"Ugh!"
Pain dragged me awake.
It came from everywhere at once—dull aches beneath my skin, sharper pains whenever I tried to move, and a lingering soreness that made even breathing feel like work.
I opened my eyes and stared at the ceiling.
For a few seconds, I didn't recognize it.
Where am I?
I tried to sit up.
The moment I lifted my shoulders from the bed, pain shot through me. I sucked in a breath and immediately lowered myself again, the mattress catching my weight with a soft creak.
Right. Bad idea.
I lay still, waiting for the worst of it to settle.
A faint, rhythmic sound came from somewhere beside me.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
I turned my head.
A clear tube ran from an IV bag down toward my hand. The sight of it took another second to register.
A hospital?
I looked around the room again. The bed, the IV stand, the clean walls. Everything slowly came together.
How did I get here?
Someone must have brought me.
But who?
I shifted my attention toward the window. Pale daylight filtered through it, bright enough to tell me that morning had already arrived.
Then the memory returned.
Xiaoyou.
My body stiffened before I could stop it.
The encounter was still clear in my head—the attack, the poison, the woman who had appeared.
Who was that lady?
I hadn't seen her face.
I frowned slightly as I tried to piece together what had happened afterward. My memory wasn't perfect, but one thing was certain.
The poison had reached him.
So he should have received some damage.
I stared at the ceiling again.
I could have done it better.
My fingers curled slightly against the blanket.
Should have used more than one.
I let out a quiet sigh.
At least I knew the poison had worked.
The door opened.
"Oh, you are awake?"
I turned toward the voice.
Mary stepped inside carrying a tray. She glanced at me before crossing the room, her attention lingering briefly on the IV before she placed the tray beside the bed.
"Can you eat?"
"Good morning," I said. "Were you the one who brought me here?"
I looked toward the food and then back at her.
"Well, no, not really." She pulled a chair closer. "I did find you, but Nicholas was the one who carried you out of the forest."
A simple yes would have sufficed.
Mary seemed entirely unbothered by my expression.
She adjusted the tray, making sure it was within my reach, then propped it up so I wouldn't have to lean too far forward.
"Porridge."
She handed me a spoon.
I looked at the bowl.
"You are not going to ask me any questions?"
"Hmm."
She sat down.
"I am curious about a couple of things, if that's okay."
There was a small smile on her face.
"I will answer what I can."
I picked up the spoon.
The porridge was still warm. I brought a small amount to my mouth and immediately winced.
Pain flared through my mouth.
Mary noticed.
"Sorry. Should I have had it cooled down before serving?"
I shook my head.
It wasn't the heat.
I slowly worked the food through my mouth, careful around the injury. Even something as simple as swallowing had become an irritating little task.
For a moment, Mary said nothing.
She simply watched.
I took another breath before lowering the spoon.
"What did you want to know?"
"Logan is an outcast from the, hmm..."
She paused.
"Ming Yuan Zong Sect?" I supplied.
She nodded, adjusting herself in the chair.
"Yes. But from my knowledge, you are not a member of that sect, so why did the sect request your family to act in their stead?"
I stopped with the spoon halfway to my mouth.
That was an interesting question.
More importantly, it gave me a few ideas.
"Let's see."
I lowered the spoon and thought for a moment.
"My family is of a lineage that the sect recognizes."
I took another spoonful, blowing on it first.
Mary watched me.
"And what does that mean?"
I paused.
Apparently, that explanation wasn't enough.
"You are from the west, so maybe you are not familiar with the term."
I adjusted my position against the pillows. Even that small movement pulled at the aches in my body.
"Well, I did go to train there, though," I muttered before taking another spoonful.
I swallowed carefully.
"A lineage is a particular tradition that has been transmitted across generations."
Mary remained quiet, listening.
"There are different forms in which they originate, but mine was from my great-grandfather, I believe."
I took another bite.
"He was a member of the Ming Yuan Zong Sect."
"Meaning he trained there?"
I nodded.
"Hmm."
I thought about how best to explain it.
"A member can then found their own style after leaving. Or even while still there."
I shifted the bowl slightly closer.
"When what you have learned becomes substantially your own, with its own signature, the origin can lead to a lineage."
I stopped to eat.
Mary's expression changed slightly as she considered it.
"A sect could reject a lineage," I added.
Her eyes returned to me.
"Oh."
She seemed to have finally put the pieces together.
"So the sect acknowledges your lineage. And I am guessing that's why they had your family step in for them."
My heart seemed to drop.
I looked down at the bowl.
I hadn't meant for the conversation to reach that conclusion so quickly.
I exhaled.
Mary didn't press further.
Instead, she leaned back slightly.
"I understand. It is kind of like an order for mages, I believe."
She gave a small nod.
"Thank you."
"You are welcome."
I took the last bit of porridge from the bowl.
Then I looked at her.
"Could I ask a favor as well?"
"What might that be?"
"Could you get me some pen and paper?"
Mary reached for the empty plate.
"Of course. Is that the request?"
"No." I handed the bowl over. "There's a little more."
She looked at me for a moment.
"Okay. Give me a moment."
She stood and carried the tray toward the door.
Once she stepped outside, the room became quiet again.
I exhaled and slowly lowered myself against the pillows.
My body was still sore. The bed wasn't uncomfortable, but lying in one position for too long made the aches settle into places I hadn't noticed before.
I waited.
After a while, the door opened again.
Mary returned carrying a pen, several sheets of paper, and a glass of water.
She placed them beside me before taking the chair across from the bed.
"There."
"Thank you."
She picked up a book.
I took the pen.
The first movement of my hand was slower than I expected. My fingers weren't quite as steady as usual, and I had to adjust my grip before beginning.
Mary read quietly across from me.
The room settled into a comfortable silence.
The only sounds were the faint scratching of my pen against the paper, the occasional turn of a page, and the steady drip from the IV.
I kept writing.
Once or twice, I stopped to think before continuing.
By the time I finished, the light coming through the window had shifted. The sun had already moved farther across the sky.
I looked over the letter one last time before setting the pen down.
"Could you help me mail the letter?"
Mary closed her book.
"Of course."
She took the letter from me.
"And I will get your tea."
"Thank you."
She walked toward the door.
"It's nothing."
The door closed behind her.
I remained still for a moment, listening.
The room was quiet again.
Then, faintly, I thought I could hear voices somewhere outside.
Horses.
The rolling sound of carriages.
Life continuing beyond the walls.
I looked toward the window.
Things had not gone according to plan.
Apparently, they were going to have to change.
If my own hand wasn't enough to kill Xiaoyou, I would simply buy another.
FROM: Miss Panlilio Karly
TO: HALL OF THE NIGHTJAR
DATE: 12th Opaline, 1902
SUBJECT: REQUEST FOR SERVICES