First, there was pain.
Sharp. Shifting. Alien.
It swallowed everything—her thoughts, her breath—until her world collapsed into a single, unbearable point.
Something snapped.
Awareness jolted back with a rush of adrenaline, but her mind was still thick with haze. Her body. There was a body.
Pressure.
Someone—on top of her.
Hands. Holding her arm.
That’s where the pain was.
No.
Diwu bucked without thinking. Without waiting to understand. Something invasive. Something wrong. And it hurt. She didn’t need to know more.
The man cursed, struggling to keep hold of her, but she twisted, fought—and he lost his grip.
She shoved up a knee just enough to throw him off balance.
Then bolted.
Scrambled to her feet. A vial of black, eerie liquid clattered to the ground, spilling its contents over scrawled notes. Shadows stretched and twisted under the glow of a lightsphere rolling off to the side.
She staggered.
Where am I?
Dark walls. Cramped. Stale air. Maybe underground. Maybe—
Her eyes locked on a door. She ran.
Wrenched it open.
A pantry.
Wrong way.
Deep dread spread through her stomach. She caught herself against the doorframe, chest heaving. The pain flared, raw and pulsing.
Then—movement.
She turned her head and froze.
The man was standing now, watching her.
Too calm.
Young. Reddish hair, freckled face—too ordinary for the menace humming in the air around him.
She swallowed.
What happened?
Hadn’t she just been passing through town? She remembered walking… Why was she here?
“What do you want from me?” Her voice came out dry, scraped raw, like sandpaper.
“I’m just testing a few things,” the man said. “No need to get excited. I can help with the pain.”
He tilted his head. “Or make it worse.”
The spot on her arm burned suddenly. Seared like molten metal.
She convulsed as a scream tore from her throat, her knees nearly buckling. The pain swallowed everything, eclipsed thought itself.
When it subsided she steadied, against all odds.
Where’s the exit? Damn it.
She tried to focus, edged along the wall, creeping, keeping him in sight.
The man didn’t move. Just watched her.
“You can’t run anyway,” he said. “Even if you get away now, you’ll come back to me. Because I’m the only one who can fix you.”
Her fingers dragged over cool stone, breath short and heavy, her arm throbbing. Her vision swam, but she’d seen it—a hallway. Behind him and to the left. If she could just get past him…
“Who the hell are you?”
He bobbed his head, almost amused. “You can call me the Bad Apothecary.”
Then he laughed.
The sound was too sharp, unnatural and sudden.
And just as quickly, his face went cold.
“You’re not leaving,” he said.
Diwu’s stomach dropped, but she steeled her resolve.
Yes I am, she thought.
She’d understood already: she was dealing with a cultivator. But he didn’t seem physically strong. Just a little stronger than her. So if she was faster, and smarter, maybe she could get away…
“What did you do to me?” she asked as she took another step, her boot crunching against the grimy stone floor. Her vision was sharpening with every second. Her mind clearing, racing, despite the fear.
“I made you mine,” he said. “Now why don’t you just sit down.”
“I’m not yours,” she countered with the attempt of a sneer clenching the hand above which the wound flared again. “Never.”
She dashed for the hallway but she was too far. He moved to intercept and she knew she wasn’t going to make it past him. So instead she veered off course straight towards him.
She used her momentum to shove him hard. He stumbled backwards then recovered quickly. Too quickly for her to get away cleanly. He grabbed her robes and tried to pull her back, pull her down, but she kicked herself free with a grunt and ran. And he chased after her.
Her arm felt like it was splitting in two. Ignore it. If she gave in she wouldn’t manage a second attempt.
Diwu made it into the hallway and sprinted without knowing where she was going. There were doors. She ran past them. None looked like an exit. Then a dark stairway. Up or down?
She cursed. Chose up. He was just behind her.
His hand closed on her ankle and pulled her off her feet. She crashed into the stairs as he yanked her backwards. Her body dragged downwards over the steps, roughly, bruising. But she kicked and struggled until he lost his grip for a moment. Diwu flipped around onto her back, twisted sideways so her hands pressed against the stone wall just as he reached for her again. She kicked back at him using the wall for leverage and sent him stumbling backwards a few steps, then without delay got up on her feet.
And ran again.
“You’ll regret this,” he called after her.
On the next level she saw natural light. Stars, the aurorum, glimmering through missing windows and gaps in the building. Behind her came his footsteps but he was moving slower now.
“You want to know how bad it can get?” His voice echoed, distant now. “Keep running and you’ll find out.”
It was bad already. The pain. The burn. The bone-deep ache that gnawed at her from the inside out. It responded to him, like something alive, digging in deeper with every step and with every command he gave it…
Staying wasn’t an option. Not at his mercy.
She had no choice but to keep moving.
So she ran.
She crashed through a decrepit door, then was outside and in the wild. Her lungs screamed for air. Her legs felt like lead, but she pushed on, stumbling through what could have been a footpath, or maybe just an animal trail—brambles and dry shrubs scraping at her skin, the darkness closing in around her. No direction, no plan. She didn’t recognize where she was. Didn’t know which way the town was but she didn’t want to go back there anyway.
