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Zhouyang stood there amidst a facility brimming with armed soldiers. That fact was at the forefront of Margul’s mind, with the ex-Wu court mage and the gaggle of children he pulled into this place, to feed what she suspected was the advancement of mutagenics.

And the burning obvious answer, was that our purpose had always been a means for further violence.

[Expand.]

Her thoughts raced and she reeled them back with blood pounding in her skull, forcing them to be grounded as she re-verified who she was looking at.

Wu Zhouyang. Court mage, long tied back black hair, eastern man with crows feet around his black eyes and an expensive looking silk robe. Or so, that would be Margul’s assumption from what she remembered of the man who had always wanted more. He was perfumed with something earthy today, a nigh nauseating aroma clashing with the scent of medical equipment and blood, as well another ambient

Yevska had backed away to be with Jeanine and Suly, as if finally able to read the atmosphere’s intensity from the two staring each other down.

Margul asked first, with the idea that Zhouyang would be a more straight forward man, her stance firm as she addressed him, “I wouldn’t die there, in a muddy trench with the [Berus] corpses. Nor do I want that in my future. So, Zhouyang. Are you here to cart us back into being your little soldiers?”

Zhouyang scoffed, hand patting down his waist in search for something, likely a smoking pipe, “You should know I had other ideas, unlike Grisha’s investment in throwing malleable protégés into the meat grinder. But that was then and now I only supply here.”

Aron had approached, whatever thought he attempted to raise interrupted by Margul, “So, arms. You’ll just harmlessly put weapons in our hands and just see what happens?"

Shitty mages, as she would begin to echo from Grisha, never want to do the dirty fighting themselves.

Given time, he would have found a way to sell me off as well. Some people never change.

“I am not sending you to the front. Visalia is. Real shame, truly, that you escaped here and didn’t just keep with me, to learn a truly useful craft. But you’ll have to put on a good leading example for your juniors. Grisha taught you to shoot and I don’t doubt that you’ve passed on the same 'wisdom' to your peers,” Zhouyang said, finally drawing out his pipe, turning and gesturing at Aron, “We’ve for a schedule so I should proceed with my new delivery. We will talk with everyone later.”

"If that's how things must be, then," Margul watched Zhouyang all but float back to the group of children waiting for him with that silk robe flitting behind him, before looking back over to Aron, who hadn’t looked her in the eye.

"That wasn't how I would have had this meeting go but I suppose we can't change that now. That whole new arrivals group is going to the other wing, anyway, " he said.

She rolled her shoulders back and took in a breath before answering, ensuring she had returned to being a person, "So we'll have nothing to do with them, then?"

"Most likely not," he said in a less than reassuring manner, still looking at no one in particular, gesturing for the other girls to come forward.

"Just the... sudden military involvement," Margul muttered, adjusting her jacket and zipping the front up.

Suly had helped Jeanine along, face still in an icepack, Yevska lumbering behind, all hesitant to approach after witnessing the change in demeanor from their eldest subject.

The trio here hadn't seen her like this before-- Suly and Yevska had only been here for two and a half years, a shut away part of her that had its restraints removed by the very sight of her not-too-distant past and she hoped that this would be the last time it happened.

She tried to put on her most relaxed face for the girls, "Sorry you had to see that."

Unreasonable to expect, knowing what was to follow. It would have to be something that the girls knew about her, sooner or later now.

"So, the way he talked at you, sounds like the way you shoot guns wasn't just for sport, huh," Yevska said, reverting back to her energized state once the intensity had died down from Margul. The way she spoke told her that the girl wanted to know more, not less about what she had saw.

Jeanine had stumbled over with Suly in tow to her side when Aron stepped before the group, removing her welted face from the pack to speak, "Did I hear it all right? That we're going alongside the soldiers?"

Margul was sure that if her face hadn't been swollen, the girl’s eyes would be wide with terror if not trying to swell themselves shut. She motioned and mouthed to Suly, Put the ice pack back.

