A winter had passed. A year in the pit had flown by, marked by relentless training and the teachings of Master Zhang. At this rate, it would take Aziz another two years to truly master the Lowly Serpent’s Breath. But two years was too long. He could feel the tides shifting, sense that the Order was planning something. There was no time to waste. Over the months, he had pieced together fragments of information, coming to the conclusion that the kidnappings had something to do with the war in the far east. But what role did he, and the other children taken from the village, play in this war?

Throughout the year, Aziz had not died once. He had come close, pushing his body to exhaustion during his training, teetering on the brink. He knew he had to be more careful. Whatever this undying curse was, it surely carried a heavy price. The thought nagged at him daily. What was the cost? What would he lose in the end?

It was snowing outside when the pit opened up, revealing Prime standing above. As usual, she dropped a piece of bread into the pit, her gaze cold and disdainful as she looked down at him.

“I don’t know how a miserable thing like you survived this long,” Prime said, her voice laced with disgust. Aziz must have been quite a sight—his long, raven-black hair hung past his shoulders, unkempt and matted, his skin marred with dirt and grime. He could see Prime wrinkle her nose under her mask. “This is the last time you’ll see us, child. You’ll have to survive on your own from now on.”

Aziz held back a chuckle.

That’s what I’ve been doing all along, he thought, hiding his face beneath his hair, assuming a cowardly posture.

“Pathetic,” Prime muttered, shaking her head as she closed the pit once more.

The last time they would deliver food? Had the Order decided to starve him to death? That didn’t make sense.

His senses, sharpened by his training, picked up the sound of Prime’s retreating footsteps as she walked away. Over the year, his hearing had become so acute that every morning he could hear the birds outside, swaying softly to their songs, sometimes wondering what sound a dying bird might make.

Would it squeal or sing one last song?

Aziz unfurled himself, standing up straight. He noticed that he had undergone a growth spurt. He was taller now, leaner, with striations of muscle standing out with every movement. His body had been hardened through hours of training, the lean snake meat making his own flesh stronger, more resilient. His hair, now reaching down to his hips, had proven useful as well. It was a perfect place for Mal to hide.

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The baby black-death wasn’t a child anymore, having grown over the year. Mal slithered out of Aziz’s hair, wrapping itself loosely around his neck, sitting on his shoulder like a pet bird. Its tongue flickered frantically, sensing the presence of Prime and the hatred Aziz harboured for her. During their initial encounters, Aziz had to cover Mal’s mouth to prevent it from baring its fangs at the woman, uncertain of what the Order would do if they discovered he had been rearing a snake.

It was bizarre at first. Something stopped him from eating the little guy, rather he had watched it from the corner as it seemed to stay curled up in the ball for the first week. Eventually hunger won, forcing the little snakelet to crawl towards Aziz after he had killed another black-death. There was no real way to explain his relationship with these snakes. Both felt a kinship to each other, yet he fed on them. A toxic relationship like this surely didn't exist anywhere else in the animal kingdom. Now a decent size, Mal still wasn’t fully grown, feeding primarily on its own species and sharing meals with Aziz.

How big did black-deaths grow? Aziz had no clue, but Mal had proven useful, assisting in catching meals and even in training.

Before allowing Mal to finish off a catch, Aziz would first train with it, testing his skills.

A sudden hiss from Mal made Aziz tense. He cast a sideways glance at his companion.

“What is it, Mal?”

Mal stared ahead at the opposite wall of the pit. Aziz stepped cautiously closer, placing his ear to the wall. It didn’t take him long to figure out what had disturbed Mal. The other side was hollow.

Impossible, Aziz thought.

He had searched around the walls before. Aside from the wall leading to the temple, the others were densely packed with earth. But now, there was something different. Something had changed.

Aziz began to wonder if he could break through the wall. After a year of intense martial arts training, he had completed all the teachings of Shadow Scales Zhang, advancing much faster than any Coiler before him. But the techniques he had mastered weren’t about brute force; that wasn’t Master Zhang’s style. Master Zhang’s methods were about subtlety, precision, and control—qualities that didn’t lend themselves to smashing through walls.

Aziz pulled away from the wall, pondering whether he should try to break through anyway. He wasn’t sure where he placed within the martial arts hierarchy of the world, but he had practiced relentlessly on the pillars of the temple, which were made from some ancient material seemingly lost to humanity. Still, he knew not to become arrogant. Mastering the first stage of the Lowly Serpent’s Breath was no great feat in the grand scheme of things. Master Zhang had written of martial artists who could achieve divine feats unfathomable to the human eye, like slicing a falling leaf in half with just a finger.

If I ever meet someone like that, I’d want to fight him, Aziz thought, cocking his head. Since when did I become so violent?

Regaining his focus, Aziz turned his attention back to the task at hand. He had a feeling that if he punched the wall for a few minutes straight, he could break through. The only reason he hadn’t tried yet was the Order. It would be foolish to alert them after all the work he had put in. Thinking it over, he decided it was best to wait. The Order wasn’t done with him. And he certainly wasn’t done with them.