"Fuck no," Ryckel spat. The words left his mouth before his mind could process the defiance.
Kima's head snapped toward him, her bronze face contorting in the firelight. "The feeling is mutual, brat! But what the hell is so wrong with me training you?!"
"I don't need it," Ryckel said, his voice dropping into a low rasp. "I've handled myself in the mists for years. I don't need a teacher."
Kima let out a long, weary sigh and leaned back against her bird's warm, feathered side. "Good. Because I'm not exactly a teacher. Never taught a soul. Wasn't even much for studying, myself."
Ryckel scoffed, a bitter sound echoing off the wet stone. He looked at the mangled heap of Zhenren, some the size of hounds, others much larger and then back at the woman who seemed more interested in a nap than her own carnage.
"Wait. You've never been trained?" He asked.
"Not really," she said with a careless shrug. "Picked things up as I went. Life's a better tutor than some old man in a robe, don't you think?"
A toxic mixture of resentment and fascination swelled in Ryckel's chest. He'd spent years nearly dying every month just to navigate the mists.
For him, survival was a desperate, clawing struggle. And here she was… lounging in a graveyard she'd created as if she were at a picnic.
Is she that much better than me?
The thought stung, a stroke of doubt through his heart.
No. I was never weak. The voices just got in the way. Now... I'm an Attuned. I'll show her.
I'll show them all.
The silence returned, filled only by the popping of the campfire.
"Then what's the point of all this?" he managed to ask, his voice shaky. "If I'm just following you to my death?"
Kima yawned. "I don't know what you're doing. But me? I've got jobs."
"What kind of jobs?"
Kima half-glanced at him, her eyes cooling into something sharp and dangerous. "The kind that would easily get you killed, kid."
As her gaze locked onto his, the air in the cavern changed. Ryckel felt a sharp pressure against his skin, as if a thousand invisible charcoal pencils were sketching frantic lines across his body.
He felt like a figure in a drawing being shaded into oblivion, his edges blurring as her presence seemed to smother him.
He gasped, his breath hitching. The sensation vanished the moment she looked away.
"What the...?" He wheezed, clutching his chest.
"Don't worry. You probably won't die, I'll make sure of that." Kima added, her voice muffled by her cloak.
For a split second, Ryckel felt a warmth that wasn't from the fire.
Does she actually---
"Like I said before... I won't get the other half of my pay if you're a corpse," she added, her voice muffled by her cloak. "It would've all been for naught."
Figures.
His mood soured.
He watched the shadows dance like ink-blots on the ceiling.
Another silent moment passed. Ryckel felt the exhaustion of the day pulling at his bones, but his mind was too wired to sleep. He looked at the green-smeared walls.
"Hey, Kima? These Zhenren… what are they?" He asked out of pure curiosity.
"And you said you've been out during the Bleeding Hour," she chuckled.
Ryckel mumbled under his breath.
"They're called Aboleths. A Hive mind. Nasty pieces of shit." She dismissively waved her hands.
Wish I had my sketchbook with me… would've loved to draw them as I'm free.
Because I have a feeling it's going to be a really long two months…
Before he could press her, she shifted, rolling over so her back was a wall of leather and wool. "Aren't you getting tired? We have a long day tomorrow. Take advantage of the night."
Ryckel rolled his eyes. He watched her breathing level out.
How could she be so reckless? To sleep in a cave filled with the dead? Typical noble.
He stood up. Boredom was a dangerous thing for a mind like Ryckel's. He wanted to see what lay deeper in the throat of this place.
He walked to the edge of the fire, grabbed a thick, flaming branch, and held it to his chest.
He hesitated.
Don't test your luck. There could be more down there…
"What are you planning to do?" Kima's voice was perfectly clear. She hadn't moved an inch.
Ryckel jumped, nearly dropping the torch.
"Nothing. I'm just sitting back down."
"No, it's not a problem," Kima muttered, her voice thick with sleep. "Go ahead. It'll let me sleep more peacefully if you're busy elsewhere."
"But... what if there are more Zhenren deeper down?"
Kima let out a short, sleepy snort. "You worry too much. There are no more Zhenren."
"How can you know for sure?"
Kima's voice was a mere whisper now, final and cold:
"Because I killed them all."
—The End of Chapter 3—