The Devil.

Shadows Bind The Heart.

Choices Define Us.

The Path Begins.

Evie stepped through her door and immediately felt smaller. It was a strange sensation. She wasn't a particularly tall woman, but being a full hand span shorter and rail thin was noticeable as she stepped into the room. A rough-hewn table was to her side, set on uneven legs and flanked by two stools cobbled together from scraps. The portal that spat her out vanished, like a sun covered by thick clouds, leaving her alone in the dimly lit room.

She glanced down at her arms, spindly as sticks, as they hadn't been in years. She patted her hunger-honed cheekbones and swept downward, feeling at her ribs, hips, and legs. She was wearing rags that were just barely sewn into clothing and judging by her features, she was maybe ten years old. She poked at her ribs, visible even through her cotton tunic. They never had enough food to go around back then. More often than not, Evie had been a bundle of sticks, barely held together with muscle.

For all of that, Evie glanced around the hovel with a swelling joy. She recognized the place. It was a lone room at the back of a tenement building, a little more than an oversized closet where she’d spent a long, miserable winter. A place she'd shared with her teenage sister, Magda.

She ran her hands along the wall, along one of the beams, poking through the plaster and lathe. It was carved with notches and doodled monsters attacking fortified towns. She remembered that she’d carved them during the interminable hours she’d spent recovering between these walls, aching from toe to scalp with fresh scrapes and bruises. These were fresh, the edges splintered as if she'd cut them only that day.

“Korcan.” Evie smiled. “What a shithole.”

Korcan was in southern Andiva just south of the steppes, where the land was almost as cold as the Hoarfrost. Only the vast swathes of pine forests made the two regions dissimilar—even the monsters were huge and unforgiving, a fact that the Protector’s Guild in the city used to its advantage. Adventurers trained in the steppes—it had been why Evie and Mags had come to the place.

Evie shivered, clutching at her arms. It was winter and cold as hell, a fact her four walls did little to protect against.

"Hey, Evie." The curtains they used as a door rustled and opened. Another waft of bitter chill filled their hovel. "I got this new thing for you. I don't know if you'd like it, but..."

Her sister, Magda, ducked through the curtains with a load of cloth and leather in her arms. Her face was smudged with dirt and she was sweating despite the cold, her hair chopped short and a new cut across her chin still bleeding.

Mags smiled. “What’s with the face?”

Evie swallowed back her gasp and didn't bother to check what her sister held. She charged her, flinging her spindly arms around Magda's thick waist, and squeezing with everything she had.

“Oof! A little tight there, Eves!”

Although young herself, Magda was still very large. Her wide frame supported by the little meat they were able to afford. A mercenary's diet. Still, it couldn’t withstand Evie’s unnaturally high Strength, a detail she’d nearly forgotten. Evie loosened her grip, but she didn’t let go.

"What's all this for?" Mags asked, but Evie was happy to note her sister hugged her right back. "Acting like you haven't seen me in a month. Or is this your way of beginning training early? You know, if you secured your grip and twisted your hips, you might even toss me."

“Don’t tempt me.” Evie pushed her sister away, but only succeeded in shoving herself back a few steps. She folded her arms. “I just missed you, is all.”

"Hey, hey now." Mags bent over, her head falling in line with Evie's. "Look, I know I've been gone a lot. These jobs they have me on, they're tough. Well, not tough for me." She grinned, and Evie couldn't help her own answering smile. "They take time. But this next one's gonna be the last one for a bit. Okay?”

“Alright.” Evie didn’t remember the job she was talking about, but she certainly recalled being left behind while the Shieldwitch earned her Titles. They had been lonely years, interspersed only by the relentless training.

“To make up for it, I got us some great extras." From her back, Mags produced a sack that she set onto the rickety table. It wobbled on its uneven legs and the thin boards groaned under the weight.

Evie sniffed. "Is that an entire roasted gherik?"

Mags grinned. "Yes, it is."

Evie's stomach rumbled. The big birds were delicious, especially when they were roasted in the Andivan style. She hadn't been particularly hungry when they had entered the Path, but it seemed her body was catching up to her memories. "And what’re you eating?”

"I thought you'd say that." Magda produced a second bag that clearly contained another roasted bird. "I had Harn and his latest lady friend cook this one up. He burned it a little, but she managed to save it."

Evie's mouth watered and her hands started twitching.

"But hey, before we get into that, we've got to talk about training."

Evie groaned. “But—”

"No, no, don't give me that look. I know you hate it, but we gotta do this right. We've gone over all the basics, and I know you're tired. And—I know I'm not mom and dad, but I figured since you don't like the shield like I do, and those little twig arms of yours aren't quite made to swing a mace, I'm thinking, what about these?"

Magda pulled another package from behind her, somehow secured behind her heavy cloak. It was a brace of throwing knives. For once, Evie forgot about the food. The knives were the first set she had ever owned, long since lost to training mishaps and inside monster hides. She took the bandolier in her hands, holding it with hands that wouldn’t stop shaking for some reason.

