“Ian Gyges,” Principle Voisin reads from the transcript to the light, brown haired, youth before her.  He doesn’t answer and instead waits for her to finish.  The middle aged woman takes his silence as confirmation and continues reading the document he gave her.  She gives a non-committal 'hmm' and looks to her new, frustrated, student.  “A difficult path has been lain out for you.”

              “I just want to hurry up and finish so I can get back to Mofa.”

              “Yes, well, you won’t have to worry about any… distractions while here.  Your uncle Devlin was once a proficient Deva.  Your magic will bloom quite well under his guidance.”

              Ian’s nod shakes his wispy hair.  “That’s the plan.  Living in this peaceful world is supposedly going to help me overcome my trauma.”

              Voisin places the transcript into a bin and provides Ian with her full attention.  “Don’t be so quick to judge this world.  Mofa is embroiled within the fangs of war, but Earth has its own storms.  As such, be careful on how you use your magic.  This planet may belong to the powerless, but that doesn’t mean no one here has power.”

               “Understood.”

            “Good,” Voisin presses a buzzer on her desk and says, “Madelyn, could you lead Ian to his classroom?”  She releases the button and passes Ian a folder.  “Inside is your schedule, locker number, and combination.  For now, try to relax.  Healing is your top priority.  If you have any questions or concerns, don't hesitate to ask.  Welcome to Calera Private High School.”

              “Thank you,” Ian says.  The door opens and Voisin’s secretary leads him from the room.  She takes Ian from the office into the main entrance.  They proceed up two flights of stairs to a somewhat noisy classroom.  He looks around while she speaks to the homeroom teacher.

              Most of the students ignore Ian.  Those that do give Ian any mind do so out of boredom.  Only one, a boy wearing glasses, scrutinizes him.  The intensity behind his eyes sends a chill down his spine.  Ian’s eyes widen as he looks to someone else.  He can’t tell the Deva apart from the powerless.

              “Ian,” his homeroom teacher disrupts him from his concerns.  Ian greets “Mr. Smith,” who dismisses him by having him “find a seat next to Miyuki.” 

              A tanned skin girl with sharp features and black hair kept in a hime cut perks her head at the name.  Her thin eyebrows, large eyes, small pointed nose, and thin lips…  She looks like a bird.  Ian makes the comparison as he heads for the empty desk.  Miyuki, however, doesn’t pay him any mind as she continues reading her book. 

              The student seated behind him says, “Yo, I’m Jimar.”

Ian turns around only to see a collared shirt.  His attention, upon looking up, draws in on the contrast between his classmate’s pearly white teeth and thick black lips.  His hair is what catches Ian’s attention next.  The top part is flat, just like a table.  “Ian Gyges.” 

              Ian concludes that Jimar must be huge.  His hand engulfs his own as they shake hands.

              “So, where are you-”  The bell ending homeroom cuts Jimar short.

              As Ian pulls out his schedule, Jimar asks, “So, what’s your first class?”

              “Two chemistry lessons, room 112.” 

              “Huh, my class is in the complete opposite direction, but I know a guy who can help.  Yo, Gale!”

              A tanned, dark haired student just about to walk out the door tenses.  Gale sighs and sags his shoulders.  His thick eyebrows and black eyes amplify the irritation that crosses his face as he slips back through the throng of students walking out the door.  A smile does cross his face when a blond girl wearing a blue ribbon passes, but his haughty expression returns the second she’s out of sight.  He reaches them with a, “Yeah?”

              Jimar gestures with his hand saying, “Ian, Gale.  Gale, Ian.”  To Gale, he adds, “Ian has Chem next, d'you mind showing him the way?”

              “Sure.”  Gale gives Ian a nod and leads him to the door.  Beyond it is a sea of students, but Gale slips into it without sparing Ian a glance.

              Ian throws himself into a gap within the sea of students after Gale.  The air is hot and stale.  He bumps or brushes against someone else with almost every step.  He even crashes into the first student who crosses in front of him.  When another student cuts out in front of him, he stops but is rammed into from behind.  He lurches forward while saying, “Qin shou!”  While gritting his teeth, he uses the moment to search for Gale.  His supposed guide is already halfway down the hall, weaving undisturbed through the mass of students.  “Gunkai...”

              Once Ian reaches the stairwell, he’s asked, “Do you need to stop at your locker?” 

              Gale leans against wall next to the stairwell door.  Ian's mind blanks from Gale’s unexpected appearance.  He thought for sure that he had been ditched.   From his gaping mouth, he manages, “No, no... I'm good.” 

             Gale turns to the stairs.  The abrupt gesture breaks Ian from his trance.  He strides after Gale and catches him at the doorway.  The heavy crowd of students trafficking the stairwell keep the two together.  Ian again grits his teeth halfway down the first flight.  “Why's it so crowded?”

              “If you're too slow to get out the door first, wait until the last minute.”

              “What?”  Ian frowns, turning to Gale.

              Gale glances at Ian.  His eyes narrows and the corner of his mouth twitches.  “To avoid this mess.”

              Ian pauses as he watches Gale's expression.  He asks, “So, you and Jimar are friends?”

              “No.”

              Ian grows silent.  Just as he decides to not talk anymore, Gale says, “I helped him study for his last chem exam.”

