The rogue Doll raised an arm, aiming straight at the houses clustered against the slopes.

Intan snapped back into focus.

“Stop!” she cried into the wireless. “Don’t do this!”

Knowing well that she could not make it there in time, she fired a single warning shot.

It hit the rogue’s arm. A stray shot crashed into the mountains. A flock of birds took to the skies, screeching in alarm.

The rogue Doll adjusted its position, as if confused. Then it raised its arm to fire again.

“STOP!”

“She can’t hear you like this,” Eguzki said from behind her, too quietly for the wireless to catch his voice. Intan still wasn’t sure when he’d unstrapped himself from his position. Now he was bracing himself at an awkward angle against her seat and the controls. She worried that he might hurt himself, though she knew that the Doll would not hurt him.

He took a deep breath. “I’m going to change the channel.”

Intan looked desperately at him. “Are you sure? What if she’s got all communications turned off? Just like last time!”

“Last time...” he repeated. After a moment, he seemed to realize what she referred to. “No. I think... I think I know why Kasih’s come.”

His expression was sad, but also a little resigned. It reminded her of the way he had looked on the stairs, just before the news of the king’s death.

That was what made her decide to believe in him.

“Okay,” she said. “Hold on tight. I’ve got to --”

In the background Tuyet was shouting something at them. But Intan didn’t pay any attention to it. She charged forward at the fastest speed she could, planting her Doll right in the line of fire.

Eguzki was still fiddling with a dial Intan had never bothered to figure out the use for when they were hit.

A flash of light blinded their view. The Doll trembled from the impact. Despite expecting the blow, Intan cried out. Eguzki spit out a few half-mumbled curses, rubbing at where his shin had smacked against the edge of her seat.

But he seemed to have accomplished whatever he was doing regardless, for as soon as he had righted himself again, he said, “Park, what the hell are you doing this time?”

Two beats passed before they received a response.

“Oh, Kaneshiro. I’m surprised. Thought you were forbidden from ever stepping foot in a Doll again.” Park cackled. “Come to stop me as usual, I suppose.”

“And who do you think’s to blame for that?”

“Stop!” Intan shouted again, ignoring them both. “You’re going to destroy Hadil’s village! Everyone’s going to die!”

The Doll will be sad, she wanted to say, but it was already so mournful that it would probably make no difference.

Eguzki’s grip tightened on the edge of Intan’s seat.

“Good! They’re just as bad as the Clans, the military, everyone else!”

The sheer hatred in the other girl’s voice took her aback.

The other two Dolls piloted by Tuyet and Rusli’s friend closed in. But before they could pin down the rogue, it zipped up away at a sharp angle, firing continuously as it flew.

Tuyet and the other Doll dodged and swerved, firing back. But Intan did not move.

“And you know who’s the worst of them all?” Park continued, panting. “Headmistress Liow!”

“It isn’t the time for this, Kasih!” yelled Eguzki. “Do you really want to die so badly?”

“So what if I do? You just think of me as a burden, an extra responsibility! And all because of that bitch!”

“I told you not to speak of her like that!”

“How else am I supposed to speak of her? Sita volunteered for those damn experiments! All because your beloved bitch of a Headmistress asked her to!”

“I know,” murmured Eguzki.

At that, Intan craned her head to look at him.

“She knew the consequences. She was willing to risk it. That was the reason she came to the capital in the first place, wasn’t it?”

“Fuck you. She was my friend. Even though we’d only known each other for a few weeks -- she was my friend! My only friend in that whole stinking place! If I’d known the kind of crap she’d gotten herself into -- if only I had known -- I would have --”

“Kasih? Kasih!”

But no response came. The rogue Doll began to fire at them, this time with smaller ammunition. Intan veered away.

Eguzki punched his thigh over and over again. But in the end, he switched the dial back.

“The pilot is Kasih Park, a first year from the medic division,” he said coolly.

Tuyet’s voice sounded angrily from the other end. “Kaneshiro? What the hell were you and Aghavni thinking, switching off communications like that?”

“I wanted to confirm the pilot’s identity.”

“Never mind that,” Tuyet snapped. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. A medic and a first year. With skills like that?”

“It’s the truth.”

