It was dusk. Ji-eun approached the two storey silhouette of her pavilion across the snow. Her steps wavered, but she couldn’t see anybody waiting outside. She let out a small breath.

  The pavilion was quiet as she stepped through the moon gate entry into the gardens. Ji-eun took her shoes off in the mudroom and entered the central hall. Glossed stone pillars, engraved with swirling clouds, held up a high vaulted ceiling. Around a central fire pit that crackled dimly were three ornately carved chairs. They were nearly unused. She climbed the set of double stairs towards the second floor. Down the mezzanine and across a hall, she found her room quickly.

  There was hardly any decoration in the room. The floorspace was large, but it went mostly unoccupied, aside from some weights, a vaguely person shaped straw bag, and a wood sword propped against the far wall. Like usual, a stick of incense was sitting on her bedside burning away; Ji-eun assumed it was replaced by servants every now and then. Lattice windows opened to the gardens below. In summer, the smell of herbs and flowers filled the whole pavilion.

  She placed the jar on her bed, but then thought better of it. Master Yan had said these pills were treasures; she didn’t want to take any chances just leaving them out in the open. The jar was quickly squirrelled to the back of her wardrobe. Not the most creative hiding place, she had to admit, but it was better than nothing.

  Ji-eun bundled a fresh robe and underclothes together and made her way back down the stairs. She made sure to step lightly, her socks gliding across the polished wood floor, towards the back of the building.

  A large portion of the pavilion was dedicated to the baths: private, artificial hot springs for each dwelling. The water was always clean, always hot, and always smelt herbal. Soft silver light occasionally ran between the large brick slabs. Hissing steam filled the air like fog. She stripped and put her robes in a hamper to the side. A quick splash of water from a basin got rid of most of the grime on her.

  Towel around her, Ji-eun lowered herself into the pond-sized bath. It was shallow enough that she could sit comfortably, head and shoulders above the water. She let the tension ease out of her muscles as she leaned back against the warm stones.

  Ji-eun tried to relax, but it didn’t come easy. There was a lot on her mind. She didn’t know what to expect from Master Yan come tomorrow. He was known to be a strict teacher throughout the Sect, but few had the opportunity to have his tutelage. It was also quite a burden; she wanted to get stronger, but could she really become a cultivator in just a few weeks, when an entire year had already escaped her? She wasn’t sure what a pill was to a cultivator, but it was sure to be more than regular medicine. Hopefully it would be enough.

  She also wanted to do something for Hu Lin. The woman made it seem like lending her a bunk was a small thing, but she still went out of her way to do it. Ji-eun doubted she’d be in good shape right now if Hu Lin hadn’t.

  Come to think of it, how had Hu Lin known she was kicked out of the pavilion? It was probably an easy conclusion to come to… but then how did she find her so easily? It didn’t matter, Ji-eun told herself. She was just being paranoid again. Kindness in the Sect was just too rare.

  A chill ran down her back despite the warm water. She cracked open an eye and saw a tall figure through the steam. They were busy tying a head of grey, almost silver, hair into a bun. The steam parted as they approached, revealing one of Ji-eun’s martial Sisters: Mu Yingyue. She wrapped herself in a towel much like Ji-eun and stepped into the water without a word. She glanced at Ji-eun and nodded in greeting. Ji-eun returned the gesture.

  Sister Mu wasn’t one for words. In fact, thinking back, Ji-eun wondered if she had ever heard the woman speak at all. Still, she cared for nothing but her training. The woman spent every possible moment of the day practicing her katas or refining her cultivation in meditation. She was nothing if not dedicated to the Sect’s teachings. Sister Mu was a much nicer presence than her other martial Sister.

  Another chill ran down her back. Ji-eun frowned. She cracked her eyes open again as another figure came through the mist. She also had a towel wrapped around herself, dark hair tied up. Sister Cai’s eyes scanned the bath.

  “Full house, is it Sisters?” She asked.

  Neither Ji-eun or Sister Mu responded. Mu Yingyue didn’t even move, as if she didn’t notice the other woman’s presence. Sister Cai frowned slightly and lowered herself into the water.

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  The other woman was always uncomfortable to be around. She didn’t bother to hide her displeasure at sharing a pavilion with Ji-eun. It was surprising she was willing to enter a bath alongside her. Ji-eun wanted nothing to do with the woman, and Sister Cai wanted nothing good to do with Ji-eun. At least she was obsessed with appearances, both literal and political.

  It was painfully quiet. Hissing steam and dripping water was all that could be heard. Ji-eun kept her eyes shut and her back against the warm stones. Whatever comfort she had found in the bath was long gone. And the atmosphere was just too much. She stood abruptly. With a curt bow to her Sisters, Ji-eun left the water. Droplets fell from her towel as she strode away quickly.

  “Sister Ji-eun?” Cai Shufen called.

  She came to a halt and turned stiffly. Bowing wasn’t necessary between Sisters, or at least so she had been told. Still, Ji-eun included her heat out of habit as she addressed her ‘superior’.