Suly nodded and brought Jeanine’s arm back up, whispering reassurance that the researcher would say something soon.

Aron drew in a deep breath and tapped his clipboard to cut through their chatter, “So, like you girls just heard and could probably guess, the you’re going to be put into a live combat situation, along with the Visalian gentlemen here. I’ve no doubt you’ll all do great and you’ll be along with trained men…”

Yevska raised her brow and spoke out, “Oy, Masia’s also got time in a battlefield right? Explains why she’s such a good shot, huh.”

Margul waved her off, giving her best neutral expression to her junior, “We don’t need to talk about that right now. I don’t know anything about what we’re doing. Aron, what are we set to do?”

“Survive, for one. Then, we’ll take a look at you after and the observers will take down live data from the skirmish. Individual performance files and all that, to see how adaptable you’ve all become,” Aron smiles at the group, as if his responses were somehow meant to be motivational and avoid the finer details of what lay ahead.

Suly had broken her silence, questioning with her arms crossed, “I think, correct me if I am wrong, Margul wanted to know who we may be fighting.”

“I didn’t think she’d care about that kind of thing,” Yevska snorted and rubbed her throat where she had pinned her earlier.

Margul’s neutrality became a glower, tasting iron upon her tongue again. She knew they had been, relatively, cut off from current events reporting and theorized it was to maintain the subject's mental health well-being . Undoubtedly, my own behavior upon first arriving and hearing radio chatter must have been a strong argument for it.

“Don’t worry now, it's understandable that you'd maybe want to know, given that you don't get to read the the kingdom newsletters or some such in here. But it's just continued combat with the Wu. Haven't been very respectful of our borders, so, you're going to join the rest of the country's response, due quite soon. Today even, or the next," he continued, without any hint of worry in his voice. Perhaps he had his beliefs reinforced by walls and walls of data that was collected and analyzed-- a session, Margul noted, that they were so far skipping today.

"Can't give more than that right now. I'll let you know, though, with these men, we're going to be guests in their midsts so, I'd like you lot to behave. Now then, you girls have been stalled enough here with the diversions," concluded Aron, who dismissed the subjects out with a clap and happy disposition, only Yevska to mirror his enthusiasm.

Margul remained in place while the younger subjects began to walk away hastily, crossing her bloody arms while she waited for them to be several meters away, speaking to the head researcher, "Just a question. Aron. Did you mean for this to be received as a happy surprise for us?"

"No, Margul. I didn't. But, look at it this way, doubling as my assistant. It's a new set of data for us to pore over and it isn't tied to random mercenary groups that could blow up in each other's faces," Aron said, letting his smile drop finally, "I know you remember that was the alternative, that we so narrowly avoided."

"I haven't forgotten," she shook her head, finding it was her turn to put on a little smile, while she proceeded past him, "I know we will meet for our analyses session another time. Until then."

...

During the afternoon hours, the subjects had gathered per their schedule in their designated side room, where they had been provided with another sunny window view, looking out into the green house, along with their midday meals.

Jeanine's nose scrunched while she prodded her serving of flaky pink fish on the white melamine dish, "Why is it always fish, anyway?"

The char had been present on all of their plates, the flesh pink from being steamed, Margul had known from its scent alone prior to being provided to them as their meal. Jeanine had not exaggerated, she was aware from her years past: the protein was overwhelmingly the fatty fish served with some kind of ground vegetables, such as minced onion from the aroma, and--

"Are you going to ask why it's always potato and not carrots today," Suly said, expressing a surprising amount of preference, pulling her char flakes off in the largest pieces she could manage, helping it onto a starchy medallion, "Sorry, I just think that it's a little lacking in color."

Yevska glanced at Margul, her mouth too full to comment, eyes all but saying, Aren't you the smart one here? The kids have questions, of course, ignoring the fact that Suly is nearly the same age as her.

It was Margul's responsibility, in some way, to answer them that much. She could not be the only one to be stewing in the news of going off with the soldiers. She had her own questions for the trio who had their eyes on her, of how they're managing to distract themselves.

