The chilling spring storm poured fury down upon Hanamei as she desperately fled through the thick underbrush of a decaying forest. Her gown was in tatters, her makeup mostly washed away by the heavy sheet of rain that was barely halted by the scraggly canopy above her head. Her once smooth hair was soaked and fell down her back in tangled waves.

She had barely managed to escape the Warlord’s palace and was now fleeing for her life in what had once been a beautiful, emerald glade. Now it was but a husk of its former glory. Nothing grew here. There were only the remnants of thorny vines and twisted, rotting trees.

Her lungs and body ached, protesting her headlong flight and demanding she stop to rest, but she knew that would only end in death. She had to keep moving, had to take advantage of every second she’d bought by surprising them. There couldn’t have been a better time to escape, when the soldiers were bloated with food and alcohol after feasting all night. Nobody had expected this, not from a meek little heathen woman.

But that stupor would not have lasted long. When Tzulan called upon them, burned and furious, his soldiers would have rallied behind him, which meant they were undoubtedly right behind her.

As if on cue, the baying of hunting dogs split through the night, causing a tremor of fear to escape her in the form of a frightened gasp. After a few minutes, she was able to hear the sound of horses, but she couldn’t tell in the torrential downpour where they were coming from. The weather was getting worse, and she was growing more and more exhausted. Whatever power had been inside of her was silent now, and a feeling of dread tightened around her heart.

She blindly stumbled out of the brush and onto the road, just as a clap of thunder struck so close it nearly shook her right off her bare feet. Exhaustion won where the weather had failed, causing her to collapse to her knees in the mud. Gasping for air and trembling from head to foot, Hanamei leaned over, her unkempt hair falling in a matted wave around her shoulders. She wrapped her arms around herself, shivering from the chill and wet.

It took her several moments before she realized there were a pair of shoes in front of her. Not the heavy boots worn by the Warlord’s men, but expensive footwear made for a nobleman. She should have been frightened, but she was too weary to do much more than raise her face up, her violet eyes slowly taking in the man who stood before her.

He was taller even than the Warlord. His clothing, a mix of white, cerulean, and teal, was just like his shoes: stately, rich, immaculate. Even in the rain, he was the most beautiful creature she had ever laid eyes on. Long auburn hair was drawn up into a high ponytail, with only a mess of unruly bangs hanging around his perfectly chiseled face. Shimmering ocean blue eyes glowed down at her, filled with curiosity and power. The latter of which sent a shiver down her spine that had nothing to do with how cold she felt.

Behind her, the sound of cavalry drew her gaze away from the mysterious man. Her muscles protested as she half turned just in time to see a contingent of soldiers and hounds swarming toward them. Breath catching in her throat, Hanamei let out a strangled cry and attempted to rise, but her legs wouldn’t cooperate. She floundered, falling back into the muck as she fought her exhaustion in a final effort to scramble away.

Much to her dismay, she’d made it only a foot before the dogs began to circle, and moments later, the horsemen spread out around her as well. She shrank away from them, aching for that power to return, but the strange, mystical taint remained dormant.

A man rode forward, no doubt the lieutenant, and eyed the stranger warily. “Stand aside. We only want the girl,” he commanded.

Hanamei’s eyes flashed to him. She had almost forgotten his presence, but now she was desperately drawn to him. The power inside him, could it save her? He was obviously somebody of importance, of wealth; perhaps he would take pity on her? Without hesitation, she fell against him, her muddy hands grasping at his silken clothes. She fully expected him to recoil from her filthy touch.

“Please, my lord,” she pleaded, unable to stop from shivering as the surprising warmth of his body seeped into hers. She clung to him all the tighter. “Please, don’t let them take me back!”

“Foolish, heathen wretch!” The lieutenant swore and spat on the ground before swinging his leg over his horse’s withers to dismount. “Nobody is going to save you, not after what you did!”

The stranger tore his eyes away from her face and turned them on the advancing soldier. Something about him changed, something that made the dogs cower back and the horses begin to whinny and fidget nervously. Hanamei felt it too and knew she should be afraid, but oddly, she found the surge of power comforting.

“Do you know who I am?” His words were spoken softly, and yet they could still be heard over the storm. They also stopped the lieutenant in his tracks.

Hanamei watched him from over her shoulder as he struggled between fear and duty for a brief moment before the latter finally won out.

“Who you are doesn’t matter, stranger. She is the property of Warlord Tzulan.” He put a hand on his weapon. “And you will not be permitted to interfere. Stand aside. I won’t warn you a third time.”

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Ignoring the threat, the man graced him with a slight smile, caught somewhere between polite and amused. “I am Lord Akihato of the Zozatai.” He gave a slight bow of his head as though he were greeting them all in some lavish court instead of the middle of the road during a thunderstorm. “It does not appear this young woman wishes to depart with you. Perhaps...”

The lieutenant’s eyes were wide with terror, but he swallowed it down. His sense of honor must have been strong indeed for him not to flee at the mere mention of the Zozatai. They were an order cloaked in mystery and rumor. Horrifying tales of the power wielded by those among them were also prevalent; what wasn’t were the casters themselves. Living, breathing Zosara were rare, gracing the court of noble rulers and the halls of only the most wealthy warlords. Very little was known about these mystic beings, only that they possessed a great and terrible magic.

