SPIRIT OF JUSTICE REBORN: THE TELL-ALL SPOILERS AND LORE PAGE

Ga'ran Sigatar Khura'in's life started going wrong at the age of 13 years old.

She'd always been ahead of the curve. Walking, speaking, reading, learning her duties as a priestess. But the older she got, the more and more she began to feel like a... late bloomer. Especially compared to her younger sister, who grew to match her in scholastic ability, surpass her in beauty and renown, and summarily outclass her in spiritual power. Where Ga'ran still struggled with the very basics, barely able to lift a scrap of fabric, Amara took to the spiritual arts like a duck to water the moment she was allowed into the lessons-room at 10. She started noticing it then, although it wouldn't be official until much later- how their instructors gave Amara all their attention, nurturing the flower that had bloomed rather than struggle with the stubborn bud. Her sister's schedule grew crowded, her own grew thin. She stood second in public appearances, she was quietly passed over for the position of royal priestess, she was not brought suitors to charm nor sinners to scorn. When Amara came of age, it was announced that she would be first in line for the throne. An ordinary shuffling of the guard, of course. Not unheard of. Their own grandmother had been a third daughter. But what the public was not told was that Ga'ran's abilities were still entirely latent. (They would remain so for the rest of her life.)

Oh, how she loathed it. Betrayed by her own body, like a European eldest daughter passed over for a young, upstart prince. To have the good fortune to be born an eldest daughter of Khura'in, but lose it all in the same way? Heartbreaking. Maddening. The day Amara came of age, Ga'ran sunk into a deep depression.

It took many years for anyone to notice.

Apathetic and compliant with whatever lesser position had been planned for her, she buried herself in her studies. Justice-Minister-to-be. Anyone else would be honored. She couldn't bring herself to care... until she crossed paths with a certain restless young nobleman. The first son after five daughters to the most influential family in the northernmost province, Inga Iz had been plagued his whole life by accusations of unluckiness. Streak-breaker, troublemaker, useless extra boy. He'd come to the capital to make something of himself- traditionally, noblemen were meant to sit around and look pretty. Study the arts, study the scriptures. Find a place in a temple, or else land a good woman and raise her children well. But if the idle life didn't suit you, and you weren't interested in the scorn you'd earn taking up a trade, you could always go into law. So their paths crossed, and so they saw in each other a kindred spirit. It wasn't love at first sight. Their romance was shy and slow- two lost young people fumbling for each other's hands in the dark and stepping out of their shells together. But, beyond a reasonable doubt, it was meant to be.

Ga'ran would not speak first. She would not commune with the dead first. She would not grace the royal nor legal courts with her official presence first. But she would marry first. A sweet, brief taste of victory.

For a while, things were looking up. She ascended to justice ministry with newfound fire in her heart- after feeling so alone for so long, having one person in her corner who really, truly understood her was like drugs. And while she'd grown apart from Amara over the years, she could see now a path towards reconciliation- she was a free spirit who had never bothered with suitors a day in her life, and for all Ga'ran cared, she could stay that way. There was precedent, after all, for a childless queen to pass the throne down to her niece! Yes, that's what she could do. True influence, true power may not have been in the cards for her, but she could establish herself as queen mother. Remembered in the history books as more than a footnote, more than an unusually efficient Minister of Justice. A homelier position in the royalty, but an active position in the royalty nontheless. And perhaps she would have a little more influence on her sister's particularly wishy-washy policy leadership style, or at least plan to correct it in the future...

All she would have to do was bear a daughter. Easy.

...right?

Right?

After waiting patiently for years, watching Amara ascend to the throne with an increasing amount of dread, and finally consulting a doctor in the strictest of confidence... the hammer came down. Ga'ran Sigatar Khura'in- spiritually useless, functionally superfluous, and completely infertile to boot.

She walked back to her chambers alone after receiving the news. Her husband, sweet as he was, would effect no comfort- she needed to be alone.

As she passed the steps down to the palace gardens, she happened to glance out... and catch sight of who else but her dear, lovely sister, wandering through the gardens arm-in-arm with a suitor for the first time in her life.

Something snapped.

This wasn't like the gray period of her late teens. It wasn't a listlessness, it was a fury. Had fate forsaken her? Had the Holy Mother turned her face away from her daughter's suffering? Was her life hand-crafted to be some kind of grand ironic joke? Amara and the suitor fell head over heels for each other. Love at first sight. Married in half the time. Ga'ran needed to act, to do something about the dissatisfaction curdling and building pressure in her chest. She pulled away from her husband, delegated her work to others, spent her days stewing and plotting and getting nowhere. As quickly as was appropriate, Amara became pregnant. A source of unending jealousy... but, at the same time, a small, distant, muted relief that her sister did not share her condition, especially under the growing restlessness of the rest of the nobility. At least there would be a child.

...right?

Through the haze, she had the good sense to be attentive during the ninth month. Someone would need to step up while Amara was out of commission, and while her husband was... lovely and well-meaning, he was also a commoner. Perhaps this would begin to bring the two couples closer together? It was a weak plan, but a plan nontheless, especially since the pregnancy had been unnaturally hard on Amara. Ultrasounds were right out, horribly taboo to use on the queen, so they didn't even know whether it would be a prince or a princess. The betting pools were split. Ga'ran was hoping for a princess, of course. If she was having complications, and Ga'ran wasn't eligible, this might be their only shot...

She was about to walk into trial when her sister went into labor. It was a closely guarded secret, of course- best not to announce anything to the public until it was over and the outcome was certain. Especially given the date, May the 25th... much like how Chinese and Japanese cultures associate the number 4 with death, Khura'inese associated 5 with death. 5/25 was a holiday where the spirits were said to walk the earth, a little like Dia De Los Muertos in Mexico. Five-and-five-fives. Not great symbolism for a birthday! Conflicted and worried, Ga'ran walked into the courtroom and took her anger out on the defense... only to get her ass handed to her in the most humiliating fashion. Of course. Always. Every time Amara was about to have a win, Ga'ran must suffer a corresponding loss. It was practically routine at this point- so why did it sting so much? Why did she feel like she was teetering on the edge of some kind of precipice? She left the courtroom with a severely bruised dignity, the lowest she'd been in ages.

For about half an hour. Until someone got her alone and told her the news.

The nobility was in a silent uproar. It was a scandal unlike anything the royal family had seen in years, surely the defining trouble of Amara's reign. A black mark that would follow her for the rest of her days no matter what. Already, there were whispers of a curse, of a demon coming to haunt the royal family.

And yet, Ga'ran saw differently. At her lowest point, in the depths of her darkest despair, it was an angel come to save her.

Amara had given birth to twin boys.

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When the Holy Mother lived and breathed, the land that would become her future kingdom was, to put it lightly, a demon-infested hellscape. She wandered the land alongside a group of traveling companions who helped her defeat all manner of evil spirits and carve out places for humans to live peacefully among the mountains. When they founded the city of Tehm'pul, she settled down, but her companions spread far and wide through the land, defeating demons and helping found the provinces of the kingdom.

A particular folklore story happens well into her reign as queen, and tells the tale of her loyal axeman as and after he defeats one of the most powerful demons ever to walk the earth. It had been terrorizing the countryside just outside of town, but despite its power, the axeman was able to singlehandedly defeat it, cleaving its mitamah- its soul- in twain with his axe.

...but the two halves of the soul were powerful, even in banishment. As they faded from life, they passed over into the Twilight Realm. If the afterlife proper is a tower, stretching infinitely high into the sky, then unfulfilled souls cannot cross the bridge into the tower, instead falling into the great river that encircles it. There they sit and stew in their regrets and unfinished business, eventually fermenting into demons, devils, and all manners of evil spirits. Every so often, as a spirit butterfly comes to deliver a human soul to the Twilight Realm, a demon will hitch a ride on its wings back to the realm of the living, and be reborn... or, in this case, two halves of a soul linked together, each grown whole in their own right.

They reincarnated, of course, as twins. Wicked twins, bedevilled young boys who terrorized their village from the moment they could walk. As they grew, the trouble they caused did as well, until they were turned out of their home by their own father and sent to wander the countryside. Only empowered, they stowed away in a cart of vegetables heading for Tehm'pul. Once they reached the capital, their mischief turned into evil, their pranks and mayhem becoming harm and chaos. A monk, then a priest, then an emissary of Her Holiness all intervened, only to be defeated in turn by the boys, who realized more and more of their true demonic power through each encounter. At last, once their powers had reached full strength, their souls fused again and reassumed their true form, wreaking havoc on the city and splitting a bunch of other demons into two-halves-creatures like it. It took not only the axeman, with a recently blessed axe from a separate adventure, but Her Holiness herself and many of the other warriors to finally subjugate the demon and its minions, banishing them back from whence they came.

...of course, it would not stay there forever. Would it not simply reincarnate again, even more powerful this time?

In neighboring China, twins are revered as a sign of good fortune. In Khura'in, however, twins are seen as cursed, wicked, demonic. Minion souls of that original split demon. When twins are born, they are nearly always forcibly separated from each other- usually, these days, by giving one of the babies to a traveler or surrendering it in a faraway place, so the siblings will never meet, and the two soul halves will never fuse.

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However, for twins to be born to the royal family? Twin boys, born on the day where the line between the living and the dead is thinnest? It can only be the original split demon itself, the big bad, come to spite Her Holiness's descendants for ending its reign of terror and preventing its minions from taking power. The usual methods wouldn't be sufficient. The only solution was the original one, the first and worst tradition. One of the children would have to die.

But how could Amara do that? Sacrifice one of her beloved sons? She was under pressure as soon as the second one was born- 'do it quickly before you're attached', as if such a thing was possible. As if she didn't immediately love them both with every cell in her body, every speck of her soul. But could the legends be true? Would the boys bring misfortune and ruin upon her family?.. She shut everyone out. Only a pair of impartial nurses and her husband were allowed to see her or the children for five days while she recovered and ruminated on her decision. In the end...

Of course they decided to keep both boys. What were you expecting? To seal the deal, they gave the boys names in a tiny private ceremony, ensuring their decision couldn't be reversed or taken away from them. Common, unceremonious names, to ward off fate's attention. The one with Dhurke's raven-black hair and Amara's sapphire-blue eyes would be Prishta Sahdmadhi Khura'in, and the one with Amara's lilac-white hair and Dhurke's emerald-green eyes would be Nahyuta Sahdmadhi Khura'in. Whether they'd be easily accepted by the nobility and the public or not, both princes would live.

