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Death had taken the castle.
In its shadow, Five could see it clearly, the grey lichen growing in the mortar like pus between joints, each spiraling tower veiled with creeping fog. Cradled between the open sea and a river of dark water, the hold would repel armies of the living, breaking their sieges on its thick walls, but death came with the mist each morning, rising from the river to scale the stone and sink down into the town, skeletal fingers reaching through the narrow streets until it at last reached the stronghold’s keep.
The castle itself jutted from the ground like an exposed bone, broken and untreated, the whole of it hollowed out by the scavengers skittering within.
The living - truly, they did skitter like pests, their heads bowed, the curtains of every window drawn no matter the time of day - were interlopers here, in death’s domain, and they knew it, keeping to the dark and dank to avoid their lord’s myoptic gaze.
From below, the hold looked abandoned, home only to phantoms and spectres, the true servants to death. They curled in the smoke rising from pyres, whispered and moaned in the wind, and when the bodies were brought in carts through the gates, filled the hollow gazes of the townsfolk, crowded into shadow, faces dirty and haggard.
They bowed to the dead as they passed, but no love existed between them, the beloved subjects of the tyrant king and the unwanted hangers-on.
In all the castle, in all the town, Five was the only one who did not bow to death.
When she drew her first breath, it had been mid-sprint, the earth and sky racing by her as strong legs carried her across the plains, between overgrown groves and pockets of thornbushes. She ran and ran and ran, exhilaration filling her with each breath. It blossomed in her chest, thrummed through each limbs, and before she knew it, melded together in the triumphant beat of a song.
She’d stopped only at the banks of a great river, not because she was tired, but because the deep blue water enticed her more than the air, more than the ache in her bare feet. She drank until she could no more, her body full to bursting, but her thirst was unquenchable, and ravenous, she found a bush of berries and picked it clean.
Then she’d wandered the earth, lean and gaunt like some stalking cat, half-starved no matter what she ate, who she bedded. Nothing, no beast or man, could satiate her, drive the hollow echo from her bones, and so she took and took and took, always hungry, always unfulfilled.
This stagnation settled in her stomach like a poison, whittling away her carefully crafted edges, leaving her itching and aching and craving. Death did not suit her and neither did this place, a crypt in all but name, afternoon heat settling with the mist, thick and wet and muggy.
Moving along the shoreline, she turned her gaze from the hold, the sea-breeze carrying the scent of bodies, strong enough to make her blanch. The sun was still descending, the orange blaze washed out by the fog, the clouds which gathered like a canopy, just shy of touching the highest tower. Even so, Five could pick out scavengers among the waves.
Gulls, first and foremost, swooping on changing air currents to dig and pick at the swollen bodies returned by the tide. They landed and claimed morsels from cadavers already bone white, skin peeling and wrinkled, smiles wide and rictus - at least until the others shooed them off.
Wading among the waves, soldiers slogged bodies from the sea, dragging them to shore to be carted back along the narrow path leading up to the hold. There were fewer now, the majority of the afflicted found and burned months ago, but a recent storm turned the wreckage of a ship off the coast, and now the bodies muddied the waters once more.
Perhaps the next storm will pull the castle down into the sea, Five thought, frowning, her brow pinched in irritation.
If the entire city disappeared without a trace, she would mourn for nothing, taking to the earth with torches and salt, ensuring nothing rose again in this damned place.
Singling in on one of the shapes on the horizon, Five touched her temple, strides quickening until she stood at the very edge of the land, the frothing waves washing over the toes of her boots. Only the quiet notes of song drifting over Five’s skin like a dirge separated the figure from the rest, her hair tangled and sea-blown, the filmy water sloshing about her waist.
“One,” Five called, crossing her arms and drumming her fingers along her bicep. Half a dozen heads rose from their work, One’s chief among them. “I have need of you, sister.”
Even from here, Five could read the hesitation in her eyes, the way she turned to murmur something to the woman next to her, nearly a head and a half taller and twice her weight. Only after the woman, dark with the telltale tone of the Land of Sands, nodded and turned away did One begin to return, water churning around her.
There was no haste to her, each step heavy, like her joints had filled with tar, like the weight of her was almost too much to bear. Or perhaps that was her crown, bestowed by death, so big it fell about her neck like a collar.
