The wind blew gently with the smell of spices filling my nose. I had no salt to trade for the many fruits and leaves being sold as sustenance. That and I used up the gold.

The ground here was cobbled stone, and the space between each embedded stone was light brown in tone. We stood to the side, in between two sellers, in this dense market.

Five stood unmoving as Janilla came closer to me.

“Lady Carmine?” she asked. I faced her. She shot a glance back at Five. Her eyes gazed into mine now, but they harbored a tearful inflection to them. “We should not be in the devil’s place. This is wrong. Come closer to wisdom, I am sure if we go back together and bring this matter before the King, maybe we can get a reprieve.”

To be honest, I was not sure what I should do. I considered all the pain I was feeling now and could care less about how I was helped.

My fear was absent at the idea of having a witch heal my wounds when he mentioned it.

Maybe it was because I had been through enough to make a man slit his own throat? What was better? Death or living in fear of death?

I grabbed the arm length of Janilla’s dress. The fabric was rough, for it tickled against the soft of my palm. I gripped her tight. “Be strong, you do want to know the truth, don’t you?”

Janilla stared intently. Her eyelids fluttered as her head shook. Janilla shook off the spell of my words, for she looked away. “My Lady, there is no truth here. Only lies. I do not trust these men.”

“Janilla.” Tenderness filled my words, so her pain eased.

She turned to me.

“You did not see what I saw or hear what I heard. Trust me you go back there, I will never see you again.”

“You—” She stopped there. Janilla turned across the street. I followed her eyes and widened mine to see Valor waved at us.

We went over to him and stepped under the low grove of the door. It was a small wooden house. We traversed between the slim wooden planks that served as columns.

A young girl led us. Ponytails, she had red eyes. She said something to Valor.

I tried to focus on hearing them, but they kept their voices down. Realization hit me too late that we were going deeper into the earth.

This center passage led us to a poorly lit room. The candles sat on glossy green saucers in the carved-out portions of the walls.

That girl walked left, while to my right, this tall woman stood. She had rather wild hair raft with curly bangs traveling down to her shoulder.

Big brass rings lined the side of her ears. Her dress flowed to the low hum of the silence, yet patterned with yellow and red stripes it stamped the quiet atmosphere in its exhilaration.

She stood at a small table with cushions surrounding it. When she looked at me, a smile came on her face. The color of her eyes strike me. Were those eyes blue now?

I hesitated while Valor cleared his throat. “This is an old friend. San Rosa. This is Carmine the one who needs help.”

The woman shot a glance at Valor. “You need more help than her, Erot will kill you for interfering with her will.”

Valor snorted. “I faced tougher bitches and dogs.”

“Valor, language,” I said.

“Sorry,” Valor replied with a cut of his eyes.

San Rosa sat down and leaned back. Her eyes littered on me. It burned an intense golden-yellow now. Her smile was wider now. “I am sure Carmine’s survival will be a great story to tell. Please all of you sit. You can unwrap your wound, so I may start.”

I stepped forward, they all followed, and we all sat on the cushions. My wound now unwrapped was laid in her dainty hand.

She snapped a finger and the girl with ponytails returned with a long rod. On the top was a metal box with a thick stand at the other end. She laid it beside us.

I looked up at the black stained glass between the metal frames. The girl touched the top section and a bright orange light blinked intermittently.

The girl left.

San Rosa said, “Bad…” She slid on a glove. It was slate gray with a top metal cuff. That hand swayed and her eyes closed. A chill gripped my hand or was it a tingle?

Lines, bright strokes of light moved haphazardly from the black glass and now flashed brightly. The strokes of light came down into her hand.

San Rosa flexed her hand. It gathered these swirling sparkles and bubbles of light. Her face got blinded by the increased glow.

My eyes narrowed in response.

“This will hurt—purification should not be interrupted by any means—boys?” San Rosa asked.

My arms felt the tight restraint as Valor and Five held my arm from either side.

What?

San Rosa’s fingers gripped under my open palm. Frantic, I could not for the life of me rip it out of her grasp.