Or the girls simply don't know yet how it will feel.

She itched her now bandaged arm.

"Well, you could look out the window, Suly. I'm actually sure that some of the vegetables we have are from that room or somewhere else in the facility," Margul said, looking up from her plate and to the Suly, "It's likely that they'll cycle back to the other tubers."

"I'll find a way to cope until then," Suly said, still staring down at her plate and meticulously organizing her food. It was one of the earlier complaints by the girl during her arrival that the food at been utterly devoid of flavor, and of course, that she had always said she'd find a way to cope.

"Do they have, like, chickens in here," Jeanine chimed back in before finally taking a bite of her fillet, having less complaint on the matter.

Margul thought for a moment, the index of her mind cycling through what she did know of the facility and the few times she had seen poultry, "Not that I had seen for food... just other testing. I am unsure if you know but char is from the rivers here, and probably will still be the main food. You'll get used to it, as Suly has."

The comment had raised the eyebrows of the Sunnalese girl, who had yet to touch her food and a simple nod from Jeanine who continued to consume the unseasoned dish.

Looking down at her own dish, she realized she had left the meal untouched the entire time. As Margul had lifted her fork, finally, a gasp came from her right, Yevska having completed her ritualistic inhalation of her dish, punctuated by the clatter of her slamming down the plastic water cup with a pop.

"Oof, okay, I'm done. So between all of this question-asking, I have one," she said while leaning forward toward Margul.

Margul had taken a deep breath, and set her fork down, feeling herself brace already for whatever could be on the fluffy girl's mind, "Very well. What is your question, Yevska?"

Her face flickered, a switch flipping to redirect her thoughts while she asked, "Are you mad at me? Was it the bite?"

"At you? No, of course not," she said with a slight head shake. It had been expected, she would have added if it were not for the fact that was not the actual question the girl wanted to ask. Her form had still been rigid while sat there, and from the corner of her eye, she could see discomfort writ upon Jeanine's face as she looked in her direction.

Yevska leaned back, letting out a whew, "Okay! I just wanted to check. But okay, then I can ask what I wanted to, originally. So, like, how do you know Zhouyang? Who's Grisha? Is he some Visalian guy around here that we never talked to?"

Margul kept her gaze on her and waited a moment to ask back, "Do I have to answer that now?"

She put her hands up, as if faced down with an animal that could lunge at her, "Well, I don't know about Suly and Jeanine, who're just keeping their heads down, but I think, maybe it's just me, that we should know more about our older sister who apparently worked with these soldiers before. I mean, the more I think about it, the less I think we know about our big sister here."

"There are some things I would, really, not like to remember," she replied, taking a deep breath and forcing herself to be less intense, as her peers are not the threat of memory, "I will give you this much, that Grisha and Zhouyang were a mercenaries who took me from my clan in... Rasulya."

Yevska had returned to leaning forward like she had been given the space to re-enter the space,"Nothing else? Like, what to expect... or...?"

She pushed her plate forward, shutting her eyes and scrunching her brow, so that she could not see her junior pleading with her, "Yevgeniya. Here."

"Oh, thanks. I want to know, really, when you're less cranky. I'll take a page from your book and say you should eat since it'll maybe make you less on edge," Yevska said, a tinge of her toothy smile still hanging onto her voice.

"I don't actually feel hungry at all," Margul said and pushed back from her spot, moving toward the door, tapping on the glass.

An olive green-vested soldier had taken the place of an orderly, looking over his shoulder at her, perplexed and if she had gotten any better at reading facial expressions, unsure of what the girl before him could possibly want while standing at the door.

Jeanine had shuffled in her seat, whispering, "Don't you think that was a lot?"

Yevska had made no attempt to quiet down, "I just wanted to know more, alright. Whatever, more fish for me."

Margul's frustration was clear as she tapped the doorknob while keeping eye contact with the man, whose muffled voice had a sound of surprise and realization, calling to another man down the hall, are they allowed out of there? No scientists required? Okay, okay.

