Revision

The hiss from the hanging oil lamps dissipated with his steps. The curtains were raised in his stride, and then came the silence. The audience, on behalf of Riwkha's repeated request, didn't erupt into cheers like they always do. Korou was glad. Atla was standing by the adjacent end, her silhouette shrouded in shadow.

Overhead, Tuima hung with her tail wrapped over the bamboo ceiling. In her arms, she carried enchanted tools and props that they would require with each scene.

"When Goddess Sepia stepped into the Umang lai, her gaze fell upon a young prince." Akhrivi the canid narrated the opening page. Korou awaited the cue. There was a click, the light went out, and then the silvery haze of the moon shimmered over Atla. Her eyes sparkled as she opened her eyes.

Korou, thought at that moment, if he hadn't known her, he would have considered her the Goddess of the Moon. She was divine.

The music seeped in. Quawwals, enamoured by the display, brought out their instrument. His eyes met theirs, and a message was conveyed. Korou stepped back and chanted. School of Cyan trails emerged, and the music seeped in.

His words carried practised precision, his motion measured, and his gestures calculated. The music picked up its pace, and Atla, now in the village with his lover, wept tears of sorrow due to the injustices the villagers put her through. Korou, as Nongpok, enraged, screamed in calculated agony, when a Demiurge, a young girl-Iromi-entered the scene. The reverberations from the Tabla increased, showcasing the shift in tension.

Korou engaged in battle. Atla, who had been acting as the damsel in distress so far, jumped in. He smiled. This was where the script diverges. This tragic story, of Sepia, will receive the happy ending it deserves.

The Demiurge, a greater type, Namuchi, was built on trickery and illusion. He deceived people by distorting reality. And that is what she did. Korou and Atla were separated, the world fell into chaos, continents were levelled, and plague followed. Everyone was tainted with corruption. And the world was ending.

Korou glanced at Atla, and she smiled back.

The music picked up. The two fought side by side. Atla with her sword, and Korou with his staff. And as the Demiurge mounted its final attack, Korou, holding Atla's hand, raised the moonlit sword and went for the final attack.

"Together..." The two in unison spoke as they glided towards Namuchi. "We will shape this wretched world...Into what we've always wanted!"

The battle was won, the script revised, but as the final note hung in the air and applause erupted, his eyes caught something-someone. A face he didn't recognise; recognise it was Ayano, then Rikwha, and then Iromi. Her lips were curled into a toothy smile as she gazed into his eyes. Her pupils were crescent with a tinge of vermillion. She applauded with mirth, sending chills down his spine.

Her face was hypnotic; it was a sculpture chiselled by the most skilled eternal artisan. She was perfect. A reincarnation of the Goddess herself. An anomaly that shouldn't exist in the realm of mortals.

Korou felt a chill run down his spine. His chest felt heavy. Atla, beside him, tugged at his sleeves.

"Korou?" She inquired.

"Duck!" Riwkwah jumped over the stage and pushed the two. The two fell with a thump as a projectile of crystalline glacier hurled across them.

"I wasn't expecting them to show up tonight" Riwkwah clicked her tongue and chanted a quick spell. The air surrounding them distorted as streaks of silver resembling her pupils curved into a rotund veil.

"Demiurge?" Korou whispered as he glanced at Atla. Her eyes were wide open with a wide grin streaked across her face. He didn't like it.

"Yes." She unsheathed her blade in a smooth arc. There was a click, and then she shot towards it.

Riwkwah, busy with creating an opening for the others, scowled. The feline, Tuima, gave a nod and dashed behind. She was quick. Korou could barely follow her trail. It was all a blur.

Clang

He could see sparks ignite as Atla was hurled through the sky. Her body in a free fall as tendrils- three of them- emerged from within the girl's back. Her face was porcelain, eyes hypnotic than ever as she smiled at him again. Korou in distorted symphony, pushed back. Iromi and Ibo held him by the shoulder and pulled him under the stage.

"W-w-what-"

Iromi shook her head frantically, and Ibo pressed his hand over his mouth. "Quiet."

"We are under attack?" Asked Korou in a whisper.

"Seems like it." Ibo snapped and earned a slap from Iromi.

"Your acting was cool." She offered. Korou and Ibo were bewildered by her remark.

"Cheche, are you okay?"

"Thank you, but Iromi-"

"I wanted you to know in case we don't make it through the night!" She blurted and pulled both in a tight hug. "I love you both and-"

"Is she being serious now?" Korou gave Ibo a side glance.

"My sister is a lot of things, but confessing her love for others as a lie isn't one of them."

"You tried to sound cool, didn't you?"

"We are having a moment, Korou. Let's not ruin it."

Her embrace around them tightened. It was almost painful. Korou tapped at her shoulder, gesturing for a pause, but she sneered.

"Cheche... can't breathe..." Ibo gasped.

"Any ounce of worry I had for you is now dissipated thanks to your behaviour." Iromi pulled away and flicked their foreheads respectively. "Reflect on how you made me feel and repent for the rest of your life."

"I love how you believe we have the rest of our lives."

"We don't?" Ibo turned to Iromi, who shot

Korou peeked from below the pillared stands. He could see Atla's silhouette, among a few others. There was a hiss, as trails of orange swirled upwards, illuminating their hiding place in vermillion hue and heat. Korou pressed his ears to the ground and chanted a spell. The reverberating beats of the people in the Vicinage, their subtle movements and their low voices all became pristine to him.

