A strange stillness seemed to hang in the air over the Okuna glade.

In the aftermath of the battle, all were fatigued. Khalem dozed while Isao, Ranbelt, and Celty finished bandaging each other up, drinking and refilling water pouches, and discussing their next steps in low tones. Each kept looking over at the nearby trees, as if waiting for an enemy to jump on them from the forest.

Isao kept a careful eye on Ranbelt – a strong fighter, despite Isao’s assumptions otherwise – and noticed that his aura had changed; he had become morose and quite serious. For the first time, Isao wished the bright, almost annoyingly energetic, Ranbelt was back, even if he had been grating with his constant laughter.

"Well," Isao said, gazing out of the glade. "Let us press on. It will be a difficult journey. The sooner we arrive to Havin, the better for all of us. Especially Khalem."

Taking in a ragged breath, Khalem awoke at the sound of Isao's quiet murmurings.

The others helped him stand, putting around his bandages, tightening and retightening where they needed it. Khalem grimaced with every movement. His eyes flickered to Celty. "The herbs," he said. "They help a little. Thank you."

She inclined her head once.

They started off, with Isao eventually asking Celty to take the lead. She did so while taking extra precautions: holding her nose up to sniff the air often, and darting her eyes from place to place constantly. She kept a distance from the rest of the group, but Isao couldn’t be sure whether this was because they moved so slowly with Khalem, or because she wanted to meet the threats head-on by herself first.

They eventually moved out of the glade, and out of the highlands. The beautiful, rolling fields became flowery meadows, then grasslands. Here a strange stench filled the air.

Khalem, who panted with almost every step, grimaced. "The stink."

"Yes," Isao murmured, shaking his head. "The land here is . . . strange."

"We are nearing the Isan region," Ranbelt said. "Watch and prepare."

A few hours into their slow journey, Khalem stumbled. Isao reached forward, grabbing his mentor and catching him before he fell. Ranbelt quickly supported him from the right.

"Easy there, unsmiling man," Ranbelt said, little humor in his voice. "A mighty tree creates a great fall."

Khalem's nostrils flared. "Please," he whispered. "A break."

"There." Isao nodded toward a copse of trees not far away. A line of the trees ran down a short, unexpectedly lush, embankment. "I think there's water there. Let's all rest."

With the group’s help, Khalem sank down to the earth, and braced his back against a large boulder. He squeezed his eyes shut with a groan. Blood seeped out of his bandages, staining his arm and clothes a fresh crimson. Isao motioned for a water pouch, and Celty handed it to him.

"Here, Khalem. Drink," Isao urged.

The General drank, water dribbling down his chin, until he drained almost the whole pouch. Finally he shook his head. "Enough."

Ranbelt's eyes were trained somewhere in the distance as Khalem rolled his head back against the boulder and fell into sleep. Isao straightened, leaving him to his rest, and approached Ranbelt.

"Ranbelt? Does something out there worry you?"

Ranbelt nodded toward what looked like a smudge of gray off in the distance. "You see that?"

"Yes."

"That's the outer border of the Isan nation."

Celty let out a long breath. "Then we're getting close."

"Yes. We are."

Isao sat down on a fallen log, grateful to take a rest himself. His body ached. His muscles felt swollen and stiff. Like Khalem, he wanted to sink into sleep until he never had to wake again, but he didn't. "Ranbelt," he said. "You were a mighty warrior today. We surely would have died without you as well, and much sooner. Thank you for your help. Where did you learn to fight?"

"I had brothers growing up. I had to survive somehow!" Ranbelt laughed.

The mirth in his tone prevented Isao from really believing him, yet again. "Truly?"

Ranbelt shrugged. "You know how it is as a traveler. You pick up a piece of learning here and there. I find my ways to educate and improve what I know."

Celty scowled, and Isao sensed that neither she nor Khalem would ever truly trust Ranbelt so long as he jested about everything. Isao wasn't sure he could blame them.