“Fishing, sister?” Five asked, scrutinizing the way the water made One’s clothes cling to her slim form, making her seem even smaller. “When I’d heard you’d left the throne room, I fooled myself into believing it might have been for something less… Masochistic.”
One emerged from the sea, her clothes stained dark as the water, her mouth set with grim resignation. As was usual these days, Five’s remarks seemed to grate, her response coming as a tired sigh, “I trust you aren’t here to lecture me, Five.”
Five tossed her hair over one shoulder, her tone clipped. “I haven’t decided yet. Would you walk with me, One?”
“Another time,” she answered immediately, glancing back over her shoulder to the bodies still adrift. “I really must…”
Five made a sound in the back of her throat, amber gaze flickering over the woman in the distance, watchful though she continued to wade through the tide. “Your shadow will continue the effort in your absence, I assure you.” Fixing her expression into something softer, she reached for One’s gloved hand, running her thumb over the knuckles. “It’s been some time since we last spoke, wouldn’t you agree?”
Calculations ticked away behind her sister’s eyes, counting off the hours since their last argument, but she glanced down at their hands, tight lipped, and nodded slowly, bones creaking as withdrew hers and tucked it by her side. One had always required a delicate touch, bending for silk when steel and iron broke against her, useless.
Clearing her throat, One said, “Our last conversation is still fresh in my mind.”
Five raised a brow, trying to keep the accusation from her voice. “Yet the servants I send to your door with meals are still turned away.”
“Not all of them,” One said, clasping her hands behind her back, her strides so slow Five felt as though they were crawling. “You don’t need to concern yourself with my well-being, Five. Thank you.”
Five’s eyes narrowed, her gaze cutting to the sickly pallor of One’s already pale face, the careful way she held herself, like a sudden move might rip open some unseen gash. Grinding her teeth, she managed, “If only your sight were better, that you might see how blind you truly are in this. My concern is well-deserved, when a god stoops so low. Your misery serves no one.”
“I’ve asked you not to call us that. We aren’t gods, Five.” One’s posture didn’t improve, her shoulders hunched, eyes downcast. Perhaps she fancied herself closer to the mortals she loved so dearly like that, humble and crumbling in on herself. Perhaps that was all the justification she needed to flay herself alive for them. “And I’m not yet blind enough to mistake your words for selflessness. My misery serves you least of all.”
The winding path up to the castle laid before them, but One stopped short, her eyes distant, full of ghouls and haunts. Five could see her intention in the way she looked back towards the water’s edge, the bodies of soldiers her siren-song had claimed.
“I’ve never claimed to be selfless,” she snapped, shooting One a pointed look. As usual, her words were oil, slipping down One’s back without tract, but Five took her by the shoulder, forcing the issue, their songs rippling together in disjunct discord, refusing to be shrugged off again. “But I am right. How long do you plan to leave us stranded here?”
“Five,” One began, shaking her head and rubbing her temples. “I don’t want to debate this again. Please.”
“I’m afraid I intend to insist.”
“And I’m afraid I still mean to decline.”
“The bodies will burn with or without you there to strike the match, One.” Arching a brow, she asked, “Would you truly have me beg?”
Her sister exhaled sharply, and she pinched the bridge of her nose, voice raising just a fraction. “If I did, you’d only call me cruel.”
Something white-hot raced through her veins at the accusation, made her want to forsake this fool’s errand and leave her sister to this rotten castle, let it crumble down upon her, a tomb made for one. Inhaling sharply, Five’s nails dug into her palms, biting resentment in her tone as she jerked her head away and said, “And heartless as well, but we both know you are neither, so walk with me.”
One’s song missed a beat, its tempo beginning to climb. Perhaps she recognized Five’s reservoirs of spite. More likely, she begrudged her sister taking her from the bloody wells below, the bodies with their hands clasped in prayer, frozen by death’s embrace.
Regardless, she bowed her head, her jaw taut, and the two of them began up the path, their steps in tune even if their songs ricocheted off each other like the crash of symbols.
The hold towered above them, the old mortar yellowing with age, full of lichens and mites. Atop the ramparts, One’s banner shuddered with the wind, a cool breeze rolling up from the shore, filling the air with the stink of corpses and the sea. More than once, One stopped, shivering despite the heat, her teeth grinding as she struggled between turning back and keeping her eyes on the castle.
