Yama was reaching the end of her line, the end of her career, the end of her beauty.
She was beginning to feel like she would die without making a difference when her best friend, Spesca, dragged a lover into her apartment and begged for Yama to save him as he died from a mystery. She rolled up her sleeves to save him, and despite her best efforts, he perished anyway. His fever grew, his bones burst from his body, and she burned down her apartment in the aftermath to stop anyone else from being infected.
People became infected anyway.
Cloud-riding monsters flew into the city, and the revolver-wielding army rode in on their pegasus—as the Overlord and all his doctors and all his men claimed nothing out of the ordinary was happening. They loaded their revolvers and aimed at the clouds.
And tour agents guided mysterious rich men around the city, and Spesca began to see conspiracy, despite nothing making sense. No longer a doctor or dancer, Yama donned a mask and abandoned her microscopes, her music, her aching knees. They wrung the last from their bodies, and despite that, they barely understood what was happening anyway.
It is fortunate then, that they are not telling the entire story.
People on the ground look to the sky for the divine, and people in the sky look to the heavens for the holy. I do not know what you are looking for in this particularly story as you gaze downwards, listening to my voice.
But as we reach the end of the battles, the arguments, the kisses, and the thunder, it must be said that in the aftermath, you will know this particular world: Serango.
Serango is an ongoing fantasy novel.