"You've been throwing rocks that train up your Thrown Weapon, so it isn’t much different. Plus, since they're made for it, your Skills should level a bit faster."

Evie glanced up and Mags was all blurry. She blinked it away, but it clung to the corners of her eyes. Her sister had a strange expression on her face—as if she’d just delivered unwelcome news. It struck Evie then how sore and bitter she'd been toward her sister throughout these years. Losing their parents had been hard. Moving from city to city, following her mercenary contracts was hard. Training every day was exhausting, especially when she didn't have enough to eat. But all of it had laid the foundation for who Evie had become. She'd always regretted how she'd acted back then, little kid or not.

She hugged the bandolier of knives to herself. "I love them. Are we gonna train right now?"

Magda blinked hard, and Evie wouldn't have been surprised if she'd just gotten the Stunned Status Condition.

"Without eating? Who are you? And where is my sister? Did a chimera crawl in here and steal your skin?" She reached out and squeezed Evie's cheek.

For all that she missed her sister, Evie still shoved her hand away. "That hurts, ya big ogre.”

Mags laughed.

Evie cleared her throat. “Anyways, training is good, I've decided. And this is a smart decision." She held up the knives. "We both need to be better."

Magda scoffed. "Maybe you, but I'm this close to being Apprentice Tier. Then Journeyman and Adept all before I’m thirty. One day, they're gonna know me far and wide, and we’ll get paid. So much coin that we'll be drowning in roast gherik. And when you’re older, you can join me, Harn, and Callie. The Shieldwitch Company. How’s that sound?"

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Evie swallowed the lump in her throat. "Sounds great. Let's get started, yeah?"

"Alright, alright. I guess we'll take the birds with us. We can eat on the way. You remember Rory, right? Well, he's got a cousin here in Korcan, and he runs the training facility at the Guildhall. Rory put in a good word for us—his cousin’s gonna prop open the back door.”

"Ain’t they real strict around here? If they catch us, they'll kick us out into the steppes."

"Yeah, maybe. But this cousin is vouching for us. You up to take the risk?"

"Are you kiddin’ me? Let's do it."

Evie strapped the bandolier around her chest. Magda watched her, a familiar smile on her face, before holding open the curtain for her sister.

Evie hesitated. "Oh. But first, what do you think about finding a chain?"

The High Priestess.

Sing The Whispers Of The Heart. Truth Comes From Silence.

Choices Define Us.

The Path Begins.

"Begin.”

The words of Captain Reed were accompanied by the clear note of a bell, and Vess’ opponent rushed her in a spray of sand.

He was only slightly older than her own ten years, but he’d clearly already begun fortifying his Strength and Vitality. He was a fun head taller than Vess, and he bore the composure of a true Dragoon trainee. There was no hesitance in his step or his blunt training spear.

He thrust for center mass.

Vess recalled that moment. She had missed this parry, taken the blow head on, her Untempered Body unable to overcome the boy’s Skill. This time, things were different.

She turned aside, letting the thrust slip past her as it missed by a single fingerspan. Roden’s eyes widened but Vess gave him no time to gather himself or halt his momentum. He was too close for her spear to be of use, so she drove her palm into his jaw. The strike was like a whipcrack, and Roden fell to the ground clutching his face.

He was far from inexperienced, however. Immediately, Roden used the momentum of his fall to spin himself back up to his feet, though he stumbled a bit at the end. That, more than anything, was his undoing.

Vess spun her training spear, flaring her Strength just a touch, and knocked Roden’s weapon from his hands.

The boy stared at him, shock writ large across his face, before Vess leveled her spear at his neck. "I believe the win is mine.”

The bell rang.

"Impressive, very impressive," an older man, one Vess recognized as Captain Reed, walked onto the sand. His son, a whelp of barely nineteen years, trailed after him. Darius. Not quite as tall or broad as he would be in the future, he was just as stern. "That was good work, Roden. Your footwork was impressive, to say the least. But it seems our little duchess had moves to spare. Where did you pull that from, Vessilia?"

She smiled. “A great deal of observation.” And access to Skills and stats of a near-Master Tier. She checked her Status Screen quickly before closing it. All was the same as when she’d entered the Omen Door.

"Hmm. Waiting for your opponent to commit to their strike before acting is wise, but mere spans from contact, that is dangerous. Do you wish to die, Lady Dayne?"

"No, I wish to live.”

“Then let us see you demonstrate your technique again. Luck graces even the most foolhardy of us, but Skill is eternal. Roden, are you up for another spar?"

The boy, who had been clutching his jaw, let go hurriedly and nodded. Vess was glad to hear it. It seemed that she hadn't broken anything.

"I'm ready whenever she is," he spat. His spit was more red than not.

"Very well, back to your places."

Vess returned to her starting position in the sandy private arena. It was a borrowed space from the Protector’s Guild in the city of Korcan. Vess remembered the city, as well as the reason for their journey there. The Dragoons of Pax’Vrell had come to enter their youngest and most promising apprentices into the Grand Tourney. For glory, prestige, and lucrative trading contracts negotiated behind closed doors.