Isao leaned back, staring at the blue sky. He thought of his father. He pictured Saemon's wise face, his strong features. Would he be proud of how far Isao had come? Would he know one day all Isao had to endure to serve the Empire?

The sound of a voice startled him. Isao opened his eyes, blinking out of his stupor. "What?"

"Isao," Celty said. "You fell asleep. Wake up."

His eyes opened wide. "I fell asleep?"

She nodded toward Ranbelt, who was just rubbing his eyes awake as well. Next to him, Khalem continued his rest, his eyes shut and his face sporting a grimace.

"I let you rest. It's only been an hour or two, but I figured we'd need the strength. All has been quiet."

"Thank you, Celty."

Slowly stretching out his tight, weary muscles, Isao stood. Ranbelt did the same. Eventually, Celty crossed over to Khalem, putting a gentle hand on his arm whilst leaning back. She was leery of waking a deeply sleeping, highly trained soldier.

Khalem jerked awake, his good arm swinging, just as Celty seemed to have anticipated.

"General," she said, dodging his flailing limb, "we must continue."

Khalem blinked, regarded all of them, and finally nodded. "Yes," he murmured. "We must. It will be a . . . difficult thing."

Isao, Ranbelt, and Celty helped him stand, tighten his blood-soaked bandages, drink more water, and prepare for the trek.

Isao started off first. He stepped ahead of the group, peering down the grassy embankment. It gave way, sloping down into what appeared to be a land filled with bogs. His nostrils flared.

A difficult thing, indeed.

* * *

They stumbled through the bog-filled Isan nation hours later.

Worn paths along the outer edges of the first marsh indicated that someone had patrolled here: There were sets of fairly fresh tracks. Twisted old trees with gnarled roots and knobby branches welcomed them, reaching out with spiny arms and trunks that resembled screaming faces. Bugs buzzed around them, making annoying whistles in their ears. The stink of the air lay on them like a thick perfume here.

Once they crossed through the dry grasslands and into the bogs, they encountered a straight path that led all the way in. Isao could only hope that it connected with Havin, as it seemed there was no other way through the marsh.

More than once, Khalem gagged, retching off to the side of the worn path. With nothing to do—and nothing more to say—Isao let his mind wander, back to his lessons with Master Mou. Back when the imperial palace was safe. Back when his sole job was to learn.

Havin, the Ular capital, is surrounded by a bamboo forest, Master Mou had once told him, using a stick to point to the Havin nation on a globe. It's called the Gempu Forest. Rumors say it's cursed.

Isao had snorted. Everyone spreads rumors that everything is cursed.

It's not the curses you want to avoid, Master Mou had said with a grim expression. It's the wrathful spirits that they bring. Never go there if you can avoid it.

Isao swallowed a bitter rise of fear.

"I know what you are thinking, my young Sheng," Khalem said, panting just in front of him.

"Oh?"

"You are thinking about the curse on this land."

Isao snorted. "You are too wise by half."

"Rumors are rumors. Do not fear the lies that others have spread."

"The ambiance isn't one to brag about," Ranbelt said, his nose wrinkling. "Leaves something to be desired, if you ask me. I think it's cursed. Smells foul. All these bugs. Nothing has blessed this land."

"The Ular," Khalem muttered, the words hissing through his teeth when he grimaced. "I've been here before, a long time ago. I visited the Palace of Sarpa with the Sheng."

"Really?"

"A diplomatic meeting, I think." His brow furrowed. "There's something there . . . I didn't . . . It was not a good place, not a good place at all. Everyone avoids this place. All the clans, and even the fierce Horalus. They think the Palace of Sarpa is too…mysterious."

"Enchanted, you mean?" Isao asked.

"Strange origins," he said, shaking his head. Khalem stopped to take in a couple breaths of air. "Maybe enchanted; who knows? I've heard that there are secret passages and holes in the wall for them to spy on guests, and more passages that connect out into the city and outside the city."

Isao snorted. "You're too suspicious."

