It was over. The Emperor and his subjects were victorious. The great demons that had plagued Vajra’s nightmares for so long, the beasts that had destroyed her old empire, were vanquished. A grand celebration was being held as the moon rose high. There was music and the sound of drums. Many of her daughters were flying in formation above the gathering, showing off with acrobatics and carrying banners of woven reeds depicting the symbol of Fa Ram, and those beneath them laughed and cheered when they saw them pass. Others, however, were still busy. They ranged far and wide, making sure their enemy was actually as defeated as they seemed. Others watched over the Emperor and his Empress, who were still about their duties, hands pressed to the soil of Ash Forest and eyes closed. And still others collected the fallen. Again, her forces had been spared the brunt of the enemy’s attention, but they were small and weak compared to the others. Even a human could shrug off perhaps fifty stings. Her daughters, even bolstered by the Qi of the Empress and Consort Ri Zu, could barely take one. And yet they had done their duty without hesitation. Normally, there they would have lain; it was the way of things. But the Emperor, in his kindness and his nobility, had granted them an honour beyond honours. “Bring them home, Vajra,” he had told her, before he went to do his heavenly duty. Home. Home, to Fa Ram. Instead of disappearing into the dirt (...)