The return to consciousness was not a sudden event, but a slow and torturous ascent from a black and viscous ocean.
The first thing Lihan registered was the pain. It wasn't a simple localized discomfort, but a symphony of agony that seemed to have claimed every fiber of his being as conquered territory. His ribs throbbed with a dull and cruel rhythm, as if a war drum were being beaten inside his thorax. His abdomen burned with a cold fire, a phantom reminder of the claws that had pierced through him. His head felt heavy, stuffed with cotton and ground glass, and each beat of his heart sent shock waves through his skull.
He groaned, or tried to, but the sound died in his parched throat before being born. It felt as if he had swallowed a handful of desert sand.
However, before the tide of pain could drag him back into the darkness, another sensation made its way through the fog, anchoring him to the world of the living.
Warmth.
It was a gentle, constant and surprisingly human warmth. It contrasted violently with the scorching and destructive heat that emanated from his transformed magma arm, and also with the sharp cold of the dirty cobblestones where he remembered having fallen. This warmth was different. It was... comforting. It was a silent promise of safety amidst the chaos of his shattered body.
Lihan forced his eyelids to separate. They felt heavy, as if they were made of lead, stuck together by sleep and accumulated exhaustion. The dawn light filtered timidly through the cracks of some poorly adjusted wooden shutters, painting the unfamiliar room with tones of pale amber and dusty gray. Dust particles danced in the beams of light, spinning in a silent dance that seemed hypnotic to him for a moment.
He didn't recognize the ceiling above him. They were dark wooden beams, rough and old, stained by the smoke of countless winters. The air smelled of strong medicinal herbs, of burned candle wax, of old leather and a subtle, almost imperceptible touch of jasmine and steel. It wasn't the smell of a cheap inn nor that of a hospital. It was the smell of a refuge.
He tried to move, a simple adjustment of his position to relieve the pressure on his back, but a sharp pang in his side stopped him dead, stealing his breath. He drew air between his teeth, hissing involuntarily as his muscles tensed in mute protest.
"Stay still, idiot," whispered a voice beside him.
Lihan froze. The voice was soft, devoid of the malice the words might suggest. There was a deep weariness in it, a fragility hidden under layers of habitual toughness, and a strange softness that didn't quite fit with the image of the lethal woman he remembered seeing in that alley.
With an effort that cost him more than he'd like to admit, Lihan turned his head on the pillow, his neck creaking slightly in protest.
There she was. Kara.
She was sitting in an uncomfortable and rigid wooden chair, dragged to the very edge of the bed, invading his personal space in a way that suggested constant vigilance. She no longer wore the dark hood that had concealed her in the alley. Her hair, a rich dark brown, fell disheveled over her shoulders, some strands stuck to her forehead with dried sweat. It framed a face that, despite the purplish bruises blooming on her jaw and the angry cut on her cheekbone, possessed a sharp, almost dangerous beauty.
Her eyes were what caught him. Heterochromia. One shone like molten gold under the sunlight, while the other had the silvery coldness of lunar gray. They watched him with an intensity that made him feel exposed, vulnerable, as if he were being evaluated under a microscope by someone who knew exactly how to dismantle him.
But what really stopped Lihan's heart, what made his breathing catch in his sore throat, wasn't her penetrating gaze. It was her hand.
Her left hand, the one of flesh and bone, the human one, rested inert on the rough linen sheet. But her right hand, the transformed one, the obsidian claw with inner fire, was wrapped firmly between Kara's two hands.
She wasn't wearing gloves. Her fingers were pale and long, but calloused in the places where weapons were wielded, hands of someone who worked with death. And yet, those fingers traced distractedly, almost reverently, the veins of cooled magma on the back of Lihan's rock hand. She didn't seem to care about the rough and alien texture of the volcanic rock, nor the residual heat that emanated from it like a low furnace. She held it firmly, as if it were an anchor in the middle of a storm. As if he were the only solid thing in a crumbling world.