“Her wishes do not matter.” His voice was not nearly as confident as before. “She has dared attempt to assassinate the Warlord, and for that, her life is forfeit.”

“This woman?” Akihato shifted his gaze back down to Hanamei and tilted his head to one side out of curiosity more than skepticism. “How could one so delicate and frightened have made any serious threat against your warlord’s life?” There was no disrespect in his tone; it appeared he genuinely wanted to know.

Still clutching the hilt of his straight-edged sword, the lieutenant frowned. “I’m not sure... The captain said his wounds were strange... Burns and yet not burns.” His furrow grew deeper. “It must have been her heathen witchcraft...” He spat the word, obviously repulsed at the thought, but also reminded of who else stood before him. “I’m sure you would know better than I, Zosara.”

Akihato gave a slight shrug. “The Taiku medicine women are renowned but not my area of expertise. I can assure you their practices do not include use of the elements, however.” He held out his hand, palm up, elegant fingers gracefully extended. “That power,” when he spoke a small stream of blue water gathered from the falling rain and then crystallized into ice on his palm, dancing and playing in the shape of a curvaceous woman, “lies solely within the Zosara.”

Finally, the lieutenant recoiled, horror openly spread across his face. “What evil is this?” He gasped, his whole body shaking. For a moment, it appeared his fear would finally win out over his honor and he would flee rather than face the Zosara’s might.

His resolve was commendable. Hands still tremoring, his expression turned hard and unbending as he deftly drew his sword. The action was enough to solidify his decision, and just like that, his fear was vanquished. He straightened to his full height, his soldier’s instincts and valor taking over the fallible man who had wavered just moments ago. “You have been warned.” His voice was strong, commanding. “Men! Seize the girl. Kill the traveler if he continues to interfere!”

Hanamei was not frightened by the display of what she could only describe as magic. On the contrary, she was enamored with it. The frolicking, glacial dancer on Akihato’s palm stirred the strange power inside her, making it twist and writhe like a hungry serpent. Her eyes were fixed on the twirling, leaping figurine, wide with fascination and wonder.

She wanted to surrender to this primal urge, to let it fill her and then feel the sweetness of release as that power rushed forth. Her mind went back to the Warlord’s bedchamber, to how it had felt to take control, to no longer be just a woman, just a heathen, just a mortal...

You can be anything with this strength. Nobody would ever beat you down again... Give in... Give in to chaos... the voice came from a dark, hateful place. A place that frightened her more than anything she had ever faced, and yet she could not fault the desires of her own heart. She had been shunned, cast aside, and forgotten until finally, her people had found a use for her. Did her father even miss her? Did he regret his decision? Or was he breathing easy now his war had ended and his ‘unfortunate’ child was gone?

Anger and sorrow surged in her chest. The magic rose with it, ignited by her outrage, by her despair, but she fought to keep it down. Last time she had felt certain, in control, but now she felt as though she were spiraling downward, losing to the essence that not so long ago had seemed to save her life. What am I doing? She wanted to scream but found her voice refused to obey.

Suddenly, Akihato tore his gaze away from the lieutenant, and instantly the woman of water vanished. Hanamei was jolted out of her dark thoughts and, in an instant, took in what was happening around her. The soldiers were approaching cautiously but came to a halt when they saw the water dissipate.

Then she noticed Akihato was staring at her with concern. Did he somehow know what she was thinking and feeling? Could he not only create ice but read minds as well? She shivered at the notion but still did not have the urge to pull away from him. For some reason, despite his great power, she felt safe here at his side.

“I’m afraid,” Akihato’s voice caused the soldiers to tense up, “that we must take our leave. Forgive me, lieutenant, but I am revoking Tzulan’s claim upon this woman. If he protests, tell him to take it up with the Conclave.”

He didn’t even get the chance to finish his message before the warrior was already commanding his men to attack. Akihato, however, did not seem the least bit concerned. With a huff of a sigh and a rueful shake of his head, he gracefully raised his arm, hand stretching toward the charging lieutenant. Hanamei was certain the soldier was about to be impaled by an ice shard, but with an elegant, circular sweep of his arm, the magic she was expecting came instead as a plume of dense, creeping mist. In seconds the area was fully covered, blocking the soldiers from view.

Hanamei felt the urge to escape into the thick fog just as she had amidst the smoking remains of the wall she’d destroyed in Tzulan’s palace, but Akihato did not seem the least bit rushed.

He held out his hand to her. “Shall we depart?”

Glancing from his hand to his face and back again, Hanamei wasn’t sure why she hesitated. Part of her wanted to trust him, but the other part was still riled, still aching to be released, to cause chaos and destruction. And yet... Here he was, offering to save her. She would be a fool not to accept. This thought made her decide, and she gently laid her delicate hand in his.

They paused for just a moment, staring at one another as something warm passed between them. Hanamei saw him reaching toward her, and her heart skipped a beat. She should fear this motion, and yet, for some reason, she welcomed it. But it was not the soft caress she was expecting.

Akihato gently touched the top of her head and whispered, “Chigu.”

Before she had a chance to make sense of the action, a powerful urge to sleep swept over her, and all at once, she simply couldn’t keep her eyelids open. The last thing she remembered was slumping against the stranger and then falling into a deep, magical slumber.