They summoned certain people- family members, government officials- to a small, intimate gathering on the palace grounds to announce their decision and officially present the boys, the first step to making their existence public knowledge (beyond 'there is no new princess, everyone is alive but there was a small complication so please be patient'). They were expecting yelling and pushback, expecting to have to put their feet down at certain people in particular and defend their sons.

They were not expecting a fire.

When the smoke cleared... Amara was dead. And her husband was named as the arsonist.

The trial was long and hard-fought on both sides, Ga'ran representing the crown and Dhurke defending himself. It was a strange affair, and the utter refusal on both sides to actually name Dhurke's motive for the crime would spark conspiracy theories for years to come. They both acted as though it was a given, as though they agreed on what it supposedly was... (It was, and they did. To reveal the twins in front of the court would throw things into even more chaos... and it would be disrespectful to the late queen. Neither would ever get a chance to say it to the other, but through all of the hostilies in years to come, this silent cooperation would prove the foundation of a lasting, begrudging, mutual respect.) As the trial drew near its conclusion, it seemed like Dhurke had the upper hand- until Ga'ran accused him of forgery and had all of his evidence thrown out, leaving him hanging by a thread over the cliff of a conviction. With no other options...

He ran. After talking the judge into a final recess for the sake of reviewing the forgery allegations, he jumped out of a window and into a waiting cart driven by his best friend, Datz Are'bal, where they fled the city alongside a handful of his sympathizers, some palace servants affected by the fire, and his infant sons. Ga'ran sent the royal guard after him as soon as they realized, but it was too late. They'd escaped into the mountainous countryside.

Ga'ran was coronated as the new reigning queen soon thereafter, and Khura'in started changing rapidly. In some ways, it was an improvement- she was a better monarch than Amara in all the ways she'd always known she'd be. The economy improved, she put her foot down on policy issues Amara had been wishy-washy about, headlines were made in conservation, environmental protection, domestic rights. But though she was beloved, wise, and kind, all the things a good queen ought to be... she carried with her one dark burden, a grand shadow that loomed large over every step she took wearing the crown.

The Defense Culpability Act.

Grieving her sister and infuriated by the way the killer slipped through her fingers, her first major act was to enact one of the strictest religious laws the country had seen in years. In keeping with an obscure and extreme tenet of Khura'inese belief, anyone who would defend another in court and fail would receive the same sentence as their client. Sentencing had, for religious reasons as well, always been a cut-and-dry affair. For example, a thief would have to return what they'd stolen or pay a fine matching the value, so their defender would have to pay the same fine. The proportionality made crimes such as large-scale fraud risk the perpetrator a lifetime of debt to pay back each victim... and very firmly included the death penalty for murder and manslaughter. Now, the rumors of wholesale slaughter of defense attorneys were and are largely sensationalist nonsense. Most of the office closures were more pedestrian- if an office wasn't surrendering its property to pay off a fine, its attorneys were finding new work or leaving the country. (Hell, a good number of them turned tail and became prosecutors instead.) But there were deaths, especially in the early days when people were testing the boundaries of the new law. The international community was critical, to say the least. Ga'ran's reign, no matter what good she brought to the country, would always be marred by this greatest of cruelties towards those who had so recently been respected clergymen and upstanding citizens. But to her it was worth it. Proportional justice for regicide.

...of course, we all know the truth. That Ga'ran was the arsonist all along, seizing the opportunity as soon as Dhurke had a plausible motive for murder. After drugging her sister during the gathering and surreptitiously setting the fire as soon as she saw an opportunity, she caused just enough pandemonium to surreptitiously abduct her sister, hiding her away and naming a random servant's burnt corpse as the queen. When Amara came to, Ga'ran swooped in with words of comfort and whispered lies. She kept up her story- Dhurke had set the fire to kill her and her sons, furious vengeance on her for bearing him demon twins. He thought she was dead, now, along with the public, and no one knew where the princes were... Scared, alone, severely burned, and mourning the loss of her babies, Amara believed her beloved sister, the only close family she had left, and agreed to stay as her hidden spiritual aide to keep the two of them safe from Dhurke's wrath. All the palace servants were fired and replaced- so no one would recognize Amara through her disguise, although it was claimed it was to weed out potential spies and sympathizers. And the DC Act was enacted... not out of grief, but so that if Dhurke ever showed his face again, Ga'ran could finish him off for good.

---------

Dhurke, meanwhile, went into hiding. Although he was now officially the country's most wanted terrorist, he was far from alone. Not only did he have small amounts of sympathizers all over (the Defiant Dragons, as they'd taken to calling themselves (or, that's what it translates to in English, anyways)) but in the more rural parts of the country, he could operate freely under a false name for a while before the news or the royal investigators caught up with him. It helped that the convoy had several other infants and toddlers, children of those displaced or killed in the palace fire- while it made travel difficult, it made it incredibly easy to talk their way into lodging when strangers saw the children in need of a roof over their heads, and it was much easier to disguise themselves as ordinary travelers or a displaced group of faithful men than it would be if they had just the missing princes- or, rather, 'the missing prince and another baby he was holding to make it harder to tell who the missing prince was', as it would be perceived. Still, the traveling and unstable conditions weren't easy on any of the children, and their convoy diminished in number as Dragons settled down at each spot. Soon, it would just be Dhurke, his children, and his innermost circle...

Luckily, they found a base of operations before the twins were two years old. A mountain village who had lost several beloved community members to the DC act, they were immediately welcoming to the Dragons, and Dhurke himself took up residence in a secluded riverside cabin some ways from town- at last, stability. A safehouse for other Dragons, a base from which he could continue his investigation into clearing his name, and a home for his children. The river outside seemed like a peaceful stream, but could rage and roar like hell during storms... he never cared to learn its name, (in life, anyways,) but it was the headwaters of the Chandra'kossi ('moon river'), an important waterway that wound back towards Tehm'pul.

The princes grew up here in the mountains, being taught and looked after by Dhurke, Datz, and trusted friends from the village. They were often hidden away from visitors- it was still a dangerous secret that there were two of them, especially as they grew older and their faces became more distinct... and distincly identical. (Fraternal twins, of course. Dhurke and Amara were just one of those photocopier couples with strong genes... if they'd ever had another son, he'd look like a long-lost triplet.) Still, it was widely known that Dhurke had one son, and so anyone who was passing through often brought gifts. Food, toys, clothing, books. The boys were especially fond of books. Dhurke once said "As far as their age, I don't think they 'should' be reading yet... but what am I going to do, stop them?". Personally, as a suddenly-biased narrator, I agree. But maybe he should have been vetting their reading material a little more than 'not at all'... after all, lurking within more than one mythology book was the legend of the split demon.

The boys each happened across it separately. That was the rule in the house, only one person got to read a book at once, so no one would fight over when to turn the pages and end up ripping any more books to tragic shreds. So each came across it alone... and neither of them ever brought it up to anyone. Perhaps if they didn't acknowledge it, didn't think about it too long, they wouldn't have to ask anyone the hard question of 'do you believe in this one like you do the others?'.

But even as blithe as they tried to be, things were changing. As they got older, as their souls supposedly grew in power, the townsfolk became less and less warm and kind towards them. They got strange looks, people whispered when they turned their backs. One man in particular had never liked them in the first place... the leader of the village, an intense religious zealot, and the man who technically owned their house.

Right after the boys turned five, he put his foot down.

There was to be a prison break. The largest in number the dragons had ever tried to pull off, from the highest-security prison they'd ever tried to crack. A serious escalation in their activities, employing tactics that could no longer be plausibly denied from being kind of terrorismy. There would be a steady stream of fugitives through the village for two weeks afterwards, at least, and the man was not happy about it. The more people that came the same route to this same place, the more likely it was that the safehouse would be discovered, and him and the townsfolk would be arrested and possibly executed for knowingly harboring countless amount of the country's most wanted criminals in public like they're just chill neighbors. He'd been alright repaying a debt to one man, but this was going much too far.

There was an argument. Somehow, in the midst of fighting over wrong things Dhurke may or may not have done and things that Dhurke definitely did that may or may not have been wrong, the subject of the twins was broached. And, seizing an opportunity, the man set down an ultimatum. If the dragons wanted to stay, if they wanted to use this crucial moment to save the lives of the wrongfully convicted and to continue their operations from the village, the twins would have to be properly separated, the demon and its bad fortune banished from the land. Otherwise, he wasn't just turning them out- he was going to go to the royal guard. Dhurke and the rest of the dragons were caught between a rock and a hard place.

...Prishta Sahdmadhi had always been a special kid. It wasn't uncommon for princes to inherit spiritual power from their mothers- in fact, it wasn't uncommon for miniscule amounts of spiritual power to crop up among laypeople. Some were distant, obscure descendants of royalty and their relatives, others (including Dhurke's own great-grandparents) earned theirs from battling demons or acts of heroism. Nahyuta had a small amount to his name, enough to move a small piece of cloth if he focused very hard. (He was proud of the trick, though it always scared visitors.) But Prishta... it was clear from the day he was born that he possessed enough power to someday, given enough training, become a fully-fledged spirit medium. A rare gem.

Dangerous.

Dhurke fought with everything he had. But in the end, his hand was forced. Figuratively... or literally.

---------

I'm still working out the details of what exactly happened that day. The story shifts over seven years, you have to understand. Certain things must be retained, but everything else is... nebulous right now. So let's tell the story from someone else's perspective.

The boys are doing their 'chores'. Nahyuta is chasing spiders around with a broom inside, and Prishta is outside hunting a frog. Very important business. Nahyuta hears conversation outside, then yelling, then quiet footsteps. When he goes to the window, he sees a group of strange men walking away, but no one he knows... save for the vanishing corner of his father's important coat. He tries to follow them, but all the doors are locked, and he's not supposed to try and go through the window again, and the sun is setting, so he just... waits.

And waits.

and waits

It gets dark. No one's home. He doesn't know how to light the candles himself or use a knife, so he has two apples for dinner and waits some more by the window for light. But nothing happens. No one shows up. The moon is full, so it's bright by the window, but he's feeling sleepy regardless. Eventually, he just... drifts off.

