Siavahda

In the middle of Kiboren’s green jungle that stretched in every direction forever

There were grand buildings on either side of its straight streets, but what was more noticeable was how the squares were decorated with the Nhaga’s spoils of war.

It made him so disconcerted he couldn’t even think to blame his friend.

The Tokkebi do not like war. Unless they see it as some interesting plaything.

Its mouth was large enough to swallow a house, and the thousands of eyes scattered behind it shone brilliantly in all sorts of colors.

Only a long time after he watched the giant flying fish with the ruins on its back float away in the sky did the commotion below in the valley reach the monk’s ears.

Three horses stood there, their configurations similar to that for pulling a carriage, with a slight difference: there was a rider mounted on the middle horse, and what was behind them wasn’t a carriage.

His sympathy with the rider drove him to the brink of madness.