              “You like chemistry?”

              “It’s interesting.” 

              Gale's forceful tone ends the conversation.  Ian follows Gale to the classroom.  He introduces himself to the teacher and settles into the seat furthest away from Gale.  The teacher provides Ian with a textbook as the remaining students file into the classroom.  He opens to the back of the book to find “The periodic table of elements.” 

              “I'm Will,” someone says from the seat next to him.  He’s the student with intense stare from homeroom.  His golden, semi-rimmed spectacles do nothing to hide the curiosity brimming from his eyes.  If anything, they shine even brighter now that they’re speaking to one another.

Ian finds himself staring at his own reflection on Will's tinted glasses.  He takes Will's messy, reddish hair into consideration and says, “You’re one of those crazy researcher types...”

              Will smile strains, “What?”           

              “No, it's nothing.  You just remind me of some people from my home.” Ian shakes his head.  “Anyway, I'm Ian.”

              “Where you from?”

              “China.”

              “Seriously?”

              “Shi.”

              “Then chemistry ought to be easy for you.”

              “From what I’ve read, it sounds like alchemy.  It’s nothing more than meng huan pao ying.”

              “What?”

              Ian frowns as he says, “What’s the translation… a pipe dream, that’s it.  This is nothing more than a pipe dream.”

              Will glances around the room for the teacher before saying, “No one get’s chem.  Only weirdos like Gale get this stuff.  I'm more into programming and math.” 

 

Ian is reduced to a blank stare by the end of the double lesson.  Nothing the teacher said made sense.  He flips to the front of the book and reads the first paragraph.  If the powerless can understand this gibberish, then they may have discovered another third power. 

The bell prompts him to shut his book and hurry for the door.  He’s had enough of that class.

……

              A plastic shopping bag gets placed with a thump in front of Theodore.  Athena’s long red hair flows as she sits down next to him.  The locks look like flames licking her shoulders as they settle into place.  She sets a second bag in front of herself while saying, “Where the heck were you this morning, Theo?  Jeremy was furious that you didn’t stop by to pick up your lunch.  You know how he gets.  Miss a meal and he’ll go full mother hen on you.” 

              Theodore shifts through the bag to pull out a lunch box filled with rice coupled with baked potatoes, sweet potatoes, and chicken.  Poured over top is a homemade berry sauce.  He chuckles and says, “Mother hen describes him to a T.  The effort he puts into our meals will never cease amazing me.”

              “Then quit being so stubborn and eat with us.  There’s a chair reserved just for you, ya know.”

              Theodore sighs, “Athena, you very well know I’d trig-” 

“Yo, Ian, over here!”  Jimar’s voice booms over the rabble within the cafeteria.  He drowned out everything Theodore said, not that it matters.  

Theodore glances towards Emilia.  The moment Jimar’s voice went off, she jumped up like a rocket to investigate.  He says, “There’s a new student.”

Athena’s hair flutters behind her as she drops back down into her seat.  “Really?  I wonder if he’ll be in any of my classes.  What’s he like?”

Theodore leans back in his seat and looks towards the ceiling.  He goes pfft as he recalls his previous class, “Quote, ‘Shakespeare?  Never heard of him.  Is he someone famous?’ end quote.”

“No way!  He really said that?  That’s hilarious!”

“I know, right?”  He laughs with Athena and then says, “But, I don’t think he’s here by choice.  He has this look that reads, ‘you don’t know how good you’ve got it.’  He’s hiding quite a bit.  Heck, he might even be like us.”

“Hey, hey, prying any further than that is rude.  We should make him feel welcomed instead.  Then, when he’s ready, he’ll open up to us on his own.  Speaking of opening up, what were you doing this morning?  And don’t give me that jogging excuse.  Today was, like, the seventh time you disappeared on your own.”

Theodore’s grin melds into a sardonic smile as he says, “You really want to know?”

Athena is too caught up with his words to notice the change in mood as she say, “Totally!  Now, spill.” 

Theodore looks into Athena’s golden amber eyes.  They burn as she puts on a strong front, but there are hints of worry in them.  He takes a breath and, “You remember that-”

“Sophie!  Sophie, emergency!”  A dark haired girl slams the table as she comes to a stop. 

“Selene, what’s wrong?  Another memory flash?”

“Yes!  Somehow, bumping into Gale was the trigger.  Nothing’s happened yet, but we’ve got to hurry!”  Emilia nods and runs after Selene. 

Theodore exhales as he props his arm up on the table and rests his cheek against his palm.  Memory flash, the violent reemergence of a repressed, traumatic, and guilty memory.  He watches Athena and Selene dash into the hallway with a lopsided grin.  How would they act if I let himself break down like that?  A dry chuckle escapes him as he says, “Maybe next time.” 

…..

              “I'm home,” Ian calls through the doorway, past the fragrance of roasting coffee.  He drops his bag on the living room sofa and proceeds for the kitchen.  “Uncle Devlin?” He questions the middle aged man at the counter. 

              Ian peers over his uncle's shoulder.  A word document and a map of the area share a laptop screen.  Every few seconds the man stops typing to look at the map, reads over what he wrote, and resumes.  Ian bores of the repetition after a few moments, “I'll admit, the powerless have some interesting toys, but is that book really that great?  The ones back home are much lighter.”