Lihan blinked, his brain still slow and confused, trying to process the image. The lethal assassin who had ripped the head off the evil guy. And him, a boy with a monster arm. And this moment of silent and unsolicited intimacy.
"Kara?" he croaked. His own voice sounded strange to him, broken and harsh, as if he had swallowed ground glass.
The reaction was immediate and electric.
Kara tensed visibly, her shoulders rising toward her ears. Her eyes opened a bit wider upon realizing he was awake, conscious and, most importantly, watching her hold his hand. Her gaze dropped quickly to their intertwined hands, and for a fraction of a second, she seemed genuinely confused, as if she didn't understand how her hands had gotten there.
Then, comprehension hit with the force of a sledgehammer.
Kara released his hand as if it had suddenly become truly burning lava. She threw herself back in the chair with such momentum that the wood squeaked loudly against the plank floor, and a furious, almost violent blush rose from the base of her neck to the roots of her hair, staining her pale skin a deep crimson.
"You're awake!" she exclaimed, her voice rising an octave, completely losing her cold and professional composure. "I... uh... I was... checking your temperature! Yes. That. Exactly that. Magical fever. It's... it's a very common side effect with... with stone elemental limbs. You have to monitor the residual heat."
Lihan looked at her, stunned but strangely amused. A weak and painful smile tugged at the corner of his lips, threatening to break the crust of dried blood on his lower lip. Despite the stabbing pain in his ribs and the constant throbbing in his head that threatened to split his skull, he couldn't help but find the situation adorably absurd.
"With both hands?" Lihan asked amusedly despite his voice being barely a raspy whisper, imbued with a touch of gentle mockery.
Kara opened her mouth to reply, closed it and then averted her gaze toward the window with a brusque gesture, crossing her arms defensively over her chest. The movement only served to highlight the slight tremor that still persisted in her hands, an aftermath of adrenaline or perhaps embarrassment.
"Shut up. You're lucky to be alive, boy. Don't push your luck by bothering the only person who's been taking care of you for the last twelve hours and who decided not to leave you lying in an alley to be eaten by rats." Kara said, making an adorable pout.
Lihan tried to laugh. It was a mistake. The laughter instantly transformed into a dry and convulsive cough. The movement sent spears of white fire through his abdomen and chest, making him curl up on himself on the mattress. He grimaced in pure agony, closing his eyes tightly as involuntary tears formed in the corners.
"Water..." he asked, gasping when the spasm passed.
In an instant, Kara's defensive and prickly attitude evaporated like mist in the sun. She jumped up, the chair scraping the floor again, and took a ceramic jug from a nearby table. She poured water into a clay glass with quick but precise hands. She approached him, and with a delicacy that absolutely contradicted her lethal profession and harsh words, she slid a hand behind his nape.
"Slowly," she murmured, her tone changing to one of clinical but gentle concentration. "Don't choke."
She lifted his head carefully, holding the glass against his cracked lips. The fresh water was a divine blessing. Lihan drank eagerly, feeling how the cool liquid calmed the fire in his throat and sent a wave of relief through his dehydrated body. Kara tilted the glass patiently, controlling the flow, her eyes fixed on his face with an expression of barely veiled concern.
When he finished, Lihan let himself fall back against the pillow, releasing a long and trembling sigh. He felt exhausted, as if drinking a glass of water had been a marathon, but his mind was a bit clearer.
"Thank you," Lihan murmured, turning his head to look directly into her eyes.
Kara left the glass on the table with a dull sound and remained standing next to the bed, looking at him. The morning light illuminated her profile, highlighting the tension in her jaw and the dark shadows under her eyes that spoke of a sleepless night. She seemed to be debating internally, biting her lower lip while her fingers drummed a nervous rhythm against her own thigh.
