The constant drip of water was the only sound in the silence between us.

"I guess not all heroes are born." I tried weakly. A joke to cut the weight of Arthur's story. She didn't laugh. "...He was born a hero, was he not? His heart made him the perfect candidate."
I gave up trying to explain.
A familiar chirp echoed from the cave entrance. The lady's head tilted toward the sound. A small bird, feathers the colour of rust and old blood, swooped in and landed on my shoulder with the quiet, obedient precision of a trained thing.

"...Is that thy beast?" she asked, her voice careful.

"His name is Red. I found him in the Mistlands. He was..almost dead." I kept my voice flat. No point in dancing around it. "I used the beast binding technique. He's been scouring the areas."

A slow, understanding breath escape her. "...You know the risks of using that technique. Especially with a creature born and soaking in the Flo from a place like this?" It sounded like a question.

"I didn't have a choice."

"Choices are seldom given," she said, her tone shifting into something softer, almost..reminiscent. " It reminds me of another. From the Trials. She too didn't have a choice. The Dancer of Qingzhou...She and Arthur "**&^%$$"

[Unknown interference jammed the rest of the conversation]

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In the land of Chimera, there was also a country located to the south. Being the biggest in size and in people, it was also divided into three parts. One part was known for its long deserts and hot weather, the other for its temples and grassy mountains. The other, however, was closed off. It had never been explored, and everyone who dared had been silenced.
Mei-Mei was from the 'Qingzhou Province', the land with a connection to Flo beasts and temples. She was born from a broken promise. Her mother, Miyoko, had been the favourite mistress of a nobleman, soothed with pretty lies of a future together every time they had met in the brothel. She had fallen for him. But when she told him she was expecting his child, his demeanour changed. It turned out the man already had a family. From that day on, he never came back.
Miyoko struggled with a terrible choice. She cried and cried, wrestling with the thought of bringing a child into her world. How would she face them when they got old enough to understand her job? Would she even be alive in the distant future? She had been working since she was sixteen, her own parents selling her off to settle a debt. This was the only life she knew. What right did she have to bring in a child when she could barely take care of herself?
Her answer came from a short old woman named Yen, who noticed her absent-mindedness whilst she was on her way back from praying at a temple. Yen radiated a warmth that made Miyoko break down and tell her everything.
"A child," Yen said, her voice soft as a blanket, "whether an accident or not is a blessing not all receive. What you see as a negative could be the blessing you need."
Yen, who ran an orphanage, refused Miyoko's offer to take the baby. "You are a beautiful, kind woman. Your child will blossom under your protection. No matter your circumstance." A little brown and green monkey with one small horn stood perched on Yen's head chittered and patted Miyoko's hair, making them both laugh through her tears. Before leaving, Yen laid a hand on Miyoko's stomach and said a prayer of protection. Miyoko, her mind made up, begged Yen to let her child visit the orphanage. Yen just smiled and told her where to find it.
Throughout her pregnancy, Miyoko didn't return to the brothel. Yen covered her bills, a luxury peasants never saw. The country was impossibly hard and cruel to those they considered less than nobles.
When Mei-Mei was born, the midwives saw her heterochromia, one eye, dark brown, the other eye a startling bright green. It was the mark of a Pure Synchrite, like Lucius the Praised himself. For a glorious moment, it seemed like destiny had saved them.
But by the age of nine, that hope was gone. Mei-Mei stood before officials who asked her to manipulate Flo. She closed her eyes, she strained, she prayed. Nothing happened .
"Huh. A fluke perhaps?" One grumbled. "Not a Synchrite."
The walk home was the longest of her life. She saw the hope die in her mother's eyes, though Miyoko never said a word of reproach. Instead, Mei-Mei would hear her mother's silent, weary prayers in the dead of night, each one a needle in her heart. She felt like a failure.
Yet, life was not all bad. She had her mother's fierce love. She had Grandma Yen, and the orphanage was a raucous family of kids who watched each other grow up.
Things turned when Mei-Mei turned fifteen. Her mother's earnings dwindled as her youth faded. They couldn't rely on Yen, who already supported an orphanage and a tavern. So, Mei-Mei and the older orphans went to work.
