The Break of Dawn
By Rich Wulf

Flames belched from the sky in the reply as the Phoenix shugenja summoned the kami to smite down the archers.

In the great expanse of the Celestial Heavens, a single samurai stood on a field of sky, watching the Empire below with a solemn scowl. His armor burned with a brilliant aura of flame, so bright that no mortal could stand to look upon it. Not even the great Elemental Dragons drew too close to Lord Sun. To the Sun's left stood his father, Kisada, the Fortune of Persistence. To his right stood another of his great ancestors: Osano-Wo, the Fortune of Fire and Thunder.

"Look at them," Lord Sun said, gesturing at the fields of Rokugan far below. "Were they always so small, so powerless? I do not remember them so."

"They are no different, my son," Kisada replied with a thoughtful frown. "I think it is we who have changed."

"We have not changed so much as you might think," Osano-Wo replied, folding his arms across his massive chest and studying his descendants carefully. "Surely you cannot have forgotten what it is like to be a mortal in such a short time?"

"I recall less with each day," Yakamo said, his voice troubled. "It is difficult to look back and understand why they act the way they do, their conflicts, their joys. Sometimes, I cannot remember what it was like to be a normal mortal, and that vexes me. I cannot afford to become distant from them while Fu Leng's armies threaten Tengoku. The power of the gods flows from their belief. Should their faith in me falter, all will be lost."

"Tell me, my son," Kisada said in that slow, patient voice Yakamo knew prefaced a plan, "who is a more efficient leader? The general who leads from afar or the sergeant who fights beside his men?"

"In my experience, there are advantages to both," Yakamo said. "The general need not worry that his judgment will be flawed by failing to see the larger picture, while the sergeant fights harder because the fight is his own - he is an inspiration to his men."

"And that applies in Heaven, as well," Osano-Wo added. "As samurai, we protected the Empire. We still do; only the scale has changed. You can choose to rule from on high, remain distant, and govern with clarity, or you can lend your spirit to their cause directly, to experience the Empire through their triumphs and failures."

"And hurl lightning bolts at any who offend me." Yakamo raised an eyebrow at his ancestor.

Osano-Wo inclined his head and grinned. "Do not disparage that tactic until you try it," he said. "If you wish to understand those you protect, you must strike a balance between distance and understanding."

"But I cannot visit the Empire as you do, mighty grandfather," Yakamo said, holding out his arms to display his flaming armor. "The earth would burn. When last I visited, the mountains were torn from their very roots."

"Not a great tragedy, all in all," Kisada said. "The Unicorn enjoy the new pass very much."

Yakamo was hardly comforted by his father's words.

"Walking the earth is a luxury denied the Sun, but there are other ways to enter the Empire. You can visit mortals in their dreams, or send messages through others. As you said, I am fond of visiting Rokugan. I would gladly aid you, Lord Sun."

"Why does he need more followers?" Kisada asked. "The Hida honor us well. Are they not enough?"

"All samurai honor their ancestors," Osano-Wo replied. "True divinity requires something more. I suggest a display of power. Select a particularly devout individual and impress your will upon him. The rest will follow naturally. As your former clan is already loyal to you, you need to cultivate a power base elsewhere.''

"Perhaps in the islands," Osano-Wo offered.

"I knew it!" Yakamo said, leveling a finger at Osano-Wo with an amused grin. "You would have me choose the Mantis! You have always favored them."

"I implied no favoritism," Osano-Wo replied in mock innocence. "However, the Mantis do have advantages. The Moshi family served your predecessor loyally, and their priestesses are exquisitely beautiful."

"The Moshi are indeed worthy," Kisada said, "but I think a more dramatic demonstration is required."

"Dramatic?" Yakamo said.

Kisada nodded. "When I wanted to strike fear into the Horde, I would attack where they least suspected. Behaving as expected surprises no one; without risk there is no appreciable gain. To gain true power, you must inspire faith in the faithless. Gain loyalty from those who have reason to show you none. Transform an enemy into an ally."

"But who is Yakamo's enemy?" Osano-Wo asked. "Outside of the Shadowlands, all respect and honor him."

"Not all," Kisada said.

"No," Yakamo said, his eyes suddenly fixing on the distant horizon.

Kisada and Osano-Wo followed the younger god's gaze. The three former Crab shared a mirthful grin when they saw what had captured the Sun's attention. It was the light of the moon, the symbol of Yakamo's counterpart.

Hitomi.

* * * * *

Thunder crackled in the sky overhead, though no war came.

Today would be a fine day for a war.

