Lian wove a rope from magic, ivy made of light, and bound the man.

She spread-eagled him on a boulder like an altar under the sky.

The sun stared like a blazing witness.

The display was humiliation pushed past the red line.

She fished through her clothes and found a misplaced whip, a snake of leather.

She cut the air twice; the air cracked, crack crack, like dry bamboo.

She looked at him like gutter trash, eyes cold as winter glass.

“So... anything you want to say?”

He swallowed shame, yet his face bloomed like a sunset.

“I... I’m called... M...”

“Crack!” The whip bit into flesh like a hunting hawk.

“You know I’m not asking your name. Calling yourself M fits a paramecium in pond scum, unworthy of a name.”

In queen mode, Lian’s words wore a crown, heavy as stone.

The lash left a sting, a strange spice burning like pepper.

M spilled little sounds, eyes drifting like mist over a lake.

“I... I get it... I’ll talk...”

“Crack!”

The whip landed without warning, like lightning.

Impatience clouded Lian’s face like a gathering storm.

“Faster.”

“Yes, yes! I serve under DIO, under his shadow.

DIO’s made of many people, a swarm under one banner.

The head’s a powerful man, built like a mountain.”

Lian pulled a photo she’d kept, a paper mirror in sunlight.

She waved it before M like a flag.

“This guy?”

He pecked a nod like a chick at feed when he saw his boss’s face.

“Yes, yes—it's him!”

“Good. Keep going.”

“It’s barely a year since it formed, a hive risen overnight.

I’m one of the early ones, a root rather than a leaf.

Today I was just out to play, wandering like a stray dog.

Then I ran into you, my lady, like a moth to flame.”

“That’s fluff; give me your boss as a clear picture.”

“The boss’s name is DIO, a name that thuds like iron.

He’s mysterious, appearing from nowhere like fog sliding into camp.

His strength hits like a tidal wave, overwhelming and cold.

He raised the group in under a month, like towers overnight.

He seems able to grant powers to others, like pouring fire into cups.

That lure pulled many in, like fish to bright bait.

One thing’s weird: he never shows in sunlight, hiding from the blade of day.

He only moves at night, a wolf along black water.

His personality splits; each meeting he’s a different moon face.

He sometimes mentions someone called JOJO, a name tossed like pebbles.

No one knows who that is, a shadow without a body.”

Lian listened, and her face tightened, a shadow settling like dusk.

A chill crept up Lian’s spine like winter water.

By M’s account, DIO’s likely a traverser, crossing worlds like a migratory bird.

There are only two ways to cross worlds, two roads through the forest.

Either he beat or tricked the World Consciousness and came as an invader.

Or he was chosen by the World Consciousness, sent as a guardian, a blade of order.

No one defeats or deceives the World Consciousness; that mountain doesn’t bend.

So he’s likely sent to do a job, a mandate carried like a seal.

Likely to stop something that threatens the world, a fire about to jump forests.

She had, once, done things that harmed it, scratches on the sky’s skin.

And this time she was the one drawn in, tugged like a hooked fish.

It smelled like the World Consciousness’s hand, a hidden tide pulling strings.

No doubt, the spear points at her, tip cold as moonlight.

If this attempt failed, would there be a next, another wave on the shore?

Would the World Consciousness step in itself, the sea rising in person?

If so, she’s in danger, a candle in a sudden gale.

But she only brushed through the world’s wall, gently, like a sleeve against bark.

She later stitched it back, threads of light closing a tear.

Why would the World Consciousness come for that small sin, a pebble in a river?

“Hoo—”

She exhaled, long and deep, cooling her heart like rain on embers.

She set the swarm of guesses down, like putting buzzing jars away.

She looked at M, still trussed, a fly caught in silk.

“Thanks for the intel; you did fine, like earning your coin.

Your reward’s a trip to the Underworld—go play in the fire.”

“Huh?”

M had no idea what she meant, mind blank as fresh snow.

Lian gave him no time, cutting chance like a knife.

Flames rose, a direct train to the Underworld, rails of red.

She turned and walked away, footsteps light as drifting ash.

Back by the wagon, Alicia and the other two sat, quiet as perched birds.

They’d clearly waited long, patience stretched like old silk.

They waved her over when they saw her, hands fluttering like flags.

Lian answered with a small smile, a crescent moon on her lips.

“Lian, how’d it go?”

Alicia steered and glanced back at Lian, who watched hills roll by like waves.

Lian shook her head, disappointment clouding like fine dust.

“Not great, a dry well today.

We learned the boss has immense power.

He can grant abilities, a strange blessing.

Else, nothing.”

The world-scale questions could stay buried, sleeping like stones.

No need to worry them, or stir that water.

“Just that? Shall we detour, prune them like a branch, then finish our harvest?”

“Right, I forgot, a pebble slipped my sleeve.

Their boss is our target this time.

We can bundle both, two birds one flight.”

Alicia nodded at the convenience, agreement neat as folded paper.

Then something struck her, a spark.

She whipped her head back toward Lian like a snapped bow.

“So we’re only a third along this road, and they’ve already sent troops at us?!”

Lian shook her head, but doubt rippled her face like wind over water.

“I think... probably... not,” she said, voice thin as reed.

“He said he was just out to play, like a fox.”

“Out to play? All the way this far from his base, past three rivers?”

“Who knows; maybe he’s that confident, chest puffed like a rooster.”

“...Alright. Maybe that’s really it, a stone we can’t move.”

Alicia let it go and faced forward, reins steady as a stream.

Lian lowered her gaze to the golden butterfly tattoo on her right hand, a small sun on skin.

“Mm... Please let it not be what Alicia thinks, clouds passing without rain.”