Ryo’s chest was so constricted, he couldn’t breathe.

He tried to wiggle his fingers and free himself of the suffocating heaviness, but his fingers slid through something slippery. There was a coppery scent tainting the air; he wanted to gag, but the effort would take too much of his energy.

He remained there for a while, filling the in-between haze with thoughts: Was he alive? He must be: Pain radiated up and down his side. Was he dead? No. Death couldn’t smell so foul. Feel so . . . heavy.

Slowly, he returned to consciousness.

The distant murmur of voices swam through his thick ears, eventually clearing them. He couldn’t make out the words, but the low intonations send a shiver of fear through him.

The ache in his side grew, and he groaned. His right arm moved slightly just as the voices disappeared.

Something heavy thudded close by to him.

A strange darkness filled his mind.

Ryo opened his eyes one at a time. He was staring into total darkness, with his face squished against something firm and cool. A tile….the floor. Despite the pain rippling through his right side, he tried to push up with his arms, but they were weak…so weak.

Something was on top of him.

He grunted when a trickle of moisture dropped onto the back of his neck. Unable to move the strange weight off him, he turned, rolling onto his side.

Something fell onto his cheek with a smack. He bit back a scream.

A bloody hand.

Ryo clawed his way to freedom, shoving two bodies off of him. He broke free of the pressing weight, and fell onto his back into a pool of something.

Blood.

Memories filled his mind. Just snatches of memory. Slowly, ever so slowly, he pieced them together.

“Now is our chance for greatness,” Ryo said, knocking his elbow into a fellow Karu. “Finally, all our training means something. Emperor Saemon will defeat Azuma.”

“We will be victorious,” his friend agreed with a grin.

The strange sensation filling Ryo’s body – an odd weakness and awkwardness – seemed to lighten for a moment upon hearing these words.

The Emperor would defeat Azuma and they would win this bloody battle, Ryo thought with glee.

As soon as the Karu fanned through the room, flanking the Emperor, the battle intensified. Each Hiwan soldier fought with even more gusto.

In between dodging blows from Ameya and Nari clan members, Ryo willed his sword arm to be stronger. His steps to be more certain.

I am Karu, he thought, forcing strength into his limbs. I have trained for years. I will protect the Emperor. I will be indomitable.

But his muscles wouldn’t listen.

Members of the Karu fell like dying flies, dropping with nearly every blow they struck. They stumbled and tripped, falling hard onto the cold tile floor.

What was wrong with them all?

Ryo growled in frustration, swinging his sword high to fight off an Ameya. The very next instant, a startled, strangled cry next to him drew his attention.

A Nari soldier had shoved his blade into the belly of an Ameya. Next to him, another Nari did the same to an Ameya. A Nari sliced open the neck of a stunned Ameya soldier standing only a few paces away.

“Betrayal!” one Ameya screamed. “The Nari have betrayed us!”

The vicious Nari were bloodthirsty: They advanced with guttural bellows, hacking at anyone who wasn't their own.

Then an abrupt burst of light blinded Ryo; he could not see, and pain rushed through his ribs.

He fell to the tile floor.

Ryo shook his head, bringing himself out of the reverie.

Another memory moved through him, but it was something he had only heard from a great distance…the voice of Azuma, speaking to a Hiwan lieutenant after the battle was won.

“I did everything to protect him against the Ameyas. They did this to us. Can’t you see? They are subtle and sneaky. They’ve betrayed all of us and killed the Emperor. My people have died trying to stop them.”

Ryo sucked in a sharp breath. Lies. The Nari clan were the true enemies here.

He grimaced when a fresh wave of pain ripped through him. Blood soaked his armor and tunic on his right side. He felt lightheaded.

“No,” he muttered. “I must fight. I must tell . . . someone.”

Bolstered by the sound of his own voice, Ryo rocked onto his hands and knees. He began to crawl across the tile floor, blindly feeling ahead of him and struggling over fallen bodies. Tears clogged his throat with every movement.

He wanted to rest. He wanted freedom from this pain and the horrible memories.

He also wanted the truth to be told – and if he didn't, who would?

Spurred on by his determination, he forced himself onward. Over bodies.

