Rites

Life and Longing

[xiaochou.name] wished to meet more of those who clung to life out of lingering attachments—to uncover what, in their eyes, made this world worth holding onto.

ID: 5000337

Type: None

Tips: None

Duration: 1 days

Waits For: 0 days

Marked as New Only on First Occurrence: 0

Starts Automatically: No

Triggers Result Automatically: No

Tag Tips: None

Tag Tips Up: None

Tag Tips Text:

Random Text: None

Random Text Up: None

Actions When Wait Expires

This rite has no actions when the wait expires.

Slots

Slot #1
The Mirror

Locks: No

Is Key: No

Is Empty: No

Is Enemy: No

Conditions:

Pops: None

Slot #2
Some who clings to the world

Locks: No

Is Key: No

Is Empty: No

Is Enemy: No

Conditions:

Pops: None

Activation Conditions

This rite has no activation conditions.

Outcome

Prior

This rite has no prior outcome.

Regular

You took [s1.name] to find Maggie—the first face that rose in your heart at the word "longing."

You sat on the woven rug beneath the pomegranate tree, idle talk drifting like the faint scent of flower tea. [s1.name] asked nothing—the Mirror watched with its ever-bright eyes, tracing the tangled threads of fate between you and Maggie: it saw every embrace, every kiss, saw blood, saw tears, saw endings both resolute and regretful, and the cold, drawn-out tales that followed. Those branches rustled and spread in uneasy darkness, like thorns sprouting from rose stems—but here and now, the Mirror merely reflected the glow of your love, the clasped hands of those who loved and were loved in return.

You and Maggie didn’t even notice when [s1.name] left. The sunset that evening was beautiful, a crimson not like blood, stirring no thoughts of executions or death—only the finest rouge brushed across the cheeks of the one you loved most.

Conditions:

Result:

You knew Qais had once stood just a step away from death. You invited him for tea and spoke of his time in prison. He seemed reluctant at first, but under [s1.name]’s influence, he finally voiced his deepest thoughts: "Back then, I didn’t consider the consequences at all—I just poured out my anger. Even in that cell, I believed I’d done nothing wrong. If they’d executed me, I’d have died for justice, with no regrets."

Gais sighed, shaking his head with a self-mocking smile. "I was so naive, wasn’t I? You must think so too—so convinced of my own righteousness, yet only venting rage; so sure I was a hero, yet changing nothing."

He paused, lifting his gaze to you. "That’s why I admire you, [player.name]. You changed the Sultan’s game. You made those worthless cards mean something. You turned power from a butcher’s blade into something else. With people like you in the world, it’s not entirely rotten. So, I’ll serve you willingly. Better to add a little kindling to that hope than to die uselessly in a cell."

He clinked his cup lightly against yours, smiling shyly before lowering his eyes.

The Mirror listened, both amused and puzzled: Why do so many who beg for mercy seem vile, while this heart—no longer fearless in the face of death—somehow shines brighter?

Conditions:

Result:

Death seemed too heavy a thing for a boy of Zaki’s age. He fell silent for a moment before murmuring to [s1.name], "If I die, my mother would be sad."

His hands, resting on his knees, clenched uneasily—the boy already knew what death meant. He had lived through his father’s passing, seen his mother’s tears. He was the only man left in the house now; he had to grow up fast, to protect her.

The Mirror reflected his simple wish—and, at the same time, the moments when that bond might twist in the loom of fate… [s1.name] understood completely: If emotional ties are the reason humans cling to life, then a person’s first death comes the moment those ties are betrayed.

Conditions:

Result:

Alim had reached the age where Reaper’s shadow lingered at his doorstep the moment he opened his eyes. Yet he grinned, utterly unafraid.

"Old Alim’s had his fill of living! Plenty of the bastards who thrashed me in my youth are lined up in the dirt now!" He swatted away a curious child trying to sneak a sip of the wine you and [s1.name] had brought. "Shoo! You’re too young for this!... If there’s one thing this old dog still frets over, it’s these pups. I reckon I can steal a few more years—at least till they’re grown... Heh... Heh... Or maybe, find ’em a good master..." He winked at you as he spoke. Hastily, you raised your cup, showering him with wishes for a long life.

