They’re only waiting to snatch up our clients once we fall.”

“We won’t lose all our clients,” Usira reasons. “The smaller clans stay with us because they can’t afford to build up a relationship with a new drip house. We’ll get out of this soon and then our best clients will return.”

“Oh?” His mother tilts her head. “You have a plan then. Do tell us how we can assist.”

“It’s better that you don’t know.” Better they don’t know he is betting on Noe Yun again. He can always admit to his gamble after it has paid off. If it does. If it doesn’t… he will think of something else. For his family, he will do anything.

In his chamber, he finds a tiny piece of parchment on his bed. It reads: When you see no way out, a hot bath can relax and stretch the mind towards new approaches. There is no signature but Usira knows.

After a short rest, he goes out to appeal to Caxian Yulie again. As planned, Yun is present.

Usira’s heart races when he hands over the evidence. “I trust you.”

He turns away quickly. As he descends the stairs, he can’t help but imagine Yun’s frozen expression. Once upon a time, he would’ve only seen cold disdain in it. Now he suspects what the Vessi is hiding is fear. Of what? Of getting too close, of showing weakness that can be exploited by others. Yun doesn’t know that emotional bonds can lend strength as well.

Usira doesn’t know if he will ever learn. All he can do it provide an example.

On the streets, there are whispers, furtive glances in his direction. Usira’s suspicions are confirmed when he gets back to the drip house: A new handful of clan member has been struck down by the illness. Clan Meruun is almost as powerful as Noe, certainly more verbose about their influence.

It is also the first clan that has consumed no pupae, only adult moths, thinking themselves safe. What Usira said to Yun just a drip or two ago has been disproved and with that, Usira has lost his last asset: his expertise.

It is a tense time. Usira waits for the thinnest sliver of news, the smallest hint that his family has been redeemed. Every time he retires to his chamber, he wonders if he will still have work to do after he wakes up. One morning, waiting has become unbearable. Avoiding his family, Usira slips out the back door and visits clan Caxian. He is not surprised when he is turned away yet again.

When the servant hisses about calling the guard, he brushes it off. They wouldn’t go so far as to arrest him, would they?

He heads straight for the neighbourhood bathhouse.

After a soak that does nothing to relax his stiff muscles, he spots a familiar bland face slipping out of the courtyard. He lingers five stalagmite drips, then follows. Melyi waits by a nearby hole-in-the-wall eatery that sells candied roots and algae. When Usira approaches, the vendor is holding out a medium-sized bag. Her gaze slides to his lavender robes and she recoils. “Away from my food, poisoner.”

Usira is speechless. He moves only when Melyi touches his hand, following him down the street. Melyi offers the bag. “Well met, old friend. I thought you could use a snack, bathing saps your energy.”

“Not only bathing.” Grateful for the support, Usira pops a handful of candy into his mouth. Sugar crunches between his teeth and they walk. Usira falls into their ruse of old friendship as if acting were his daily fare. Perhaps he has missed his calling.

“Your family has been facing difficulties, to say the least. It is admirable how well you’ve held up, given the circumstances.”

“We’re at the end of our rope.” Usira glances at his companion. “You already knew that when you left the message. I would be curious to know how you got into my chamber—deep inside the house, with no windows.”

Melyi smiles thinly. “Now, I wouldn’t want to give away all my secrets so early in our relationship, would I?”

“You seem to know everything about me already, it would only be fair to give me something in return. What is it that you’re offering?”

“I… might be able to help you.”

“Might?” When Usira gestures, Melyi offers him the bag again. The sugar mollifies.

“The cause of the illness has been identified. You must know by now that it will take more than that to clear your name. My position comes with a certain amount of leverage. The way I see it, you’re one step away from being convicted of poisoning clan members. I might be able to pull some strings to prevent that. You're valuable to us although I can't yet say how. I don’t want to make empty promises. You’ve heard enough of those, I’d imagine.”

Usira stares at the buildings they pass: a tailor, a jeweller, another eatery. Poisoner. The notion that his family could be condemned as criminal doesn’t seem so absurd anymore. They could lose more than their reputation—and yet Yun has betrayed his trust once again. “What is it that you want in return? With our name ruined, there’s little left to give.”

Melyi is shaking his head. “This offer has no strings attached. Consider it a sign of good will, expressing my wish to keep in touch. You can repay me when your family has recovered.”

Far from reassured, Usira narrows his eyes but Melyi’s face reveals nothing. “Very well,” he says slowly. “I hate to say it but I’m out of options. Any help you could lend would be appreciated.”