“Get into formation, now. I don’t care who she is or what she is. We need to incapacitate the Doll before she does any more damage! Did you hear that, Aghavni?”

“Got it!” Intan replied, more cheerfully than she felt.

She remembered. She remembered what had happened last time.

The girl. The Doll. The water. The flames.

She did not want the Dolls to mourn anymore.

“If only I could talk to her,” said Intan, more quietly. “It’s wrong. She’s only hurting herself like this.”

“I know,” replied Eguzki. “I tried to stop her. I shouldn’t have -- I shouldn’t have told her.”

“Told her what?”

But at that very moment, the rogue Doll paused in the air and began charging some sort of weapon Intan could not identify.

“What the --” said Tuyet’s voice.

“Damn,” Eguzki muttered. “How did she get her hands on --”

Another blinding flash.

When the debris cleared, Intan saw that a chunk of the mountain had blown away entirely, just barely missing the village below.

The seniors’ two Dolls had been closer to the blast and were nowhere to be seen. But Tuyet’s voice over the wireless moments later reassured Intan that they had not borne the brunt of it.

“Aghavni! Are you still operational?”

“We’re fine! But the rogue...”

Something strange was happening to the rogue Doll. It was still hovering in the sky as before. But it was flailing and convulsing -- its limbs moving in ways they had never been meant to, as if in pain.

“No!” cried Intan. “No!”

“It’s them again,” whispered Eguzki beside her, his voice an odd mixture of awe, apprehension, and resentment all at once.

“Kaneshiro? Aghavni? What’s going on? What do you see? Answer me!”

But Intan could not answer, for whatever it was that Eguzki saw was not for her eyes.

Instead, her vision faded. Mountains flattened into rolling hills into endless plain. Trees toppled and crumbled into ash.

In their place rose a ring of giant towering shadows, billowing with smoke.

Far, far below, two boys ran.

* * *

Two grubby young boys race through dark alleys that smell of piss and grease.

Something pursues them. Several somethings. That which cannot be named, that which is ever present, and that which will always be forgotten.

None of which can be escaped.

The city crowds in about them like the bars of a prison. The walls are stained dark with shadows and blood.

Glass shatters. Wood splinters. Bones crack and men scream.

A boy slips and falls. His leg bleeds from a great gash. The other one stops, drags him into a corner, shielding him from their pursuers with his own body.

Something is burning. The fire leaps here and there, spreading deep into the night. The shadows draw longer: shifting, contorting.

The boys huddle together, panting and shaking.

A single shadow, darker than the rest, looms forth, then materializes into solid form.

A tall woman in a long black dress. A veiled hat shadows her features almost entirely, but for the cigar clenched between her teeth.

“You, boy. I have found you at last.”

The smaller of the two boys glares up suspiciously while his companion cowers.

“Who are you?”

The woman takes a long drag from her cigar before responding. “I knew your mother.”

“My mother is dead.”

“I know.”

For a long time they watch each other, boy and woman.

At last, the woman holds out a single gloved hand.

“Come,” she says.

The boy takes her hand.

What is your name, boy?

You don’t know? Or you cannot say?

Or perhaps you do not wish to tell me.

Then I will give you a new one.

A name to call your own.

A dimly lit room. The boy again. But taller now, and the color of his hair has faded. He is wearing the black and gold uniform of the Academy, emblazoned with the clinging vines of the wisteria, but the sleeves are torn and the knees are scuffed. His lip is bleeding. One eye is swollen. His gaze is fixed on his shoes.

Before him stands the woman in black, her face no longer veiled, but still shadowed by the brim of her hat.

She sighs.

“If you must maintain such an attitude, you ought to put your skills to helping others rather than in wanton destruction.”

The boy looks up, his expression wide with wonder, like that of a lost and wandering child...

But how?

There is no great secret to it.

Tell me. Teach me. I... I don’t want to...

They are no longer in that hazy dark room. They stand beneath a great banyan tree on a cliff overlooking the sea, their hair tossing in the wind.

“Why? Why did you even pluck me out of that hellhole in the first place? Why didn’t you just leave me there to die?”

The woman says nothing. Her eyes, usually hard and cold, are softened with what might have been sentimentality in another, but seems more akin to weariness on her face.

