The

  constant drip of water was the only sound in the silence between us.

  “I

  guess not all heroes are born.” I tried weakly. A joke to cut the

  weight of Arthur’s story. She didn’t laugh. “...He was born a

  hero, was he not? His heart made him the perfect candidate.”

  I

  gave up trying to explain.

  A familiar chirp echoed from the cave

  entrance. The lady’s head tilted toward the sound. A small bird,

  feathers the colour of rust and old blood, swooped in and landed on

  my shoulder with the quiet, obedient precision of a trained thing.

  “...Is

  that thy beast?” she asked, her voice careful.

  “His

  name is Red. I found him in the Mistlands. He was..almost dead.” I

  kept my voice flat. No point in dancing around it. “I used the

  beast binding technique. He’s been scouring the areas.”

  A

  slow, understanding breath escape her. “...You know the risks of

  using that technique. Especially with a creature born and soaking in

  the Flo from a place like this?” It sounded like a question.

  “I

  didn’t have a choice.”

  “Choices

  are seldom given,” she said, her tone shifting into something

  softer, almost..reminiscent. “ It reminds me of another. From the

  Trials. She too didn’t have a choice. The Dancer of Qingzhou...She

  and Arthur “**&^%$$”

  [Unknown

  interference jammed the rest of the conversation]

  ********************************************************************

  In the land of Chimera, there was also a country located to the

  south. Being the biggest in size and in people, it was also divided

  into three parts. One part was known for its long deserts and hot

  weather, the other for its temples and grassy mountains. The other,

  however, was closed off. It had never been explored, and everyone who

  dared had been silenced.

  Mei-Mei was from the ‘Qingzhou Province’, the land with a

  connection to Flo beasts and temples. She was born from a broken

  promise. Her mother, Miyoko, had been the favourite mistress of a

  nobleman, soothed with pretty lies of a future together every time

  they had met in the brothel. She had fallen for him. But when she

  told him she was expecting his child, his demeanour changed. It

  turned out the man already had a family. From that day on, he never

  came back.

  Miyoko struggled with a terrible choice. She cried and cried,

  wrestling with the thought of bringing a child into her world. How

  would she face them when they got old enough to understand her job?

  Would she even be alive in the distant future? She had been working

  since she was sixteen, her own parents selling her off to settle a

  debt. This was the only life she knew. What right did she have to

  bring in a child when she could barely take care of herself?

  Her answer came from a short old woman named Yen, who noticed her

  absent-mindedness whilst she was on her way back from praying at a

  temple. Yen radiated a warmth that made Miyoko break down and tell

  her everything.

  “A child,” Yen said, her voice soft as a blanket, “whether an

  accident or not is a blessing not all receive. What you see as a

  negative could be the blessing you need.”

  Yen, who ran an orphanage, refused Miyoko’s offer to take the baby.

  “You are a beautiful, kind woman. Your child will blossom under

  your protection. No matter your circumstance.” A little brown and

  green monkey with one small horn stood perched on Yen’s head

  chittered and patted Miyoko’s hair, making them both laugh through

  her tears. Before leaving, Yen laid a hand on Miyoko’s stomach and

  said a prayer of protection. Miyoko, her mind made up, begged Yen to

  let her child visit the orphanage. Yen just smiled and told her where

  to find it.

  Throughout her pregnancy, Miyoko didn’t return to the brothel. Yen

  covered her bills, a luxury peasants never saw. The country was

  impossibly hard and cruel to those they considered less than nobles.

  When Mei-Mei was born, the midwives saw her heterochromia, one eye,

  dark brown, the other eye a startling bright green. It was the mark

  of a Pure Synchrite, like Lucius the Praised himself. For a glorious

  moment, it seemed like destiny had saved them.

  But by the age of nine, that hope was gone. Mei-Mei stood before

  officials who asked her to manipulate Flo. She closed her eyes, she

  strained, she prayed. Nothing happened .

  “Huh. A fluke perhaps?” One grumbled. “Not a Synchrite.”

