Never again. Never again will she walk anywhere once she is finished with this mission. Karma will have servants carry her on mattresses made from the finest materials everywhere she needs to go from now on. Not even the military abused her soles in this way.

Karma’s feet have been aching for the last three miles. Her vision has returned, though it is still blurry, but even her blindness is no match from the throbbing in her feet. She would kill for a pair of padded slippers.

Oh, how she would maim for a foot massage and a cup of hot tea. She licks her lips, her eyes trained on the back of Mallie’s head. She’s debating trading the girl’s life for a steaming bath in the middle of the wilderness when she feels something just within the edges of her flowing wall of chi.

Her back stiffens as she stops walking. There’s a brief moment when nothing happens, and she thinks that a small rabbit may have just wandered within her field of energy, but then it returns. And she knows that what creeps within their vicinity is no small mammal.

She just can’t figure out what it is. “Hunts?” Her guide stops, his head turning to look over his shoulder at her. “What kind of creatures wander this area?” Million lets out a loud sigh, almost as if to say, ‘really, this is what you’re stopping us for?’

Hunts regards her, his eyes growing serious when he reads her body language. The man draws his javelin. “What is it? I can’t feel anything.” Karma’s brows raise, surprised that the naturalist huntsman cannot feel the creature stalking them.

It’s crawled closer, though it remains cautious. “If I knew what it was, I wouldn’t be asking you questions, Hunts.” His brow quips, his head nodding. Karma withdraws her knife, the siblings’ posture becomes defensive, realizing that she indeed is not playing with them. She doesn’t play with anyone, after all. “Its magical energy is not strong, but its physical… good gods.”

Karma’s heart speeds up, her eyes widening. She’s never felt anything with this much raw strength before. This creature… it has to be huge. She almost wishes she had brought more weapons. Magical weapons. “It’s coming from the south, quite slowly. If we run we-”

The ground rumbles, the tall trees shaking and shuddering as leaves fall loose, the result of a maddening roar. “I believe it’s a little late to run.” What? The sound bounces, somehow seemingly originating from both behind her and in front of her. Karma’s eyes dart, her knees bending.

Next to her, the air warms. Looking, she sees that Mallie has revealed her conjurer’s tool, a scythe with a blade as dark as midnight and as long as two people. “I can feel it, it’s coming in fast.” Million raises his hands, calling forth a small tree littered with tens of thick vines.

When the creature finally appears, the first thing Karma does is yell, “Oh, there’s no way!” Before them stands a chimera, it’s body held up by hind legs. It has to be at least twelve feet tall, the bottom half of its body covered in golden fur and taunt muscles. Its top half stands out drastically with its tough brown fur and large head.

A laugh rings loud and obnoxiously from Hunts. “Do you believe my stories now?!” She has no choice but to, because the creature that looms before them is a ferocious combination of lion and brown bear.

She recalls what he had told her in his story. It’s eyes, they must aim for its eyes. Karma cocks back her arm, readying a throw when she realizes that the creature’s eyes aren’t where they should be. It roars again, its snout vibrating and its mouth opening to reveal long yellow canines.

“Uh, Hunts?!” The amount of chi in the creature has shifted, as if the growl accelerated its growth in power. Her ears tingle and heat. Karma’s thoughts are cut off as a powerful paw slams into the ground. The force sends her flying to the right, separating her from their small group.

She skids, her blade digging into the ground. The air fills with grunts and howls, and when Karma looks up, she knows that this is no chance encounter. Two pups, the size of her younger sister, have joined the field.

The group isn’t just lunch.

They’re hunting practice.

“Eyes protect us,” Karma prays as she pushes herself up. The little creatures stand on all four legs, the entirety of their heads exposed. Now, she can clearly see where their eyes are located. Two rolling orbs the color of melted gold rests on the very tops of their skulls. When they put their muzzles down to the ground, the molten appendages are more clearly visible.

While these creatures are just a foot shorter than herself, they still weigh a significant amount more. She’ll be no good if they get too close to herself.

A scream sounds from her left, and she briefly catches sight of Mallie soaring through the air, her scythe curved behind her. Hunts and Mallie take on the mother, while Million has decided to face one of the pups.

