Ji-eun stood in deep snow. Her pursuers had chased her farther than ever before, deep into the woods that surrounded her hometown. She had thought they lost her. Now, she stood surrounded in a clearing, three figures approaching from all sides. They carried silver swords and wore expensive hunting gear. All wore excited expressions across their faces.

  The Wu clan had always been assholes. Nobles from the Central Provinces given lands in the North just three generations ago, and already it had gotten to their heads. Their children were bullies at the best of times. Now, it seemed they had a taste for blood.

  “You’ll die today Demon,” one said mockingly.

  “Y’know that’s just a myth, right?” Ji-eun shot back.

  “Says the bitch with horns on her head,” another spat.

  Where these boys had heard that myth was beyond her. It was a dying legend, even amongst those born in the North. What convinced them it was true was equally baffling.

  But the reality was they just wanted an excuse. They didn’t care if she was Demon or horse dung, she was just something else to cut down.

  “C’mon Lang, you really want to do this? What’ll Fen’gu think of you if she finds out?” Ji-eun asked as she backed into a tree.

  “Obviously, she never will? Is your head full of stone?”

  “Not anymore than yours is.”

  “We’ve all had enough of your disrespect, Demon. For this, you will die,” Wong said.

  “So if I was a respectful Demon you’d let me live?”

  All three laughed in unison. It wasn’t that funny, was it? Slowly they got closer. Ji-eun scanned desperately for an opening. All she had to do was get away. The authorities wouldn’t do anything about it, but at least she would live to see another sunset. She loved the oranges and pinks it painted the snow in this time of year.

  The eldest, Zhihao, stepped forward and raised his sword.

  “At least make this entertaing for us, Ji-eun. Like you always do.”

  “Sure. And like always, I’ll get away, how does that sound?”

  Another round of chuckles.

  “No. You’ve been fucking with us for long enough.”

  It was Ji-eun’s turn to chuckle nervously.

  To the side, Lang lunged at her. Looking back, it was a clumsy strike. Ji-eun dodged out of the way right into the path of Wong’s sword. Zhihao — the only sibling with any amount of training — didn’t waste the opportunity. He stepped forward to trap Ji-eun between two blades. She slipped past Zhuhai’s strike and took Wong’s on the forearm. It didn’t cut deep, but god did it hurt. She stumbled backwards. Lang was already behind her.

  Another thrust from Wong. She rolled out of the way, but Lang sliced downward. It bit into her robe and scratched at her shoulder. Zhihao went for her leg as she scrabbled back.

  "Gods she’s slippery.”

  “We already knew that Wong,” said Lang.

  “Worms usually are. Maybe Demonic Worms are especially so?”

  “Stop calling me that.”

  “What are you going to do about it? Die faster?” Zhihao taunted.

  What was she going to do? They had her surrounded again. Clearly, the blockheads had planned this in advance. Ji-eun didn’t know how to fight. She barely knew how to hold a sword. All her Elders had taught her was to stay low, stay hidden, and stay out of trouble. A shame the Wu idiots didn’t get the memo. She would be great at staying out of trouble if trouble didn’t keep come looking for her!

  A lunge. This one cut at her side. A stab. It sliced across her check. A thrust from behind. This one connected good across her shoulder. She fell to the snow.

  Why her? Why now? What the fuck did these idiots have against her? She never asked for this.

  Ji-eun searched the clearing desperately for something, anything, to let her survive. The brothers three were approaching again. Blood — her blood — washed against the snowy clearing. Against herself, she thought it was a pretty colour. Slowly, she rose. At the very least, she wouldn’t die lying down.

  She lunged for Lang, the smallest of the bunch. He was easily tackled to the ground. The sword in his hand went sailing through the air. Ji-eun stood as fast as she could and ran as fast as she could. The snow worked against her. All too late, Ji-eun heard a faint whistling on the wind. A sharp pain ran through her left leg and she tumbled to the ground.

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  “Good shot!” Zhihao yelled.

  “Thanks! I’ve been practicing,” said Wong.

  Ji-eun grimaced and glanced down at her leg. A throwing knife stuck out of her calf. It was buried deep. There was no running now. She grit her teeth and pulled the blade out. Having a bleeding leg was probably better than an immobile leg, right?

  Again, she rose to her feet, avoiding her left leg almost entirely. Her breathing was heavy. A heavy weight pulled against her chest. What had she done in life to deserve this? What had the Wu scions done in their life to deserve hers? Lang approached, the grip on his sword far tighter than it was before. It was easy to tell that he was furious. That only made Ji-eun burn hotter.

  “What the fuck are you mad about? Worried you’re the weakest link here?”

  “Shut up.”

  He lunged for Ji-eun’s throat.

  “Save us a piece, Brother!”

  Ji-eun raised the dagger in her hand in some semblance of defence. She locked eyes with her attacker. And with a slight dip, avoided his blade entirely.

  Her dagger found its way neatly through his left eye, though.

  Without a word, Lang tumbled to the ground. He was dead in a single strike. The clearing was silent for a few precious moments.

  “You.. you monster!” Wong screamed. He charged.

  Ji-eun dashed for the sword Lang dropped. It came away easily from his hands. She waved it in the air threateningly, not knowing how to use it any better than Wong did. But he didn’t know that, and was pushed back as Ji-eun limped towards him.

