Life is uncertain, death is most certain.

This is the time for answers, desperately needed ones. Orion watches Rolof as they walk. Rolof continues to speak, rambling on about who knows what. The new trainees? The oats he left out on the table overnight? He cannot fathom Rolof’s train of thought.  

“They were very delicious by the way,” says Rolof. Orion supposes Rolof was talking about the oats. 

“I bet they were, Brother Rolof.” Rolof chuckles, slapping Orion’s back, causing him to cough. 

“Call me Rolof. We have known each other for far too many years.”

“That is why the younger Shamans do not listen well. You are too lenient with them.”

“I believe the informality increases our camaraderie. Orion, Soma and Kali are simply sharing what they think is best.” Orion grumbles at his words, the stomping of his boots gets louder. Rolof smiles, shaking his head. 

“Soma is obstinate, yet you are the same. You must learn to be more understanding.” 

“I have never been challenged, in all my 20 years of being Head Shaman. Soma’s requests are becoming more ridiculous by the day. Kali is another headache as well.” Rolof scratches his beard, glancing at his friend. 

“Being challenged can be a boon, forcing you to step back. To carefully assess the options.” 

“I know you mean well, Brother. But I fear Soma is misinterpreting the Earth Mother’s warning. As you are familiar with, she speaks in cryptic ways,” Orion insists. They push aside the thicket, strolling up to the pond. 

“Strange things have occurred since we’ve known about the changeling. Perhaps Soma is correct,” Rolof replies. Orion kneels at the edge, placing his hands in the water.   

“We will continue this conversation later.” Rolof drops to his knees, doing the same as Orion.  

“Earth Mother, heed our call. We seek your counsel,” Orion chants. The ground rumbles, vibrations spreading ripples in the water. Their avatars, an ox and a gray wolf, appear. The animals separate from their kneeling bodies and walk to the middle of the pond, lying on the water in reverence. A moment, then everything stills.  

“Orion and Rolof,” greets a female voice. Serene, yet firm. Orion has spoken with the Earth Mother countless times. Until now, he has never overcome his initial shock. Her words ring through the clearing, spreading her warmth, but he can feel her power washing over him. Stripping his soul bare, underneath her watch. Vulnerable.   

“We meet again after a month, my lady,” Rolof murmurs. 

“Indeed. I assume you are here to inquire of the recent unusual discoveries.” 

“Yes. Everything is happening suddenly. The changeling and the lion, what is the significance of their return?” asks Orion. 

“The appearance of the changeling is a warning. My warning to you, Orion.” 

“What may that be?” 

“You have done well, as Head Shaman. However, you must have perceived the growing corruption, festering in the city’s depths.” He has. He has an inkling, a vague trail to follow. Heat rushes to his face.

“Orion, what is your answer?” murmurs the Earth Mother. His head meets the ground, bowing for forgiveness.

“I am ashamed. I will send a party to thoroughly investigate the Old Quarters,” says Orion. 

“Loosen your reins of control and allow your fellow Shamans to lead. They know where to begin, where to cut off the head of the snake.” He knows there are reports of missing gold. Missing steel. Whispers of criminal dealings in the Old Quarters, down below in the sewers. Asuka and Darius have briefed him before he left a month ago. 

“Is there anything else?”

“Tonight, bring the changeling to me. I must converse with her alone.” 

“As you wish, my Lady.” 

“I hold you to your word.” A pause. Rolof coughs, preparing to speak. 

“The lioness, is she a part of your warning as well?” 

“Perhaps.” There must be more. More to her explanation. 

“How has the lion returned when it was missing, gone from our history?” Rolof inquires carefully. 

“The lion was never gone.” 

Loud, crashing gongs. At 5 in the morning. Seulgi groans, burrowing further into the bed, slapping her pillow over her ears, shifting closer to the wall. This is a travesty, an attack on human rights. They were whisked back to the High Temple last night, lead to the sleeping quarters for apprentices. She didn’t care for the rest of the instructions. She just climbed up the nearest bunk bed and fell asleep.

Her head rings from the noise and she reluctantly pushes the thin blanket into the corner. Underneath her bed, she can hear Joy waking. Joy who tries to make as much noise as possible. 

“Wake up, Slug.” She can feel Joy’s hands pushing her, squishing her against the wall. She swings her legs over the side of the bed, rubbing her eyes open. 

“Why do we have to wake up so early?” Seulgi moans. 

“We have to meet in the garden, remember?” Seulgi falls onto her back, landing on her pillow. Hands are tugging at her legs, threatening to drag her out of bed. 

“I have the brain capacity of a true slug in the morning. Help me up.” She gestures to Joy, arms flailing.

“As you wish.” The chills in her spine come too late along with her regret as she feels a vice grip around her ankles. 

“Good morning, everyone. Today is your first day as apprentices. Each of you will be assigned to a Shaman so please step forward when your name is called,” says a woman wearing the Shaman’s signature robes. Brown hair braided into a single ponytail, slight wrinkles showing her age. Soft golden eyes greeting every one of them. 

Seulgi thinks she hasn’t seen her before. Some of the Shamans are secretive, preferring to stay out of the limelight and away from public events. Seulgi pokes her neighbour a