  The walk home was the longest of her life. She saw the hope die in

  her mother’s eyes, though Miyoko never said a word of reproach.

  Instead, Mei-Mei would hear her mother’s silent, weary prayers in

  the dead of night, each one a needle in her heart. She felt like a

  failure.

  Yet, life was not all bad. She had her mother’s fierce love. She

  had Grandma Yen, and the orphanage was a raucous family of kids who

  watched each other grow up.

  Things turned when Mei-Mei turned fifteen. Her mother’s earnings

  dwindled as her youth faded. They couldn’t rely on Yen, who already

  supported an orphanage and a tavern. So, Mei-Mei and the older

  orphans went to work.

  Mei-Mei, who was eager to learn how to cook, started as a waitress,

  navigating the leers of soldiers and nobles. When things got worse,

  she begged Yen for a way to earn more.

  Yen’s face grew solemn. “You can dance,” she said finally. “The

  drunken men will pay for a glimpse of grace.”

  Mei-Mei agreed without hesitation. She wouldn’t tell her mother.

  She had grown up watching Miyoko’s elegant movements and had

  practised in secret for years. This was a skill she owned, a destiny

  she could forge for herself.

  On her first night, hidden behind a simple white mask and a blue

  kimono of Yen’s that was slightly too large, she listened to the

  musician, Rei, draw a nostalgic tune from his erhu. She took a deep

  breath, slid the silk curtain aside, and stepped into the spotlight.

  At first, she was a ghost. But as she moved, flowing with the music,

  a hush fell. One man turned. Then another. Soon, the whole tavern was

  watching, captivated. The silence broke into cheers, fuelling her.

  She twirled faster, Rei’s music rising to meet her, the crowd

  beating on tables in rhythm. Up on that stage, she had never felt

  more alive. She liked being looked at. She liked being admired.

  After the performance, it was already gradually becoming late at

  night. Although she didn’t get any tips on her first performance,

  Yen told her it would take some time for the crowd to warm up to her.

  She could hardly still control herself. The buzz was still all around

  her. The sensation felt like she was levitating, floating on the

  sound of the cheers.

  That feeling carried her all the way home. She pushed the door open,

  a faint, silly smile still on her face from the night’s high.

  And then she saw her.

  Her mother, Miyoko, was hunched in a corner. Her face was turned

  away, but Mei-Mei saw the fresh, ugly purple of a bruise blooming on

  her left arm. Her mother was quietly dabbing at it with a damp cloth,

  her movements slow and heavy with a weariness that went deeper than

  bone.

  Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

  The scene was a bucket of ice water. It snatched the joy completely

  from Mei-Mei and dumped her back into their harsh, cold reality. It

  wasn’t the first time.

  As soon as the door creaked, her mother flinched. She quickly pulled

  her sleeve down and wiped at her eyes, standing up abruptly and

  trying to force her smile.

  “Mei-Mei..” her mother started, her voice too bright, too fake.

  But Mei-Mei shut her down immediately. She couldn’t hold it back

  any more. The frustration, the anger, the sheer unfairness of it all

  boiled over.

  “What..what did you do to deserve all of this mama?” The words

  tore out of her. “Why do these things keep happening to you..”

  Mei-Mei could barely keep the tears from falling now.

  Her mother, who had just been hiding her own tears, now gave a soft,

  kind smile. It was the saddest thing Mei-Mei had ever seen. She

  reached over and caressed the side of her daughter’s cheek, her

  thumb gentle on her skin.

  “If I had not passed through all of this…” Miyoko said, her

  voice barely a whisper, “would I still have you, child?”

  The words completely disarmed Mei-Mei, leaving only a profound,

  aching sadness where her anger had been. She cursed the thought of

  ever going down the same path, before going to the other room, unable

  to look at her mother’s brave, broken face.

  In the weeks that followed, a small but loyal following blossomed for

  the tavern’s mysterious dancer. Mei-Mei perfected the art of the

  double life. By day, she was a waitress, loved by the regulars. But

  when her shift ended, she would vanish behind the great stage curtain

  and step into her kimono, tying the mask securely in place. In that

  moment, the servant disappeared, and the artist took her place.