When he wakes up, he's in his bedroom alone. When he sneaks out, his father and his uncle are sitting in the living room, talking too quietly for him to hear. The air is heavy.

And he knows what has happened.

---------

The prison break went well. Better than anyone anticipated, although no one dared breathe a word of 'good fortune' around Dhurke. The aftermath went as planned, with strangers cycling through their house for a while. Nahyuta mostly hid under his bed and tried not to think about anything. It didn't feel... real. He expected to wake up at any moment, prayed to the Holy Mother that it'd turn out to be some kind of misunderstanding or elaborate nightmare. It didn't help that at five years old, the emotions at play are far too complex and strong for him to process as anything other than total paralysis.

But once all the strangers left... someone else stayed behind.

He'd thought he'd watched the last of them go through the bedroom window, grateful to have his space back, but there was an unfamiliar voice coming from the kitchen. A loud one. Once he worked up the courage to creep down the hallway to investigate, he discovered... a foreign-looking boy. Around his age, but shorter, and with strange, pointy bangs. They'd met before, but neither had yet been sapient- it was one of the children who had traveled with the convoy, the son of a palace musician who had died in the fire. He'd left the convoy about halfway through alongside the woman who was looking after him, but he'd been handed around between rebel families regularly ever since, misfortune seeming to follow him like a lost dog and lead every caretaker to hand him off to someone else eventually. His latest foster parent had helped with the prison break... and now that they were going to accompany the fugitives up north, they had asked Dhurke to take the boy in.

His name was Apollo Justice.

The boys stared at each other in silence. Dhurke, who hadn't yet regained the ability to look Nahyuta in the eye, quietly left the room, leaving the two of them together.

Immediately, the two were inseparable. Apollo hadn't ever had someone his age to be around- not only that, but someone who seems to enjoy his company rather than tolerating it? It was like a blessing, the karmic payoff for his difficult life. And Nahyuta... well, the poor guy's autistic, religiously superstitious, and incredibly traumatized. What else do you do? Apollo's hunger for attention balanced out Nahyuta's intense clinginess, and as they grew up together for five more years, things were almost normal.

Except... once a year, on the anniversary of Prishta's disappearance- disappearance, Nahyuta told himself- the two boys would sneak out at sunset, hop across the stones to cross the river outside their house, and go exploring in the woods. They played there often, of course, but these excursions were... ritualistic. Apollo never knew why, Nahyuta never said a word during any of them, but it was fun and mysterious in that way kids love, so he always went along with it.

---

When they were ten, their plans were interrupted by a rainstorm.

The stepping stones were slippery, and the river was a lot higher than normal, and Apollo was doing his best to be brave but he's only ten and they didn't know how to swim and he didn't want to fall in. He stopped halfway across, still holding Nahyuta's hand, and tried to gently tug him back towards safety- but when Nahyuta turned back to look, he was angry?- They started arguing, loud enough that Dhurke notices they were outside in this weather and rushed out to stop them. Normally he didn't care if they go have adventures, they were sensible kids and they knew the area, but it was dangerous outside like this. Dhurke, of course, was the last person Nahyuta wanted to see... The argument got worse. Everyone started shouting. Apollo pulled harder on Nahyuta's hand, but he resisted... and slipped. They both tumbled into the river.

Without thinking for a moment, Dhurke charged forward and leapt in after them.

Apollo was rescued first. He'd clung to a branch underwater for dear life, trapped deep underwater but avoiding being swept away too far. Nahyuta... was not so lucky. He'd tried holding his breath for as long as he could, but the water was tossing him around so violently, and he was panicking, and...

Nahyuta Sahdmadhi drowned that day.

As his last breath escaped his lips, his soul left his body, slipping away to that in-between realm where unfulfilled souls go. A river as well, how fitting. But as it crossed the threshold... something from the other side latched onto it, pushing hard in the other direction.

And just like that, he was alive again.

He came to coughing up water in his father's arms. He'd been saved after all, and so had Apollo. Everything had turned out ok. They were wrapped in towels, Datz was there, there was a big group hug, everyone was crying, he might have been as well. He should have been happy. But... he was just suddenly so tired. So cold. The world felt heavy, off-balance. Something was wrong.

Both boys were sent to bed early. Nahyuta woke up in the middle of the night running a fever so high he was bedridden for a week.

He wouldn't remember much of it. Apollo and Datz were both greatly over-concerned that he wouldn't make it... and Dhurke didn't sound entirely convinced when he tried to reassure them otherwise. He had strange dreams, the details of which slipped away the moment he woke but left their claws in him all the same. He'd claim that he'd seen shadowy figures in the corners of his room, that he'd heard strange voices coming outside the window, that he couldn't sleep for the full moon's light through the window even though it was pitch-black dark, new moon exactly. His father claimed it was the fever talking, but he knew better. His mind couldn't wrap itself around what was happening yet. There was a new presence, something that didn't seem to know what it was itself and that expressed itself in strange ways. Desperate to make its presence known, but bereft of speech entirely...

Nahyuta had never been any good at meditating. He'd tried to learn it once for one reason or another alongside Apollo, but his thoughts would wander- either off on unproductive tangents, or into dark corners that he really didn't want to be thinking about. But five days after the river, in the middle of the night, he tried it once more. Legs and hands folded, eyes closed, deep breaths. Focus, and reach out into the void of his own mind...

And something clicked.

When he opened his eyes, the world had finally snapped back into place. Clarity of thought, balance of the inner ear. And Prishta was sitting on the bed before him. Vaguely shaped and see-through, but unmistakably his brother.

After a long, tearful embrace, they got to chatting. Prishta didn't remember the details of how he died- it was traumatic, obviously, and being brought back in this way had started writing new memories onto his soul, but he knew two things with unshakeable, grim certainty...

The first was that he had been beheaded. The second was that the one who killed him was Dhurke.

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Even after recovering, everyone noticed that Nahyuta had become strange. He moved and spoke differently, he zoned out and stared into space often, he spend more and more time alone. Apollo was still his closest friend, but even he noticed Nahyuta pulling away. Inside their head, the twins were barely maintaining an uneasy balance, trying to figure out the details of their situation while keeping it a complete secret. They didn't know if they believed in the soul-fusing superstition, but this was definitely adjacent enough to endanger them! Dhurke, perpetually busy and perpetually grieving and stuck in a loop of Not Talking To His Kids About Things, chalked it up first to trauma and then to teenage angst. As they lived longer and longer as a duo, the twins learned a lot about themselves. For example, if they focused... Prishta could push Nahyuta out of the body and take control himself. (This absolutely was discovered by accident, Prishta absolutely was stuck for two days, and they absolutely do not like to talk about or remember it.) As a ghost, Prishta could take his head off, although they couldn't play soccer with it without both of them getting very dizzy very fast. (Drowning left Nahyuta with no cool powers. Boo.)

Nahyuta was worried at first about what Prishta would think of Apollo- he'd definitely been expecting a couple 'you replaced me?!'s, especially once the exact timeline was ironed out. But as Prishta learned to work the body and pretend to be Nahyuta (as they both learned to be a little of each other, really), they got along just as well. Prishta knew just how to make Apollo laugh, even if he had to spook the poor boy a little first. He must have been desperate for connection, of course, given that his only other options for conversation were Dhurke and Datz... Predictably, for the first few years, he made himself entirely scarce whenever either of them were around- but as they got older, and as Nahyuta and Apollo started going through basic combat training, Prishta got braver. Bolder. More confrontational.

Especially once Dhurke decided Apollo wasn't safe in Khura'in anymore. Things were getting dangerous, especially with an upcoming scheme involving breaking into the palace, and this wasn't Apollo's fight. Dhurke wanted the best for him, and that involved a normal upbringing in a safer country. Despite the boys' doubts and protests, he made arrangements for Apollo to live in America, and sent him off with the promise to return for him as soon as he could. Big problem with the whole Sahdmadhi household, really- putting on a smile in order to encourage someone else, only for them to silently take it as a sign you don't care... (In canon, this happens when Apollo is 9, which interferes with my timeline and my numerology. Originally, I had it happen when they were all 15, but that interferes with Apollo's other backstories and his emotional state regarding the whole affair... Probably he's between 11 and 13 when this happens.)

Once they were alone with Dhurke, Prishta's mental state declined rapidly. He'd become too strong to blink out of consciousness whenever he liked, which meant even his best efforts to evade the man were only so successful. Their training was becoming more stressful for seemingly no reason as well- what, was he that eager to see his other son go down in the line of duty, too? Excluded from discussions like a child, but needing to work like an adult; constantly under the conflicting emotional pressure of both twins' memories regarding their father; and with their one lifeline now an ocean away... After a particularly difficult argument one day, they decided they couldn't take it any longer.

That night, under cover of darkness, they packed up and ran away from home.

They didn't have a plan. They followed roads, but didn't know where they led. They walked for longer than should have been possible, each spirit trading off shifts in the body and carrying his sleeping spectral sibling on his back. Their only goal was to get as far away as possible, start over somewhere new wherever the wind took them. Hell, maybe they'd go to a different country entirely. It was probably around two days before they even considered stopping- and even then, it was only because a terrible rainstorm had rolled in. How nostalgic. Even despite resolving to stop at the next opportunity, they were still soaked to the bone an hour or two before one came up: a humble-looking temple gate that led to a long set of stone steps. Despite not being able to see over the top, they took a chance and climbed the stairs.

---------

The storm that had rolled in was unusually violent, even for May. The main temple building did not shudder and sway like some of the smaller ones built into the cliff's face, but the wind howled outside all the same. Brothers Mynd and Bodhi had always ridiculed him for his easily-frightened temperament, but Brother Sooru simply didn't like storms! Let a man have his minor trepadations! So he was holed up in the sitting area minding a comforting fire, using his leisure time to find some peace while his fellow head monks squabbled over tidying up the kitchen. It wasn't quite meditation, but he was a little bit in the zone, so at first, he thought the strange sound was just a loose branch hitting the wall or a window.

Then it happened again. Louder, more intentional- "Holy Mother! Someone's knocking at the door!"

