“We’re going to die, aren’t we?” Wuqi asked.

His older, more grizzled comrade, Minzha, turned back and scowled at him. “How many times do I have to tell you to stop with that talk. We’re not going to die here.” His voice echoed around their surroundings, a forest of pure black columns. Some were about the height of the tallest tower in Cheng-Kai, while others only came up to his waist.

“This is the afterlife,” Wuqi stammered. “Heavens. What if we’re already dead?”

“Shut up,” Minzha growled, waving his own sword at Wuqi. “Keep talking, and I swear I’ll leave you here.”

Wuqi looked into the older guardsman’s face and froze. Minzha had spent three decades as a soldier and another as a guardsman. He was a veteran of a hundred skirmishes and seemed to possess nerves of steel. However, Wuqi could sense something else in Minzha’s tone that was beyond just annoyance at him. He was frightened as well.

Somewhere off in their strange stone forest, some terrible beast roared. It was back and even closer than last time.

“There it is again,” Wuqi whispered. “It’s hunting us. I know it is. Oh gods, we’re going to die here.”

Minzha scoffed. “We’ve hunted beasts before. This will be no different.”

Wuqi shook his head and took a step back. “On horses and accompanied by a party of other guardsmen. That doesn’t sound like any run-of-the-mill wild boar either. We don’t even have spears, damn it.”

Minzha didn’t reply immediately. After a moment’s consideration, he began to march off toward the direction of the roar. “Follow me,” the older guardsman commanded. “By the end of this day, we’ll have a nice fur cloak out of whatever’s chasing us.”

“Please,” Wuqi whimpered, following after his companion. “Let’s just find the young master—”

Another roar cut him off, this time around, even closer to their position.

“Steel yourself, boy.” Minzha turned away from Wuqi, holding his sword in both hands. “Remember your training.”

Reluctantly, Wuqi bared his own sword. He stared at his reflection in the blade and gulped. Fear filled his stomach like rancid wine from the worst tavern in Cheng-Kai. By the heavens, he was no soldier. The only taste of combat he had was breaking up fights between drunkards in the city.

They made their way through the forest of stone, weaving through ominous black columns. The ground was dry and cracked, with the occasional shrub rearing its leafless branches out every few meters. It reminded Wuqi of the arid lands to the far south, not that he had ever been there himself.

The hairs on the back of Wuqi’s neck rose. The ground seemed to rumble softly. Trembling, Wuqi clutched his sword closer. Its simple, undecorated hilt was slick with his sweat.

Then it emerged. It made Minzha, who was a good hand and a half taller than Wuqi, look like a child. Its shoulders were massive, its sinewy arms likely powerful enough to rip a man in half. Two wickedly curved horns protruded from the sides of a hemp bag placed over its head. Crimson, beady eyes stared out at them from underneath it. Talon-like fingers clutched a jagged dark cleaver nearly the size of Wuqi himself.

It wore no armor. Only a ragged loin-cloth covered its nether regions. Not that the armor would make any difference, the sheer size of the man-beast alone was enough to terrify Wuqi.

“Heavens preserve us,” Minzha whispered breathlessly. He lifted his sword with shaky hands. “What are you?”

The man-beast roared with laughter. “Man-flesh,” he cooned. “So long since. . . man-flesh.”

Minzha’s sword arced through the air.

The man-beast made no attempt to dodge. It only growled as steel bit into its shoulder. Minzha unleashed a second blow, then a third, before falling back a few paces. The man-beast didn’t look fazed in the slightest.

Wuqi backed up slowly, his breath catching in his throat.

Minzha fought on bravely, his steel matching the man-beast’s steel. He was no longer a simple guardsman but a hero facing insurmountable odds straight from the legends.

The man-beast swung his cleaver straight down as if chopping wood, but the older guardsman was already one step ahead. Minzha skirted around the man-beast. Although his movements could hardly be called graceful, the cleaver always seemed to miss him by a hair.

The man-beast halted.

Small shadowy figures emerged from behind the columns. One at first, then two, then three. . . four. . . five. Before Wuqi knew it, they were surrounded. Some of the shadows were as small and delicate as children, while others appeared burly and tall.

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The shadows merely watched impassively.

Minzha didn’t seem to notice they were being watched. How could he? The guardsman was walking the line between death and life; any distractions would cost him gravely.

Then Minzha’s sidestep came a breath too late. The cleaver slashed through the guardsman’s side. He dropped on one knee, the entire weight of his body supported by his sword like a crutch.

“No,” Wuqi whispered to himself. Move, damn it. Help him! But he found his legs refusing to listen to him.

The man-beast slowly raised its bloodied cleaver, as if taunting the two of them, then brought it down on Minzha’s neck. Wuqi was close enough to hear the sick sound of steel hacking through flesh and bone.