She’ll look back, Five thought. Let her turn to salt if she does.
It was in her nature to return, to dwell. There was always something to be learned, something for which she must atone, and stubbornly, she refused to let the dust settle, to turn her keen eyes towards the future where infinity existed.
She would see so much more if only she’d raise her eyes from the blood beneath her feet, the skulls with their empty, shadowed sockets, which made the foundation of her empire. History would remember One as a god, a savior, but even now, she saw only the sum of her mistakes, the flecks of viscera beneath her nails and the sinew caught between her teeth.
They were just mortal, just human. They weren’t worthy of her love, were barely worthy of her presence - why did she insist on martyring herself for such base creatures, devoid of song?
Jealousy’s nails pricked at Five. There were times when she wanted to take One’s chin between her grasping fingers and force her to look up, to see only her. She wanted her rapt attention, wanted her to forget humans and their fumbling ways. Compared to the five of them - compared to the two of them, humans could offer only idle distraction.
Perhaps that was why she took One by the arm when she felt her sister about to falter, knew she meant to turn her back on Five and the castle both.
“Sister,” Five began, forcing her grip to loosen even if she refused to turn from the castle, stubbornly avoiding One’s gaze. “We’re almost there.”
The gates to the hold stretched towards the sky on the path before them, smoke spilling from between the doors like the foul breath of some great beast, its maw wide and inviting. One touched Five’s hand, almost absently, her eyes falling upon the castle, the clouds gathering above it, an augur of a storm to come. Slowly, she nodded, and Five released her, making fists at her sides.
The two of them passed beneath the great arch before One found her tongue, the soldiers inclining their heads as they went. “You have some purpose in bringing me back, I assume.”
“I had actually meant to inquire why you dirtied your hands to begin with,” Five said, gazes crawling over her skin from the shadows of the town, each shuttered home growing quieter as they made their way through the streets. Her heels heralded her approach everywhere she went, but One’s boots were barely a whisper over the stone. “Aside from your great propensity for self-flagellation, that is.”
“I have an obligation, Five. I was the one who - ”
“Killed them, yes. And?”
One bristled, shooting Five a look which bled animosity. “And? I will not let you make a mockery of this, Five.”
Five shrugged, uncaring. What was it to her if humans died? Instead, she flipped her hair over her shoulder, saying, “Even I blanched at the smell of the bodies in the water. With your keen senses, you must be ill.”
Prickling, One challenged, “First you accuse me of blindness, and now you worry for my sense of smell?”
“Truthfully, your vision is sharper than mine - you think I haven’t noticed? I worry more for your sense than your sight.”
“I’ve already told you, Five - your concern is unnecessary.”
If it were anyone else, she might have snarled at that, turned her back on One’s continued dismissal and found her pleasure elsewhere. If it were anyone else, she wouldn’t have cared to begin with.
Struggling to keep her voice from rising, she growled, “To what lengths do you mean to punish yourself for a mistake?”
Without looking at her, One responded immediately: “The intent does not excuse the act.”
The inner wall rose before them, the final bastion to the king’s keep. Usually, the portcullis would be left down to bar the peasantry entrance, but now it hung open, the courtyard beyond empty save a fire, its cleansing heat making Five sweat. Smoke ripe and rotten rose from the pyre in great bellows, the soldiers stoking the flames looking up from their grim task with empty eyes.
It was no wonder even the birds and rats had fled, seeking out safer realms to make their homes.
One stilled at the gate, her jaw clenching, and once again, Five was reminded of the way wounded animals held themselves, demure and fearful. Injury could not withstand the song, but One’s did not bleed, and so it did not heal - but it still festered within the confines of her own mind, real enough to cripple, kill.
A pang of wretched empathy shot through her, and lowering her voice, Five averted her eyes, saying, “This won’t bring them back.”
One’s jaw clenched, but she turned away, her eyes watering, from the smell or the heat or maybe something else, Five wasn’t sure. “You speak as though I believe absolution is an option.”
Neither of them preferred to linger. This time when Five’s hand found One’s arm, no frustration bid her squeeze, indignation undone by the fragile way One shuddered and sighed. Their songs met, bleeding together in some semblance of a symphony, and Five led her sister away.
Their steps rang through the castle’s halls, the stone humming with the muted songs of their sisters, but neither seemed to notice, One tight-lipped and weary, Five more caring than she ever intended.