He was to his feet in an instant, rushing over to the door as the other head monks poked their heads out of the kitchen in disbelief. A visitor? In this weather? He threw the door open, intending to usher the stranger in at once... but stopped as soon as he got a look at them.

It was a boy. Tall, but a teenager at best. He was clad in ill-fitting travelers' clothes, soaked through and shivering, and he bore a red diamond on his forehead, the tattoo of someone born or initiated into the temple. But his face... Calm. Resolute. The spitting image of the late Amara Sigatar Khura'in. A gentle plea in his bright green eyes.

Brother Sooru was face-to-face with the long lost prince.

"...hello." The youth spoke after Sooru failed to find words. "May I come in from the rain?"

"I- yes. Yes, yes, Holy Mother, please do come in." He stammered, ushering the boy in and firmly closing the door against the elements. The others had come in from the kitchen now, and while Bodhi didn't seem to know what they were dealing with, Mynd definitely shared in the shock and awe. Together, the three of them stoked the fire, brought in towels and blankets, put the kettle on- all the while, the boy sat quietly, staring into the flames. When it became clear that the boy wasn't going to open up of his own accord, Sooru took a seat next to him.

"...are you alright, young one?"

The boy started. "I- yes. Sorry, I... I'm still a bit weary."

"That's quite alright. Have you been walking a long while?"

"Yes."

"How long?"

"...a couple of days, I think. It's hard to remember."

"A couple of- Holy Mother, it's a miracle your legs didn't give out."

The boy averted his eyes. "I think they have, now that I'm sitting down..."

It probably wasn't meant to be a joke. Sooru laughed anyways. Mynd glared, but it seemed to bolster the youth's spirits a little, which was what mattered. "Don't you worry. You can rest here as long as you need."

"Thank you so much for your kindness... um, where are we?"

"We're at Abhayaranya pass. About half an hour's drive from Tehm'pul in an automobile."

"I see..."

"Where are you headed, all by yourself? Going into the city?"

"I don't know. I didn't have anywhere in mind."

"You didn't? Are you lost?"

The boy hesitated. "I ran away from home. I didn't have much of a plan, I just... had to get out."

"Oh, dear..." Sooru's heart sank. He'd feared as much, but hoped it wasn't true...

A few moments went by, silent somehow despite the howling wind and crackling fire. There was really only one course of action here, wasn't there? Despite everything, Sooru knew what he had to do.

"...would you like to stay here?"

The boy gasped, looking up with wide eyes. Mynd sucked in a breath through his teeth.

"You don't have to, by any means. If you wish to continue traveling when the storm passes, we'll send you on your way with whatever supplies we can spare. But if you wanted to stay here and join the temple, our arms are always open."

"I..." The look on his face hadn't changed much... but his eyes were practically sparkling. "I'd like to stay. If you'll have me."

"Of course, young one. All are welcome here." His instincts said it was hug time, but he didn't want to spook the poor boy- he settled for adjusting the blanket around his shoulders, smiling warmly.

Brother Mynd had circled around the fire- he sat down next to Sooru, giving the boy an inscrutable look. "What is your name, young prince?"

Sooru winced. Bodhi gasped. The boy's shoulders tensed... but he met Mynd's gaze with quiet determination.

"My name is Nahyuta Sahdmadhi."

The name hung in the air like a suspended blade. Sooru looked between the boy and his superior...

...and then Mynd nodded, holding his hand out. "Welcome, Brother Nahyuta. I am Brother Mynd. This is Brother Sooru, and on your other side is Brother Bodhi."

When the boy accepted the handshake, he looked like he could cry.

"Once you are recovered from your journey, you shall be initiated as a monk- provided you're of age to do so." Mynd raised an eyebrow. If the boy really was who he seemed, wouldn't he be just barely..?

"I'm fourt-" He started to respond, but stopped himself mid-sentence, blinking. "...what day is it?"

"May the 25th." Ah. It hadn't nearly hit midnight yet. That's why Sooru'd been getting looks. He was in for a lecture later on letting in strangers on the spirits' eve...

The boy took this in for a moment. "...that makes me fifteen, then."

---------

When they were given a specific place to stay, they figured it must have been fate. Most of the temple buildings were built into a cliffside, with rope bridges built between them. And below the cliff... the Chandra'kossi river in its full glory.

They stayed there for the next five years, living and training as a monk. It was peaceful and idyllic, and the work was fulfilling. They threw themselves into spiritual research, as well- learning more about their situation and how to maybe not go to hell about it, but also how to better coexist, especially once they weren't around Dhurke anymore. For once, things were looking up!

But... they weren't exactly off the grid anymore. When the next five-years-before-something-momentous-happens mark came around... it turned out that Ga'ran had found out they were here.

It's not like she wasn't thinking about the missing princes... but it's not like she was thinking about them much. After the dubiously-accidental disappearance and reappearance of her mysterious lady-in-waiting and the miraculous birth of darling Princess Rayfa five years ago, it's not like she'd need either of them. The fact that one had turned up without the other was a sad inevitability, but the fact that either had turned up at all was a miracle. Wouldn't Dhurke be keeping them close, guarding them as though she was some kind of child-snatching harpy woman? It's not like she wouldn't have taken the boys in if they'd been left behind or recaptured. Hell, she'd planned a way to reveal them as part of her story around Dhurke's motive. What, did he think she wanted to get information out of them? ...shit, that's a good idea. She should go get information out of him.

So, for his 20th birthday, Nahyuta received a visit from the queen.

It wasn't not an interrogation, so he did his best to cooperate. After all, he left the revolution a while ago. Unfortunately... he left the revolution a while ago. He gave them all the information he could, but most of it was outdated, and he couldn't remember any names. (Conveniently leaving off an 'm' there... but that won't hurt anyone.) And he was expecting that to be it, and for her to take her guards and leave, but she... didn't? She just stuck around? Asked about the temple, what he's been up to, turned it into general pleasant conversation, oh yeah, that's our aunt, huh?

The other shoe dropped only after the nice chat had gone on for a while. And it missed its mark severely.

She offered her proposal delicately, gently, with layers of suggestion and secrecy. Perhaps would Nahyuta like to come visit the capital and study to become a prosecutor? Restore some of his lost honor? They accepted immediately with no negotiation, an instant internal consensus between the twins. After all, everyone involved had one important desire in common: Dhurke Sahdmadhi's head on a stick. Remember, Prishta wasn't just 'dead', he was murdered. And for him to find peace in the afterlife, instead of re-entering the demonic twin reincarnation cycle, what better than to sneak his own murder into the laundry list of charges against Dhurke once he's captured?

Thus began what I like to call "the idiots' double gambit", where each of these assholes was operating entirely on perceived leverage they had over the situation based on information completely unknown to the other party. Ga'ran's veiled threats to their mother and sister's safety were completely lost on the twins, who left before Amara was rescued (without even knowing for sure that Dhurke's blind faith she was still alive was justified) and didn't know Rayfa was anything other than Ga'ran's daughter. And their pointed stares, spiritual allegory, and general abberant presence meant nothing to a woman who couldn't tell there was a ghost in the room if it hit her in the face. This will all unravel beautifully exactly when you expect it will.

Since they'd already had the requisite clergy training, they got through their studies quicker than most. The prosecutorial life was... interesting. The hardest part, really, was re-entering society under the weight of their name- the temple fellows were one thing, but the general public didn't exactly trust them, even with Her Eminence's endorsement. Their father was still very much the country's most wanted terrorist, so respect did not come easily. At least the public would be politely dismissive, though. Their coworkers were another story... Pretty much right away, they became the prosecutors' office errand boy, inheriting the tasks that the others didn't want to deal with. There were already too many of them, they didn't need this lightening of the workload, but the twins didn't have the social sway (nor desire, really) to deny them. They're all themed after various birds, in keeping with the office being located in a historical building on the edge of a bird sanctuary. (Nahyuta, too! He's the Khura'inese River Ibis!) Thanks to their... unique condition, their body tends to look dead when not in active animation, so they immediately earned the demeaning nickname लाश (read 'Laasa', translation 'corpse', implication similar to if you pronounced 'deadman' like a last name rather than an adjective-noun combo).

It wasn't all bad, though. Living at the temple meant for a slightly-challenging-in-a-good-way bike commute, and his living expenses pretty much didn't change, which meant he was able to set aside almost all of his sizeable salary- he'd been intending to give it all to the temple at first, but Brother Mynd talked him into setting up a proper savings account. Even if he intends to donate it all eventually, there's no reason it can't grow in the meantime. And the job brought with it one very exciting opportunity... the prosecutorial exchange program.

Prosecutorial work in Khura'in got boring. With the quick trials and the low crime rate, there just wasn't enough work to go around! So every year, everyone jetted off to different destinations around the world to assist overworked offices and spread the word that Khura'inese prosecutors are a) not vicious demon people and b) good at their job, thank you. There were many places to pick from- China or India, for those who would rather take a train than a plane; all over Europe, for those who want somewhere scenic; and... a number of locations in the United States.

Hm. Well, if they're making their lives about 'unfinished business'... there's one.

So every year they picked a different state in the USA, and every year their side project was to poke around for signs of a certain someone.

Of course, they shouldn't have bothered. Regardless of whether they tried, it was always going to happen the year they turned 25. You know how this goes by now.

---------

The case with the rakugo theater is strange. They mistake the defense attorney for a schoolgirl at first, and she's the most incompetent thing they've ever faced across the bench until she suddenly isn't. Their usual tactics accidentally send her into a panic attack; they have several strange mid-court bonding moments with her and her ridiculously attractive witness-turned-co-council, a man who happens to be the temporary-coworker they have the most friction with; and she susses out that one of their witnesses has a relevant case of Dissociative Identity Disorder, leaving the twins feeling eerily vulnerable, especially around her strange magic emotion hearing powers. There's a court-relevant snack break??? And during the pre-snack-break-break, they get a call informing them that during this trial, this girl's boss is in Khura'in actively staging the first successful defense against a murder charge since the passing of the DC Act????? They've only been gone for four days????? And somehow none of this compares to what happens after the trial, when they visit the defense lobby to apologize for causing the aforementioned panic attack and return the aforementioned co-council's hawk (!) who won't get off their head (!!!), and on their way out, they happen to hear mention of the name 'Justice-dono' followed by the name 'Apollo' and nearly go into cardiac fucking arrest. That's what you get for enjoying ten years of peace, boys, everything suddenly starts happening at once.

