There's much to be said about ignorance and stupidity, wouldn't you agree? The bravest among us tend to think what is stupid is brave, and what is brave is stupid. How convoluted! In the face of our bourgeois masters they will exploit this. There can be no emancipation of mankind if we keep confusing the two. Be brave. Be brave! Seize the world in your hands!

From the The Revolutionary Manifesto by Kafeng Masangwa

Raxri's voice caught in their throat. Pain blossomed from their chest, skewering through them and breaking them. It narrowly missed their heart--they could feel it. Puksa writhed within Raxri's flesh. It was not comfortable being sheathed into the very body of its owner.

Akazha was already chanting the healing mantras as Raxri stumbled backwards, pitching, grasping at the razor blade sprouting from their chest like a vengeful flower. They looked at Akazha, whose face had softened. Steel melted.

"I'm sorry," she said, and her mouth quivered as she did. She pulled Puksa out of Raxri in such a way that it performed the least amount of damage on the way out, and then carefully caught Raxri and laid them upon the ground. They were speechless from the pain: the physical pain hurt less than the realization of betrayal. Akazha had just stabbed Raxri to an inch of their life.

"I'm sorry," she said it again. And then she repeated it again and again and again. There was a soft, low timbre to her voice. She looked like she didn't want to be saying this. It was as if she had said that those very words before.

"Why...?" Raxri managed to groan out. They could feel their body going limp. Though, the pain of the sword-stab had quickly ebbed away, now. "How could you--"

"Don't go. Not yet," she said, gripping her eyes closed. "Please, just trust me. Please."

"How can I...?" Raxri's eyes drifted to the door, still.

"I'm sorry." That was the last thing they heard as Akazha performed a great healing ritual in the midst of the raging ghost storm.

You idiot. Even if that were an actual victim you'd be ripped to shreds while they can easily run back to town or to the river. Even worse, I'm pretty sure that screech is probably from the patayenak! You'd be dead by now if I hadn't done this. I'm sorry Raxri. Please, don't be mad at me. Cheeks wet with tears, Akazha realized they had to use the strongest healing magick that they knew. An empowerment from the Medical Liberator, it was an empowerment she hardly practiced, as she did a good job of avoiding injuries for the past few years.

When she realized that the Medical Liberator Mandala was the last mandala she was initiated into before Sutasoma asked her to pilgrimage to Pemi, a shiver ran through her. Had the guro known of this happening, somehow? Does the guro know of the Heaven Dancer...?

Despite having been a magick practitioner herself, the esoterica of the Ultramystic scared even her.

No matter. I have to do this. If I don't, then who am I? I'm supposed to be the witch. I'm supposed to solve everything, mysteriously and coolly. I am supposed to be the nothing that is greater than God. If I can't save a stubborn idealistic piece of shit like this one... She hasn't done this in a long time, and doing this mystic ritual always drains her Force and Spirit completely, as though it's not a grand ritual that requires a long ceremony--in fact its pretty short as Revolution Law rituals go--it still requires intense visualization and offering of one's own Life Force.

She drew a circle around Raxri with a nearby ink-stele and lit incense on eight intervals around the circle. Then, they sat in front of the circle in a full lotus position, and began chanting the ritual. Inviting the Medical Liberator to arrive, and then to sit upon her brow. When the Liberator came--and they always did, for ghosts had no power over them, and in truth nothing ever has power over them--it arrived like a phantasm. A fleeting dream within a dream. A disconcerting flat image of a being hovering into place.

Akazha performed the eight offering mudras. After the eighth one, she snapped her fingers, and the blue-skinned Liberator manifested. Levitating atop Raxri, with four arms and one face, Akazha then chanted the mantras and performed the mudras to absorb the great Medicine Liberator. God Absorption is one of the major secrets of the Revolution Law sect of Conquering King Law. Most of their rituals have it, but they usually practice it in secret, and never outwardly. If they are done outwardly, it was only during the direst of situations, where the intervention of the Tathagatas and their Revolution Achievers was required.

With the final Medical Liberator mantra, the Flute Mantra, the Liberator nodded and Akazha snapped her fingers. The blue-skinned Liberator melted, and the purelight they became Akazha absorbed into herself. She turned her own skin blue, her third eye blazed brightly: a diamond of white. Two more arms emanated from her, and her eyes turned red.

