Goan and the rest of Breaking Dawn were still wondering if the walking forest was nothing for the next few days when they came across 'it'. They crested a great hill through a long path beneath the shades of trees that seemed to be watching them, and when they looked down, there it lay. "By the bones of god…" Goan was the first to see and so the first to speak. A river, the sun shone from down in the sky, caressing the earth beneath their feet as if the light were a loving parent and every blade of grass a child laid to rest. However that break in the woods was not what caught the eyes of team Breaking Dawn.

One by one they crested the hill and caught their breath. Before them lay a dream, the river was not bound to a bed of earth, but rose, floating and twisting into the air into a marvel like a golden ribbon fluttering in a breeze. Through its rolling shimmering waters, fish leaped and twisted in the air, up or down made no difference, they landed back in the waters of the river in the air.

"This… This is it! This is what we became adventurers for…" Goan's words came out like a reverential prayer and he took a step forward, the scraping sound of his heavy foot against the dirt beneath his feet didn't even register, and if his companions ever had words of their own to echo his sentiments, he didn't register them.

"Not for fame. Not for glory or power… but to see what no one else has seen, to experience this… to step beyond the next hill and see what's there…" His eyes stayed wide and he stepped forward a few more times toward the roaring golden river, the spray of pearl white water and the roar of it's rush as it spiralled from the ground into the air and toward the sky like rolling hills only to come back down and connect into some unseen part of the great wide walking woods, he etched it all into his mind. 'I must… I must remember this forever… if I live a hundred thousand years… I'll never see anything like this again…'

He stopped his walk when overhead against the great wide blue sky he saw a bird, broad of wing and white as snow but for an orange beak as long as an arm. It let out a loud 'Caw' noise, shot up into the air, spun itself upside down, brought it's broad wings tight into its body and dropped like a stone. Their eyes held fast as if expecting it to fall to its doom, and it splashed into the river at a 'hill' like surface that… seemed to only be a ribbon, and didn't have the thickness or depth that must surely have existed. Far beyond their expectations, it didn't come out the other side, instead it surfaced a few feet away, holding a catfish wiggling desperately in the big bird's beak. The bird shot out toward the sky, its wings spread and lapped with such vigor that the breeze that struck the trio's faces intensified for a moment, and it sailed away into the endless sky.

Goan turned around to face them both… and the serious face they had known on his face that rarely left in all his life, had melted away to nothing, in front of them again was the white haired boy they'd known for most of their lives. And from his lips came the words of a boy who had become a joyful man, and with his smile, were the words a man might say who had never forgotten happier times in his boyhood. "Last one in is a rotten dragon's egg!" He whirled on his heel and sprinted toward the ground based part of the golden river.

The heavy pack pounded back and forth on his flesh three times before Nemu or Kuuderika had properly registered his words. "Hey! You cheated!" The pair shouted and sprinted like mad. Arms and legs pumped with youthful vigor that belied the fact that their ages were well beyond the lifespans of most humans, and music hummed through their blood as they drove ever closer to the winding river's great green edge.

"I can't cheat on you if I'm not sleeping with you!" Goan shouted back at them, his pack dropped from his back a child's stone throwing distance from the bank.

"Boys!" The two women sounded out as one and blushed at his absurd lewd deliberate misunderstanding of their words. Nemu's auburn hair billowed in the breeze and beside her Kuuderika ran so close that blonde hair entwined with auburn like an embrace, and their packs dropped in unison, clattering to the ground just in time to watch Goan throw off his shirt and leap forward to the golden waters. His legs and arms flung out wide, exposing the many scars across his back that had earned him the name 'ridgeback' in his training years.

The splash hit them full in the face when he sank beneath the waters, and he came up laughing at them when they stared at him with hands on their hips.

"What…? You two needed a bath!" Goan said with a smug expression, chin slightly raised and a half smirk on his face, he crossed his arms as he stood in the water. "You were getting in anyway!"

"I do not stink!" The pair said in sisterly unison, then snapped their jaws shut and tried to recall their last real bath.

"Screw it." Nemu rolled her eyes and jumped into the water close enough to Goan to splash him...and Kuuderika, who took another wet hit to the face.

"You two…" She chuckled and simply waded in. The water was refreshing and warm, and the roar of the rapids where the depth became nothing but a ribbon's thickness in the air… while somehow also still having its former depth, brought with it a faint tug on their powerful legs.

"This… this is amazing. I've never felt anything like this." Goan said and began to swim, his powerful legs kicked on while his companions watched. He reached the 'ribbon point' where the water became thin as a strip of golden fabric, and let the current carry him up into the air spiralling around. He felt around with his feet and pushed off the bottom he could feel, and shot out briefly suspended between two points, only to find himself drawn back into the portion he'd pushed off of.

"Nemu, Kuuderika! You've got to try this! It's amazing!" He shouted, and did it again and again, until he finally began to swim against the current.

