The desert scrub gradually gives way to drier, barren plains. Hills flatten into endless stretches of cracked earth. Here, the wind sweeps across the desolate land, whispering of dangers yet to come. Dust clings to my sweat-dampened skin, forming a gritty layer that stings with every movement. We are heading west, further from the Imperial Army’s reach, although I don’t know how far this new legion’s influence stretches or how determined they will be to find us. Does Qin’s successor even care who I am?
We traveled the entire night—ten hours of pushing through pain and exhaustion. Thankfully, a swollen moon had cast enough light to guide us along a cautious path.
Dawn broke with us leading the horses. The rising sun casts long shadows before us. The journey is grueling, but the constant ache in my side fades enough that I can leave Xia tomorrow morning. One night’s sleep will give me enough strength to travel alone.
Xia rides ahead, her posture impressively upright. She scans the horizon with practiced vigilance. The wind catches her hair, whipping it behind her like an obsidian banner. I watch closely. She keeps her secrets, and I keep mine.
The hours pass in a steady rhythm of hoofbeats and shifting sands. The sun drifts overhead. Xia speaks nothing more than a few words. The only other sounds are the distant call of birds. Vultures hoping to find an afternoon meal. They ride the hot currents above us, circling lazily. Their presence is a worrisome omen looming in the wind.
After a full day of travel, the sun dips behind a distant ridge, painting the sky in golden hues. We make camp near a cluster of weathered boulders. The fire crackles weakly, its warmth holding back the chill that seeps in. Xia sits across from me, her eyes reflecting the flames dancing across her features. I stretch out, leaning back against a rock worn smooth by time. I drift to the horizon, where stars begin to pierce the twilight.
Xia finally speaks after a long pause. Her voice is restrained. “You’re probably wondering how I managed to arrange our escape back there,” she begins, fixed intently on the flames. Why she’s waited this long to explain is anyone’s guess.
“I arranged my safe passage well before you showed up. I even purchased two horses for a faster getaway. On the run, you learn to have an exit strategy ready before it’s too late. I feel like I’m always dodging pursuit.”
I find myself nodding slowly. The logic of her words resonates with my own experiences. Always plan in advance. Always have an exit strategy. It’s a lesson I’ve lived by.
She pauses, the lull stretching between us. “Qin’s army has been hunting me for so long,” she whispers. “I always have to be ready for them. Ready to vanish at a moment’s notice, leaving everything behind.”
When I remain silent, frustration crosses her features. “Would you say something? Anything?” she snaps, the veneer of composure cracking.
She already knows I won’t break my silence. She sighs, and her shoulders sag. The fire highlights her frustration.
“Because I’ve been running for so long, I also know those soldiers weren’t Qin’s army.” She studies me. “I don’t know who they were, but I’m certain they weren’t after me.”
I know she is right about both things. The soldiers weren’t Qin’s. Qin is dead. This new Imperial Army looks different—more deadly. She is also correct in assuming they are after me. Unless Xia has more enemies than she claims.
When she glances to gauge my reaction, I wear an impassive mask. My gut tells me there’s more to Xia’s story than a simple need for survival. I can’t shake the feeling that she knows more about me than she’s willing to reveal. Even though she wants me to talk, she seems to expect my vow.
Eventually, Xia falls quiet, turning her attention back to the fire. The night grows colder. Our shadows stretch out beyond the camp, creeping across the desolate landscape. I lie down, staring at the stars scattered across the sky. Sleep doesn’t come easily. It never does.
I attempt to trace the constellations. The scholars of Qin believed the heavens were a celestial court mirroring the Chinese empire. They imagined heaven as an orderly bureaucracy. Gods and spirits governed the cosmos like provincial ministers answering to the Jade Emperor, their supreme deity. Even time had administrators recording the fates of mortals, keeping accounts in a vast imperial ledger.
I wonder where I fit in that system now.
Qin Shi Huang called himself the Son of Heaven. He was the link between the celestial order and the ordinary world. He carved his laws into stone, building his empire to last ten thousand years.
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I ended him. I silenced the emperor who claimed divine authority, erasing his name from the cosmic ledger before heaven had the chance. So, what does that make me? A rogue scribe in the records of time? A thief who stole the emperor’s fate before the gods could collect it? I prefer to think of myself as someone carrying out orders of an unseen institution.
Yet, the emperor’s blood was real. His life was not an entry in a book nor a name in a ledger. It was warm, staining my hands, and ultimately, it didn’t matter. The Celestial Administration endures whether or not Qin sits on his throne. The stars do not waver. Neither should I.