Mei-Mei, who was eager to learn how to cook, started as a waitress, navigating the leers of soldiers and nobles. When things got worse, she begged Yen for a way to earn more.
Yen's face grew solemn. "You can dance," she said finally. "The drunken men will pay for a glimpse of grace."
Mei-Mei agreed without hesitation. She wouldn't tell her mother. She had grown up watching Miyoko's elegant movements and had practised in secret for years. This was a skill she owned, a destiny she could forge for herself.
On her first night, hidden behind a simple white mask and a blue kimono of Yen's that was slightly too large, she listened to the musician, Rei, draw a nostalgic tune from his erhu. She took a deep breath, slid the silk curtain aside, and stepped into the spotlight.
At first, she was a ghost. But as she moved, flowing with the music, a hush fell. One man turned. Then another. Soon, the whole tavern was watching, captivated. The silence broke into cheers, fuelling her. She twirled faster, Rei's music rising to meet her, the crowd beating on tables in rhythm. Up on that stage, she had never felt more alive. She liked being looked at. She liked being admired.
After the performance, it was already gradually becoming late at night. Although she didn't get any tips on her first performance, Yen told her it would take some time for the crowd to warm up to her. She could hardly still control herself. The buzz was still all around her. The sensation felt like she was levitating, floating on the sound of the cheers.
That feeling carried her all the way home. She pushed the door open, a faint, silly smile still on her face from the night's high.
And then she saw her.
Her mother, Miyoko, was hunched in a corner. Her face was turned away, but Mei-Mei saw the fresh, ugly purple of a bruise blooming on her left arm. Her mother was quietly dabbing at it with a damp cloth, her movements slow and heavy with a weariness that went deeper than bone.
The scene was a bucket of ice water. It snatched the joy completely from Mei-Mei and dumped her back into their harsh, cold reality. It wasn't the first time.
As soon as the door creaked, her mother flinched. She quickly pulled her sleeve down and wiped at her eyes, standing up abruptly and trying to force her smile.
"Mei-Mei.." her mother started, her voice too bright, too fake.
But Mei-Mei shut her down immediately. She couldn't hold it back any more. The frustration, the anger, the sheer unfairness of it all boiled over.
"What..what did you do to deserve all of this mama?" The words tore out of her. "Why do these things keep happening to you.." Mei-Mei could barely keep the tears from falling now.
Her mother, who had just been hiding her own tears, now gave a soft, kind smile. It was the saddest thing Mei-Mei had ever seen. She reached over and caressed the side of her daughter's cheek, her thumb gentle on her skin.
"If I had not passed through all of this…" Miyoko said, her voice barely a whisper, "would I still have you, child?"
The words completely disarmed Mei-Mei, leaving only a profound, aching sadness where her anger had been. She cursed the thought of ever going down the same path, before going to the other room, unable to look at her mother's brave, broken face.
In the weeks that followed, a small but loyal following blossomed for the tavern's mysterious dancer. Mei-Mei perfected the art of the double life. By day, she was a waitress, loved by the regulars. But when her shift ended, she would vanish behind the great stage curtain and step into her kimono, tying the mask securely in place. In that moment, the servant disappeared, and the artist took her place.
The thrill of the mystery was a constant hum under her skin. However the thrill only turned to ice when her performance was interrupted by the clatter of a single, large gold coin skidding across the stage floor. "Show us something!" a slurred voice bellowed from the crowd. The demand ripped through the music. The supportive cheers of her admirers twisted into a unified, hungry chant. In that moment, she didn't feel like the artist dancer she thought she was, she felt like her mother.
Mei-Mei's feet faltered. She couldn't hear Rei's music anymore, only the pounding of her own heart. She saw Chen, the tall, dark-skinned orphan who worked as the tavern's cook, moving through the crowd. He was more than a cook and his title meant he earned good pay. His food was also what kept many customers coming back. He put a hand on one man's shoulder seemingly trying to tell him something but he just brushed him off. Another orphan tried to block the view of the most rowdy table, but it was no use.
Panicked, and with Yen absent, Mei-Mei made a choice. Heart hammering with shame, she lifted the hem of her kimono, just high enough to show off the stockings she wore beneath.
The tavern erupted. The roar was deafening. More coins landed on the stage, skittering around her feet like dirty payment.