They manage to talk Cykes into not immediately revealing their presence to Apollo so they can strategize how they're going to approach him... only to be forced to go up against him in court before they're ready, and the reveal ends up happening as Apollo walks into the courtroom. Whoops. The judge's unique admonishments during this case include ordering the prosecution and the defense to stop 'squabbling', 'digressing into personal attacks', and 'speaking in tongues'. Despite it all, though, they come together in the end, a conclusion only reached via logical cooperation instead of one side triumphing over the other. It's hard to reckon with, after so long spent writing Dhurke off as a demon of their past, but... damnit, they are so fucking proud of Apollo. He's become every bit the attorney Dhurke would have wanted in a protege and more.

...of course, in the lobby afterwards, he wants nothing to do with them, disavowing their connection and telling Nahyuta flat-out to get lost. It's only once they spark up a genuine connection with Trucy- an apology for some of their choices during the trial turns into a discussion of the 'trick' (or lack thereof) beyond their floating scarf and a proper demonstration of the psychic powers they teased in court, Prishta's powers adding control over ceramics to Nahyuta's control over fabric, turning their beads and sash prehensile- that he even considers listening. And they have to fight a little dirty, invoking their new acquaintanceship with both of his coworkers to endear themself to him. But in the end, they talk their way into a second chance. Apollo even admits under his breath that he might have missed them a little.

Trucy and Athena are, of course, much more excited about this than Apollo is, and practically drag them both by the hand to do 'hanging out stuff' (Trucy's words), especially once it's revealed that Nahyuta's stay is being cut short due to the sudden court turmoil back home. The montage includes an impromptu adventure through Trucy's favorite secondhand shop, where Nahyuta procures a nice dahmalan and entrusts it to Apollo for safekeeping; a night out for noodles and karaoke, where Prosecutors Blackquill and Gavin are brought along and where the twins not-so-subtly demonstrate their ability to sing overtones; and a very interesting visit to the Wright Anything Agency, which happens first but I wanted to talk about last, because it's there where they get to meet a very important someone...

---------

"Ah." Nahyuta said, stopping in his tracks the moment he stepped through the doorway. "Apollo, you didn't tell me your office was haunted."

"What? You know about that?" Apollo's eyebrows went up.

"Oh, right, you've got, like, spirit powers!"

"No, he doesn't, Trucy."

"He can make things fly, that's spooky spirit powers if I've ever heard them." Trucy rolled her eyes. "Can you, like, sense her presence?"

"...yes." He managed, both twins staring directly into the eyes of a very clear and very amused-looking woman of the Fey clan. "I can definitely sense a faint presence."

---

"Well, I've got a lot of paperwork to sort out." Apollo sighed.

"You have fun with that." Nahyuta chuckled. "Might I take the opportunity to have a moment of meditation on your couch?"

"Ooh, are you going to try to talk to Miss Mia?" Trucy's eyes sparkled.

"I'd like to have a chat with her, if I can..." He took a seat right next to where Prishta and Mia were wrapping up a very animated discussion, crossing his legs and folding his hands. "I might not be able to reach her, my powers are quite limited, but I can try."

"Good luck! Let me know if she says anything to you!" Trucy leaned over the back of the couch, unknowingly sticking her head right through Mia's. The two ghosts carried on like nothing had happened.

"I will, don't worry." He closed his eyes, waiting for the last few lines to be exchanged before it was his turn...

The swap was instantaneous, practiced, as easy as it ever was these days. When he opened his eyes, he was spectral, swapped in place with Prishta, and making eye contact again with Mia Fey.

"Hello. You're Nahyuta, then?" Her voice, previously silent, was now nearly as clear as Prishta's.

"Yes. And you must be Mia Fey... it's very nice to meet you."

"It's nice to meet you, too!" She smiled. "So, how did you die?"

"...what."

---

"No, no, it's quite alright. I suppose I'm just used to thinking of Prishta as dead, and myself as just... displaced." He gave a little nervous chuckle. "I mean, he can take his head off. What do I have, a general air of aquatic malaise?"

"Mm. It's like this..." Mia put her hand to her chin in thought. "You know about how atoms work, right? The difference between a proton, a neutron, and an electron."

"I have a rudimentary understanding. Protons and neutrons stick to each other, and electrons orbit them. Why?"

"Think about it this way- a normal, living human is one proton, the soul, and one neutron, the body. I'm a free-floating electron, out here causing trouble."

"Right."

"A regular haunting would be a proton, a neutron, and an electron all together... you guys? You're one neutron, two electrons."

"...ah."

---

"Did you get to talk to Miss Mia?"

"As a matter of fact, we did manage to exchange some words."

"Woah... that's so cool. What did you talk about?"

"Atomic physics, oddly enough?"

---------

They can feel that something big is about to happen. Not just from the news they're getting, but there's an overall ominous feeling in the air. It's a fifth year, they were given the blessing of a peaceful reunion with Apollo, and now defense attorneys are making headlines? If things go the way they want... well, their time is drawing short. Once they've resolved their business, what is left for these two wandering spirits but to return to the twilight realm from whence they came?

On one of their last nights in the country, they're ensuring their suitcase is packed properly when they come across a container they'd forgot they'd included- and one they're retroactively shocked didn't get their luggage searched. It's not explicitly drugs... it's not not drugs, either. They'd been experimenting with this blend of plants for a little while- rather than inducing a 'high', the smoke can put whoever's not in the body to sleep, if they do it right. How ironic, to have nearly perfected it right before they won't need it anymore... Well, the hotel room has a balcony. What's one more go?

Nahyuta is left on his own in their- in his body, an evening of freedom to do as he pleases. Immediately, he chooses to use it on a one night stand with Simon Blackquill.

---------

Your name is Simon Blackquill. You've been in prison, chased down international spies, and prosecuted an orca whale for murder. One of the strangest sequences of your life is yet to come, and it goes like so:

It's a Friday evening. You're about to conclude your workday when there's a knock at your door. When you open it, Sad Monk Sahdmadhi is standing there, giving you the oddest look. You have mixed feelings about this guy- he was unnecessarily cruel to Athena in court when you met, but he's been nothing but kind to her since. He seems to have some kind of dramatic backstory with Justice that neither of them will breathe a word of. He's a bitch to you in the office, you two do nothing but trade barbs, and he's therefore the most interesting person you could spend an hour with in this whole building.

You can't put your finger on why, but you are reasonably certain he's under the influence right now.

He delivers you some paperwork you'd been expecting, and sticks around making polite conversation as you file it. He asks you what you're up to at the moment and if you have any plans for the evening. He stands in the way of the door, leveraging the two inches you have on him to look up at you with hooded eyes. Red flags, three in a row.

You demand to know what he wants. He grabs you by the shirt and kisses you.

It's not unenjoyable. Hell, you'll cop to having thought about it before. But you shouldn't be going along with this.

"Sahdmadhi. You're drunk."

"Haven't had a drop." He's right. Whatever it is you're tasting on his breath, it's not alcohol.

"High, then."

"I'm sober."

"Bullshit, you're sober. What is it?"

"Nothing illegal." One of his hands finds its way under your vest. "Nothing that impairs my judgement. My mind's clearer than it's been in years."

"I don't believe you."

"What, are you going to stand here and give me a cognition test?" Before you can respond, he shuts you up. This now officially counts as 'making out'.

"What would you have me do?" You breathe once you come up for air.

"Take me back to your place. Have your way with me. Don't tell me you haven't done this before."

"You're not serious."

"As the grave."

"Why the sudden change of heart?"

"I'm leaving soon."

Something about the way he says it strikes a strange chord. You get the feeling the implied words aren't 'the building'... or 'the country'.

"...if I don't want to?"

"If you don't want to? Tell me no, and I'll disappear. Like this never happened." He pulls back. A small amount. "But I think if that was the case, I'd know by now. You'd have struck me across the face. Or worse."

He's right. "You're mad."

"Please, Simon?" He gives you the sweetest, most terrifying little smile. "Won't you grant a dying sinner his last wish?"

---

He's mercifully silent as he follows you back to your apartment. Through the building, down the sidewalk, next to each other on the train. The smile remains, that eerie energy, and something else off you can't quite place. But at least he's quiet.

The silence breaks the moment you close your apartment door.

---

When it's over, night has fallen. You never turned on a light. Neither of you want to move. It's possible you're going to fall asleep like this, him curled up against your chest as if there's a much bigger height difference.

You've figured him out. You figured him out halfway through, when a trick of the light across his face finally brought all the relevant pieces together. The idea is burning in your throat, on your tongue. Saying anything is a bad idea.

"...you should have come out and said it, you know." You murmur, not daring to move. "If you're going to tear my existing image of you to shreds so thoroughly, why not that too?"

"...Panda, what are you talking about?" He must have been on the precipice of sleep.

"Whatever you've been under the influence of." Whatever higher power's in charge of saving your soul right now, you hope it's not the Holy Mother. "It put the blue-eyed one to sleep. Didn't it?"

He freezes under your touch.

"...you're much more subtle than the rakugo folk. Were I not primed to look for it, I'd never have guessed." You're whispering now, as though any sudden motion would shatter him to pieces in your arms. "I daresay I'm the only one who knows."

"...you cannot tell a soul." He breaks the stillness, pulling away to look up at your face. In the darkness, it's hard to tell who's here- you're almost expecting blue. But no, it's still the green-eyed one with you. "Please, Simon. I beg of you."

"...of course. Your secret is safe with me."

He settles back where he had been. A little further turned in, if anything. His bangs fall to hide his face from your view. "Thank you." He's never said that. To you or anyone, not within your earshot. 'A hundred gratitudes', 'a thousand gratitudes', but never 'thank you'.

Your eyes slip closed. For now, you'll take this as your prize.

---

He's awake before you are. At some point, he slipped out of your grasp- you half-expect him to be gone, honestly, but when you rise, you see him dressing across the room. How thoroughly premeditated was this, that he thought to bring a change of clothes? When he turns back towards you, your heart skips a beat.

Blue eyes.

After a moment of tense eye contact, he nods. You nod back.