“Because of my mother?”

The woman removes the cigar from her lips. Blows out a stream of smoke.

“Because...”

Her lips continue moving, but her words are lost to the crashing waves.

They stand there together, woman and boy, looking out upon the sea.

The rain begins to fall.

* * *

Kikue didn’t stop to think. She seized Hadil’s sleeve and pulled her back, out of the room, out of the chamber of rusted tables and into the damp tunnels, slamming doors shut behind them as if the act would trap her nightmares in those dark, unreachable corners of her heart or erase the truth of what they had seen.

Or at least, what Kikue thought she had seen.

Hadil continued to scream. Names, scraps of incoherent pleading in heavily accented dialect that Kikue could not make out and did not even bother trying to.

“Get a hold of yourself!” she hissed, shaking the other girl, not quite certain what else to do, knowing only that they were in severe danger -- though what manner of danger, she could not say for sure either.

All she knew was that she did not want to be found, here and now. By anyone.

Or anything.

Soon enough, the screams broke down into choked sobs. And then, at last, blessed silence.

“Better now?”

The silence dragged on. Kikue shifted her weight uncomfortably. Her mother would no doubt know precisely what to say in such a situation, but Kikue would never be her mother, no matter how she tried.

“My mother...” said Hadil then, and Kikue jumped.

“Her research... Was this what she was trying to accomplish? But why?”

“I’m not sure I follow,” Kikue said.

“Just what was AUSOS intended for? A weapon? How could something like... something like that...”

For a moment Kikue was worried the other girl would break into hysterics again.

But instead, Hadil said, “I still don’t... can’t remember what exactly happened that day, five years ago. But there is one thing I seem to recall very clearly now. He was drawn here for some reason, that day. He’d always been drawn to this place. As if someone -- something -- kept calling him back. And that day -- he sacrificed himself to save me.”

“Sacrificed?”

“My brother is dead. And the dead cannot return in flesh.”

“... Yes.”

“He must not have been the only one,” Hadil continued, as if she hadn’t heard. “Growing up, I always wondered... Why there weren’t many kids our age. There was the plague, of course. And all those who died during the war. But by the time we were born, the plague was already petering out. Everyone’d already come back home from the fighting. Those who didn’t stay behind at the capital, at least. This does explain a lot. But no -- there’s still things that just don’t make sense.”

“Project AUSOS was instituted to create a weapon. A weapon meant to end the war once and for all,” interrupted Kikue, too irritated to make heads and tails of Hadil’s rambling train of logic. “What kind of weapon?”

“That’s the key, isn’t it?” said Hadil, who apparently was paying attention after all. “I always assumed it was some superpowered Doll. All those malfunctions -- it seemed obvious to me that they were fiddling with the machines themselves. And Ma and the rest of our village -- we’re builders and tinkerers. What else would they have wanted our skills for?”

Kikue waited.

“But what if... what if... it wasn’t our skills they wanted? What if it wasn’t a new Doll model they were trying to create? But a new...” Hadil gulped. Lowered her head. “... A new breed of pilot?”

Kikue stared.

“Human experimentation,” she said flatly. “Is that what you are implying?”

“It’s the only conclusion that fits.”

Kikue considered this. And mentally conceded the point.

Still, she said, “What kind of pilot? Faster reflexes? Superhuman strength?” But why then such secrecy? Such terror and resentment? Surely it would be an honor for one to be chosen for such an experiment.

But the experiments, whatever they had been, had gone horribly wrong.

“I don’t know,” Hadil replied in a meek, teary voice. “Like I said, there’s still tons of things that don’t make sense.”

That thing in the chamber. Was that the result of their failure?

Had it even been alive? Could such a thing be called living?

It had been five years. Or more than five?

A shiver ran through her. Kikue reined back her hurtling thoughts and shut them away again. Sighed, in a weak attempt to disguise her unease.

“My father’s even more of an idiot than I thought,” she muttered, “if he truly chose to involve himself with something like this.”

Hadil made no such effort to hide her distress.

“But what I really don’t understand is -- why did everyone just... keep on going like nothing happened? Grandfather, the aunties, my uncles. Why didn’t anybody say anything?”