That leaves… She regards the little creature, its legs unsteady, its eyes unsure. It looks to its mother who lets out another roar, and it tries to imitate her posture. Failing, it slips and rolls. Karma doesn’t allow the subtle unfairness of this situation to cloud her judgment. Before the baby chimera can gain back its balance and its confidence, she pounces on it, shoving her blade within its eye.

It screams.

It cries.

It whines.

And the sound it so terribly painful that Karma is forced to block out everything. She allows that ringing that’s always in the back of her ears to pull itself forward, to overwhelm that one sense, as she pulls her blade out.

With a swallow, she stabs the pup once more through the other eye, just barely managing to miss the chubby paw that attempts to lash out. Her breath is ragged as she withdraws from the creature, her eyes leaving to survey the other fights.

Million’s vines have just managed to choke the life out of the remaining pup when the mother realizes what has just happened. The barrier Karma had put up between her ears and the world is broken by the agonizing sound that leaves the creature towering over them all.

Mallie falls from its back as it shakes. Hunts is forced to retreat as two heavy paws smack the ground. He rolls, his back hitting the roots of a tree. The force of the sound causes Karma to dig her back foot into the ground for leverage, but before she can steady herself, the lear is on the move.

Massive, muscled legs bulge as the creature leaps towards her. She rolls, her knife flying from her hands in the chaos. On her last turn, she swoops to a stand.

And from her new position, she sees what she failed to notice earlier. “Good Mal,” She groans. “It has no eyes.” It takes only a moment for her to put two and two together. The growling, the increase in chi… It uses its voice to locate things.

But this information only helps with evading attacks. It won’t help with destroying it. How do you kill a creature when its weakness isn’t what you knew it to be? Karma thinks as the chimera paws at one of its lost children.

The other three gather together, likely discussing a quick plan of action.

When an opponent’s weakness shifts, what do you do? “Fuck! This is so simple; I should remember this!” It was basic training for Mal’s sake. She had received ten lashings for every wrong answer she had given. One would think that kind of pain would serve as-

“Fuck it, we’ll just do this the old-fashioned way.” Karma runs to the group, snagging her dagger along the way. Before anyone can say anything to her, she throws it, her aim for the paws resting on the stomach of the pup.

She hits her target.

And just as she expected, fury and grief seizes the chimera. Just as it roars, Karma lets out a scream of her own, alerting it of their position. “What the hells!” Hunts curses, but Karma is already on the move again.

Her hands wrap around Mallie’s weapon, pulling it from her distracted hands. Luckily for her, it doesn’t vanish.

The lear comes running, all semblance of a normal hunt gone. She’s going for the kill now. Karma dashes to the side as the group attempts to scatter, but one of them is too slow. He must have thought his vines would be strong enough to halt the creature. He must have thought that her arms were not nearly long enough to reach him.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

He thought wrong.

The vines that he had managed to slither around the haunch of the lear tear like wet parchment, and before he can blink, Million is being swatted like a gnat. He flies, the sound of something snapping within him echoing.

His sister screams, his friend tries to catch him with what remains of his vines, but Hunts soon finds himself the target of the enraged mother bear. And it is all as Karma wanted. She casts with a single word and a bit of directed willpower. “Rest.” With that, Million’s body halts within the air and comes to a slow and easy rest on the forest floor.

Her actions are still in motion. Whilst the lear swats and growls and snaps at Hunts, Karma darts under it. And she slices. She uses both her momentum and the momentum of her swing to drag her borrowed scythe from bottom to the top of the chimera. The curved blade slices and tears at the creature’s thick skin. Blood, intestines, and screams litter the forest ground.

And seconds later, the beast has met the same fate as its children. And what a sad one it is.

“You may have this back now,” Karma vocalizes as she drags the now bloodied weapon against the ground. Mallie’s arms must be exceptionally toned. Wielding that tool for just a few moments has left her arms beautifully sore, so she can’t imagine Mallie’s arms being weak. “You mentioned a river,” Karma huffs as she slides something off of her shoulder. “Where is it?” From head to toe, Karma is covered in chimera gore.