Very few words are exchanged for the remainder of the morning. You start making breakfast on instinct, and he (you don't know what to call him anymore, you realize) joins you, washing and storing dishes as you finish using them. Now that you're looking for the switches, it seems like they're every few seconds, quick and seamless. It's impressive, the way they work together.

Breakfast is great. Things are peaceful between you and your houseguest. It looks like it's going to be a beautiful day. None of this does anything to lessen the pit in your stomach. The matter of one secret is resolved... but there is another.

"...must I be the only one burdened with the knowledge of your impending departure?" You let slip as he's putting his shoes on to leave.

He stills. "...I'm afraid so."

"It's set in stone?"

"If I have my way, it is." Blue-eyes's speech is chillier, just slightly.

"...here." You hold out your phone, open to the contacts app. "Give me yours."

He stares a moment before making the trade. "Alright. What's this for?" He's dubious. Rightfully so, for someone who intends to never see you again.

You're not sure where your confidence has ran off to. It sure would be useful right now. Instead, you glance off to the side, at a bookshelf displaying your neatly arranged psychology books. "...just in case."

"That's... considerate of you." It's a denial. It's polite, and he puts his number in your phone- as you do with his- but it's a denial nontheless.

"Good luck with your travels." You breathe as a sendoff.

As he turns back to shut the door, green-eyes is back again. He smiles at you. Not the empty little devil's smile from yesterday. It's warm, wide, and sad. "Thanks for breakfast."

The door closes. You stand there, listening to his footsteps recede.

Then you sit down against the wall. Moving isn't appealing right now. Your chest and shoulders feel heavy. You check your phone. He's given you a Khura'inese phone number. You have no way to tell if it's real other than to call or text it. You don't. He's changed your ringtone for him to a Duran Duran song you've never heard. He will never pay you back for the purchase of this Duran Duran song.

You have to drive this motherfucker to the airport tomorrow.

---

Well, you're helping drive. Athena took you all- herself, you, Sahdmadhi, and Justice- to a shopping center for lunch and a final adventure day. Then you brought everyone to the airport, being the only one with the patience for the traffic. Afterwards, you're driving back to your apartment, and Athena's bringing Apollo home before heading home herself. The whole day, you're trying to fade into the background, citing an imaginary headache as is tradition when you need Athena to know not to pry into whatever she's hearing.

It's only once Sahdmadhi and Justice are saying their farewells at the airport gate that you notice you're not alone in strange emotions right now. The moment they turn away from each other to go their separate ways, something's off about Justice. The glance he gives you as he's following Athena away from the gate makes you sick to your stomach.

You stave off attention by demanding silence until you're out of the airport traffic. Your mistake was setting a time limit. As soon as the car's moving at speed, Athena pounces.

"So, Simon..."

"No."

"I didn't ask anything."

"I know what you want. I'm not giving you anything. Not with the other human lie detector in the back seat." You've fallen for it far too many times. A half-truth given to sate her curiosity sets him off and reveals the other half by omission.

"Come on. Simon, this is the most discord I've heard on you in, like, a year."

"Did something happen between you and Nahyuta?" Justice pipes up from the back seat. He sounds as weary as you feel. His direct questions are somehow the hardest to deal with. You drive in silence for a while, trying to craft an answer that will shut them up without setting off any alarms and causing even more trouble.

"...we spent some time together after work on Friday night. He entrusted me with a troubling secret." When did this become your position? And why? Shouldn't you be telling them? "It has stuck with me because it is troubling, and I will not be giving any clues because it is a secret." You're not acting like yourself. It's like you've been bewitched, touched by a spirit. Or maybe it's the familiarity of the situation getting to you. "I am concerned, especially given his departure, but he entrusted me with it precisely because we are practically strangers and it is none of my business to meddle with." Practically strangers is one way to put it. "I will answer no further questions on the matter. Interrogate him yourself if you're so concerned."

"I wish. He never gave me his number..." Apollo sighs, looking out the window. Athena, on the other hand, doesn't miss how your hands tighten around the steering wheel.

---

When the car comes to a stop, you've spent the rest of the car ride in silence. Blackquill's clammed up; Athena must know she's not going to get anything more out of him. You all get out of the car in order to shuffle places around. Passenger to shotgun, shotgun to driver, driver towards his apartment. You're distracted as they say their goodbyes, you've been distracted ever since Blackquill put his foot down. You've been tumbling the pieces of the puzzle together in your mind... but it was the way Blackquill spoke that made them click into place.

Nahyuta had been talking like that too. He'd done it with a smile on his face, he hadn't been so wordy or so firm, but that's what had been wrong. He'd been trying to avoid setting off your bracelet. The thought of what he was trying to avoid saying makes your stomach turn.

"...hey, I gotta chat with Blackquill real quick. Wait for me?" You hear yourself say, hesitating at the car door.

"Oh, sure. Good luck, though, he's in a mood..."

You shut the door, as if it'll keep her from hearing anything even as she flicks through the radio stations, and set off up the open-air stairs. "Hey, wait! Blackquill!"

He doesn't stop.

"Blackquill! Get back here!"

Even at the top of the stairs, he doesn't slow his pace, doesn't look back at you. You're probably disturbing his neighbors with your yelling. You don't particularly care.

"Simon! Please!" One final plea as he reaches his door. His hand's on the handle...

But he turns back to look at you. There's a resigned look in his eyes. He knows you know.

"He's not coming back, is he?"

The question hangs in the air.

Without another word, he opens the door and vanishes inside.

Athena's wearing that nervous little smile when you get back to the car. You're not in the mood. "Heyyy. How'd it-"

"Just shut up and drive." It comes out harsher than you'd meant it to. That's fine.

Athena wilts, and starts the engine.

---------

Phoenix Wright knows something's changed around him. This most recent victory was no ordinary trial- he'd accomplished something big. But it doesn't really sink in until he happens to see the promenade of tropical birds returning to their nest, too many prosecutors for one city all returning from their trips abroad in a big, loud, colorful gaggle. He recognizes the one at the back from photos, the stressed-out straggler managing everyone's luggage. The man who recently prosecuted his daughter on a murder charge... He hadn't been sure what Inga was going to do, but 'calling in the guard' seems like a mercy, given the horror stories he's heard. He's just lucky they're not explicitly out for his head right now.

---

...he should have appreciated such a time of peace more, he thinks later, as he knocks on the door of their office. Despite his best efforts and most earnest prayers, he's found himself swept up in another murder case. (With Maya Fey in the defendant's chair, what else could he do?) In an attempt to stay as close to the government's good side as he can under the circumstances, he's volunteered to bring the case paperwork across town, but now he's here, he's having second thoughts.

The woman who greets him at the door is short, young, and very blue. She welcomes him into the lobby, but as she does, she's examining him with a critical eye.

"...you're Phoenix Wright, aren't you? The defense attorney?"

"I am."

"Mm. In that case..." She rifles through her purse, and Phoenix is afraid for a moment he's about to get stabbed or pepper sprayed... but what she produces and sets off is a confetti popper. "Three cheers for Phoenix Wright, for ridding us of The Royal Payne!"

There's a smattering of applause from the next room.

---

"I don't have any terrifying senior prosecutors with perfect records to worry about, do I?"

"Well, we do have one guy with a perfect record..." The mischevious glint in her eye reminds him, ironically, of Maya.

"I-Is that so?"

"Yup! He just won his first overseas case last week!" As does the way she's wise-cracking towards an invisible camera...

"Ah."

"Nah, but you'll probably get stuck with लाश. Not like he's got anything better to do."

"L-Lasa?-"

"हे, लाश!" She calls casually up the stairs as they enter the archival room. There's footsteps, and then peeking over the balcony...

"Prosecutor Blessing. What do you need?" Ah. It's Sahdmadhi. Of course.

"Lucky duck, you've got a case already." She waves the scroll up at him, then sets it precariously balanced against the bannister knob as though it isn't important in the slightest. "Against a defender on the home field. Special occasion."

"A special occasion indeed. I don't suppose you'd want to step in and steal all the glory?"

"Hell no. I'm jet-lagged." She rolles her eyes, waving a hand dismissively as she wanders out of the room. "You two figure it out."

"It was worth a shot. A hundred apologies for my colleague, she thinks speaking French is a personality." The spiral staircase is rickety metal- as Sahdmadhi descends, it shakes, and the scroll slips from its resting place. Phoenix reaches out to try and catch it... but it stops just before it hits the ground, hovering in place and then arising to meet Sahdmadhi's awaiting hand. "So. We are to be opponents."

---

"Come on, I'm not that bad. You heard the blue lady, I saved you from Payne!"

"I liked Payne." He deadpans, not looking up from the bookshelf. "He was my only work friend. Before he vanished."

"Oh, for the love of-"

---

"...hang on, just a minute, kid."

"-Excuse me?" Sahdmadhi stops in the doorway, turning around and meeting his gaze.

"You say you're 'not going to go easy on me.' But I've shown I can survive in the Khura'inese legal system and I seem to remember hearing reports of you getting your ass handed to you by both of my apprentices. Even going all out, do you really think you'll be able to beat me?

Sahdmadhi's silent for a moment. Then he flashes a wry smile. "Oh, I don't. But I intend to make every second of it hell."

---

He makes good on his promise, and very nearly comes out on top. But, as predicted, Phoenix is victorious in the end.

When he won his first case here, he escaped with his client into the empty prosecution lobby to avoid a crowd of angry gallery members. This time, they do it because the prosecution was beckoning them over... He tells them in front of the judge that the defense lobby may be unsafe again, but as soon as they're alone, his tune changes.

"There's not much time. I've been summoned to the palace to address this failure. I do not expect mercy." From his bag, Nahyuta produces two small scrolls. No cases, just two different colored ribbons. And he looks to... Maya. "Miss Fey. Do you trust me?"

"Um. Sure?"

He presses them into her hands. "Keep and read the blue one. Burn the red one without opening it. Do you understand?"

"...I do." She tucks them into her kimono, nodding resolutely. "Good luck. No hard feelings."

Without another word, Sahdmadhi vanishes.

---

Maya doesn't show Phoenix the scroll. She summarizes it later, but is careful to leave out certain details. It's an apology for prosecuting her, a message of support for the Fey channeling school, and a discussion of an encounter he apparently had with... her sister.

