The wind howled through the mountain pass, whipping snow against Mizu’s face as she trudged forward, her steps unsteady. The ambush had been swift, the thieves opportunistic and brutal. Though she had cut them down, their blows had not been without cost. Blood seeped through the gashes in her clothing, staining the pristine snow beneath her boots. She pressed on, clutching her side where a blade had found its mark, her breath ragged in the icy air.

The storm worsened, and her vision blurred. Her body screamed for rest, but Mizu knew stopping would mean death. She stumbled, fell to her knees, and her katana slipped from her grasp. The snow felt softer than it should, almost like a bed. Her eyelids fluttered closed as the world faded into white.

———

The warmth was the first thing Mizu noticed, a stark contrast to the icy grip of the storm she remembered. Her eyes fluttered open, the dim glow of a paper lantern swaying above her casting soft, flickering shadows on the polished wooden beams of the ceiling. The smell of burning charcoal mingled with the faint aroma of herbs, but nothing about this place was familiar.

Her heart raced. She sat up too quickly, a sharp pain tearing through her side. A strangled gasp escaped her lips, and she clutched at the bandages wrapped tightly around her torso. Panic coursed through her veins as she realized she wasn’t in the mountains anymore.

Her hands searched for her katana, but it wasn’t there. “Where is it?” she muttered under her breath, her gaze darting around the room. The paper walls, the tatami mats, the brazier softly glowing in the corner—none of it felt safe. Her pulse quickened.