One point of the gloved finger and the light mashed together and shot down into my palm. A blast of light dazzled me, but the pain screamed through my soul and I heard nothing.

This searing sent my body into rapture, for I lost my senses. They were consumed by nothing, but the constant sting.

My mind was foggy, yet I gasped for air. I coughed profusely, but it stopped. The sting eased.

It was over.

Then it began.

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The throbbing ache killed me after that. I doubled over onto the table. A teardrop fell on my wrist.

I cried as my breaths got shallower.

But, hold on, it was fixed? Both sides of my palm were put back together. It was amazing. It was melded.

A scar was there though, but all the blackness and blood disappeared. San Rosa got out a light green liquid and started rubbing it on the scar.

“What is that?” I asked wincing at the end as her flicking hand rose up more pain.

“This will help with the pain. The cells will heal easily. But the bone will take time. So it will be uncomfortable for a while as the bone tries to form back itself naturally.”

“Cells?” I asked.

Valor and Five released my arm.

San Rosa laughed. “Do not worry about learning that much yet. I can deal with the scar in your belly if you want.”

I fidgeted and groaned as the sharpness of the pain caused me to lean over. My head laid on Janilla’s lap and I fidgeted.

San Rosa held my palm firmly.

“H-how d-do yo—k-know I, g-got a scar there?” I asked.

“I can see it,” San Rosa retorted. Her attention was on my palm. She sprinkled powder on the scar.

“How? I—” I asked.

She turned to me. Her eyes changed color to blue. With a tender smile to match, she said, “I see everything.”

“That eye thing, how the—” I moaned. Lifting myself up now, I cried some more. This was horrible. It was like a hammer pounded through my hand.

San Rosa applied a thick woven treaded patch on the scar. It held down a type of abrasive drapery that whirled the patch on my hand.

“There.” She let my hand go. I fell backward as I doubled over in agony.

“Hey, give her some Exodine, she is literally crying here,” Valor said.

“That is not something her body can handle lightly. She is not like us." San Rosa fired back.

“This coming from someone who hops off on it regularly,” Valor replied. “Ouch!”

San Rosa wagged her finger at him. “She needs to be as lucid as possible. You will need her for the coming days ahead. I hear of terrible fates in her future, I hear she is a singularity.”

Valor sneered. “Possibly, we are not sure of that.”

I blinked, rolled onto Five’s side, and moaned as I lifted myself using Five’s body as leverage. My hand was on fire.

“Terrible Fates, I hear Erot wan-wants me dead. What is a singularity? Please tell me. What is, is going on? Someone please?” I pleaded through stilted tears.

San Rosa looked from me to Valor and sighed. “I am not a powerful seer, so I cannot say what your fate is. This is what I heard.” She averted her gaze. “It is not something that can be easily explained. But I will try my best.”

“Singularities are people with very narrow timelines. Even if they go down a thousand paths, it leads to one or a few places. Such persons are usually fate bound to do great things. Metrologists love singularities and look for them as they hold a high potential for success.

“Once in a while, a person is born as such. You are said to be one such person. I can see your timeline, however. One point five percent, those are your chances of living beyond the next five months.”

I rocked my head in shock at her.

“One…percent… what is percent?” I asked. Everyone looked at me shocked.

Well, except Janilla. Her mouth was from the beginning agape. Her expression had not changed as she swallowed the whole of this in.

San Rosa said, “It measures chance. Think of percent as how much chance you have of doing something.

"If you have a flawless chance, then it would be one hundred percent. So a high chance would be closer to one hundred.”

Chance, percent, hundred, I tried gathering the meat of this in my mind.

I muttered to myself, “Chance…chance…chance…hundred. Isn’t that—” In a louder voice, I asked, “Hundred, is it like the gold standard?”

“Aye. It is similar to that. If you had one hundred copper you get one silver. One hundred silver gives you one gold. But in your case, you have one silver coin. Like that prediction of one percent, you have almost no chance in this world. Your chance of losing your life is almost ninety-nine percent. She has ninety-nine silver coins to your one coin. It may not seem like much, but trust me you are at a huge disadvantage,” she said.

