Sen was heavier than she looked, and she looked quite heavy. As she loaded the girl up on her back, Ruyi nearly fell over. Did she have lead for bones? The training boulders at home were much heavier, but they were smooth stable things with steel handles welded to the sides, and flat bottoms for easy carrying. Bodies were all floppy and wobbly and lurched with every step. Plus Ruyi was a head shorter, which meant she had to bend so far over she was staring at the ground.

She settled on carrying the girl in her arms. She’d just rest when her muscles gave out.

As she wound her way down the gorge and onto the main road, a well-beaten path run through with carriage tracks, Ruyi kept staring at Sen’s face. She seemed so peaceful, like she was in deep sleep, eyes gently shut, her chest slowly rising and falling.

It didn’t seem fair that she was the unconscious one. Ruyi swallowed as the memory welled up—Sen stepping in front of her, no hesitation.

She was struck with guilt.

Would Ruyi do that if she were in Sen’s spot? Could she? She wished she could say yes. She might’ve done before today. But now she wasn’t so sure. She stumbled down a mountain pass washed gray by the dusk, swamped by the shrill murmurs of the forest.

The demon’s words floated back to her. Something about holding two things at once… about being realistic?

She shook her head angrily, as though to shake loose the thought from her head. Why the Hell did she care what that monster had to say?!

It wouldn’t go away. She kept plodding along, and it kept drifting back to her.

At last she stopped, arms burning, and propped herself up against a boulder by the roadside. She lay Sen’s head in her lap and just tried breathing.

***

Had that really been the Lord of Demons? It seemed absurd. But that aura, that demonform, the way he spoke…

He’d sounded so sincere, like he really wanted to help. What was that he’d said—‘demons are my enemy?’

Did he think she’d believe him? Why was he telling her, of all people?

Was Zhilei Zhen a lie this whole time? Had the real Zhilei been eaten—had this demon just taken over his body? But he’d seemed so real, he spoke like a Grandmaster…

Ruyi groaned. She kept trying to for answers but all she found were more questions.

He could have killed her. He could have killed Sen. Was keeping them alive some kind of warning—to the Emperor, to her Mother? That didn’t make much sense either.

Then there were his words, which just wouldn’t leave her alone. She shoved them off and they crept back. It was stupid—he was a demon! He was tricking her, obviously, that was what demons did—

…wasn’t she a demon, now, too?

She didn’t know what she was thinking. There was so much swirling around it felt hard to focus.

She jerked up, as though stung.

She knew why what he said kept nagging her. Because it was true.

He’d said aloud something she’d always kind of knew, but tried not to think about. She would’ve never thought it was so obvious. She thought she hid it well.

It’d must’ve begun when she was small, and not consciously. She always had this sense of herself, like she was meant for something great. She could see her futures so clearly—her as the hero smiling at an adoring crowd; her at the Banquet where they awarded her the Rising Phoenix Prize. These weren’t dreams. They always felt like destiny. Even thrown out by her own Father at six she could cling to her little visions—they were all she had. She knew, even then, she was special; she had to be. She couldn’t bear it otherwise.

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Could she do with being a little more honest with herself?

…But that didn’t make sense either. If she was ‘realistic’, wouldn’t she have just… given up? She should’ve been a nobody. She’d still be in the servants’ quarters—she’d never have gone anywhere!

She was getting angry again. What did some—some Demon King know about her, anyway? What gave him the right to tell her what to do, like he knew her? He didn’t know her. She scarcely knew herself!

Nothing made sense. She tried to stop thinking. About what he’d said, but also about everything else; she tried to just breathe.

But she couldn’t.

***

Sen woke thrashing. She nearly punched Ruyi in the nose. Then she was on her feet, blade half-drawn—“Where is he?!”

“He’s gone,” said Ruyi.

Sen jerked when she caught sight of Ruyi. She rushed up to her, checked her arms, her wrists—“Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine!” said Ruyi, flabbergasted. “Am I hurt—are you hurt?!”