She has a million curiosities about what the other scroll says. But she burns it.

---------

Four days go by.

The leader of the Defiant Dragons shows up at the door of the Wright Anything Agency.

Apollo Justice slams the door in his face.

...one hour later, there's another fucking Sahdmadhi sitting on the goddamn couch and charming his coworkers as though they had any right to be there. So it goes.

Athena thinks she's helping by refusing to take him as a client- not that the bastard would have settled for less than absolute Justice- so he sulks and seethes all the way down to Kurain village and then some, especially once they acquire a third girl following them around and asking prying questions about his past that Dhurke is all too happy to loudly answer in public despite being very very internationally wanted- it's fine. He's cool. It's fine. He's a goddamned professional. Dhurke wants to see him so badly? He's going to see the lawyer Apollo's become all on his own, without any help, and nothing more.

Given that he then has to weather a replica book avalanche, mechanized BB gunfire, nearly getting run down by a fucking palanquin in the year of our lord 2028 (twice!), and a half-hour hike turned two-hour caving adventure culminating in a reenactment of his childhood trauma, he marks it as a win in his book that he manages to keep up about 50% of this persona. So it goes.

---------

i have now been given permission to skip through Revolution until the next significant change, because the rest of Revolution is either a) exactly the same or b) yet to be changed once i sit down and do the detailwork. for example, changing the layout of the palace a little bit turns into a massive headache here, as does trying to communicate the slightly tweaked behind-the-scenes dynamic in rev1. the only two things you need to know from the skipped portions is this:

Firstly. Paul Atishon is unaware why Phoenix Wright is defending him. I might have to add a new character in order to accomplish this. it's a pain

Secondly. Rather than staying at Tehmpul Temple, the squad is extended gracious hospitality by being offered accomodations at the temple Nahyuta lives at, pretty blatantly to keep them away from the crime scene and under strict, constant supervision. This is pretty much for fanservice, and by fanservice I mean meservice. I want it to exist as more than just backstory damnit

---------

...oh, and the first few bad endings.

Should you fail during the civil trial, a unique ending sequence plays. Atishon wins the rights to the orb, and vanishes alongside Wright. And Dhurke. He later wins the election, is immediately found to have committed massive amounts of voter fraud, and skips town before he can be charged. He leaves a dog behind, who Pearl Fey promptly adopts. A month later, Larry Butz is arrested and convicted of trespassing in a high-stakes wedding crashing incident. Meanwhile, Apollo never hears from Dhurke again. In Khura'in, the people's fervor peaks... and begins to simmer as the Defiant Dragons slowly starts falling apart from the inside. Two months later, international investigators are sent the Orb in a mysterious package. Three months later, Nahyuta Sahdmadhi is found dead, washed up on the banks of the Chandra'kossi. Without a doubt, a suicide. Six months later, Apollo Justice moves back to Oregon, cutting all contact and leaving his life in L.A. behind. Unlike Atishon, he takes his pet with him.

Should you fail in Khura'in before discovering that Dhurke is already dead, he is convicted of every charge levied against him. Wright and Justice are taken into custody as well. Interestingly, however, Dhurke's public execution is carried out in a very strange manner... he's blindfolded, gagged, and dressed in traditional prisoners' garb, baggy clothes that obscure much of his figure. (The story is that they wanted to prevent him from making a martyr of himself. The truth, of course, is that they picked the closest match from the nearest death row...) Wright and Justice, of course, are executed. Privately, at the queen's request... and separately, at Justice's.

Should you fail after the discovery of Dhurke's fate, he would be posthumously convicted of every charge except for Inga's murder, sparing Wright and Justice from a fate worse than permanent banishment. Things in Khura'in would seem to return to normal... although Nahyuta would turn up dead in the same place and at the same time as the first bad ending. (And if we're interpreting the potential timelines in the most literal way, you would then unlock Turnabout Time Traveler.) A minor variation on this ending comes specifically after Amara's false confession, where she is convicted of Inga's murder instead of no one.

...and that's it! We can move on now!

...what? You want to know about the other variant of ending 3? There is no other variant of ending 3.

That's ending 4, silly.

---------

We go now to the prosecutors' lobby. Due to the gravitous nature of the trial, it's been a two-on-two match the whole way through. On defense, Apollo Justice and Phoenix Wright. On prosecution, Ga'ran Sigatar Khura'in and Nahyuta Sahdmadhi. Both of whom are in crisis mode.

Unlike the mysterious fly on the wall who shot at the witness during Wright's first trial here, Ga'ran's men know how to fire a gun- lethally and non-lethally. Amara will live, and the process of getting her proper medical attention will buy them valuable time. But it's not enough. Justice is onto her. He'd nearly laid out her whole scheme in front of the court until she gave the signal for a disruption. Unless she can think of something, she's going to be the next one accused. But she spends the whole recess furiously pacing in circles, going over every possibility- it's not going to work. She doesn't have a way out of this one.

Sahdmadhi has been quiet since his father's fate was revealed to the court. She'd nearly forgot she had co-counsel. But when a small bell rings to alert them they have five minutes left in the recess... he rises from his seat atop a decorative trunk, face grim, and approaches the bailiffs. Two members of the royal guard.

"What are your names?" He asks in a voice as calm and gentle as if he were addressing a griever at the temple.

Each guard gives his name. I haven't named them yet, but this needed to be its own line for dialogue pacing reasons.

"It's nice to make your acquaintance. Would you two like to help me with something?"

They nod. Ga'ran's pace has stilled, and she watches. What's he planning? Is this a lifeline, or a betrayal?

"I need you to go along with me for the rest of the trial. Do whatever I tell you to, agree with me when I speak, let me do what I want with you. In exchange, after this is all over... neither of you, nor your families, will need to work another day in your lives." Cooly, he turns his head and meets Ga'ran's gaze. There's very little color in his eyes. "You can promise that, yes?"

"...I can." She nods, hoping her hesitance comes off not as dishonesty but as genuine uncertainty regarding her rogue lapdog. "Money, status, comfort. Anything."

"So? How about it?"

They agree.

There's two of them. One is shorter... the other is about Nahyuta's height. He leads the taller one by the hand into the center of the room, circling him once and studying him. "Take off your clothing." The guard does so, if alarmed and embarassed. As he hands the pieces of his uniform over to Nahyuta (save for undergarments, thank the Holy Mother), Nahyuta holds them up against himself, lazily examining the sizes as though he's already certain they'll fit. Ga'ran knows all at once what his plan is. Once the uniform is off, he hands it to the shorter man. "There are two potted plants by the doors to the hallway. Use the soil there and the fountain on the wall to make these look as though they were discarded in mud. They need not be perfect, just convincing. Make as little mess as you can, and don't get them too wet." He scurries off to his task. Nahyuta looks back towards the unclothed bailiff. "As for you... a million apologies. This will hurt quite a lot."

And without giving the man another moment to process, Nahyuta punches him square in the jaw.

The other two people in the room stare in shock as he quickly knocks the poor man unconscious, then proceeds to beat him further, taking out an anger that Ga'ran hadn't known he was capable of feeling. After he's satisfied, he hides the man inside the trunk he'd been sitting on earlier.

"...your partner here did not show up for work today. You two were assigned to guard this room together. You don't know what happened to him, or where he's been the past few days. Do you understand me?" He addresses the conscious guard without looking at him.

"Y-Yes, sir. I've been in here alone for the duration of the trial."

"Good. Is the clothing ready?"

"Yes, sir." He hands it over.

Nahyuta inspects it. "This will do. A thousand gratitudes for your assistance in delivering these to Her Eminence, after a palace guardsmen you're unfamiliar with discovered them near the crime scene and rushed them over during the court proceedings."

"I understand, sir." The bailiff nods as Nahyuta folds up the uniform without much care. The edges of it float a little, as though there were invisible hands assisting him with his task. Damn psychic.

Preparations complete, he turns to Ga'ran. His eyes are still... dead-looking. They don't have much more time.

"Your Eminence. I have a confession to make."

---------

Nahyuta's confession and version of events is simple. He committed the murder disguised as a royal guard, his braid hid snugly inside the uniform cap. When the guard burst into the chamber, he simply blended in as one of them, and escaped at the first opportunity when the guards cleared out for the scene to be investigated. As evidence, he presents the uniform itself, supposedly tainted with the same mud that was relevant earlier in the crime scene.

Everyone in the courtroom knows he is lying through his teeth. But no one can prove it. Having been out of town when the murder occurred, he has no alibi to speak of, and the uniforms have no identifying characteristics that can prove its source, so they can't prove it's falsified nor do they know to question the unseen lone royal guard in the prosecution lobby about anything. The pressure is on the defense to break through, but it's impenetrable because it's so completely bullshit. Phoenix has no idea what to do...

...and should you fail here, should Nahyuta be convicted of the crime... you would see bad ending 4.

---

Queen Ga'ran enters the jail cell for a final visit to the prisoner. It's dark. With his hair down and stripped of his court regalia, Nahyuta is likely near unrecognizable to the player.

"...why are you here?" He speaks without looking up.

"I thought I ought to speak to you one last time. To thank you for your service. But..." She studies him. "You're up to something, aren't you?"

He's silent.

"I would have found another way out. You didn't have to lay down your life. You... wanted this."

"...my life was fated to end here. One way or another." He looks up at her at last. His eyes are a dead, dull gray. "So I chose not to let it go to waste."

A couple distant puzzle pieces connect at last. "This has got something to do with the extra charge you added."

"How perceptive, Your Eminence."

"Don't mock me. I never saw it myself."

This gives him pause. "...you didn't?"

"I told you I trusted you." She folds her arms. "Did you doubt me?"

He falls silent again.

"...I think I can guess what you did." There's only one thing it could be. "Do you think it will be enough?"

Nahyuta laughs. Distant and dry. "We'll see in a few hours, I suppose."

Ga'ran smiles. Distant and sad. "Come here." He's skeptical, but she beckons, and he complies. Through the bars, she cups his face in one hand. "You really do look so much like your mother..."

His eyes slip closed. He looks so exhausted.

"I hope you find peace in the afterlife."

"...that means more to me than you could ever know, Your Eminence."

They spend a few minutes in silence like that. When she pulls away to leave...

"...before you go. I ought to warn you."