Conditions:

Result:

Even after swearing allegiance to you, Raed still lived among the vagrants under her charge. When you visited her with [s1.name] and asked what she would miss most if death came calling, Raed furrowed her brows and pondered long before answering, “Longing? I suppose there’s nothing to long."

Just then, the evening crowd returning from work pressed in, greeting Raed one after another. The cheerful ones earned a smirk, but those who looked troubled got an extra question: was today hard? Soon, everyone was chiming in with advice. Your conversation stalled until the smoke of cooking fires curled up and steaming broth was ladled from the pot. Seated on rough straw mats, you watched her slurp down the humble meal. Only after setting the clay bowl aside and wiping her mouth did she grin and say, "The world’s rotten, sure, but people? They’re not so bad. And they need me. If I died, what would they do?" She nudged you with an elbow. "Right, [player.name]? So many follow you—you’d better fight to stay alive."

As you agreed, [s1.name] rested their chin on a hand, certain they’d found the answer.

Conditions:

Result:

When you and [s1.name] found Mahir in the workshop, she barely acknowledged you with a grunt—too busy to even glance up! You urged her to sit and talk properly, but she protested fiercely, "No, no! The reaction’s at a critical stage—I have to watch it. Just say what you need!"

This suited [s1.name] perfectly. Without preamble, it asked Mahir her thoughts on death. The woman froze for a moment before letting out a horrified shriek: “Oh!" Her brilliant little mind had never once considered death. It had never occurred to her that her time might be finite! "If I’m dying tomorrow, I’m finishing this today—no food, no drink, no sleep! Get out, I don’t have time for chatter!!"

You really wanted to explain—she wasn’t dying tomorrow, and you weren’t here to rush her work—but it was too late.

Conditions:

Result:

You found Shama in her quarters. Her room was immaculate, untouched by incense. She spoke of death without hesitation, as though she had turned the question over a thousand times before.

"If you ask whether this world holds anything worth clinging to—perhaps not." Shama poured hot water into the teacup, watching dried petals and leaves swirl, unfurl, releasing a quiet, natural fragrance. "But it’s not so wretched as to demand an immediate end, either. At the very least, it offers many paths—some good, some bad. We walk and walk, and eventually, we’ll find a place to rest." She blew softly on the cup, took a sip of the clear tea, and smiled, faint as the steam. The Mirror watched her—the present, the past, the future. It saw her lift a golden crown and sink into dust, yet... her eyes never changed. [s1.name] found themself growing fond of this human. "If you die," it said solemnly, "I will bury you with fresh grape leaves."

You almost smacked it for that.

Conditions:

Result:

You found Bharat holed up in his shop, as he often was when not on some errand—tinkering with somthing.

[s1.name] had to work to earn Bharat’s trust before it could pry loose the man’s obsession.

"I came here for Princess Ansuya," he admitted. "Don’t know if she’s alive or dead. Don’t know what I’d even say to her... but I came. Our tribe’s gone. Just her and me left. If she’s dead, I’ll gather her bones and take them home. If she lives, I’ll find her. Serve her... help her."

He sucked in a breath, then shook his head, weary. "Pretty words, aren’t they? Shameful, really. Truth is, I’ve never been much use to her. Never could be." Pushing to his feet, he rummaged in a drawer and thrust a rattling box at you. "Take this. Might... do you some good."

After leaving Bharat’s place, [s1.name] eyed you with something odd in its gaze. Not a thought of blood or death in mind—just suspicion. Had you planned this whole visit to fleece the man from the start?

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Result:

Extra

Power of the Weak
That night, you dreamed a strange dream.

You and many copies of you swam through the sea alongside countless versions of yourself—a school of tiny fish, each insignificant, yet together, vast.

A great golden shark surged after you, jaws gaping to swallow you whole. But in an instant, you shifted, reformed, became a towering black figure wielding a trident, dwarfing the shark. Every fish among you diminished itself, surrendered its self, pledged to the whole.

The shark fled. You all survived.

You woke with a start, pressing a hand to your chest as if to steady a racing heart, only to catch your dim reflection in the mirror smiling back at you. As if it, too, had become one of you.

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