Nima yawned as shadowy images flickered on a translucent screen floating before him. His bored eyes, half-lidded and going cross from exhaust, gave away just how uninterested he was. The candidate known as 1202 shivered on the screen, rubbing himself down with shaking hands.

“First time’s always the hardest,” Nima murmured as he flicked his wrist, suppressing a yawn. The image swirled then changed, showing the unconscious candidate known as 715. Her wrists fizzled and sparked as her tatau curled in on themselves, wisps of ash detaching from her bronze skin and floating up into the darkness that surrounded her. They left behind charred, withered skin as the effects of going into a state of ‘Afu continued to take its toll. The gloomy room seemed to fidget under the Tu’i’s sleepy gaze.

The embers smoldered, devouring the tatau as it steadily moved up the young woman’s arms and legs. Each line of intricately tapped tattoo appeared alive, wavering as the hungry tongue of the half-dead flame licked up and out greedily.

Nima pursed his lips and blew softly, like how a father would tend to a child who burned themselves on a hot utensil. The slag immediately fled as his sweet breath seeped through the shadowy partition and provided the slumbering young woman with some protection.

A single cinder resisted, quivering under the soft exhale but refusing to give up its meal.

Nima frowned, thin brows sharply twisting as he watched the defiant little thing endure. He inhaled through his teeth, letting out a sharp whistle. The smoldering ash detached from 715’s left leg, uprooting some of the tatau as it held out one last time. Blood trickled down the young woman’s leg, her face distorting as she unconsciously registered the pain.

“Fiesty little shit.” A smile spread across Nima’s face, twisting it into a menacing mask. He pointed at the little ball of flame and beckoned once. A heavy pressure spread from the man, causing the amorphous ground around him to buckle. Huge divots appeared at random as the screen shook violently, wisps of smoky shadows floating away as if they were running.

The smoldering bit of skin stretched, fighting to stay attached to its quarry. Its smoldering ember burned low and strong, defiant to the end. The skin stretched like putty. Annoyed, Nima made a cutting motion, index and middle finger outstretched. The burning brand detached. It flew at Nima, colliding with the barrier.

It pushed through the thick shadows of the screen with a pop. Quick as night chasing away the last rays of light at sundown, Nima’s hand shot out and snatched the odd little ball of simmering flesh. He held it between his thumb and forefinger, pulling it close. His eyes glinted as he stared deeply into the charred little mass. It glowed like dying coal, the tiny flame flickering as it licked at the stale Domain air nervously.

A scent hit his nose, one of decay and resentment. It was a familiar smell, one he would have preferred to have forgotten. He opened his mouth and dry-heaved, tongue lolling out from between his thin lips.

“Halfie,” he muttered as he wiped a bit of drool that had dripped down the side of his mouth with the back of the hand holding the smoldering ember.

A brilliant flash filled the darkened space. Nima flinched and turned away from the illumination.

“Took you long enough to find my message,” a voice rasped from the overbearing light.

“Hmph,” Nima grunted.

“How’s it going?” The voice droned on. “I know you’re wondering why I’d bother with this…”

“Quiet,” Nima whispered through gritted teeth. The odd voice continued to speak, fading into the background. “You talk too damned much.”

His displeasure manifested as the Domain crackled with dark electricity. Slivers of light flared then were quickly doused by the agitated shadows. The Domain shuddered as the Tu’i clutched his chest, knuckles white as he dug his fingers into the taut flesh of his torso. Instead of breaking the straining epidermis, his digits sank into his sternum as if he were dunking his hands into a jelly. A single, resounding heartbeat filled the suddenly stuffy Domain.

Nima’s usually stoic face had twisted into a mask of annoyance and fury. It froze as he began to pull. A wet plopping, like an elongated and unnecessarily wet kiss, accompanied his movement before a loud pop emanated from his clenched fist.

A roiling thing beat in his hands, thumping rhythmically. In one hand, he held the bright ember between his fingers. The voice droned on about things Nima preferred not to hear.

In the other, he held pure, unadulterated darkness. It spread itself out across his hand with each thunk, sending sprays of sizzling darkness out into the exposed Domain.

Nima hissed as he shook the thing off of his hand. Instead of falling, it floated as it detached itself from his now mottled hand. It jiggled and moved restlessly, growing with each thumping beat.

“Anyways, I’m doing good,” the voice continued to prattle in its inane, overly friendly manner. “You’re probably holding your heart by now. I know how you are, so I’ll cut to the chase.”

“You coulda did that from the start.”

“Don’t let that little flame die. If it does, you won’t get what you want.”

The voice sounded like it was smiling. Nima raked his twisted hand across his face as if he were trying to claw away the annoyance.

“I’ll see you very, very soon Pop. Look forward to it, ok?”

With that, the jovial voice went quiet. The annoyed pall that had settled over Nima also seemed to lift as the crackling Domain stilled itself.