She heard the source of her frustration call back, "What, you can't just get out? Hey--"

The door clicked open and Margul stepped out into the hallway, the sounds of the group silenced by the door's seal.

“Subject Null, Margul Rasulova, sex: female, aged seventeen. Inspection of vitals and anomalies report, for Ichilisky Research Institute,” said a white garbed vital-observer, pallid eyes running down his check sheet and setting down a cassette recorder.

Margul, as she had been taken stock of by the worker, arm set upon the chair rest for blood pressure gauging. A nylon cuff closed around her arm, blood pressure and heart rate higher than normal but acceptable, though she would have preferred the cuff to not rival the medical gown in unpleasant texture. Then came the cold jab of the needle, with its two wing attachments, streaming blood through tubing into vials held by the latex gloved hands. Sensations produced by the items, the room, the instruments, had become so regular as of late, that she had little reaction to them other than, some days, impatience for the vital-observer's with slow hands making her do this tedium any longer than she had to.

[Expand.]

But, she would remind herself, the data is necessary for the research here and you agreed to all of this.

She sat still— stiff even, while the collection was completed, as to not agitate the unpleasant fabric against her otherwise bare skin. Her face must have shown some form of displeasure while the vital-observer quickened retrieving the last of the vials, mixing some foul-scented agent in for the spectrometer later and disconnected the needle.

He had been ready to tape down the cotton pad and nearly jumped when Margul interrupted him, hand hovered over the spot.

"That won't be necessary, look," she said, pulling back the cotton, showing that the venipuncture site had already clotted, and with a push of her thumb, the dried blood had flaked away.

"Null, I am finishing the task per procedure, augmented tissue regeneration regardless," the vital-observer stated, drawing out the medical tape and a new cotton round, the man's face serious as he set his eyes on hers.

Margul would not be deterred and held onto his gaze, "I am going to rip it off as soon as you put it on."

"I don't care," he said, pulling the horrible tape taut, then motioning her to get up, exchanging one discomfort for another.

She stood, ripping the tape and cotton off, free of the scratchy robe, her neutral mood shifting to impatience as the next round of data collection had began. She was to stand in the middle of the clinical room with its one-way tinted windows, light grey tiling and far too bright fluorescent lighting.

Processes involving the exterior inspection of dermal changes should be fast, as far as she was concerned, as little had changed about her from her physical alterations since she turned fifteen. Dental had gone as expected, as she's sure she would have noticed any more changes to her already sharp teeth.

The vital-observer stopped after pushing back her hair, "You're wearing jewelry into the observation?"

"It's just the weave. I'll remove it," Margul mumbled, decoupled the item, a woven soft red material that clung to her ear lobe, from her ear and held it close.

"Is that some cultural thing that you still wear around here?"

She knew the question was meant to be othering in its nature. Visalians, if they were the polite kind, would point out things that set her apart from the westerners, from her physical features to the Qiliş item.

The weave had been a single keepsake from her childhood that had, somehow, managed to survive unscathed through [Berus] and her first time out in those fields with Grisha and Zhouyang— mercenary dogs. Perhaps it had a cultural significance that the Qiliş revered and held above all.

Once upon a time, she was told what it was. But now? It felt like a distant and foggy memory.

"It is, in fact," she snipped, continuing to squeeze the weave and feeling it barb against her palm, "Is there anything different about my ears or can I return it?"

"...Just ever so slight cartilage deformation," the vital-observer said at his recorder, hesitantly moving about.

This should keep proceeding without incident and I should be off to meet with Aron.

Or, so she had thought when the vital-observer had paused, and metal clattered from the tool tray. A sting more intense than a simple needle puncture radiated from her lower back, not too far from her spine, followed by the burn of an alcohol pad held in place by the tacky tape, scents of iron floating to her nostrils.

Margul looked over her shoulder at the bloody sliver of flesh that had been extracted from her, the smears of blood suggesting the texture of her skin had become rough and uneven.