"I'm not the suspicious one," he mumbled. "They are. You’ll see. They are the ones carrying around suspicions. Fearing cats and all that."

"Cats?" Celty asked.

"Any feline. They hate them. Think they're possessed by the vengeful spirits of witches."

Ranbelt tipped his head back and laughed. "Vengeful spirits of witches. Of course. Poor animals don't stand a chance."

Isao recalled with sharp clarity the time when he had played with his friend Kamon in the imperial palace's dungeons. Amidst all the stink, littered hay, and moan of the prisoners, a cat had skittered across the prison floor. Kamon had yelled in surprise, widened his eyes.

"Cursed thing! Get away from me, vile witch. You cannot fool me. I know what you are."

It had been the only time Isao had seen Kamon so. Kamon had even tried to attack the cat, but Isao had held him back: Without the cats, the mice would overrun the palace.

Isao dismissed the memory; it didn't matter. Cats or not, Kamon and his family were the only ones who could really save them. The weight of the Empire rested on their shoulders.

"Well," Isao said, shifting uncomfortably, "let us hope that we find some respite in Havin, and be amongst friends so that we can bring justice back to the imperial palace."

Khalem mumbled something as they searched for a campsite. While settling in, and even close to sleep, they said no more.

* * *

The next morning they awoke early, traveled fast into the afternoon, and found themselves in the midst of a great bamboo forest.

The shoots of bamboo stood up like thin sentinels in a mist that covered them like a thick cloak. The mist gathered in Isao's hair, wetness trickling down his neck and hairline as the group moved along, blind to anything but the bamboo and the fog.

At the top of a hill, Isao stopped. A long gate, partially shrouded in mist, unfurled beneath them. Beyond it lay Havin and the Sarpa Palace. Next to it stood a towering structure – a temple, Isao imagined – with a shining white dome and violet banners ringing its sides.

At the very top of the Sarpa Palace, a sculpture of two entwined snakes with gold fangs spiraled up into the air.

"Strange," Khalem muttered, his face paling. "The place of the Ular is…disturbing."

"We are so close to rest and help," Isao said. He felt no such disquiet; all he could think of was sleep and food.

They continued forward, stumbling through the marsh. Soon, the soaring gates of Havin's wall towered in front of them.

The thick stone wall stood nearly two stories high. It glimmered a strange hue of green in the setting sun. Designs of reptilian scales were etched into the wall in semicircles, flowing and round. The image of a coiled white snake was etched on the main entrance door, its flanges flared back and fangs bared in warning. Its yellow eyes seemed to hiss, making Isao wondered if he'd started to lose his mind.

A deep fatigue permeated Isao's body now. His bones, skin, and muscles ached. He wanted nothing more than some fresh water and a long night’s sleep.

"It seems to go on forever," Celty murmured, glancing down the length of the wall.

Khalem tottered where he stood; he was barely conscious. Blood dribbled down his arm, and they'd long ago run out of herbs to help numb the worst of his pain.

"Yes," Ranbelt said. "Havin is quite large."

Isao turned to face Celty. He could feel her hesitation as she stared at the massive gates.

"You are going to go now?" he asked.

She nodded, her lips pressed together. "I have seen you this far."

"For that, we owe you our lives. Thank you, Celty. May you fulfill your adventure and find your place."

They paused for a moment, each eying the other. Isao wanted to reach out and pull her into an embrace, but shucked the temptation off. It wouldn't be right.

"Go," she say, nodding at the door. "All of you need help, and I want to be out of Havin as fast as I can."

Celty stepped back. She locked eyes with Isao one more time, then headed back the way they had come at an easy lope.

Isao watched her go until the mist absorbed the sight of her. Then he turned back to Ranbelt.

"Let us go."

* * *

As soon as Isao, Khalem and Ranbelt entered the city through the double doors, a pair of guards stepped out of a shack just inside the walls. Isao and Khalem showed them their weapons, flashing the imperial crest. The guards bowed.

"You may go, Prince Isao, General Khalem," one of the guards said.

The two eyed Ranbelt, but let him pass.

