Kaya was not dead.

In fact, she was in one piece. But then, the realization hit her. If she was alive, everyone else certainly was not.

Kaya scavenges through the snow looking for anything, anyone. The cold snow slides past her fingers like sand, empty. No sword, no Neo, no sight of where she is.

But as her visions begins clearing up, it dawns on her that she is in-fact not alone. Or maybe she is. Because all the body around her are dead.

“No! No please no” she gasps out loud, cupping her hands to her mouth to muffle her cries. She scans the snowy mountain where the pure white snow is stained with blood and death.

Neo. Her mind races to Neo. If Neo is alive, maybe they manages to ring the bell. Maybe their kingdom’s saved.

“NEO!” Kaya screams at the top of her lungs, losing her voice at the end.

“Neo, are you there.”

She pauses, and the whole mountain is silent, except for the wind.

“Den, Litchen, Rya? Chief?”

Silence.

Kaya gets up from the ground, and begins walking around the body’s. Every once in a while she falls to her knees, unable to keep the sobs in. She almost whisked she didn’t survive.

She keeps walking, until something catches her eye. A ring. An emerald engagement ring.

She inches closer and closer to the body, and brushes of the snow from the body’s face. Neo.

“Oh please no!” She cried out, her screams echoing. “I’m so sorry” she whispers, hugging his head. “I’m sorry.”

The mountain grows colder and colder, but she never leaves Neo’s side. Her arms are wrapped around his cold dead body as she silently cries. And the finally, when the sun begins to set, she lays stands up.

She’s not ready to face her kingdom. She’s not ready to come back to her home burned to ashes. So she walks around. Looks for something to give her hope. And then she finds it. She follows a trail of blood, up and up the mountain, until it ends at the alert bell.

And there, her chief lays, only inches away from the bell.

Kaya bends down to feel his heart beat, but is disappointed by the stillness of his chest.

His lips are blue and his eyes are frozen open. He’s dead.

She lets out another cry for her chief, before grabbing her cape and draping it over him.

He was so close. Inches away. If the bells had rung, maybe the people would have had a chance.

The blood was horribly fresh, dripping from the bell and marking out a path in the snow, one she didn’t want to follow.

But they needed to do this, they needed to find what Dad had sent them for, and there was no getting around it.

Alizee didn’t bother to check on Corentin as she ducked under the fiery banners. An incredible eyesore upon the mountain, since it wasn’t Kindran territory whatsoever. And that was strange, because the Kindra were the biggest allies of the Cerulle.

“This won’t stay as the Silver Pass much longer, will it?” Corentin asked, sounding just slightly less calm than he would probably like Alizee to believe. She humoured him, shrugging and continuing along the path.

“We’ll call it something so awful sounding it will scare people, and we’ll all be safe!”

“It’ll never work.”

“Oh, Cora, it’s not meant to ‘work’,” she sighed, not turning around. They had to be close, surely…

She could smell iron, and that could mean nothing good. Thera were a possibility, but it was more than likely, horribly certain, that the scent in the air was blood.

Thick and red and entirely too colourful for the grey mountains. Drips all across the snow, large splatters upon the grey stone, smeared handprints staining the wooden frames that held those sacred bells.

“Stop a minute,” she called, dodging around one of the bells. “I want to try something.”

There was blood on this bell as well. If Alizee thought enough about it, she would come to the conclusion that someone — or more than a someone — was killed using them. She didn’t doubt that they were heavy enough to crush a person, but what other ways could they be used?

No, she reached out to trace one of the clouds marked into the wood, and as her fingertip brushed the carving, it began to glow.

Follow the bells they said and ring each one on your way to the top.

I had rang nine of them. The snow prints had proved it and will continue to prove it for as long as the air remains still or for as long as the sun doesn’t burn too bright. My blades sheathed, I tuck them in tight and wrap a scarf around my face. One bell left.