  The thrill of the mystery was a constant hum under her skin. However

  the thrill only turned to ice when her performance was interrupted by

  the clatter of a single, large gold coin skidding across the stage

  floor. “Show us something!” a slurred voice bellowed from the

  crowd. The demand ripped through the music. The supportive cheers of

  her admirers twisted into a unified, hungry chant. In that moment,

  she didn’t feel like the artist dancer she thought she was, she

  felt like her mother.

  Mei-Mei’s feet faltered. She couldn’t hear Rei’s music anymore,

  only the pounding of her own heart. She saw Chen, the tall,

  dark-skinned orphan who worked as the tavern’s cook, moving through

  the crowd. He was more than a cook and his title meant he earned good

  pay. His food was also what kept many customers coming back. He put a

  hand on one man’s shoulder seemingly trying to tell him something

  but he just brushed him off. Another orphan tried to block the view

  of the most rowdy table, but it was no use.

  Panicked, and with Yen absent, Mei-Mei made a choice. Heart hammering

  with shame, she lifted the hem of her kimono, just high enough to

  show off the stockings she wore beneath.

  The tavern erupted. The roar was deafening. More coins landed on the

  stage, skittering around her feet like dirty payment.

  She finished the dance, her face burning, and collected the coins in

  silence after the performance. They screamed for an encore, but she

  just walked away. Her mind was a mix of anger at herself and shame

  for what she would do for money.

  Chen and the Musician, Rei, were already outside in the cool night

  air, a shared tobacco roll passing between them.

  “You okay, Mei?” Chen asked, his voice low with concern. He

  passed the lit roll to her and she took a puff, the smoke doing

  little to calm the tremor in her hands.

  “Nothing I can’t

  handle...besides, you wouldn’t have let anything happen to me.

  Right?”

  “Of course not,” he said, but his eyes were serious. He looked

  back at the tavern, then at her. “But you know the chants will get

  worse. What will you do then?”

  Mei-Mei’s silence was her answer.

  He sighed. “Is the money really worth it?”

  “Yes,” she replied, the word immediate and sharp, like a reflex.

  It had to be. He just looked at Rei and sighed ,taking the roll back

  from her, bidding her a goodnight.

  On

  the way back home, something felt uneasy . Her ears were buzzing, it

  would happen every time she got really into dancing. But this time,

  the buzzing was louder. It spooked her. She thought it was a side

  effect of the tobacco tube. She quickened her pace when she

  remembered the day her mother came back with a beating. The memory

  still stung her. To painful to remember, to painful to forget.

  When she got back, the door was slightly ajar, dimly lit by a single

  candle. A cold dread, colder than the air, gripped Mei-Mei’s heart

  before she even stepped inside.

  She looked in.

  The scene was a frozen picture of grief. Yen was there, her face a

  mask of sorrow. So was the big, buff man from the orphanage, his

  presence like a dark shadow. Two women from the brothel, one with

  straight black hair, the other blonde, stood by the bed, one weeping,

  the other looking away in shame.

  They all turned

  to her as she entered.

  “Mei-Mei.”

  Yen’s voice was soft but heavy. “I’m sorry.”

  Mei-Mei’s eyes

  followed their gaze to the bed .

  There lay her

  mother.

  Miyoko’s eyes

  were closed. Her face was a mess of bruises and dried blood. She

  wasn’t moving.

  Mei-Mei’s whole

  world shattered. The floor seemed to fall away. Her knees buckled,

  hitting the wooden floor with a jarring thud. She couldn’t breathe.

  Her mind was a roaring static of terrible thoughts, but one kept

  reoccurring. She’s gone

  It was only the

  sound of Yen calling her name, over and over, that she finally looked

  up, her vision blurred with tears she hadn’t even felt falling.

  “Your mother is

  not dead.”

  The words didn’t

  make sense. They were just sounds. Then, they sank in. Not dead..