“Annoying ass kid,” he mumbled as a shadow spread itself out beneath the hand that was still holding the smoldering bit of flesh. He let go and it dropped into the still confines of the darkness.

His heart continued to thump, growing and elongating as it began to take shape. A pair of legs, broad shoulders, and slightly too long arms formed. The shadowy figure twisted as if it were in pain. A hole in its head area opened up and a dry cough came out followed by a high-pitched, keening whine. Its eyes opened with a fleshy split, flinging bits and pieces of wet darkness around it. The thing continued its macabre dance as Nima watched.

Nothing about it was defined. It was little more than a shadow, or an amalgamation of shadows, stuffed into a humanoid figure. Its eyes glowed, somehow, as it blinked. It shrugged its shoulders and twisted its neck all the way around.

“Go, find that little shit,” Nima said. He flicked his wrist at his offshoot.

---

Mafu’s shadowy form slunk through the empty arena hallways, hugging the walls as it jumped about wildly. If someone were to observe the way the humanoid figure moved they’d assume that it was a confused child, jumping along as it moved.

It walked oddly, lurching back and forth on unsteady legs that seemed to be unsure as to whether they wanted to run or jump, so they attempted to do both. Its movements were twitchy, one amorphous leg dragging behind the other. It made no sound as it bounced along the spacious hallway. Each unsure step it took seemed to send it lunging in the opposite direction yet it somehow maintained forward momentum. Despite its odd way of moving, the shadow seemed to know where it was going.

Much like an insect, a pair of antennae flailed about above where its forehead should be. They seemed to constantly be searching and guiding the stumbling mass of gloom, always pointing it in the right direction.

It rounded a dark corner, jerking itself about. Silently, it thudded into the broad hip of a gigantic figure.

“Excuse me,” ‘Ekolu muttered, large hand glowing as he walked with his nose mere inches away from a glowing tablet. His squinting eyes were little more than slits of reflected light as the illumination from the tablet bounced off his mana-streaked pupils. As if he hadn’t noticed the shadowy figure, he ambled on.

Mafu stopped, looked over its shoulder, and shook its head. It patted itself on the chest before continuing its odd walk. It made a mental note to inform Nima of ‘Ekolu’s negligent behavior.

As it continued to shamble forward another small source of light suddenly clicked on. The bright backlight of another tablet barely pierced the gloom of the darkened hallway but, unlike other sources, it was not absorbed by the milling darkness.

“Ho ho, must be important if you’re out,” Wanu giggled as she approached Mafu. “Make sure no one else sees you. Should turn on some of your tatau, I’m sure Tamai wouldn’t mind. Not like you’d ever be able to drain his reserves.”

Mafu shrugged, shadowy arms splayed outward. It twisted its wrists and bright tatau flared to life, illuminating the dark hall and causing the short Tu’i to flinch.

“Too much, tone it down!” she yelled, turning her head away and holding a hand in front of her face.

The shadowed figure’s shoulders rose and fell like it was laughing as the light dimmed until the gloom was able to contain its overwhelming, yet borrowed, power.

“You really are his heart. A dick like him too,” Wanu mumbled, squinting at the figure. She frowned but the faintest hint of a smile curved the corners of her lips.

Mafu shook its head as if it were saying that it was nothing like Nima. Its head squirmed as what would be its mouth moved. There was an urgency to its movements as it waved its hands frantically. It shivered.

“I get it, I get it,” Wanu placated the distressed figure, holding up a hand and patting downward. “You’d get in trouble if you accepted that. It’s fine, I meant your personality was a lot like his. Nothing more. If anything, I might like you a bit better because you can’t talk.”

A raspy chuckle filled the hall as Wanu leered at it, teeth glistening brightly in the ominous umbra.

Mafu shook, shrinking away and flattening itself against the wall. Its body melded into the roiling murk that served as the partitions for the arena. When it was halfway fused with the wall, Wanu called out.

“Oh come on, I was messing with you. I’d never dream of touching Tamai’s heart. Let alone harming it.”

The figure shuddered and rippled as it pushed itself further into the wall, primal alarms ringing in its constantly shifting head.

“You’re no fun,” she pouted as it popped away.

---

Mafu emerged in another empty hallway, falling out of the shifting darkness silently. It tumbled across the wide floor and found itself propped up against the far wall, still shivering from the implied threat from the child-like Tu’i. An unsteady, twitching hand clutched at its chest even though it owned no internal organs to worry about.

Its face shifted, shoulders rising and falling and chest heaving in and out as if it were letting out deep breaths to calm itself. Somehow it had learned the nuances of humans as it rubbed at its chest as if it ached. There was no way that was possible, seeing as it was little more than a manifestation created by Nima.

A door clicked open and Mafu jumped to its feet, sliding away from the door and activating its tatau quietly. Without any flair like its previous attempt, the mimicked markings that littered its lanky arms glowed dimly. A thin shield, more a filmy veneer than anything, spread out around the figure’s body. This caused it to begin to fade away, further blending it into the deep gloom that hung over the hall.