As they shuffled forward, Isao supported Khalem from his left side. The General leaned heavily on him.

"Isao," he whispered. "I must stop."

"We are so close, my old friend. Just a little farther."

Four figures approached through the mist. One was a man around fifty years of age who was wearing a violet robe over his broad shoulders. Next to him was a tall figure in a crimson tunic wearing a mask with a bulbous nose. Some sort of pendant swung from his neck. Two men wearing armor followed behind them.

"Do you see them?" Ranbelt asked, squinting.

"Yes."

"I am not imagining it?"

"Not unless we both have the same waking dream."

The closer they got, the more clearly Isao could see them.

The man with the violet robe had the image of the coiled white snake from the great doors embroidered on his sleeve.

A breath of relief rippled through Isao. Ransaki Ular! One of the councilmen of the Clan, and brother to the Ular ruler, Juben.

Isao had met Ransaki at the imperial palace.

Now that he was closer, Isao could see that the pendant the other robed figure wore was in the shape of a left hand.

Ranbelt's eyes darted from the two men, to Isao, and then back around. His steps slowed. He hunched his shoulders a little.

"Emissaries," Isao said softly to Khalem. "They have come to welcome us, just as we knew they would. We're saved, Khalem! Ranbelt, do you see?"

But when he turned to look at Ranbelt, Ranbelt was gone.

"Prince Isao and General Khalem!" greeted Ransaki smiled, his serpentine lips coiling at the edges. In the mist, it seemed his yellowish eyes glowed, like all those of the Ular Clan. "Welcome to our home. But you are injured?" He furrowed his brow.

"We have had a very difficult journey," Isao said. "Please, can you help us?"

"Of course. Guards! Take them inside. We'll send the healers to you immediately with fresh water for a bath and food."

"Ran . . . Ranbelt," Khalem hissed under his breath. "Gone."

Isao glanced back, but Ranbelt hadn't returned.

"Couldn't . . . trust . . . "

One of the guards accepted Khalem's weight. The other came around to support Khalem around his waist.

Isao looked back to the mists one last time, wishing Ranbelt would reappear. But he didn't. For the first time, Isao wondered if he had been in the wrong trusting so many people.

"Come," Ransaki said, motioning with his hand toward the palace. "Let us care for you and then hear your story."

The masked man next to him remained silent. The inability to know the man’s identity set his teeth on edge, but he brushed it off as stress from the last several days.

Sleep. He needed sleep and food.

Before Isao knew it, Ransaki led them up into the palace's main courtyard, where the torches along the wall sported decorations of snakes. The greenish walls glittered like reptilian scales here too, just like on the border wall. Murals on the walls featured snakes of many different colors. These snakes were coiled. Sleeping. Alert. Devouring their prey.

The grisly images were disturbing. Isao shuddered and gladly followed Ransaki inside.

"Is Kamon here?" he asked Ransaki, enthused at the prospect of food and seeing his friend again.

“Yes, of course."

Ransaki said nothing more, so Isao fell back into silence. They wound their way through a maze of dark hallways and thin spaces. In an open area they passed a statue of a snake coiled around a cat, which appeared as if it was yowling for its release.

Isao swallowed past a thick knot in his throat.

"Here," Ransaki said, opening a door that led to a room. "We will bring you new clothes and send the healers to attend to your wounds. Then you may come eat with the Ular ruler and his family. Today, they are celebrating Juben's daughters, who passed the test of the Reyanda. They are now true warriors of the snake."

"Thank you," Isao said, feeling the gratitude all the way to his bones. "Thank you very much."

Ransaki smiled in a strange way, then stepped back. He and the masked man left.

The guards lowered Khalem to a simple cot on the far wall. Seconds after the guards left, healers swarmed the room.

Isao gladly turned his body over to them. They cut his clothes off, washed his body, cleaned his skin, and provided him with draughts of water tinged with medicine. Khalem grunted and moaned as they did the same to him, but in the end, the herbs they'd given to stunt his pain brought some color back to his face.