Togashi Nyima stood at the crest of the hill, looking down at the advancing Phoenix troops with an expression of trepidation. He was young for an ise zumi, but the protracted war against the Phoenix was beginning to take its toll. Dark circles shadowed his eyes; his cheeks were hollow and gaunt. He had grown weary of fighting and killing. Now it seemed there was little point to the war at all. The volcanoes had ceased erupting. The starving refugees in his clan had been well fed; the supplies Toturi Sezaru had given them were more than sufficient to sustain them while they waited for the volcanoes to cool.

Now, sadly, the war had become more personal. Shiba Aikune - the new leader of the Phoenix Clan in all but name - had proven himself unstable and dangerously powerful. After the mad Shiba murdered several Dragon ambassadors sent to make an offer of peace, it became clear that diplomacy was not an option. Aikune would have to be stopped, and it fell to the Dragon Clan to do so.

The clarity of duty made Nyima's task no easier. He had slain many Shiba during the last few weeks of battle. Good and noble samurai, they sought nothing more than to protect their lord. Nyima wondered if he were in their position, would he do any less? As he summoned forth the mystic power that flowed through his veins and waited for the inevitable charge, the tattooed man could not help but wonder.

To either side of Nyima stood dozens of Dragon troops. Most were simple ashigaru, lightly armored and armed with long spears. The officers were samurai, clad in shining green armor and mounted on proud steeds. A handful of shugenja garbed in silken robes stood here and there beside the warriors, mystic scrolls in hand as they prepared to call forth the power of the kami. Nyima saw two or three other ise zumi like himself also amid the ranks.

Beside Nyima rode the small army's commander, Mirumoto Daisuke. Daisuke was a lean Dragon samurai with quick eyes and a narrow, sad face. He was perhaps the only person who hated this conflict more than Nyima. Though he was still relatively young, Daisuke had served his clan long enough to have been a veteran of the War of Spirits, serving in the Spirit Armies under Agasha Tamori. Daisuke sometimes told Nyima tales of the atrocities he had been forced to commit under the command of the Steel Chrysanthemum. The tales were never pleasant, save for those of Daisuke's relief when the Dragon returned their allegiance to Toturi, the true Emperor. Daisuke lived with many demons, and each time he faced the Phoenix he was reminded of them.

"What do you think?" Nyima asked, looking up at the mounted samurai.

"I think that this battle will not be easy," Daisuke said in a quiet voice. "Look there, Togashi-san. They have brought some of the Children with them."

Daisuke pointed at the Phoenix army. Near the front ranks Nyima could see many strange, ephemeral figures floating above the ground. These were the Children of the Last Wish, magical creatures created by Shiba Aikune's artifact. Nyima had fought them before, and did not relish the idea of doing so again. They were creatures of pure Void, and though their physical power was insignificant, their ability to disrupt the harmony of the mind and soul was fearful indeed. Nyima had seen skilled samurai fall helpless at a mere glance from one of the Children. Combined with the strength of Shiba steel, they were a force to be reckoned with.

"Our weapons will do little against the Children," Daisuke said. "It will fall to you and the shugenja to deal with them."

Nyima nodded firmly. "Hai, gunso," he said.

"Let me deal with them," said a rough voice to Nyima's right. A short, stocky man covered with dark black tattoos stood scowling at the Phoenix troops. His general stance and demeanor were very similar to that of a beast being held in check by a rapidly fraying tether. He was Hitomi Hogai - once a Crab but now a proud member of the Dragon Clan.

"Do not act rashly, Hogai," Nyima said. "The Phoenix should not be underestimated."

"Recklessness is dangerous but caution is worse," Hogai barked. "Caution gives the enemy a fighting chance. I say we stop waiting here and charge!"

"We have the high ground, Hogai," Daisuke said sharply. "Maintain your position."

Hogai scowled in disapproval but bowed to his commander. Nyima found that he had unconsciously taken several steps away from Hogai. Not surprising, considering the differences between the two men. Hogai was kikage zumi.

The Dragon Clan's mystic tattoos affected each person differently. Some unfortunates could not handle the burden of power and either went mad or simply died. Others found focus and survived. Some, like Nyima, became ise zumi, able to draw strength from the harmony and order within themselves. Others, like Hogai, drew solace from the raw power of chaos within their souls; while most Hitomi were not truly evil, they were certainly quite unpredictable and often violent. Though ise zumi and kikage zumi disagreed with one another on many levels, both recognized that together they formed the yin and yang of the Dragon Clan - the harmony of dissonance required for their clan to find true enlightenment.

The unnatural calm of the chill winter morning vanished as a loud cry erupted from the Phoenix ranks. As one, the Shiba soldiers charged. The Dragon shouted in reply, and in a single motion every samurai simultaneously drew his twin blades. The sight was impressive, highlighting the skill and precision of the Mirumoto style. "May Bishamon guide our blades," said a shugenja somewhere to Nyima's right.