              Devlin smiles at his nephew.  “Either way, you'll have to learn how to use one.  That's how this world works.”

              Ian considers his uncles grey powdered, brown hair; his boring, rectangular glass; and the wrinkles around his eyes.  “Uncle, shouldn't you be trying to get married instead?  You’re running out of time.”

              Devlin chuckles at the remark.  “Ouch, but what about you?  How was your first day?”

              Ian shrugs.  “It could have been better.  How do I tell apart our kind from the powerless?” 

              “You don't.  You’re here under special circumstances, but those of us trying to integrate within this world use that uncertainty as motivation to be more discreet when using magic.  Not everything can, should, or needs to be solved with magic.”  Devlin stops upon seeing his nephew's aghast look.  He lets out a small sigh and adds, “I’m not saying we don’t use magic.  We’ve established our own little pocket communities here and there.  I’ll show them to you one of these days.”

              “Pass, I’m not here to play around.  My mission is to achieve wu-xian and return home a hero.”

              “Which won’t be happening until you regain the use of fire element.  Your abilities are fine considering your age and background.  Exceptional even.  You’ve got the potential for wu-xing, but in regards to that, your finesse in wood, metal, and earth is pathetic.  Your control over water is barely passing.”  Devlin sips his coffee as he lets Ian mull over his words.  He sets his mug down and says, “So, what classes were you given?”

              Ian pulls his schedule from his pocket and reads, “Chemistry, then depending on the day; physical education, chem lab, or study hall, then English, Calculus, an extended period for lunch and world history, Mandarin, study hall again, and a special computer science course.  All my classes are in the main building.” 

              “The side buildings are special.  But, you've got the usual list.”

              “Really?  Everyone else said it was weird how I didn't get to choose my subjects.  Calculus was really strange.  There were only two other tenth years there.  The rest were all twelfth years.”

              “Those were just normal humans.  Those classes are specifically selected to ease transition into this world.  You probably noticed the parallels.  The equations in calculus mirror the ones for mid-level casting.  Mandarin-”

              “It sounds just like Qin.”

              “Do you know why?”

              “Should I?”

              Devlin sip of his coffee and sets it on the counter without a sound.  “No, I suppose your situation doesn’t call for it.  Still, now that you’re here, I’ll be treating you like any other integrator.  That means keeping up with your grades.” 

              “Uncle, it’s just history.  I need to work on my magic, not useless stuff like school.  If anything, you should take me out of that place and just train me!”

              Devlin stands and leaves the room.  He returns a few moments later carrying a few books.  He passes them to his nephew as he re-seats himself.  “Read them before this month ends.”

              Ian sets them on the counter while saying, “Uncle, didn’t you hear a thing I just said?”

             “The first book covers history of this country.  The rest go over how the two worlds have affected each other.”  Devlin stops his nephew before he can complain, “Ian, if you don’t agree to these terms, I won’t train you.”

              Ian glares at Devlin and drags out his response, “Fine.”

              “Then here’s your homework for the month.  “First, read those books I gave you.  Second, take the week to go out and explore the neighborhood.  Third, make friends.  Don’t limit yourself to just Deva or the blessed, but keep an open mind.  Normal humans will surprise you.  Do this, and I’ll even give you $150 by the end of the week.”

              “Like I have a choice.”

              Devlin sighs and sips more coffee.  “So, how was your first day?”

              Ian makes a face, but still says, “I met a black guy.”  As Devlin chocks on his coffee, Ian adds, “He was huge.  I can’t believe he’s only sixteen.”

              Devlin, between his coughing, says “Do-don't say that.  You'll get into to a lot of trouble here for it.  This world has a much larger ethnic diversity than Mofa and its people are a lot more sensitive to superficial issues such as skin color.”

              “Really?”

              Devlin points at the books he gave Ian.  “The War of Supremacy.  A pointless civil war sparked over a stupid desire to determine which was stronger; magic, blessings, or a third power.  It was a complete waste of resources that fractured us and weakened our position on Mofa.  It isn’t just the biggest reason for the rift between Mofa and Earth, but also the reason the human population on Mofa isn’t as diverse as here on Earth.”

              Ian picks up his books with a sigh, “Fine, I get it, I’ll start studying.”  He gets his satchel and proceeds up the stairs to his room.  He sets himself up on the floor, pulls out his chemistry textbook, and while saying, “If the powerless can get this,” begins reading from chapter one.

 

“Why doesn't this make any sense?”  Ian slap his textbook after rereading the first two chapters for the third time.  He drops his forehead and grumbles.  “[Baituo]…  How are they on chapter 5?”

              “Ian,” Devlin calls from downstairs.

              Ian groans as he clambers up onto his feet.  He leaves his room for the railing overlooking the kitchen and finds his uncle still at the counter.  Now, however, a coffee pot rests on a warmer beside his computer.  “What?”

His uncle looks to him, “Would you mind picking somethings up from the store?”

              “I’m studying.”

              “Exploring the neighborhood is also part of your homework.  Besides, there’s no way you’ll get it all in one go.”

              “Fine, whatever.”

              “Great, come down so I can give you the list and some mo- Take the stairs.” 