Xia quickly settles down, exhaustion overcoming her as she wraps herself in a blanket near the fire. Soon, her respiration softens into the rhythm of sleep. I watch her before turning back to my wound. The fire helps me inspect it.
I begin to unwrap the bandages from my torso. The wound is healing, but the bandages are stained. I cannot risk infection. I need clean cloth. My interest shifts to Xia’s belongings lying out of her reach. I know she has packed extra. I will change the dressing, then leave her behind. She has saved my life, so I will spare hers.
I move toward her bag and open it. Inside, I find several expected supplies: herbs, dried food, and a small vial of liquid medicine. I dig deeper, my fingers brushing against something soft: a bundle of bandages, as I hoped.
I should stop here. I should close the bag and go back to the fire. Instead, my fingers drift further into it, searching for something I can’t name. As I fumble through the contents, my fingers graze against something stiff—a smooth piece of paper that doesn’t belong in this time. Out of curiosity, I hold it up to the light of the fire.
The air leaves my lungs in an instant. It’s a photograph. My heart thuds in my chest as I examine it, trying to understand what I see. Photography doesn’t exist in this era. Xia shouldn’t have anything like this in her possession. Yet, here it is, in her bag.
I force myself to focus on the image. It’s a picture of me standing somewhere I have never been. Perhaps America around the year 2000. In the background stands a young woman, half-shrouded. A chill crawls down my spine. I squint, straining to make out her features. An uneasy realization strikes me. I have seen this woman before; however, I can’t place her.
The image of the woman stares back. Even after a few minutes, I cannot recall how I know her. My grip tightens around the photograph. This isn’t a coincidence. Xia ties into something far more significant than I realized. She isn’t merely a fugitive or a healer; like me, she is out of place and time. A cold knot twists in my gut.
I watch Xia sleeping soundly by the fire. Every action of hers replays—how she helped me, arranged our escape, the contacts she claims to have, and her skill in combat far exceeding that of the average person. Now, this photograph. It is evidence that she has a more significant plan.
My hand impulsively drifts to the branding scar on my forearm. I should be traveling alone. I feel anger welling up. How could I be so naïve? I’ve let my guard down by accepting her help. It goes against every teaching the Phylax has instilled in me, every rule of survival. I was right to be suspicious of her.
I turn the photograph over, hoping the back might reveal more answers. It is blank. My grip tightens around it, and an undeniable realization settles into my bones: I must confront this truth. I need answers, and then I need to kill Xia. After that, I will be as I should be: alone.
I slip the photograph into my tunic pocket and slowly draw my knife. The weight of it comforts me. The blade shines against the fire’s flickering light. I rehearse the next step: I will bring the knife to her throat and force the answers from her. I will beat them out if I have to.
My jaw tightens as I imagine it. After I have my answers, a quick, precise slit across Xia’s throat will end the ordeal. Warm crimson will flow. I will silence her forever. It will solve my problem, ridding me of this uncertainty.
The Phylax has taught me to remove any obstacles to the mission. Xia is now an obstacle. I step toward her, ready to unchain my wrath. I stare at her throat, where the pulse of life beats steadily beneath her skin.
Before I can begin my task, the air around her shimmers. It is a ripple in reality, distorting space. I freeze mid-step, staring in disbelief. The fabric of reality twists, an unnatural disturbance that tugs at my senses. The rift causes a faint hum. The fire wildly dances as if recoiling from the anomaly. Before I can react, she vanishes into the ripple. The hum dissipates, and the camp plunges into an eerie stillness.
I stand there, knife in hand, air caught in my throat. The desert feels colder. I struggle to grasp that a time distortion has happened. Here. Now. It took Xia away from me before I could get my desired answers.
The sharp whinny of spooked horses pierces the night. I turn in time to see one bolting into the void. The remaining horse rears, its eyes wide with fear. I press a firm hand against its neck, caressing its mane. Gradually, its trembling subsides as it leans into my touch.
Nothing has gone right on this mission. Every move, every decision, has led me deeper into chaos. I should never have trusted an outsider. Philip would chastise my lapse in judgment.
I have one option now: get to the Acropolis. The Phylax must know every detail of what happened, including that a rogue traveler has made contact. This traitor may have changed the parameters of my mission. The Phylax will demand a full report.
Get to the Acropolis. Tell them everything. For now, that is all that matters.