As the duke's daughter, Vessilia had been required to attend, but she had been deemed too young to participate. This duel with Roden, one of the top contestants, had determined whether she could participate or not. She remembered this day very well.

"Stand ready," Captain Reed said. “Begin."

The bell rang and Roden rushed forward again, his Dragoon footsteps considerably more practiced than Vess' had been at the same age. He blurred his shape, moving deceptively across the arena as he advanced at speed. Vess waited, watching. The Path had led her into the past, and hers seemed to want her to endure a brutal day.

She remembered this day all too vividly. She had lost to Roden, of course. The boy had been taller, stronger, and possessed greater Skills than Vess had at ten years old. She had not given up, however. In fact, she pushed herself so hard, and Roden had been so unrelenting that she had broken her ribs and split her leg and arm open against his Skill-honed edge. The pain of the memory had faded with time, but the sharp edge of shame still stung across the years. Vess had been so hurt that she had not been able to enjoy the Grand Tourney.

I am not the same as I was.

Choices Define Us.

Vess blurred forward, displaying an Agility that her young body should not have been capable of. Her feet fell into patterns she’d long ago mastered—her Skills remained, still leveled as they were in the real world, but she would not need them here. Here, she only needed technique.

Roden wove around her with his training spear, and she sidestepped his every thrust. The weapon gleamed with a Mana-honed edge and each miss sliced into the sand in great, explosive geysers. Vess dodged them all, slipping through grains of sand, her footsteps barely indenting the soft ground. She swept in close, her spear leading the way—Roden leaped aside, but he was too late. She hooked a leg with the crossguard, yanking it out from under him. He fell, but spun his spear in a defensive pinwheel as his body twisted, trying to stand once again. Vess slid low and smashed his wrist, using a touch more Strength to match his own. Roden let out a surprised cry, and the practice spear fell from his numb fingers. He tried to stand, but she was there.

Wordlessly, Vess pressed her spear against his downed neck.

The bell rang.

"The win, once again, goes to Lady Dayne!” Captain Reed stepped forward as the two combatants separated. “Most impressive. You seem to have mastered the Footsteps of the Dragoon."

"Not mastered them, just applied them differently," she replied modestly. She had no inclination to admit that she had over ten years on Roden. Ten years of levels and struggle against man and monster. In the last year and a half, she'd risen beyond anything anyone in this room had grasped.

"Hm. Very well. It seems I have no reason to disallow you from participating in the tournament," Captain Reed said, and where Vess expected sourness she only heard pride. “You will represent the Dragoons with honor.”

Vess bowed to him. "Thank you, Captain."

“Good job,” young Darius whispered as his father helped Roden up. “Keep it up!”

It was an incredible feeling, walking back to her changing room with victory in her hands. She had changed the events of her memory. Now, gloriously uninjured, she looked forward to attending the tournament.

You did very well, little Dragoon.

Vess glanced up into the rafters above the training hall. There, a golden wyrmling swam among the dusty shadows.

Thank you, Yin.

Not using your Skills against the boy was wise.

She snorted. I wanted to win, not kill him.

Yin slipped from the ceiling, swimming his way across Vess’ shoulders where he could hide beneath her long chestnut hair. Together, the pair left the training hall through an adjoining corridor, down which a number of chambers were set. While in Korcan, her rooms were there, set beside the Captain’s and a few other officers. The other Dragoon trainees were housed with the other contestants in the long tents inside the Guildhall’s grounds.

Two guards waited outside her door and they saluted as Vess passed. Not Dragoons but her father’s guards, sent along with her to the north. At one point, she had resented their presence, just as she resented being kept separate from the other trainees, but now she only saw the care her father had for her. Vess inclined her head and passed into her rooms.

Inside, Yin leaped from under her hair and onto the bed, where he immediately laid down. Vess meanwhile got busy discarding her sweat-sodden gambeson and training armor. Her practice spear was set onto with a rack of others that were all equally worn. A gilded mirror hung above her writing desk but Vess ignored the child that dwelled in that reflection. There were more important things than marveling over her youthful appearance, such as the scroll on her desk.

"What's this?" She didn't remember receiving a letter. Moreover, when she turned it over, the scroll was sealed with the sigil of House Dayne. "A note from father?"

Yin stretched. “Strange. Did he send you letters often?”

“No. He knew I was trying to stay focused. I don’t—”

There was a commotion in the hall. Cheering and clattering that swelled before going quiet again. Vess tilted her head, flaring her Perception. “That sounds like it’s coming from the public training areas.”

“You sound curious.”

She grinned. “I am feeling in good spirits, and we’ve yet to figure out what this Path demands of us. I say we go take a look.”

Yin snorted a small streamer of smoke. “That chain-wielding lunatic has had an untoward effect on you.”

A laugh died in her throat as a man entered her chamber. He was armored like a low ranking Dragoon, but her hackles raised immediately. He stood strangely, slumped yet upright, as if he were being held up by someone else. His skin, where it was exposed, glimmered in the magelights.

“Who are you? Why are you in my rooms?”

The Dragoon said nothing, but lurched forward as his hands burst into midnight claws.