  “Yes, Sister Cai?”

  “I heard you had some trouble with friends of mine yesterday,” Sister Cai began. “I apologise for their… lack of decorum in handling the matter. I’m glad to see you well despite it.”

  Ji-eun froze. Sister Cai, apologising? Had the stars begun to fall? It was too out of place. Then it hit her. She wasn’t apologising for their actions, but for the fact they made a scene. The heavens were still in their place, after all.

  “Thank you for your words, Sister,” Ji-eun remarked as she turned and left.

  —

  With a quiet click, Ji-eun closed the bedroom door behind her. She ran a hand through her hair and scratched at the scar along her horn. Her thoughts drifted back to the bath and she couldn’t help but frown. She marched to a desk in the corner and sat down. The garden was just below her.

  In the safety of her own room, Ji-eun threw her head back in a sigh. She glanced to the wooden sword lying propped against the far wall. She wanted something to do. Something to hit. But no, she’d have to visit the bath again if she got all sweaty. One of the few things she had grown used to in the Sect was going to sleep clean every night, and she wouldn’t be giving it up voluntarily.

  Her eyes drifted to the wardrobe. Specifically, where she knew the qi refinement pills were stowed. Slowly, she rose and, reaching into the very back, she pulled out the jar. The lid came off easily.

  Ji-eun lifted out a powder blue pill. Each was slightly larger than a marble and felt coarse as she rolled it between her fingers. It was cool to the touch. Ji-eun didn’t know what else she expected. She held it up to the light and against expectations shone slightly. It was like looking through stained glass, or a fogged up window.

  “No time like the present,” she said with a shrug.

  Master Yan had said once a day, and she had no reason to wait to start tomorrow.

  Ji-eun pinched the pill between two fingers and placed it in her mouth. She realised, maybe a little late, that she didn’t know if she was supposed to chew or not. It was a little tough, so she assumed not, but then again, cultivators probably had a stronger bite force than a mortal. She contemplated cracking a tooth on the stone-like pill or swallowing it snake-style; before she could come to a conclusion, the pill began melting rapidly.

  It was sickly sweet, and yet the bitter taste of medicine danced in and out of the flowing flavour. A slick, honey-like consistency began running down her throat, and she swallowed on instinct. The pill slipped down too easily. From the centre of her chest, heat began to radiate out. With all too much clarity, Ji-eun felt the blood flowing through her. Another force, invisible yet palpable, tried to follow the rhythm of her heartbeat. Warmth spread out to her limbs and down her back. It was a pleasant, but alien sensation. She begun to relax and let the pill take its course.

  There was a lurch in her chest. A hand reached for the sudden ball of tightness. All too quickly, she found herself struggling to breath. She didn’t know what was going on. Would a pill meant to help her kill her? Was it poison? Her lungs burned, but it didn’t feel like suffocation.The tightness grew unbearable. She clutched at her throat. Air refused to enterer her lungs. She fell forward onto her knees.

  A horrid shudder ran through her, across her chest and up her shoulders. She felt something slimy move within her chest. Ji-eun entered a coughing fit as she fell to the floor. Her limbs shook with the force of each heave. Painfully slow, and yet all too quickly, something rose up her throat, climbing with a mind of is own. With a final force of will, Ji-eun threw up. A puddle of blood and black tar fell to the floor. Ji-eun nearly wretched from the lingering taste. Then, she did wretch from the smell.

  Weakly, she pulled herself up on her chair and fell backwards into it. The warmth of the pill still flowed through her chest. Subtly, it felt different now. Faster. Ji-eun didn’t have the energy to care. She was drained, more than she had ever felt before. But the smell kept prickling at her nose.

  For a few short minutes, she just sat there. Not a thought passed through her head. Gradually, the warmth of the pill tapered off. Maybe it was placebo: already, she felt lighter. Or, probably, she had the pile of goo on the ground to thank. Namely her new lack thereof.

  Reluctantly, Ji-eun stood and pulled a towel from her wardrobe. The puddle had quickly dried into a sludge. She wiped up the pile as best she could. After a few minutes, it was hard to tell she had just thrown up… whatever in the hells that was. Unceremoniously, she threw the towel — now stained beyond saving — out the window. It was unbecoming of a Disciple, but frankly, she couldn’t care right now.

  Ji-eun had a lot of questions. Was that intended? Was she meant to survive? What the hell had come out of her? Would she end up on the floor heaving every time she had one of those pills? She eyed the opaque jar wearily and a lump formed in the back of her throat. Master Yan had already promised to spend the next few weeks training her. She would ask him tomorrow. If she didn’t, Ji-eun wasn’t sure she could eat another one.

  She reached a hand to her forehead and flicked away some of the sweat. Her eye twitched. Now that she paid attention to it, she was drenched in sweat. And that taste still lingered in her mouth. Both the pill, and the goo. Ji-eun slumped. She’d have to have another bath after all. With any luck, her Sisters would have retired for the night.