              Ian frowns as he lowers the leg he was lifting over the rail.  He descends down the kitchen side staircase saying, “What?  I wasn't going to land on anything.”

              Devlin shakes his head.  With a sigh, he says, “You can't recklessly use magic like that in this world.”

              “We're inside!  Who would see me?”

              “That's not the point.  Learn to get by without magic.”

              “Uncle, my mission is to strengthen my magic!  Not using it is completely detrimental to my task!”

              “Learn to get by without magic.  Again, not every situation can or needs to be solved with it.”  He then explains to Ian how to get to the grocery store, what a grocery store is, and passes him both a grocery list and a brown, leather wallet.

              Ian takes the wallet and examines it.  First he looks in and fingers the slots along the flaps before peering at the large pocket on the side.  He pulls out a few twenty dollar bills and asks, “This is money?  It gets stored in here?”

              “It's called a wallet.  Normal humans use that to carry their money.”

              Ian closes the wallet and searches its outside.  With a, “Hmm,” he places it upon the table and unties the small, dark blue bag hanging from his belt.  “Uncle, can't I just keep using my nangbou?  Besides, I can't tie that to my belt.”

              “Idiot, at least make an effort to blend in.  I can't believe you even wore that to school.  Listen, we don't have paper currency in Mofa.  Therefore, we use nangbou for our coins.  Here, said paper money goes in your wallet.  That wallet is then kept in your pocket.  Understand?”

              “What about the coins?”

              “That's called change here.  Just let them hang in your pocket.”

              “That's so weird.”  He says as he pockets the wallet and list.  Jacket in hand, he departs saying, “I'm going.  I'll be back in a bit.”

              “You know how to get there, right?”

              “Yeah, I got it!”  Ian says as he shuts the door.

              He walks a few blocks when someone says, “So, you’re Ian.” 

              Ian turns around to find another face centimeters from his own.  Large red eyes stare at him with a mischievous glint.  “Gunkai!”  Ian leaps back ready to defend himself with a spell.  However, now able to get a clear look, he lowers his arms while saying, “You’re just some guy…”

              The person tugs on a lock of his white hair with a pair of fingers.  He glances towards it while saying, “I don’t really think I qualify as some guy…”  He then gives Ian a sharp look as he realizes something, “No, before that, calling me some guy is pretty rude.  For one, I’m older than you.  Two, I came all this way just to meet you.”

              “Who the hell are you?”

              He points to his face and gives a childish smile, “You can call me Chris.”

              “Well, what do you want?”

              “I just wanted to see if you met any of my brothers.  You’d know if you have.  We’re all albinos.  So, have you?  Have you?”

              “What makes you think I saw them?”

              Chris points downward and to the side.  “Because, you came from way over there to here.  There’s six, well, five actually.  Anyway, there’s a lot of them, so one of them is bound to show up.  I’ll be sticking around for when one does.  Then again, I showed up, so it’s more like if another shows up.  That said, catch ya later.”

              Chris walks past Ian and by the time Ian turns around to see where Chris is going, he vanished.

…..

              “Finally!”  Ian says upon reaching the super market an hour and a half later.  “I would have gotten here so much faster if that stupid powerless didn’t make me lose my way.”  That’s when bright, giant letters over the entrance light up, “What, is that supposed to impress me?”   

              Ian stops before the door.  He takes a few hesitant steps forward with his arm held out and jumps as the door slides open.  A mother pushing a cart of groceries and her daughter stare at him as they walk by.  He doesn't understand the language the little girl speaks in, but his face grows hot.  He hurries inside cursing, “hao wu jiazhi powerless” under his breath.

              Ian mimics everyone else and takes a cart.  From the grocery list he reads “coffee.”  He enters the first aisle he sees, but doesn't find any.  He gives up and pushes his cart to the assortment of milk across from him.  “Low-fat, organic, whole, skim- what is this?  It's all milk!  Are they really so different they have to classify them?”  Reading “milk” on his grocery list Ian, places a half gallon of each type into the cart and enters a random aisle to search for corn.

              Ian finds shelves of bread midway through the aisle.  He confirms whether it's on the list and looks through the various brands.  “Powerless can make bread out of potatoes?”  He reaches the end of the bread display with five types of bread in his cart.  He holds each of them trying to differentiate them between weight, firmness, and price.  He tosses the semi-rye bread back into the cart and says, “My shopper's compass would make choosing so much easier.”  He sighs “Sui ni,” at the various types of bread in his cart and continues into another aisle.

 

              Ian takes three, brimming, reusable bags and three, brimming, plastic bags from the bagging area and places them into his cart.  As he approaches the exit, he notices the signs hanging over each isle.  His jaw drops at the words Coffee, Coffee Supplies, Cookies, Crackers.  “Ta ma de!”  He continues grumbling as he leaves.

              Ian pays little mind to the now night sky and walks in the direction of his home.  He ditches the cart at the edge of the parking lot while hooking three bags underneath each arm.  He glances towards the two blue bags his uncle provided.  They’re, apparently, reusable.  However, “Uncle probably reinforced them with a durability spell.”  He then glances towards the brown, plastic bags, “but I just got these...  No, if they break, that's his fault.”

