She cries herself to sleep and cries herself awake, because she carries a new life in her womb. She knows that her own future is shattered. But perhaps whatever she gives birth to will be remade as a part of this new, unknown place.

There is no comfort in that at all. So Nomi screams, cries herself to sleep, cries herself awake.

RAMUS COULD NOT travel that next day. His exertions caught up with him and he sheltered against the standing stone, putting it between him and what had become, and was still becoming, of the Great Divide. The ground still shook and cracked, the air stank of volcanic gases and dust, but Ramus sat there for the whole day and tried not to see Nomi's dreams again. He had not wanted them before, and he wanted them even less now and he felt more cursed than ever because he was convinced the God had taken his illness away.

Later that day, the first travelers came by. They were wanderers, come this far south to feed their natural curiosity. They eyed Ramus suspiciously for a while, and then the leader of the small group drew his sword and came forward. But when he saw Ramus's bloody eye, he put away his weapon and squatted by his side.

“What happened?” he asked in broken Noreelan, nodding toward the south.

And Ramus knew at last why the Fallen God had spared him. Because like any corrupt thing, it had its pride, and its ego, and it wanted its story told.

Ramus closed his eyes and fought hard against the words balancing on his lips.

“Kang Kang,” he spat, and then he groaned and thought, I will not tell your tale. There might be a thousand more “what happened”s', but I will not tell.

“Kang Kang?”

Ramus's eyes went wide and he sat up straight. “I will not tell your story!”

The wanderer stood and backed away, evidently less certain now of his appraisal of this man.

“I will not!” Ramus shouted again. The Fallen God could become infamous, or it could fade away in time.

“Kang Kang!” one of the wanderer's children shouted, and she and her little brother started singing that terrible name, back and forth as though they could make their own stories, given time.

“No!” Ramus roared. If I tell it they will follow, they will search, and however far it has gone, one day it might be found again. And he whispered, “I am the greatest Voyager.”

He pulled the small knife he had kept, grasped his tongue in his left hand and with one hard slice took it off.

_____

THE WANDERERS WERE kinder than most. They did their best to stop the bleeding and tend him as a fever took hold. It burned through him, scorching his skin and branding his mind with memories he did not want. When he woke from the fever there was a weight in his head once again, a familiar pain growing hotter and heavier, and his right eye was bleeding. He nodded his thanks and went on his way.