The path to the mountain opened up, the sun blazing behind it. Swallowing the cold air. My hair tied and tucked behind my ear. I brush it back stroking my scar in the process. The scar in the shape of The Bell Society’s emblem. I was theirs until all the bells had rung loud and true. My task however, wouldn’t be straight forward.

The path became straight and in front of the glare of the sun it showed itself.

The tenth bell.

The air became quiet and so did my thoughts. The end was so close now. Taking longer strides, I had lost my patience. I wanted to ring this bell as quickly as possible and leave from this treacherous mountain.

It’s too quiet.

A slow rumble followed by a series of loud thuds. The ground shook me into fear. We all feel fear, but I’ve realised fear isn’t the enemy. Fear makes you strong.

A shriek echoed out and deafened me. I wrap my scarf tighter around my ears with one hand and unsheathe my katana with the other.

Giant. Drooling blood from its teeth, painting the snow red. The ape leaps up in front of the bell from behind it and roars an even louder roar. The only thing now stopping me from ringing this bell. I drop my scarf down to my neck and grab the other sword from its sheathe. A red katana given to me by my father, holding all the strength of my ancestors.

This ape will die.

With both katanas by my side, I spring towards the foul beast. Jumping up towards its neck and plunging both my katanas towards its neck.

One swipe. I flew to the ground and thanked the snow for cushioning my fall. This wasn’t going to be an easy fight…

She opened her eyes as the sun infiltrated the wooden slates of the broken shutters, then closed them quickly. Her eyelids portrayed a quizzical look, then they again opened and she sighed. Relief. She remembered where she was. She ran to the shutters and allowed in the glorious sunlight and subtle awakening noises of Darjeeling. The air was clean, and slightly chilled. She smiled thinking of the heat, smog, noise and more than occasional unpleasant odor that she had left behind in Calcutta.

The journey hadn’t been without its incidents. Having to sit behind the pilot was both a surprise and a pleasure. The views as the foothills of the Himalayas came into sight were spectacular. Then whilst navigating her way through the airport she was stopped by security. For some reason a folded up ‘body’ in her extra suitcase had caused a stir. A demonstration of basic life support drew a crowd that Wembley may have been proud of. But it worked and she arrived at her hotel in time for a late dinner, a glass of cold red wine and an early night.

Tomorrow she was required to go to a local cottage hospital and teach, but today was all for her and she relished in the thought. After a quick shower and a delightful plate of eggs and fresh bread washed down by a big pot of Darjeeling tea she stepped out into the street. Backpackers and other tourists called to each other and stopped what seemed like every yard to take photos. Understandably given the backdrop to the town. Smoke poured from most buildings and aromas of freshly baked bread, frying onions and varying spicy dishes assaulted the senses. She hadn’t seen so many ‘foreigners’ for ages. She smiled to herself at the thought of not including herself as a foreigner.

After some negotiations she sat in the back of a dusty car behind her newly acquired guide and set off to the temple. The crowds slowly dispersed and soon the town had vanished. The car polluted the air with its noisy exhaust as it struggled up the hill towards the temple. The driver slowed to a stand still just off the road, and pointed.

Kanchenjunga appeared higher than Everest. That surprised her. The view however took her breath away. Her camera shook as she attempted to take photos. It was just too beautiful, just too much. Then a voice which was rich, deep and with an accent she could not place called to her. The voice offered to take a photo of her with the view as a backdrop. She turned and looked up at the stranger. She had to look up which was unusual as she was quite tall. His smile was nearly as large as his deep dark eyes which portrayed a kindness and slight amusement at her reaction to his offer. She stumbled over her words, spluttering, then laughed and handed him the camera. She looked directly into those huge pools of mystery as he took a few shots. After he handed back the camera he asked the usual questions. Was she on holiday? Why on earth would she be working in Calcutta and then why was she at the foothills. She answered elaborating on how she loved Calcutta but not why she was there. He smiled. Her eyes betrayed nothing, he was stunning. Pleasantries completed he wished her a good visit, held back a chuckle she thought, and then vanished. One minute he was there, she turned to speak to her driver, and when she turned back he was gone.

