6 Years Later

  Year 602 of the Divine Empire

  The art of carving kaha was an old one, defined by the traditions and stories of the kālai people. The dark shells of the kālai, varying from dark brown to jet black, only bore their coloration on the thin outer layer, with the rest bearing the same rosy-pink color as their skin. Whoever first thought to intentionally carve shallow lines into said shells with a knife to create designs on one’s body is not known for certain, though every village loved to claim one of their own ancestors as the source. Their eagerness was understandable at least, as the kaha had become one of the staple cultural factors across āina Hānau. Every village had their own designs and traditions, though none so rigid as the traditionalists of Ho’okahi. Here, women were expected to bear designs resembling flowers and vines, accentuating their beauty and their place as the center of a home. The men, on the other hand, were expected to be hunters and warriors, and thus bore markings of ocean currents and sea creatures, though only the ones they had managed to defeat. In this isolated village, what to others was a symbol of personal expression had been turned into a method to categorize and rank its citizens. Nohea had never cared much for any of that, though. They just liked to make people beautiful.

  The woman lying in front of them was bare to the world, though this lacked any of the scandal or significance that it has for humans. The kālai, being descended from crustaceans, lacked any of the overt sexual traits held by mammalian creatures. The difference between genders was difficult for mammals to discern, though men typically had bulkier forms with rougher shells while women were more angular with glossy ones. Though they were hardly expected to walk around naked, their concern for appearance was more focused on the shifts in coloration of their shells and the length of their cords. These cords were the main trait that had convinced adventurous humans of their distant relation, though on closer inspection they were revealed to be slightly thicker than common hairs, and far more sensitive. While they still resembled a human’s hair, even mimicking the position on their scalps, their purpose was more akin to antennae, used to sense one’s surroundings while swimming. With all that in mind, stripping one’s clothes so they could be carved on nearly every part of their body was not nearly as lewd a process as humans seemed to assume.

  “Nohea. . . sir? Is there a problem?”

  “Sir will do fine, dear, no need to fret. And you shouldn’t be so eager to move things along, you know. You only molt once a year, it’d be a shame to get stuck with something you hate for that long.”

  “Could it really be that important? It’s not like there are that many flowers to choose from…”

  She couldn’t see it with her head down, but the look on Nohea’s face was nothing short of heartbroken.

  “. . . I truly hope you don’t mean that, dear. I realize this is your first time being carved, but don’t you think it would be a waste to let your beauty be improperly adorned?”

  “I. . . don’t know? Do you really think I could be beautiful?”

  “Dear, everyone is beautiful, but many unfortunately waste their beauty by not pairing it with the proper kaha. With the right flowers in the best placement, all it will take is a bit of confidence for you to draw half the eyes in town!”

  Ignoring the young woman’s increasingly flustered retorts, Nohea thought deeply. While she was lacking in courage, there was a certain mystique there. If she only allowed herself a bit of aloofness, the perceived distance would have all sorts falling over themselves to court her. Mystery. . . perhaps Moku Hāweo? Every village forbade entry to the isle for reasons unknown, but they had seen glimpses of it in the distance. The reeds of its marshlands glowed with a pale light during the night, a sight which had lingered with them for years. Those reeds weren’t quite flowers, so Makaio would probably have words about it, but they were close enough that the girl wouldn’t be shamed. Yes, this would do nicely.

  As they began their work, a different sort of presence overtook the carver. The care with which they wielded their knife, the precision and details they formed all across their subject’s torso, arms, and legs. By the time they were done, the woman was a work of art. The wispy light across the fields carved onto her had a nearly ethereal look to them, forceful yet unknowable. Across her back was something difficult to parse, a mysterious form reminiscent of the legends of some dark form that stalked the shores of the forbidden island, just unclear enough that it could be mistaken for an odd flourish. The design was unusual, perhaps even scandalous, yet its beauty was undeniable. This may have been their greatest work yet.

  “There you are, dear, all finished. Why don’t you take a look at yourself?”

  “I. . . wow. . . I can see why mother spoke so highly of you. This is incredible!”

  “Heh. Thank you, dear, though I can’t take all the credit here. You served as a wondrous canvas, I’ll have to think hard of what to carve on you next year.”

  “It’ll be an honor! Though, I’m mostly just glad I could have my first carving before the Lua’i.”

  “Oh? Will that be soon?”

  “Haven’t you felt the tremors? Everyone’s saying that it’ll be in less than a week.”

  “Hmm. . . Could just be ordinary quakes, wouldn’t be the first time. Still, it’s been years since the last Lua’i. I guess we should be due.”

  “Right? I can’t even remember the last one, it was so long ago. The alaka’i is saying that Kanoa will be able to attend as well!”

  “Is that so. . . Well, I guess it’s good that you’re prepared, then.”

  “Right! Thanks again, Nohea!”

