The Sun now had her head out, like a god finally deciding to heed prayers.
It took a while to calm Victoria down—she'd been spiraling since she claimed to see people. People I couldn't see. Taking a deep breath, I forced the dread down and steadied myself.
I pushed into a sitting position, legs crossed. The ground was damp, cold enough to sting through my clothes.
"Sacred Water Breath," I whispered, the mantra shaky on my lips. My gaze slid to Victoria. Sweat glazed her brow, her face twisted in a private storm—fear, memory, maybe both.
The sunlight did nothing for us. It had warmth, yes, but no mercy.
The wind had teeth; every gust bit like frostbite wearing a grin.
I inhaled through the pain, gathering what little Qi I could.
Five percent per hour isn't going to be enough.
The thought slithered in, bitter and slow. My limbs ached. My chest still throbbed from the panic and flight.
I closed my eyes. One breath. Then another.
Pull the energy in. Feel the earth's pulse beneath the surface—
and for one fragile heartbeat, calm brushed against me.
Then a scream tore the air open.
"Oh! My goodness—Oh! My God!"
Victoria's voice hit like a blade. My eyes snapped open as she convulsed upright, gasping. Her terror was raw, animal.
Without thinking, I grabbed her, pulling her close. She was burning against the cold world.
"I see them—they're everywhere," she sobbed, trembling like a hunted thing. Her breath came fast, sharp, breaking.
"Shhh, look around," I murmured, scanning the ditch as if to make my lie real. "No one's here. Just us. Just the two of us."
Her screams faded to ragged sobs, then silence.
The quiet that followed felt cruel.
"I saw them," she whispered into my chest. "I was them. Those dead people—I was them."
My mouth went dry.
There was nothing to say to that.
I just rubbed slow circles into her back until her breathing evened.
The wind returned, howling like it understood.
Qi at forty-eight percent, I thought, feeling the faint hum in my Dantian. More or less.
We had to reach the capital—to request aid, to find someone still alive.
But first, we had to stand.
When I tried, my legs shuddered. From cold or fear—I couldn't tell.
Victoria sat still for a moment before murmuring, "Should… should we keep walking?"
Her voice was frayed, every syllable half-broken. Sweat and tears clung to her skin, freezing before they fell.
The wind sang again—cruelly soft, like a lullaby meant for the lost.
"Where should we even go?" she asked. "What do we do?"
Before I could answer—
Snap.
The sound of a twig breaking.
Then the slow, deliberate crunch of boots pressing into snow.
My blood turned to ice. My heartbeat drowned out thought.
Someone was there.
I reached for my weapon, fingers trembling, stepping between Victoria and the sound.
She blinked groggily, confusion flickering across her face like candlelight.
She didn't understand yet. Lucky her.
Then—
A voice. Low. Calm. Smooth as silk dragged across steel.
"I want to talk for a bit."
That voice—familiar, but distant, dredged from some half-forgotten nightmare.
The speaker stayed above us, out of sight, watching.
I swallowed, forcing my voice steady. "Who's there?"
No answer. Only boots shifting, the faint jingle of metal.
Someone armed.
Victoria's eyes fluttered open again—her instincts waking before her mind. For a heartbeat, she looked peaceful. Then realization sank in.
"It seems the world's not giving us a break," I muttered.
The figure remained unmoving—silent, patient, as though waiting for permission to descend. The air thickened. Every sound dulled except the faint crackle of frost beneath my boots.
I adjusted my grip on my weapon. The dull hum of Qi crawled sluggishly through my veins. Not enough to fight—but enough to try.
Then, through the glare of sunlight on the trees, I saw it:
a long dark coat, boots dusted in ash.
"I didn't think you'd make it out of the city," the voice said, softer now. Almost gentle.
That tone made my stomach twist. It wasn't surprise. It was curiosity—clinical, dissecting. Like I was a lab rat that had survived its own vivisection.
I rose fully, angling myself between Victoria and the intruder. Her breath came shallow and quick. Panic was circling her again.
"Don't come closer," I warned, letting a thread of Qi bleed to my fingertips. The air shimmered faintly with frost.
A quiet chuckle answered me. Humorless. Cold.
"Oh, I'm not here to fight," they said. "If I were, you wouldn't have heard me."
The words hung in the air, sharp as ice shards.
I took a slow step forward despite my nerves screaming against it.
"Then what are you here for?"
"To talk," the voice replied. "And to see if what I heard about you two was true."
My mind raced. He knows.
Only brother, his second in command—or those who'd been there at the shrine—could know that.
"You've wasted your time," I snapped, trying to sound composed. "We're nobody. You've got the wrong people."
A sigh followed. Heavy, academic, almost disappointed.
"Miss Heiwa," the voice said, letting my name hang in the frigid air. "Your control is commendable. Your lying, however, is abysmal.
And Miss Victoria is hardly a nobody. She is, quite specifically, the reason I am standing here—and not rotting on a street corner."
Victoria flinched. I motioned for her to stay low.
"You're mistaken," I said.
"Am I?"
The figure took a deliberate step forward, descending into the ditch. Each crunch of snow shattered what was left of our illusion of safety.
My breath hitched.
The long dark coat. The blood-stained collar. The sleeve still marked by red.
It was her.
The woman from the forest clearing.
The dead Professor.
My fragile forty-eight percent cracked.
"You're… you're a ghost," I whispered. The words felt absurd even as I said them.
She gave a tired smile—the same detached irritation she'd worn right before the Executioner pulled the trigger.
"On the contrary, Heiwa," she said, brushing ash from her collar. "It seems Death decided I was a very inconvenient joke.
Now—tell me. Does Miss Victoria feel anything unusual? Because I have very little time to figure out what she did to me."