They turn a corner and enter an open space, an empty basket lift at the far wall. Usira squints up the cliff, trying and failing to remember which clan mansion looms above. “Is there a way for me to contact you?”

Melyi hums, crunching on a handful of snacks before he replies. “If you must, leave a note in the Elimen’s Mouth behind the bathhouse. I can’t guarantee that urgent messages will reach me in time but you can trust us to keep an eye on your family.”

“Like you have been,” Usira states.

“Like we have been,” Melyi confirms. “I will do my best.” With a bow, he leaves.

Usira flees the basket lifter’s suspicious glance and circles back to his drip house. He has been away long enough. Time to get back to damage control.

Time to strike Yun from his thoughts once and for all.

Author Notes

I’ve loved Venice ever since I was eighteen and my grandma took me on a day trip to the lagoon (she lived only a few hours away, close to the Italian border). Possibly even before then, since I read Thomas Mann’s Death in Venice. I also love history and sometimes pick up books like John Berendt’s City of Falling Angels and Thomas Madden’s Venice. A New History. They’re great worldbuilding inspiration too. For example, would you have guessed that large parts of the Sedrivar political system are inspired by La Serenissima, the Republic of Venice ca. 13th-14th century?

Like Venice, the Sedrivar have a noble-born ruler—the Doge vs. the Vesilim—but also a council of representatives—the Great Council of Venice vs. the Sethri (Forty). Like Venice, the Sedrivar have ten officials responsible for interior security—the Council of Ten vs. the Vessi (Ten). And like Venice, the Sedrivar have a system for anonymously reporting suspicious individuals or activity—the Bocche Dei Leoni vs. the Elimen’s Mouth.

In Venice, these were stone lion wall reliefs scattered around the city that served as post boxes, with a hole in the lion’s mouth for posting reports. These were then evaluated by the Ten according to a complex system many pages of instructions long, designed to reject almost all claims unless there was a strong reason to believe in their accuracy. The Elimen’s Mouths are the same, except they are modelled after the Elimen, large cave-dwelling spiders, instead of lions.

Unlike in Venice (as far as we know), it seems that some Elimen’s Mouths are being used by more than one faction in the city…

Next Chapter

Content warnings1

Honourable Vessi,

We hope you have been in good health since our last meeting one yarn2 ago. We regret to approach you in this matter in writing, rather more official and cold than we would have liked. However, we feel that you have left us no other choice.

We had hoped the shares as well as the northern mines would pass into our hands soon after our last meeting and regret to admit that we have been waiting in vain for further notice from you. It is hoped that that is merely due to administrative delay or academic troubles rather than any significant issue with handing over the promised assets. When one has been delayed as often as we have, one starts to wonder.

As the season has all but passed, we mourn the losses incurred by that delay but hope to come to a renewed agreement that might make up for our monetary losses as well as our damaged trust in the treasury. We suggest you pick one of the dates listed below.

Should you keep us waiting any longer, we shall be forced to resort to more extreme measures. Be warned that the support we gave in exchange for the mentioned assets can easily be withdrawn.

We endeavor to see the treasury run in a way that benefits all of our clan, not just a privileged few.

Respectfully,
Lisith,
and Cress

"I only want to help Lien and the other afflicted," Usira pleads.

"There is nothing you or your lot can do to improve our situation. On the contrary, your actions have brought us nothing but misery," Yulie hisses.

"That is because…"

"I have heard enough!"

Sighing, Yun combs back ivory hair that keeps falling into his eyes. They are standing in a corner of the deserted and dim reception hall that Yulie has dragged Usira, presumably to avoid a public spectacle for the servants. Yun has no idea how long the moth catcher, in fine lavender robes with his white hair tightly braided, has been trying to explain himself to the Caxian head. When he heard familiar voices from the corridor, he ignored the protests of the house servant and found them in heated discussion.

"This is exactly the matter which I have been called upon to mediate, is it not, Lady Yulie?" he asks.

Reluctantly, she turns away from Usira. One might almost think she is enjoying herself. "Indeed, that is correct. I apologise for my lack of hospitality, honourable Vessi. Let me show you to more agreeable quarters before I ask your advice."

The servant has been waiting outside the hall and leads them up a long spiral staircase. When they finally reach the rooftop platform, both Yun and Usira are out of breath. Yulie smiles. "I do apologise for the exertion. Personally, I rather enjoy the exercise and this space is both warmer and more private than my office downstairs."