Kingless, the castle seemed hollow, all the meat and marrow sucked out. Inside, the chill was ethereal, phantasmal. It crept into the space between Five and One, little though there was, and from somewhere far off, the wind swept through the empty halls with a moan.
Unlike in the town, Five felt only one gaze now, but it prickled and disturbed her more than any human’s rightly could.
Death was unknown to Intoners. They existed beyond its sway, shrugged off the shackles of its hold. They rose when swords cleaved them in two, when arrows feathered their flesh, each wound more grievous than the last - and each discarded with the same disregard. Death meant nothing to Five, but here, in its domain, she felt the threat of it keenly, felt it emanate from the small body at her side like a sickness.
It was all she could do to steer her sister into the banquet hall, the stillness in the air suffocating.
As the doors clicked closed behind them, Five found the hall exactly as she remembered it before, seemingly frozen in time, the table set for a great feast, platters of silver and goblets inlaid with pearls and ruby colored shells carefully arranged before each chair. At the far end of the table, a high-backed chair of velvet and sandwood awaited the lord’s return, the arms carved into the shape of leaping trout, a hearth cold and empty at its back. Above it hung a pike, or perhaps a spear, jagged and fearsome, its tip rusted a bloody red.
When they’d taken the castle, the deposed lord had been trying to drown his fears with drink and food, pretending the inevitable would never come and they would not take his home and head. A great meal had been in the works, and the room remained expectant six months later, eagerly awaiting the day when it would ring with revelry again.
Instead, dust had begun to gather over the room as a funeral months long dragged the land into despair and desolation.
And at the very center of it: One.
She refused her crown, her throne, her destiny, all for the sake of a single mistake, and as if in response, the very castle seemed to creak and groan, bending beneath the weight of her will. She would bury herself here, the ground opening to swallow the hold in one mass grave.
“We all fear for you, One,” Five said at last, breaking the silence chilling the air between them, fingers still looped around her wrist.
Her sister’s response was distant, small. “I know.”
“Then listen to the advice of your sister.” Five turned towards her fully, and once more, the urge to take One by the chin overtook her, her hands itching, her eyes flickering over her shadowed eyes, the column of her neck, her thin lips. Her hands rose to One’s biceps, her shoulders, their songs meshing and intertwining with something which felt uncomfortably like desperation. “Leave this place behind.”
“I can’t. Five, you don’t understand. I am responsible. I can’t just leave.”
“What do you hope to accomplish here? What can you possibly do?”
It took only a look to understand One had no answer for her. The bodies washed in on the tide had been a fluke, a surprise from a storm-tossed sea. For months already, they’d remained here even without anyone to burn, and if Five’s words went unheard, she feared they might never leave. Even after everyone who’d seen the grimacing horrors the song made of people had turned to dust, they would still haunt the halls here, immortality squandered.
Every last inch of her rebelled at just the thought, her nails digging into One’s stained woolens like claws for a fraction of a second before she could regain herself. At such a visceral reaction, One stiffened, defensive, but Five couldn’t help herself. In her bloomed a need to move and take and consume, lick the excess from between her fingers and find something new to sate her appetites.
But for every callous bit of her which craved action, there was a piece of One which owed to deliberation, to thoughts and feelings and guilt.
“Five?”
It was glaring, the faults in her, deep fissures which exposed her to her weakest core, the beating, caring heart at the center of her. Five desired her power, her stature, the steady tilt of her head. She desired the careful, controlled tempo of her song, the way it withstood anything and everything. She desired the small, secretive smiles which satiated every wanton yearning in her, the ones her sister deigned turn on few else.
And some part of her, traitorously soft, desired the most fragile parts of her too.
Growling, Five jerked away from One and turned towards the long banquet table. She stalked alongside it, stopping only when she reached the seat reserved for the king.
The place was held with a plate of clouded silver, but Five ignored it, plucking the accompanying chalice from the table and bringing it to her eyes to inspect. It was the same kind of silver, engraved with scales and a family name, but within the cup, one of the red shells reflected upon the silver, dying it dark as wine.
“This grail belongs to the ruler of this land,” she began, speaking too quickly. “Is it yours?”