One last time, she turns back. There's a spirit in his gaze as he stares her down.

"I won't die easily."

Nahyuta is publicly hanged.

On the gallows, after his body goes still... it comes back to life, violently suffocating all over again.

Over the years to come, he would pass into folklore as The Demon Who Hung Twice.

---

...but Apollo has an idea. Of course. This is his story, after all, as little attention as I've given him from this point of view. He's the one with ties to Khura'in. Western methods may have worked so far, but for them to win this, they're going to have to change up their style. As Phoenix argues with Ga'ran, Nahyuta notices Apollo has gone quiet...

They make eye contact. A chill runs down Nahyuta's spine. That look in Apollo's eyes... it's just like Dhurke.

With a slam of the desk and a voice loud enough to drown out the whole courtroom, Apollo calls for a fire sermon.

The Americans in the room don't know what's happening, but the rest of the courtroom falls into a hush, and even Ga'ran stumbles back in shock as Nahyuta takes back to the prosecutor's bench and both lawyers retrieve books from under the table- law books and religious texts. The bailiffs pull some levers, causing shutters to come down over the windows, plunging the courtroom into darkness save for a few candles on the walls. As the members of the courtroom watch, Apollo and Nahyuta start a fierce religious debate, tearing into each other in Khura'inese in an attempt to destroy each other's conviction and resolve by attacking the foundations of their beliefs. (Video-game-wise... this might be a rhythm minigame.) Nahyuta fights valiantly, throwing away all pretense (most pretense) (some pretense) and laying out his full desperate apathy. All that mattered to him was untangling the affairs of the dead, and now that said hope is extinguished, he intends to be done with all of this nonsense the quickest way possible. But he is on the back foot, and Apollo has a secret weapon. Drawing on both the traditions of his homeland and the legacy of his mentor, Apollo starts reading out names, crushing Nahyuta stone by stone with the list of those he's convicted to a death sentence. If he wishes to untangle the affairs of the dead, he ought to get his own in order first, or else there will be hundreds of vengeful souls waiting for him on the other side. They've come to fisticuffs by now, coming out from behind the benches and pushing each other around. As Apollo's advantage becomes certain and he begins unfurling out his final attack, verbal and physical, the name of the ritual makes its reason clear: the pool of devotion sets itself aflame.

Nahyuta is left crumpled and broken on the floor. Apollo's face is foreign to Phoenix as he regards his opponent with the cold disregard of a stranger.

"Do you yield?" It's the traditional phrase of the winner. He's perfectly audible barely whispering it.

Nahyuta is silent. Apollo approaches him, kicks him over, and steps on his head, pressing the side of his face into the floor with his heel. "Do you yield?!" He spits, as though the phrase is poison to the both of them.

"...I yield."

---

The flames go out. The windows are uncovered. Nahyuta rescinds his confession and spills everything he knows as he picks himself up off the ground and back onto the witness stand. It's not much, but it fills in some very crucial points in the 25-year timeline... enough that they finally have a foothold with which to make headway in the arson case. Everyone's content to forget about him as the trial continues and the layers surrounding the truth slowly fall away- neither side is sure where his loyalties lie anymore, after throwing everything on the line for Ga'ran and then being forced to completely betray her (under threat of being thrown into that flaming pool were he not to yield defeat, Phoenix will later learn). So when the queen's spiritual capabilities are called into question, he's eyed with suspicion on all sides when he speaks up again.

"If I may... I don't think there's any reason for us to sit here and speculate about Her Eminence's capabilities."

"Thank you, Prosecutor-"

"Not when I have the capacity to test them directly."

A murmur goes through the court. He speaks so confidently, as though he knows she'll pass- but Apollo catches her eyes widening slightly.

The judge silences the gallery. "Whatever do you mean, Sahdmadhi?"

"I am slightly spiritually capable myself." He demonstratively toys with his rosary, and half the people in the courtroom flinch. "Not enough to tell anything by someone's mere presence, but enough to affect those who are... it should be simple. If you'll allow me, of course, Your Eminence." The prosecutors make eye contact. Ga'ran... has no reason not to trust him. He only recanted his confession under threat of flames- he's still on her side, right?

Apollo's watching closely as they look into each other's eyes. Nothing happens for a few moments. His keen eyes spot it when it happens- Nahyuta nods, almost imperceptibly, and immediately she feigns a shock reaction, looking over her shoulder. They're cheating. She's a fraud. He knows it.

...but he doesn't have to point it out. Because Nahyuta does it for him, covering his mouth with his hands as his eyes go wide with horror. "No."

"What? What is it?" Ga'ran is visibly thrown off her game.

"I can't believe it." They're properly scandalized now, staring at her like she's admitted to all the murders and then some. Apollo realizes what's going on now. He did believe her... until she failed the test.

"I- you traitor, you cannot claim I failed to live up to a standard you never established. You could claim my any reaction to your little parlor trick was incorrect."

"That is a fair point, Your Eminence." The judge says cautiously. "Prosecutor Sahdmadhi, what was meant to happen?"

"Well, it's a delicate process... A period of suspense, first, of course, and then you have to wait for the soul's resonant rhythms to align with-"

"OW!" Across the courtroom, in the middle of the rambling explanation, Rayfa Padma Khura'in's head is suddenly knocked to the side.

"THAT. That is what was meant to happen." Nahyuta changes tune mid-sentence, pointing frantically at the princess.

"You- you STRUCK me! I will have your head for this, you- you-" She's suddenly dragged backwards by her hair loops and spun around demonstratively.

"A million apologies, Your Benevolence, but I must demonstrate somehow. Your spiritual power is in no doubt, as the court has borne witness to your channeling abilities many times today alone..." He's regarding Ga'ran with venom and betrayal now. This, at last, is the nail in the coffin for their partnership. Even the greatest of evil teams falls apart when struck three times. "That is a woman who would not know if there was an entire human ghost in the room if it hit her in the face- which I am continuing to do as! I! speak!" Presumably punctuated by three more spiritual slaps.

(It's Prishta doing the hitting. He needs an outlet.)

---------

When it's all over, Ga'ran is taken out of the courtroom by one bailiff and one paramedic. The mood is... tense. Such a thing is unprecedented. Were it not for the miraculous reappearance of Her Mercifulness, the monarchy would be presently headless. Like floodwaters at a dam, the courthouse is surrounded by reporters. As is traditional by this point, everyone hides out in the prosecution lobby. The chatter is uneasy but optimistic... until Datz Are'bal breaks in and turns the gathering into a large celebration, roping in the royals for a night of celebration at the temple they'd been staying at before the visitors are given royal apologies and first-class accomodations safely back home. The whole time, Nahyuta is desperately trying to melt into the background, but no one will let him- after all, now that his father's name is cleared and he's no longer acting under Ga'ran's control, he's free to reclaim his rightful place in the monarchy. The monarchy who kind of needs him, pared down and destabilized as it is, especially with his experience in the legal system, so no one should have any reason to object, least of all the prince himself. No one ever asks.

Marinating in guilt, betrayal, shame, and internally conflicted, it's late into the night when they finally manage to escape outside, body sitting against the cliff wall on one of the rope bridges, knees pulled against its chest, and gazing out at the river while its two inhabitants bicker like they haven't in a decade. They only notice Apollo has slipped out to join them when he walks directly through Prishta to sit down next to the body- which neither of them are in -

Nahyuta barely manages to play off the shock of magnetically full-force colliding back into place as being startled out of his own thoughts by the motion of Apollo sitting on the bridge, adjacent to him but too far away to be considered 'by his side'.

There's an awkward silence. They don't look at each other.

"...I'm, uh. Sorry for kicking you." Apollo breaks the silence. Eerily familiar.

"It's ok." His voice feels unnatural, detached. "You did what you had to."

"Right." Another long, dead silence. Distantly, the river roars. "...Amara- er, Her Mercifulness wants me to stay."

"What?"

"She wants to totally reconstruct the justice system. Wants someone with defense experience on board... also, apparently Dhurke bequeathed me his office. The business and the property."

"How in the world do both of those still exist?"

"No clue. But Datz says they're mine." Every name he speaks is like a bullet.

"...are you going to do it?"

"What do you mean?"

"She can't make you." You've have no obligations here, you're free. "There are ways to untangle inheritance, especially with your new connections." You can sell the building, dissolve the office, do away with it all. "You can go back home." Go away.

"...right. I have a choice. But... I feel like there's just as much for me here as there is 'back home', y'know?"

'That's sad.' He doesn't say, biting his tongue and humming noncommittally.

"...what are you going to do?"

". . . what?" The audacity for anyone to ask that. But Apollo, of all people?

"You know, now th-"

Nahyuta doesn't realize he's laughing until it cuts Apollo off fully, until he throws his head back and it collides with the rock wall. It doesn't faze him. Apollo stammers out half-formed questions of concern as Nahyuta gets to his feet, approaches the edge of the bridge, leans over it just a bit too far. Pulls something out of the inside of his coat, unfolds it. It's a letter. He regards it for one moment, then begins to shred the thing, pieces tearing off and fluttering away towards a watery grave.

"...Nahyuta, what was-"

"I'm going to have to track down and destroy all five copies of that, you know?" It's Prishta talking. Or is it? It doesn't matter much. "If I want the new one to have any legal effect. Can't very well use this, with all the work ahead.

"All the- you're going to help, too?"

"I don't very well have a choice, do I?" Their gaze is like a blade when they finally turn it on him. Piercing, steely grey.

The gentle hope in Apollo's voice vanishes. "Wh- don't act like it's my fault!"

"You hold no responsibility for the burdens I've brought upon my soul. You were merely the vector through which their depth was revealed to me." They can taste the venom as it drips from their tongue. "With you making yourself a nuisance in my periphery, it's increasingly difficult to keep that fact in mind."

Apollo falls silent. That should be a mercy. "...this is the real you, huh?"

Bold of him to assume that such a thing exists. "My demeanor may have worn thin, but rest assured, my goals have not changed."

"What goals? Looks to me like you already got everything you wanted and made it out without a scratch." Apollo's spitting poison now, too. "What do you have left, with Dhurke six feet under?"

...indeed. What do they have left?

---

When they come to their senses in their bedchamber, hours later, it's like a tornado's been through the place. They tidy up instead of sleeping.

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