The platform is furnished with benches, placed to admire a sizeable collection of statues: vines, apple trees, and decadent orchids frozen into marble, iron, and bronze. At Yulie's invitation, they take seats around a wrought iron brazier. Caxian is not wealthy enough to keep wood or fireplaces. Despite himself, Yun wonders how Usira sees this particular clan, if he lumps Yulie and her statues in with him and every other mansion-dweller. If there are degrees to his contempt for nobles.

Yulie has not spoken another word to Usira but tea is nevertheless served in three cups.

"How is Lien? I understand it has been a trying time for all of you," Yun asks after the first sip. The tea is spicy, selected to warm the body in sparsely heated rooms.

"Her recovery has been slow but she can sit up and hold conversations for more than one stalactite drip now, thank the Deep."

"And how has the investigation progressed prior to my involvement?"

He directs the question to Usira but it is Yulie who answers first. "There has been lamentable little progress. His lot has been wasting my time with unfounded claims of innocence. Even if they brought real evidence, which they haven't so far, I am not inclined to believe another word out of their mouth."

"Is this true?" Yun asks Usira.

"With all due respect, I have been trying to present evidence but have not been given the chance. The servants have been instructed to turn us away at the door."

"To guard against further poisoning attempts!"

"If only you would let me explain…" Usira's stance and voice reveal the long-suffering victim of a debate who has tried to explain themselves countless time and fallen on deaf ears.

Yun lifts a hand before Yulie's temper can flare up again. "Whether he has something of value to say or not, Lady Yulie, I would question him in private. You do not have to subject yourself to his claims any longer."

"Honourable Vessi…" Usira trails off. Whether he is protesting or going along with the plan, Yun is grateful for it.

Yulie glances at Usira, then back at him. It is a narrow ledge Yun is balancing with that request—praying to the Deep that she isn't the type to gossip or listen to rumours. Finally, she nods. "Your reputation precedes you. It seems that you have always been discreet and impartial, the best qualities for any Vessi serving the city. It is why I invited you and why I hope you will be able to identify the culprit for us. Do what you will. My secretary will wait at the bottom of the stairs and provide you with anything else you shall require of us."

She leaves them among the statues, ignoring Usira.

Yun looks at him in question: Tell me.

"I am very well, thank you. As usual, our expedition was completed without a hitch."

Sarcasm from the one who declared he wouldn't leave me be? Yun is tempted to ask but distracted by the oilskin-wrapped moth pupae that Usira unwraps on the ornate iron table. Even accounting for the deep state of decay they are in, the colouring and reek are overwhelming. Lifting one sleeve to his face, Yun grinds out: "How do you estimate the plague risk?"

Usira shrugs. "The infection had spread across the area and even got some swallows nesting in the nearby wall. Not excessively contagious but strong enough to take out medium-sized birds, which explains why we are affected by it as well."

"You don't think the cinnamon they were prepared with augmented the effect?"

"We can't be sure but no, probably not." Usira deliberates. "Also, the parasite might be too weak to survive in adult moth specimens. We've only found pupae so far."

It gets birds but not adult moths? Yun frowns but pushes the thought aside. If the famed moth catcher judges the parasite to be too weak, it probably is. Determined, he takes the oilskin and wraps the evidence. "Thank you. This is something solid I can show Yulie. Convince her you're doing your best to get to the bottom of this."

"Would you?" Oh, the way Usira looks at him… It does something to Yun's belly that he doesn't want to think about. It's raw hope but also something else.

"I will do what I can."

He sees the disappointment and thinks: You of all people should understand why I avoid promises. That diplomacy is one of the few weapons left to me. He thinks of Zhiva and Zhiven. If Ulan can disable his puppets with a mere snap of her fingers, the rest of Ithreyesh probably shares her talent.

Before he leaves, Usira touches his hand. "I trust you."

Yun freezes. Don't.

But Usira is gone. After emptying his tea—pulling himself together, which takes longer than he cares to admit—, Yun sends for the secretary and requests a specific set of ledgers. It is time to investigate what he came for.

Author Notes

There is a fine line between courage and stupidity. Do you think Usira is being clever or just stupid, putting his trust into Yun yet again? He has already been burned once—badly.

