Pain arrived before consciousness, which seemed backwards, but Ash wasn't in a position to argue with biology.

Her head felt like someone had used it for percussion practice. Every heartbeat sent fresh waves of nausea rolling through her stomach, and when she tried to move, her body offered a comprehensive list of objections starting with her ribs and working outward.

She opened her eyes to green.

Not the familiar green of Eldorian grasslands or forest canopy, but something else—vertical stalks rising in uniform clusters, leaves cutting sharp geometric patterns against gray sky. Bamboo. The word surfaced from some distant corner of memory that still functioned despite the throbbing in her skull.

She tried to sit up. Her body declined the suggestion with a spike of agony that originated somewhere in her ribs and radiated outward with impressive thoroughness.

Right. Assessment first, movement second.

The ground beneath her was damp earth covered in decomposing leaves. The air smelled wrong—not bad, just unfamiliar. Mineral-rich soil, bamboo sap, and something floral she couldn't identify. Temperature: cool but not cold. Season: probably autumn, based on the leaf composition and angle of diffuse light through the canopy.

Her clothes were intact but torn in places. No visible blood on her hands when she raised them to check, though her palms were scraped raw. Minor lacerations on her arms, a larger bruising pattern developing across her left side.

Catalog of injuries: extensive but non-critical. Nothing felt broken, just enthusiastically damaged.

The last thing she remembered—

Light. Blinding, all-consuming light. Her body coming apart at the seams while Khroma's crystal and Senna's ring burned against her skin. The sensation of separation, of being pulled in five directions simultaneously while reality fractured around her.

After that... nothing. Just void, and then this: bamboo, pain, and the profound wrongness of being alone inside her own head.

No obvious landmarks. No familiar features. No indication of where "here" was in relation to anywhere else.

Pyra would have immediately started yelling for the others.

Ember would have assessed threats and sought shelter.

Cinder would have sworn creatively while checking her gear.

Kindle would have made an optimistic comment about adventures.

Ash reached inward for the familiar presence of her sisters-selves.

Nothing.

She tried again, pushing harder, searching for the familiar presence of four other minds existing parallel to hers. The background hum of shared consciousness that had been constant since their training with the Mnemosynes.

Silence.

Not the comfortable quiet of the others being distracted or asleep. Complete absence. Like reaching for a limb that wasn't there and being surprised when empty air met her expectations.

Her breath caught. Logic suggested several possibilities: the separation had disrupted the connection temporarily, or the distance was too great, or something about the artifacts' intervention had severed the link entirely, or—

Or they were dead.

No. That made no sense. If one of them died, the others had always felt the integration, the rush of returned essence. This was different. This was void where connection should exist, not the sensation of pieces rejoining a whole.

They were alive. Just... elsewhere. The curse wouldn't allow them to die separately—it had rules, parameters, a logical structure even if that structure was malevolent. Five bodies or one, those were the stable configurations. Anything between created pressure that forced resolution.

Unless the artifacts had changed the rules.

Ash forced herself to stop spiraling into theoretical worst-case scenarios. Data first, conclusions after. She couldn't answer questions without information, and she couldn't gather information while lying in wet leaves experiencing an extended existential crisis.

Powers: that needed testing.

She raised her hand and reached for her fire. The response came grudging and weak, like trying to start an engine that had been underwater for a month. It took several seconds before a thin, frail tendril of flame emerged, more red than orange, wavering in the air.

It lasted three seconds before guttering out, and the effort left her dizzy.

The logical conclusion settled into her mind with the weight of a dropped stone: her powers were gone.

"Well, that's unfortunate."

Understatement. Her powers weren't gone—she could feel them somewhere deep in her core—but they were locked behind something. Blocked. Sealed. Like trying to breathe through a straw while someone held their thumb over the end.

Whatever the separation had done, whatever magic the artifacts had channeled, it had stripped away most of what made her capable of superhuman feats.

The philosophical implications were fascinating in an academic sense and terrifying in every practical sense. If her powers defined part of her identity, what did their absence mean? If a pyrokinetic couldn't produce fire, was she still—

No. Focus. Philosophy could wait until she wasn't lying in a bamboo forest with no idea where her sisters were or how to find them.

The analytical part of her brain noted this was objectively bad.

The rest of her felt something that might have been panic if she'd allowed it to manifest as anything other than accelerated mental processing.

Stand up. Move. Find civilization. Gather information. Establish a baseline understanding of the current situation before making decisions about next steps.

Simple. Achievable. She could do this.

Standing proved more difficult than anticipated. Her legs shook, her ribs protested, and the world performed an enthusiastic rotation that suggested her inner ear had opinions about vertical orientation. She caught herself against a bamboo stalk, bark rough under her palm, and waited for equilibrium to reassert itself.