From the opened door stepped a Faifekau with a large bug-eye mask. They moved briskly, each step reminiscent of military drills. Behind them trailed a trio of foreigners. All three looked about, rubbing their arms. Each movement they made was accompanied by a dim glittering and raucous jangling. Chains and necklaces, rings, and bracelets, their jewelry clanged loudly as they walked.

Intrigued, Mafu slunk forward and began following. It tottered back and forth, bouncing from one wall to the other silently.

“For Heathens, they do enjoy some beautiful art,” one of the men mused as they looked around at the blank walls.

Mafu looked up, cocking its head to one side as if it wondered what the odd foreigner could be talking about. All it saw was the ever-shifting shadows that made up the long halls.

“I concur. For such drab barbarians, they have an excellent sense of artistry. Shame it's wasted on them. We’ll have to procure their techniques,” one of the other foreigners added.

“Are you two stupid?” A gruff voice emerged from the foreigner walking quietly behind the two braggarts. “We’ve only won 2 matches. Shut up and meditate. Or just shut up, your prattle is distracting.”

The two foreigners went quiet, stepping aside to give their ornery companion room to walk ahead.

A hiss emanated from the Faifekau’s mask, sounding oddly like a stifled laugh.

The two dropped their voices to a whisper as they leaned closer to one another, grumbling about their companion.

Mafu cocked its head as it fell forward, still unsteady on its feet but not as awkward as before. It was now able to navigate and support itself without leaning on the wall. To an extent. Its twitching, shadowy form grazed one of the stooped palangi.

“Huh?” the man exclaimed, shivering as he looked over his shoulder. “Did you touch me?”

The other one shook his head, still walking in lock-step with their leader and the Faifekau.

“Weird,” the one Mafu had brushed against mumbled as he gingerly wiped his shoulder off. The man gasped and inhaled as he touched his shoulder. “What the hell is this?”

He pulled the loose-fitting button-up shirt down. A deep purple bruise glared up at him and his companion.

“Where did this come from?” He frowned, poking at the injured flesh.

“Maybe from the last match? You could have just forgotten about it,” the other ventured, also poking at the ugly welt.

“Maybe,” the injured foreigner muttered, brows still furrowed as the doubt permeated his words. “Maybe.”

For a moment, just a short moment, a placid look flashed across their faces. Absentmindedly, the man pulled his shirt up and buttoned it. As if he hadn’t just been fretting over an injury, the man continued walking. The soft thudding of their footsteps accompanied the awkward silence that soon fell on the group.

Mafu cocked its head, unsure what had just happened. The Faifekau’s mask turned over their shoulder and the shadow felt as if it were being watched. Without a moment's pause, Heart jumped into the shadowy wall and popped away.

The Faifekau’s mask released another chortling hiss.

---

A huge ironwood door loomed as Mafu, walking more than stumbling, continued its journey. Intricate tatau, naked to the average eye, were etched into the frame and body of the closed portal.

Sitting on his haunches near the door, Taha mumbled to himself. His long, claw-like nails flashed as he gestured wildly with one hand while the other held something to his elongated ear.

“I understand,” he hissed, sharp teeth gritted as he shifted his weight from side to side. The rectangle he held flashed as a faint voice carried through. The voice sounded feminine but little else could be heard.

Mafu froze as something in its nonexistent gut told it to eavesdrop. Then it ignored the odd emotion and continued to shamble toward the doors.

As it passed Taha’s crouched figure, the little Tu’i’s eyes darted up. For a moment it seemed as if he was able to see Mafu’s deeply camouflaged figure. Then his eyes fell back to the squirming floor as he continued his odd conversation.

“Don’t worry, I gave those palangi something good. They’ll get the job done,” he muttered into his odd little device.

Mafu spotted the tiniest crack at the bottom of the door and jumped in, body compressing as it wriggled through the crevice and pushed itself out into the night air. Much like Nima would, it inhaled and sucked in the decrepit air. Or rather, it acted like it was inhaling.

The rank breeze hit the billowing figure. Not that it would have been able to smell, what with it not possessing olfactory or sensory organs. But still, Mafu was sure that the night air was rank with the smell of the living and the dead.

It approached the very top of the stairs and looked down. They stretched out below and it felt the need to withdraw into the safety of the arena, into the comfort of the Domain. Yet, there was a command and it could not disobey. Without a second thought, Mafu flung itself off the top of the steep stairs.

It hung in the air, suspended for a moment. With its arms outstretched it acted as if it were going for a quick dive. Instead of descending, Mafu rose as a pair of shadowy wings sprouted from its back. One flap, two flaps, then it was off. It streaked through the night sky, body steadily transforming into that of a fabled lizard the Seas hadn’t seen in a very, very long time.

Far below Mafu's transforming body, the void-sea churned. The damned stretched their hands up as they sensed the faint presence of the ruler of the island, hands clapping together as if they were begging for something.