“The smith who can craft a helmet strong enough to shatter one thousand blades shall keep the Book of Earth.”

Kaiu Sugimoto crouched upon an outcropping of heavy stone, staring down upon the distant city of Toshi Ranbo with a sullen glare. The Keeper of Earth had not moved in days, watching the Imperial City with the boundless patience of the element he represented. The sky clouded overhead, warning of an oncoming storm.

The flutter of movement drew his attention. His dark eyes shifted to fix upon the crow that now sat perched at the edge of the road.

“Fly on, little bird,” Sugimoto rumbled. “Fly on, and far from here. Rosoku has fallen. There is no reason to remain. I think your master’s death was only the start of something much darker”

The bird cocked its head curiously, fixing an eye upon the Crab. If I should leave, it seemed to ask, why do you stay?

“A Crab does not abandon his duty, even in failure,” Sugimoto answered.

The crow fluffed its feathers, and hopped to one side. It looked sharply away from Sugimoto, as if dissatisfied with his answer. The bird leapt into the air and, with a flutter of black feathers, perched upon the Keeper’s shoulder.

“Fine then,” the Crab said with a chuckle. “We will wait, and see what happens together.” Behind his grim stone mask, the Keeper’s dour face broke into a grin.

The warrior who can defeat a thousand enemies in a single stroke shall keep the Book of Fire.

Toturi Miyako reined in her steed, her eyes scouring the horizon. Her face was streaked with grime and sweat, but she bore no signs of exhaustion. The same could not be said for those who rode with her.

“General,” Kakita Tsuken said, kicking his horse into a gallop to catch up with her. “We cannot keep this pace. The soldiers are exhausted. Even the First Legion cannot ride forever.”

“I know my soldiers, Keeper,” Miyako said curtly. “I appreciate your aid, but I am in command here.”

“Understood,” Tsuken answered. “Do not let me stand in the way as you run your Legionnaires to their graves. A storm is coming. We should seek shelter.”

Miyako turned on him furiously. “Of all the Keepers I accepted your aid because you are a warrior, Tsuken,” Miyako snapped. “Now you tell me to rest while the enemies of the Empire live?”

Tsuken returned her gaze evenly, his blue eyes unflinching. “Miyako, Shinsei’s death pains me as much as you, perhaps even more as without his guidance I’m uncertain how I can be expected to uphold his legacy – but this serves no purpose. The assassin is dead. The Legions have already scoured the city for any sign of more Bloodspeakers and found nothing. If you seek to cleanse your guilt in blood, it will not happen today – unless the deaths you desire are those of your soldiers.”

Miyako opened her mouth to utter a sharp reply, but paused. She took a deep breath. “What do we do, then?” she demanded.

“We must be patient,” he said. “For warriors like us, that is perhaps the greatest challenge of all.”

The general who can lead his armies from one end of the Empire to the other in a single night shall keep the Book of Water.

Doji Jun’ai stood atop the walls of Toshi Ranbo, oblivious to the heavy rain that fell around her. Her emerald armor glistened. Her dark hair fell in slick waves over her shoulders. Though she was quite literally in her element, the Keeper of Water felt ill at ease.

Since the prophet had died, tension had been rife throughout the Imperial City. The Lion blamed the Imperial Guard for their incompetence. The Imperial Guard blamed the Phoenix, accusing the wards that protected the Palace of being too weak. The Phoenix blamed the Crab for allowing a servant of the Shadowlands to venture so far north of the Wall. The Crab stormed out of the courts in a fury, insulting everyone for their weakness and cowardice.

Iuchiban was dead but, in a way, the Bloodspeakers had won. The Bloodspeakers’ final attack had struck at the heart of the Empire. The clans were wounded, angry. With no enemy left to fight, they turned against one another. The Emperor had pleaded with the Keepers to do whatever they could to restore order. Jun’ai had been aiding the local magistrates, helping keep order in the Imperial City, but she felt useless.

How could she give these people the wisdom of Shinsei when even she was only beginning to understand what Rosoku had taught her?

She could only wait.

The scholar who can contain one thousand years of learning on a single parchment shall keep the Book of Air.

The wind howled through the halls of the Imperial Palace. Mirumoto Masae stood at an open window and looked out into the storm. She felt a presence behind her several moments before there was any sound.

“Rosanjin,” she said without turning.