Finally, she sighed, a sound that seemed to deflate her shoulders. She sat back down in the chair, this time without trying to flee, although she kept her hands firmly intertwined in her own lap, away from him.
"Don't..." she began, her voice low and hesitant, lacking the usual strength. "Don't thank me. Please."
Lihan frowned slightly, confusion clouding his green eyes. "Why not? You healed me. You got me out of that crater. I'm pretty sure that if you had left me there, I'd be dead or something worse. Probably bled out or captured by that guy's associates."
Kara shook her head vehemently, her heterochromatic eyes fixed on the white sheets, refusing to meet his gaze. Her hands tightened until her knuckles turned white.
"You intervened," she said, her voice tense. "That monster... that man... was going to kill me. He had me. His magic... had taken away my will to fight. I felt... happy to surrender. I was finished. Completely at his mercy. And you, a complete stranger, a boy who shouldn't even be walking the streets of a rotten city like this at night... you jumped in front of an A Rank for me."
She finally looked up and Lihan saw a bright moisture in her eyes that she fought fiercely to contain. They weren't tears of sadness, but of intense frustration and overwhelming gratitude.
"You almost died," she said, her voice trembling with a raw mixture of emotions. "He destroyed you. When I lifted you from the ground... I thought you would die in my arms. There was so much blood... your armor was in shreds... you had a hole in your stomach. I had to use my best potions just to close the wounds enough to move you. Why would you do something like that for someone you don't know?"
Lihan looked at the wooden ceiling, letting the question float in the charged air. He remembered the absolute terror of combat. He remembered the crushing weight of the slaver, the inhuman speed that defied sight, the sharp pain of claws tearing his flesh and breaking his bones. But then, he remembered something else. He remembered the look in the slaver's eyes. The same predatory and possessive look he had seen in his visions of the Prince. The look of someone who sees people not as human beings, but as things to use, break and discard.
And he remembered Kara on the ground, vulnerable, with that expression of confusion and horror as her will was eroded.
"It was worth it," Lihan said firmly, his voice gaining strength despite the pain.
Kara looked at him, astonished, blinking. "What?"
Lihan turned his head to meet her gaze again. Despite the stained bandages, the sweat and the evident pain, his green eyes shone with a brutal and simple honesty.
"Everything hurts. I think I've never felt worse physically in my entire life, except maybe when I was trapped in the lava dungeon," Lihan admitted, releasing a dry laugh that cut off quickly. "But... I'm happy. I'm happy I arrived in time. I'm happy you're alive, Kara. I'm happy that bastard didn't lay a hand on you. Even if in the end it was you who cut off his head and saved me from the final blow too. It was... a good trade."
Kara opened her mouth to reply, to call him stupid, reckless, suicidal... but the words died in her throat. She stared at him, searching for any trace of deceit, of masculine bravado or expectation of reward, but only found pure sincerity. He really believed what he was saying.
Slowly, the blush returned to her cheeks, but this time it was softer, less furious. She lowered her gaze, nervously playing with the frayed edge of her own sleeve.
"Thank you," she whispered, the word barely audible in the stillness of the room, loaded with a shyness that completely disarmed Lihan, contrasting strongly with the warrior he had seen. "Thank you for saving me, idiot. Really."
Lihan's heart gave a strange flip. It wasn't the adrenaline rush of battle, nor the lingering fear. It was something warm, something that settled in the center of his chest and pushed back the darkness of the nightmares that had been haunting him since his visions began. He had saved someone. He had really saved her. He hadn't been a useless and weepy spectator like in his visions of the alternate future. He had changed the outcome. He had rewritten a small part of destiny.
A genuine smile, wide and a bit silly, spread across his tired face.
"You're welcome," Lihan responded softly. "And thank you for not letting me die in the street."
They remained in silence for a long moment, a comfortable and shared silence where only the awakening of the city outside could be heard: the rolling of distant carts, shouts of vendors, the barking of a dog. Kara seemed to be composing herself, putting back on her emotional armor piece by piece, closing the cracks that vulnerability had opened.