The battle began. Lightning flashed dramatically in the sky, painting everything white for a single ghostly second. Nyima fell into a mizu-do stance and drew his breath slowly, feeling the power build within him. Arrows rained down upon the Phoenix troops as they drew into missile range. Flames belched from the sky in reply as the Phoenix shugenja summoned the kami to smite down the archers. The smell of burning flesh singed Nyima's nostrils. His sharpened senses could sense every life around him like a small candle; he could feel each living being as it moved and sense every soul was snuffed out by the carnage. Nyima ignored the screams of his dying enemies and kinsmen, placing all his focus on the itten, the center of his body, mind, and soul. Nyima became a center of calm in the midst of the chaotic battle. Even when the Phoenix soldiers collided with the Dragon's front rank, he remained centered and controlled. All about him moved in slow motion. He stepped easily out of the path of an ashigaru's spear and drew the weapon from the startled man's hands as easily as drawing a blade of grass from the earth. Flipping the shaft in his hands, Nyima struck the soldier across the chin with the butt of his own weapon, knocking him senseless to the ground.

To his right, Hogai had surrendered himself to rage. The kikage zumi lunged into the Phoenix ranks, black energy boiling from the formless tattoos that covered his arms. A Phoenix swung his katana at Hogai's unarmored torso. Hogai moved more swiftly, dodging behind the Phoenix quicker than the eye could follow. Hogai pressed an open palm against each of the Phoenix's temples and squeezed his hands together with a sickening snap. Roaring in triumph, Hogai flicked the blood from his hands and let the Phoenix's mangled corpse fall.

Nyima was repulsed by Hogai's savagery, but on some level he found himself envying the kikage zumi. Hogai's techniques were swift, direct, and in a strange way merciful. He left no opponents wounded or maimed - all either died instantly or were wise enough to flee his wrath. Was he not, in a fashion, more honest? This was, after all, war. Each enemy left alive would simply return to attack them again later. Nyima pushed such thoughts aside. Doubt clouded one's focus; there was no room for such things in the heart of an ise zumi.

The sparkling figure of a Child of the Last Wish appeared before them, hovering over the heads of the Phoenix troops. Nyima could feel the power of the Void coming off the thing in waves, seeping into his mind, filling his head with strange and unfamiliar thoughts. In the corners of his vision he could see strange and unfamiliar shapes, things that were not there before and yet had always been there. He could see Hogai nearby, staring blankly at the Child. A trail of drool spilled down the kikage zumi's chin. Nyima fought off his own confusion and locked gazes with the Child. He transferred his focus from within to without, and opening his mouth he coughed forth a billowing cloud of yellow flame. The spirit shrieked as the magical fire tore through her form, reducing her to wisps of gray on the wind.

Nyima reeled, disoriented from the loss of energy. He fell to one knee, looking up helplessly as an armored Phoenix samurai charged toward him. Then Hogai was there, seizing the man by the chest and hurling him into the air. The unfortunate peasant landed with such force that Nyima could hear his steel armor crack. The body did not move, and Hogai smiled down at Nyima.

"Arigato," he said. "Her visions were pretty. Were it not a fight I may have enjoyed them longer."

"Thank you as well," Nyima replied, staggering to his feet and nodding to Hogai.

"We are winning I think," Hogai laughed, landing a solid kick to the throat of an unfortunate ashigaru. The Phoenix were now retreating en masse, abandoning the field to the Dragon.

"It seems so," Nyima said cautiously. "Still, I think it would be best if we-"

Nyima never finished his sentence, and whatever he had been about to say was almost immediately driven from his mind as an enormous explosion devastated the battlefield. The bodies of Dragon samurai and ashigaru were hurled into the air. Nyima rolled away from the blast instinctively; he could feel his skin blister from the terrible heat. The blast had been enormous, larger than any spell he had ever seen. As Nyima rolled into a crouch, he scanned the battlefield for any sign of the attacker. Daisuke stood to one side; he had lost his steed and his wakizashi. Blood smeared the side of the gunso's face. His eyes were locked on the sky as he said a single word.

"Aikune. "

Nyima followed Daisuke's gaze. Above the battlefield hovered a samurai in brilliant orange armor, wreathed in flames. In one hand he held a sword made of pure white light. His eyes shone with madness. He pointed the blade at the battlefield and a second explosion erupted in reply, slaughtering more of the Dragon troops.

"I smell the darkness, I smell the foul! " Hogai growled, hunched on all fours with teeth bared. "I swear I will taste his blood, make him die!"