"That... is different," she muttered in surprise, turning her full body now to look upon the suspect piece of skin, more clearly able to see the keratinous growth.

The vital-observer began to speak but had been interrupted by the chamber door opening and another pale older man with a head of short dull-orange hair proceeding in, breaking the chatter with a statement in Standish.

The man, Aron Merle, had been her 'guardian' so to speak, for the past six years in Ichilisky. A happy face amidst the serious faced researchers and vital-observers, he was the Head Researcher in the project, and took Margul in when his transport encountered her face down in the snow not too far from the facility. He'd also said she had 'a knack for crunching numbers' and brought her in to assist with some of the work.

It had been the most peace she had known since leaving her people in the Rasul mountains.

"I wouldn't worry too much about it, Margul. Small things like that are like to be benign. We've got a little change of plans today and we'll just skip to joining you with the others. Expand upon the cardio results and all that," Aron said, nudging her with a little smile, and switching to Visalian to dismiss the vital-observer who had been caught off guard by the foreign language swap.

Margul had broken from her stiff stance, shoulders dropping and nodded, keeping to Standish as she looked down to speak to him, "And what is the change? I thought I would have been just resuming data analysis with you."

Aron pressed a hand to his mouth, humming before releasing his message, "You know, I think it's best if I just let you know after. We have some time but it's not something we should discuss here."

"You'll have me wait then," Margul said, looking down ever so slightly at him.

"You know, it's fascinating how fast you've grown to be taller than me. I don't want to say the mutagenics had done it but it wouldn't be a surprise," he commented with a smile.

Margul sighed, brows scrunching together, "Waiting it is, then. I will get my clothes."

Part of her wanted to resume her guarded, stiff stance again— Not much comforted her about the withholding of information, no matter how frequent or 'normal' it was in a research facility. But, there had been good reason to not provide too much information at once. Aron had arguably gotten to know Margul during her stay in the Ichilisky, and perhaps, assumed, she would overthink the change in routine too soon.

Not that she had much else to do but move along per his instruction, as it had been for the past five and a half years since she had been brought here. Survival had ever been her goal and through being useful, she could continue to to persist and find her own way.

She could, at the very least, hear if the other subjects were made to part with pieces of their flesh.

...

Natural light illuminated the atrium through its ceiling and wide view window, cast down on the ferns and modest trees, as well as the subjects in waiting. Three girls dressed the same as Margul were there. They were in their standard mix of loose pants, shirts. The only garment that was the same color between all of them were the soft jackets, simple in design and the same dull [green], all sat around the center of the room while scientists and soldiers milled about the perimeter, all typically to avoid the subjects themselves.

It was, most notably, more busy than usual, and had given rise to more questions despite Aron's best efforts. Not that any of them stopped Margul from continuing on her way to the party waiting.

The first to look up at the approaching party, had been the one numbered 'Three' herself, Suly, a very short, brown Sunnalese girl who shared Margul's own tendencies toward stoicism, though she would allow her eyes to widen, emphasizing the large, enhanced oval pupils they shared.

'Six', a tall, tan western girl named Yevgeniya Odanavska, Yevska, had responded verbally, stood up with such sudden movement her chair screeched back, the cloud of her long dirty blonde, fluffy hair billowing back while she barked over at Margul, "Masia, we were waiting for you!"

Still, with the dimunitive. It was something she considered, perhaps, to be Yevska's own way of normalizing the shortening names. The girl certainly was less enthusiastic at being called ‘Yevgeniya’ in full.

Yevska's voice boomed even in the distance; it must have been even louder next to subject 'Nine', Jeanine. She was a far west pasty girl with tied back blonde hair, the girl shrinking down in her seat with a hand over her ear. The girl hardly had any visible mutations, having only been in Ichilisky for less than a year, and was still a nervous one.

She let out a small whine, audible to Margul as she approached, "You're so loud. We know she's here."