Finally, she cleared her throat loudly and adopted a more rigid posture in the chair, straightening her back and crossing her legs. The assassin was back, at least on the surface.
"Now," she said, her tone becoming more serious and analytical, although her eyes still retained that residual softness. "We need to talk seriously. You have an arm made of living volcanic rock that can shoot compressed fire. You have a sword of surprising quality but you were wearing leather armor that was absolute crap. And you threw yourself against a high-level slaver, a lieutenant of the organization, as if you had a personal death wish. Who are you really? And what is someone like you doing in the crime-infested shithole that is Celes Street?"
Lihan settled better into the pillow with a grunt, grimacing in pain as his ribs protested against the movement. He knew this conversation would come. Kara wasn't stupid; she was a professional and he was an anomaly.
"My name is Lihan and I'm a B Rank adventurer," Lihan began, lifting his stone arm to look at it. The cracks pulsed weakly with orange light. "I come from completing a mission in Solvanta, a small town to the west. This arm..." He lifted his arm slightly to demonstrate. "...is a souvenir, an unwanted memento from an absolute rules dungeon I was trapped in."
Kara raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed despite herself. "You survived an absolute rules dungeon? Few A Ranks come out of there sane, much less alive. That explains your absurd pain resistance, I suppose. Is that why you have your strange arm?"
He nodded. "It's a parting gift from the dungeon boss," Lihan said, simplifying the story. He didn't want to go into details about the months of temporal isolation and despair. "But I didn't come to Celes Street for tourism or fun. I'm... I'm passing through. My real destination is another city. I was just doing a bit of... logistics before departing to my next destination when I felt something strange."
He looked at Kara, his expression becoming inquisitive, returning the evaluation.
"And you?" Lihan asked, tilting his head slightly. "That guy... the jaguar... said you'd been causing trouble. He mentioned you were a 'rat' who had been killing his buyers and sellers. I can assume you've been dismantling his illegal business piece by piece. What's your goal, Kara? You don't seem like a simple vigilante."
Kara's expression darkened instantly. The vulnerability of moments before disappeared completely, replaced by a steely coldness and a shadow of ancient pain. She stood up abruptly and walked to the window, looking down at the street below through the slits in the shutters, as if searching for enemies among the crowd.
"I'm not a vigilante," she said, her voice hard and flat. "I'm an A Rank hunter. And my prey is the organization that runs the slave market in this city."
She turned to look at him, crossing her arms, her silhouette outlined against the morning light.
"Three weeks ago, my best friend disappeared. Lyra. She was... she is a knight of the local guard. The only honest one in this damn place full of corruption. We were working together in secret to expose a trafficking network that was kidnapping women. They weren't just taking the destitute from the street; they were taking adventurers, travelers, mages... anyone with exceptional skills or beauty."
Kara clenched her fists, her knuckles turning white from the force.
"Lyra discovered something important. A clue about the location of their center of operations or perhaps the identity of their leaders. She was going to meet with me to give me the information. She never arrived. She disappeared without a trace, as if the earth had swallowed her. I know they have her. I know she's alive, because if she were dead, they would have left her body somewhere public to send a message to anyone who dared to investigate."
Her voice trembled, a crack in her armor.
"They have her locked up, Lihan. Probably preparing her for a high-level auction or... or breaking her. Using magic or drugs to make her obedient. To make her forget who she is."
Kara's voice broke on the last word and Lihan felt an echo of his own terror resonate in his bones. Breaking her. The word resonated with the images of Rei and Ashe in his visions. The forced submission. The looks of adoration and empty loyalty they had toward those bastards in his nightmares, the empty look when they became automatons and the terrified look before the pharaoh monster. It was the same fate. The same horror.