They listened to him splash and kick and fight the pushing waters, the gold turned white when it hit the air and gold again as it flew back toward the place from which it had been cast, and despite its vigor, he progressed, drawing closer and closer to where they stood waist deep in the water, scrubbing themselves and watching him work his muscles against the force of nature.

[Undead strength] [Endurance of Unlife] Goan muttered as water sloshed into his mouth and he felt the power of his martial arts surge through his body, he began to make headway at an ever greater pace until he was back beyond the ribbon width and at the side of his sisters. "That was one powerful flow…" he splashed his face with water and shook his head like a dog might, casting water everywhere, flying from the bone white strands that hung down from his head.

"I'll bet, but you know…" Nemu remarked, "This is too amazing to just leave, I want to stay here for a bit, we can catch fish, and probably some birds. I mean we'll never see this again, what's a few days, right? It's not like we have a task ahead of us. This is a Windwalk."

Kuuderika ran her fingers through her hair, "I wish they could see this…"

"They?" Goan asked as he turned the suggestion of Nemu over in his mind.

"Enri… auntie Lupu… so many others. This is… unbelievable." She explained, swallowing a bit of the sweet golden waters when she looked up to the everlasting sky.

"Right… Enri… I'd say 'may she rest in peace' but we know she does… Carne was all she ever wanted. I know she's at peace there, and wherever they are, I hope your sisters are at peace too." Nemu put a hand on Kuuderika's shoulder and waited for a tiny hint of mourning loss to rise, but it didn't. Kuuderika only smiled back at her.

Kuuderika reached up and placed her fingers over the back of the hand that rested on her shoulder while she spoke. "I think they are. I think I'd know if they were unhappy somewhere. Wherever they are, they see and are proud of me, and if they've been watching over me this whole time, I think they're proud of all of us."

"You know what… Nemu is right, let's stay for a bit, why not? This is… something, really something. And since this might be the only time we're ever here, I say we make it count. One day all this will be Empire land, and who knows what will be around it? This might be the only chance to see it before it's… different." Goan said and trailed off. "Oh…" He swallowed.

"What?" Nemu asked, "Something wrong?"

Goan shook his head. "No, it's nothing." He said and gave a crooked smile, "Alright, we stay here, three days. Then we move on."

Mocking Black Justice salutes with fists over hearts, beneath winsome and much amused smirks, met his eyes. "Of course, 'fearless leader'!" They chuckled.

But Goan did not, he turned his back to them presumably to look out into the distance, 'Suddenly… their opposition, their growing hostility to my country… it's making a lot more sense…' And a very uncomfortable feeling began to twist inside his guts that he could not identify.

The next day officials were moving to and fro about the governor's estate like ants whose anthill had been disturbed. Elves, humans, dwarves, officials of every stripe were sending notes back and forth. Papers flew about like hornets about their nest.

Governor Mu'Crasi clutched the horns on his head and bent over the front of his desk. "This is horrible." He huffed out, his breathing long and deep in the way it was for minotaurs who exerted themselves beyond all reason.

Moaleh en Aiweneth however, remained the picture of calm. "Sir. Governor." She said from his side, her hand up on his shoulder rubbing it affectionately. 'Even seated, he towers over me… it's a wonder that the Hungry Ones didn't respect them…' She mused and sighed deeply. "You've done your best to balance the locals with ourselves. But the olives are not reasonable people. They won't listen, they don't care about our laws, our customs… you've probably heard that the Ongeku are now putting out bans on our religion among their people. I don't… listen, please?" Moaleh's dark red eyes held fast, "I saw them. I saw that fanatic stand there and just take our soldiers charge so they could ferry off the body of a murderer. How long till we have to expel rioters in the streets? How long till infiltrators are hiding themselves among the converts that will surely come our way from Ongeku lands?"

"I-I don't know. I just don't know." Mu'Crassi replied fervently and brought his soft merchant fists down on the table. It rattled under the weight of his minotaur limbs. "I'll think of something. Maybe… maybe a festival, something to show off our culture… to show how wonderful our ways really are!"

His tone picked up and he began to straighten. "What happened was bad, but a distraction, that might help. And… and we can let the Ongeku show off too, give them a chance to display themselves at their best. A celebration of peace, to show that we can live together."

"They don't want to live together, Governor!" Moaleh said through gritted teeth, her caressing hand on his shoulder tensed and her nails dug into his thick hide. "They revile death worshippers. They. Hate. Us. Maybe not all of them, but it doesn't take 'all of them' to create a serious problem."

"What about the rest?" Mu'Crasi asked in a low, sonorous voice and turned his eyes to the map he'd looked at so many times. "You know, one of my favorite stories in the history of the war was one I heard from the memoirs of the Dark Savior."

"I know that book. My favorite comes from that one too." Moaleh smiled in spite of herself, her pearl white teeth flashing as her dark purple lips parted, "Mine was the story of how she burned Wheaton to the ground because it held a few assassins."