"I didn't know I was making everyone wait. I thought I would be done first and supposed to be doing something else," Margul threw a look back to the head researcher towing behind her, who looked only a bit guilty.

Aron gave his own wave to the group and tapped the board he had been carrying with a pen, the sound echoing through the large room, "Plans change, you know. I don't decide everything around here and if the great men I work for decide they want something else, well, we'll have to give them that, girls."

"I would appreciate more information," Margul said, picking up the remaining chair and setting it closer for her to take her seat, looking at the man for more answers.

Yevska gave her own disapproving grunt as she collapsed back into the steel-bar chair, beating another screech from the floor and a wince from Jeanine.

"Hey, no need for the dour faces, everyone. There is one or two more things left on the vitals agenda that I saved for last and you would find infinitely more fun than letting the staff prod and cut you," Aron said and bounced on his feet, a little smile forming at the corners of his mouth.

Suly sat up in her chair and crossed her arms, asking, "'Impact diagnostics', was it?"

Margul had rolled back the days in her mind and realized that it had been a month since they were subject to it, "Oh, it must be time again. I never liked its technical name, just call it sparring. All the suspense for this, Aron?"

Jeanine visibly paled from hearing it, and Yevska's pupils had dilated to the size of watch glasses.

Aron's smile widened at the group, but put a hand out to heel Yevska before she could spring out again, throwing caution to her wide toothy grin, "Now, just quick adjustments, I'd like you to not use your teeth in this, as we'll have something else to do after too. Can't call in doctors just yet."

As the older subjects had, without prompting, moved their chairs to the wall, Jeanine had remained firmly planted in her seat despite Aron's quiet encouragements of this not being something you win at, Margul had jogged back to them and sunk next to Jeanine.

Aron, seeing the oldest girl come around bowed and stepped away, "Surely, you'll be able to help. I'll make sure Yevska doesn't start the thing preemptively."

"Hey," she nudged the blonde girl.

Jeanine was set on being still, "Hi..."

Margul leaned in front of her to ensure that the girl was looking at her, "Do you remember that phrase you said before, about just dealing with the toughest part of something first?"

"Yeah, ripping the bandage off," she huffed and tucked her self down, her large eyes still human in appearance. The rest of the subjects’ had developed an ovular, much larger gap in their irises, and was known to be the first visible change the mutagen caused.

"Consider, perhaps picking myself or Yevgeniya, as doing that," Margul said, doing her best to smile at her while putting her hands on her shoulders and physically suggesting that Jeanine ought to stand.

Jeanine rose with her taller companion, unfurling her body and coming up to Margul's shoulder, "It can't be that, they made this the last part of the day. And maybe, you should consider that I don't like getting punched?"

She earnestly asked, "Even if it's from me?"

Jeanine gave her own jab at Margul, squarely in the ribs, "What, is this supposed to feel good?"

Margul had felt her hand connect— a half hearted attempt at offense, for sure, but still winced while tugging the smaller girl along, "Oh, you caught me off guard, we haven't even started yet. Let's go, Jeanine."

...

Yevska gasped for air once Margul released her neck, her face resembling a tomato and her lips somehow redder. It was evidence, a violation of the one rule that Aron had put forward: no biting.

The girl was excited to use them regardless.

Pain resultant from the bite had been pushed back by adrenaline, the immediate concern had been the blood getting everywhere.

"Yevgeniya, look, I have to change my clothes again," Margul frowned at her junior, who must have been delirious from the lack of oxygen and smiled back at her with her mouth full of bloody knives.

Aron handed off a pack to Jeanine, who had her face buried in the malleable cold material to get ahead of the swelling she would no doubt experience, and turned about to the eldest girls, sighing, "You two, I said to make an impact! Not kill each other!"

The fluffy mass below Margul writhed, "But I wanted to see how sharp they got! Masia can take it, can't she?"

She rolled off of the delirious bite-prone girl, holding her arm as she rose to walk toward Aron, "Yevgeniya's teeth are indeed sharp. Can I just wrap my arm and change my clothes?"