Better. Marginally.

She chose a direction at random and began walking.

Downhill seemed logical since water and settlements both favored lower elevations. Each step was a negotiation between momentum and injury, but movement itself helped. Gave her something to focus on besides the void where her sisters-selves should be.

The bamboo forest continued its impenetrable sameness. Tall stalks, leaf litter, moss, and lichen, all conspiring together to look exactly the same from every angle. No obvious animal life beyond distant bird calls and the rustling of branches overhead.

After what felt like an hour but was probably less, the bamboo began to thin. Other vegetation appeared—broader-leaved trees she didn't recognize, flowering shrubs with white blossoms that smelled sharp and medicinal. The ground sloped gently downward, confirming her directional choice had at least some logical foundation.

She emerged from the treeline onto a mountain path.

Not a game trail or natural formation—deliberately constructed, stones fitted together with care, worn smooth by traffic. Civilization. The path curved along the mountainside, following the natural contours while maintaining a relatively level grade.

To her left, the path descended toward a valley partially obscured by mist. To her right, it climbed toward peaks that disappeared into low-hanging clouds.

And in the distance, just visible through the haze—

Structures. Buildings with curved rooflines that swept upward at the corners, aesthetic choices that marked them as distinctly foreign to anything she'd seen in Eldoria.

A temple complex. Two larger multi-story pagodas stood sentinel over smaller outbuildings. Lanterns dangled on cords strung between eaves, and stone steps climbed from the path to the nearest structure.

Just how far away did she go? Was she even in Eldoria anymore? The architecture certainly spoke of another place. Somewhere where she hadn't read about, at least.

The observations cataloged themselves automatically while her body decided it had endured enough. Her knees buckled without consulting her intentions about remaining upright. She caught herself on hands and knees, palms stinging against stone, vision graying at the edges.

Not good. She needed water, rest, medical attention for injuries that were probably worse than her initial assessment suggested. Needed to reach those distant buildings before shock or exposure or simple exhaustion made the decision for her.

She tried to stand. Her legs declined.

Right. New plan: crawl until standing became viable again, or until someone found her, whichever came first.

She made it perhaps fifty feet before voices reached her.

"—told you, these paths are dangerous after rainfall. If the stones are loose—"

"Brother Shen, respectfully, if we only gathered herbs when conditions were perfect, we'd starve by winter. The sect needs—"

"The sect needs disciples who aren't injured from preventable accidents."

"You sound like Master Quan."

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"I'll take that as a compliment."

Footsteps approached, two sets moving at different paces. Ash looked up through hair that had fallen across her face to see two figures rounding the curve in the path.

The first was young—maybe sixteen, female, wearing simple gray robes that looked hand-mended in multiple places. She carried a woven basket half-filled with plants, and her expression was openly curious when she spotted Ash.

The second was older, male, probably early thirties, similar robes but better maintained. He carried scrolls tucked under one arm and moved with the careful deliberation of someone who spent more time with books than physical activity.

They both stopped when they saw her.

"Oh," the young woman said.

The man's hand moved toward something at his belt—weapon or tool, Ash couldn't determine from this angle—but he didn't draw it. "Who are you?"

Reasonable question. Ash tried to answer but her throat produced only rough approximation of sound. Dehydration plus trauma equaled temporary loss of coherent speech. Excellent.

She tried again, forcing words through vocal cords that felt lined with sand. "Lost. Separated from companions. Need—" Her vision blurred. "—need help."

The young woman moved forward immediately. The man caught her arm.

"Lin Mei, wait."

"She's injured, Brother Tian. Look at her."

"I see her. I also see we know nothing about her, including how she came to be collapsed on our sect's path."

"So we should just leave her?"

"I didn't say that. I said we should exercise caution."

Lin Mei pulled free of his grip and knelt beside Ash, hands moving with surprising gentleness to check for obvious injuries. "Can you stand?"

Ash shook her head.

"Broken bones?"

"Don't think so. Just..." She gestured vaguely at her entire body. "Everything hurts."

"Brother Tian," Lin Mei called over her shoulder. "She needs Physician Wen."

The man—Tian—approached slowly, still wary. He studied Ash from several paces back. "Where are you from?"

"Not here."

"Clearly. Your accent is foreign, your clothing is unfamiliar, and you appear on our path like a spirit in the rain. So I'll ask again: where are you from, and how did you arrive in the Mistpeak Mountains?"

The Mistpeak Mountains. Filed away for later consideration. "It's complicated."

"Try me."

Ash met his eyes. Her analytical brain supplied possible strategies—lie, dissemble, deflect, mislead. Buy time and information while recovering from current weakness.

No. Too much complexity, too many unknowns, and lying would only complicate matters when the truth emerged, as it always seemed to.

