One of the ancient scriptures of the Pasto religion was called Ganmon. It was a book that entailed the details of prayers sung in various places on various occasions and basic statements about the belief in the Hands of Gods.

There were only five physical copies of Ganmon. Each belonged to a city where this religion was the richest, namely, Hakh-Nivena, Fort Apharel and, obviously, the Eversky Mountain.

This stemmed from the first words written, mentioning the five truths about its people. One came from the Orange Mountains, where the church in Hakh-Nivena stood, a man prayed and sought refuge in the harshest of environments. It was believed that the hands of God came down and erected the kirk out of black stone hidden beneath the surface.

The second came from the Western Tributals before the first war crept in to conjure wrath and destruction. Their leader climbed to the tower and prayed for survival in the name of everybody in their race. A miracle formed a massive lake beneath Exeter, preventing the demons from ever crossing the later-built bridges.

The third, fourth and fifth weren't known to many, except for what was already written down, yet, their origins were neatly hidden between lines only the brainiest can decipher. With all the time on Zuimu's hands, and all the books she already read, eventually, one of the copies landed in hers.

It didn't take her long to discover that the last three were in Eversky, well, considering how she had one in her hands, but wandering through the grassy plains and various gardens it wasn't hard to notice prayers or small meetings in the outside areas, where each figure she met had the same book that her head doctor, Semita, always left.

Semita was unlike the others in Eversky. He was the only one who spoke Manjuno amongst the silence of his brethren, and Zuimu swore that if it wasn't for his company, she would've gone insane. The words she uttered from underneath her mask, while muffled, became louder than footsteps or running at times.

When every book she could find was already read, Semita became the only person who connected her with the outside.

It was a great refuge, but then again, how long has it been since she saw Shimori and everything else in this world?

Looking into Ganmon, the book detailed stories of travellers going on adventures to fulfil the hands' prophecies written in the places of prayer. One particularly caught her interest, detailing a tale of a woman who went to the other side of the world and accustomed herself to the traditions of the Ulung people.

Her partnerships and relations extended far; sooner rather than later, she became the queen's right-hand woman.

Zuimu didn't necessarily know what was fantasy or not here, but then again, it was strange but oddly reassuring. The woman in that tale, although unnamed, was hinted to not be human in the slightest. Her struggles through the sea were seen through the eyes of a demon. Although she wasn't a Demonear, her powers entailed something along those lines.

Zuimu wondered if Pasto didn't have any connections to the other side of the conflict. Then again, Axel swore off his belief to protect Hakh-Nivena, as Bancho once entailed. It was strange to think about, but Zuimu was half this and half that, and she had to choose a side, after a while.

If Pasto combined both, can any demon become human if they try hard enough?

Too much time to think over lengthened periods led to too many unanswerable questions, but Zuimu didn't necessarily trouble herself much when the head doctor arrived.

"How are you feeling today?" he asked, closing the slightly ajar door.

She nodded, closing her eyes for a second.

"I see." he smiled, sitting down and looking into her eyes like searching for treasure. Of course, Zuimu stared back, perhaps not as intensely, since there was some hope for answers in her mind. "You've been reading my Ganmon, haven't you?"

"Mhh hh?" she looked puzzled.

"No, no, it's alright," Semita answered. "I guess I did leave it there for you on purpose." he chuckled. "See, there was something in your recovery that I longed to gaze upon, but... I don't think it's going to happen without my guidance." he closed his eyes. "No. Without their guidance, Zuimu."

Zuimu tilted her head a little but looked intrigued.

"The third prayer, after all, asked the Hands for humility. Do you think Eversky would be able to treat all of your critical wounds if it wasn't for our faith?" he asked, pointing to the scars adorning her arms.

Zuimu blinked and glanced up, raising an eyebrow.

Then it sounded, but technically, it didn't. The crickets which inhabited each tree sang their song, which was relatively quiet, but loud atop every other whisper and silent interaction that made the mountain of Eversky. The moon climbed atop the three waterfalls and shone brightly through the window, illuminating Zuimu's face.

"The fourth prayer stemmed from the third. If we remain silent, they'll always watch over us, hoping to protect the holy grounds. After all, this is where the first Erans were guided and were told to remain hidden."

Of course. The Erans of Pasto came into the mountain to find refuge for their fragile faith and built upon what the faith left in the name of those black stones. A shrine with water going from one hand to the other, eventually forming a strange fountain, or a church-like building, half of it inside the mountain.

At that point, she could recite everything from memory, but she struggled a little when the rhythmical description of the flowers growing by the side of the rivers appeared, or the various tree types.

"But I never told you the fifth truth, did I?" he asked, smiling, and Zuimu looked even more intrigued.

She quickly nodded, and he responded with a smile that highlighted his rather wrinkly face, although you couldn't necessarily make out if his eyes were closed or open, she felt a strange sense of comfort in his words.

"Well." he chuckled. "I'm starting to think it's high time you learnt. Look at my face, dear patient. What do you see on it?"

Zuimu squinted her eyes, but eventually shook her head.

"I'm smiling," he whispered.

"Mhing?" she looked a bit puzzled.

"The last prayer asked the hands of Gods to accept a smile, but then again, I think its power stems from the human tool inside your spirit. The ability to push through any obstacle and challenge simply because you keep good faith in your heart. You keep smiling, no matter how hard or... impossible it gets."