Only instinct drove her forward now.
After some time she noticed the silence.
The stillness in the air. She didn’t hear his footsteps anymore.
At least, she didn’t think she did.
She gasped for air, clutching her side as the pain in her arm flared up again. It was changing, like something drilling into her bone, burrowing beneath her skin.
Was he still controlling it? Or was this just what it did?
Heavens, what is this?
She hadn’t seen it yet. No time, no light.
Pine forest. Darkness. Pain. That was all she knew.
Keep moving.
She wasn’t safe yet.
One hurried step after another, she pushed on. Her breath came ragged, her limbs heavy and numb. The wound… contained. A small solace. Her legs, her mind, her body burned with fatigue, but they were still her own. Not tainted like the spot on her arm.
The trees blurred into an eerie mass of shadows, twisting in odd angles like the gnarled hands of forgotten things. Their branches reached out, brushing against her as she passed.
Some time later the jagged mouth of a canyon opened up in front of her, a cleft in the earth that gave her shelter. The smell of dust and decay filtered into her nostrils. Boulders, some as large as houses, loomed like dark, unmovable giants in the narrow landscape, their shapes forming stark outlines against the sky.
She wedged herself between two of them, tight against the stone, clutching a sharp-edged rock like a weapon. Waiting. Her fingers, slick with sweat, aching and clenched, but she held on.
The night was quiet.
No one came.
Slowly, the panic ebbed—to leave room for something worse.
Her fingers trembled as she flexed her arm, trying to understand the pain, but it wasn’t like anything she’d felt before. It shifted, dug deeper, chewed at her from the inside out—bite by bite, never satisfied.
This isn’t normal.
She sucked in a sharp breath and let the rock drop. Carefully, she probed the injury, almost cried out when her fingers brushed it. Just above her wrist—tender, fever-hot. The skin was unbroken except for a small wound, barely more than an insect bite. Too small. It shouldn’t hurt like this.
But of course, she already knew.
The man had been an extraordinary. And so was the wound.
Now what?
She rubbed sweat and dust from her brow with her uninjured hand, then squatted down to rest. If rest was even possible like this.
She had nowhere to go.
She‘d only gone into the town to trade for supplies, pushing deeper into settlements than she usually dared. The drought had hollowed out villages, leaving her with few options.
It’s what she did. Wander. Keep to herself. Sleep under the stars or in makeshift shelters, unless a storm came…
It was a dangerous world—especially for someone like her: young, no family, no power.
She’d always been careful. So how had she ended up in his lair?
Her memory blurred, as if she were chasing reflections in water. She’d been in the village… And then?
She didn’t remember.
Only fragments appeared: The sun, harsh and golden, slanting through the narrow streets. The local sect patrols, their uniforms crisp, gazes sharp, tracking her like a stray dog they might need to chase off. The market—loud, chaotic, the air thick with spice and smoke. Someone selling herbs, their scent clinging to her fingers when she picked them up.
She’d wanted to sell her own gathered herbs… But she couldn’t remember if she had.
Empty space filled her mind. A cut thread.
A sudden realization hit. Shit.
She shifted, as if to check… but she already knew. Her bag—gone. Her knife and hunting tools—gone. The gourd for water, also gone. The few belongings she’d had that made survival in the wild possible, stripped from her as easily as a husk peeled from fruit.
All she had left was the clothes on her back.
Fuck.
The arm ached in a way that made her sick. Constantly morphing. Exhaustion was no shield against it.
Focus. Breathe.
Find a way to get out of this.
The attacker’s face returned to her mind, half-formed, almost dreamlike. Who was he? Why had he chosen her? What had he been trying to accomplish?
A cultivator, but not an adept at fighting. That much was certain. He had been quick, but he’d lacked the sharpness of someone trained to fight. That was the only reason she’d gotten away.
Lineage? Who knew. She’d never learned enough about those things.
He’d felt strange through. The way he’d spoken, laughed… half mad at least. She had a bad feeling about it. Like she’d almost seen it… Maybe she had.
A memory flared—his fingers curled around her wrist. Something had settled inside her at that touch. She’d felt it invading her. And now she didn’t know how to get it out again.
But had there even been a purpose to what he’d done? Or was it just an urge born of madness?
She shivered.
Maybe he was just someone. And maybe she had just been a convenient target. To test something on.
The thought made her nauseous.
Now what?
She knew too little about the cultivation world. Didn’t know the full scope of the dangers. Didn’t know what had been done to her. Or how to fix it.
Damn it.
This wasn’t just a scrape, a sprained ankle. It was big. It hurt and it felt… wrong.
“I’m the only one who can fix you,” he had said.
She hoped—prayed—it had been a bluff.
It’ll heal, she told herself.
She knew it wouldn’t.
Just give it some time…
But deep down, she felt the cold, sickening feeling of certainty.
She needed help.
And she had no one to ask.