  Zhihao was coming from the side, his jaw clenched tight. His sword was raised high and came down fast. Ji-eun parried at the last second, vibrations echoing down her arm. She nearly dropped her sword. Nearly. With a surge of power she didn’t know she had, Ji-eun elbowed Zhihao in the stomach and sent him sprawling to the ground. Before she could plunge her sword through his chest, Wong came from the side and tackled her to the ground. Now on top of her, he raised his blade high and thrust down. Ji-eun punched him in the dick and rolled away before it could connect.

  She regained her grip and lunged for Wong, still recovering as he was. Her sword slid easily between his ribs, piercing one side and out the other. Gasping for air, he fell to the ground and died slowly from his wounds.

  Zhihao charged furiously towards her. With a scream, he brought his sword down on her. The sword was pulled mercilessly from her grip as she stumbled backwards to avoid the assault.

  “Why! Won’t! You! Just! Die!”

  Ji-eun didn’t bother answering. Her own breath was better spent keeping standing. But her leg was failing, and fast.

  After another ruthless swipe at her, Ji-eun saw an opportunity and took it. She lashed out with her fist and drove it into his jaw. Something snapped. She wasn’t sure what. But the attack cost her. Recklessly, Zhihao swung his blade and connected with Ji-eun’s side. It cut at an odd angle against her ribs, but didn’t bite through.

  She fell backwards, steadied herself, and stood awkwardly. Zhihao was nursing his jaw, tears streaming down his face.

  “Coward,” she said.

  It was a poor attempt at a taunt, but unfortunately, it worked wonders. He charged headfirst at her. Ji-eun kept up her best to dodge, but it was a losing battle. She collected more and more gashes as Zhihao grew more and more desperate.

  Something welled up within Ji-eun.

  Zhihao continued his assault. Ji-eun put too much weight on her bad leg and stumbled. He didn’t miss the opportunity. Zhihao swung his sword in a wide arc for Ji-eun’s throat. With desperate strength, Jie-eun ducked. The sword connected, not with her throat, but with her horn. It was cut clean through, ripped from her head. Ji-eun screamed and fell to her knees.

  Zhihao stood over her victoriously.

  “Die you fucking Demon. For my Brothers.”

  He raised his sword high. Ji-eun found the jagged horn with her eyes. It had landed at her feet.

  Zhihao plunged his sword down. Ji-eun threw herself up at him. A sword scraped against the bone in her shoulder. And a black, spiralling edge found its way up underneath his ribs and into his heart.

  Zhihao spat blood. Ji-eun kept her hand where it was, lodged firmly up to the wrist within the warm chest cavity of her attacker. She gave her impromptu dagger a terribly satisfying twist.

  She stumbled back into the centre of the clearing and fell backwards into the thick snow.

  Her breath came rough and heavy. She let the cold around her seep into burning muscles and painful wounds. But she couldn’t rest long. Rolling to sit on her knees, blood fell across her face and began pooling beneath her. She clutched at her forehead and her fingers came away slick. The wound screamed at her.

  Ji-eun craned her neck up and devastation met her eyes. Broken branches. Upturned soil. Old trees brought low by deep gashes. And three twisted bodies scattered across the clearing. Her attackers lay still, ashen faces locked in pain and horror.

  The fight had been a lot more violent than Ji-eun thought possible. A deep satisfaction welled in her chest.

  She rose slowly, knees buckling. Blood stained the snowy clearing like paint. She had to move. Get far away. The scions never travelled alone. Whatever guards they had would surely come looking for them, and would be looking for blood once their corpses were found. She got lucky once. It wouldn’t happen again. Cradling an arm and avoiding a leg, Ji-eun stumbled through the trees. Red snow stretched beneath her. She limped as far as she could. And then came a distant whistling on the wind.

  All at once, the world went still around her. Branches stiffened against the wind. Snowflakes hung suspended in the air. Even Ji-eun’s blood refused to fall, suspended in droplets yet to release from her skin. The whistling grew louder, the only noise that cut through the silence.

  Then the forest shook. A rumble tore through the air. Frantically, she looked through the trees. A chill spread across Ji-eun’s back. The telltale feel of qi against her skin. She turned; her mad dash had only brought her a few steps from the edge of the clearing, vivid red footsteps left in her wake.

  Between branches heavy with snow stood a man draped in pristine silver robes far too thin for the harsh climate of the north. They shone in the light, like metal held to the sun. He was tall, more than double Ji-eun’s height, and muscular, sculpted in pursuit of perfection. Silver hair blew with the wind in a taoist topknot. Two eyes the colour of sword steel bore deep into Jie-un.

  A single word came to mind: Cultivator. Immortals seeking godhood, reaching for the heavens that stood indifferent to the mortal world below.

  He was a stark presence against the world. A solitary sword held to cut through everything. Something within Ji-eun recoiled at the sight of him. She wanted to run, but her wounds were too deep. Her strength faded rapidly, whatever inhuman energy that had supported her long gone.

  Ji-eun gave in and collapsed to the ground. Her vision blurred as the man stood over her, his arms folded, an unreadable expression crossing his face.