"I was with my family. We were separated by a magical accident. I woke up in the bamboo forest with no clear memory of how I got there. That's all I know."

Not entirely true, but close enough that it didn't qualify as a lie. The specifics of being one-fifth of a cursed superhuman split into component selves and flung across the continent by artifacts channeling supernova energy seemed unnecessarily complex for initial introduction.

Tian studied her in silence, then finally nodded. "Lin Mei, help her up. We'll take her to the sect."

"Are you sure that's wise?" Lin Mei asked, which seemed backwards given her previous advocacy for helping.

"No. But leaving an injured person on the mountain path isn't wise either, and you'd never forgive me if we did." Tian tucked his scrolls more securely under his arm. "Besides, Physician Wen can determine if she's genuinely hurt or if this is some elaborate infiltration attempt."

"I'm not infiltrating anything," Ash managed. "I just need somewhere to recover until I can find my family."

"Right. Because that's exactly what an infiltrator would say."

Lin Mei shot him a look that eloquently communicated impatience. "Brother Tian, your paranoia is showing again."

"It's not paranoia if people are actually trying to undermine us."

"That was one incident!"

"One incident we know about."

They continued bickering while helping Ash to her feet. She leaned heavily on Lin Mei's shoulder—the young woman was stronger than her build suggested—and tried not to collapse again immediately.

The walk to the sect compound blurred into a series of impressions: curved roofs becoming clearer through mist, stone steps that seemed deliberately designed to challenge injured people, Lin Mei's cheerful commentary about medicinal herbs contrasting with Tian's skeptical observations about strangers.

The compound itself, when they finally reached it, showed its age and struggle. Roof tiles patched with mismatched colors. Walls cracked in places, mortar crumbling. Grounds overgrown, gardens struggling, the whole place carrying a palpable sense of fading grandeur.

People moved through the compound, wearing similar gray robes, though she glimpsed more varied clothing as well—brighter fabrics, patterns, and styles unfamiliar to her. A few carried weapons, mostly swords or staves. They stared as Ash passed with her guides, questions unspoken but evident in the tilt of eyebrows and exchanged glances.

Lin Mei guided her toward a building off to one side, smaller and less ornate than the sweeping central structures. Inside, the air smelled strongly of bitter herbs and alcohol, hints of vinegar beneath. Sunlight slanted through shuttered windows, creating crosshatch patterns on a straw-woven mat covering the floor.

An elderly woman looked up from the mortar and pestle, hands continuing their rhythmic grinding motion while her gaze assessed newcomers. She wore her gray hair in a practical bun and her face in a permanent expression of skepticism. "You bring me another wounded one, Lin Mei?"

"Found her on the mountain path," Lin Mei replied.

"Put her on the table. Gently, girl, don't jostle her."

Ash braced for impact and allowed herself to be hoisted upward until she rested on a smooth wooden surface that had clearly seen its share of injuries.

The examination was thorough and mostly silent. The physician poked, prodded, and hummed to herself while Ash focused on not passing out from the renewed wave of pain.

Finally, the physician straightened. "No broken bones, surprisingly. Sprains, bruising, possible internal hemorrhage, and signs of shock. Keep her here. I'll make something to address the symptoms until we can assess the cause."

"I'll fetch water," Lin Mei volunteered.

The physician waved her away and turned back to Ash. "You're lucky. Whatever you fell from should have killed you."

"How'd you know—"

The physician tapped the side of her nose. "I've seen injuries from people falling off the Great Cloud Mountain peaks. Yours look like that, but less severe." She moved around the room, gathering bottles and pouches from shelves. "Drink this. It'll help with the pain and reduce inflammation."

Ash drank without protest. The mixture tasted worse than it smelled, which was impressive.

"Now then," the old woman settled onto a stool and fixed Ash with a steady, no-nonsense stare. "Lin Tian tells me you claim magical accident separated you from your family. Care to elaborate?"

"Not particularly."

A dry smile crossed the physician's weathered face. "Fair. We all have secrets. But if you're staying in Silvercloud Sect's territory—and you are, at least until you can walk without assistance—I need to know if you're dangerous."

"I'm not dangerous to you."

"But potentially dangerous to someone?"

Ash considered. "Everyone is potentially dangerous to someone. Context matters."

"Spoken like a philosopher." Physician Xinyue stood, joints creaking audibly. "You'll stay in the infirmary tonight. Tomorrow we'll see about finding you somewhere more permanent until you're recovered enough to travel. The sect isn't wealthy, but we don't abandon those in need."

"Why?" The question emerged before Ash could filter it. "Tian was right to be suspicious. I'm a stranger with a convenient story and no proof. Taking me in is a risk."

"Yes," Physician Xinyue agreed. "But Silvercloud Sect was built on the principle that helping the worthy matters more than protecting the comfortable. If we abandon that principle to save resources, what exactly are we saving?"