Even with all those ministrations and that new color, Isao thought, the General’s pallor still appeared a shade too close to death.

"Khalem," Isao said with a weary smile. "You've never looked worse, my friend."

Khalem snorted. "I could say the same."

There was a moment of silence.

"It will be good to see Kamon again, but I'm weary,” Isao fretted. “I wish we could eat here and join them later."

Khalem had no chance to reply, for a servant rapped on the door. Her yellowed eyes gleamed in the light of a candle she carried. "Our ruler is ready to see you now."

Slowly, Isao and Khalem stood, then moved back into the strange, tunnel-like halls. The paintings continued to appear on the hallways walls , becoming more complicated and majestic with each turn. Wall sconces decorated with coiled, golden snakes looking as if they were about to strike at some prey lit their way.

Although these snakes weren't real, Isao skirted them anyway.

"Here you are," the servant said, opening a door.

Isao advanced into a room filled with bright candle and torchlight, leaving hardly a shadow behind. A table filled most of the space. It was set with golden dishes and utensils that resembled snake bodies. Wine goblets gleamed golden in the light.

Seven people ringed the table; there were two set places that were still open.

"Greetings," Isao said, bowing at the waist. "Thank you for receiving us."

Juben Ular, ruler of Havin, stood at the very top of the table on the other side of the room, his awkward, black hair steeped in shadows. Bones seemed to jut out of a sour, pale face. Out of their sockets, two yellow eyes with a narrow gaze watched attentively over the table. A well-manicured goatee ringed his lips. His purple tunic shone in the torchlight with golden threads along the edges, leading to a circular yellow snake wrapped around his arm like a band. A thick ring spanning from one knuckle to the next showed a snake with an open mouth and bright fangs. He was not a handsome man, but had a note of something intriguing about him. On his right, Isao immediately recognized Juben’s wife, Damla.

Ringing him on either sides were his children: his son Kamon, who was Isao's old friend, and his daughters Saya and Maru. Like all of the Ular Clan, they had yellowed eyes with vertical slits and thin pupils. Like snakes, their voices tended to hiss instead of speak. Isao fought off an uncomfortable grimace as each child introduced themselves.

Next to Maru stood Ransaki and an exceptionally tall man with gangly arms and a shaved head except for a long black braid that hung all the way down his back. Tattoos of snakes and skulls covered the parts of his body that were visible. From his belt hung a gleaming sharp scythe. Isao knew him right away: Ishii, Juben's personal body guard.

Just his appearance alone would scare off anyone with ill intent, Isao thought.

Isao wanted nothing to do with him.

"Isao," Kamon said with a smile, his voice trailing off in a light trill, like a hiss. "What a surprise to see you!"

Isao rushed forward and embraced his friend, relieved to see a kind face. "Kamon, my friend! It's good to see you."

Kamon returned the embrace with a slight laugh.

Isao stepped back, his cheeks flaring with heat and embarrassment over his display of enthusiasm. "I'm sorry. But it's been a very long couple of days, and it's so good to finally see a friendly face."

"I understand."

"Please," Juben said with a wave of his hand. "Have a seat. Let us begin our feast to celebrate Maru and Saya and our unexpected guests. I am concerned over what evil has happened in the Sunsan nation, for nothing good could have brought you here in such a distressed state, but that information will come in time. Please have a seat, relax, and enjoy dinner first. Then we'll get into more details on what has come to pass."

"Thank you, my friends. Your generosity is truly inspiring," Isao said formally and with sincerity.

Servants whisked dinner in set on golden plates with designs of coiled snakes. Isao and Khalem ate heartily, accepting everything on their plates. Isao, despite his fatigue, forced himself to join the jovial small talk. He took care to admire Maru's brand-new tattoo: It was a brown viper, the symbol of adulthood in Ular fighters.

Saya then pulled back the neck of her shirt to reveal a horned red snake running across her shoulders.

"Very nice," Isao said. "The detail is exquisite."

