It was her name now.

  Socia.

  She was on her feet again; the cold was gone, the silence broken, her hand held by her Lady.

  It felt normal, but it wasn’t. It never would be again.

  “It’s your old life slipping away, my Socia,” her Lady said.

  True.

  She felt it, she was still herself, but part of her had been shed, lost.

  “But you are not yet complete,” her Lady said.

  True.

  She took a step and felt it. She felt stronger, sturdier, but not in control as she almost fell. Whatever stirred within her, she hadn’t yet mastered.

  “You are now my Socia. My guide. My companion. My fellow traveler,” her Lady said.

  She was.

  “And you will serve me.”

  She would.

  “As he has served me.”

  Her gaze fell upon the god, the one who had given, so she could receive.

  He looked… ancient now. The years had finally taken their toll, his hair gray, his skin worn and weathered, yet his eyes remained alive with the same strength that now resided within her.

  The Lady saw where her gaze fell.

  “You may address him. You are equals now,” she said.

  “Go to him.”

  She did, her hand at his shoulder, eyes wide, lips parted.

  “Thank you.”

  “For your sacrifice.”

  The god nodded, brought her hand from his shoulder and directed her back to her Lady.

  And for the first time she saw her.

  All the might within her. That which mortals could only feel. Her presence which they could only endure in awe or terror.

  Her heart, a beating star, a silver sun. Unseen until now.

  She fell to her knees again, averted her gaze, for was she worthy of such sights?

  “I will serve,” she said, for what else could she say?

  I will serve.

  What else could she do?

  Hands lifted her up again, directed her gaze toward that which she had seen.

  “Do not avert your gaze,” the god said.

  She could feel his palms touch her — skin coarse like parchment.

  The things his skin had felt, the people those palms had touched, flickered in her mind.

  “It’s overwhelming at first, I know.”

  “But you’ll grow into it in your journeys, as you travel, as you explore new paths,” he said.

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  People. Places. Herself.

  “Yes,” the god said, as if he had heard her thoughts.

  Did he?

  The god’s touch left her. He took his leave and wandered into the night. To explore the world.

  And he left behind the Lady.

  And Socia.

  It was morning. The sun rose; its golden light struck her and made the sweat on her brow glitter.

  Drip. Drip. They fell on the hard rocky ground beneath her.

  How long had she held the stance?

  They had left the island behind them. Ventured into the ocean, toward their new target, the Grand Canal.

  Or so she thought at first. It seemed training was the priority, not arrival.

  As night fell, they would arrive at a mountain, one that remained above the waves at her Lady’s command. There they would camp, sleep and then with the morning sun, training began.

  And pain. Her muscles ached, her legs burned.

  And sweat. Her breath steady, her stance held.

  And then there were movements, techniques, names.

  Said many times, repeated endlessly.

  Anchored stone.

  To remain as one is, even when surrounded by chaos, like the very rock they resided on for the moment. The sea sought to consume it, to wash over, to break it. But the Lady held it at bay, steered the waves away, rejected it.

  Yet it still lingered, the waves still struck the shore.

  A kick hit her thigh. Bone bit into flesh. Pain stung her mind.

  “Good,” her Lady said.

  Balance.

  A strike flashed at her face. She slipped and it skimmed.

  Focus.

  “Good,” her Lady said.

  Another, she blocked, but it hurt. Her flesh hard as rock, her bones as stone, but they almost cracked.

  Endure.

  Such was the power of the Lady.

  But it wasn’t brute force, it was grace too, an effortless dance as much as combat. It had been hard in the beginning, her own moves so clumsy, what her mind wanted her body could not deliver.

  But the Lady had taught, and every day she got better.

  She moved smoother, she struck harder. She felt the ground beneath her and what it felt. The stone told her where her Lady was. Every step she took, the moment her soles met the ground, the rock would reveal to Socia.

  A strike, evaded. A kick, checked, shin struck shin.

  Pain endured.

  “You are not Kin, the elements are not your birthright,” her Lady said.

  A body crashed into her, and pushed her away, but Socia remained on her feet.

  “Nor are you a Scion, filled with boundless energy,” her Lady said.

  A kick pierced her defenses, landed on her chest, sent her flying, crashing into the ground.

  “But you are no longer mortal.”

  She recovered, got up and struck back. Strike after strike, each evaded or deflected by her Lady.

  “You will become like earth, like rock, like stone,” her Lady said.

  The Lady caught her leg, swept the other, Socia’s back received the earth with a thud. Spine against stone.

  It held but it hurt, and she was… defeated.

  “You will struggle. You will lose.”

  Her Lady grabbed her arm and pulled her up.

  “You will learn.”

  Unyielding, yet adaptable.

  She had said it before.

  Socia listened.

  Learned.

  As night fell, her Lady would tend her wounds and teach her other things.

  Her strikes hurt, her touch healed.

  Closed wounds, mended bones.

  The moon always seemed so large, so grand, as its light fell over them. As harsh as she was under the sun, as gentle she was under the moon.

  “You are a traveler now, Socia,” her Lady said.

  Her finger traced her forearm, and unseen forces stitched her wound, soothed her pain.

  “One must always remain grounded, centered. True to one’s foundation, or one will be swept away by greater forces.”

  Wasn’t she such a force?

  “Be like stone. Anchored. And you will never be lost.”

  Fingers no longer touched her skin; nails didn’t stroke it.

  The Lady gazed at the moon, as if she wanted to talk to it, a sadness in her eyes she had never seen before.

  “Tell me, Socia. What do you think it means to be mortal?” her Lady said.

  Socia did not look at the moon, but at the waves that struck the shore beyond the fire that warmed them.

  Its light flickered on her face, her mark with it.

  “To be limited. To be lesser,” she said.

  The waves struck again, pulling with them rock and soil into its endless depths.

  “Yet some of us still reach for things that are beyond us. That belong to our… betters.”

  Superiors.

  She looked at the moon, so pale and white, like the silver heart of her Lady, if there was no fire.

  “To serve,” Socia said.

  “To serve is natural. To have ambition likewise. Are these not at odds?” her Lady said.

  Socia turned away from the moon, toward the fire, which consumed wood to exist.

  “I don’t know,” she said.

  “Mortals are driven by desire, the need to transcend their limitations,” her Lady said.

  Her gaze remained fixated on the moon. The stars her companions in the sky.

  “In this, mortals are like all living things, there is no difference,” her Lady said.

  Her Lady’s eyes left the moon and turned to her.

  “Desire. Chaos. Ambition. It matters not. Whether they threaten to strike you down, sweep you away, or pull you in. Always remain what you are.”

  “My Socia.”

  And as the night grew long, her mind began to crave sleep. Eyelids fell, covered her eyes, and as she drifted away from the waking world, a tune could be heard.

  Whether it was real or a dream she did not know.

  But under the pale moonlight, her Lady sang.

  With a voice so sweet.

  Yet filled with…

  Sorrow.