She levitated a tail off the ground. Uttering the mantra, she placed both her hands in front of her, and then performed eight mudras. The final one being the Offering Mudra: two of her middle fingers touching together, other fingers interlocked. She pointed it at Raxri's still-breathing body, and said: "YA HOMA!" Let it be done.

A coruscating wave of medical energy--sakti ginhawa as it is called in these parts of the Utter Islands--erupted from the entirety of Akazha's body. The Akazha, now herself embodying the Medical Liberator, harnessed her Force and offered up parts of her own Health to completely mend, suture, and cure Raxri's wounds. As she did, she did not focus on the healing process, but rather, meditated on the Medical Liberator himself, who granted her these capabilities. She meditated on the fact that she was not separate from him, and that Raxri is not separate from him either. That all of them all at once are interconnected, are each other all at once.

Five hours passed. Akazha was completely spent. By the end of the fifth hour, she collapsed, and the Medical Liberator energy left her slowly, dissipating into the truth of Emptiness.

On all fours on the floor, Akazha coughed and dry heaved. Large dark bags under her eyes. Leaning on her elbow, she looked up. She saw that Raxri was completely healed now. A scar gashed across their right breast, from where the sword burgeoned out of like an iron flower.

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Great, Akazha thought. Now I won't be able to gather Force to do that for another month. She crawled up to Raxri, brushing away the burnt down incense stubs, and checked their chest, belly, and back to see if they had any more open wounds. There was nothing left. Just the fresh pink scar of her intrusion and blasphemy upon them.

Sighing, Akazha tried to get up. Her body failed her. She performed, in essence, two major rituals without having had sleep. Forgive me, Raxri. And she collapsed too, head falling upon Raxri's chest.

Raxri found themself in their own mind. Where... am I? Unfortunately, their own mind was a wasteland of white ash and shattered blades. Is this... my mindscape?

"IT IS THE FUTURE."

Raxri flinched, startled at booming voice that clobbered them from all sides. Naturally, their sightline was drawn to the tallest figure--a Enlightened statue 300 feet tall, made from alien steel. Atop it was a woman, sitting in a lotus position and having both her hands crossed in front of her. She was exceptionally tall, like a goddess, but she had a soft and lean musculature to her, like an athlete or a dancer and not a body-builder.

She was clad in the usual garments of a Liberator. Or at least, what Raxri thought to be a Liberator. She wore a beautifully colored and embroidered sarong around her waist, golden sandals, a tiger skin skirt around her waist. Golden jewelries so numerous that it clad her body in an almost shirt-like consistency. A transparent indigo sash wrapped around her arms and floated above her like a cloud. She had four arms, two holding a mudra by her heart, one holding a trident, and one holding a sword. Her eyes were half closed in that telltale sign of enlightenment, her third eye burned like a star.

She seems familiar, but no name arises in my mind! "Wh-what?"

"THE FUTURE, HEAVEN DANCER." It was her speaking. Her lips moved as the wasteland boomed. "THE FUTURE IF THOU DOTH NOT MOVE FORTH."

"H-How do I do this? What future?" When confusion gripped one's mind during a moment liek this, it did not feel too different from the feeling of dying.

"THIS DESOLATE LANDSCAPE BE THE FUTURE OF THY WORLD-SYSTEM. THY KARMA FLUSHED DOWN THE ETERNAL WHORL. THE FUTURE IF THOU DOTH NOT SHAPE YOURSELF INTO WHAT YOU MUST BE."

The sun rose behind her. No--it was more accurate to say that the sun itself was behind her. As if to say the sun was her halo. "What..." Raxri sighed, exasperated. Not only did they lose all their memories, not only did they have no idea what they were in the past and why all of this was happening, now they had to contend with prophecies? "What must I do...?"

"CULTIVATE SKILL. LET GO OF THINE EGO. GRIP THE SWORD OF ULTIMATE RUINATION BY THE BLADE AND LET THYSELF BLEED. MAKE MISTAKES, BUT WALK ANYWAY.

SET THY HEART ABLAZE.

REMEMBER, REMEMBER, REMEMBER: ALL THE BEINGS ART THEE, AND THOU ART ALL BEINGS. CULTIVATE THY BODHICITTA--ENLIGHTENMENT THOUGHT. BE BETTER THAN THYSELF SO THAT THOU MAY HELP ALL.

DO IT FOR THE OPPRESSED. DO IT FOR THE WORKING CLASS. UNTIL ALL THE HELLS ARE EMPTY. UNTIL ALL BEINGS ARE FREE."