She sat back in the dusty car, feeling slightly nauseated with the smell of fumes of the the small dark cigarette that was constantly smoldering in the corner of the drivers thin lips. Thankfully within a few minutes he was parking at the entrance to the temples grounds. A long steep path with steeper steps lay ahead. After a deep drink of water she began the climb.

The views from the temple were equally amazing. The Buddhist monks moved around quietly yet vibrantly with their deep orange robes adding to the depth of splendor. The prayer flags fluttered in the gentle breeze. She sat quietly on a bench close to the edge of the cliff, hands on her lap and thought.

She had been pretty lucky in securing a job in India, it was timely. Although initially she had been homesick for London once the first patient had been admitted she hardly had time to breath let alone think about life back in the UK. Now over a year later she was so in love with Calcutta, the people, the food, the noise and even the occasional pungent smells. She smiled at the thought of those first few days when they had their initial patients. The inaugural patient’s meal served had left her shocked and stunned, but the patient had gratefully opened the newspaper parcels and eaten those warm samosas freshly served from the stall outside the hospital. Actually when she had eventually got over the shock she had often had the same meal, and they were absolutely delicious.

Suddenly she became aware of another person sitting close to her. She turned and her eyebrows raised as she saw that same smile and deep dark eyes. He asked her another question as if their conversation was just continuing without any hiatus. She answered as truthfully as one does when they don’t want to answer about what was a very painful time, though the question quite innocent. So she told him that she had needed to make a change in her career pathway but wasn’t sure in which direction to go. Then this opportunity came and she had grabbed it both hands. It was only for about nine months and that would give some breathing space and an amazing experience. However she had fallen in love with India and had extended her contract. He appeared to like this answer. Before he could ask anymore she asked him what he did. He smiled that smile and told her that he just worked locally. They sat in a comfortable silence for a while, taking in the clean cool air along with the vista that had appeared on so many calendars and paintings. He then suggested a bite to eat at the temples cafe, he was hungry. She agreed and they set off walking slowly through the grounds of the temple, taking in the glorious colours of the prayer wheels and flags. They chatted over delicious warm chapatis and fresh fragrant dhal. After the chai tea had been drank they agreed they must move on as he needed to get back to work and she to the hotel as she wanted to explore the town. They walked back to the car park. She offered him a lift but he explained that he had his car. Slightly disappointed she smiled and they said their goodbyes. As they started to walk away she heard him call and say that his name was Debal. She said that she hoped to see him again, he smiled and said that they would. Then once again he vanished. She turned to speak to her driver who was sitting under the shade of a tree, when she turned back he had gone.

After a rest, change and long walk around the town with its steep roads, touristy shops, smokey alleyways and intoxicating smells of food she returned to her hotel. She showered again and then had a lovely meal of fragrant lamb and rice for dinner, washed down with wine. Tired and happy she decided to take her diary and book to bed and have an early night.

The morning bought a pale blue sky, the now familiar smell of wood burning and a delicious breakfast of toast with jam and eggs. As soon as she had finished breakfast she took her large suitcase and notes and walked out into the weak sunshine. As promised there was a car and driver waiting for her. The driver was polite and spoke perfect English. They chatted as the car took them out of town and up towards the tea gardens which were a lush green and spread out as far as the eye could see. The contrast against the now deepening blue of the sky and the stark white of the mountains was quite stunning. The driver pointed out the tea garden managers house and within a few minutes they arrived at a building which looked like it belonged in the classic film Gone With The Wind. Faded blue and cream paint adorned the two story building, the shutters opened on the outside and there was a porch which appeared to surround the building.