Mu'Crassi snorted. "I always idolized Tinamoc, the merchant who she traveled through the south with. But I think my favorite story was the confrontation between the Dark Savior and the one who became the White Hand. How the White Hand pled for mercy on Kami Miyako because there were good people there who were trying to do the right thing. Do you remember that one?" He swallowed and huffed, turning his long face toward her, his once lustrous eyes troubled and clouded in the moment.

Moaleh felt as if her governor's fur was going gray beneath her touch, the weight of his responsibility draining him of life. "I do. She let the city decide its own fate, as I recall. Most of the place was wiped out anyway."

Mu'Crasi raised a meaty finger from off the desk. "But not all of it." He pointed out astutely. "We can settle things peacefully still. Just like my great grandfather did when he pacified the bandits for the White Hand before she went east."

"What did you have in mind?" Moaleh asked with sudden interest as she saw the light in his eyes began to come on and her governor sat up straighter.

"An option. We will throw a festival, something to celebrate peace. But while it is happening, we identify some of the most dangerous elements, and expel them. Send them home. If the Ongeku want to send converts South, we'll send their agitators North. Then only the ones willing to live with us and respect our laws will remain."

Moaleh cocked her head and thought it over. "That could work. We might have to play with the idea a little, but we can do something like that, sir." She said with tentative enthusiasm. 'And if the agitators don't survive the trip North… well? People die out there all the time, don't they?' She thought with a broadening smile, but kept that thought distinctly to herself.

...Ongeku Town...Malicoia…

"But I've been a merchant here for forty years! My family has been merchants here for ten generations!" The portly Orilgan snapped at the guards who stood in front of his shop.

"And you can continue to be. As long as you go to the temple and offer sacrifice to the gods, forswearing the faith of the death worshipers and giving up any and all symbols or trappings of their religion." The guard said and slammed the document down on the counter.

Orilgan crossed his arms in front of his chest and stared at them through hazel eyes. His olive skin beaded with sweat from his earlier hard work and he cast his eyes away from them and over the shop. "It's not happening." He lifted his chin and gestured behind them. "See all those shelves. Mining equipment, lumber equipment, and even daily use items, all things my town needs. I'm part of this place and it is part of me, we've provided everything this place needs since before the civil war's fighters were even gleams in the eyes of their lustful fathers."

"And you won't be doing so tomorrow if you don't come with us and worship the true gods of the Ongeku. You'll be a traitor. Your goods will be confiscated and you'll either be exiled or sold as a silver child, with the money for your sale going to the temple to enforce the new apostasy laws."

Orilgan swore violently and his fists slammed down on the table. From somewhere outside the shop, he heard a woman scream, a familiar voice. "I'm guessing you got her too, eh?" He asked through a tight jaw.

"You don't exactly make it difficult, wearing black and insignias like that." The guard's hands tensed on their swords. "Come on now old man, what'll it be?"

"I watched you boys grow up, you used to play soldier right outside this shop. I actually made you your first wooden swords for your birthdays…" Orilgan whispered and shook his head.

Briefly, the two youths hung their heads, recalling their neighbor in his more youthful state, fitter, rather than a bit fatter, but still handing out 'legendary swords' made of two pieces of wood and a nail each. Yet their heads rose and eyes were firm. Their youthful jaws were strong and set, squared for unpleasant work when the elder of the pair spoke.

"And we never thought we'd see the day you'd abandon our people. Now please… don't make us do this… just come with us and honor the gods, and you can go back to tending your shop… everything can be how it was." The elder of the two young men in the heavy plate armor held out an imploring hand, blinking back tears as he forced the words out.

"No." Orilgan replied. "Even if I did, things can never be the same now. Two boys I loved and gave wooden swords to, come to take me away with real ones. Come to take my business, my freedom, my life… are you going to watch the bidding when they take me up? Are you going to bid, and make the man you called uncle… your servant? No. I have always revered our King, even, even after… I changed my mind. But nothing will be the same after this. I can never look at you the same, even if I obey you. This… this will destroy us."

He wiped tears from his eyes with the black sleeve of his shirt, and stared down his nose at his neighbor's children. "Now do whatever you're going to do, and get it over with. And damn your gods for your doing it."

He didn't fight back as the boys who became men outside his door, shoved a black bag over his head, and dragged him out of his home. He didn't see, though he heard, the hammer pinning the notice to his door. "Apostate" knew what it said, he'd been waiting for them to get to him after the last few were taken.

'You could have run away. If they caught the others, they were going to catch you… not that you made it hard.' He let out a weary sigh as the thought came and went, and another took its place. 'I wonder… which will it be? The auction block… or the long road south, and will I survive either one?' Then he felt a blow to the back of his head, and all thought stopped but dreams, leaving the last sound he heard, that of another follower being dragged out of the home next to his shop.