Challah knew the wandering scholar had only just stepped into Cornerstone, yet even that had felt like a mountain to her.

If the man standing in front of her truly lived on that higher rung, she would not risk asking for extra gains. Not now. Not with his eyes on her.

She kept her face smooth. She nodded once and waved a servant boy closer.

"Bring the three," she said.

Then she rose from her seat and dropped to her knees. Her forehead touched the ground.

"Venerable, the three are with me. All orphans. One of them is Biscuit's granddaughter."

Radeon only nodded. He did not probe them at once. There was time for that.

Passing on a few techniques was easy. If he meant to build anything lasting, it would not hurt to start shaping future pillars while the road was still open.

The three youngsters arrived and stood in a neat line, trying to smile through their nerves. Hope sat in their throats like a swallowed stone.

Challah hurried to sweeten the offer.

"Venerable, this girl Spice Cure has been kept chaste. I did not let anyone lay a hand on her," she said as if advertising.

Radeon raised a palm and Challah stopped mid sentence.

"These children are not playthings," he said.

Challah nodded so fast her hair shook loose. Radeon backed it with a look that made their spines straighten.

He faced the three again.

"From now on, you are my nominal disciples," Radeon said. "If you have opposition or questions, speak."

Spice Cure stepped forward. Her hand rose, small but steady.

Challah's mouth tightened, ready to shove the hand down, afraid Radeon might take offense. Radeon shook his head and gave the girl a nod.

"I want to study plants and alchemy," Spice Cure said. "Can Master provide for that?"

"I can," Radeon replied.

The two boys did not ask anything. They bowed together, shoulders tight.

"We will take you as our master," they said in unison.

"Good," Radeon said. "Come along."

He signaled Campion. The bison lowered its head so the children could climb up without fear.

The camp watched and the air changed. Envy flashed in too many eyes.

They saw a door open, a ticket to heaven, and three children stepping through it.

Radeon handed out three thin booklets before they even moved.

To Spice Cure, a primer on herbs and simple remedies.

To Gauge Point, a guide to reading fortune through mountain lines and ore veins.

To Good Chip, the bones of sword craft, footwork and timing and restraint.

No cultivation method yet. Just insight. Enough to set the mind on a path.

Then the snag showed itself.

The three stared at the pages like they were staring at water.

They could not read. They could not write.

Radeon's gaze shifted once and Fay was beside him in the next breath.

Challah's eyes flicked to Fay and lingered. She noticed the new steadiness in her. The quiet radiance.

Challah did not pry, but she watched from the side, measuring the respect that clung to Radeon like incense smoke.

It was reverence, piety, fear, all braided together. Challah had power among mortals, yet she had never seen eyes like this turned toward her.

Radeon turned to Challah.

"We proceed now, before the convoy departs," he said.

"Huh? You. You mean. Right now?"

Radeon nodded and beckoned her into the tent.

The screams started soon after. Pain, not terror. The sort of sound a person makes when flesh is being dragged out of them forcibly.

Men with weapons gathered around the tent, unsure whether to protect her or protect themselves. No one dared enter.

Then, abruptly, the hoarse shouting stopped.

Silence spread. A woman stepped out.

They recognized Challah by her eyes, but the rest of her looked remade.

Her skin was smoother. Old scars were gone. Her hair had thickened. Her posture held itself differently, lighter and straighter, years clearly peeled away from her spine.

She looked like her own younger sister, only healthier.

Challah breathed in and out like she could not believe the air was hers to keep.

Radeon did not let the moment drift.

He drew her close enough to speak without the camp hearing every word.

"Our agreement holds," he said. "You will not boast. You will not sell my name. You will not reach for what was not offered."

Challah swallowed and nodded. Radeon pressed two fingers to her temple and set a binding there, not a chain in her mind, but an oath seal that waited for betrayal.

"If someone tries to pry at this work," Radeon added, voice low, "they will find it bites back. Leave it at that."

Challah bowed again, deeper this time, and the camp watched her bowing as if it was proof that miracles could be purchased.

Radeon took out a small wooden box and placed it in Challah's hands.

"A gift," he said, the words carried through voice transmission alone. "If you prefer a snow whiter complexion, it will do that. It also nourishes the skin. Keep it."

Challah's mind spun as she smiled and bowed for the crowd. Radeon had handed her the box openly, yet no one gasped. No one reacted. Their faces stayed flat. Only she had heard the true meaning.

To her, the pill inside was not vanity. It was another life.

If she swallowed it now, yes, she would gain beauty. But she saw it differently.

A way out, if she ever offended the wrong person and needed to run. A new complexion was no more than a new face.

Challah pressed the box to her palm, suppressed the grin trying to form, and bowed.

"I thank you for your generosity, Venerable," Challah said aloud.

Radeon turned to leave.

The news still spread like wildfire. Within a quarter hour the camp had reshaped the story into a dozen versions.

And the word that Biscuit's granddaughter had been chosen reached Biscuit soon after, fast enough to sour and sweeten his face at the same time.

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