Delin had taken her own life as well. She lay in a pool of blood, her eyes full of struggle and pain.
Unlike her sister, she had not faced the will of the gods with the conviction to die, setting out for that eternal river of torment.
But was this really the weakness that Rishiman culture so scorned as suicide?
As Camus once said, the only truly serious philosophical problem was suicide.
When someone chose to press the end in a game they had been forced to play, that took far more courage than all the people who kept talking about persevering.
They had accepted a fate they never should have had to accept.
All because of Xipel Blackheart's folly, because Morse Ironbone could not tolerate his taunts against Zagwell, because of their own indifference...
Kulan seemed to sense the turmoil within the Zagwell descendants. He patted Kas on the shoulder and said coldly:
"We'll handle this. Tina and Delin were just two foolish young women. The shaman will forgive them for their crime of honor killing and pray that Lady of Death takes them into the Underworld.
"Don't let this disrupt your stay in the Black Ember Tribe. The War Chief is busy negotiating with the surrounding tribes and has no time to host you. If you need anything, come to me."
Blackheart's house was soon sealed off. The deaths of Tina and her sister shook Kas no less than the story of Little Red Riding Hood, Nosa.
But last time, he could blame the shaman's ambiguous prophecy, the witch's malicious manipulations, and the hunter's obsession with delusions. This time, he could not even find a culprit.
Who had made the mistake?
Xipel Blackheart? But he had already received the punishment he deserved, suffering eternally on Iron Peak Mountain.
Morse Ironbone? Ancestor had defended the clan's honor. Was that a mistake, too?
The indifferent people of the Black Ember Tribe? Honor killing brought great glory to a clan and family. People praised the courage and conviction behind it, and even when they knew it was happening, they often chose to remain silent.
Or stubborn Tina? She had mistaken an unfounded hallucination for divine will and done something foolish, going to the Yellow Springs of her own accord.
Was it him? He had spent the past few days cooped up in the White House, studying Sacred Number Theory and learning the language and culture of the southern world from Isidore, completely unaware of what was happening outside.
No, this wasn't normal... Some will was allowing honor killings to happen.
This time, Kas didn't want to keep searching for reasons. He thought he had to examine Rishiman traditions again.
He could no longer rely on stereotypes, looking down from the detached perspective of someone from the civilized world and mocking these savage, cold, yet stubbornly fanatical countrymen.
He needed to leave the Black Ember Tribe as soon as possible. If someone used the witch's curse to stir up rumors that werewolves entering the tribe would spread it, Seneya would be in danger...
He changed direction. Instead of returning to the White House where he was staying, he headed for the shaman's longhouse.
Everyone he passed wore a faint smile.
What could be more uplifting than witnessing a sacred ritual with your own eyes?
Kas quickened his pace. He could accept Tina attempting an assassination for revenge, for gain, or because she had been manipulated.
But to willingly go to her death because of divine will, some baseless notion of honor, or even just a dream?
As someone raised in modern society, he could not understand this empty, rootless way of thinking.
This damn honor killing couldn't even promise her an afterlife of light. It was like the fanatics who launched holy wars in the name of God, except at least they could believe they would go to heaven when they died.
But Tina knew she would suffer alongside her father on the summit of Iron Peak Mountain, and she still chose to kill herself.
With his thoughts in disarray, Kas arrived at the shaman's longhouse. He greeted the Black Guard, entered, and made his way to Baize's underground forge.
The battle axe, built around Radel, was finished. It rested on an antler stand, awaiting further work.
Its shape reminded Kas of the Leviathan Axe wielded by Kratos in his memories. The head was broad and thick, its lines sharp and fierce.
The blade formed a half-moon, its edge keen, marked with fine cracks like those in a breaking glacier.
Adamantine covered both sides. The front bore a lifelike engraving of the Zagwell Clan's Golden-Branch Giant Antlered Deer totem, while the back displayed the symbol of Her Tribe—an oak tree.
The poll had been forged into a triangular pick. Fine, rose-like lines ran across the blade, curling together to form a sun symbolizing strength and a moon symbolizing wisdom.
The handle was made of dark oak, its grain clearly visible. Bronze rivets were set into its curves, and the counterweight at the end was a size larger than the grip, not yet carved into a particular shape.
Without its enchantment, the ornate battle axe looked more like a ceremonial object. Its style combined the ruggedness of the Rishiman People with the shaman's exquisite craftsmanship.
The shaman was grinding the materials for the enchantment. When he saw Kas, he burst into hearty laughter.
"You came at just the right time. If I had to choose the finest work of my life, it would be this battle axe, built around Radel and forged with adamantine and meteoric iron.
"Its inspiration came from your great-great-grandfather, Grant Skull-Cleaver, and the legendary axe Skull-Cleaver, which lopped off the head of a southern king.
"The Golden-Branch Giant Antlered Deer on the front is your clan's totem. The sun protects you, a symbol of fearless bravery.
"On the back, the oak tree bears Miraji, the spirit bird that rests in the moonlight. Like her, your wisdom is worthy of being carved into your clan's legends."
"The counterweight hasn't been carved yet. What would you like?"
Every carefully crafted weapon needed a clear purpose. The patterns on either end of the axe head symbolized Kas's protection by the clan and tribal totems.
The counterweight was the most important symbolic part of a weapon. It represented whom the person wielding it fought for.
"I'd suggest Iron Bone. He was King Busuo's close attendant. Anyone who dares challenge this axe will witness the power of the Titan Slayer. You'll defend the Rishiman People's honor and become our messenger of war."
"No." Kas shook his head firmly. He didn't want to fight for a dead man.
This battle axe had not been made for some dead old man, nor did he want to become the messenger of war for the Sorrow Mountains.
An image flashed through his mind: a silly dog handing him boiled meat late at night. The reason he had come to the Black Ember Tribe in the first place was that he had met Seneya on the Forgotten Prairie.
He had traveled the Long Road Home with her to reach the Great Shaman and lift the witch's curse.
"Wolf."
Baize turned around sharply, eyes full of surprise.
"Wolf? You really consider that werewolf your wife?"
It wasn't unusual to carve a family member's image into a counterweight, but it meant you had to love them deeply and be willing to fight in their name.
"Yeah... Wolf. I swear I'll lift Seneya's curse."
"Damn it..." Baize swore under his breath, then made a request. "This battle axe is so perfect. I won't allow it to be wielded for a werewolf...
"Since you call her Seneya, I can only agree to set a moonstone in the counterweight and engrave the fixed copper body with Ode to Mani."
In Rishiman, Seneya meant "daughter of Mani the Moon." It was an uncommon name with strong religious connotations.
To wield it for Seneya, not for a werewolf...
Kas nodded, agreeing to the modification. "All right, but I hope you can finish it soon. I want to leave the Black Ember Tribe right away."
Before you continue