  As the newly carved woman ran excitedly out of the studio, Nohea was left to ponder. Kanoa. . . they could still remember that adorable little child, so contrasted by the perpetual killjoy that held her. They could only imagine what it must have been like to be raised by such an unpleasant individual, but there wasn’t much they could do about that. At least they were able to come up with a solid name before Makaio had gotten a chance, one could only imagine the kind of ridiculous moniker he would have bestowed upon her. The girl at least deserved to have an ordinary name, should she choose to reject the position being pushed upon her. Not that the elders would allow such a thing, they did seem the kinds of fools that thought they could control one wielding the power of the origin goddess. They had no doubt that this whole plan would fall apart all around those control freaks, the real concern was whether or not Kanoa would be able to come out of it in one piece.

  As they had many times before, Nohea considered just grabbing the child and running. The village of Kālepa was only on the other side of the island, and was said to be far less uptight. The people there did things that would have given the village elders here a heart attack, like trading with other races and allowing women to fight. Come to think of it, wasn’t their leader a female Pōmaika as well? She might serve as a good role model to the young Kanoa, or at least could teach her how to use her blessings properly. Yes, Kālepa would probably be perfect for the girl, if only Nohea had the ability to get her there. They were never the most athletic of individuals, having avoided combat and hunting practice as a rejection of their born sex. It seemed like a good idea at the time, and certainly gave their parents more than enough grief, but the consequence was that fleeing the village just wasn’t an option, especially with a six-year-old girl alongside them. It would be far too much of a risk, especially when they didn’t know for sure how bad her conditions really were. They supposed that the Lua’i would be a good chance to find out.

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  Putting that unpleasantness aside for now, Nohea decided that it was as good a time as any to go fishing. They grabbed their fishing pole and casually strode out to a part of the village built above a deeper part of the sea. As they walked across the wooden corridors connecting the various stilt houses, whistling some off-tune melody, they slowed down slightly to really take in the place they had lived in for their entire life. Ho’okahi was constructed like any other kālai village, each house built on a network of stilts that held them a few feet above the ocean surface. The various corridors and buildings were all decorated in a traditional sense, with decorations made from colorful leaves lining every edge, and all sorts of flowers growing out of the divots carved into the logs of supporting beams. To anyone not from here, it would seem almost whimsical in its fusion of nature and civilization. And yet, Nohea couldn’t help but see the same symbols wherever they went. The signs of placid subjugation woven into every inch of the village.

  Where an outsider would see women wearing beautiful clothing made of colored plait grass, an impressive balance between grace and ease of movement, it was clear to those who looked closely that they had grown used to stagnant lives. All had their cords bound, once near the scalp and once near the end. What may have been decoration for any other species was a heavy restriction for the kālai, as this greatly reduced their ability to navigate when underwater. Those colorful stone rings that held their cords in a strange sort of ponytail were a symbol of how they were bound to the home. Nearly all of them had been married the day they came of age. The lucky ones had worn their hands to have far thicker shells, as they had at least married into a family that had a craft they could engage in. The men weren’t much better off, though in a different way. Their dominance in society had come at a cost, with each hunter or fisherman making their rounds in town while completely alone. Nohea never understood why they all insisted on this bizarre independence, especially when engaging in such dangerous professions, but that was just how things were. Most male kālai would go their entire lives without making a single genuine connection. Even Nohea was not free of this curse, for though they chose to ignore the limitations of gender, this could not truly change the perception of most. The only real conversations they ever had were during their carving sessions, and even then they would struggle to get these people to speak with them outside of that. After so many years of this life, they had simply come to accept things for how they were, taking whatever bits of comfort they could.

  But why, they wondered, was this something they had grown so comfortable with? They weren’t exactly old, only having molted around 30 times (which for the kālai was a once-a-year occasion). They had been so rebellious in their younger years, arguing and resisting even the most harmless of traditions every chance they could. Had they been burnt out? Had they used up too much of their anger too quickly, leaving nothing left once they had matured? Or was it perhaps that they had simply been beaten down, smothered by the unyielding pressure of normality? When was it when they had stopped talking back when people called them that disgusting old name and simply started avoiding them for convenience? These questions were troubling, as Nohea realized, for the first time in years, how tiring it was to live in this place. Unfortunately, they were interrupted from these thoughts before they could reach any sort of satisfying conclusion. Right before they reached their favorite spot for fishing, a rumbling quake shook the village enough for nearly everyone to be thrown to the ground. Turning to the north, across the tropic jungle of Moku Waena, anyone could see the column of smoke and ash rising in the distance. It was clear that the largest volcano of the island chain, on the island of Lua Pele Nui, had begun to erupt. The goddess Kinohi had awoken, and she was infuriated. Sighing, Nohea was grateful that they hadn’t postponed that woman’s carving. It seemed the Lua’i was going to be tonight.