One stared, looking as though she expected a jab, some barbed exchange. They barely spoke but in opposition anymore, and now she carefully closed the distance between them with short, uncertain steps, expecting rebuttal with every step. Five waited until she stood before her, until she ran her fingers over the engravings, ghosting touch trailing across Five’s knuckles for just a moment.
Even keen as she was, One’s mouth tightened, unsure.
“The ruler,” Five continued, not dropping her gaze. “Who is responsible for the land - and all the people in it.”
One’s brow pinched, as if responding to the blow she’d been awaiting. “Then it is mine.”
“Wrong. It’s mine.” Let her keep her damned martyrdom. Five wanted nothing of it. She snatched the cup out of her sister’s reach, holding it close to her chest. There would be no endless horizons, her wanderlust culled by obligation, but for One - for One, she would reign, a god shackled in the trappings of a queen. “This castle, this town, the Land of Seas - it belongs to me. You cannot have it, One.”
In an instant, she knew what Five intended, that she meant to take this land, these people, this weight and all the responsibility of every death spelled by her own voice, and something stark like terror raced across her expression.
“Five - ”
“Shut up,” she snapped, recoiling from One’s hand as she reached for her, all the mollification in the world wasted on the sheer purpose which pounded through her veins. “Recognize me. This is my coronation, One. To whom does this grail belong?”
“You had no part in their deaths!” One’s voice was tinged with song, surprising even her. Control bid her stop, breathe deep, and try again, hissing quietly, “Enough of this! It isn’t your responsibility - ”
“And I refuse to allow it to be your grave!” One moved to touch her again, to take her by the wrist, but Five prempted her, stepping forward until she towered over her sister, hunched like a snarling animal. “Your suffering cannot revive them or turn back the clock! You pretend like you don’t want absolution, but you’re willing to die for it!
“Did you think you would perish alone? Two won’t leave you. Three and Four won’t leave you. I - ” Five snarled, her song twisting, furious at the truth of it. “Won’t leave you!”
When before her sister’s face had betrayed fear, now it was overtaken by despair, deep and hopeless, inescapable. Had she fooled herself into believing her isolation absolute? Was she truly so proud that she did not recognize she wasn’t shouldering this alone?
Seizing the moment, Five demanded, “Will you bury us all, One? Will you condemn us all to die?”
Crime upon crime made One’s knees creak, her lips trembling as she breathed, “No, never - ”
“Then kneel. Kneel and recognize me, One!”
Five would take it from her, take it all. There would be no path left to her but to march forward, the snap of her banner and the dust kicked up by their army heralding their revolution. Even if every step One took dragged, even if Five had to take her in her arms and carry her, she would not let her die here, in this damned place.
Something shifted in One - and then broke, sudden collapse, like the face of a glacier crashing into the sea.
Without a word, One crumbled in on herself, all the remaining strength in her shattering, the weight of the world and all the dead pulling her to the ground, Five’s words the final burden she could not bear. There was no resistance left in her, her legs folded beneath her body, her head hung like an unstrung marionette.
The castle itself quaked, thunder cracking outside, the storm descending with all the fury of a jealous, covetous king. Death wailed through the halls with every gale, clinging to One with all its might, skeletal hands at her collar, her hair, over her mouth. It reigned tyrant king, held immortality at the end of a spear, but Five meant to steal what was its by right, meant to lift One beyond its clasping reach - if only she would let her.
Five never wavered, refusing mercy until she was certain, her back straight, shoulders set. Sounding out each word, she looked down upon One and asked, “To whom does this grail belong?”
For a moment, One seemed unsure, her hands fisting in her lap, the only tension left in. Then, shuddering, One managed, “You.”
And then the storm outside fell silent, drowned out by the thrum of song, humming through each stone with something like victory, something like relief. The castle’s king had been twice deposed at the hands of an Intoner, and now the throne was Five’s, her crown clutched in one hand. Without hesitation, she dropped the chalice, her claim falling to the ground with a clatter like the final chime of a clock, phantoms and ghouls sinking back into the earth as the air around them shifted, a gust from the windows disturbing the age which settled over everything.
The witching hour ended with a lurch, the whole castle exhaling as time returned, and Five - Five breathed for the first time in months.
Her neck prickled with it, the taste of lightning in the air, change and motion and opportunity. She swallowed thickly, a rumble of thunder from outside catching in her throat, and when One did not rise, she - Five, Intoner, queen, god - stooped, her knees pressed to stone.