The driver took the large suitcase and they walked towards the house. Just as they reached the door it sprang open and two young nurses ran out, their teeth as white as their eyes and their uniforms, and their smiles huge. Greeting her with the customary ‘madam’ they took her by both hands and went inside. It took a few moments to adjust to the light as the entrance was dark. Then she looked at the group of nurses in brilliant white uniforms all with wide eyes, looking hopefully at her. Nearby another door opened and a stern looking very petite woman appeared. She said one word and the room was empty. The woman smiled at her and indicated to sit at a nearby table. Tea on an elaborate tray appeared, the linen cloth starched so white she was worried it may stain. They chatted about the day. She would begin with a lesson on patient assessment, care plans and process. Then they would have a practical lesson and assessment using the manikin. After lunch she would speak to the doctors, give them an assessment on advanced life support and answer any questions. Later the tables would turn and the staff would tell her about some of the unusual illness that they dealt with. She couldn’t wait to get started.

Later when they took a break for lunch she noticed a huge painting on one of the walls. Those eyes stared at her. Yes they were owned by a much older body and a tall man with white hair, but they were those eyes. Suddenly she became aware of a cough behind her. An aroma of lime, and perhaps cinnamon …. A light yet deep smell that enticed her senses. She turned, the edges of her lips lifted. She smiled knowing. It was him. She was me.

Frozen world Listen and hear What are you told? What do you fear?

On the edge Peaks just ahead Looking with dread Minds light and fed

So much beauty So very cold Sun shines brightly Wind chill foretold

Summit to the top Lifetime goal Don’t ever stop Truth unfold

Tessa🦋

TW: death, mass murder, family murders, suicide

Clinks of metal hitting against one another echoed through the mountains as slain bodies fall to the snow-covered ground. Hundreds of warriors lay lifeless as more and more of the people we were fighting grew smaller. Power was being stripped away and it would be obvious that the land was soon to be controlled by another.

Even with men and women dying each second they still fought. There was too much to lose to not give all the fight one could give. Mothers, daughters, brothers, and sisters were killed in front of families showing no mercy. Others taking their own lives to not be without family.

It was all because of the deep roots of hatred they felt for one another. The peace that was once made no longer meant anything. The peace that was meant to last a lifetime over in just seconds because of a mistake, a large mistake. A mistake that is costing hundreds of lives.

Yells from across the way could be heard over the battle cries and sobs from mothers finding their slain husband or son shake nature's core. Hatred taking place over any speck of morals that were left. The land is what was wanted and so it would be taken. Land to expand the army and control more people. Power was the driving force. Power and hatred.

With each section being conquered a bell could be heard ringing in the distance. Each ring caused both sides to fight harder. One side fighting better than the other. It seemed as if little by little those who called this home would all be gone and there would be new voices calling this home.

Paths that were once green in the summer and white in the winter were now stained red as a reminder of how this land was taken. How the land was once filled with joy, but now only haunted souls remain.

As the ground becomes like an ocean of blood a louder sound could be heard echoing. A bell that was louder than the others. A bell with such significance. A bell that signaled the end of an era. They thought they killed them all. That they had total control over the land. They thought all was dead, but they didn't think of me. The homeless warrior they took in thinking that they gained another fighter.

They thought they killed all my people. What they didn't think of though...was me. I would avenge what they took. I and my unborn child will show them what loss feels like and what the loss of control is. I just need time to avenge the last ring.

A mountain pass, covered in blood, The remnants of a battle not long since fought, Against a people unfairly judged, Over a land all around sought.

Xoe began to feel herself drift again, dissociating form the world around her, the voices of the people in the room growing distant. No, no, not again. She fought to hold on as the panic began to drive through her. She dug her nails into her other hand but she lost the battle regardless as her vision was overtaken by white.

She was on the top of the mountain again, snow swirling in the wind. Bright red and orange banners that seemed to glow in the sun behind them. The wooden gates. And the bells. This was a different bell than last time. Last time there had been three bells between her and the curve of the mountain, now there were two. Why had she moved again? Why was there blood this time.

