The road was bumpy and unregulated, but the journey to Lesan was beautiful nonetheless. The verdant hills rocked hair made of ebony bark and emerald crowns. The sun lent its light to the lands, but the forest refused, the canopies contouring domes of shade. Countless animals thronged the forests and made silence a vain hope, chitters and calls enriching the breeze. The air was cool and scented with acorns, berries, and mud.

Orion and Kora sat by the edges of a caravan, watching trees flicker past. Seekers received favourable treatment for the daily perils they undertook since the public knew of the forlorn reality they’d be living without these sacrifices. For this reason, and as unpaid protection, the merchant Zerabeil had invited them to travel the journey for no cost.

There were three carriages: a smaller but cosier one at the front, followed by a larger one, and a wagon. They sat on the first carriage, used by Zerabeil to rest his throbbing feet and parch his tongue. He held his wares in the second one, locked for safety, although still not safe from bandits. That risk was countered by the band of ten mercenaries, four in the wagon and six on foot.

“Hey, you know I never said this but twinsies,” Kora said cheerfully, pointing at her maroon cloak and at Orion’s maroon bag.

Orion dug his face into his hands and hid from her. He didn’t know where she got the surplus of energy to annoy him in every waking hour, but he very much wished it death and destruction.

“Where’d did you buy it?” she asked, looking past the fact he had turtled in.

“Where d'you get yours?” Orion said, his voice muffled and unclear.

“Well, since you insist, I’ll tell you,”

She went on to tell him her journey from her village to Visgamar, fitted with three bears, a lone prince, and a fearsome dragon. Everyone had different takes to boredom, but Orion did not like Kora’s take one bit as it meant he was constantly wondering what was true about her and what was bullshit.

He wanted to tear hair out of his scalp when he realised she knew what he wanted and so was purposely making lies.

The first day on the road passed like this, his torture only ending when night washed over.

On the second day, she named him many of the plants and animals in the forest, much to his surprise. She seemed to care little of her claimed alias as she pointed out plants with names no outward villager would know. Of course, Orion knew most of what she talked about, but he didn’t reveal that, instead trying to reinforce her image of him.

On the third day, Orion hung out with the mercenaries. Kora followed. Minutes later, she dominated the conversations. They liked her, and their laughter grew irksome to Orion, who still tried to understand the two-faced monster he had grouped with. On the other hand, he was happy as Kora’s new companionship meant he could sit in peace and quiet.

On the fourth day, Kora’s true self leaked out to the mercenaries. They left to scout whenever she started talking and the unlucky who drew the short straws stayed with the carriage-train. Even then, they blankly nodded and smiled to Kora, insidiously asking questions about Orion, reigniting her interest.

On the fifth day, she was back and he internally wept. A little externally as well. It wasn’t so much that she talked without stop, rather the fact she saw conversations as battles she had to win. Moreover, it was impossible to beat her once she started ignoring the rules. She baited him with tidbits about Korshis before smacking him in the face with thoughts on Gods, berry colours, and the obesity of the merchant Zerabeil. Orion found the last topic funny, which he hated himself for, as it gave her more ground to play in.

On the sixth day, a few hours from Lesan, disaster struck.

A mercenary hurtled through shrubbery, hit the first carriage and stumbled down.

“Hunt, what’s it?” another mercenary asked, rushing to help him up.

“Ollie, he’s dead. Struck in the head. They’re coming, bandits,” he said while wiping wet hair from his forehead, his voice quivering.

The heavy downpour couldn’t wash away the fear and trepidation that spread from carriage to carriage. Zerabeil’s jowls jiggled as his eyes darted from mercenary to Seeker. The mercenaries armed themselves and spread - the bandit group was apparently of similar size so there was no way they’d let Ollie’s death go unpaid.

In the distance, Orion could hear neighing. He was unsheathing his shortsword when a hand caught his wrist. Kora looked at him, then at Zerabeil’s horses - the intention was clear. Bitterness grew in his mouth and he spat, thick phlegm lost in the rain. He shook his head.

“Fine, but you owe me,” she said.

He had no idea why he owed her, but he ignored it and ran, catching the cliffside with one hand and pulling himself up. The carriages were in a short valley so he was certain the bandits would take the high-ground, before needling them with clear shots. So, he would surprise them before they got that chance. He heard sounds to his left and turned, only to see Kora climbing with similar ease. While he hadn’t been a great fighter compared to other Zakari, he had been good at parkour and agile on his feet. Moreover, the rock-holds were now wet and hard to scale. But despite all of this, Kora reached the clifftop alongside him.

Wiping his dirty hands, he gripped his sword and scampered to a nearby bush. His heart thundered in his ears as he crouched – he was going to kill someone. He had hurt people before, but never ended lives.

Shouts sounded from the valley, raucous roars from men who had spent too long in the wild. Then, the clangs of swords echoed. He could almost see the sparks, blood, and fear from below.

Someone ran past Orion, in fact, three people. They brought out crude bows and aimed into the gloom below.

He breathed in and steeled himself: this was it. He shot through the distance, the wet slaps of his feet announcing him. He grasped his sword high, then cleaved down, biting flesh from an archer’s back.

The archer gasped and fell forward, diving through the valley.

Orion then twisted and lifted his sword to block another bandit’s blow, only to see something different. The sword in the bandit’s hand fell slack, his eyes wide and mouth gaping, a glint rupturing through his stomach. Orion’s eyes met Kora’s from behind the bandit, another corpse leaking blood into water beside her.

He thought he had been on his adrenaline rush but now he knew better. His vision cleared and everything grew brighter, the scene burning itself into his memory, Kora’s abyssal eyes syphoning his soul. He gulped and looked away, before coming back to reality and climbing down.

Half-way down the cliffside, he jumped, curled his knees and landed on the balls of his feet. He used the momentum to lunge forward, using his blade to slash a shocked bandit before breaking his combat roll and wobbling to the side. The bandit clutched his cut and glared daggers at Orion, taking time he didn’t have as Orion pierced his eye.

Orion glanced around and saw four bandits left, two mercenaries, and no merchants. The number dwindled to three bandits as Kora popped a head. Another bandit staggered in fear of the maroon-cloaked demoness and felt a sudden blaze in his ribs. The mercenary that cut him booted his balls and finished the job.

The two remaining bandits tripped their mercenary to the side and rushed Orion, hoping to catch him off guard - they failed. Orion pulled his sword up and caught the first bandit’s blow mid-air. He stepped back and let the bandit swing down, in which time he flourished his sword as if to attack, sidestepped, then stabbed the second bandit.

The first bandit recovered and clashed with Orion, once, twice. He was too slow on his third defence and got nicked, then angled his swing wrong. His head rolled off.

Thud.