“What? I—” It seemed to dawn on Sen that they weren’t in the gorge anymore. “What happened?”

Ruyi told her. She wished Sen would say something. Heavens knew she couldn’t read anything off Sen’s blank face. Sen’s breathing seemed to tighten as she told the tale; her hands were fists at her sides, white-knuckled. But she just blinked.

She could imagine what Sen was feeling; in Sen’s position she knew she’d hate the question she was about to ask. But she had to.

“Are you okay?” she said, gently as she could.

"I'm not hurt. I can move."

"That... isn't what I meant."

Sen said nothing, which was as clear an answer as any.

After a few breaths—

“I’m sorry.” So small Ruyi scarcely heard it.

“What?”

“I failed you.”

“That’s—of course you didn’t! Don’t say that. You were incredible.”

“I said,” said Sen, voice thick. “I said I would keep you safe. I was supposed to protect you.”

She looked at her hands, blinking fast.

“It’s okay,” said Ruyi. “Really.”

Sen turned away.

Ruyi wanted to say more, but she worried it would only hurt her. She wished she knew the words to make things better.

***

As they neared the mountain village, a twinkling of yellow lights up ahead—

“What did he hit me with?” said Sen.

Ruyi hesitated. “An uppercut.”

“I must’ve lunged,” said Sen. “Which way did he slip? Inside or out?”

“Sen..." Ruyi glanced at her. "What are you saying?”

“Toward or away from the middle of my body.”

“Maybe it's better if we didn't—” She reached out to stroke Sen’s arm, maybe calm her, but Sen batted her off.

“Which. Way. Did he slip?” She enunciated each syllable harshly.

“…Inside.”

Back to silence they went.

***

That night she was woken by shrill whispers of steel through the window, a soft sh-sh.

Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she went out in her night robes.

There was a grove of oaks a quarter li away. At its center, knee-deep in wild grasses, was Sen. Her sword was the only light, one bright strip in the dark.

She was drilling the same move, over and over—she lunged, exactly like she’d done to Marcus. But this time she pulled, pivoted as though marking a ghost—a ghost slipping inside—and slashed. She held nothing back; Ruyi could feel the rage in the blow. An arc of light ripped from her sword, slicing dozens of feet of grasses, showering a fountain of dirt. Dirt mounds dotted the field, some several feet high. She must’ve been at it for hours.

“Sen?” she said.

Sen froze. Turned. Her eyes were red-rimmed, dark streaks down her face. Ruyi was so used to thinking of Sen as some kind of warrior goddess, so strong she was nearly invincible. She looked frail, like she was about to crumble. She looked like she really needed a hug. Yet Ruyi sensed treating Sen as some wounded thing that needed healing was the last thing she wanted right now.

“Leave me,” Sen whispered. “Please.”

***

Sen was still at it mid-morning, when Ruyi came to check on her again.

She hadn’t slept. She’d been blasting full-force strikes for hours. She stumbled about, feet fighting with each other, drunk with sleeplessness; Ruyi ran for her. She couldn’t bear to watch it anymore.

Sen let her come, blinking heavily. Her face was pale and her eyes sagged with deep black rings.

“That’s it!” cried Ruyi. She all but wrestled the sword from Sen’s hand. “Enough! Miss, you’re coming with me. You’re going to take a nice long nap—”

“I’m sorry,” mumbled Sen.

She blacked out. Ruyi caught her before she could hit the ground.

***

Ruyi laid Sen in her own bed and tucked her in.

Asleep her face had none of the tightnesses, none of the guilt-ridden lines. Ruyi brushed away a strand of ink-black hair, just watching the way the soft glow of sunlight through the drapes touched her face. She was more beautiful then than she’d ever been. She was so beautiful Ruyi could cry.

***

That evening a letter arrived by stork post.

It was from Mother. Why would she write when Ruyi was gone on a three-day trip? Frowning, she opened it.