"Sensory heightening spell?" Iromi asked, crawling next to him.

He nodded. He could hear Riwkwah shout at someone; her voice was muffled, then a howl followed with Atla in a battle cry. Korou pursed his lips. He had barely slept, and his current knowledge was inadequate to catalyse the ongoing battle. He felt helpless.

The ground below ricocheted. Iromi shrieked. Ibo held onto his limb as their bodies were hurled up.

The sharp winter current cut through their falling bodies. Korou's jaw clattered as he held Iromi close and prayed Ibo didn't let go. The Demiurge had used a wide area attack, with her tendrils swirling underground before breaking through the land to deprive the others of a stable footing.

"I know this isn't the time for asking..." Korou was beyond the realm of panicking. He was hilariously staring at the face of death. "But if anyone has hidden powers that they aren't aware of, I think this is the time to show them."

"Korou, remember how you said that if I felt the urge to punch you, that is when I would know I hate you." Ibo howled through the screeching wind. He could barely understand him.

"Yeah..."

"I think this is that moment," Ibo squeezed his leg tighter as the ground came closer. They were falling a few blocks away from the stage. "If we make it out alive, I am pinching your face, and then we get to the part where we talk and become friends again."

"Both of you, knowing you were great"

"Iromi, shut up!"

"Let me finish!"

"You are overly panicking-"

"Korou, we are falling to our deaths!" Ibo pressed his nails into his skin. It wasn't intentional; he was that scared.

"I know, and I am saying we can umm, not die maybe?"

He felt his skull rattle as Iromi hurled a slap over his face. She wasn't angry, just impatient. "I am saying we don't have to umm die, maybe?"

"What?"

Iromi closed her eyes and began a quiet chant. Korou peeked at Ibo, who was staring at the ground. They were dangerously close. The blurred outline of Pakhangba Monastery cleared, as the amber haze with a whiff of smoke from the Bazaar filled their periphery.

The howling around them stopped, and there was a silence for a moment. Iromi's arms twitched, her lips parted as she uttered a word. It held a weight that made Korou rattle with fear. He couldn't comprehend its meaning; it was archaic, an ancient symbol. But its effect streaked across his being. The wind swirled, and a dozen cyan trails zoomed around them in a flashing smear.

Iromi's lids parted, and her amber pupils swirled in a tinge of cyan. Korou wanted to argue the convenience of her sudden burst of magical implementation; if he were in the previous world, it would be counted as an unfair power-up.

Their fall broke into a steady pace; they were a few meters above ground when Iromi lost control, and they fell down.

"Can we not have random bursts of hidden power reveal again in the middle of the sky?" Korou dusted off the snow and pulled Iromi, who was breathing heavily.

They had fallen upon a mound of collected hay buried underneath the glacial powder. It cushioned their fall.

"I second that," Ibo replied in a muffled tone. His face was buried still. "Also, I can't feel my legs. Can you guys help?"

"I hate you both."

Korou pulled Ibo by the leg and shot her a smirk. "I thought you loved us."

Blush crept over Iromi's cheeks as she hid behind him, hurling light punches. It had become their thing.

The battle against the Demiurge ensued in the Easter periphery. Flames erupted as Shamans, legions of them, scurried with their sword drawn. Its glint was blinding as flickers of amber bounced over their polished surface.

A man, their commander, Korou, presumed to raise his blade and roared a battle cry. It was roaring, the words stabbing foes and inspiring friends. Ibo stood their mouth agape, as Iromi limped, holding Korou for support. His eyes were peeled at the front, where the commander galloped.

He felt his heart thump faster, as his lips quivered. He gulped. Surely it wasn't him. He might be the warrior chief, but it's an administrative job, right?

An inguttoral roar cut past the shrouded night, making the land shiver at its wake. The slumbering pentagonal Crownbill cawed and flapped its majestic wings, drawing westwards. A gust of wind erupted, pushing the flock into a downward spiral.

The Demiurge from before was now unrecognisable. It's face a draconic skull with tides of bubbling scarlet liquid pouring from its crevices. Miasma, Korou wondered.

"Miasma," Iromi whispered ghastly.

Soon, a stench followed. Korou held his nose; it was pungent. A fusion of rotten eggs with a lining of death. People who were left clutched their heads in pain. Their eyes bulged as bile ejected from within. Korou trembled and glanced at Iromi and Ibo. The two were equally horrified, but their action remained within the known parameters.

The world, just like his delusional reality, was warped and distorted.

Another battle cry, and Korou knew the battle had begun. Iromi tugged at his sleeve. Her profile was illuminated underneath the hissing oil lamp. Her face- half of it- was blotched in cyan patches. Over her eye was an elongated cut, not deep, but not conventional either. Miasma hissed from it as a burn mark appeared over her cheeks.

"No-no," Korou held her shoulder and pulled her close. Ibo, who was petrified, shook into action, trying to look for a healer. But soon, everyone in the vicinity had gone mad.

"Third law," She mumbled with mirth. "Should have listened to your musing and not tried creating spells with singular theorems."

"You stupid smart ass idiot," Korou clenched his jaw and glanced around.

"You do have the knack for dramatics." Iromi chuckled. "Also, please wash that expression off your face. I am not dying."

"Shut up." Korou furiously turned away and wiped his tears.

"Indeed, shut up." Ibo agreed, teary-eyed, as he hugged his sister tightly. Korou soon followed.