Remember your training, Minzha had told him. What type of training could have prepared him for this? He resisted the urge to hurl his earlier lunch.

Wuqi’s hands refused to stop shaking. He was going to die. But was he going to die a coward? His mother had told him stories of his cowardly father, who had deserted the battlefield and found a dog’s death on the hangman’s rope. Was Wuqi the same?

He looked deep within himself, and surprisingly enough, found fury.

Minzha didn’t deserve to die here. He had lived through dozens of fights and more than a few wars. The old guardsmen should’ve been enjoying his retirement. If Wuqi had joined the battle with him, could they have taken the man-beast down together?

“Heavens take you!” Wuqi shouted, charging at the man-beast. He may have been a coward, but he wasn’t going to die like one.

The man-beast raised his cleaver and swung it in a flat, horizontal slash. Wuqi ducked underneath it, then took the chance to lunge forward with his sword, driving it into the man-beast’s abdomen. But when Wuqi pulled on his blade, it refused to budge.

Wuqi cursed, daring to glance up at the man-beast’s masked face. Its eyes seemed to mock him.

A heavy kick caught Wuqi in the stomach, sending him flying into a nearby column. The wind left his lungs in a rush, and he felt the world alight with pain.

Wuqi somehow managed to keep conscious. A thin trickle of blood streamed down the side of his face. He brought his hand up to his head, and it came away soaked in his blood. His body screamed in agony in a thousand different places. What was he thinking? Like Minzha had often said, he had let his emotions cloud his judgment. That was a fatal mistake in combat. Now, he was going to pay the price.

When Wuqi looked up, he saw the faint outline of the man-beast approaching. Damn. Blotted shadows danced in and out of his vision.

Wuqi shook his head in a daze. He knew he had to get up. But he was hurting everywhere. The slightest movement of his neck sent paralyzing pain down his spine. It was getting harder to think. There was nothing he could do now. A short rest now couldn’t hurt. He had earned that much.

He closed his eyes.

. . .

Focus on the flame in your core, nurture it, strengthen it, the Prime had said before wandering off. What did that mean? He assumed her words were symbolic and not meant to be taken literally. Sezha growled in frustration. Meditating was getting him nowhere.

He pushed himself off the ground and picked up his sword, which had been driven into the earth beside him. Whenever he was feeling lost or frustrated, a good workout seemed to clear his mind.

Power seemed to surge through his body as he fell into a stance. His body moved on its own through a familiar sequence. Slash. Feint. Sidestep. Thrust. Sezha wasn’t just a spoiled brat holding a sword anymore. He was becoming more.

His feet glided across the earth, a rhythmic dance against an imaginary opponent. He retreated, then advanced, before doing it all over again. His mind became empty until there was nothing left but him and his sword. Feel the flame, nurture it, strengthen it. Until there’s nothing left but your fire.

Yes, Sezha was starting to understand. He wasn’t quite there yet, but he could feel himself getting closer.

“You felt it, didn’t you?”

Sezha turned in the direction of the voice. The Prime stood between two tall columns, her arms crossed and a faint smile on her lips. She wore a flowing sleeveless dress today. Were her clothes a trick of the light as well? Sezha shook his head. Only ask the questions that matter, the Prime had told him.

“I can’t describe it,” Sezha said, setting his blade against his shoulder. “But I felt powerful. Like the world itself couldn’t stop me.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” the Prime scoffed. “There’s nothing wrong with being confident, but keep yourself tethered to the ground, or your ego will carry you off.”

“You’ll never let me have a victory, will you?”

The Prime smirked at his words. “It’s my job as your mentor to keep you grounded.”

Sezha chuckled. It wasn't often he got her to smile.

Far off, a roar echoed throughout the barren landscape. He was well familiar with the sound. The Hunter.

“There it is again,” Sezha muttered. “It’s been agitated of late.”

The Prime frowned sharply, glancing off to the distance. “Indeed. But this is different. . .” A dark emotion flashed across her face. “It’s hunting.”

“Oh,” was all Sezha could force out. His face darkened, and he looked down at his bare feet. They were callused beyond recognition. “We should do something.”

“Then go.”

Sezha did a double-take. Then go? She wasn’t going to give him a wordy lecture on how he wasn’t ready for the dangers of combat?

“You think I’m ready?”

“No,” the Prime said tersely. “But you’d regret it if you didn’t do anything at all. I’ve taught you all the skills needed to triumph. At this point, however many more drills you practice, you won’t improve any further. There are some things only a real fight can teach you.”

Sezha nodded. With the Prime’s words in mind, he broke into a sprint. He had sparred with the Prime a dozen times before, but the taste of a true fight beckoned to him. It was finally time to see just what the Hunter was made of.