14. Beauty in Resolve I

MORNING—BEFORE THE WINE

Normad swirled the wine thoughtfully, leaning against the couch. “Have you heard of the ghost of the Spiral?”

He was half-naked, thin and without fat, but muscled and ever the image of a rogue cultivator.

The Fortson brothers stared at him. “The cultivator killer,” Lim Fortson said. “What use is all this to us?”

“You come in here unannounced…” the other brother said. “Demanding us.”

“Tighten the leash on your patience, cultivator. I’m not fond of barking dogs.” He scoffed. “The Ghost of the Spiral has killed over fifty-seven cultivators yet remained unseen all this time. But now… now I know where she lives.

“You will tell me where she is, you will take me there, or my friend here will negotiate in my place.” Normad whistled, and a monkey dragon’s eyes appeared on the window outside. Its rumble and the tremble in its throat made it sound old. “One of her children died, unfortunately. And she’s very eager to hunt.”

The brothers looked at each other, and they both laughed. “You don’t have qi,” Lim Fortson said, pointing. “Mortal. I would have noticed. But you make a good jester. Shall I leave you free of your limbs and see if you can stumble around the streets of Central?”

Normad grinned. “Your brother’s stumpy legs are enough entertainment for me.”

The Fortson brother lunged, striking a qi-infused fist onto Normad’s chin, snapping his neck back and ripping his skin. He was near decapitated.

Lim Fortson leaned against the couch and sighed. “A confidence man is entertaining. Ought we hire some of them and have their tricks be taught to us?”

Kraum Fortson had a dark expression. “What about what he said? The ghost of the Spiral?”

“He was lying through his teeth. The ghost doesn’t exist. We’re looking at a trail of smoke, not the fire. How would he know any information about the ghost, anyway?”

Kraum Fortson gave a nod. He sat back next to the dead man, who, so casually reattached its almost-severed head, regenerating the damage.

“Because I am one,” Normad said, smiling. “A ghost. Just like my junior, who I’m certain you’re familiar with. Her name is Pria Summerborn.”

Lim Fortson stared, unblinking, then he started to cough. Once, twice, then repeatedly. He covered his face, but his hand was wet with blood. “The wine,” he whispered, before collapsing silently on the couch.

“Now—dog!” Normad said with a cheer. “If you don’t want your brother to die, do as I say. And don’t bother with that petty trick earlier. That was a rude manner to interrupt an immortal.”

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“No,” Kal said, feeling deezy. “I’m not Lahrs Sarnasia.”

“I admire your attempts to court me, young master,” she said. “But it was amateurish. Exhausting me on one hand and offering the solution on the other is a good attempt, but you two were not very good actors.

“You and Lady Reimallia seemed to have been mysteriously attached. Your impatience flashed like sunlight, and it was clear you failed to conceptualize the plan properly. You were too commanding, and colder than you originally were.”

“Did she…” he tried to mouth the words. “Did she tell you about me?”

“Does Lady Reimallia already know?” At the shake of his head, she continued. “No. I asked you if you liked fish. You said you did. When we first came here, you never liked eating fish. And you were suddenly too kind then,” she said softly. “Too kind. And another thing, I… well.”

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Lady Reimallia climbed up the ladder. “Pria. Did you um. Poison him?”

Pria Summerborn sighed. “Aren’t you going to take his silvers, cultivator?”

“I—“

“Don’t you want to leave? He can’t move.”

Kal tried to say something, but his mouth was numb, and he had to consciously blink.

“I don’t know,” she said. “And you?”

She shook her head. “The man Lahrs Sarnasia died, but his vessel lives. I couldn’t kill him then for some reason, so they’re after me now.”

“They who?”

Pria Summerborn stood up, leaned against the table, and looked at Kal. “Cultivators,” she sighed. “What are you? What is it in you that corrupts so much? Lady Reimallia felt different now that she was a mortal. What makes you so different from us mortals?”

Kal saw it then—from the corner of his eye, something was staring. Pria felt it immediately too. She kicked the table, spilling the wine and all, when the white furred thing leapt, crashing in between them and tearing through the roofs of the manor before stopping on another tree.

Kal collapsed helplessly. Somewhere, Pria must either be running to save her own skin or to get the bow and kill the unexpected visitor. Rei, she must hide. He was the only one who could hold it, but he couldn’t move.

Pria hurried to kneel before him. She was taking vials out of her pockets and looking through them. And then she found one and poured the drop onto his lips.

He felt like he could breathe again.

“Young master,” she said. “Will you kill it?”

He managed a smile. “We’ll have a lot to talk about after this.”

The monkey dragon pulled its legs. It was bigger than anything he’d ever seen, and who seemed like it was more mature and had a thicker, healthier hide. Was it the father? Or the mother? It doesn’t matter.

Their prey came to them.

The three of them dropped down to the ground and hid behind the walls cautiously.

“Got a plan?” Reimallia said.

Kal looked around. He darted around the hallway to his bed and, under the pillow, took out a knife and sliced his own wrist.

He made his way to the table and smeared it across the metal beams. Then, he commanded it.

There was a boom, and dust and wood flew everywhere as the monkey dragon effortlessly crashed through the manor, toppling the front gate walls.

“Lady Reimallia!”

Kal ran outside. He found Lady Rei on the ground, bleeding from her forehead.

“She’s bleeding,” Pria said.

The monkey dragon roared—but it was more of a laughter than a roar, and it circled around them slowly. Then it began to draw back to one of the trees.

“I’ll hold it off,” Kal said, holding the makeshift iron on his bloodied hand. “Take her to the basement.”

It’s fast, Kal thought. He had a plan, which was to exhaust the monster while they get away. For now, all he could do was bait it.

He dropped the aspect spear on the ground, placing his foot over it.

The moment the creature leaps, he’d raise the spear and balance it with his arm to strike the creature through its abdomen.

The creature leapt. Kal had already raised the spear, and he was pointing it. Just as he planned. But the creature severely missed by two meters. Why? Was it not as accurate as he thought?

Then he saw a white feathered arm and talons clawed at him, snapping the spear in half. Did it anticipate the spear?

The creature slammed against the tree, then it looked at him. Bright, blue eyes. He saw his own reflection in it.

Kal stared back. It had always been the case for him that he could competently look at a person and conclude if they’re dangerous or not. At times, he was wrong, but their character hangs in the air unless they were good actors.

This wasn’t human. It wears its heart on its sleeve.

It looked at him without so much as a primal roar like its juvenile counterparts. “You’re intelligent,” he whispered. And angry.

It raised its arm then slammed him down on the ground. He heard his left arm crack and he winced. He lost his breath. You want to make me suffer?

It ignored him then. The creature looked around, sniffed, then stared at the distance. It found them.

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PRIA SUMMERBORN

Pria dragged the unconscious cultivator to the trapdoor leading to the basement during the chaos, but the rubble blocked it. She had to dig it up again and again.

“Look out!”

Pria turned. She dodged to the side just as the monster leapt and opened its maw, revealing its rows of teeth. She caught a glimpse of its throat. It rolled through the rubble, and now Pria caught the time to look at Lahrs Sarnasia, who was running at her. He was bleeding and held his left arm in pain.

He forced his good right arm against the handle and pulled it open. “Get in. Now, go, go, go!”

She dragged Reimallia inside.

Lahrs Sarnasia smiled and let go of the trapdoor, and light slowly winked out.

Now it was only darkness.

She stared at the trapdoor. You could’ve left me there to die.

She didn’t have her bow here. And getting out would be risking a lot. She was, after all, only a mortal.

Pria drew Reimallia closer to her. Then she sat down on the corner, curled up and covered her ears.