Her brother smiled as he moved beside her. “Your senses have grown even sharper since becoming Keeper. You say that Rosoku’s books have no magic, but sometimes I wonder…”

“How fares the court?” she asked quickly, ignoring his unspoken question.

“They are no longer arguing with one another,” he said, looking at her with a frown. “Each of the ambassadors have retreated to consult with their own.”

“Retreated to plan,” Masae said. “To draw lines of war.”

Rosanjin nodded.

“I will be blunt with you, sister,” Rosanjin said. “I know you have done what you could to counsel them, but they ignore you. The court does not see the Keepers as Rosoku’s heirs. They see you as a Dragon, as a Crab, and three Crane. I think it might have been better if Rosoku had not come back at all.”

“And would Togashi have been wiser if he never questioned Shinsei’s teachings?” she asked. “There can be no enlightenment without hardship.” Masae looked at her brother, her eyes full of sorrow. “Rosoku returned to enlighten the Empire. Perhaps this is the first step?”

Rosanjin fell silent as he pondered his sister’s words.

And they waited.

And the sage who can perform a task greater than these four things combined shall keep the Book of the Void.

The Ten Thousand Temples had once been a glorious place. The Bloodspeaker fires had ruined its grandeur, and it would be months at least before the temples were restored. The attendant priests moved silently through the halls, working tirelessly to clean and repair what had been destroyed. One man at least still found peace within these halls, and the priests left him to his prayers. The Emperor knelt in silence, his Imperial guardsmen maintaining a respectful distance.

The death of the prophet had cast Naseru in a grim mood. How could such a thing have even happened? How was such a failure even possible?

Shinsei was a part of history, a part of the Empire. He could not die. Rokugan needed Shinsei. Rosoku’s death was not merely a defeat – it was an impossibility. It was like failing to see the sun rise.

“For twenty-seven days your father did not see the sun rise,” said an old priest. “Yet he never faltered. Nor will you, Naseru.”

Toturi III looked back at the speaker, an ancient man in robes of pure black.

“I will not falter, Hira,” Naseru said to the Keeper of the Void. “I will not surrender, but I am not so certain that my father’s Empire will not simply crumble around me. Iuchiban has taken Shinsei from us. He has wounded our soul.”

“Wounds heal, Your Majesty.”

“As two men with one good eye between them, you know that is not so,” the Emperor said with a cynical grin.

“We have overcome our injuries, my lord,” Hira said, “and to find strength is a form of healing.”

“Do you think that Rokugan can overcome this, Keeper?” Naseru asked, looking at the Keeper intently.

The Keeper of the Void did not answer for a long moment. He turned to one side, as if studying something not readily apparent.

“I think that the answer will soon become much clearer,” Hira replied. “The last challenge has been met, Your Majesty. The final Keeper approaches.”

The Imperial Court had been called to assemble once more. The representatives of the Great and Minor Clans stood at uneasy attention. Where once the assembly moved freely among themselves, they now stood in discrete groups, separating themselves by clan and watching one another warily.

The assembly turned as the heavy doors ground open. The Emperor’s dark glare commanded immediate silence. At his side stood the Empress, her serene radiance a bright counterpoint to his silent grief. At their side marched Sezaru, the Shogun, the Emerald Champion and the Captain of the Imperial Guard. The rulers of the Empire strode swiftly through the court to stand before their thrones.

The Emperor said nothing, only watched the door in complete silence as another man entered. His robes were stained with dust, and a bloodstained bandage covered one hand. A white scar traced across his face, a grim reminder of past battles. Under one arm he carried a thick volume, marked with the symbols of the five elements. Behind him gathered the five mysterious figures known as the Keepers.

Miya Shoin, the Imperial Herald, stepped forward and spoke in a bold voice. “His Royal Majesty wishes to introduce Asahina Sekawa, Jade Champion, Keeper of the Five Rings, heir to Rosoku’s legacy.”

The Imperial Chancellor stepped forward almost immediately. “Keeper of the Five Rings?” Kaukatsu demanded. “How can this be? How can Rosoku’s challenge be fulfilled when the prophet is dead? This cannot be legitimate”

The last Keeper turned to face Kaukatsu with a sneer. “Rosoku left his books for the Keepers to discover months ago, hidden by the spirits so only the worthy could find them,” Sekawa said. “I met his challenge and was rewarded - just as the other five Keepers were.”