              “Urg,” Ian sets the bags down by the end of the block.  “This is... impossible,” he says while leaning against a street light.  He looks down both ends of both streets.  They’re empty.  He takes the bags out from under the street light and looks around once more.  Assured that no one is around, he casts a strengthening spell upon himself.  He retakes the bags and continues home at a faster pace.  The satisfaction of sneaking a spell gives his gait a slight hop.

              Someone shouts out at Ian as he rounds a corner a few blocks later.  Ian gasps as blur spirals around him and tumbles onto the street.  He sets down his bags saying, “I'm so sorry!  Are you hurt?”  Just as he steps off the curve, the other person is already standing up and testing the movement of his own arms.

             “I'm fi- Ian?”  Annoyance flashes past Gale’s face as he recognizes him.

              Ian says, “What are you doing out here?”

              Gale gives Ian a dismissive stare.  “My evening run.  Are you lost?”

              “No,”

              “You went grocery shopping at night?”

              Ian opens his mouth, but unable to think of a response, clenches his teeth with a scoff.  “None of your business.”

              “What street?”

              Ian frowns at Gale’s question.  While wondering if he’s being mocked, Gale says, “What street are you looking for?”

He tells him and then grumbles a reluctant, “Thanks,” upon hearing he needed to turn left a few blocks ago.  He turns to leave but Gale says, “Wait,”

              “What?” 

              Gale looks down at Ian in silence.  Ian, muttering something under his breath, continues to leave when Gale says, “Go straight home... There's been some sort of animal reported around here lately.”  He then runs off, getting to the end of the block before Ian notices and disappearing around a corner.

              “Yeah, right, but you'll be fine?”  Ian gathers his groceries and returns home. 

              “I thought this would happen.”  Devlin says upon seeing the extra bags. 

              “Sorry uncle, this will have to wait.  I'm going back out!”

              “Take a heavier jacket!”  Devlin says as Ian runs out of the kitchen.

              Ian throws the door shut behind him and with a speed enhancing spell, retraces his steps to where he met Gale.  Another spell illuminates his classmate's footsteps which take him past an urban forest. 

              Ian's legs give out as he gets closer.  He breaks his fall by landing on his forearms and, while clutching his chest, looks towards the forest.  He drives the nauseating fear from his mind and forces himself to rise.  “Impossible,” he says taking a step towards the forest.  “You're a hei’an shengwu?”

              Ian swallows.  With clenched fists, he casts a body strengthening spell and searches for the area that nauseates him most.  He walks towards a tree and slashes his arm towards its branches.  A whip made of water shoots out from his wrist and cuts into the foliage, slashing through almost the entirety of the tree's side.  Through the crashing and shattering branches, a dog's faint whimpering carries out.  

              Ian stands ready, waiting for the hei’an shengwu to attack him from the debris.  Some leaves rustle, but the pile of branches remain still.

              Ian takes a step towards the debris.  Nothing happens so he takes another step.  He reaches the pile and nudges a log with his foot. 

Tree branches rustle from above.  Ian whips out his arm, spearing a second water whip.  The attack drives into the underside of a silhouette.  A tendril of sorts shoots out from the creature's back towards a nearby branch.  As the creature pulls itself forward, a second tendril stretches towards another branch.  Ian spears and slashes his water whips at the creature as it circles around him.  Whenever one of his attack will hit the creature, it grabs a branch with one of its tendril and pulls itself out of the way.

              It lands on a branch and swipes at Ian's oncoming attack.  The creature howls as the young deva’s whip splatters.  The deafening convolution of radio static and a blender forces Ian to stumble back and trip on a branch.  The shadow snarls as it leaps forward, from the tree pounces a black lycanthrope.

              Ian, despite falling back, throws out his arms at the oncoming wearg.  A geyser ruptures, capturing the beast in midair and blowing it away.  The young Deva then lurches onto his side where he vomits.  His breathing comes ragged as he rolls onto his back.  He passed out on top of the various broken branches as a small shower from his attack rains down on him.

…..

Arthus dashes up the forested mountain side outside of the city.  The moon light and stars provide more than enough illumination for him to see.  More importantly, the two hunters are following him as planned.  He can hear them forcing their way through the foliage.  They think they’re herding him, but in truth, he’s leading them.  He had been keeping an eye on them since they entered the city a few days ago and knows they’ve prepared a trap in the forest for any of his kind.  He waited patiently for them to finish their preparations before taking their bait.  So far, he isn’t impressed.  They’re clearly newbies trying to make a name for themselves.

He leaps up onto a branch and sniffs the air.  Their scent isn’t here, but he does smell blood.  Their trap?  He sniffs again.  It smells like, “Theodore…”  They’re using a classmate as bait?  They didn’t look that capable when he was observing them.  A growl escapes him as he leaps forward and follows the scent.

He stops at the perimeter of a small clearing.  He hangs near the top of a tree by digging his fingers into the trunk.  Blood drips down Theodore’s arms as he punches, kick, and cries out into the night.  Theodore clutches his head as he drops to his knees and then throws himself against the ground where he uses his own nails to rake the skin from his arms.

Arthus sniffs again.  A thick and heavy smell of blood and sweat that needs months to build up lingers around that clearing.  Whatever this is has nothing to do with those hunters.  While deciding to return once he deals with the hunters, Theodore vanishes.