Zuimu's eyes were wide open.

"Some of your wounds too, were certainly impossible to cure. You know what, though? I smiled, seeing how you got better each day. I smiled, hoping there might be a beam underneath that mask. I smiled because I knew how much power that held." he folded his arms, a smirk tugging on each corner of his lips.

"Smam," Zuimu replied, in turn, and he laughed out loud for a few seconds, before stopping himself.

"It sounds a little ridiculous, doesn't it? But, considering that you're leaving soon, it might be worth it to give it a try." he put his hands on hers. "No matter how hard it is to step back into the real world, no matter what challenge you may face, a smile will never leave," he added, and Zuimu nodded, although unsurely.

That's right. Her lengthened refuge in Eversky was about to end, and although at first, she wished for a speedy recovery, the longer she stayed, the more it felt like home.

Zuimu didn't necessarily have a place in this world that she could name such. She was made to be a weapon, her heart and life stemming from the suffering of humans, as well as demon's wants and needs. But she rejected that, wholeheartedly.

She searched and found her hope, and then, it was all lost, swapped in and replaced by some who continuously cared for her.

"I wasn't made for getting taken care of." she thought, putting on the different robes found in the closet, somehow trying to match them with the ones she carried in. "I'm not a human, after all." her eyes were half-closed, continuously trying to sneak glances at the various drawings Morio made.

Her steps led her out of the house, in broad daylight, as everyone turned to her with a generous smile. She was well-rested, the foods of Eversky stuffed in her backpack, and memories of what once was and will not be soon.

She gazed at Semita in the distance, giving her a nod with a big smile, and although she bore a mask, she beamed too, her steps leading over various bridges, passing rivers, rich bushes and red gardens.

Her hands finally met a big, white horse, and when all of her items landed on its back, she turned around.

The waterfalls were still crashing against various pools of water. The houses, the trees, the gardens and the people were standing still, or either changing, carried by a light wind or growing anew.

She closed her eyes for a few seconds, sucking in a deep sigh.

"I'm not human, and I'll never be. They knew that, as well and never budged an eye." she clenched the saddle's stirrup as hard as she could, before sitting on the animal. With a careful swing, it neighed, and she too, was ready to set out. "I could argue with myself. I could ponder over the time I lost here, the friends who stepped out and accomplished great things while I didn't. I could get angry with how long it all took. But it was home."

Her hands landed inside the animal's fur, and she turned, haphazardly.

"I'm not human." she smiled. "But I'll smile."

***

"Nuil Eryk," A voice sounded from the ajar door at the end of the chamber. "You've received a letter, sir."

The Nuil in question lay on sheets, hands gripping the fine duvet beneath him, as he stared into the ceiling of his bed.

Wooden planks were never interesting for the most part, but it didn't seem that Eryk necessarily pondered them. He looked, without a thought which circled such in his mind. Only when he closed his eyes he muffled out his worries and heard the voice of one of his guards, standing at the staircase.

He sat up, reluctantly, sighed quietly and looked at the guard with half-furrowed brows. He signalled with his hands, and the man sprinted forward. Each heavy footstep echoed into the emptiness of the chamber, before they were, once again, muffled out by Eryk's thoughts.

All up until the envelope landed in his hands, and he hesitantly unearthed its contents. The Nuil didn't seem to mind, but he had to reread the words printed down a few times without getting lost in what was written.

It wasn't because of Linno Palski's strange handwriting or how certain words were used when they really shouldn't have, but rather, something kept coming up that distracted the Nuil.

"Okay," Eryk muttered, handing the letter back into the guard's hands. "Bring it to the Faculty downstairs and the Tributals will decide who and what when goes."

"What about you, dear Nuil?" he asked, bowing. "Shouldn't you attend the ceremony, of all people?"

Eryk climbed back onto his bed, and lay on the side, sighing. "I don't need to. We can just send a few messengers. Besides, still a heap of time before Herbes, eh?"

"It's Yule, sir." the guard nodded.

"Yule?" Eryk sat up again. He pondered the word for a few seconds, before turning around, with the same worn-out expression as earlier.

His eyes led him to the window of his chamber. Snow came down from the grey clouds and obstructed most of Magna. "That's still a whole season, then. I don't need to be there. Even if I wanted to, I can't even walk alone. Yet, another reason to stay in and just..." he halted.

"Yes?"

"Scour, C," he spoke, with a lowly voice. "Take it to the Faculty already, will you?"

Guard C nodded, before running down the stairs. Eryk sighed again, before forcefully closing his eyes.

He didn't necessarily try to sleep, but whenever they were open something seemed to haunt him.

Lamon wasn't there to help him. The people of Magna caught onto the string of his indecencies and began life without a word coming out of his mouth.

After all, he rarely left the castle, and only on occasions when he was truly needed. Laws getting passed, bigger buildings he didn't necessarily care about or people asking for money pretty much summed up everything that concerned him.

Besides, what kind of a ruler was he? He resorted to running from problems instead of looking to solve them. The Luffios were long gone from the city, all because of his reluctance, and the problems only piled up. Instead of trying to mend things, they all kept stacking up somewhere in his mind but were too difficult to fix.

So he laid down.