Once I knew an exceptional strategist, a natural at games like chess and go. When we played strategy games, I would sometimes make a random move, with little to no thinking involved, just to throw him off-balance. I couldn’t think five moves ahead and account for all possibilities like he could. Instead, I tried to baffle him into making mistakes. (It only worked once or twice before he caught on to it.) I like to imagine that this is what Usira is trying with Yun here. Yun wanted to push Usira away and doesn’t expect Usira to trust him again. When Usira says I trust you, it throws Yun off his game. Yun is very sharp and he knows it but in some respects, he still has much to learn3.

On another note, you might have noticed that these characters have a different way of telling time—after all, an underground civilisation cannot be expected to look to the sun and moon to regulate their daily life! Stalactite drips are hours, stalagmite drips are minutes. Both can be shortened to drips, it is understood from context whether the stalactite or stalagmite variety. These are easy. One week, however, is one twist, and one month is one yarn.

With fictional cultures, one central idea can influence and inspire many other aspects. For the Sedrivar method of telling time underground, I took inspiration from this Reddit post. Silk production, of course, is the Sedrivar’s chief industry so it would only make sense that they measure time by some of its processes. Realistically, their units of time would not be exactly equivalent to our weeks and months but for the sake of this story, an easy-to-explain equivalent is best.

Do you know of any other unique methods of telling time, whether fictional or real? Let me know in the comments!

Content warnings1

Usira doesn't understand how anyone would choose the Zillia Downs for a pleasant stroll. With every step, he has to bat away twigs, leaves, tiny bugs that scatter his attention and irritate his skin. Compared to the high and airy cave system of Kandamsin, these caverns are cramped and wet. After several days, every bead of sweat trickling down his neck into his soaked collar is a cry for a change of clothes, for ventilation shafts, even cold lakes deep under the mountain.

"It always feels like swimming in a hot spring," Selin says, as if he's read his mind, but then he adds: "Well-lubricated."

"Please stop." Velin sighs. He carefully navigates along the edge of a muddy clearing and turns to wait for his companions. "What do you say we look for a place to set up camp for the night? We've barely seen a flutter all day."

They have been looking for clues of the moth illness following their intuition but had no luck so far. Even for the insects, the oppressive humidity is too much. "I'd rather rest and discuss plans for tomorrow," Usira agrees.

Once they have spread their tarps and constructed the usual rickety shelter out of brass poles and oiled canvas, they can hear the occasional drip landing from far above. "What's the word for this weather again?" Usira asks.

"Rain," Selin supplies. Usira can't help but return his cousin's smile. Rain, a rare marvel to them, is all but unknown to the rest of Sedrivaris. He wonders how Yun would respond to the experience and then, with effort, puts the thought out of his mind.

As the diffuse light fades—another rarity—, Selin leaves to scout ahead. Velin and Usira huddle together in the shelter, listening to small animal sounds in the underbrush, conserving body warmth and energy. "Have you found him yet?" Usira asks, to get his mind off Yun but also out of curiosity.

"Who?"

"That poet."

"Ryliss." On Velin's lips, it is a lover's caress. "I'm getting closer."

"What do you know?"

Velin ticks the points off his fingers as he goes. "One, Ryliss isn't his civil name. It doesn't exist, not even outside the city. Two, I'm almost certain he has helpers who know his identity. He wouldn't be able to publish his poetry books if he were operating alone. Three, those helpers probably shelter him from time to time, which means they must be powerful enough to have some sort of headquarters where he can come and go unnoticed."

"Any idea who these helpers might be?"

Velin grimaces. "That's where it gets murky. I've hit a wall."

"Why can't it be a clan member acting as his patron?" Usira remembers Yvara saying that her mistress donated some books to the bathhouse in their neighbourhood. Among those books was one by Ryliss but Vylira is far from the capital now. He also thinks of the organisation he has been approached by. Would a writer of spicy stories like Ryliss agree to fight for justice and equality in exchange for shelter and printing services?

There is no way to know, he concludes. Velin explains his reasoning and nudges Usira's shoulder. "What about you?"

Usira startles. "What about me?"

Velin manages to roll his eyes and grin suggestively at the same time. "I've heard about your... relations with the Vessi. After what you discussed in the shrine, you can't tell us he's just your clan contact anymore."

Usira vows to keep his cousins far away from Yun. Clearly, they cannot be trusted not to gossip, if only with each other. Velin reads his expression and scoots out of range. "Come on, I shared too! Besides, I'm worried. Investigating some poet for fun isn't the same as getting cosy with a high official."

"I do not get cosy with him, not now, not ever," Usira growls.

