I kept trying through the morning, through re-dressing Azalea’s wounds. She might not have been a demon, but she was at least First Ring and this mountain had more than enough ambient vitae.

  “How’s it look, doc? ‘Cause it still feels like shit.”

  I sighed. “Where in the world did you learn to talk like that?”

  She shrugged, and said defensively, “I think it’s fun, alright? Makes me different. Seriously, though, is it infected or anything?”

  I shook my head. “Not that I can tell. It’s healing well.”

  She rolled her shoulder and winced. “It’s a little better. Jaw’s too narrow, by the way.”

  “Really?”

  She nodded. “Yep. Though it’s close enough that it’s weird seeing that head on that body.”

  I looked down at my demonic body. “Well I’m not going to waste vitae on—”

  A tremor ran through the ground. Not a moment later, the vitae in the air roiled in an invisible breeze that carried the faint traces of a powerful technique.

  “Hey, did you feel—”

  “Shit.” I kicked at the fire. “Fire out, now. Can you pull us into the shadows?”

  Azalea shook her head. “No, I’m tapped out.”

  I swore again. Whatever it was didn’t feel like any sort of detection technique—it felt more like a faraway earthquake, or some kind of explosion. Unfortunately, I wasn’t familiar with enough techniques to make more than an uneducated guess. Whoever did it wasn’t that demon, thankfully; the lingering traces weren’t familiar.

  We kicked at the fire and bundled everything up as fast as we could. “If we’re fast,” I said quickly, “we might make it into the cave where the demon’s sealed.”

  “And if they catch us going in?”

  I grimaced. “Then we’re doomed.”

  Azalea looked between the exit and the shallow cave’s rear. “If they’re from the mine, they might know about it.”

  That was a chilling thought. She has to be wrong.

  “We stay put then,” I said. “We’re under live earth that’s full of vitae. If we keep back from the entrance, we might be able to hide even if they do go looking.”

  “Got it,” she whispered back, padding up to the rear wall and shoving herself into a crevice.

  When I got close, she pulled me in next to her. This place wasn’t terribly deep, and anyone coming into the cave could see us easily, but I had to admit I felt a little safer. I tried not to think about my chest being crushed and listened.

  Silence.

  The sounds of the forest had stopped. After nearly two minutes of methodically counting seconds, the leaves in the trees outside rustled gently. From my spot at the edge, I couldn’t tell from what.

  Another five minutes of counting became ten.

  Only when the birdsong returned did we dare leave the crevice. Azalea rubbed at her shoulder and I risked taking a few steps outside. Nothing descended on me, and with my technique active, I didn’t quiet the forest either. There was still a chance someone powerful was waiting or watching, just concealed.

  If that were the case, we would be doomed. Unfortunately, the Shimmering Shadows Sect was one of very few sects whose members would do exactly that. So I gave them the easiest bait and ended my technique, letting my long, chitinous limbs free and opening all my eyes.

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  The forest sputtered into silence around me, but no one came forth.

  A good sign, but I knew now that I wouldn’t be able to crush the persistent thought that someone could be watching, and could follow me back to reveal everything even if I were able to disguise.

  “Someone flew by overhead, I think,” I announced quietly.

  “They went south,” Azalea whispered from behind me.

  “How could you tell?”

  “The way the sound changed tone, and the fact that leaves rustled for longer. If they’d gone beside the mountain, it’d sound different. If they’d come from the south, it’d cut off over us.”

  My eyebrows went up.

  “Don’t act that surprised! You should know this too.”

  “I didn’t hear it; I’m simply surprised that you did.”

  “I wasn’t staring at my chest and hyperventilating.”

  I felt a flush creeping up my cheeks. “I was doing absolutely neither of those things!”

  “My face was shoved into your neck. I had a pretty good view.”

  I hissed.

  “Anyway,” she continued, “they’re gone.”

  “Probably.”

  “...Probably.”

  “Either way, we need to move.”

  “You need to fix your face. Or, well change your face—you’ve got a great face either way, you know.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  “That looks fun!”

  “What?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Rolling eight eyes at once of course. Oooh, narrowing them looks fun too!”

  “I’m not really in the mood.”

  “What mood’s right for figuring out a technique by sheer intuition?”

  “I don’t know!” I half-shouted, suddenly exasperated.

  “Me neither,” Azalea answered, walking over and planting a finger square on my forehead, in between all the eyes. “And I think that’s the point. This isn’t easy, for a whole lot of reasons.”

  I brushed her hand away. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

  “I was going somewhere with it, but I lost my train of thought.”

  “Train of thought?”

  “Yeah, you know. Trains. They can derail. Like thoughts?”

  “That’s… expectedly morbid.” I started back toward the cave and our belongings.

  Azalea jogged after me. “Darn right it is! Think it’ll catch on?”

  “I certainly hope not.”

  “Aww, come on! It’s clever, though, right?”

  I sighed. “Yes, I suppose it is clever.”

  She beamed at me, finger pointed skyward. “It’s gonna catch on, just you watch.”

  I sat down by the remains of the firepit and took a breath. Already, I’d calmed down and my head was clearer. It didn’t take much to intuit what Azalea had done. I looked over at her, watching as she set about fixing our rushed pack job.

  “Hey Azalea?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Thank you.”

  Just as she whipped her head toward me, red eyes wide and disheveled drills bouncing, I fell into my Garden. This time, my face slipped in and out of focus as I thought about trains. The rail line from our duchy to Hearthome had finished just last year. Already, others were being built like the spokes of a wheel. And there were talks for more lines, even as there was pushback.

  In the middle of thinking about a particularly impressive bridge, I stopped and blinked. The face staring at me… was me. Slate, specifically, but not quite. A smoother jawline, thinner brows. I’d nearly shifted it away to Silk’s face before I realized what I was doing and stopped myself.

  No, this was perfect. This was me. Had to be.

  When I opened my eyes again, all two of them, Azalea was looking my way, my pack slung over her shoulder.

  “Ready?” she asked. “You look good, by the way. A little more effeminate; it’s cute.”

  “Effeminate?” I touched my face; the silk it was made of was almost unnaturally soft.

  She nodded. “Yep! Looks like a First Ring transformation to me! A little more androgynous, a little more mystical.”

  “A-are you certain,” I probed, standing up.

  “Yep! Do you wanna see the sketch again?”

  My stomach roiled. “No thank you. It’s creepy.”

  “Suit yourself! By the way, do you have a way to explain the robe?”

  I looked down at myself. I was still wearing that replica of a favored robe stuffed into the back of my closet and several sizes too small. “Good catch!”

  She preened as I tried the technique again, the robe adjusting back to the long-destroyed one I’d come in with. So long as I didn’t think about the face and didn’t change it, the look would hold.

  I really might be able to pull this off!