"I've been hunting every link in the chain since then," Kara continued, recovering her composure with visible effort, swallowing her pain. "Interrogating, torturing, killing. That guy last night, the Jaguar... he was a lieutenant. I thought I could ambush him, force the location of the main base out of him. But he was waiting for me. It was a trap. He knew I would come."
Kara ran a hand through her hair, frustrated and exhausted.
"If it weren't for you, I'd be in the same cell as Lyra now. Or in that monster's bed, with my mind erased and smiling like an idiot." She frowned in disgust as she felt a shiver run through her entire body.
Lihan felt a wave of hot anger rise through his throat, mixing with bile. It wasn't just sympathy; it was a deep recognition. Kara's story was the prequel to his own nightmares. It was what was happening somewhere while he spoke.
"I'm sorry," Lihan said, his voice low and grave. "No one should have to go through that. No one should have to search for their family in hell."
"I don't want pity," Kara snapped, turning to him, although her eyes showed no real anger toward him. "I want revenge. I want to find Lyra and burn their entire damn empire to the ground. I want them to scream."
Lihan nodded slowly, holding her gaze. "I understand you more than you think."
Kara looked at him curiously, tilting her head. "What do you mean? You said you came from Solvanta. Do you have someone here? Someone who disappeared?"
Lihan hesitated. It was the moment of truth. He couldn't tell her about the visions, about the alternate futures he had witnessed in his mind; she would think he was crazy, that the blow to the head had left him delirious. But he needed to tell her about the threat. He needed an ally who understood what was at stake, someone who shared his hatred.
"Not here," Lihan said, his voice dropping to a somber and serious tone. "I have two... sisters. Not by blood, but they're my family. Everything I have. Ashe and Rei. They're S Rank adventurers."
"S Rank?" Kara whistled, her eyes opening in surprise. "That's major leagues. They're elite. What does that have to do with the slave market? No one is stupid enough to try to kidnap an S Rank."
"There's a man," Lihan said, and the name came out of his mouth like concentrated poison. "Trent. He's a new adventurer, also S Rank. He joined their group temporarily for a mission in the north, a hunting mission."
Lihan looked at his rock hand, closing it into a fist slowly. The cracks glowed, responding to his growing anger.
"From the moment I saw him, I knew something was wrong. He has that... look. The same look the Jaguar had last night. The look of someone who doesn't see people, but properties. Objects." Lihan looked up at Kara, his green eyes intense and acquiring a dark look. "Before they left, I had a bad feeling. A feeling so strong it almost made me vomit, a visceral certainty. I know it sounds crazy, Kara, like paranoia from an overprotective brother, but I believe... no, I know he plans to do something to them."
Lihan paused, searching for the right words that would convey the urgency without revealing too much of his supernatural nightmares.
"I know that bastard Trent wants to dominate them. Turn them into... toys. Into dolls without will. He wants to break them. For them to be completely devoted and obedient to him, so he can enjoy them at his whim and twisted pleasure."
Kara observed him in silence, motionless, analyzing every microexpression on his face. As an assassin, she knew how to read people, she knew how to differentiate truth from lies. She searched for exaggeration, madness. But in Lihan's face she only saw deep terror, genuine concern and desperate determination.
"They're S Rank, Lihan," she said softly, trying to rationalize. "They're some of the strongest people in the world. They can destroy armies. Do you think one man, even another S Rank, can subdue both of them?"
"It's not brute force," Lihan replied quickly, leaning forward despite the pain. "It's deception. It's mental manipulation. You saw what the Jaguar did to you. You said he had magic that took away your will with physical contact, right? He touched you and you lost the desire to fight."
Kara shuddered visibly, hugging herself as if she felt cold suddenly. She nodded, her face paling. "Yes. It was... terrifying. I felt happy to surrender. It was like being drugged, floating..."