"Do you remember," Kamon asked, "when we found that cat in the dungeons of the imperial palace?"

Isao hooted with laughter. "You ran to try and kill it right away!"

"Yes, but that wasn't as bad as when we ran into that coffin, remember? The lid was partially open, and neither of us wanted to look inside!"

As laughter rippled around the table, Isao relaxed back into his chair. Khalem, too, seemed to unwind, although his hands twitched occasionally and his eyes intermittently darted around the room to take stock of the surroundings. Like Ishii and Juben’s daughters, he said little, almost nothing at all, leaving the conversation to Kamon, Isao, Ransaki, and Juben.

Dinner passed almost too quickly. Soon the servants were collecting up empty plates and clearing the table of a dessert hash made of marsh berries and a sweet wine.

"Please, Isao," Juben said loudly from the top of the table. He motioned for the servants to refill all their wine glasses. "Tell us the of the goings-on in the imperial palace."

Isao recounted all the events he could, recalling what he could from his disjointed experience and unclear information. He still didn't really know what happened, who did it, or why. But he pieced together what he could for the group, laying the information before them all at once.

The telling took several minutes. By the end, he was exhausted.

"Now we're here," he said. "Among friends, and safe at last."

"A toast," Damla suggested with a hand on her husband's arm. "Let's toast to Hiwan and Ular. May we form a strong alliance against these traitors and restore the Empire to its former glory."

"Yes," Juben agreed, grabbing his goblet. "To Hiwan and Ular!"

Isao and Khalem reached for the goblets of fresh wine the servants set in front of them. Then Isao noticed Kamon had dropped his gaze and was fingering the stem of his goblet. Even Juben’s daughters seemed preoccupied suddenly. Why were they being so quiet?

"May we defeat our enemies and be stronger for it," Juben said, holding his glass aloft. "To us."

"To us," Isao and Khalem murmured. They touched glasses, and drank. The wine trickled down the back of Isao's throat, warming him. It tasted sweet, almost saccharine.

Maru began to explain her new duties as an official warrior, and Isao listened to the conversation with interest.

After a few minutes, a prickling sensation crawled up the back of his head, over his scalp, and into his face. It tingled. Isao pressed his lips together as they turned slightly numb.

He blinked. Why was the table blurring? Why were his thoughts moving so slowly?

Khalem seemed to be starting at the same spot on the table, as if attempting to memorize it. Were they so tired from their journey that it now caught up to them? Isao wondered. Perhaps the wine had relaxed them too much.

"Isao, are you all right?" Juben asked.

"Fine," he said.

"Your head isn't spinning, is it?"

With a bit of horror, Isao realized that was the best way to categorize the next sensation that overcame him. He gripped the edge of the table in a poor attempt to right his spinning world.

"What . . . what is . . ." he gasped out.

"There is a very powerful poison known throughout the Ular Clan. Anyone that's ever visited will have heard of it. The rest of us know how to obtain it and purify it from the time we're five. And now, my friend, you know it yourself," Juben said.

Isao struggled to under Juben’s words. Poison? Ular Clan?

His chest tightened. The air seemed to thicken, and time passed more slowly.

Something in his gut twitched. This wasn't right. He shouldn't feel this way.

His body slumped down farther in his chair. He tried to push his body back up, but his legs wouldn't respond. His arm fell off the table, plopping onto his lap.

"It's a progressive paralysis. Renders our enemies almost totally unable to move. A real delight when you have betrayers in your midst and want to get rid of them. Such as is the case tonight."

"Betrayers?"

The word came off Isao's tongue thick and garbled. His gaze darted around the table; all except Khalem were staring at him now.

As the strange feeling moved through every inch of his body, a figured moved into the room from the doorway. The dark masked figure from outside. The bulbous nose and fine cloak seemed more pronounced at the moment.

"The poison will not kill, just paralyze. We have taken it too, but we are masters of our own poisons and it has no effect on us." Juben gestured to Maru and Saya. "Tonight, they have finalized their warrior training by proving their deep tolerance to the serum."