Theodore is gone.  Arthus can’t see, hear, or smell him.  His classmate disappeared from the world.  Yet, Arthus feels the need to springs forward with a kick.  A moment later and Theodore reappears underneath his foot. 

Theodore regains his balance by back flipping in the air to land on his feet.  He clutches his head with a hand and says, “You’re real...?”  He drops to a knee with a grunt, “Arthus…  Wha- What are you doing here?”

“Sorry, I’ll be back as soon as I can.  There’s something I need to take care of first.”  He turns to leave, but Theodore is behind him blocking his path.  He spanned 10 meters in less than a second.  He also vanished earlier.  “You have a blessing?”

              Theodore showers Arthus with open hostility as he says, “I won’t let you kill anyone.”

Arthus’s expression falls flat.  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Cold eyes with no consideration to whether some lives or dies.  I’ve let you be…”  Theodore tries to suppress his, “Mnraghh,” but fails.  With a hand covering his face, he stares down Arthus through the crack between his fingers.  “But you’ve never fooled me.  Now that you’re going to act, I’ll stop you.”

“We have more to talk about than I thought, but you’re wr-”  Arthus turns to the side with a block.  There shouldn’t be anything there, yet he feels something get deflected.  He follows his instincts and kicks.  He feels his foot sink into a stomach before it gets repelled. 

Theodore reappears mid-back roll onto his feet.  He doesn’t say anything.  He clutches his stomach and prepares to attack again.

Arthus says, “This is pointless.  There’s no point to this fight.  You need help.  What’s wro-”  He holds out his arm and from the bubbling ground underneath his palm extends a black spear.  He takes the polearm and jabs the bottom end behind himself and into a hunter’s stomach. 

The hunter drops his sword as he staggers backwards.  Arthus spins around and slams the flat end of his spear against the hunter’s skull. 

The second hunter crashes into some bushes as he falls from above.  Theodore stands above on a tree branch.  He holds the tree with one hand while clutching his head with the other.  “They attacked you first, fine, that’s self-defense…  Now prove you don’t intend to kill them.”

Arthus sighs and pokes their foreheads.  He turns back to Theodore and says, “There, finished.”  He backs away to give Theodore space to take their pulses.  “They’ll wake up tomorrow with no memory to what happened.”

“That’s it?”

“Killing them would just attract more.  It’s better if they go back and say they found nothing.”

“This isn’t the first time?”

“Not the first and it won’t be the last.  More importantly, what’s with you?  I’ve never pegged you as being an assassin.  Are you under some sort of curse that makes you beat yourself up?  Or is it something to do with your blessings?” 

“Blessing?  Is that what you call it?  They’re psychic abilities, not blessings.  What are you?  Some sort of kid who believes in fairies and magic?”

Arthus points his spear at Theodore.  “You’ve seen quite a lot, but you’re pretty ignorant to the truth.”  He then discards his weapon where it melts and sinks into the ground.  “There are two major powers in this world; the first is magic, the second is blessings.  Humans can have one, the other, or neither.”

“Are you implying you’re not human?  Grow up.”  Theodore clicks his tongue and turns to leave.  “I have better things to do than talk fantasy.”

Arthus lets a joking smile overtake his expression.  He lets his tension dissipate with that conversational topic’s end.  “Like finish your report on Inferno?  You really shouldn’t procrastinate, it’s a bad habit.”

              Theodore chuckles, following suit.  “I finished that last week.  I’ve got an exam in geometry coming up Friday.”

…..

Chol walks through Mofa’s woods with a straw basket full of roots, leaves, and stems.  A soft wind lifts her semi-long, black, wavy hair.  To her dismay, once the breeze ends they wrap around her cheeks and curl around her gentle eyes.  She clicks her tongue and re-tucks the strands behind her ears.  Her blouse and skirt are simple, but have a cute refinement to them thanks to the village tailor.  At her waist is a small, silver knife.  Per her teacher’s instructions, she stops at every ginseng plant she comes across to harvest a part of its roots.  Although ginseng is her main concern, she plucks other medical plants such as hemlock, dandelions, and thyme. 

She sings the words, “My heart is like an open highway,” under her breath while digging up another root.  She reburies half of it and walks away while wiping her hands against her a dirtied handkerchief.   

A pair of feet stick out, face down, from underneath some bushes.  There is a gapping hole in the shrubs from where the person there fell in.  A heavy smell of copper drifts up from the broken branches, but there are no insects or animals eating the body.  This body fell there not too long ago.

Chol drops down next to the legs, “Can you hear me?  I am going to pull you out.”  She grabs the calves and drags the body out.  The heavy smell of blood overrides any concern about being gentle. 

She is still alive, but who knows for how much longer.  Underneath her long sapphire blue hair is a deep gash spanning across shoulder and down to her waist.  Chol grabs a handful of thyme and beings to chew on it.  The only other significant injury is on the girl’s right arm.  The forearm bends about 120 degrees upward.  She must have fallen on it.  Worse, the ulna punctures out through the skin.

The gash across the back is first.  That she didn’t bleed to death from it is amazing.  Chol cuts away the person’s clothes with her knife and then spits the thyme she’s chewing on into her hand.  She then rubs it into the person’s wound with the hope that its antibacterial properties will help stave off infection.  Her palms emit a warm, golden glow as she places them against the wound.  The skin grows together and the gash disappears underneath her touch.  By the time she runs her hand across the person’s back, not even a scar remains.

