“It’s perfect, so perfect I’m sure the ancestors are watching. Waiting with bated breath for my success.” Lancet descended in a storm of muttering. Her burning eyes snapped to Two. “You have the drive. Whether that’ll last is another question.” She said to herself.

Her rising passion filled Two with unease, but she held still. Their manic rambling seemed to favour her.

“Okay,” the governor addressed Two. “Tomorrow evening I’ll send someone to teach you the basics. Before then, explain to our guest that you’ll be busy. The day after you’ll get started. ”

Victory’s thrill ran through her but she held off celebrating. Wisdom born of watching other people’s stupidity told her it was never too late to trip into the river, “Could you please clarify governor?”

Lancet drained her cup and then sighed. She oozed self-satisfaction. “In a few days, you’ll be dead, insane, or a cultivator.”

“What,” she failed to stifle her astonishment. Daisy had said cultivation took months, and Butch even at his most boastful claimed weeks to take his first step. “How,”

“The Labyrinth of One,” she said with faux dismissal.

“The great spirit?”

Lancet quirked a brow, “I was unaware there was another.” She hid her smile behind her refilled cup.

Two calmed herself.

An ancient spirit, one worshiped more in roadside ballads, than any holy place. In overly dramatic tales, where still living humans battled terrors from the damned plains. And hope alone overcame all things.

No reason to fret. She replaced her mask. Wiping her expression clean. Amusement flickered in Lancet’s eyes. “Are there any more details governor?”

The woman shook her head, “No I think that’s all for today. Get some rest you’ll need it”

Lancet needled, and Two couldn’t discard her worry. Was ‘dead or insane’ another of the woman’s exaggerations? Possibly, but death and or insanity often followed people who poked sports without good reason.

Two finished her tea and walked to the door. Lancet’s amused gaze followed her. A thought crossed Two’s mind. She turned to the governor. Wearing her brightest kindest smile she stared deep into the governor’s eyes. “Thank you for your time and listening to my suggestion. This conversation has been a pleasure and I look forward to meeting you again.” She glanced at the mountainous pile of white pages on the desk. “I’ll leave you to your important work. Have a productive day governor.”

Two was out the door before the stunned woman could speak, but the look on her face, and the palatable dread behind her spoke volumes. She celebrated the victory, however small.

***

The sun’s departure coincided with her return to her not yet home.

It came alive at twilight. The coiling statues seemed to shift with the swaying leaves and grasses. Their dark forms not quite blended into the shadows. Lazy guardians watching the night.

Numerous small streams and ponds hid in the grass. They sang in wake of the cities quiet. Mixing faint murmurs and gurgles with the leaves’ rustle.

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And the house, its polished wood face gleamed in the dark. Peered at her.

She stepped into the building and supped. The resident’s spirit was curious and faintly, happy to see her. The feeling tinged with an old nigh imperceptible nostalgia. Sweet with a bitter hint.

She hissed and caressed the carved snakelet. The building seemed to giggle, pained nostalgia twisted to warmth. Its attention disappeared into a half-present haze. Light but always felt.

She let her fingers guide her through the dark halls. It wasn’t home, the spirit’s fondness drifted through her. But for a time, it could be. She needed a favour from Abery. She had something to make.

She found her room and settled in the bed’s soft sheets. Her thoughts hazed. A hopeful warmth followed her into her dreams.

***

Two found herself outside the gate to Igni’s residence. With sore feet, aching legs, and a twinge in her back. All this she could accept. Pin on the evil of imperial architecture and stairs. But for some inexplicable reason, her neck hurt. That she took personally. She imagined Lancet, smiling at her suffering in her tiered tower.

She seethed. The gate’s guards gave disapproving looks. Their eyes focused on her patchy cloak.

The pair were clad in similar brown cloaks. They held tall unadorned spears. The weapons’ but rested on the ground. Tips pointed to the sky.

A sharp contrast to the walls’ gleaming white stones and the silver gate they ensconced in an arch. A gold plate embossed with a blue dragon sat in the keystone.

It was beautiful as was the garden beyond it. Its many flowers brought sweet flavors to her tongue. Yet she could appreciate none in her current mood. The guards’ cloying disdain didn’t help.

They were cultivators. Though their depth was less than Butch’s. There was nothing she could do to them. Nor they to her, the governor’s writ ensured that.

Yet they insisted on staring at her. Set to imprison her at a moment’s notice. She tasted a flare of anger and noticed she was glaring. She closed her eyes and tried to calm herself. She ignored their satisfaction.

In a few minutes, Igni would be here. Then she could prepare for the evening. Along with any social gymnastics that might entail. She sighed, Cultivators didn’t get aches from stairs. She held onto that thought. She’d join that number soon.

The gate groaned, and she opened her eyes. Igni pushed the gate open, waving off one of the guard’s attempts to help. He smiled at her, “Good morning Two,” his lips pursed. His gaze roamed down her. “Are you okay?”

She sighed, and levelled a flat stare at him, “I’m fine.” One of the guards bristled behind him.

“Are you sure, I know some healing if anything ails you?” as perfectly sincere as always.

She sighed, feeling worse. She weighed her pride against her aching. “A few muscle aches.” Her voice came out annoyingly small.

Igni nodded and rustled his wings. A tide of heavy grey poured from them and then flowed over her. From toes to her head in a second.

The city’s sound and scents fell away. Replaced by an impenetrable calm grey. A spark of fear bloomed. The grey smothered it. As it did with everything else.

Her eyes blinked open, faint curls of mist faded in her vision. She felt good, refreshed. Like someone had taken all the unpleasantness of life. Peeled it off her. Then put her to bed in a cloud. Did this count as mental manipulation? Probably, but she doubted sadistic mind benders had any interest in imbuing ten good nights of sleep.

Besides Igni, wasn’t the type. Probably wasn’t, a few days wasn’t enough to tell. Though the amendment rang hollow in the face of his small smile.

She smiled at Igni, the expression came easily, “Thank you,” she stretched her pain free back, “Is there anything angels can’t do.”

Amusement crinkled his eyes, “That was more a me thing than an angel thing. Lux couldn’t have done it. Angels follow different paths like cultivators.”

Two winced, though he didn't sound upset. One compliment and she managed to imply his skills didn’t belong to him. “Sorry, I don’t know anything about angels beyond the stories.”

“There’s nothing to apologies for, though I must as what’s in those stories.” His wings puffed, his interest peaked.

Graceful, terrifying, “I think that’s the subject for a longer discussion. Unfortunately, stuff has come up and I’ll be busy the next few days.”

“Will you still guide me?”

“Hopefully, but I’ll be getting a crash course in cultivation. “

His eyes brightened, “that sounds interesting, could you tell me what happens? I’m curious about mortal cultivation.”

Mortal? She filled the question away. “I can show you where I live, and if you come in the mornings we can talk.”

“That sounds delightful.” His feathers settled a small smile on his lips.

With that, she turned and walked away. His soft steps followed her. She tried not to think about what she’d implied.