"Trent tried to touch my sisters several times before leaving. If he has something similar... or something stronger, more subtle... it won't matter how physically powerful they are or how much magic they have. If he controls their minds, if he rewrites their loyalties, it's over." Lihan swallowed, the knot in his throat tightening painfully. "I have a time limit. Maybe they're waiting for me at home or maybe they haven't returned from their mission yet, but if I'm not strong enough to stop him, or if I don't find a way to protect them from that mind control... I'll lose them. Forever."
Kara walked back to the chair and sat down heavily, looking at him with a new understanding in her eyes. She no longer saw him just as a brave boy, but also as a fellow sufferer.
"So that's why you threw yourself at the Jaguar. You saw the same thing in him. You saw your enemy."
"Partly," Lihan admitted. "And that's why I want to help you, because I understand you. I understand what the corrosive worry for a friend who may be suffering is. Besides, if this slave market is so big and organized, it's possible there's a relationship with Trent. Maybe he's a supplier, or a client. But even if there isn't... all those women, Lyra included, don't deserve to suffer at the hands of disgusting pigs who think they own the world."
There was a moment of shared silence, a tacit understanding forging between them. Two people driven by the fear of losing those they loved and by the incandescent hatred toward those who wanted to take them away. The air in the room seemed to vibrate with their shared resolve.
"Then we're in the same boat," Kara said, leaning forward, her eyes shining with renewed determination. "Good. You're awake now. Your wounds are healing at an abnormal speed, much faster than any normal human, probably thanks to the vitality of that arm of yours. In a day or two you'll be ready to move and fight."
"What do you propose?" Lihan asked, though he feared the answer.
"We know the Jaguar was a lieutenant. His death is going to shake the hornet's nest. They're going to be paranoid, scared. They'll be moving their merchandise, reinforcing security, making mistakes." Kara smiled, a predatory smile that showed her teeth. "It's the perfect moment to attack. I know where one of their safe houses might be, a transit place. If we hit fast and hard, we can capture someone alive, extract the location of the main base and find clues about where Lyra might be before they move her. You and me. With your fire and my daggers, we can force our way through."
Lihan looked at her, and for a moment, the temptation was great and seductive. Attack now. Release his accumulated fury. Burn the bastards until nothing remained. But then, the images of his nightmares flashed in his mind like neon warnings. The image of himself dying uselessly against the Egyptian monster. The image of his counterpart crying helplessly and broken. The image of himself losing against the Jaguar before using the arm as a last resort.
He had almost died last night. And that was against just one lieutenant. Kara, an experienced A Rank, had also been neutralized with terrifying ease.
"No," Lihan said, his voice firm cutting through the air.
Kara's smile faltered, transforming into a grimace of confusion. "What?"
"I said no. We can't attack now. It's suicide." Lihan tried to make her see reason.
Kara frowned, irritation beginning to seep into her voice, mixing with desperation. "What are you talking about? You just said you wanted to destroy them. You just almost died for this last night. And now you want to back out? Are you scared?"
"I'm not backing out and I'm not afraid of dying," Lihan said calmly, although his heart was beating hard against his broken ribs. "I'm being realistic, Kara. Look at me. I have three broken ribs and a hole in my stomach that has barely closed superficially. You're covered in bruises, cuts and probably also have cracked ribs. And most importantly: we almost died against just one of their lackeys."
Lihan sat up with effort, ignoring the sharp pain to give emphasis to his words.
"That guy was an 'almost' S Rank, and he had to transform into a monster to fight me. And I had to use all my mana, empty my reserves and use a suicidal explosion at point-blank range to have a chance to kill him and even that wasn't enough. What do you think will happen if we go to a base? Where there will be more lieutenants? What if we have the bad luck of running into the boss? What would happen to us if the boss is a real S Rank? What if there are five guys like the Jaguar waiting for us?"
Kara stood up abruptly, the chair falling backward with a crash. She began pacing back and forth across the room, like a caged animal.