Chol wipes her knife clean and uses it to cuts a slit along the person’s forearm.  After realigning it, she takes the ulna within her fingers and eases it underneath the flap.  Her hand glows again as she sets the bones into their proper places.  Upon releasing the forearm, not a trace of the wound remains. 

Once the two noticeable wounds are healed, Chol searches for hidden ones by taking the girl’s pulse.  It’s weak, but stable.  All that remains are some cuts and bruises which will heal on their own.  Chol presses a few pressure points to temporarily improving the body’s circulation of energy to hasten her recovery.

Taking the pulse made Chol aware of two things.  The first is her age.  She rolls the girl over onto her back and wipes the dirt off her face.  She’s 14 or 15, the same as her.  Opening her mouth reveals sharp teeth and peeling back her eyelids uncovers ice blue eyes with slit like pupils.  The second, and more important fact, she might not be human.

Chol doesn’t have to wait long until the girl stirs and sits up.  Her vitality is impressive.  Pressing a few pressure points shouldn’t be that effective.  Maybe it’s because she isn’t fully human?  Regardless, Chol warns her, “Take it easy, you lost a lot of blood.”

The girl jumps to her feet with a hiss.  She raises her hands and curls her fingers as though they are claws.  She tries to lunge at Chol, but sways after a single step and teeters over.  Chol catches her before she hits the ground.  “Like I said, take it easy.  An average person would have died by now.”

The tension seeps from the girl’s body at Chol’s words.  Her voice is weak and soft, but still clear.  “You’re not them…  Did you help me?  Who are you?”

“Chol, a healer apprentice.”  She’s calm because this isn’t the first time she’s encountered a half dead stranger.  Usually, they’re alongside the road, but coming across some in the forest isn’t strange.  They’re almost always running from something, bandits, hei’an shengwu, or monsters, but if they get this far, then there’s nothing to worry about. 

“I see… a healer…”  She pushes away from Chol and sits down across from her.  “I am Cera.”  She then reaches into the bush and pulls out a pair of swords, one thin and long, sheathed in red with a ruby embedded within the base.  The blade of the other sword curves and grows thicker as it extends.  That one is sheathed in blue with a sapphire in its base.  Cera tosses the red one to Chol.  “You saved my life.  I’m sorry, but this is all I have to repay you with.”

Chol partially draws the sword from its scabbard.  The blade shines underneath the midday sun.  She re-sheaths it and holds it out towards Cera, “No, I didn’t save you for money.  Take it back.”

A pained expression crosses Cera face.  “Don’t insult me.  You saved my life.”  She squirms in place and looks away as she says, “Or... do you prefer something else?  We’re both girls, but I’d still rather no-”

“Forget it, I’ll take the sword.  Mind telling me what happened?”

“I was attacked by bandits.  If Gladiolus didn’t show up, I probably wouldn’t even be here.”

“Gladiolus?  The world’s strongest hero?  What’s he doing around here?”

Cera shakes her head.  “He must have been passing by.  He blew everyone away with a single swing of his guandao and told me to run.” 

“And that’s when you got hurt…  Well, if Gladiolus was involved, then those bandits are as good as dead.”  Chol sighs out and points north.  “You’ll find a spring not far from here.  I could see you ther-”

Chol trails off as Cera shakes her head.  “I refuse.  I’ve wasted enough time here as it is.  I’m leaving once I can walk.”

Chol thought she’d say as much.  Cera might be courteous because she saved her, but her eyes reflect stubbornness and impatience.  Well, at the very least, she’ll keep the girl company until she’s well enough to stand on her own.  She can’t in good faith abandon her in her condition.

 

Chol sets her basket on the ingredient room table.  She stocks the herbs she collected and enters the work room where Doctor Feng grinds paste in a mortar.  “I’ve returned, teacher.”

Feng points to a second mortar “You’re late.  Did you run into someone who needed help?”

Chol kneels next to her master.  The bucket of roots and leaves left to soak overnight in snow water collected two years ago was the last thing they were going to grind that morning.  Then again, with regards to Cera’s injuries, she returned home much faster than she anticipated.  She should have been out for at least a few more hours.  “She wasn’t a Faun, but I don’t think she was human.  She had sapphire blue hair and slit like eyes.  Oh, and she hissed at me.  I don’t think she’d have let me treat her if she were conscious when I found her.” 

Feng stops grinding to look at Chol.  The cheerful composure with which she works suggests no falsity in her words.  “You’ve really adapted well.  When I first found you, I was left wondering just what kind of valley you crawled out of, but now here you are using a word like Faun.” 

Chol’s eyes shine with excitement as she turns to her master.  She waves her arms on front of herself as she says, “I really can’t wait to meet one.  Do they really all have four ears?  Are there any that live in water?”

Feng hardens his stare.  “Quit running your mouth and get to work.  We’re already behind because of your tardiness.”

Chol blinks and returns to his task.  “Yes, teacher…”

Feng sighs as he returns to his grinding, “An old myth states that Faun were actually once human.  The story goes that humans, in their battle for survival, entered a special forest.  The mystic properties of the forest allowed those people to combine with surrounding animals to gain their strengths and abilities.  The retaining of their human ears is proof that they’re still human.”