Quietly, she commanded, “You will take your armies and leave.”
There was no negotiation to be made, no argument curling at the tip of One’s tongue. She accepted without raising her eyes, defeated.
Five’s hands found One’s jaw, and tilting her head back, amber sought crimson, a queen to a god. “And when this is over, you will make your throne elsewhere. The Land of Seas is mine. Say it, One.”
One’s hands crept up from her lap, gloves sliding over the backs of Five’s, fingers hooking around her wrists. “It’s yours.”
“Every shore, every port, every person. It’s all mine.”
One closed her eyes, her voice frail, barely there at all. “All of it.”
For a moment, they didn’t move, her surrender suffusing through each stone in the castle, creeping out into the town beyond it. One owned nothing and no one, this land cleaved from her as cleanly as the sins committed upon its people. She would find no home here, in a land which didn’t belong to her, but that was always Five’s intent.
One’s eyes opened slowly, misty and unclear, but she said nothing, could say nothing, not when every word and move was a trespass. Pinned beneath the gaze of the castle’s sovereign, she could offer nothing but submission - and thanks.
“You didn’t have to,” she whispered, voice weighty with all the twisting thoughts behind her eyes. “Thank you.”
Something warm bloomed in Five’s chest, subtle as cyanide, entangling her ribs like ivy and growing through the webwork of her veins, deathly and irresistible. She’d been born in motion, rootless and roaming, wanting and searching until she’d at last found her place here, on her knees, hymns caught in her throat, devotion inspiring every touch.
“When you rise,” she murmured, licking her lips. “You are absolved.”
One’s eyes fluttered, unfocused, as Five’s fingers ghosted back into her hair, a tremor running through her. Who else but an Intoner could offer such a thing? Who else but Five could promise her truly?
Seeing the flickering hesitation in the way One’s gaze fell to her own useless legs, Five said, “With this, you can’t play the martyr anymore, One. You have to rule.”
“I know. Five…” Deliverance came with a duty, but One’s hands seemed lighter even so, dropping from Five’s wrists to find her face. Five leaned into the touch, their foreheads connecting as they bowed into one another, breath mingling, songs keening together, filling in missing notes to form something greater. “Thank you.”
Quiet as a prayer, she whispered, “For you, I would raze kingdoms and set the sea aflame. Build your empire upon this, One - upon me. I’ve no qualms with the sight of blood.”
One shook her head, the movement slight, her eyelashes fluttering delicately. “No… You have the great propensity for salvation as well, I think.”
Five turned her face into her palm, kissing it. “Only for you, One.”
Even with the salty taste of brine fresh on her glove, Five didn’t balk, her gaze locked with One’s, shifting through the changing tide of her expression, the warm flush that came with the vow, the adoration which set her eyes alight. The storm could not touch them now, even as the rain pounded the brick and mortar around them, drowning the world as they found each other.
Slowly, tentatively, One’s thumb traced the curve of Five’s mouth, her lips parted with things unspoken. There were no words more satisfying than the sudden drop of her song, deeper notes tinged with saccharine and yearning.
Grazing nails over the flesh behind her ear, at the base of her skull, Five waited, her own song muted in anticipation.
When One’s lips brushed Five’s, it was fleeting, the caress of a phantom, but the second pass held more substance, a bone-deep longing in her which belonged to the living. Five responded in kind, her heart climbing in her chest until it fluttered in her throat, warmth exuding from every contact, every touch.
It was exactly as she’d always imagined, heat pooling low in her belly, shivers racing up her spine at the encouraging sigh which flowed from One’s mouth into her own.
And all too quickly, it was over, One pressing their foreheads together, fixating, fixated. Five wanted for nothing more than to return to her, close the distance between them and prove her devotion with mouth, but words gathered on those thin lips, and she waited, want gnawing at her.
Taking a breath, One said, “I’m ready.”
That’s right - she had infinity to prove it, to lay her loyalty to One’s feet. There would be time to test the depths of One’s desires, time to know them like no one else could, and so long as her place never changed, her position carved out at One’s side, Five would never stray, would indulge her every fancy until One was breathless.
Leaning in to press her lips to One’s in one final, lingering kiss, Five’s lips tugged into a small smile. “Then we ought to go.”
Together, their hands finding one another, fingers intertwined, they rose, sinless.