“Of course you were,” Kaukatsu said with a chuckle, raising an eyebrow at the Jade Champion’s haggard appearance. “But how you truly found the book is not my concern. The other Keepers all benefited from Rosoku’s personal training.” His eyes trailed to the book Sekawa carried. “Pardon my temerity, Sekawa-san. I am not a holy man as you are… but I did not think true enlightenment could be found in a book.”

Sekawa looked at the Chancellor pointedly. “When you have sacrificed as much as I have, Scorpion, you may question me,” he replied coldly. He turned to face the rest of the assembled court. He held Rosoku’s final book high, so that all could see. “I have endured much for what this represents.”

Sekawa let the Book of the Elements fall upon the marble floor. The heavy thud that resounded was followed by many startled gasps.

“But this is nothing. Just a book. Only a symbol. My fellow Keepers and I found enlightenment not in these trinkets, but in the trials we endured as we discovered them. Rosoku understood this…” Sekawa grew silent, looking at each of the courtiers in turn. Only a handful could meet Sekawa’s iron gaze. “And Rosoku… just like this book… just like Shinsei was only a symbol. It was Shinsei’s duty to lead others to greatness. By allowing his death to defeat us we have truly failed him – and that is Shinsei’s final lesson.”

“And while you were off learning this lesson, Jade Champion, Shinsei died,” Kaukatsu snapped.

“You are Jade Champion, Sekawa,” Ikoma Masote murmured in agreement. “A Bloodspeaker entered the Imperial Palace, but you do not take responsibility?”

The Jade Champion’s eyes burned with fury. “Fools,” he hissed. “We are all responsible. Were there no Scorpion in Toshi Ranbo to stop the assassin? No Lion warriors ready to defend the prophet?” The Jade Champion sighed. “To argue this is a waste of breath.” He turned to face the Emperor, bowed deeply, then bowed again before the Shogun. “Lord Naseru. Lord Kaneka. Listen not to these fools. Know only that the Keepers stand complete, and stand ready. The secrets I have discovered will be passed among my clan. We will guide Rokugan as Rosoku wished.” His cold gaze fixed for a moment on those who had questioned him. “Enlightenment will not die.”

The Emperor looked at the assembled court. There was relief in the eyes of many, but he saw a great deal of bitterness and envy as well. The Emperor pondered this.

Naseru rose, and as he did so the assembled court fell to their knees, allowing him some measure of privacy. He turned his back upon them, facing only his closest advisors.

“Sezaru, what say you?” he asked. “Could Sekawa truly be Rosoku’s heir even though the prophet is dead?”

“It is possible,” the Wolf answered. “Enlightenment is a solitary path. We both knew that Rosoku’s quests were only a means to find those who were already worthy.”

“Sekawa’s accomplishment will renew hope to many,” the Empress said. “That he has found the last book… in a way it shows that Shinsei continues to guide us even in death.”

“Well said, Kurako,” Naseru said. “And what say you, brother?”

The Shogun looked up sharply, surprised that the Emperor had sought his counsel.

“I will be blunt, Naseru,” he said.

“Of course.” The Emperor smiled.

“The Crane have their share of enemies already,” Kaneka said. “Four Crane Keepers standing as the spiritual leaders of Rokugan will not sit well with many. The Scorpion will seek to interfere with his influence. The Crane’s alliance with the Lion might decay even more than it has. The Elemental Masters look upon the Crane as their allies… but I can tell you from experience that they do not share power quietly.”

“So it is your belief,” the Emperor replied, “that acknowledging Sekawa’s claim would turn the thoughts of the clans away from this bitter failure.”

Kaneka, Sezaru, and the Empress looked at one another. The Shogun spoke first. “Hai, Naseru,” he said, “but there will be trouble.”

“More than there would be if I said nothing?” Naseru asked.

Kaneka looked back at the court with a frown. “Every clan blames the others for Rosoku’s death,” he said. “It would not be wise, I think, to say nothing.”

“But if you acknowledge him, there will be violence,” Kurako said.

“There is always violence,” Sezaru answered darkly.

The Emperor turned, holding out his hands with a broad smile. “Sons and daughters of Rokugan, rise!” he commanded in a clear voice. “Rise… and welcome Asahina Sekawa, the Keeper of the Five Rings… master of enlightenment.”