Both Maru and Saya held their glasses high with accompanying smiles.

Juben's voice sounded far away. Isao attempted to speak, but the words wouldn't come. His lips wouldn't move. He closed his eyes, his neck pitching his head forward.

Juben continued to speak.

"The Hiwan clan will never understand the real meaning of religion, Isao, not with a man like Saemon at the head. He was too traditionalist. The Empire needed . . . more than he could provide. So I took action into my own hands. Thanks to that cunning Nari woman, we have planned every last detail of this takeover. For the good of the Empire, of course."

Isao's sluggish thoughts took in every word one by one. Although the words moved slowly through his brain, the truth wasn't lost upon Isao.

The Ular clan had done something horrible to the Empire because they had felt Saemon wasn't a good enough ruler.

If Isao’s mind hadn't been overtaken by a pervasive numbing sensation, he would have screamed aloud in rage.

"Do you remember, Isao, the ancient underground passage in the old armory where the two of us played?" Kamon asked. "We told the Nari woman about it. The Ameyas also were ecstatic to know about a hidden passage into the Jade Cradle. Beautifully simple, isn't it?"

Isao lost consciousness and plunged into the darkness awaiting him. The bitter taste of betrayal filled his mouth.

* * *

Isao ached all over. Every movement sent a shiver of pain through his body. His head pounded. His mouth was as dry as a bag of sand. His shoulders and muscles protested as he slowly swam up through layers of unconsciousness.

He had nightmares in this drugged, hazy state. Of mountains. Masked people. Tribal chanting.

Isao tried to reach out, but his arm felt so heavy. Then he realized that his hands were bound together at the wrists in front of him.

The realization of the betrayal of the Ular clan came racing back through his mind, and he felt torrents of rage anew. "Khalem?" he whispered, hearing the fear in his own voice. "Are you there?"

"Here, my Sheng," croaked a voice.

"How are you feeling?"

"Pain."

"Your arm?"

Khalem hesitated. "I think the fever is coming on. No doubt it will be fully infected soon, even with the healers’ work of yesterday."

"If they didn't start an infection purposefully," Isao spat, livid. His body began to tremble from the rage.

"You must calm yourself, Sheng, if we are to escape this."

Isao's nostrils flared. "They have deceived us, Khalem. I should have listened to you."

"Neither of us knew. We are not at fault. We did the best that we could."

"I'm so angry."

"Me too, Sheng. But let us believe in your father, eh? Perhaps he won. Perhaps things are not as bleak as we believe them to be. We left without all the information. I believe your father and the Karus are strong enough to overcome on their own. If they did, the Ular would not know this yet."

"Yes," Isao murmured, enjoying the brief spark of hope Khalem had given him. "Yes, Father is strong."

The sound of clanking came from down the hall. Heavy footsteps followed. Moments later, a door near Isao's head rattled open. Two men stepped in, grabbing them by the arms and yanking them to their feet.

The strange feeling of not being able to control his body rippled back through Isao. No matter how hard he tried to lift a hand or a toe, nothing would move. Isao pressed his lips together to keep from yelling in fury and pain.

The guards dragged them down a series of wet corridors, up staircases, and finally down staircases, taking them down into the deepest, darkest corridors of the Sarpa Palace. As was the case everywhere before, images of snakes lined the halls.

The guards spoke to each other in low tones, hissing as they did so.

"Where . . . where are you taking us?" Isao finally wrenched out in between grimaces of pain.

The guards said nothing in response.

Eventually the dank halls opened up into an expansive underground room illuminated by torchlights. Murals of snakes destroying cats dotted the walls here as well.

A gigantic head of a snake with a golden snout protruded from the far wall. Juben and Kamon flanked this massive head on opposite sides.

Isao bit back an insult and settled for glaring at them instead. The guards stopped, holding him and Khalem upright and in one place.

"So, Prince Isao, you have come here for help, and found none," Juben sang. "Did you sleep well last night?"

