It was a beautiful day—despite the fires and the meteorites falling from the sky. They bombarded the city, causing explosions that rocked the earth and shattered glass.

The scene had a certain epic feel to it that Zax Iden found rather appealing. He stood on the balcony of his house, on a mountain overlooking the city. A shield protected him and his villa. Though it did not rain here. Every once in a while, a small rock would fall, hit the invisible shield, bounce off, and tumble down the cliff. It was nothing.

He ran a hand through his crimson hair, pulled a chair and sat, a glass of asperry juice in his hand. It was a rare and delicious fruit that only grew on Sivaris—a world of lush jungles and fertile fields that was solely used for farming.

Yes, today was a beautiful day. A day filled with hope. He had earned this moment of peace. Because soon he would be able to leave. There still was work to be done, of course, but it was with a light heart that he would do it. And, in the end, he would get his just reward.

“Mr. Iden?”

He looked up at his servant, slightly annoyed by the interruption.

“What is it?”

The boy’s lips twitched, his green eyes blinking, a hint of concern verging on panic flickered for a second.

“There’s someone at the door. A wounded woman. I think she needs help, sir.”

Zax jumped out of his chair, set his glass down on a small table, and rushed into the house. He went through the living room, into the hall, and reached the lobby in less than a minute.

The stranger had leaned against the wall and slowly slid down to the floor, holding her bleeding stomach with her right hand.

He knelt next to her and gently lifted her hand to look at the wound.

“Nasty,” he muttered. “What happened to you?” Before she could answer, he looked over his shoulder and called out. “Grell! Get me some hot water, clean cloths, and the medkit. Hurry!”

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The servant nodded and rushed off as Zax looked back at the woman.

“Ambush,” she muttered. “My friends... All dead. A mile from here.”

Zax grimaced. Banditry was getting out of hand in this dreadful world. He’d have to do something about that.

“Can you walk?” he asked.

The woman closed her eyes and shook her head.

“I don’t know. It... it hurts... so much.”

“It’s alright. I’ll carry you. You’ll be fine.”

He grabbed her in his arms and lifted her easily. With a few quick steps, he took her into the guest room and lay her on the bed.

“Sir!” Grell came running in. “Here’s the medkit. Asha should be here soon with the water and cloths.”

Zax grunted and nodded. He took the medkit, opened it, and pulled out a syringe. After filling it with a green liquid, he injected it into the woman’s arm to prevent infections.

She hadn’t reopened her eyes since he’d carried her, so he checked for a pulse and found she still had one.

Running feet came into the room. He turned as Asha arrived, holding out two pieces of cloth in one hand and a bucket of water in the other.

Zax motioned for her to leave all that next to the bed.

“You two go call the doctor. I’ll do what I can for her, but she’ll need professional help. And sooner rather than later, I suspect.”

The two servants headed out and he looked back at the woman. She had soft skin and long silver hair, though she looked young—maybe in her twenties. A locket hung around her neck. Her garments were clean and elegant, with intricate embroideries that hinted at a wealthy family.

He used a pair of scissors to cut the dress around the wound, then proceeded to clean it.

When he was done, he checked her breathing again, then pulled a cover over the woman and quietly stepped out of the room.

He found Grell standing nearby, shifting from one foot to the other.

“What is it?” he asked.

“How is she?”

“Do you know her?”

The servant looked down. “Sort of.”

“What does that mean?”

“I’ve seen her before. And I... Ah, well...”

“Yes?”

Grell rubbed the back of his neck and looked to the door.

“It doesn’t matter, I suppose. I could never...” He sighed. “Her name is Rishi. I’ve seen her before.”

Zax chuckled. “Yes. I believe you’ve mentioned it.”

“Ah. Sorry.”

The servant was young—perhaps the same age as the wounded woman, come to think of it. But they were of different worlds and Grell knew it.

“Do you know where she lives? Or who her parents are?”

The boy blushed. “I, uh, once followed her. She lives in the city. I know the address.”

Zax winced at the mention of the city. He was glad her father was wealthy—he’d have a shield—or there might have been more bad news for the poor girl.

“Very well,” he said. “Let’s see if we can find her family.”