  The patron goddess of āina Hānau was a temperamental being, even by divine standards. Ancient beyond understanding, she spent most of her time deep asleep in the magma pools of Lua Pele Nui. The true reasons behind this were unknown, but it was undeniable that she seemed to despise being woken up. Unfortunate, then, that she chose to live inside the most active volcano in the world. Though her great power was said to stem from the endless flow of lava, the eruptions always woke her up, leading to absurd fury. Fortunately, she was just as easy to please as she was to enrage, and there was one trick that usually worked. Worship of her glory, often in the form of dances, prayer songs, and great bonfires were known to calm her enough to not level the entire archipelago. And so the tradition of Lua’i was established, where every village would hold a grand celebration in order to calm the goddess. This was an important time, as sometimes the most impressive celebration would convince her to bless an incoming child into being born a Pōmaika. Though the tradition was formed out of fear, it was also a chance to dance and sing outside of a more regular holiday. It was this strange combination of fearful reverence and excited celebration that gave the Lua’i an electric energy that could not be found anywhere else in the world.

  Or at least, that’s how it should have been. That Makaio may be a strong leader, Nohea noted, but he was miserable at planning festivities. Everything was in place and on schedule, the melodic lipine dances were as beautiful as ever and the shows of performative martial arts were admittedly quite impressive this year. And despite that, the feeling of the celebration was someone muted. Everyone cheered when excited and clapped when impressed, but the time between those moments was somewhat understated. No one danced when not expected to, there was no drama, no brawls. Despite their fond memories of the last Lua’i six years past, Nohea couldn’t help but feel somewhat bored. Gazing over the large circular platform, lit by grass lanterns and raised above the ocean surface, they couldn’t help but see this as a representation of what they hated about this place. It may have been beautiful, held up by the ancient traditions of their people, yet there was no true connection with any of it. Everything here was done because that was how things were done, with no true respect for the passion and creativity that brings traditions into being. Sighing at this boring hypocrisy, Nohea turned to the far edge of the circle, leading out into the open ocean. They saw a group of people begin to gather and prepare as the final performance of the night was about to begin. Their interest was piqued and their heart sunk as they looked closely at these people and saw one figure that was far shorter than the others. It was a child, barely at her sixth molting, dressed up in the slightly oversized priestess’s robes. There was no real doubting who she must be. Oh Makaio, you didn’t. . .

  Preparing for the worst, Nohea moved closer to the stage. The villagers had done the same, lowering their idle conversations into a muttering anticipation. Everything was in place now, with the village elders lined up behind Makaio and Kanoa. His hand on the child’s shoulder, the alaka’i began to speak.

  “It has been a true joy to share this offering to the goddess with all of you tonight. The passion and artistry of Ho’okahi has truly shown through in your worship, and for that I am proud. We have something truly special planned for this finale, as you may all now witness the Pōmaika of our fine village.”

  Their suspicions confirmed, a wave of awed whispers blanketed the gathering. How wonderful! They said, grateful that the newest pride of the village had not been a mere rumor. How impressive. . . They said, thrilled to bear witness to one blessed by their deity. How disgusting. Thought Nohea, as they watched the child be paraded about as if it were some kind of trophy.

  “Now, now, everyone, let’s all settle down. Though your excitement is understandable, we must be silent. For the past year, I have instructed our blessed Kanoa in the closing song of the Lua’i. If you only listen, we might hear the voice of the one who was chosen by Kinohi herself!”

  As each voice was hushed near simultaneously, the crowd awaited eagerly for this song to begin. They waited. And waited. And wait. The murmurings slowly resumed as the Pōmaika had yet to make a single sound. The child herself was stone faced, with the only hint of emotion being a slight tremble. It was only when the alaka’i rushed to her side, grabbing her arm and whispering furiously that a certain chaos began to fill the area. People shifted around, starting conversations and arguments as they started to question what exactly was going on. What was wrong with the blessed child?

  Only Nohea had done anything of real substance, pushing themself through the crowd in an attempt to get a closer look. What in Kinohi’s name was that man doing? Surely he knew that her shell could not possibly have hardened fully by now, right? Surely he was aware of what harm a fully grown man could do to someone like that? By the time they had made it to the front of the crowd, the confusion had finally begun to form a mob. Makaio’s admonishments, as loud as they had grown, were now being drowned out by the shouted questions of the people he led. And yet, as Nohea noticed, Kanoa still would not react. When they looked closely, they could see her eyes were closed, and that she was muttering something under her breath. Oddly enough, she didn’t even really seem aware of what was around her, as if she were somewhere else entirely. It was only fair that she be the one to break the building tension, as at long last her expression changed. Or at least, that was what they swore had happened in the split second before a wave of heat and flame cut the stage in two. People screamed and cowered as Makaio was flung bodily towards them, his shell doing little against the searing heat. Nohea could barely recover fast enough to see Kanoa as she fell through the burnt out hole in the platform into the churning water below.

  Before they even knew what they were doing, they had already leaped off the platform and towards the child. It was only once they had become aware of their actions that Nohea, for the last time, looked back at their home. They saw the crowds of people, devastated that their blessing had gone so wrong. They saw the elders, who had long since left the stage to calm their citizens, as baffled and clueless as always. Finally, they saw Makaio, his face twisted by the rage of having lost his greatest asset. As they hit the water, only one thought remained in Nohea’s mind before they abandoned Ho’okahi forever.

  Honestly, what vile creatures.