"Round up the survivors," Daisuke said, his voice desperate. "We must stage a counterattack!"

Nyima could sense no other life on the battlefield. "We are the only survivors, gunso," he said gravely.

"Then we make our stand here," Daisuke said, his voice quavering. "At least we will die as samurai."

Nyima nodded, though it was clear they could do nothing to harm Aikune. As the hovering samurai turned to face them, his eyes moved right past them as if they were not there. With a final defiant chuckle, Shiba Aikune vanished into nothing.

"What?" Nyima said, surprised. "What happened?"

"Darkness," Hogai snarled, growing less articulate by the moment. "Came from darkness, returned to darkness! Come to me again and he will die!"

"Let us return to Lord Uso," Daisuke said with a heavy voice. "There is nothing more for us here."

The rainless storm continued its fury in the sky above, crying out in anger at the carnage it had seen.

* * *

The Dragon trio was silent as they huddled in their makeshift camp. Night was coming swiftly and they did not dare light a campfire so close to their enemy. None spoke of the day's battle, and none slept or ate. All simply stared quietly into the darkness and tried to absorb what had happened. The earlier lightning storm had ceased. With no moon in the sky, the mountains were soon shrouded in darkness and still they were silent.

The stillness was finally broken by the sound of footsteps on the road. A small light soon joined them, bobbing down the rough path toward the tiny camp. Nyima hissed urgently; he could hear Daisuke draw his sword. If this were a Phoenix patrol seeking survivors, the Dragon would not be caught unprepared.

The light soon resolved itself into a small paper lantern, hanging from a pole slung over the shoulder of a fat monk, whistling happily to himself as he strode down the path. The man's face was covered in thick cloth, the traditional veil of a sohei - a warrior monk. When he saw the three Dragon waiting in the darkness he paused only for a moment then veered toward them with a friendly wave.

"Togashi Nyima-sama," the sohei said. "Glad to see you are still alive."

"How do you know me?" Nyima said warily.

"I was there during the battle," the monk replied. "It was I who masked your presence from the pretender. I apologize for not acting swiftly enough to save more of you. I came as swiftly as I could."

"Who are you?" Daisuke demanded. "I did not see you in the battle, unless you stood with Aikune's army."

"You did not see me, yet I was there," the sohei said. With this statement, lightning flashed in the clear sky. "You saw Shiba Aikune, and yet he was not there. You should work on your powers of observation, Daisuke-san."

"You are impertinent, monk," Daisuke snarled. "Aikune slaughtered my troops! We are the only survivors!"

"More true than you know," the sohei said. "For once the Dark Oracle finished with your army, he followed the Phoenix and slew them as well. The wretched demon that was once Agasha Tamori hopes that both sides will find the violence he has wrought and blame the other. He wishes for the Dragon and Phoenix to destroy one another."

"You did not answer Daisuke-sama's question," Nyima said. "Who are you? It is clear you are no simple monk."

"Are you both idiots?" Hogai said with a snarl. "He is Osano-Wo, my ancestor! The Fortune of Fire and Thunder!" Nyima realized that Hogai was nearly prostrate on the ground before the monk. Daisuke quickly fell to his knees as well.

"If you were at the battle," Nyima said, looking at the sohei calmly, "then why did you not destroy Tamori?"

"Just as in your realm, the celestial realms are governed by certain laws," Osano-Wo said. "And just as in your realm, with more power comes greater restriction upon how that power is used. The Dark Oracles are immune to the power of the Fortunes, so long as they obey the rules that have been placed upon them. A Dark Oracle may only act when he has been asked to do so, and can only unleash his power when called into a conflict by a willing participant. Though it was a Phoenix who first called upon the Dark Oracle, the Dragon have now compounded their crime. There are samurai of both clans who believe they command the power of the Dark Oracle, but his loyalty is only to himself. These mountains will lie in ashes before he is done."

"So what must we do?" Nyima asked. "How can Tamori be stopped?"

"Dark Oracle of Fire he may be," Osano-Wo said, "but some fires burn too hot for him to command. Climb the highest mountain in this range and build a shrine there in the name of Lord Sun. Choose six other Dragons, one for every day that the sun rises. Tattoo the image of the rising sun upon each of them and Yakamo will grant you his favor. Lord Sun has no love for the Shadowlands. Though the duty of destroying Tamori will ultimately be your own, he will help you if you are strong enough, Togashi Nyima."

Nyima nodded. "If that is what must be done, I will do it," he said firmly.

"Of that I have no doubt," Osano-Wo said. "Good luck, sons of the Dragon. You will need it."

With that, Osano-Wo continued on his way, taking his light and leaving them to find their own.

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