He thought of his sister Reiko. She must be safe, and she would care for him.

Ryo pushed through the puddles of blood until a flicker of light caught his gaze. He reached up, his hand brushing wood.

Doors. The doors.

Mustering all of his strength, he swatted blindly for the handles and grabbed onto one. He pulled himself to his feet. His stomach clenched in pain. Blood gushed out of his side, trickled down his thigh.

He forced strength into his legs, willing them to bear his weight. Sweaty and disoriented, he leaned against the door, resting his forehead on it until the sensations passed.

Once he could draw a shallow breath, he pulled the door open a sliver.

No one was in the hall.

Ryo slipped out of the throne room, and rushed down the hall to a set of floor-length curtains. He hid himself within them, leaning his head back and groaning silently.

His wound throbbed. He bent his right arm, and applied pressure to it with his hand to ebb the flowing of his blood.

Once he was completely certain no one was moving through the hall, Ryo drew in another painful breath and slipped out of the curtains. The hall lay empty, so he moved as fast as he dared to the very end, slipping into an abandoned room filled with brooms and wooden buckets. Here he paused, waiting a full five minutes to gain strength.

“Reiko,” he whispered, picturing her lovely face in the little house she had inherited from their parents. There lay safety. “Reiko.”

One painful moment at a time, Ryo made his way through the palace. One time the presence of a servant took him by surprise, but she was so occupied with staring at her bloody hands that she failed to notice him as she passed.

Near the back hall, he passed Lim, a young recruit who had just entered the military academy, on the floor. Ryo had been a mentor to him, and he felt like he had been punched in the gut when he spied Lim’s still face. He kept moving past, ignoring Lim and his dead body, and ignoring, deliberately, all the other faces of the people he knew.

And he knew so many of them, and all of them were dead….

By the time Ryo made it to a side exit and lurched forward into the courtyard, his entire body trembled all the way to his bones. He wanted to vomit, but he didn't have the strength.

He sat down behind a tall bush to catch his breath. The metallic smell of copper permeated the air here as well. Through the branches, he could make out another dead body, eyes glassy and staring right at him.

The man’s face appeared just like the Emperor’s had when Azuma crouched down next to Saemon and said, "The mighty Emperor has fallen."

With a shudder, Ryo kept moving.

He was the holder of the truth. He alone knew what Azuma and the Nari clan were...He had to keep going.

The city was dark and full of shadows, with the blackness occasionally interrupted by the flames of fires within collapsed buildings. He tried to avoid the bodies in the streets as he clung to the shadows, but was not always successful.

Every step away from the castle made his situation a little more real. He recalled more memories…Battle scenes. Azuma speaking after the bloodbath was over—lying again and again to those listening.

Within the hour, he stumbled into the Artisan District. There, in the distance, on the right of the road, Ryo spotted his salvation.

Reiko’s tiny house.

A cry on his lips, he staggered forward, down the cobblestone road. Blood gushed from his wound when he pushed through the fence encasing the house and banged on the door.

“Reiko!” he called out in a raspy voice. “Reiko!” But he couldn’t hold himself upright any longer, and collapsed in a heap on the front porch.

The door opened, revealing a woman with a sweet face and gentle eyes. “Ryo!” Reiko gasped. With a cry, she grabbed his left arm, and tried to tug him inside. “Help me, Ryo! Help me!! I can’t pull you.”

“C-can’t. Can’t move.”

“You’re bleeding!”

“My side. It’s . . . my side.”

Finally, Reiko managed to pull him into her house. She threw the door closed and dropped to his side, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Ryo! What happened?”

“A-attack.”

She glanced at his side, her eyes widening. “Hold on. Let me get something to stop that blood.”

As his sister darted off, Ryo closed his eyes, allowing his head to slump to the side. A deep fatigue overtook him. He wanted to sleep. Oh, how he longed to close his eyes and fall into that reassuring rest . . .

But no.

“Nari,” he whispered, sputtering. He coughed, sending spasms through his side.

Reiko hovered over him. “What?”

“The Nari. They’re traitors. Call . . . call Gombe.”

Darkness filled his eyes, and Ryo accepted it with gladness.