"Fine! Fine... but what's the story?" And before Usira can lash out again: "Don't bother denying it. We all know Selin has a sixth sense for that sort of thing."

Sadly, he is right. "It's complicated," Usira starts slowly. "I don't want to keep secrets from you but I fear you would be in danger if you knew what I know. I'm trying to protect you."

Velin is silent, staring out into the dripping foliage. "There's just one thing I want to say: There are rumours about you which is worrying in itself. When it comes to that sort of thing, we're much more vulnerable than them. We rely on our reputation, our honour to keep the business going, and for that, we will always be dependent on them. They might think they need us but they don't. It's a huge difference."

Usira shudders. It is as if Yvara had risen from the Deep to repeat the warning she gave that day in the bath—back when he didn't know what it meant to follow Noe Yun. I should be wiser now, he chides himself. All he says is: "I know."

That night, Usira lies awake and listens. The Downs are much noisier than their hunting grounds closer to home. He imagines lizards, foxes and hares in the underbrush. At some point, a Lougi comes sniffing around their packs, probably smelling the dried food rations, before deciding the reward isn't worth the effort and scurrying away.

After a light breakfast, they march on. Despite the lavender sachets in their pockets, Velin and Selin nurse multiple insect bites. Usira, who was able to defend himself thanks to his sleeplessness, says nothing. His head is heavy with misery and he pins up his dishevelled braid.

When they reach the far wall, they discover a flock of Noble Swifts. The sooty grey white-collared birds nest in nooks and crannies in the stone, feeding off flies, butterflies, moths, and other insects. These ones are dead, killed by moth pupae that poke out of their bloated stomachs. The colours are wrong, sickly yellow and dirty white. Less superstitious than his cousins, Usira still shares their unease.

They all know what the discovery means without saying it out loud: There is a parasite, after all. Another plague in the making? It's too soon to tell.

As they search the area for more hibernating pupae, Usira's thoughts are germinating. A parasite means fewer moths to hunt. Fewer moths mean reduced income for their family. Reduced income means they will have to lean on the Noe, their patrons, to keep them afloat. And that means the balance between him and Yun will only tilt further in Yun's favour.

It's a huge difference.

First Yvara, now Velin—everyone keeps telling him to stay away.

Unfortunately, their words only spur him on. After declaring that he won't let Yun off the hook, Usira is determined to follow through. And yes, he admits—at least to himself—that the righteous outrage he flung into Yun's face might have been a foil for his personal hurt and sense of betrayal. An excuse to reach out once more.

If he is too weak to stay away, he just has to turn that weakness into an advantage for himself and his family. He will bind Yun to himself so tightly that the honourable Vessi can't help but protect his family.

This time, it will be different. No longer blinded by naive hope, he knows that Yun is driven by nothing but selfish ambition and disdain for his fellow clanspeople. He has never been and will never be a noble saviour. In a way, that makes it easier for Usira.

They find a handful of pupae that look like they were infected by the same parasite. They collect their samples. As they trek back through the still dripping forest, Velin remarks: "You're awfully quiet today."

Usira shrugs. "Just thinking about how to fix all our problems." His laugh is weak but it is a start.

Author Notes

Remember the season 2 prologue? If you've been following along, I hope you're starting to see some connections and answers…

I've been sitting on this chapter for so long, it's embarrassing. At first I needed to plot ahead but had no clarity on what should happen next. More often than not, procrastination happens when I only have a vague idea of the plot and hesitate to narrow it down. Something about reality never living up to the ideal? Later, I knew what had to happen in and past this chapter but still hesitated because I felt it wasn't flashy enough. My inner critic went: Here is a rare chance to insert some action into an otherwise very quiet and non-action-y story! If you don't take it, everyone will be bored and disappointed and never read any of your stories again! So I thought of an obstacle Usira had to overcome to collect his parasite samples but I couldn't quite get the logic to work. So I kept hesitating. Ideal vs. reality.

From a reader's perspective, however, any chapter is always better than no chapter at all. And so I am hitting Submit once again.

I've lived and pursued goals long enough to learn some basic pattern recognition. Whether in writing or in life, you probably don't hit Submit nearly often enough. Sometimes I get into a good habit chain where it's almost effortless but when I break the chain for some reason or other, suddenly it's hard again. Hitting Submit, of course, means output. Finishing projects. Learning by doing.

Admittedly, in between hesitating to post this chapter, I've been hitting Submit on other things too. I'm back to writing now (probably). I'd hate to leave you hanging before the season end!