While she has experienced the humbling effects of no hot showers, Karma will not go without bathing before continuing with this journey. How can she expect to seduce a prince with the smell of blood and guts on her?

Or… perhaps he will like that.

The Zagran are beasts after all.

A groan sounds from a few feet away, signaling Million’s shaky grasp of consciousness. His friends rush to him, apparently having forgotten about the attack on his body. Karma rolls her eyes as she unbinds her hair. She can’t stop the gag that leaves her as a small bit of flesh falls from the frizzy mass. Good gods, she hopes the smell doesn’t stay on her.

“Brother, where are you hurt?” His sister is by his side in an instant, her hands hovering over his chest which has been stained with blood. The lears claws must have dug into him when he was hit.

The young man groans again, his hand weakly rising to swat at his sister’s insistent palms. “Everywhere.” This pulls a chuckle from Karma. She would imagine so. He was tossed to the side like last week’s dirty laundry. She knows from experience that he would not feel so great after that amount of abuse.

Mallie’s eyes water at the sight of her battered brother. One would think that he wasn’t an escaped convict. Again, Karma finds it hard not to roll her eyes. “Water,” She repeats as she attempts to drag her fingers through her hair, a feat that’s hard to accomplish on a good day. Bile rises up in the back of her throat. There’s absolutely no way she’s going to be able to stomach this smell for much longer.

Hunts narrows his eyes as he helps his friend stand. His hand quickly retracts from around Million’s waste, when the boy in question sucks in a breath sharply at the contact. He either has a broken rib or some severe bruising. Either way, until he’s healed, breathing is going to be a slight problem. “Wait a minute, he’s a naturalist. Why can’t he just heal himself?” While empaths are the most versed on the body, all sourcers have evolved a way to speed up healing. Conjurer’s typically learn how to bring forth healing devices during their first year of schooling. Naturalists normally learn how to produce medicinal herbs in their second year.

This small group should have no problem healing the boy. Her brows furrow. It doesn’t take her long to understand. The only real answer is that the group standing before her is self-taught. They didn’t attend any form of secondary learning, which would also explain why they didn’t realize they were being tracked by prison guards through their blood. The magic of casting stones is taught in first year along with the basics of structure within the Hillantan government. Anyone that attended secondary schooling for at least half a year would know this.

Her eyes regard the group in a new light. Of course, Karma realized that they were criminals, seeing as one of them was an escaped convict, but the way Hunts spoke didn’t allude to them being uneducated. It’s strange though, as not even the poorest sourcers in the country are denied secondary schooling. It would be stupid to allow those with the power to destroy to go untrained, after all. The naturalist revolt told them that much.

So why is it that they seem to have no schooling at all?

The group continues with Hunts guiding. Karma hears the water before she sees it, and relief fills her at the sight of the grand river. It has to be at least twenty feet wide, and fortunately, the current isn’t too harsh. “I’m not sure where your capabilities are, but the water should help with cleaning his wounds and transferring chi.” She will leave them to figure it out on their own.

And should they fail, she will step in. For a price of course. Karma walks until the three are small dots in the distance before she begins to get undressed. The woman has a limited supply of soap on her persons, but she’s ready to use it all on this one wash. The nasty and crusty feeling of blood drying on her as always been unsettling. Dirt in general makes her shudder.

Training with others had always been hard for her, for this fact alone. She was always more focused on staying prim and proper and clean than anything else. Her commanders didn’t take well to that. And neither did her comrades. Karma dips her clothing into the water and sloshes them around before locking them against a rock to soak while she cleans herself.

She waddles, her toes slipping against slimy pebbles, as she pulls herself deeper into the water. A relieved sigh leaves her as the chimera gore begins to melt away. Its been almost a week since she’s had a bath. The woman had tossed the grimy feeling to the back of her head, knowing that if she thought about it too long, she would begin to obsess.

Karma massages her aching feet against the river rocks as she dips her head back into the water. The tangles in her hair loosen, her locks unfurling to reveal their unknown lengths. She digs, finding a handful of sand, and uses it as an initial scrub to loosen the grime stuck to her skin.