“Wait… are human and Faun genetically compatible?”

Feng sounds out the word, “Genetically,” as he repeats it.  “Another one of your strange words?”

“Sorry, it means able to reproduce with one another.”

“Yes, it is possible.  The resulting child is always a hybrid of the two.  More importantly, you said that child was stubborn.  Did she force any payment onto you?”

“She did.  A fancy, ruby encrusted, sword.”

“Show it to me later.”

“Yes, teacher.”

The rest of the day progresses with lunch, mixing medicine, reading pulses, practicing acupuncture, treating patients, dinner, and martial arts training.  It then ends with Chol fetching bathing water from the river for Feng and herself.

Chol, after washing, finds her master writing a letter.  The fireplace combined with multiple mirrors on the ceiling generate a comfortable amount of light for him to do so.  Chol presents her master with the sword she was given.  “This is it, teacher.”

Feng appraises the sword, “The empress blade?” and chuckles as he unsheathes it.  “Did she have the king sword as well?”

“There was one in a blue sheath…”

“You have no idea, do you?  The king sword and empress blade are royal treasures of the former Ming dynasty.”  At Chol’s questioning stare, Feng sighs once more.

“Master, sighing shortens your life by three years.  I’ll never succeed all your skills if you don’t stop.” 

“I wouldn’t have to sigh so much if you weren’t so ignorant of the world!  You know nothing other than medicine...  When the golden dragon created this world, he entrusted the knowledge of civilization to a certain family.  Afterwards, two of his retainers, the azure dragon and the vermillion bird, gifted the head of that family and his wife with two blessed sword.”

Chol hammer his hand with a fist.  “And they’ve been passed down the Ming family line as the next generation succeeds the throne.”

“You’re ignorant, but I thank the golden dragon that you’re not stupid.  Yes, that’s the story at its most basic.  There are other myths that state only those of the royal blood line can use those sword or that unworthy wielders will be struck down on the spot.  The empress blade has one such protection in particular.  Any man who wields it will spontaneously combust.”  Feng holds the sword towards Chol and laughs at his disciple’s hesitation at taking it back.  “Don’t take it so seriously.  Those stories have been so exaggerated, they’re probably not even true anymore.  The only thing magical about those swords is that they never dull or rust no matter what you do with them.”

Chol takes the sword back, but leans away from it as she looks it over.  She gives it a practice swing with her left hand and tenses at the possibility she might receive divine retribution.  “I don’t feel comfortable having this swor-”

“Jian, the empress blade is a jian.  Likewise, the king sword is a dao.”

“Well, if anything, she should have given me the king’s sword.”  Chol then gasps and says, “That’s right!  Teacher, Cera completely thought I was a girl.  How much longer ar-”

Feng clears his throat.

Chol scurries into the kitchen and emerges with a kettle of cooled, oolong, tea.  He pours it into a cup and backs away.  “Forgive me, teacher.  I got caught up in our conversation and forgot.”

Feng says, “You’ll continue to dress as a girl until you can no longer pull it off.  A beautiful young assistant will draw in more clients than some boy.”  He then sighs and adds, “You really are a peculiar child…  A legendary weapon is a legendary weapon.  Take it and be happy.  Besides, it’s better for it to be in the hands of a kind and gentle person such as yourself instead of being passed around by bandits and used for murder.  Fate may have even guided this sword into your hand.  Still, as you are now, you’d be a disgrace to wield it.  I’ll be stepping up your training from now on.”

“Yes, teacher.  Thank you.”

“Now, for your punishment.”  Feng passes Chol out a metallic “D” shaped instrument with seven strings spanning from the rod onto the arc.  “You’re always singing to yourself.  Learn to play this and sing me some of those songs from your country.” 

It fits within the Chol’s arm.  The cord of the string he plucks is higher pitched than he expected.  “A harp?”

“Learn to play for our journey tomorrow.”

“Yes, teacher…”  He’s given an impossible request.  Remembering songs and melodies is one thing, but reproducing them is much harder.  No choice, maybe I manage to reproduce a simple one by tomorrow?

“Also, the tailor finished adjust your inner garments to support your pads.  No one will ever suspect a thing once we give you a proper chest.”

Chol grumbles and says, “I’m a guy, is my face really that feminine?”

Feng laughs.  “Your eyes are softer and gentler than any woman’s I’ve ever met.”

Chol flinches at his teachers grin and braces himself for what will come next.

“All anyone needs is one look and you’ll have them completely at your mercy.  By the way, you’ll be sing along the road side from time to time to earn some extra money.  Make sure to tie your hair with the pink ribbons.  They’ll compliment the flowers you’ll be decorating yourself with tomorrow.”

 

              Chol sets down his empty cup of oolong tea.  That same memory stirs every time he drinks a cup.  It was his teacher’s favorite drink and that was the last time he poured a cup for him.  His face has grown more masculine in the two years that have passed.  No one confuses him with a girl anymore, but he has still feels a need to keep his hair short.  He chuckles to himself.  His teacher left him with a trauma that might never heal.

He gets up and leaves the tavern.  From the shouts carrying in from outside, the caravan he’s traveling across the continent with is about finished with its preparations.