"Lyra doesn't have time for us to recover!" she shouted, her frustration exploding, tears threatening to return. "Every day that passes is one more day they have her! One more day they could be torturing her, selling her or breaking her mind! I can't sit here and drink tea and wait for my bruises to heal or wavering about how strong those bastards might be while she suffers. I can't!"
"And if we die, no one will save her!" Lihan shouted back, surprising her with the force of his voice. He grimaced in pain, bringing his hand to his side, but kept his gaze fixed on her. "If we go in there now, in this state just the two of us aren't strong enough to face all those bastards, facing them alone will only lead to our death. And Lyra will be left alone in that cell forever. Or worse, they capture you too, turn you into a slave and I die, and then my sisters will be left alone at Trent's mercy. Is that what you want? A heroic suicide that accomplishes nothing more than increasing the number of victims?"
Kara clenched her teeth, her chest rising and falling with agitated breathing. She stopped, looking at him with fury, but behind the fury there was recognition. She knew he was right. Logically, tactically, she knew he was right. But her heart screamed for action, to save her friend.
"So what?" she hissed, lowering her voice but maintaining the vibrant intensity. "We wait a month? We train doing push-ups in this room? We don't have that time, Lihan. Lyra will disappear. And Trent is still with your sisters."
"No," Lihan said, his eyes shining with an idea that had been forming and solidifying since he woke up, inspired by the fragmented memories of the futuristic city in his visions. Madness, perhaps, but madness with hope. "We don't wait. We prepare. But not here. Not with the limited resources of this hole."
Kara looked at him with suspicion, stopping her pacing. "What do you mean?"
"We need power. Real power. Power that doesn't depend only on our damaged physical bodies or our dubious resistance to mental magic. We need resources. We need an army, or the closest thing we can get that can't be bribed or mentally controlled."
Lihan took a deep breath, ignoring the pain in his lungs.
"I know a place. A city to the east of here. Neothalis."
Kara blinked, confused, as if he had started speaking in another language. "Neothalis? I've heard rumors. Tales from drunk travelers. They say it's a city of technomagic, of lights that never go out, but it's far. It's a myth for most. And it's expensive, obscenely expensive. Why would we go there?"
"Because there's something we need there," Lihan explained, remembering the automatons from his vision with crystalline clarity. The automatons that in his nightmare were used for perverse pleasure, but that he knew, by instinct and observation, were originally high-end security and combat machines. "In Neothalis there's a casino. A place where more money moves in one night than this city sees in a year. And where there's advanced technology."
"You want... to go gambling?" Kara looked at him as if he had hit his head too hard and lost his judgment. "Lihan, are you crazy? Our plan to save Lyra is to go play cards?"
"Listen to me, please. In Neothalis they sell automatons. Combat machines. Constructs of metal and magic that have no mind, that have no desires, that can't be controlled by submission magic or pheromones or any stupid mind control magic. Plus they're immune to fear and pain. If we get enough money at the casino... and I have a feeling, almost a certainty, that we can do it... we can buy a squad. We can buy military-grade automatons. We can buy technomagic weapons that pierce through the defenses of an S Rank like they're butter."
Lihan leaned forward, the intensity of his plan shining in his eyes, infecting the air with his conviction.
"And there's something else. Something vital. In Neothalis, alchemy is superior to anything we've seen. If Trent or the slavers use advanced mind control... we need a cure. We need a High-Grade Purification Potion. They don't sell them just anywhere, they're restricted in most kingdoms for some reason, but in Neothalis, everything has a price. If we go there, get the money, arm ourselves with things they can't control, and bring the cure for Lyra and for all the women in that nightmare place... then we'll have a real chance. Not just to fight, but to win."
Kara remained silent, processing the madness and brilliance of the plan. It was risky. It involved leaving the city, leaving Lyra behind for a time, trusting in a journey and luck at a casino. But... the idea of having machines immune to mind control... the idea of having a cure for her friend's possibly broken mind...