“Shame,” Kikue suggested quietly. She knew it was not the answer the other girl wished to hear. But it was the only answer she could offer.

She didn’t have time to come up with anything better, anyway. For just then, a great tremor reverberated through the entire mountain, tossing them both to the ground.

“What on earth is going on out there?” shouted Kikue, gasping for breath. She staggered upright and held out a hand to help Hadil.

Just when they had both found their feet again, another tremor hit. This time, it was Hadil who shoved Kikue forward and into a narrow tunnel.

Rubble came crashing down where she had been standing just the moment before.

“Oh, no,” Hadil was saying. “Oh, no. They must have come again -- Why now? Why now, of all times?”

The tunnels continued to shake. Even Kikue could see they must be on the verge of collapsing.

They had to get out. But they were by now so deep inside the mountain that Kikue worried they would not make it in time.

The dust cleared. A shadow emerged from the cloud.

Kikue’s pulse spiked.

But as the figure’s outline grew clearer, her nose caught an odd clean scent against the stuffy murk of the tunnel.

The faint smell of sea. The forest after a storm.

It was some small, furry being. Not much larger than a human toddler, but with unnaturally bright red hair, pointy teeth, and large round eyes that seemed to glow in the dark.

It waved at them, grinning.

Kikue took a step back. “Wong. Do monkeys live in caves?”

“Um. I don’t. Think so?”

The not-monkey closed in on them, chattering angrily at her, and tugged on her sleeve. Kikue stumbled forward, then snatched her arm back.

“Stop that!”

Hadil looked worriedly at her. “Sunagawa? Are you okay?”

Kikue stared back. Suspicion dawned on her. “What the --”

The furry little... creature turned back and frowned at her. Waved for them to follow again.

Another tremor.

“Whatever,” she grumbled. “Come on, we have to get out of here!”

But Hadil was looking back beyond the rubble, in the direction they had just run from.

“No!” cried Hadil. “The chamber --”

“Don’t be an idiot!” Kikue snapped, grabbing her shoulders. “Your brother -- he’s dead, right?”

The other girl’s face froze. Crumpled.

“... Yeah.”

Kikue held her gaze for a moment longer, and was satisfied or relieved to see grief and madness replaced by the quiet light of determination.

The creature chattered at her again, more urgently this time.

She turned, rolling her eyes. “Coming, coming.”

No more hesitation, Kikue thought.

Whatever lay ahead, there would be no turning back now.

But perhaps she had already passed that point long ago.

* * *

Intan blinked.

She was still in the cockpit, lying back, strapped to her seat in the darkness.

Darkness?

It had been dark in the city. But then the fire had set everything ablaze in a sea of light.

She was not in the city.

The controls were dead. And though she could not see outside, she knew they were no longer airborne.

Then she remembered that she was not alone.

In the cramped space beside her, Eguzki stirred. Blood was running down from the back of his head. She reached out, concerned, but he caught her hand and pushed it away.

“What happened?” she asked.

“They came,” he said, rather unsteadily. “A whole swarm of them. The controls stopped working. After that, I don’t know.”

“Them,” she repeated, puzzled. Then her eyes widened. “You mean... the sprites?”

“Yes.” He slumped against the wall. “I told you. They hate me.”

“No,” she said, blinking back tears. “No, they don’t. They were just trying to help.”

“Wait. Don’t tell me --” He straightened, staring at her. “You couldn’t see them? You didn’t know they were...”

Intan shook her head.

“But why? That doesn’t make any sense. You’re the first person I’ve ever met who...”

“What happened?” she asked again.

It was a long time before he answered. “I don’t know. Truly. It was just... just like that time.” He buried his face in his hands. “Oh, gods. It’s happening again.”

“That time?”

“We have to get out of here. I need to stop them. Kasih --”

Intan pushed aside her own grief and considered his words. “Is she in danger?”

“I...”

She came to a decision. “Okay! Let’s go!”

“But the controls --”

She unstrapped herself and climbed out of her seat, humming the refrain of that old half-forgotten lullaby. She pressed her palm against the spot where she knew the door of the cockpit opened. Metal hummed briefly in response beneath her fingers, then slid open.