I flexed my jaw in despair to hear that.

So, me, an Ascus Princess was poor in comparison to Erot?

I grunted and blew out pained gasps as sweat rolled down my cheeks. “Erot is Shyia or is she—? "

“Shyia?" San Rosa looked surprised. "Ha, ha, ahhhh, no? Miss let me put it this way. Elamnites, you call them witches and demons. They were Shyia. But now they have transcended that human state long ago. We Elamnites do not consider ourselves Shyia. It is not something we call ourselves after living thousands of years.”

Sucking in snot, my tears stopped.

“Thousands? What do you mean? What are you then?”

“I am not Shyia. I am better than that. That is for sure,” San Rosa replied.

Valor snorted at her. “Of course, you aren’t.”

San Rosa’s face twisted into a glaring frown. I shot a glare at Valor. Somebody was lying here, either that or I was misunderstanding something.

She pointed at Valor. “You are just angry that you are like the Shyias. A forgotten relic.” Then she pointed at Five, “This young man isn’t.”

“You and I are cut from the same cloth. So you are human too,” Valor retorted.

“Human, don't you use that disgusting word. Me and you, are not even close Valor. Your body is…subpar to any woman’s requirements.”

He snorted at her as he looked away. “That was not what you said to me eight hundred years ago."

San Rosa narrowed her eyes at him.

Wait did he just say eight hundred years ago!? No, that couldn’t be, yet dangerous energy radiated between them.

I asked, “Valor, is Erot, hm." What had he said again? My memory kicked in. "Human, right? Is she human or not?”

“Erot is human. These arrogant sons and daughters of flesh think they are above a normal human and their faithful servants, Shyias. That is how they started thinking themselves Gods,” Valor retorted.

San Rosa pursed her lips as she cut her eyes at Valor. “We are above humans fool. Speaking it does not make it true.”

Her hand flickered towards me. “The history of our country is long and I am sure it would bore you. So what you need to know now is Erot like Ashuor, Omson, Benedict, Palisades, Amishcor and Fallen were all once humans.

“There were no Gods. But the world was unpure. It was filled with foolish pride, full of wrongs and transgressions that weighed on the broken backs of our ancestors. They became your Gods solely to shine the sun of wisdom on your evils and to temper it. It became a tool of power for nobles like you to control your peasants.”

A bunch of humans became Gods—all I was taught, read, was a lie? I swayed. My head rolled as I leaned on Janilla. She grabbed hold of my shoulder.

I stared at her as if I broke her with my gaze. Like she could fall dead from my gaze, but she could not. It was clear, for no deceit rested here.

Something clutched hard in my heart. It was painful. I was nervous and distraught as the many teachings flooded my mind.

The craft of humans. They told wonderful stories then. I leaned forward. “If, if I die, the afterlife—"

“There is none. If you died. You will be dead and you will just sleep without dreams, forever,” San Rosa said when cutting me off.

My heart skipped a beat as I tried to remain calm.

My fingers lost their rigor as they fell flat against my legs. Deflated, I rationalized that I should be glad to be alive. There was nothing after death anyway.

Nothing at all?

San Rosa continued, “Ashuor is the God of your nation. You can consider him the overseer of Ascus’s affairs. If you follow and pray to him he will send aid. Whether he will stand against Erot for you is still unknown.”

“A witch—"

“We do not call ourselves Witches. Refrain from using such vulgar language. We prefer being acknowledged as the scientists we consider ourselves. Metrologist or sage, you can use those. Or call us God if you want to be grateful. Do not follow this fool here.” San Rosa pointed at Valor.

She gestured to Valor who gave her a roll of his eyes. I wondered how these two know each other. Also, “How old are you?”

She said, “Three thousand, five hundred seventeen years old.” I could not feel anything. “Carmine?” My eyes shuttered close. “Carmine?!”