LATE NOVEMBER 844 AQE

While the swordsman swung angrily at the gloomy depths where Naizen had disappeared, Wujun let out a heavy breath and lowered the weapon to his side. It took him a few moments to process that the encounter was over and they had survived mostly unscathed. As the adrenaline wore off, the young man, who had only ever dreamed of swordplay despite the long hours spent training, felt his body shake.

The sword slipped from his trembling hand, and he staggered backward a couple steps before his knees finally gave out. He consoled himself that at least he hadn’t taken a life. That was a weight and responsibility he wasn’t ready to carry, an innocence he hoped to maintain for as long as possible. Nevertheless, the realization that he’d just lived through his first battle twisted his stomach into painful knots. He groaned and leaned forward, afraid he was about to vomit; nothing came out despite his body’s attempt to purge itself.

Suddenly, gentle arms were around him, steadying him as his stomach continued its pointless heaving. He grasped at the arm, drawing strength from the cool metal that met his quivering fingers.

“You’re fine, kid. Let it out.” Kentai’s soothing voice was like a beacon in the fog, guiding him out of the forest. “It’s over now.”

“Forgive me…” Wujun tried to speak through gasps. “You must think I’m…”

Fingers brushed tenderly through his pale hair, sending a shiver of a different sort through him. “Not at all. Your first combat is always a bit of a shock, but it gets easier,” Kentai assured. There was no judgment in his tone, no scorn, only sincerity and understanding. Then he chuckled. “At least you didn’t piss yourself, eh?”

Already feeling better, Wujun laughed weakly and nodded. “That’s true. I don’t think I made a fool of myself, anyway.”

“I’d say you fought well.” There was a tinge of something in Kentai’s voice. Was it nervousness? “Come on, I’d best get you home.”

In the next instant, Kentai was helping him back to his feet and brushing dirt off his clothes. His expression was guarded, determined. That same haunted sheen dominated the large man’s gaze, betraying that his thoughts were harried. Was it something Wujun had said? Or was it because Naizen had escaped?

Kentai’s former acquaintance remained at the forefront of Wujun’s mind as they started down the road again. It was then he remembered those who hadn’t been so fortunate, their bodies left behind in the alley.

“What about the dead?” Wujun asked, pausing to look back.

Kentai raised his arm, blocking the street behind them from view. His hand was heavy on Wujun’s shoulder and for a second, he thought the swordsman was shaking. “Don’t look back,” he replied in a grave, stricken tone. “Never look back.”

He glanced up, hoping to gain a measure of clarity by reading his companion’s expression, but the handsome planes of his face were cast in stark shadows. All he could distinguish was the grim set of his chiseled jaw and the downward slope of his thin lips into a frown.

Stolen novel; please report.

They walked most of the way in silence after that. Wujun could feel Kentai brooding beside him and was hesitant to interrupt. It wasn’t until the cottage came into view and their time together was nearly at an end, that he worked up the courage to speak again.

“Kentai,” he ventured, his voice quiet, timid. “Naizen, I saw him create fire out of nothing and well…” There was no reaction, no comment, and so he pressed on. “I’ve read about those who used to exist who were capable of such feats. They were called—”

“Zosara,” Kentai finished. He stopped in his tracks but didn’t turn or otherwise look at Wujun. “You want to know if he’s a Zosara.” It was not a question.

Hesitantly, Wujun nodded. “Is he?”

There was a long silence, in which the only noise came from the nearby rustling trees and the distant howl of a wolf somewhere beyond the town. If he didn’t know any better, Wujun might have suspected Kentai had fallen asleep on his feet. Just when he was becoming uncomfortable, the large man finally answered.

“What if he is? What will you do?”

It was not what Wujun was expecting to hear, and he frowned in confusion. “What do you mean? I don’t understand.” He shook his head. “I’m only trying to make sense of what my eyes told me happened. And besides, I…” His knitted brow tightened further. “I felt something strange… A pull, a… kinship, almost.” He swiped his hand over his face, frustrated that he couldn’t better articulate what was on his mind.

Kentai’s sudden touch startled him. The swordsman was finally looking at him now, his eyes glittering in the silvery light of the moon, his countenance soft. “You’re hurt,” he breathed, his fingers gingerly brushing the scratch on Wujun’s cheek.

“It’s nothing.” He felt his face get hot and he shifted uncomfortably. “Don’t change the subject…” Wujun tried to say it with authority, but the way Kentai was regarding him made it difficult. The words instead came out sounding petulant to his ears.

Kentai released a sigh and dropped his hand. “Yes, then. He’s a Zosara. Satisfied?”

Somehow, he wasn’t. He chewed thoughtfully on the inside of his lip for a moment, before speaking again. “So, when Naizen called you ‘brother’, did he mean you’re a—”

He stopped the second he saw the flash of irritation on the other man’s face. That was all he needed to know the truth of the matter, anyway. It was as much an affirmation as any spoken word could have been. Not to mention, the strange tug was ever present when he was near Kentai as well. Was it magical affinity he was sensing? Did it mean that he could detect them? He wanted so badly to voice the questions aloud, but he didn’t think now was the best time; his new friend did not appear open to further discussing the topic.

“I should go. If the guard spots us, it’ll be nothing but chaos and scandal.” Wujun laughed nervously, reaching around to rub at the back of his neck. He wanted to peek at the handsome face one more time, but he was afraid of what he might see there. Had he pried too much and ruined any chance of getting to know the swordsman better? He deeply hoped not; this was the closest he’d ever come to having any sort of friend and it felt wonderful.

Wujun turned, intent on sneaking back over the wall and creeping to the window without being seen. A large hand caught his and held him in place.

“Sneak out again tomorrow tonight.” Kentai’s sonorous voice was low and husky. “I’ll buy you a proper drink, somewhere we can talk.”

The request made Wujun’s heart soar. Before he knew it, he had thrown his arms around Kentai’s thick neck and was hugging him. Uncertain, the bigger man patted him awkwardly on the back in response. Once his mind caught up to what he’d just done, Wujun’s cheeks flushed red again and he pulled away quickly.

“S-sorry.” Despite his embarrassment, he was still smiling happily. “I’ve just never… had a friend before,” he confessed.

“Oh, well.” Kentai seemed to regain himself and suddenly ruffled Wujun’s hair, his expression one of fondness. “You do now, kid. Now go on. I’ll keep watch until you’re inside.”

Wujun nodded, not sure he enjoyed having his hair tousled like a boy, but he knew the gesture was well meant so he tolerated it. “Good night, then.” He turned to leave again, but a sudden thought occurred to him. “Wait, how will I find you tomorrow?”

“Don’t worry.” Kentai’s silver tooth gleamed as he grinned. “I’ll be here.”