After she finishes cleansing her body and her hair thoroughly, she rises and rings out the curly mass weighing heavily on her. Her eyes travel to where the group is stationed and she takes note of the fact that Hunts and Mallie still hold Million in their arms, as if he might slip away and never return. Her head shakes. They must not have figured it out.

It isn’t surprising, seeing as mastering self-healing takes at least a year. She shouldn’t have expected Hunts’ knowledge of the wilderness to translate into magical intelligence, but for some reason, she had. She scrubs her clothes, wondering if this is what it’s like to spot someone with the potential to be great. The thought of it being wasted almost makes her sick.

After ringing out her freshly washed traveling clothes, she changes into something else. These riding leathers don’t have the royal insignia, not that she needs it any longer. Once her clothes are secured, her shirt buttoned all the way up to her neck, and a new pair of leather gloves donned, she picks her bag back up and walks towards the group.

A sigh falls from her mouth as the smell of dead chimera travels with her. She will have to wash her bag eventually, but she doesn’t want the rest of her contents to get wet. Million’s soft groans greet her. “Before I help him, may I ask you all a question?”

Heads snap in her direction. “This- this isn’t really the time for questions.” Hunts bites out as he holds his friend’s chest under the water. It blurs with fresh blood. The skin just under Million’s pectoral is bruised a muddy purple color.

Karma folds her arms. “Then shall we let him die? I only really need one of them for your curse to stand. I’m sure you’ll be far more obedient once you see I’m willing to let you all die.” He tenses, his lips thinning and that little muscles on his jaw ticking. Karma smiles as she watches him.

She remembers when she felt like him. She remembers when she wept because her loved one was denied healers. She would never cry like that again. Not over another person. Not even over her darling sister. “What is it?” He just manages to push out. Million groans again, his eyes rolling beneath his lids as his body shudders.

His sister shushes him, her hand resting on the back of his head. Her blue eyes water at the sight of her distraught brother. Oh the agony of seeing a loved one hurt. “Why do none of you know how to heal? It’s standard curriculum at any Hillantan school.” They freeze.

And it is Mallie who answers. “We were not permitted education after our rites.” The rites are essentially a sourcers awakening. It is one of the single most important days of their lives. Its when they figure out who they really are. Karma had hers when she was just six summers old. The youngest in her familial line. Her trainings began right after that.

She can’t imagine what she would have become had she not been taught, quite effectively, how to control and use her powers. Her head cocks as she crouches from her position on the bank. “That makes no sense. All Hillantan’s are granted access to teachings. That is the law.”

“Not the children of alleged terrorists.” Her eyes fly up to meet Hunts’. Terrorist. Ah. Things are beginning to make sense. Her smile returns, parting her confusion like a misty cloud. “Those children are crippled and uneducated because the crown does not recognize them as true Hillantans.”

This is true. The crown does not recognize the children of terrorists as citizens if they are brought into custody over a certain age. And this is for good reason. Take her for example. Her father is a cruel and wicked man that has demanded many, most terrible, things from her. Her dignity, her mind, her soul, her life. And still, she will follow his word to the grave.

Her loyalty is eternal. Children of terrorists are still children. They will not see the doings of their parents as wrong. And once they hit a certain age, there is no undoing their parent’s teachings. Karma would know.

She rises, dusting her hands on the thighs of her trousers. “My healing is nothing but a bandage. And it comes at a cost. He must give something to me. What can he offer that is worth his life?” Million wheezes, the damage to his ribs becoming clearer. She would say he has thirty minutes to an hour to live.

“I- he has no money, no land, no children. He has nothing but his blood and his body.” Karma’s smile is so sharp that Mallie shrinks back at the sight. She knows she has just messed up.

For good measure, Karma pricks the young man on his arm, drawing his blood. “Then his body is what he shall give.” She licks her nail, ingesting his blood. It tastes of citrus and death. Poor boy. For this casting, Karma does not speak. As tendrils of her chi unfurl, tracing the lines of the broken boy’s body, she chants within her head.

To heal, Million of Dreson will give his life.

To live, Million of Dreson will give his loyalty.

To rise, Million of Dreson will give his soul.

It does not take long for the boy to sit up. And when he does, his eyes are trained on Karma, the woman that now holds his very soul between her fingers.