Isao's voice shook. "You are vile, Juben Ular. The worst kind of betrayer."

Juben giggled in a snide way that sent a chill down Isao's back. "Oh, Isao. You naive fool. You are just like your father. He and I used to be close once, you know. We would have all kinds of discussions. But he was a stubborn man, and no matter how much I planned and strategized, he would never accept my ideas for reforming the religious system in the Empire."

Juben stepped forward holding a scepter with a serpent’s head. He stroked it affectionately with his other hand, like it was his pet. "It was time to change, Isao. Simple as that. Too many edicts from your father. Too much of a limit on the system."

"A messenger just arrived this morning, Isao," Kamon said in a crisp tone. "I have been informed that Sheng Saemon was slaughtered during the attack."

Isao's heart was crushed. His body seemed to lose the will to live.

"Yes, a devastating blow, I'm sure," Juben hissed, his bright yellow eyes alight with fervor. "But Saemon had to die for a new Empire to come in, you know. For the betterment of everyone."

Isao struggled to slow his racing mind. His father couldn't be dead. Men like Saemon were indomitable. The Sheng was healthy. Strong. Virile. People in the Empire adored him, and he would lead forever. There was no chance that they had endured all this hellish misery just to lose now.

A litany of curses rose from Khalem's mouth. Tears gathered in Isao's eyes, dribbling down his cheeks and dripping to the ground below. A bitter, metallic taste rose in his mouth. He realized he'd been biting his cheek and hadn't known it.

"Why?" he wrenched out. "WHY?"

Kamon rolled his eyes. "Your father was weak, that's all. We are strong. You are not."

Juben strode forward a few steps, motioning to the giant snake head behind him. "Do you see this, Isao? When you climb through this, you gain access to a very special place." His voice lowered. "A very special place. We call it the Sarpa Karul, or you may know it as the ‘Snake's Gut.’ Some call it the ‘Haunting Prison.’ We don't care what you call it, really, as long as you enjoy your time there."

With a gleeful, hissing giggle, Juben reached over and pulled a golden lever. A grating sound followed.

Isao blinked in terror as the mouth of the snake dropped open. The golden snout gave way to expose a completely dark space behind the mouth.

Isao sucked in a sharp breath. Sorcery. It had to be.

"Have fun!" Juben sang.

He and Kamon strolled past them, hissing in their strange way, their eyes alight with an amber glow.

Terror gripped Isao as the guards each grabbed a torch, then used their remaining hand to drag Isao and Khalem into the snake’s great, black maw.

Inside, they followed an unknown path that wound through the dark in what felt like every direction. Right. Left. Down. Over. The path twisted and turning so much that Isao felt like a small mouse moving through the belly of a snake.

The screams of other people across the landscape filled his ears, turning his entire body cold.

My father is dead.

The Ular are traitors.

Isao’s guard stopped, and the sound of wood grating on the floor followed.

The guard shoved Isao into a small cell. The other guard pushed and kicked Khalem inside the same cell before he slammed the door shut.

"You’ll find out soon enough why this is the ‘haunting prison.’"

With a cackle, the guards moved away, bearing their torches with them.

Once the sound of their footsteps faded, giving way to the distant shrieks of the other prisoners in the great belly with them, Isao pressed his head to the floor. Tears trickled out of his eyes, leaking onto the dirt floor, which felt gritty against his cheek.

It was over. Everything was over. There was no escaping the main prison of the Sarpa Palace, and certainly not this one. Besides, why should he continue? His father was dead. The Empire had been betrayed by several clans: Nari. Ameya. Ular. There was no redeeming such a lost world.

"Khalem," he cried, his throat thick with sobs.

"I'm here, Sheng."

"There is no hope."

A struggling, hesitant reply came. "We are in a bad place, Sheng."

"We are too far from the sun or moon for there to be any light shed on our path. Nothing can brighten the dark hole we are in. Nothing can save us. The Empire has fallen, my father is dead, and soon, so are we."

There was nothing for Khalem to say.