Aron pinched the bridge of his nose, "If you mean run to one of the clinics to cover the wounds, please hurry. There's one more thing we need to do, as a group."

"No need to go that far," she said, bounding over to her jacket, wrapping the garment around her blooded arm, certain that it would close soon enough.

Suly wrinkled her nose from beside Jeanine, who had been too busy cooling her bruises to look, providing her own commentary, "You complained about your clothes dirtying but you used your jacket as a bandage. Fascinating."

"Whatever works. We are apparently on a schedule today," Margul called over, while returning to Yevska's side and helping her up, the both of them now looking toward where their lead researcher had been standing.

He was, in fact, no longer standing by the shorter subjects but had run to meet one of the soldiers, fully dressed and armed, by the atrium doors. There was a pause, then a nod from the soldier who had reached behind him to open the door. It begged the question from Margul, of why so many soldiers had been fully outfitted around the facility during recent days.

"Hey, hey, Margul, are you trying to break my arm?" Yevska had been struggling against her grip since she had helped her up; the thought spiral had taken hold of her.

She released her, stepping back from Yevska, "I wasn't trying to. There was just, something about today that hasn't sat right with me."

Yevska rubbed the squeezed limb and said, "Because Aron's been holding back on what this big mysterious change of agenda today? It's probably nothing."

Margul's eyes hadn't removed themselves from the door, seeing that the thing had been held open during the entire duration of their atrium session. Aron had only begun to walk back toward the four of them, and, in tow, there were an outpouring of more young faces. By her own observation, they had to have been younger than Jeanine, the lot of them likely locals of Ichilya or just from greater Visalia, almost all girls.

"Hm, more kids? Didn't know we were getting more. Where's their uh..." Yevska had trailed off, squinting at the group of ten or so new subjects.

The children wouldn't be alone, as she anticipated. Margul had gasped and stepped back, acknowledged that it would have been too late to hide, or that it was ridiculous to do so. There wouldn't have been any way to anticipate the man following the train of children in, who would greet Aron with as much warmth as any Wu ex-noble could, the new group approaching.

Her pulse raced and her stomach turned seeing the man had survived long enough to part from Grisha and whatever he was involved in, could afford him lavish robes and a working relationship with the Visalian government to be allowed into Ichilisky. She could feel only the suggestion of nudges from Yevska but could not pay attention to what she was saying. She would have no way of understanding what memories surfaced at the sigh of him as he very clearly diverted from the original path, marching straight up to the girls.

"Xiao Qili, your hair has grown back," The man, Zhouyang of Wu, had said, gesturing over to Margul, "I knew you were too smart to have died."

Hello,

I will let this serve an entry post for my story in progress. I am still working out how these titles will be stylized or what their summaries will be. I thank you for your patience and your willingness to read any of my posts. I apologize if you were looking for The Last Voyage of The Devil's Back here, the account namesake, but I'm putting the story on pause until I feel I can return to it.

Most of the up to date stuff will be at thedevilsback.com (redirects to https://thelastvoyageofthedevilsback.wordpress.com/)

In process:

Sequence/Consequence

Margul Rasulova has been a test subject in the Ichilisky Institute and assistant to Head Researcher Aron Merle for the past six years after being ‘displaced’ from her homeland after a Visalian invasion. She and as well as fellow subjects Jeanine and Yevska, live more comfortably than they had before and for this, must be subject to mutagenic experimentation.

Though, not all is as it seems, with their new focus being contributing to the Kingdom of Visalia’s war effort and promise of a life after their experiments. Then, there is the matter of a peculiar new staff member named Tsipora who has asked Margul, confidentially, to question everything about the institute’s promises. Is the stranger to be trusted, or Aron, who had saved her from certain death?

I'm starting with cross posting the existing parts, then continuing to, possibly, post to WIP threads to keep it going. It's hard to post the small snippets to Comms but perhaps the active feedback will help propel me along to greener pastures.

Thanks!

-CD