The bell resonated without moving. The sound echoed in her head, bringing her to her knees. 4 rings. Last time had been 5. What was it counting down to? Her vision began to swim, but Xoe wouldn’t have it. She dug desperately at the snow she couldn’t feel.

“Please! Tell me what you want from me! What do you mean! Why am I here! What do you want! Tell me! Tell me!” She repeated as the vision began to fade away.

“Xoe! Xoe, tell you what?”

Xoe snapped to reality. She pushed off of whoever she had been leaning against and tucked herself in the corner, drawing her knees to her chest. Her breathing was fast, shallow, panicked as she tried to come back to reality. Slowly, her breathing slowed.

“Xoe?”

She looked up and looked at Corey with a tired face.

“It was the bells. Again. There was one less this time. Im not sure what it’s counting down to, but its something. It has to be something, right? Whatever it is, it’s big.”

“You don’t know that.” Grey offered. “Maybe it’s just warning of Gia’s temper exploding again.”

The group chuckled at Gia’s expense, who crossed her arms and pouted, but the laughter was tense, dripping with the dread they all felt.

“Let’s get going.” Morgana said, offering a hand to Xoe after she stood up. “We need to keep moving.”

Xoe nodded and stood. The group set about packing their few things before exiting the tavern room. They were soon exiting the town, and though Xoe checked in all directions many times, peering into the shadows even when others passed, she still had the feeling of eyes watching her every move.

Michar felt himself being dragged to the cliffside. No. He refused to go out like this. He kicked and flailed violently, causing his captor to loose his grip. Michar struggled to his feet, turning to face his opponent, who was already smartly moving away from the edge. They circled for merely a second before the other male lunged for Michar, who swiftly dodged, even though the motion made his head throb.

His opponent growled and revealed his talons. Snarling at maybe half the volume, Michar did the same, flexing his hands until his claws exposed themselves. He jumped for Michar again, and this time, Michar was unable to evade, resulting in a relatively shallow gash across his side. Michar slashed and felt contact against flesh. His opponent roared and let go of him. Michar stepped back to see the deep wound inflicted on his arm. He held his hand over the wound for only a moment before looking to Michar, hatred in his glare.

They became locked in a furious battle, slashing and biting viciously as they screamed like feral animals. Michar was trying to back away from his opponent when the loose snow slipped beneath him and he lost his footing. Immediately his opponet’s claws were around his throat, choking the air out of him. Michar kicked desperately until something landed, sending his opponent stumbling back. Michar was on his feet before he recovered entirely. Not entirely present, guided on sheer instinct, Michar tucked his body behind his shoulder and threw his weight forward. His shoulder connected squarely with his opponent’s chest and he himself fell forward into the snow. He looked up and watched as his opponent went tumbling to the edge.

Time slowed as their eyes met. That intense amber that had exhibited so much rage before only showed one thing. Fear. And then, those eyes were gone.

The blood curdling scream and the sickening sound of a body breaking on stone was all Michar needed to confirm his death. Suddenly, it was too quite atop the mountain. Even the wind had died to a gentle whisper.

After a few breaths, Michar looked over the edge. Way below was a body bent incorrectly. Michar released a tense breath then stood up. He hissed at pressure in his right ankle. It was probably sprained. Slowed and bleeding, Michar limped his way to the ninth gate and pushed past the bloodied bell. He half expected the sound of a bell behind him, but the only thing he heard back was his breath.

A few meters away was the tenth gate and the tenth bell, the only thing between him and victory. He hesitated only a moment, then pushed on. The tenth bell resonated louder and at a higher pitch than the other bells. Michar stumbled to the center of the flattened summit. In the distance Michar could see the three silhouettes of a retrieval group rise up from where the closest outpost was located.

Michar fell to his knees, crying as all his emotions slammed into him. Fear, anger, sadness, regret, excitement, relief. Michar wiped the crystalizing tears from his eyes.

He had made it. He had survived. He had won.

The prayer banners Surrounded the prayer gong Under the torii.