  A choked, ragged gasp tore from

  her throat.

  “You didn’t let me finish, girl,” Yen said gently. “She is,

  however, in a terrible condition. She appears to be in a coma.”

  The news was a fresh wave of pain, but the relief was so much

  stronger. Her mother was alive. She whispered a prayer of thanks, her

  body trembling. Then, the relief hardened into something cold and

  sharp. “What happened?” she demanded, her voice louder than she

  anticipated.

  Yen began. “Your mother had encountered the man a while ago, though

  that time he was with another hostess.” She indicated the younger

  woman with the straight black hair and tear-stained white kimono.

  Mei-Mei remembered how badly her mother had looked after that day.

  “The

  customer came back, requesting Miyoko. And since your mother has been

  getting fewer clients recently, she took it.” Yen’s voice grew

  grim. “It wasn’t until wailing and crashing and screams could be

  heard coming from their room after a while.” She then pointed to

  the other woman, the one with dark brown hair in a purple kimono.

  “Suzie was the one who heard the commotion and screamed for help.”

  Mei-Mei’s

  gaze then shifted to the big man. She realised what he was there for.

  Yen

  turned and place a hand on Miyoko’s face. “Poor girl. When they

  entered the room, they saw him beating on her with pure rage and

  anger. At that point, she wasn’t even moving...yet he wouldn’t

  stop.”

  Mei-Mei

  seethed with a rage so pure she couldn’t stop shaking. Her breaths

  became shallow. “Who was he?” she whispered.

  “He

  was a noble,” Suzie answered. “He frequents the brothel multiple

  times a week.” Yen added that the same guy was also a regular at

  the tavern. “He would always make a show of his distaste for women,

  but he wasn’t as brutal up until recently . It changed when your

  mother tried to de-escalate a situation with Sumi.” The black

  haired girl, Sumi, looked down, averting eye contact and rubbing one

  of her arms. “Something in his eyes changed...like he snapped. He

  left muttering to himself with eyes that were too wide for anyone.”

  Mei-Mei

  asked what happened to him, and they all pointed at the big guy. She

  hadn’t noticed at first, but on closer inspection, she saw the

  specs of red on his knuckles and his garment. She prayed that bastard

  was more than dead.

  After

  gaining the courage, she walked to the bedside and looked down at her

  mother’s broken form. She gently took her limp hand.

  “Will

  she ever recover?” Mei-Mei asked, her voice small.

  “Her

  body can heal,” Yen said, her tone turning practical. “But it

  requires a skilled healer, and that requires money we don’t have. A

  peasant is low on their list. A woman of her profession?” Yen shook

  her head. “They wouldn’t even let her through the door.”

  The

  injustice of it was a final, crushing weight. They were trapped.

  “What

  we need,” Yen said, her voice dropping to a determined whisper, “is

  status. We have no patron, so we will make one.” She turned her

  gaze to Mei-Mei. “You are going to participate in the Chimera Cross

  Trials for Synchrites.”

  Mei-Mei

  stared, bewildered. The whiplash was too much. “...I’m not a

  Synchrite?”

  Yen’s

  smile was thin, filled with a fierce certainty.

  “Yes,

  “Yen said, her voice leaving no room for argument. “You are.”

  Yen simply just smiled at her. “Yes. you are.”

  **********************************************************************

  I

  Sat forward, the recorder forgotten. “And was she? Who was Madam

  Yen truly? Did she acquire a Flo beast?” The questions tumbled out.

  A long, deliberate silence stretched out. Then, her voice, flat and

  final. “...I think I will stop there for now.”

  It

  felt like a punch to the gut. “What? Why?”

  “Do

  you wish to hear more?” she asked, her head tilting. “Or do you

  wish to survive”

  She

  was right. I wanted to do nothing but listen. But wanting wouldn’t

  keep me alive. I let out a frustrated breath. “...Please Train me.”

  “Very

  well,” she said, and I could have sworn I heard the faintest hint

  of approval in her voice.