The logic was sound even if the premise was idealistic. Ash nodded acceptance.

Lin Mei and Tian departed after Physician Xinyue assured them she'd monitor the patient overnight. The infirmary fell quiet except for the soft sounds of the physician working—grinding herbs, organizing supplies, maintaining inventory with the same systematic approach Ash would have used.

Alone—relatively—for the first time since waking, Ash let herself process.

She was in an unfamiliar region called the Mistpeak Mountains, in a sect called Silvercloud that was clearly struggling with resources. Her powers were severely diminished by whatever magical artifacts had been involved in their separation.

Her sister-selves were scattered across unknown distances with no way to contact them, no way to know if they were safe or suffering or already found each other while she remained lost.

The connection that had defined her existence was simply... absent. She was one person in one body with one perspective, and the silence where four others should exist felt like a missing limb.

She was Ash. Just Ash. Not one-fifth of Abigail or a fragment of a whole. Individual. Separate. Complete?

No. That wasn't accurate. She wasn't complete. She was isolated.

But isolation was a temporary state. Variables could be altered. Problems could be solved if approached systematically with sufficient information and appropriate methodology.

First: recover from immediate physical damage. Second: gather information about the location and regional dynamics. Third: assess possibilities for restoring powers or working around limitations. Fourth: develop a strategy for locating sister-selves.

Achievable goals. Logical progression. She could work with this.

She tried one more time to summon flame, just to confirm the earlier assessment. A thin filament of red-tinged light flickered and died.

Physician Xinyue glanced over from her workstation. "Oh? Are you a cultivator?"

"Cultivator?"

"It's not uncommon for younger ones to experience occasional backlash from failed techniques or unstable breakthroughs. I thought at first that was the reason for the state of your meridians."

"...What about my meridians?" Ash was learning entirely too many new things via rapid context-based assimilation.

"You have several blocked channels, from what I can observe. It's a miracle you survived without rupturing vital points, though that's only a guess. I'm a physician, not an acupuncturist. You'll need to see someone else for that, and we don't have one in the sect right now."

"I'm sorry, but... meridians? Blocked channels?" Ash blinked. "I think I'm missing context."

"Hmm. Not a cultivator, then, but something else? Strange. I suppose you can tell me later, after you've rested."

With that, Physician Xinyue turned back to her work, and Ash was left to ponder what on earth she'd stumbled into in the midst of a crisis.

She closed her eyes and tried to quiet her analytical mind enough for rest.

Outside, voices drifted through the infirmary's thin walls.

"—still think it's suspicious—"

"—your grandfather will want to meet her—"

"—three weeks until the Gathering, we can't afford—"

Ash filed the fragments away for later analysis. Tomorrow, she'd ask about all of it. About cultivators and meridians. About the Silvercloud Sect. About whatever the Gathering might be. About where in the world she was, in relation to anything familiar.

The door slid open with soft whisper of wood on wood. Footsteps approached—measured, unhurried, carrying authority without aggression.

Ash opened her eyes to see a figure silhouetted in the doorway, backlit by the compound's evening lanterns. Male, elderly based on the posture, wearing robes that were maintained better than most she'd seen but still showed their age.

"Awake?" the figure asked.

"Unfortunately."

A soft sound that might have been amusement. "Lin Tian tells me you're our unexpected guest."

"Is that what we're calling it?"

"We could call it several things. 'Guest' seems most polite." The figure stepped into the room, and the lantern light revealed weathered features, a white beard, and clear, sharp eyes beneath snowy brows. "I am Sect Leader Quan. You're in my sect's territory, under my protection, and consequently subject to my curiosity. Tomorrow, when you're rested, we'll speak properly. Tonight I simply wanted to see the person who so disrupted my disciples' day."

He bowed slightly, hands clasped in his voluminous sleeves, and departed without further discussion. Just like that.

Ash stared at the door for several seconds before turning her attention back to Physician Xinyue, who'd continued grinding and chopping and mixing herbs throughout the entire exchange.

"Who was that?"

"Who else but the sect leader, child? Are you hard of hearing?"

"No. Merely... adjusting."

"Well, adjust faster. I'll be in the next room. Call out if you have difficulty breathing or sudden paralysis."

"...That's a joke, right?"

"No." Physician Xinyue carried her pestle and a bowl of prepared herbs through the door and slid it closed behind her. A second later, her voice emerged muffled from the adjoining space: "But you seem in good spirits. I doubt you'll need to bother me. Good night."

Somehow, that wasn't reassuring. But Ash's eyelids were heavy, and the pain was less acute than before, and she really wasn't going to die of internal bleeding in her sleep, and...

And sleep arrived with astonishing swiftness.

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