Eguzki stared. But then he shook his head and jumped out. Intan joined him shortly after.

They had crashed into the blackened mountainside, fortunately missing the village. The other two royal Dolls had crashed as well, further away.

As for the rogue Doll...

It was kneeling further up the slope, arms rooted in the earth as if digging out some buried treasure -- only it was as still and unmoving as a statue.

There was someone lying pinned between its arms.

Eguzki broke out into a run. Intan followed behind at a slightly slower pace.

As they neared, a hoarse voice cried out.

“Don’t come any closer!”

Eguzki slowed. Relief spread visibly across his face. “Kasih.”

Though sprawled on her back, the girl seemed unhurt.

“I couldn’t do it,” she said. “I couldn’t take revenge for Sita. I couldn’t put an end to all of this.”

“You know this isn’t what she wanted.”

“I know, dammit! Don’t talk to me about what she did or didn’t want. She’s dead. It doesn’t make a damn difference anymore.” Her voice cracked. “Even so, even so -- I had to. I had to destroy this place. This desecration to her memory. The evidence of their sins. These blithering fools, living on like -- like sheep, even though their hands are just as stained as those of the wolves who preyed on them...”

“Sita made her own choices.”

“And I made mine.” She rolled over, struggling upright. “Don’t you dare deny it. It’s better -- this way. As if nothing had ever happened. As if none of this ever existed.”

“If it were so easy to erase the past, others would have done so long ago.”

“Still, I had to try...”

Suddenly, she pulled out a knife.

“Kasih --”

“Funny, isn’t it?” she said. “No matter how hard they try, how much money and talent they throw at it -- none of them can reproduce the Goddess’s compatibility. Not the military. Not the Clans. Not a single one of them. Try as they might, they can only fake it, and only temporarily... I never expected to hold out so long myself. Just long enough to accomplish what I desired... But I suppose what they say is true. The power will turn against those who are unworthy...”

There was an uncomfortable pause before Eguzki responded. “I thought you didn’t believe those stupid old rumors.”

“It doesn’t make a difference whether I believe or not.”

To this he had no response.

Park held her knife out, hilt first. “Kill me! I hate this place. These people. Everything...”

Eguzki hesitated. Park reached up. Closed his fingers around the hilt.

He stared at his hand as if it no longer belonged to him. Raised it, arm trembling.

Intan, who had until now chosen to watch in silence, launched herself at him. “Don’t!”

He startled. The knife dropped to the ground.

“Get out of the way!” shouted Park.

“No!”

She spread her arms and closed her eyes.

Stars whirled past her in a milky stream. Voices past and future echoed through her heart, chanting verses without words.

Such a nostalgic sensation. Deep and old as the mountains. Cool and still as the springs in the shadowed groves.

She spoke:

“You are no longer welcome in this land. But you have suffered as we have suffered. You have known our pain. Your life is no longer ours to claim...”

When she opened her eyes again, she found both of them staring at her -- Park in confusion, Eguzki in surprise.

“That’s great!” she said happily to Park. “You’re free now. Go, and be at peace.”

“They will hunt me down,” said Park, still looking confused and more than a little bit lost. “The military. The Ruslis. Not even that Headmistress of yours will help me now. The drugs they gave me -- I don’t have much time left. You might as well just kill me and be done with it!”

“Kasih,” said Eguzki then. “Why did you take the exams to enter the medic division?”

It did not seem to be the first time they had had this exchange, for Park lowered her gaze instead of answering.

He crouched down beside her.

“If you hate this island and its people so much, then leave. Make a life for yourself on the mainland. They will not follow you there.”

“But -- what would I do? What should I do?”

“That you must decide for yourself.” He looked up at the skies above. “It’s as Intan said. You’re free.”

“... Free.”

“Forget what happened here. Forget Sita. Forget the Academy. Us. Everything. Start anew.”

Park turned slowly. Took one step. Then another.

In the shadow of the Doll she paused.

“I won’t forget. I won’t ever forget,” she said.

Eguzki bowed his head.

Without looking back, she continued on her way. Her figure receded into the dying light of the sun, until at last it disappeared beyond the horizon.

Then remember.