"Automatons..." she murmured, the word rolling on her tongue. "If another person with powers like the Jaguar tries to use their magic on a machine, nothing will happen. The machine will keep attacking."
"Exactly," Lihan said, plus the machines in that place were all women because they would also serve as a distraction. "And we'll be there, armed and healthy, to deliver the final blow while they deal with the steel."
Kara walked around the room, her boots softly hitting the wooden floor, weighing the options. She stopped in front of him and looked at him fixedly, searching for any doubt.
"It's a journey of days. And we have no guarantee of winning at the casino. The house always wins, Lihan."
"I'll take care of the casino," Lihan said with a confidence he didn't know where it came from, perhaps from the absolute certainty that he couldn't afford to fail, or perhaps from some residual memory of his other life. "I have... luck in games, a lot of luck." A pity that luck didn't apply to life. "And the journey will help us recover physically. When we arrive, we'll be ready."
Kara sighed, running her hands over her face, rubbing her tired eyes. Then, she looked at him through her fingers, and a small, reluctant and almost imperceptible smile appeared on her lips.
"You're completely crazy, you know that? You're insane."
"I've been told," Lihan smiled, feeling the tension in his shoulders relax a bit. "Usually by my sisters, right before my crazy plan works and saves us all."
Kara lowered her hands and looked at him with a mixture of respect and something warmer, a spark of camaraderie.
"Alright," she said, making a decision. "We'll do what you say. We'll go to Neothalis. We'll get that money and those damn automatons. But Lihan..."
She leaned forward, placing her hands on the bed on each side of his legs, bringing her face close to his until they were inches apart. Lihan felt his heart race, not from fear, but from the electric proximity of her heterochromatic eyes and the scent of jasmine and steel she gave off. He could see the golden flecks in her right eye.
"If this fails... if we take too long and Lyra..." her voice faltered, a crack of pure fear, but then it hardened like diamond. "You have to promise me we'll make it worth it. That when we return, we won't leave anyone alive in that market. That we'll burn every last rat."
Lihan held her gaze, his expression serious and heavy as the stone of his arm.
"I promise you, Kara. We're going to save her. And we're going to destroy anyone who tries to stop us. In the market, everyone. Not a stone will be left standing. And then you'll help me with my problem."
Kara nodded, satisfied with the promise. "Seems fair to me." She then straightened up and gave him a soft, almost affectionate pat on his healthy shoulder.
"Rest a bit more. You have a few hours. We'll leave at nightfall. We need supplies and a fast carriage, something that won't draw attention but runs. I'll take care of that. I have... contacts, or what's left of them. You... make sure that arm of yours is ready to burn things."
"It's ready," Lihan assured, lifting his rock hand. The cracks glowed in response to his will, illuminating the darkened room with an orange pulse. "It's always ready to burn bastards."
Kara smiled widely, making Lihan blush. She made a farewell gesture and turned to then head to the door, but stopped moving with the silent grace of her trade, at the threshold her hand on the knob. She turned to look at him one last time, and shyness returned for a brief instant, softening her sharp features and making her look younger, less burdened by death.
"And Lihan..." she said, her voice soft. "I'm glad I wasn't alone." Then she quickly left and closed the door softly, before Lihan could process the weight of those words.
He was left alone in the silence of the room, thanks to those words he no longer felt alone. Lihan looked at his hand and squeezed it gently. "I'm glad too," Lihan whispered to himself, satisfied and just to hear the echo of his voice. Then he looked toward the window where the morning sun strangely promised a new day.
They had a plan. They had a goal. And for the first time since the nightmares began, Lihan felt he had control. He wasn't going to be the victim of a tragedy. He was going to be the author of his own victory.
"Neothalis," Lihan whispered to the empty air again. "Here we come."
He closed his eyes, allowing himself one more moment of rest before the real war began. The image of Ashe and Rei smiling appeared in his mind, followed by the image.
.
.
.
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