As dawn breaks, Bian steps into the smoke-filled remnants of what used to be her home, still smoldering from last night’s destruction. Broken structures, burnt stone, and the haunting scent of death lingers in the air. She winces at the bodies of her sisters scattered among the rubble, still holding their weapons in hand.

Her eyes rush over to one of the bodies–the same trainee who was speaking back to Chout. A shard of ice buried deep in her chest. Bian kneels down beside the girl, her hands slowly brushing the ash from her pale face.

"Did Tien Lam do this?" Bian asks, barely holding it together.

“No,” Ha Linh replies.

A wave of relief washes over Bian. For a brief moment, she is grateful her former teacher wasn’t responsible for such a massacre.

"But I think I know who did this," Ha Linh continues. "I recognize his magic-infused explosives anywhere. Only Chout’s matech bricks could have caused this level of devastation."

Bian surveys the scene. “Why?” Now holding back anger. "Why? Why would he come here?"

"I don’t know why he attacked the academy," Ha Linh admits, her tone softer than usual as she takes in the wreckage alongside Bian. "But this was definitely him. He always struggled to control his lust for destruction. Back when he was our ally, we could focus his wrath on the Quis. It seems now he's directed it elsewhere."

Bian clenches her fists, her knuckles turning white, but she doesn't shed a tear. There is no time for sorrow, no room for weakness. “Then where do we find him?”

Ha Linh hesitates for a moment, recalling the man she once knew. “Chout and I used to be... friends almost, after long battles and many lost allies. Water always flows back to its source. He was always drawn to places where the law didn’t reach and where drinks flowed freely. We’ll find him in a place like that.”

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“Song Yeun,” she said, without a moment’s hesitation. “It’s a port town a day’s walk from here, notorious for its debauchery. Teacher told us never to go there.”

“Then that’s where we’ll start.” Ha Linh said.

Bian takes a breath. She proceeds to whisper a small prayer for her fallen sisters before heading out.

***

Nearly half a day has passed, and neither have spoken a word. Perhaps it was Bian, still processing the destruction of her home and the betrayal of her teacher. Or maybe it was Ha Linh, grappling with the new world after being trapped for fifty years.

But most likely, it was because the two have little in common.

Curious, Bian asks, “So, how is this going to work when we’re around other people?”

“What do you mean?” Ha Linh replies, a hint of confusion in her voice.

“Isn’t it going to be weird that I’m walking around with the spirit of a legendary hero?”

“I’m a part of you. The only reason you can see me is because your mind manifested me. The only other people who could see me would be experienced Ma Thuat Tec, and even then, it would be rare.”

“So, the Coalition?” Bian presses.

“Yeah, they better. I want them to know who’s killing them.” Ha Linh’s voice is sharp, barely containing her malice.

The silence continues for a bit…

“You know,” Ha Linh says with a scoff as they trudge through the dense forests of Ahn Sang. “None of those stories they tell about me are true. At least, not entirely. Chout and others of the Coalition embellished a lot of those stories”

“What do you mean?” Bian asks, her voice flat but curious.

“They needed a symbol, something pure and heroic. The Coalition wanted the people to rally behind a legend, not some foul-mouthed warrior with a temper.” Ha Linh laughs bitterly. “Chout was always good at spinning stories. He weaved tall tales about our battles, erased the uglier parts of our history, the more brutal ones. They made me into something greater than I actually was.”

Bian takes a moment. “So you were never the legend they said you were?”

“Oh, I was a warrior. I bled, I fought, I led people to victory,” Ha Linh replies. “But I was never the saint they made me out to be.”

There is a lull before Bian breaks the silence. “That might be for the best now. For what we’re doing, we don’t need a saint.”

It’s brief, but Ha Linh lets out a small smile.