Raxri inhaled.

"Until...

"...all beings are free." The phrase rang and resonated. As much as a state of being as it was a command. "Who... are you?"

"I AM YOU. I HAVE ALWAYS BEEN YOU."

And then a strange feeling. As if one's soul was being pulled out of one's body. It's hard to describe. It's even harder to visualize. Imagine the reverse-pain of a sword being un-impaled against you. Like how as the sword enters, the pain blossoms? Imagine that but in reverse, so the pain shrivels, cripples, replaced with an overwhelming, euphoric relief.

It was that that caused Raxri to open their eyes.

Calmly. Tranquil. The sound of cockscrow. Sunlight seeping in through the seams of the hardwood walls. The window stayed closed. The door stayed closed. The palm leaf talisman had fallen away.

Dawnbreak.

They did it. Survived the majority of the ghost assault.

Raxri felt impossibly rejuvenated. As if they had slept for a hundred years and all their wounds had been completely healed. All the fatigue of rushing through all the trainings and accepting every esoteric piece of knowledge even though they could not understand any of it at all... all of it was gone. They felt like they had been born again. Rebirthed into a body of better form and structure.

They tried to move but found that they couldn't.

Eyebrows furrowed, Raxri looked down. From where they lay, they saw two things: a faint blue light humming from the scar where Puksa had pierced through. But Puksa was not there, and there was no pain. No scar. Not even a drop of blood anywhere, nor the telltale smell of the blood there.

Instead there was the faint smell of... was that vanilla? An exotic scent. An aroma only found in the far reaches of the archipelago known as the Refuge of the Gnostics. Was this the smell of relief? There too, a hint of... was that... bamboo? How interesting.

The other thing, by the way, was Akazha, lying upon their chest. Mouth slightly open, dark circles under their eyes as a sign of fatigue. Their hair was wildly unkempt. What happened to her? Then Raxri remembered that she stabbed them and they promptly wondered: What happened to me? I feel completely fine?

Turmoil again in Raxri's heart. Should I feel hatred for her, because of what she did? She tried to kill me. Though, I suppose she probably did have healing magicks that could quickly heal any wound and stop it from being anything fatal. But still!

But then, Raxri's bodhicitta spoke up. Despite it all, they still know better than me. I shouldn't have been too into the hero-act. I no doubt would've been ripped to shreds even with my martial prowess. Even the one I thought I had killed turned out to not have been killed at all! What magicks and rituals must be applied to properly exorcize a ghost!

But should I feel anger? Should I feel hatred for her? When, no doubt, she was only doing that to save me in the end?

Why is she hellbent on saving me, anyway?

A question for a later time, Raxri knew. For now? Forgiveness and care. Compassion is the mother of all Enlightened.

Raxri tried to move and she did not stir. Akazha was out like a rock. They moved gingerly and carried her body--now no longer heavier because of the bodyweight spell--and placed her atop their own bed. Then, they rose to their feet and stretched.

What can I do, now? Oh, right. I should seek out Sintra Kennin. Though, I am confident they are in no ill-situation. I'm very sure I've heard them bellow out the night before...

Raxri went over to the window and opened it. Sunlight streamed in. It was surprisingly refreshing, and a cooling rejuvenating wind surged into the room, immediately lifting Raxri's mood.

Outside, Raxri could see Sintra Kennin. They were conversing with two men in sarongs and light vests and tengkoloks. No officials of Imos Town, coming to investigate. From this far off, Raxri noticed Sintra Kennin also looked tuckered out and haggard. More than that, their eyes were still that of a dragon's, and parts of their hand were still covered in scales. A half transformation?

Raxri turned around to take Puksa. I should clean them. My blood on their blade... I should find oils from a bladesmith. They sheathed Puksa into the wooden scabbard.

A hand shot out. Akazha's hand. Gently touching Raxri's wrist. Her eyes half open, she whispered: "Are you... okay?" Her voice croaked. Raxri thought she looked like she needed two days' rest instead of just one.

"Yes. I'm fine."

"Where... are you going....?"

"To Sintra Kennin, Akazha. Officials have come over. You..." Raxri sighed. "You stay here and rest, okay?"

Akazha's lip quivered. They opened their mouth to say something, but nothing would come out. They were struggling, trying to keep it all together. Her eyes were misty with tears. Before she could say anything else, fatigue swallowed her once more, and she fell asleep.

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